I am a melancholy man born of a melancholy father into a melancholy hour and now without my wife and 67 unable to get a crap job to pay bills or a better job to get ahead I am melancholy standing at land’s end for the Western World at the Pacific. Face in wind and staring wild eyed into inner space I see compressed a world in ruins still standing upright as if too weak to fall. Claremont -Monopolistic control is critical to maintaining the enormous profit margins and unprecedented wealth of the oligarchical class. Now elite corporations can operate with virtual impunity. Rather than a competitive economy, we are seeing the emergence of what Aldous Huxley called “a scientific caste system,” where the highly credentialed and technologically dominant have almost total reign. Tech oligarchs, notes the French socialist economist Thomas Piketty, see themselves not merely as business people but as exemplars whose success serves to “destroy artificial inequalities” while “highlighting natural inequalities.” The new aristocracy regards itself as intrinsically more deserving of their wealth and power than the old managerial elites or the grubby corporate speculators.34 They believe that they are not just creating value but building a better world. These are not just the rich and well-placed but also the elect. https://dc.claremont.org/the-rise-of-corporate-state-tyranny/
I know of course the stories told today about yesterday about Conquering the World. Ruminating on my readings discussing Jung comes Edward Edinger. "If the emergent God that wants to be born in man is not humanized and transformed by a sufficient number of conscious individuals, its dark aspect can destroy us." The World Economic Forum and their cabal of globalist elites need the world economies, particularly America’s economy, to collapse in order to achieve their goal of The Great Reset. To get the people to willfully accept the precepts of Neo-Marxism inherent in the tenets of The Great Reset, all other alternative systems must fail.
“I sound, to commence, the cry, with thee, O soul,
The Past! the Past! the Past!
The Past! the dark, unfathom'd retrospect!
The teeming gulf! the sleepers and the shadows!
The past! the infinite greatness of the past!
For what is the present, after all, but a growth out of the past?
(As a projectile, form'd, impell'd, passing a certain line, still
keeps on,
So the present, utterly form'd, impell'd by the past.)”
My master Andre Breton had his moments of melancholic thought as well. “Perhaps my life is nothing but an image of this kind; perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I simply should recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten.” Emotional sensibility precariously jumps past to past to future in the Surrealist glance without recourse to smashed atoms and abstruse math or even really any authority save the link to the Oversoul. In The Master and His Emissary: The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World, Iain McGilchrist adds “ Both hemispheres, it is now clear, can deal with either kind of material, words or images, in different ways. Subsequent attempts to decide which set of functions are segregated in which hemisphere have mainly been discarded, piece after piece of evidence suggesting that every identifiable human activity is actual y served at some level by both hemispheres. There is, apparently, vast redundancy. Enthusiasm for finding the key to hemisphere differences has waned, and it is no longer respectable for a neuroscientist to hypothesise on the subject.
This is hardly surprising, given the set of beliefs about the differences between the hemispheres which has passed into the popular consciousness. These beliefs could, without much violence to the facts, be characterised as versions of the idea that the left hemisphere is somehow gritty, rational, realistic but dull, and the right hemisphere airy-fairy and impressionistic, but creative and exciting; a formulation reminiscent of Sellar and Yeatman's immortal distinction (in their parody of English history teaching, 1066 and All That) between the Roundheads – ‘Right and Repulsive’ – and the Cavaliers – ‘Wrong but Wromantic’.”
And how much more “Wromantic” can Anno Covid be? This economic cycle is unlike any other in history. https://www.zerohedge.com/news/2024-09-17/why-does-economy-feel-so-weird
In the last five years the U.S. has experienced…against the faux virus and the rise of the Sanitary totalitarian system - not state, states are merely vestigial organs, remaining as the last small part of something that existed before 2020 A.D. We dwell in the open air KZ camp. The rape of the world began with the lying about a virus and continues today as the injected continue to die and some suffer horribly as they do so. From the closing weeks of 2020 through February 1, 2022, more than sixty percent of the world’s population was injected with Covid-19 vaccines.
This means that in a period of less than fourteen months more than 4.7 billion people received at least one Covid shot. Tens of millions received as many as four doses.
The first clinical trial of Covid vaccines was launched in Germany on April 23, 2020 with the Pfizer–BioNTech vaccine. The first country to authorize the use of the vaccine in the general population was the United Kingdom. The UK issued its authorization on December 2, 2020, and this move was quickly followed by dozens of other nations. The United States issued its emergency use authorization on December 11.
This means that the massive global vaccination campaign – which quickly reached a frenzied pitch – was launched less than 8 months from the start of the clinical trials.
To begin administering a vaccine to the general population within such a short trial period was wholly unprecedented in the annals of modern medicine.
To establish that a vaccine is safe, extensive long-term testing must be carried out. This process involves multi-phase clinical trials and observational studies which include large numbers of subjects over time periods measured in years. This thorough and involved process takes at least five years to complete and usually much longer. According to Johns Hopkins University:
“A typical vaccine development timeline takes 5 to 10 years, and sometimes longer, to assess whether the vaccine is safe and efficacious in clinical trials, complete the regulatory approval processes, and manufacture sufficient quantity of vaccine doses for widespread distribution.”
As the Hedge piece notes
1) A voluntary economic shut down (2020-2021).
2) The Federal Reserve printing and funneling $5 trillion into the financial system in the span of 20 months (2020-2022).
3) The Federal Government spending $6 trillion in stimulus/ interventions in the span of two years (2020-2022).
4) The Federal Government running the largest deficit as a percentage of GDP outside of World War II (2020-today).
And in 2022-Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganò February 8, 2022 Dear Brothers and Sisters Canadian truck drivers, The global coup that in these two years of psycho-pandemic farce has been carried out by the globalist elite appears most clearly if we do not limit ourselves to considering what happened in individual Nations, but broaden our gaze to what has happened everywhere. Your protest, dear Canadian truck driver friends, joins a worldwide chorus that wants to oppose the establishment of the New World Order on the rubble of nation states, through the Great Reset desired by the World Economic Forum and by the United Nations under the name of Agenda 2030. And we know that many heads of government have participated in Klaus Schwab’s School for Young Leaders – the so-called Global Leaders for Tomorrow – beginning with Justin Trudeau and Emmanuel Macron, Jacinta Ardern and Boris Johnson, and before that Angela Merkel, Nicolas Sarkozy and Tony Blair. It would seem that Canada is – along with Australia, Italy, Austria and France – one of the nations most infiltrated by the globalists. And in this infernal project we must not only consider the psycho-pandemic farce, but also the attack on traditions and Christian identity – indeed, more precisely the Catholic identity – of these countries.
Eliot recall had his poem.
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
From Diving into the Wreck: Poems 1971-1972 by Adrienne Rich.
First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber
the absurd flippers
the grave and awkward mask.
I am having to do this
not like Cousteau with his
assiduous team
aboard the sun-flooded schooner
but here alone.
There is a ladder.
The ladder is always there
hanging innocently
close to the side of the schooner.
We know what it is for,
we who have used it.
Otherwise
it is a piece of maritime floss
some sundry equipment.
I go down.
Rung after rung and still
the oxygen immerses me
the blue light
the clear atoms
of our human air.
I go down.
My flippers cripple me,
I crawl like an insect down the ladder
and there is no one
to tell me when the ocean
will begin.
First the air is blue and then
it is bluer and then green and then
black I am blacking out and yet
my mask is powerful
it pumps my blood with power
the sea is another story
the sea is not a question of power
I have to learn alone
to turn my body without force
in the deep element.
And now: it is easy to forget
what I came for
among so many who have always
lived here
swaying their crenellated fans
between the reefs
and besides
you breathe differently down here.
I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.
I stroke the beam of my lamp
slowly along the flank
of something more permanent
than fish or weed
the thing I came for:
the wreck and not the story of the wreck
the thing itself and not the myth
the drowned face always staring
toward the sun
the evidence of damage
worn by salt and sway into this threadbare beauty
the ribs of the disaster
curving their assertion
among the tentative haunters.
This is the place.
And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair
streams black, the merman in his armored body.
We circle silently
about the wreck
we dive into the hold.
I am she: I am he
whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes
whose breasts still bear the stress
whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies
obscurely inside barrels
half-wedged and left to rot
we are the half-destroyed instruments
that once held to a course
the water-eaten log
the fouled compass
We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the one who find our way
back to this scene
carrying a knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear.
I can see how some people rail against being just one creature in this world, a small worm under the bark, making small but delicate trails that are seldom revealed to the light of day. I, for one, relish my insignificance, a sense of scale. A sense of our folly, in that I am rich.
Good article, Steigel. I hope life picks up for you.