Qui Tacet Consentire Videtur, Pt. 2

Quid est veritas?

“We need to understand that truth does not accommodate belief.
Belief has to accommodate truth.”

— Dallas Willard

Read the first part here if you haven’t already.

Given the experiences I have had over the last few months, from aggravating to outright traumatic, I debated whether to keep some of my stronger opinions to myself. It was members of my network and a number of close friends and allies that convinced me that I can no longer remain silent.

I hesitated to even take things to this extreme—disputing to what extent to include details or even names—but with circumstances in my life as they are, and my overall health progressively growing worse, it’s quite literally either now or never.

We’ve seen the phrase around, “democracy dies in darkness.” But what about truth, and love? And history? Do we not stand to lose those within darkness, as well, all-consuming and all-encompassing darkness? And when this darkness assumes power and possesses a voice and a force to suppress truth and all that is good, whole and righteous, what becomes of the world then? What becomes of our future? When the light of truth and the pride of history are raped and perverted by pretender kings, false messiahs and mock goddesses, what becomes of our future?

And what becomes of the Legacy?

I risk alienating those who I call Family, I risk alienating allies, and I might even potentially risk coming to physical harm. In a city like Gotham, among degenerates like these, no one can ever be certain.

But I would be risking far more by remaining silent, cowardly, the victim of grandiose role-players in their corsets and costumes and contact lenses so desperate to silence me and “exile” me from their citywide LARP fetish circuit.

I would be risking the death of truth and burial of history to that very same darkness which has cost us so much already.

I would be risking the chance to find others out there like Us who seek more to life.

I would be risking bringing great shame to the Legacy, our history, our Family and myself.

And I would be risking disappointing many of you reading this who support me.

The name of this series of articles is a Latin phrase—“silence implies consent.” I never consented to my once-great Nation turning into what it is today. None of us did, those of us who stand to inherit this magnificent Legacy! But our silence, and your silence, and the inaction of those who could have shifted the course of recent history damned us to this path.

And of us, the question is always asked, “What would you have as a Society?” What we seek from a community is simply something we can be proud of, not ashamed of. History that is freely and truthfully taught, not hidden.

I cannot express the shame and disgust when a Seeker comes to me asking the state of the community, and all I have to show are books and records and films of what once was, because what we have currently is nothing more than a glamorized fetish club promotion racket run by uncultured, hedonistic philistines devoted to theft, destruction and the accumulation of false power and meaningless titles.

What it is we desire are temples and monasteries to pursue higher learning, and true Adra that seek to impart their knowledge to willing and grateful Nadja. Instead we have a succession of endless simulated orgies hosted by White Wolf® role-players and a cacophony of fraudulent pseudo-“Elders” who teach nothing, know nothing and create nothing. We desire a return to an era of Vampyre Virtues, if there ever truly was one. If not, then we seek the creation of such an era, where the culture and traditions of the Sanguine Family are exalted and respected. That is, an era, not a glimpse into what could have been, or what should be, that only comes around once or twice a year like a lunar eclipse.

The Vampyre Legacy culture is a constructive, positive and beautiful expression that focuses upon love and life, not gloom and death, nor sex and smut. It promotes artistry, not depravity; education, not ignorance. We take trips to the opera and to museums, and we attend college lectures on history and mythology. We do not sit in low-brow Midtown bars watching cheesy Hollywood vampire schlock while listening to the host give a lecture about S&M fetishism.

Noveboracensis ad mortem

Within this dystopian kakistocracy called Gotham Halo, we live as peasants during the Inquisition; that is, magick, rite and ritual are considered heresy just as much as culture, regality and education—indeed, the very nature of a Vampyre and what makes one Vampyric itself is heresy, and to demand or even desire it is a crime worth “exiling” one for… whatever the hell that’s supposed to do. Such is the baseless and troglodytic hatred of culture and the dreaded “S” word that seems anathema to them. Now, I must make clear that I personally don’t care too much what you choose to do in your bedroom—or if you lack home-training and decide to prostitute yourself on stage at a nightclub—just stop using Vampyre Legacy terms to describe your fetish racket. It’s very simple.

It goes without saying that this garbage does not represent true Vampyrism or the desires of actual Vampyres, and that’s why Legacy culture continues to dominate the world over while Gotham’s fetish troupe struggles to support their worsening cocaine habits (among other recent and concurrent tragedies).

One reason the scourge of anti-intellectualism has found itself able to spread so broadly is because, let’s face it: culture doesn’t make money. The unabashed philistinism encouraged not just in my city but elsewhere thrives upon the role-playing “vampires” and “wolves” or whatever Tumblr otherkin or White Wolf® nonsense these welfare mothers dream up before donning ill-fitting fetish garb and wasting ten or fifteen dollars on door covers and cheap drinks.

It is unconscionable to me that this sort of thing is perpetuated in connection with the Legacy! Many of the pseudo-“Elders” of this community and abroad do bear lineage back to the original Family, and it brings me great anguish to know how much shame they bring upon that good name by composing themselves as such utter disgraces. No wonder the Alpha Clan had to sever their ties and issue disclaimers about there being “one and only.”

I personally disagree with such statements, as there is much convoluted history there that I care not to discuss here (and far too many personal feelings involved!); it is not that there is simply “the one” and all others are thieves or pretenders, it is only that any respectable institution would not want to be lumped into the same category as these degenerates and must distance itself for its own peace of mind.

I, myself, did that very same thing—on the eve of the anniversary of Saint D’Drennan’s passing, no less—and was taken for quite the ride, as me willingly leaving was seen paradoxically as more of a threat than me sticking around and endlessly preaching the book, so to speak, to these heathens. Perhaps the idea of my finally growing tired of being an apologist for counterproductive paedomorphs—and others outside the community taking that into consideration—was more than the gaja could bear.

I assure you I will not be missed.

Following the gaja regime proceeding to embarrass themselves once again on a national platform, further cementing themselves as the veritable disgrace of our great Legacy—and after they and all my other “adoring fans” came out of the woodwork to participate in this ego-rubbing circle-jerk that they likely concluded by burning me in effigy—things were quiet for a bit, then proceeded back to normal: the fetishists, incapable of pursuing anything beyond the satisfaction of their fetishes, seemed to move on from the fiasco as though it never occurred. And I, humored but unscathed, returned to my daily commitment of getting my Dayside together.

I have to admit that I rather enjoyed the whole spectacle. I recall receiving a phone call from either my brother or another confidante, sounding very winded and even concerned over the phone:—“Yo, they’re getting ready to exile you!” I sighed, nursing a mug of jasmine tea and replied, “It’s about damned time.

An exile may even work in my favor, in a handful of respects.

You see, I’ve never had any respect for this fraudulent institution called Gotham Halo—in the same manner that these hypocritical frauds appropriated whichever self-serving tenets and structures of the Sanguinarium that worked in their favor and rejected the rest, I never saw a need to follow any of the rules that they themselves commonly shirk.

Meaning, not only could I (and would I) start a House or Order if I truly wished to, but there is absolutely nothing they could do to stop my doing so, except whine and cry as they are wont to do.

They claim to own a city and run a society, but in reality, they own nothing and they are nothing.

Through what was initially a traumatic but remarkably worthwhile and eye-opening experience, I traded my Strigoi Vii ankh for a Sanguinarium ankh, finally able to express outwardly and tangibly my beliefs and values the way the gods intended. The priest finally had his cross to bear, so to speak. And I have already brought together a very small but humble network—No, not a House—of fellow Sanguines and Seekers who have grown tired of Gotham having provided them nothing for ages and searching for something meaningful which the gaja have thus far been unable to provide—culture, aesthetics, beauty, history, spirituality, self-discovery and pride. As a Ramkht, I personally remain certain that the Current watches over me and encourages the goals shared by my network and myself.

After all, when the grey hairs and crow’s feet set in, and the corsets and costumes no longer fit, and the bodies are far beyond their prime for the clubs (more so than they are now, honestly), when this false Gotham finally crumbles to dust in about, say, five or so years, who else will be there at the ready to come and rebuild when said dust settles?

You notice that the Alpha Clan never has these problems.

Regression

The scourge of anti-intellectualism within the broader “VC”—as well as my local shithole—seems a curse impossible to stop. Everywhere one turns, there are conversations discouraging all the tenets of Living Vampyrism that truly make one a Vampyre.

Yet, in a community literally comprised of thousands upon thousands of passive-aggressive obligate parasites immersed in a collective delusion, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise.

Mention at any time a man in a cowboy hat or his happy little tribe and watch the sod-for-brains fly into a frenzied rage that would put a Westboro Baptist preacher to shame. You can almost see the tiny, animated explosions going off in their heads if you look close enough, though that might just be them about to have an epileptic fit.

I must admit that I’ve often thought whether my finding myself in a community of anti-intellectual Mongoloids was life’s way of paradoxically making up for my missing out on high school due to my traumatic amnesia. Being surrounded by idiots for hours at a time as an adult has admittedly only aged me further.

It goes without saying that this anti-intellectual, anti-culture and anti-Vampyre trend extends online, as well. In person, here in the false Halo, it’s typically just the inbred Goths and role-playing fetishists in their greasy nightclubs, as content as a swine in filth. Mentions of culture and decency and those who promote it usually only illicit contorted facial reactions and jokes about toads and seals.

Online, however, you risk being attacked by hordes of trolls as though you rolled a bad hand on D&D night, bombarded with unfounded and slanderous conspiracy theories and overall made out to be a pariah for the simple crime of being cultured.

I am here reminded of a discussion with a particularly irritating and ignorant Discordant, an apparent one-time typist for the Ordo Strigoi Vii who possesses a hatred so radical for the Legacy that it compromised her as a source of knowledge, where even my brother told me, “I’ve already tried, she’s not worth it. Give up.” Discussing how our antecedents—“our” here referring to my generation—were responsible for the proliferation of what we now currently accept as the primary tenets of Vampyre culture, as we touched upon in the previous essay, this self-hating sellout commented something regarding a little-known but widely sought-after 1995 publication called Dhampir: Child of the Blood.

It isn’t a terrible book by any means—I own two copies—but it is certainly no Holy Bible. I hold a small, if mostly indifferent, modicum of respect for the author, but to suggest that what mostly reads as a diary of pseudo-mythology, leather fetishism and promiscuous blood sports by two individuals who happen to be Vampyres can be called “culture” clearly shows how depraved and primitive the nineties were.

So, I posed the question—“What does S&M have to do with Vampyrism as a practice?”

I spit my mimosa halfway across the room when, minutes later, this buffoon replied, “Everything.”

Ach du liebe.

I’m not denying that S&M practices aren’t viable feeding methods when done correctly, nor am I “kink shaming” anyone—Vampyre or not—who is into that sort of mess. What I am trying to communicate is how the over-saturation of S&M fetishism within the seedier corners of the vampire subculture grows tiring after two or three decades, especially when it becomes evermore clear that the community outside of the Sanguine Legacy is unable to create anything of cultural or aesthetic value of its own.

It’s also offensive to the intelligence of any cultured Vampyre to suggest that the high point of “culture” at any point in history is a club full of disease vectors in pirate shirts whipping each other. One expression of this sort of backwards “anti-culture” can be found, as I mentioned—where else?—here in my City, where the ascended concubines and Club Kids of the NYC vampire “scene” have turned the already sullied name of Gotham Halo into a monstrous racket of ten-dollar fuck parties to which tickets couldn’t even be given away at a memorial.

Yes, clearly, the individual tenets of Living Vampyrism existed separately before 1998, but never were they consolidated and made accessible to such a broad group of people before our Legacy. The vampire subculture before our Legacy, however, was a very ugly, primitive, ignorant and savage thing—the home of the mentally ill, sexual deviants and blood fetishists in puffy tulle shirts and tight leather pants utterly devoid of magick, artistry or decency.

The faces of the subculture were washed-up Goths driving hearses, gauche Victorian houses with coffin beds and plastic bats hung from the ceiling, a world of the macabre populated by only the most ghoulish and carnal role-players with mugs streaked with white greasepaint and false widow’s peaks. One channel-surfing any time in the 1990’s didn’t need to flip long before they hit, say, the History Channel and be greeted by Toccata & Fugue in D Minor playing over some sexless, anemic fop claiming to be the descendant of ol’ Count Dracula or anything to that effect.

It was the breeding ground of such lively characters as Rod Ferrell, Tracey Wigginton and Richard Chase, though some will stress that such individuals are on the fringes of the subculture overall. Lest we forget there are still such liabilities within the “VC” to this very day? Don’t make me name names, you know exactly which ones I’m talking about.

I digress. So I had quickly grown tired enough of this uneducated online fool—this “Lorekeeper,” so called, likely another role-playing term, though what “lore” she keeps is tainted by this ever-present, partial and biased left-wing/liberal lens. With that level of intelligence, it isn’t very difficult to see how she or anyone would give up respectable Vampyric practice and become a Discordant, a term which at this point is beginning to describe a faceless, nameless horde of rats which brings to mind the portrayal of the Japanese in World War II propaganda: an uncivilized and unconquerable enemy that seems more animal than man and seems to thrive off of going against everything cultured people stand for.

In a way, the Discordants—individual groups so radically distinct from one another, like Blood Nations, UVOC, the OVC, as well as lone wolves; different as can be, but all united in their hatred of culture and civility—are the equivalent of the political NPC meme, a gaggle of innumerable mindless drones that repeat the same biased lies, irrelevant opinions or random non-sequiturs because they lack any real personality, intellect or substance, ex: “durr, tHe haRVeY WeiNSTeIn oF tHE vamPiRe coMMUNitY!”, “mOtHer oF alL!

Like, sis, your “great leaders” are wife-beating drunks, misandrist porn stars and delusional True Blood role-players, don’t fucking come for me. But let me drop an ice cube in that tea for now.

End of Part II

Published 03:22, 7 Apr, SY 23
Image credit: modified stock image
External links and references do not imply endorsements

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