Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Chapter 6
A Pinky for A Kingdom
© Eso A.B.
When Prince Goldenlocks first heard the croak of the frog, he froze as if caught in a piece of ice. As the son of the King of Havsburg, he had heard of conspiracies against his father, but he had never imagined that a conspiracy would be directed at him, while he was still at such a young age. He wondered—what else the frog might think to say?

To Prince Goldenlock’s mind, he had reasons to worry.

Neither he nor his sister were exemplars of ‘good’ children. They both were spoiled, lonely, and used to getting things done their way. Their biggest problem was that their governesses kept them from playing with children who were not born of other princes and princesses. According to rules of the Havsburgian Court, their friends had to be approved of by the King himself.

They also had no mother, who, when they asked about her, was said to be a “Blue Lady” who had been exiled to a far away island. According to rumors, she had died there while giving birth to a wooden doll with a long nose. This doll, too, had died at birth. At the time of its coming into the world, it had turned into blue smoke and then into pieces of charcoal. It was rumored that this still born brother was conceived by their mother, the Blue Lady, after she had become too friendly with a carpenter of the Havsburg castle, who had come to her apartment to build a coat rack.

However, nothing was said; no words escaped. Everyone present in the castle courtyard stood still. The only sound heard was the splash of the frog as it fell back into the well.

Prince Goldenlock’s mind remained uneasy however. He continued standing in the Court of the Havsburgia castle hardly daring to blink an eye. As he waited, the Prince recalled how he and his sister had presented their fancy toys to the children of the kitchen maids and servants hoping to bribe them to become their friends. King Goldenlocks had more than once wondered why so many of the expensive toys with which he presented his children became lost almost overnight and were later found in the servants’ quarters.

King Goldenlocks, however, was too haughty to demean himself by asking his tailor, cobbler, or chamber maids as to why the toys disappeared. He explained the phenomenon to himself as follows: all those who worked as his servants were on a government dole (the so-called “One hundred hours employment shift for the unemployed”, which program was sponsored by the European Union’s “Rompuy- Bilderberger Fund”), such people were, to his mind, naturally born with a talent for thievery. To make sure he was right, King Goldenlocks ordered the Minister of Domestic Affairs to investigate. The minister reported that, indeed, King Goldenlocks had it right, and all the children were born with ‘slavery’ genes spontaneously spawned by the bodies of alcoholic parents.
“I want the guilty one brought before me!” bellowed King Goldenlocks, as soon as his retainers had made sure that the frog could not be fished from the well and the gold in its stomach recovered. Somehow the king’s eyes fell on his son, and they would have nailed the Prince to his spot if they could have done it. Prince Goldenlocks looked so guilty.

“So it was you who betrayed me!” the king shouted without further ado. “To think that in less than twenty years you could be the next King of Havsburgia. What a shock and surprise! But don’t worry. You will suffer the punishment of traitors. You will be made an example of what happens to persons disloyal to the Crown.”

No one who that afternoon was at the Court of the Havsburgia Castle dared move or utter a sound. All anyone heard was the gravel under their feet. This did not stop the King from issuing orders which he believed were necessary for the maintenance of the Empire.

“I herewith order that young Prince Goldenlocks is taken to the Waldensee Wood. When there, he must be trussed (his hands and legs should be bent backward, tied), and he should then be put into the hollow core of an old tree. If the Prince is as witless in the wood as he has been at the Court of the Empire of Havsburgia, let him not be able to untie himself, and let him lie there until the wolves tear his buttocks into shreds and crows pick out his eyes. But if he does untie himself, let him become lost in the wood, and become food for the Queen of the Wood, the Monster Sphinx,, she who loves to eat lost dogs, small rabbits, and small children!”

When Prince Goldenlocks heard his father lay such a curse on him, he suddenly lost fear and his limbs began to move as if on their own. His feet flew as if they were made to be wings and they flew for the wood.

As he ran, Prince Goldenlocks cried out such words as were instantly remembered by all who heard them, and which have since time become known around the world. Prince Goldenlocks cried: “There is but one place on Earth where everyone is equal, where everyone is ever fully employed, and where democracy rules—it is the wood!”

When the prince had reached the wood, he immediately called out: “Zhant! Zhant! Zhant! Help!”

The Prince was indeed in need of help. The moment Prince Goldenlocks had begun to run, the King’s retainers, too, began to pursue him. They were so close on the Prince’s heels that their hands were almost on his shoulders. In the next moment, they would almost have had him by his scruff.

Suddenly, the thick of the brush in front of the runners parted and from the  underbrush emerged a grunting herd of wild pigs. The pigs were a hundred in number. As if knowing why they had come, the herd of wild pigs parted and made a passageway for the prince to run through.

When the Prince was in their midst, the pigs closed their ranks. The retainers of King Goldenlocks were stopped short and could pursue the prince no further.

As the King’s retainers stood not knowing what to do, a young pig herd came through the ranks of the pigs. He was blowing a hazel whistle made from the hazel switch in his hand. The two items of hazelwood went together and the wild pigs had respect for that. They respected the whistle, because the herder always blew it when he had come on some fresh hoard of acorns, and they knew what a whack by the hazel stick meant. The pigs let their young herder through. In the quick of an eye, the pig herd stood before the king’s retainers.

“What’s your rush?” the pig herd asked. “It is my brother you are chasing.”

“Is that what he told you?” cried the king’s retainers. “Though he may be a prince, he is also a liar. He is not your brother. He is King Goldenlocks son. He is running away from home. The king is afraid that he will come to harm. We have orders to catch him and bring him home.”

It was the pig herd’s turn to look surprised. “I hear told,” he answered, “that if the prince is caught, he is to be trussed and tied, and left in a hollow of a tree to untie himself if he can. My father, King Greentop, does not like to see children are brought to the wood to be sacrificed. He and my mother, the Sphin, has sent me to stop you.”

“The Havsburgs are very nice kings,” answered the retainers defensively. “They would never do such a terrible thing as harm children. We, too, though unshaven, are fathers of children. Indeed, we have come to make a deal with you.”

“How’s that?” asked the pig herd.

“It is easy, John, ” answer the guards. “All you have to do is kill your dog, cut out his eye, and cut off his tongue, and bite off your little finger. In return, we will present you with Prince Goldenlocks’s clothes.”

“Hmm!” said John. “That sounds like an awful thing to do. That’s no bargain.”

“Don’t worry, John,” answered King Goldenlock’s retainers, “if you don’t like to do it, we will do it for you.” Having said that, one of the men speared Kranz, John’s dog, right through the heart and pinned him to a tree. The dog did not even give a yelp. In an instant the retainers had also cut out the dog’s eye and cut off its tongue. Then they turned to the pig herd and said:

“Now, John, you go behind that tree there and bite off your little finger. When you are done, wrap it in a leaf and bring it to us. We will take it to King Goldenlocks, and he will think it belongs to Prince Goldenlocks. He will be happy and give us a big reward, which will make us happy. You, too, will be happy, because after your wound heals you will be able to pretend that you are a prince.”

“That is against the First Commandment of the Wood: Never tell a lie or or you will have to chew the stem of a wild rose all day long,” protested John. He was shocked by the effrontery of King Goldenlocks retainers.

“That’s a commandment fit for a forest barbarian,” came the retainers answer. “If you don’t believe us, you can come with us and watch King Goldenlocks reward us with money that does not wrinkle.”

“I’ve heard that money has to be backed up by some value or it is worthless,” countered John.

“We are not worried that this will happen anytime soon,” came the reply. “Our empire stands on solid footing. If the King of the Wood knows how to balance himself standing on his head on a ball, in our empire our politicians float the ball on water and then headstand on it.”

“I would like to see that!” answered John, then went behind a big tree.

After a minute, John reappeared and handed King Goldenlocks’ retainers his pinky. As he gave them his pinky (it was still dripping blood), he said to  them: “When you give these things of flesh to King Goldenlocks, tell him that the day will come when I will ask them back.”

“John,” answered the guards, “we cannot do that. If we do, the Emperor of Havsburgia will chop off our heads.”

“Alright, keep it a secret,” answered John. “I’m glad to see that in spite of your rudeness, you are ready to hand me my new clothes. Before I accept them, however, there is one more thing I have to ask. With the clothes of a prince must come food fit for a prince. When you get back to the castle, tell Princess Goldenlocks that swine herd John would like to flavor his supper of boiled potatoes with caviar of Danube sturgeon.”

“The princess will be happy to oblige, we are sure,” answered the retainers and were off. They had seen the bushes move and heard the tell-tale croak of the Sphinx

“Don’t forget!” called John behind them. Then he turned to Prince Goldenlocks, who was standing in his underwear:

“I am glad to meet you Prince Goldenlocks. Are you ready to exchange your clothes with me and take my place as a swine herd?”

A sus ordenes,” said Prince Goldenlocks in Spanish. It meant: “I am obliged to you.” He spoke both German and Spanish, because at that time the Havsburg Empire owned both Austria and Spain.

Even as the boys were conversing,  the brush parted and before them stood King Greentop. Beside him stood the Queen of the Wood, the Sphinx. She was a huge frog.


Chapter 5
The Wood and the Sphinx
© Eso A.B.

There is a Habsburgian fairy tale about a King Goldenlocks and his son, who was, not surprisingly, also called Prince Goldenlocks. The story is about how King Goldenlocks met and imprisoned King Greentop; and how Prince Goldenlocks, son of King Goldenlocks, liberated King Greentop.

Many years ago, one sunny autumn day, after the acorns had fallen to the ground and the wild pigs had fattened themselves on them for the winter months ahead, King Goldenlocks of the famed Habsburgs (aka ‘The Haveburgs; in German ‘haben’ means  ‘to have’) decided to go wild pig hunting. As is the wont of kings, King Goldenlocks did not go on the hunt alone, but invited the princes of Havsburg and Havsburg’s neighbors to join him.

As behooves a host, King Goldenlocks was the first to ride into the Waldensee (Sea of Trees) Wood. A little behind the king rode the king’s retainers.

The king rode along a well known road. On both sides of the road stood an honor guard of tall oaks with trunks thick enough to measure two meters (six feet) in diameter. Interspersed among the oaks were beech trees. The beach trees, too, grew many nutritious and tasty nuts.

After King Goldenlocks had entered the wood, his retainers started to blow their horns, and these were soon answered by the horns of the other hunting parties to their right and left. It was not long before the king came to a small clearing. The clearing was surrounded by large trees, some birches, some spruce. In the centre of the clearing was a small depression, which held within its bowl a small swamp. One could see that during the previous summer, the wild hogs had upturned the swamp mud and then had then laid themselves into the mud to cool their thick hides. This bathroom in the wood was known as a ‘hogs wallow’.

King Goldenlocks was surprised and taken aback to see on the other side of the clearing leaning against a gigantic oak tree, an unkempt and frightful looking giant. The giant looked almost like a man, except in place of hair, he had sprigs of oak leaves, and the soles of his shoes were made of thick pieces of oak bark, which were laced to his feet with pig tails and snakes. King Goldenlocks guessed that he had come upon the famed Giant of the Wood, the one everyone called King Greentop. This was the first time, either of the Kings met on their own.

King Goldenlocks hastened to assert himself and spoke first: “Hoa!” the King cried as his stallion, taking fright, reared and made ready to bolt.

“Hoa!” answered King Greentop. He reached out his arm and took hold of the stallion’s bridle. Then he asked: “Where goest Thou, King Goldenlocks?”

“I am going pig hunting,” answered King Goldenlocks. “Will you make way for me and my hunting party, and let go of my horse!?”

“Sure, King Goldenlocks,” answered King Greentop and let loose of the stallion’s briddle, “but first I would like to receive a present from you.”

“Are you asking me to pay you a bribe?” asked King Goldenlocks in a not very pleasant voice. “I would like to remind you that I, not you, am king of this wood.” Then as if relenting a little, he added: “Just out of curiosity, what is the present you want?”

“It is a small present,” answered King Greentop. “Since you want not only the flesh of my pigs, but also their souls, it is your little pinky that I want in exchange. You can bite it off and make a present of it to me. Here is a large leaf you can put it on.” King Greentop passed to King Goldenlocks a large, turned yellow, oak leaf.

“What an uncouth Giant you are,” replied King Goldenlocks and began to blow on his hunting horn as loudly as he knew how. His retainers joined him; and a loud braying of horns ensued.

King Greentop, however, was not moved. He cupped his hands over his mouth and called out in a voice that echoed from one end of the wood to the other: “King Goldenlocks, you and your party will not pass! If you want one of my wild boars, you must offer for him your bloody pinky.”

“Toot! Toot! Too! Toot! Toot!” went the horns of King Goldenlocks. Soon from all directions of the forest into the clearing rushed some of the most famous kings and princes of the time. At that time, Germany had so many princes that one could never count them all. Their horns, also, blared: “Toot! Toot! Too! Toot! Toot! ”

“Make way!” cried King Goldenlocks at King Greentop and brandished his long lance. Seeing that he was about to be attacked, King Greentop stepped behind the nearest tree, and with no further ado uprooted it, then threw the trunk with all the leaves into the clearing.

It took King Goldenlocks and his guests some time to extricate themselves from the swamp mud, branches, and leaves that they suddenly found themselves in the middle off. Some of them were unfortunate enough to have to limp around with broken legs and arms for some time, some cursed King Greentop for the rest of their lives.

Needless to say, a fierce battle ensued, which did not make much sense, except to mask the loss of further pretense for King Goldenlocks. It was fortunate for the King of Havsburg that his castle was not far away. During the battle, he sent many of his retainers to his barns and boathouses to bring him ever more bundles of rope. Evidently, he had a plan.

In the end, King Goldenlocks of Havsburg, captured the King of the Wood in a net of ropes, tied him to an uprooted tree, and had a hundred horses drag King Greentop, tree, and all to the yard of the Havsburg Castle. There, on short notice, a hundred smiths from the entire kingdom hammered together a special iron cage.  This is where King Goldenlocks then imprisoned King Greentop, upon which the chorus of the Castle of Havesburg sang “O Fortuna!”

The Havsburg king’s plan was to keep King Greentop in the cage, and leave him without water until he dried up. When the Giant’s skin and bark began to peel, the emperor planned to announce a big festival, at which he would saw the limbs of the Giant into logs. The straighter logs he planned to burn in the fireplace of his cabinet, while those of irregular size would be dumped in a pit and the heat of the fire was going to be used to bake bricks with which the King of Havsburg planned to build himself the finest castle the world had ever seen.

After King Greentop was put in his prison, King Goldenlocks went to take a nap. Meantime, the King’s two young children, Princess and Prince Goldenlocks, who were not involved in the hunt in any way, went to play in the yard. Their toy was a rubber ball covered with gold leaf. They were told not to play with it, because gold leaf was expensive and did not adhere to rubber very well. Nevertheless, because they were children and did as children do, they played with the ball all the same.

Princess Goldenlocks kicked the ball first. She did not kick the ball to pass through the Court gate, where her brother had suggested she kick. The Princess aimed the ball for the well that stood at the end of the Court. Unfortunately, her foot was turned wrong and the ball seemed to have a mind of its own. It flew instead into the cage of King Greentop.

The Princess ran up to the cage and asked the Giant to return the ball.

“Of course, I will, my beautiful princess,” answered King Greentop, “but first, I would like you to give me a drink of water. I am dying of thirst.”

“I would, King Greentop,” answered Princess Goldenlocks, “but there is no rope or chain at the well to pull the water up with”. Indeed, no winch, or chain, or crock were to be seen anywhere near the well.”

“That’s alright,” sighed King Greentop, “maybe when the moon is full, it will come down for a drink, and leave its ladder behind. Meanwhile, a kiss from you will make me happy.”

Princess Goldenlocks allowed King Greentop to kiss her. He returned the golden ball to her.

Next it was the turn of Prince Goldenlocks to kick the ball. This time the ball also flew into the Giant’s cage.

This time King Greentop asked the Prince to open the gate of his prison for him.

Prince Goldenlocks did not want to do it, because he knew his father would be angry if he did. Besides, he was the next Havsburg in line to become king, which meant that he was supposed to agree with his father’s ways of ruling the kingdom.

King Greentop told the Prince not to worry. “If you let me out,” said King Greentop, “I will show you how you can balance on your head by balancing on a ball and your head.”

“But if it starts rolling, I will fall off it,” protested Prince Goldenlocks.  proud to show off how smart he was.

“Don’t worry,” answered King Greentop. “I will also teach you how you can wiggle your ears and make the ball move.”

After thinking the offer over, the temptation to know how to stand on his head on a ball and move forward by wiggling his ears, proved too great. Prince Goldenlocks was after all a boy, and he wished to stand out among Havsburgia’s princes. He therefore opened the prison door and let King Greentop leave.

“Thank you, children,” said King Greentop as he disappeared into the Waldensee Wood. “If you ever need my help, just run into the wood and call three times: ‘Giant! Giant! Giant!’  I will come and help you.”

When King Goldenlocks awakened from him nap, and came into the yard to look at his prisoner (he wanted to make sure that the capture had not been a dream), he was shocked to discover that King Greentop was no longer in his cage.

“Who let the prisoner out!” screamed Emperor Goldenlocks. “Who let the prisoner out? Who did this? I will pay thirty big pieces of gold to whoever tells me who did this!”

No one answered. It was as if no one had seen or knew anything. But then, unexpectedly, everyone heard the croak of a frog. The creature had crawled or jumped out of the well in ways no one knew how. It now sat on the rim of the well and was looking straight at the Emperor of Havsburg.

The frog croaked:“It was Prince Goldenlocks who opened the prison! Croak! Croak! Where is my gold?”

Emperor Goldenlocks had the thirty pieces of gold brought from the cellars of Havburg to him immediately. He immediately had it brought to the frog, who immediately swallowed it. Once the gold had sunk to the bottom of its belly, the frog became so heavy that it fell backward, back into the well.
Chapter 4 
The Creation of Bethlehem
© Eso A.B.

One of the questions our ‘modern’ society forgets to ask itself is: When did the first written word appear? When did the word for “Baum”, German for ‘tree’, came to be written on a piece of bark or leather, and the tree was chopped into 4 letters: b a u m? When did the ‘tree’ disappear into a symbol and cease to be a green image? When did reality become virtual? This question is not to be asked in an academic sense as to the day, year, or decade, but in the sense as to when a tree ceased to be green for most Germans and Europeans.

The question is an old one. Western society is not the first society in which the question occurs. The question of what is real and what is virtual is a question for all societies at all times. In Latin America, trees have been turning ashen for several decades now; down the Amazon River no longer flows water, but banana mush.

Some of the first instances of human beings attempting to escape virtual reality and return to reality occurs in archaic communities, among so-called aborigines.

Almost all archaic societies make use of pain. Sometimes the use of pain is as obvious as looking one in the face. Anthropology books show men and women who have thrust through their noses a twig, or put under the lip a disk, have elongated their skulls, or have hanging from their ears an object that misshapes the ear by doubling its normal size. It does not appear that the process is painless.

Pain is a universal tool for making the individual more aware of him and herself. It was not that long ago, that parents or teachers in Western societies seized a misbehaving child or student by his-her ear and dragged him-her into a corner of the room, and by threatening to pull the child’s ear again make him-her stand in the corner until the reality the teacher was trying to get the child to understand was understood. This was a time when a teacher did not behave as a priest teaching moral ideals. Even so, a teacher was a missionary with a mission to alienate one from one’s ancestors, at the same time as one was aligned and subjected to the whims of prince or baron.

In our day rough methods of child raising are looked down on, and are censored in favor of “human rights”. Pain imposed on a child is known as an abusive act. Both the teacher and parent can be prosecuted in a criminal court for “child abuse”. Our society has come to a stage of development where simply by saying the magic words “rompuy-skelter-bilderberger”, a humanoid, defined by its ability to wiggle like a worm, is let create a creature with ‘legal’ rights to rule over and rape Gaia, the Earth Goddess—whether by destroying forests or bees gathering honey from chemically treated rape fields producing tractor fuel.  

It ought not be surprising that post-modern societies, alienated from nature and reality, are societies oriented by tan-trum, a failure to see reality for what it is. This same state may cause young people, young girls especially, to “cut” themselves, means by which teenage girls try to persuade themselves that they are ‘real’, rather than balloons without a string attached. A ‘tan-trum’ is also the consequence of a desire to possess, and manifests itself when desire butts up against parental denial. The simplest example of a tan-trum is that of a child desiring a piece of candy, or money to buy candy, not getting it, throws a tan-trum in the belief that it will cause him-her to get either money or candy. A tan-trum is a primitive form of prayer in an ‘advanced society’.

When the tan-trum of a child infects an adult community, it results in aggressive behavior by a large group of grown people. Such an event can happen when urban people on a food dole discover that government has no food reserves and their streets and parking garages have not yet been converted to vegetable gardens.

If a child stomps his-her feet, rolls on the ground, and screams, an adult society caught up in a similar tan-trum will exhibit behavior that is  immanently violent. First, an immature adult will try to steal; second, the stealing may become more sophisticated through elaborate excuses why stealing is justified (usually through the creation of self-serving laws by a government clique). Moreover, stealing may be nthed and become an act of war, the justness of which no member of a self-enclosed society will deny unless he-she has had a divine revelation that disputes the ruling class and entertains a death wish.

The manufacture of excuses in our time is at a level of sophistication that makes-believe that Western society neither steals nor makes war. Such a belief is impressed on the mind through the use of proxies dressed in swim suits made of cloth of day-glow colors. The effrontery to the eye makes the client think of sex at the same time as the bather puts one off from having sex there and then through the implicit promise being as excessive and perhaps dangerous. Still, one leaves the ‘hamburger joint’ (where meat is served with ‘relish’) believing one has got what one came to get, and will get the got as a porn movie when back home watching television from one’s bed.

Of course, product consumption is extended also to a consumption of simplistic ideas, such as, for example, “democracy is the ideal form of government” and “clean shit (though not pollution) is a product of developed nations”.

If we are allowed to think of it, democracy is most easily controlled by consumer ideology managed by a parliamentary democracy, which translates into a totalitarian democracy without the public suspecting that is so. While members of a parliament may be ‘democratically’ elected, once they are elected, they own no allegiance to the electorate, but to the parliament, the body they have been elected to. This 'body' is ‘written’ and ‘legally’ created through lawful democratic elections. In our times, criticism of parliamentary democracy seldom reaches the ear of the public, because the media supports the taxes imposed on the public by the ‘professional management’ of parliamentarian politicians.

The media is complicit in the lie of parliamentary democracy. Though it takes no Einstein to figure this out, the media calls parliament a 'democracy', because, while technically true (a parliament is a ‘democracy’ unto itself), the media also makes a living off the lie. This is why most editors know that if there were to be a revolution, they would be shot along with the politicians. This is one of the reasons why print media editors like to see the internet censored or otherwise restricted.

Short of a natural catastrophe, it is virtually impossible to exit a parliamentary society and reinstate a radically different government system, such as, for example, a monarchy. The reason is that “the law” is written in such a way that a corporation, too, is presumed to function as ‘democratic’ management This makes the corporation not only an immensely wealthy individual, but also a powerful and ‘wonderful’ individual. If an individual ever becomes wealthy enough to be the equal of a corporation (this sometimes happens ), his-her interests by then are more like the interests of a corporation than the average citizen and the magic word “rompuy-skelter-bilderberger” is no longer a strange mantra for such an oligarch.

This political situation (a disastrous one for democracy) forces the unhappy electorate to ask: When and how did the idea of democracy emerge as one among the most desirable of political systems?

The simplistic answer contains the word, Athens. As if to assure us that this is no lie, we are shown a photograph of the Acropolis—refurbished and scoured clean so as to be attractive to tourists, people who consume distance as if were the tastiest of tapeworms. Even if the picture of Athens is a photograph, the viewer will note that the Acropolis stands for an urban environment. Like it or not, it stands on a hill in the middle of a spatial desert.

The question arises: What was the political environment like before fictional urban ‘democracy’ came to dominate our social space? Is it possible that ‘Athens’ as a democracy in a conceit? Is it possible that ‘democracy’ was truer to itself in an environment of the field, or perhaps the wood?

To those who are worried about the direction the question is taking, the comforting reassurance states that ‘Democracy’ did not arise in a rural or farming environment, because it is the rural environment that lends itself to the exploitation of tax collectors working for princes and boyars.

At the same time, it is the peasant who is the author of most rebellions (if not revolutions) against the landlords. [Parenthetically, the precursor of the modern electric chair is the “heated iron chair” which served (1514) to punish the Hungarian peasant rebel Georgy Dozsa (see link and note 3rd illustration from the top)].

Why and how did “peasant” become a reviled word? Stalin, the extreme Christian* (peasant) secularist, went so far as to invert reality and called peasants “capitalists” (kulaks), then proceeded to slaughter these creatures (enslaved to tax collectors and/or boyars) by the millions. Can it be that what we have here is a tragic misunderstanding of the forces that created the peasantry? Stalin, a Georgian brainwashed by Western ideas, was no intellectual and had no clue.

The peasant [a pa-gan or pa-j(y)an, originally meant to be a humiliating word, has been replaced since the 17th century by the written name “farmer”] . The pa-yan is the Sphinx's riddle that goes unanswered in modern politics. However, an intelligent guess is that a pa-yan was, originally, a garden keeper in the wood, who was later forced (and tricked) into growing grain and was, thuly, habituated to slave labor. It is the pa-yan or peasant who is that “…rough beast [that] slouches toward [the wood of] Bethlehemto be born (again).”

If only climate change and earthquakes could be directed to destroy just enough of the urban environment to make such destruction constructive (Both Tokyo and San Francisco are candidates). Perhaps survival would then come to mean a renewal of subsistence economy. But such survival would dwarf the catastrophe that engulfed the Ukraine under the Bolsheviks and Stalin. If the Christians (peasants) and their horses died in countryside ditches, the skeletons of the urban dwellers will line the hallways of sky rise apartments and it will be decades before someone throws the jacketed bones out a window.

Such as are able to survive are likely to return to the renascent wood, where borders along vegetable gardens will display the skulls of one’s not so fortunate urban cousins. Somewhat ironically, the skulls are likely to ring to the famous inscription at Oxford, re “Et in Arcadia ego” (even in Arcadia, I, death, am present). In this instance the ‘Arcadia’ the skulls refer to is not found in ancient woodland pasture, now long turned into a desert, but is found among the rubble of the Financial Bethlehems of our times .

* krepostnoi krestyanin (крепостной крестьянин), does indeed translate into a ‘serf’ to a baron or boyar’. However ‘krestyanin’ without the prefix translates as peasant, a farmer without negative connotations attached. Of course, one may consider whether ‘krestyanin’ may then mean a forest pastoralist transiting (krest or crossing over) to a life as a peasant.

Chapter 3
‘False Flag’ Over Jerusalem
© Eso A.B.

When we talk about “love” and its importance, “love” is no less of an abstracted act than “faith”, “trust”, or "belief".

“Love” when it is an object of discussion also becomes a distanced object, as if it were a Platonic image projected (from the outside) against the wall of a cave. Let us imagine that the wall of the cave is a movie screen.

In the same way that a kiss that takes place on a screen, does not take place on your or my the lips, it fools us into thinking that it does takes place only because the darkened space of the theatre helps create the illusion that it is real. For all that, the darkened space of the movie theatre is nothing more than the inside of our heads, where the voyeur resides.

Anyone who doubts that love is, in this case, more than an ‘animated’ kiss projected on the wall of a cave may check the internet about tiny wires inserted in the brain by researchers to see what such wires can do. The research has advanced far enough for the brain of a paralyzed man to be able to with the help of electrodes to direct an artificial arm to reach for a drink. We may be sure that soon it will be able to reach with that arm for someone’s crotch.

Is this love? Or is it animated indifference?

What does animated indifference look like?

Animated indifference, a languid and neutered kind love, may stimulate the brain of a paralytic who moves the mechanical arm, but it is unlikely to stimulate the person he/it is reaching for. For mutual stimulation, both persons, the paralytic and the healthy ‘other’ must be stimulated by similar electrodes, and both will have to be presented with visual imagery that presents an event that looks as if it is taking place between ‘normal’ human beings. While pornography is not the objective of the exercise, in the developmental stages it is likely to be just that. In due course, digitized sexual partners may be able to choose love scenes from a library of ‘fuck’ films, then calibrate these with the partner’s selection and arrive at a ‘fluid’ composite. Of course, the calibration will be done with the help of a professional ‘digital sex specialist’.

One of the first professional sex therapist may have been the artist Michelangelo. In his famous painting in the Sistine Chapel called “The Creation of Adam” , Michalangelo shows God and his angels in a cartouche drifting above a reclining, languid, and sluggish young man, Adam, who rests in a reclining position on a hill side. Adam has laid his left hand across his left knee. Adam’s index finger is slightly and extended above the others. God, who has seen Adam’s finger, reaches out toward it with his right hand, its index finger also extended. However, God, too, appears to be in a sluggish state. The finger tips of neither God nor Adam actually touch, neither is animated.

Eve, who finds herself in God’s embrace under his left arm, looks over the imminent moment of ‘touch’. Michelangelo has put on Eve’s face a look of anxiousness and question: Must I truly to sleep next to this inert lump of flesh? What compels me to make love it? Is God really going to manage to put the spark of life in this hulk?

It is difficult to imagine from the painting that we are looking at early states of what ought to eventually become an act of sexual intercourse. But perhaps all is as it should be. After all, Michalangelo (1475-1564) is fantasizing five hundred years into the future. But if ours is the age of that future, then we are here to do what we can to stop Michalangelo’s fantasy from realizing itself.

As it happens, the television and video library of pornographic movies is a rather extensive one. If some government agency or religious-ethics group does not interfere with them, God, Adam, and Eve have a huge collection of films to go through. Indeed, the process may take a few years; which presents the professional sex therapist with another problem. What if paralyzed Adam after vieweing a film is greatly aroused? Should he not have the right to let his over stimulated sex hormones produce an orgasm?

We also must remember that Adam is not alone. We will have to take Eve from the cozy crook of God’s arm and have her go through the same library of porno films that Adam is going through. She, too, at some point is likely to be sexually aroused and want release.

There is nothing wrong; except religious ethicists will protest that both Adam and Eve are having sexual releases in their heads without the participation of the chosen partner. The question the religious ethicists may ask is: Is this tampering with the brain not causing the future partners to become addicted to masturbation?

In other words, for us, the Vulgars* of humankind, who heretofore have used electricity to kill criminals in electric chairs (though today we prefer to use electricity in stun guns), the zap vouches that the identity of the zapped one is like that of a ‘criminal’. Will God zap Adam with original sin and make him addicted to it?

Why is God, portrayed by Michelangelo as a bearded conceit? Is he Eve’s father taking a ride on an afternoon cloud to find his eldest daughter a suitable husband? Is the man in the cloud even God? What signs suggest that He embodies love?

Whatever the reader may answer, Michelangelo’s visage of God does not inspire us to imagine his ‘God’ as a representation of Love. Instead, those who gaze at the Sistine ceiling critically see indifference. The proper question, therefore, from the onlooker and reader ought to be: Does God really intend to present to Eve a limp Adam? Can God (or is it Michelangelo?) awaken in Adam a look of anxiety that equals Eve’s? Not least: Is Michelangelo playing a joke on the Pope (Julius II) by putting life into Eve before he puts it into Adam?

We may argue if my interpretation of the painting is or is not on mark. Why would Michelangelo ever have named the painted scene: ‘The Creation of Adam’? On the other hand, we may argue that a limp relationship between heaven and earth is what Michelangelo intends to project as the sign of his times—non-verbally of course.

As I have argued in the Introduction, the outrage that echoed across the arch-Christian world following the ‘false flag’ incineration of Basil the Bogomil (later renamed Jesus) was dealt with by the perpetrators of the West by rewriting the story of what actually took place. I noted that in the ‘written’ version of the story, the fire in the pit at the Hippodrome has been reduced to a bonfire in the high priest’s courtyard, the firewood has become a cross, and death by incineration has been replaced by the spectacle of crucifixion. Much of the story has been borrowed from the martyrdom of Bishop Polycarp of Smyrna . The new and ‘written’ version of the Passion does an excellent job of taking attention away from the 1204 ‘false flag’ pseudo revenge attack (alleging to be  revenging the killing ‘Jesus Christ’), which takes place eighty-six years after the death of Basil The Bogomil.

The false flag attack, to recapture Jerusalem, stopped at Constantinople, far short of Jerusalem. After sacking the capital of Eastern Christendom and establishing Western Christendom as the only Christendom that ever was, neo-Christianity stuck to the lie of where the battle actually took place.

The importance of Polycarp’s survival through the story of Jesus Christ is in the fact that he, as a number of other proto-orthodox Christians have done, insisted that ‘faith’ in God could only be proved by dying for God; and, writes New Testament scholar Bart Ehrman: “…this willingness to die for the faith [is] one of the hallmarks of [the proto-orthodox] religion, [which through the ‘faith’ of orthodox Christians] used it as a demarcation that separated true believers… from the false ‘heretics’.”**

Those who deny that today’s orthodox-Christians rewrote the story of Basil and turned it into the story of Jesus Christ, adamantly insist that Polycarp and others in their dying were merely imitating Jesus. As if a timely three-card Monty, is not one of the constants in the art of rewriting.

The reason why the belief that faith in God can only be proven by dying for Him, remains in effect is because it strengthens the charisma of love. It rejects the kind of love that becomes impotent, and then seeks to reestablish itself through Viagra pills or electrodes. The virtual love of country of some  air force pilots is not what nature had in mind with regard to love when it created humans. As a pilot says (at 1:20): “We do our job. It’s an all or nothing proposition… It’s either we do the best there ever was and crush everyone else or our national survival goes away….We are going for blow-out all the time….” Unfortunately, such men are not of such stuff as “artifice of eternity”*** is made of or what the poet has in mind, much less God.

The fear of orthodox Christianity is that all the heretics who once gave their allegiance to Basil and it burned and destroyed, will rise and return to Basil.

This is not such a far fetched idea if we remember that orthodox Christians to this day expect ‘anti-Christ’ to replace them. This raises the question of who is the real anti-Christ? The question reawakens the argument about the nature of God. Is He a particle or is He an Act?

A look at the nature of modern ‘democracy’ shows that it increasingly takes on the nature of a dictatorial democracy (by virtue of parliamentarism and corporatism). ‘Democracy’ increasingly becomes more like a solid (as in Capital) and loses those aspects itself that make it a political Act.

As the Act, become like a wave, loses energy and becomes a flat surface, the energy that once stood behind it takes on the appearances of many particles. Out of this phenomenon rise particles of long forgotten charismatic elements. [Dolphins rise out of the sea and dance on their tails across it.] When no longer a ‘wave’, love reverts to being a singularity, and the sacred king, believed long lost, unexpectedly is reborn. Reactionary elements do not hesitate to call him ‘anti-Christ’, though his one mission is to replace the flat sea with dancing waves.

Given a ‘lock down’ of democracy, the rule by a sacred king (who is an active king unto death) may again emerge as the grace of the future. After all, modern governments, because their elites have reneged on self-sacrifice, render secular law inconsequential by the overwhelming application of violence to effect 'the rule of law'. These rules fail to attract creative elements by not being either attractive or charismatic.

Orthodox-Christians insist that the Bible is the ‘forerunner’ to the New Testament, and that the prophets of the Bible have no ‘salvation’ except by converting to Jesus Christ (as he is advertised by the orthodox Christian writ, the New Testament). This argument was used to extinguish the spirit of the Bogomils, whose orientation toward God as Act clashed with the devotion of Princes to a God, whose principle is Money.

Peculiarly, the ‘forerunners’ of Christians, the Jews, survived, because they did not directly challenge the new Christian orthodoxy over its new fangled ‘truths’ (unchecked sense of moral superiority, enhanced by the violence of its elite 'lawmakers'). The turn of the Jews comes later, when their 'archaic ways' become too evident in a setting of the urban desert. In a similar manner, though as anonym entities, the Bogomil Christians too survived. It happened because some humans loved the divine more than God.
* Vulgars: untutored humankind.
** Bart D. Ehrman, Lost Christianities, Oxford, p. 140.
*** W.B. Yeats, “Sailing to Byzantium”.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Chapter 2
A Closed Assembly
© Eso   A.B.

After the cry “My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?” had echoed around the globe without finding any cliffs of empathy to respond with an echo, the cynics—in response to an unresponding God—celebrated victory by introducing God as Money. The seemingly impossible came true: the more money one had, the more giving one could do.

Money brought feelings of anxiety, which no amount of praying helped alleviate, unless one first bought one’s self a self-addressed present, known as a “consumer product”. Such presents became everyone’s huggie. Children illustrate such a product and its attraction best, because the first pennies that children save, they spend on candy or a toy

Because in the days of the Byzantine Empire the Earth was still covered by woods, and gold could be scoured from river beds, it was not difficult to persuade people that a pile of gold was pleasing to God and was worthy to represent him or her. The Incas are said to have had a flower garden with flowers made of gold. The Tartars of Russia made the onion domes of their chapels in the wood of gold leaf. Because Money was God and behind money stood gold, and gold had a shine of gold, it was found by most everyone to be pleasing. Though somewhat of a mystery, God was nevertheless believed to be real. It was a long time before God lost his-her shine, and there arose the need to invent a machine that printed paper money to inflate God into an ever greater balloon.

In the course of time, however, the inflated or Realist God came to be called ‘Sataniel’, a word derived from the word ‘Saint’ by moving around a letter or two. Thus SAINT became = SATIN = A + a + a few juxtaposed letters, and, Voila! SAINT became SANTA, and he, in turn, became = SATAN. Among students who study how the mind works, this phenomenon is called“pareidolia”. Pareidolia is commonly used in all art forms; for example, music; and faces and figures we see in clouds or bark of wood. Painters love pareidolia

Pareidolia is a common phenomenon in times of troubles and chaos. People see armies, horses, crosses, and corpses move across the skies. Sometimes pareidolia tells true, sometimes not; if one wishes to make use of it, it demands that the content of the package is examined at least twice to see if you see the same thing twice.

One can never be careful enough when one comes in contact with pareidolia. ‘Money’ is a pareidolic phenomenon that quickly connects to Satan. One of the reasons for this is that a private hoard of gold or money soon erases all signs of equality, which is the meme of democratic life in the wild. If the memes for equality go missing, one becomes anxious and manifests through ‘imaginings’ that may lead to theft—just as hungry birds in winter steel all the seeds left lying about. For humans such theft discovers the police come after them and insist that the money is not theirs. This is where trouble begins: inequality is enforced, with the aid of law, which is contrary to the nature of biology.

An extreme form of pareidolia is deception—as when Basil was facing death, but heard the Emperor of Byzantium offer him life. One cannot tell the one from the other. Both Basil and Jesus choose death. To them it was better to be killed (by the ‘moneyed’ Emperor) in order to maintain solidarity with the slaves, their followers. If they failed to self-sacrifice themselves, their community was likely to become further demoralized and humiliated. The Emperor would replace the frog head of the Sphinx with the head of a lion.

Arch- and neo-Christian stories agree that Basil and Jesus prevailed in their visions of how life is to be. There is, however, one difference in approach among these two Christianities: for one the object is to become part of the ritual; for the other the object is without transcendence. The photographer Eddie Adams captures something of the quality of death which lacks the quality of either sacrifice or transcendence This is because the image is so naked that it leaves nothing to the wood, which is the dwelling place of the imagination. To kill a human being on the street is as naked and nothing an event as discarding a plastic bag of chicken entrails among bent Coca-Cola cans in a ditch by the road in the desert.

In the oral story, in which Basil hears the roar and feels the heat of the fire, he is seen (even by the emperor’s daughter) to be troubled. The Realist Emperor has exposed Basil to his self-deception and dependency on God for a saving act of love. He surely has no money to bribe or tip his executioners.

The crowds of Bogomils, who have come to watch Basil’s confrontation with secular power, are no less troubled than Basil. Perhaps the crowd is even more troubled, because Basil has an imagination and a will that takes him into the future, but it does not. Basil puts emphasis on his trust that God will respond to his love and trust by sending angels to save him. Indeed, his last words are: “Look! My cloak flies up to the sky!”  As if the angels had come and are hovering above him. To everyone's surprise, God takes the world's first photograph.

The crowd appears to be less certain of cloaks as angels, because  all their lives they have seen angels painted with wings. This is evident the moment the crowd of Bogomils parts to let their leader, Basil, approach the fire. The crowd does not rise up against the Lord Emperor or scream for the guards to desist, or lock arms—as we may imagine Basil to have expected and the emperor may have feared they would.

Nevertheless, to this day the crowd insists that the cloak of Basil carries on his fight by means of a heat-imprinted pareidolic image of him.

In the case of the written story of Jesus of Nazareth, the crowd is presented as no less doubtful of the reality he preached. In fact, the crowd is explicitly, even photographically, cynical of Jesus’ make believe (Mat. 27:42): "He saved others, but he can't save himself!... Let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him….”
 [Mark 15:16-47] “The soldiers led Jesus away into the palace (that is, the Praetorium) and called together the whole company of soldiers. They put a purple robe on him, then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on him. And they began to call out to him, ‘Hail, king of the Jews!’ Again and again they struck him on the head with a staff and spit on him. Falling on their knees, they paid homage to him. And when they had mocked him, they took off the purple robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him.

"A certain man from Cyrene, Simon, …was passing by on his way in from the country, and they forced him to carry the cross. They brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means The Place of the Skull). Then they offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it. And they crucified him. Dividing up his clothes, they cast lots to see what each would get. It was the third hour when they crucified him. The written notice of the charge against him read: The King of the Jews.

"They crucified two robbers with him, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads and saying, ‘So! You, who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, come down from the cross and save yourself!’ In the same way the chief priests and the teachers of the law mocked him among themselves.”

Incidentally, Simon may not have carried the cross, but beams of wood to the firepit. One of the thieves may have been thrown into the pit before Basil was. The other may have been thrown in after Basil, just to distract the exact sequence of events from the memory of those present.

“At the sixth hour darkness [smoke from the fire] came over the whole land [Hippodrome] until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama
sabachthani?’--which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’

"When some of those standing near heard this, they said, ‘Listen, he's calling Elijah.’ One man ran, filled a sponge with wine vinegar, put it on a stick, and offered it to Jesus to drink. ‘Now leave him alone. Let's see if Elijah comes to take him down,’ he said. With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last. The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom [into a left and a right side]. And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, heard his cry and saw how he died, he said, ‘Surely this man was the Son of God!’”

In the neo-Christian story, the emphasis of the last moment is diverted from Jesus to the rending of the curtain, and the centurions and their assertion that Jesus is an object, a body, even the Son of God.

These diversions from the events are the result of two Christian religious ideologies, one left, one right:

1) Basil pretends that God’s physical response to his love will save him; whereas,

2) in fact, Jesus ends life with an anxious question and a scream.

It is the scream that today permits the spiritual powers in service of secular powers to interpret that Jesus “believes in God” as an object rather than an Act, and that the scream proves the existence of God as an object. No matter how difficult it may be to grasp, the replacement of Basil with money (the centurions throwing dice over who gets his cloak) is, as gamblers say, right on the money. Some argue that such was asserted by Jesus himself at the time of his resurrection by the fact that he ate fish (Luke 24:3-43)—which stands for money [not ‘life’ as some assert].

41 And while they yet believed not for joy, and wondered, he said unto them, Have ye here any meat? 42 And they gave him a piece of a broiled fish, and of an honeycomb. 43 And he took it, and did eat before them.

The Bogomil Christians assert their love for God, but remain doubtful whether He is a physical being. For them He is rather an 'Act'. Therefore, they allow the representatives of secular princes to keep the money. It is meant as a dismissive gesture.

In political terms, the story of Basil a) represents a democratic belief (ye shall take the money from the wealthy), while story b) represents parliamentary rule, i.e., a circle that closes in on itself (legislates taxes and keeps the money for itself) and excludes the men and women of the wood from their assembly, by withholding from them education, even pretending to them that stories a and b, are essentially one and the same.