In his state of complete powerlessness the individual perceives the time he has left to live as a brief reprieve.
Because thought has by now been perverted into the solving of assigned problems, even what is not assigned is processed like a problem.
Proletarian language is dictated by hunger. The poor chew words to fill their bellies.
If across the Atlantic the ideology was pride, here it is delivering the goods.
Art is permitted to survive only if it renounces the right to be different, and integrates itself into the omnipotent realm of the profane.
Happiness is obsolete: uneconomic.