New post on Czar Donic's Blog
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While I suffer in silence, I suggest you read something by Elias Canetti and report back.
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All will be revealed. Nothing will be revealed. Look for my interview with @little_utopia. Coming soon.
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Sorry, friends, feeling sick today. Not in the good way. #backsoon
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The market told me about your "marginal propensities."
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When I despair alone, I prefer to be by myself.
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This day in 1887: mustache achieves sentience, fights me over soup
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Getting nothing for something is the new getting something for nothing. #subscribenow
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If throwing rocks at peasants isn't a video game, I don't want to be right
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*looks at room full of dead gods* who wants walkies?
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I need a new catch phrase, something that says modern void, but also includes the trappings of the 19th century
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Maybe the problem isn't Monday. Maybe it's Twitter.
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Go ahead, say it in German. I've got time.
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The Umlaut is the message. #ü
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You might like German more if you knew it better.
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I just send some love to @NeinQuarterly , cause I'm really into supporting failed intellectuals.
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@NeinQuarterly the Invisible Hand doesn't do stop-and-frisk, it just gives you unwelcome squeezes on the go
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Are you there, invisible hand? It's me, Adam Smith.
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NQ's business model depends on ü. And despair.
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@NeinQuarterly It's monday already? Sigh. My Zeit and my Geist are not in sync.
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I'm building a brand. What's your excuse?
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It's not the heat. It's Monday.
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It's a beautiful day to rage, rage against Monday.
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Sweet broken dreams. (And even sweeter and more broken for NQ subscribers.)
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It's Sunday. Hug a hipster.
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Are you there, society? It's me, social media.
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How can I say this nicely: nein.
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Quiet despair walks into a bar. Impotent rage walks out.
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I have come to monetize Caesar, not to praise him.
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Trust me: capitalism isn't as easy as it looks.
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I just subscribed to @NeinQuarterly. I haven't felt this enthused since the revolutionary summer of 68! Okay, I was three then, but still.
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A German Sunday walks into a bar. Silently.
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In all fairness, brunch will also not be televised.
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It's time for a revolution, comrades, and/or brunch.
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It's a beautiful day for writing an ode upon a Grecian urn.
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Hire me to legitimize your subject position and/or critique your selfies.
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I fought the laws of motion, and inertia won.
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Sometimes I wonder about @ubuweb and the Internet. Is art printing life or life printing art?
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If all you need is love, you probably don't.
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Shit got real. Make it stop.
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Love should make it all better. But it doesn't. That's why it's love.
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Of course I'm conflicted. That's my charm.
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The Golden Age of the Selfie-Made Man.
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A leitmotif walks into a bar. Bartender: "You, again."
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Borges walks into a bar. Orders a Borges. Bartender: "We're out of Borges. But how about a Borges?" Borges drinks his Borges and leaves.
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Tweet it like you'll delete it.
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Why, John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt? Why must this happen whenever we go out?
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Trotsky walks into a bar, orders a drink. Bartender: "Neat or on the rocks?" Trotsky: "Take your pick."
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An iPhone walks into a Droid.
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A structuralist walks into a bar. A post-structuralist walks out.
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Tragedy walks into a bar. Leaves shit-farced.
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Tragedy's looking more like farce every day.
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Thus got Zarathustra his Friday on.
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To err is human. To system error is divine.
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Honk if you value silence.
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A gentle reminder that Facebook is most useful as an allegory.
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I thought everybody wanted nothing for something. *firing marketing dept*
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Just me and ü this weekend.
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When I think of ü, I touch my selfie.
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Civilization is crumbling. Quarterly.
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FYI: @ubuweb started printing the Internet before it was cool.
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I believe in hope more than it will ever believe in us.
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I believe in love. But not love that has never known despair.
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I believe in plaid. Not in checks.
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I don't believe in Gods who aren't dead.
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I don't believe in colors I cannot see.
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You be insane. I'll be the membrane. And, you, be the brain.
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I don't believe in molecules.
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" @BarbarianCap: it's not despair, it's evaporating homeless urine from the sidewalks" It's evaporating sidewalk from homeless despair.
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Selfie-destruction. It should happen more.
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Someday Borges will be recognized as the greatest German author.
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Maybe this is not a God. And the pipe is dead.
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Smoke like Hannah Arendt. If you dare.
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Joseph Roth isn't impressed.
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Once @ubuweb prints the Internet, I will fold it into a jaunty little hat, place it atop my head, and win your hearts.
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All my fallacies are intentional.
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I'll start being human once you sign the consent form.
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If you're gonna hate the game, might as well hate the player.
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Somebody should write a song about Friday.
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The trick is making alienation work for you.
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Do not not honk if you love Hegel.
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You have my full deficient attention.
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You know, it's like "open access." But closed.
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Business models come and go. Despair is forever.
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I think the poets had a rough night.
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Maybe you could try being the change that I want to see in the world.
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You touched my monkey. And I liked it.
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It's a beautiful day for a going-out-of-business sale at the rag and bone shop of the heart.
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We'll always have the Paris Manuscripts.
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Ein Gespenst denkt um in Europa. Wird Steuerberater.
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Freitag. Und es ist gut so.
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I'm just here for the capital.
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Sorry, friends: my Weltanschauung is now pay-per-view.
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You call it speaking. I call it diaphragming a sentence.
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Honestly, comrades, I haven't lost all my principles. But I'm trying.
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A business model is merely the continuation of the Frankfurt School by other means.
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I was commodified before it was cool.
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Yes, small cadre of NQ subscribers, you are the vanguard. But mainly me.
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Hansel und Gretel Adorno.
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You can filter porn, perhaps, but there's no stopping despair.
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Despair is not for the hobbyist.
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Premium Content and Its Discontents.
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Not to spoil the surprise, but there is no "old Werther."
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The Discipline is the Punish.
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Most failed intellectuals lacked the proper discipline.
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Yes, constructs are "just a construct." That's why they matter.
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Once I learn what QED means, I plan to say it a lot.
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Nobody said Weltschmerz was going to be fun.
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