- We see you.
- We know who you are.
- Your ideas are worthless.
- Your aesthetic is stupid.
- Your “technique” is a welter of narcissism, superstition, and habit.
- All your little tiny ideas, all your whoring attempts at creation, and you yourself are nothing, nobody wants you, we despise you, it’s in our nature.
- You should be kept as a pet.
- You are a Philistine, the Paul Bunyan of decadence, an acromegalic fraud.
- You are a minnow, a speck, a stain.
- The genre humain is sick, and you are to blame.
- You are a necrophiliac.
- You are a museum of irrelevance.
- It will take years to make Art vital and important again.
- You are from this moment forbidden.
- As the Italians say, Parla quando piscia la gallina.
- We are here now.
- Our aesthetics is empirically grounded.
- Our taste will be raised to principle.
- You and your band of jays will be flushed out.
- Yes, Art is resurrected today: Victory is ours!
- History will forget you and salute us.
- Here you are, and here is oblivion.
- This is the final manifesto, and the only one.
The Final Manifesto
First in a series of eight manifestos.
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This prose originally appeared in the February 2009 issue of Poetry magazine