Friday, July 22, 2016


This letter was written to his children last night after watching Trump's acceptance speech by the distinguished New York theatre actor, Laurence Luckinbill. He is a true renaissance man who is an author, a perpetual, deep student of all thought processes, and a brilliant actor who writes and stars in his one-man shows on Teddy Roosevelt, Hemingway, Clarence Darrow and Lyndon Johnson.

Blut Und Boden--Blood and Soil--July 21st, 2016.

I listened to and watched a 21st Century Aryan rally last night.  It was a visit to a frightening place, a place where unreason was celebrated, where lies were celebrated like truth, and where a kind of madness was created deliberately and bathed in by the weirdly costumed all-white participants in a kind of hard-faced, hypnotized, joyless bloodlust.

At the climax of the four day orgy, the crowd was brought to the edge of mob orgasm by the main speaker--a large, dominant Male/Female figure wearing on its head an immobile mane of dyed, piled hair (?) that had been carefully coiffed--or built in a laboratory as a new kind of combat helmet.  I was reminded of a 1950's horror movie called The Thing.  

This final Walpurgisnacht was all oddly fake, like a movie, but oddly real, like genuine horror is--which we have seen everywhere in recent days in larger and larger dimension.  We are learning to fear it--fake or not--as it gains credence and is--so far--left unchallenged by the forces of civilization and reason.  It is, rather, promoted with a kind of lip-licking glee by media figures who seem to want to find out what happens when a monster is fed blood and then released from its cage. 

This strange creature's apotheosis was preceded--over days--by pale, rail-thin blonde Thinglets with empty eyes and somber faces cracked only by false smile-like rictuses--a succession of mesmerized followers at an alien's crowning rite on an alien planet, who were identified as the Male/Female figure's children.  Each intoned the same idea over and over and over and over in long rosary-like prayers--that the creature was all-powerful, infallible, and good, and ought to be followed and obeyed, and if it is, safety will be assured, plenty will flow, there will be no night anymore, no enemy left alive to harm us, and we lucky followers will be allowed to exist, to live in a kind of poison aspic flowing like sap from the pores of the Dominant One, The Thing, which will nourish us, keep us alive if we are content to live without questioning the all powerful rule of The Thing.

In recent days, we have seen what happens when The Thing's power is questioned--our fellows have been "disappeared" from previous rallies, threatened with violence, served with violence--none of which has been treated with seriousness by the still-existing order, which seems to be collaborating in its own demise --feeding--The Thing's rise.

We have seen the Goerings, The Himmlerses and the Goebbelses at this rally as well, the comb-over rats squeaking in the basement, ravenous and raring to fill the streets and alleys aboveground when summoned by The Dominant One.

At this final rally, the enemy was identified again and again and again and again--a female beast, a dragon, a Medusa, a Circe, a Mother-of-Lies, a black hole of a devouring monster which must be destroyed and re-destroyed, and burnt, and jailed, and shot for treason--obliterated, trampled, decomposed, her ashes scattered so thoroughly that not one scintilla can ever contaminate our planet again.

This was the demand of The Thing, and it was received at the rally like a sacrament.  The followers danced with foot-stamping urgency, with a dangerous mob-ism, ready to boil the oil, seize the hot tar buckets, the rails, the feathers, the daggers, the AR15s, the Glocks, the nail scissors, the spatulas, the knitting needles, the teeth, and to rend this female beast with no name to bits--this crowd was pissing and shitting themselves to be released to do harm, to kill the witch, to cleanse themselves in her blood.  

The Thing hammered at their clotted brains, roared in their ears like the sea breaking on rocky cliffs, filled them with bursting hatred, got them ready to do bad, bad things...

I watched and listened, beyond appalled, beyond judgment, beyond fear or reason--with one thought running through my brain over and over:  How Can This Be My Country?  How Can This Be The America That Was Founded On Reason?  On Compromise For The Common Good?  Where Are That America's Defenders Now?

I thought--we had better meet, we few, and make a covenant to resist this Thing, this Dominant One, this Male/Female Creature who seeks to rape our civilization, and which, soon, will have grown so engorged with the stink of its followers' saliva--which will cover it with a slime that is poisonous death to breathe and to touch--that it will be unstoppable.

How--why--are we letting this happen?

Wake up, please, folks!  Revere is a-horse outside the window.  They are coming for us.  "Listen, my children, and you shall hear..."  The mob approacheth..."The center will not hold..."

Hey, we gotta stop Trump...he is REALLY dangerous!



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