More about Nazi-Chic
The post about Nazi-chic must have stung someone, because I see more insults than usual around the internet, and when the insults are based on the fact that the name "Uriel" has Jewish roots, they are usually talking about extreme right. Although, nowadays, this name seems to have a certain "success" even on the left. Apart from these amenities, I don't really understand what's new in what I wrote. Do you really think that Meloni understands the people's problems, or that Salvini understands what the working classes of the North feel?
Answering this question is simple. Anyone who has read something about post-modernism recognizes very well a concept that this philosophy introduces: the simulacrum. The simulacrum is a falsehood that becomes truth because it is so evidently false that those who adhere to it are rewarded as "revolutionary thinkers" or "rebel intellectuals".
Consequently, the more false it is, the more it is defended by those who assign themselves the license of "thinkers against the mainstream", Berlusconi worker? Of course! Down with the mainstream who wants us to believe he's a billionaire! Trump helping America's weaker classes! Of course! It's obvious! THEY don't want you to know! Do Ukrainians rape women themselves to blame the Russians? BUT IT'S OBVIOUS! Enough with the mainstream, every soldier feels better if he knows that his fellow soldiers are outdoing his daughter ten kilometers from here.
And so on.
But I repeat, Baudrillard was so clear about the simulacrum that I wouldn't say there's any point in discussing it. The more the bullshit is wildly false, the more characters looking for an intellectual license arrive, and explain to us that no, it is absolutely true that Albano is an alien from the planet Therrion. And if you don't believe it, you are part of the mainstream that wants us to believe that Apulians are earthlings. THEY don't want you to know about the true history of Puglia, a known alien outpost. (which you could understand from the dialect, but you are too mainstream to understand).
And BP doesn't mean British Petrol, it means Beyond Petrol, because BP has the environment at heart and is among the greenest companies in the world. Together with Aramco which has the environment as its number one priority. Absolutely.
Living on simulacra are mainly two categories, the radical-chic and the Nazi chic, which are inevitably converging in many fields, forming the red-brown-chic, made up of old viagra blue sclerotics and withered brick-coloured carampane. At the risk of sounding whateverophobic, I reiterate one thing: I am against marriage between imbeciles.
It's easy to find analogies between the radical-chic and the Nazi-chic, for example. I don't know if you've noticed, but at the head of any association that defends US racial minorities, the most important voices end up being rich white women. And behind Trump are several notable examples of Rich White Woman. I have already addressed the problem of the rich white woman in radical-chic society, but it doesn't take long to find at least one corresponding example in the world of the right. Even leaving aside Meloni, I would say that the apotheosis of the rich white woman is Santanche'.
No woman represents the right-wing analogue of radical-chic as much as Santanche'. Think about it: if you're looking for a woman capable of systematically wearing a toilet mat over her shoulders to look elegant, holding it as if it were a 1940s mink, you'll find her in two places. On the left, where the radical chic will use the toilet mat on her shoulders to point out that it is not animal fur, the person on the right will instead make a fashion fetish out of it, and will tell us how much she paid for it, and how if that wasn't enough it's Made in Italy, which means Export, so you're not patriots.
But the point is that the two will absolutely be on the same side when you point out to them that:
- It's just a toilet mat worn over the shoulders
- it costs the equivalent of fourteen salaries of a normal worker.
and they will tell you that
- It's much more than a toilet mat, because it doesn't come from an animal so it helps the planet .
- it costs a lot and it's signed, so it can't be the same thing you have in the toilet, because the cards.
Even if it remains a toilet mat. A. Mat. Of the. I give up. Toilet mat. The sacrificial victim of every time the man of the house goes to the bathroom, sleepy, at 03:25 in the morning.
but as you can see, they both believe the same thing: the toilet mat is not a toilet mat, but a simulacrum that contradicts reality, and you don't understand it because you are mainstream.
And the joke: THEY don't want you to know how important it actually is to wear a toilet mat.
Let's talk about a simple problem. The Pioltello school which closes because 40% of the students are at home celebrating Ramadan. It's really a simple problem: if the students are mostly Muslims it's because there is somehow a concentration of Muslim families nearby.
Otherwise it would be a problem for all Italian, or local, or regional schools.
Nazi-chic Santanche arrives and says that the school must not be closed because our values are at stake. Why they are at stake is not clear, why they have anything to do with it is not clear, what values they are precisely he does not tell us.
The radical-chic Schlein arrives and tells us that if we don't close the school, the values of hospitality and tolerance are in danger, we don't know why, and we don't know how.
The two whatever-chic, or if you prefer the two "Rich White Women" have one thing in common: since they don't really know what they're talking about in practice, they throw it on the level of values .
By the way, did you know that in the 70s one of the proofs of systemic racism was that blacks in the ghetto didn't play golf enough? You laugh, but the values of fairness and equality were at stake!
the main characteristic of the whatever-chic phenomenon is precisely that of using unspecified, or vaguely specified, "values" to stand tall and carry forward some high-sounding flag.
Let's look at a specific example.
Santanche' makes a chic paracula by mentioning "our" values, without specifying what values they are, saying that closing the school for Ramadan would trample on them. What values would it trample on? I don't know. Even admitting the Santanche' as an icon of "our" Christianity (the toilet mat of the Santanche' knows how "our" it is), and that the values trampled upon by closing for Ramadan are Christian ones, show me who decided to go Is it an obligation for Christians to go to school every day? Has going to school become like going to mass? But even if they were Christian values, can you explain to me who gives Santanche the authority or stature to stand up in defense of Christian values, sitting on her N divorces and K partners? The toilet mat on your shoulders?
And Schlein does the paracula-chic in turn. You mention the trampled values, which would be hospitality and tolerance, without however going into detail. Let us also assume that treating all students in the same way (i.e. with the same school calendar) is an act of hostility and intolerance, we must remember that from what we have seen that school also has a large Asian minority (Indian and Chinese) who DOES NOT respect Ramadan. Closing schools means forcing the parents of those children to change their plans for the day: who works, for example. Even if it were welcoming or tolerance to close schools for Muslims, have you considered the impact on non-Muslims who are foreigners? It is not clear why by treating Muslim children like everyone else we would be intolerant or unwelcoming: let us remember, however, that if a school closes the Rich White Woman does not have the problem of having to stay at home with the child.
I left the (few) Italian children of that school out of the discussion because I don't want to hear about "reverse racism", since it is a non-existent concept. Views on race are not a vector field, so you can't put a minus in front of racism. Racism is a scalar and has no minus signs. There is only one racism, and that is giving weight to race. Whatever that is basically.
Maybe it would be better to use common sense and ask yourself strange questions, like "what does the law say about this" or "have you spoken to all the parents, even non-Muslims, to understand the impact it would have"?
But evidently, neither “collecting data” nor “the law” are “values” in vogue in the whatever-chic world.
For the whatever-chic, “our values” are a ploy that allows them to talk ad nauseam about things they don't know personally, and to hide the fact that they have no idea what they're talking about.
That is, “our values” are a post-modernist simulacrum. Something that seems true because it is clearly false.
And the joke: THEY don't want you to know that there is a school calendar, and that a day of absence is perfectly manageable with a justification "for family reasons". UAH, UAH, UAH!
Another characteristic of whatever-chic is the abuse of symbols and symbolic value. This abuse serves them to do the same thing they achieve through "values". Let's take the famous Sumahoro.
It is said that his presence in parliament represents the poor exploited slaves of the Apulian countryside. Or in general the immigrants exploited at work by the gangmasters. Interesting. But why, exactly?
Has anyone noticed the fact that Sumahoro represents people in parliament who DIDN'T vote for him, because they CAN'T vote?
Given that in practice there is NO link of democratic representation (the vote) between Sumahoro and those he claims to represent, why is he associated with them? Um. Interesting question.
This answer lies in a symbol. He showed up in parliament wearing rubber boots. I don't want to discuss whether, given the harvest calendar and the Apulian climate, rubber boots are needed to harvest cherry tomatoes in August in Puglia. But what I want to discuss is a very brief fact: none of those voted for Sumahoro . Representation, therefore, is constituted by a symbol. The rubber boots.
And I can tell you that, if we observe the antics of whatever-chic politicians, the symbols rain from the sky. For example, in every fucking local election there's a politician on a bicycle. Especially in the Po Valley, because if I remember correctly, moving around Palma di Montechiaro by bike requires a different type of legs. But for years, even starting from Rutelli who pedaled with a tripod, every village has had a mayor photographed on a bicycle around the city. He goes to work by bicycle, you often see him on a bicycle. I lived along the Porrettana when I was in Italy, and although it was the street where "it was not uncommon to see Prodi passing by on a bicycle", I never saw Prodi on a bicycle.
But the bicycle was a symbol, like Sumahoro's boots, which I DIDN'T WANT to imagine in the Apulian climate of August in a field of cherry tomatoes. But I don't even want to imagine politicians cycling through PaRma, which now has the traffic of Milan because it is full of Milanese people. And I don't want to know what you breathe if you cycle around the continent's most PM2.5-filled cities.
In any case, any whatever-chic party abuses some symbol. If we go to the right we generally find festival products and very fatty food. Cured meats abound, and you'll find all the nazi-chic politicians at some fair in . Politicians photographed with molybdenum Culatello in San Propano sul Cazzetto , politicians with urea salami from Sbombardo on Tragedio , and so on. I have to say that dairy products are more left wing. Then come the typical dishes, and then off to the Antichrist Pasta with Frog Foreskin , a delicacy that we all have to defend against evil Europe, or the Basalt Panettone with the Impaled Surveyor , a specialty that the whole world envies you. (to be honest, it is never specified WHICH world: perhaps on Aldebaran IIX they would give an arm to eat one. In any case they have sixteen arms and two are only used for anal fisting. They wash their hands before sitting down at the table, in in case you were wondering.).
All these are symbols. None of these politicians have any idea what they mean. No politician who goes to work by bicycle knows what "rain" is, so much so that they only photograph them on their bicycles in good weather. Sumahoro evidently doesn't know what the risk is of wearing rubber boots in August, in Puglia, while picking cherry tomatoes. And even right-wing politicians wouldn't know how to break down pork , or how to prepare any of the recipes they consider a bastion of Italian civilization.
Many people know how to eat these things, but I don't know how much it matters.
The incredible value of the symbols is another expedient: I have myself photographed while I eat the Meconium Pig Sausage from San Bombanio sul Triceratops and I say I want to protect it from Europe to hide the fact that I don't understand shit about foreign trade and in Europe we I just went to visit a Swiss brothel .
I have myself photographed with my bicycle just to hide that in reality I have no idea that traffic forces non-rich people to look for a very expensive house to get there on time, and that I have no idea how to help these people, that is ' to adequately strengthen the public service.
You know you're faced with an whatever-chic movement when you find yourself faced with a series of useless symbols, which serve to cover up unlikely theories.
If you don't believe it, try repeating these sentences:
The proof that Sumahoro represents people who didn't vote for him (because they can't) is that he once wore rubber boots.
The proof that Salvini understands international trade and the food industry is that he ate Equine Colon with Ancient Tritol at the San Spinterogeno sul Prostato Festival.
You feel stupid, isn't it?
Yet it's not much different than taking a radical chic from Manhattan and saying that she understands ghetto blacks because she knows how to wear a black leather glove.
In demographic terms, the whatever-chic are divided into two categories.
- the Rich White Male.
- the Rich White Woman.
- the appearance that the fig leaf makes and never lasts. (I didn't say Kyenge).
The Rich White Male, henceforth Kevin With Money, has worked very little in his life, is completely incompetent in any subject, but carries with him a number of symbols (especially food or work) and principles (usually salvific, such as religion or the environment), but usually oscillates between
- Right: the Templar who defends the Sacred Something (dishes that have been stewed, ridiculous traditions, religions that have betrayed in practice, defense of something that tastes like a rotten grandfather, a homeland that really resembles a small town on the highway) against the Evil "THEM" ”.
- Left: the Hoplite of good who defends the Highest Value of something (generally abstract principles that stretch to cover everything and nothing), with the exception of this, that and the other because "they are a different thing" and " there's a big difference." Let's distinguish.
If we go to the Rich White Woman, also known as Money Karen, we find two populations.
-
Right. The Rich White Woman of the Right first and foremost represents women in difficulty by wearing some signed and paid-for toilet mat on her shoulders. And he lets you know. They live in hideous houses which they flaunt and let journalists photograph them. They scream. They were beautiful when young and do a lot of restoration to let you know. They have underwear, and you should know. You knew it. They are afraid of Islam, but they have many Islamic friends (they work illegally for three euros a century, but this is where you see the real friends).
-
Left. the Rich White Woman on the left defends anyone who isn't rich, isn't a woman, and isn't White. You will find her in the front row defending poor immigrant gay males, poor black males, Brazilian transsexuals who prostitute themselves, and in general it is always the fault of some poor white male. If a Rich White Woman defends you, you're screwed, she'll make you so hated you'll become the New Jews of 1934 in seconds. On the other hand, he could hire you, three euros a year illegally, while there is a crisis. His house is multi-ethnic, if your wife cooks him – for the price – an exotic dish.
The appearance remains. But here we know. The fascists are full of gay friends, they had black school friends, there is always a necro-symbol among the party benches, the mascot. Even left-wing radicalchics have this kind of friendship among those they apparently oppose: they call them "financiers".
I could really go on forever talking about how Nazi-chic and radica-chic are similar, but I want to end with the last important characteristic: cognitive dissonance.
The young Nazi-chic, having left some club, wants to eat a kebab, in the grip of the munchies. He wants kebab, he goes to the "filthy" one, but he doesn't want to have a kebab shop. He wants whores on the sidewalk, but he doesn't want to hear about Nigerians. He wants slaves in the company, but he doesn't want to hear about immigrants. He wants less taxes, but gets pissed off if there are potholes in front of their SUV. He has the benches removed because he doesn't like homeless people, and he complains that the streets at night are dark and deserted, and scary.
Cognitive dissonance, that is, the inability to perceive the relationship between cause and effect, or between value and cost, is a distinctive characteristic of whatever-chic, both on the right and on the left.
If on the left they want zero kilometer avocados and faux fur but the end of oil, on the right they want wider motorways and pollution-free Parmigiano Reggiano. If on the left they want more tolerance towards immigrants but live in such expensive neighborhoods that they will never see one, on the right they want the building amnesty and the villa with the uncontaminated view.
They want to make money from tourism without learning languages, they want to live in a remote village but with fiber optics, they want good clean country food but they have to get there by motorway, etc.
So if we look closely we discover that the right hates Hamas because those poor girls from the Rave Party were raped in defiance of our Western values, BUT ALSO if you have a rave party in Italy you go to prison for 6 years, because our Western values, and those girls who were dancing are martyred victims of the evil Saladin, but also "ticks" if they meet them on the street.
And on the left they are all against feminicide and all against patriarchy, BUT ALSO in favor of respecting differences for cultures that teach on TV how to beat your wife and that preach patriarchy as the essential center of their ethics, see Judaism and Islam. And they don't want us to eat burgers so as not to make animals suffer, but they are for Islamic slaughterhouses, where they slaughter them with blowtorch.
Having said that, I would say that we can identify an almost homogeneous class of people who are in the chic galaxy, characterized by a few things.
- incompetence. An abysmal distance between their daily lives and the things they deal with.
- useless symbolism. Symbols used to replace the above skill.
- principles stated without reason. High principles only serve to hide the lack of arguments.
- cognitive dissonance, or the claim to have both the thing and its opposite.
Finally, like the dick on macaroni, we can add one thing:
Words. In English. FUCK.
Why do they do it? To cover the lack of imagination. Another characteristic of the whatever-chic factions is the total lack of innovation and imagination. Flat electroencephalogram. They don't know how to write new things in Italian, so they fall back on English.
Take the left. What were they saying in the square 50 years ago?
LOLLO!
LOLOLLO!
LOLOLLO! LOLLO! LOLLO!
and what do they say today?
LOLLO!
LOLOLLO!
LOLOLLO! LOLLO! LOLLO!
They couldn't invent anything new. The same shit that was old when I was young. Zero imagination. Zero inventiveness. Zero news. And with it, zero meaning. Not a new word, not even the metric they have been able to innovate. In fifty years!
Shall we go right?
They are still there shouting “Present”, “To us”, and other things that were already old when MY FATHER was young. They talk about futurism to seem cultured (YAWN, war only dental hygiene and contempt for the Madonna, and blah blah), they read the story by Sven Hassel…
In general, the whatever-chic has no problem with history. He has problems with the calendar. As on the right, as on the left.
And I'll stop here. You got it, I think.
Uriel Fanelli
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