dedalus Posted June 5, 2009 Share Posted June 5, 2009 Sunlight filters softly, through stained-glass sturdily lead-lined medieval windows: scarlets, ochres, azures, and a single lambent ray now falls, no it points to the altar and the crucifix. What is this Judean criminal doing in France? The Minister says we need larger newer windows displaying gallows and guillotines, gas chambers, electric chairs, more progressive engines of State disapproval. Tear down these old cathedrals! They are old, he says: put up slabs of modern democratic concrete, and let the falling rain and filth of all the coming years drip and stain like tears running through mascara. Jesus bar Joseph lived before concrete and barbed wire, son of his father, a carpenter, yet we never hear if he was any good (Sothebys: a chair made by Jesus!!!) But if he was a useless Mama's boy why would Peter and Simon, fishermen, hard-bitten seasoned seagoing men, why would they listen to him? Maybe J was the proto-union guy with a sideline in miracles. Or it could be the job was boring for this young Palestinian Elvis, could be that Mom and Dad were a drag. People happy or resigned to their work, people like you, for example, or me, we rarely start up new religions. Not that he did, no, that came centuries later. J was just a local Jew, born into it, went with the territory. But this boy had a way with words, spun a number of catchy parables, improved the quality of wine at weddings, showed himself to be a catering genius, and then rose Lazarus from the dead! Woo! That was something: must be a story behind that one. About then, he'd ticked off the Pharisees, got up the noses of the local authorities. O, the downward slope, the end of hope: always the same old, same old Middle East. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose! Rome, like imperial America today didn't know WTF was going on and dispensed with Jesus, politically, just as Ambassador Lodge was to do, the Pontius Pilate of Vietnam. Carpe (Mister) Diem. Wash, wash, wash your hands, wash your hands, wash your hands. Wash, wash, wash your hands, ear-lie in the morning! Why do the natives bleed so much, and make such awful noise? Geopolitics then as now, means local myopia. What did Rome think she was doing? What does America think she or maybe he or it is doing? I think it doesn't know what it's doing. We'll get to that. First we need to work our way through the Middle Ages. Why? Because it's there, it gets in the way. Stunted people, right little shortarses, Popes and Kings and peasants, a thousand years of lamentable hygiene, protracted physical and mental torture: Well, that should do it. The world that we know and live in is formed of myths and the nonsense of the past. We have learned so little, and we seem intent on creating even more lurid stark scenarios to make our transience seem important. We have become a widescreen stereo movie. I wouldn't mind so much if it was a good one with a little understatement, wit and intelligence, instead of all the bombast and the bomb blasts, the adolescent violence, the lust disguised as romance, but it isn't. Now smoothtalking TV politicians indolently, inexpertly, steer the speeding ship into patiently waiting icebergs. Original: Softly sunlight filters a way through these stained glass sturdily lead-lined medieval windows: these scarlets, ochres, and azures, and a single ray falls, no it points to the altar and the crucifix. What is this Judean criminal doing in France? The Minister says we need bright new windows displaying gallows and guillotines, gas chambers, electric chairs, more progressive means of State disapproval. Tear down these old cathedrals! They are old: put up slabs of modern democratic concrete and let the rain and the filth through passing years become public tears running through mascara. Jesus bar Joseph lived before concrete and barbed wire, son of his father, a carpenter, yet we never hear if he was any good (Sothebys: a chair made by Jesus!!!) But if he was a useless Mama's boy why would Peter and Simon, fishermen, hard-bitten tough young seagoing men, why would they listen to him? Maybe J was a proto-union guy with a sideline in miracles. Could be the job was boring for this young Palestinian Elvis, could be Mom and Dad were a drag. People happy or resigned in their work, people like you, for example, or me we rarely start up new religions. Not that he did, no, that came centuries later. J was just a local Jew, born into it, went with the territory. But our boy had a way with words, he told a number of really tight stories, he could improve the quality of wine at weddings, showed himself to be a catering genius if only with fish and loaves of bread -- but then he rose Lazarus from the dead. Woo! That was something: I'd love to know the story behind that one! About then, he pissed off the Pharisees, got up the noses of the authorities. Then a downward slope, the end of hope: always the same old, same old Middle East. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose Romans, like imperial Americans today didn't know WTF was going on and dispensed with Jesus, politically, just as Ambassador Lodge was to do, like Pontius Pilate, later, in Vietnam. Carpe Diem. Imperial far-sightedness then as now, translates into local myopia. What did Rome think she was doing? What does America think she is doing? I think she doesn't know what she's doing. We'll get to that. First we need to work our way through the Middle Ages. Why? Because it's there, it gets in the way. Stunted people, right little shortarses, Popes and Kings and peasants, a thousand years of lamentable hygiene, protracted physical and mental torture: Well, that should do it. The only world we know and can live in grows from the myths and nonsense of the past. We have learned nothing, we seem intent on creating even more lurid stark scenarios to make our existence seem important. We've become a widescreen stereo movie. I wouldn't mind so much if it was a good one with a little understatement, wit and intelligence, instead of all the bombast and the bomb blasts, adolescent violence, lust disguised as romance, but it isn't. Now mongoloid celebrity politicians indolently, inexpertly, steer the weighty ship into patient waiting icebergs. Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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