11,348. RUDIMENTS, pt. 516

RUDIMENTS, pt. 516

(pagans in the henhouse)

Reading James Joyce's

Ulysses, ( a good enough

'scapement for anyone set to

be with two good eyes), there's

a good one on page 134. It's a

mumbled scene, in a newspaper

office, but all fun. And good!

"Lenahan extended his hands

in protest....'but my riddle, my

riddle...' - (wanting not to be

forgotten, no, nor overlooked).

'What opera is like a railway

line?' Opera? Faces reddened.

Faces wheezed. Opera? Lenahan

announced gladly : 'The Rose

of Castille! See the wheeze?

Rows of cast steel! Gee!'

-

Here's how we create monsters:

By continually seeking perfection.

-

Advertising does that to us for

sure. I can recall walking endless

streets of glory (on my suicide

machine shoes, chrome wheels,

fuel injected, and steppin' out

over the line...). [That's Bruce.

His earlier band was called The

Castiles, so I figured it fit].

Walk a Mile for a Camel. Rather

Fight Than Switch. Don't You

Wish Everybody Did?). 'Peer's

Laundry Soap...So Gentle

Your Skin Will Feel Like

Velvet.' Well, I made that last

one up, but who cares. The

idea is the ideal.

-

I end up getting angry  - 

each time  -  over this 'ideals'

thing. Because people are

so gullible and foolish.

Which is pretty much why

I left the anal-cavern of a

place like Avenel/Woodbridge

to begin with. The 'ideals'

which get put to use here

are fairly piggish. I went

to  NYC, thinking to be

divorcing the better thoughts

of my nature from the crud

that builds vapid underpasses

and twinkie schools, and

what do I get? The Rockefeller

Center Christmas Tree and

six weeks of the most dreadful

and lame touristy crap you

can imagine. A legion of

Avenel types coming to look

at material goods and gawk.

Paganism, yes.

-

Let me ask you here, as I

interject my own vile

comments: What is it you

are after with this? What

stupid 'ideal' are you chasing?

Having a gigantic Christmas

Tree set and running in the

middle of a commercial, vulgar,

and gross location such as

Rockefeller Center  -  home

of media lies, filthy lucre,

crass commerce, lewdness

and the profane  -  that's

one thing. But, in place of

'there,' trying to foist that

same, reckless, set of tonic

and ginger ideals on the

very curb of Route One,

here, at a firehouse no less,

on a beggarmens' corner

where every fifth-hour

some bagful of lame is out

at the light collecting money

for their 'cause' or effect, (ha),

while idealizing some stupid,

bullshit format of small-town

faux etiquette that no longer

exists  -  because the nasty

concelebrants of this pageant

are the very ones destroying

the fabric of the town they're

now wanking over. Someone

really ought to grab them by

the ears and start punching.

Sometimes Satan comes in

the name of the Lord. (And

as Martin Luther put it, back

in 1517, 'Someone's got to

bell the cat!'

-

Here's how we create monsters:

By continuing to worship at

the altar of perfection.

-

Do you know the paganism of

what you are doing? To begin

with, the idealized portrait of 

an older America to which you 

strive to return was a deep and

religious America. The entire

Christmas spectacle, then was

central with the Christ pageant

and the connected representations

and rendering of faith. The other

night their was nothing. In fact,

the 'float' brought in for the

mastering of the ceremonies

was a patriotically, bedecked,

and flag-laden red, white, and 

blue platform. I ask you. Yes,

I do. The menorah, by the 

way, I noticed was sneaked 

out at the very last moment,

the night before. God forbid

lest a real, biblically angry

G-d show up. The bowdlerized

version of whatever this crap

was Avenel tried is multiplied

five hundred times all over 

this ridiculous state. Even the
miserable, meager worship at
Pagan intent (the nature-awareness
(while the same guys kill it all), was
represented by a fake, plastic tree
with oversized highway lights on it.
Nothing real was anywhere. Lights.
Camera. Achtung! They can't 
even do Paganism right! While

we have thieves and criminals

in charge, we also have false

churches doing their own

homage to Satan. Imagine 

that! And then waiting thirty 

days to preach the newly-born 

Christ, and then killing him

off by Spring, and then regaling

once more in his Risen facthood.

While, in the interim, filthy

faslehood, lucre, perversity,

and theft are welcomed and 

praised by all. If this life is

not a parking lot for death, 

I don't know what is.

-

Here's how we create monsters:

By continually seeking perfection.

By calling lies Truth. By worshiping

false idols. By accepting as real

things which simply should not

even be.
-
The idea becomes the ideal?