For all that we can speak of conspiracies, whether extreme or factual, I reckon most would concur that the symbolism of elites has become increasingly more blatant. In the past, subversions required a certain tactical grace about their delivery, perhaps because social mores would lead to a loud and uncompromising backlash. Thus a songwriter wishing to reference the throes of love-making in the 1960s had to be satisfied with the line “things that you do,” as opposed to modernity’s WAP, itself only abbreviated for the sensitive feelings of the FCC, which hardly represents mainstream values. Degeneracy existed, but in the cynical form of art.
As I previously noted, things have changed, radically. It is now not only agreeable to fill mainline displays (including those for children) with overt crude or sexual references; in many cases the social warblers expect it. Few recent instances better encapsulate this dynamic than the decision to install a statue of Medusa holding the severed head of the Greek hero Perseus in Manhattan, ostensibly as a commemoration of #MeToo.
The symbolism is culture-shattering in more ways than one. According to legends, Perseus arose as a hero of the people by vanquishing a series of monsters plaguing the land, including Medusa, a gorgon whose hair of snakes could turn a man to stone with but a glance. Perseus seeks out the aid of the goddess Athena to track down necessary weaponry that will help him defeat the creature without succumbing to her considerable powers. Ultimately, he relies on her reflection upon his shield to move in for a kill, and then deposits the head in a sack for safe-keeping.
Different conclusions can be had of the tale, but at its simplest we might surmise how certain worldly evils are so intense that they require man to protect and distance himself, or risk damnation. Similar themes were explained in the second Harry Potter book with the basilisk, and the story of Lot’s wife looking back to witness the collapsing city. In other terms, specific forms of darkness are intense to the extreme of subsuming our lives, regardless of principle.
Perseus would go on in the legends to defeat other monsters and marry a chaste virgin, something remanded to rarity in our modern world. By allowing Medusa to behead him, the artist implies such vile manifestations cannot be resisted, much like men who spoke out against the #MeToo movement saw their careers battered mercilessly. Don’t even try to pretend evil can be resisted, the figure seems to proclaim, or else the earnest Perseus inside us all will be crushed.
As for the virgin, she will presumably be left to the fate of those wicked creatures, passed around and robbed of her virtue. Because nothing escapes lengths those corrupting tendrils reach, their central hydra determined to deny privacy or love to any coupled souls. After all, how dare they possess something the remaining culture giddily sacrifices for a moment of validation?
Indeed, they cannot, or should not, where the Great Eye wishes to peer. From this point on, we must anticipate only acceleration. Blackhearts do not perspire under the last chosen victory, but rise again and strike deeply, ever hungry to prove themselves omnipresent.