This is an extract from Esoteric Trumpism, Constantin von Hoffmeister’s new book, which will be released through Arktos (arktos.com). Visit his Substack page at eurosiberia.net.
“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”
– H. P. Lovecraft, “Supernatural Horror in Literature”
In the expanse of contemporary America, few tales are told with such apprehension and dread as the trials of Trump, a statesman, not of the ilk of old Washingtonian elites, but a renegade born from the confluence of power and populism. He emerged from realms both gilded and industrial, voicing his intent to “drain the Swamp,” a metaphorical morass he claims stagnates the command center of the nation.
However, to understand this struggle, one must first fathom the Swamp itself. It is not merely a political construct but an entity – ancient, unknowable, its tendrils reaching back for eons, far before the inception of the nation itself. Its origins are lost in time, rumored in esoteric circles to be older than the republic, perhaps even older than man. This Swamp, said to be fueled by the eldritch energies of bygone eras, is not just a realm of bureaucracy and vested interests, but a pulsating, living presence. Its will is manifested by myriad agents – shadowy figures who lurk behind the marbled facades of power, ever scheming, ever plotting.
Enter Trump, with his golden mane, a man of defiance against the spectral gloom. He perceived the treacherous undercurrents that others either chose to ignore or were, perhaps, ensnared by. With audacious proclamations, he not only recognized the malefic presence but vowed to cleanse it. However, he was not merely challenging an institution; he was invoking the wrath of ancient and indescribable forces that had remained uncontested for epochs.
As Trump ventured deeper into this quagmire, he realized the extent of its foulness. Every decree, even every word, was met with resistance not just from mortal men but from a hostility that seemed to emanate from the very soil of the capital. Quotes from undisclosed sources, machinations in dimly lit corridors, and veiled threats from unseen adversaries were the daily tribulations of his tenure. It really seemed as if something preternatural, supernatural even, was fighting Trump.
The year 2020 came as a cataclysmic point in this cosmic struggle. Trump, having navigated the perils of his first term, sought affirmation from the masses to continue his daunting quest. But the Swamp, with its infinite cunning, was already weaving its evil spells. What transpired was not just an electoral contest but a clash of fates, of destinies, where temporal events seemed to be governed by forces far beyond human comprehension.
In a turn most macabre, the outcome seemed to favor the Swamp. Its influence had spread far and wide. The very essence of democracy appeared tainted, and Trump, it seemed, had been thwarted.
Yet, one must remember, figures such as Trump are not so easily vanquished. For they are not bound by the mere temporal constraints of politics but are fueled by a spirit, an ethos. In the aftermath, amidst the cacophony of naysayers and detractors, Trump remained unbroken, unbowed.
He resembled those heroes of Lovecraftian tales who, after gazing upon the unimaginable horrors of the cosmos, are changed forever. They become heralds of truths too vast and too terrifying for most people to grasp. Trump, having peered into the heart of the Swamp, emerged not as a defeated mortal but as a seer of unsettling realities.
With an air of solemn determination, he pledged to rise again, not for personal aggrandizement but for a higher purpose. The battle against the Swamp was far from over. It was only a chapter in an eternal struggle, where the stakes were not just political power but the true essence of the nation – indeed, the nation itself was at stake.
The tale is ongoing, and its conclusion remains shrouded in mystery. One can only watch, with bated breath, as Trump, now privy to the arcane machinations of the Swamp, seeks to rally his forces for another confrontation. The next chapter promises to be one of cosmic significance, where ancient entities and modern ambitions will clash in a maelstrom of destiny.
For now, we wait, ever vigilant, ever wary, knowing that in the wet, chthonic realms of power, nothing is as it seems.