Wednesday, August 30, 2017


The summer will end in music

Music, A Universal Language


Some have tried to introduce a lexicon of music and a syntax of music and they all have failed because apart from the notes that have been rather stable since the 18th century, and the rhythms that have changed from one century to the next and yet are always the same, binary, ternary and quaternary, two-fold, three-fold or four-fold with all possible combinations with the units of length, once again  rather stable across ages, all the rest is the result of the art of the composer, his or her emotions, and the meaning is, altogether on the side of the composer, on the second side of the interpreters and on the third side of the audience, the result of the empathy and feelings of each one person in these three fields. 

When you add words onto this music, sung or spoken, then these words have their own meaning, their own syntax and these lexical and syntactic combinations are amplified in a way or another, positively or negatively, by the music itself.

I celebrate here many composers and many styles, many periods and many genres. Most of the various sections of this document refer to wider, at times a lot wider, documents that may count many dozen pages or even a few hundred pages. 

Patience and persistence – equanimity in one word – have to be your two bread and butter, bread and water, butter and cheese (with bread if possible), cheese and fruit and I am sure many of you will see many different meanings in my way of looking at things. 

Enjoy then this forest of many different trees, including Lao She’s reverie trees that only grow on Mars. Some pages are in French, which is good for dreaming.


Research Interests:
MusicBenjamin BrittenClassical MusicLeonard CohenóperaDavid Bowie and music and Belmondo Family

Monday, August 28, 2017


Just ten years or so of poetical work.

Poetry and Poésie in a cosmological drama
Poetry, Oniric and Dramatic (Updated)


The cotton-wool of my discomfort
Masturbates my distress
With unbearably delightful cheerlessness
And fondles my blank void-ness
With eternally resting softness
Velvet snug in the cell-lessness
Of this expanding here-ness
Of that overflown there-ness
Deictic directionlessness
Of a heartful of restlessness
Of a restful of heartlessness

The walls have shrunk in front of my eyes
The dancers resisted for a while
But the dark web of my brains
Spided them over with the white
Of the fleeing screen of ink
That traps the fish
That grounds the tanks
That blinds the shells
And rapes the oyster shrine
That shines in the dimly rosy lips
Of the sea-sand undulating with algae
Dancing with medusae
Swaying with sharks
And rolls the cloudy bouquet
Tasty and crunchy
Like a brownie sprinkled with walnuts
I grin the icing with my golden teeth
And the Rhyne wine twines round my spine
My bonnie bony back formalness
And grinds to ashes
The sweet sugary fumet
Of an herby Irish stew
Steelful like an IRA rifle
Tarful like a highland Scotch
Melts to sparkling crystal
The sweeping sway of my . . .  
. . . Rumbanesque chachawise soukouslike samba

The water chute sprays the air
With the white foam
Of the swelling current
Thrusting through the banks
Through the virginal jungle of Africa
Black and dark as a happy night
Luminous as a sad memory
That lancinates my syndromes
With the recurrence of boredom
The naughtiness of neverdom
The strife of let it be again
The resuming silence of the end
When the violet reclines its head
When the rose lilies its petals
The naked wind of the morning
Breaks through the draping sheets
And vanishes in the mourningful distance
Of a hangover showering down
On the flat bottom of our boxed lives

Only the rug will keep the stain
The flesh will be refreshed
By the absolving cup of coffee
By the pregnant Monday
That will inevitably enwomb our thirst
In the fetal capsule
Of next Saturday night
            Might be
            Might have been
Desire of the never-to-be-remembered



Nick La Torre , heads up up and away

Nick La Torre Tests our testes




Welcome to the universe of this Nick La Torre. It is a depiction of what the world becomes when the truth is smoke and spirits are alcoholic. God is frankly dead and replaced by some supernatural monster straight out of Dean, and Sam Winchester’s delirium tremens of a series, a shape-shifter par excellence who (? Shouldn’t it be that) can haunt anyone, visit any place and replace any character on this stage dedicated to strutting nincompoops. 

And we are the brainless nincompoops of the fable. Eins! Zwei! Drei! Prosit! 

One more bottle on the top of the wall
One more drunky at the foot of the wall
One more wino at large in society
Counting his toes he can’t even see
He has forgotten to take off his shoes

The clock rings the hours the tosspot can’t count
Some dog barks in some barn the juicehead can’t hear
Beer flows down his throat like a tsunami in Japan
The tropical storm grows into a hurricane
And the piss artist wets his pants and bed

Don’t worry, good law-abiding citizens, between pussy-grabbing episodes, these spongy hop heads will run for elections and win them ending up in the Senate, the House of Representatives and even the White House. We all need a little small besotted alky in some cupboard for our comfort and serenity.

Olliergues, France, August 28, 2017
Research Interests:

English LiteratureLiteratureDoctrine of GodSupernaturalCollege student developmentAlcoholism and Smoke

Saturday, August 26, 2017


Bleak, squalid and sordid


I will only consider here the 1990 film with Faye Dunaway, not the novel beyond, nor of course the recent adaptation as a TV series that is not available on the DVD market.

We are in the United States of America after it became the Republic of Gilead. I will not enter the Biblical meaning of this word that can be used to designate some regions of the old Biblical Israel and three characters in the Old Testament, among them the father of Jephthah, that crazy general who swore to have the first person coming to him after the battle if it is a victory sacrificed to God. He thus has to put his daughter to death.

But that gives you the flavor of the story. In this Republic of Gilead, men are absolutely dominant and they have reinstalled or reinstated the standard total submission of women to go against the total dissolution of society before due to sexual promiscuity, abortion, family planning, contraception, artificial insemination, gender orientation, etc. Women have to go back to their main and only function in that male-dominated society: to give birth to babies conceived in the normal natural good old intercourse between a man and a woman. And that’s where the story becomes bizarre or even squalid.

Women are, like for men in Brave New World, divided into clearly defined groups that have to dress in a particular color. Grey is for the plain servants. Then, red is for the handmaids, those whose sole function is to procreate babies with the master of the household they are attached to. White is for some kind of religious characters who participate in various rites. Maroon is for the women who are controlling the handmaids, assigning them wherever they are needed, and of course punishing them when “necessary.” Blue is for the ladies of the various households whose babies are produced by the handmaids attached to them and their husbands. All men are in black. There is a last category of women: those who cannot be integrated into any category, particularly as handmaids and are the “girls” of some parties for the masculine elite. In other words, they are the escorts or working girls of the elite men of the society.

The disease that is the cause of this situation is purely surreal, causing the sterility of most women and those who are not sterile are used as reproductive human chattel. The film though seems to hint that the man, Fred, Kate, the handmaid the story is centered on, should provide with a child, is sterile, and his sterile wife, Serena, suggests Kate should use the services of her husband’s chauffeur, Nick. All that is of course sordid. During that time Fred, the Commander, is systematically hunting down the resistance with the clear objective of exterminating them. Today we call that genocide. Apart from Blacks and gays, the concept of resisting people is rather vague and we can wonder how this elite can live if there is no proletariat, even lumpen-proletariat to work for them.

Fred falls in love with Kate, but that brings no pregnancy. Nick, on the other hand, falls in love with her too and she with him and that brings a pregnancy as if without equally shared love there is no pregnancy possible. When Serena learned that Fred had taken Kate to one of the elite’s parties and that she had worn her own black clothing instead of her red dress, she becomes furious and wants a vengeance. On the other hand, Nick and Kate want to escape Gilead with their future baby.

That’s the dramatic knot in the thread of that story, a Gordian knot actually and it will have to be cut, but how and for what future?

The fact that this old novel and this here old film have been remembered for a TV series has, of course, to do with the election of the present President of the USA. The rise of bigotry and populism in the USA today is seen as dangerous. Just the same way The Man in the High Castle, an old novel stating the same type of dystopia centered on men essentially has been brought back to life by Amazon Prime, this Handmaid’s Tale, centered as it is on women, had to be brought back to life too. The present period in our globalized world is bringing up the question of refusing change and even dreaming of a full U-turn and going back to what the world was in the past, the Old Testament in this case, A victory of Japan and Germany in 1945 in The Man in the High Castle. The pessimist are going to say that will lead to the Third World War. The optimist will say that God or man’s rational wisdom will prevail and the Singularity of Intelligent Machines will bring humanity eternal life and absolute peace with no work what so ever to do. The dream of a permanent siesta or farniente. Though it may very well be a Matrix that leads to eternal slavery and war.


Friday, August 25, 2017


A shrine and temple in the middle of nowhere



(including 19 personal pictures)


Lost in the middle of nowhere in Central France this ex-industrial wasteland of the French postal and telephone public company was bought by Gilles and Sylvie Iniesta in 2003 and they opened it up to street artists in 2016, and finally to the public in May 2017.

Unique in the world, it is becoming like all respectable vampires or werewolves, becoming the first non-urban permanent and sustainable center of Street Art and it is worth a detour if you are not too far, or even a trip if you are from more distant climes.  The 128 bedrooms of this ex-training center are not yet open to the public, but they will be soon.

Street art is evanescent and here it is made to last longer than a couple of days or weeks. It is international and it is first of all a cry for freedom, freedom of expression, freedom of delivery and distribution to the public, freedom of thought and of creation.

This project is so attractive to these street artists that the owners have to choose, select, something that goes against the grain of street art but that will have to be managed "professionally" without falling down, into the abyss of politically, socially, culturally, artistically correct trendiness.

To be followed with interest and dililgence. Get on your Internet and Google or Bling or whatever "Street Art City, Lurcy-Lévis" to have teh latest news.

Research Interests:

Thursday, August 24, 2017


When Hell emerges in life with fire and fury!


I have just re-read and upgraded my review of Nick La Torre’s rethinking of the gospel of Jesus as if Jesus was only a non-entity invested by some kind of supernatural smoky being, if it is a being, looking for a man who could be a puppet that would be the vessel of his/its godliness that people would worship in this human form. And then I peppered this tale with a film about teaching in New York and Los Angeles reduced to a direct and unwinnable war between one teacher and one gang member or listed criminal under age who has to go to school to avoid being sent to prison, juvenile or not.

Enjoy the trip into the ugliness of a godless world entirely dedicated to the paycheck and the health coverage, in one word, the world in which there are no trump cards anymore, where the pawns you are have the obligation to navigate on a chessboard that has lost its white and black squares. We are living in a de-structured world and we believe life is a miracle in a universe of violence and death. The real miracle is that we are still here to watch such films because their logic is that the world should have been terminated long ago by its own intestine melt-down.


This is pure mischief and the author is enjoying it when you accuse him of being a mischievous and shadowy character, so much so that his Rauschmonstrum is nothing but dark smoke that can take any form it wants. In other words, this monster is smoking us up and out of our minds.

Now, what is the real nature of this monster? The first reference we can think of is Perelà, Uomo di Fumo (Perelà, Man of Smoke), an opera composed by Pascal Dusapin whose Italian libretto Dusapin himself wrote, based on the novel, Il Codice Perelà by the Italian writer, Aldo Palazzeschi and which had its world premiere on February 24, 2003, at the Opéra Bastille in Paris (France not Texas), conducted by James Conlon. And we can wonder how much the present Gospel owes to this opera and the novel behind. We could summarize this opera as follows, along with Wikipedia.

“The enigmatic protagonist, Perelà, is literally a man made of smoke, formed over thirty-three years in the chimney of a fireplace tended by three old women, Pena, Rete, and Lama, the three weirds sisters of Shakespeare of course, hence the triple goddess of all European cultures. One day he finds the fireplace abandoned. He gives himself a name made up of the first syllable of the names of his "mothers" (Pe-Re-La), puts on a pair of boots that will anchor him to the ground, and sets off for a city that he sees on the horizon. On the way, he is met by an old woman and then by one of King Torlindao's guards who brings him to the royal court. Once there, everyone is fascinated by the strange story of his origin and by his "lightness," which they consider a unique gift. He is admired and feted by all. So much so, that the Queen and the king's minister ask him to devise a new legal code for their society, and a noblewoman who had previously sworn off men, Marchesa Oliva di Bellonda, falls in love with him. But one day, his fortunes change. The old valet, Alloro, sets himself on fire hoping to emulate the lightness of Perelà. The accusations by Alloro's daughter turn the people against Perelà whom they now revile as a murderer. The Marchesa tries to defend him, but he is condemned to prison. After singing a final oration, Perelà escapes by removing his boots and floating out through the chimney of his cell to become a moving form in the sky.”

Back to the Rauschmonstrum, we have to say this supernatural being wants to become the master of humanity by providing them with a prophet they will believe in and who will be able to provide the barbarian human beings of this humanity with some kind of ethical and moral frame. He chooses Jesus as a worthy tool for his ambition.

Systematically he follows him and provides him with the miracles he needs to become the prophet. In other words, all these miracles are lies since they are not Jesus’ doing but the Rauschmonstrum’s. But at the same time they are miracles anyway, hence the tall-tale does not destroy or change the story. Jesus becomes the Son of God, though there is no God, hence there is no Son of God, but yet there is a super powerful being who is God in a way or another, anyway, the Rauschmonstrum himself. Then it turns God into nothing but a smoky shape floating in the air, but the super-powers it has makes it a real God. Who cares about the shape since it anyway is invisible, untouchable, totally beyond all our human senses, except the sixth sense of the Buddhists, the mind. God is an invention of man’s mind and yet the tall-tale here makes him a real character.

Another aspect of the tall-tale is that it insists on the responsibility of the Pharisees, high priest and other priests, in one word the top echelon of the priesthood hierarchy in Jerusalem’s temple, hence the Jewish religious elite, and since it is true that the High Priest took a valueless decision via the Sanhedrin summoned in his home and not in the Temple, this fact cannot be denied, the accusation sounds strange especially when it is accompanied with some strange mysterious nationalistic and patriotic language:

“But a certain one of them, Caiaphas, being a high priest that year, said to them, “You know nothing at all, nor do you consider that it is advantageous for us that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation not perish.” Caiaphas prophesied that Jesus would die for the nation and not for the nation only, but that he might also gather together into one all the Israelites and descendants of Israelites, many of whom were scattered abroad.” (Location 826)

I would say that it sounds a little bit warped as of the logic of the reasoning. The crucifixion of Jesus sure turned the Jewish people into a pariah people in the world for at least twenty centuries due to the subsequent events around the disciples and particularly the fate of James, Jesus’ brother and first bishop of Jerusalem appointed by Jesus himself, whose stoning decided by the Sanhedrin will eventually bring the destruction of the temple and the walls of the city and the scattering of all Jews away from the Middle East (the famous diaspora). And has the curse finally been lifted? I doubt it and some among the Jews today are geniuses in the art of making gentile goyim hate them.

Can we consider this rewriting of the Christian Gospels as a masterpiece or a fake parody? We are in a way forced to think of Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet first published in 1923 and that I discovered fifty years later in the Bookstore of the University of California at Davis in fall 1973. There is some kind of distance-building tone and attitude that is supposed to insist on our freedom to act and at the same time on the vanity of this freedom to act. There’ is always behind us a prophet, a man made of smoke that is lurking in the corners of our mind. We are the puppets of such an evanescent and yet fundamental construct of our own human mind. Without it, we would not be human. Humanity is in our sense of transcendence and surreal vanity.


IDEM,, September 1, 2016

Good appetite with these delicious drumsticks.

Sorry, Nick, you made me a cannibal since I devoured your Jesus as if he were a couple of Kentucky fried chicken drumsticks. I am ashamed of it and I beg you to forgive me, to pardon me, to excuse me and let me go to my doom in peace and quiet so that I can be destroyed by the fire of God without any more ado and pain than necessary.

But frankly what venomous spider carrying what un-healable epidemic bit or has repetitively bitten that poor Nick La Torre into rewriting the Gospel of Jesus, the Gospel of Judas, the Gospel of Mary Magdalena and the Gospel of Matthew, all in one go in a dark shade of some black, very black Jewish humor? We did not have the Gospel of Caiaphas so far, but now it is done, achieved, terminated and finalized along with the Gospel of Herod-cum-Salome. Welcome aboard the flat boat that is going to take you to the land of the mentally insane who pretend to be terminally inspired with the vision of some truth that does not exist. What is truth anyway, boy?

Some will say Nick La Torre (probably a relative of my father in law Nick La Notte, buried not in some Field of Blood but in the famous Arlington National Cemetery) is an iconoclastic blasphemous ranter and raver, or ranting and raving monster of the apish family who cannot understand the immense magnitude of the concept of God and the reality of the divine in this world. Ranting he is for sure when he makes Jesus believe he is the Son of God though he should know better, and raving he is when he is very unclear on his various Mary’s, remaining fuzzy about Mary the mother and Mary Magdalena presented  by some as the lover and forgetting the third one at the foot of the cross.

Some will say he is a believer in reason and logic with the mind of a mathematician suddenly turned biologist and trying to find some architecture in the endless sequence of miracles. And he succeeds since these miracles are finally explained and logical since they are the products and production of a Spirit made of smoke. It is finally normal and the miracles are only the doing of an obviously identified power and force in this universe, even if it has the shape of a smoke screen. We will regret the sloppiness of this spirit who should know that in German “rauchen” does not carry an “s.” In fact “Rausch” means frenzy, intoxication, ecstasy, and giddiness. In other words, this monster is not really made of smoke as the author says but he is a plain drunk frantic inebriated individual practicing some kind of gospel-oriented onanism and tottering around like a sunflower on its stalk.

Some will say this author is insane and what’s more a very cultivated insane individual because a man made of smoke was used quite some time ago by Pascal Dusapin in his opera Perela, Uomo di Fumo (2003) adapted from the Italian novel Il codice Perelà by Aldo Palazzeschi (1911). That has always been a vast human myth that between the diabolical trinity of Satan-Beelzebub-Mephistopheles and the divine trinity of God-Jesus-Holy-Spirit there has to be some third force. The objective of this intermediary fantastic being is to manipulate humanity into committing all kinds of interesting misbehaving crimes. Here this Monster of Smoke is trying to invest in Jesus to create the most potent and active myth giving him, this/that in-between monster, full power over human history. Unluckily the author seems to have forgotten that Christianity is no longer what maybe it used to be and has a strong competitor in Islam, not to mention Buddhism or even Hinduism.

Some will say the author is fully obnubilated by Jesus that he has to make more human than the Christian tradition has him, in fact completely human with no special powers, except that of telling stories and preaching. All the supernatural deeds attributed to this young man are nothing but the doing of this Smoky Monster. Then the miracles are the caprices and tools of this half-evil or maybe even three times (physically, mentally and supernaturally) evil monster. This Smoky Monster is so evil that he dares call the human species a “race” running after some inspiring myth justifying any absurdity in behavior and thought.

If you accept that kind of depth, you will enjoy the very norm-breaking and even standard-shattering winks that have the power of real tornadoes, or rotten tomatoes. Let yourself be carried away by this delirium mystification and just add a little bit more from your own inspiration since we all have one little devil comfortably enjoying the cozy bliss of some dark corner in our shapeless minds.



The film is not about the school system nor the teaching profession; It is about human relations and empathy or antagonism in a mixed community, and a high school is the acme of such a mixed environment. The teachers are just pawns on the chessboard of educational politics and eventually policies. The school system is managed by people who have been teachers less and less and are politicians more and more.

To bring together in New York City or in Los Angeles half a dozen or more ethnic groups, religions and other diversity like sexual orientation is like a daily miracle that can never find its balance, its equilibrium, its perfection. Do not believe it is the fact of all the students. It only takes one to three to transform a class and even a school into a real hell for students, teachers and everyone else. And what’s more, they double up their systematic aggressive disruption with the menace of civil lawsuits for the negation of or infringement on their civil rights of any sorts. The film only shows boys in that bullying disruptive game, but do not believe girls are different. They just use different tools and attitudes and particularly their sex appeal as a disruptive commerce on their skin.

Here a black teacher is left for dead, but he will survive, in a New York City school due to an aggression from a transferred delinquent from another school to this particular school. He moves to California and Los Angeles and becomes a substitute teacher for the greater part of a year. But the same situation and conflict will develop and it becomes a real open war between that teacher and the band of delinquent students who want to destroy him from the start. They are of Latino origin but hate the Blacks, the Chicanos, and the whites alike. If there were some Asians, they would hate them too.

What can a teacher do in such a situation?

Not much and the film shows there is no end but death. It is reduced at the end to the confrontation of the said teacher, Trevor Garfield, with one Latino student who has decided to come with two acolytes and shoot the teacher, but they have to show off to appear like manly masculine men, that they are not in fact. In that final scene the teacher will manage to challenge the boy in his masculinity and strangely enough, he will win.

But there is something wrong in this situation. It exposes the ugliness of politicized high school management, and yet the eulogy to this teacher will be delivered by the Chicana girl he had helped because she was appointed Valedictorian speaker for graduation day. But we do not know who took the decision, and if it is a victory for the teachers or the students over the over-politicized management of the school. It implies there was somewhere some kind of a possible negotiating in-between body that could and should have filtered the conflict to solve it before its final and lethal end. That’s what is missing in this film. The teacher is alone in front of openly criminal, aggressive and provocative individuals that could and should be isolated and negotiated officially by some neutral group in the school. The film shows racism and sexism as being absolutely unavoidable, impossible to mediate or moderate. And that is not true.


Sunday, August 20, 2017


Do not go back to sleep, enjoy some horror dream-escape


Fifty-one does not have the ambition of one-thousand-and-one but in a way, it seems to be the same project except that the size of the stories may vary a lot from two pages to twenty. They all are united by some element of fear and horror, at times fright and terror, but the themes are changing a lot with some kind of a pattern. Let’s take some examples.

These stories are centered on characters who have something negative going on with their family circle when they have one, with themselves all the time especially when they are alone, and they are often alone, with their inner self as opposed to their outer self, and often their inner self takes its own life in its own hands and then the character is doubled-up and each half is autonomous with the ex-inner self taking over and creating some kind of havoc.

Don’t believe this author does not know his horror classics and particularly the rule Stephen King suggested a long time ago: a horror author has to try to horrify his audience at first. If he can’t then he can try to terrify his audience. And if he can’t even do that he can try to gross out his audience. The author here, like Stephen King, uses the three options in the book, but most of the time each story only has one dimension. Gross-out is common, terror is more difficult to reach and horror is a reward to the patient reader.

Gross-out is for me best represented by the story “Unborn Doll” in which a deranged teenage mother reveals her derangement is her pregnancy, and her family does not help who wants to get the child away, hence to abort it. The child has no father at all, never mentioned. The pregnant mother and later teenage mother has a mother and a father and both are absolutely hostile to her. The teenage mother will deliver a stillborn child that she will keep with her, dress up, pamper with makeup now and then perfume to cover up the rotting smell and the punchline is the most disgusting idea a mother can have: to sew up the mouth of this baby that cries at night. That punchline punches your good taste right in its stomach and down to its heels. But it reveals something. It seems to express the fright of society in front of such teenage pregnancies and at the same time their desire to solve the problem with stillborn babies for all of them, not abortion but a God-given or nature-provided form of abortion, but then all these mothers would get berserk and would have to be locked up sooner or later. That's the worst part of it. And that grosses you out completely and you are then terrified because in real politics some may actually think of that as a solution to teenage pregnancies: stillborn births and the commitment of the mothers after birth.

In the same line, we could quote “Confessions of a Serial Killer” that explains how a father confessed, out of love for his daughter, having committed a long series of crimes perpetrated by his daughter. He is in prison probably under a death penalty sentence. He writes his confessions to his daughter and the letter is captured and confiscated when it was attempted to deliver it out of the prison. We learn from the cop taking care of the case that the daughter has disappeared. The crime of this daughter was a serial killing of young children. She captured them one by one and one after the other. She tortured them one after the other and one at a time and the main torture was to starve them to death or nearly so that the next one captured will have to eat what is still available on the body of the previous one who is not necessarily completely dead. Once again that is grossness more than terror. And that daughter is still running free.

The story reveals once again there is a strange desire in girls, the future life-giving mothers. They want to capture children and torture them to death through hunger and cannibalism to punish them for having been born and having become a burden to their mothers, to women enslaved by that phenomenon. You find this theme of the enslaved mother over and over again.

The story “Vicarious” deals with a father but this time in his relation to his son. The story has a pattern. The father is too harsh with his son; too ambitious as for what he wants his son to accomplish; too reckless about his son and letting him try anything he wants with his bike; too self-satisfied with the son he produces with his own attitude and the good result he gets in his competition. Until one day it goes berserk when the son fails to get a victory. The son will go back to training, even harder and more recklessly, until one day there will be an accident. A big bad great fall into a ravine and like Humpty Dumpty the son is killed and yet a supernatural doppelganger survives who will take the full control of the father by satisfying the father’s desire for the son to get victories.

The pattern then is clear: to replace the "dead" son with some creature from hell who takes the son's body and deemed the son to be and stay in hell. Like that there is no hope and the father lives in terror since this fake son will be able to get from him anything for him not to be obliged to admit publicly that his son is dead, and how could he prove and explain it?

Till, with no explanation, the sun comes back one day as a monster from hell and saves the situation: he expels the fake son and he himself goes back to hell to fight against these demons, Irosancts, who take over dead people to have a second life in the world. Their name is pure Latin, maybe, and may mean the saints born from angry greed if not greedy anger, stepping directly out from the medieval book of Christian exorcism.

How many fathers do this mistake of projecting their dreams into their sons? It fails most of the time and then the sons are forced by this failure to do what they, the sons, want to do, or rather what the circumstances the sons are in make them do, and that is not always very nice. Though there is one gram of hope here since this son back from the dead saves the father he should hate to the last minute of his eternal damnation. That’s the softening touch: supernatural, like a famous TV series, but in a mild version. The Winchester brothers would have destroyed the real son too since he is a monster from hell too: two monster-killing brothers destroying two monstrous brothers. Whoa!

The last example I will consider is “Virtual Terror.” It is the story of two brothers. One went to Afghanistan where he did bad things in his military missions. One day he questioned a man and tortured him to get the information he wanted by torturing the man’s son in front of him of course. No details possible here. In the end, he will get some information, good or bad does not matter, and the man and his son will be of course executed, disposed of like some waste. Torturing is a game as is well-known, a game with humans who have to be alive and it is all the more joyful if they are reactive in that lively game of torture. But this soldier ends badly due to an accident and he is in a wheel chair paralyzed the waist up. God’s punishment if you want.

His brother takes him to a Virtual Reality arcade and he has an adventure that ends badly, again. He has a fit of some epilepsy or whatever and he is taken back to his home by his brother. He tries to kill himself with some firearm but his brother intervenes and it is the brother who is killed. Then the paralyzed ex-soldier tries to kill himself again and only wounds his mouth and jaw without exploding his brain. He ends up in hospital with his father sneering at him with contempt and agony.

We are in a dual world again (and this duality is a pattern). First the two brothers, then the father and the surviving paralyzed brother. Contempt from the father, self-contempt from the paralyzed brother, fatherly love agony for the father and self-hate agony for the paralyzed brother. And finally the realization that hope and fear are the same things. One hopes for something and that something is the source of one's fear. Hope leads to fear, nourishes fear, nurtures fear, gives birth to fear. The story crystallizes the American drama. The post-Afghanistan-Iraq fear in 2008 brought hope to the White House, but this hope was partly dissatisfied, betrayed some say, and it gave birth to fear, nurtured that fear to the point of bringing the most fearful and fear-mongering nightmare to the same White House.

Is the world condemned to live in that dual vision? To be dismembered between oneself and a second "brother" or "virtual image" of ourselves? Between fear and hope? And yet the two are only one, the two sides of the same coin. God and his spirit on one side, and the absolutely unitary god on the other side. Judaism (Genesis 1:1-2) and Islam, with a vague Christian ternary pattern: father, son1, and son2, but either captured in a succession of two dualities or in a perverse ternary situation of torture.

Torturer T torturing a man's son S to make the father F speak.
Binary couple: T – S
Binary couple: T – F
Binary couple: S – F

Note how this situation makes the torturing soldier be the Holy Spirit to fulfill the Christian Trinity: The Father F, the son S and the holy spirit T. This perversion of this sanctified Trinity is speaking to the reader so much that it could even become a haunting element.

This ternary pattern is always in the background, never central. The man and the devil speaking to the man in his head are the central elements. The man on the VR game-machine and the Japanese operator that more or less accompany him in his playing are central (Is the machine the ternary element? Then the Holy Spirit is not much if it is the machine, but if the machine is the Father, then the Japanese operator is the Holy Spirit, quite a surprising suggestion for a Buddhist and Zen character). The man and hope-fear concentrated in the VR helmet are the central elements. Are we condemned to live within this dual fake choice that leads to nothing except the perpetuity of the present survival instinct in which any ternary element is only one element used to pressurize another element in a triad because of the dual link between this element and the ternary element, the way I have explained for the torture situation?

To conclude I feel like saying this ternary torturing image of three binary relations that are the sides of a triangle of evil is the pattern of modern schizophrenia. We can just wonder if that is not a prediction about the future of the White House in the present more circumstantial than historical situation? Is Tobias Wade the prophet of a new age? We could believe that since Tobias-Tobit is a rather important (tough at times evanescent) character in the Old Testament as is clearly said in the following reference:

The Book of Tobias, as it is called in the Latin Vulgate, is also known in the Greek Septuagint as the Book of Tobit, and serves as part of the Historical Books in the Latin Vulgate and Greek Septuagint Bible. Both the Hebrew origin of the book and the name Tobiah which means "Yahweh is my good" have been appreciated since antiquity . . . The recent discovery of five scrolls of Tobit - 4QTob 196-200 in both Aramaic and Hebrew among the Dead Sea Scrolls in Cave IV of Qumran has given the book renewed attention. As with all ancient texts discovered in the Dead Sea Scrolls, Hebrew was in consonantal form only. The Book of Tobit is also extant in Arabic, Armenian, Coptic, Ethiopic, and Syriac.” (

And this Tobias Wade embodies the following prayer uttered by Tobias in his story:

3 And now, O Lord, think of me, and take not revenge of my sins, neither remember my offenses, nor those of my parents. 4 For we have not obeyed thy commandments, therefore are we delivered to spoil and to captivity, and death, and are made a fable, and a reproach to all nations, amongst which thou hast scattered us. 5 And now, O Lord, great are thy judgments, because we have not done according to thy precepts, and have not walked sincerely before thee: 6 And now, O Lord, do with me according to thy will, and command my spirit to be received in peace: for it is better for me to die, than to live.” (The Book of Tobit or Tobias, 3:3-6)

Hope is definitely not the main quality of this life. But fear is definitely the best element of this book.



Where is the ball of the game, do you know?

Nothing can stop the decline of American Imperialism, not even slow the dissolution of this imperialism down. That’s the singularity of the empire the US built over the last century starting when they set foot in Europe for the First World War. One day soon the world will be more powerful than the USA. They already are altogether and China alone in PPP. Not private-Public-Partnership but Purchasing-Power-Parity. That means the America dollar has less and less purchasing power in the USA, let alone the world.
The USA started military invasions and wars that will never end except by the withdrawal of American troops like in Vietnam in 1975. The bald eagle will run, its tail tightly squeezed between, its legs, if it still has one feather on its ass.

Obama was their last chance to settle their commercial relations with the world but they do not understand that the cost of their military forces in the world are not exports but imported costs and they make their balance of payments so bad that they would have to export three or four times more American-made goods in the world, but the dollar does not help, even if it is slowing edging down.
And of course the easy mistake is done by Congress or the White House. Congress focuses on Russia-Iran-North-Korea. The White House focuses on China-North-Korea-Iran. They should concentrate on the Shanghai Cooperation Organization.

In fact the result if the same. Europe is NOT the challenger. Russia is NOT the challenger. China is NOT the challenger. Iran is NOT the challenger. North Korea is NOT the challenger. India is NOT the challenger, etc. The challenger is the whole world under the leadership of SCO and their partner-alliances mostly centered on Asia with Europe as a possible extension and Africa as the main beneficiary.
It is not in fact the fall of the USA only. It is the fall of the West and the rise of the East. In the West it is the fall of the USA to the benefit of Europe.

The East will never be dominated by ONE country now India is awakening and Pakistan will soon awaken as soon as the Americans are out of Afghanistan (and the Middle East), and that is soon.
Let Trump send a few thousand troops so that they can see the death toll rise to ten a week or more.

The American century was finished when in 2016, one hundred years after 1916 and the turning point of the First World War and the arrival of American troops on European soil, they elected the Donald to the White House he has transformed into a circus, though without Indians, without buffaloes, without slaves, but with neo-Nazis, white supremacists, white nationalists, racists, anti-Semites, KKK (you know kill kill kill) and other racial, ethnic, religious, social bigots.
It reminds me of the Yolo County Fair in California I went to with my son in the 1980s and the clown there was a Donald too, but Ronald McDONALD. At least he was feeding people with a few dimes.

Bye Bye USA and your master of Ceremonies, or is it a Maître d’, is up to all expectations. He might even provide a nuclear firework or two, or an omelette flambée in Mar-a-Lago.
Luckily the Joint Chiefs of Staff of the armed forces decided to speak up supported by the Defense Secretary. The red button is thus protected by the second identity.

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