My Unconscious Accomplice is behind the wheel, on the way from Lancaster PA and Columbia SC. Ten hour drive, if we follow it all the way to plan.
On the way out of RI yesterday, he broached the subject of how we were going to deal with the music selection. We were pulling in to get coffee, so we didn’t come to any agreement before heading inside. In the restroom there I had the thought, “as long as it’s not hip hop.” Of course it turns out that that’s exactly what he’s into.
The conversation that followed is hard to recount, relative to my dramatic powers… Or perhaps just my patience.
My problem with hip hop is the obvious one: in general terms it describes a nihilistic worldview, wherein psychopathy is the primary virtue to which all aspire and pretend. More than that: this hellworld vision has been rigorously commercialized. In fact, this rigorous commercialization is a continuation of the central, unmitigated, psychopathy. It is, indeed, the apotheosis of this psychopathy; the Cult of the Animal Soul.
I am suddenly reminded of the heresy presented by Robert Graves’ fictional novel, King Jesus. That being that the Egyptian Ass-God Set was the secret identity of the God of the Jews. The Cult of Set was the Cult of the Animal Soul. And Set was the God of the South. The God of Africa. And in Graves’ heresy, the God of Abraham, Jacob, Joseph and Ishmael.
Which brings me back to Hamlet, in that the “satyr” that Hamlet contrasts to Hyperion is another form of Set, whom the Greeks called Typhon. Typhon is the Lord of the Unweeded Garden, the Thing Rank and Gross that possesses it merely.