As God is diminished further by science, as the sacred is dissected further into the profane and as the redemptive, restorative value of the violence done to the scapegoat, the peace of brotherhood brokered in the meaning making mana poured out in his symbolic blood further loses its potency, what are we meaning making beings –we sign seers– to do but go mad, either in bloodlustful search for a better victim or by turning our violence inward to self-victimage? In any case –whether others or we ourselves receive the piercing blows of our wanton perceptions, our precious violent inheritance– the only remaining sacred and science-proof totem, which we will not sacrifice, is meaning itself; and meaning, for us, is made in no other mechanism but real sacrifice. We cannot let go of our violence without letting go of ourselves.