Boghul and Acephale are what the psychiatrist Carl Jung called archetypes, universal archaic patterns and images that derive from the collective unconscious and are the psychic counterpart of instinct. For example, great mother, father, child, devil, god, wise old man, wise old woman, trickster, hero, shadow, and maiden are archetypes that appear in mythology throughout the world. Now, today, in the age of Trump, they are staring back at us. Here’s the thing, though. Nobody really knows what the hell is happening.
Boghul and Acephale are not lovers. Boghul is evil in the most despicable sense, more evil than Satan because Satan was born The Son Of Morning, the Twin of Jesus Christ, of whom it is said that he refused obedience to God and was therefore cast into Hell. A fairy tale to frighten children compared to the reality of Boghul, for whom there is no twin, no beneficial consequence of the Destroyer, no creative destruction. He is all ruin. He is the Hindu kali, the Muslem dajjal, the Cree wetiko. He is everything bad, every awful word for bad applies to him: depraved, degenerate, nefarious, putrid, vicious, and these words don’t apply to him, too, because they aren’t bad enough and they don’t capture the enjoyment and glee with which he visits unimaginable misery on so many millions of people. Think of the girls kidnapped by Boko Haram, the frightful bastards who did it. In psychology Boghul is called the sociopath, the psychopath, the psychotic. He is there among the 62 plutocrats who own half of Earth’s wealth and watch the myriad horrors with amusement. He is all about agony for other people. He is all about deliriously happy mass murderers. He turns women into victims. The worst thing about him is that he is here, now, a living man and millions of living men. He is loosed upon the world, as the old-timers used to say.
Acephale is the archetype of a woman whose head has been cut off. She is everywhere in the news nowadays. She is Megyn Kelly groveling to Donald Trump in obedience to her corporate masters. She is Martha Stewart, the only inside trader to be convicted. She is every woman scapegoated in a men’s conspiracy. She is Planned Parenthood stripped of funding by a fraud, the theft of women’s choice and free will, every rape and murder of women and girls. She is women everywhere who have been robbed of their intelligence or used from fashion to slavery in the headless way as sex objects and sacrificial lambs.
She has existed since the breeders and cultivators of the Fertile Crescent first chopped her head off, but she became Acephale when, following the extraordinary presentation of Étant Donnés in 1966 at the Philadelphia Museum of Art after the death of the artist Marcel Duchamp, a secret society and literary review called Acephale that had died in 1939 was resurrected on Google around the art piece’s Surrealist roots. That’s how I heard of it.