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Philosophy 1: Wittgenstein was a beery swine who was just as sloshed as Schlegel

I believe this podcast is worth the three hour investment for us all to have a common set of concepts to start talking about Accelerationism, Neoreaction, Dark Enlightenment, sovcorps, Nick Land and the stuff which trickled down out of serious philosophy to rich morons like Peter Thiel and shock irritainers like Curtis Yarvin and Nick Fuentes, and political opportunists like JD Vance, albeit in simplistic form. It is particularly fun/terrifying because it views our Left vs Right distinction, which seems existentially threatening, as quaint mud pies.

We've got a bigger problem now.

It's technical in parts, but I don't think that even matters, because the hosts talk around it so much you get all the meaning from context. I think it is accessible once you get past the runtime. You don't have to have read Deleuze and Guattari which is a good thing since I barely have.

tldr: There are influential intellectuals trying to immanentize the ultracompetitive corporate fascism of Snowcrash.
 
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MissThundercat said:
TIL that Nietzsche's sister twisted his words to fit her ultranationalist Nazi views and scholars had to defend him while undoing the damage she caused.
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Yes, he gets a bad rap. It's partly his sister the cunt:

When it came to faking news, Elisabeth was a pioneer. On her brother’s death in 1900, Elisabeth didn’t think his death mask was sufficiently impressive, so she faked a second one. She did the same to his writing, rummaging about in his literary estate, cutting and pasting at will. She published an unreliable biography of him and delayed publication of his autobiography, Ecce Homo, until she had deleted uncomplimentary references to herself.

Nietzsche was always very sparing in what he published, but he loved playing around with book titles. He wrote many more titles than books. One he scrapped was The Will to Power. He scrawled a shopping list on the abandoned title page. But Elisabeth took fragments from here and there, concocted a book called The Will to Power and published it under her brother’s name. It was such a success that a few years later she published a greatly expanded edition.

Elisabeth lived until 1935. This gave her almost 40 years to doctor texts and letters and manipulate the literary estate. The Nietzsche Archive became an institution filled with extreme rightwingers, whose aggressive nationalism chimed with her own.
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It's partly "God is dead" which made the derps mad, particularly stupid in light of how he meant it:

Have you ever heard of the madman who on a bright morning lighted a lantern and ran to the market-place calling out unceasingly: "I seek God! I seek God!" - As there were many people standing about who did not believe in God, he caused a great deal of amusement. Why! is he lost? said one. Has he strayed away like a child? said another. Or does he keep himself hidden? Is he afraid of us? Has he taken a sea-voyage? Has he emigrated? - the people cried out laughingly, all in a hubbub. The insane man jumped into their midst and transfixed them with his glances. " Where is God gone?" he called out. "I mean to tell you! We have killed him, - you and I! We are all his murderers! But how have we done it? How were we able to drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the whole horizon? What did we do when we loosened this earth from its sun? Whither does it now move? Whither do we move? Away from all suns? Do we not dash on unceasingly? Backwards, sideways, forwards, in all directions? Is there still an above and below? Do we not stray, as through infinite nothingness? Does not empty space breathe upon us? Has it not become colder? Does not night come on continually, darker and darker? Shall we not have to light lanterns in the morning? Do we not hear the noise of the grave-diggers who are burying God? Do we not smell the divine putrefaction? - for even Gods putrefy! God is dead! God remains dead! And we have killed him! How shall we console ourselves, the most murderous of all murderers? The holiest and the mightiest that the world has hitherto possessed, has bled to death under our knife, - who will wipe the blood from us? With what water could we cleanse ourselves? What lustrums, what sacred games shall we have to devise? Is not the magnitude of this deed too great for us? Shall we not ourselves have to become Gods, merely to seem worthy of it? There never was a greater event, - and on account of it, all who are born after us belong to a higher history than any history hitherto!" - Here the madman was silent and looked again at his hearers; they also were silent and looked at him in surprise. At last he threw his lantern on the ground, so that it broke in pieces and was extinguished. "I come too early," he then said, "I am not yet at the right time. This prodigious event is still on its way, and is travelling, - it has not yet reached men’s ears. Lightning and thunder need time, the light of the stars needs time, deeds need time, even after they are done, to be seen and heard. This deed is as yet further from them than the furthest star, - and yet they have done it!"
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