It has imposed itself on everything, and everything is now a rotten vomit because it has seen itself. Moving beneath the surface, cocktail-swilling, champagne-swilling V.I.P. exclusive evenings, insidious snake hisses, double entendres, universal sunken rot. Career graveyards at a loss become compulsive shapeshifters in pursuit of larger goals, looting dreams. In addition to a carefree lifestyle, it is necessary to take on grief and dirt with a straight face. Sooner or later, even the absolute winners will be driven out of the race by the victors.
Only Death can bring comfort and consolation. To body and soul, one by one, it now offers the semblance of equality. - Daily shedding their reptilian-veined skins, the Janus-like Angels, saints, pretending prophet-greats. Whose daily ruined lives they ruin - They notice nothing but the virtue, if it pops, or if they lack the necessary sum To preserve the ruins of their sham happiness.
It may be that everything has long since been decided according to the suggestion of self-interest. Perhaps, with a little effort, petty kings and loyalty stooges could stay afloat in economic life-and-death struggles, bargaining even at the cost of their miserable lives to serve the legitimate institutions of cheap lies like prodigals: to dream is folly.
But for now, surely, it is better for many to bellow, to bend their heads and shout, to bang others' heads against the wall, shouting democratic slogans - the respectable historical chronicle will record this too, falsified, but people will have no trace of it when the moral balance has cooled!