Tuesday, April 2, 2013

We Is Risen: Reacquaint Yourself with Destrucity

"April is the cruellest month," sang Elliot Smith on the Good Will Hunting soundtrack, the score to a timeless libretto about Ben Affleck gay romance on an apple orchard. Every day of April, 2013, will be a fool's day. How could it be otherwise? The limp gray matter that defines our terminal-stage republic, in the skulls of nonentities like Ben Rhodes or Luke Russert, can't begin to understand what shame or regret would even constitute. It long ago underwent some evolutionary adaptation that inures them to feeling basic human decency—the way deep-sea fish have eyes they cannot use.

We, the good people of Mr. Destructo, have been relatively silent the past year, worried about paid deadlines and letting this website fall fallow while the Dog Star continued to rage. In our defense, we were not idly marking time. Dejected as we were by the inequities of modern society, Mr. Destructo's establishment one year ago of a Luddite spiritual wellness center on an abandoned dairy farm outside Rochester, Minnesota was a worthy endeavor.

We have no regrets about the project, even following its mysterious and fiery termination this past solstice. I want to emphasize that, especially to the inhabitants of Rochester, Minnesota.

But as spring blooms, and every budding tree lies to your face suggesting happy days are here again, it has been difficult readjusting to this profoundly sick society. The Heat, an organization only marginally less evil than most of Miami's early eighties drug cartels, gallivanted on a twenty-seven game winning streak—putting any fan of conscience in the invidious position of rooting for the Bulls. Mass shootings dot the landscape with terrifying frequency, with the criminally insane finding it easier to buy machine guns than pay for their Risperdol prescriptions. And perhaps most consequentially, the tenth anniversary of our savage destruction of Iraq passed without honest and unprofitable commemoration, the blood of hundreds of thousands of people no professional impediment for that inhuman war's architects and sycophants.

Life these days is a string of misfortunes. But we don't have to take it lying down.

I am excited to announce the official relaunch of that incorruptible friend of the people, Et Tu, Mr. Destructo? In the coming weeks, as we shift back into gear, we will update on a respectably not-irregular basis with a broad range of commentary. One of the great pleasures of this site over the years has been seeing regulars and guest writers go on to more challenging work elsewhere, and we think it's a pity to let this showcase for under appreciated and under compensated voices go dormant. Old faces will return, along with group of new, talented authors reporting from some fascinating climes. Even our listicles about making historically accurate pornography will be more informative in a bullet than a metric ton of Daily Beast.

In addition to changes in the roster of contributors, we are changing our focus editorially. While Jeb "Mobutu" Lund will still be responsible for the direction of new pieces and working with new writers, I'll be taking over a general Managing Editor role, working closely on pitches and edits with our writers. Those interested in contributing should contact me either on Twitter or at GeneralGandhi at Gmail dot com.

Stay tuned for updates, coming very, very soon. Junk your bookmarks and join us, beyond the blue horizon.

Salaam Alaikum,

General Rehavam "Gandhi" Ze'vi
Mt. Scopus Hotel
April, 2013


  1. That's. two el two tee Elliott Smith, you fuckwits; you glorious, glorious fuckwits.


Et tu, Mr. Destructo? is a politics, sports and media blog whose purpose is to tell jokes or be really right about things. All of us have real jobs and don't need the hassle that telling jokes here might occasion, which is why some contributors find it more tasteful to pretend to be dead mass murderers.