African Pirate Utopia
There is, without a shadow of a doubt, a looming need to take a piratical or freebooting attitude to life. Our institutions are rotten and crumbling, and the cycle of looming chaos gnaws at the edges of our shabby urban illusions. Business-as-usual has become a farcical death march, and following the rules, while socially advantageous, will lead to a battery-hen existence, your social acquaintances at your side and chatting about some inconsequential nonsense as you queue to the chopping block. There is obviously only one solution for the man of action: found a pirate city-state utopia in Africa. A place of hard and fast rules, where a man can hang his gold-plated AK47 and call home.
It goes without saying this would be a place where men can wear cheetah skin tunics, or casually walk down the street with a dagger in their teeth. There would be a need to erect daunting Zeus-Amon temples in the jungle, where their briars would burn through the night, as the night animals howl and chirp. Days would be spent fishing with spear guns and scuba equipment, or cultivating banana trees in one’s garden. The ancient law of the duel, of the gunfight, would be the norm, and upheld by daily example.
We might imagine the city’s dictator as a a rogue of particular charm and cunning, seen everywhere with a parrot perched on his shoulder and a golden gun in his hand. He may oversee the building of a Neptunian fleet of sea-dragon ships, to ravage and raid neighboring shorelines and passing cargo. The men of this savage place would be avid star-gazers, keep ocelots, crocodiles, and exotic birds for pets. they would cultivate experience in kite surfing, and elephant-back archery.
Now this may be exaggeration, but it is at least partially true, both in its intent, and elements of its likelihood, when we are physically squeezed out of the industrial machine we created, which has turned on us like a hateful mechanical child-god. A state of temporary savagery awaits, which while brutal, also holds potential for the gifted man of action, who can from a raw state of survival carve a new idea of civilization. The Rhodes-type of man exists, and the plastic shackles of McWorld are more and more exposed to the daylight. This man of the present is the freebooter.
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