Showing posts with label bastardy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bastardy. Show all posts

Thursday, 7 September 2017

A Lover's Complaint


A Lover's Complaint

FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded
A plaintful story from a sistering vale,
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,
And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale;
Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale,
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,
Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.
Upon her head a platted hive of straw,
Which fortified her visage from the sun,
Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw
The carcass of beauty spent and done:
Time had not scythed all that youth begun,
Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage,
Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age.
Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne,
Which on it had conceited characters,
Laundering the silken figures in the brine
That season'd woe had pelleted in tears,
And often reading what contents it bears;
As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe,
In clamours of all size, both high and low.
Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage ride,
As they did battery to the spheres intend;
Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied
To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend
Their view right on; anon their gazes lend
To every place at once, and, nowhere fix'd,
The mind and sight distractedly commix'd.
Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat,
Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride
For some, untuck'd, descended her sheaved hat,
Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside;
Some in her threaden fillet still did bide,
And true to bondage would not break from thence,
Though slackly braided in loose negligence.
A thousand favours from a maund she drew
Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet,
Which one by one she in a river threw,
Upon whose weeping margent she was set;
Like usury, applying wet to wet,
Or monarch's hands that let not bounty fall
Where want cries some, but where excess begs all.
Of folded schedules had she many a one,
Which she perused, sigh'd, tore, and gave the flood;
Crack'd many a ring of posied gold and bone
Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud;
Found yet moe letters sadly penn'd in blood,
With sleided silk feat and affectedly
Enswathed, and seal'd to curious secrecy.
These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes,
And often kiss'd, and often 'gan to tear:
Cried 'O false blood, thou register of lies,
What unapproved witness dost thou bear!
Ink would have seem'd more black and damned here!'
This said, in top of rage the lines she rents,
Big discontent so breaking their contents.
A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh--
Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew
Of court, of city, and had let go by
The swiftest hours, observed as they flew--
Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew,
And, privileged by age, desires to know
In brief the grounds and motives of her woe.
So slides he down upon his grained bat,
And comely-distant sits he by her side;
When he again desires her, being sat,
Her grievance with his hearing to divide:
If that from him there may be aught applied
Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage,
'Tis promised in the charity of age.
'Father,' she says, 'though in me you behold
The injury of many a blasting hour,
Let it not tell your judgment I am old;
Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power:
I might as yet have been a spreading flower,
Fresh to myself, If I had self-applied
Love to myself and to no love beside.
'But, woe is me! too early I attended
A youthful suit--it was to gain my grace--
Of one by nature's outwards so commended,
That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face:
Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place;
And when in his fair parts she did abide,
She was new lodged and newly deified.
'His browny locks did hang in crooked curls;
And every light occasion of the wind
Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls.
What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find:
Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind,
For on his visage was in little drawn
What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn.
'Small show of man was yet upon his chin;
His phoenix down began but to appear
Like unshorn velvet on that termless skin
Whose bare out-bragg'd the web it seem'd to wear:
Yet show'd his visage by that cost more dear;
And nice affections wavering stood in doubt
If best were as it was, or best without.
'His qualities were beauteous as his form,
For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free;
Yet, if men moved him, was he such a storm
As oft 'twixt May and April is to see,
When winds breathe sweet, untidy though they be.
His rudeness so with his authorized youth
Did livery falseness in a pride of truth.
'Well could he ride, and often men would say
'That horse his mettle from his rider takes:
Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,
What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop
he makes!'
And controversy hence a question takes,
Whether the horse by him became his deed,
Or he his manage by the well-doing steed.
'But quickly on this side the verdict went:
His real habitude gave life and grace
To appertainings and to ornament,
Accomplish'd in himself, not in his case:
All aids, themselves made fairer by their place,
Came for additions; yet their purposed trim
Pieced not his grace, but were all graced by him.
'So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kinds of arguments and question deep,
All replication prompt, and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and sleep:
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,
He had the dialect and different skill,
Catching all passions in his craft of will:
'That he did in the general bosom reign
Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanted,
To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain
In personal duty, following where he haunted:
Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted;
And dialogued for him what he would say,
Ask'd their own wills, and made their wills obey.
'Many there were that did his picture get,
To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind;
Like fools that in th' imagination set
The goodly objects which abroad they find
Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assign'd;
And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them
Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them:
'So many have, that never touch'd his hand,
Sweetly supposed them mistress of his heart.
My woeful self, that did in freedom stand,
And was my own fee-simple, not in part,
What with his art in youth, and youth in art,
Threw my affections in his charmed power,
Reserved the stalk and gave him all my flower.
'Yet did I not, as some my equals did,
Demand of him, nor being desired yielded;
Finding myself in honour so forbid,
With safest distance I mine honour shielded:
Experience for me many bulwarks builded
Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil
Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.
'But, ah, who ever shunn'd by precedent
The destined ill she must herself assay?
Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content,
To put the by-past perils in her way?
Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay;
For when we rage, advice is often seen
By blunting us to make our wits more keen.
'Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,
That we must curb it upon others' proof;
To be forbod the sweets that seem so good,
For fear of harms that preach in our behoof.
O appetite, from judgment stand aloof!
The one a palate hath that needs will taste,
Though Reason weep, and cry, 'It is thy last.'
'For further I could say 'This man's untrue,'
And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling;
Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew,
Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling;
Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling;
Thought characters and words merely but art,
And bastards of his foul adulterate heart.
'And long upon these terms I held my city,
Till thus he gan besiege me: 'Gentle maid,
Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,
And be not of my holy vows afraid:
That's to ye sworn to none was ever said;
For feasts of love I have been call'd unto,
Till now did ne'er invite, nor never woo.
''All my offences that abroad you see
Are errors of the blood, none of the mind;
Love made them not: with acture they may be,
Where neither party is nor true nor kind:
They sought their shame that so their shame did find;
And so much less of shame in me remains,
By how much of me their reproach contains.
''Among the many that mine eyes have seen,
Not one whose flame my heart so much as warm'd,
Or my affection put to the smallest teen,
Or any of my leisures ever charm'd:
Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harm'd;
Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free,
And reign'd, commanding in his monarchy.
''Look here, what tributes wounded fancies sent me,
Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood;
Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me
Of grief and blushes, aptly understood
In bloodless white and the encrimson'd mood;
Effects of terror and dear modesty,
Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly.
''And, lo, behold these talents of their hair,
With twisted metal amorously impleach'd,
I have received from many a several fair,
Their kind acceptance weepingly beseech'd,
With the annexions of fair gems enrich'd,
And deep-brain'd sonnets that did amplify
Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality.
''The diamond,--why, 'twas beautiful and hard,
Whereto his invised properties did tend;
The deep-green emerald, in whose fresh regard
Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend;
The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend
With objects manifold: each several stone,
With wit well blazon'd, smiled or made some moan.
''Lo, all these trophies of affections hot,
Of pensived and subdued desires the tender,
Nature hath charged me that I hoard them not,
But yield them up where I myself must render,
That is, to you, my origin and ender;
For these, of force, must your oblations be,
Since I their altar, you enpatron me.
''O, then, advance of yours that phraseless hand,
Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise;
Take all these similes to your own command,
Hallow'd with sighs that burning lungs did raise;
What me your minister, for you obeys,
Works under you; and to your audit comes
Their distract parcels in combined sums.
''Lo, this device was sent me from a nun,
Or sister sanctified, of holiest note;
Which late her noble suit in court did shun,
Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote;
For she was sought by spirits of richest coat,
But kept cold distance, and did thence remove,
To spend her living in eternal love.
''But, O my sweet, what labour is't to leave
The thing we have not, mastering what not strives,
Playing the place which did no form receive,
Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves?
She that her fame so to herself contrives,
The scars of battle 'scapeth by the flight,
And makes her absence valiant, not her might.
''O, pardon me, in that my boast is true:
The accident which brought me to her eye
Upon the moment did her force subdue,
And now she would the caged cloister fly:
Religious love put out Religion's eye:
Not to be tempted, would she be immured,
And now, to tempt, all liberty procured.
''How mighty then you are, O, hear me tell!
The broken bosoms that to me belong
Have emptied all their fountains in my well,
And mine I pour your ocean all among:
I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong,
Must for your victory us all congest,
As compound love to physic your cold breast.
''My parts had power to charm a sacred nun,
Who, disciplined, ay, dieted in grace,
Believed her eyes when they to assail begun,
All vows and consecrations giving place:
O most potential love! vow, bond, nor space,
In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine,
For thou art all, and all things else are thine.
''When thou impressest, what are precepts worth
Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame,
How coldly those impediments stand forth
Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame!
Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense,
'gainst shame,
And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears,
The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears.
''Now all these hearts that do on mine depend,
Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine;
And supplicant their sighs to you extend,
To leave the battery that you make 'gainst mine,
Lending soft audience to my sweet design,
And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath
That shall prefer and undertake my troth.'
'This said, his watery eyes he did dismount,
Whose sights till then were levell'd on my face;
Each cheek a river running from a fount
With brinish current downward flow'd apace:
O, how the channel to the stream gave grace!
Who glazed with crystal gate the glowing roses
That flame through water which their hue encloses.
'O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies
In the small orb of one particular tear!
But with the inundation of the eyes
What rocky heart to water will not wear?
What breast so cold that is not warmed here?
O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath,
Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath.
'For, lo, his passion, but an art of craft,
Even there resolved my reason into tears;
There my white stole of chastity I daff'd,
Shook off my sober guards and civil fears;
Appear to him, as he to me appears,
All melting; though our drops this difference bore,
His poison'd me, and mine did him restore.
'In him a plenitude of subtle matter,
Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives,
Of burning blushes, or of weeping water,
Or swooning paleness; and he takes and leaves,
In either's aptness, as it best deceives,
To blush at speeches rank to weep at woes,
Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows.
'That not a heart which in his level came
Could 'scape the hail of his all-hurting aim,
Showing fair nature is both kind and tame;
And, veil'd in them, did win whom he would maim:
Against the thing he sought he would exclaim;
When he most burn'd in heart-wish'd luxury,
He preach'd pure maid, and praised cold chastity.
'Thus merely with the garment of a Grace
The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd;
That th' unexperient gave the tempter place,
Which like a cherubin above them hover'd.
Who, young and simple, would not be so lover'd?
Ay me! I fell; and yet do question make
What I should do again for such a sake.
'O, that infected moisture of his eye,
O, that false fire which in his cheek so glow'd,
O, that forced thunder from his heart did fly,
O, that sad breath his spongy lungs bestow'd,
O, all that borrow'd motion seeming owed,
Would yet again betray the fore-betray'd,
And new pervert a reconciled maid!'

Saturday, 17 June 2017

Best Enemies




"In addition, as he's going to be teaching politics, I've told him he's welcome to teach any of the great socialist thinkers, provided he makes it clear that they were wrong." 

They all stand up. 

Australia, Australia, Australia, Australia, we love you. Amen! 

     Pull back to reveal the knee belongs to First Bruce, an Australian in full Australian outback gear. We briefly hear a record of 'Waltzing Mathilda'. He is sitting in a very hot, slightly dusty room with low wicker chairs, a table in the middle, big centre fan, and old fridge.

Second Bruce     Goodday, Bruce!


First Bruce     Oh, Hello Bruce!


Third Bruce     How are yer Bruce?
 

First Bruce     Bit crook, Bruce.

Second Bruce     Where's Bruce?
 

First Bruce     He's not here, Bruce.
 

Third Bruce     Blimey, s'hot in here, Bruce.
 

First Bruce     S'hot enough to boil a monkey's bum!
 

Second Bruce     That's a strange expression, Bruce.
 

First Bruce     Well Bruce, I heard the Prime Minister use it. S'hot enough to boil a monkey's bum in 'ere, your Majesty,' he said and she smiled quietly to herself.
 

Third Bruce     She's a good Sheila, Bruce and not at all stuck up.

Second Bruce     Ah, here comes the Bossfella now! - how are you, Bruce?
 

    Enter fourth Bruce with English person, Michael
 

Fourth Bruce     G'day, Bruce, Hello Bruce, how are you, Bruce? Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce a chap from pommie land... who'll be joining us this year here in the Philosophy Department of the University of Woolamaloo.
 

All     G'day.

Fourth Bruce     Michael Baldwin - this is Bruce. Michael Baldwin - this is Bruce. Michael Baldwin - this is Bruce.
 

First Bruce     Is your name not Bruce, then?

Michael     No, it's Michael.
 

Second Bruce     That's going to cause a little confusion.
 

Third Bruce     Mind if we call you 'Bruce' to keep it clear?

Fourth Bruce     Well, Gentlemen, I think we'd better start the meeting. Before we start, though, I'll ask the padre for a prayer.

    First Bruce snaps a plastic dog-collar round his neck. They all lower their heads.

First Bruce     Oh Lord, we beseech thee, have mercy on our faculty, Amen!!

All     Amen!

Fourth Bruce     Crack the tubes, right! (Third Bruce starts opening beer cans) Er, Bruce, I now call upon you to welcome Mr. Baldwin to the Philosophy Department.

Second Bruce     I'd like to welcome the pommy bastard to God's own earth, and I'd like to remind him that we don't like stuck-up sticky-beaks here.

All     Hear, hear! Well spoken, Bruce!

Fourth Bruce     Now, Bruce teaches classical philosophy, Bruce teaches Haegelian philosophy, and Bruce here teaches logical positivism, and is also in charge of the sheepdip.

Third Bruce     What's does new Bruce teach?

Fourth Bruce     New Bruce will be teaching political science - Machiavelli, Bentham, Locke, Hobbes, Sutcliffe, Bradman, Lindwall, Miller, Hassett, and Benet.

Second Bruce     Those are cricketers, Bruce!

Fourth Bruce     Oh, spit!

Third Bruce     Howls of derisive laughter, Bruce!

Fourth Bruce     In addition, as he's going to be teaching politics, I've told him he's welcome to teach any of the great socialist thinkers, provided he makes it clear that they were wrong.

    They all stand up.

All     Australia, Australia, Australia, Australia, we love you. Amen!

    They sit down.

Fourth Bruce     Any questions?

Second Bruce     New Bruce - are you a pooftah?

Fourth Bruce     Are you a pooftah?

Michael     No!

Fourth Bruce     No right, well gentlemen, I'll just remind you of the faculty rules: 

Rule one - no pooftahs. 

Rule two, no member of the faculty is to maltreat the Abbos in any way whatsoever - if there's anybody watching. 

Rule three - no pooftahs. 

Rule four - I don't want to catch anyone not drinking in their room after lights out. 

Rule five - no pooftahs. 

Rule six - there is no rule six! 

Rule seven - no pooftahs. That concludes the reading of the rules, Bruce.

First Bruce     This here's the wattle - the emblem of our land. You can stick it in a bottle or you can hold it in your hand.

All     Amen!

Fourth Bruce     Gentlemen, at six o'clock I want every man-Bruce of you in the Sydney Harbour Bridge room to take a glass of sherry with the flying philosopher, Bruce, and I call upon you, padre, to close the meeting with a prayer.

First Bruce     Oh Lord, we beseech thee etc. etc. etc., Amen.

All     Amen!

First Bruce     Right, let's get some Sheilas.

    An Aborigine servant bursts in with an enormous tray full of enormous steaks.

Fourth Bruce     OK.

Second Bruce     Ah, elevenses.

Third Bruce     This should tide us over 'til lunchtime.






The 10 most appalling statements by Western leaders praising Fidel Castro

FILE -- Fidel Castro meets with intellectuals and writers at the International Book Fair in Havana, Cuba, on Feb. 10, 2012.
FILE -- Fidel Castro meets with intellectuals and writers at the International Book Fair in Havana, Cuba, on Feb. 10, 2012.  (AP)

Editor's note: The following column originally appeared on AEIdeas.org, the blog of the teAmerican Enterprise Institute. 
ADVERTISEMENT

Fidel Castro was a murderous tyrant who summarily executed dissidents and turned the entire island of Cuba into a tropical gulag. According to the Black Book of Communism – a groundbreaking effort by a group of French scholars to document the human toll of Communism in the 20th century — “From 1959 through the late 1990s more than 100,000 Cubans experienced life in one of [Castro’s] camps, prisons, or open-regime sites. Between 15,000 and 17,000 people were shot.”
But no matter such minor details of history. A panoply of Western leaders who ought to know better have been heaping praise on the dead dictator since his passing this weekend.
Here are the 10 most appalling examples:
It is with deep sorrow that I learned today of the death of Cuba’s longest serving President.
Fidel Castro was a larger than life leader who served his people for almost half a century. A legendary revolutionary and orator, Mr. Castro made significant improvements to the education and healthcare of his island nation.
While a controversial figure, both Mr. Castro’s supporters and detractors recognized his tremendous dedication and love for the Cuban people who had a deep and lasting affection for “el Comandante”.
I know my father was very proud to call him a friend and I had the opportunity to meet Fidel when my father passed away. It was also a real honour to meet his three sons and his brother President Raúl Castro during my recent visit to Cuba.

On behalf of all Canadians, Sophie and I offer our deepest condolences to the family, friends and many, many supporters of Mr. Castro. We join the people of Cuba today in mourning the loss of this remarkable leader.

The Secretary-General was saddened to learn of the death of Fidel Castro Ruz, former President of Cuba. An emblematic figure of the Cuban revolution, Fidel Castro was prominent in Latin America and influential in world affairs. As Prime Minister, President, Commander of the Cuban Armed Forces and First Secretary of the Cuban Communist Party, his role at the helm of Cuba spanned nearly 50 years, during which he left a major imprint on his country and on global politics.

President Fidel Castro will be remembered for his leadership of the Cuban revolution and for advances in Cuba in the fields of education, literacy and health. His revolutionary ideals left few indifferent. He was a strong voice for social justice in global discussions at the UN General Assembly and international and regional forums. The Secretary-General vividly recalls meeting him during a visit to Cuba in January 2014, and was impressed by the former President’s passion and lively engagement on a wide range of issues.
The Secretary-General extends his condolences to the Cuban people and to the family of the former President, particularly to President Raul Castro.

The Secretary-General hopes Cuba will continue to advance on a path of reform, greater prosperity and human rights. At this time of national mourning, he offers the support of the United Nations to work alongside the Cuban people.

At this time of Fidel Castro’s passing, we extend a hand of friendship to the Cuban people. We know that this moment fills Cubans – in Cuba and in the United States – with powerful emotions, recalling the countless ways in which Fidel Castro altered the course of individual lives, families, and of the Cuban nation. History will record and judge the enormous impact of this singular figure on the people and world around him. … Today, we offer condolences to Fidel Castro’s family, and our thoughts and prayers are with the Cuban people. In the days ahead, they will recall the past and also look to the future. As they do, the Cuban people must know that they have a friend and partner in the United States of America.
We extend our condolences to the Cuban people today as they mourn the passing of Fidel Castro. Over more than half a century, he played an outsized role in their lives, and he influenced the direction of regional, even global affairs. As our two countries continue to move forward on the process of normalization — restoring the economic, diplomatic and cultural ties severed by a troubled past — we do so in a spirit of friendship and with an earnest desire not to ignore history but to write a new and better future for our two peoples. The United States reaffirms its support for deepening our engagement with the Cuban people now and in coming years.
“I regret the death of Fidel Castro Ruz, leader of the Cuban revolution and emblematic symbol of the 20th century.”
We remember fondly our visits with [Castro] in Cuba and his love of his country.

Pope Francis sent a telegram to Raúl Castro, writing, “Upon receiving the sad news of the passing of your beloved brother, the honorable Fidel Castro Ruz, former president of the state council and the government of the Republic of Cuba, I express my sadness to your excellency and all family members of the deceased dignitary, as well as the government and the people in that beloved nation.”
“At the same time,” the pope’s telegram continued, “I offer my prayers for his eternal rest, and I entrust the Cuban people to the maternal intercession of Our Lady of La Caridad del Cobre, patroness of that country.”

“We need to stop and pause and mourn his loss,” Rep. Barbara Lee, D-Oakland, said in a phone interview. When she learned the news, Lee said, “I was very sad for the Cuban people. “He led a revolution in Cuba that led social improvements for his people.” In her eight meetings with Castro over the years, Lee said, she found him to be “a smart man. A historian. He wanted normal relations with the United States but not at the expense of the accomplishments of the revolution.”

Fidel Castro’s death marks the passing of a huge figure of modern history, national independence and 20th century socialism. From building a world class health and education system, to Cuba’s record of international solidarity abroad, Castro’s achievements were many. For all his flaws, Castro’s support for Angola played a crucial role in bringing an end to Apartheid in South Africa, and he will be remembered both as an internationalist and a champion of social justice.


These democratic leaders should be particularly ashamed to find themselves echoing the praise some of the world’s most brutal despots and mass murderers have heaped on Castro. Consider the company they are keeping:

Chinese President Xi Jinping also sent a telegram to Cuba on Saturday, mourning the loss of a “dear comrade and true friend” of the Chinese people who made “immortal contributions to the development of socialism around the world.” China’s official Xinhua News Agency eulogized a man who “resisted the American superpower for half a century” with the headline: “Old Soldiers Never Die.”

President al-Assad said that the “great” leader Fidel Castro efficiently led the struggle of his country and people against imperialism and hegemony for decades, and that his steadfastness has become an example and an inspiration for leaders and peoples everywhere in the world. “Our friend Cuba was able under his leadership to stand its ground in the face of the most ferocious of sanctions and unfair campaigns witnessed in our modern history,” said the President, adding that Cuba has thus become a beacon for the liberation of the peoples of the South American countries and others around the world. “The name Fidel Castro will live forever in the minds of generations and remain an inspiration for all the peoples who aspire to achieve real independence and liberation from the yoke of colonialism and hegemony,” the President said.

Though he passed away, the precious feats he performed will remain forever in the hearts of the peoples of our two countries and the hearts of progressive mankind.”
I express conviction that the revolutionary Cuban people would overcome the pain they suffer from the loss of their distinguished leader and certainly build the prospering ideal society of the people and achieve the victory of the socialist cause under the wise leadership of you, Comrade Raul Castro Ruz, true to the lifetime intention of Comrade Fidel Castro Ruz.”

Vladimir Putin:
I offer my deepest condolences to you and the entire Cuban nation over the death of your brother, the leader of the Cuban revolution Fidel Castro. The name of this remarkable statesman is rightfully viewed as a symbol of a whole era in modern history. Free and independent Cuba built by him and his fellow revolutionaries has become an influential member of the international community and serves as an inspiring example for many countries and peoples. Fidel Castro was a sincere and reliable friend of Russia. He made a tremendous personal contribution to the establishment and progress of Russian-Cuban relations, close strategic partnership in all areas. This strong and wise man always looked into the future with confidence. He embodied the high ideals of a politician, citizen and patriot who wholeheartedly believed in the cause, to which he devoted his life. Russians will always cherish his memory in their hearts. In this mournful hour, I ask you to pass on my words of sympathy and support to all members of your family. I wish you courage and tenacity as you face this irreparable loss.
Here’s some advice for Trudeau and company – when your statements are indistinguishable from those of Bashar al-Assad and Kim Jong Un, maybe it’s time for a little introspection.

Marc Thiessen is a resident fellow at the American Enterprise Institute (AEI) where he studies and writes about American presidential leadership and counterterrorism. He also writes about general US foreign and defense policy issues and contributes to the AEIdeas blog. A member of the White House senior staff under President George W. Bush, Thiessen served as chief speechwriter to the president and to Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld. Before joining the Bush administration, Thiessen spent more than six years as spokesman and senior policy adviser to Senate Foreign Relations Committee Chairman Jesse Helms (R-NC). A weekly columnist for The Washington Post, Thiessen is also a contributor to Fox News, appearing several nights a week on “The Kelly File.” His book on the Central Intelligence Agency’s interrogation program, “Courting Disaster” (Regnery Press, 2010), is a New York Times bestseller. Thiessen is also the coauthor, with Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker, of “Unintimidated” (Sentinel, 2013). Thiessen has done postgraduate studies at the Naval War College and has a B.A. from Vassar College

Wednesday, 14 June 2017

In Praise of John Major : The Tory Thëoden-King

"Remember that awfully nice man who talked about 'The Classless Society'...? 
He had to go, of course. 

Everything Changes.

 "What I don't understand, Michael, is why such a complete wimp like me keeps winning everything."


Great Men are forged in Fire. 
It is the privilege of Lesser men to light the Flame. 
Whatever the cost.


No One cares about The Man in The Box, The Man Who Disappears.

LOYALTY vs. LOYALISM :
When Sir John Major retired to the backbenches and eventually stood-down as an MP, The Pretender Elizabeth Windsor did not make him an Earl - Even though, but for his inelligability to hold the title due to his status in the Commons as an elected Member of the Parliament, The First Lord of the Treasure (aka "The Prime Minister) is automatically, by definition, an EARL.

LABOUR PRIME MINISTER CLEMENT ATTLEE, 
(Clement Richard Attlee, 1st Earl Attlee, KG, OM, CH, PC, FRS) 
UPON RETIREMENT, WAS OFFERED A CHOICE - A Knighthood or an Earldom.

He took, was offered, and accepted BOTH.

WHY WAS JOHN MAJOR 
(Sir John Major, KG, CH, PC )
NOT OFFERED AN EARLDOM BY THE PRETENDER ELIZABETH WINDSOR..?

"Oh, I can bring in other people into the Cabinet, that is right, but where do you think most of this poison has come from? It is coming from the dispossessed and the never-possessed. You and I can both think of ex-ministers who are going around causing all sorts of trouble. Would you like three more of the bastards out there? What's the Lyndon Johnson, er, maxim?

Brunson: If you've got them by the balls their hearts and minds will follow.

Major: No, that's not what I had in mind, though it's pretty good.




John Major: What I don't understand, Michael, is why such a complete wimp like me keeps winning everything.


Michael Brunson: You've said it, you said precisely that.

Major: I suppose Gus will tell me off for saying that, won't you Gus?
Brunson: No, no, no … it's a fair point. The trouble is that people are not perceiving you as winning.
Major: Oh, I know … why not? Because ...
Brunson: Because rotten sods like me, I suppose, don't get the message clear [laughs].
Major: No, no, no. I wasn't going to say that - well partly that, yes, partly because of S-H-one-Ts like you, yes, that's perfectly right. But also because those people who are opposing our European policy have said the way to oppose the Government on the European policy is to attack me personally. The Labour Party started before the last election. It has been picked up and it is just one of these fashionable things that slips into the Parliamentary system and it is an easy way to proceed.
Brunson: But I mean you … has been overshadowed … my point is there, not just the fact that you have been overshadowed by Maastricht and people don't ...
Major: The real problem is this ...
Brunson: But you've also had all the other problems on top - the Mellors, the Mates … and it's like a blanket - you use the phrase 'masking tape' but I mean that's it, isn't it?
Major: Even, even, even, as an ex-whip I can't stop people sleeping with other people if they ought not, and various things like that. But the real problem is ...
Brunson: I've heard other people in the Cabinet say 'Why the hell didn't he get rid of Mates on Day One?' Mates was a fly, you could have swatted him away.
Major: Yeah, well, they did not say that at the time, I have to tell you. And I can tell you what they would have said if I had. They'd have said 'This man was being set up. He was trying to do his job for his constituent. He had done nothing improper, as the Cabinet Secretary told me. It was an act of gross injustice to have got rid of him'. Nobody knew what I knew at the time. But the real problem is that one has a tiny majority. Don't overlook that. I could have all these clever and decisive things that people wanted me to do and I would have split the Conservative Party into smithereens. And you would have said, Aren't you a ham-fisted leader? You've broken up the Conservative Party.
Brunson: No, well would you? If people come along and ...
Major: Most people in the Cabinet, if you ask them sensibly, would tell you that, yes. Don't underestimate the bitterness of European policy until it is settled - It is settled now.
Brunson: Three of them - perhaps we had better not mention open names in this room - perhaps the three of them would have - if you'd done certain things, they would have come along and said, 'Prime Minister, we resign'. So you say 'Fine, you resign'.
Major: We all know which three that is. Now think that through. Think it through from my perspective. You are Prime Minister. You have got a majority of 18. You have got a party still harking back to a golden age that never was but is now invented. And you have three rightwing members of the Cabinet actually resigned. What happens in the parliamentary party?

Brunson: They create a lot of fuss but you have probably got three damn good ministers in the Cabinet to replace them.

Major: Oh, I can bring in other people into the Cabinet, that is right, but where do you think most of this poison has come from? It is coming from the dispossessed and the never-possessed. You and I can both think of ex-ministers who are going around causing all sorts of trouble. Would you like three more of the bastards out there? What's the Lyndon Johnson, er, maxim?

Brunson: If you've got them by the balls their hearts and minds will follow.

Major: No, that's not what I had in mind, though it's pretty good.

Andrew Culf, "What the `wimp' really said to the S-H-one-T", The Guardian, 26 July 1993.

'Off-the-record' exchange with ITN reporter Michael Brunson following videotaped interview, 23 July 1993. Neither Major nor Brunson realised their microphones were still live and being recorded by BBC staff preparing for a subsequent interview; the tape was swiftly leaked to the Daily Mirror.



Now you're looking for The Secret.
But you won't find it because of course, you're not really looking. 

You don't really want to work it out. 

You want to be fooled.

Monday, 12 June 2017

The Provisional Government is Hereby Served with Notice

Conservatives of Middle England, Unionists of Ulster, We serve notice on you all. 

Too long We have stayed Our hand. No More. 

Today you leave Us no choice. 

Today, We Work to End You. No More. No More. 

  • The Provisional Government Will Fall,
  • Elizabeth Windsor and The Ruling House of Hanover Will Be Overthrown,

and 
  • Carthage Must Be Destroyed.


  • In the Name of The Free Peoples of Prydain,

and 
  • Natural Justice, for the Common Good and to the General Welfare,

and 
  • In the Name of the One True King.


GOD WILLING.


One Man
One Goal,
One Mission.

One Heart 
One Soul
Just One Solution

One Flash of Light
One God
One Vision

One Flesh 
One Bone
One True Religion

One Voice
One Hope
One Real Decision.


No Wrong, No Right.
I'm gonna tell you there's 
No Black and No White.
No Blood.
No Stain.


One Dream
One Soul 
One Prize
One Goal 
One Golden Glance of What Should Be

One Shaft of Light That Shows The Way
No Mortal Man Can Win This Day

IT'S A KIND OF MAGICK

I Claim The Prize.

THIS IS A KIND OF MAGICK

Just Gimme The Prize.

This rage that lasts a thousand years
Will soon be, will soon be,
Will soon be done.....

I CLAIM THE PRIZE.



"I am a bastard too; I love bastards: I am a bastard
begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard
in valour, in every thing illegitimate. One bear will
not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard?
Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the
son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment:
farewell, bastard."

Edward De Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford,
"Shake-Spear"
Lover and BabyFather to Queen Elizabeth I
Troilus and Cressida 

THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE

Thursday, 8 June 2017

Paddy the Bastard




I was their #1 son - and they treated me like Number 2.

- Oswald Cobblepot
Candidate for Mayor of Gotham City


Troyer: 
How many scripts did you write? Your name was on 2.

McGoohan: 
Well, my name was on and then I wrote under a couple of other names: 

Archibald Schwartz 

[ Genuine/Precious, Bold Black or Dark-Complected Person (Black Irish?) ] 

was one and 

Paddy Fitz 

[ Paddy the Bastard ] 

was another.

Troyer: 
So how many all together?

McGoohan: 
I t'ink 5.

Troyer: 
Which ones? The last one...

McGoohan
The first one I re-wrote. It came out...not the way I wanted, and then the last one, I wrote. 

The penultimate one, I wrote. 

Free For All - another one, and then there was another one, I can't remember the name of it offhand. 

It's a long time ago.






6:
 There are those who come here and deny that we can supply every conceivable civilized amenity within our boundaries. You can enjoy yourselves... and you will. You can partake of the most hazardous sports and you will. The price is cheap. All you have to do in exchange is give us... information. 

You are then eligible for promotion to other and perhaps more attractive spheres. 
Where do you desire to go? 
What has been your dream? I can supply it. 

Winter, spring, summer or fall, they can all be yours at any time. 
Apply to me, and it will be easier and better.

Elsewhere, Number 2 is also in rhetorical mood. He stands, megaphone in hand, on a stone balcony overlooking the gardens; the butler holds the black and white umbrella over him. The crowd here are much more sombre.

2: 
There are those who come here with a fresh face, with an enthusiasm that cannot be denied. Beware, be careful. Their promises ring richly in your ears. Our friend Number 6 has a splendid record, has adapted himself admirably to our procedure, but he has no experience whatsoever of the manipulation of such a community as ours. Beware! Has he got the administrative ability to implement his policies? Can you trust him?

The Prisoner is now haranguing the Village from a moving taxi.

6: 
Place your trust in the old régime: the policies are defined, the future certain. 

The old régime forever... and the old Number 2 forever? 
Confession by coercion, is that what you want? 
Vote for him and you have it! 
Or, stand firm upon this election platform and speak a word without fear! 

The word....
is "Freedom". 
They say 
"6 of 1 and half a dozen of The Other"... 

Not Here. 

It's "6 for 2, and 2 for nothing" and 5 for Free... For All... 4 Free 4 all! 

Vote! Vote!

His boisterous parade winds its way into the garden below Number 2, chanting "Six! Six!" and waving placards. Suddenly everything stops, including the brass band. Number 2 shouts down through his megaphone, and the Prisoner's amplified voice floats back.

2: 
You seem to be doing pretty well.

6: 
Far be it for me to carp, but what will you do in your spare time?

2: 
I cannot afford spare time.

Prisoner: 
Do you hear that? He's working to his limit!

Can't afford spare time! 
We're all entitled to spare time! 
Leisure is our right!

His crowd wave their placards and chant 
"Six for Two! Six for Two! Six for Two! Six for Two!"

Number 2: 
In your spare time, if you get it, what will you do?

6 : 
Less work... and more play!

Crowd: 
6! 6! 6! 



Later, at the Cat and Mouse nightclub, a waitress brings a tray of drinks over from the bar to the table where the Prisoner is sitting with Number 58. Like everyone else in the bar, she wears a Number 6 rosette.

Waitress: Sir, non-alcoholic gin, whisky, vodka. Looks the same and tastes the same.

Prisoner: Bet you can't get me tiddly.

Waitress: No alcohol here, sir!

Prisoner: You going to vote for me?

Waitress: You and only you.

Prisoner: Go away.

Waitress: Gin, whisky, vodka. Looks the same and tastes the same.

Prisoner: GET OUT!

Scared, she runs away. Behind them a woman dances oddly to the jolly music of the mechanical band. The Prisoner points a finger at Number 58.

Prisoner: You're spying on me, aren't you?

Number 58: Ik...?

Prisoner: Get me a drink.

He holds up a glass. Number 58 whipers agitatedly.

Number 58: Kokazi trak ozamuk ni, tak ta.

Prisoner: Alcoholic drink.

Number 58: Kokazi trak ozamuk ni, nas ta.

Prisoner: A DRINK!

He hurls the glass violently to the floor. Number 58 quickly leads him out, collecting her coat in the foyer. He mumbles at passing customers as though drunk.

Prisoner: Vote for 6... vote for 6... vote for me and a drink... vohhhhte for 6...

Number 58: Ibazka!

Prisoner: Vote for me... six... vote...

Number 58: Ibazka!

Outside the club, she leads him to their taxi.

Prisoner: I'm for you... let me be... ever let me go... ever let me go...

They drive to the outskirts of the Village, where they get out and walk through the grove of statues.

Prisoner: Vote for me...

Number 58 points to the concealed mouth of a cave and mimes drinking.

Number 58: Eng brifti nakh, abartuk. Sluch! Sluchje...

She starts to run back the way they've come, but the Prisoner grabs her, smiling stupidly.

Prisoner: Spying on me, aren't you?

Number 58: Ag... sluchje! Sluchje!

She escapes his clutches and flees in terror. The Prisoner stares after her for a moment, then wanders into the cave.

Prisoner: Vote for me... I'm for you... let me be... let me be...

Inside the cave, a middle-aged man in an apron throws a bit of wood onto a roaring fire, then walks over to tend to a still in the corner. There is little else in this seedy drinking establishment apart from a hooded figure boozing on his own at one of the few tables. The aproned barman steps towards this figure, failing to notice the Prisoner in the entranceway.

Barman: Large or small, sir?

Figure: Massive.

The Prisoner suddenly steps forward.

Prisoner: I'll have a double!

Barman: With or without water, sir?

The figure leaps up and pulls the hood from his head. It is Number 2. He focuses groggily on the Prisoner. The Prisoner simply smiles back in acknowledgment.

Prisoner: ... Without.

Barman: Please take a seat, I'll be right with you.

The Prisoner wanders over to Number 2's table, but neither of them sit down yet.

Number 2: Little drop now and again keeps the nerves steady.

Prisoner: ... You're scared, aren't you?

Number 2: Frankly, yes.

Prisoner: Of what?

Number 2: It may seem improbable to you, but I'm wondering what's going to happen to you.

He pokes him drunkenly. The barman brings them each a beaker. The Prisoner glances behind him suspiciously.

Number 2: Don't worry. There's no surveillance here. This is the Therapy Zone.

They sit down together.

Prisoner: Clever, aren't they? CLEVER, AREN'T YOU?!

Number 2: They are, damn clever. Think of it: if you want to be an alcoholic, you can be one here in perfect privacy, so long as you rejoin the flock in good time.

Prisoner: You don't approve?

Number 2: Of the Village?

Prisoner: Yes.

Number 2: ... To hell with the Village. Cheers.

The Prisoner blinks.

Prisoner: ... Cheers.

They drink. Number 2 puts his hand on the Prisoner's shoulder, then indicates the barman, now busy again at his still.

Number 2: See him?

Prisoner: 
Yes.

Number 2: 
Cheers.

Prisoner:
 ... Cheers.

Again they drink.

Number 2: 
He's a brilliant scientist. Just does that for a hobby. Come with me. I'll show you something.

Number 2 leads the way into a small dingy chamber at the back of the cavern, containing chemical equipment and a blackboard covered in diagrams.

Number 2: We leave him here in peace, he brews his brew, plays with his chalk; we come down once a week, photograph the stuff, clean it up for him so that he can start on another lot.

He laughs and the Prisoner joins in. They both drink.

Prisoner: Clever as hell!

Number 2: Cheers!

2 starts singing; the Prisoner again joins in. 2 absently wipes some of the writing off the blackboard.

Number 2: 
Vote for me...

Prisoner: 
Vote for me...

Number 2: 
And I'll be...

Prisoner: 
And I'll be...

Number 2: 
Ever so comforty!

They drain their beakers. Number 2 giggles. The Prisoner teeters and topples onto the floor, out cold. Number 2, completely sober, removes the tatty shawl he is wearing and regains his normal composure.

Barman: 
Quicker than usual.

Number 2: I warned you not to make it too strong. We mustn't damage the tissue.

Barman: You needn't worry. There will be no remembrances. The portions were exact to take him right through the election.