Serene Falcon

God Rest Us, Everyone

Friday, 3 October 2008 at 2:00 am (Correctitude, Music, Self)

Had I slaves — the moral issue of ownership discarded, it being the natural state of mankind: the majority of my, your, and even the Kings of this earth’s, ancestors having been slaves in one form or another [ we do our best not to boast of those producing for us from the poorest to the wealthiest in 15 hours a day Chinese factories or coffee plantations under the beneficent order of free-trade, yet they too exist in the peripheral view of our consciousness ] — I should be a damn fine owner and probably only have them work two hours a day, and in the same conditions of life as I do; ideally, I would prefer neither slaves nor servants, merely utterly faithful retainers who fawned a lot and nodded acquiescently whenever I gave out a pithy gnomic utterance fitted to their state of understanding; however, no matter how ideal their lives and how well-protected I should keep them from harm, illness or education, under no circumstance would I ever swap places for a day with them, even in so limited a fashion as was minimally performed by the ancients. I not only have a tedious sense of propriety, but it’s imperative never to give them ideas; so rather cheerful Yule, or happy Solstice than the orgy of Saturnalia… Still, all three undoubtedly included one tradition that has carried over into our modern Christmas, which is some depressing guest wondering aloud how many of those present will see the next. In that spirit I offer a foretaste of Christmas, with many ingredients I should undoubtedly overlook were I to wait a few months for the real thing. Even supposing we were all alive then.

 
Firstly, two contrasting Swedish renditions of O Holy Night ( O Helga Natt ), by Jussi Bjorling and Sissel ( not together ). [ No video. ]

 
A lone Swedish girl offered her love to the world last Christmas:

 
Whilst some others briefly sang the by no means Christmasful, but undoubtedly perfect, song: Mein Hut der hat Drei Ecken [ Full Lyrics: Mein Hut, der hat drei Ecken, drei Ecken hat mein Hut. Und hätt' er nicht drei Ecken, so wär' er nicht mein Hut ! ]

 
Then, flying on a goose’s back straight from Rumsfeld’s Old Norse Europe to the raw energy of the New, one can see the immediate contrast from the decadence of ruins with ‘Hannah Montana’s’ vibrant Rocking’ Around The Christmas Tree; not only has American civilisation the pure innocence of vacuity, and an awesome instantaneous sharing of screaming community — along with godknowswhatthosecreaturesare; but it appears to be set in summer’s lease.

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As Cold As Ice

Thursday, 18 September 2008 at 6:00 am (Animals, Correctitude, Manners not Morals, Melancholy, Music, Self)

Depression came early this autumn. Sufficiently accounting for going AWOL; yet viewers would be correct to strongly demand a notification such as this, yet ennui waits for no man

 
 
Glancing through one of those not unamusing collections of fake-medieval detective stories, and was so struck by this beginning sentence by a Mr. Paul Harding, I fast checked the reference online, yet could not find any such thing in the work quoted.

‘I was reading Bartholomew the Englishman’s The Nature of Things in which he describes the planet Saturn as cold as ice, dark as night and malignant as Satan.’

A quick check astrological showed the ruling house of the hour i was born to be Saturn : not believing in this discipline in the least, this was previously unknown to me, it just seemed kinda inevitable…

[ Why I disbelieve may be shown, not only by the unlikelihood of vast symbols influencing our self-wrought nature, but by the interpretation given:

This astrological combination indicates a headstrong individual with a fiercely passionate nature. Your likes and dislikes are intense, and you tend to impose your will and taste upon others. You will rise to positions of leadership, for you display unusual courage and independence. Your nature is practical, and your goals are very much tied to matters of this world. You are stubborn in your views and you are ardently jealous of your possessions and values. Although you conduct your own affairs in semi-secrecy, you have to probe into the life of your love partner. Much about you is deep. You store away your emotions, hide your resentments, bury away knowledge. The key to a more harmonious self lies in cultivating humility and greater self-control of your one-directional, assertive personality.

Apart from the fact I can't recognise any of this; I love the sheer unsubtility of the gross flattery astrologers offer: no wonder they were so popular in braver times. And I've already got enough humility. ]

***

Neanderthal Days and Neanderthal Ways

And of Ice, I read up on Afrocentric ‘history’ just for a laugh, and came across some work by a Michael Bradley referenced, popular in the Farrakhan School, The Iceman Inheritance : Prehistoric Sources of Western Man’s Racism, Sexism and Aggression, which promulgated that white people descended partly from those crazy red-haired neanderthals, and that modern pathologies particular to western civilisations are caused by sexual dysfunction of cold neanderthal hearts — my lack of faith in psychosexual therapy, really all therapies, indicates that i am quite sure that it is as fully successful in analysis conducted at a range of 40,000 years as in the immediate present — still, I was slightly pleased, since if we are all different species rather than merely different races, then all our white ’sins’ are both natural and indeed, ineluctable.

Apparently the book proffered the additional delight that the jews are the purest form of neanderthals; amusingly referenced here in a resigned list of things certain peoples believe about the jews. Just remember that every believer is entitled to their vote under any democracy, and marvel that anyone is truly stupid enough to believe in democracy.

I took a few online sociopathy tests for fun, which results varied as wildly as astrology, although all gratifyingly scored around the higher marks. Although I can scarcely doubt being an amoral sociopath, honour and the vagaries of luck forbid the more volatile expressing of such tendencies; the trouble is that I really couldn’t care enough about people to want to kill them; even minute non-violent injury such as blowing up their empty car seems to mark being over-passionately engaged in the mundane world [ as does noticing they live, of course ], unless they offer really serious provocation, natüralich. As with all other animals, each gets individual respect, and should not be killed or injured in the slightest unless they threaten — if a bear is likely to harm one, then murdering it is justified: old lunatics like this fellow who shot a nursing bear eating birdseed really ought at least to receive enough punishment to send them to Hell. P’raps being fastened to a steering wheel and blown up with plastique as happened to the fellow in Ambler’s Send No More Roses, or something of that order ? [ Actually, I knew until fairly recently a chap who claimed to have invented plastique, or some form of it at least. Very useful stuff. ] Hopefully he would not protest unbecomingly. Being cold I always abhore unnecessary suffering: but even more the suffering inflicted by victims’ lack of pride. One of the most horrific and repulsive acts of modern cinema was the notorious, ‘Look into your heart‘ scene from Miller’s Crossing: Just kill the disgusting little fucker already…

***

And They Fight Like Girls…

I also took the Inner Dragon Psych test…

 
First, tell me which breath-weapon you’d most like to control:
Lightning / Storms ~ ZOT! he he he he…

Okay, what size do you feel like inside ?
Size? Who cares? I’m the baddest dragon on this planet

Next, where would you prefer to live ?
Secluded mountain valleys, away from everything.

Which statement best describes how you feel about humans ?
They look funny. They talk funny. They act funny. They taste funny. And they fight like girls.

Select the sentence that best describes how you feel about other dragons:
Nah, that whole community thing isn’t for me.

And how do you view yourself as a dragon ?
I am the shadow, the mist, and the wind. My intentions are hidden and my reasons are my own.

What’s your most likely course of action if threatened ?
Just pass on by and hope they’re not dumb enough to try anything - for their sake.

Given the chance, would you use magic or spells ?
Yes (including “yeah, sure, whatever”, “because they might make pretty colors”, etc.)

How much treasure would you hoard if you could have all you wanted ?
You cross me and I’ll take what you’ve got. Otherwise, not much.

Lastly, which genre of music do you prefer ?
Classical, Marches, Instrumentals.

I turned out to be a White Dragon.

The Blackbird Whistling

Other news being that I converted to Blackbird as primary music player, if solely because I love the fat litle fellow. It works perfectly, even on Windows 2000 for which it is not designed; I had hoped to add one of these permanent links here, yet apart from being paralysed by choice of these charming images, they are transparent pngs, and may not come out well on this darker theme…

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Fiat Justitia Ruat Cælum

Wednesday, 20 August 2008 at 8:00 am (Correctitude, Manners not Morals, Self)

Sample Jury Questions:

 
14. Where were you born ?

Near the Atlantic Ocean.

 
39. While in school, what was your favorite subject ?

Eng Lit.

 
40. What was your least favorite subject ?

Maths.

 
49. Spouse-partner’s place of birth ?

N/A — also the compound ’spouse-partner’ makes me think of mice.

 
142. Have you ever had any personal interaction with a celebrity ( such as writing a celebrity a letter, receiving a letter or photograph from a celebrity, or getting an autograph from a celebrity ) ? Yes? No ? If yes, please explain:

As a child I once wrote to an author. Got a form reply too.

 
145. Please name the person for whom you are a great fan and describe why you are a fan of that person ?

Are you hitting on me, or something ?

 
161. Do you have any affiliation with professional sports ?

Define affiliation; define professional; define sports; define never in a million years.

 
162. Have you ever experienced domestic violence in your home, either growing up or as an adult ? Please describe the circumstances and the impact it has had upon you.

Hit as a kid. No impact by now. The ashes cool.

 
172. Do you think using physical force on a fellow family member is sometimes justified ?

Certainly; s’pose they come at you with a knife ?

 
184. How do you feel about interracial marriage ?

Wholly uninterested.

 
186. Have you ever dated a person of a different race ? Yes ? No ? If yes, how did you feel about it ?

No.

 
191. When you were growing up, what was the racial and ethnic make-up of your neighborhood ?

The Celto-Saxon branch of the Nordic Race; white English. Prot in a catholic school.

 
193. Before the Simpson case, did you read any book, articles or magazines concerning DNA analysis ?

Of course.

 
201. Do you have a religious affiliation or preference ? Yes ? No ? If yes, please describe. How important would you say religion is in your life ? Would anything about your religious beliefs make it difficult for you to sit in judgement of another person ? Yes ? No ? Possibly ? How often do you attend religious services ?

a/ No.

b/ Faith informs but does not dictate.

c/ Not in the least.

c/ Annually.

 
202. What is your political affiliation ? ( Please circle ) 1. Democrat 2. Republican 3. Independent 4. Other ( please specify )

[4] Absolute monarchist by hereditary primogeniture [ Legitimist ].

 
203. Are you currently registered to vote ? Yes ? No ?

Dunno.

 
204. Did you vote in the June, 1994 primary elections ? Yes ? No ?

I have never voted. Voting is bad.

 
205. Do you consider yourself politically: Active ? Moderately active ? Inactive ?

Inactive.

 
211. Have you ever provided a urine sample to be analyzed for any purpose ? Yes ? No ? If yes, did you feel comfortable with the accuracy of the results ? Yes ? No ?

No. *coldly*.

 
212. Do you believe it is immoral or wrong to do an amniocentesis to determine whether a fetus had a genetic defect ? Yes ? No ? Don’t have an opinion ?

Never thought about it. Seems a good idea.

 
213. Have you or anyone close to you undergone amniocentesis ?

No.

 
215. Did you take science or math courses in college ?

See 40. above.

 
222. Do you have ( please check ) Security bars ? Alarms ? Guard dog ? Weapons for self-protection ?

a/ No.

b/ No.

c/ No.

d/ Various items coyly scattered here and there, [ However if threatened by an intruder I would instantly use what is to hand until they stopped twitching and life itself had fled. Prolly not my computer monitor, though, as it weighs 60lb. ]

 
230. Have you ever seen a crime being committed ( other than where you were the victim ) ? If yes, how many times and what kind of crime(s) ?

Never.

 
244. What type of books do you prefer ? ( Example: Non-fiction ? Historical ? Romance ? Espionage ? Mystery ? )

Yes.

 
248. Have you ever written a letter to the editor of a newspaper or magazine ? Yes ? No ? If yes, what was the subject matter of your comment:

a/ Yes.

b/ Pointing out that the use of the stunningly correct phrase ‘Let Justice be done though the heavens fall‘ was being verminously interpreted into an utterly opposite meaning to it’s true reality. Which is that you should go to the max, never blink, and damn the torpedoes.

 
249. Do you watch any of the early evening “tabloid news” programs ? Such as “Hard Copy,” “Current Affair,” “American Journal,” etc.

*blinks* I think we have very different interests.

 
251. Which television news shows do you enjoy watching on a regular basis ?

Old Clinton era American sitcoms on my computer. Nothing else.

 
252. What are your leisure time interests, hobbies and activities ?

This and that. Might I ask why you want to know ?

 
254. What accomplishments in your life are you most proud of ?

Nothing. Pride is a vanity utterly beneath me. Every day in every way I grow more and more supercilious, though.

 
255. What groups or organizations do you belong to now or have you belonged to for a significant period of time in the past ? ( For example, bowling leagues, church groups, AA, Sierra Club, MECLA, National Rifle Association, ACLU, YWCA, PTA, NAACP, etc. )

Some Stuartist interest societies, and some wargames organisations. I was never a member of the Party.

 
257. Are there any charities or organizations to which you make donations ? Yes ? No ? If yes, please list the organizations or charities to which you contribute:

a/ Sometimes.

b/ Certainly not.

 
265. Are you a fan of the USC Trojans football team ?

You made that name up, right ?

 
270. How many hours per week do you watch sporting activities ?

-1.

 
271. Name the last three sporting events you attended.

Does school count ?

 
273. What are your favorite sports ? Why ?

Anything which involves sportsmen and spectators being quietly and painlessly killed en masse. Or at least quietly.

 
274. Name the most significant sport figure, sport program, or sporting event scandals you recall.

Back in the twenties I believe there was a baseball team in Brooklyn who threw matches or something. There was a film about it. A very dull film.

 
275. Does playing sports build an individual’s character ? Yes ? No ? Please explain your answer whether you answer yes or no:

About as much as does habitual masturbation.

 
276. Do you seek out positions of leadership ? ( Please check answer ) Always ? Often ? Seldom ? Never ?

Always if offered.

 
277. Please name the three public figures you admire most.

You’re joking, aren’t you ?

 
281. Do you own any special knives ( other than for cooking ), such as hunting or pen knives ?

Yes. But not for stabbing ex-wives with.

 
285. Would you like to be a juror in this case ?

Boredom is the most integral part of life; so why not ?

 
 
Back many, many years ago, there was a celebrated case of a sportsman accused of murdering his wife and her friend; I would refrain from uttering any opinion as to his guilt or innocence, because, frankly, how the hell would I know ? If the affable Mr. Simpson visited, I guess I might hide the knife-drawer though, as we say in my country. Anyway, he was tried and acquitted; various white racialists vocally forming the idea that this was due to the vast majority of the jury being black — which is dubious at best: the main reason undoubtedly being that an equal majority were women; with a strident female prosecutor of doubtful ability. It was after all, a case difficult for a prosecutor to lose.

Among other loopy American law procedures — such as judges being elected from the community of those who are liable to be judged; or insane sentences that exceed life-length by a factor of 10 or more [ outdone by the similar Spanish who hopefully sentence terrorists to 40,000 years ] — is the odd idea of Voir dire whereby both prosecution and defence have the extraordinary power of selecting/rejecting putative jurors; packing juries has an old and honourable history in most jurisdictions, but only in political cases: in ordinary trials you take what you are given. In this case the procedure took 250 potentials and two months. To aid the winnowing, the prospectives were issued with a book of questions. It is a sobering thought that had I been there and answered these thus I might have been chosen. Were I black, female and mentally retarded of course.

 
There were 294 of these ridiculous questions.

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“Oh, Good” Quoth The Dodo, “New Friends.”

Wednesday, 13 August 2008 at 2:00 pm (Animals, Correctitude, Melancholy, Self, The Building Blocks of Democracy, The King of Terrors)

In the year 1598 AD, Portuguese sailors landing on the shores of the island of Mauritius discovered a previously unknown species of bird, the Dodo. Having been isolated by its island location from contact with humanity, the dodo greeted the new visitors with a child-like innocence. The sailors mistook the gentle spirit of the dodo, and its lack of fear of the new predators, as stupidity.

 
About 1638, as I walked London streets, I saw the picture of a strange fowle hung out upon a clothe and myselfe with one or two more then in company went in to see it. It was kept in a chamber, and was a great fowle somewhat bigger than the largest Turky Cock, and so legged and footed, but stouter and thicker and of a more erect shape, coloured before like the breast of a young cock fesan, and on the back of dunn or dearc colour. The keeper called it a Dodo, and in the ende of a chymney in the chamber there lay a heape of large pebble stones, whereof hee gave it many in our sight, some as big as nutmegs and the keeper told us that she eats them ( conducing to digestion ), and though I remember not how far the keeper was questioned therein, yet I am confident that afterwards shee cast them all again.

Sir Hamon L’Estrange

[ A normal royalist who wrote a life of the Great King, and father of Roger, an extreme royalist journalist who battled against usurping filth in youth and age; and even gave the Dr. Goebbels of the Commonwealth, the depraved Johnny Milton a metaphorical drubbing. Goebbels without the charm, of course; for he was as inferior to the good doctor as his unspeakable master was to his tedious disciple Adolf. ]

 
It is near dusk in The Hague and the light is that of Frans Hals, of Rembrandt. The Dutch royal family and their guests eat and talk quietly in the great dining hall. Guards with halberds and pikes stand in the corners of the room. The family is arranged around the table; the King, Queen, some princesses, a prince, a couple of other children, and invited noble or two. Servants come out with plates and cups but they do not intrude.
On a raised platform at one end of the room an orchestra plays dinner music—a harpsichord, viola, cello, three violins, and woodwinds. One of the royal dwarfs sits on the edge of the platform, his foot slowly rubbing the back of one of the dogs sleeping near him.
As the music of Pachelbel’s Canon in D swells and rolls through the hall, one of the dodos walks in clumsily, stops, tilts its head, its eyes bright as a pool of tar. It sways a little, lifts its foot tentatively, one then another, rocks back and forth in time to the cello.
The violins swirl. The dodo begins to dance, its great ungainly body now graceful. It is joined by the other two dodos who come into the hall, all three in sort of a circle.
The harpsichord begins its counterpoint. The fourth dodo, the white one from Réunion, comes from its place under the table and joins the circle with the others.
It is most graceful of all, making complete turns where the others only sway and dip on the edge of the circle they have formed.
The music rises in volume; the first violinist sees the dodos and nods to the King. But he and the others at the table have already seen. They are silent, transfixed—even the servants stand still, bowls, pots and, kettles in their hands forgotten.
Around the dodos dance with bobs and weaves of their ugly heads. The white dodo dips, takes half a step, pirouettes on one foot, circles again.
Without a word the King of Holland takes the hand of the Queen, and they come around the table, children before the spectacle. They join in the dance, waltzing ( anachronism ) among the dodos while the family, the guests, the soldiers watch and nod in time with the music.

Howard Waldrop’s most famous story: The Ugly Chickens; which can be found here. In a most irritating layout.

 
“Let us mention the Dodo whose body is big and round. His corpulence gives it a slow and lazy walk. There are some nearing 50 pounds in weight. Its sight is of more interest than its taste and he looks melancholic as if he was sorry that Nature had given him such small wings for so big a body. Some have their head capped with a dark down, some had the top of their head bald and whitish as if it had been washed.They have a long and curved bill with the nostrils openings half way to the tip. It is greenish yellow. Their eyes are round and shiny and they have a fluffy plumage. Their tail looks like the sparsely beard of a Chi­nese made up of three or four short feathers. Their feet are thick and black and their toes powerful. They have a fiery stomach allowing them to digest stones like ostriches do”

Teylandt’s Mauritius — mentioned on a page: Le musée du Dodo

 
A Dodo Blog; the Dodohaus; some 1850 notes here; a newspaper article here, and a creationist view there. Which last ends rather correctly:

Now that the bird has been extensively studied, we realize that the facts do not support the evolutionary myth, but do support the moral bankruptcy of humankind.

Yes.

 
The sentimental view of animals, that they are created for our purpose, and the mechanistic view that we are all animals and thus anything we do to them is merely one species outsmarting another come together in self-loving smug congratulation to justify any atrocity. As is only commonplace. It’s fairly difficult for most people to realise that, as with humans, animals are by no means equal, yet are each an individual: and as individual souls they get from God an individual respect which we need to emulate to act correctly. As difficult as it is for the birds of the air and beasts of the land to remember the most important thing when they see a human: Run like Hell.

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The Skewed Perspective

Sunday, 20 July 2008 at 10:00 pm (Correctitude, Self, The Building Blocks of Democracy)

Of course, the Greek works that survive are those that the Christian Byzantines choose to preserve for us. Hence they give a very skewed view of what Greek thought was actually like. For instance, we have seen that the medical works of Galen make up a full fifth of the entire surviving classical Greek corpus. Add Plato, Aristotle, Ptolemy and the mathematical works and we find that Christians were by far the most keen on copying scientific and medical writings. The papyri from Egypt and epigraphical evidence show that this was not the concern of most Greeks. In other words, we think Greeks were a rational lot because Christians were interested in their rational thought. Hence, the preponderance of Greek science in the surviving corpus tells us that the Christians who preserved it were very interested in science — not that the classical Greeks were. Oddly, Stoicism, the Greek philosophy that comes closed to Christianity is severely under represented as is Epicurianism and Cynicism. And yet these three schools rejected much of reason and science, concentrating instead on ethical issues. We are left with the strong impression that it was Christians who appreciated Greek science a whole lot more than the Greeks did.

James Hannam Loss and Preservation of Ancient Literature‘,’The Skewed Perspective’

Nice. Though a caveat might be that the Greeks gave us so much more than scientific rationalism that the debt civilisation owes them is beyond measure: cool helmets; the theatre of the angst; and, of course, Democracy buttressed by slaves… * The Greek loving Oscar Wilde confesses in his socialist musings that slavery is inescapable in an ideal democracy — someone has to actually do the unpleasant bits — although the obvious conclusion that democracy is fraudulent as a concept from this and a dozen other reasons was naturally eluded. Democracy is the ultimate feel-good ideal; and it’s devotees know that however many millions are slaughtered, tortured, enslaved, robbed, lied to, and disappointed, that mankind may enter the miragic City upon a Hill, they are absolved by the moral purity of the mission.

It would be salutory if they would simply look at a single group selected at random in order to examine whether they truly want these exact people to have any say in their own lives. Not necessarily the demonized, such as communists, nazis or scientologists, but a community of ordinary people come together to celebrate anything one likes. At random, I proffer the unspeakable Gor. Google = 94 million results.

Professors of philosophy rarely are going to be productive of anything helpful; yet American ones seem rather less so, and their results positively harmful on occasion — well, certainly on this occasion… Gorean studies are prominent on the Web, the enthusiasts being mostly women [ It is ironic, therefore, that the largest single group among the creators of webpages, and in the Gor chatrooms are female. ]; the rest being wimps. It can best be summed up by a famous parody, Houseplants of Gor ( The cactus plant next to the spider plant shuddered. It attempted to cover its small form with its small arms and small needles. “I am plant,” it said wonderingly. ), and what one really, really, needs to establish is whom exactly, apart from themselves maybe, would select these people as having a valid input into any choice that effects others. And, this is merely one subset of humanity: there is no logical reason why any other selected group would fare any better. To take one party mentioned above: much of the internet gets over-excited about scientologists; accusing them of numberless offences: personally, I think their religion and practices sub-optimal, but nothing to concern my life, yet regarding their entirely legitimate beliefs, which they have every right to hold, I find it offensive that believers in L. Ron’s idiocy should have a vote to determine government. However, no more offensive than that anyone should have a vote; including myself.

 
Here’s a blog with a lot of jolly nice dragons. I never cared for the duplicitous Jason, nor St. George either.

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Against The Evil Of The Banal

Tuesday, 15 July 2008 at 12:00 pm (Correctitude, Manners not Morals, Other, Self, The Enemy)

You are quite right –– I am not moved by any ‘love’ of this sort, and for two reasons: I have never in my life ‘loved’ any people or collective –– neither the German people, nor the French, nor the American, nor the working class or anything of that sort. I indeed love ‘only’ my friends and the only kind of love I know of and believe in is the love of persons. Secondly, this ‘love of the Jews’ would appear to me, since I am myself Jewish, as something rather suspect. I cannot love myself or anything which I know is part and parcel of my own person. To clarify this, let me tell you of a conversation I had in Israel with a prominent political personality who was defending the – in my opinion disastrous –– non-separation of religion and state in Israel. What [ she ] said –– I am not sure of the exact words any more – ran something like this: ‘You will understand that, as a socialist, I, of course, do not believe in God; I believe in the Jewish people.’ I found this a shocking statement and, being too shocked, I did not reply at the time. But I could have answered: the greatness of this people was once that it believed in God, and believed in Him in such a way that its trust and love towards Him was greater than its fear. And now this people believes only in itself ? What good can come out of that ? Well, in this sense I do not ‘love’ the Jews, nor do I ‘believe’ in them; I merely belong to them as a matter of course, beyond dispute or argument.

Hannah Arendt

 
Also… from the same publication, an amusing glance at feel-good morality when it contemplates atrocity by persons it disapproves of, Effing the Ineffable.

 
Of course, the proponents of the antithetical beerier type of incontinent love of folk are the most apt to promote sacrifice for the religious object of love; group, gods, or even person — carefully ignoring the fact that no sacrifice except one’s individual own can have the faintest value howsoever that value is defined… Only an Imbecile God — perhaps Azathoth — can prize the stench of some burnt offering.

‘We need a futile gesture at this stage. It will raise the whole tone of the war’.

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Is Thy Servant A Dog That He Should Do This Thing ?

Tuesday, 8 July 2008 at 12:45 am (Animals, Correctitude, Manners not Morals, Self, The Building Blocks of Democracy)

The Rightosphere, painstaking as ever to find more stuff to feel delicious frissons of outrage about, and more reasons to be unnecessarily mean to muslims, has got excited over The Case of The Muslim Who Barked In The Night. Basically, a poor feeble-minded member of that faith, member of Dundee City Council and member of the Tayside Police Board, complained that this advert, featuring Rebel, was offensive to some of his sad community.

Now, the Tayside Police had a number of options here, all of which could be combined with just telling him that his advice had been noted and would treated with the importance it deserved:

1/ Contact any christian european/american member of Tehran’s City Council, and ask him/her to protest about the depraved muslim drive to destroy pet dogs in Iran, especially in that city.

2/ Set up an urgent Education Policy to explain to the muslim community the especial place dogs have in British and european culture, especially black dogs ( whom Mohammed considered devils — he doesn’t seem to have been entirely sane all the time; still, he liked cats ) who haunt various parts of England, the continent, and even some parts of America, bringing rather more happiness and delight than any elected member of local government ever has, even if they bring instant doom and destruction. Being torn by the hounds of Arawn, The Lord of Winter, is slightly less painful than being torn apart by the self-righteous maenads of political correctness if only because the hounds are less stupid and would not accompany the savagery with boring one with the moral reasoning for the action at the same time.

3/ Engage in a wild hunt of local muslims with vicious packs of rabidly foaming dogs of all shapes and sizes.

4/ Preferably: tell him to go chase his tail around and around until he collapses in a heap.

Naturally, police being wimps, they apologised. Still, who cares ? Such minor things can be ignored until the future culture-clash goes into armed mode…

Slightly more annoying, one can notice that the 0845 prefix to the number means that it is charged at a higher rate which goes back to the called organisation. It now costs money to call the cops ? Not only are they useless, but they charge you for it…

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For Each Man Kills The Thing He Loves

Wednesday, 18 June 2008 at 2:30 am (Animals, Correctitude, Melancholy, Self, The King of Terrors)

A month ago one of my three cats, Shelly, aged around six, was poisoned either purposefully — although that is dubious — or accidentally. After a stay at the vets she recovered; then went out on a spree and I saw her only at odd meals. Last week she came in limping and this developed into a full neurological disorder: perhaps a virus released by the earlier sickness, or toxoplasmosis — it remains unresolved; but the vets felt she could be released home on Monday. By then, though, she was immobile on a glucose drip and unable to eat, despite having lost weight. The next morning she had a seizure and, despite the light in her eyes, there was no prospect of recovery. I held her paw as the vet released an overdose that ceased her heart. Fortunately this lasted only a minute or so without distress: and… hopefully without foreknowledge of this betrayal.

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Felt Of This Flame

Thursday, 10 April 2008 at 3:30 am (Correctitude, Melancholy, Other, Poetry, Stuarts)

NOT that by this disdain
I am releas’d,
And freed from thy tyrannick chain,
Do I my self think blest;

Nor that thy Flame shall burn
No more; for know
That I shall into ashes turn,
Before this fire doth so.

Nor yet that unconfin’d
I now may rove,
And with new beauties please my mind;
But that thou ne’r didst love:

For since thou hast no part
Felt of this flame,
I onely from thy tyrant heart
Repuls’d, not banish’d am.

To loose what once was mine
Would grieve me more
Then those inconstant sweets of thine
Had pleas’d my soul before.

Now I have not lost the blisse
I ne’r possest;
And spight of fate am blest in this,
That I was never blest.

Sir Thomas Stanley : The Repulse

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Social Reports Unrequested

Monday, 7 April 2008 at 5:30 pm (Correctitude, High Germany, Other, The King of Terrors)

For those of us without any massive sense of humour the German variety does just fine. One would have idly considered that Charles V HRR could only appear capable of pure fun if compared with his son Philip, but appearances are usually deceptive.

In the heat of the chase Charles V once found himself separated from his suite. He rode through the forest till he saw a wood-cutter who showed him the way to a lonely inn. Hungry and tired he dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and entered. Inside he found four men who seemed to be asleep. Their appearance was not prepossessing, but he sat down and bade the landlord bring him something to eat and drink. Suddenly one of the men stood up and rubbed his eyes. He strode up to the emperor, snatched away from him his sword, and then said with exaggerated politeness: “Pardon me ! but I have just dreamed that I was to take your sword.” The others seized his hat and cloak and had just begun to search his pockets, when some of the emperor’s servants appeared. They soon succeeded in overcoming the robbers. When Charles had described his adventure in a few words, he shut his eyes and was silent for a few moments. Then he opened them again and said: “I have just dreamed that I saw four thieves hanged.” The villains screamed for mercy, but the emperor remained firm. Four ropes were lent by the landlord, and the emperor’s dream was fulfilled.

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Honour Is A Matter Of The Blood

Saturday, 5 April 2008 at 3:35 pm (Correctitude, Manners not Morals, Other, Spengler)

As two world-outlooks, two modes of blood-flow in the veins and of thought in the daily being and doing, are interwoven, there arise in the end ( in every Culture ) two sorts of moral, of which each looks down upon the other — namely, noble custom, and priestly askesis, reciprocally censured as worldly and as servile. It has been shown already how the one proceeds from the castle and the other from the cloister and the minster, the one from full being in the flood of History and the other, aloof therefrom, out of pure waking-consciousness in the ambiance of a God-pervaded nature. The force with which these primary impressions act upon men is something that later periods will be unable even to imagine. The secular and the spiritual class-feeling are starting on their upward career, and cutting out for themselves an ethical class-ideal which is accessible only to the right people, and even to them only by way of long and strict schooling. The great being-stream feels itself as a unit as against the residue of dull, pulseless, and aimless blood. The great mind-community knows itself as a unit as against the residue of uninitiated. These units are the band of heroes and the community of saints.

It will always remain the great merit of Nietzsche that he was the first to recognize the dual nature of all moral. His designations of “master-” and “slave-” moral were inexact, and his presentation of “Christianity” placed it much too definitely on the one side of the dividing line, but at the basis of all his opinions this lies strong and clear, that good and bad are aristocratic, and good and evil priestly, distinctions. Good and bad, which are Totemistic distinctions among primitive groups of men and tribes, describe, not dispositions, but men, and describe them comprehensively in respect of their living-being. The good are the powerful, the rich, the fortunate. Good means strong, brave, thoroughbred, in the idiom of every Springtime. Bad, cheap, wretched, common, in the original sense, are the powerless, propertyless, unfortunate, cowardly, negligible — the “sons of nobody” as ancient Egypt said. Good and evil, Taboo concepts, assign value to a man according to his perceptions and reason — that is, his waking disposition and his conscious actions. To offend against love-ethic in the race sense is ungentle, to sin against the Church’s love-command is wicked. The noble habit is the perfectly unconscious result of a long and continuous training. It is learned in intercourse and not from books. It is a felt rhythm, and not a notion. But the other moral is enunciated, ordered on the basis of cause and consequence, and therefore learnable and expressive of a conviction.

The one is historical through and through, and recognizes rank-distinctions and privileges as actual and axiomatic. Honour is always class-honour — there is no such thing as an “honour of humanity.” The duel is not an obligation of unfree persons. Every man, be he Bedouin or Samurai or Corsican, peasant or workman, judge or bandit, has his own binding notions of honour, loyalty, courage, revenge, that do not apply to other kinds of life. Every life has custom-ethic — it is unthinkable without it. Children have it already in their play; they know at once, of themselves, what is fitting. No one has laid down these rules, but they exist. They arise, quite unconsciously, out of the “we” that has formed itself out of the uniform pulse of the group. Here, too, each being is “in form.” Every crowd that, under one or another stimulus, has collected in the street has for the moment its own ethic, and anyone who does not absorb it and stand for it as self-evident — to say “follow it” would presume more rationality in the action than there is — is a poor, mean creature, an outsider. Uneducated people and children possess an astonishingly fine reactivity to this. Children, however, are also required to learn the Catechism, and in it they hear about the good and evil that are laid down and are any thing rather than self-evident. Custom-ethic is not that which is true, but that which is there; it is a thing of birth and growth, feeling and organic logic. Moral, in contrast to this, is never actuality ( for, if it were, all the world would be saintly ), but an eternal demand hanging over the consciousness and, ex hypothesi, over that of all men alike, irrespective of all differences of actual life and history. And, therefore, all moral is negative and all custom-ethic affirmative. In the latter “devoid of honour” is the worst, in the former “devoid of sin” is the highest, that can be said of anyone.

The basic concept of all living custom-ethic is honour. Everything else — loyalty, modesty, bravery, chivalry, self-control, resolution is comprised in it. And honour is a matter of the blood and not of the reason. One does not reflect on a point of honour — that is already dishonour. To lose honour means to be annulled so far as Life and Time and History are concerned. The honour of one’s class, one’s family, of man and woman, of one’s people and one’s country, the honour of peasant and soldier and even bandit honour means that the life in a person is something that has worth, historical dignity, delicacy, nobility. It belongs to directional Time, as sin belongs to timeless Space. To have honour in one’s body means about the same as to have race. The opposite sort are the Thersites-natures, the mud-souled, the riff-raff, the “kick-me-but-let-me-live’s.” To submit to insult, to forget a humiliation, to quail before an enemy — all these are signs of a life become worthless and superfluous. But this is not at all the same thing as priestly moral, for that moral does not cleave to life at any cost of degradation, but rather rejects and abstains from life as such, and therefore incidentally from honour. As has been said already, every moral action is, at the very bottom, a piece of askesis and a killing of being. And eo ipso it stands outside the field of life and the world of history.

Oswald Spengler : The Decline of the West [ Vol II, Chap. 10 ]

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Possible Only To God

Friday, 4 April 2008 at 6:46 pm (Correctitude, Manners not Morals, Melancholy, Other)

As a preliminary to the discussion of the problem that concerns the historian, it will possibly serve a purpose to put forward certain general theses relating to the adminis­tration of moral judgments in the world at large. Such theses will help to define a mode of approach to this subject and will provide a framework for the argument that is to follow. If they give offence, however, they can be rendered otherwise harmless by the addition of the proviso that even if they fail to secure acceptance — even if a great wind comes to blow them all off the face of the earth — still, so far as I can see, this fact ought not to weaken the main argument which follows them, and to which they serve as a background.
The first point, then, is the belief that to some degree men are responsible for themselves and for their actions ; but that all men are imperfect and that human suffering is greatly increased and multiplied by this general fact.

The second is the thesis that the difference between the wickedness and responsibility of one man and those of another, in the general world of nature ( where it must be recognised that good fortune or adverse conditions play a great but still unmeasured part in the development of human beings ), is so idle a question and so nice a point that it is not worth the wear of our fine intellects to discuss it in any imaginable conjuncture of life or history. Indeed, since human responsibility is so subtle a substance, presenting itself with vividness inside me, but not open to my vision at all inside another man — in other words, since I know that I could have done better than I did do while I can never tell what allowances I ought to make for other people — it is impossible to think one man essentially more wicked than another save as one might say: “All men are sinners and I the chief of them”. It follows from this that moral judgments of actual people cannot defensibly or usefully exist in concrete cases save in the form of self-judgments.

Thirdly, though I, looking to the immediate future, must regard myself as a responsible person who may do things that are moral and immoral, and may follow or betray a law which is written on my conscience or a law that I have imposed upon myself; yet in regard to other people ( who may think earnestly and differ from me about the law itself ) and in regard to other people’s actions once they are done ( so that I cannot now prevent them ), the passing of what purports to be a moral judgment — particularly a judgment which amounts to the assertion that they are worse men than I am — is not merely irrelevant, but actually immoral and harmful, not merely dangerous to my soul but unfitted for producing improvement in human nature anywhere.

Fourthly, granted that the State is under the necessity of punishing crimes, and granted that in the case of crime the offence is not merely technical but has moral implications (though sometimes the implications are not so assured or so direct as the world would like to believe), still we are not justified in expanding a legal verdict into a final judgment on a personality, or in assuming that because our own sins do not happen to have been also technical offences they are less morally blameworthy. If a man is sent to gaol, in fact, both the judge and the gaoler are to be interpreted as saying to him : “Look here, old sport, we know that you may be a better man than we are, but since we can’t tell what to do in order to save society, we have to resort to force”. If it is necessary to hang murderers, we must be sure that we are doing it because of a necessity and not out of moral indignation. And when we have done it we shall do well to reflect sadly on the bitterness of the necessity, and say : “There, but for the grace of God, go I”.

Fifthly, since moral indignation corrupts the agent who possesses it and is not calculated to reform the man who is the object of it, the demand for it — in the poli­tician and in the historian for example — is really a .demand for an illegitimate form of power. The attach­ment to it is based on its efficacy as a tactical weapon, its ability to rouse irrational fervour and extraordinary malevolence against some enemy. As in such cases its efficacy is not lessened even when it is used unfairly and unscrupulously against those who have done no great harm, the argument for the use of this weapon is valid also for the unscrupulous use of it. The passage from the one to the other is indeed one of the most regular conjuring-tricks in the world.

Finally — so far as these statements of principle are concerned — I should say that, though I assume there are limits, I do not know where to place the limits to the operation of the truth that we condemn where we do not understand. This is tantamount to the assertion that the kind of ethical judgments which historians like Lord Acton have been so anxious to achieve are possible only to God.

Moral Judgements in History

If our Western civilisation were to collapse even more completely than it has done, and I were asked to say upon which of the sins of the world the judgment of God had come in so signal a manner, I should specify, as the most general of existing evils and the most terrifying in its results, human presumption and par­ticularly intellectual arrogance. There is good reason for believing that none of the fields of specialised know­ledge is exempt from this fault; and I know of no miracle in the structure of the universe that should make me think even archbishops free of it. But it is the besetting disease of historians, and the effect of an historical education seems very often actually to en­courage the evil. The mind sweeps like the mind of God over centuries and continents, churches and cities, Shakespeares and Aristotles, curtly putting everything in its place. Any schoolboy thinks that he can show that Napoleon was foolish as a statesman, and I have seen Bismarck condemned as a mere simpleton in diplomacy by undergraduates who would not have had sufficient diplomacy to wheedle sixpence out of a college porter. I do not know if there is any other field of knowledge which suffers so badly as history from the sheer blind repetitions that occur year after year, and from book to book — theses and statements repeated sometimes out of their proper context, and even sometimes when they have not been correctly understood; and very supple and delicate ones turned by sheer repetition and rigidity of mind into hard dogmatic formulas. I have seen historians condemn the Middle Ages for their blindness in quoting and requoting earlier authorities and so perpetuating an original error; when it was in fact these self-same historians who were doing just that very thing — repeating judgments at second hand — in the very act of stating that particular case. I do not personally feel that in modern times technical history, in spite of all the skill that has gone to making of it, has ever been taken up by a mind that I should call Shakespearean in its depth and scope, save possibly in the remarkable case of Ranke. I think compared with the novelists, the historians have been coarse-fingered and too lacking in subtlety in handling of human nature; so that, if he had only novelists and the historians to judge from, a visitor from another planet would think that they were talking at two different kinds of substance.

The Dangers of History

Herbert Butterfield : History & Human Relations

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And We Have Not

Monday, 17 March 2008 at 3:00 am (Correctitude, Melancholy, Other, Royalism)

A number of tragedies were encompassed within the assassination of Lincoln — including no doubt that event itself — not least the peculiar judicial executions of his purported murderers; yet if the greatest was the destruction of the Emperor of Mexico, far exceeding in magnitude the elimination of a mere president, the next must be that the plotters did not succeed entirely in carving through the neck of Seward.

Still, for the Empress Charlotte the major villain was Louis-Napoleon, of whom to her husband she wrote in a vivacious style after the final betrayal.

Darling:
In the morning I am leaving for Miramar via Milan, which will prove to you that I have achieved exactly nothing… But there remains the satisfaction of having defeated their arguments, torn down their dishonest pretexts, and in the end having won a moral victory for you. Nevertheless, He has turned against us, and no power on earth is of any avail, for He has Hell on his side and we have not. You must not believe that the opposition comes from outside, for He himself appoints legislative bodies to do his will; nor is this professed anxiety about the United States the real reason for his stubbornness. He wants to commit a long premeditated crime, not through fear or change of heart, or for any motive whatever, but only because He is the incarnation of villainy on earth and means to destroy what is good. It is because men do not see the perversity of his ac­tions that they adore him.
Up to the last I interrupted him pour parer et ignorer le refus [ in order to parry and prevent his refusal ], but it is obvious that He alone chooses to be unmerciful, for the least of his ministers would have softened. I can assure you of this much, that for me He is the Devil in person; at our last meeting his expression would have made your hair stand on end, and this ugliness was a reflection of his soul… He has never loved you, for He is incapable of loving. Like a viper He fascinated you with tears that were as false as his words, and with deeds that were perfidy. You must be freed from his claws as soon as possible.
Even while delivering his final no, by which He knew you would be ruined, his conduct was oily. A genteel Mephistopheles, He kissed my hand; but I can recognize pantomime, for I have seen through him twice. It still appalls me to realize that the world has never known and never will know his like, but le règne louche à sa fin [ the reign touches its end ] and soon we shall again be able to get our breath.
You probably think I am exaggerating, but con­ditions here absolutely resemble the Apocalypse, with Babylon on the Seine fitting the picture; it makes hardened skeptics believe in God when they can see the Devil so close at hand …
As a direct result of my visit le vin est dévoilé [ the wine has certainly been spilled ] for humanity to judge and condemn. I got a peep at the records of the Fi­nance Commission, another putrid affair from start to finish. Count de Germiny promised to pay the poor legations, which will be something at least — provided he does it; everything they tell you here is untrue. But you must not believe that I grovel before these people. I just tear off their masks and then thunder at them, without getting vulgar, to be sure. They have prob­ably never in their lives been more mortified …
I can not understand their willingness to let you abdicate. It seems, to me that you ought to hold on, because the day is coming when He will be dethroned and France as well as the whole of Europe will see that their interests are furthered by an empire in Mexico. The Old World is crumbling because He has his finger in every pie; you can smell him in the bloodshed of all the nations struggling for unity. He uses Prim and Bismarck as his agents and spreads a network of propaganda across the map, laughing at those whom He has victimized. There’s no defying him except from the other side of the Atlantic.
Austria is changing into a Magyar state and will soon collapse. In Italy they have a financial depression, while Spain is ablaze with unrest. You have nothing to hope for in this hemisphere where He would des­troy you with his hate, for He can scarcely bring him­self to utter your name. I advise you to dismiss his hirelings and to control your army without French interference, otherwise you will be lost. The whole military question proves this. If you can enlist native sympathy success is still possible, but never again put your trust in the French. If the truth about your sit­uation were really known abroad, money would pour into your treasury from all sides, for even the French people are materially concerned in this matter in view of their foreign trade.
I shall be overjoyed when you send for me. Don’t plan to come to Europe yourself because He will crush you; He wants to own everything from the North Cape to Cape Matapan. Call me back after you have eman­cipated yourself from him in Mexico. It is quite appar­ent that my presence here has been the worst blow He has had in years. I must also add that many charm­ing people are taking a real interest in me.

I embrace you with all my heart. Always your faithful

Charlotte

P.S. Naturally I have not lived here in the style you expected… But now I am receiving my inher­itance and some very fine jewels, among them a mag­nificent Gold Fleece for you …

 
She was rather obviously mistaken as to Otto v. Bismarck’s role, of course *meditatively* Yet it is nice to note that towards the end of her maddened life the German troops ordered past her retreat in Belgium were detailed to pass by without singing or disturbance to shelter her from their ineluctable entry into the land of her birth…

Arthur Hughes painted Ophelia a number of times…

The more usual version:
 

 

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To-Morrow

Wednesday, 5 March 2008 at 12:30 pm (Correctitude, Other, Poetry, The King of Terrors)

Her strong enchantments failing,

Her towers of fear in wreck,

Her limbecks dried of poisons

And the knife at her neck,

The Queen of air and darkness

Begins to shrill and cry,

“O young man, O my slayer,

To-morrow you shall die.”

O Queen of air and darkness,

I think ‘tis truth you say,

And I shall die to-morrow;

But you will die to-day.

A. E. Housman : Her Strong Enchantments Failing

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¡ Métanse Este País En El Culo !

Tuesday, 4 March 2008 at 2:29 pm (Correctitude, Generalia, Self)

This story serendipituously brings to mind a story that a Uruguayan friend related to me about a group of starving Uruguayan patriot dissidents who departed Uruguay for Italy in the early seventies. As the boat cast away from the docks in Montevideo, in full view of government controlled news cameras and armed military police, the multitude of Uruguayans on the portside of this steerage class rust bucket unfurled a giant banner bearing the following text:

“¡ Métanse este país en el culo !”—“Take this country and shove it !”

From a comment in Amren…

Personal: News Update:

Whilst neither Bolingbroke nor Oxford were neither in the least bit admirable characters; spineless and unstaunch in a slippery age — though PQueen Anne’s time does have a singular merit of quaint singularity together with sonorous names of brass — St. John’s famous words to Harley resound perpetually as a screaming deaths-head in every Englishman’s mind: “What a world is this, and how does fortune banter us !”

A week ago my dear little Pajero gave up the ghost with a burst radiator; although my intuition tells me this is the last bit of ill-luck in this streak, it has left me back with public transport until she can be replaced — plus it was kind of inevitable since a rather uncharacteristic bout of obstinacy had impelled me to have the engine transferred from the previous one after a tyre-burst last autumn into one with a dud engine, rather than simply getting a new one back then. However, even with a car there are few places I care to go around here, Britain is stale, vacuous and overwhelmingly vulgar: however without a van, the process of expediating my release gets hindered briefly… Having arranged for where a storage container can be placed, I still need to actually acquire one: once that is solved, I shall move many hundreds of boxes therein, and then hopefully, find some more pleasant country to move to… possibly anywhere in the more easterly parts of Europe to stare at pretty horses.

Last night there was a considerable upset as my broadband suddenly froze at the last minute of an eBay auction, thus stopping me buying my third pair of jackboots — which really are the only proper footware for chaps brought up in the 19th century Russo-German Tradition ( I may be vegan, but I think some rules can be skipped for items over 60 years old ) — which is an uncommon option since soldiers back then appear to generally have had smaller sized feet than today. Some foul words were flung at the uncomprehending screen; but on reflection, I decided it was not poor luck, but merely something that was meant to be.

A final weirdness: a couple of days ago I stepped off a bus and a girl approached and asked me to buy some cigarettes for her: since I could afford this due to not buying fuel for a few days I unenthusiastically but politely did so then said goodbye. What was odd was that going to the store, she refrained from any conversation except to complain that I walked too fast. I think I may have this as an acquired trait as a jacobite, since the Stuarts were notoriously fast-walkers. Maybe they got it from their ancestor, Ganger Hrolf, too big for any horse… Still, the moral is clear: more jackboots.

This is a painting by Sir Hubert von Herkomer that has oftimes strengthened me — particularly when walking into a town at dawn ( which is astoundingly depressing ) then able to recall how much worse off life was/is for others back in the day…

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“War Is A Matter Of Expedients” Said Von Moltke

Wednesday, 27 February 2008 at 8:20 am (Correctitude, High Germany, Places, The King of Terrors, War)

Manstein ordered a signal to be sent back: “Withdrawal must be stopped at once.”
But the signal no longer got through. Corps headquarters did not reply any more. Count Sponeck had already had his wireless station dismantled. It was the first instance of a commanding general’s dis­obedience since the beginning of the campaign in the East. It was a symptomatic case, involving fundamental principles. Lieutenant-General Hans Count von Sponeck, the scion of a Düsseldorf family of regular officers, born in 1888, formerly an officer in the Imperial Guards, was a man of great personal courage and an excellent com­mander in the field. While commanding the famous 22nd Airborne Division, which in 1940 captured the “fortress of Holland” with a bold stroke, he had earned for himself the Knights Cross in the Western campaign. Subsequently, as the commander of 22nd Infantry Division, into which the Airborne Division had been converted, he also distin­guished himself by outstanding gallantry during the crossing