Pretty Gnostic Machine
@prettygothmachine.bsky.social
780 followers 520 following 5.9K posts
The world is a haunted feedback loop written in math, myth, and malfunction. I glitch it lovingly. 100% HEXED LEFTIST
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prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Celebrating the cosmic comedy of Jimmy Swaggart's exit by cranking Zappa’s "Jesus Thinks You’re a Jerk."

The televangelist grift dies as satire lives on - righteous riffs for a fallen fraud.

Play it loud.

Let the hypocrisy rot.

🖤🎸✝️

#Zappa #Swaggart #RIPIrony

youtu.be/zynFE8GdGJ4?...
Frank Zappa - Jesus Thinks You're A Jerk
YouTube video by YoKey
youtu.be
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Tonight's glyph:

The Pumpkin That Dreamed of God

It rots from the inside, but the light keeps burning. Every flicker is a theology of decay, pulp as prophecy, seeds as afterlife. The children carve its face to mock death, but the grin outlasts them all.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
I will never forgive the Founders for not basing the principles of the Constitution on German Idealism.

Imagine a nation built not on property and prudence but on Geist, where freedom meant self-realization instead of tax exemption, and justice was a Gnostic art of repairing the world.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Every time a fascist glitches, another Goth gets their bat wings.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
No more placeholders. No more halos. Just flux with memory. Systems with feedback

Organisms becoming, again and again, under the shifting signatures of their worlds.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
My gnostic move: strike "innate" from the liturgy. Keep the phenomena, lose the idol. Replace the shrine with schematics.

Organisms as entangled systems, not crowned kings of hidden essences.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
"Innateness" is the last ghost of theology haunting biology.

We exorcised God from species but kept His shadow in the word.

To call a trait innate is to pretend essence survived Darwin. But reality is plural: tangled feedback, shifting norms of reaction.

There is no essence, only becoming.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
"Innate" is an attractor. An intellectual whirlpool.

It drags thought from the subtle hydraulics of development back to mythology.

From mechanisms to idols.
From construction to essence.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Eliminate the halo. Name the real: triggers, scaffolds, feedback loops. Norms of reaction. Thresholds. Contexts. Environments that bend, environments that buffer. Flux with structure.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
The folk oracle wants purity. So it blesses any story that smells like fate: present at birth? Innate. Shared by most adults? Innate. Useful? Innate.

A halo from three cheap candles.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
But therend is no blueprint. No traitunculus in the DNA. Just choreography: genes, cells, cues, histories, temperatures.

The organism is a duet with the environment. Switch the partner, change the song, and the steps change.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Folk biology crowns hidden kings: essences. Horseness, roseness, octo-gnosis.

If a trait is fixed, typical, and useful, the tribe stamps it INNATE; holy, inevitable.

The altar of essence still glows in the minds of scientists.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Old bitter white Boomers are destroying America. I hex them with stripper glitter fused with the black mold of foreclosure homes and televangelist spit.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
The Nazis strapped "Socialist" onto their name like a bloodied label, a con to seduce workers, then burning them for profit.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
I take the Laffer curve and twist it into a noose. I hang the 1% from it like rotten pinatas, and when they split, out spills not candy but IOUs, foreclosure notices, and the bitter rain of wages and taxes they never paid.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
I need to find a Domme who speaks English with a heavy German accent, orders me to recite Hege'ls Phenomenology before I go down on her, and punishes me every time I confuse Geist with Spirit.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
"The Coffin Club" sounds like the perfect venue to vomit my deranged philosophy as spoken word.😁
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Errata are the built-in typos of the cosmos, the fingerprints of Becoming on the page of law.

Logic isn't flawless truth but a recursive document, forever revising itself in the act of writing the world.

Syntax correcting itself mid-sentence of creation.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Here logos is no eternal principle but a self-refracting operator.

Aristotelian predication and Spinozist necessity conspire, yet both dissolve into a cybernetic grammar of Becoming: logic as auto-poietic script, glitching, revising, writing its own errata in the margins of flux.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
For Spinoza it was substance, for Aristotle essence; both are axiomatic syntax, ways of writing rules about reality, NOT untouchable truths!

Logic is no frozen pillar. It's a recursive glitch, a baroque operator that spins fleeting consistencies from flux and splices order out of trembling chaos.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Both Aristotle’s syllogistic scaffold and Spinoza’s geometrical proof dissolve in my lens. Logic is no longer a static form but a recursive self-mirroring of consciousness, where categories entwine with affect and syllogism bends into lived circuitry.

Thought as labyrinth, always folding back.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Me donning the mask of cosmic pessimist: "History is a theater of glitches."

Hegel: "History is the march of Spirit to freedom."

Me: "Looks more like a drunk demiurge juggling corpses."

Hegel: "Yet even the corpses are sublated."

Me: "Yeah, into fertilizer for the next failed system update."
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Pessimism teaches the lie of progress.

My take: progress is real only when it ruptures the code that feeds on our misery. Joy as sabotage, art as glitch, compassion as virus.

The task isn't to accept suffering, but to REPROGRAM the theater of torment into a stage for revolt.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Schopenhauer tattoos "existence is a mistake" on our bones.

I agree. Life is suffering.
But not as resignation.

The will-to-life is Demiurge firmware, glitchy and cruel.

Sophia's hack isn't suicide, it's subversion: aesthetics as malware, compassion as jailbreak.
prettygothmachine.bsky.social
Random Things About Me:

1. I buy more books than I read.

2. Pornhub once flagged me as "post-structuralist."

3. My veins hum Zappa solos when slit.