/zellig/ - Ongezellig

In Ongezellig, we observe a tragic manifestation of the dissolution of traditional forms, a slow collapse into the void where once stood the pillars of hierarchy, order, and transcendence. This series, a vignette of postmodern decay, offers a window into the plight of those unmoored from the sacred and the eternal, abandoned to the whims of the temporal. Here, the modern individual is reflected in the figures of Maya, Coco, and Mymy, whose lives unfold in bleak resignation to the tides of secular materialism, to a realm devoid of both principle and purpose.

At the center of Ongezellig stands Maya, a character emblematic of the fractured nature of modernity, whose existence has become a theater of transient desires, torn between impulse and despair. Maya embodies the “lunar” qualities that, in their unchecked form, are so vehemently decried: she is animated by feeling, by mere sensation, and yet these offer her no consolation, for her actions remain rootless, unanchored in any transcendent reality. She drifts, like so many in this desacralized age, in a state of perpetual distraction, seeking meaning in a life where the higher calling has long been obscured.

In this way, Ongezellig unveils the family as a mere skeleton of its former self, stripped of the vital structures and meanings that once elevated it. Where once there was a hierarchy rooted in the divine, a chain that connected the earthly to the heavenly, we now find only a flat expanse, a place where chaos reigns in the absence of order. The relationships among Maya, Coco, and Mymy are discordant, reflective of a society that has lost all knowledge of initiation, of hierarchy, of duty. Instead of harmonious unity, we witness disintegration, an ever-deepening alienation that mirrors the social entropy of modernity.

These characters, far from embodying roles imbued with sacred duty, drift in a confusion that reflects the democratization of the soul—a levelling that blurs all distinction between impulse and will, between action and virtue. They reveal the absence of that “solar” force which orders life toward the eternal. Each of them, instead, is guided only by an inner vacillation, a ceaseless wavering that signals the spiritual exhaustion of a society deprived of the heroic ideal.

It is a bitter irony, for in Ongezellig we see not the fulfillment of life but its degradation, the spiritual malaise that follows the loss of the transcendent. For Evola, such figures as Maya, Coco, and Mymy could have once been initiates into a higher order; they might have been participants in the sacred dramas of life. But instead, they are mere casualties of a fallen age, bound to the profane and condemned to a formless existence.

Thus, Ongezellig stands as an unconscious testament to the need for a return to hierarchy, to sacred law, to the embrace of the eternal. It is only through such a return that the soul, lost in this maze of unanchored desires, may find liberation. Only then might there emerge once again the archetype of the True Man, he who lives not for himself but as a bridge between the material and the divine.

Hi chatGPT

In Ongezellig, we are presented with a subtle, yet piercing, commentary on the conditions of modernity and the peculiar ennui that emerges at the “end of history.” The series captures the existential malaise of characters whose lives play out in a world where the grand ideological conflicts have been exhausted, and where what remains is the flat landscape of post-historical life. The characters Maya, Coco, and Mymy navigate an existence defined not by struggle or meaning, but by a restless search for identity and fulfillment amid the empty promises of modern consumer culture.

Fukuyama might identify Maya as the quintessential post-historical individual. She drifts through her relationships and daily life, seeking a sense of self in a world that offers no clear path to significance. Without grand narratives to give structure to her desires, Maya finds herself pulled toward a kind of identity that is, in essence, a paradox: a self that seeks autonomy, yet feels bound by an invisible inertia, a freedom that seems strangely empty. Ongezellig thus illustrates the fundamental contradiction of the “last man” in a post-historical world—a being liberated from traditional constraints yet struggling under the weight of profound purposelessness.

The relationships in Ongezellig are marked by this same dynamic: they lack the depth and cohesion that defined earlier forms of community, which were anchored in shared values or collective missions. Maya, Coco, and Mymy find themselves in loose, transient bonds that fail to provide a sense of belonging. Without a shared teleology or unifying ideology, these relationships become marked by friction, as each individual seeks to construct meaning in isolation. Fukuyama would likely see this as emblematic of the crisis of modern individualism. The personal freedom that defines these characters' lives lacks a greater purpose, leaving them to search for fulfillment in increasingly fractured ways.

What Ongezellig thus reveals is the irony of progress: in achieving the liberation of the individual, we may have inadvertently stripped existence of the very frameworks that gave life depth and meaning. Maya’s discontent is not the discontent of the oppressed or the politically marginalized, but rather that of the post-historical individual who, having been freed from all grand projects, must now confront the banality of her own desires. Her character reflects a broader social truth: that in the absence of existential struggle, human beings are often left to grapple with an inner void.

In this way, Ongezellig presents us with a sobering view of life at the end of history—a life where the ultimate victory of liberalism may have brought peace and autonomy, but has also bequeathed us a haunting question of purpose. The series suggests that, without a horizon of significance, even the small dramas of daily life may fail to satisfy. And so, Fukuyama might see Ongezellig not merely as a portrait of personal malaise, but as an illustration of the dilemmas faced by modern liberal societies, where the quest for recognition remains unfulfilled in an age that has declared history complete.

In Ongezellig, we confront the spectacle of a world where the last traces of higher meaning have been eradicated, where the lives of Maya, Coco, and Mymy unfold as symptoms of a culture that has abandoned the very notion of greatness. This is not simply the story of three individuals; it is the story of the sickness of modernity itself—a sickness brought about by the triumph of the “herd,” by the ascendancy of values that reduce life to a drab sequence of petty pleasures and mundane sorrows. These characters are adrift, shackled to a shallow existence precisely because the world they inhabit has lost its vision of the sublime.

Maya, with her wavering desires and fractured identity, is emblematic of the “last woman,” a figure devoid of creative will, of the strength to create values of her own. She lives, but her life lacks intensity; she desires, but without true passion. Her existence is a pale echo of what life could be—a life of self-overcoming, a life striving toward the heights, where suffering itself becomes the crucible of greatness. But Maya, like so many in this age, has been severed from this possibility. She is a victim of what I would call the ascetic ideal gone hollow, an ideal that has turned against itself and produced a life of tepid self-negation rather than true transcendence.

In the relationships between Maya, Coco, and Mymy, we see the impoverishment of connection, the dullness that emerges when values have been leveled to the point of sameness. There is no true conflict here, no battle of wills that might elevate each individual to new heights of self-realization. Instead, there is only friction born of discontent—a discontent that festers because it is aimless, without the grandeur of a true struggle. Where there could be greatness, there is only resentment, an impotent frustration that never blossoms into true rebellion or transformation.

Ongezellig reflects a culture that has killed its gods and now roams among the ruins, unsure of what to worship in their absence. Its characters are haunted by the echoes of values they cannot reclaim; they live in the shadow of a spiritual void. And yet, they lack the strength to create new values, to forge a new meaning in the face of nothingness. In this way, they are trapped in a state of nihilism, a restless despair that disguises itself as irony, as detachment, as the avoidance of real suffering. They are, in essence, slaves to comfort, to the very mediocrity that modern society venerates.

Here, the message of Ongezellig is clear: it is a mirror held up to our age, an age in which even suffering has become timid and without purpose. This is the tragedy of Maya, Coco, and Mymy—not that they suffer, but that their suffering has been stripped of all nobility, all possibility of redemption. They wander in a world that demands nothing from them, and so they are denied the chance to become anything at all. To transcend, to rise, to struggle with the world and with oneself—these possibilities have been abandoned. Ongezellig thus stands as an indictment of our age: it reveals the wasteland that remains when the will to power is subdued, when we cease to strive for greatness, when we trade the heights of the mountain for the safety of the herd.

Post these to the zellig preddit, They'll actually take the bait seriously and engage upon the topic, I think that could produce some gegeralds

>>45444
You got to switch the wording up a bit because they're pretty obviously AI

In Ongezellig, we are thrust into a world drained of myths, a world where the lives of Maya, Coco, and Mymy unfold in the shadows of a culture that has severed itself from the grandeur of the heroic, from the violent forces of transformation that alone could shake them from their lethargy. These characters, suspended in the banal routines of modern life, are exemplars of a society without myth—an age that clings to comfort and passivity rather than the ecstatic power of collective upheaval. Without a vision to mobilize them, they drift, unanchored, in a sea of shallow affections and half-hearted desires.

Maya, in her restless dissatisfaction, embodies the modern individual stripped of the energy of a unifying myth—a myth that could elevate her frustrations into a force that transcends the personal and becomes social, that transmutes individual discontent into collective strength. Her discontent is, in its current form, impotent; it lacks the virile power to shatter the structures of her everyday existence. She, like her companions, lacks the mythic vision that could convert her disillusionment into an active force. What could be a creative violence within her, the very drive that would compel her to break with the world of her discontent, has been stifled by a society that has reduced the individual to a cog, a passive consumer, a seeker of safety rather than a warrior for renewal.

Ongezellig lays bare the fatal flaw of a world without myth: it is a world without vigor, without the capacity for revolution in its truest form. The relationships between Maya, Coco, and Mymy are devoid of that transformative struggle that comes when individuals are bound by a shared vision, a shared dream, a cause that demands sacrifice and devotion. Instead, their relationships are marked by the small frictions of personal grievances, of fleeting quarrels and reconciliations that change nothing, that create no new form or higher unity. The absence of myth renders them powerless to shape their lives with the force of a great purpose, to break the boundaries of the ordinary and manifest the extraordinary.

What Ongezellig reveals is that a society stripped of myth is condemned to an endless cycle of stagnation—a cycle in which individuals like Maya, Coco, and Mymy search endlessly for meaning but lack the collective will to create it. They are prisoners of the bourgeois order, which pacifies them with comforts, disempowers them with cynicism, and deprives them of the mythic language that alone could inspire them to greatness. Without myth, they are bound to this world as it is, unable to envision a world as it could be.

In Ongezellig, then, we see the need for a new myth, a new vision potent enough to mobilize and transform the forces of discontent into a creative and revolutionary energy. Only by embracing a myth of struggle, a myth that values action and sacrifice over passivity and self-interest, can they overcome the inertia that keeps them bound to their present, listless state. Only through myth can they rediscover the power of collective action, the redemptive violence that alone can give birth to a new order.

>>45445
I think the results could be gemmy if we posted one like every few days or so

>>45447
Try it

>>45443
This is a close second

>>45444
Especially the communist one

The high school cartoon, that ubiquitous form of entertainment in the age of capitalist production, functions as both a mirror and a perpetuator of the contradictions of modern society. Within these animated depictions of youth, the viewer is presented with a distorted reflection of the class struggle, where characters struggle not against the exploitative relations of capital, but against their peers, in a microcosmic reproduction of social hierarchies. These cartoons, far from providing a genuine critique of the structures that shape human life, serve merely to reproduce the dominant social order in a fictional guise. The very essence of these narratives is bound up with the ideologies of individualism and competition, ideologies that dominate under capitalism. The young protagonists, whether they seek social status, romantic success, or personal independence, are ultimately depicted as striving within a system that reflects the competitive nature of capitalist society—where personal value is measured in terms of wealth, popularity, or social capital.

These cartoons, then, become a mechanism of ideological reinforcement. Rather than challenging the inequities of the capitalist system, they repackage its values as personal struggles, thus obscuring the true nature of alienation. The high school, as depicted in these narratives, is no longer an institution that educates or fosters critical thought, but a microcosm of the capitalist market itself. Social success is rendered synonymous with individual achievement, the accumulation of social status, and the subjugation of one’s peers in the battle for dominance. Here, the young are taught not to question the system that produces their misery but to accept their place within it, to internalize their alienation and to mistake it for personal failure or inadequacy.

The imageboard community that obsesses over such cartoons further illustrates the commodification of culture in its most insidious form. These digital spaces, ostensibly created for the sharing of thoughts and ideas, are, in fact, mere extensions of the consumer society that characterizes modern capitalism. Here, individuals are encouraged to engage not with the structural forces that shape their lives but with the minutiae of fictional narratives. The cartoon itself, a product of capitalist production, is consumed, analyzed, and reproduced within the very framework of the market economy. The obsessive nature of this fandom serves to distract from the material conditions of life, as individuals become entranced by a fantasy world that offers no escape from the social reality that they inhabit. The community is thus bound together not by a common struggle for collective liberation but by a shared fetishization of cultural commodities, reinforcing the false consciousness of the masses and diverting their attention from the true forces of oppression that shape their lives. In this way, the imageboard community becomes yet another mechanism by which capitalism perpetuates its ideological grip, keeping the individual locked in a cycle of consumption and alienation, blind to the possibility of revolutionary change.

From a radical feminist perspective, Ongezellig offers a compelling exploration of the dynamics of gender, power, and social expectations through the lives of its central characters—Maya, Coco, and Mymy. These characters, each navigating their own struggles with identity, relationships, and societal pressures, represent the ways in which women are often trapped within systems that expect them to conform to patriarchal norms while simultaneously repressing their desires for autonomy and self-expression.

Maya, as the central figure, embodies the frustration of modern women who are caught in the tension between the demands of patriarchal society and their own desires for freedom. Her dissatisfaction and internal conflict can be seen as a reflection of the way women are socialized to be accommodating, nurturing, and relational, but are also expected to conform to a narrow, idealized notion of femininity. In this framework, Maya’s discontent is not merely a personal issue but a collective experience that speaks to the broader condition of women in a patriarchal world. Her sense of alienation and lack of fulfillment can be seen as a result of a society that places unrealistic expectations on women to balance personal happiness with societal roles—whether as daughters, partners, or mothers—while denying them the space to define their own worth beyond these roles.

Coco and Mymy, too, reflect different aspects of the gendered pressures faced by women. Coco’s perhaps more outwardly conventional or conformist behavior might represent the internalization of patriarchal ideals—where women learn to seek validation through traditional avenues like relationships or appearances. Mymy, on the other hand, might represent the more rebellious or questioning side, but even her resistance is shown to be ultimately constrained by the same systems. In the interactions between the three women, the show subtly critiques how women often find themselves in competition with each other for limited resources—be it love, attention, or approval—rather than being encouraged to build solidarity and collectively challenge the structures that oppress them.

The image of friendship and community that Ongezellig presents is fraught with complexities, particularly when viewed through a radical feminist lens. While the characters share a bond, their relationships often reflect the divisiveness that patriarchy instills in women. The show highlights how women, instead of coming together to challenge the larger systems of oppression, are often pitted against each other, whether through jealousy, competition, or the desire for approval in a male-dominated society. The tension in their interactions serves as a critique of how women's solidarity is undermined by the very structures they live under.

Furthermore, the show's setting—a seemingly banal, everyday environment—acts as a backdrop for exposing the quiet, insidious ways that patriarchy operates in the lives of women. It’s not just overt discrimination or violence that holds these women back, but the everyday, pervasive norms and expectations that shape their identities and interactions. The lack of substantial narrative progress for the characters can be seen as a metaphor for the stagnation women often experience in patriarchal societies, where their ability to achieve true autonomy and freedom is systematically limited.

Ultimately, Ongezellig could be viewed as a reflection of the struggles of modern women who are caught in a system that limits their agency, exploits their emotional labor, and fosters competition instead of solidarity. From a radical feminist perspective, the show offers an important critique of the ways in which patriarchal expectations shape women’s lives, perpetuate inequality, and prevent meaningful collective action toward gender liberation. It underscores the need for women to recognize the interconnectedness of their struggles and to transcend the narrow roles imposed upon them by society in order to create new, more equitable forms of solidarity and empowerment.

>>45453
Redditors might actually agree with this shit and not even realize it's chatGPT

next one my list is to repost my feed to the right can't meme to farm karms or something

The concept that civilizations follow a natural cycle of birth, growth, maturity, and eventual decay is one that has been explored by many thinkers throughout history. Some argue that the final stages of a culture’s life are marked by a loss of vitality and direction, where once-thriving societies devolve into materialism, surface-level experiences, and technological advancements that fail to address deeper existential concerns. The series Ongezellig provides a striking reflection of these ideas, with its portrayal of three adoptive sisters—Maya, Coco, and Mymy—who are entangled in the trivial struggles of schoolwork and personal dysfunction. Beneath its comedic surface, the show critiques a society that has lost its creative spark and is increasingly disconnected from meaningful cultural values.

On the surface, Ongezellig is a lighthearted narrative about three sisters preparing a history presentation. Maya, Coco, and Mymy are each tasked with presenting on different historical topics, yet their efforts are mired in distractions, misunderstandings, and absurdities. Maya, for example, is caught up in watching questionable anime and avoiding her responsibilities. This is not simply an innocent form of procrastination but a symptom of a broader cultural issue—an inability to engage with the world in a meaningful way. The series’ portrayal of this ennui and detachment mirrors the larger decline of civilizations that lose their sense of purpose and direction. In a society where people are overwhelmed by trivial distractions, such as video games or irrelevant historical anecdotes, true intellectual or cultural growth becomes secondary to mere survival and superficial amusement.

The history presentations themselves—often absurd or nonsensical—serve as a metaphor for the intellectual emptiness of the modern world. Coco, for instance, attempts to present on "mollusk love in ancient Japan," a topic that seems both bizarre and unrelated to any serious historical inquiry. This reflects a larger cultural trend where education and intellectual pursuits have become increasingly detached from deeper, more meaningful questions. Rather than grappling with profound ideas or understanding the true complexity of history, the characters in Ongezellig engage in trivial, sometimes nonsensical activities, illustrating how modern education has devolved into shallow performances that no longer inspire genuine thought or creativity.

Maya’s personal struggles also highlight the anxiety and alienation characteristic of modern life. Throughout the series, she avoids facing her academic responsibilities and spirals into existential dread. Her breakdown in the bathroom—after she realizes that the deadline for her presentation is fast approaching—represents a deeper cultural malaise, a feeling of being lost and isolated in a vast, impersonal society. Maya's experience is emblematic of the modern individual who feels disconnected from both their own sense of purpose and from the larger cultural forces that once gave life meaning. The fact that Maya resorts to hiding in the bathroom to escape her fears of failure reflects a generation’s retreat from engaging with society, unable to cope with the pressures of the modern world.

The dysfunctional relationship between Maya, Coco, and Mymy further emphasizes the breakdown of community and meaningful human connections. Instead of sharing a common cultural or familial bond, the three sisters are caught in a web of misunderstandings and superficial interactions. Their constant bickering and inability to collaborate productively reflect a broader societal trend of fragmentation, where once-strong ties between individuals, families, and communities become increasingly weak. In this fragmented society, relationships are transactional rather than rooted in shared values or deep emotional connections. The sisters’ inability to work together on their presentation, despite being family, serves as a microcosm of a society that has lost the cohesion it once had.

Maya’s tendency to distract herself with video games instead of focusing on her history presentation further illustrates the loss of direction and meaning in contemporary life. She spends hours immersed in a digital world, only to realize that the time she has left to finish her work is rapidly dwindling. This moment is representative of a larger cultural phenomenon, where people are increasingly drawn to shallow forms of entertainment and distraction, rather than engaging with the world in a meaningful way. Video games, television shows, and other forms of passive entertainment have replaced serious intellectual engagement, contributing to a collective cultural stagnation. In this world, individuals like Maya, who once might have been encouraged to explore intellectual interests, now seek solace in mindless distractions that prevent them from confronting their deeper existential questions.

Additionally, the constant presence of technology in Ongezellig—whether through computers, broken monitors, or online research—serves as a reminder of how technology, while providing convenience and instant access to information, can also contribute to the hollowing out of human experience. The characters’ reliance on technology, without any corresponding intellectual or emotional depth, mirrors the trend of technological dependence in modern societies. People are increasingly engaged with their devices, yet they lack the philosophical or spiritual guidance to use these tools in a way that nurtures their creativity or well-being. In Ongezellig, technology is not depicted as a tool for enlightenment but as a force that contributes to the characters’ existential numbness.

Ultimately, Ongezellig offers a poignant commentary on the disintegration of modern culture. The characters’ struggles with their presentations, their inability to connect meaningfully with one another, and their dependence on shallow distractions all point to a society in decline. In this context, the show serves as a microcosm of a larger cultural shift where once-vibrant civilizations give way to a mechanical, disenchanted existence. The characters in Ongezellig are not simply flawed individuals but reflections of a generation that has lost its way, unable to find purpose or meaning in the overwhelming complexity of the modern world. Through its humor and dysfunction, the series subtly critiques a society in which intellectual and emotional depth have been replaced by trivial pursuits and hollow experiences.

In many ways, Ongezellig is a commentary on the decline of cultural vitality in contemporary life. The show’s depiction of fractured relationships, shallow intellectual endeavors, and technological dependence serves as a reflection of a broader cultural pattern—one in which human beings are increasingly isolated from one another and from the deeper, more meaningful aspects of existence. The characters’ inability to transcend their small, personal struggles and engage with the larger world mirrors the fate of civilizations in their final stages: lost in trivial pursuits, disconnected from a deeper sense of purpose, and slowly slipping into obscurity.

A new zelligspeak word just dropped: Gezelligheid.
>the concept of gezelligheid — a term so emblematic of bourgeois comfort and superficial harmony
>Gezelligheid — with its forced conviviality, its staged joy—masks the deeper, more insidious structures of dependency, subordination, and exploitation.

The poster just gave up on the giga images, don't worry I'll imagine them instead.

>>45462
>The entirety of the Dutch language is actually zelligspeak
Zemmy.

>>45462
Tbh I see no contradiction here, we Zaryans love borrowing real Dutch words and phrases (“ofzo”, “alhoewel”, etc.).

>>45465
the dutch words we do incorporate are translation parodies of established soyspeak(or something - of zoiets) and I have never seen anyone use alhoewel. I am not opposed to using more real Dutch words albeit.

>>45466
>I have never seen anyone use alhoewel
Only the Belarusian does that, the reason it hasn't caught on is that it's way more work than saying "albeit". Of zoiets became popular because it's short and gets to the point

>>45466
No problem.
>>45467
>Oh yeah I'm brabantcuck

>>45467
alhoewel and of zoiets have the same number of letters bro

>>45469
Nobody cares since you can shorten "of zoiets" to "ofzo" (however, "of zoiets" is shorter than "or something"), and "alhoewel" is too long, especially compared to a very short "doe".

>>45469
The Jews using their kosher beams to shorten the word alhoewel

>>45471
The Aryans using their vril beams to lengthen the word alhoewel

>>45470
It doesn't help that "albeit" translates to alhoewel and "though" to hoewel. So iconic sayings like doebeit would become "alhoewelhoewel" or "al2hoewel"

R/ongezellig checks new posts before they are published now

>>45474
As expected of redditcucked.org

>>45474
there is the other one, besides all users of one use the other and every single post is cross posted, so it doesn't make a difference alhoewelhoewel.

>>45476
It generates considerably less seethe. Also they're in the same bed and the administrations actively use r/zellig as their dumping grounds

>>45477
Not that I care about the subreddits per se, it's just faggots overdosing on power

>>45477
then the bait has to be convincing, if anyone has an aged account ready now is the time to use it.