“Let us not forget that philosophy is also primate psychology; that our loftiest speculations are merely picking through a minuscule region of the variegated slime encrusting a speck of dust.”
– Nick Land, Spirit and Teeth
The Rat King reminds us not so much of a god in the sewers and dank underworlds, nor even the ancient leprous visage of a comic Yahweh hiding in the slime-infested shadows of ruinous cities, so much as he does his poseur, an imposter and fretful son, a shapeshifting shaman or Loki of the dark labyrinths – a werewolf Lord of ferocity and an “inferior race” (Rimbaud). Such a creature is neither prodigal nor charmed, but rather the last fragmentary hope of a broken and threadbare anti-messiah — not of truth and life, but of death and despair: a god-king of in the mud and slime, living among the black and brown rats like a subterranean Outlaw King of cesspools and a tumorous thought of Night and Chaos. No longer the great god of the Old Testament, this mimic King and fetid Yahweh of the Sewers lives among his own brethren and inferiors, regressed to his true form as the King of Rats and Werewolves: his vermin-core eating alive all those false political religions and philosophies that still inhabit this dark bunghole of a globe.