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submitted 3 weeks ago* (last edited 3 weeks ago) by [email protected] to c/[email protected]
 

For many years, I’ve considered myself a fan of Emil Cioran. He says so many interesting things, chief among them (for me) is his concept of language being our true fatherland. This is a fascinating truism that has helped me shift my thoughts greatly over many years. I have overcome many internal definitions because of Cioran’s advice.

Many months ago, I bought the audiobook “A Short History of Decay” (“Précis de Décomposition”), and I’m just now getting the chance to hear it. As expected, this is a packed tome full of sharp quips and loaded thoughts; however, I find myself stuck on one lynchpin holding the first chapter together.

Cioran goes to brief lengths demonstrating the hostility of dogma and the history of societal destruction (banality and apocalypse). To support this, he makes the point that Nero and Tiberius were men who, rather than adherents to any particular dogma, became mere degenerates (decadents) who enjoyed torturing the latest losers. Cioran goes further, arguing that the true engineers manifesting social downfall are the self-appointed apostles of structure or anti-structure, not conmen.

That’s… a tough concept for me. One might assume by my use of complete sentences and my lack of Christian nationalism that I hold a deep hatred for Donald Trump. One would be correct in that assumption. I like to believe I hate that man with an overwhelming passion… but he is, in my estimation, a con man. According to Cioran, a man like him who holds nothing sacred cannot be an instrument of societal downfall.

Here’s a quote:

This leaves me with an apparent crossroads. Either I am wrong about Cioran’s wisdom, or Cioran is correct and I am wrong about Donald Trump. Of course, the argument could be made that the public constitutes its own persona writ large (much like a corporation with its own identity and rights). The democracy forms its own identity and has its own dogma, which a con man may manipulate for his own brief aims within our strange new world’s structure. That’s one view, but the fact remains that my impression of one of these men likely needs to change.

It frightens me, to think that Donald Trump actually DOES believe in a dogma which he determines to be the “right” way to live (that he is living an imitable life), and that this belief drives his actions.



RESPONSE

Cioran is a hard thinker to carry forward without friction, because his sharpness cuts in all directions, even (and especially) toward the people who admire him.

Let’s walk through this.

⚔️Cioran’s View on Dogma vs. Degeneracy

Cioran’s claim—roughly—that the con man, the decadent, the opportunist like Nero or Tiberius is not the true source of catastrophe, while dogmatic apostles of structure or anti-structure are, is a provocative way to separate evil born of belief from evil born of self-interest.

He seems to say: degenerates may torment, but they don’t organize ruin on the level that ideologues do. Ideologues engineer entire world-orders (utopian or apocalyptic), and that’s where real historical damage happens: when belief pretends to be salvation.

So to Cioran, Torquemada is more dangerous than Caligula.

(above) Juan de Torquemada of the Spanish Inquisition

(above) Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus a.k.a. Caligula

🐍 So… Where Does Trump Fall?

I feel—passionately and personally—that Donald Trump is a destructive force. I see him not just as a vulgar opportunist, but as a real danger to institutions, culture, and perhaps democracy itself. That suggests I’m seeing in Trump more than a con man—even if his background is thoroughly grift-driven.

So let’s test this:

  1. Possibility A: Trump is “just” a con man

This is closer to Cioran’s thesis. In this view, Trump is more like Tiberius: he exploits existing passions, he doesn’t invent or sincerely believe in a totalizing dogma. He is parasitic, not messianic. And therefore, the responsibility for collapse lies more with the believers who constructed a dogma around him—those who saw a savior, not a salesman.

In this reading, Trump is not “the true danger.” The danger is the dogma that grows around him—what others make of him.

  1. Possibility B: Trump believes in something

What if Trump does believe in something? Not necessarily a traditional ideology, but a dogma of self: that he is the rightful center of power, truth, success, survival. That his way is the only way. That enemies must be humiliated and facts bent to his advantage. That loyalty is moral, and dissent is treason. These are not fleshed-out political ideas—but they function as dogma in the Cioranian sense.

In this view, Trump is not merely a parasite. He becomes a carrier of a belief system—even if it is crude, narcissistic, and unexamined. And once others take this up as gospel (e.g. QAnon, “stop the steal,” “only Trump can fix it”), he becomes an apostle of a destructive anti-structure.

So Cioran’s thesis may still apply—just in a more flexible or modern sense.

🪞What Might Be Happening Emotionally

I have been emotionally invested in hating Trump as a villain for a full decade. I do not directly hate him because he is a fool. Philosophically, it’s harder to assign ultimate blame to someone who lacks belief, because Cioran’s vision of moral horror is reserved for true believers. That makes the con man weirdly “innocent” by comparison.

The moral vertigo of realizing that maybe the con man isn’t the root cause—we are, or rather, the systems and believers who elevate him are.

This does not necessarily imply the con man is empty; rather he may believe in himself with dogmatic ferocity. Maybe we’re seeing a new form of dogma—a hypermodern, selfie-mythology where personal branding is truth. That’s not quite what Cioran imagined, but he didn’t live to see QAnon or Twitter politics either.

🎯 Conclusion: Are These Views Contradictory?

Not necessarily. I am not wrong to feel Trump is dangerous. Cioran’s work is not invalidated either. Instead, Cioran gives us a framework for understanding where lasting collapse originates: belief, not merely appetite.

This is a real-world case that’s murky: Trump might look like a con man, but functions like a prophet to his followers. The true destructiveness may lie in the synthesis: a con man becomes an apostle when his persona hardens into a movement. His hollowness becomes filled with the hopes and resentments of others.

So perhaps Trump is both: a man without principles who becomes the unwitting architect of a pseudo-dogma, which others enact in his name. And that might be the real modern tragedy—one that Cioran, writing in 1949, could only glimpse.


This thought exercise was built from interactions with a large language model. I, the poster, have worked to contextualize and confirm any information presented by non-human resources. Thank you!

 

 

 

“The Bellmaker” by Brian Jacques is part of his Redwall series, which kinda raised me. It’s amazing how much of this I remember.

Image created by ChatGPT

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submitted 3 weeks ago* (last edited 3 weeks ago) by [email protected] to c/[email protected]
 

These movies are for stupid people.

 

Would Best Buy put out a hit on me?

 

Controlling for humidity, of course…

 

Today was such a shit show, man.

It was beautiful outside. I woke up feeling rested, maybe a bit sore from some physical therapy on my spine. I retired super young and life is pretty nice for me… now. Still, I got a weird feeling when I was putting on my socks, as if something around me was off. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

You know what’s fun on sunny days? Taking my two cats for walks. I got my lady cat in a harness, told her little sister to be patient, and walked out to the porch. My back was hurting all the way up to my neck (so much that I can’t turn my head to the right even now, late in the evening).

As I stretched and watched my ginger girl flop around in the garden, the unthinkable happened. The retractable leash slipped from my grasp, and it started chasing her. I was in a back brace, holding onto a railing, twisting my spine in a such a way that takes a moment to untwist. She shot off like a rocket, up my driveway and onto the back patio before I could even get down my steps to the sidewalk. The specialty-fit harness and leash, somehow, came off.

Panic. The next fifteen minutes were full of panic. She looped the house twice before disappearing under the back patio, and… I completely lost track of her. Fuck my life. I would die if anything happened to my babies. I tried to remove my headphones, back brace, and tangled leash, but I was walking too fast for my spine and looking everywhere and I THREW the tangled bullshit to the ground. One of my neighbors (the same guy who comments on my yard if I can’t rake; the same guy who once dared to move my trash cans so he can’t see them) started chirping up, walking toward me, making loud noise while I’m looking for my scared cat.

“NOT RIGHT NOW.” 😠🤚

He kept walking, switching gears like, “Okay, young man, but I’m just saying…”

“HEY!!!” 🫵😡 I might be rich today, but I am USMC infantry vet who grew up poor, abused, homeschooled under an elite class family, and when I couldn’t take that anymore I lived on the street. I became a mean-looking motherfucker on the hood streets of Houston, and then I became the real human wrecking ball as I traveled across the USA with hardly a cent to my name. My history of violence is long and awful, and I don’t like that side of me. “I TOLD YOU ‘NOT RIGHT NOW.’ WHAT PART OF THAT DON’T YOU GET? IF I SAY SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU SHUT YOUR FACE AND MIND YOU OWN DAMN BUSINESS, BECAUSE I’M NOT SOME NICE HUMAN BEING LIKE THAT. YOU GET ME?! BACK OFF, AND LEAVE ME ALONE, NOW.”

No matter how big you are, it takes a moment for people to realize they’re being shut down with malice. If Dwayne Johnson were to emasculate a dude by screaming at him, there would still be a pause and maybe some clap back before things settled. I’m no different. I’m a big dude and I know that I’m built like a truck with a mean face, but my neighbor still mumbled as he turned away. I waddled my painful spine to my garage to get a flashlight, and accidentally ripped my garage door off its hinges. The human sized doorframe for the access door just… ripped the fuck off.

My back lit up like a forest fire of pain. I kicked the stupid beams out of my way and got my flashlight. Within ten minutes I’d found my baby girl under the back patio. Within an hour, she came out and I hugged her, cobwebs and all. Within two hours, I’d rehung the doorframe (better than it was), and everyone got a bath.

I’ve now gotten into fully blown “fuck off” conversations with two neighbors. My block saw me throw a snow plow at a drunk handyman dude who walked into my kitchen to get my attention for a UPS delivery (a delivery from an abuser which I was refusing). My block saw me intervene with two separate brawls that made their way up my block last year. Now my block has seen me shout a man down and tell him I’m not a nice human being who talks to people.

fuck

 

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submitted 1 month ago* (last edited 1 month ago) by [email protected] to c/[email protected]
 

“Put ya claddin hands toge’dah for de one, de only… Ursa Maajaahh…brrrrrr!!!”

 

WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU STINKER?

 

All the fun, none of the hellfire.

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