Yeah—hey! ...And thanks for sailing in! I'm feeling kind of low right now, so it's good to see a friend. Dismissed a "Cyber-Wacko" by some persons I'd admired, I'm stunned with disappointments I suspect are not required.
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…Citations by the carload? …Summarily ignored. Papers I have written are dismissed, subsumed—deplored? Not making any headway, I sense I'm spinning wheels; traction just ain't happening! Still, I sense a changing deal...
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...No one in particular, "I can think and I can wait." I keep my own good council, and I dourly face my fate. See, I've found I trust my conscience to define where I should steer, and I firmly heed my instincts on the subjects we all fear.
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I've a clearly sighted star, you see, on which to set my course; I navigate reality upon that stalwart horse. I have a sensibility refined by sturm and drang as encountered in the wars we've lost to persons better hanged. So I would test my saber's edge on that which is offensive, deplorable, inordinate... I'm not remotely apprehensive.
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I've a clearly sighted star, you see, on which to set my course; I navigate reality upon that stalwart horse. I have a sensibility refined by sturm and drang as encountered in the wars we've lost to persons better hanged. So I would test my saber's edge on that which is offensive, deplorable, inordinate... I'm not remotely apprehensive.
So, I'm not—much—distracted by the flapping of some tongue, or the tapping of some "key" by that dismissive "other," ...stung. They're all just proclamation of the sort who must resort to the insult always issued by that sport sans all retort! These are persons selling souls for anything Cartesian. Reductionism's rampant in this age, and names are legion. Deniers and dispellers of the evidence that's there, these dismiss the "highly strange" as facile and don't care.
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These say there's "no conspiracy" of a type I have described. That *life* is no illusion. Reality? Bona fide! These become the haze we see—lies hidden in the fog... Truth? Our Institutions: porcine, filled with wolves and rats and hogs!
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So say, oh, Noam Chomsky, Mike Malloy, and Howard Bloom—Ridgeway, Marrs, Parenti, and with Webb (?) we're out of room. They grokked the "primary reference"! It's the type which tells the truth. "Revisionistic" efforts are trés canted—of no use.
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Some sneer at these citations and deplore what they express, but "rebuttal's" not forthcoming and you sense no small distress. See, these but serve to grind an ax as biased as can be. These are sans veracity. These are bogus; can't you see?
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Some sneer at these citations and deplore what they express, but "rebuttal's" not forthcoming and you sense no small distress. See, these but serve to grind an ax as biased as can be. These are sans veracity. These are bogus; can't you see?
Now, am I incoherent when I write these earnest odes? ...And where is that "coherence" you'd imply you have in loads? I compose a song to sing with words of dancing rhyme; how much should I apologise, and when's it been a crime? It a validating poetry. It is honest and sincere. Composed as such to sing again, it's what I would cohere.
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Where is the alacrity your insults don't propound; from where must come your outrage that is specious and unsound? From where would come your petulance, your pique, and your displeasure? What have you provided to discussions… we can measure?
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...And please don't tell me: "...many years of hard investigation." That just won't wash, you've had your chance, and agitate frustration. See? Enslaved to dodgy filters which inure you to your cant? "Presumptions" ooze "auspiciously," so you have that canted stance.
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Yeah… you print your "books" and make the "lists" but what have you to show? We're light-years from disclosure as you've hoed the wrong damned row! Sixty years have come and gone; the saucers still a "giggle." Conspiracy has been "dismissed"; it's you to squirm and wiggle!
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Now I'm the one to stand accused because I'm asking questions—because I make suggestions more proactive than repressive. Implied, I'm "warm and fuzzy" in conspiracy's cocoon, that I'm the "lazy thinker" (…that I'm crazy as a loon?).
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Some say I lack coherence and I'm (only) having fun… and when the reading's over? "Lot 10" bullets fill their guns! Yeah, I can be assaulted by extreme vituperations; that is not the point, of course in art's appreciation... ...Still, the work is never criticized, never ordered to shut down; I get letters showing ernest smiles, not mad and outraged frowns! I'm seldom told to "just shut up..." Please give it up; relent! You're by no means a writer. You're a tedious lament."
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Back to their "coherence," it's comprised of narrow views. All of their "pronouncements" are just that, mere air they've used. Too, I doubt they have the competence to label me "insane," or make profuse assessments on how others use their brains! They lack imagination, They're laggard and they're "slow," they've moved not one step closer... so they'll reap what they would sow.
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Too, providing still more insult to those persons written to: "they have no art; they're artless fobs. They have no depth or truth."
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Pandering after big-shots is a futile path to take, they have no use for what I've got; I complicate their stake! I mock their specious issues! I confuse the status quo. I confound them to distraction; I perplex them, and it shows?
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See? If I am right—they live in fear—they lose the cat-bird seat! Everyone's *investment*? Up in smoke! That's hard to beat!
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If I am *right*, they're nullified! Their "culture" loses air! Everyone must "re-think work" that's paid them "fair and square." Everyone must take new stock! New kingdoms are at hand! A grander rule of law's prescribed by those who make their stand!
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Correct, I signal something that's beyond what we've been told! Correct I am their death knell. Correct? Their bell will toll!
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Still, I'll not be "taken seriously"—some officiously intone—until I kiss the ring of their... ignoble "status quo," ...but I would sooner kiss the ass of all that I detest than go along with what "some" say, or do as they suggest.
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See. These ply a blithe denial that is cloistered and concealed. They're airily dismissive on what's regularly revealed! They're arrogant, sententious, and très smug beyond belief... like they've explained the saucers, sport! ...And that should bring them grief!
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See. These ply a blithe denial that is cloistered and concealed. They're airily dismissive on what's regularly revealed! They're arrogant, sententious, and très smug beyond belief... like they've explained the saucers, sport! ...And that should bring them grief!
It's true that I'll respect some folks for contributions made, you'll understand, then, why I'd act... to move beyond their shade. I cannot guess what course they'd take, but mine is changing now. Perhaps to find their "silken purse"? ...The ear of some "old sow."
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Too, for all their admonitions on the "science of these things," they're too "reserved" for most of us wanting truth that "action" brings.
Oh, there's more to "this" than these let on—for all their acrimony—on the general conspiracy these dismiss as trite and phony. J. Haldane informs us... existentially? We're vast! There is always more than is perceived and hugely unsurpassed!!!
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What is "known" is not known; then the unknown makes its play, and then the more unknowable... the unspeakable, that is to say, arise to be our teachers of the vast galactic way, and expel us from our "playpen" where we languish in cliche.
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What is "known" is not known; then the unknown makes its play, and then the more unknowable... the unspeakable, that is to say, arise to be our teachers of the vast galactic way, and expel us from our "playpen" where we languish in cliche.
See, there is a vast conspiracy, Sir, of a kind that you might find... in pursuit of vile agendas—très complex—that you've denied! It's space/time and all surface area, of what can be has been, and it won't help that you deny what's true, in fact, ...and then? Well, then it is you'll know despair that could have been precluded! You'll come to know comeuppance, friend, and of hubris be denuded.
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| Piercing the veil... |
