Monkeys, meanderings, bodies exhibits, and Bill Manchester was a real man. Are you ?

Caveat lector..

“..Truly created beings are meanings set up in images.
All who grasp this are among the people of discernment..”

Ibn Habib: al-Maghribi. Gnostics see from the heart, which is the intellect’s seat.

‘ahlil ‘ibar – people of discernment, people of discrimination.

I discriminate.

“..Smash the control images. Smash the control machine…”

William S. Burroughs: Gentleman Junkie? Slacker? Poet? Insane and gibbering broken shell who shot his wife in the head while drunk somewhere south of the border? A bit of all, or a bit of none.

William Manchester: fueled by yogurt and brief naps, withstood 50 hour writing sessions, but yet succumbed to grief stricken inability to concentrate on even a simple Television Program.

“What a Mensch !”
Fucking A.
Men don’t really seem to exist, ’round these parts, anymore.
We’ve sort of been killed off.  So me, myself, I’m going on vacation.

Prince of those with faith, Ali Abu Talib’s son
Once observed, something obvious to one,
with eyes.
“Every time I argue with a fool, I lose..”
Credibility, a precious gem, given rarely. If you lose it,
that which is not given lightly, it is gone forever, when lost.

Hard Corps, is not spelt hardcore. Civitas Dei, is lost.
Commonwealth? A fraud. Lionel Curtis? Mendacious twit.

There is no commonwealth, only empire. Your perceptions otherwise

are an administrative error. Ask Harry Buttle.

Empire: it requires self-medication. Try consciously living in it.

Addiction? Is a symptom, for our lusts but mask our pains. What I seek and gain from arms soft and perfumed, and lips moist, is but a simple numbing.
But this is need, and need be weakness. But how I enjoy such weaknesses..

Be those dammed? Who fail to heed their intellect?

I do not know, fa la yaqiluun.  Fa ‘ayna tadhhabun…

I just realized, with a shudder, how corrupt my soul and mind..

Bodies: pickled in plastic resin, art fit for slaves detestable.
Who fail to realize, the bodies seen, hanging in museums,
were once loving, fearing, curious beings, with life in veins,
they loved, they hated, they feared. Courageous, were some. The stains
of a humanity, too debauched to see their ends,
entombed in resin, on display, to gawking rubes,
too stupid or heedless to see, those bodies were once, you and me.

Gawking gimps staring at pickled bodies on skateboards, this is art indeed.
For people with weak minds, and no discernment or creed,
worthy of respect.

Fundamental to human psychology, is a dissonance.
A failure to realize, we are each other’s reflection,
so when we murder others, by means direct, or indirect,
we actually murder our selves. Everyone who has killed,
or who has witnessed death
has some inkling of this intuition
though they deny, though we deny.

So to vote for one man’s accidental murder, is to slay him yourself.
So to knowingly elect a criminal, is to participate in crime yourself
So partisans pigeonhole reality, or at least tend to.
They should bend over and kiss their pigeonholes.
For this will, at least, keep them occupied, while the rest of us persist
in life.
To remove God from the world, is to place a hole, a hole in reality itself.

Most Christians and most atheists alike, are united on one affair

Single affair – they know not what, or who, God is
and they know not what, or to whom, reality points.

Nota beni: exceptions exist. Generalities can be useful at times.

No offense: I like Christians, they have soft hearts, and are often full
of love. Many, anyway.

Atheists, I like some. By in large, they have sharp minds.

In analytics, they tend to excel. Christians, they tend to be intuitive, in a fuzzy warm, Oprah like way.

Caveat lector: There are, of course, exceptions.
The heart without the mind, is useless.
The mind without the heart, is useless.
Both are blind, by themselves.

No man chooses an ideology out of sincere conviction by reason,
there is always emotion, we judge the world by our pains.
Subjectivity always colors objectivity, for the finite cannot compass the infinite. Erudition gives you options, though not always sexy to the fairer sex, often.

Some facts are manifest, to those who contemplate, though you wish
to deny. I respect your wishes.

Ibn Habib, once wrote:
“..If you were to reflect on physical bodies and their marvelous forms
and how they are arranged with great precision, like a string of pearls;

And if you were to think about the mysteries of the tongue and speech with it, and how it articulates and conveys what you conceal in your breast;

And if you were to think about the secrets of all the limbs and how easily they are subject and in thrall to the heart’s command..”

And if.. and if.  Reality can be observed, by those with insight and discretion. Discretion is discernment, and discrimination. To discriminate the real from the unreal, is a science known to few. Often the real causes pain, and fantasy balms. But I swear to God, the real’s delicious, water iced in crystal glass, beneath the sun’s heat. The sun punched out of the clouds, in a pale grey sky.

In a static grey sky.

Under a grey sky.

Cast not pearls before those who believe they are swine, and are unwilling to consider the manifest fact, of their humanity.

Cast not pearls before apes flinging turds, and painting their walls with the black fertile earth. Monkeys surpass men in physical strength. In main and might, a bitch chimp can pull half a ton.

A man, maybe 100 pounds. On juice, and cretine.

Exceptions exist, the lesson is, don’t piss off monkeys, they can rip your arm off

and beat your head with it, and then fuck you in the ass with it when they are done.

Then, they shall smear you with poo.  Why?

Because they are monkeys. Silly. Goose.

And that’s what monkeys do. Monkeys are monkeys, white or black, some baboons look gray. Yellow or red, monkeys all. Do not feed the monkeys.

Because they can rip your arm off and sodomize you with it. Simple lesson.

Have you ever observed that monkeys in cages behave in most eccentric ways. Surpassing the strangeness of monkeys in the wilderness?

What we call civilization, is a cage. It has some uses, I’ma  utilitarian.

But call it what it is. Mendacity annoys me. Perfidy annoys me. And now I’m off, to flirt with the Barrista.

“The perceptive man is he who knows about himself,
for in self-knowledge and insight lays knowledge of the holiest.”
Khushal Khan Khattak:knew a thing or two…

6 Comment

  1. Illusory Duniya says:

    “What a Mensch !”
    Fucking A.
    Men don’t really seem to exist, ’round these parts, anymore.
    We’ve sort of been killed off. So me, myself, I’m going on vacation.

    Another simultaneously misogynist/misandrist male.

    Men like that insult both women AND men.

  2. Michael Wilson says:

    Is there an evolutionary benefit associated with “being a ‘man'” at this point, or does that present you with the fun false dilemma of military service (killing other people that you should instead be speaking with) or showing up on reality television (killing yourself, but ever so slowly, since that does, after all, generate ratings)?

  3. William Manchester, or myself?

    What a conundrum !
    There is a third option, of course, misanthropy. I’m often a fan of third options, when given two apparently blind ends.
    There’s a fourth option, which is love, of both men, and women, and humanity, while accepting their, our, vast and immense imperfections.

    There is a fifth option, apathy.
    And a sixth option, acceptance of the real. This is the true vacation, for it is a journey to a country that few bother traveling to.

    As for insults, both men and women today often can use a creative seeming insult that is, in reality, not an insult but actually a mirror of our selves. This is the value of parody, and satire.
    The idea that Monty Python really do not insult anyone or thing, rather their making fun is actually a somewhat accurate mirror of what is going on, much like a Sheikh Chilli, or Mullah Nasrudin, story.

    As for William Manchester he was a Mensch. The guy wrote 18 books, in 50 hour writing stretches, and I don’t think anyone has equaled his “Glory and the Dream: A Narrative History of America”

    As always, thank you for swinging by, you are sort of a Lakshmi like presence haunting my little corner of cyberspace.

  4. Michael, thank you for stopping by.
    That’s actually a good question, but like all false dilemmas there are possibilities of creative synthesis that are not actually evasions, but rather are redirections of force.

    I believe it is possible that the primary modes of “being a man” recognized in our culture today are not only evolutionary dead ends, but are actually regressions.

    To serve country and people is one thing, but to be used as a tool by those claiming to represent our patria, (and of course, thus killing people we probably should be talking with) is something that we should recognize as contrary to our interests as men (the collective we, of course)

    To serve “Madison avenue” by being a unit of consumption, killing ourselves slowly in the process, either consuming reality TV or being consumed by it, or likely both is contrary to our interests as men (and what isn’t reality TV today? It seems like everything is a staged spectacle. )

    More important than just our interests as men, narrowly defined by gender, are our collective interests as humans.

    These two sayings, from disparate cultures and ages, both suggest to me a truer path of manhood than the false dialectics we are often presented with.

    “Lead such a life, that, when you die, the people may mourn you, and while you are alive they long for your company..” Ali ibn Abu Talib, the 4th Caliph

    “To hate injustice and stand on righteousness is a difficult thing. Furthermore, to think that being righteous is the best one can do and to do one’s utmost to be righteous will, on the contrary, brig many mistakes. The Way is in a higher place then righteousness. This is very difficult to discover, but it is the highest wisdom. When seen from this standpoint, things like righteousness are rather shallow. If one does not understand this on his own, it cannot be known. “ – Yamamoto Tsunetomo in his Hagakure

    Maybe some part of the traditional notion of “being a man” involved a degree of sacrifice on others’ altars, but I think it’s possible to “know the score’ and yet see the value, to ourselves, of cultivating our own excellence, and mayb, just maybe, being of use thereby to real victims and real people in need…

    Beholden not to external masters, but an inner one, or at least masters of our conscious choosing.
    I will probably have a more lucid take on this after a bit of sleep, but thanks again for stopping by and leaving a thought provoking comment.

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