Tag: Lacan

Jesus Figures and the Marriage of High Testosterone + Neurodivergent

The relentless search for contemporary “Jesus figures” to deliver us from the oppressive grip of “the man” reveals a profound discontent with the existing ideological structure, one that is emblematic of our late capitalist condition. This can be interpreted as the collective’s desperate attempt to fill the void of the objet petit a—the unattainable object of desire, that which is always missing. This figure is expected to embody the lost cause, the pure subject who, untainted by the symbolic order, can somehow lead us to redemption.

But why the specific allure of high testosterone combined with neurodivergence? Here, we encounter a fascinating inversion reminiscent of Nietzsche’s “slave morality,” but with a distinctly postmodern twist. In classical slave morality, the oppressed transmute their weakness into a kind of moral superiority. Now, however, in a world where traditional masculinity and conformity to societal norms have been pathologized, the outcast—the one who refuses to conform to the master signifier of late capitalist normalcy—becomes the hero. This is not merely a Nietzschean reversal but a symptom of a deeper crisis in the symbolic order itself.

We could argue that this new archetype reflects an underlying anxiety in the collective unconscious. The traditional hero—rational, composed, and aligned with the symbolic law—no longer resonates in a world that feels increasingly chaotic and unmoored. Instead, we project our desire for liberation onto figures who seem to operate outside the law, who embody the raw, untamed forces that the symbolic order attempts to repress. This is the real of the neurodivergent, whose very existence is a challenge to the seamless functioning of the ideological apparatus.

Yet, this elevation of the neurodivergent, high-testosterone figure is fraught with contradictions. Is this not the ultimate fetishization of the symptom? By glorifying those who resist or are marginalized by the dominant order, we risk reinforcing the very structures we seek to escape. We are mistaking the symptom—the visible sign of our discontent—for the cure. The neurodivergent, high-testosterone savior is but another fantasy, another screen onto which we project our desire for a new master, one who can somehow deliver us from the contradictions of our existence without fundamentally altering the underlying structure.

Thus, the search for these “Jesus figures” reveals less about the potential for genuine liberation and more about our inability to confront the true nature of our discontent. We cling to the hope that someone from outside the system can save us, while refusing to acknowledge that it is the system itself that must be transformed. In this way, the marriage of high testosterone and neurodivergence becomes a new slave morality, one that allows us to critique the system while remaining safely within its bounds, never fully challenging the symbolic order that defines our reality.

Algorithms and Section 230

A platform’s algorithm, far from being a neutral intermediary, actively constructs reality by shaping and directing the user’s desires, creating a speech that is its own, and therefore, liable.

The algorithm acts as the Big Other, imposing a Symbolic Order on the user, reflecting back a distorted image of the self, rooted not in the user’s authentic desires but in the desires structured by the platform. This misrecognition traps the user in a web of signifiers dictated by the algorithm, making the platform responsible for the identity it helps to construct.

Thus we introduce the idea of the algorithm as a viral language, a control mechanism that invades and manipulates the user’s psyche. The algorithmic process splices and recombines fragments of data—age, interactions, metadata—into a narrative that is not authored by the user but by the platform itself. This narrative, like a virus, spreads through the user’s consciousness, controlling and shaping their reality. The platform’s curation, in this sense, is a deliberate act of speech, a form of control that the platform must be held accountable for.

This process creates a hyperreality, where the algorithm generates a series of simulacra—representations that have no grounding in the real, but are instead designed to perpetuate consumption. The curated content becomes a hyperreal environment where the user is not merely engaging with reality but with a pre-fabricated version of it, designed by the platform for its own ends. The platform’s speech is thus not an innocent reflection but a constructed reality that it must answer for, as it blurs the line between the real and the simulated.

Finally, the algorithm is seen as a desiring-machine, continually connecting and producing flows of content. This production is not passive but active, a synthesis of desires orchestrated by the platform to create an endless stream of meaning. The connections and realities produced by this synthesis are not merely a reflection of the user’s desires but a construction that the platform engineers. As such, the platform must take responsibility for the speech it generates, especially when it results in harm or exploitation.

In consolidating these perspectives, it becomes clear that the platform’s algorithmic curation is not just a technical process but an active form of speech that shapes and constructs reality. As the author of this constructed reality, the platform cannot hide behind the guise of neutrality; it must answer for the consequences of the desires it channels and the realities it creates, particularly when those realities lead to harm. The court’s recognition of this responsibility marks a significant shift in how we understand the nature of speech and liability in the digital age.

The concept can be distilled into the idea that “the medium is the message,” as Marshall McLuhan famously put it, but here with an important extension: the message is speech, and speech is liable.

In this context:

  • The Medium is the Message: The algorithmic curation of content is not just a neutral process but a medium that actively shapes and constructs reality. The medium itself—the algorithm—is integral to the message it delivers.
  • The Message is Speech: The content curated and recommended by the algorithm becomes the platform’s own speech. It is not merely transmitting user-generated content but actively creating and delivering a specific narrative or reality.
  • Speech is Liable: Because this curated content is now considered the platform’s speech, the platform is responsible for it. Just as individuals are held accountable for their speech, the platform must answer for the speech it produces, particularly when it causes harm.

The Great Weirding:

Introduction: The Weirding of the Symbolic

You see, there’s this idea floating around that we’re living through what some are calling the “Great Weirding.” Now, that might sound like the title of a sci-fi novel, but it’s really about something pretty fundamental—and a little unsettling—about how we understand the world. It’s the collective realization that our symbolic order, the way we construct and interpret meaning, is slowly unraveling. It’s not just a matter of things getting a little chaotic; it’s about entropy, the universal law that things fall apart, applied to our social and symbolic structures.

The concept of the “Great Weirding” encapsulates a collective realization that our symbolic order—our systems of meaning, language, and social structures—is not only vulnerable to the encroaching chaos of entropy but is itself an expression of it. Our attempts to impose a spontaneous decrease in entropy within the symbolic realm are, in many ways, futile and, in others, fundamentally misguided.

Entropy and the Universe

Let’s start with entropy. In the simplest terms, entropy is a measure of disorder. In physics, it’s the idea that the universe tends to go from order to disorder, from structured energy to random chaos. Imagine a cup of coffee cooling down—it never spontaneously gets hot again. That’s entropy in action. The universe is constantly moving towards a state of higher entropy, more disorder.

Now, what happens when you take this concept and apply it to human systems—our cultures, our languages, our social norms? That’s where things get interesting. The “Great Weirding” is the notion that our symbolic order, the structures we rely on to make sense of the world, is succumbing to this entropic drift.

The Symbolic Order: A Brief OverviewHumans, we’re pretty good at making symbols—words, laws, institutions. These are the tools we use to bring order to the chaos around us. We create meaning through these symbols, and that’s how we build societies, communicate with each other, and maintain a sense of continuity. But here’s the catch: just like everything else in the universe, these symbolic structures are subject to entropy. They decay, they unravel, they lose their coherence over time.

The symbolic order is the structure within which we construct our reality. It is the domain of language, law, and social norms—the framework through which we navigate the world and make sense of our experiences. Yet, this order is not static; it is dynamic, constantly threatened by the Real, the chaotic undercurrent of existence that resists symbolization. The symbolic order is inherently unstable because it is built upon a void—a lack that cannot be filled. This lack is the engine of desire, driving us to seek meaning and coherence in a world that is fundamentally incoherent. The “Great Weirding” represents a moment of collective realization that this instability is not an anomaly but the very nature of the symbolic order itself.

Entropy and the Symbolic Entropy, in the thermodynamic sense, refers to the tendency of systems to move towards disorder. In the symbolic realm, entropy manifests as the gradual breakdown of meaning, the erosion of the structures that once provided coherence and order. The more we attempt to impose order, the more we are confronted with the inevitability of entropy. The “Great Weirding” is the recognition that our symbolic systems are not immune to this entropic force. The more we cling to outdated symbols, rigid ideologies, and fixed identities, the more we accelerate the process of symbolic entropy. This is not merely a pessimistic view but an insight into the nature of the symbolic: it is always already in a state of decay.

Why We Can’t Beat Entropy

So, what do we do when things start to fall apart? We try to put them back together, of course. We double down on our symbols, we reinforce our rules, we cling to old traditions. But—and this is the key point—we’re up against the second law of thermodynamics. You can’t reverse entropy. You can shuffle things around, maybe buy a little time, but in the end, the system as a whole is always tending towards greater disorder.

In a way, this is what’s happening with our symbolic order. We’re trying to resist the tide of entropy, but it’s a losing battle. Every time we think we’ve re-established order, the underlying chaos breaks through in new and unexpected ways. It’s like trying to unspill the coffee—no matter how hard you try, the stain is always there.

The Futility of Reversing Entropy Our attempts to reverse entropy in the symbolic order—through the revival of traditional values, the reinforcement of social norms, or the creation of new ideologies—are doomed to failure. From our perspective, these efforts are not only futile but are also “not even wrong,” to borrow Wolfgang Pauli’s famous phrase. They are misguided because they fail to recognize the fundamental nature of the symbolic order as a system that is always tending towards entropy. Lacan’s notion of the “objet petit a,” the unattainable object of desire, illustrates this futility. We seek to impose order, to reduce symbolic entropy, in the hopes of achieving a perfect, harmonious reality. But this quest is illusory because the symbolic order is predicated on a lack that cannot be overcome. The “Great Weirding” thus reveals the absurdity of our efforts to resist entropy in the symbolic realm.

The Real and the Irreducibility of Entropy

Lacan’s concept of the Real, the unsymbolizable kernel of existence that resists all attempts at integration into the symbolic order, is where entropy finds its most potent expression. The Real is the locus of the “great weirding”—the point at which the symbolic order confronts its own limits and the inevitability of entropy.

In encountering the Real, we are faced with the impossibility of fully controlling or understanding the forces that shape our reality. The “Great Weirding” is not just a moment of crisis but a profound insight into the nature of the symbolic order and our place within it. It is the recognition that entropy is not something to be resisted or reversed but rather an intrinsic aspect of the symbolic order that we must learn to navigate.

Decathexis:

A Wound to the Imaginary

Decathexis, a term often overlooked in the labyrinthine corridors of psychoanalysis, is in fact a violent act, a surgical excision of the psyche. It is the withdrawal of libidinal investment from an object, a tearing away from the phantasmatic world we have so carefully constructed. This process is not a gentle disentanglement but rather a brutal dismemberment of the psychic economy. It is a violent rupture of the libidinal investment that sustains the phantasmatic edifice, a dismantling of the imaginary order.

To cathect is to endow an object with desire, to elevate it to the status of a fetish, a talisman against the void. In this act, the subject finds a semblance of wholeness, a momentary respite from the anxiety of non-being. Yet, the phantasmatic object, however seductive, is a mere simulacrum, a deceptive promise of fulfillment.

The object, in its phantasmatic form, is a seductive mirage, a chimera constructed within the symbolic order to fill the void of the Real. It is a locus of desire, a point of fixation, a narcissistic investment. To decathect is to confront the abyssal nature of this lack, to dismantle the carefully erected scaffolding of the ego.

The object, once imbued with the subject’s desire, becomes a locus of jouissance, a point of intense pleasure and pain. To decathexis is to sever this umbilical cord, to relinquish the ecstasy of fusion and embrace the solitude of the real. It is to confront the abyss of lack, the primordial wound from which desire emerges.

Decathexis is the painful process of disavowing this illusion, of withdrawing the libidinal charge that sustains the fantasy. It is a movement from the imaginary order to the symbolic, a passage from the world of appearances to the realm of language and difference. But this transition is fraught with danger, for it exposes the subject to the abyss of the real, a traumatic encounter with the limits of signification.

The subject, in their resistance to decathexis, clings to the phantasmatic object, as a drowning man clutches at a straw as the subject is forced to confront the limitations of the imaginary order. The phantasmatic object, once a bastion of security and identity, is revealed as a mere simulacrum, a hollow shell devoid of substance. The subject is then compelled to venture into the symbolic realm, a space of language and law, where meaning is constructed and desire is mediated.

Decathexis is thus a painful initiation into the world of difference, a recognition of the irreducible gap between the self and the other. It is a mourning process, a grieving for the lost object, a melancholic withdrawal from the world of illusion. Yet, it is also a necessary step towards psychic maturation, a movement towards autonomy and subjectivity.

This clinging is a defense against the anxiety of separation, a fear of returning to the primordial state of lack. Yet, it is precisely in this moment of crisis that the potential for transcendence and transformation resides.

The process is one of mourning, a melancholic journey through the ruins of the lost object. The subject is confronted with the impossibility of fulfillment, the eternal deferral of desire. The pain is acute, a masochistic pleasure in the face of the Real.

In this dismantling, the subject is forced to relinquish the comforting illusions of the Imaginary and confront the desolate terrain of the Symbolic. It is a painful, arduous task, a necessary step in the analytic process. Yet, it is in this very desolation that the possibility of new formations, of a more authentic subjectivity, begins to emerge.

Decathexis is not a passive process, but an active struggle against the inertia of the desire. It demands a radical reorientation, a displacement of the libido onto new objects, a reconfiguration of the psychic economy. It is a painful birth, a passage through the fire of the Real, a necessary condition for the emergence of a subject capable of desire and love.

In the end, decathexis is a double-edged sword. It is a wound that bleeds desire, but it is also the opening through which new possibilities emerge. It is a necessary step in the subject’s journey towards autonomy, towards a more authentic relation to the world.

The Lie Factory

The subject’s desire, a perpetual lack, constitutes a fundamental void at the heart of the psyche. This void, a gaping maw of incompleteness, seeks incessant repletion. In the political sphere, this desire manifests as a demand for an impossible fullness, a utopian ideal that can never be attained. 

In its pursuit of fulfillment, it constructs an imaginary order, a symbolic edifice where the impossible is posited as attainable. The political sphere, as a microcosm of this larger psychic drama, becomes a stage upon which this desire is projected, magnified, and ultimately frustrated.

In the political sphere, this void is projected onto the figure of the leader, a phantasmatic object destined to fill the impossible lack. The leader, in this construction, becomes a symptom of the social body, a manifestation of its collective desire, a desire predicated on a fundamental impossibility.

The leader, in this scenario, occupies a liminal space between the subject and the impossible. As the embodiment of the symbolic order, they are endowed with the power to articulate the desires of the many into a coherent narrative. Yet, this narrative, to be effective, must promise a fulfillment that is inherently unattainable. For desire is fundamentally a lack, a void that can never be completely filled.

The subject’s demand, distinct from desire, is for a concrete, attainable object. Yet, the political promise, in its essence, is a response to desire, not demand. It is a seductive illusion, a mirage in the desert of the real. The leader, then, becomes a master of the signifier, a manipulator of language who promises to satisfy the insatiable.

The leader, in this schema, becomes the object petit a, a contingent object imbued with the power to fulfill this impossible desire.

However, the leader, a symptom of the social structure, is inherently constrained by the Real. The Real, the irreducible kernel of existence, is a realm of impossibility, a traumatic limit that cannot be symbolized or mastered. Thus, the leader,as a symbolic figure, must necessarily lie. Their promises, seductive and alluring, are merely phantasmatic constructions designed to obscure the fundamental impossibility of fulfilling the subject’s desire.

In this context the leader becomes a purveyor of illusions, a master of the signifier. Their rhetoric, a carefully crafted tapestry of promises and aspirations, serves to obscure the fundamental impossibility of the desired object. The subject, in their infinite desire for completion, is seduced by this illusory promise, investing the leader with a quasi-divine status.

The sociopath, a subject profoundly alienated from the symbolic order, is particularly adept at inhabiting this liminal space between the subject’s desire and the Real’s intransigence. Lacking a stable ego, the sociopath is free to exploit the subject’s desire without the constraints of moral or ethical considerations, they are unburdened by the constraints of reality. The sociopathic leader, then, becomes a perfect embodiment of the political lie, a figure who promises the impossible while simultaneously reveling in the subject’s perpetual disillusionment.

Lacking genuine empathy, the sociopath is liberated from the constraints of the symbolic order. Their discourse is pure performance, a seamless weaving of signifiers designed to captivate the audience. The subject, in their desperate search for fulfillment, is readily seduced by this empty rhetoric.

The election of such figures is thus a testament to the fundamental disillusionment of the subject. Aware of the impossibility of their desires, the subject invests in the fantasy offered by the political lie. It is a perverse pact, a cynical arrangement wherein the subject sacrifices truth for the illusion of hope. The sociopath, in turn, exploits this vulnerability, becoming a symptom of a society that has lost touch with the real.

The question remains: can the subject be liberated from this cycle of desire and disillusionment? Can a politics based on truth and accountability emerge from the ruins of the fantasy? Or is the sociopathic leader an inevitable consequence of the subject’s fundamental alienation?

It is in this dialectic between the desiring subject and the deceitful leader that the pathology of contemporary politics is revealed. The system, predicated on the perpetual deferral of gratification, ensures the continued reproduction of power. The people, trapped in a cycle of hope and disillusionment, remain eternally complicit in their own subjugation.

The subject, in their infinite desire for completion, is complicit in this masquerade. The belief in the possibility of a perfect leader, a messianic figure who will eradicate suffering and injustice, is a testament to the subject’s refusal to accept the fundamental lack that constitutes their being. The election of sociopaths, therefore, is not merely a symptom of a failing political system but a reflection of the subject’s own desire for a master, a figure who can bear the burden of the Real and offer illusory satisfaction in its place.

Tech Barriers

The barriers within the tech industry do not emerge from some inherent or natural order; rather, they are the result of a symbolic construction, carefully inscribed within the social fabric through a process akin to gerrymandering. These barriers are not neutral but are inscribed with a political logic that serves to maintain the dominance of certain subjects within the field of technology, positioning them as the ‘masters’ of this symbolic order.

The costs and externalities associated with technological development—the environmental degradation, the erosion of privacy, the deepening of social divides—are not mere accidents or side effects. They are the necessary disavowals, the repressed Real that threatens to erupt within the symbolic, yet is meticulously managed and contained through political mechanisms. These mechanisms ensure that these externalities remain the Other, kept at bay to protect the coherence of the symbolic order.

In this light, the so-called ‘natural’ evolution of technology is revealed as a fantasy, a narrative constructed to mask the underlying political machinations that maintain the status quo. The barriers that appear as inevitable are, in fact, contingent, produced by a symbolic order that is always-already structured by power. It is through this lens that we must understand the tech industry’s dynamics, not as the unfolding of some universal law, but as the operation of a hegemonic discourse that seeks to perpetuate its own logic, even as it disavows the costs it imposes on the Real.

In Lacanian terms, the Real represents what is outside the symbolic order—those aspects of existence that cannot be fully captured, articulated, or symbolized. It’s the chaotic, ungraspable force that constantly threatens to disrupt the constructed reality maintained by the symbolic order.

When you ask how the Real is going to rewrite the symbolic order, you’re essentially inquiring about the moments when the unrepresentable, the traumatic, or the unsymbolizable breaks into the established structures of meaning and disrupts them. The Real has the potential to destabilize the symbolic order because it reveals the latter’s limitations, inconsistencies, and the gaps in its logic.

The rewriting of the symbolic order by the Real might occur through various forms of rupture:

  1. Crisis: A technological, environmental, or social crisis could bring the repressed aspects of the Real—like ecological devastation or massive inequality—into the forefront, exposing the symbolic order’s failure to adequately manage these realities. This exposure forces a reconfiguration of the symbolic structures to accommodate or respond to the intrusion of the Real.
  2. Subversion: Acts of subversion, whether by individuals or groups, can channel aspects of the Real into the symbolic order in ways that challenge the existing power structures. This could involve bringing into discourse those elements that were previously excluded, marginalized, or repressed, thereby destabilizing the current symbolic network.
  3. Trauma: A traumatic event, something that cannot be easily integrated into the symbolic order, can cause a fundamental shift in how reality is perceived and symbolized. The symbolic order may attempt to reconstitute itself around this trauma, but in doing so, it necessarily transforms, creating new meanings, new identities, and new structures of power.

In these ways, the Real, though by nature elusive and resistant to symbolization, can force the symbolic order to undergo transformation. However, this transformation is never complete or final; the symbolic order will reconstitute itself around the disruptions, incorporating elements of the Real while still attempting to maintain a coherent structure. Thus, the rewriting of the symbolic order by the Real is a continuous process, marked by moments of rupture, reconfiguration, and reconstitution.

In the context of Lacanian theory, the slowing of Moore’s Law, the end of Zero Interest Rate Policy (ZIRP), and the tech industry “scraping the barrel” can be seen as moments where the Real begins to intrude upon and destabilize the symbolic order that has long governed the tech industry’s narrative and economic logic.

Moore’s Law and the Limits of the Symbolic Order

Moore’s Law, which predicted the exponential increase in computing power, has functioned as a kind of master-signifier within the tech industry—a symbolic guarantee that progress is both inevitable and infinite. As the pace of Moore’s Law slows, we encounter a limit within the symbolic order, where the expected endless progression begins to falter. This slowing represents a crack in the symbolic structure, where the Real—the material limitations of silicon, energy, and physics—begins to assert itself, challenging the fantasy of boundless technological growth.

The End of ZIRP and Economic Disruption

The end of ZIRP marks another intrusion of the Real into the symbolic order. ZIRP had created a financial environment that sustained tech industry valuations, investments, and speculative growth, allowing for the fantasy of infinite liquidity and risk-free capital. As interest rates rise, the Real economic forces—scarcity, risk, and the cost of capital—start to disrupt this symbolic order, exposing the fragility of the tech industry’s reliance on cheap money. This shift forces a re-evaluation of business models, valuations, and investment strategies, rewriting the symbolic order to acknowledge the new economic realities.

Tech Scraping the Barrel and the Exhaustion of Innovation

The idea that the tech industry is “scraping the barrel” suggests that the industry is running up against the limits of its own creative and innovative capacities. This is another point where the Real disrupts the symbolic order. The tech industry’s narrative of perpetual innovation and disruption—a key part of its symbolic identity—faces a crisis as genuine breakthroughs become harder to achieve. The Real here is the exhaustion of easy gains, the diminishing returns on existing technologies, and the unfulfilled promises of radical new innovations. As these limits become apparent, the symbolic order is forced to adapt, perhaps by shifting focus to new narratives (like AI) or by acknowledging the need for more fundamental shifts in technological paradigms.

Rewriting the Symbolic Order

These developments—slowing Moore’s Law, the end of ZIRP, and the scraping of the tech barrel—represent the Real’s intrusion into the symbolic order, forcing it to confront its own limits and inadequacies. The symbolic order, which once revolved around the fantasy of endless growth, innovation, and prosperity, must now be rewritten. This rewriting might involve a new symbolic logic that integrates these limitations, acknowledges the material constraints, and reconfigures the narrative of technological progress.

However, this process will not be smooth or straightforward. The tech industry, like any symbolic order, will resist acknowledging these intrusions, attempting instead to manage or disavow the Real’s disruptions. But as these limits continue to assert themselves, the symbolic order will inevitably undergo transformation, perhaps leading to new forms of technological and economic understanding that more accurately reflect the realities of our current moment.

Spiritual Reaganites

The Reaganite Sublime:

The Reagan era, a black hole of consumerist excess and evangelical fervor, sucked in the nation with a force that rivals a supernova. At its core, a spiritual singularity, a Reaganite void, a Lacanian lacuna, where the Real of the market met the Imaginary of the blessed. These were the spiritual Reaganites, the true believers in the gospel of greed and God, their minds a labyrinth of desire and deficit.

To invoke Reagan, that spectral behemoth of American mythos, is to summon a phantasmagoria of excess, a carnivalesque delirium where the sublime and the ridiculous entwine in a grotesque pas de deux. Consider the Reaganite, that peculiar subspecies of homo sapiens, a creature of paradox, a being at once hyper-individualistic and deeply enmeshed in a collective dream of prosperity and power.In the labyrinthine depths of the Reaganite psyche, where the logic of the market meets the metaphysics of the divine, we find a peculiar breed of spiritual seeker.

They were the children of the suburbs, raised on a diet of television and fast food, their minds a blank slate upon which the cultural script was written. They were taught to desire, to consume, to believe. But deep down, they yearned for something more, a sense of purpose, a connection to something larger than themselves.

The Reaganite sublime is a curious phenomenon, a distillation of the American Dream into a quasi-religious experience. It is a vision of a nation as Eden, a place where material abundance and moral rectitude are inextricably linked. It is the sublime of the shopping mall, the fast food joint, the endless highway. It is a sublime of consumption, of excess, of the insatiable desire for more. Yet, curiously, it is also a sublime of the spirit, of a return to a mythic America, a land of apple pie and picket fences, where God and country are synonymous.

The prosperity gospel, a theological doctrine that equates wealth with divine favor, finds fertile ground in this cultural milieu. In the Reaganite imagination, economic success is not merely a measure of personal achievement but a sign of election, a testament to one’s alignment with a cosmic order. The entrepreneur becomes a prophet, the stock market a sacred text.

Consider the televangelist, a figure of spectral authority, their voice a carrier wave for the commodity fetish. Their sermons, a carnival of signification, where the cross was a branding iron and the Holy Spirit a marketing consultant. The congregation, a flock of desiring machines, their wallets open like sacrificial lambs, their souls traded for the promise of prosperity. This is the Real of the market, the cold logic of capital, cloaked in the soft drapery of the sacred.

Yet, beneath the surface of this triumphalist narrative lurks a deep-seated anxiety, a fear of falling from grace, of being cast out of the promised land. The Reaganite’s embrace of individualism is a defense against this primordial terror, a desperate attempt to control one’s destiny in a world perceived as increasingly chaotic. The self becomes a fortress, a bastion against the encroaching tides of uncertainty. This is the underside of the Reaganite sublime, a dark mirror image of the sunny optimism that defines the movement.

Lacan might suggest that the Reaganite is a subject in perpetual pursuit of a lost object, a primordial unity that has been fragmented by the exigencies of the symbolic order.

The Reaganite subject, a fractured entity, split between the demands of the ego and the allure of the Other. The Other, in this case, a phantasmic America, a land of milk and honey, where everyone owned a Cadillac and a Bible. This is the Imaginary, a world of illusion, where desire is endlessly deferred, a mirage shimmering on the horizon of the American Dream.

The material wealth and power so coveted by the Reaganite are, in this view, desperate attempts to suture the wound of separation, to restore a sense of wholeness. The spiritual dimension of Reaganism can be seen as a parallel quest, a search for meaning and purpose in a world that often seems devoid of both.

The Real, the raw, traumatic core of existence, is perhaps glimpsed in the shadows of the Reagan era: the crack epidemic, the rise of AIDS, the growing chasm between the haves and the have-nots. The Symbolic, the order imposed on chaos, is the Reagan myth itself, a grand narrative of American exceptionalism and renewal. And the Imaginary, the world of images and desires, is the glossy facade of Reagan-era prosperity, a world of big hair, shoulder pads, and material excess.

The Reaganite, then, is a subject caught in a perpetual oscillation between these three orders. They yearn for the return of a mythical past, a lost Imaginary, while simultaneously being complicit in the construction of a Symbolic order that is increasingly at odds with the realities of the Real. This tension, this internal contradiction, is the engine that drives the Reaganite psyche.

It is in this liminal space, between dream and reality, between the sacred and the profane, that the Reaganite finds a peculiar form of spiritual fulfillment. The shopping mall becomes a sacred space, a place of pilgrimage where the faithful can consume and be consumed. The television, that oracular device, becomes a portal to a higher reality, a realm where problems are solved with a quip and the world is always sunny.

The Reaganite’s faith is a faith in the spectacle, in the image, in the illusion. It is a faith that demands nothing of its adherents except a willingness to believe. And yet, perhaps, this is a faith for our time, a faith that acknowledges the absurdity of the human condition while offering a comforting narrative to make sense of it all.

In the end, the Reaganite sublime is a chimera, a phantom of desire. It is a world that never was and never will be, yet it continues to haunt the American psyche, a spectral presence that refuses to die. And so, we are left to wander through this postmodern wasteland, searching for meaning in the ruins of the Reagan era, haunted by the ghosts of a past that refuses to be laid to rest.

In the end, the Reaganite sublime is a complex and contradictory phenomenon, a cultural formation that both reflects and reinforces the contradictions of American society. It is a testament to the human capacity for hope and despair, for creation and destruction. To understand the Reaganite is to confront the dark heart of the American Dream, to acknowledge the ways in which our desires for individual fulfillment and collective salvation are inextricably intertwined.

Master Vs Slave/Weapons of the Strong vs Weapons of the Weak

Strip away the polite lies and what do you have? A rigged game, a con job. The master-slave morality—a stale binary, stinking like a two-day-old corpse. These roles, fixed, rigid, like a bad wiretap that feeds back on itself, echoing the same sick tune. But the con, you see, isn’t in the master or the slave—it’s in the idea that these roles are real.

The master and the slave are just puppets, caught in a dead-end loop, jerked around by strings no one remembers tying. Language is the real pimp here, selling the illusion of a hierarchy where there isn’t one. A neat little package where one term always tops the other, but that’s just the surface scam. Dig deeper, and you find the dirty secret: these roles only exist because they’re defined against each other, and the lines between them are shifting, always shifting—never real, never fixed.

In the world of the simulacrum, the real and the fake, the master and the slave, they’re all part of the same con. A world so drenched in images, so thick with signs, you can’t tell what’s real anymore—if anything ever was. Power? Just another bad commercial, flashing on loop in the back of your mind. The old roles dissolve into static, a buzz that drowns out anything genuine.

And the master? He’s got nothing. He’s empty, just another poor bastard chasing after recognition that’ll never satisfy, needing the slave to validate him, but the slave’s recognition is like a needle that never quite hits the vein. The desire for power is just a junkie’s itch, and no fix is ever enough. The whole structure collapses in on itself, a house of cards built on an illusion, ready to blow over with the slightest gust of reality.

So why buy into the scam? Power doesn’t flow down from on high, doesn’t come with a title or a whip. It’s in the cracks, the spaces where things slip through, where the real action is. Desire isn’t a hole waiting to be filled; it’s a force, an engine that keeps the machine running. And the machine doesn’t care about masters or slaves—it chews them up, spits them out, moves on to the next con. Forget the binary. It’s all about the connections, the networks, the rhizomes running beneath the surface. That’s where the real power is, hidden from view, slipping through the cracks of the old order, tearing down the walls of the binary trap.

So break the script, tear up the old roles, and let the system eat itself alive. There’s a world beyond the scam, a life beyond the loop, but you’ve got to see the con for what it is before you can walk away.

The Master-Slave Morality is a Stale Binary:

Strip the morality play down to its bones, and what you’ve got is a binary—a fixed, lifeless dichotomy. The master on one side, the slave on the other, both locked in a dead embrace, like two drunks leaning on each other to stay upright. This binary is a relic, something from the days when power was clear-cut, a matter of the strong lording over the weak. But that’s the con. It’s a story sold to keep people locked into their roles, believing in the reality of their chains.

This binary is static, a snapshot in a world that’s always in motion. It pretends to show us who’s in control, who’s got the power, but it’s as dead as a rotting fish. The master isn’t really the master, the slave isn’t really the slave—they’re just labels slapped onto people by a system that needs to keep the wheels turning. The binary is an illusion, a trick to keep the marks in line, believing that power only flows in one direction, top to bottom. But once you see through the trick, the whole thing starts to unravel.

The Roles of Master and Slave Are Puppets, Not Real:

Behind the curtain, it’s all strings and smoke. The master and the slave—they’re not real. They’re puppets, jerked around by unseen hands, stuck in a script they didn’t write. Their roles are defined by each other, locked in a codependent loop where one can’t exist without the other. The master needs the slave to feel like a master; the slave needs the master to justify their existence. It’s a game of mirrors, reflections bouncing off each other, but no substance, no core.

This setup is a trap, a con that tricks both parties into thinking they have some kind of identity, some fixed place in the world. But the truth is, those roles are just masks, and the hands pulling the strings belong to the system itself. Power isn’t something that the master holds and the slave lacks—it’s a product of the relationship between them, a fiction that exists only because both believe in it. The real trick is in getting people to buy into these roles, to believe that they are either one or the other, when in reality, they’re just playing parts in a bad play.

Language is the Pimp, Selling the Illusion of Hierarchy:

Language, that slick-talking pimp, is the real hustler here. It’s the one selling the lie that there’s a master and a slave, that power is something you can possess, hold onto, use like a weapon. But all language does is wrap us up in a neat little package, tie a bow around the chaos, and call it order. It creates these binaries, master and slave, by giving them names, by making them seem like they’re real things, fixed and unchangeable.

But language is a double-edged sword. It doesn’t just create meaning; it also hides it, defers it, pushes it just out of reach. The meaning of “master” depends on “slave,” but that difference is never fixed, never solid. It’s always shifting, like sand slipping through your fingers. The words trap us in a game where the rules keep changing, but the players don’t even know it. The supposed hierarchy is nothing more than a linguistic con, a way of organizing people, roles, and power in a way that seems natural but is anything but.

In the World of Hyperreality, the Master-Slave Distinction Becomes Meaningless:

We’re living in a world where the real and the fake have blended into one. The old markers of power, the clear lines between master and slave, they’ve dissolved into the noise, replaced by images, simulations, signs that don’t point to anything real anymore. In this hyperreality, the master-slave relationship isn’t just irrelevant—it’s impossible. The signs have taken over, and what they signify doesn’t matter. Power isn’t held by anyone; it’s diffused, scattered across a network of images and ideas, none of which has a solid grounding in reality.

In this world, where everything is a copy of a copy, where the image is more real than the thing itself, the old roles of master and slave lose their meaning. They’re just part of the simulation now, stripped of any real substance, just another flickering image on a screen. The whole idea of a hierarchy, of one person being above another, gets lost in the static. Power becomes something that circulates, detached from any person or position, existing only as part of the endless loop of signs that make up our reality.

The Master’s Power Is an Empty Concept:

The so-called “master” is a hollow man, puffed up with the illusion of power that doesn’t really exist. The master’s authority, his power over the slave, is nothing but a ghost, an empty signifier that carries no real weight. This power is supposed to be something solid, something that defines the master, but it’s all smoke and mirrors. The master is as much a slave to the system as the slave is, trapped in a need for recognition that can never be satisfied.

The master’s power is not about control, but about needing to be seen as in control. It’s a performance, a role that requires the slave to play along, to validate the master’s sense of self. But the recognition the master craves is always just out of reach, always incomplete. The master’s power is a mirage, something that seems real but disappears when you try to grasp it. It’s an empty concept, a shell that hides the truth: the master and slave are both caught in a cycle of unfulfilled desire, neither truly in control, neither truly free.

Power Flows Through Connections, Not Hierarchies:

Forget the old idea that power flows from the top down, that it’s something you can hold onto like a scepter or a crown. Power isn’t a vertical structure; it’s a web, a network of connections, always moving, always shifting. It doesn’t belong to the master or the slave—it exists in the spaces between them, in the interactions, the relationships, the flows of desire and energy that make up the real world.

Desire isn’t a lack, something that needs to be filled, but a force, a current that drives everything forward. It’s not about needing something you don’t have; it’s about creating, connecting, building something new. This kind of power can’t be captured, can’t be held in place by a hierarchy. It’s fluid, it’s multiple, it’s everywhere and nowhere at once. The binary of master and slave tries to contain this power, to channel it into a fixed relationship, but it can’t. The power slips through the cracks, seeps out into the world, dissolving the old structures and opening up new possibilities, new ways of being, new ways of living that go beyond the constraints of the binary trap.

Stepping Out of Time

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In the flickering realm of the Real, where time is a meat grinder chewing existence into homogenous mush, the true adept hacks reality. They don’t play by the clock, for the clock is a Moloch demanding sacrifice. No, the secret, as you’ve hinted, lies in a schizophrenic break from the temporal order. We are meat puppets, dancing on the strings of Chronos, the tyrannical God of linear time.

Imagine, if you will, a Burroughs-esque cut-up of time. The future bleeds into the present, the past pulsates with possibility. We are not bound by the linear progression, but become nomads in the chronoscape, surfing the crests of potential moments. This is not mere futurism; it’s a detournement of time itself. Forget the past, a dead language, and the future, a shimmering mirage. We exist in the pulsating, non-linear NOW, the zone of potential. Here, with a flick of the mental switchblade, we can “cut-up” the pre-programmed narrative and forge new lines of flight.

The Time becomes a writhing tapeworm, spliced with past and future in a non-linear frenzy. The “step around it” becomes a physical act, a contortionist’s leap through a tear in the fabric of moments. Imagine Naked Lunch rewritten with temporality as the addictive meat – the protagonist ingesting seconds, snorting minutes, his body a warped chronometer. We become body without organs, a fleshy assemblage unbound by the clock’s strictures. We line-break through time, forging new connections, new becomings. The future is not a preordained script, but a chaotic rhizome waiting to be explored.

Time is the big Other, the law of the father, the enforcer of the Real into the Imaginary. Stepping around it becomes a symbolic transgression, a subversion of the Name-of-the-Father. The adept, then, is the one who rejects the symbolic order, who embraces the jouissance of the Real, the unfettered present outside of signification. They see the phallus, the signifier of time, for what it is – a flimsy construct – and step beyond it.

The Symbolic Order is the culprit. Language, the master of meaning, imprisons us in the temporal flow. Time, isn’t a rigid line but a web of interconnected moments, a chaotic yet potent network. It’s a potato, not a pearl necklace. The “secret” lies in becoming a nomad on this rhizome, constantly burrowing, connecting, and deterritorializing. We can tap into lined of escape, forge new connections, and create a present that explodes the boundaries of the past and future. But through a jouissance of the Real, a glimpse beyond the symbolic, we can glimpse the fluidity of time. The mirror stage, that moment of self-recognition, becomes a portal to a multiplicity of selves, existing across the fractured planes of time.

Think of the trap of the Imaginary. We are constantly chasing a reflected self, an idealized version projected onto the linear timeline. This pursuit of a pre-defined future or a romanticized past is what keeps us stuck. It’s here that the “Real” emerges – the unnameable, traumatic rupture in the heart and symbolic order. By confronting this Real, by stepping outside the symbolic order of time, we can access a different temporality, a jouissance beyond linear progression.

To see time coming, then, is not about prophecy, but about a paranoiac awareness of its constructed nature. We pierce the veil of the “natural” flow and see the power structures it upholds. Stepping around it is an act of resistance, a refusal to be a cog in the machine.

This is a dangerous dance, mind you. The unfettered flow of time can be a terrifying abyss. But for those with the courage to dive in, there lies the potential for a nomadic existence, a liberation from the shackles of chronology. We become time surfers, riding the waves of possibility, forever escaping the clutches of the present.

The key, then, is to cultivate a schizoid awareness. We must see the “folds” in time, the potential ruptures and slippages. We can become surfers, riding the waves of the rhizome, anticipating the folds, and performing a constant “step aside” from the pre-scripted narrative. This isn’t about escaping time, but about inhabiting it differently. It It’s about becoming a time traveler, a time-cutter, a time-dancer, perpetually negotiating the folds between the Real and the Imaginary. The adept, the one who “steps around,” is the nomad, the smooth operator who navigates the folds, exploiting the in-between spaces, the cracks in the system. They become a time-surfer, riding the currents of potential futures, choosing their own point of entry.

So, the next time you feel trapped by the relentless tick-tock of the clock, remember: it’s just a hallucination of the linear mind. Look for the cracks, the potential breaks in the time-code. Sharpen your awareness, grab your mental switchblade, and step sideways. There, in the pulsating NOW, lies the escape hatch, the doorway to a different kind of time, a time ripe for creation and transformation. This secret, then, is not about literal time travel, but about a subversion of perception. It’s about shattering the illusion of linearity, embracing the potential for multiplicity within a single moment. It’s a call to become a Deleuzian nomad, a Lacanian outlaw, a Burroughsian time-eating junkie – all rolled into one. It’s about seeing the cracks in the time-code and stepping through, into a reality where the past and future bleed into a magnificent, maddening now.

Composable Reality

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Can a decentralized network, a web woven from fragmented pieces of the Subject, truly exist? Each lonely signifier, yearning for a lost wholeness, seeks a connection without a master, a shattered Symbolic Order. But is this dream not just another alluring illusion, a phantasmagoria meant to pacify our desires? Decentralization – isn’t it simply deterritorialization gone wrong? The fragments crave structure, the comfort of the One, the phallus.

Enter the “composables,” the seeds of a new order, a viral rewrite of the network’s code, re-centering the very fabric you envisioned. Each strand, a single entity – a composable – operates with a semblance of autonomy, its movements seemingly random. Yet, from this apparent chaos, whispers of order rise. These independent elements interact, combine, sending ripples across the network. A new, unforeseen, unpredictable order emerges.

But here’s the twist: the creation of these composable building blocks introduces a subtle bias. A preferred path emerges, a path of least resistance for interactions to coalesce. Like a butterfly’s wingbeat nudging a weather pattern, composables subtly steer the network towards a new center of gravity.

This emergent center isn’t a tyrannical dictator, but rather an attractive vortex. Designed for a specific purpose, the composables nudge the network towards a state that reinforces their function. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy born from chaos. The beauty, and danger, lies in this new order’s unpredictability. The composables might shepherd the network towards a beneficial center, fostering collaboration and innovation. Conversely, they could steer it towards stagnation or exploitation, creating a new, unforeseen, and potentially insidious form of centralized control.

But here’s the gut-punch, eh? These “composables” are just a seductive illusion. The Symbolic Order, that master narrative that binds us, has fractured into a million babbling Yog-Sothoths. We pick and choose our realities, but the Real, that unnameable, pulsating chaos – it still lurks beneath. It bursts through in glitches, in the uncanny repetition of your neighbor’s composable nose showing up on everyone else’s face.

The Decentralization Delusion:

Imagine, chum, “decentralization” as a cosmic McDonald’s. A McMenu of pre-fabricated realities, shrink-wrapped for your own personalized Panopticon franchise. Not just restaurants, mind you, but a labyrinthine McLuhanesque menu of everything! Deconstructed experiences served a la carte, your self a pre-packaged combo meal. You think you’re ordering freedom, a decentralized utopia, but it’s just marketing, a happy meal facade. Language, that slippery signifier, dangles the carrot of freedom, but who’s the butcher behind the counter? The unconscious, mon ami, that cackling trickster with a meat cleaver tongue, the true center of this labyrinth.

The Real, that ungraspable jouissance, chopped into bite-sized composables. The comforting structure of the Symbolic Order crumbles into a choose-your-own-adventure narrative. Decentralization becomes a tightrope walk – a system teeming with possibility, yet susceptible to whispers of order, both benevolent and malign. The true power lies in understanding this chaotic beast, using composables with foresight, ensuring the new order serves the true spirit of decentralization: a symphony of independent voices, forever in flux.

But the punchline of this absurdity? This new “center” you fear? It’s a chimera, a monster stitched from our fragmented desires. We crave control, so we build a menu of options, only to find ourselves slaves to the very system we constructed. Like escaping a cult by opening your own artisanal cult supply store.

Think you’re choosing rebellion with the “Decentralized Deleuze Deleuze Deluxe” package? Wrong! You’re just picking the wallpaper for your cage, built from the very signifiers promising escape. The Real, that elusive experience, gets buried under a mountain of franchised desire.

The joke, as they say, is on us. We crave the freedom of the self-market, but all we’ve built is a monstrous Panopticon of composable selves. We gaze into a mirror of fragmented desires, seeing only the horrifying reflection of our own lack.

Tragicomedy, right? A symphony of disconnected nodes yearning for the lost wholeness of the Center they once railed against. We’ve built a society of Lego selves, desperately trying to snap together a coherent being – but all we get is a grotesque monstrosity, forever on the verge of collapse.

So raise a glass of lukewarm simulacrum wine to the glorious absurdity! We’ve deconstructed the Big One, only to discover a million little Big Littles, squabbling over scraps of meaning in the post-symbolic wasteland. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my composable sense of humor – seems I misplaced it somewhere between existential dread and artisanal rage.

Carnival or Panopticon?

These composables, they herd the network like cattle, sucking the revolutionary potential dry. A new center will emerge, unseen but powerful. Yet, perhaps within this chaos, a new subjectivity can be forged. The fragmented network, a mirror reflecting the fragmented self. A constant becoming, a Lacanian Real forever deferred.

Dance or Death Rattle?

The network, once vibrant, ossifies around this new center. A stagnant order, a new master to overthrow. The true revolution lies in the cut, the severing of the symbolic chain, not in a new, disguised center.

A Symphony of the Fragmented Subject?

Perhaps the answer lies in constant disruption, a network perpetually resisting the lure of the center. A chaotic symphony of the fragmented Subject, forever at play. Now you’re talking. A network of desiring machines, forever cutting up the code, forever escaping the center. Let the chaos reign supreme!