A Sunday of Liberty
Lookin’ Like a King With a Hoodie On
There We Were Then; Explain Us
The Prodigal Son of Christianity
The Codex Files
In a Maggoty World
Obiter Scripta, no. 149
Borrowing and Lending
If the Only Tool You Have Is a Media-Studies Degree…
Heaven on Earth
Du Wirst im Shitstorm Untergehen
Higher Cred
Our Own Prisons
An Illusion of Unity
Cogitare Aude
Bros Compose
Pulp Miction
‘Cause I’m TRT, I’m Dynamite! TRT, and I’ll Win the Fight!
Government Cheese and Government Gyms
I Blew Up the Church, But I Did Not Break the China
The Alibi Tail
Bad Tattitude
Water, Water Everywhere, and Not a Drop to Drink?
440
Waking the Dead
Conversations Aren’t Contests
Assuage Against the Machine
Verily, Verily, I Say Unto Thee (21)
We See Things They’ll Never See; You and I Are Gonna Live Forever
Distinct Observations
I Am All That Is Man
Livin’ La Vida Contemplativa
The Fool Hath Said In His Tweet
Here the Ways of Men Divide
Obiter Scripta, no. 148
Autotelic
Intellectual Kindling
The Best of Times, the Worst of Timelines
What If They Gave a War But We Didn’t Notice?
Uneasy Lies the Head That Wears the Crown
The Descent of Manners
Etiquette Calisthenics
Halloween
Night Was Always Coming
All Is Overturned
Witches
Scarecrows
Memento Mori (III)
Deep Earth Brings Forth Rebirth
Tragic Liberalism
Weekend at Bertie’s
Obiter Scripta, no. 147
Newsless and Nameless
Gentlemen, This Is Democracy Manifest
The Laughter of Silenus
Which a Feeble Body Cannot Sustain
Beyond the Dust
Long Distance
An Eighteenth-Century Traveler Logs On
Mihi Ipsi Scripsi (In the Age of ‘Doing Numbers’)
On the Urology of Style
An Emptying
The Philosopher of Sensual Pleasure
Engagé and Enragé
A Correspondence Course
Still a Loner, Still a Monster, Still a Lone Battleground
Generals Fighting the Last War
A Man of Lower-Case Letters
Obiter Scripta, no. 146
Bloody Shirt Campaign
The Trouble With Being Supercilious
In Search of Lost Nuance
A Kind of Astrology
How to Liberate People Who Didn’t Ask
Would You Not Throw Yourself Down and Gnash Your Teeth and Curse the Demon Who Spoke Thus?
A Valid Tribute to Thought Such as Nietzsche’s
Elegy for the Mall
When a Strange AI Calls
Oral Sects
Pasture On Little Joys