Kapitän zur See Hans Wilhelm Langsdorff (Iron Cross First Class, Iron Cross Second Class, Hanseatenkreuz)
(20 March 1894 – 19 December 1939)
Kapitän Hans Langsdorff takes a smoke as he reads the morning newspaper on the morning before his death.
Perhaps, for some, Captain…
Some jerk sent us two boxes of this awful book (SPOILER ALERT: George Washington - Patriot; George Soros - Pinhead) instead of anything soldiers at a remote outpost in Afghanistan might need, like, say, food or soap. Just burned the whole lot of them on my Commander’s orders.
n. fear that learning the name of something—a bird, a constellation, an attractive stranger—will somehow ruin it, transforming a lucky discovery into a conceptual husk pinned in a glass case, which leaves one less mystery to flutter around your head, trying to get in.
Andrew Freenberg
I want to get a fixie, thick rimmed glasses with no lenses and and walk around town. Once I find normal looking people, I’ll just start screaming at them. “Hey hipster! You think you’re so cool? Why don’t you go back to Williamsburg!? That would be so ironic. No one got that joke. Too meta. Soooo meta man. Speaking of meta, this schtik has a esoteric text for all the Straussians watching. The rest of you plebs can enjoy the unfunny jokes. If you’re a Straussian, I hope you’ve been writing down the first letter of every sentence I say. And yeah, three words: I love semicolons. For the rest of you, don’t bother asking what the hidden meaning of this is. They don’t know. Or rather, they do know but they can’t tell you. Actually the esoteric truth of all works of political theory is that in reading the works of de Tocqueville, Machiavelli, Plato and all the rest, you do get some kind of ultimate knowledge about political theory and that’s the knowledge that you’ll be unemployed for the rest of your life. I guess I’m not supposed to joke about unemployment though. Serious issue.
There’s a Starbucks inside the Forbidden City. Perfect symbol for contemporary China. The allure of the market is inside the walls of the Marxist elite.
go for a walk, think about how you would describe what you see, what you feel