Limited edition of 70 copies with a handmade patch on the cover.

Opposition towards any utopian dreams of a better future residing on the far side of a lifetime of sacrifice. Something of this fraud, which elevates the perishable person as bearer of the divine substance, has always been detectable in the ego, which owes its existence to the sacrifice of the present moment to the future. Its substance is as illusory as the immortality of the slaughtered victim. The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born; the old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters.

This triumph over beauty is celebrated by humor – the Schadenfreude that every successful deprivation calls forth. There is laughter because there is nothing to laugh at. It is the echo of power as something inescapable, laughter dedicated to the pleasure of being ready for anything at the expense of everyone else. A transaction mediating between self-preservation and self annihilation, an attempt by the self to survive itself. The fear of losing the self, and suspending with it the boundary between oneself and other life, the aversion to death and destruction, is twinned with a promise of joy which has threatened civilization at every moment since.

The destructive character lives from the feeling not that life is worthing living, but that suicide is not worth the trouble. The farther away from the slaughter, the more optimism replaces reality.

Come down to us, God has abandoned us, but we will enjoy it.