Lavrentiy Beria’s chilling dictum, ‘Show me a man and I will show you the crime’ perfectly encapsulates the progressive left’s bend towards ideological puritanism and conformism.
In the heartland of America, the old order left behind something else: silence. The empty husks of steel mills, the boarded-up windows of manufacturing towns, the hollowed-out dreams of blue-collar workers who once built America’s wealth and were now left to rot.
Would Ukraine have been better off without this war? The answer is a frustrating yes and no. A few thousand power players wouldn’t be making a killing (financially speaking), but 45 million people also wouldn’t be staring down the barrel of violent death.
Abuladze presents a world where the truth is dangerous, not because people kill for it (they kill indiscriminately and on a massive scale), but because the truth itself is lethal.
The huge plot against the little thing’s very existence is one of the widest and wildest modern cold wars – it includes religion, technology, a few declarations and laws on human rights plus two huge armies of philosophizing idiots – the ones for and the ones against this medical tragedy.
The hatred directed at Musk burns like a fever across the Left, a spectacle both terrible and familiar – as predictable as the way crowds once gathered beneath guillotines, their faces illuminated by the same righteous fury we see today in the blue glow of their screens.
We elucidate the intricate interplay of psychological, sexual, and theological motifs surrounding love and mortality as they unfold within the psyches of the film’s central characters.
There’s no need to worry. Haven’t you gotten used to eating sausages and cold cuts without meat, soy cheese, or imitation fresh milk that came directly from a lab somewhere?
Armed with hashtag hashtags and fueled by overwrought angst, these socially conscious Sovietistas excel at purity councils to enforce compliance with their ever-quickening dogma.
Our Echoversum is only a sliver of broader culture’s Echoverse, one more layer of dreams, stories, and beliefs enveloping it, adding complexity upon complexity and fragments upon fragments.
Herostratus’s insatiable, almost feverish craving for the hyperreal – the exaggerated simulations and imitations of reality, rather than authentic reality itself – drove him to an abject act of destruction of something beautiful and beloved.