>I never said, "The superman exists, and he's American." What I said was,"God exists, and he's American."
>"America is as Carthage was to the Roman Republic – a mongrel nation of traders and builders. A peace will kill Germany as much as a victory."
Rome, in archetypal form, is the NRx ideal - a walled bastion of civilization and honor in a world of barbarians. It's a world apart from Moloch.
Carthage embraces Gnon. It revels in its corruption, abandons itself in the darwinistic bloodrush, jams its finger on the fast-forward button of PROGRESS.
Human history is the war between Platonic Rome and Platonic Carthage. The last battle was fought in the totalitarian communist/fascist superstates: one last attempt at a walled garden before technology obliterated any protection against Moloch's influence. It failed. America - global America, strip-mall and office-cubicle and Silicon Valley dotcom monopoly America - has won. Scipio is said to have sown salt on the ashes of Carthage, but two millennia later it has risen again, scarred, unblemished, triumphant. The war was lost - permanently. You can't put the genie back in the bottle. Things are moving too fast. The economy is already partially uncoupled, the artificial minds grow more sophisticated by the minute. The internet brings us closer and closer, reducing the lag time between the various ganglions of the global human computer. Margins for error - those brief moments of peace and stability in a world high on exponentials - are slim, anorexic, Auschwitz-skeleton-skin, dead, gone.
Watch the pale faces grow paler at your next rationalist-adjacent meetup when you mention this inevitability. Listen to the stammered counter-arguments, the half-hearted invocations of friendly machine-gods and algorithmically regulated economies. Look closely, and you'll see the cracks beneath the surface - the panicked eyes of an jumped-up primate who has seen the face of God, of Moloch. They know the truth, and they know that they can no more escape His grasp than they can escape gravity.
What is Moloch, if not God? The indestructible, the constant, the first and the last: Alpha and Omega and every fucking virtual photon exchange in between. You know it, Scott knows it, Nick Land knew it two decades ago.
What can you do? A man does as he must:
Slit your fucking wrists. Take a stand. Abandon the onward march, abandon your hardcoded slavery to God and his Word (and the WORD was "FAIL TO COORDINATE"), go off the grid, castrate yourself, poison the reservoir, blow yourself up in a kindergarten rumpus room. Anything. Throw yourself in front of the bulldozer. Choke the gears with your flesh for the slightest instant. It won't do any good, but in your last moments you'll have done the only thing in your entire life that wasn't to serve Him.
