Acolytes attach their heads to their god, as in this attendee at the Microsoft Hololens2 Conference..



..in order to inhabit a world that is ultra-convincing, one of reflection, illusion.

What is missing is the internal life, the visions and urges that you find in comics, and the wider meta-imagery of American wilderness that feed into the American psyche – Americana. The natural forms of 20s New York architecture, and the wider eco-culture of life and death from Texan cattle to Hudson meatyards.

The modern head attaches to their electromagnetic master, and I don’t just mean hololenses, I mean think-tanks that capitalize monetarily on these convincing serpents of the sun. The more convincing and illusory, the more the dragon is loose and the less we are aware of the Earth turning, of the tiller of the fields, clods rife with wriggling worms.

The power of the Earth as she twirls in space is the power of rhythm and proportion, the microcosm that reflects the rotational paradox of the universe. Melody, the hunt, carrion, decay and woodland labyrinth, the world of vision and lust, of style (proportionality) and content (psyche); Artemis and Apollo.

All this is rendered nought by think-tanks that attach heads to convincing illusions, replacing the inner life with a deluge of facts and figures. “They” want to expel the inner life from the Garden of Man and what that means is – to quote Harlan Ellison – “there won’t be any more art-deco skyscrapers”. There won’t be any surreal lifeforms to adorn buildings of grace and renown.

Unreal iconography as related to the inner life (Americana) - one thinks of New York based painter DorotheaTanning, of clothing that sprouts leaves, of abstract lifeforms that enter desolated tenements, that rip open sofas.


Childrens’ Games 1942

Dorothea and others – including the comics – represent a rebellion against the head which occupies resolved space where everything is convincing illusion. As I tend to reiterate, acolytes of the electromagnetic god are in the reality of electrochemical impulses (Hyborian Bridge 37) but, without the inner life of vision and urge, the reality is stillborn.

The old west, the inner life of Texan cowhands.. It’s a long way from New York and the other side of the old American eco-culture where hellraising freedom breeds primitive attitudes, and these were laid bare in a hilarious spoof of Stagecoach by Lauzier/Alexis (from Pilote Alternates 6)


panel 2 “I want to say a real man is 100% American” “That’s me”




panel 2 “I have to admit to something terrible..you will despise me..A man kissed me on the mouth..by force, I struggled..but” panel 3 “It was against your wish, dear, it changes nothing” panel 5 “I had a call of nature and moved away when he leaped on me and forced me to know him Biblically.. It’s horrific”




panel 2 “It’s always against your will, my dear..For me you are always the pure and gentle Jane I love” “How generous you are” Panel 3 “My God! I feel I’m going into labour!” “Couldn’t you have waited a bit, my dear? The Indians are attacking!”


panel 4 “I succeeded! Pass me a knife”


panel 1 “the savages have messed up her uterus! “ Panel 5 “Al is the only man I’ve ever loved, Jane..But I have only been an obstacle for you” “Rita! Tell me you’ll live!” Panel 6 “It’s better this way, Jane..You are the woman he needs.. (sigh)I would really have loved to have his son” “If we have a son, we’ll name him Rita after you”


panel 4 “I am so ashamed..I lied to you when I said a man kissed me on the mouth before I knew you..I wasn’t a man..it was a black” “A black! Bandits or Indians are enough..but a black! On the mouth!”

The only two points I wanna make are that racial attitudes are easy to spoof, and that total intolerance to them breeds conformity. The racial attitude that Howard and his kind displayed would not be tolerated in a world where Wayne is labelled a “straight up piece of shit” for some mildly patriarchal statement referencing the civil rights (“What about it!”)

Because we live in a relative world of the head, we no longer have an awareness of the power of physical absolutes; I mean, the range, herding beef for long, arduous days of muck and dust and thundering hooves. The primitive awareness of the hardened cowboy breeds an archetypal individual, as it does an Indian scout.

Now, to us physical absolutes may come across as racial, but that may say as much for our own insularity. Physical absolutes tie one to place and hidebound traditions. Modern Man is no longer in that situation and so tends to dismiss racial attitudes out of hand – but another danger looms.

In an absolute world, there are places of power (ontology) associated with figures in a landscape (meaning, epistemology Weird 11). From these we draw myths, The Alamo or the wider range of western myth (The OK Corral etc.)

Each of these myths is amenable to paintings, such as those by Charles Russell since, where there is power and meaning, there is style (proportion) and content (psychic narrative). A world of the head has none of that, but is has the illusion of perspective. This is what “they” term realism, but they just mean the fact that stream into the head via appliances such as hololenses.

Perspective is an illusion that enables the creation of a parallel reality of facts without proportion or psychic narrative. The head is a perspective space, or the vanishing point of technique, which has no physical substance. In this world obviously there are no racial differences, since everything is a copy anyway – at least, that’s what you’ll be told! Of course it’s a lie, hence the idea of being mildly racial is a perfectly acceptable counter to the masters of illusion.

The absolutes of life are being struck down by the acolytes of relativity. The skills of the grouse moors (prev) in the Highlands; the physical prowess of the saddle-honed guilds of the Texan beef-herds. All that muck and dust is a real turnoff and nowhere is that better put than by the US ambassador to Britain, “Woody” Johnson. Though clearly no Woody Guthrie-steeped agricultural labourer of yore, he is able to reel-off facts in support of the clearly “great” US industry.

Take the case of so-called chlorinated chickens. It is true that we wash our chicken to eliminate harmful pathogens – just as Europeans do their fruit and veg.. American beef has been unfairly attacked..there are good reasons American farmers choose a different path. They want to produce meat using fewer resources at a lower cost to both the environment and the consumer. (DT)

This mindset is all about animals as machines for eating. The notion that there should be any connect between an animal and a man and a woman and the landscape escapes their attention. An animal in his thinking is not a physical substance but a commodity, and so there need be no physical activity of Man associated with it and therefore no wider eco-culture of the prairies.

If you take the chlorine-washing of chickens, it’s hygiene on a par with Gates’ pathogen-killing machine Hyborian Bridge 31. Dirt, in fact, is healthy as long as it’s cleaned, like mucking-out a stable. What he’s saying is that their hens are unhealthy and so need hygienic treatment (as an afterthought). There is no holistic thought in his stream of facts (fictions). He says, “less cost to environment and consumer”, but not to the animal. The cost of greater hygiene is sickness, and the indoor system is a sick one.

The indoor farm is sick and weak, and the only treatment for that is hygiene, which is another form of weakness. Those who think their food is machine think themselves like machines. There is no cyclical thought of organic growth, only a list of facts or convenient fictions. They live in the world of hygiene and not in the cyclical one of dirt and cleanliness. It is weak, bereft of the cosmic strength of the Earth that rotates twixt sun and moon.

Like CERN, intensive US-style agriculture is a “hygiene-machine”. That’s why they need to chlorine-wash chickens, and you only have to take a look at the vast geometrical beef-lots


Parallel reality of sameness

I know this can seem far-fetched, but in absolute terms there is no hygiene, there is dirt and cleanliness (Pictorial 21) in a world of primitive action.

The indoor farm is weak and therefore needs hygiene to appear healthy, but it’s an illusion. Without the grass roots of the prairie – or mixed rotation of crop with livestock – there is only weakness. A parallel reality where there is no primitive strength as the Earth rotates; a parallel world that faces the sun, that is illusory. The false Apollo without proportion.

What they actually are is smart-farms that can be run by satellite, and probably will be! All these things are linked, believe it or not; “they” are building a smart-planet: SpaceX (Musk), Blue Origin (Bezos), OneWeb (Branson) are firing satellites into low-orbit arrays with that aim.

What does that mean? One, it means hygiene, since electromagnetic intelligence is only comfortable in that setting. So, two it means weakness of planet Earth. Three, heads will be attached to perspective (since that’s the shape of the infrastructure, or the vanishing point of technique – see “speed”). You know when I said “they” aim to change human nature through changing nature? This is the way, since if one is exposed to perspective one assumes that’s what things are, thus missing out physical substance (dirt/cleanliness), style and content (psyche).

What they are building is a relative world of hygiene-machines attached to the head (electrochemical impulses – see Hyborian Bridge 37). The absolute world of the body has no hygiene, but has physical substance (dirt/cleanliness). Our world, our OneWeb world, is weak, the cold-blooded serpent of the sun, whereas the axis of Earth, is strong. One is logical; one is paradoxical.

When the cold-blooded serpent (dragon) is let loose, the worms of the earth go hungry; the rich loam teeming with organic humous, binding roots, porous membranes (Hyborian Bridge 6). The soil is the cleansing agent because of its powerhouse, tangled proportions. Where there is cleanlinmess, there is dirt, for example in the rotting carcasses of carrion.

When the things were stones it wasn’t so bad.. beetles were our business.. The next object to be turned over would be something highly prized by my brother – the carcass of a dead animal, a rabbit or hare..lifting it gingerly by one ear a whole world of horror lay revealed beneath. The juices had oozed into the ground, leaving a sort of yellowish pus that stank worse than any other carrion I have ever smelled.. A whole kingdom of frightfull creatures inhabited this sickening slime – thin whip-like worms, fat wriggling bluebottle grubs – and carrion-eating Burying Beatles. The House of Elrig, page 44

The strength of stench is not for the squeamish, and clearly not for hygiene-mongers, and yet it is the process of cleanliness at work. The paradox of life is that, as the Earth rotates things do work out even if the process can seem unsettling or even macabre. Once the Earth ceases to rotate – in other words, faces the sun – the solar dragon is loose and there is no sense of the proportionality of things. The end result is that everything will be run by AI and by various hygiene-machines, since everything will be relative with no sense of the absolute (night and day, physical substance, style and psyche).

In an absolute world, things are actually different, they revel in differences. The paradox is something that modern Man has lost sight of but it relates to meaning – dirt and cleanliness (Tales of Faith 11 tracking animals.) From the strength of the regenerative process of the soil, in ancient Egypt springs a religio-culture of dark and powerful gods and goddesses. The cyclical nature of this Nile-driven process is blatantly apparent; death and life (why be in de Nile?)

The rotation of the Earth is a cosmic paradox (sun and moon) that brings forth the deities of regeneration and psychic power. The old gods live when the soil is strong; when it is weak they are weak. When the solar dragon is let loose the Earth weakens and the logical hygiene-machines of Bill Gates or Woody Johnson hold sway. Listen to Jefferson Airplane.

Egyptian kings they sing of Gods and pyramids of stone

And they left the deserts clean and they left the deserts golden

And shinin' as a beacon for those that need a road

Into the day and through the night we go and find our way home When the Earth Moves Again


Paradoxical reality of differences

Not forgetting Set