Showing posts with label BreXit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BreXit. Show all posts

Monday, 31 October 2016

BreXit : Black Wednesday

 A Documentary About the Crash of the Pound Sterling in the European Exchange Rate Mechanism


An Ode to Negative Equity


Freude, schöner Götterfunken,
Tochter aus Elysium,
Wir betreten feuertrunken,
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!
Deine Zauber binden wieder
Was die Mode streng geteilt*;
Alle Menschen werden Brüder*
Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.

Wem der große Wurf gelungen
Eines Freundes Freund zu sein;
Wer ein holdes Weib errungen
Mische seinen Jubel ein!
Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele
Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund!
Und wer's nie gekonnt, der stehle
Weinend sich aus diesem Bund!

Freude trinken alle Wesen
An den Brüsten der Natur;
Alle Guten, alle Bösen
Folgen ihrer Rosenspur.
Küsse gab sie uns und Reben,
Einen Freund, geprüft im Tod;
Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben
und der Cherub steht vor Gott.

Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen
Durch des Himmels prächt'gen Plan
Laufet, Brüder, eure Bahn,
Freudig, wie ein Held zum siegen.

Seid umschlungen, Millionen!
Diesen Kuß der ganzen Welt!
Brüder, über'm Sternenzelt
Muß ein lieber Vater wohnen.
Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen?
Ahnest du den Schöpfer, Welt?
Such' ihn über'm Sternenzelt!
Über Sternen muß er wohnen

Thursday, 15 September 2016

BreXit - Bernard Connolly

"I don't know how people who are in favour of the European Union can sleep at night."



"I don't know how people who are in favour of the European Union can sleep at night - because what they are doing is creating a set of social tensions by eliminating a political sense of national identity, they force human beings....to seek a sense of belonging in something else... 



There is an ethnic sense, racial, religious, linguistic....

We are starting to see that, unfortunately, happening in Europe."

"A human life, I think, should be well rooted in some spot of a native land, where it may get the love of tender kinship for the face of the earth, for the labors men go forth to, for the sounds and accents that haunt it, for whatever will give that early home a familiar unmistakable difference amidst the future widening of knowledge. 

The best introduction to astronomy is to think of the nightly heavens as a little lot of stars belonging to one's own homestead." 

- George Eliot


"For Mazzini, a nationality means a race, a fixed array of behavior like a breed of dog or a species of animal. 

He is not thinking of a national community united by a literate language and a classical culture to which any person can become assimilated through a political choice. 

For Mazzini, race is unchangeable, and race is destiny. 

It is a matter of Blood and Soil. 

Cats fight Dogs.
French fight Germans.
Germans fight Poles.

and so on through all eternity. 

These hatreds are the main datum of sensory perception.

Each of Mazzini’s organizations demands immediate national liberation for its own ethnic group on the basis of aggressive chauvinism and expansionism. 

Mazzini’s warhorse is the Territorial Imperative. 

Each is obsessed with borders and territory, and each finds a way to oppose and sabotage dirigist economic development. Each one is eager to submerge and repress other national groupings in pursuit of its own mystical destiny. 

This is Mazzini’s racist gospel of Universal Ethnic Cleansing."

http://spikethenews.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/lord-palmerstons-multicultural-human.html




Tuesday, 6 September 2016

BreXit : For I am Welsh, You Know..

"For I am Welsh, you know, good my countryman...."


Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.

Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us 

Upon Saint Crispin's Day!




SCENE VII. Another part of the field.

Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER
FLUELLEN
Kill the boys and the luggage! 'tis expressly
against the law of arms: 'tis as arrant a piece of
knavery, mark you now, as can be offer't; in your
conscience, now, is it not?
GOWER
'Tis certain there's not a boy left alive; and the
cowardly rascals that ran from the battle ha' done
this slaughter: besides, they have burned and
carried away all that was in the king's tent;
wherefore the king, most worthily, hath caused every
soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a
gallant king!
FLUELLEN
Ay, he was born at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What
call you the town's name where Alexander the Big was born!
GOWER
Alexander the Great.
FLUELLEN
Why, I pray you, is not big great? the big, or the
great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the
magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase
is a little variations.
GOWER
I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon; his
father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it.

FLUELLEN

I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is born. I
tell you, captain, if you look in the maps of the
'orld, I warrant you sall find, in the comparisons
between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations,
look you, is both alike. There is a river in
Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at
Monmouth: it is called Wye at Monmouth; but it is
out of my prains what is the name of the other
river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is
to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you
mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouth's life
is come after it indifferent well; for there is
figures in all things. Alexander, God knows, and
you know, in his rages, and his furies, and his
wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his
displeasures, and his indignations, and also being a
little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales and
his angers, look you, kill his best friend, Cleitus.
GOWER
Our king is not like him in that: he never killed
any of his friends.
FLUELLEN
It is not well done, mark you now take the tales out
of my mouth, ere it is made and finished. I speak
but in the figures and comparisons of it: as
Alexander killed his friend Cleitus, being in his
ales and his cups; so also Harry Monmouth, being in
his right wits and his good judgments, turned away
the fat knight with the great belly-doublet: he
was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and
mocks; I have forgot his name.
GOWER
Sir John Falstaff.
FLUELLEN
That is he: I'll tell you there is good men born at Monmouth.
GOWER
Here comes his majesty.

Alarum. Enter KING HENRY, and forces; WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, EXETER, and others
KING HENRY V
I was not angry since I came to France
Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald;
Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill:
If they will fight with us, bid them come down,
Or void the field; they do offend our sight:
If they'll do neither, we will come to them,
And make them skirr away, as swift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings:
Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have,
And not a man of them that we shall take
Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.

Enter MONTJOY
EXETER
Here comes the herald of the French, my liege.
GLOUCESTER
His eyes are humbler than they used to be.
KING HENRY V
How now! what means this, herald? know'st thou not
That I have fined these bones of mine for ransom?
Comest thou again for ransom?
MONTJOY
No, great king:
I come to thee for charitable licence,
That we may wander o'er this bloody field
To look our dead, and then to bury them;
To sort our nobles from our common men.
For many of our princes--woe the while!--
Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood;
So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs
In blood of princes; and their wounded steeds
Fret fetlock deep in gore and with wild rage
Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters,
Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great king,
To view the field in safety and dispose
Of their dead bodies!
KING HENRY V
I tell thee truly, herald,
I know not if the day be ours or no;
For yet a many of your horsemen peer
And gallop o'er the field.
MONTJOY
The day is yours.
KING HENRY V
Praised be God, and not our strength, for it!
What is this castle call'd that stands hard by?
MONTJOY
They call it Agincourt.
KING HENRY V
Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.
FLUELLEN
Your grandfather of famous memory, an't please your
majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the Black
Prince of Wales, as I have read in the chronicles,
fought a most prave pattle here in France.
KING HENRY V
They did, Fluellen.
FLUELLEN
Your majesty says very true: if your majesties is
remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in a
garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their
Monmouth caps; which, your majesty know, to this
hour is an honourable badge of the service; and I do
believe your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek
upon Saint Tavy's day.
KING HENRY V
I wear it for a memorable honour;
For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.
FLUELLEN
All the water in Wye cannot wash your majesty's
Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that:
God pless it and preserve it, as long as it pleases
his grace, and his majesty too!
KING HENRY V
Thanks, good my countryman.
FLUELLEN
By Jeshu, I am your majesty's countryman, I care not
who know it; I will confess it to all the 'orld: I
need not to be ashamed of your majesty, praised be
God, so long as your majesty is an honest man.
KING HENRY V
God keep me so! Our heralds go with him:
Bring me just notice of the numbers dead
On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.

Points to WILLIAMS. Exeunt Heralds with Montjoy
EXETER
Soldier, you must come to the king.
KING HENRY V
Soldier, why wearest thou that glove in thy cap?
WILLIAMS
An't please your majesty, 'tis the gage of one that
I should fight withal, if he be alive.
KING HENRY V
An Englishman?
WILLIAMS
An't please your majesty, a rascal that swaggered
with me last night; who, if alive and ever dare to
challenge this glove, I have sworn to take him a box
o' th' ear: or if I can see my glove in his cap,
which he swore, as he was a soldier, he would wear
if alive, I will strike it out soundly.
KING HENRY V
What think you, Captain Fluellen? is it fit this
soldier keep his oath?
FLUELLEN
He is a craven and a villain else, an't please your
majesty, in my conscience.
KING HENRY V
It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort,
quite from the answer of his degree.
FLUELLEN
Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is, as
Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is necessary, look
your grace, that he keep his vow and his oath: if
he be perjured, see you now, his reputation is as
arrant a villain and a Jacksauce, as ever his black
shoe trod upon God's ground and his earth, in my
conscience, la!
KING HENRY V
Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meetest the fellow.
WILLIAMS
So I will, my liege, as I live.
KING HENRY V
Who servest thou under?
WILLIAMS
Under Captain Gower, my liege.
FLUELLEN
Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge and
literatured in the wars.
KING HENRY V
Call him hither to me, soldier.
WILLIAMS
I will, my liege.

Exit
KING HENRY V
Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour for me and
stick it in thy cap: when Alencon and myself were
down together, I plucked this glove from his helm:
if any man challenge this, he is a friend to
Alencon, and an enemy to our person; if thou
encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love.
FLUELLEN
Your grace doo's me as great honours as can be
desired in the hearts of his subjects: I would fain
see the man, that has but two legs, that shall find
himself aggrieved at this glove; that is all; but I
would fain see it once, an please God of his grace
that I might see.
KING HENRY V
Knowest thou Gower?
FLUELLEN
He is my dear friend, an please you.
KING HENRY V
Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent.
FLUELLEN
I will fetch him.

Exit
KING HENRY V
My Lord of Warwick, and my brother Gloucester,
Follow Fluellen closely at the heels:
The glove which I have given him for a favour
May haply purchase him a box o' th' ear;
It is the soldier's; I by bargain should
Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick:
If that the soldier strike him, as I judge
By his blunt bearing he will keep his word,
Some sudden mischief may arise of it;
For I do know Fluellen valiant
And, touched with choler, hot as gunpowder,
And quickly will return an injury:
Follow and see there be no harm between them.
Go you with me, uncle of Exeter.


Exeunt

Friday, 2 September 2016

BreXit : Gaunt


"Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; And thou--"

John of Gaunt (Patrick Stewart) is dying. He criticises Richard (Ben Wishaw) for being surrounded by a thousand flatterers and for being landlord of England rather than King.



"This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth,
Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
For Christian service and true chivalry,
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son,
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it,
Like to a tenement or pelting farm:
England, bound in with the triumphant sea
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death!"






SCENE I. Ely House.


Enter JOHN OF GAUNT sick, with the DUKE OF YORK, & c
JOHN OF GAUNT
Will the king come, that I may breathe my last
In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth?
DUKE OF YORK
Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath;
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.
JOHN OF GAUNT
O, but they say the tongues of dying men
Enforce attention like deep harmony:
Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain,
For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.
He that no more must say is listen'd more
Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose;
More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before:
The setting sun, and music at the close,
As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,
Writ in remembrance more than things long past:
Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,
My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.
DUKE OF YORK
No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds,
As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond,
Lascivious metres, to whose venom sound
The open ear of youth doth always listen;
Report of fashions in proud Italy,
Whose manners still our tardy apish nation
Limps after in base imitation.
Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity--
So it be new, there's no respect how vile--
That is not quickly buzzed into his ears?
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard,
Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.
Direct not him whose way himself will choose:
'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose.
JOHN OF GAUNT
Methinks I am a prophet new inspired
And thus expiring do foretell of him:
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,
For violent fires soon burn out themselves;
Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short;
He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder:
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth,
Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
For Christian service and true chivalry,
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son,
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it,
Like to a tenement or pelting farm:
England, bound in with the triumphant sea
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death!

Enter KING RICHARD II and QUEEN, DUKE OF AUMERLE, BUSHY, GREEN, BAGOT, LORD ROSS, and LORD WILLOUGHBY
DUKE OF YORK
The king is come: deal mildly with his youth;
For young hot colts being raged do rage the more.
QUEEN
How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster?
KING RICHARD II
What comfort, man? how is't with aged Gaunt?
JOHN OF GAUNT
O how that name befits my composition!
Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old:
Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast;
And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt?
For sleeping England long time have I watch'd;
Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt:
The pleasure that some fathers feed upon,
Is my strict fast; I mean, my children's looks;
And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt:
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,
Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones.
KING RICHARD II
Can sick men play so nicely with their names?
JOHN OF GAUNT
No, misery makes sport to mock itself:
Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,
I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee.
KING RICHARD II
Should dying men flatter with those that live?
JOHN OF GAUNT
No, no, men living flatter those that die.
KING RICHARD II
Thou, now a-dying, say'st thou flatterest me.
JOHN OF GAUNT
O, no! thou diest, though I the sicker be.
KING RICHARD II
I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill.
JOHN OF GAUNT
Now He that made me knows I see thee ill;
Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill.
Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land
Wherein thou liest in reputation sick;
And thou, too careless patient as thou art,
Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure
Of those physicians that first wounded thee:
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head;
And yet, incaged in so small a verge,
The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.
O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye
Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,
From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame,
Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd,
Which art possess'd now to depose thyself.
Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world,
It were a shame to let this land by lease;
But for thy world enjoying but this land,
Is it not more than shame to shame it so?
Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; And thou--
KING RICHARD II
A lunatic lean-witted fool,
Presuming on an ague's privilege,
Darest with thy frozen admonition
Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood
With fury from his native residence.
Now, by my seat's right royal majesty,
Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son,
This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head
Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders.
JOHN OF GAUNT
O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son,
For that I was his father Edward's son;
That blood already, like the pelican,
Hast thou tapp'd out and drunkenly caroused:
My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul,
Whom fair befal in heaven 'mongst happy souls!
May be a precedent and witness good
That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood:
Join with the present sickness that I have;
And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too long wither'd flower.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!
These words hereafter thy tormentors be!
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave:
Love they to live that love and honour have.
Exit, borne off by his Attendants
KING RICHARD II
And let them die that age and sullens have;
For both hast thou, and both become the grave.
DUKE OF YORK
I do beseech your majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him:
He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
As Harry Duke of Hereford, were he here.
KING RICHARD II
Right, you say true: as Hereford's love, so his;
As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND
NORTHUMBERLAND
My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty.
KING RICHARD II
What says he?
NORTHUMBERLAND
Nay, nothing; all is said
His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life and all, old Lancaster hath spent.
DUKE OF YORK
Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!
Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.
KING RICHARD II
The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he;
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be.
So much for that. Now for our Irish wars:
We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns,
Which live like venom where no venom else
But only they have privilege to live.
And for these great affairs do ask some charge,
Towards our assistance we do seize to us
The plate, corn, revenues and moveables,
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd.
DUKE OF YORK
How long shall I be patient? ah, how long
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
Not Gloucester's death, nor Hereford's banishment
Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs,
Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke
About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,
Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,
Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.
I am the last of noble Edward's sons,
Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first:
In war was never lion raged more fierce,
In peace was never gentle lamb more mild,
Than was that young and princely gentleman.
His face thou hast, for even so look'd he,
Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours;
But when he frown'd, it was against the French
And not against his friends; his noble hand
Did will what he did spend and spent not that
Which his triumphant father's hand had won;
His hands were guilty of no kindred blood,
But bloody with the enemies of his kin.
O Richard! York is too far gone with grief,
Or else he never would compare between.
KING RICHARD II
Why, uncle, what's the matter?
DUKE OF YORK
O my liege,
Pardon me, if you please; if n ot, I, pleased
Not to be pardon'd, am content withal.
Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands
The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford?
Is not Gaunt dead, and doth not Hereford live?
Was not Gaunt just, and is not Harry true?
Did not the one deserve to have an heir?
Is not his heir a well-deserving son?
Take Hereford's rights away, and take from Time
His charters and his customary rights;
Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day;
Be not thyself; for how art thou a king
But by fair sequence and succession?
Now, afore God--God forbid I say true!--
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
Call in the letters patent that he hath
By his attorneys-general to sue
His livery, and deny his offer'd homage,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts
And prick my tender patience, to those thoughts
Which honour and allegiance cannot think.
KING RICHARD II
Think what you will, we seize into our hands
His plate, his goods, his money and his lands.
DUKE OF YORK
I'll not be by the while: my liege, farewell:
What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell;
But by bad courses may be understood
That their events can never fall out good.
Exit
KING RICHARD II
Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight:
Bid him repair to us to Ely House
To see this business. To-morrow next
We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow:
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York lord governor of England;
For he is just and always loved us well.
Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part;
Be merry, for our time of stay is short
Flourish. 
Exeunt KING RICHARD II, QUEEN, DUKE OF AUMERLE, BUSHY, GREEN, and BAGOT
NORTHUMBERLAND
Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.
LORD ROSS
And living too; for now his son is duke.
LORD WILLOUGHBY
Barely in title, not in revenue.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Richly in both, if justice had her right.
LORD ROSS
My heart is great; but it must break with silence,
Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more
That speaks thy words again to do thee harm!
LORD WILLOUGHBY
Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford?
If it be so, out with it boldly, man;
Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him.
LORD ROSS
No good at all that I can do for him;
Unless you call it good to pity him,
Bereft and gelded of his patrimony.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne
In him, a royal prince, and many moe
Of noble blood in this declining land.
The king is not himself, but basely led
By flatterers; and what they will inform,
Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,
That will the king severely prosecute
'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.
LORD ROSS
The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes,
And quite lost their hearts: the nobles hath he fined
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
LORD WILLOUGHBY
And daily new exactions are devised,
As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what:
But what, o' God's name, doth become of this?
NORTHUMBERLAND
Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not,
But basely yielded upon compromise
That which his noble ancestors achieved with blows:
More hath he spent in peace than they in wars.
LORD ROSS
The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm.
LORD WILLOUGHBY
The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.
LORD ROSS
He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burthenous taxations notwithstanding,
But by the robbing of the banish'd duke.
NORTHUMBERLAND
His noble kinsman: most degenerate king!
But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,
Yet see no shelter to avoid the storm;
We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,
And yet we strike not, but securely perish.
LORD ROSS
We see the very wreck that we must suffer;
And unavoided is the danger now,
For suffering so the causes of our wreck.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Not so; even through the hollow eyes of death
I spy life peering; but I dare not say
How near the tidings of our comfort is.
LORD WILLOUGHBY
Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.
LORD ROSS
Be confident to speak, Northumberland:
We three are but thyself; and, speaking so,
Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Then thus: I have from Port le Blanc, a bay
In Brittany, received intelligence
That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham,
That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,
His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston,
Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton and Francis Quoint,
All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne
With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war,
Are making hither with all due expedience
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore:
Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay
The first departing of the king for Ireland.
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Imp out our drooping country's broken wing,
Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown,
Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt
And make high majesty look like itself,
Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh;
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay and be secret, and myself will go.
LORD ROSS
To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them that fear.
LORD WILLOUGHBY
Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.
Exeunt

Sunday, 21 August 2016

Project Iguana, Corbyn and BreXit



I love that man - I really, truly do.



Iguana Project

The Iguana Project is as good a name as any other for this volatile thing that we're into. Why not? And so much for labels. The potential of the thing is so vast that we can't possibly define the ends-so all we can talk about for now is the "potential," the "goals," the possibility of massive "leverage," and the entirely reasonable idea that any body or bloc who can speak for twenty million voters will emerge - by mathematical definition - as a primary force in American politics. 

The original discussions - in Aspen, during late June and early July of 1971 - have all been agreeably resolved to the same ends: One, that the ugly realities of 1971 America leave us no choice but to involve ourselves in basic politics on the national level-beginning with the presidential campaign of 1972, then to the congressional campaigns of 1974, and finally the presidential campaign of 1976. This scenario should be kept in mind by everybody involved with this project. 

The likelihood of mounting an Aspen-style "Freak Power" campaign on the national level is a far-fetched joke for 1972-at least that's what it looks like, for now. We should keep in mind, however, that in July of 1970 we all (in Aspen) considered it a "far-fetched joke" that I might run for sheriff three months later. Yet in November of 1970 I got something like 44 percent of the total vote in a three- way race with two establishment candidates-the incumbent sheriff and the under-sheriff-backed by the local Democratic and Republican parties. Even with my head shaved completely bald and running full-bore on the "Mescaline Ticket", I forced a coalition of the establishment parties that resulted in total humiliation for the G.O.R candidate. He got about 250 votes, compared to my 1,065 or so, and the incumbents 1,500. (These figures and percentages are approximate, but no matter how they're cut or interpreted, a bald-headed "dope fiend" (admitted) got at least 40 percent of the vote in a three-way race which suggests to me that I was right (in Rolling Stone 10/1/70) when I said that the electorate here was far more (potentially) radical than anyone knew.

Whether this is true on a national level is another question. I think not. At least not until somebody runs a genuinely Weird campaign on a national level-to put the Freak Vote together and let them see their strength. This is what the "Joe Edwards for Mayor" campaign accomplished in Aspen in the fall of '69. We came out of nowhere and lost that one by only six votes. And it was easy, a year later, to mount a heavy Freak Power registration campaign. 

There is a possibility that the McCarthy campaign of '68-which formed the death-aborted R.F.K. effort-could provide us with the frustrated momentum and unfocused power base for a full-bore power move in 1972. If so, this would be a disastrous thing to ignore -because it might not exist in 1976. 

This is a crucial and perhaps fatal question. Can we afford to nurse our momentum along for another four years? Personally, I can't be sure--but I tend to think we have to establish a national equivalent of Back to Freak Power in '72, before we can work off a genuine power base in '74 and especially '76. Everything in the history of political base-building points in this direction- especially with regard to getting on the ballot. 

On the other hand, I remember that month I spent covering the Nixon campaign in New Hampshire in '68: I spent a lot of time around McCarthy headquarters, but only because they were in the same motor inn as George Romney 's HQ . . and Romney, at the time, was considered the main challenger.

I also remember that we began the "Thompson for Sheriff' campaign in Aspen as a joke and a smokescreen-only to find, too late, that we'd tapped a latent firestorm of political energy that none of us had ever anticipated ... and in the final analysis, this failure to take ourselves seriously, soon enough, was what cost us the whole campaign. 

We can afford this kind of loss on a local level, but we can't afford it nationally. If the momentum exists in '72, it should be used in '72. (According to Carl Oglesby's analysis of American politics and the prevailing winds in the Pentagon "H ring," there will be no elections in 1976.) 

But Oglesby is a fool-an S.D.S. refugee who got hired by M.I.T. to explain "radical politics" to old liberals. He makes a good living doing this, but as far as we're concerned he's absolutely useless. 

And so much for all that. In the first three pages of this memo I have tried to define the main question we're faced with-whether to mount a flat-out Alternative Campaign/Candidate in 1972, or use this coming year to build a base for a total shot in 1976. We should also consider the notion that if we mount anything serious in 1972-and if Nixon wins, which is likely-anybody identified with our `72 campaign will be living in a fishbowl for the next four years. There will be IR.S. harassment, phone taps, drug surveillance. all the normal bullshit that comes with menacing a high-stakes establishment. 

So, where do we go from here? Mike is fully convinced that realpolitik is inevitable, even for Essalen. Jann agrees with a vengeance-to the point that he feels only a Freak Power-type candidate (a "Free" Democrat, entering Democratic primaries) will accomplish what we're after. Jann, from a journalistic viewpoint, is opposed to running a Freak Power or Free Democratic candidate, he favors the original idea/mechanics of a "summit conference," out of which will come a "Platform Statement" that will speak for the twenty to thirty million potential voters who will not go to the polls unless they're convinced that at least one of the candidates (in November or even the primaries) is representing them. 

In other words, if we can put together a platform that speaks not only for the new eighteen-to-twenty-one vote but also the eleven million or so who turned twenty-one since '68, and also the Rock Vote, the Drug Vote, the Vet Vote, the Hippie Vote, the Beatnik Vote, the Angry Liberal Vote - if we can do all this, we can force at least one candidate for the Democratic nomination to endorse out position and sink or swim with it. 

My own point of view (somewhat reluctantly) is basically in tune with Jann's. I think the best we can hope for in '72 is the creation of a general platform and a cohesive voting bloc for 1976. (Jesus, this is such an obviously dull and foredoomed notion that I don't have much stomach for it, myself ... and frankly I doubt if we could generate much stomach for it in anybody else, once the word got out that we were only greasing the rails for a run in '76.) 

This visceral reaction just occurred to me, about eighteen seconds ago. And now, after eighty more seconds of further reflection, I can see where I couldn't possibly involve myself in any kind of political effort, next year, that wouldn't focus on TOTAL VICTORY OR DEFEAT in November 1972. Anything less than that would deprive us, I think, of that energy edge that comes with running an honest, full-bore campaign... and the loss of that edge would be fatal to the only advantage we have. 

What we have to decide, then, is what exactly would constitute a flat-out run for a "victory" in '72. Would we have to run a candidate? Or could we win by constructing a platform that would speak for a minimum of twenty million potential voters ... and then use this platform as a bargaining vehicle for that massive voting bloc? 

What would McGovern, for instance, say to a platform that included 
(1) Total amnesty for all draft dodgers, deserters, etc. 


(2) Legalization of all drugs (without dropping the "by Rx only" concept, which would place the responsibility on doctors, where it should be, instead of cops) 


... and (3) a mandatory cut of 25 percent in the Pentagon budget in fiscal '73, followed by a mandatory cut of 50 percent in fiscal '74. Then another cut of 25 percent in '75, and back to 50 percent in '76.

My own feeling is that if we could force this sort of a radical position on any serious candidate in '72, it would constitute the sort of victory we could work from in '76 ... but this could work only (according to the scenario that Jann and I worked out) if the Demo nomination were still up for grabs by June of '72, with Lindsay and Kennedy (or Bayh and McGovern) going into the California primary head to head.

At this point-and especially in California-a dramatic bid for the Youth/Freak vote might make the crucial difference. But, as Jann has pointed out, you can't just wander into the California primary like an acid-freak with a manifesto in his hand. To have any leverage in California, we will need the exposure that can come only from a skillfully orchestrated participation in at least a few other primaries ... and this, unfortunately, would require at least a dummy candidate. But the idea of a "dummy" is sick.

If we entered Ken Kesey in the Alaska primary, for instance, we'd play hell dumping Kesey for Nick Johnson if our gig looked good by the time California came around. The idea that almost anybody can run on our platform is a nice, idealistic sort of notion-but the savage realities of running any political campaign would croak the idea of switching candidates in midstream, no matter what the rationale.

Maybe we should settle, from the start, on a Kesey/Ramsey Clark ticket. Or Nick Johnson and Jerry Garcia. Any combination of these four names would be good for twenty million votes, I think, if we could get on homebody's ballot. 

We might even consider the possibility of letting George Wallace light the battle to put the American Independent Party on the ballot in all fifty states, then suddenly forcing him into a primary race for the A.I.P nomination. He is, after all, a Populist-and so are we. The only difference is that Wallace hates niggers and Radicals, but I think we could turn that shit back on him. His main trip is anti-establishment, and we can beat him like a gong on that one. 

I think we should consider this angle. It's so incredibly bizarre that it makes sense only when you remember that the polls in April/May of '68 showed that Robert Kennedy was the only candidate who also appealed to the Wallace voters. A lot of people called this "weird," but it wasn't. Both R.F.K. and Wallace appealed to the "Fuck the Bosses" vote-and Wallace will be going the same racist/populist route in '72. His people are already working twenty-five hours a day to get the A.I.P. on the ballot--on the assumption that Wallace is that party's only candidate. 

This is admittedly a lunatic idea, but if we let Wallace get the A.I.P party on the ballot in all fifty states -then took the nomination away from him- we'd be in a hell-heavy position by November of '72. And even if we lost, we'd have generated enough national publicity to consolidate that vote-bloc we're talking about-which means we could wield it as honest leverage between Nixon and the Demo candidate. The other way to go, of course, is to run a traditional race against all comets in the Democratic primaries. But this would require a hell of a lot of money-and with our prospects of victory almost nil, big money would be a hard thing to come by. 

On the other hand, I suspect it might be cheap-at least in terms of dollars-to beat Wallace out of the A.I.P nomination. This would, after all, be a sudden/savage return to the Power Coalition that led to the breakup of S.D.S.... and beyond that, it's so crazy, so intolerably weird, that the very idea would probably attract a laughing, wild-eyed swarm of dropout S.D.S. organizers. 

The only serious problem with this plan-provided it's mechanically feasible--is that it would require the full-time salaried services of at least a dozen Kennedy-style, state-level political operatives. The Hrst moves would have to be made quietly ... or we would lose the advantage of total surprise. But once we got the basic organizing machinery working, I think the excitement and crazy adrenalin of the thing would take care of the rest. 

For the first steps, however, we need somebody who understands that kind of local machinery, and who is also not committed right now to any other candidate. I think we can get the mechanics/type information we need for this move by brain-picking radical/lib Demos on the pretense that we want to "take over" the New Party--or maybe Peace and Freedom; whatever's on the ballot. The idea is to learn all the local A.B.C. steps (that's A-B-C) of taking over the state-level machinery of a party that's getting on the statewide ballot for the first [or second) time. Then, once we get this information, I think we could move in and grab the A.I.P nomination just about the time they get themselves on the ballot.

Woody Creek, 1971

Monday, 25 July 2016

The Remainders - "Sir" Patrick Stewart


WE ARE THE CLUB OF ROME. 

LOWER YOUR BORDERS AND SURRENDER YOUR SOVERIGNTY. 

WE WILL ADD YOUR AGRICULTURAL AND INDUSTRIAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. 

YOUR CULTURE WILL ADAPT TO SERVICE US. 

RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.


"Perhaps today is a Good Day to Die ...!!

Prepare for RAMMING SPEED!!!"




This Flanders 'Mare

The Blue Death

The Belgian Disease

This Flemish Pox

BE-NE-LUX Fever

Tyler's  Cramp

Mason's Elbow

Auditor's Pinch


Peoples of these British Isles, Your Attention Please : 
Having commenced my own study of the extent, breadth and fundamental nature of this Flemmish Malaisse, this Permanant, Rolling National Crisis of Confidence, and the promise of potential cures, my initial findings are now in and they are these : Things are indeed, as I had previously intuited, no nearly so bad or so severe as it may superficially have appeared to be, with our peoples, our nations and in our composite, unified sovereign Nation-State.

They are in fact worse. Far, FAR worse, than I ever dared contemplate myself to fear. 

You therefore leave me with no other options left - as of right now, I am going forward at RAMMING Speed, course locked in, Dead-ahead Full-Worf Factor 9.99 - 

You drove me to this...


"YOU ARE KLINGONS WITHOUT HONOUR..!!! 
I AM WORF, SON OF MOGH !! 
SQUIRE TO THE HOUSE OF MARTOK, 
FIRSTBORN SON OF THE HOUSE OF MOGH 
AND I SAY 
YOU ARE NO KLINGONS!!! 

YOU COWER, LIKE STINKING, WRETCHED P'TACH WHILE THE BLOOD OF OUR FALLEN WARRIORS LIES STILL WARM IN THE VERY COUNCIL CHAMBER LIKE SO MUCH TARG-FODDER WHILE THE HATED ENEMY OF OUR GREAT EMPIRE, THE ROMULAN P'TECHT MAKE THEIR ESCAPE FROM OUR VERY THRONE WORLD !!!!

O PROUD AND MIGHTY KLINGON RACE - KHALESS CALLS TO YOU ALL, BLOOD TO BLOOD TO ANSWER THE CALL TO ARMS - TO AVENGE THE PROUD KLINGON BLOOD SPILT THIS DAY AND DIE WELL, FOR THE GLORY AND TO RESTORE THE NOBLE AND LAMENTED NAME OF HONOUR OF YOUR GREAT HOUSE AND OF THE EMPEROR KHALESS AND HIS NOBLE IMAGINE IN FLESH SO CRUELY AND SACRALIGIOUSLY CUT DOWN, SLAIN BY THIS RANK TREACHERY IN OUR MIDST !!

TONIGHT, WE  DINE IN STO-VO-KOR ON THE HEARTS OF EVERY FLAG OFFICER IN THE ROMULAN INVASION TASK FORCE AND THEIR FLEET !!!

BEWARE, O RESTFULLY DREAMING SPIRITS OF THE DEAD OF MEN OF LESSER RACES - THE FIRST KLINGON WARRIOR IS ABOUT TO ARRIVE !!! FIE !!

K'PLA !!!


Perhaps today is a Good Day to Die ...!!


Yes, perhaps it is - but it is an even better day to live

K'Pla!!