Make that two inches.

"Without honour men sink into servitude"
                        -Canto 88

We could return to the subject of historical blackout and the tactic of
inversion used by the real occultists, those who do not publish tomes on
their "secrets" but keep silent behind the scenes pulling the strings of
benighted but disposable puppets.
    "The world is governed by people entirely different from the ones
imagined by those who are unable to see behind the scenes." -Disraeli

Charles

----------
>From: Brennen Lukas <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Mea Culpa
>Date: Sat, Feb 15, 2003, 9:26 PM
>

> Desired friends,
>
> My interaction with this group has not gone as I would have liked. This
> unhappy situation is certainly my own fault, as I am a novice writer,
> equipped with only limited intelligence and education. It was wrong of me to
> ask questions and offer my opinions on matters clearly beyond my grasp.
> Likewise, I was too confident and self-assured in my diction, rudimentary
> though it is.  Sadly my poor command of the English language left a smug
> aftertaste in many of your refined palates. For this, I can only say: I'm
> sorry.
>
> Furthermore, I am ashamed of my jingoist blithering. Last night I wept
> openly as so many of you made clear that my soul is corrupted by an
> unnatural urge to question the efficacy of pacifism in world affairs. Even
> now, I ponder self-flagellation. If only painful lashes across my back would
> rid me of my cancerous respect for democracy, free speech, and worst of all,
> free enterprise. Alas, I fear I am beyond repair, quite unworthy of cleaning
> Ezra Pound's sanatorium bedpan, let along posting to a list serve dedicated
> to his work.
>
> If it were possible, I would invite all of you to my humble condo in
> northern Virginia for tea and homemade cookies. My wife is a wonderful baker
> and I know she'd be delighted to meet you. Every day she thanks you for
> putting me in my place intellectually. Just think, I could toss a fake log
> on the fire, open up a few bottles of wine from Safeway, and we'd all drink,
> laugh and play Scrabble and Boggle till dawn. But it is only a dream.
> My bad opinions have made all of you hate me and wish for my disappearance.
>
> I'll die knowing that I'll never live up to the elitist ideal of Mr. Pound,
> clear thinker of his age. It'll be the cold, melancholy death of the hoi
> polloi, the huddled uncomprehending masses who can't see the bliss of
> heaven, for they are blind and made of lesser stuff than thee.
>
> In mild deference,
> Brennen Lukas
> http://members.cox.net/blukas/frames_index.html
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> _________________________________________________________________
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