edenlink
October 12th, 2007, 05:36 AM
ZOROASTRIAN PERSPECTIVE
by Constantin von Hoffmeister
"If I contradict myself, very well then, I contradict myself."
-- Walt Whitman
"Nothing is true. Everything is permitted."
-- Hassan i Sabbah (William S. Burroughs)
Today nothing is sacred. Ahura Mazda is Truth. Ahriman is the Lie. Both are engaged in a titanic struggle for Absolute Dominion. Neither one will emerge victorious until the End of Times. Finis Mundi - not quite yet. Until Ahura Mazda will usher in the Age of Absolute Certainty, nothing is real, clear-cut and as sure as a diamond is hard. Until then, different interpretations of events, ideologies and individuals have the duty to co-habit the same dimensional plane of existence. This is due to the inherently dualist nature of our own time, a time when the titanic struggle is still raging in full swing. The Abraxi analyze Aryan advances.
Savitri Devi was Hitler's bitch. Savitri Devi was an Indo-European master-femme. She was both. How could she have been both? The view that she was is not schizophrenic. It merely illustrates that different interpretations are possible and valid, simultaneously bowing to Truth from a variety of equally justifiable angles.
the birth of the West
through popular culture:
coded cartoons
of Captain White Race
(wrestling
with junkie she-nigger witches
in the slimily
decaying battleground
of King Disney's mines)
entertaining blonde children
and stealthily
strengthening their character
In a smoky cafe in fien-de-siecle Paris, where Absinthe was flowing freely and a young poet was pissing on an older poet from a great height, a group of Abraxi which had assumed human form, were debating the future course of Aryan evolution, all the while smoking their expensive pipes, made from ivory and imported from one of the European colonies in Africa. "They will know the truth when they see it," one of them said. "Truth is relative and to experience different facets of it will lead them to greater understanding," another said. "Imperium Europa will be the crowning triumph, founded by a race that will have digested all schools of philosophy and will have gone through all kinds of different political systems - only to reach the perfect synthesis, the apex of development, whose forming theses and antitheses will have been forged on the anvil of the race's blood alone."
the genetic make-up
of the libertarian empire:
homogenous
in the genes present:
propensity for free speech
free love
free booze
free drugs
(approved by the Abraxi)
The apple finally fell from the tree. As far as legends go, the legend that a benign shepherd once led his sheep through a parted rock in the Garden of Delight is one that should be taken with a grain of salt. The shepherd also happened to be a wizard of the 9th degree. His magic consisted of conjuring up violent images of the recently deceased and the soon to be diseased. The living and the healthy do not want to be reminded of their own mortality and their weak physical constitution. Their bodily frames always shatter on the rocks in the Garden of Delight while their minds continue hovering in the ether of madness.
SUN OF SATAN, or the map of the world as it was:
when the barbarians checked in, their sinewed arms glistening in the afternoon sun
soon wiped out by bombs dropped from a great height
the blood of the barbarians spilled on sacred ground
(the lines of the New York City subway system converge)
"We should see to it that THEY (you know who THEY are!) do not gain the upper hand again," said one of the disciples of the Abraxi. "They once had the power to mutilate with a 'razor blade' THE erect Penis."
BEHOLD!: THE Penis has regained its former glory, ready to thrust again, thus fortifying demographic might. THEY have been relegated to a secondary status quo position. The first status quo position contains the affirmation of the ETERNAL status quo: Those who rule are those at the top!
Hell, where can one get a beer around here? This dusty desert town offers no respite from the glaring heat of the midday sun. Throats feel rusty. Revolvers hang loose in their holsters. The saloon is closed. On the horizon, redskin savages gather for the attack, mounted with bows aimed at the heart of the community: the church and the people leaving the service! Their little songbooks and bibles are tattered, reminders that their world is used, worn and tired. Their world was once new, resembling a book fresh from the printer's. What has happened? Has the creator abandoned his flock? Has he moved on to more lustrous pastures? Or has he merely fallen asleep, dreaming the dream of the destiny puppeteer? The redskin savages attack.
left the room
left a table full of trash
a confused audience
scratching their noses
smelling nothing
by Constantin von Hoffmeister
"If I contradict myself, very well then, I contradict myself."
-- Walt Whitman
"Nothing is true. Everything is permitted."
-- Hassan i Sabbah (William S. Burroughs)
Today nothing is sacred. Ahura Mazda is Truth. Ahriman is the Lie. Both are engaged in a titanic struggle for Absolute Dominion. Neither one will emerge victorious until the End of Times. Finis Mundi - not quite yet. Until Ahura Mazda will usher in the Age of Absolute Certainty, nothing is real, clear-cut and as sure as a diamond is hard. Until then, different interpretations of events, ideologies and individuals have the duty to co-habit the same dimensional plane of existence. This is due to the inherently dualist nature of our own time, a time when the titanic struggle is still raging in full swing. The Abraxi analyze Aryan advances.
Savitri Devi was Hitler's bitch. Savitri Devi was an Indo-European master-femme. She was both. How could she have been both? The view that she was is not schizophrenic. It merely illustrates that different interpretations are possible and valid, simultaneously bowing to Truth from a variety of equally justifiable angles.
the birth of the West
through popular culture:
coded cartoons
of Captain White Race
(wrestling
with junkie she-nigger witches
in the slimily
decaying battleground
of King Disney's mines)
entertaining blonde children
and stealthily
strengthening their character
In a smoky cafe in fien-de-siecle Paris, where Absinthe was flowing freely and a young poet was pissing on an older poet from a great height, a group of Abraxi which had assumed human form, were debating the future course of Aryan evolution, all the while smoking their expensive pipes, made from ivory and imported from one of the European colonies in Africa. "They will know the truth when they see it," one of them said. "Truth is relative and to experience different facets of it will lead them to greater understanding," another said. "Imperium Europa will be the crowning triumph, founded by a race that will have digested all schools of philosophy and will have gone through all kinds of different political systems - only to reach the perfect synthesis, the apex of development, whose forming theses and antitheses will have been forged on the anvil of the race's blood alone."
the genetic make-up
of the libertarian empire:
homogenous
in the genes present:
propensity for free speech
free love
free booze
free drugs
(approved by the Abraxi)
The apple finally fell from the tree. As far as legends go, the legend that a benign shepherd once led his sheep through a parted rock in the Garden of Delight is one that should be taken with a grain of salt. The shepherd also happened to be a wizard of the 9th degree. His magic consisted of conjuring up violent images of the recently deceased and the soon to be diseased. The living and the healthy do not want to be reminded of their own mortality and their weak physical constitution. Their bodily frames always shatter on the rocks in the Garden of Delight while their minds continue hovering in the ether of madness.
SUN OF SATAN, or the map of the world as it was:
when the barbarians checked in, their sinewed arms glistening in the afternoon sun
soon wiped out by bombs dropped from a great height
the blood of the barbarians spilled on sacred ground
(the lines of the New York City subway system converge)
"We should see to it that THEY (you know who THEY are!) do not gain the upper hand again," said one of the disciples of the Abraxi. "They once had the power to mutilate with a 'razor blade' THE erect Penis."
BEHOLD!: THE Penis has regained its former glory, ready to thrust again, thus fortifying demographic might. THEY have been relegated to a secondary status quo position. The first status quo position contains the affirmation of the ETERNAL status quo: Those who rule are those at the top!
Hell, where can one get a beer around here? This dusty desert town offers no respite from the glaring heat of the midday sun. Throats feel rusty. Revolvers hang loose in their holsters. The saloon is closed. On the horizon, redskin savages gather for the attack, mounted with bows aimed at the heart of the community: the church and the people leaving the service! Their little songbooks and bibles are tattered, reminders that their world is used, worn and tired. Their world was once new, resembling a book fresh from the printer's. What has happened? Has the creator abandoned his flock? Has he moved on to more lustrous pastures? Or has he merely fallen asleep, dreaming the dream of the destiny puppeteer? The redskin savages attack.
left the room
left a table full of trash
a confused audience
scratching their noses
smelling nothing