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“An Epiphany Eve: The Death of a Christmas Child”

Posted on December 5, 2024 by admin

This article is based on this Dutch article of Martijn Benders

A Christmas child passed away on St. Nicholas Eve

My mother passed away yesterday around 7:30 PM on St. Nicholas Eve. A Christmas child passed away on St. Nicholas Eve.

I woke up last night at 3 AM and decided to work on poetry. The first 70 poems are solid now, I think.

Witnessing endless suffering is no joy. Euthanasia is prohibited for people with dementia due to some rigid belief that they are no longer capable of deciding their own fate. You might think the decision would then fall to the immediate family, but no: the demented must also be “protected” from them. In short: the religious zealots are once again behind this inhumane prohibition. This is how God supposedly intended it. But the idea that someone with dementia no longer knows what they want is utter nonsense: they simply hold onto those thoughts for a shorter time. Countless times, my mother begged me to end it for her, and it came very close to me doing just that myself. And that’s because in the Netherlands, things are poorly organized, based on outdated pseudo-science and superstitions. Someone with dementia knows very well what suffering is and whether they want to continue enduring it. You can hear echoes of a similarly ignorant stance in the grotesquely foolish claim that “animals can’t feel pain,” an assumption scientists dared to proclaim for far too long. My goodness!

Sadly, my mother lacked the foresight to fill out an advance directive in time.

Fortunately, I didn’t take matters into my own hands, and fortunately, Annie’s ordeal has finally come to an end. She will have a distinguished place in my forthcoming poetry collection.

A drawing Veronique made of Annie

I think I’ll create 30 different colored versions of that drawing for a slideshow at the funeral.

I checked, and Operation Christmas Joint is still on my YouTube channel:

A suggestion of my father’s. He suddenly texted, asking if I could bring a joint for my mother. Apparently, she had once been curious about it but had never dared to try. I suspect my father had discouraged her back in the day and now felt a kind of guilt to make amends. It wasn’t a great success; she only became nauseous from the joint. But the gesture itself was beautiful, I thought.

A beautiful St. Nicholas Eve ascension, Annie.

Martinus Benders, 05-12-2024

Post Views: 231
Category: Psychosupersum

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Castles Get Kicked in the Bricks each Summer

Let’s face it: some backpacks just carry your stuff. This one tells your entire life philosophy in one ridiculous, multilingual joke. Imagine strolling into a museum, a bus stop, or your ex's new wedding—with a bag that declares, in ten languages, that castles are always the losers of summer.

Why? Because deep down, you know:

  • Tourists always win.
  • History has a sense of humor.
  • And you, my friend, are not carrying your lunch in just any nylon sack—you’re carrying it in a medieval meltdown on your shoulders.

This backpack says:

  • “I’ve been to four castles, hated three, and got kicked out of one for asking where the dragons were.”
  • “I appreciate heritage sites, but I also think they could use a bit more slapstick.”
  • “I’m cute, I’m moopish, and I will absolutely picnic on your parapet.”

It’s absurd.
It’s philosophical.
It holds snacks.

In short, it’s not just a backpack—it’s a mobile monument to glorious collapse.

And honestly? That’s what summer’s all about.

Philosophy thirts

Feeling surveilled? Alienated by modernity? Accidentally started explaining biopolitics at brunch again? Then it’s time to proudly declare your loyalties (and your exhaustion) with our iconic “I’m with Fuckold” shirt.

This tee is for those who’ve:

  • Said “power is everywhere” in a non-BDSM context.
  • Tried to explain Discipline and Punish to their cat.
  • Secretly suspect the panopticon is just their neighbour with binoculars.

Wearing this shirt is a cry of love, rebellion, and post-structural despair. It says:
“Yes, I’ve read Foucault. No, I will not be okay.”

Stay tuned for more philosophical shirts and backpacks, as we at Benders are working on an entire collection that will make even the ghost of Hegel raise an eyebrow.

Curious about the intersections between poetry, philosophy, and machine learning?

Explore a collection of notes, reflections, and provocations on how language shapes — and resists — intelligent systems like Grok

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