This post is about Nibiru. Carles takes a somewhat supernatural and metaphysical turn with this offering, on the surface an examination of the various strata of celebrity and the channels of mobility between them. But the deeper layer of his inquiry in this essay is not revealed until he poses this ultimate question: "Did the human race really start in Africa?"
Evolutionary theory and archeological data would seem to support that theory for the origin of humanity, but Carles seeks to alert us to heterodoxical possibilities, including, for example, the thesis put forward in the best-selling work of popular pseudo-science, Chariot of the Gods? by Erich von Däniken, who argued that human technology was originally brought to Earth from outer space by alien life-forms, who appeared to primitive earthlings as gods. It follows, if you accept that postulate, that these aliens may have mated with earth creatures, spawning human diversity familiar today.
Of course, as Carles deftly implies, a certain subset of humans today are commonly regarded as gods (broadly popular celebrities in the culture industries) and another are regarded as alien (self-appointed "alts" to whom Carles devotes so much scrutiny). The fusion of these two in the figure of Solange Knolwes supplies a metaphorical fulcrum for Carles, upon which he can pivot to a immanent critique of celebrity indie culture and the quasi-mystical nature of the "evolution from failed mainstream to indie schmoozing artist."
Carles cites a report of an appearance by Knowles in the midst of many other hybrid alt celebrities that attempted to inflate the occurrence into a "special event" that requires an audience to bear "witness." The religious overtone, as we have seen, is not accidental, as Carles's implication is that the incident described so solemnly by New York Magazine was in fact a contemporary form of ecumenical ritual in which the Holy Spirit is supplanted by a presiding spirit of "cool," as suggested by this phrase from the press account: "...at an Ace Hotel party populated by all manner of cool people." Celebrity gods, a race apart, sanctified by an ineffable quality that appears wholly otherworldly -- an extensive mythos that supports itself through its saleability in the media marketplace. Compare with von Däniken's version of the myth, in which space beings are transmuted into deities by way of a process of hagiography. Carles's point: today's indie celebrities would set themselves up as alien gods over us, presenting their marketable appeal as the product of extraterrestrial technology. Hence the appellation "Dirty Projectors" can be understood in its proper light, as a veiled reference to ad hoc astral projection, yoked into service of corrupt, pecuniary ambitions. Carles's question, "Whatever happened 2 the Dirty Projectors?" at once ridicules the group's pretensions to spiritual transcendence (they would set themselves up as indie gods and tempt us all to alt-simony) and indicts the media's silence with regard to the abuse of supernatural tropes.
In a more elaborate iteration of the alien gods myth, in the work of Zecharia Sitchin, for example, who holds that aliens enslaved humanity and tricked us into mining gold for export to their home plant. The metaphoric possibilities here are almost too obvious to require elaboration. Like Sitchin's aliens, the culture industry whips us into a worshipful frenzy and we perform the slavish promotional work of spreading their gospel, helping line their coffers with gold.
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