I want to watch someone have a meltdown, that’s what I want. An intelligent meltdown. Since those are nonexistent for some reason (to “save face” in society or whatever bullshit) I turn to writings from the past that can be described in the following way

his satires are largely devoted to tirades

Please, it’s the last day of May. Make this Meltdown May with this one final day, do it for me. It’s time to lose control! Make sure to keep your pinky out when you sip your tea you twit. That’s another banned genre- “rageporn”. Where is that? I see no severe condemnations of society anywhere. Everyone’s such a butterfly, so softly lighting upon a surface. “You can’t just tell someone to have a meltdown.” You can’t? So content with everything are you? Blind dumb and deaf you must be. Draw blood. I want to witness a murder.

Seeing a chapter title like this just brings such a smile to my face

I want this when I’m eating my tacos tonight

Persius’s satires–works that normally would have been recited before a reclining, feasting audience.

We don’t get this. I want to laugh so hard I spray the tacos all over the wall. You dare to take that experience away from me?

Isolating who the real monsters of Rome were. We know who the sell-outs were, the Augustus doormats. Juvenal was exiled like Ovid. My niggas. This is the first time I ever heard of this Persius misanthrope.

Mordax, adj. biting, given to biting, snappish, stinging, sharp, caustic, cutting, snarling

Horace would not want to appear mordax, for that sounds like animal behavior; Persius, however,

SNARLING! Not allowed. Mordax happens to be a brand of knife. Disembowelment. It’s similar to how we only get bank robber movies and not movies with bankers being thrown out of windows. All the “humor” we get isn’t funny, and all the violence is directed only at the things that aren’t the true ones that deserve the violence. Starving, deprived, no mordax.

That adventure study should be arriving in the mail soon- that genre can intersect with the best satire. Hopefully it introduces me to some obscure writers like Persius. There’s a connection between being an animal and being sovereign. When you align your will with the status quo you’re killing part of yourself. You’re not being yourself anymore. Who you are is probably a lot “wilder” than you know if you’ve only ever sought the praise of the public all your life.

Certain genres resonate with me more than others

Most men have lost somehow their most prized possession, their ratio, and so the satirist can rightly regard them as animals or defective things, objects acted upon rather than subjects acting consciously.

People care about another kind of ratio too much.

Another connection here- Persius’ mordax involves the eschewal of exotericism. Adventure, satire, esotericism- all opposed to mob norms, and all nonexistent in tumbleweed world.

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