The final season of Game of Thrones is on right now. As usual, it’s aesthetically stunning and philosophically empty. The projection of a dying culture onto a fantasy world.
The gamma slob who wrote it was channeling something profound though, somehow. Either demons, JBP’s collective unconscious or God Himself gave that fat critter the story. It’s too perfect an allegory of what we’re facing in the dying, decadent, gluttonous and insane West. It’s a warning, a prophecy and a product of our decline.
70 years ago, Tolkien gave us a stunning tale of race war and redemption at the end of an age.… Read the rest