August 11, 2008
Ovid is alive and well: composite beasts fill the world digitally; magic is the medium and message of a culture consumed with bewildering terrors and daily presented with more degrading and moronic images of goddess rapture for which to lust.
This is a dimension not of sight or sind but of mind, deteriorating mind, of faked debates designed to produce what they already are: fusion and synthesis in one vast ‘human’ solution. The candidates shed masks with every breath and word.
This is the realm of the Elephonkey, a purple bi-form monster. For months my essays described its attributes and expression in culture and politics but it took the AARP, with or without knowledge of these writings to give it quintessential form, -- a pachyderm balanced on its hose with its lower parts metamorphosed into a kicking donkey. That is indeed a form of congress, sexual politics to dazzle Ovid himself. One might imagine the head of the ass to be implanted in the pachyderm’s rear. No wonder it must sneeze, so much so that it has enlisted the services and wrath of a being implausibly named “Paris Hilton,” reality unverified and perhaps unverifiable.
A bird tells that Ms. Hilton will similarly conjoin with Mr. McCain on a very hot ticket that will rival in synthetic incongruity the dreaded elephonkey itself. The climax is Ms. Clinton, booted and spurred astride the beast, clad in a prismatic ten-gallen hat.
CNN features the url with the elephonkey regularly on its drive time televise show.
In what section of the Natural History Museum would one find Paris? As Rabelais wrote long ago, it is derived both from “laughter” (par ris) and from pisser, the result of too much beer. Pass the global politics, “sweeten the imagination.” That might explain French geopolitics but what about ours or that of the spear-chuckers from Brittany? Fair “Iseult of the white hands” waits there for Obama whose Sir Tristram imitation is threadbare: his male fides are exposed. Paris is a bad ad for selective breeding…
Regarding French, the tongue, our athletes in Beijing walked behind a sign reading, “Etats-Unis d’Amerique”: now it’s ‘press 1 for French’ though the sign was held by a sweet, Asian-Americo-Hispanic runner while a giant nautilus-patterned torch in a flaming funnel, like a divine lingam in the holy yoni marked the onset of the games. In their honor, a Sports section was festooned with swirling Chinese characters. Fire in the flood from Mt. Meru.
Apropos: in the Circus Giganticus, Larson E. Whipsnade, the immortal Fields, used Queenie’s hose for to shower: “hold it in your trunk a little longer next time, let it warm up a little” said the indomitable Ringmaster. Maybe you can’t cheat an honest man but there seems no end to the hollow men’s ability to cheat the American people. Have you attended classes at the local public high school lately? Happy with what your taxes are buying? Have we agreed to surrender to “affirmative action?”
Never trust a female barber or a ventriloquist; it’s worse than going into a strange saloon. Shall we take that advice or the injunction to “never smarten up a chump”; from the EU and its chimps with human rights to the purple dusk of the last campaign that’s all this recidivist does. But education is archaic; wisdom unnecessary, like fathers.
Just trying to jolly ‘em up a little with the drummer short; I could clean it up a bit but at this point who would notice?
Speaking of the last campaign, “why is a cat’s tail like a long journey? Because it’s fur to the end.” It hurts, one laughs.
Laughter, or is it horror, is the proximate effect of the real live virtual elephonkey we’ve intended to describe for ten weeks; the beast appeared last spring about the time the media chose “the presumptive nominees” on the web site of the AARP akimbo to the motto, “divided we fail.org.”
Fusion is the solution and independent telephonkey Senator Joe (“I’m your brother”) Lieberman is moving on the rail to the head of the purple pack, again. History repeats itself as farce; one laughs here but not elsewhere. “That’s very poetic: two bangs rang out in the clear cold air; two blow outs without a spare.” The ringmaster was talking to the snakes strapped around his naked rims but he might just as well have been referring to the two blowhards whose rippling oratory, mediated by bookend black-and-white ads that have “the tone of truth” and reality of torture.
We must not fail at the drive toward purple fusion; one could speak of Massachusetts politics or Alice Bailey and Aquarian Theosophy; one could speak of the Road Map, geopolitics, cultural declension and nostalgie de la boue. Two socialist servants of the oligarchy are the red tag-team presiding over the tri-sectioning of Israel and the destruction of its and America’s sovereignty. In the universal cult, centaurs will serve as well as a man with a jackal’s head or a woman with the head of a swan, or man, or a headless “couple” like the monumental humanoid sculptures that bestrode the L.A. Olympiad.
Which of the two presumptive candidates, -- or the crouching Senator from New York – are more fiercely against “global warming”? Which will pursue more avidly Britain’s Fertile Crescent Plan? Which of them will raise taxes less? Avast: on that there might be clarity, antithesis of the purple smog, the blob, the pink pugglubuh in which all join together, beerily unmindful of diminishing numbers and wealth. The ads admonish, “Don’t outlive your money…”
It is unfair to compare Tennyson’s Tristram to B.H. Obama: the former was more fiercely, bitterly and openly cynical, and he was a hard warrior and lover. The latter is a ring ding, a cream puff, a twinkie, as hollow as a perfect puppet can be. The target of a rapture purposefully constructed for ninety years and more diffusely for sixteen hundred the leader of “the gang of virtue” is a black hole around which orbit and into which fall bodies from which the soul, remembering nothing has taken leave.
Perhaps it is like this “for the roving headsman…the first time trespassing into the forbidden”; does s/he “need a ritual of purification? Or has the bureau created new men who can pass without diquiet between the unclean and the clean?” After all, we are taught not to discriminate, not to make distinctions; it is different strokes for different kinds of animals, with “human rights” appropriate to all dramatis personae. “Bodies toss in rhthym, drunk with the awareness of being alive [in] a primeval state of music, a state prior to its history.” Nakedness has lost its significance; so too distinctions between bathroom and sexual matters, bewteen the child like or infantile and adult: all are encouraged to behave like preteens on endless vacations from reality; coquettish virgins from a Medieval painting. The image exaltedl is of “a woman conscious of her beauty and with a conspicuous indifference to everything that is not she.” Surely we may get a president-puppet-mime in this mold. Most of us do not deserve it but that is what slavery earns: mandated “play’ in an endless game of hop-scotch that goes nowhere; or perhaps it’s a game of musical chairs edited for the age of triage all of it set to the droning din of electric guitars.
You watch them operate and it’s “the fascination of the abomination…the powerless disgust, surrender and hate” at the “victorious corruption” of primeval mud, realm of “the devil of rapacious and pitiless folly.” Being of shadow, they will see no light…nor permit it. Having long ago re-defined God, what will they not do?
Aldous Huxley made a career of brilliantly satirizing the nightmare world dreamed by his elder brother Julian, by Bertrand Russell, H.G. Wells and other lights of Britain’s reversion to hi tech paganism, a world with which Aldous was largely in sympathy, notwithstanding the fate of “John Savage.” In 1959, he offered an insight on the cult and ideology of psychologism: “It seems to me that there will be within the next generation or so a pharmacological method of making people love their servitude, and producing ... a kind of painless concentration camp for entire societies, so that people will in fact have their liberties taken away from them but will rather enjoy it, because they will be distracted from any desire to rebel by propaganda, brainwashing, or brainwashing enhanced by pharmacological methods.”
Thus we have written of the distraction machine: of sport, the elephonkey or playing tit for tat with Paris.
There is more here than a postscript to Huxley’s vision of soma in his novel, or his exclusion of the physically deformed outsider a ‘Jew’ (“too much alcohol in his blood surrogate”) whom he, like a good Briton named “Marx.” Alice Bailey too noted the Jew’s difference as THE problem the brave new world must “solve”: fusion uber alles is the creed of recrudescent paganism, no distinctions allowed. Anyone who dissents is “outside the circle” because they insist on “the border” which endlessly repeated slogans, our sleep-teaching insist on erasing till there are no borders, no boundaries, no thought, no meaning. “Things fall apart, the center cannot hold, mere anarchy is loosed upon the world”; words lose their meaning as this anarchy reveals itself to be tyranny as the loss of distinctions always does for it undoes creation. Witnesses to the big lie must be removed; they must fuse in solution.
In the new age, psychologists and other “healers” will “coordinate the personality of the patient.” Indeed, “they are themselves coordinated” in the “consciousness of the Hierarchy of the Masters,” the givers of degrees, the paymasters of the slogan-makers and spinners, the sorcerers of today. They are “mental healers in the true sense of the world” who never forget, like VHEMT  and its forebears at the Eugenic Records Office inter alia that “death is a cure.” This is “the bridging work” to the New Age which, alas, seems to have arrived, and in which “every initiate is a magnetic healer” in the service of “Hermes who initiated the process of enlightenment of our race, the Aryan.”
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If this sounds communal as in communist, communion and other universal cults that pride themselves on synthesizing all discrete identies, -- whether they like it or not – listen to the master mistress: “the newer truths of the Aquarian Age can only be grasped as a result of group endeavor…it is a group activity [like College courses in “community building” led by a ‘facilitator’], a group recognition, and the result of group at-one-ment.”  This occurs, Bailey wrote, prefiguring our global daze because “the seed of mind implanted in some of the aspiring animal men by the Hierarchy” was sparked. This is different than the early view of Wells on the corruption of language and thought but he grew to love the concept as it might be applied to others.
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Before revision, the counter said 1776 words; some await a recount in NH and another wolf in sheep’s clothing. This age has been groomed to feed the elephonkey; it is the precipitate of the fantasies and lies of centuries that leave the West laboring with green sickness. The Hellenist dream of B. Russell for sterile but lustful twits traipsing fields of eros like gay butterflies is here. The dominion of Esau means desolation of the seed and war in the name of peace, shadow war and a war of shadows, a terrifying war “on terror” to erase all borders and leave humanity “outside the circle.” The words of “Kurtz” formed by all of Europe, “a lightless region of subtle horrors” emit lies in a deepening darkness. The elephonkey kicks and horror suppresses grace. We are governed by egregious tartuffles.  As the wicked kingdom spreads its red tide over the world, the joke’s on us all.
The Boston Globe, section C1, Sports, “Sparkling Display,”
August 09, 2008
2. W.C. Fields, “You Can’t Cheat an Honest Man” (1940) with himself as the adoring father and harried proprietor of the big circus. Queenie is not only his elephant-hose; he applies the name also to the white steed that pulls his chariot. “Head for the Grampion Hills, groom…” and off they went.
3. Shakespeare, King Lear 2.4.47-52, 145-55 passim
4. J.M. Coetzee, Waiting for the Barbarians (1980; Penguin 1982), chapter 1, p. 5; cf. Franz Kafka, “The Penal Colony” (1921)
5. Milan Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting (1978; revised English translation 1996), p. 244, chapter 6, section 16
6. Coetzee 12; Kundera op. cit. p. 231-58
7. Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness (1899 magazine serialized; 1902 Blackwoods; 1971 Norton), 5-6, 17, 63; as Conrad foresaw, words become lies at the heart of a civilization built on lies, “a brooding gloom in sunshine, a lurid glare under the stars.” As Shelley wrote in 1822, “a fierce light that too soon deforms,” (“the Triumph of Life,” v. 465). The glare, dumbed down is now on television 24/7.
8. Kundera op. cit. chapter 7, 294-312
9. See my archived essay, “Cage Fights on Animal Planet” for context
10. Alice Bailey, Externalization of the Hierarchy (Lucis 1957; 2001), 36-78 passim, essays from “The period of Transition” (March 1934) through “The Hidden Source of the Outer Turmoil” (January 1939) ff; Wells, The Island of Dr.Moreau (1896) especially the chapter 21, “Reversion of the Beast Folk.” Bailey was fond of communism and felt that Russia was abused by America e.g. “in authorising propaganda against a friendly and allied power” in 1947; that in “the suspicion and distrust” between Russia and America “both groups are almost equally to blame” and added, “Russia would gladly train the world in the ideals of communism” (June 1947), op. cit. 612-28. Who was preventing the synthesis of these systems along with the churches: “the Zionists” she wrote, kin to so many today and in ages past. “Communism is essential to community,” she continued, if only one could cease from “the imposition of ideas,” Ms. Bailey and her “gang of virtue” and progress are more subtle at that (October 1949), 701. “Some shadows upon the tiar of pontiffs sat like vultures” (“Triumpy of Life,” 496-7)…
11. Fields, op. cit. Conrad, op. cit. 50, 59, 75-9
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