I submit to you that popular Western culture is the most self-interested, closed-door party I can imagine.

The obvious question is, how the hell did this happen!?

Have we literally dug so deep a hole, travelled so long a departure as to have come to this— this squalid, homogeneous, Barbie-pink version of our former, more international selves? Are we really so narrow-minded and ignorant to have voluntarily relinquished those gems of inter-nationalism, those unique characteristics which once stood boldly on foreign territory, only to have realised now that they would be mangled and wringed of every last drop of glory before being reissued in the guise of new culture? Shame on us.

Call to artists:

You represent the only redeeming quasi-characteristic of Western pop culture. You are the last line of defense, and the last men and women standing. It is only you who can turn this machine around. You won’t be the driver, or the director, but the mass of ants in the road who carry off the entire picnic in an unexpected direction. Indeed— the only way to redeem what this culture could have been is for you to continue following the Passion inside yourselves. We can no longer afford to wait for our leaders to act, or for them to issue policy.