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Noted in Passing at the Supermarket This Morning


A Beatle is 80? Surely the Second Coming is at hand. . .

“The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

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HT: The Ever-Popular Barnhardt

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Go Fly a Kite

Click Image for Greater Detail

Against the Wind:   September 19, 1902. Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. “Side view of Dan Tate, left, and Wilbur Wright flying the 1902 glider as a kite.

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Noted in Passing: More JO from BoJo

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When the riotous set them at naught they said: “Praise the upheaval!
For the show and the world and the thought of Dominion is evil!”
They unwound and flung from them with rage, as a rag that defied them,
The imperial gains of the age which their forefathers piled them.
They ran panting in haste to lay waste and embitter forever
The wellsprings of Wisdom and Strengths which are Faith and Endeavour.
They nosed out and dug up and dragged forth and exposed to derision
All doctrine of purpose and worth and restraint and prevision:

And it ceased, and God granted them all things for which they had striven,
And the heart of a beast in the place of a man’s heart was given. . . .

. . . . . . . .

When they were fullest of wine and most flagrant in error,
Out of the sea rose a sign – out of Heaven a terror.
Then they saw, then they heard, then they knew – for none troubled to hide it,
A host had prepared their destruction, but still they denied it.
They denied what they dared not abide if it came to the trail;
But the Sward that was forged while they lied did not heed their denial.
It drove home, and no time was allowed to the crowd that was driven.
The preposterous-minded were cowed – they thought time would be given.
There was no need of a steed nor a lance to pursue them;
It was decreed their own deed, and not a chance, should undo them.
The tares they had laughingly sown were ripe to the reaping.
The trust they had leagued to disown was removed from their keeping.
The eaters of other men’s bread, the exempted from hardship,
The excusers of impotence fled, abdicating their wardship,
For the hate they had taught through the State brought the State no defender,
And it passed from the roll of the Nations in headlong surrender!

Excerpt from “The City of Brass” by Rudyard Kipling,1909

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DOWNLOAD A COPY OF Thinking Sex: Notes for a Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality || Gayle S. Rubin PDF HERE

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The overwhelming, gut-wrenching, mind-bending, white-hot sense of betrayal I feel—not just by you but also by everyone else who hypnotically went along with these crimes against humanity—remains larger than my psyche’s capacity to absorb and assimilate it all. I feel like you and I and so many of us were just going along our merry way on a ship cruising gladly upon the low swells of an untroubled sea, when suddenly it had been torpedoed because somehow, somewhere you, among others like you, became traitors against all that is good and right with world and radioed the coordinates to the enemy who blew it up. And here I am—here we all are—flailing in the flotsam of its remains and getting sucked into the vortex of the shattered, sinking hull. And that hull is gigantic. It is planet Earth. So, no, you’re not able to paddle away from the wreckage.

Now open your eyes. Look around you. See what you’ve done? With your supposed compassion for your fellow man and imploring others to “do the right thing,” you and millions of others got suckered into participating with the dark forces that have ruined beyond comprehension so much of what’s precious and beautiful about life on Earth—free will, social connections, civil liberties, loving relationships, bodily autonomy, meaningful and rewarding work—on account of the lockdowns and fear-mongering predators ordering everyone to stay home, shut down our businesses, close our churches, shutter our schools, keep away from each other all the time. And get injected or else. The psychological and physical wounds are widespread, deep, and traumatic. And in many ways, especially with those of you who got the jabs, permanent. There’s no undoing what you’ve allowed to be done to you. The toxins in those jabs are there to stay.

And all for nothing.

Clearly, given what these despotic oligarchs have happily stolen from us so far—what you have so readily handed over, in fact—they are likely to never again let us live with anything close to the sacrosanct, natural freedoms that you and I had known and cherished all our lives if this goes on much longer. And all because you continue to turn a blind eye to what’s really happening, as the psychopaths continue to encircle us and, camouflaged behind so much digital shrubbery, tighten their stranglehold on our lives with their draconian biosecurity policies and omniscient shroud of surveillance technologies and snares—vaccine passports, digital identifications, QR codes, central bank digital currency, tracking on our cellphones, and Communist China’s social credit system—as if we are all some kind of prey to be hunted, tagged, and penned.

This has been the plan all along. I’d warned you. You did not listen.. . .

RTWT AT Fourth Letter to My Vaccinated Friend – James Kullander

HT: Hyland

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Strange Daze: Midweek Mayhem

We live in a culture that is petty and emasculated, a place of small dreams and bland ambitions. A culture of moralistic scolding, and joyless, puritanical mediocrity. a place of small dreams and bland ambitions. A culture of moralistic scolding, and joyless, puritanical mediocrity. This is fertile ground for sins, crimes, and debts. Grotesque depravity dances across our screens. But the land is harsh for families and ambitious young men. Their dreams are strangled early.

Our culture trains men to be failures, to be indecisive, broken and confused. Authority figures prepare men to be losers. Parents, teachers, films, commercial advertisements, and the news media guide children towards a future that no longer exists. They train their students for an economy that was sent overseas.

Then adults mock them for being lost.

It’s all so tiresome.

DRIVE HIM FAST TO HIS TOMB. Anthony Fauci says that he’s experienced rebound Covid symptoms after taking a Pfizer’s antiviral Paxlovid – which studies now show is NOT effective for people who are vaccinated

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Noted in Passing: “For Real”

https://youtube.com/shorts/17N9zcewUWQ?feature=share

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The Arc of American Music

The Origin of American Music


Springfield Mountain – Roger McGuinn’s Folk Den: “Springfield Mountain’ is purported to be the first original American ballad. This was how the news was spread in the days before radio, television, or the internet. A minstrel would go from town to town and sing about the most recent events. This song is the true story of twenty-two-year-old Lieutenant Timothy Merrick, a young man who was about to be married. He was bitten by a rattlesnake in Springfield Mountain Massachusetts, on August 7, 1761, and died within three hours of the attack. His grave can still be seen fourteen miles north of that city.
There are many different versions of this ballad. Some were wild exaggerations made up by vaudeville performers, in which Merrick’s wife-to-be died as a result of trying to suck the poison out with a broken tooth: ‘Now Molly had a broken tooth, and so the poison killed them both.’

The Apotheosis of American Music

“Suddenly an idea occurred to me. There had been so much chatter about the limitations of jazz….Jazz, they said, had to be in strict time. It had to cling to dance rhythms. I resolved, if possible, to kill that misconception with one sturdy blow. Inspired by this aim, I set to work composing with unwonted rapidity. No set plan was in my mind—no structure to which my music would conform. The rhapsody, you see, began as a purpose, not a plan.

“At this stage of the piece I was summoned to Boston for the première of Sweet Little Devil. I had already done some work on the rhapsody. It was on the train, with its steely rhythms, its rattle-ty-bang that is so often stimulating to a composer….And there I suddenly heard—and even saw on paper—the complete construction of the rhapsody, from beginning to end. No new themes came to me, but I worked on the thematic material already in my mind, and tried to conceive the composition as a whole. I heard it as a sort of musical kaleidoscope of America—of our vast melting pot, of our unduplicated national pep, of our blues, our metropolitan madness. By the time I reached Boston I had a definite plot of the piece, as distinguished from its actual substance.

“As for the middle theme, it came upon me suddenly, as my music sometimes does. It was at the home of a friend, just after I got back to Gotham….Well, there I was, rattling away [at the piano] without a thought of rhapsodies in blue or any other color. All at once I heard myself playing a theme that must have been haunting me inside, seeking outlet. No sooner had it oozed out of my fingers than I knew I had found it….A week after my return from Boston I completed the Rhapsody in Blue.” — Gershwin in a letter

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Noted in Passing: The “Vacinate Me” Elmo Doll

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Today’s selection of useful screeds is Gory to Ukraine – by Curtis Yarvin – Gray Mirror

Gory to Ukraine

"He wanted to eat that frank."

Jun 20
I used to think that starting a proxy civil war in Russia was insane. It was insane. But I would have poured cold water on the idea that anyone in DC would invent the idea of inciting a direct conflict between NATO and Russia—which appears to be what this Lithuania thing is. Certainly, if the State Department did not want Lithuania to be blockading Kaliningrad, Lithuania would not be blockading Kaliningrad.

This is “kick the dog until it bites” (perhaps the core weapon of US foreign policy) at a truly incredible level: the level of direct military conflict between NATO and Russia. In for a penny, in for a pound. The US in June 2022 is every bit as much at war with Russia as, in June 1941, it was with Germany.

The temptation of Putin is, like the temptation of Hitler (which brought about his strategically suicidal declaration of war against the US), to recognize the reality of war by responding with direct military action. After which, nuclear escalation is already a matter of time—have the Russians shown much compunction in strikes against cities?

It would be ironic but typical if the same prestigious agency, the predictable and often predicted result of whose decisions (starting with the completely pointless decision, really as bad as the decision to collect all the bat coronaviruses then try to engineer them to be more dangerous, to expand NATO to the east) was this war, would in the end bring the hard hand of war down on America itself.

But this outcome suddenly feels much less unlikely than it has since I was a child in the Cold War. This Lithuania foolishness absolutely has to be stopped. It does not seem utterly implausible that Putin might take the bait—and then facilis descensus Averno.

While my guess is that he is wise enough to avoid it, I don’t like Putin and I don’t like the fate of the world resting on his wisdom. I expect better of my State Department, which exists to serve the interests of the American people—not of Navalny, Zelensky and Pussy Riot—not of Russians, and not of Ukrainians.

However, we as Americans must be ashamed of what we have done to the Ukraine. It is exactly what we did to Poland at the start of WWII—we baited our own dog into a fight, always an easy enough trick, then watched as it got ground into inevitable meat. Good doggie! Slava Ukraini!

Think about how many people across the world have had lunch on Ukraine’s tab—had enjoyed professional opportunities which would not exist without this war. When I stayed in Setubal, Portugal last week—PCP territory, they told me—there was a blue and yellow banner on the overpass over the little N10, “Stop War! Stop Putin!”—indeed. The best way to stop a war is to win it.

And in this endearingly innocent manner, official Ukrainian nationalist kitsch is all over the world. Imagine being able to tell the difference between good (Ukrainian) and bad (Hungarian) nationalism! Anyone who takes the party line literally is in for long hours counting the angels on the head of a pin. [continue reading…]

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The Arc of Art

The Origin of Art


“Prehistoric art in the Cueva de las Manos (Cave of the Hands) in Santa Cruz, Argentina. These hand stencils were created thousands of years ago by hunter-gatherers who also depicted people, animals and hunting scenes.

The Apotheosis of Art

“If before the Last Judgement we are dazzled by splendour and fear, admiring, on the one hand, the glorified bodies and on the other those subjected to eternal damnation, we also understand that the entire vision is deeply permeated by one light and one artistic logic: the light and logic of the faith that the Church proclaims by confessing: I believe in one God … creator of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible.” (from the Homily pronounced by the Holy Father John Paul II on 8 April 1994).

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There was only America, only one dream of America. No better or worse, no more or less real, than a thousand other dreams of America. It was a dream woven on the loom of the stars and the ocean that enmeshed that western city on seven hills which we watched at night from the green house on the flatlands across the bay. A thousand and one nights watching and telling tales which were, in the final analysis,only variations on a single theme of light reclaimed and held against the flooding dark for but a moment.

And then the distant guns coming closer, the clang of the brazen bells, the rising sirens, the chopping whir of helicopters, the boots falling in lockstep, the thud of nightsticks, the crackling orders on two-way radios, metallic clicks from the blue steel chambers, shotgun fire, the blood and the bodies and the screaming ….

We awoke in a metal dawn. The air tasted of rust. The smell of burning automobiles and tear gas was woven in the morning breeze and we slowly came to understand that the dreams were gone and only the nightmare was left.

Attacked with a hatchet in a Chase ATM vestibule.

25 Shot During Weekend in Mayor Lori Lightfoot’s Chicago   . . . but sadly the mayor was not one of them. Instead she gets to go on pretending this is bad news. [continue reading…]

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Noted in Passing: One-Liner of the Year

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• Matthews: “We need some secret sleepers. Like you need, we need them to run as the other side, even though they for our side. We need people to run as Republicans in these local elections. This is the only way you’re going to change the dynamics in South Carolina.”

• Matthews: “I still got to struggle to raise money for my campaign? Where the f*** is my black people with money? I don’t care about no dope money! Give me that dope boy money!”

• Matthews: “S***, where the f**king dope? Where the duffle bag boys? Get you- find me somebody from your family that don’t even know you donating to my campaign and put that s*** under they names.”

• Matthews: “Honestly, these ain’t the same type of black people that I grew up around. I don’t recognize these black people. So, I black because I don’t understand the type of black that they are. Now, can I talk intelligently? Can I- I could be. Listen, I can move in all kind of circles, but I’m a n**** at heart. I love black people. I feel safest around my people. “

• Matthews: “We need some folks that can wear all black at night and take they f****** yard signs down when they- when they sleeping.”

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