Back in January of 2016, I penned a posting on my long-defunct blog, The Hesperado an essay that marked a major milepost in my disillusionment with the Counter-Jihad, aptly titled "The Desperado".
Somewhere in that depressing essay, I made allusion in passing to "my other life, Art (I'm a fiction writer and musician)."
I then went to pose the question:
What meaning does Art have, when it no longer has a civilizational cosmion (at least one that's not stupidly doomed, as ours is) in which to exercise the tension between Art and Reality? But that may be the subject of a future essay.
That may serve as a reminder for me to take a stab at this interesting question someday soon here on this blog -- a question whose purport & import has in the meantime (and I mean mean) acquired an acutely disturbing jolt of electricity, given the two catastrophes since that halcyon time in 2016 when all I had to worry about was the Stealth Jihad and the dim-wittedness of the Counter-Jihad: namely, the alarming glimpse of the Swamp we saw this past November when a virtually transparent Coup replaced a US Presidential Election; and the protracted insanity-cum-conspiracy of the unfolding Covid Regime.
More on my old friend Art (not Linkletter, though he was a cool guy) later...
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