Days Volume Two

* ‘Global warming’ has become the grand political narrative of the age, replacing Marxism as a dominant force for controlling liberty and human choices. -- Prof. P. Stott The modern environmental movement arose out of the wreckage of the New Left. They call themselves Green because they're too yellow to admit they're really Reds. So Lenin's birthday was chosen to be the date of Earth Day. Even a moderate politician like Al Gore has been clear as to what is needed. In "Earth in the Balance", he wrote that saving the planet would require a "wrenching transformation of society". "The improver of natural knowledge absolutely refuses to acknowledge authority, as such. For him, scepticism is the highest of duties; blind faith the one unpardonable sin." -- Thomas H. Huxley Al Gore won a political prize for an alleged work of science. That rather speaks for itself, doesn't it? For centuries there was a scientific consensus which said that fire was

* With debt of a magnitude few of us can readily conceive, with trade deficits of enormous proportions, with a gutted manufacturing sector and the ruthless reduction of the community of skilled factory workers, with a corporate culture that has lost its traditional dedication to real investment, productivity and production in favour of "ownership" and speculative enterprise, the United States appears to be moving rapidly along the road to ruin. The most forbidding of economic crises - with a variety of themes, aspects and complexities - seems to threaten just a short distance down that road from where we are now. If and when it arrives, a turmoil and misery to put the Great Depression of the 1930s to shame could afflict the American economy and the American people - and persist perhaps for a decade or more. James Cumes, America's Suicidal State Craft. And collapsed, and seen for the future, old fashioned socialists running the country, his own darkness and dysfunction lon

* There are the women with their shopping bags and the men with their cardboard boxes, hauling their possessions from one place to the next, forever on the move, as if it mattered where they were. There is the man wrapped in the American flag. There is the woman with a Halloween mask on her face. There is the man in a ravaged overcoat, his shoes wrapped in rags, carrying a perfectly pressed white shirt on a hanger - still sheathed in a dry-cleaner's plastic. There is the man in a business suit with bare feet and a football helmet on his head. There is the woman whose clothes are covered from head to toe with Presidential campaign buttons. There is the man who walks with his face in his hands, weeping hysterically and saying over and over again: "No, no, no. He's dead. He's not dead. No, no, no. He's dead. He's not dead." Paul Auster, The City of Glass. Crying out, confused, exultant and despairing all in one, they looked at the shadows and barked, with a b

* The Tiger I am the delightful Paradox. All the world is my stage. I set new trails ablaze; I seek the unattainable, And try the untried. I dance to lifes music In gay abandon. Come ride with me on my carousel rides. See the myriad of colors, The flickering lights. All hail me the unparalleled performer. I AM THE TIGER. The Ox Mine is the stabilising force That perpetuates the cycle of life. I stand immobile against the Test of adversity, Resolute and unimpeachable. I seek to serve integrity, To bear the burdens of righteousness. I abide by the laws of nature Patiently pushing the wheel of Fate. Thus I shall weave my destiny. I AM THE OX. No man's life, liberty or property are safe while the legislature is in session. Judge Gideon J. Tucker In all the lands of chaos, in the darkness and the light, on narrow paths and beneath the bowers of the forest, that was where we were, automatically writing. Born to a diseased existence, curdled and cuddled in a single lifetime, these mista

* Benediction When by decree of the almighty powers, The Poet walks the world's wearisome sod, His mother, blasphemous and fearful, cowers, Clenching her fist against a pitying God: — "Ah, would whole knots of vipers were my spawn Rather than this woeful abomination! Cursed be the sweet swift night and evil dawn Wherein my womb conceived my expiation! Since of all women Thou hast chosen me To be my sorry husband's shame of shames, Since I may not toss this monstrosity Like an old billet-doux into the flames, Thy heavy hatred I shall vomit back On the damned tool of your malevolence, Twisting this wretched tree until it crack, Never to sprout in buds of pestilence!" Thus she gulps down the froth of her despair, Nor knowing the eternal paradigms, Sinks deep into Gehenna to prepare, Herself, the pyre set for a mother's crimes. Yet guarded by an unseen Angel's favors, The outcast child is fired by radiant suns, In all he eats and all he drinks he savors Ambrosial