L'esercito dei morti invano,
Noi ...
Sarete stretti dal nostro abbraccio.
Siamo invincibili perché siamo i vinti.
Invulnerabili perché già spenti:
... Finché la lingua vi si secchi:
Se dureranno il danno e la vergogna
Vi annegheremo nella nostra putredine. PRIMO LEVI
Their enemies have delivered themselves to destruction
(Incantation, Czeslaw Milosz)
TUCKER CARLSON AND CZESLAW MILOSZ (CHILD OF EUROPE, JUNE 17, 2021+MARCH 8, 2023)
"WAR MACHINE IS ITCHING FOR ANOTHER CONFLICT": JIMMY DORE WITH TUCKER CARLSON (FEBRUARY 1, 2023)
#HUMILITY IS THE #EPISTEMOLOGICAL #REQUIREMENT FOR SOME #PERCEPTIONS
3
He who has power, has it by historical logic
Respectfully bow to that logic.
Let your lips, proposing a hypothesis
Not know about the hand faking the experiment
Let your hand, faking the experiment
No know about the lips proposing a hypothesis
Learn to predict a fire with unerring precision
Then burn the house down to fulfill the prediction
(...)
8
The laughter born of the love of truth
Is now the laughter of the enemies of the people.
Gone is the age of satire. We no longer need mock
The sensible monarch with false courtly phrases.
Stern as befits the servants of a cause,
We will permit ourselves sycophantic humor.
Tight-lipped, guided by reasons only
Cautiously let us step into the era of the unchained fire.
QUE LOS LABIOS QUE POSTULAN UNA HIPÓTESIS NO SEPAN
NADA DE LAS MANOS QUE FALSIFICAN EL EXPERIMENTO
(...)
LA RISA QUE SURGE DEL RESPETO A LA VERDAD
ES LA RISA QUE PERTENECE A LOS ENEMIGOS DEL PUEBLO
HA TERMINADO EL SIGLO DE LA SÁTIRA.YA NO NOS BURLAREMOS
DE LOS MONARCAS INEPTOS CON UNA LENGUA MALICIOSA
CM (Traducción de Xavier Farré)
"OUR WAY LIGHTED BY BURNING MEN"
All goes back to the earth,
and so I do not desire
pride of excess or power,
but the contentments made
by men who have had little:
the fisherman's silence
receiving the river's grace,
the gardner's musing on rows.
I lack the peace of simple things.
I am never wholly in place.
I find no peace or grace.
We sell the world to buy fire,
our way lighted by burning men,
and that has bent my mind
and made me think of darkness
and wish for the dumb life of roots.
WENDELL BERRY
Shams and delusions are esteemed for soundest truths, while reality is fabulous. If men would steadily observe realities only, and not allow themselves to be deluded, life, to compare it with such things as we know, would be like a fairy tale and the Arabian Nights' Entertainments. If we respected only what is inevitable and has a right to be, music and poetry would resound along the streets. When we are unhurried and wise, we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanent and absolute existence, that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of the reality. This is always exhilarating and sublime. By closing the eyes and slumbering, and consenting to be deceived by shows, men establish and confirm their daily life of routine and habit everywhere, which still is built on purely illusory foundations. Children, who play life, discern its true law and relations more clearly than men, who fail to live it worthily, but who think that they are wiser by experience, that is, by failure. I have read in a Hindoo book, that "there was a king's son, who, being expelled in infancy from his native city, was brought up by a forester, and, growing up to maturity in that state, imagined himself to belong to the barbarous race with which he lived. One of his father's ministers having discovered him, revealed to him what he was, and the misconception of his character was removed, and he knew himself to be a prince. So soul," continues the Hindoo philosopher, "from the circumstances in which it is placed, mistakes its own character, until the truth is revealed to it by some holy teacher, and then it knows itself to be Brahme." I perceive that we inhabitants of New England live this mean life that we do because our vision does not penetrate the surface of things. We think that that is which appears to be. If a man should walk through this town and see only the reality, where, think you, would the "Mill-dam" go to? If he should give us an account of the realities he beheld there, we should not recognize the place in his description. Look at a meeting-house, or a court-house, or a jail, or a shop, or a dwelling-house, and say what that thing really is before a true gaze, and they would all go to pieces in your account of them. Men esteem truth remote, in the outskirts of the system, behind the farthest star, before Adam and after the last man. In eternity there is indeed something true and sublime. But all these times and places and occasions are now and here. God himself culminates in the present moment, and will never be more divine in the lapse of all the ages. And we are enabled to apprehend at all what is sublime and noble only by the perpetual instilling and drenching of the reality that surrounds us. The universe constantly and obediently answers to our conceptions; whether we travel fast or slow, the track is laid for us. Let us spend our lives in conceiving then. The poet or the artist never yet had so fair and noble a design but some of his posterity at least could accomplish it.
(...)
Let us settle ourselves, and work and wedge our feet downward through the mud and slush of opinion, and prejudice, and tradition, and delusion, and appearance, that alluvion which covers the globe, through Paris and London, through New York and Boston and Concord, through Church and State, through poetry and philosophy and religion, till we come to a hard bottom and rocks in place, which we can call reality, and say, This is, and no mistake; and then begin, having a point d'appui, below freshet and frost and fire, a place where you might found a wall or a state, or set a lamp-post safely, or perhaps a gauge, not a Nilometer, but a Realometer, that future ages might know how deep a freshet of shams and appearances had gathered from time to time. If you stand right fronting and face to face to a fact, you will seethe sun glimmer on both its surfaces, as if it were a cimeter, and feel its sweet edge dividing you through the heart and marrow, and so you will happily conclude your mortal career. Be it life or death, we crave only reality. If we are really dying, let us hear the rattle in our throats and feel cold in the extremities; if we are alive, let us go about our business.
#HDT
“You look around and you see so many people break under the strain under the downward of whatever this is that we are going through. And you look with disdain and sadness as you see people you know become quislings. You see them revealed as cowards. You see them going along with the new, new thing which is clearly a poisonous thing, a silly thing,” he stated. “You know, saying things you know they don’t believe because they want to keep their jobs. If there’s a single person in this room who hasn’t seen that through George Floyd, COVID, and the Ukraine war, raise your hand? Oh nobody? Right. You all know what I’m talking about.”
“And you’re so disappointed in people. You are. And you realize that the herd instinct is maybe the strongest instinct. I mean, it may be stronger than the hunger and sex instincts, actually. The instinct, which again, is inherent to be like everybody else and not to be cast out of the group, not to be shunned.”
“But you look around and you see these people and some of them really have paid a heavy price for telling the truth and they are cast out of their groups whatever those groups are but they do it,”. “Anyway, I look on at those people with the deepest possible admiration,” Carlson. “I’m paid to do that. I face no penalty. Someone came up to me, ‘You’re so brave.’ Really?!?! I’m a talk show host.”
“It’s like I can’t have any opinion I want. That’s my job. That’s why they pay me. It’s not brave to tell the truth on a cable news show and if you’re not doing that you’re really an idiot, you’re really craven. You’re lying on television? Why would you do that? You’re literally making a living to say what you think and you can’t even do that, please.”
"The coward ever sings no song,
He listens to no chime
He has no heart, no tongue,
To build the lofty rhyme."
#THOREAU
My soul is distressed, my mind is at warDon't hug me, don't flatter me, don't turn on the charmI'll take a sword and hack off your arm
