Domain Light

July 31st, 2015

~ Perhaps the real title should be ‘Domain Lite’, or maybe ‘Dome Light’.

There has been a lot out there about ‘master the human domain’ and the new civilian / police / military theory of warfare and about the ‘neural net‘ approach to everything, meaning everything.

I used to theorize a lot, when I was 19 or so, back in early 1968 or something, about ‘correlative realities’.  It was the neural net idea long before it went popularly viral.  Neural net led to ‘information systems’ (computer based, cartography based) and that led to maps, community, and attempts to make it a business.

Cecil the lion resting in Africa, now maybe resting in Peace.

The ‘fun’ part is not to take it all too seriously.  See if you can follow me.  It’s about the lion that I wrote about yesterday, Cecil of Zimbabwe.  In America the story went viral, in Zimbabwe it was next to nothing.  So, since there isn’t so much as one single picture (meaning actual photograph) of the dead lion Cecil, what is the Cecil story really about?  It’s the ‘human terrain’ question, the battle for the hearts and minds, the question of how to get and retain ‘mastery’.

The meme, in most people’s minds is ‘wimoweh‘, a very poor translation (alliteration maybe) meaning, “I am a lion.”  The lyrics are very simple, “the lion sleeps tonight,” is most of the story.  It’s not about dead lions, or lions lured out of their sanctuaries just to be killed.


In the jungle, the mighty jungle
The lion sleeps tonight
In the jungle, the quiet jungle
The lion sleeps tonight

Near the village, the peaceful village
The lion sleeps tonight
Near the village, the quiet village
The lion sleeps tonight

Hush my darling, don’t fear my darling
The lion sleeps tonight
Hush my darling, don’t fear my darling
The lion sleeps tonight


So, the human terrain story for the specific American terrain is that there has been a changing of the guard, the ‘old lion’ (King) was left unguarded, and was lured to an untimely demise.  The story goes on, if you’re interested, to suggest that the death was not immediate, but involved tracking, a chase, and the old lion (King) dying after a fairly long ordeal in agony.

Sounds a little like American politics, and perhaps even America itself, right now, to me.

The idea of neural mapping (correlative reality) is not to just get a reflection of the current time, the moment, it is also to picture the future, the prophecy thing, or the ‘future crimes’ thing, depending upon which side you find yourself on.  Simply put, another way to see the Cecil the lion story is just as another Tarzan of the Jungle story; ‘he’ kills the lion (the real king of the jungle) so ‘he’ can become the new natural humanoid ‘king of the jungle’.  So many memes being pushed, including that old one, ‘life is a jungle’.  Look around you, do you see all the vines?

Military helicopters are hard to see at night, but one can easily hear them.

Did I mention that at exactly 1:00 A.M. last night a flight of Jade Helm exercise helicopters took off from Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, New Mexico for a destination, by the public, unknown?

#BernieSanders is a hashtag on Twitter.  A few days ago (two days ago when this article was written) a few meetings were held (about 3,000) all across the country and in a few foreign countries too.  The Idea was #Bernie2016.  The article is like a New York Times primer (lite) regarding how the neural node net actually works, or can work.  It works like this, like I describe in the following.

You see, Bernie Sanders and his followers, advisers, and organization spent a lot of real time planning and setting up all the ‘organizational’ meetings.  They spent more time mapping it, having real trackable people (who were tracked) RSVP for the event.  If you checked out the map it was all based on mileage, how far away from the meeting houses and halls that you might be.  It was all about the specifics of the human domain and the human terrain.

Nate Cohn, NYT.

Nate Cohn and Jeremy Bowers (for the Times) crunched the numbers (or so they say) and ‘presto, bango’ in almost like ‘real time’ they sent the #BigBernie2016 ship to join the Bismarck ‘at the bottom of the sea’.  They ‘turned those guns around’, meaning this time, Bernie’s own guns, Bernie effectively providing the ammunition to successfully sink his own ship.

It will probably take some time before ‘the fog’ clears.  The ‘fog of war’ is an old style battle term, the ‘fog of battle’ is a new, better term.  It represents the time between when a ship is hit and when it goes down, or between when a bomb is dropped, and when it actually detonates or explodes.  Like with the arrow in Africa, the first strike, and it’s generally over; the lion just doesn’t know it quite yet.

The neural net is supposed to be value indifferent.  It is not supposed to matter what Bernie Sanders does next.  The initial ‘force threat’ was neutralized, if it comes back it will come back with a new Bernie Sanders making the compromises necessary to win the hearts and the minds of the right wing, of southern bigots, of a few billionaires here and there, even; maybe even some voters of color.  By the end of it all there will be a new #Bernie lite, lite on the issues and still heavy on the name.  It was like with #Obama; ‘they‘ have been at this a very long time, just not at it so fast, not so much ‘on it’ in ‘real time’.

It is the old ‘make them’ and then ‘break them’ theme and routine.  All it is, is the exercise, the abuse, of power.  One has little or nothing to fear if one was never ‘made’, never really ‘made it’ in this world.  One does not know the names of the generally nameless ‘innocent’ out there – they are just seen as informational ‘nodes’.  It is the names of the dirty, dangerous, disingenuous, demagogues, and detractors that are known, and the figurehead dictators, not the real ones that just plan and dictate ‘mastery of the human domain’.  In time, it is the ‘named names’ whose heads will most probably roll.

The Big Game Trump Hunt

July 30th, 2015

~ Getting out of Africa, or Toto, or maybe it’s just about leaving Africa alone.

A few posts back I wrote a bit about the AU, the African Union; I didn’t know then that ‘they‘ already really had one, an AU, flag and all.

The flag doesn’t have a pyramid yet, nor an elephant on it, nor a lion, lordly or not.  It doesn’t even have a picture of Tarzan, of Livingston (I presume), or of Cecil Rhodes, which really is more than a rightful omission.

Tarzan illustration circa when Donald Trump Jr. was born.  Notice the knife.

It was Tarzan, the books and the movies, that taught the ignorant western world children of what a ‘king of the jungle’ was supposed to look like.  In Tarzan’s world the Serengeti, ‘where the land runs on forever’, just didn’t exist.  Africa was, for Tarzan, in ‘Tarzania’, an endless jungle; and all the animals of Africa lived in the Tarzanian jungle; you know, the elephants, lions, tigers, zebra and the great crocodiles of course.

Original 1912 Tarzan cover.

It was Theodore ‘Teddy’ Roosevelt (of course) that inspired Edgar Rice Burroughs to write, not right, about Tarzan and Africa and the macho white-man in Africa thing.  Foreign, undocumented white men doing their thing in Africa is of course a very old thing: Mayer Rothschild, Kitchener, Napoleon, King Leopold II, were among the first and most famous, infamous actually.  Of Americans, only J.P. Morgan had really left much of a mark, and his mark was in diamonds, not animals, like buffalo.

‘Teddy’ Roosevelt used the front of ‘scientific investigation’ as cause for the slaughter.  The ‘Smithsonian’ (friend of man, not animals) enabled TR Roosevelt and friends to liquidate 11,400 living animals in just 327 days.  An average of 37 animals per day were slaughtered, seven days per week, for almost one solid year.  You can see some of the great animals that were slaughtered in the name of science or sport or national hubris right here, in Washington DC, or there, in New York.

Elephant family murdered, stuffed, and displayed, all for promoting science and sport.

So, based on the history, it becomes perfectly clear that those who see Africa as not to much more than a privatized, continent wide, national game reserve (not preserve), reserved for privatized hunting, can honestly say they are ‘all for’ union and unions.  It is the AU, the African Union organization that makes it all possible; meaning the hunger, the hunting, the macho white-man ruling Africa thing, the King thing.

Donald Trump is, of course, running for President.  He would rather be running for King, but the Constitution does not allow it:

Article I, Section 9, Clause 8:

No title of nobility shall be granted by the United States: and no person holding any office of profit or trust under them, shall, without the consent of the Congress, accept of any present, emolument, office, or title, of any kind whatever, from any king, prince, or foreign state.

Now you know why President Theodore Roosevelt waited until after he left office to do the big game thing off in Africa.  It would have filled the Congressional Record pages for years just listing the largesse, and the Kings, Queens, and potentates that made it all possible.

And before we get to the Trump family, family connection, we must honestly look at why there is hunger and poverty in Africa; the first musical score that was linked at this posts’ first beginning.

The idea has always been to cast Africa as a tribal dominion, peopled by tribes always at each other and ready to slit throats and bury tribal spears in the backs of other tribes hides.  You get the ‘hunted’ and ‘hunters’ ubiquitous meme.  By using the tribal parody ‘they‘ were able to divide and conquer one region at a time until the entire continent was gone, conquered, lost to colonial oblivion and natural resource exploitation – a 125 year history of why never to buy diamonds (just for starters).

So, now, African nations desperate to alleviate (takes more than ‘aleve’) poverty often charter out their national natural resources of animals and rivers and plains to enable cowardly white men, and often their female companions, to play Tarzan at the public and taxpayers expense.  Most of these “Safari” animals are billionaires, almost billionaires, and the also-rans that often run with them.  You see, everyone works as a team to take down each ‘big game’ animal, since it’s all seen as just a big game.

In theory the $50,000 ‘hunting fee’ that these .01% people pay to ‘bag’ an animal goes into the public coffer to help feed people like Minapendawe.   Not so, not really.  The colonial structure is very hard to forget when it was so thoroughly taught, and the AU is composed of those still teaching the same old colonial nonsense, so Minapendawe and so many others continue to starve, and the animals of Africa continue to be slaughtered and die.

Donald Trump Jr. holding a severed elephant tail.  Notice the knife.

Donald Trump Jr. was 34 when the pictures were taken, the pictures of him and his brother with dead animals and dead animal parts.  It’s clearly a Donald Trump legacy, a chilling reminder of how he raised his children and how money is used by billionaires with far too much time, money, and knives on their hands.  You don’t ‘gotta love em’.  You don’t have to support them, their kind, their version of kindness, or their idea of what’s kind.

So while one African animal slaughter story goes viral, the trump Trump story just quietly simmers.  It’s summer I guess.  Some places are hot, some places are not.   But there is too much history here, too much heat not to catch fire.  It’s a smoldering time bomb, this totally not ‘trumped up’ story.  Just wait.  You’ll see the whole Serengeti figuratively burning, and the Trump Brothers will burn with it.

And I also offer THIS.

Bernie and the Jets

July 28th, 2015

~ Getting back-to-basics with Bennie, Bernie, and Brautigan, among others.

Today’s post begins with a comment posted yesterday on a forum that I read that is based in Hawaii, Smoking Mirrors.

“I, being the eternal optimist, do see signs of hope.  Here in America there are signs that the conventional ways of the past are losing favor. The two major attention getters in the prelude to our next election are a blustering narcissist and a self proclaimed socialist.  These two have given the dissatisfied masses a vehicle through which they can convey to the powers that be that the French revolution is closer than they think.  The American people are getting sick of politicians and the politicians and the media that proffer them are at a loss as to what to do.” – Hank

I realized I didn’t really know much about Bernie Sanders, the person.  His persona is so much about politics.  So I started a Bernie Sanders timeline, with the intent to unravel it all, or at least to unravel part of the story.  I have.

Bernie Sanders trying to ‘put out the fire’, two meanings here.

The story really ends near the beginning, not the real ‘beginning, beginning’, not during the days of the life spent with his parents back in Brooklyn, New York.  No, by 1964 Bernie had given up on all that (mostly maybe) and moved on from Chicago, on to Vermont and toward life as a hippie.  Much has been written about his ‘sugar shack‘ days and the Brautigan roots, fairly recently rerooted in Burlington (Vermont), which had other things going on back then, and not a coat factory.

It’s a convoluted story, figuring out where Bernie’s life paralleled mine, and where we parted, or where we differed.

Bernie Sanders is 6 years and 350 days older than me.  That may seem like a lot, to me it seems fairly little.  I had a brother about Bernie’s age, just five months younger than Bernie, Casey’ Ken Clayton.  And like Bernie Sanders my mother died when I was nineteen, Lloydine Clayton.

Bernie’s life and mine were rather different during the summer of ’64, and not so different.  We were both political.  He probably favored LBJ; I preferred Goldwater.  Goldwater (Goldwasser) was Jewish, LBJ wasn’t.  I didn’t know it back then, but Goldwater wasn’t ‘Jewish enough’ to get the support of the community.  Goldwater’s mother wasn’t Jewish, Bernie’s was.

We both probably listened to the same music back then, ‘Peter, Paul & Mary’, ‘Moving’, ‘In the Wind’, earth-changing albums.  Somewhere Sugar Shack entered in, and then, in the fall of 1965, came the Eve of Destruction.

Bernie Sanders probably went to the New York World’s Fair in 1964, after graduating from the University of Chicago.  I was still in High School, I went to the World’s Fair by taking a very long bus ride from Reno (Reno Nevada), riding alone mostly, seeing the south and America, meaning the south of, and middle America.  I went to South America too, that summer.  I flew at night over Cuba.  I toured around Quito.  I climbed around in the Andes and learned a bit about the Peace Corps, a bit like life on a Kibbutz maybe, maybe not.

More has probably been forgotten than remembered about life in America, in the ’60’s.  It was a turning point.  From then on things simply stopped getting better.  Sure, there have been brief flickers of hope, ‘hope springs eternal’ is the exception that proves the rule.  The rule is to rule out hope for the moment, for the time, for the time being; Bernie or not, America is not going to be around as we know it for very much longer.  It’s only a matter of time.  And Bernie Sanders, Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, even Jeb Bush; are all getting very much older.  The past is past.  We need a candidate that is like 35 to start over, to be the wave of the future.

More about Bernie Sanders, and peace, and being a predictable Democratic Party hack, is HERE.

The Presidential Long Form

July 26th, 2015

~ Getting back-to-basics on the basic information of United States Presidential Politics.

This is being written as the United States President, Barack Obama is visiting relatives in Kenya, Africa, and as the leading Republican candidate Donald Trump, a ‘birther’, is campaigning against “undocumented” immigrants.

It has often been said that the American public has a very short memory.  Relying on the truth of that statement is the entire basis of being an American politician.  The political process (anywhere and everywhere) begins first by weeding out all the ‘good guys’, the decent people.  Like with defecant, the survivors ‘float’, making their way to the top.  In no time ‘we the people’ get to pick and chose among that which, by ‘our’ indifference, we are most entitled to – the biggest clump that is still floating.

This leaves the common people of any ‘great’ nation with not a choice between the lesser of two (or more) evils, but with no real choice at all.

‘Natural birth’ certificate for Donald Trump, born in New York City (long form).

After most presidential campaigns, after the vote has been counted, after the electoral vote has come in, it is then that the American people wake up, realize that ‘they’ have a new president, and also realize that they really know nothing about him or her (or bi or neuter).

It’s the old “people or politics” thing.  After months and months of speeches, party platforms, position statements, positioning, pontificating, and other pointless pointing, the typical candidate has said just about everything that can be said on every topic known to woman or man or transgender or whatever, and all that verbiage has come to next to nothing, or naught, in the simple mind and heart of the beholder – the voter.

US Constitution requires natural birth evidence.

It is at this ‘magical moment’ that the voter may, for the very first time, see the president as a person, “like me.”  And, like most people, most people realize that they have an opinion on just about everything, or on just about nothing, and that it is not opinions that count, not politics, but it is personal history and personal stature that count, or counts.  It’s why we expect a president to be human, and not just an AI.  And not only do we expect it, it’s the law:

1.)   Only a “natural born” person may be President of the United States.
2.)  The natural person must have been born in the United States of America.
3.)   The natural person must have been a resident of the United States for at least fourteen (14) years.
4.)   The natural person must be at least thirty-five (35) years of age.

* For an explanation and analysis of these requirements click HERE.

So, that brings us, the United States, the body politic, the good and bad citizens thereof, back to the long form; the long form birth certificate that substitutes for sworn affidavit and personal witness in the realm of evidence of ‘natural birth’ and presents and documents all the specifics and most of the particulars.

Actually it may be more about immigration than the genealogy thing, but then again, maybe not.  The point is, that to document age, a birth, there must be a record of birth.  A baptism certificate (or entry) historically has often been enough.  Such a document does not document a birth day, where one was born, not much of anything.  It’s more of a document regarding the soul, than than the body, the earthly person.

So most states, U.S. territories, U.S. embassies and such,  long ago established rules regarding records regarding live births.  The rules required (require) the filing of a fairly long form that a doctor, an attending physician, a mid-wife actually present, or a family member or friend must actually fill out.  It’s not hearsay per se, but an actual sworn and signed affidavit of sorts, attesting to the simple facts of the matter, as they are, or might be, known (or later, might be discovered).

‘Artificial Intelligence (AI) birth certificate’ (short form).

It is from this (the) ‘long form’ that the ‘short form’ AI birth certificate is derived, produced, and sometimes made available.  The ‘AI birth certificate’ is computer generated by an artificial person (a legal corporation) that is not a natural born person at all, it is just government masquerading as a person, a ‘purported’ (but now very legal) ‘person’.  There’s nothing personal about the AI person’s presidential candidate’s proxy.  And simply put, this proxy (document) does not comport with the requirements of the United States Constitution.

HERE I could go on about the problems of said assumptions and presumptions in regard to public discourse and politics.  Suffice it to say that such presumptions and assumptions are not legally persuasive and that the facts, until proven, should not convince or persuade the public regarding anything.  The facts regarding live birth are basic, therein is the beginning.

It is easy, perhaps, to assume, or argue, that the ‘founding fathers’ did not know what they were doing, were blokes or blockheads, were just racists and capitalists pursuing an agenda.  All of which possibly could be true.  But, be as that may, there may be truth in the Constitution, and more than that, for awhile at least, it is the law of the land.  And the wisdom therein, very probably, should just be simply respected.

So, without further adieu, discourse, or discussion I present the facts regarding the current 2016 Presidential candidates as the evidence exists for their lawful eligibility for office, meaning for high office, meaning for the highest office of the land.

The Democratic Party, the party of Jefferson, declared candidates for Office of President:

A (+) indicates a link to additional information.  Birth Announcement samples are HERE.

Joe Biden – real natural birth name: Joseph Robinette Biden, Jr.
Date of birth: November 20, 1942 / Age as of this date: 73 / Birth location: Scranton, Pennsylvania – Saint Mary’s Hospital
Genealogy: (+) (+) (+) / AI Birth Certificate: None, but improbable: (+) / Natural birth certificate: None. / Birth Announcement: None.    

Lincoln Chafee – real natural birth name: Lincoln Davenport Chafee
Date of birth: March 25, 1953 / Age as of this date: 63 / Birth location: Warwick (+), Rhode Island – Unknown
Genealogy: (+) / AI Birth Certificate: None. / Natural birth certificate: None. / Birth Announcement: None.

Hillary Clinton – real natural birth name: Hillary Diane Rodham
Date of birth: October 26, 1947 / Age as of this date: 67 / Birth location: Chicago, Illinois – Edgewater Hospital (+) (+) (+)
Genealogy: (+) (+) / AI Birth Certificate: None. / Natural birth certificate: None. / Birth Announcement: None.

Martin O’Malley – real natural birth name: Martin Joseph O’Malley
Date of birth: January 18, 1963 / Age as of this date: 52 / Birth location: Washington DC – Unknown
Genealogy: (+) (+) / AI Birth Certificate: None. / Natural birth certificate: None. / Birth Announcement: None.    

Bernie Sanders – real natural birth name: Bernard Sanders
Date of birth: September 8, 1941 / Age as of this date: 74 / Birth location: Brooklyn, New York – Unknown
Genealogy: (+) (+) / AI Birth Certificate: None. / Natural birth certificate: None. / Birth Announcement: None.
Timeline for Bernie Sanders.  

Jim Webb – real natural birth name: James Henry Webb, Jr.
Date of birth: February 9, 1946 / Age as of this date: 69 / Birth location: Saint Joseph, Missouri – Unknown
Genealogy: / AI Birth Certificate: None. / Natural birth certificate: None. / Birth Announcement: None.    

There are also at least 85 others, also running for U.S. President, also “self-declared” to be eligible for the Office of President, so who is not going to believe them?

The Republican Party candidates information may be forthcoming in a subsequent post.   

A Post-war War Post

July 23rd, 2015

~ Thoughts on living, dying, and letting go of a war ravaged world.

I’ve been visiting Greece for awhile.  Not literally, I have not found my place in the sun, nor does there seem to be such a place in Greece right now.  There does seem to be, “two girls for every guy” in Greece now, but that is probably because more ‘guys’ are leaving and Greece seems to be far more popular with young women than it is for any aged men. Moving on.

The word out of Greece has been ‘banks’, not ‘tanks’.  It is a word about war, the new war against Greece and the new world war in the world.  It is ‘economic’ warfare, the carpet bombing, scorched earth reality of the new fiat capitalism, i.e. the old capitalism armed with the nuclear warheads of fiat currency.  It is nuclear war out there.  No nation, no country, no traditional business, no person is to be spared.  It is a war where the only goal is to take prisoners.  It is the prison / bank / product product.  And it’s all made at home, homemade as it were.

Yesterday I wrote a few words about Gandhi, and I watched a few more, meaning I saw the whole movie Nine Hours to Rama free on the web.  It was Gandhi who was doing homespun spinning in the movie.  It was basic, more important than politics.  To Gandhi spinning (literal spinning) was politics.  And so for all of us it really should be.  There is free salt (salary) at the sea side, literally; all one has to do is go there, dry it out, and take it.  That was another Gandhi meme and maxim.  There are so many others.

I think you know where this is heading.  Who doesn’t know where it’s all heading by now, not a question.  The point of this post is that all is fair in love and in war, and that the expression does not mean what you were taught that it means.  A list of 43 ‘post-war’ events was posted yesterday.  Of the 43 events I would argue that not one was good, not one single one.  Not one of the events listed did, or would, Gandhi support.  It’s a fact.  Look it up.

Gandhi died with virtually every single earthly possession he had attached to his body.  In that he was the ultimate ‘prepper’, he was always prepared, meaning prepared to die, that is.  And as he taught, “if you are not prepared to die, one cannot possibly live.”  And he lived very simply.  The only manufactured item he had was his one pair of glasses, like sand, a product of the sea, forged in the crucible, an aid to see.

Gandhi knew that without taxes there could never be war, certainly nothing that approaches modern war, even in an age before drones.  Gandhi was not a materialist, a consumer, he was not into ‘consumer spending’.  Eating in restaurants was not his forte.  Eating animals was always eschewed.  Movies, radios, TV and magazines; his attitude was, “who needs them?”  A ‘modern’ Gandhi would not own a cellphone, not be on Facebook or Twitter.  A ‘new’ Gandhi would be like the ‘old’ Gandhi, one size fits all, basic, and just basics.

It’s a very long trip to Gandhi from here, from where I am, and from where you too probably are.  It’s a journey whose first step most people very well may not be interested to take.  I’ve taken that first step.  I’ve taken a second, a third, probably many others.  I’m on the road now, not too far down the road maybe, but I am happy with the progress.  Each new step gets easier.  It’s all a part of the plan.

I see the plan as post-war rebuilding, reconstruction perhaps.  It is the un-Marshall plan, an emphasis on persons and people and not the economy so much.  On the human and humane possibilities, not the material potential.  A childhood poem comes to mind:

Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my Castle, before the hot day
Brightens the blue from its silvery grey,

“Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!”

Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you’d say;
Many’s the friend there, will listen and pray
“God’s luck to gallants that strike up the lay,

Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads array:
Who laughs, Good fellows ere this, by my fay,

Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, “Nay!
I’ve better counsellors; what counsel they?”

Some people of course, like Browning maybe, are just into leather.  But, ‘it’s like the counsel I got’, and for a post-war solution, to end the war now, to just say, “no war, no more,” just say, “Gandhi.”  It’s the simple solution.

And I believe that what is also so simple to see is that when it comes to consumer affairs, to life in the so-called ‘modern’ society, to the lure and allure of banks and banking, it’s all just about temptation and tempting; nothing less, nothing more.

Like Browning’s horse, and so many others, a horse can be brought to water, but it can not ever be forced to drink.  Materialism is out there, sure.  The media, the schools, often even the home (front) is trying to get you to buy, buy in, to become just a product purchasing products.  How could it be so clear and obvious to Gandhi and not equally obvious to me, or to you?  It’s what is spun on the home front that matters.  Every decision must stop at the door.  No decision can enter the home, the heart, without a willing accomplice.  Every ‘fait accompli’ requires a personal decision, what is ‘out there’ doesn’t ever have to be ‘in here’ too, in the life of a person, a prophet, a saint.

Prophets, saints, just everyday leaders are supposed to lead and show us the way.  Sometimes they stray.  When they do, neither they, nor you, will ever win.  And that leaves it all up to ‘you’, now doesn’t it?  Dare i say it?  Peace now.

Nine Hours to Rama

July 22nd, 2015

~ A random collection and presentation of dates and events in the post World War II landscape.



1945.07.18 / Wednesday


1945.07.28 / Saturday



1945.08.08 / Wednesday



1945.10.24 / Wednesday



1945.11.20 / Tuesday



1945.12.21 / Friday




1946.03.05 / Tuesday


1946.03.31 / Sunday




1946.04.16 / Tuesday

1946.04.29 / Monday



1946.06.25 / Tuesday



1946.07.01 / Monday


1946.07.22 / Monday



1946.07.24 / Wednesday



1946.08.31 / Saturday




1947.02.28 / Friday



1947.04.16 / Wednesday



1947.05.07 / Wednesday



1947.07.08 / Tuesday



1947.08.15 / Friday



1947.09.18 / Thursday



1947.10.22 / Wednesday



1947.11.25 / Tuesday



1947.12.04 / Thursday


1947.12.23 / Tuesday




1948.01.30 / Friday



1948.03.27 / Saturday



1948.04.03 / Saturday


1948.04.14 / Wednesday



1948.04.30 / Friday




1948.05.14 / Friday





1948.11.02 / Tuesday



1948.12.12 / Sunday




1949.04.04 / Monday


1949.04.28 / Thursday



1949.05.23 / Monday



1949.06.08 / Wednesday



1949.08.29 / Monday


1949.10.01 / Saturday


[2] 38:077 – North America – United States of America – District of Columbia –

“And the flag was not there”

July 21st, 2015

~ A few words about the symbolic flag and the world-wide flag war.

Flags are not real of course, they are only symbols.  If flags were real there could never be ‘false-flags’ or false flag events, or worse, the ‘fly the flag’, ‘wrap yourself in a flag’ person or mentality.

Flags are often emotional.  The flag itself, being inanimate, of course has no emotions, but people often get very emotional about flags and what they may perceive that the flags represent.  So it goes, and we shall see.

This brings us to the ‘six flags over Texas’ (soon to be just five), and the ‘two flags over Greece’, where there were maybe once 26, as I have suggested before.  Soon, in Greece it will probaly be only one, and that probably won’t be the Greek one.

There is a great plan for great changes in, and across, the world.  I use the term ‘great’ very advisedly, I believe that there isn’t much that ‘great’ about most of it, but then again maybe I’m wrong.

There is no ‘plan’ when people just see everything that happens out there, as totally, or mostly, just random.  But even the most jaded of people (or persons) often must admit that there is often a pattern in random behavior, and when (by definition) there is a pattern, it is not ‘random’, but planned.  And with any ‘plan’ there is always a local connection, because every event always requires a locale, or ‘locales’ if it is global.

The three pertinent locations right now are located in:  Athens, Greece; Charleston, South Carolina; Albuquerque, New Mexico.  It should be noted that there are numerous other locations, locales, and that the locations, like the times, are constantly changing.

The two competing flags, for the hearts and minds of Greece and the Greek people, are the new flag of the EU and the old flag of Greece. The old flag is supposed to die and go away as the Greeks become just ‘Europeans’.  “Greek,” thought is also slated to ‘go away’.  It is all done under the EU flag of European unity. The Greek flag leaving is just the first step in the domino theory; Greece today, France, Germany, the UK and others tomorrow.  The idea is a regional hegemony, with a new regional loyalty.

The EU flag burning, an apparently unlikely alternate reality.

Ever since the ‘recent unpleasantness’ of the United States Civil War, there have been two flags over America, one south, the other north.  In turn there were three flags flown over America: the US ‘combo-flag’, the stars and stripes peace flag / battle flag; the Confederate battle flag, and the flag of the Confederate government and confederation.

In the Charleston ‘false-flag operation’ the Confederate battle flag became the central issue, the ‘symbol’ for the whole symbolic act.  The loss of black lives was spun to not matter.  What ‘mattered’ was the crushing of history, of ‘rebel’ or rebellious thought, of different or dissident opinion.  It was all very symbolic of course.

The ‘proof of the pudding’ that the battle flag, sometimes used by racists for racist agendas, was not the issue was demonstrated by the event in Albuquerque thing.  You can read about it right HERE, but the paper changed the pictures so it is not perfectly clear.  The flag in question, of controversy, the one that was flying is this one, below, and HERE.  If you clicked “here” you would see that the real flag is almost exactly like the flag of the EU, and was designed by a German.  Are you getting my drift, now?

“Five flags over Albuquerque,” but soon there will only be one, and not this one.

The drift is to the TPP, the Trans Pacific Partnership.  It’s the friendship thing, based on ‘friendlies’ being friendly.  It is the new Pacific basin EU.  It is, and will increasingly become a PU, a Pacific Union, a regional government destined to replace the national governments in the PU union.

If you are ‘forward thinking’ you can easily see the Orwellian aspects, the “three world regional powers” that are always allying, fighting, and re-allying (reallying, reeling) in an endless Brave New World of 1984.  It’s all about perpetual drugs, perpetual war, and the perpetuation of the anti-humanity thing.  But I editorialize.

All of these changes take time.  Very little is done suddenly.  Only “Shock Doctrine” things come suddenly, like the Twin Towers, like the betrayal by Tsipras, like the Church-shooting thing.  There is a predictable pattern, which proves that there is a plan.

I can’t wait to see the ‘proposed’ new flag of the Pacific Union.  No, really.  The design will tell us so much, it will be like an oracle to the future, a new flag to fight and die for, a battle flag and a regional (national) flag all rolled up into one.  It probably will not be a circle.  Only one flag will be a circle (that one is taken, by the EU); that leaves the triangle (a pyramid perhaps), and a square (maybe not unlike the square you have seen).  I’m not talking like most of the ones see HERE, but maybe somewhat like them, it’s ‘Pacific’, the theme.

The Jain “rainbow” flag, a possible model for the future.

It’s the AU (gold), the African Union, that will be the interesting one.  Africa of course gets the triangle, the pyramid symbol; it’s only fair because the pyramid is there.  And because of all the Indians there (from India), the AU probably gets India too.  It’s complicated, this world regional thing, “so much work to do.”  But that too, is part of the plan

The Uncharted Waters

July 18th, 2015

~ It’s a bit about Greece, but it’s more about the Greek-Texan connection.

Greece has been greatly criticized of late for not really knowing how many islands they have, exactly where they are, or even, sometimes, or often, who owns them.  It is sometimes also said that this criticism applies too, to the land, meaning to the land holdings and even the monumental places of Greece, in Greece.  To which I would reply, speaking perhaps from the wisdom of Hypatia, “all is fair in love and war.”

An astrolabe, used in Hypathia’s time, for finding ones way across uncharted waters.  It beats ‘dead-reckoning’ any time.

You see, or perhaps you really don’t, that in times of war all the street signs come down, the road signs are rearranged, often the towns and small cities are renamed.  The idea is to confuse the enemy, the traditional troops on the ground, the outsiders that don’t belong there.  Sure the partisans know, know where everything is, and should be, and could be (all without the signs), but they are, well, partisan, patriates, patriotic; they have a love of country, their country, their land, and will do just about anything to love and protect it.

This all sounds, a bit strangely, like the feelings expressed in the state song, really national anthem, of Texas:.  The original lyrics, and tune, are in the linked link; below I have substituted the obvious changes:

Greece, Our Greece! all hail the mighty State!
Greece, Our Greece! so wonderful so great!
Boldest and grandest, withstanding every test
O Empire wide and glorious, you stand supremely blessed.

Greece, O Greece! your freeborn single star,
Sends out its radiance to nations near and far,
Emblem of Freedom! it set our hearts aglow,
With thoughts of Thermopylae, Aristotle, Plato.

Greece, O Greece! from tyrant grip now free,
Shines forth in splendor, your star of destiny!
Mother of heroes, we come your children true,
Proclaiming our allegiance, our faith, our love for you.

God bless you Greece! And keep you brave and strong,
That you may grow in power and worth, throughout the ages long.

This birthing and borrowing thing goes way back.  It goes back to what might be best described as ’26 Flags over Greece’.  The first foreign flag being that of Persia, the modern nation being Iran.  Anyway the Persians attacked and invaded Greece, took land and cities, burned Athens, like the British burned Washington, and after about a year they were beaten back and the war was over.

Both wars went on for about one year, the one in Greece and the one in America.  Sure, the ‘War of 1812’ is named that, but most of the war in America was fought in 1814; from the burning of Washington to the Battle of New Orleans (January 1815).  It was during this one-year war that America was given ‘The 1814 Overture‘, otherwise known as ‘The Star Spangled Banner‘ national anthem.

In the Battle of Thermopylae (August 480 BC), unlike in the Battle of Baltimore, the invading force won.  That is probably why there are no long-lasting Greek anthems that are associated with it, meaning the battle that is.  What was remembered about the battle was a phrase, a one-liner, a simple dare, like the nautical ‘don’t give up the ship’; Leonidas told Xerxes, “Molon labe,” “come and take them.”  The demand by the Persians was to give up their weapons; when the Spartans refused the Persians simply marched forward and took them.

“Molon labe,” is probably the first of the six lost causes of Texas.  But after the lost Battle of Thermopylae, Texas was not the first new Republic to use it, the expression ‘Molon labe’, that is.  On November 25, 1778, Colonel John McIntosh of the United States Continental Army told the British forces assembled to “come and take it.”  In the case of the American Republic, not like the Texas one, the enemy refused.

However, like Greek myths, Texas has hers too.  The old story is that 140 ‘Texians’ braved down 100 soldiers of the local Mexican militia.  The Texians were in the possession of a small cannon that did not belong to them, and the true owners of the cannon wanted it back.  Sounds a little, or a lot like an IMF loan, in reality the cannon was a Mexican loan.

The Texians went so far as to create a whole new flag about it, the ‘black star flag‘ of Texas.  this flag had a black star boldly depicted above an equally black cannon.  This black star became the ‘lone star’ in time.  The Texas myth is that the Mexican owners backed down and the Texians made off with the bad loan, never to give it back.  And all that may make a very nice story, but it is really not true.

What really happened is that the ‘brave’ Texians kept the unpaid for cannon for a fairly long time, about five months of a ‘free lunch’ actually.  The Texians had taken the unpaid for (now stolen) cannon for use at the Mexican Mission that they also had stolen, called the Alamo.  By March 6 of 1836 the Alamo skirmish was over, The Mexicans had won and the ineffective very boring very small bore cannon was consigned (literally) to the trash heap of history.  But in Texas history it is the basis for a very big myth – “Molon labe,” the Texas-American version.

For the sake of clarity, and all Greek speaking friends, I offer the following detailed information:

Come and take them.”
When Xerxes requested: ‘Deliver up your arms’, King Leonidas’ defiant reply was “Come and take them.” 
It would have been said with the bitter taste of, “If you think you are good enough, come and take them.”  Leonidas’ actual words were ‘Molon labe’ (μολών λαβέ) using Dorian Greek.  “Molon” is a participle that means “after you come” and labe (λαβέ) comes from the verb lambano (λαμβάνω) that is still in use in modern Greek and as imperative (λάβε in modern, λαβέ in ancient) meaning ‘take’. In ancient Greek, with one or two words, you can have a very specific meaning like this.  The exact translation in modern Greek would be ‘αφού έρθεις, να τα πάρεις’ or ‘ερχόμενος λάβε τα’ or not in exact translation ‘έλα να τα πάρεις’.

Hypatia would perceive a lesson in this, not necessarily by simple seeing, but through the eye of the astralabe and that of philosophy.   It’s like seeing the light when one seems to find oneself in the dark, in uncharted waters perhaps, perhaps finding and locating islands, or real monuments upon the dry land.

The parallels are clear.  In Texas they refused to return the cannon, thus making it legally stolen, though then and still now there is no admission of that.  In Greece the claim is that the loans were always illegal, made under duress, rightfully unenforceable.  In Texas the taunt was, “come and take what is lawfully yours.”  In Greece it seems more the polite invite, “If you want it so badly it’s yours.”  The difference is all about the carnage to follow.  In Texas the Mexican side at first wisely walked away, came back another day.  In Greece we have yet to see what will happen, but the Greek Trojan horse has clearly breached the gates.

A modern Hypatia would explain:  “The ‘horse’ led to water may not be able to drink.  It’s the ‘black star’ effect, the ‘tar baby’, like with Brer Rabbit, a Georgia State story, not Texas. Let me enlighten you, if you will only read here:

Retold version courtesy of S.E. Schlosser: 

Well now, that rascal Brer Fox hated Brer Rabbit on account of he was always cutting capers and bossing everyone around. So Brer Fox decided to capture and kill Brer Rabbit if it was the last thing he ever did! He thought and he thought until he came up with a plan. He would make a tar baby! Brer Fox went and got some tar and he mixed it with some turpentine and he sculpted it into the figure of a cute little baby. Then he stuck a hat on the Tar Baby and sat her in the middle of the road.

Brer Fox hid himself in the bushes near the road and he waited and waited for Brer Rabbit to come along. At long last, he heard someone whistling and chuckling to himself, and he knew that Brer Rabbit was coming up over the hill. As he reached the top, Brer Rabbit spotted the cute little Tar Baby. Brer Rabbit was surprised. He stopped and stared at this strange creature. He had never seen anything like it before!

“Good Morning,” said Brer Rabbit, doffing his hat. “Nice weather we’re having.”

The Tar Baby said nothing. Brer Fox laid low and grinned an evil grin.

Brer Rabbit tried again. “And how are you feeling this fine day?”

The Tar Baby, she said nothing. Brer Fox grinned an evil grin and lay low in the bushes.

Brer Rabbit frowned. This strange creature was not very polite. It was beginning to make him mad.

“Ahem!” said Brer Rabbit loudly, wondering if the Tar Baby were deaf. “I said ‘HOW ARE YOU THIS MORNING?”

The Tar Baby said nothing. Brer Fox curled up into a ball to hide his laugher. His plan was working perfectly!

“Are you deaf or just rude?” demanded Brer Rabbit, losing his temper. “I can’t stand folks that are stuck up! You take off that hat and say ‘Howdy-do’ or I’m going to give you such a lickin’!”

The Tar Baby just sat in the middle of the road looking as cute as a button and saying nothing at all. Brer Fox rolled over and over under the bushes, fit to bust because he didn’t dare laugh out loud.

“I’ll learn ya!” Brer Rabbit yelled. He took a swing at the cute little Tar Baby and his paw got stuck in the tar.

“Lemme go or I’ll hit you again,” shouted Brer Rabbit. The Tar Baby, she said nothing.

“Fine! Be that way,” said Brer Rabbit, swinging at the Tar Baby with his free paw. Now both his paws were stuck in the tar, and Brer Fox danced with glee behind the bushes.

“I’m gonna kick the stuffin’ out of you,” Brer Rabbit said and pounced on the Tar Baby with both feet. They sank deep into the Tar Baby. Brer Rabbit was so furious he head-butted the cute little creature until he was completely covered with tar and unable to move.

Brer Fox leapt out of the bushes and strolled over to Brer Rabbit. “Well, well, what have we here?” he asked, grinning an evil grin.

Brer Rabbit gulped. He was stuck fast. He did some fast thinking while Brer Fox rolled about on the road, laughing himself sick over Brer Rabbit’s dilemma.

“I’ve got you this time, Brer Rabbit,” said Brer Fox, jumping up and shaking off the dust. “You’ve sassed me for the very last time. Now I wonder what I should do with you?”

Brer Rabbit’s eyes got very large. “Oh please Brer Fox, whatever you do, please don’t throw me into the briar patch.”

“Maybe I should roast you over a fire and eat you,” mused Brer Fox. “No, that’s too much trouble. Maybe I’ll hang you instead.”

“Roast me! Hang me! Do whatever you please,” said Brer Rabbit. “Only please, Brer Fox, please don’t throw me into the briar patch.”

“If I’m going to hang you, I’ll need some string,” said Brer Fox. “And I don’t have any string handy. But the stream’s not far away, so maybe I’ll drown you instead.”

“Drown me! Roast me! Hang me! Do whatever you please,” said Brer Rabbit. “Only please, Brer Fox, please don’t throw me into the briar patch.”

“The briar patch, eh?” said Brer Fox. “What a wonderful idea! You’ll be torn into little pieces!”

Grabbing up the tar-covered rabbit, Brer Fox swung him around and around and then flung him head over heels into the briar patch. Brer Rabbit let out such a scream as he fell that all of Brer Fox’s fur stood straight up. Brer Rabbit fell into the briar bushes with a crash and a mighty thump. Then there was silence.

Brer Fox cocked one ear toward the briar patch, listening for whimpers of pain. But he heard nothing. Brer Fox cocked the other ear toward the briar patch, listening for Brer Rabbit’s death rattle. He heard nothing.

Then Brer Fox heard someone calling his name. He turned around and looked up the hill. Brer Rabbit was sitting on a log combing the tar out of his fur with a wood chip and looking smug.

“I was bred and born in the briar patch, Brer Fox,” he called. “Born and bred in the briar patch.”

And Brer Rabbit skipped away as merry as a cricket while Brer Fox ground his teeth in rage and went home.

You see, Hypatia would explain, the Greek people really aren’t so afraid of messes.  “They are of the islands, the briar patch perhaps.  We know our territory, the land and the sea, and can and do count and count on the stars all above.  There are foxes out there, but we are eternally the dolphin.”

Hypatia in the morning

July 16th, 2015

~ It’s about Expatriates, Patriates, and Greece in the morning.

I’ve been ‘following’ #Greece a lot lately.  Such a beautiful place, with such a remarkable place in history.  I’ve been ‘followed’ too, by fellow followers of Greece, not to mean the ‘guy thing’ only.

I don’t, didn’t, know a lot about Greece; just that about which my mother had said, my grandmother had said, and more, from the little I read.  But, all the ‘Greek roots’ are such a part of the language; our language and the language of so, so, many others.  It gives the expression, “It’s Greek to me,” an entirely new meaning, an almost universal meaning of sorts.  And that is why I so closely follow.  Listen carefully, the language and lessons are really so simple to follow.

A follower tweeted to me this picture of a pretty Greek patriate, ex-patriate technically.  Actually it is a ‘side-view’ of the person (Hypatia) that I pictured in my last post, sitting above the evening waters, above Alexandria, above the waters of evening, in the evening – not night, facing the light.  The picture is not ‘pretty’, it is beautiful, both pictures are beautiful, of a beautiful women not just outside, but also within.  A Greek exile, not exiled exactly, but removed from ‘her’ land, the native land that was the right of her birth.  It is so compelling, so incredibly sad, Hypathia in the evening, a “Greek tragedy” type end to her life.

But, no.  The story does not end there, nor here.  Another tweeter greeted me this morning with this: “ kalimera or kalispera I suppose it is now!”  And that led to Kalimera, and then to Kalispera.  A simple language lesson about that which I didn’t know, but SO much more, so much further to go.

Hypathia is of course Greece, she IS Hellas, the eternal Greece, that like the house that goes on sale every Wednesday morning, and is off the market by the afternoon.  The House Song:

This house goes on sale every Wednesday morning
And taken off the market in the afternoon
You can buy a piece of it if you want to
It’s been good to me if it’s been good for you

Take the grand look now the fire is burning
Is that your reflection on the wall?
I can show you this room and some others
If you came to see the house at all

Careful up the stairs, a few are missing
I haven’t had the time to make repairs
First step is the hardest one to master
Last one I’m not really sure is there

This room here once had childish laughter
And I come back to hear it now and again
I can’t say that I’m certain what you’re after
But in this room, a part of you will remain

Second floor, the lady sleeps in waiting
Past the lantern, tiptoe in its glance
In the room the soft brown arms of shadow
This room the hardest one to pass

How much will you pay to live in the attic?
The shavings off your mind are the only rent
I left some wood there if you thought you couldn’t
Or if the shouldn’t that you’ve bought has been spent

If Greece today had Hypathia, or a new Hypathia, in her midst the future of Greece would seem so much brighter.  But, “the lady sleeps in waiting,” and it is the hardest room to pass.

Hypathia was a mathematician, astronomer, and philosopher; so typical of all that is Greek, and so much about what Greece so decidedly needs.  Even the stars remind us of this as the planet earth during this crisis finally gets a good hard look at the cold dark underworld of the Greek myth of Pluto.  But, I stretch the philosophical point of things, and THAT is also the point.  It is a point that banks, bankers, German theoreticians, and especially the economists can’t, don’t, or won’t seem to grasp.  Philosophy IS important.  It’s NOT just a material world and we don’t need just material girls, or girls as the material that we are offered to feed on.  Anyone on twitter knows what I mean when it comes to perhaps half of all incoming ‘favorites’ to outgoing tweets.

If Hypathia were here, she could do the math, count up the islands, calculate the rays of the sun and could, probably would, conclude that solar, meaning massive solar collectors, on so many Greek islands is, or would be, the way to go for a nation that really wants, “a place in the sun.”  Simple, but there is more.  The “old mills” on the islands tells us that there must be wind, more than ocean breezes at times, but just ocean breezes are fine and really OK – are you thinking wind turbines yet?  Are you thinking wind turbines NOW?

Hypathia would tell us, or anyone willing to listen, that Greece needs new energy (figuratively and literally) and that the old energy of ‘black gold’ is nothing compared to the ‘yellow gold’ of the sun.  She might go on to explain that there are more untapped resources in the Aegean and Ionian seas than in the entire north sea combined – and if you thing about that, she didn’t get it backwards.

There is a lot more that, with a leader like Hypathia, the Greek people could ‘count on’.  Unlike Helen of Troy, Hypathia was smart and real.  On the issue of beauty they were probably equals, all myths aside.  So, who would you chose, a sexpot beach bunny, or an intelligent, capable person?

As a mathematician and a philosopher Hypathia, or a Hypathia like figure, would know that banks and the banking system just didn’t and doesn’t make any sense.  She would reveal that if most of Europe and America has close to 0% interest rates Greece is getting screwed, put she would state it very politely.  She would propose and implement a CREDIT UNION system instead.  And as a part of the theme she would propose a new Greek Union “GU” as an equal partner perhaps to the older and very tried and tired EU.  But like Helen found out, she would be aware that it really might not work, meaning the ‘partners’ thing.

Given a ‘choice’ she would make clear that the future of the GU was far better than the EU, and philosophically far more sound, as the first was based on the experience of at least 3,000 years and the other not even 3,000 months.

In the coming days you can read more about Hypathia, or the Hypathia possibility here; her philosophy perhaps, probably a lot of specifics.  You see Hypathia yearns to return (to Greece), she can return from the dead, she CAN be remembered.  Like all ex-pats she’s really a patriate at heart, no matter how you might spell it.  If you’re reading this I hope that there is a little Hypathia in you, maybe a lot, it’s not a matter of gender or sex, but in real life she was a very real and capable woman.  And this time around she will not let the ‘high priests’ take her down.


Alexandra Leaving

July 14th, 2015

~ It’s about Alexander, Alexandria, and Alexandra Lost; meaning it’s about #Greece to me.

Alexander generally refers to Greece’s greatest once living hero, Alexander the Great, namesake of Alexandria, Egypt.  Alexandra lost is a reference in the Leonard Cohen poem “Alexandra Leaving,” the performance linked, of which was held in Helsinki, Finland.  Everything ties together in a very predictable #Greek sort of way.  Hashtags are my own, because, “hey,” why not.

I will not waste my time, or yours, trying to recount the Greek events, the Greek drama, that has been unfolding for the last two or three weeks or two or three months.  Maybe it has been two or three years.  Does it matter, probably not.  The whole thing can be summarized briefly: “No means yes,” “yes means maybe,” “Oxi means Oxy,” “mental water-boarding means I like it,” “what is said one day means nothing the next.”

Anyway, I still don’t care for the IMF, for Merkel, certainly not for Schauble.  Germany is certainly behaving like an enemy.  However, Greece is sleeping with the enemy, enjoying every minute of it, with absolutely no regrets, and no remorse.

Lyrics for Sleeping With the Enemy:

Suddenly the night has grown colder
The God of love preparing to depart
Alexandra hoisted on his shoulder
They slip between the sentries of the heart

Upheld by the simplicities of pleasure
They gain the light, they formlessly entwine
And radiant beyond your widest measure
They fall among the voices and the wine

It’s not a trick, your senses, all deceiving
A fitful dream, the morning will exhaust
Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving
Then say goodbye to Alexandra lost

Even though she sleeps upon your satin
Even though she wakes you with a kiss
Do not say the moment was imagined
Do not stoop to strategies like this

As someone long prepared for this to happen
Go firmly to the window, drink it in
Exquisite music, Alexandra laughing
Your first commitments tangible again

And you who had the honor of her evening
And by that honor had your own restored
Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving
Alexandra leaving with her Lord

As someone long prepared for the occasion
In full command of every plan you wrecked
Do not choose a coward’s explanation
That hides behind the cause and the effect

And you who were bewildered by a meaning
Whose code was broken, crucifix uncrossed
Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving
Then say goodbye to Alexandra lost

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