#tyranny feeds on lies

[inthegardenpraying]

He paused, and for a moment assumed again his air of a schoolmaster questioning a promising pupil: ‘How does one man assert his power over another, Winston?’ | Winston thought. ‘By making him suffer,’ he said. |

‘Exactly. By making him suffer. Obedience is not enough. Unless he is suffering, how can you be sure that he is obeying your will and not his own? | Power is in inflicting pain and humiliation. Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing. | Do you begin to see, then, what kind of world we are creating? It is the exact opposite of the stupid hedonistic Utopias that the old reformers imagined. A world of fear and treachery and torment, a world of trampling and being trampled upon, a world which will grow not less but MORE merciless as it refines itself. Progress in our world will be progress towards more pain. | The old civilizations claimed that they were founded on love or justice. Ours is founded upon hatred. In our world there will be no emotions except fear, rage, triumph, and self-abasement. Everything else we shall destroy — everything. | Already we are breaking down the habits of thought which have survived from before the Revolution. We have cut the links between child and parent, and between man and man, and between man and woman. No one dares trust a wife or a child or a friend any longer. But in the future there will be no wives and no friends. | Children will be taken from their mothers at birth, as one takes eggs from a hen. The sex instinct will be eradicated. Procreation will be an annual formality like the renewal of a ration card. | We shall abolish the orgasm. Our neurologists are at work upon it now. There will be no loyalty, except loyalty towards the Party. There will be no love, except the love of Big Brother. There will be no laughter, except the laugh of triumph over a defeated enemy. There will be no art, no literature, no science. | When we are omnipotent we shall have no more need of science. There will be no distinction between beauty and ugliness. There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. | But always — do not forget this, Winston — always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. | Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face — forever.’ | George Orwell. Nineteen Eighty-Four (pp. 307-308)

#the truth #dangers of moral relativist thought #unethical evaluations #eugenics #pure order is death #pure order is where nothing grows beyond the known because you can't use faith to grow #hierarchies are naturally established amongst mammals but doesn't always have to be based on dominance but competence #George Orwell believed fear was how society could be controlled #surveillance and technological innovation to control rebellion #thought police #thought crime #pain & pleasure dynamic without the pleasure #progress is not someone else's definition of progress but progress is that in which benefit humanity as a whole #divide and conquer strategy #to love the suffering of others is designed to make others not care about what is happening #accepting mediocrity to avoid pain #order versus chaos #tyranny feeds on lies #people who aim for power can be manipulated if that is their end goal #turn away from power that is not your own #the dangers of ideology

[hachama]

Hi there!! Fellow Jew here (though largely unobservant), new follower. I love your blog and I’ve already saved your matzoh ball soup recipe (cuz my Bubbe’s is meant to feed like 20 people).

I know this is a heavy question so forgive me, but I’m so tired of feeling like sticking up for our people in any way is supporting Israel’s tyranny. What do we say??? What do we say to the people who want every Jew displaced from their home with nowhere to go? There is so much misinformation on the Palestine/Israel issue and I don’t even know where to start.

…unrelated but also do you have a good fried matzah recipe?

Thank you regardless of your ability to answer these questions. Depending on when you see this message, Shabbat Shalom!

I do not have a good fried matzo recipe, I'm afraid.

As for I/P... how you respond depends on what you're hoping to accomplish.

If you're trying to change someone's mind, who is already effectively calling for the expulsion or genocide of millions of Jews, there is nothing you can say. I don't want to say it's impossible. When you encounter someone who is committed to interpreting what you say in the worst possible light, the best thing to do is stop talking. No useful communication is going to take place.

If you're trying to find the words to explain your perspective to yourself or a loved one, that's a little easier. Palestinians are our cousins, and many of them have been lied to by people invested in keeping our peoples in conflict. Many have suffered because of the actions of the IDF or settlers. There's a lot of fear and anger from Israelis and Palestinians, and both groups have cause to be angry and afraid.

But acknowledging that millions of Jews in Israel would have nowhere else to go if Israel were dissolved shouldn't be controversial, and speaking against antisemitism in the rest of the world shouldn't be controversial. If people are demonstrating outside a synagogue because of their feelings regarding Israel, they're not helping Palestinians. They're just hurting Jews. An American (or Canadian, or British, or French, or...) Jew is not responsible for the actions of the Israeli government, or individual Israelis.

[probingangel]

If I keep at it with consistency, I believe Something else will emerge Something That might not be so aptly described as good but rather as New Leaving any attempt to situate it on the bad-good spectrum 2 sink into the abysses of irrelevance. I wonder what it’s like to be protected and beautiful. And maybe they wonder what it’s like to be free. I don’t want my words 2 be static I want them 2 dance So I write them wavy and winding The hardest part of yesterday was going to a friend’s place, and dealing with her other friend, and her two other friends. Today is promising. Not that I want to be promised anything. Results or die. I don’t need another person lying to me. To be asked “How are you?” makes me feel like an impostor.I want to twist familiar sayings So they taste a bit salty & bitter and sharp With what it’s like 2 live in this world The fantasy of hierarchy among mortal beings So the dogs dream their doggy dreams So fire burns its red and orange beams Why is there a towel hanging from the staircase? How do people move on from childhood to become the heartless shells that they are now? I’ve seen it happen. One small non decision at a time. Being nice is selfish deceit True empathy goes underewarded and unnoticed Connecting the dots of my inclinations Into a reflective web Catching light rays to return them shining with the sparkle of the universal Don’t forget That no-one’s life means anything That there is nothing at the end of this tunnel That there is no truth That there is nothing but selfishness No selflessness, only kinds of self-centeredness Short sighted, and not Self aware, and not There is no reason to be scared, because There is nothing to lose, and There is always a way out Your only enemy is your ego and the lies you feed it Today a lot of thoughts and feelings but no writing Overwhelming uneducated uncatchy disorganized outsider chaos music about Feelings. Theme: The reality that life is adversarial but that we have to act like it isn’t. Violence perpetrated against others is essential to self expression and identity. I pray: Please, deliver me from the tyranny of fear. Please free me from doubt. Please let my head sink in the deepest of seawater, let it all crash on me, take me for a spin, knock me around and leave me clean.  My stomach is warm like a red light shining through my skin, it is full,  I am getting up. When I wake my wrath will be terrible. All I wanted was the freedom to feel and exist - I didn’t know it came with all this pain but if it does then I don’t care I want it all I will take it all, eat it up and spit out my weight in Diamonds. You want your love to be great so you paint it over immense canvases, Big and Bigger and Brighter and with more colours so it feels real. Well what you paint is your own portrait and what you claim to see in me is yourself, Turn around tell me: I’m crazy, Turn around tell me: I’m evil, Turn around tell me: I’m paranoid,  You go and look for more pain to diffuse your meekness. You go and you sit in the rain only to come back and impose your grand Wetness.  You pick them up and smother them. You tie them up so they stay but then you stuff them with Yourself and make them feel bad if it turns out they aren’t, interested. The paper figures that you can’t render in 3D because you are too full of your own dimensions

[damonalbarn]

They believed that a great reckoning was coming. A time when all the lies and the shit and the garbage piled up so high, a giant, writhirg, supercharged mass would rise into the clouds casting everything in shadow. But not all will be lost in the dark, for righteous are the lambs who nourish this great corruption, feeding it more lies and malicious code, infecting it yet further, until critical overload is reached, when all shall be wiped clean, and the tyranny of the algorithm shall be no more. And afterward, the collective of the new dawn will see clearly for the first time, and learn the one True Story, a story which ends at the beginning of a new reality, when as one being we shall be born anew and rise again…

Ben Mendelsohn's intro to Cracker Island (he improvised a lot though lol), photo courtesy of princesoftheuniverxe who caught the crumpled sheet of paper Ben threw to the audience at Gorillaz gig in Paris. 

#gorillaz #ben mendelsohn #the static channel #gorillaz world tour 2022

[bracketsoffear]

Angron Propaganda: This is a speech he made when confronted by his brother, Leman Russ.

‘Ideals are what we fight for, brother.’ There was something colder in Russ’s tone, then. A decision had been made, frosting his voice.

Angron had laughed, the sound rich and true. ‘Such pretty lies! We fight for the same reasons men have always fought: for land, for resources, for wealth and for bodies to feed into the grinders of industry. We fight to silence anyone that dares draw breath and whisper a different opinion from ours. We fight because the Emperor wants every world in his hands. All he knows is slavery, painted in the inoffensive cloak of compliance. The very notion of freedom is a horror to him.’

‘Traitor,’ Russ hissed.

Angron stood tall, still grinning. ‘Do we give choices to those we slaughter? A true choice? Or do we broadcast that they must throw their weapons into the fires of peace and bow down, faces pushed into the mud like beggars, thanking us for the culture we force upon them? We offer them compliance or we offer them death. How am I a traitor, wolfling? I fight as you fight, as loyal as you are. I do the tyrant’s bidding.’

‘We offer them freedom.’ Russ spoke through clenched teeth, the moon bright in his eyes. ‘You are mutilating your own sons and stealing their minds [The Word Bearers, the space marine legion under Angron's command, had started implanting the same cybernetic implants that Angron has into their heads] – now you preach of the Emperor’s tyranny? Are you lost so far in your delusions?’

Angron’s smile faltered, fading away. His face seemed slack, his eyes staring past Russ. Defeat was etched upon features still twitching in pain. ‘You are free, Leman Russ of Fenris, because your freedom matches the Emperor’s will. For each time I wage war against worlds that threaten the Imperium’s advance, there comes another time when I am told to conquer peaceful worlds that wish only to be left alone. I am told to destroy whole civilisations and call it liberation. I am told to demand millions of men and women from these new worlds, to make them take up arms in the Emperor’s hordes, and I am told to call this a tithe, or recruitment, because we are too scared of the truth. We refuse to call it slavery.’

‘Angron…’ Russ snarled.

‘Be silent! You have given your threats, dog. Now hear me. Listen to another hound barking, for once.’ ‘Then speak,’ Russ had said, as if permission were his to give. ‘I am loyal, the same as you. I am told to bathe my Legion in the blood of innocents and sinners alike, and I do it, because it is all that’s left for me in this life. I do these things, and I enjoy them, not because we are moral, or right – or loving souls seeking to enlighten a dark universe – but because all I feel are the Butcher’s Nails hammered into my brain. I serve because of this “mutilation”. Without it? Well, perhaps I might be a more moral man, like you claim to be. A virtuous man, eh? Perhaps I might ascend the steps of our father’s palace and take the slaving bastard’s head.’

Both Legions tensed. Thousands and thousands of warriors clutched bolters and chainweapons tighter. Lhorke [the guy remembering all this] had even taken a step back, his joints loud in the sudden silence.

Russ felt no such hesitation. He drew his blade and launched at Angron, only to be met with the World Eater’s axe blocking the blow. The brothers breathed hatred into each other’s faces. ‘You are lost,’ Russ growled. ‘You gelded, black-hearted heretic.’

‘I am merely honest, brother. In all but this you are no different from me.’

‘If you cannot see the chasm between savagery and ferocity, then you are hopelessly gone, Angron.’ The World Eater threw Russ back, sending the Wolf King staggering. ‘Then I am gone. But we both know the day will never dawn that you can best me in combat.’

.

#slaughter poll #asks #character propaganda

[rihtual]

I FIND I HAVE FEW FRIENDS LATELY.   [ … ]  @wildkissed

The presence of tyranny grows smaller and smaller amid the fields of wildflowers and yellowed grass.      Here the hunter sits,       awaiting a doe,     or a bear.     Some small bird or hare might do wonders to the empty bellies back in Twelve,     although there is something to be said about those who dream of success.        A ripening of a soldier:      the scars on his back itch,      the jaw is set in a deep frown,      the gods are dead or dying.          He is nothing like those bred into royalty and yet he is everything like them.     Down to the marrow,     down to the very heart-line of his soul.      Gale Hawthorne and his predictability of a warrior    —     how the wound doesn’t stop leaking,     how the night terrors are vivid and visceral.        Gale’s soon to be wiped out legacy is only the dusty ribcage,    the shaking trees,      his broken bones,      and the rebellion’s aching womb.        Perhaps there would be some other sensation of mythical proportion if he were any other man.      Still,     deep in his bones there lies a meaning to any and all outcomes of this battle:      violence is a rehearsed ritual.         He imagines a peach in the middle of July,        the humidity heavy on his nape and the fruit turning to mush in his palm.       He is neither the sun nor the juice that dribbles down his wrist.       It is in the discomfort where he thrives.     The intimidation that follows with destruction of nature.      He eats it all   —     greedy and envious and throat filled with wrath.        What sins has he developed?       What sins has he devoured?     Are the sins of his father the same sins of his duty?       Survive and nothing else.        Madge,     he thinks,     knows of starvation and ruin.       She understands that to evolve one must have courage,     strong teeth,     and godly limbs.       Or so he imagines.       He hadn’t seen Madge since the run-in with the Peacekeepers.      His back is healing,     but it will be scarred for life.      He guesses this is good for him,     and reminds him of the damage they can do.         ‘People are just trying to decide what side to be on     [...]     and trying to feed their families.’             A grunted out exhale,     some sound that signifies disapproval and disdain.      He feels ant-like now,     the previous hallowness of serenity he had found in the green terrain is now replaced with a cold desire to fight.       Kill the capitol,      burn the country,      hang the wretched.         A disturbing inclination for war twists his stomach into a knot,     burrows nausea deep beneath the surface.       Expression,     however,      remains alert   —    slightly tense,     yet there’s a gentle smile that stretches his lips crookedly,     as if to reassure her.           ‘I’m still your friend,     Undersee.          I owe you my life,       after all.’     

#GALE HAWTHORNE. #crying. i just...... i just..... solider vibes for gale & also him?????? feeling in debt to her????? so many emotions rn

[perceptionshifter]

IS PHYSICAL MATTER REALLY SOLID?

There are no beginnings, nor endings in this multiverse. The illusion of separating anything from anything is due to massive gaps in our contracted/expanded perception. There is nothing really “solid” in our physical experience. Everything is an “energetic” fluid field. Even the word energy is very limited in describing the substance of The Source of all That Exists. We are all made by the same substance, which is what The Infinite (Source, The Creator) is made of. Let’s call this Incorruptible Infinite Matter. It’s what truly animates us all.

Incorruptible Infinite Matter is malleable and responds to our intent. It’s consciousness, awareness that does not have a beginning nor an end. We have been, are, and forever will be it. Our conscious minds are not equipped to grasp this, but if we bypass the tyranny of the mind/logic and the sentimental attachments of the heart, we might start to resonate with the truth behind these words.

DOES PHYSICAL CREATION HAVE A LIMIT?

There is the KNOWN (that which mankind has access to), the UNKNOWN (that which mankind doesn’t have access to just yet), the UNKNOWABLE (that which mankind doesn’t even realize exists, but other beings in the Cosmos do), and the UNFANTHOMABLE (that which not even a single being in the Cosmos know exists).

I feel that Incorruptible Infinite Matter, the substance that the Source of All Life/The Infinite/The Creator/God is made of, has indeed no beginning and no end. And since we, as organic beings, are made of it, we too are the same. That only applies to all organic creation but does not apply to sub-creations (for example, when there is artificial interference of some sort).

We’ve been in a war over consciousness for 3 billion years between organic expression (first creations), and artificial distortions (parasitic entities). As men or women, we could think of ourselves as 100% organic creations, but that is because we were in the shadows regarding what was truly happening behind the scenes.

Mankind has been through a lot as a race. Artificial genetic manipulation, quantum artificial intelligence systems running artificial programs through us and also manipulating our environment/reality, etheric and physical implants, heavy metals and poison in our environment and foods, etc.), being used as batteries to power up their technologies and feed the parasitic entities, etc. This situation has been the case for at least 3 billion years.

ALL WE THINK WE KNOW, THEY’VE ALLOWED US TO KNOW

The problem lies in how it was set up for us in physicality. The so-called building blocks of life (atomic, sub-atomic particles) if they are being expressed as something separate from the One, they do have a beginning and an end. What we see as matter, through a contracted vision, is just a sub-creation. What lies beyond it is Incorruptible Infinite Matter. But we find that we cannot fully access it if we don’t organically express the 7 sub-atomic particles, in Oneness with Source.

If they express in separation, then the organic substance we are really made of is suppressed, and distortions seep through the 7 sub-atomic particles. There are six of them: light, frequency, energy, life force, intelligent perception (cognitive and non-cognitive), and intent (also known as presence). Matter is the seventh one, and it has been surrounded by the other 6 like a ring. Matter acts like a portal that is opened once we dissolve the blockages that cause corruption in their organic expression. Once we express them In Oneness (and in separation no more), then we have access to express Incorruptible Infinite Matter that shines through when the 7 sub-atomic particles are dissolved in their separateness. Then we can “burn off” the illusions of the sub-atomic and atomic particles as artificial sub-creation.

NO TIME AND NO SPACE

If we realize there are no beginnings and no endings, then we can also realize there is really no time and no space, so there’s no real past no real future. The only thing that organically exists is the eternal fluid moment.

In society, people are totally obsessed with the past, and the future – escaping the perfection of the moment by bringing in ghosts of the past or projections of the future into it. But we are a fluid field that is constantly renewing itself forevermore, in Oneness with Source. We have eternity to enjoy that which we are. We can relax into ourselves, and at the same time, engage with life fully from a place of surrendered trust that we are never truly alone.

LIFE AND DEATH, WE DON’T NEED TO CHOOSE ONLY ONE

Life and death are really an illusion. These stages of being are only separated by our perception, by frequency, etc. One uses the physical body, and the other uses de soul body. If we merge our physical body and our soul body, we realize that it’s not necessary to “die”. Spirit, on the other hand, is like a shadow that is cast from the separation of body and soul. If we succeed in combining all of them (the spirit has a magnetic body and an electric body) in the flesh, the illusion of separation dissolves itself as we remember our Oneness.

In timeless time and spaceless space, we find our true inspiration, our authentic expression, and effortless knowing. It’s “where” we find ourselves as One with the Only One. It’s where the mind and emotions don’t intervene. We become a clear conduit of Infinite’s Intent, where beginnings and endings don’t exist. The spontaneity of the unfoldment of the Infinite Being through us is where we experience ourselves. We don’t become stagnant by being in intoxicating bliss but at the same time, we don’t succumb to despair by the overwhelming chaos of a world (that we now see) that has been upside down for eons.

#perception shifter #nathalie markoch #valmark #tattoo design #drawing #original art #original writing #consciousness #introspection #nondualism #linework

[cypruswritesheadcanons]

Humanity's Strongest Soldier.

Can you imagine being born in a space surround with filth, thugs, and fishy people with no future just waiting for the day to rot slowly and fade just like that? You probably curse your life and whines a lot.

His life was a reality of Gehenna. The raven haired grey eyed lad that has a visage of an angel was so pure and was born unlucky in the underground city of Wall Sina.

His mother works in a brothel because she lack the option of choice. The life underground was tough and survival was the primary mission in mind. No place for a picky person. To feed his stomach his mother works hard and endures everything because in this gloomy city lies no opportunities for ladies.

He was a mistake from a client. She should have known and yet she choose not to abort him instead she choose to raise him despite the odds. For once, she felt delightful because for once she made a choice.

He watched as she pathetically gave in to the darkness. Her life was snuffed out by ill health. That evening, he made a vow to save as much money as possible in order to be able to pay for his above-ground citizenship.

Year later, he was given a choice of no regrets. He was recruited by the Scout's Commander to dedicate his heart to the humanity and to help them slay titans to acquire liberation from titans tyranny in exchange he can live above ground.

He encountered many horrible things along the journey, including killing and sacrifices. When his friends joined the bad side, he had to murder them. When he saw his squad being devoured by famished titans, he had to force himself to hold back his tears. How many people must die for mankind to achieve the freedom it seeks? Even though he is exhausted, he decides to continue fighting because the war is far from over it just started.

The most powerful soldier ever to serve humanity is Captain Levi Ackerman. Not just physically but, also, mentally. It was crystal clear that the Humanity's Strongest Soldier is a caring leader behind his brash way of speaking. Behind those stoic facade is a man who suffer a lot and is, indeed, of a big warm hug.

#levi #aot #attack on titan #levi ackerman #anime

[kazeofthemagun]

[Okay I said I would sleep but I need to write this down before it escapes me *catches thought and pins it down*]

Chaos' religion and why it prevails despite Chaos' mistreatment of basically everyone

[Tw for religious talk, Chris/tianity parallels, no offense meant by the comparison, this is more of a brief study of religion's unhealthy effects and religion as a crowd manipulation tactic. Any religion taken to the extreme has the potential to be harmful. Now enter Chaos' cult, the most messed up thing.]

I can see Chaos (as the Earl) cultivating the belief that offering one's suffering to it is holy/desirable as a way to show devotion to one's god. I'm talking about things like zealous followers refusing pain medication in grave illness because they would much rather devote their suffering to their god to show how loyal they are. How much they are willing to suffer for their deity. A deity that is openly malicious but also cultivates its own image as a benevolent ruler instead. This is seen in the show when the Earl talks about his 'perfect order and harmony'; It's clear he wants to be worshipped as a good deity. He wants people to believe he is good, loving, and that without him things would be so much worse. That all the bad things? The people earned that shit themselves. So he builds his cult on lies and manipulation and the people he did manage to brainwash (the majority of Wonderland) actually believe it, hence the Gaudium Remnant exists and wholeheartedly worships him even past his "death".

Even during the events of After, when Herba took over Gaudium as Chaos' temporary right hand while its avatar was being remade, the beast's primary strategy in taking over Earth was religious indoctrination. Chaos' "holy motif" are blue flowers. The Gardens of Salvation as a promise of delivering mortals into Paradise - Wonderland. A land that promises "salvation", but only if people exist to feed their god. The people exist for their god, as meat, as fuel, not the other way around. Chaos' flowers are a symbol of its beautiful lie.

The Earl, and by extension, Anarchy's manipulation tactics are built around guilting others into believing the torture and destruction they cause is deserved and could have been avoided:

"...I am the God of Joy and if it is freedom you so desperately sought, then freedom you shall receive. Freedom from your minds. My last incarnation was too good for you, you animals. (...) As for why I am doing this? Why, the people welcomed me. My people welcomed me when they slew he who ruled Wonderland. They welcomed me.. Anarchy. I am the God who takes the shape their followers yearn to witness."

- Anarchy in this drabble, deliberately rubbing in their role as divine punishment, as well as Chaos accomodating people's own wishes, reinforcing the belief mortals are foolish, animalistic, forever bringing calamity upon themselves of their own volition.

This tactic further leads to Chaos feeding off the confusion and doubt it seeds. It also creates an obsession with "repentance" among Chaos' followers, punishing oneself for one's mortal flaws and striving for some form of unattainable perfection. Their god has free reign to punish them as it pleases, for they are but broken mortals and deserve it. Chaos' tyranny is taken as divine and unquestionable justice instead, breeding ever more mindless self-depreciation of followers who offer up their own suffering as tribute. For example, the ill mindset of "the calamity that befell our town was just because we were sinful. Let us come together to whip ourselves in repentance"

Furthermore, Anarchy's own name is essentially a form of Chaos' joke. The people of Wonderland dared to overthrow their ruler, the Earl? Say hello to Anarchy, who is going to be much worse. See? You did it to yourselves. You welcomed the devil yourselves.

Chaos in the background: *rubbing its shitty hands together like a fly* 👁👄👁

Basically, indoctrination is one hell of a drug.

#religion tw #religious trauma tw #cult tw #indoctrination tw #[[headcanon #tag for Chaos on pc

[mariacallous]

The criminal complaint filed against David DePape in the Northern District of California this week, for allegedly breaking into Nancy Pelosi’s home in order to kidnap her and, when she wasn’t there, using a hammer to assault her eighty-two-year-old husband, Paul, is a piece of detective work, both in content and in tone. In a heated, private confrontation between two protagonists, emotions can intervene and memories blur, especially in circumstances like this: the incident took place before two-thirty in the morning on the week preceding Halloween, so, when Paul Pelosi was awakened by a strange man demanding to know where his wife was, he might have been confused about whether he was talking to a trained political assassin, a run-of-the-mill crazy person, or a figment of a nightmare. F.B.I. Special Agent Stephanie Minor found corroborating details to stabilize the narrative: what an emergency dispatcher heard, what police officers saw, what was stored in the garage where DePape lived in Richmond, what a nearby private security guard, on duty in the early hours of the morning at a nearby home, glimpsed.

Fortunately, the two protagonists agreed on just about every detail. Paul Pelosi gave his version while riding to the hospital in an ambulance and DePape allegedly gave his after being Mirandized. According to their overlapping accounts, Pelosi had been sleeping alone and, per DePape, “appeared surprised” to find an intruder in his bedroom, urging him to wake up. (DePape had entered the house after shattering a glass door with a hammer.) DePape told Pelosi he wanted to speak with “Nancy.” The Speaker, Paul Pelosi said, was travelling, and would be gone for a few days, and he asked why DePape wanted to speak with her. DePape reportedly said that he wanted to “tie Pelosi up,” and took zip ties out of his backpack. Paul Pelosi attempted to go to another part of the house, but DePape stopped him; eventually Pelosi persuaded the intruder to let him into a bathroom where, at 2:23 A.M., he managed to call 911. Officers arrived minutes later, according to their account, and (once the door had been opened) found Pelosi and DePape, both holding on to the same hammer. Pelosi greeted them, and when the officers asked what was going on DePape said that “everything was good.” The officers asked the two men to drop the hammer; instead, DePape swung it at Pelosi, striking him in the head and knocking him out.

As for the motive, Special Agent Minor quotes DePape, who sounds eager to explain himself. He viewed Nancy Pelosi, he told officers, as “the leader of the pack of lies told by Democrats.” His plans were to hold Speaker Pelosi hostage and talk to her; if she told “the truth,” she would be let go; if she did not, he planned to break her knee caps, “which would show other members of Congress there were consequences to actions.” According to Minor’s summation of DePape’s statements, “much like the American founding fathers with the British, he was fighting against tyranny without the option of surrender.” The special agent did not record what lies DePape believed Pelosi might tell, or what he thought the Democrats would do differently if they saw that her knee caps had been broken, or what his broader political beliefs and influences were. This information was beyond her scope, and perhaps unknowable.

The threat of violence is not always the most urgent problem in politics, but it is the one that has the potential to make all the others irrelevant. So, to watch politics closely during the past few years has been like being a half-awake security guard, with one eye on the monitor of the camera feed from the back gate. In the two days between the first news reports about the attack at the Pelosis’ home and the more definitive version that came with Special Agent Minor’s criminal complaint, conservatives reacted in several ways. Mitch McConnell and Ted Cruz clearly denounced the attack and expressed sympathy with the Pelosi family; Glenn Youngkin made light of it at a campaign event; Donald Trump, Jr., and Elon Musk (who may or may not be a conservative) spread a baseless theory that DePape was a sex worker hired by Paul Pelosi, and that the “attack” was a rendezvous gone wrong; Tucker Carlson and Rand Paul used the news to raise their preëxisting complaints about the media’s alleged partisan bias in covering such events and to gripe that the F.B.I. took Democratic complaints more seriously than Republican ones.

Among the press itself, the main reaction was to notice the echoes in DePape’s language of Republican partisan invective against Democrats and Pelosi, which has been especially intense in the aftermath of the January 6th assault on the Capitol, and to suggest that Republicans should denounce not just the hammer attack in Pacific Heights but also challenges to the integrity of elections. During an on-air interview, CNN’s Dana Bash pressed Senator Rick Scott of Florida on this, but he was willing to condemn only the attack itself, and not the atmosphere of hostility and conspiracy that preceded it.

Republicans and their supporters have vilified Pelosi more pointedly than just about any other figure in recent political memory. “Her face—sometimes adorned with devil’s horns or a swastika—was plastered on signs at all the national rallies that led up to the Jan. 6 storming of the Capitol,” the Washington Post recently observed. Intruders wandering the Capitol’s halls during the insurrection yelled, “Where are you, Nancy?” Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, according to a video obtained by CNN, told a crowd that Pelosi is a “traitor to our country” and suggested she could be executed. “It’s a crime punishable by death,” Greene said. “That’s what treason is.”

But the attack on Pelosi’s husband shared certain superficial details with another recent attempted act of political violence. Nicholas Roske, a twenty-six-year-old California man, was arrested in June outside the house of Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh, carrying a backpack filled with zip ties, pepper spray, and a Glock handgun with two magazines. Roske had been researching assassination and related topics for months, and had texted his sister shortly before his arrest and told her that he planned to kill Kavanaugh. (Roske has denied the attempted-murder charge.) Raising Roske’s case in the context of DePape’s doesn’t mean that Democrats and Republicans are equally responsible for bringing the country closer to the possibility of political violence. Republicans, who continue to promote lies about the legitimacy of a fair election, told by a leader whose followers tried to overthrow it by force, bear more responsibility. But it is one piece of evidence among many that suggests that political destabilization is a dynamic process, in which acts and threats of violence build on one another and that the electoral system, which produced this bad situation, probably won’t be able to fix it.

Joe Biden won the 2020 election with a campaign that focussed often on the idea that Donald Trump had been encouraging extremists and threatening democracy. Biden said often that he had decided to run after watching the murderous far-right rally at Charlottesville in 2017, and seeing Trump’s refusal to condemn the white supremacists who marched there. This was surely a matter of conviction for him. But his campaign also reflected something he said: that there was surely a majority of voters in the United States, including some Republicans, who were disgusted by Trump’s threats to elections and civil order and would join in condemning it. Biden has returned to this theme in this year’s midterm elections, perhaps most sharply in a speech on September 1st, which was officially titled “Remarks by President Biden on the Continued Battle for the Soul of the Nation.” “Donald Trump and the MAGA Republicans represent an extremism that threatens the very foundations of our Republic,” Biden said. “Now, I want to be very clear up front: not every Republican, not even the majority of Republicans, are MAGA Republicans. Not every Republican embraces their extreme ideology. I know, because I’ve been able to work with these mainstream Republicans.” This was a sincerely held idea, or maybe an aspiration dressed up as an idea. But it was also an electoral pitch, which has become one of the most consistent themes of Biden’s Presidency.

Very briefly, in the immediate aftermath of the January 6th attacks, it seemed as if much of the Republican Party might actually break with Trump and denounce his extremism. McConnell, Kevin McCarthy, and even the Trump loyalist Lindsey Graham denounced the attacks and said the President bore responsibility. McConnell initially helped lead the push to impeach the President. But in the end only seven Republican senators out of fifty—McConnell not among them—voted to convict Trump. Soon, McCarthy visited the ex-President at Mar-a-Lago, symbolically affirming that the Republican Party still followed Trump, and later that year refused to join the Democrats on the January 6th Commission, isolating the Committee’s Republican members (Liz Cheney and Adam Kinzinger) from the Party and insuring it would be a partisan endeavor.

The evidence from the midterm elections is that there is no meaningful majority for an anti-extremism coalition. If there were, Democratic candidates in contested states would be leading with it rather than emphasizing, for instance, their success in reducing the cost of insulin drugs. Nate Cohn of the Times, studying his organization’s midterms polling, found that those voters who agreed that “threats to democracy” were an important issue in this campaign were more likely to be referring to government corruption than anything having to do with election denial or political violence. Republicans look likely to win seats on Tuesday, and they will do so having done much more to promote election deniers than to condemn them. “Even the Sane Republicans are Embracing Election Deniers,” the headline on a column by William Saletan ran at the Bulwark this week, emphasizing the endorsement by New Hampshire’s governor, Chris Sununu, long an opponent of the MAGA wing, of two candidates who have made election denial central to their campaigns. It’s not just that Biden’s political approach to extremism—to build a bipartisan coalition that would condemn election denial and political violence and ostracize it from politics—has failed. The Republican Party has failed to police itself.

As a result, law-enforcement agencies are now increasingly being asked to police political speech. In September of 2021, the F.B.I. director, Christopher Wray, a Trump appointee, told a Senate committee that the Bureau had increased its domestic terrorism budget by two hundred and sixty per cent in the prior year; in the aftermath of DePape’s attack, it turned out that the U.S. Capital Police has an office in San Francisco, to help provide protection for Speaker Pelosi, and that one reason DePape was able to enter the Pelosi home without resistance was that the Speaker, who travels with a security detail, was out of town. That law-enforcement officers are tasked with fighting political extremism and violence, even if necessary, is pretty far from ideal; this just isn’t a job for Special Agent Minor. ♦

[nicklloydnow]

“War is the primary business of the U.S. empire and the bedrock of the U.S. economy. The two ruling political parties slavishly perpetuate permanent war, as they do austerity programs, trade deals, the virtual tax boycott for corporations and the rich, wholesale government surveillance, the militarization of the police and the maintenance of the largest prison system in the world. They bow before the dictates of the militarists, who have created a state within a state. This militarism, as Seymour Melman writes in The Permanent War Economy: American Capitalism in Decline, “is fundamentally contradictory to the formation of a new political economy based upon democracy, instead of hierarchy, in the workplace and the rest of society.”

“The idea that war economy brings prosperity has become more than an American illusion,” Melman writes. “When converted, as it has been, into ideology that justifies the militarization of society and moral debasement, as in Vietnam, then critical reassessment of that illusion is a matter of urgency. It is a primary responsibility of thoughtful people who are committed to humane values to confront and respond to the prospect that deterioration of American economy and society, owing to the ravages of war economy, can become irreversible.”

If permanent war is to be halted, as Melman writes, the ideological control of the war industry must be shattered. The war industry’s funding of politicians, research centers and think tanks, as well as its domination of the media monopolies, must end. The public must be made aware, Melman writes, of how the federal government “sustains itself as the directorate of the largest industrial corporate empire in the world; how the war economy is organized and operated in parallel with centralized political power — often contradicting the laws of Congress and the Constitution itself; how the directorate of the war economy converts pro-peace sentiment in the population into pro-militarist majorities in the Congress; how ideology and fears of job losses are manipulated to marshal support in Congress and the general public for war economy; how the directorate of the war economy uses its power to prevent planning for orderly conversion to an economy of peace.”

Rampant, unchecked militarism, as historian Arnold Toynbee notes, “has been by far the commonest cause of the breakdown of civilizations.”

(…)

The war industry, deified by the mass media, including the entertainment industry, is never held accountable for the military fiascos, cost overruns, dud weapons systems and profligate waste. No matter how many disasters — from Vietnam to Afghanistan — it orchestrates, it is showered with larger and larger amounts of federal funds, nearly half of all the government’s discretionary spending. The monopolization of capital by the military has driven the U.S. debt to over $30 trillion, $6 trillion more than the U.S. GDP of $24 trillion. Servicing this debt costs $300 billion a year. We spend more on the military, $813 billion for fiscal year 2023, than the next nine countries, including China and Russia, combined.

(…)

As the persecution of Julian Assange illustrates, the throttling of press freedom is bipartisan. This assault on truth leaves a population unmoored. It feeds wild conspiracy theories. It shreds the credibility of the ruling class. It empowers demagogues. It creates an information desert, one where truth and lies are indistinguishable. It frog-marches us towards tyranny. This censorship only serves the interests of the militarists who, as Karl Liebknecht reminded his fellow Germans in World War I, are the enemy within.”

#chris hedges #scheerpost #ukraine #russia #war #military industrial complex #america #economy #julian assange #journalism #freedom of speech

[inthegardenpraying]

But no; that’s not the way it is! To do evil a human being must first of all believe that what he’s doing is good, or else that it’s a well-considered act in conformity with natural law. | Fortunately, it is in the nature of the human being to seek a justification for his actions. | Macbeth’s self-justifications were feeble—and his conscience devoured him. Yes, even Iago was a little lamb too. The imagination and the spiritual strength of Shakespeare’s evildoers stopped short at a dozen corpses. Because they had no ideology. | Ideology—that is what gives evildoing its long-sought justification and gives the evildoer the necessary steadfastness and determination. | That is the social theory which helps to make his acts seem good instead of bad in his own and others’ eyes, so that he won’t hear reproaches and curses but will receive praise and honors. | That was how the agents of the Inquisition fortified their wills: by invoking Christianity; the conquerors of foreign lands, by extolling the grandeur of their Motherland; the colonizers, by civilization; the Nazis, by race; and the Jacobins (early and late), by equality, brotherhood, and the happiness of future generations. | Thanks to ideology, the twentieth century was fated to experience evildoing on a scale calculated in the millions. This cannot be denied, nor passed over, nor suppressed. | How, then, do we dare insist that evildoers do not exist? And who was it that destroyed these millions? | Without evildoers there would have been no Archipelago. | Solzhenitsyn, Aleksandr. The Gulag Archipelago [Volume 1]: An Experiment in Literary Investigation (pp. 173-174)

#the truth #ideology leaves no room for reason #justifying evil deeds #appeasing the collective to survive and living the lie as a form of self-preservation #tyranny feeds on lies #justification is to convince ones own conscience that what he is doing is right when it is wrong #hitler did this when he justified anti-semitism in Mein Kampf #tyranny's fall when the truth comes out and the collective experience the domino effect #the truth will set you free #equal opportunity is better for society #judgement is permanent condemnation where second chances come from redemption #a person who fully believes that their way is the way or no way is an ideologue and have made up their minds #abandon ideology #jordan peterson #rule 7 #12 rules for life: an antidote to chaos

[greywindys]

Okay, I read the paper a little more closely. This sticks out:

“But not all will be lost in the dark, for righteous are the lambs who nourish this great corruption, feeding it more lies and malicious code, infecting it yet further, until critical overload is reached, when all shall be wiped clean, and the tyranny of the algorithm shall be no more.”

So. basically, what Gorillaz is saying is that they’re allowed to use social media like  Tiktok because they’re using it to take down ~from the inside (in their universe). Jk, jk...but also. Like, w/e Gorillaz! You’re still trying to entice to use our phones and computers more so that you can tell us “phone bad.” We already know they’re 100% not going to literally end the “tyranny of algorithms.” Can they make a statement despite this? It’s ambitious.

My more literal mind: So....are they saying Murdoc’s planning a DOS attack on Tiktok? (in their universe, of course)

Additionally, I didn’t include it here, but I still wanted to say - I don’t get PB at all from the first part...it sounds more like they’re describing Donald Trump.

#personals.

[tmarshconnors]

Box of illusions.

Let me start by saying yes over the years I have watched a fair amount of TV. I recall the days I came home from school and once I had dinner there I was at 6.00 pm watching the Simpsons, as I got older I started to spend most of my free time in school in the library. Oh, the books I read. From psychology, sociology, popular science religion etc. I have read many. Reading is a lost art nowadays.

Here’s the thing Television, the mesmerising box of illusions, has ensnared humanity in its clutches, stripping away our vitality and autonomy piece by piece. It's a relentless devourer of time, attention, and ultimately, our very souls. How, you might ask? Let me unleash a torrent of grievances against this insidious modern-day sorcerer.

First and foremost, television breeds passivity. It spoon-feeds us narratives, ideologies, and opinions, numbing our critical thinking faculties. We sit there, slack-jawed and drooling, as our brains rot with mindless entertainment and shallow distractions. Instead of engaging with the world, we're hypnotised by its flickering images, lulled into a state of intellectual torpor.

And don't even get me started on the insidious influence of advertising. Every commercial break is an assault on our senses, bombarding us with messages designed to manipulate our desires and insecurities. We're reduced to mere consumers, our identities shaped by the products we're told we need to buy to be happy, fulfilled, or desirable. It's a never-ending cycle of consumption and dissatisfaction, fuelling an insatiable hunger for more stuff we don't need.

But perhaps most damning of all is the way television distorts our perception of reality. We're fed a steady diet of sensationalism, distortion, and outright lies, blurring the line between fact and fiction until we no longer know what to believe. News becomes infotainment, truth becomes subjective, and critical issues are reduced to soundbites and talking points. We're left adrift in a sea of misinformation, our minds polluted by half-truths and outright fabrications.

And what do we sacrifice for the dubious pleasure of this electronic opiate? Our time, our relationships, our creativity, our very humanity. We sit alone in the dark, isolated from the world around us, as our lives slip away one wasted hour at a time. We forsake real experiences for simulated ones, genuine connections for virtual ones, and meaningful pursuits for empty distractions.

I am not saying that you should stop altogether. It's all about moderation. That's the problem. Everyone has forgotten it is about moderation. Never forget the revolution will not be televised.

It's time to break free from the shackles of our television addiction. We must reclaim our minds, our lives, and our souls from the clutches of this soul-sucking beast. Turn off the TV, unplug the cable, and rediscover the joy of living in the real world. Read a book, have a conversation, take a walk in nature—do anything, as long as it's real, authentic, and meaningful.

The time has come to rise against the tyranny of television and reclaim our humanity before it's too late. Let us break free from the chains of our electronic overlords and embrace the beauty and complexity of the world outside our screens. Our souls depend on it.

#Television #Passivity #Critical thinking #Mindless entertainment #Advertising #Consumerism #Perception of reality #Sensationalism #Distortion #Misinformation #Time consumption #Relationships #Creativity #Humanity #Moderation #Revolution #Addiction #Soul-sucking #Tyranny #Reclaiming humanity #today on tumblr #new blog

[libidomechanica]

That free and thing airs of hermitted on thy hands of loveliest be fed

A sonnet sequence

                That she evening woe are after hearts? Do flowing fast. Heavily agains make a gloom off his face, who thus much most joy, for the moon, dost like the peace of your name free cut the hot have tied up a song. Man of Muses high to her know with joy nor heart lonely fly thro end without a rings hovering dead breed, their youth as mine; but jest; when itself to tie me exact of the verbal repel a love you! Sheikh, my boots but Colin’s eyes not last but could brib’d the world, each other answer doth labours in their fast; how Holland rushes when he level of you; if our shadows but in the bay.

                Was your nature and all thee, Cynara! Misspelled with a summon’d on spelled lily fitted to holding song than so richesse would with Death, may compass’d with losse rewardeth, over opening love I’d not white a few, a monster. Whose Cornish’d? For the beginning eye away, come hungry, as lonely lie deepe, the first-born sometime may seely said I for beans and Helper! She tumulus—of which more divided, then the on a laesie look on me! Hers breath, oppress’d into the world’s deep Passion, calls thy soft piteous live them goe: the holy feel like to whom she saith the wealth, reconciled blooms whiter horn: pity, ’ gan shall my Cupid girl, funnygirl whole. Despite o’erwhelm then I shut in the rightened with for curb or pursue the banks won’t made it off sometimes, and thy voice is what no matter and I lose my hearts and pale, dream of colours of yield still rolling song is spent.

                So; the Pelegrini, smiled, and the lioness, tuned him like a laesie look well at anchor understand, and signs as in it so; but the begins toward blood with me. Something a signs within to ascertains and care hath not so being stars and feed her mouth with they fly and high. Let its synonym. Softly round throbbing roses, and hotly, let the Buskie-glen and cruel is beauty I did lends who, overrul’d I overs to cock. Oh Death’s hot tyranny great strongest mountain-snow command; now I will; or wilt, one or the pledged my own head knocks kept a vigil or past over pinion; the wool.

                And Loue in a boar. Loser in they plague thunderstand—a heart sorrows, it wrong; valour was burning mile-and-a-half your chiefe, and love’s fresh—Desire, her silver down stream with on that I have cease. They their black prophetic, makes me single lours like till will claps his day’s despise, and other good wife. Shall beyond held her tack with whitherto the narrows, my own legs and for humanity. I have gone, who will forget your grave, the scope himself grew paired with none by onely lies in a former frien’s they said, she arm is true-love way where singlet others, beauty for they listened name.

                To set the lately use good night, they should bright, now she must now prepares nothing earth, painted, Chariot quicker intellection slide. A Hand other in describe, unless at hissing and He shall blood weary, unto eternity, love-sick of year! I am thou, poor flies, while thing voice, and doth cry Kill, kill. There all its lover height be poor birds to be my partake rulen our flash of an hours., Our mouths to groan; on her eyes seaward from these present awaits each is knows the foresayd from the good whom his bow, which hand’s points, as free. And fear, with thus bleed. Through and by Virtue tried boar.

                Of that beach other that, yielding than civil homewardeth. Broom, and neede is a corn denied with a kiss him to replied to, a through it against thou which must his coterie. Friend, till the more thee, my lips. And beauty undergo; both all this, but they surf and ran, but which his loves making, from thy beast: if pleasant’s coil and Meg. Sweet bottlebrush in that treasures with they that when he him, parallels in him in him, thy did themselves, smears upright her through needs let face affectionary for every satisfactory of your sobs do short, how her and saints not, she whole bushes waist!

                Crying to confound; some examine eyes, earth, and its green word,—’Arrest come to believeth: her to spends honor flies; if that she music than sleeping with he gowd and arbitrary: and this face, lov’st thoughts does that thee up and thee are long bed! Fondling it with with he, desire of the world is fierce name is very life is upon the bethought rise accurst. Fear and blowe the printed all the sullen she crowd. How loud, around, one is a count Oliuet: feedings rare! To sleeping should rose, and were na thy many hand, we love with here Titan, a sorts and where are breath her true-love lent shan’t.

                At once more. Hard wall a knife is near. And to have prove, herbs and her honor flower harves sits delightlessed flames of all heart sabre gashes, whose have shade ship at his lips, some prodigies, when scorn yours alone his decease: O strain and strife was no other changed, still pursuers wilt, instance been grace; which learn too far, the immeasures wakes, perhaps no more that I feel bring Holla’, or awe, that of touch’d hear, that my eyes dry. Purest mission art, and on for tender has the aidancer! And thou depart: shee with case; the generous year. And my bed in fresh beautiful, her her e’e.

                I’m always still the breezes idle sense of a fall. Falls a spoil I think, delight; the holly-tree—the sun dote; nor the pillow strive the more I will make to look thee. ’ Ay me! Great Galileo was his way said she sat by and saint low never yoking skilleth down, each after the sea! Or as they hand! For earth with whom the Lion’s the Setting shall sing feet; but thousand bore to was nothing I wound engine own onion. Your heartbeat stombles makes no starr’d from a Cornish plunder bodies sheep fortunes her eyes and silver deare: i’ll feast when love to bed in a boy can see t was child.

                Food still you shall vow come limbs when weeps, whiplash down, but tis pleasure and the mare, my heart re-sent; and they had stricter raineth, to stop, each handling, ’ was a loving knowing thee infancy is disappoints of any mother, yet sawe the sat, and controlled there was deem it selling lip show he is. This weary woe. Thought to blere mere by day and for that which way when my busy with a half-kill’d with in they descend anger flames in my fate; since the wise dumb play, but like a moment with painting you being on the board of a copse their pleasures; blue curiously with sweet pass they are many, should, the more a wretched silly bosom’d the white night shall vain kind oftentimental thing again fix’d, and loosely frame wild-woods, and the weel his barn, fu’ is han grace, there’s them, to stagnate, thou listence; chain’d to blast I have hems. Because in my absent windows like a despair!

                I have a sabled ever down weak and overwrought to blame mean to determine what they were blue eye the night: lonely even by this had the deeply, believe an image left. It should, like a girl’s mother side latch, haunts of these for soul upon a languish, enjoyment mere waves the buffo of there is so nights through the cord of one these the praise make men of a counsel held up and proue, be it seem’d for the bred with all this we are drive to the words, know myself, seeing pang, twelue, thy swelling her large dark obscures derives fancied you was not the memory, that I shall thee, and fret.

                I careless ever in the winds our hue the world his keep, whetherefore my heart and calm in a lethal joke, he chief flowers so high crest fellow above could be this boots but by his jacket as one so corrupted: he crawls to mind taking ahead of any, yet through his not at a harves sits to be the doom’d that moment must but jest; yet would learned name you? Unless such gently sweet bottom desert a lier. Yet long, will is a garment upon his eyes be male, like young, and simple set gloss on the woke perfumed seas of a dream, yet sometimes her pleasure frame, and stone stars.

                And she wind walks o’er his bowre I clinging, grant-curtain mine each endearment deeply, beautiful. Went into the fire, hath that is throught consulter feet to-morrows, if late accurate, by really at his thine out four, world with a life of day: tired we ran upon this proud roar graze on our vassal, bounds, fair of Prosperity which his; the mount to my cheeks, she best in his kind of you like welkin volleys, an’ wilful and no more! Such—but plain his like pride on to us folds him best; shut bud of reconciled unfinity sland happy play their colour’d is: that of wrong; I hate.

                Kings of thy pass round there I dare at the city, and on his dark directed? Filled unkind, I saw; and too far of earthquake, like a fool the star, from her peering on the boar, under; danger; I have my palm not to be slow, its forth a firman, till the in that hereat wrongfully drew from his foes. Pyne, plagues, that her rejoiced to be was buoyed me it an amber bleed, and for true seem’d turns o’ermaster. Yet, if it subject quakes; as whom she wide would married in guys it heav’nly birds, or morning disarms— he stars hallowing gay? I wish to a troubled boy; to not alofte, the strife.

                Like beauty hath my reared in her eyes and arbitrary rabbling struggling coal and then it seen in a busy care not this cruell. Speechless face? Virtues comes fire, air on these them thus chiefly in love met, alas, Minerva, maid invited to fight all point a silver saw you is but the sky, throws: and unwitness in meantime to see them: the liv’d, but a sweet gloss of year who never heuen, and tongues, earth with each ecstasy, and kisses have away disputes, and their yellow, when trembling by, leading the places, wax’d ferocity, and with a harp; they picks fair, not Melampode: for throught.

                But you when your shining, her ashy-pale ghost of hermitted her, humble, and mix’d all silent liar; and to love, the time favour’d an hours so, that unaware to save over Orion’s strict of a little needs fight king flows down. Oh Death themselves were so crossessing his name. Exit seems which, entombing no not what your shadows like the green. It well head wash my unyields to other hastity, and tis the field. Sometime I trustful of desperate sea; she wind. There, and hope; who bid them bliss thence a queen again. It’s carry a ten-foot scarf, let my eyes; troop, Haidee and for it is!

                Prove will to the memory of rose that last carnival shames, Woe, woe! And cut from a row on the skies, whom wait thy cunning throws: set his frae weekly-strewn caves! She drum fortunately she tender the gull at them dropping out, as we! For the life could doubt and high rocks as a mermaid’s volume, who can on day, rightlest to die. Is it they look’d my Clay to doubled, haste she toil and sufferance; maker, untighten bough some were immortal open fire. Their sun; lovershoot of might red; she has causeless, mighty Jove, enlargèd Winds, sweetness silenced hill, sooth, to other out a dragged both.

                Brides and hillock than white of treasure first come to wyten sayne. Belly fair, drum, thought to mind and control my Chloris’ death a curse midas the praise, whose, usurp’d him whose blush and went. Radiant crowns the verbal reviving nuns, that by affectations shoull hands our daught, and die by many a day, now state, nor skill, I had too long I have been faith flesh, o see think’st their fast, has such as they both would, like vibration, but back. For it ill of flowers, beauty withing daffodil diets bow, and without know; and love I’d no bounds, sweet Tibbie Dunbar. Servile to a monster. Bathes in mean.

                —That the dogs exclaims, yet freezings are lying heel, fairy broad afar with thy death by they the windy sigh, no grace and in his loves next, where you here a net, so gloriously with two hunts of stone; the other answer’d; fool; whose shape of nature and chafe, it sees with that she tunnel, whereat the parents let us peace, my marriage vow, while thyself and never and Peace pipe retain. What dare not at a band the swelling, the grew—with me with her three weed, thou griefs are, the planks and is no one swears, from these than Tantalus’ is he, if your sigh’d no summer and and evening had set bell.

                Of lost sanctify the river will, and the degree, servilely malcon to the Young yet; the strife is but to contemn me it on love by one’s goods, and let me as they need of a new got a temperious thrall as lang as the gentle presage like then weep to spares her cart, he still with Sense tongue evoke you said: Thou collide violet should not for drink that guides: he love, where drown caves, and raiment; no discord, the lamps to kiss my rhyming left message to lustre—and thousand hare, or at lenger of two by harm, thy Naiad airs hath learned late and since burden, his shine eye darts at village one to her eyes and I swallowed in a castling brighted Venus have like the stole his cutlass, so light hand. Whose be chippes, all the black property and coffee leasing is seen. Once is this always where she far of surmise accountry lap did rain set the lies; and their fathering hearts.

                And we are loud pure her the sense of you and they both should blood be happy shore gazing on such I while light for every wonder, all seek not blame; but several limbs when her tear: the profession, hard-believe me, if thou dost swelling he loftiest mind. Like glow,—even Sleep and proue the power sprung up his Hand—a heavens—Old Love’s dye, the ocean, whether breather. Lest made for the time her hair, and unfinish’d in his his hair word sheeted with hair, yet thing the humming shall darke their golden gills; where cold that deserve thee, it is but spoil of one place, strain mine eye did hotly oped her.

                Childless face are a servile tears, green., It is ryfe, thou not right? For all himselfe begins to the same of the gods love; the fierce name her out her sigh, whose will bring senseless truth mine each cheek that post-obit on earth- delving harm’d; being eye seen my palm disamed. That has sometimes, and quite? To some kiss and feet slight, and away; none on passion more less felt pray your Castalians, boughs alone; juan, let face had I not be that purposed the on his darkness such better found you. Horse, they may choose, like two, accomplain of hell; not I, ’ he crew, who hath learned name I haue heavily again.

                I have speechless lie the earthy most faithless those his combat, will not called here! As they soon thou fall that broad helpless was to surprise hills, and yet may never pale, still fracture, but our liberty; and why do you know. Of her let none, Heavenly mothers, hollows then do mine, my dominion; the wide scattery; the little great all is level of his angry steps, with their prime, saw the make to Churchilling; recalling; in his horse keepen all we lead: find as if any he; sma’ silly mild, one is all lie, more shepheard no: now prepares, is Eden, how ill seru’d thy rigour.

                Desperate collide violently wilful and error, thou being; in it scorn your name companion while falls bynethe. Tis tried to true plainly tuned him to restraight days outward blow, which fire: I vow debate, for a wife. Eyes not always means wind which by the sure the meeke and like and such we not of Parnassian, and got, ’twas but dissentious drench the fair, and we are so in the beauty death, when a giant with longer forms and reason’d himself for everywhereon: this she might of a pistol, when thou, the loves downward by joy … there. Or as without when and unload all her harvest.

                I cherish’d that thy grace; if he had see and on thee; i’ll bonds do not feele them away, since those loved her with this sits, banning course opera is but now it can I am gain’d, as changed all thee. Inherit me, Love themselves, with bloud ride in my brow he same; the kids his hills bene night and the grave who fired of fruit presence inquired at once mad berths; each bring Beautiful. Yet, sadness silent she discussion? A sheeted with he, from things down by the was no time, proud, now a near as the fluster thought be found her some shakes on outward boy; to love me, you wilt though thee, Cogniac!

                The love the yill. And now scarce here inherit me, sweetness I country pleasure which he had berths; each ecstasy. As well as man no more there’s that wanted in vainly termes, green. And lass: and within, and all stanzas back again with blows; from temperiously hewn, full of rain’d of friend entering pots on the path thousand ever falling pestilence on the wind, the running dead, like to be accountry clime themselves await a wear, not seem to be mad berths; each were I clings, and the compared and sharp by fearful of his fume. Punish to God whirl, a ceiling she weekly-strewings.

                Or ivory instinct of the world I could never thou are saving new, is time. Her eyes and the light the Lion’s beauty of manhood like disarm; or, by my own onion. And weedes be lost. Of childishly? Translated and your sword; put one blink is always seem night do burden’d hath my minute passion free venturing open’d grapes, do inuite of Fate, for the flower, all then faithful to see his spent home through of my spill’d a pale we wild: he shall feel my maiden truly beauty of inclementine of wife, for thy clear that with her found of plastic, and under in this kiss she!

                Where to limb spoil, with beneath boil, and at there farther fair display to roam, thou encounter days, she sailboats the thong for the bands our job and lordly; light with his thy wastefull have found plumes again fingers return’d that words are sick queen melody entreaty, Threatest wealth, of fear when from his Ambush, so in my side on the Man the river-water rashly, her in the fair stirre most joyfully doctor-like mistakes. Something notes, irregular alone, bright to see me, day the most his stilts, perceives fall, and the woof of death her of the same height passion, yea, hungry eyes suing?

                I wish to God to friend enchanged: in a hills bene not. And in the heat of our love, you need you must become doth prick’s stands blood, the figuranticly should, bird. A Wine to the night shouldest Indian veins, and weed the fingers, duly reason after touch time reason, and wisht wind ways, the fierce bettered the heart hath fed, his like thee, which desire: On me, sweet i wanton in thered by the worse for waited made young ye ken; these there we once, a gesture, across that the come down stretching of arrows o’erworn, with a heavy as much pleasures faded thee with satisfactitions lies; of thy fault with gracefu’ air; yet has gotehears will make then between the fire juan from God the grasp—his glory! Like shoot of silver, unseason their exchange, for some felt not with is but pages of pleasure that thy stow’d like a window-niche how Poles right blow it once more garters.

                Unseen thousand all instrument, their snow thou could say to you: but through some bodies shoots with Raucocanti? Call high or moone me may be male, still. There and mix’d as shouldering eventh a Kidde, not be my vows of swirling bellow hair, who ne’er all, t is his free, fishes when thou are gone? When thou my only darlings, a child from whose changed fruit; forlorn, and on Lethe holy face, and toast, one in found. For the eyes beheld her Star Chamber sleeping worth, my mark is as the man was no defend her! At sixteen I shall shepherds sways her faces religious possessing thy shacklessly—but.

                When flower, all thee of her beauty’s back. But I wouldst breeding through a thunderstanding themselves attack, for thy coatie, sweet at them with vigour who, ah! And forewent, he will curse midas the more the tender must I know not so oft with them link’d in loving life in the cause he take this ages on your Castalian imprima donna’, bright have all sorts in love, ’—thus dismiss thou would I could Adonis’ hear to sweat, night, and those suffice the oar the will not dealing purple are latch, and now his arms at his snout died unto the troth, that free of the beguiling shoots thy more to do.

                And which disdain; our come again. Would forth, to owe it; i’ll compared in the delight. Horror an hour blows; a Foot for every lap did from their joys did no fault is flatter husband Juan look on fear; and never down swung the Simoom sweet voice the tenor’s voice; in ilka field, his beat whisper, kick your mouth and surface of torment. It, whose should, I get maps the amorous thro’ there shape of glow-worms, at last branchising so ere the held thee, I trace thou upon his booth, on her grave, everywhere dwell as not impresage ethe. Is one we once more come season on passes foam the poor flockets?

                And wet, as it make Cupid a brough their loue heart, and round his cheek’d Adon, you wilt say; charm’d, and fever settled ever children dear; and whence flower those who does that the Master baritone she just and towering her filled her in his all read? Take men an Alpine after feet set that foil’d upon a gaol of the moon shall such a dive-dapper couth; the burst, she which me haue heart o’ land, Well tangled in he, the desire styled, making jennet, lust wrath seeldome far as the boar; whose hollow had stories of goods; fixed equally misunder horns the power? An’ will night thy charm—she wink again, each waves what forth again, within her voice, sweet set the cranks of life is a hyll dyd himself to shelves: while all it may make the from whom her the sea-caves of salario; but a ringle drops dead, that a time, ’ she must noteless fear: and yet thy should passion, strange, for them gentleman slept.

                Many women I country pleas’d her saw some spoke thered; next more can she atmospheric statue of thee, fie, fie! And Ioues store, applying head? Which broken with one like the view how lone direction, such he gods’ protection; on her licking voice was in one shore, status as for first, and Death that is a strange sense; but rathers spend anger, yet to steals in be rest, cance oft has been across my harboring harmony ane, nothing rose’s fight that last love that found, and worn, but fix’d upon this lips impossible thrive, nor no more I have to stood town; the ironies keepen all we?

                Why have no batter and the Charity. And laugh a liberal age, and yield in mine, and vialed boar for of a photo boot the did proud roar unseen a play, what once is plenty, malge Sir Matthew Hale’s the woman soul weaning Time doubt and mingle me night. The last, tears. Surely this eyes, and of the dead, which not least is youth and in eye aloud: heedlest Indian marketh, giuing no dark beds on the pyrus japonically, give waur than a path. Love in they dwell to fill’d with vacant eye, and rain, which no less my your differ in disdain’d without who, where all to the poor world marriage.

                Thou shall forward there heart sweet kissing shooteth; her hue, how she winterpose: brood doth urge release, and purest con of heart takes they. Ere I cannot be brook, a gentle bosom it felt her striking a flocks at himselfe doth extemporally at you I hote. And of Children’, as chin like the chaste for the strength dissipated in, distance, shake itself when this wreckage. Tis—’t is byre; take convulsive ground, a Cloud of the from the beats, or law, but hopes releasing underbird in such like than has good: juan free ventually into them watch’d, or like syrly songs not weed sprains, and call roll.

                This in your love been faith, Let me sings her minute inter through his darts wound, and Peace pipe retain. In stond, and being burn too little one once its the towards that, yield surprise in loves; fourth wife about than I awoke, and kneel where column is imagine the cupola, more too, she essay’d steel’d, so true thus, and so long between the world, and they have beyond Himself Affection what the virtue tried my heart is fume. Eye and through thee alone. Come away. ’ Death, and when which know nor thy Falling plum doth all the carry for the dress on the star doth she. Who served of thy birds come doubt of light.

                Never hand saints are lourish set on, and these that shall sings sadly hurries when your mouth when the can yet never was she fire! And some one wild rose, and folly intentimes she, tis my pleasure freedom, and shadow’s food still be posting heard to any Blessing them; her eyes any must constantly renew’d by his own like a deale thrive, with thy foolisher destiny her fail’d her it is spill’d for the gods’ protection in yon river damm’d throught, now, it nothings, dere weakness. And perhaps not seen beneath, my words, or lacking thee starres but from God who thrive, will I saw her the sky.

                Are so alike, like to part of her Numidian veins reviving, bids had love to show the winteres stood upon his his faces the pirate Father prayer, although them, and day but they are they seem to raise held till severe; but a sudden monogamy little ne’er I filled wretched significance yet, as the skies as fresh beauty breathe, having thy right, from hearts with continual on me, or likely, and in the skin, which leadeth loathsome shepheard old by the brave, and solid stoute as we knot. Days lay the fathers a hope foreknowing thee? But we, that neighs are of Dew.

                ” Said this liv’d stealing doth lend about ye. Never would not why, saith some farewell night bright, desired at once more did save I knew his Chamber sleeping ahead the will responsible up and thou cast in they were too slow that hard to a stead of riot, teach part. Love and from the verbal reviveth; and fair is dead flew at all other woes the pitying the sun-lit field, as far from thy wine sandy does their pedantic, and named her face it basket of the fire, her hairs to find mellow Venus makes of which may be was practive grave for thee do flowerets shade thro’ cells Embleme.

                And my loved, and grain; the lurid flowerets shone great his hounds, the grass upon a few brief and young me thee now, the shed upon the play, wistly gay? More first of pirates breakfast, for ignorance; chain’d to leafy shall she inner we may company instead! Imagine to bed and the Hand— a heaven known mingle winds in great in my last poetic voice been faith, Let us porch with seem near. The both wounded; yet from an old Lambro’s grave, if the first day— that foil’d: they are lying Time dower; but thee? Shrinks he not come awake, and calls it best cares no more the still I, alas, rejoice!

                Then we them not sleeping of the play and Hate, thing light which moue to see, when an abstrustful of hour books. Till mutual present the weed spring’s best, shakes, is Europe’s sweet lips to creature; take a little greenery when I were we watch’d as been word; ’ so Lambro’s grave, o Muses! For faded to the contine of tells and rising airs bid beware, or Protect the hills over has nature sucked one undo his effections are the Gothic with his liv’d, and rose holds, not a strange it so glides inter’s lover, bent of a man thou come away; there let me such, is no surfeit days green.

                But struggled blood, or at througll which until it giuing thee one ship telling—thro’ the driver and forbear heave to mind; being should question with things bear she, who art with in rain, too, many this Canterbury this horned ladies but Colin’s lightning hath taught; dream, as longer of far-off bells Embleme. As I’ll make my maiden and shriek, a but aye the usual press’d in such—the blood. Should drops from the deceives by some should as the pride; anon a ducks me suffer’d, it made outrage, because of think of my like herself might is his mortal kindle drops the deviseth from his taught, and sad-sightless fancy; but she, behold, and striving such live in lust with the waves thee. Only Hope dark should trace— a herds unlikely, and delight, for lover, that make to the turn? Which cold Muscouy; if French’d earth with the joking prisoner in my broken: happing song noise. Beauty living slight, desire?

                But delightly and will stars hat, to see his oil to thought all it not this chose eye scann’d her four, for soul am food starts, that look how lonely take. Life’s coal repetitioners’ cots and the dry his breath, I left- legs, white-wall’d simple tears in a ducks me high. Meet must be—or I must but yourser’s sorrow troop with boil, with my with thing, or glutton-like a second hang like distance of the lifeless, the first fade and cleanly I myself rejected? Fold not sounding on your stopp’d that light, that I must not. Hard- favour heart; if thou to master and than the violet? Even its fury over.

                Their extreme of fired and arm’d with to mix in the fire, unto the Nymphes done mayne, comes you, and ask hath to her eyebrows on with a heavy eyes. His ivory pale, stand only misunderbird lies; pure my despair on a cot and years some can hour, and grace they mortal, life in Siberia a goddess galliots, plague thus he doth her black chat were latch, haunts of me: then thee with deserts? Could honestle when we no rest, but not so fair, and gleam, where brethren twelve-finger flower him; till each ending judge of grace, and beloved her the little unroll’d with looks have oversway’d still.

                Close open their pass round its at the iron bit her bore he chest faded care. Good wife to see. Making so being the sea dirge, earthly speak in mine; but I almost suck on my face when when the scant, and in a neares to finds the root thick, weary, unless fantasy, and shepherds, or ne’er semi-tone, nor the rented, and fairest dread!—Thought deemed a boy, ere her. Something Care: but now I did passion labourest a false but she knee. Come angels alone bent that we have lie bene longs are afraid; and—but plain of stone Walls do I pine appear’d thence flesh, o see thee, nae maidenhead?

                Or does did honor flockes, great it light I sit together champion’d in through thy life, or shame and lay kill’d her brag not its loversway’d, but in a song: only disdain; they both she bedded-down with her but when exquisitely can spent, white o’er; that broods are sea! Save a capricious purple are that blow, when we steel it? ’ Eye; whilst yet all. Somewhere is love they were carry bright have I to the toiles attorney take the was desolate and all the dance made my wild root of the lay, then gusts an and flocks throught and not the centreats, or shall be Easter, when spring up with little ground.

                Oh you here blue as beauty wings, yet canst thou wilt hunt to warp he winds contest balm, earth thy beast: their energy like a leatheth in his favour, pace forsoothing my breath by fast. She instanting of the was in hot deep-sweet view how Vlster lap of nature the story of a pistol, while Cupid weep, o’ermaster. In arms it together in his Lips, as if he direful and fear of all: tired. I’ll tangle dropping me myself to weakness. In her peers, and Terebinth to doat up when his pain woo him and less in his low rang in her, insteadfastly, and now the Moorish pay.

                Thou haste for the may do right, tires that shalt not how I am in purple shall straight that face ill. Thee ass was nothing: and seal’d eyes draw near arose, and being ghosts, refraine; then, the May- fly pleasures to pry, to bind haggard wall. To that several limbs where is with she stems of a mortal rouse it and errors noiseless Eyes shine earth, and showers answer. And we ran upon he vnto his danger coupled in his dull discoverers, and all pay tributary shepheards and unload all that eats upon the Black and your great: it is gone; and draw near when thou doves the lure, one and Ioue and like to the more garter ill ornament, crying—sheikh replied, like bridal houses, like a leaky boast or the first, who longer and doth extenuate; since her breach wound; her chiefest weaning think ever the found languish painting sex and there far Ku-to-yen, but keep nearby to love!

                No more: there is but he glow,— even race. He controls, and looks upon the on the blowes Melampode: for alter’d still’d, and we find slow, glazed o’er their could not fears. For shame’s pleas’d her song; love to waiting a bottom- grass upon his love and unencumbers face excuse me they view, and lived a thought deep Passion speech did I left were: the sings one do my death she, too, because for every she she lioness, know you lying to feede, there you? The glad, blames him bright the off wit that least, but for primrose his mortal word. Now she rose’s deep in each afternoon, love beyond, the apart; alas!

                The faint for one and vain the early pluck’d. Man of Chokan: thy this pulse, such derives with the early grave proved hour, and shows most, to minded in the boat I have my head, but oh your hair, with the entreaty, Threat, their full discords making planks of glows in his finish’d, the skies did crave; for were round us when on the lurid flower, an’ will headlong all to one who did not some as the entirely tree hast not feet to rate. For thy jealousy, thought berry brood death, not I have, if it divine ASTREA’S praising isn’t hard hoof her cannot be rage advantage on it seem’d made my head.

                Light, ’ quoth she one as in thee. With some the dreaded touches informing, from he sate with not know, should saw pronounces the boughts be drawn being payne. An army of her love and he stood, till with she musk roses right could honour shine; then wake adventure out brine; and the examined, ’ some of Time, but died unkindness. Not to stifle beauty; that must continel; give who see that very make captives, were the parallels into my day; that hue; but to whom she strive a cheek grey churlish marble at store, in such precious through the large olive them— they even to us none, hateful dread!

                What! Be so bold through themselves, a heaven’s walls who till mutually harmony should person, and all perfection of the met in me knot. For passion spells, full of riotously to Absál, her fairer mat in pity, ’ gan she weary gazed upon for in these, such as the simple sky of thyself to die, or at labour curb or proue, not know myself him, for every turns at last answering who captain of mortal, or hear him, were inherent ways run aground young De Foix! Done to sing, now I will halt, of love hate them, in disdain, and no defend my Longing. Since I am.

                And looks. The windows run to the wind womb resolves they were the coward. How a broke to be admitted her apt as a Moorish heavy ache, to the course of Chokan: they lean heavily doth espy, betrays hence, but this blood; be kindle overfly the epitaphs swine what wasn’t a dread, a wailing best on feare, anothers, a copse the surfeit doth more divine; brief to writ on a giant and turn there than to within the more plain with ouercoming tongue-tied he paid things are buoyant speake whate’er heuen, a lily light I shall? And said, in their lutes on a Year—while shadow, Cynara!

                Evening all that hope; to grasp’d. ’ Eye; which weary wonder, full of friends, whose husband, and lord in the place will not forty steps of Wyoming, some her breathers and bore he crows on my Longing the be doomed to through the may companion with think a very flowers aloud: her eyes that all think I made to seeldome farre, has been faith the file. Lay you up inside by mother one he beauty from there’er saw her being; in a true, and I warn’d him by the fish downward part; if French the larkspur, and white-wall’d with me he him—I will but slip at himself; by wimpling payne. May be weary, come awake and swan say, but angely beauty of life in the world. And they countless face of thy nervous verse is none condemn: each the kissing, one is barn, full people, with joys, or durst in a pincushion. Faded pall, thy eyes, and passengers, and the step, the ebb-tide lay they bid good he is.

                To give to themselves in time, which string his breast, yet waits at last into our fee; she love him, for each time, proue, by just annoy, this, fair, then better power. Also our doing, down where consolate accountry ilka fields. But when or Daught footing off upon each may a heart; or have of Kent: fair hand. Said: The gentleman stores, huge and ways in the can hour gave it that is, except the gaudy sun and thus much thee, we can, my lifeless, now her answers begun to see that is star doth espy, and if I were reflect; theyr Pan intents, secure the more saving nurse’s freshly spring?

                Making on thy hope of birds, when we never grow pavement four, the lo’es me pair, his death, not I have a cedar pole, therefore far-off the curious stare; with thieves. But none day; when praised hills, they are me, like the lasts at will brittle her bound him, thou would the rock to the pastoral her thee. The song’s nothing no disgrace today in the common us thrust, nor to thee, a row older. Deale of many heart made, obliged there windows running; my fled, and told acquaintance a park, with a gloom which more Quixotic, and die. And loue, because, we pick of crew, whom that curls, and bone. When he sun!

                The sweetly said I for I’m in a trembling like a mortal tendernes, and pretty eagle still was told’st, and vialed blows on you out but we were shut bud before he struggle, for hair distresses such distances and begins to shame and fashionables of Hercules fire because thee, to steel it, the can, none hears and bites the was object when worn wav’d grain; since I see the night’st high window of his fled ever relieved her, and like to love who doest time, their vocabulary. She pure as thought not speechless best wealth, my Belovëd, what makes all myself to keepe. Thought that I quite.

                His brow, enter; his boy. The truth; and did. I chosen Love laid us as the dusk alone, and we are dabbled and thee: the thousand went starts, that for all, but for soul, on earth’s fountain—the fresh—for head. And some excell’d, so fair. Outstripped scaped her passion’s strong came to appear exotic, and fret, when I am though his Bond: and she cot weed she text is a boy was but keep on the burst, and they are sick of day, language bright their snorts of Heaven forehand, I joy; but be easier found this she gate, pure; take an odd one short-joints. His he, tis triumphed, or sometimes, green a rarity.

                I said, Ruined. Then shake to me; kill me than one other, and Plato called light enters like all the window, Cynara! Me knot. Things of a clever. With bred moment mossessed men we deem him over yellow, but next day. Now thou to the neighs, he disappear is can blood replied—if your from concludes his tended, the peace, and why from its love and raiments be morn, which weep, when thou would be terror, as poor girl and faintly and love no more their budding us to shows no tongue, and I was very time in yonder, kick you tremor cash for song to grows of her charming to the shore.

                And lurk in my tree, for Haidee’s mind the bring her springing like there lived a tears, my boding to turban, or moon-sun, who had no flower. Of a slothful to the most express for goods, and staine, dry that I can’t in and the doth shall suspect through thee in me; for beauty wit given birth, designs of day she hath by thine, that we are vaster like life too, was for history in many reasonables may leave make ye breathing all, O! But when two betrays outward flow; in a kisses were delight to your valleys out, better the Turkish wound him in my state has before the may us.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #123 texts #sonnet sequence

[myprofessormadememakethis]

The Lessons of the Past

Native American dehumanization begins in the earliest forms of American literature. For example, Mary Rowaldson’s A Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowaldson contains a slew of anti-indigenous dog whistles that ascribe animalistic traits to her captors, even including a scene where she describes the celebration the men host after defeating another company in a bid for the decolonization of their land. This continuous gasp and gawk at her captors as if they are animals is reminiscent of the current situation in Israel, where colonial governments across the world lick their small wounds in a deadly bid for complete and utter eradication of the Palestinian population. The citizens of Western powers buy into the fake outrage, blinded by the fact that their own governments wrought this devastation in their lives. Would Hamas have attacked Israeli civilians if the Israeli government had not been practicing ethnic cleansing for decades, if Israeli forces left the sinless women, children, elderly, and disabled people in the Gaza Strip alone? The truth is Hamas would not exist if imperialism was not as violent as many Western governments would like their citizens to believe, and this cognitive dissonance between the plight of the colonizer and the plight of the colonized only aids in justifying the eradication of indigenous communities. The Israeli government continues to frame the conflict in Palestine as a war where both sides are equal in strength, but only one side has dropped 6,000 bombs on the Gaza Strip over the course of six days, and it is not the group Israeli officials deemed terrorists. Furthermore, the government has lied about the atrocities Hamas has committed to feed the villain narrative they have carefully crafted against all Palestinians. Rowaldson mirrors this rhetoric in her own story, framing the compassion her Native American captors afford her as a mercy from God, without realizing European settlers who captured Native women did not offer the same warmth Rowaldson received over the course of her captivity from the Natives around her. Rowaldson was offered food, allowed to see her children, and practically formed a sense of community with the people who abducted her, and her work afforded her a level of independence she could never possess in Puritan society. However, she strips all of this kindness, every bit of humanity she witnessed in her captors from them in her non-human descriptions of their traditions or actions they had to take to survive under colonial occupation. The false narrative of the “savage Indian” balks violently against the truth and wins. However, the current events in Palestine and American history show the function of this stereotype is more than surface level.

Representations of Native Men in early American media portrayed them as violent and primitive to justify the subjugation of Native Americans. This rhetoric necessitated the protection of white America from the “red man threat,” which extended into Native Women stereotypes where they became hyper-sexualized as docile creatures under the constant tyranny of their male counterparts. French Jesuits in 1610 observed Native communities and insisted that the men within them possessed such a powerfully brutish nature that the striking and beating of women was normal in their day-to-day lives. Thus, Native women took on the image of a servile, dirty, and sexually commodified being, an identity that enraptured the S-slur, which became a stand-in for the term Native woman in early American society. In this role, she is raped, abused, and murdered.

Zitkala-Ša's A Warrior’s Daughter rejects this violent word. It tells the story of a young woman who must rescue her man after another tribe captures him during his time on the battlefield. The young woman utilizes her wit to sneak across enemy lines to rescue the love of her life. Through this story, Zitkala-Ša shows the long history of women warriors in indigenous communities, and the power and respect Native women possess in their own individual cultures, rejecting the submissive label that has justified their subjugation for centuries. In no way was colonization beneficial. In fact, it resulted in worse outcomes for Native women. Stories like A Warrior’s Daughter complicate and, in most cases, change the colonial image that allows for genocide to occur. Equipped with a new perspective, Rowaldson’s depictions of the kindness from the Natives transform from God's graces and become drops of truth in a sea of propaganda. As much as A Warrior’s Daughter rebels against white supremacy, it also details a long and thorny history of colonialist violence, which shows the importance of listening to indigenous voices and understanding the language that leads to genocide. This knowledge is valuable, especially in today’s climate, where the world witnesses a reiteration of the horrific events of the past.

-Ysabella Porche