Posts Tagged ‘Eulogy’

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The Emperor, Sir Peuxk

December 6, 2008

or, “The Miserable, ‘Modernized, Anglicized’ “

The action takes place in El Segundo, year of our Lord, 2009.

A block in this medium-sized city has formed a “gas line” that stretches to the next larger city, and from there to the next larger and so on all the way to Beijing (and back).

The middle class has found that the government-mandated “hybrid” vehicles could be modified to get more “pep” by hooking up the batteries in series and running a hydrogen-gasoline mixture known as “hydro-ethylene”, “hyrdo-eth”, “Hydra”, “Ethyl-Hi”, “Ethie” or simply “Hydra”.

It was like the lingo of the drug pushers with Meth (crystal meth, “iced-’T’ ” and all that rot).

Because the government had been offering incentives to buy the hybrids, and due the high failure rate of the batteries and all the fires on the interstates, they offered a program whereby if an individual’s vehicle had met with some ill-fate, the government would then offer vouchers on the next purchase of a vehicle. The failure rate was about 60% before the advent of hydra, which had essentially driven it up effectively to about a 78% percent rate, with intensely more horrific fires on the highway.

Capitalism had found its refuge (as it always does) in the under-markets.  It was the black-market trade in hydra where it still thrived in the sub-soil; where it lies dormant, waiting for its next resurgence in a truly free society totally exposed to the light of day. In flagranté delcti, naked, and unabashed.

People began trading the cocktail in the era of the “greenheads”. It was said they had ivy growing through their ears and into their brains, but that assumed they had any brains to begin with.

The ivy probably found a seed in the cranial cavity and began to grow from the inside-out given the fact they all appear to be as inanimate (other than for their hyper-prolific nature where reproduction and growth is concerned – thus the link to ivy).

Still, while as prolific as kudzu, they were also every bit as smart.

At any rate, the geniuses, led by their chief-superior genius Sir Peuxk, had imposed their own form of religion on the rest of society.

Theirs was a religion not of deity, but a religion in which they had made an agenda their god.

They served this agenda with supreme regularity, and all were condemned to hell who had not joined their cause.  They would eventually be covered in kudzu and smothered by the regulation and regularity of “the system”.  It was a smothering vine, indeed.

They would be persecuted in the workplace, driven from their homes and forced to feed off the land that provides that ever-more valuable “hydra”.

Such as always is the case, life endures and finds all alternate avenues of existence.

Strict enforcement policies had been instituted, and an already over-taxed federal government decided to redirect any drug enforcement officers to the task of regulating the illegal trade in hydra.

But, oh, how those cars did fly.

The ivy-skulls were so married to their philosophy that they had no such provisions for their own, hybrid vehicles.

It was said “the government force-feeds hybrid, and we feed our bellies with hydra”.

There was very little the agents could do.  Most were the bottom-of-the-barrel anyway.  All the good agents who were committed to getting kids off junk, they’d left for the coast (took retirement, found other avenues of sustenance, like dealing in hydra).

What was left were the other brainless who had been educated in public schools and who’s main interest was to party like it was the end of the century; these dregs were ultimately committed to bringing down a world, a society, a bold and beautiful democracy and mold it into a pig sty.

They wanted a world that swims in the same pig shit they swim in when high on meth at their “enviro-friendly, drug-swap-fest-concerts”.  Hippies, swimming in shit and wrapped in the suffocating kudzu they call “the agenda”.

Damned ivy-heads.

This would explain the incredible rate at which hydra had taken over this society.  It was a commodity that platinum, gold or even plutonium could not rival.

Everyone wanted hydra.

{Precipii apologizes for this divergence into fiction.  Normally we are ONLY dedicated to commentary on current events, but this morning we wax, poetic, on a truth lightly-peppered with lies.  What was it Hitler or Goebles said “Big lies, little truths”.  Well, if we ever indulge in any further (and more feeble) attempts at fiction, we will dedicate ourselves to profound truths and incey-wincey lies (reverse propaganda, or death by needle prick).

The editors at Precipii will leave this page in tact for a bit, then move it to another page accessed from the banner above with some appropriate button/title like “fiction” or “heap-big stories told from forked tongue”, or, maybe just “fork-ed tongue”.  Yeah, sounds good.

Happy reading, gentle readers! }.

… in the big lie there is always a certain force of credibility; because the broad masses of a nation are always more easily corrupted in the deeper strata of their emotional nature than consciously or voluntarily; and thus in the primitive simplicity of their minds they more readily fall victims to the big lie than the small lie, since they themselves often tell small lies in little matters but would be ashamed to resort to large-scale falsehoods. It would never come into their heads to fabricate colossal untruths, and they would not believe that others could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously. Even though the facts which prove this to be so may be brought clearly to their minds, they will still doubt and waver and will continue to think that there may be some other explanation. For the grossly impudent lie always leaves traces behind it, even after it has been nailed down, a fact which is known to all expert liars in this world and to all who conspire together in the art of lying.

—Adolf Hitler , Mein Kampf, vol. I, ch. X[1]

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The passing of a hero

February 29, 2008

Wow. Lot’s of talk of heros lately.

I lost a personal one in Mr. Buckley.

When I was in college, way back in the “me” decade of the 80’s, I don’t think I could have gotten through it without him.

Here I was, a PR student in a journalism school; a republican amongst protest-pining democrats, yearning for days gone by, and growing longer in tooth. Myself,  a “country boy” who knew very little about “big city” ideas and so-called “progressiveness”.

I was no progressive; but I knew (and still know) right from wrong.

buckley.jpg

Had it not been for “Up from Liberalism”, I don’t know if I’d have made it (well, I would have, but completely alone against the world).

His work was reminder to me that another world did still exist. A world outside that prison.

Buckley is and was an American hero.

His command of the English language, his viper-fast wit and his incredible vocabulary is legendary, and in my own, small mind, rivals only Winston Churchill. Buckley “might” argue that point, of course; but as a writer myself, from the standpoint of sheer mechanics and unrivaled command, there were few I respected so as Churchill – Buckley was one of those few.

With quick wit and iron consternation, he was a pillar for the conservative cause and a real hero among mortal men who seem forever unerring in their vast challenges to God, and those who follow Him.

I’ve been data mining a bit this evening and have seen posts that say such things as “the end of an era”, and that there is, to quote the rock stars, “a bad moon rising” in the political arena.

There can be no doubt that extreme strife is ahead. It always looms.

I think it a testimony to Mr. Buckley that the conservative cause is alive and well. His paper and his columns were always there, and we were and are, one and all, conscious of them.

He paved the way for the Limbaugh’s, the Coulter’s and the Crowley’s of today’s loyal opposition who are of this ilk we bear.

We are still strong, but we owe a tremendous debt to William F. Buckley.

To pay that debt, we must carry this conservative mantle, and carry the S.O.B. at its highest staff.

As conservatives, let us make certain that the spirit embodied by Bill Buckley endures, and endures for ever and a day.

Like Buckley to Vidal, I sincerely hope we will continue to give those libs absolute and utter hell at every turn of their impudent screw.

Rest well, bro. Buckley. May you and God discuss these mortal men and “Yaleys” over dinner and brandy on this day, and those many, many days to come!

“Flash’d all their sabres bare,
Flash’d as they turn’d in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
All the world wonder’d”