The drivel around us is thick, viscous, needing some kind of acid or lye to dissolve. Like a disease, it is ever-evolving, renewing and disguising itself in order to worm its way into our consciousness. Many in fact are so infected that there’s no soul left at all, just a writhing mass of vampiric memes. Drastic shocks are needed all around. Let us first shock ourselves. It’s doubtful the nature of good art is mere copying. Originality seems the opposite of repeat. Originality does violence to repeat, but like a pale-trampling child, is still dependent. We need to nourish this bratty, wise, old child and fight wildly against the insidious and ongoing coring of our distinctiveness, which is the murder of real beauty.