26 April 2010

’Tis now to be "war of awesome dimensions," by G*m!



Dear Dr. Bones,

Let us invoke the Spirit of Music, shall we, seeing that Bedrich Smetana will be making a guest appearance this morning?

*** OVERTURE ***




"War of awesome dimensions, a war with a long and bloody history [that] is not the consequence of this or that unpopular policy but above all of beliefs we are not even supposed to pronounce nowadays, the crazed visions of Muslim extremists who are waging jihad against us. And [a war that is the consequence of] the beliefs of radical secular extremists who share the goals of jihad. That war is being waged by people who hate America and Israel, as they hate Christians, Jews, Hindus and Buddhists, and those many Muslims who want to live in peace."


*** INTERMEZZO sive ZWISCHENSPIEL ***



Suppose, sir, that you woke up in your hammock one fine morning to discover that that, presumably either for your sins or for His own entertainment, Father Zeus had transformed you, not into a fat disgusting cockroach like poor Herr Samsa chez Kafka, but into a lean-an’-mean and militant and extreme Hyperzionist. Rather like Grand Ayatollah Mikey Bin Ledeen is, if you know what I mean.

If you prefer, we can leave you out of the game and directly imagine His Eminence wakin’ up and findin’ His own Self-Eminence in the Cartesian plight of literally havin’ "to live [say, the Tuesday of next week, 4 May 2010] as if it were the first day of [His Eminence’s] life." [0]

Well as usual , I don't strictly mean ‘literally’, even as I do not propose to dabble in any philosophy more exalted than the joke Neoëxistentialism of Team Jabotinsky. To refine the hypothesis, then, suppose His scenario-bound Eminence to wake up, recallin’ what Hyperzion is, and more or less able to find it on a map, and--above all--remainin’ militant and extremist that Hyperzion must remain Hyperzion [1], exfoliatin’ all its exotic neobeauties without stint or limit in sæcula sæculorm amen.

What our feigned H.E. does not remember is the correlation of farces in the world: who is a friend to Hyperzion, or at least a useful idiot, who is neutral, and who is not only antimegistodemographical [1a] in sime inherited or religionistic way, but actively and avowedly antihyperzionist, at Turtle Bay or in any other forum that dares to show its head in public.

In short, imagine that my travesty of Mikey Cardinal Ledeen has somehow forgotten who the enemies and friends of the GD™ Folk [1a] are, and must start from scratch to russle ’em up some new ones. [2] How well adapted to that end, in your opinion, Dr. Bones, would be the agitational-propagandistic modus operandi that His Eminence here deploys in "preachin’ to the choir"?

Whether you care to play my parlour game or not, Dr. Bones, please make a memorandumb [3] of this Binledeenian exuberance so we can find it later and use it against the kiddies.

Considered narrowly as choir-preachin’, "We are all Israëlis now" is a damp squib: the sweet birds of neosong would have been given the Frum’s rush [http://j.mp/9a9K9M] out of the Neotemple the instant they were detected to be anythin’ but.

Tthe Cardinal Auxiliary of Jehádkarírestán in partibus infidelium must, one presumes [3], intend His Eminence’s choristers to march forth and proclaim the Neogospel Accordin’ to Mikey unto benighted heathens and perverted heretics proper.

What makes this item memorandumb fodder, Dr. Bones, is how extremely perspicuous His Eminence makes the underlyin’ Common Terror magazine shtyk, which consists in Castle Podhóretz (or other competent neoäuthority) issuin’ a Woodrovian declaration of "War against war." Needless to say, it was THEM that started it, commenced a

"war of awesome dimensions, a war with a long and bloody history [that] is not the consequence of this or that unpopular policy but above all of beliefs we are not even supposed to pronounce nowadays, the crazed visions of Muslim extremists who are waging jihad against us. And [a war that is the consequence of] the beliefs of radical secular extremists who share the goals of jihad. That war is being waged by people who hate America and Israel, as they hate Christians, Jews, Hindus and Buddhists, and those many Muslims who want to live in peace."

Lots and lots of neodingalingism crammed into very few words -- ninety-one, I make it -- that is, Dr. Bones, and therefore memorandumb-worthy to the max.

To be sure, nothin’ human, except of course the GD Folk™, can achieve perfection. Mikey Cardinal Bin Ledeen has not provided us a sort of handy-dandy CliffsNotes™ edition of "Rupert’s List," that conjectural omniumgatherum of all the scattered enemies lists held at Hooverville and Rio Limbaugh and Castle Podhóretz and Port Ste Lucie and Pajama Junction, indeed, anywhere at all in Foxcuckooland from sea to whinin’ sea.

Notably absent are (1) the "Smash Capitalism!" contingent (unless His Eminence’s little word ‘radical’ is read far stronger than I think it can bear), and (2) environmental whackos,


*** CODETTA ***



"war of awesome dimensions, a war with a long and bloody history [that] is not the consequence of this or that unpopular policy but above all of beliefs we are not even supposed to pronounce nowadays, the crazed visions of Muslim extremists who are waging jihad against us. And [a war that is the consequence of] the beliefs of radical secular extremists who share the goals of jihad. That war is being waged by people who hate America and Israel, as they hate Christians, Jews, Hindus and Buddhists, and those many Muslims who want to live in peace."

I wish you, sir,
Healthy and affordable days

____
[0] Not "the first day of the rest of His Eminence’s life" as the vulgarism runs, but Day One simpliciter, the entire space between the ears of His Eminence contain’ nothin’ but hard vacuum, or call it tabula rasa.


[1] Paddy suggested the slogan ¡Hyperzion go bragh! at this juncture when we were confabulating this little fable. I had to point out to him with some asperity that, like most rules, the rule "A cat may look at a king" has the occasional probative exception, this exception, or one prominent exception, being obviously catus felix Kilarniensis.

[1a] A denier may deny, for the sake of argument or with gusto, that the Greatest Demographic™ is in fact so extraordinarly self-exceptional and self-indispensable and all-’round self-wunnerful as to be out of legitimate range of ALL the slings and arrows of us miserable Lesser Breeds Without, but that certainly does not mean than any Irish need apply as archers or peltasts.

Quelle idée!, like my great-great- ... -grandma used to mutter into her porridge in the Gaeilge, before the villagers lynched her for a witch.

As you and the Muses know, Dr. Bones, my favorite breed amongst the LBW to set up with dhimmian uppitiness against the GD Folk fanatics is the Bohemians, who call themselves ‘Czechs’, but thereby deceive nobody and haven’t for several centuries. Probably Herr Smetana [http://j.mp/bs84On] is the efficient cause of this McWhim: "Would you believe it, Princess, that shixy peasant had the gall to associate our tune with his vlast!"

Whimmed or whimless, I have never set foot nearer the place than Schneeburg (?) in Upper Bavaria, or for practical purposes, say Bayreuth BRG. A notorious hotbed of antimegistodemographical activities was that town, to be sure, when the Serene House of Wagner reigned. This is immaterial, however, because with Bohemia Bayreuth has nothing political to do and never did, beyond being Habsburg subjects.


[2] Like any good pscenario, this one is, I flatter myself, not entirely unconnected with the former Real World. For, in a certain sense, every snake-oil salesman and agitprop artiste that ever lived has been in the situation I conjure up for my pseudo-Mikey. As regards the "swing vote," I mean, those who have not yet taken any definite position on the merits and drawbacks of hula hoops, or Shock-an’-Awe (®), or le surchauvinisme hebraïque, or pet rocks, or . . . -- whatever product or ideoproduct the flogger may be trying to flog.

The analogy is imperfect, I admit, because Team Jabotinsky and the Hyperzionism product have been around since, at very latest, shortly after the war of A. R. 1387/1967/5726, twoscore and two (solar) years ago. His Eminence is bound to be especially concerned with official State enmities and friendships and neutralities and idiocies and utilities, and one can scarcely imagine any foreign ministry on G*re’s green earth where the statespersons have simply never heard of Hyperzionism the way Cindy from Wasilla has (almost certainly) never heard of the blessèd and meaningless hula hoop [http://j.mp/aubixm].


[3] To give you a head start, here’s ... Mikey: http://j.mp/9mGUo4

That is the pajamatarian neopost, but who cares? The PJM title of the thing is right there inside it, even if Mikey called it somethin’ different chez soi.

And by the way, the former chez soi seems to redirect straight to Mikey’s latest pair of pajamas in any case.

"Creativity and Destruction in all about I see / Father Zeus, Who wingnuts not, / Abide with me!"


[4] One may be presuming temerariously, however, for it is not impossible that His Eminence intended no more than to warm up the water a little in that bath of self-wunnerfulness in which his immediate auditors incorrigibly wallow: "O nos felices, who alone actually realize that ‘we’ "are all Israelis now."

A wonderer may wonder, after all, whether Neocomradess Ch. Little entirely likes the idea that others should detect the imminence of skyfall with her own eagle eye and squawk against it with equal volume. Or whether the hack pols and violence pros of the Tel ’Avîv statelet would rejoice singleheartedly and without mental reservation to discover three or four additional and undeniable ‘democracies’ scattered around the neo-Levantine landscape.

Grand Ayatollah Mikey Bin Ledeen bein’ what His Eminence is, the only complete certainty hereabouts is that H. E. would dearly love to see somebody bomb the evil Qommies back into the Stone Age. To "wipe them off the map," you might say, even.


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