Christ didn’t die alone. We all die with him. Most in fever dreams of medicalised torment, as our minds dis-arrange and bodies rot. If we are lucky we die quickly and alone, not as pornographic spectacles for our “loved ones”. Else we must endure the torrid intimacy of their concern, smile, be brave and help them through it, just so they can delectate on the meaning of it all. Well fuck that! Cohle asserted that he lacked “the constitution for suicide” but that shit-eating attitude just brings you more suffering, or worse, inevitable capitulation: to His terms (Yeah, looking at you TD finale). The bent rules of this squalid antechamber to Hell.
What goes around, comes around, inhabitants of Cancer Planet. Bestir yourselves, slough off your zombie insouciance an fucking kill god!
Last time God was impaled (slowly) and (agonisingly, slowly) soul-sucked on Elric’s cold black rune-sword.
This time round we have an engineering solution to the problem of theology from the late Barrington Bayley, a writer celebrated for his bleak metaphysical passions and picturesque space operas. There is capitulation, of a kind, in this story, but also a satanic ambition that we at EI cannot but endorse. The story is called The God Gun. And you may read it here. I hope it will prove at least consolatory; at best inspirational.
Until next time….