A Review: Foreign Affairs Magazine Jan.-Feb. 2018 Issue

A Review:  Foreign Affairs Magazine

Jan.-Feb. 2018 Issue

The Undead Past: How Nations

Confront The Evils Of History

by

R.E. Prindle

Part I

 

In this issue of the official gazette of the CFR (Council On Foreign Relations) the Editors examine the moanings of those citizens of the world who believe the past still lives and of those who feel no obligation to mourn the doings of previous centuries but yet must suffer the torments of hell forever for what are deemed the sins of their fathers.  May heaven deliver the latter from the former.

Perhaps the model for those who live their lives in hatred for the dead past whose deeds have never affected them are the Jews who even today bemoan, and make for a narrative for their lives, the deeds of a long forgotten king named Haman who existed some twenty-five hundred years ago in a society that ceased to exist at about the same time.  Haman’s descendants have disappeared in the ceaseless flow of time, yet his memory is deplored in the Haman shrieks in synagogues across the world today.

The CFR seems possessed, I believe possessed is the right word, by events that can have no other than a ghostly effect on them.  In this issue of Foreign Affairs the Editors examine the feelings of the walking dead suffering from the Undead Past that haunts the corridors of their minds.

How do nations handle the sins of their fathers and mothers?  Take genocide, or slavery, or political mass murder.  After such knowledge what forgiveness—and what way forward?

 

Are the Editors deranged?  Nations don’t handle anything, the people do.  And once you’re dealing with citizens, you can examine their psychology to put matters into a correct perspective.  They believe their angst is universal throughout the population, or should be.  Nothing can be further from the truth.  A very large proportion of the people have no such qualms as these.  Legions of us do not share the Editors’ sense of guilt or shame.

Any rational person is well aware that human passions can be inscrutable while there are no innocents.  Let the dead past bury its dead.  Have done with them.  Life is for the living.  Those sayings do not require quotes, they live throughout history as well as today.   The Editors continue:

The Germans have a word for it, of course:  Vergungenheitsbewaltigung, or “coming to terms with the past.”  But the concept is applicable far beyond the Nazis—as Americans belatedly recognized when Robert E. Lee shot to the front of the culture wars last August after the riots in Charlottesville, Virginia.

 

To acknowledge ‘culture wars’ means that the Editors do recognize that by the term Americans, they mean that there is no monolithic America.  Not all Americans think as the Editors do.  The others, the Deplorables, to use Hillary Clintons term of abuse are misguided animals who don’t count and, moreover, shouldn’t, must never count.  They are people who shame this great democracy of theirs.  The Hillbillies, the Rednecks, the unwashed, knuckle dragging ignorami, the off scourings of humanity.

The Editors ignore not only their own faulty bigoted psychology but project it onto others.

Not surprisingly the Editors’ lead article is entitled ‘America’s Original Sin’.  Even less surprising they have chosen as their advocate the dread locked Negro female, Harvard’s so=called historian, Annette Gordon-Reed.

Miss Reed is unmistakably an Affirmative Action hire from the African-American studies department.  Her article takes the form of a complaint as one might expect.  Her understandings reflect her grievances:  America has never lived up to its high flown rhetoric of the Constitution while she believes that slavery lives on in White Supremacists’ hearts as it does in her’s and her Negro fellows.  White Supremacists do not want to re-enslave the Negro, they want to send them back to Africa.  A subtle difference.  Miss Gordon-Reed continues:

Consider, by contrast, what might have happened had there been Irish chattel slavery in North America.  Irish suffered pervasive discrimination and were subjected to crude and cruel stereotypes about their alleged inferiority, but they were never kept as slaves.  Had they been freed, there is every reason to believe they would have had an easier time assimilating into American culture than have African-Americans.  Their enslavement would be a major historical fact, but it would likely not have created a legacy so firmly tying the past to the present as did African Chattel slavery.  Indeed, the descendants of white indentured servants [slaves] blended into society, and today suffer no stigma because of their ancestors’ social condition.

 

Let us examine the above quote.  Miss Gordon-Reed obviously believes that Whites look down on Negroes because the race was once enslaved in America.  I have never heard any White demean Negroes because the race had once been slaves.

In fact, as Miss Gordon-Reed admits, and as I have maintained elsewhere, that the real issue is that masters were White.  As she points out slavery before had always been of the same race so there was no racial inferiority contrast.  Thus, when Lincoln emancipated the Negroes they ceased being slaves but remained Negroes.  The issue was not former servitude but race.  Of course in any society a former slave would take about three generations to live down the stigma, but Negroes were outside that convention because, she says, of race.

Nor, was it a simple matter of ceasing to be slaves that was the problem.  In ancient Rome the Romans enslaved the culturally superior Greeks.  The Greeks were advanced thinkers compared to the Romans, thus they became the instructors of the Romans even though slaves.  One must compare that situation with Negro slaves who had nothing to offer Whites except their labor.  As the Greeks were superiors to the Romans, the Whites were far and away superior to the Negroes.  And therein lies the problem.

While Negroes were relatively few in numbers before 1800 they represented about 20% of the population.  Then in 1794 Eli Whitney patented the cotton gin making cotton growing on a mass scale viable.  This created the need for increased importation of Negroes.  This coincided with the ban on the importation of Negroes in 1808 but the importation went on illegally.  Thus there was a phenomenal increase of the number of Negroes until 1860.  When Lincoln emancipated the slaves, then, perhaps a majority of Negroes were fresh from the jungle being totally unacquainted with civilization.  These were some rude dudes, raw recruits, as it were. 

Lincoln perhaps took this into account but the abolitionists didn’t.  Hence when the real invasion of the South by the North took place during Reconstruction (that is one terrifying word) and the Negroes were placed over the Whites the juxtaposition of qualities was unnatural, intolerable to the Whites, it could not be allowed to go on.

If the Greeks had revolted against the Romans and the roles were reversed that would have still been two very capable peoples.  The horror of being placed under the governance of such a motley crew was palpable.  Thus from 1865 to 1877 deprived of all rights by Northern bigots while suffering under Negroes who in nearly all cases could neither read nor write while being linguistically inarticulate.  There is small wonder that Jim Crow succeeded slavery.

The situation is, perhaps, an unpleasant reality, but something that Miss Gordon-Reed as a historian should have taken into some account.  As a polemicist she is free to speak as wildly as she likes but being a Negro does not excuse her as an historian.  Certainly, the Editors of Foreign Affairs could see this.  She is not an historian and not up to what people believe are the standards of America’s foremost university.

 Her handling of the Irish situation also betrays a near complete lack of understanding.  She has no grasp of the racial problems of the Irish and English, that is, the Celts and the Germans.  Those racial problems far anteceded any Negro-White relations.  While the Irish may not have been chattel slaves on the North American continent they surely were in the New World.  The English Puritan Cromwell having overrun Ireland rounded up tens of thousands of Irish and sold them into chattel slavery in the Caribbean Islands where they worked the fields until death alongside Negro chattel slaves.

Further, something that Miss Gordon-Reed should take into account is that Negroes in Africa were sold by the Chiefs to the Whites.  Nobody beat the bush for them to drag them from the jungles. In contrast, Cromwell, as it were, stole the Irish in much the same way that the Nazis rounded up the Jews.  There was no compensation paid to anyone for the Irish.

Now, while Miss Gordon-Reed claims some sort of solidarity with the Negroes of the US, I also claim solidarity with my fellow Whites now so meanly treated.  If she can claim an injury done to them as an injury done to her, I claim the same with the White slaves of the Caribbean.  And that doesn’t exclude now  non-Irish White indentured slaves on the North American continent.

Still further, English waifs and unprotected children as well as any unwary adults were taken from the streets of England’s cities, transported to the colonies and sold lock, stock and barrel in the colonies.

If she has read R.L. Stevenson’s Kidnapped she will see that the protagonist was intended to be sold in the colonies, saved only by a shipwreck.  I hope that Miss Gordon-Reed can empathize with me as I do with her.  Our pain is mutual.

Over all Miss Gordon-Reed has a thick headed inability to place matters in context which distorts and invalidates her analysis,

One thing she fails to understand is that the South was not responsible for chattel slavery.  Southerners never went looking for Negro slaves.  That was done by New England sea captains.  In the early years the trafficking was between Africa, South America and the Caribbean islands.  Only when the American colonies had been settled, as an afterthought unsold Africans were taken to North America seeking to make a new market and palmed off on the Whites.  Originally Negro slavery was legal and practiced in all the English colonies.  Only gradually was it rejected colony by colony while still being practiced under one legal pretext or another in several Northern States at the time of the Civil War.

Miss Gordon-Reed quotes Alexander Stephens, VP of the Confederate States thusly:

The prevailing ideas entertained by (Jefferson) and most of the leading statesmen at the time of the formation of the old (US) constitution (not the Confederate one) were that enslavement of the African was in violation of the laws of nature; that it was wrong in principle, socially, morally, and politically….Those ideas, however, were fundamentally wrong.  They relied upon the assumption of the equality of the races.  This was in error.

 

And so, there we get to the crux of the problem Miss Gordon-Reed admitted when she complained that never before had one race enslaved another race.  Mr. Stephens thought that the great truth was that the Negro was not equal to the White man.  Now, this remains the issue today.  Is there a fundamental difference between the two races?

It may be true that the two races are fungible but is that the true quality that unites the races or does it just mean that evolution has not reached the point negating fungibility?

The Southern observation seems to have been proven by science although for social and political reasons those scientific facts are being suppressed.  Indeed, any expression of them is severely and criminally punished.  The very scientist who discovered DNA, James Watson, at 90 years of age, had his life and career destroyed and his achievements wiped from the books when he mildly responded to a question about racial differences between Whites and Blacks that the news coming out of Africa was not good.

Is it possible to denounce a scientist of preeminent achievements based solely on a few innocuous words like ‘it doesn’t look good?  Not by any people revering the Constitution such as Miss Gordon-Reed claims to be here.  The crime against Mr. Watson was committed out of sheer bigotry.

So, while I understand fully the motivations of the Editors of the CFR magazine, Foreign Affairs, and while I think Miss Gordon-Reed is undoubtedly a wonderful person the CFR should have chosen a more qualified historian to express their opinion which is all Miss Gordon-Reed has done.  It has been done before; it wasn’t necessary to do it again.  We all know the story.

The Future Of President Donald Trump

The Future Of President Donald Trump

by

R.E. Prindle

 

The Democrats are in a bind.  They have a president they despise who if he is allowed to succeed will destroy their whole agenda.  Not since Herbert Hoover defeated their designated candidate, Al Smith, have they faced a bleaker future. 

The Democrats had captured the presidency  in 1912 when a divided Republican Party was defeated by a decidedly minority candidate Woodrow Wilson.  Wilson recorded only slightly more votes than an almost equally split vote between the Party candidate, Taft, the insurgent candidate T. Roosevelt.  In other words the combined Republican vote was a landslide endorsement of Republicans.

Wilson, as any Democrat, was sure that God’s own wisdom flowed through his brain.  He thought himself virtue incarnate.  Sure that he was the only one able to guide the nation he intended to run for a third term in 1920.  His connection with God’s brain was  severed when his own was paralyzed by a stroke.

The Democrats had no good backup candidate so the Republicans waltzed in with a candidate little more popular with the Dems than our own Donald Trump, Warren G. Harding.  Harding, like Trump, refused to follow the Liberal agenda while restoring prosperity to the nation.

Harding died mysteriously, succeeded by his colorless VP Calvin Coolidge who was thought to be a sure loser.  Contradicting the pundits Coolidge surprised, capturing the presidency on his own.  His presidency was known was known as the phenomenal Coolidge Prosperity.  A New Era with a car in every garage and two chickens in every pot.

Coolidge chose not to run for re-election and that brought Herbert Hoover, one of the greatest of Americans, to the fore.  He easily routed the Dem Al Smith.  Prosperity, a Republican prosperity, was at its peak.  If that continued it was certain that Hoover would be re-elected and after him probably another Republican for another eight long years.  The future looked dim for the Dems.

Only a great economic disaster could bring the Republicans down; the Federal Reserve easily handled that, engineering the Stock Market Crash of 1929. while others interfered with Hoover over the next three years preventing his ability to pull the country from the Great Depression.  A then nearly, or actually, incompetent Democrat by the name of Franklin Delano Roosevelt took Hoover’s place thus keeping the country in Depression for seven long years and then he dragged the country into a totally destructive war that could easily have been avoided and next he blew the peace.

Thank you, Democrats.

In our time the Democrat Barack Obama led the country into a ruinous situation attempting to abort capitalism.  The Dems under Obama had all but succeeded and would have succeeded if Hillary Clinton had not been out maneuvered by the unexpected and unwanted candidate, Donald Trump.

Now, as with Warren G. Harding, it appears that President Trump is leading the country into a prosperity to rival that of the Coolidge prosperity.  The fear of the Dems is that if allowed to succeed Trump will be reelected while the future may be lost to the Dems for twenty years or more.  They cannot let this happen.  Thus, they may plunge the country into another horrendous depression to discredit the President as with Herbert Hoover or, failing that, an assassination as with Warren G. Harding.

They have furiously dug a hole for themselves in trying to set up some sort of impeachment process even though the President has committed no high crimes or misdemeanors.  The whole charge seems to be that he was not their chosen candidate and had no right to win.

In an attempt to weaken the President they are now going after a key advisor Steve Bannon trying to discredit him in the President’s eyes and divide him from the President.  This must not be allowed to happen.  No machination against the President can be allowed to be taken seriously.  An uncritical foul must be called as an instinctive reaction.  Smear the Dems back.

Track down every Dem elected or candidate and expose their peccadilloes, sexual or economic, they all have them.  Unprovable sex violations have proven to be most viable as witness  the Republican Roy Moore of Alabama.  Go after their wives, many affairs are hidden there.

Be aggressive not passive, this is a war to the end, attack and defend simultaneously.  Be anonymous if possible.  Deny everything.

Jeff Bezos- The Seattle Great Satan

Jeff Bezos- The Seattle Great Satan

by

R. E. Prindle

 

The tale has been told.  The Alabama election is over.  Judge Roy Moore has been turned back.  Jones didn’t do it nor all the Negroes collected and bussed to the polls.  No, ‘Bamans didn’t have anything to do with it.  To find the man who singlehandedly beat the Judge you have to go to Seattle, Washington, the offices of Amazon, Inc. and sitting behind that big mahogany desk, Mr. Jeff Bezos. The Devil in disguise.

A couple years back Jeff Bezos bought the nearly defunct Washington Post Newspaper.  Paid big money for it too.  At them I asked myself why he did that.  What was his plan to turn it around.  He didn’t have a plan turn it around, he didn’t even change the format; if anything the paper was more Liberal than ever, staffed by the same nerds.

It did occur to me somewhen along the way that Jeff Bezos was grooming himself to run for President.  Bezos is a world beater; a genius of some merit, he wants to be Master of the World; unscrupulous as the devil as he always gets around any rules that might slow him down.

The Judge Roy Moore candidacy shows us exactly why he bought the Post.  Ever unscrupulous, he bought himself a slander machine, a defamation factory, a political slaughter house.  The Post was unfeelingly, not critical, in its condemnation of candidate Trump.  As the Post goes so must go its owner, Jeff Bezos.

Judge Roy is a real bete noir of the CFR, he is opposed to their agenda at every stop.  They have tried to kill his career at each step.  They have removed him from office because of his religion.  No, he’s not Moslem, not a Scientologist, nobody has ever called him a Jew, no none of those:  he’s the most despised of all, a bottom of the barrel damnable Christian.  I don’t want you to get the idea that I’m religious, Defender of the Faith or anything like that.  I’m not religious but that doesn’t mean I’m not anti-Christian.  No.  I’m also anti-Moslem and anti-Jewish while I don’t think much of Hinduism or any of those touchy-feely, warm and fuzzy outfits also.

So, going in Judge Roy had even more than three strikes against him; he was an entire side.

But, damn that son-of-a-bitch, here he was running for the Senate and a cinch to win.  What the hell?  Well, there sat Jeff Bezos, sometime richest man in the world, sitting behind the mahogany in his office in Seattle or, perhaps, roving his hundreds of thousands acre Texas ranch saying to himself, I’ve got to stop hat no good son-of-a-bitch and I know how to do it.  I’ve got the right tool for the job.

I don’t know hat Amazon has a secret service but I’m sure they do, so he sent his sleuths down to ‘Bama to find some dirt or create.  From the looks of that Senior yearbook it looks more like created.  Anyway, as proof that she’d been molested forty years ago by Judge Roy she produced an inscription in her yearbook signed by Judge Roy.  It looks like she presented it to him at some event, political or otherwise, held at some place called The Olde Hickory House, dated 1977.

Now, Judge Roy signed it something like ‘To a lovely girl.’  The woman (I don’t mention her name to protect her from possible harassment) commemorated his event by adding the place and date so she wouldn’t forget.

Jeff Bezos then published the story that Judge Roy was a pedophile and racist.  The girl must have been all of eighteen and dizzy from standing next to the great Alabama blossoming legend, and that may the closest she ever got.

What defeated Judge Roy was that inscription in that yearbook that Jeff Bezos unscrupulously published with no fear of being brought to account for bearing false witness.

I got it!  I know why Mr. Bezos bought the Washington Post.  He’ll be our Democratic candidate in 2020 and he has one of the two most prestigious papers in the US to promote his interests and defend them.

The Pres. should call on his Republican buds to give Jeff Bezos the Bill Gates treatment.  Keep him busy in Washington for a few months so he can’t run his Empire so effectively.  Might be a lesson well learned.

A Review From Tablet Ezine

A Review:

Two From Tablet Ezine

by

R.E. Prindle

http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-news-and-politics/250608/forcefully-opposing-anti-semitism-must-be-a-core-principle-of-the-movement-to-combat-white-supremacy

 

http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-news-and-politics/250728/what-is-the-american-far-right

 

The US received a mortal blow between Hurricane Marie and the socialist government of Venezuela.  Hurricane Marie destroyed Puerto Rico sending hundreds of thousands scurrying for Florida while that State has already received an enormous influx of multiple hundreds of thousands fleeing Venezuela.  Whether the total will remain below a million is questionable.  Immigration enthusiasts will receive these multitudes without blinking while clamoring for millions more from the Middle East.

Between Mexico, Central America, Puerto Rico, Haiti and Venezuela and the rest of South America many millions have been allowed to invade the country while those millions of immigrants have been ignored by the Europeans who pout because the US won’t take their overflows from Africa and the Middle East.

Florida, a State that is quietly being submerged by rising sea levels can scarce afford to handle the influx while, because of impending submersion of the peninsula, millions will be fleeing for higher ground elsewhere in the US.  But where?

While the attention has been concentrated on rising sea levels, the desertification going on in California for instance has been ignored. Seventeen has been a year of fierce firestorms in California with the most recent destroying a large portion of the Southland.  California fires have been increasing yearly while the State has suffered a desiccating  drought that has destroyed large swaths of farmland and orchards.  It is possible that various anti-American immigrants have been setting the fires, it is also probably that California cannot support its huge population.  Perhaps the State can only support 20 million people instead of the 40 million there now and rising.  The Pacific Coast States of Oregon and Washington also suffered devastating fires this summer.  Those who flee Florida will have to be accommodated in a diminishing and overpopulated East.

It is useless to expect people to wake up to realities as they seem quite content to ignore them now.

Race and ethnic problems are about to be compounded.  While Whites will undoubtedly be blamed, Whites are not the problem, POC, that is, People of Color, are.  Already the clamor against White Supremacy is reaching critical proportions, has surpassed them.  The title of a recent article in Tablet ezine screamed is banner type- ‘Forcefully Opposing Anti-Semitism Must Be A Core Principle Of The Movement to Combat White Supremacy.  That doesn’t say White Supremacists, that says White Supremacy.  Apparently, Tablet is ignoring the center of anti-Semitism, the Moslems they have brought into the US.

What is being attacked is not a bunch of wild eyed defenders of the Aryan race but the race in its entirety.  To end White Supremacy is in essence to commit genocide.  Thus, the Jewish ezine, Tablet, is promoting genocide of Whites.

The POC do not believe that it is White intelligence and abilities that have placed them at the top of the heap.  They believe that Whites got there first and took all the good stuff, including the highest paying jobs.  They see a job that pays X dollars and think that the job takes care of itself and no preparation, no intelligence, no skills, no effort is involved in holding the job.  Therefore, by ending what they call White Supremacy these lucrative jobs could be theirs and the system will run by itself.

White Supremacy then is conflated with their ‘freedom’.  One ends White Supremacy to obtain ‘freedom.’  The Negro especially can never have freedom unless he displaces the White and assumes a commanding position over them.  Thus, for the Negro to have freedom Whites have to lose theirs.

Now, the scheme of genocide has been in place for a few decades and the plan is in the open but Whites refuse to accept the plan at face value.  It’s like the so-called holocaust, too preposterous to be true.  Whites think Jews and Negroes are just talking when they say Whites, Science and Western Civilization have to go.  To the contrary, they are serious.  The Jew Noel Ignatiev, then a Harvard professor, went from campus to campus for years preaching his gospel that until Whiteness disappears from the face of the Earth things will never be right.  Ignatiev’s White audiences at such prestigious schools as UC Berkeley cheered their demise wildly.  One can only assume these White audiences were suicidal and they remain so.

The Jewish/Negro plan was in place and working well until the 2016 election sent Donald Trump to the White House.  This provoked an anti-Trump frenzy to essentially recall the President and force a new election in which it is hoped an acceptable candidate of theirs would defeat Trump.  So far that seems unlikely.

The attack against the President has turned from the political to the racial.  Amazingly the Jew/Negro combine has reached into the bottom of the bag and now accuse the Pres. and his followers of being Nazis, White Nationalists (stronger denunciation than White Supremacists).  Pres. Trump is now a reincarnation of Adolf Hitler, thus showing the level of Jewish hysteria.  The vast rightwing conspiracy is in motion and in charge threatening decency throughout the land.  Thus, the political situation is presented as a morality play.  The good guys being Jews, Negros, Homosexuals of every stripe and their auxiliaries.

Here’s how Jew James Aho portrays the right in his article on Tablet ezine titled “What Is The American Far Right?’

Today’s far right is a congeries of self-identified “sovereign citizens” (who, like Walt Whitman, believe they are “entire unto themselves.”)  “3%ers” (an allusion to the mythical number of Americans who fought the British during the American Revolutionary War), and elderly tea-party retirees on Medicare and Social Security who resent having to support “free loaders” (Not my child, not my problem”).   There are also play acting Odinists, “(f..k yeah” gun nuts, and bored millennials  enchanted by Ayn Rands’s hero, John Galt, of Atlas Shrugged.  In addition to button down Mormon “freemen”, camouflaged border vigilantes, black-clad neo-Nazi stormtroopers, and their Confederate flag-waving cousins, there are sellers of over-the-counter male-enhancement cures and rare coins, Czech gas masks, cheap Belize real estate, and “White Pride World Wide” coffee mugs, ball caps and bumper stickers, vendors of unregulated neutraceuticals, survival go-packs, and home security systems.  These and countless other trajectories are overseen by a handful of billionaire founders of non-taxable foundations, staffed with the “great minds” of the conservative movement.

 

Very hysterical and close to crazy, rather a definition of Hillary Clinton’s Deplorables or Obama’s knuckledraggers.  Clearly Mr. James Aho is deranged, dancing in the asylum in turned backward clothes as the guards who have escaped their prison converge on the lunatic celebrants.  Mr Aho has the chutzpah to post a slogan: The New Face Of Old Hate.

Mr. Aho then identifies a 30 year cycle for the irruption of this irrationality beginning in 1800 with the reaction to the genuine Illuminati outburst in the French Revolution.  This was the time of the Alien and Sedition laws passed by an alarmed President Adams.  Mr. Aho ridicules the ‘irrational’ Federalists who enacted the laws.  Anyone who remembers the Alien and Sedition laws from high school was taught how ridiculous the laws were to counter this first Red Scare.  In fact, the laws were entirely justified.  The news of the Great Terror in France of 1793 had reached the US.  The beheading of Louis XVI rocked the mind of the time.  The Abbe Barruel’s Memoirs Illustrating The History Of Jacobinism had been published in English translation in the US in 1795.  This masterful expose of a criminal political party would have been enough to curl anyone’s hair.  An influx of Jacobin agitators from France, the Aliens, were preaching its terrorist credo, the Sedition.  John Adams acted quickly to stem these dangerous Leftist fanatics passing said laws.

Unfortunately, the Jacobin Thomas Jefferson was elected in 1800 and he repudiated the laws in 1801 allowing the Jacobins to continue their infiltration of the Freemasons in the US.   Thus, as Mr. Aho notes, in 1830 a Mason, William Morgan revealed the machinations of the Illuminati red Masonry.  Thus, he was murdered.  This created a flap that actually forced the Masons to pull in their horns, the flap was then disguised by creating even a better one with some sensational anti-Catholic literature.

Then began the abolitionist drumbeat for civil war.  Alo continues in this vein misinterpreting the events by giving the standard Left-wing versions.  Aho goes on in this vein until the present using these misconstrued events as an indicator of a countering vein of the supposed lunacy of the US right.

Aho, having brought us up to the present in his litany of ‘hate’ from Tablet ezine, Tablet then passes the torch of fear and loathing to Eric Ward.  Aho having worked the readership into a lather over the rightwing threat, Eric sings that complaining must be discarded and violence loosened:  Forcefully Opposing Anti-Semitism Must Be A Core Principle Of The Movement To Combat White Supremacy.

Who are these dangerous White Supremacists that everyone hears of but no one sees?  Let us go back to Mr. James Aho:

Rightwing insurgencies occur once every thirty years or so.  With the exception of the anti-bellum South, however, only a small portion of a given generation is drawn to them.   So what is it that differentiates joiners from the rest?  To begin with there is little evidence for the popular theory that right-wing extremists are abnormally SIC: stupid, isolated or crazy.  On the contrary, they appear to have attained levels of formal education comparable to their moderate peers.  And even the most vicious of them who, if not dead, is moldering in federal prison, cannot be shown to be clinically insane.  Finally, given that people are radicalized via social networks- family ties, co-workers and friends -true isolates are the least likely to become activists themselves.  In fact, the marriages of right-wing radicals are about as stable as those of the average citizen, and while most do reside in rural districts, they are generally no more transients or out of local communication loops than their neighbors.

Yes, they walk among us and that is what troubles Eric Ward.  Eric, who is a black man, seems extraordinarily obsessed with anti-Semitism and that strikes me as strange.  Although he does mention his plight as a black man his obsession seems to be the Jews.  Eric tells us:

I developed an analysis of anti-Semitism but because I wanted to smash White Supremacy; because I wanted to be free.  If we acknowledge that White Nationalism clearly and forcefully names Jews as non-White, and did so in the very fiber of its emergence as a post-civil rights right-wing revolutionary movement, then we will all be forced to recognize our own ignorance about the country we thought we lived in.  It is time for us to have that conversation.

We have to understand the terms of Mr. Ward’s confused screed.  Mr. Ward says that he wants to smash White Supremacy in order to be free, while freedom may have different meanings for different people,  Mr. Ward means ‘being free; in a different sense than the obvious. Of course, he is now free in the conventional sense, as free as anybody of any color including white.

Lincoln freed the slaves.  But he also said that the nation couldn’t exist half-White and half-Black.  I think the country agreed with him whether North or South.  Thus, when the Abolitionists lost control of the South in 1877 the nation as a whole, not just the South, adopted Jim Crow.  Everywhere in the country a strict division between Whites and Black was maintained.  This is perhaps what might be a partial explanation of what Mr. Ward means by White Supremacy and not being free.  It would appear that Mr. Ward can be free only if White people are eliminated or when Black people have subordinated them thus raising themselves above Whites.  Hence we have the often expressed idea that Blacks must murder the Whites, commit genocide.  Enslaving Whites would be good in his eyes too.

For both Jews and Negroes then, the White man is the adversary that has to be at the least disenfranchised, kept from getting a good education, and then actually physically eliminated.  Mr. Ward did not write the article, if he did write it, for Tablet but for the Boston magazine, The Public Eye.  It was originally published under the title Skin In The Game:  How Anti-Semitism Animates White Supremacy.  The Tablet article is an adaptation of the Public Eye article, in other words, substantially changed to enhance Jewish purposes.  Public Eye is published by an organization calling itself The Political Research Associates who agitate along these racial lines.

Apart from convincing himself of largely imaginary anti-Semitic antagonism Mr. Ward airs his personal grievances amazingly citing as a hotbed of prejudice the thoroughly Liberal State of Oregon.  Incredibly he designates Portland and Eugene as virtual lairs of ‘hatred’ toward Negroes and Jews.  For those who live there, as I do, this is most amazingly incredible. I am not, but, the two counties containing Portland and Eugene are Liberal.  The UofO is located in Eugene and the even larger Portland State in Portland are so outstandingly Liberal as to make one blush.  In either city one would be ostracized if not Liberal.

It is true as Mr. Ward notes that Oregon was a center of the Ku Klux Klan in the 20s but that is history.  That was then, a fact that people like Mr. Ward cannot assimilate.  The them, once slavery, always slavery.  Slavery exists in Mr. Ward’s mind.  He imagines that conservatives want to enslave him and Blacks again.

Nor is it true as Mr. Ward states that Oregon was founded or settled by anti-Semites.  In the 1850s the term anti-Semite did not even exist.  But, then, that is the problem with Mr. Ward’s essay, his own fears and phobias dominate his intellect making his views worthless.

That Tablet resurrected this article from the Summer 2017 issue of Public Eye merely demonstrates the rising hysteria of the Jews caused by the election of President Trump.  While the Liberal agenda is controlled by the Jews, that agenda was disrupted by the election of President Trump.  President Trump seems to have a genuine conservative bent so that by not following Jewish desires he is working at cross purposes to them.  Hence he must be destroyed.

When Tablet changed the title to Forcefully Opposing Anti-Semitism and the movement to Combat White Supremacy they gave away the ballgame.  They, in essence, declare a Jewish war on White people; forcefully can only be construed as violent.  Whites then need to be on guard.

Will President Trump’s Americanism prevail or will the Jews and Negroes subordinate Americans and their country to their desires.  We are moving from bas to high relief.

The Magic Shop Take Two

 

The Magic Shop:  Take Two

Casting the ERB Glamour

by

R.E. Prindle

for George T. McWhorter

 

Do you believe in the magic of a young girl’s heart…

Do you believe in magic?

--John Sebastian

 

So there I was sitting in front of my word processor with a beer in hand waiting for inspiration.  Godot was right on time compared to inspiration.  I’ve sat that way for weeks at a stretch with nothing in sight.  Still, a writer is nothing without patience.

So, it wasn’t exactly inspiration that came my way but after staring out the window for only a second or two watching a squirrel trying to bury a nut while I took a couple pulls from my beer I turned back to my word processor and darned if there wasn’t something typed on that previously blank sheet of paper.  It wasn’t inspiration, just the single word LOUISVILLE exactly centered.

Well, I knew there were a bunch of Louies over in France.  For some reason they had a rule that they had to name their sovereigns Louis hence they all had numbers in Roman numerals like the Super Bowl although if I remember rightly for the kings they didn’t go that high.  I guess the Super Bowl has had more time to add up the numbers.  As a mnemonic trick they dropped the numbers sometimes giving them nicknames like Louis the Inept, Louis the Cheap, Louis the Crapshooter and so on.  So I thought there was maybe a Louis cemetery over in France around which they built a town called Louisville from the graves.  I was ready to leave right away.  Just to make sure I got out my atlas to look it up in the back where they list all the towns in the world.

Know what?  Louisville wasn’t even in France at all although it sounds just like it should be.  Know something else?  Louisville is right here in the United States.  Kentucky to be exact.  The way its situated on the map you might even think it was the gateway to the South.

I was musing over that puzzler when I looked  back at the sheet in the WP and the word Louisville had been disappeared being replaced by the word GO.  I pulled another pull on my beer looking away with my jaw dropped and tongue sticking out pondering mightily.  I looked back and the GO had disappeared replaced by the word NOW.  That was sort of a species of inspiration, I thought, while certainly an invitation to further procrastination.  No more procrastination for me. I took it.  One might say I leaped at it.

My first thought to get there was to shinny up a superstring and bend it to my will sliding down the apex into Louisville.  It was a good idea and would have been a cheap way to go but superstrings are hard to find when you want one in this universe.  Ever tried to signal taxi when you wanted one?  Superstrings are even harder.

That failing, my next thought was a good worm hole that might shorten the distance to like, a walk across the street.  If you think superstrings are hard to find, try worm holes.

I had to settle for a commercial airline and the loss of a few hundred dollars and a further loss of self-respect and dignity getting through what they’re pleased to call security at the airport but that 737-800 dropped me right down at the Louisville International Airport in the heartland, fly-over America, and there I was right where I was supposed to be, where fate wanted me, although I had had no further communications from the Great Beyond and didn’t know what to do next.

I approached an official looking sort and stumblingly began, ‘You, uh, Louisville…’  He interrupted quickly saying:  ‘Yes, the University of Louisville.  Right down on Third Street.  Keep your eyes open, you can’t miss it.’

I thought I had read some rule somewhere that said no body can remain inert for very long and as I had received no further communications I thought this might be the one so I found my way down to this University of Louisville which was right where this official type said it should be.

By this time a sense of eeriness is building in me, what the Irish call the Glamour, so I began to develop this irreal feeling.  As I usually do when I’m mystified I put my hands in my pockets to show my defenselessness to Fate and looked around.  Being a writer I like books and I knew from experience that libraries are full of books or at least ought and used to be.  Nowadays though, things changing so fast as they  do, you can’t never tell.  It was cold outside there in the Gateway to the South so I decided not to procrastinate further.  I went inside.

I was right.  Things were changing.  No books In sight.  The first thing I saw was some kind of automat but it didn’t have any pie slots.  I wanted pie.  I had to go without because while I was walking around this thing I spotted six doors, free standing in the middle of a large area looking something like this automat I mentioned.  By now the glamour was all over me.  I was beginning to think…I don’t know…let’s be fair and balanced and you decide.

I walked over to these strange six doors that looked like avenues to destiny and bingo! Door number three popped open.  I walked over to investigate this seeming invitation to partake in an adventure stepping through into what was this little tiny cubicle.  I turned to step back out when, as so often happens to the unwary, the door closed on me trapping me inside.  I was beginning to think I was a character in a Tarzan novel.   I scratched my chin which I often found productive of results.  As I did so the floor began to fall away from me taking me down with it.  I was apparently being lowered into the infernal regions.  I wasn’t far from wrong.

After a little while the floor came back up to me and it was like I was standing on solid ground again but I didn’t trust it.  Just then the door popped back open, a demon of some sort rushed in so I hopped out.  I don’t think that was a mistake but at the same time it wasn’t a wise move.

Immediately facing me were six horses. Why, of course, I though they were the flesh eating mares of Greek mythology come to life.  Who wouldn’t think that?  I fumbled in my pocket for a weapon but as the airline had confiscated my letter opener as a dangerous weapon of hi-jackers I had only my trusty plastic ball point, no less formidable, however, as a weapon.  It was pointed,  It was a good gell writer that had cost me a dollar twenty-five at the dozen rate, you see, as a writer I need a stash of pens, so I was using it to devastating effect slashing away at the rearing noses of those man eating mares when this centurion or something who later turned out to be an old codger calling himself, Janitor, asked me what I was doing

‘Think I’m doing?  What, are you blind?’  I cried, ‘I’m defending myself against these man-eating mares.’

‘Why, you fool.’  He replied with unnecessary acerbity and widely distended nostril resembling those of the mares, ‘Those ain’t man-eating mares, those are fifteenth century Ming Dynasty ceramic horses.  Those were given us by the Barren Estate and now you’ve ruined one of them, those ink stains will never come off.’

‘Sure they will.’  I said defiantly.  Then as a diversionary tactic I questioned his century, asserting that they were most certainly sixteenth century hoping he might be wrong, or that failing, perhaps he didn’t know anymore about the matter than I did.

I did look at these man eating mares more closely.  When I looked back at the Centurion I realized that he was some sort of a shape changer and he was not an old codger who looked just like a janitor he was one.  When I looked back at the mares I saw that he had changed them to these life sized Ming Dynasty, of whatever century, ceramic horses.  My defensive maneuvers had indeed been converted into ink stains.  I was steady as a rock though.  I reached up with my sleeve to polish the nose.  A lot of the ink came off too.  While I was doing this, I looked to the right, which is the direction of truth, when I was almost blinded by the sight.

There standing in the doorway of a room over which the legend ‘Department Of Rare Books’ had appeared was the most dazzling apparition I had ever seen.  It was the Princess Delinda. She must have been the sister of Ozma she was so beautiful.

So, there were books in this library.  But they were rare there or they wouldn’t have claimed to be.  Books took second place in my thoughts now that the Princess Delinda was before me.

She spoke.  She said:  ‘The Wizard has been expecting you.’

‘The Wizard?’

‘Yes. Follow me.’

That was easy to do.  I wasn’t going to refuse that invitation so I fell in behind.  She led me to a cubicle not much larger than the one I had descended in to confront the man-eating horses.  I wasn’t about to be caught in the same trap twice in a row so rather than going in I waited for this Wizard type to come out.  He did.

As Wizards go he was representative of the type.  Shortish and roundish although not so much as his counterpart in OZ.  He was apparently in charge of the same sort of apparatus as that wizard however because from that little cubicle I found he directed the worldwide operations of a clandestine group called the Burroughs Bibliophiles.  Whether they were related the Rosicrucian’s, Theosophists or groups of that stripe I never did find out.

The Princess Delinda cast a sweet glance at me disappearing into another cubicle as she did so.  This left me facing this crusty old buzzard alone.  As he had been expecting me this Wizard as he called himself had refreshments already made.  I don’t know what it was exactly, he gave it a strange name, but it was liquid.

‘I have the ingredients shipped in from the mysterious East.’  He smiled no less mysteriously.

I looked at the can the stuff had come from and it said New York City which was mysterious and East enough for me so I nodded my head knowingly.  ‘It’s good.’  I intoned.

‘You finally came.’  He said.  ‘You can call me George T. when you get tired of calling me Wizard.’  He politely remarked.  ‘So, you know something about Edgar Rice Burroughs?’  The Wizard George T. smiled.

‘What luck!’  I thought to myself, I stumbled into the right Secret Society. I do know something about Edgar Rice Burroughs.’  ‘Yes, I do.’  I hastily replied trying to insinuate myself into his good graces.  ‘Yes, I came here looking for inspiration where I was advised I could find it.  I thought that was as good an answer as any and besides I had been looking for inspiration for several weeks.  I thought he might be flattered because I thought I could find some here in Louisville, unlikely place but, you know, strange things happen.

‘Well, you came to the right place.’  George T. smiled.  ‘We have the largest collection of Edgar Rice Burroughs material anywhere on the planet, in the solar system, in this universe or any of the millions of parallel universes in existence.  Does that surprise you?’

Well, I had several parallel universes inside me filled with multiple personalities so that I already was living several lives simultaneously,  ‘Not me.’  I snorted with just a touch of arrogance.  ‘I’ve been everywhere, man, I’ve been everywhere.  I’ve been places in parallel universes you can’t even imagine.’  I gave him such a knowing leer he fairly melted beneath it or at least he appeared glazed.

Apparently used to such extravagances he gave me a pleasant smile while I looked around for another glimpse of the Princess Delinda.  ‘Step in.’  He said indicating his cubicle.  I hesitated, began to think up some explanation about descending floors but then in a fit of bravado I threw caution to the winds deciding to just take my chances, cast my fate to the winds.  Adventures to the adventurous I thought.  I came off astute because nothing happened.

We chatted for a while.  Talked over Edgar Rice Burroughs pretty thoroughly.  I thought I knew somewhat about Burroughs having been a Tarzan fan in youth and actually I had read up on Burroughs just recently but George T. was something to behold.  He holds out this book and says to me:  ‘I wrote this.’  It was a thick book.  As a writer I’m not jealous of other people’s success so I admired his volume wholeheartedly, if not even fulsomely, to show my good will.

‘Say, you know, George T.’  I said to show I knew what writing was all about.  ‘I’ve written a little myself.  To be on the level with you I’ve even written a few essays on Burroughs.  I’ve even had a couple published by the Burroughs Bulletin.’

When I said this the Wizard looked a little puzzled.  He reached behind him picking up a manuscript pushing it toward me.  I must have slipped through some sort of space warp.  Damned if it wasn’t one of mine.  May have been that stuff he gave me to drink.

‘Perhaps you wrote this in another incarnation.’  He smiled.

I had, sort of.  I had written it under the name of Dugald Warbaby.  Let me say right now that name is not pronounced Doo-gald as everybody does.  It’s pronounce Dug-ald.  Consider Ronald, Donald, Gerald, Fernald, Harald and many others.  Same ending, ald, but you don’t say Row-nald, Doo-nald or Gee-rald.  You say Ron-ald, Don-ald and Jer-ald.  Simple.  Same principle with Dugald.  Dug not Doo.  Still I’ve had people want to argue with me about it.  Don’t.  It is Dug-ald.  Call me Doug when I’m in that incarnation.

Now that George T. had called Doug up I slipped into that facet of my personality.  Doug speaks with a back country accent so I changed from my normal movie style bland pronunciation into the hick accent which some of my hillbilly ancestors used.  I mean, I grew up with this stuff.  I can cornpone it with the best or them or, at least, Warbaby can.  It embarrasses me to talk that way, although this was Kentucky not that far from Bowling Green from which my people came.

Anyway, George T. had somehow acquired copies of my essays.  He knew about all of us.  The Prindles, Warbaby and Dr. Anton  because we’d all written essays, sometimes in collaboration.  But, I could explain this and I did.

The Wizard led me into it.  ‘The range of knowledge you display is quite remarkable.’  He said, looking at me sharply now as Warbaby answered with that remarkable accent. ‘You must have a remarkable memory.’

‘My natural memory has always been good.’  I replied through Warbaby’s nose.  ‘But I have had to resort to an artificial memory system to manage information as my learning has expanded.’

‘How’s that?’  The Wizard asked with heightened interest.

I decided to fan my entire deck out before him.  If he really wanted to know this I was really going to tell him.

‘Well, my volume of memory information has to be organized for recall.  I once knew a man who said he didn’t want any new memories because he liked the ones he had.  He didn’t want to lose them by which I suppose he meant their immediacy.  Memories certainly lose their prominence as others are added.  I laughed at him at the time but as I soon learned without a system to manage them and method of recall there isn’t room in the mind for infinite information.  New memories do shove old ones aside.

My first attempt to overcome this effect was compartmentalization which was effective but not thorough.  I read Homer’s Iliad on a fairly regular basis in an attempt to penetrate his meaning.  I am fascinated in his personification of Zeus as the Mind of Infinite Power.  A handy mind to have.

I had been working on a system that displaced information from the inside of the mind, so to speak, to a putative external apparatus when I read this book by Frances Yates called ‘The Art Of Memory.’

I don’t know whether I would have stumbled on the solution on my own, I like to think I would, being of the vain sort, but Yates ran thorugh memory systems from the time of Simonedes who is supposed to have invented the concept c. something BC but anyone who had read Homer must be astonished by the volume of material he has organized so consummately well.  Perhaps I derived my system from Homer and his Mind of almost absolute power.  His is certainly as astonishing in its power as any I have encountered.

Anyway the story of Simonedes, a professional poet and praise singer, is that he was employed by a Roman grandee to sing his praises at a banquet.  As was the custom Simonides cast the praise within the context of the gods, in this case Castor and Polydeukes, the Gemini.  After his presentation at the banquet his employer would only give him half pay as the man said that because he had paid for a full eulogy half had been given to the Gemini.

Well, Simonides took his place at the table of fifty-four, suffering in silence as, indeed, he had little choice.  Mid-dinner the steward advised him that there were two gentlemen without the building who wished his attendance.  Not unwillingly Simonides left the banquet to meet the gentlemen outside who were in fact the Gemini in human disguise.

While Simonides was outside talking to the Gemini the roof of the building collapsed killing and crushing beyond recognition all the diners.  Simonides was able to recall each diner because in his memory system he had attached a name to each chair.  Hence Simonedes is imagined to be the inventor of the memory system but I am sure such systems existed before Simonides.

Unfortunately, memory systems with items attached to objects burdens the memory with an irrelevant scene.  I thought futilely.  However I had been working with the Astrological religion which is built around the Zodiac and the Constellations.

This seemed perfect as I could construct an imaginary Zodiac a foot or two from my head, surrounding it.  Thus, I could displace memories outside my skull, as it were, freeing up cerebral space for new memory formation and projection onto the Zodiac.  An illusion perhaps, but effective.  The heavens thus formed a gigantic cap for me.

Now, a circle has three hundred sixty degrees of which each sign occupies thirty degrees.  Each sign is further divided into three decans for greater convenience.  Each degree within a decan is further divided into sixty minutes, each minute, sixty seconds.  Each decan can be divided horizontally into latitudes of ten or as many as you like.  Therefore as you can see one already has almost infinite memory but the seven layers of heaven and all the constellations are left over.

Now, to manage this memory one man alone is not adequate so I projected five identities, Dugald Warbaby, R.E. and Ronald E., the Prindles or Gemini, and Dr. Anton Polarion.  Anton, a wonderful person in his own right, is the psychologist of the group, psychology being of the essence of the intellect.  R.E. Prindle handles the literary aspects, Ronald E. the scientific side while Warbaby as his name implies is a rough and tumble sort of coordinator in charge of cross referencing.  I am, of course, if not a Mind of Absolute Power, the facilitator who keeps everything in order while creating capacity.

All five men face the 360/1 degree divisor and unfier, True North, if you will.  Ouroboros and all that.

When reading there is constant comparison and cross referencing which is the most difficult part.

‘That’s interesting but it almost sounds, how shall I say…’

‘Crazy or looney?  Not if you really understand psychology.  Actually the whole Judaeo-Christian religion is founded on just such a projection which is what taking it to the Lord in prayer means.  If you read St. Augustine’s Confessions properly one would have to say the guy was insane.  The whole book is a conversation with his imagined god who he believes is talking back to him.  Now, that’s crazy.  I don’t have to believe in the persons of my memory system to make work and work it does.

If I may give an example of a man with a brilliant memory who because mankind is unable to accept the full range of its possibilities, has been rendered odious and taboo, I will illustrate my point by a feat performed by the infamous Adolf Hitler.  From my own point of view it is ridiculous to exclude any person or aspect of human nature from examination or consideration.  There is no one worse than a child molester in my estimation yet we study the type to understand it.  I find it very difficult to imagine Hitler any more odious  than that or, say, the Catholic inquisition which brings us to the point of my illustration.

Himmler, a Catholic and founder of the Order of the SS had compiled a map showing the area from which the SS were primarily recruited and the area of the SA.  Hitler was shown the map by Himmler.  I’ve seen a similar map before, Hitler remarked.  Himmler replied that it was impossible as the map had just been completed.

Not the content, Hitler replied, Ah, I have it now.  In gymnasium I saw this line as showing the divisions between the Lutherans and Catholics.

So, that by remembering the contours of the earlier map, being able to compare the content of both in his mind, and being able to identify the reason for the composition of the SS and SA.  In fact, the SS was primarily recruited from Catholics while the SA were primarily Lutherans.  Further conclusions can also be drawn through analysis depending on which facts having been catalogued in a memory system can be recalled and cross referenced.

While quite brilliant intellectually Hitler was lacking an integrated personality thus in control of the waters of the subconscious which led him to commit unconscionable errors for irrational reasons.  In other words, his acts couldn’t produce the results he desired.

His main objective was to defeat Communism, in which he was indirectly successful.  At the time the Communists were within a hair of success.  Popular Front governments which were Communist in fact existed everywhere including the Roosevelt administration of the United States.  Italy and Spain were the sole exceptions.  During the war the resistance in the United States was able to organize itself against Roosevelt and the Reds surfacing after the war as the dominant political influence in the US.  They then spread their anti-Communist or pro-American influence, as you will, around the world not controlled by the Communists.  They thus inherited the anti-Communist attitude of Hitler which was recognized by the Reds who immediately labeled the United States as Fascist.  A little distorted projection, but one having some merit as being opposed to their interests.  Thus Hitler aborted what was a seeming victory for the Reds.  Reagan’s defeat of Communism forty years later was actually a consequence of Hitler’s beginning.  Of course, one is forbidden in academic circles and, indeed, in society in general from any such objective analysis of Hitler’s influence.  You will forget immediately that I brought it up.  The world suffers a lack of integrity as a result.

But, as far as considering Hitler outside the pale of humanity, I don’t.  As John Donne said:  Send not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.

Look at this caricature of society around us created by quite common place minds and tell me which is more evil.’

The Wizard eyed me intently.  I had broached a forbidden topic and discussed it in a forbidden manner.  My fate hung in the balance.  As a free American and the son of the Greatest Generation which had taken arms to defend Liberty from tyrants I waited breathlessly.  Well, there was a star spangled banner waving somewhere over the land of the free and the home of the brave. The Wizard, George T. eyed me intently then said airily:  ‘I can’t follow non sequiturs.’  Dismissing the issue.

I breathed more easily.  The old duck must have all his marbles in the right place.

‘You mentioned Homer.’  He continued.  ‘We have a writer who believes that Homer and Burroughs are quite related in manner.  He thinks Burroughs based his style on Homer.’

I paused for a moment.  I hadn’t taken my thought quite in that direction although a relationship had occurred to me.  I mused for a moment then said.  ‘Well, I don’t think it’s impossible but I’d have to consider his arguments.  I think Burroughs does organize like Homer.’

The Wizard’s face broke into a broad smile:  ‘Why don’t I show you the collection?  He said.

I tried not to show relief but enthusiasm.  I must have passed some kind of test.

When George T.  began to show the collection he remarked that he found my essays interesting.  ‘My essays interesting,’  I thought,  how could he know about them?’

Then the Glamour began to dissolve.  I couldn’t imagine how I could have been so befuddled.  It was like a dream cap had fallen over my head now being removed.

Of course, this was the Burroughs collection at the University of Louisville in Louisville, Kentucky.  I wrote essays for the Burroughs bulletin which this chubby guy accepted and published.  This guy wasn’t any wizard, this guy was George T. McWhorter.  He was a librarian for gosh sakes.  But, still, not only had he gathered together the most phenomenal collection of Burroughs stuff but he had found a way to perpetuate his interest by incorporating it into the rare book collection of a university.

He had single handedly organized the Burroughs corpus into an ongoing entity.  But, now, get this.  I don’t only write about Burroughs but I incorporate literary relationships with H.G. Wells, Aldous Huxley and others.  Listen, he had me covered in every direction I went.  No one, for instance, had associated Burroughs with Wells but he had all the first editions of Wells.  Absolutely no one but me had associated Huxley with both Wells and Burroughs yet there were Huxley’s first editions too.

I was astounded.  This was too spooky, too eerie.  George had shown me item after item and he was going back for more.  Henry Herbert Knibbs wasn’t too out of line for Burroughs Bibliophiles but George just stood there grinning with this stuff in his hands.

I mean, I knew, or thought I did, that he couldn’t have made the associations that I had but I had been anticipated at every hard won thought.  Nonsense, I said to myself and just as I had failed to recognize where I was or who George was, this can’t be true.

I still don’t think it was but there you have it, I’m telling it just like it could have happened.

Thank god it was getting late so I had a reason to excuse myself and get out of there.  George pressed a couple welome copies of old Burroughs Bulletins on me as a friendly gesture smiling that enigmatic smile of his.  As I backed toward the door I tripped over a bookend he’d placed in my way as another test of some kind, I guess.

I didn’t miss a beat though.  I just picked it up, put it on the table and said:  Geez, George, you oughta be more careful.

The glamour of ERB was off.  I realized how foolish I had been in thinking I was anywhere but in the basement of a college library when after saying goodbye again, checking the floor for any other obstacles he may have placed there George gave me a smile and said:  You did the right thing in answering the CALL.

I was still apprehensive as I approached those ceramic Ming horses that, how can I explain it, I thought were flesh eating mares.  As I looked around now I saw that the basement was filled with donations from avid collectors, well to do or not, who hoped to buy a little bit of immortality in University collections rather than returning the stuff to circulation to be hidden away in private collections before surfacing again decades later.

Some of this stuff looked like it had sitting there decades waiting to be catalogued then stuffed away in storage to be unseen for more decades.

I thought the glamour was off but then that most beautiful Princess Delinda swept by, trailing, I swear, clouds of stardust.  She didn’t even give me a glance.  Ah well, neither did Ozma when I visited that Wizard.

Door three popped open which I now realized was only an elevator. I went up to floor one, whisked through the metal detectors as uniformed guards with automatic weapons glared at me.   Maybe Orwell was right but it wasn’t because we had to fear Big Brother it was because of all the obnoxious little brothers.

Well, it’s their job to glare but it’s not the America I grew up in.

When I stepped out into the chill Louisville winter my brain cleared a bit further.  I remembered that George had said that it was good that I had answered the CALL.  What could he know about that?  Besides I was now sure that I had hallucinated the words LOUISVILLE, GO, and NOW on that blank piece of paper.  Or had I?

Was that guy just George T. McWhorter, the simple librarian of the Department of Rare Books or was that the Wizard George T., controlling world wide operations from his little cubicle?  I’m a rational guy and I knew the answer, or, did I?  Maybe I was a man of destiny after all.  Maybe, just maybe, I was Starbegotten too.

Oh well, not to worry, I was leaving Kentucky and going back home.