Name: Counterpoint
Uploaded: 2025-12-09T20:35:13.000Z
Duration: PT10.193S
Channel: PointlessHub
Description: PointlessHub shorts video about Counterpoint

Counterpoint

PointlessHub

681,060 просмотров • 5 месяцев назад

"Men are incapable of empathy" Counterpoint--

₩₳Ɽ ₱₳₮Ⱨ

2,491,350 просмотров • 9 месяцев назад

Counterpoint: my Big Thief cover band that only sings... show more

Meesh Hell

376,096 просмотров • 6 месяцев назад

Curtis Sliwa has the biggest and most energetic cheering... show more

Jeff Coltin

76,131 просмотров • 7 месяцев назад

Golden statue of Jesus Christ at the Shenyang Catholic... show more

S.L. Kanthan

23,771 просмотров • 1 год назад

The way Shoma creates complex multilayered forms and textures... show more

Cronopios y famas

27,975 просмотров • 1 год назад

We’ve raised over $1 billion towards our work to... build the world’s first million-qubit scale, fault-tolerant quantum computers. We are thrilled to have BlackRock, Temasek, and Baillie Gifford lead this round now valuing the company at $7 billion and welcome Macquarie Group Capital, Ribbit Capital, NVentures (NVIDIA's venture arm), Adage Capital Management, Type One Ventures, Counterpoint Global (Morgan Stanley), 1789Capital, and SVentures (SentinelOne). The round also included participation from existing investors including Blackbird, Third Point LLC, and T. Rowe Price Associates, Inc.show more

PsiQuantum

58,985 просмотров • 8 месяцев назад

#MHA I'm pretty sure y'all can guess who's in... the quotes making excuses for his bullying and abusive behavior not getting addressed by adults. Notice how the majority of my criticism in that post isn't towards Bakugo's arc but instead the teachers. There's no reason his "fans" should be getting offended for Bakugo like I'm undermining his amazing character development or something. Infact him getting a sit down talk back in S2 would've made his progression even more natural and cohesive. Instead it had to happen after a huge fight and only then did All Might finally talk with them...in late S3 At least he acknowledged his own failure as a teacher in that moment for neglecting Bakugo, better than Aizawa who's actually been a teacher for a while lol. Also idk what tf that dumbass quote was talking about "Y'all just pissy because his personality didn't make a full 180 fast" as if that was mentioned anywhere in my post lmao Btw full grown adults who are responsible for the safety of kids allowing one of them to physically assault another unprovoked because it was part of the exam for them to get "along" is not a good counterpoint especially when no one talked to him about it afterwards. "Oh but Deku got him back with a punch" really...we're going down to that level. Don't even get me started on how Mineta is still aroundshow more

Alanin_8

19,379 просмотров • 29 дней назад

Every civilization that worships progress is already walking to... its grave. To believe history climbs ever upward is the delusion of a people in decline. Victory comes by remembering who we are. Modernity lives by the noxious falsity that history is a straight ascent, a line rising toward liberty, material security, higher knowledge, and an ever-advancing mastery of the world. Christianity once gave this expectation its sacred form in the promise of salvation at the end of time. The Enlightenment stripped away the divine horizon but kept the same conviction of progress, recasting it as the unfolding of reason, the spread of science, and the emancipation of man from what were once called superstitions. This doctrine, ideological-cum-religion, is now repeated as if it were a law of nature, and those who doubt it are accused of perversity. Yet for most of mankind history was not imagined as a line but as a cycle. The ancients knew that whatever rises must also fall. Hesiod spoke of the decline of mankind through successive ages, from gold into iron. Heraclitus declared that “war is the father of all things,” for creation and destruction are one. Thucydides wrote his account of the Peloponnesian War with the conviction that future wars would resemble it in both their causes and their ruin. Polybius conceptualized the notion of anakyklosis (recurrence), the perpetual rotation of constitutions: monarchy degenerating into tyranny, aristocracy into oligarchy, democracy into mob rule, and from collapse into monarchy again. To them the fate of empires was as certain as the turning of the seasons. Even Machiavelli, on the threshold of modernity, still echoed Polybius when he wrote of the recurrent fortunes of republics. It was into this older vision that Oswald Spengler breathed life in the twentieth century. His great work “The Decline of the West” gave to cyclical history a new form, drawn not from metaphysics but from the morphology of nature. Cultures, he argued, are living organisms. Each is born in a moment of spiritual awakening, grows with an inner law of development, creates great art and form, and then enters upon its winter, when energies are spent, forms petrify, and death becomes inevitable. For this he used the distinction between Kultur (culture), the spring and summer of a people, marked by faith, inward form, and organic vitality, and Zivilisation (civilization), the autumn and winter, marked by intellect without soul, mass life, technical routine, and exhaustion. The West, in his judgment, had already passed from Kultur into Zivilisation. The inner principle of the West, its soul, was what Spengler named Faustian. Every great culture, he held, has a prime symbol that shapes its creations. The Magian world of the Near East saw existence as a cavern, inward and enclosed. The Classical world of Greece and Rome saw the finite, bounded body as the measure of form. The West saw infinite space. The Gothic cathedral, its arches soaring upward into height without measure, was the first revelation of this soul. The sagas of Arthur, Parsifal, and Siegfried, the restless knights of the Grail, and the march of the Crusaders all bore witness to it. The voyages that opened oceans, the maps that encompassed the globe, the infinitesimal calculus of Leibniz and Newton, the endless counterpoint of Bach and the vast harmonies of Wagner, all were the expression of a will to the infinite, a yearning without rest. This Faustian spirit was not content with the near or the familiar. It sought distance, transcendence, and mastery over what lay beyond. It was both creative and dangerous, for it drove men to triumphs unmatched in history but also carried within itself the certainty of overreaching and exhaustion. Spengler’s vision was therefore tragic. The same will that raised Gothic cathedrals and revealed the law of gravitation would in the end dissolve into sterile technique, into cities without form and masses without destiny. For him the West had already entered this stage. Spengler was, in this sense, a Nietzschean. He shared with Nietzsche the rejection of teleology and the denial that history tends toward progress, and he likewise held that life itself is bound to conflict, the agon, in which both rivalry and the will to power are revealed. He spoke of cultures as organisms that arise, strive, and perish, not unlike Nietzsche’s affirmation that life is bound to conflict and that creation and destruction are inseparable. A bit of an aside, when Spengler was buried in Munich in 1936, he was laid to rest with Goethe’s “Faust” and Nietzsche’s “Thus Spoke Zarathustra” placed in his coffin. He saw himself as heir to both, the one the poet of form and destiny, the other the prophet of will and strife. The roots of this Faustian striving reach back beyond Christendom, beyond Greece and Rome, to the Indo-European warrior-aristocrats of the Eurasian steppe. These tribes of the Pontic-Caspian plain lived by horse and chariot, by the defense of herds, and by the honor of their lineage. They were ruled not by despots but by free warriors who regarded their leaders as peers, first among equals, whose authority rested on courage, generosity, and loyalty rather than command alone. Young men were formed in war-bands, associations of companions bound by oath, living by raid and by hunt, pledged to follow their chosen chief even into death. In such companies rivalry and struggle were ceaseless, for each sought to surpass the others in daring, in the ferocity of combat, and in the glory that could outlast life itself. Their poetry and myth remembered these contests not as accidents of circumstance but as the very substance of noble existence, where to fall without renown was worse than death, and to win immortal fame was the highest proof of life. To paraphrase the Hávamál cattle perish and kinsmen perish, but “the fame of a dead man’s deeds” will never perish. From this life issued the earliest epics of Europe. “The Iliad” tells of Achilles choosing immortal fame above a long life. The Mahabharata recounts the deeds of princes who waged war for honor’s sake. Beowulf sings of the Geat who sought a name that death itself could not erase. The Song of Roland praises the knight who dies rather than yield dishonor. The Nibelungenlied recounts the doom of Siegfried and the vengeance of Kriemhild. The Irish Táin Bó Cúailnge tells of Cú Chulainn standing alone against an invading host. The Icelandic sagas, from Njáll’s fate to Egil’s defiance, exalted the warrior who carved his name with blood and song. These were not works of peace or utility but of tragic greatness, affirming life in the face of fate. This ethos carried into the Greek polis, where the agon was institutionalized in public life, from the rivalries of the assembly to the contests of the games, from the tragedies on the stage to the hoplite phalanx on the field of war. The Romans transmuted it into a republic of conquest and law, turning the struggle for honor into dominion over peoples and the codification of order. The medieval knightly orders bound it to Christendom, when crusade and chivalry gave sacred form to ancient valor and set the nobility of Europe against the infidel. The Renaissance hurled it across the oceans, as Cortés in Mexico and da Gama in India sought renown and dominion in uncharted realms. The Scientific Revolution extended it into thought itself, when the telescope, the calculus, and the new physics opened infinite space to inquiry. Each age bore a new expression of the same striving for honor and mastery, the same will to overcome every limit placed before man. Spengler’s judgment was that this will, having conquered the earth, had entered its final exhaustion. What had been vital had become mechanical. The spirit of invention had hardened into sterile routine. The organic life of peoples had dissolved into the masses of world-cities. Yet the question remains whether decline is always fate. Nietzsche believed otherwise. For him life is not a store of energy to be depleted but a force that renews itself wherever men embrace struggle. He saw in the agon not only the cause of decay but the condition of greatness. If men retain the courage to live by strife, decline can be arrested, or at least transfigured into new creation. The Indo-European heritage shows that cultures are not born from comfort but from peril, not from harmony but from contest. The Greeks rose not by suppressing strife but by shaping it into ordered form. Their philosophers contended as their athletes fought, and their poets sought renown as their warriors did. Rome built its empire by the discipline of legions and the law of the strong. The West carried the same spirit into its cathedrals, its voyages, its philosophies, and its sciences. This is Faustian man, the refusal of limits, the yearning for infinity, the restless will to overcome. The cycle of decline may be unavoidable in form, but decline need not mean death. In the biological world exhaustion is followed by regeneration, decay enriches the soil for new growth, and death itself becomes the ground of life. If the West remembers its aristocratic origin, if it accepts strife as its element rather than yielding to the narcotic of progress, rebirth is possible. In Nietzsche’s vision every ending contains the seed of a higher beginning. If Europe wills it, the Faustian soul can be born again. A civilization dies when it abandons struggle; it lives again only when it embraces the agon as its lifeblood. REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE.show more