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Urban Shield promotional material. Read more about their convention in Oakland here.
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…like it’s the suit that needs a critique…the suit is only there to distract with a false problem. It’s like the scene from Jennifer Egan’s “A Visit from the Good Squad” where the desperate PR agent, Dolly, gives the genocidal dictator a blue baby bonnet with a chin strap in order to soften and rehabilitate his image. How much harm can beige cause?
A Washington Post reporter.
might be the rawest pic I ever seen. and he got a bag of chips in his hand
THIS IS SO FUCKING METAL
With his dreads and his american flag shirt, this is everything
You are everything, fucking everything.
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He who wills believes with a tolerable degree of certainty that will and action are somehow one—he attributes the success, the carrying out of the willing, to the will itself, and thereby enjoys an increase of that sensation of power which all success brings with it…who as such also enjoys the triumph over resistances involved but who thinks it was his will itself which overcame these resistances….what happens here is what happens in every well-constructed and happy commonwealth: the ruling class identifies itself with the successes of the commonwealth.
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The desire for ‘freedom of will’ in that metaphysical superlative sense which is unfortunately still dominant in the minds of the half-educated, the desire to bear the whole and sole responsibility for one’s actions and to absolve God, world, ancestors, chance, society from responsibility for them, is nothing less than the desire to … pull oneself into existence out of the swamp of nothingness by one’s own hair.
Friedrich Nietzsche, "On the Prejudices of Philosophers," Beyond Good and Evil, aphorism twenty-one
Ain’t no Ayn Rand bullshit up in my Nietzsche, bietzsche.
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If I have so many ways of crying, it may be because, when I cry, I always address myself to someone, and because the recipient of my tears is not always the same: I adapt my ways of weeping to the kind of blackmail which, by my tears, I mean to exorcise around me. By weeping, I want to impress someone, to bring pressure to bear upon someone (‘Look what you have done to me’).
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Perhaps ‘weeping’ is too crude; perhaps we must not refer all tears to one and the same signification; perhaps within the same lover there are several subjects who engage in neighboring but different modes of ‘weeping’. Which is the ‘I’ who has ‘tears in my eyes’? Which is that other self who, on a certain day, was ‘on the verge of tears’? Who am I who pours out ‘all the tears in my body’? or who seds, upon waking, ‘a torrent of tears’?
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