

Leibowitz Concludes

Book 1 of 13

Edward Drobinski

Copyright © 2019 by Edward Drobinski. All rights reserved.

Well within the imagined constraints regarding the precise precision of impressiveness, all spurious and soon to be overstated rights are supposedly reserved, and are hereby ludicrously claimed as such; the result of the confines of the US law which provides a modicum of protection to written materiel; strongly encouraging plagiarism, which is now disciplined by a righteous "Shame on you" from inconsequential writers and college professors on the US Federal Government dole. Since it may appear as amateurish to leave this blurb out, and though unpunished breaches invariably will be the case, this section is customarily mandated to say in sad futility that no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means except those so authorized, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in the course of writing a review; limited to one of the laudatory type. A sincere thanks is extended to those who have allowed this time-saving boilerplate to be copied under a spurious CCO license.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Understand? Fictitious? As in untrue, fabricated, invented, made-up (not like in Liberace), false, pretend, fictional, conjured, and all those other words one calls liars. In fact they are so obviously fictitious that any attempt to assert otherwise would have to be the mercenary ploy of some lazy, non-productive crook or crooks, counseled, aided, and abetted by an otherwise unemployed chiseler or chiselers, as yet un-dismissed from the less than diligent bar. Any fancied apparent similarity to real persons is not intended by the author insofar as the author can conjure every possible archetype and their subdivisions upon subdivisions upon subdivisions ....... and if thought to be detected is either a coincidence or the product of your own sick and troubled imagination; perhaps most practically suggestive of an intensification in treatment and dosage.

Where the names of real places, corporations, institutions, and public figures may be projected onto made up stuff, they are intended to denote only such said made up stuff, not anything presently real as of the time of this entirely conjectural and metaphorical writing.

I hope that you are one of those blessed with common sense, thereby being one who did not bother to read this semi-obligatory absurdity.

Portions have previously appeared in the following; New Yorker, Esquire, Playboy, New York Times, Ploughshares, Paris Review, and the halls of prestigious Horror Sleaze Trash (HST). Need the writer say more?

Forward

As may or may not be gleaned through predatory skimming herein, the writer has absolutely no interest in extolling or vilifying post-modernist literature, whatever that might be in terms of a defining style, whatever that alleges to convey beyond the sundial's position, and piney prolonged or deciduously, petitely, or pettily posited in pierced provision of putrid periodicals, insofar as he is aware of his own intents, if any, of the doubtful whichever, beyond an attempt to sell another book whose royalties almost cover his property tax payments on the best of months, the result of the other, but in a seemingly natural, at times so cruelly characterized as naïve, a most embarrassing deficiency one would never choose as an alternative to use of the incorrect utensil when at Parisian, that institution striving in demimonde façade, L'Astrance, with a plate of dovetailed Peking Duck, which sports a sauce cooling of unknown and anonymous origins vis-à-vis the co-operative duck, any authorial aversion to that a complication of the thrust, as whatever you think that means, if the wanting banal platitudes ascribed to post-modernist literature, inclusive and yet simultaneously despite its cranial suggestions of an ageing, ostensibly both "real" in some cases and meta in theirs, as is vociferously espoused by the day's remains of cadaverous Beckett; their "saviorable," on-line pundit's unfulfilled and perhaps unfulfillable claim of decades undetected "newness," whose entries always manage to "daringly" contain at least one line of Houllebecqian counter-"sexual" prose, not seen as such and un-derided by those, some ill-mannered, uneducated plebians might characterize as severely limited and boring, in likely fear of a provable charge of prudery, as opposed to the libertinous comments extended by the partying, feral, social media raconteurs in possession of overwhelming librarian-reviewer status.

Reading, and the writer would think more so writing, are the most suitable of avocations for a person still daring to be of some discernment, not yet afflicted with one of those purportedly human, "hyper-reality," touchy-feely diseases or syndromes, as they may be now standardly and momentarily (ontologically?) acceptably defined in the most recent update of DSM-5, pending rumor of substantive, yet "cherry picked" and simultaneously "measured" revision.

The last sentence is dedicated to those who still believe everything they read, but don't yet know it.

The writer has almost as much feeling for this genre, or true lack thereof, as he does for Bizarro and mash-ups, to name just a few. It's not the least bit personal to anyone, and especially not to the forgotten Bizarrists and the disallowed mashers, and in a meaningful manner, does not even require the existence of ersatz post-modernism for its own lack of definition as that is in many cases, a requisite for a fictionally understood truth which fallaciously equates the "confession" of a Houellebecquian, sophisticated, experienced ennuist with a statement worthy of utterance practicing Catholics make to veiled and horny priests, wearing a pornographic watch. In order to attain the status afforded by the NY Times best-seller charts, Penthouse Forum would likely do quite well to advocate that their decades running, little, monthly has always and continues to contain the literary material considered 2019 "cutting edge."

Lackluster dalliances aside from the economic largesse provided by books, the writer merely thought that it would be a few months fun to here-and-there deconstruct the works of the entrenched deconstructionists, that action also likely mused, had they been absent, through a rather banal, easy guess that they'd make their existence inevitably known as a fashionably-pleased-with-themselves-on-line-unpublished-charmingly-unprofessional-uninfluential-unread critic, like Joni Mitchell's early 1970's "lady in a Paris dress with runners in her nylons. Mmm. Mmmm. Mmm," the ladies mutually admiring, faux intellectual, minute and minutiae worshipping congregation, as the distanced writer was sure that they, like the many they disdained, imagine they maintain a monopoly on an over-baked, and miniscule manifestation of zilch, and more absurdly cannot take the smell of their own medicine. The ontological insight obtained in the process, as related to this writer by the writer, i.e. compiling a reflection of a reflection upon a reflection, leads the writer to perhaps incorrectly conclude that the writer has herein more or less touched something primal, as "seen" by him, in the delusion of today, or has produced the worst garbage as yet known to the deluders of today, had there been much of a difference between the two which resided anywhere other than the minds of the "challenged," the latter, insofar as deferring to the decisions inflicted by a blind, and otherwise handicapped judge for the purpose of the bet, where the writer would have put his money had he any of it or unsatisfied curiosity.

The writer's book was intended to be premeditated, pre-medicated, and purposeful fictional, as much as that can be differentiated from realism in a solipsistic view, further compounded by implied polytheistic points of view, each POV of which, in incorrectly recognized contradiction with the others, value and often adopt the views of said others; those actions done continually as well as simultaneously as a group; which the minority offer as the cause of spinning, whether that relates to the world, or only the inconsequentiality of sponsor deferential non-news programs.

His biggest fear is that, try as you may, you would not deem and articulate with a nyah-nyah any of the parts stupid, which the writer, consistent with the aping of a post-modern writer's cliché, that with the standard degree of all too convenient allusions to an intent which "accidentally" shows a convincing mimic of a masked ineptitude, and irrefutably to the lamest of poseurs, says have been purposely put there to reflect "reality," inducing a subtle, cultured nod indicative of understanding. The writer wishes to thank you in advance for your anticipated kind co-operation in keeping his greatest fear alive and well, releasing him from the burden of having to try to find a new one. The writer would also like to thank you for pointing the stupid parts out, if that is your free will penchant, as the writer enjoys the comedy provided by the apparently unintentional value judgements therein displayed. To quote the writer; "It's only another book, but I like it, more or less." - Unattributed

"Gimmicks? ..... GIMMICKS! ..... Everybody sayin' that we do gimmicks. ...... Gimmicks. ....... Gimmicks. .............. Yes, we do." – Jimi Hendrix

"And when you're tired of all this repetition, won't you come see me Queen Jane." – Bob Dylan

Contents

Part 1 - Confusion Boats

**1**

Visit- Day 1

War and "Suicide is Painless" by Johnny Mandel and Michael B Altman; property of the author, the latter under both the "fair use" and "transformative" doctrines.

The Leibowitz group of four was a family like most others. There was a mother, a father, a boy and a girl. They occupied a three bedroom house in Gig Harbor, Washington, USA. It was on an acre of hilly land with some trees, and paid for by Mom and Dad's jobs. Boy and girl went to school and were beyond the ages where that required monitoring and chauffeuring. The broad picture was well in place, so in spare time they jocularly argued about the minutiae.

The strangest thing about them was that each was assigned a name which is often associated with being Jewish, and none of them were; though like much of the goyim, they were familiar with a few Yiddish words. "You got bupkes" was a household favorite sentence. We all know how this expressive language has a unique sound usually evocative of mirth to all in 2019.

It might be wise to again point out that the Leibowitz family did not observe Judaism. Nor did they observe Catholicism, Protestantism, Hinduism, Muslimism, or most any ism one can imagine; excepting security-ism, and that's a bit of a stretch. Christmas and Easter were universal fun. By all standards they were a typical happy American family; the unexciting kind you regularly see on "Ivory Soap" and "Lemon fresh Comet Cleanser with 20% more" commercials.

Then Dad up and left.

Merge; property of the author.

Mark Weston dawdled down shadowy Remsen Street in Brooklyn Heights, the only light emanating from some windows of the row houses. His loosely secured backpack provided the slightest thuds of discomfort at an increased gait, hill, or decline.

Remsen Street; property of the author.

Despite having been energized by the sights and sounds of his bus-subway-another-subway-end-trip, he was in no rush, fearing a confrontation with a left-behind and now hidden-in-the-dark sidewalk denizen.

Mark was also mulling over the fact that he was for the second time in the process of destroying a portion of his Gonzaga University break through a "necessary" visit to this tiresomely opinionated man. "Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me" played havoc with his sidewalk concentration.

And this was the freshman's first Spring break. His last visit was during the cold and snowy Christmas season. He tried to force his wandering thoughts of Florida, bikinis, and beaches out of his head.

This man was one who had sometimes laughingly characterized himself as one of eight trillion inconsequential Vice Presidents at JP Morgan Chase. The humor in those self-effacing observations was a redeeming factor, unless one considered it a cover for slothfulness. Just as in previous times, Mark expected a sizable "donation" at the conclusion of his brief stay with this Isaac Leibowitz, JP Morgan Chase Vice President.

His round trip ticket was $255, expensive for a college student, and not expensive at the same time, as his Mom grudgingly paid for it. Sea-Tac to LaGuardia, with a change in Burlington, NC took seven hours, the bulk of it obligatorily conversing with a speed freak, running cheap store bought weed to where its illegality commanded a higher price. 440 excruciatingly long minutes later, Mark then had to endure a bus and a subway ride, which left him in no mood for nonsense, or maybe suggested the need for a nonsense rehabilitation, after the obligatories and some needed sleep.

Balustrade; property of the author.

Mark remembered the building from his last visit. It was hard to miss once you'd been there. Though the attached brick buildings were virtually identical at night, if not 90% so during the day too, his recollection of the winding, forged iron balustrade under the plain iron handrail at both sides of the steps set this one apart from the other functional, plain and less expensive, standardized, blackened, aluminum balusters and railings. The twisting configuration which produced a midway landing, prior to a second climb, was as unlike any others on the block as were the spindled balusters, a 17th century inspired style. Having been an aficionado of the decorative arts, Mark had been long aware that the axis of a spindle is straight; hence, for example, a spindle-legged chair is a straight-legged design, even though cylindrical symmetry allows decoration of elaborate notches or bulbs, so long as the cylindrical symmetry is preserved; hence, once more, sturdiness is not sacrificed.

Mark rang the entry buzzer, and was buzzed in by three respondents, hoping that at least one of them was the right one. The odds seemed in his favor. He climbed the stairs, ignoring the two open doors on the first and second floors. He got to the landing of the third, and was relieved to see that 3C's door was also open. In it stood a slightly graying man bedecked in a white long sleeved t-shirt with a sailboat image, and dark gray water resistant sailing trousers. A dark gray Stetson suede Cambridge cap topped things off, more or less inferring a balance.

Mark smiled from a distance and said; "Don't tell me you're ready to come back to Gig Harbor with me."

The man said; "So what? You think we got no water here in Brooklyn, David? Come here and give your dad a big hug."

With his head to the floor, Mark took the few remaining steps, and cuddled his dad, thinking that dad might already be starting that old tired discussion.

"I won't ask how your trip was, as I'm sure it was no fun. Tell me, how's your mother and sister."

"Can I go inside and sit first?"

"Sure, sure. My apologies. Come on in."

Mark entered the 500 sq. ft. studio, threw off his backpack, and flopped against the right flank of the varicolored sectional couch; his dad taking the left as he removed his Stetson.

"Well, Abigail was supposed to come with me, but cancelled out saying that she had Dengue fever or West Nile virus. She doesn't have anything, but a huge crush on a boy who wants to be on the swimming team."

"Your mother seeing anyone?"

"She told me to say 'no' when you asked that."

Isaac laughed mildly, and said; 'Miriam ... "

Mark interrupted with a correction; "Chloe."

"Either Chloe or you have developed a sense of humor."

"It was me. Mom is actually spending too much time with the handyman to do much else these days."

"You're on the borderline of jeopardy."

" ........ "

" ........ "

"You know, this whole situation was started by you."

"You're starting to sound more and more like your name-changing mother."

"Let's get off this old story and just chill out."

"Fine. So, how did you like your first year at university? What did you take? Anything of special interest?"

"The History of Khazaria 101."

"Look who's starting. I came out here to advance my career. In the entirety of Washington State there are no top notch financial jobs open to me, and I'm not going to try to compete with those techie Orientals. No way. And no way am I going to stay a branch manager all my life, smiling and kissing the ass of any 'big deal' with more than $10,000 on deposit. Besides, New York City doesn't have a problem with Jews, and you'd be just fine here."

"The name change has worked well so far. Look, I'm tired after that trip, and I'd really just like to get some sleep. Okay? We can argue tomorrow when I'm fresh."

"Sure. Why does this always happen? Love ya, kid."

"Love ya, dad. .... By the way, mom misses you and talks about you all the time, and she actually despises that useless, crooked handyman."

"Go to sleep."

Like last time, Mark curled up on the sectional couch, using the blankets and pillow Isaac took from the closet, and Isaac got back on his laptop. His smart phone rang and it was Miriam, as he had the caller noted; misnamed or not. He took it into the bathroom and shut the door for privacy.

"Hello, Miriam."

"That's Chloe."

"Yeah, right."

"It's only been three years. It might sink in soon. So, did Mark arrive safely?"

"Sure did. How's the handyman?"

"Don't tell me that he told you that joke."

"Yeah, it was a good one, because it's so believable."

"Mellors, he's not. Unfortunately, this one's a Lance."

Stylized cover of "Lady Chatterley's Lover" by D.H. Lawrence; property of the author.

"Nice looking?"

"I think his boyfriend must be the pretty one. You're not inundating Mark with any of that Khazar nonsense. Are you?"

"Not yet. He was tired from the trip. After ten minutes he went to sleep. Get my e-mail?"

"It's in the lower quartile of my to-be-read list. Are all the doors and windows locked?"

"This isn't the Bronx. But, yes, they're locked."

"Bronx. Brooklyn. Same thing."

"Brooklyn Heights is almost Manhattan."

"Now I'm really worried."

"You know, Miriam ........ "

"Yes, I know. I also know that it's much safer and prettier here in Gig Harbor. And I'm in Gig Harbor. And the kids are in Gig Harbor. And you're not."

"And the house is still on the market. Correct?"

"Yes, but the market has softened quite a bit."

"So has your head."

"Me? You're the one who took off to the other side of the country, an ugly, crime-ridden, dirty part too, and got into some kind of religious Hasidic conspiracy theory about the Khazars. Next thing I know you'll be wearing a halat and a tzitzit, and growing payos."

"Forgot the shtreimel, and it takes a while to get the payos going. But, un-seriously, if you'd been reading my e-mails you'd have seen that I don't entirely agree with the radical Hasidics as you called them, sometimes referred to as ultra-orthodox by Khazars and their dupes seeking to self-servingly denigrate, and actually named the Neturei Karta as possible differentiation from the rest of the Hasidic entirety. I keep trying to say to no one that precise definitions are essential if we are going to go past square one. Of happenstance, I 'disagree,' so to speak, with the Neturei Karta, only because they see this completely in an epistemologically based Biblical aspect with a slight deference to the inescapability of now, to which must be added a modified ontological facet to have any two second later relevance. They're just the closest to being right that I've found. You know I've never been religious and my view is entirely secular, more or less, depending on one's definition of one term or the other, but let's not complicate the subject."

"I hope you haven't been saying these things to other people, especially if they are carrying nets near the water."

"Just to my boss Fitz, the others I work with, the nice Lubavitcher lady on the first floor, the crew which cleans up at night, and maybe a crabber or two."

"As long as it's no one important. And that 'more or less' could use some work. Kiss my only son 'good night' for me, my narish mentsh. Bye."

"Bye."

"Oh, Isaac. Isaac. I have to ask you something. Do you at least get a free ride to work on the Lubavitcher bus because of this?"

"I could. But because of their inconvenient scheduling irregularities, I hop the turnstile like everyone else."

Click.

Click.

News - 5-5-22

From the New York Observer, May 5, 2022

Israeli Migration to the Ukraine

On March 16, 2014 the Alternative Times of Israel published a little discussed piece titled "Leaked Report: Israel Acknowledges **Jews** in Fact Khazars; Secret Plan for Reverse **Migration** to **Ukraine**." It is reprinted here, both because the seemingly momentous event has received no attention, commentary, or question and because of the worsening situation, which some characterize as a clandestine war in the Ukraine. Just **four weeks** **before** this explosive publication, on February 18, 2014, the official and democratic government of the Ukraine was ousted and a Jewish supported new government was appointed.

Khazaria, as if it existed today; public domain.

**Considering the inevitability of a Palestinian state, the need to resettle the settlers in the West Bank and Gaza Strip to Ukraine is becoming an all important issue.** This migration was originally intended to gradually load Crimea with Jewish immigrants, but the Russian move to annex Crimea through official diplomatic means has caused a readjustment of strategies; that being to load with haste.

The pressure building along Russia's borders from NATO and Western Jewish financiers, such as George Soros, born as Gyorgy Schwartz, is intent on **establishing a new Khazaria which will be larger than the original and will incorporate the nation of Kazakhstan.** The remnants of the old Khazaria are working towards this objective from within the nations of Israel, Ukraine, Poland, Georgia, and Kazakhstan.

A new capital called Astana was established within Kazakhstan on December 10th, 1997. This capital is still under construction and has contributed to a massive construction boom in the region. This new futuristic city is full of Masonic symbolism and New World Religion designs. Though it has relatively flown under the radar for many years, there is a surprisingly large disregarded amount of information available about the construction of Astana.

**It is looking obvious that both Russia and China are unwilling to accept the establishment of this new Khazaria in the heart of the Eurasian continent.** The monetary objectives of all players on designing **a new international financial framework** is extremely telling of the more macro geopolitical and economic alignments taking place.

The establishment of a one world system of governance, including political, economic, and religious, can be compared to herding cats. It would almost seem impossible if it weren't for the fact that all cats were being directed down a very wide pathway which allows them to bump into one another and switch sides consistently as they move to their final objective. _Strange times on the new world frontier_.

Astana; public domain.

The Alternative Times of Israel piece is important because, for the first time, there is a semi-official pronouncement of the **Khazarian heritage of Eastern European Jews** who migrated to the land of Palestine and established the nation of Israel.

This idea was first promoted by the Hungarian historian Arthur Koestler in his 1976 book titled "The Thirteenth Tribe." Koestler suffered heavy criticism and his book was the target of a massive propaganda campaign meant to discredit his work. **The fact that an official Jewish publication is now discussing a "secret report" promoting the same conclusion and the added Israeli migration to the Ukraine should not go unnoticed** by the large contingent of scholars, both on-line and off.

Visit- Day 2

Isaac slept on the convenient, four dollar, Goodwill chair which boasted a railing crest worthy of an early machine age knockoff of a 12th century "regal" sitting and presiding piece, as knocked off in varying detail since the advent of programmable scroll saw, woodworking machines in 1825. It was actually quite attractive and useful for Isaac's temporary dwelling, despite the deceptively low price. His trusty laptop still stood half open on the nondescript adjoining table. When he was jarred awake the next day by a combination of body heat loss, exacerbated by the clanging of glass on hard plastic, further exacerbated by the sound magnification afforded in the pre-dawn, broken promise of silence. Mark was already up, drinking coffee and staring out the window. Under the promise not to call him David or bring up any Khazar-Jewish-Zionist issues, he shared a drink of some black and interspersed that with one-word-answered questions about college.

"Take any history?"

"Some."

Property of the author.

Each pretended to ignore, each accidentally or purposely revealing that pretension through eye re-direction whenever once more within the fleeting ocular display of the other, beneath the old fashioned, faded, and Joni Mitchell worded intarsia on the wall two feet above their skull tops. Isaac was respectful of his promise, thereby not wanting to broach anything regarding cats or their contextual inference in the intarsia, and Mark because he did want his dad to break his promise, yet also wanted it to seem as if that was not what he had chosen; a strange dance which this time culminated in the simplicity of the promise being kept.

Isaac invited Mark to spend the day with him in Brooklyn Bridge Park, nearby and also in Brooklyn Heights; for it was May, the oft pleasant days of May, and a perfect reason to escape his diminutive confines and watch the ships; the invitation actually more of an "I'll go if you do" approach.

Brooklyn Bridge Park; the kind courtesy of Pexels.com under their CC0 license; modified.

During their walk, Isaac spoke of his "imminent" return to Gig Harbor. "Some time has passed, and Fitz has said that he was recommending me for a Senior Vice Presidency at my annual review. I suspect it will be approved as there are a few others doing essentially the same work as me who already are that and no one ever argues with Fitz anyway. Then I'll be ready to come back and be one of the highest ranked bankers in Washington."

Mark's expression seemed skeptical, and his voice sounded less buoyant than a rock, when he intoned; "That's all it takes?"

"Well, that's most of it. You see, New York is the center of banking and finance. The best work here. So, it's presumed that if you can handle things here, you can handle them anywhere. It's something like going to Harvard and then doing well-paid field work."

"What's special about it?"

"Only two things, really; the number of zeroes and commas at the end and the speed required. You're forced to cut corners, or else you'll be a low producer looking for a new job."

"They want things not to be thorough?"

"Not exactly. In business jobs most of the stuff you look at is boilerplate, and there's no good reason to give it more than a cursory quick skim. You learn to spend your time with the things which aren't standard. You don't over-study anything."

" ......... "

"Well, just like all this information the web has made available. If you scrutinize everything which comes your way, you just wind up reading a lot of useless garbage with levels of accuracy that range from 50% to zero. ........ I'm fortunate to have Fitz for a boss, as he knows what he's doing. If you get a moron, you have to go through everything. You slow down; the whole department slows down; and pretty soon you get visited by a team of evaluating experts, who justify their existence by recommending cuts, dismissals, and re-organizations."

"Sounds nerve-wracking."

"For some it is. But, you can't let yourself get frazzled. You'll only do worse. If you get one of those moron bosses, you just have to look for an internal transfer or get yourself another job. It's extremely difficult to be seen as anything better than your boss. Look, there are some much more cynical than me, and standardly try to transfer to another area every two years on the theory that if you stay in one place too long you become part of the problem, while in going to another area you become part of the solution."

When they entered the park, they saw a demonstration going on which was large enough to overflow the park on the other side, where the demonstrators were no longer in the shade provided by the bridge and were spilling onto the sidewalks in front of commercial enterprises. Hasidics were carrying signs calling for an end to Zionism.

Mark said; "You knew this would be here. Didn't you?"

"Honestly, no."

"Will dad related coincidences never cease?"

"Not likely. Wanna leave?"

"No. I'd really like to see what's going on with a bunch of Jews who want to end Zionism. That's like a feral cat who wants to put an end to hunting."

"Now, I don't feel like talking about it, and hope that I never get a boss like you, as I'd have to transfer. Let me make this simple. Jew does not equal Zionist; ergo ant-Zionism does not equal anti-Jew."

"There's a flaw in there somewhere."

"You're telling me. Look. Let's veer off. I'm hungry and there's a nice Gottlieb's Kosher just a few blocks away."

"Not me. Look at them. A few are really getting carried away. They're obviously Jews and they are anti-Israel."

"How's that?"

Their signs say and a few are yelling; "Zionism is bloodshed."

"Your lack of understanding is giving me a headache. Come on. Gottlieb just put out the fresh stuff."

Unbeknownst and actually of paltry significance to Isaac and Mark-David; in the mayor's office, an agitated city manager rushed in to anxiously say; "There's a thousand Hasidics demonstrating in Brooklyn Heights. They don't have a permit and Kelly, the Police Chief Kelly, wants to know if the cops should break it up."

"What schmuck left the Williamsburg door open?"

"I don't know what you're referring to, sir."

"Never mind. Is Rebbi there?"

"I don't know of Rebbi, so I can't say. Want me to find out?"

"No, no. It really doesn't matter. I was just being curious. But, hell no to the police breakup. Hell no. The last thing we want is a Jewish incident. What's their problem this time?"

Hasidic anti-Zionist demonstration; property of the author.

"Some religiously based Bible-Israel stuff no one understands."

"Whew. That's an easy one. No one ever knows what the hell they're talking about. It's only if they become understood that there could be a problem. Let them demonstrate all they want. They're a peaceful, non-violent people and most importantly to me, vote as a block."

"The businesses in the area are ringing the phones off the hooks complaining that it's ruining their trade."

"Tell them it will be over in an hour."

"We have no such information."

"So, just say it. If you feel you need to, tell them I said so."

"What should I tell the cops to do?"

"Show a large presence. Let the Hasidics do whatever they want. Just be there to protect them from vehemently disagreeing Jews and any yahoos from Bensonhurst."

Isaac and Mark picked around the fresh minced meats and the clam, broccoli, yogurt pesto, and caviar dips nearby, each being slow and particular as neither was really hungry, and now neither wanted to sit face to face and talk about that which they sought to talk about an hour prior.

"Good clam dip, Mark. You might consider some."

"Yes, the caviar dip is a tad fishy. The minced lamb seems worth a shot."

"That's Gottlieb's specialty."

Despite a sparse mid-morning clientele, Mark led them to a booth at the rear, five feet from a swinging, heavy oak door with an opaque, leaded glass window, a foot square, if the triangle had been squared.

Isaac sat and said; "We'll be blessed with the kitchen aromas back here."

"It's just so Jewish in here, I'm afraid some nut will come in here with a gun blazing."

"See the two in the long black tallits and yarmulkes near the entrance? Notice that you can't see their hands? That's because they're holding IWI Tavors under there. Last time anyone tried anything stupid they wound up in the minced meat bin."

"You're kidding me."

"Of course. Human gore is not kosher, so they just turned on the hose and swept it out to the curb for the dogs."

" .............. "

"Get a grip. This is New York. People of any race or religion who want good food eat kosher. ........ I might have phrased that better. Whoa, gotta take this. Hi, Miriam. Sorry Chloe."

"Hi, Isaac. Meet any of those tiny DMT guys yet?"

"No, David and I have been busy, marching and protesting with the Hasidics in the park. I don't suppose you've had any offers you can't refuse on the house."

"No, just one who offered more than asking, which I rejected because he had to have been joking. So, how's my son Mark doing in the grime?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't call for a while as something happened in the park which I haven't fully straightened out yet. An armed posse of feral Brooklynites disguised as Satmars kidnapped him and are threatening to super glue a yarmulke on his head, and won't give him back unless I give them a million dollars or a million kosher knishes with sauerkraut and onions. I have to nail down some of the details on the latter part; but bank fraud the likely better choice."

"Ha, ha, and ha. On the Borsht Belt, you're not. Put Mark on the phone."

"Hi, Mom."

"Love you, baby."

"Can't hear. A lot of that glue dried in my ears."

"Is your father being a bad influence on you?"

"I'm sure he's trying, but I'm a step ahead."

"Okay, so everything is fine with my two big boys in the nasty jungle."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't want to live here. There's garbage all over. Nobody can get it in the cans, I guess."

In the background Isaac said; "It's the wind factor. Those gusts off the water wreak havoc."

"Say you love your mother, Mark."

"Love you, Mom."

"Tell your father that I tolerate him."

Click.

"Mom said that ........ "

"Yeah, yeah. I heard."

When Isaac and Mark returned to Remsen Street, Isaac's zaftig, first floor friend Joyce Greenberg was on her way out, and with only a carefully tied knot, in the fashion of kesher elyon and one wrapping of hulya, awakening tsitzit between them, known only to her closest of friends in privacy as "sweet mince." The trio converged at the midway landing provided by the twisted external entry way stairs.

"Hi, Joyce," said Isaac, the greeting returned. "I want you to meet my son, David. ... Mark!"

Joyce pushed her knotted tzitzit back in place, as she smiled saying; "Pleased to meet you David-Mark."

Mark said; "It's just Mark, and my pleasure, Joyce."

Joyce said; "So, what kind of mischief have you two been up to today?"

Mark said; "We watched part of an anti-Zionist demonstration in the park. A few of the demonstrators really got into it."

Joyce said; "Oh, good. I told Isaac there would be a demonstration, unaware of how demonstrative it might become. You can never predict these things."

Issac, wanting to re-enforce Mark and change the subject said; "Mark's visiting me on school break. He just finished his freshman year at Gonzaga, majoring in ...... What did you say you were majoring in?"

Mark said; "I didn't say because I haven't decided."

Joyce said; "No need to rush. Ever consider Comparative Religion?"

Mark said; "No. I'm more leaning toward something which might almost provide a rewarding career."

Joyce said; "Comparative Religion can provide you with the basis of a rewarding career in sales or marketing. The bulls***, pardon my Yiddish, has wider uses than may have been first considered as obvious."

As Mark eyed him for being a liar, Isaac wanted to prolong this conversation and clumsily said; "Indecisiveness is a most under-valued attribute."

Joyce squinted toward Isaac for a fraction of a second, as if thrown off by something so inconsistent, that it must have been an in-joke to which she wasn't privy. She safely said; "I feel very strongly both ways," while again adjusting her tzitzit.

Drawing two smiles, Joyce added; "I'm off to see my friend, Miriam. She says she has some 'new' provocative information about the Khazars-Israel-world domination stuff she doesn't want to risk putting on-line. That husband of hers is such a worry wort, it's infectious. I keep telling her that if she just converted it to an encrypted graphics format it would be under the radar. ...... She's such an IT schlemiel and so easily freaked. Bye, Isaac and bye David-Mark.

David-Mark said; "Bye."

Isaac said; "Bye. Please keep me abreast."

Back inside, Mark said; "You lied to me.

Isaac answered; "It was harmless."

"That's not the issue."

"It's a father's job."

" ........ "

"This way you little monkeys use your programmed needs-to-be-rebellious by doing something we actually approve of."

"Insidious."

They sat and stared at the Van Gogh print.

Van Gogh's "Bedroom in Arles"; modified public domain.

Catching the direction of his son's eye, Isaac said; "That's what I wish this little condo would look like. Perhaps with more time it can serve as a model for future design modifications."

**2**

Educational Event

The Five Towns Weekly Klog

of Lawrence, L.I.

Bringing you all of Long Island's news Since 1948, that comprising, but not necessarily limited to the villages of Lawrence and Cedarhurst, the hamlets of Woodmere and Inwood, and "The Hewletts", which consist of the villages of Hewlett Bay Park, Hewlett Harbor, and Hewlett Neck, and the hamlet of Hewlett. Shalom.

Orthodox Jewish Educational Event in Nassau Coliseum

Nassau Coliseum; there was no classroom big enough, so they rented a stadium; public domain.

Go figure. As if they needed further "education," masses of authentic Torah Jews are expected to fill the Nassau Six-Day-War Veterans Memorial Coliseum in Inwood to capacity this Sunday at 4:00 PM to hear major rabbis lecture on the incompatibility of Judaism and Zionism.

The lectures will emphasize the differences between Judaism, a religion centered around belief and adherence to the precepts of the Torah; and Zionism, a militaristic political movement designed to transform Jewish identity from a religious to a nationalistic model, centered around the efficacious and lucrative land grab, right to left language, un-sexist conscripting army, and free military equipment provided by their US parent, including a minimum of forty McDonnell-Douglas FH487 Phantoms.

Since the state of Israel was established in 1948, the descendants of the "8th century adoptive Khazarian-false-Jew Zionists at-the-helm" have touted it as the "Jewish state," incurring Palestinian complaint now largely subdued, and misappropriated to it the role of representative of world Jewry, in a clever and self-serving, un-attackable position made tactically clear through the frequent Ben-Yahu declarations.

Opponents of Israel, whether on a secular basis, religious basis, or both are popularly and effectively silenced by Zionists with the accusation that their detractors are "anti-Semites, anti-Jew, anti-homeland," or worst of all that they are sick Jews who hate themselves, and display that through condemnations of "their" state. To wit, Israel's Khazarian, obviously false-Jew as seen vis-à-vis through later adoption, descended politicians and their dupes are portrayed in popular periodicals as leaders of world Jewry. In those same well-distributed periodicals, non-Jewish opponents of Israel are dismissed as racists as if Jewish was one race, and Jewish opponents of Zionism had been obviously branded as a manifestation of an "under-the-weather" construct of "self-hating Jews." Pretty good game, eh, wouldn't you say, bei mir bist du shayn?

Israel, in its representation as a secular entity, has employed various means to coerce and convince Jews to identify with Israel as their state, or to at least not say that they don't, inclusive of Mossad kidnap, undisclosed detention, and the employment of difficult to prove and thereby undetectable methodologies, inclusive of water-boarding and strappado, on dissidents. Other, more psychologically based methods of coercion include various forms of discrimination against the Orthodox anti-Zionist lifestyle; rather easy to do and a favorite in the "democratic" bastion of the Khazar-whatever supportive US based military-industrial complex, mostly because of Orthodox Jewish appearance which is effectively dismissed in lightweight publications as "evidence" of being an obvious nutcase; any ostensible case dismissed. Most recently, media has attached religious significance to the move of the American embassy to Jerusalem.

This Sunday's convention will be an important opportunity to hear the other side of the story, the position of Torah Jews on these subjects; though we know you won't, as the congas emblematic of Cinco de Mayo are so overwhelmingly seductive ...... and safe.

Besides their opposition to the ideology of Jewish nationalism, the lecturers will also explain the traditional Orthodox Jewish view that Jews are forbidden to wage war but must live among the nations of the world in peace and with utmost loyalty, until the Messiah comes, and that it is imperative that we just resist and fight against the draft law with all means at our disposal; essentially an abhorred "hippy" doctrine best exemplified in two forgotten films; Antonioni's "Zabriskie Point," and "Ciao Manhattan," directed by David Weisman, John Palmer finishing it off after the money men said that it made no sense, as if that was a film requirement, now most often referred to if at all as "Edie."

Lido Kosher Deli; property of the author.

All of this erases an important anti-Zionist Jewish tradition. While today a majority of observing Jews identify with the state of Israel, there is both a growing and visible minority of anti- and non-Zionist Jews, and a rich history of anti-Zionism within Judaism. Political movements like The Jewish Labor Bund and thinkers such as Abraham Serfaty, Emma Goldman and Leon Trotsky are often ignored or dismissed as "self-hating traitors" **.** In the UK today groups like Jews for Justice for Palestinians, Jewdas, Young Jewish Left and the International Jewish Anti-Zionist network are active voices against the occupation.

Jews who criticize or oppose Zionism are usually Orthodox and maintain that Israel can only be regained miraculously. They view the present state as a blasphemous human attempt to usurp God's role, and many actively work to dismantle the secular State of Israel. However, unlike many gentile anti-Zionists, Jewish anti-Zionists usually firmly believe in the Jewish right to the Land of Israel, but only at the future time of redemption. The best known group of the Jewish, religious, anti-Zionists are the Neturei Karta.

Two common religious grounds are typically given for anti-Zionism. One is that today's Zionism is a secular Zionism, packed with non-Jewish influences, and lacking key features like Mashiach and the rebuilt Temple. Adherents to this position are more on the non¬Zionist, rather than anti-Zionist side. The other reason is that the Talmud, Meseches Kesuvos, 111a, as part of a discussion of certain Torah verses mentioning oaths, states that when Israel went into the second exile, there were three vows between Heaven and Earth:

1) Israel would not "go up like a wall" (conquer Eretz Yisrael by massive force.)  
2) God made Israel swear that they would not rebel against the nations of the world, and would obey the governments in the exile.  
3) God made the non-Jews swear not to oppress Israel "too much," translation of phrase "yoter midai."

Groups accepting these positions are more on the anti-Zionist side. So-called "non-Zionist" Jews are pleased that Israel exists from a practical standpoint as a haven for oppressed Jews and as a land imbued with holiness well suited for Torah study. But they don't generally assign religious significance to the formation of the modern state, and often decry aspects of its secular culture.

Bernstein's Discount Yiddish Duds; property of the author.

Rabbi Yaakov Levine, noted lecturer and author on both Zionism and Judaism, says "Israel's referring to itself as the Jewish state is a form of collective identity theft, since Jewishness is a purely religious identity, not political or national." He explains, "It is crucial for people to realize that Israel's identification as the Jewish state is a unilateral claim of Zionism. Judaism says the Jewish people are members of a religion and have no state except those in which they reside before the presence of David's heir leads them back home." Rabbi Levine will be available on-line at his gorgeous Hewlett Harbor, waterfront home on g-mobile device, during the event to answer questions for the press and other interested parties; with easy, one-click links to his Amazon posted books.

Lehi Symbol Meaning

Lehi symbol; property of the author.

While the Lehi symbol initially appears as an early rendition of the 1960's popular peace sign, closer inspection reveals that it is quite the opposite. A finger is missing or is substantially deformed, in this version a thumb, which harkens back to the Hitchcock's brilliant 1935 masterpiece, "The Thirty-Nine Steps," wherein the top spy's identity is revealed when is glove is removed. If detail is desired, a synopsis follows.

At a London music hall theatre, Richard Hannay is watching a demonstration of the superlative powers of recall of "Mr. Memory" when shots are fired. In the ensuing panic, Hannay finds himself holding a seemingly frightened Annabella Smith, who talks him into taking her back to his flat. There, she tells him that she is a spy, being chased by assassins, and that she has uncovered a plot to steal vital British military information, masterminded by a man with the top joint missing from one of his fingers. She mentions the "39 Steps", but does not explain its meaning.

Later that night Smith, fatally stabbed, bursts into Hannay's bedroom and warns him to flee. He finds a map of the Scottish Highlands clutched in her hand, showing the area around Killin, with a house or farm named "Alt-na-Shellach" circled. He sneaks out of his flat disguised as a milkman to avoid the assassins waiting outside. He then boards the Flying Scotsman express train to Scotland. He learns from a newspaper article, read by a pair of women's undergarment salesmen, that he is the target of a nationwide manhunt for Smith's murder. When he sees the police searching the train, he enters a compartment and kisses the sole occupant, Pamela, in a desperate attempt to hide his face and escape detection. She frees herself from his unwanted embrace and alerts the policemen, who stop the train on the Forth Bridge. Hannay then escapes, hiding behind the bridge's truss. He walks toward Alt-na-Shellach, staying the night in the house of a poor farmer and his much younger wife. The farmer becomes suspicious of sexual attraction between his wife and Hannay, spying on them from an outside window. In fact, Hannay has revealed his current predicament to the young wife and asked for her help. Early the next morning, the young wife sees a police car approaching and warns Hannay. She gives Hannay the farmer's dark coat so as to better camouflage him. Hannay flees across the moors and at a bridge he finds a sign for Alt-na-Shellach.

The police, hot on his trail, fire several shots at him and even employ a Weir auto gyro to chase him down. He eventually arrives at the house of the seemingly respectable Professor Jordan and is let in by his maid after saying he has been sent by Annabella Smith. The police arrive, but Jordan sends them away and politely listens to Hannay's story after ushering out all his afternoon guests, including the local sheriff, visiting the house. Hannay notes that the man at helm of the group of foreign assassins and spies is missing the top joint of his ring finger. Jordan corrects him by removing his glove and revealing that the top joint of his pinky finger is missing and thus he is the head of aforementioned group of spies. Jordan then shoots Hannay as he inches towards the door, and then leaves him for dead.

Luckily, the bullet is stopped by the farmer's hymn book in the coat pocket. This is revealed by Hannay to the local sheriff in his office; the same sheriff from the guests at Professor Jordan's. More police arrive when the sheriff reveals that he does not believe the fugitive's story since Professor Jordan is his best friend in the district. The police move to arrest Hannay, handcuffing his right wrist, but he jumps through a window and escapes by joining a Salvation Army march through the town. He tries to hide at a political meeting and is mistaken for the introductory speaker. He gives a rousing impromptu speech without knowing anything about the candidate he is introducing, but is recognized by Pamela, who gives him to the police once more. He is taken away by "policemen" who ask Pamela to accompany them. They drive past the police station, claiming they have orders to go directly to Inverraray, but Hannay realizes they are agents of the conspiracy when they take the wrong road. When the men get out to disperse a flock of sheep blocking the road, Hannay escapes, dragging the unwilling Pamela, to whom he is handcuffed, along.

They make their way across the countryside and stay the night at an inn. While he sleeps, Pamela manages to slip out of the handcuffs, but then overhears one of the fake policemen on the telephone, confirming Hannay's assertions. She returns to the room and sleeps on a sofa. The next morning, she tells him what she heard. He sends her to London to alert the police. No secret documents have been reported missing, however, so they do not believe her. Instead, they follow her.

Pamela leads them to the London Palladium. When Mr. Memory is introduced, Hannay, sitting in the audience, recognizes his theme music, the annoyingly catchy tune, a tune he has been whistling and unable to forget for days. Hannay, upon recognizing Professor Jordan and witnessing him signal Mr. Memory, realizes that the spies are using Mr. Memory to smuggle the Air Ministry secret. As the police take Hannay into custody, he shouts, "What are the 39 Steps?" Mr. Memory compulsively answers, "The 39 Steps is an organization of spies, collecting information on behalf of the Foreign Office of ..." at which point Jordan shoots him, jumps to the theatre's stage and tries to flee, but is apprehended. The dying Mr. Memory recites the information stored in his brain; the design for a silent aircraft engine—and is then able to pass away peacefully, saying "I'm glad it's off my mind."

Next, Hannay's and Pamela's clasped hands are shown from behind; Hannay's handcuffs clearly visible. As they stand together at the side of the stage, their hands begin to touch. Now hand in hand, they watch as the hurriedly ushered-on chorus line dances to an orchestrated version of the Jessie Matthews song "Tinkle Tinkle Tinkle", while the image fades to black.

Under the Milky Way

Milky way and "Under the Milky Way Tonight" by Karin Gunilla Jansson and Steven John Kilbey; property of the author, the latter under both the "fair use" and "transformative" doctrines.
**3**

Joyce

Saying; property of the author.

Though separated by only two floors of the same building, Isaac and Joyce first met on the net; the Goodreads platform, perhaps a testimony to the increased prominence of electricity and hyper things, but more likely just a matter of chance determined by exactly when or not the two got on the same schedule and thereby meeting in the hallway. For Isaac and Joyce, their meeting was more electric than either would have otherwise wished.

Joyce was already engaged in a conversation with someone who used a highly opinionated and modestly informed icon he had named BO, perhaps an example of his overly literal inability to express intentional humor, which contrasted with his gift for doing the best Basil Fawlty imitation on the net. His tiny avatar picture appeared to be that of an older gent, more attractive than most older gents, as he seemed to have the hint of a smile and a head of hair most people his age pay an implanter to obtain, that an irrelevant case specific possibility from a distance beyond two feet. Of perhaps more significance was the bold, unfettered condition of BO's top shirt button, belying the conscription one might incorrectly attribute to his off-the-rack business suit, heightened in un-necessary over-statement through his adventurously rebellious, ersatz windsored, loose tie, which sat on his protruding stomach at the most attractive of devil-may-care obtuse angles.

In his profile, BO testified to having had a minor responsibility business job or jobs, one or ones he modestly downplayed perhaps of necessity, that conclusion more supposed to be in a direct relation to the more one became BO familiar. In other words, he did his best to sound like a stupid, pain-in-the-ass. The income from his minor responsivity business job or jobs was supplemented by his academically inclined evenings, ostensibly a night school adjunct of some business subject 101.

That is both hypothetical and un-kind. Apologies from the narrator, not quite omniscient.

BO's daunting credentials notwithstanding, through what must have been either Odyssean equivalent displays of pluck or disinterested ennui, Isaac had braved previous succinct interludes with him, their succinctness entirely the result of a dauntingly quick and consistent BO blocking, and thought he had discerned a pattern. BO's ersatz book review-dissertations were topical to a fault one might consider when confronted with an infomercial produced by Teflon. It would not raise any eyebrows, no double meaning first intended, to suggest that BO was a subscriber to Zeitgeist.com and one of their up-to-the-minute, daily adherents. Most strangely, his review-dissertations always contained at least one severe, willful, self-imposed contradiction; that always prompting extensive commentary and a possible bridge to a Christian accepted way to heaven through a deathbed; "I am sorry for the error of all my lifelong ways, my God. They say you buy this last minute bulls***. ..... Anyway, worth a shot." In addition to the Nulib-Anarcho diatribe popular in most high schools and a few test-score and grade level disparaging colleges, in each dissertation he always worked in something which a claimed expert on the subject said was ass-backwards wrong and BO had a knack for getting into contentious arguments with anyone who wrote two or more such sentences to him, the vast majority of the arguees, female.

One who reads too much of "Psychology Today," watches Dr. Phil, and is thereby prone to conclusion leaping, might injudiciously say that businessman-professor-BO come Nulib-Anarcho-BO, the anarcho aspect properly choosy, was either experiencing the obvious first guess mid-life crisis in his dotage, was resentful of a lifetime of being assigned to the Mail Room, was inflicted with a "syndrome" correlating to an inability to focus, and/or had experienced less than satisfactory relationships with members of the distaff set, with the only "convincing healthy logic" on display, that BO was an extremely competent counter-Nulib-Anarcho operative, hurting their cause through his seemingly, and merely partially retarded endorsement of it. But, that would be highly speculative.

So, that day BO, in more or less tune with the harum-scarum book he had reviewed at length if one counts the parts which had nothing to do with the book, was arguing against free speech in general, a tad of an expansion on said harum-scarum book which confined itself to the support of algorithmically based censure, as used on Facebook. To Joyce and Isaac, BO was taken as generally wrong, and in her case specifically that way when considering her Khazar-Irgun-Lehi-Herut-Likud-Israel theories, with which Isaac would soon again become refreshed. When Joyce opposed him entirely, BO was joined by another Nulib male named Michael, and with a like-minded scepter, coupled with a desire to make the sides two apiece, Isaac joined the debate, which Joyce had actually already won when BO and Michael had effectively lost the argument by flopping around like two one-eyed gulf flounders which had outstayed the receding tide, and as a possible consequence of Joyce registering concern for BO, when she said; "Don't give yourself an aneurism."

The transcript follows in a necessarily out-of-order sequence.

message 1: by Isaac (On Joyce's profile page, until further noted.)

Thank you, lady. The interesting stuff to me was when the Nazi accused us of being something like irresponsible hippy acid heads, to which I responded like an irresponsible hippy acid head, but concluded with some point or other. The thing that most annoys me with him is that he responds to every difference of opinion with an instruction to read something, most often his own something, which will ostensibly bring the defective one up to his exalted position. If taken seriously, he is truly insulting. One of my posts started something like; "Thank you for the direction to enlightenment. My third reading of this brilliant tract has resulted in my seeing a nuance previously missed ........ "

message 2: by Joyce

Ha ha! I would love to read the whole magilla. Unfortunately I can't get back on to it because of being blocked by the schlemiel. Have you been blocked too? Did anybody else challenge him?

message 3: by Isaac

I don't know if I've been blocked. I think not yet, but he has blocked me previously when I was using other identities and merely registered one or two line disagreements. I'm pretty sure no one else challenged him. I only pick him up through being friends with Ian, who once expressed surprise that BO ever had blocked me. I don't really understand that as Ian shares little similarity with him excepting a business background, as far as I can tell.

message 4: by Isaac

Well, I'm not blocked yet, as BO has probably not yet noticed that at times I was being sarcastic with him. I'll probably get blocked when someone tells him. But have no way to find it unless you tell me the name of the book that was involved. I guess that then, I could copy it and post it here.

message 5: by Joyce

Sorry for the delay. I had to schlep it up. It's called "Facebook Censoring Algorithms for Dummies" by Don Dookenberg. It might be filed under "desirable censorship" or "Jewish deletion."

message 6: by Isaac  
Got it. In recognition of the need for a flow with this material, I've included some parts where you were still allowed to be present.

message 7: by Isaac (A duplication of what was on BO's thread, until noted otherwise.)

BO wrote: "Fundamentalism of course is conspicuous in religious circles but it occurs whenever an ideological principle, like say personal freedom, is established as non-negotiable. Politics, whether democratic or otherwise, when such a principle is used becomes impossible to carry out. And the alternative to politics is of course violence."

If personal freedom is not a standard, then we have some degree of personal slavery. What degree do you find suitable? Politics will always be carried out. The only question is whether the rule will be local or remote. Personally, I'd like to see local maximized. None of this requires an internet. For these things it's just a relatively new nail gun replacement for a hammer. You can use it for more efficient work or you can use it to put a hole in your head.

message 8: by Michael

BTW, Facebook has played it both ways. Whenever vile things, often promoting violence, have been heavily mediated through their site (see how FB has been harnessed in Myanmar by Buddhists to incite hate against the Rohingya), they like to say: "We're just a platform for free speech." But when they were hauled into court for a patent violation, they changed their tune and said "We're a publisher." The fact is that they are a publisher and responsible for the content that they publish, including fake news and venomous attacks on entire peoples. "With great freedom, comes great responsibility." - Eleanor Roosevelt. The only way democracy can function effectively is if its citizens assume moral and ethical responsibility. As soon as they don't, they endanger other citizens who are part of that compact. Democracy does not function if it's merely a collection of individuals doing their own thing, no matter what the consequences.

message 9: by BO

Yo, Blair. Of course I know exactly what you mean by slavery, man. I want to make a change to my front porch. And do you know what? Those bastards at the local council say I can't do that without their permission; some nonsense about a Conservation Area, as if I'm conserving anything. And then a bunch of their socialist colleagues come along and say I have to pay my taxes to have my trash hauled away every week by grubby looking fellows who I really don't want touching my bins. I want my own guys. And don't get me started on the bloody police who just last week caught me going 60 in a 40 zone. Bloody cheek I say. What gives them the right? Taking a bloke's freedom away like that is uncalled for. A slippery slope. Know what I mean? Next thing is the bastards will be telling me on which side of the road to drive, or telling me that I'm not allowed to drive at all due to legal blindness, which they conveniently define for their own purposes. Oh wait ... In any case, man, things have been going downhill ever since that crazy 14th Amendment thing spread around; you know that law that says I don't have the freedom to own other people. What do they call that? Oh yeah, slavery. Freedom for slave-owners I say. Let's get things back to where they should be, know what I mean? No more of this left-wing freedom-destroying bollocks. So keep it up mate. I'm there for you.

message 10: by Jenn "JR"

Added it, (writer's note) before concluding with four indecipherable, but touching emojis.

message 11: by Joyce

Oh Michael, why do you keep purposely re-phrasing and mis-stating what I say? I'm talking about free speech only; not the freedom to do anything I damn well like without regard for others. "You either believe in free speech or you don't" was said by Noam Chomsky. There's no half-way house. Elena and Isaac have expressed my views much better than I was able to, it seems. As regards rage; I think you are projecting. The issue here was speech; not driving cars or making home repairs.

message 12: by BO

(To Joyce) Of course, you're wasting my time. Ante up with some concrete stuff or leave the table.

message 13: by BO

Both you and friend Blair go way beyond freedom of speech. Read the remarks above again. Presumably you have of course heard, in any case, about crimes like sedition, treason, defamation, slander, blackmail, malicious threat, and reckless endangerment, among many others which encroach on this absolute of yours. And that's not even taking into account the fundamental principles of contract, which are essentially about restricting the freedom of future speech. Stop being ridiculous. You're in way over your head.

message 14: by Joyce

You just proved my point about the rage. You should do yourself a favor, mister, and calm down before you give yourself an aneurism. And when you have calmed down, I suggest you read "Animal Farm" and "1984."

message 15: by BO

I'm fine. Still waiting for anything substantive though. Any factual information you'd like to share?

message 16: by Isaac

Cool, BO, man. No aneurism yet? Pleasantly surprised as you seem to be fading away. But, be encouraged. You obviously don't realize that as a Brit, you're not obligated to abide by any colonial law, like that stupid US 14th amendment, definitely not a product of the US founding fathers. In Great Britannia, you can still legally own all the slaves you can afford, and the indentured don't even get the right to vote about it. Some sharp s***, if you're up on it. Thanks for bringing up the free speech limitations in existence. Sedition, treason, defamation, slander, blackmail, malicious threat, and reckless endangerment; as they are legally punishable in the US, though I'm not sure about the last one. But, right on, bro. You made it seem accidental that you made the case for adequate protections against the lunacy of absolute free speech as being already in place. Slick. Re #13. That made me laugh, as you likely intended humor in addition to intending to make some incomprehensible off-topic and diversionary point. That was personally enhanced by the fact that I used to live in a rural, state recognized historic district, and the people there actually espoused doing away with some of the restrictions you mentioned. I would think that you'd have to admit that the requirement to obtain both town and state level approval to repair a porch post, "in keeping" with the way it would have been done at the original time of construction is a bit much. I mean like, who the hell even has a working adze these days? Just try getting a little bit real. Sheesh. And like you said, yeah, that private vs. town sanctioned garbage collection also popped up too. Same old story of governmental abuse of the people. Everyone knows, so I'll cut it there. In another part of town, the government mandated concrete sidewalks so that the kiddies would know where to walk to get to the school bus at homeowner expense, the cost and contractor agreed to by the town, while 300% in excess of what a private contractor estimated to those affected. Driving 60 in a 40 zone is a legitimate violation, though I admit to having done it on clear days when no other cars were on the road. So yes, I agree that some limitations are necessary. "Do your own thing" was no longer unconditionally stated after we Boomers learned of Manson, and things we hadn't previously imagined a person would do with their own thing, much like here. But, I still believe that if limitations are to be imposed there should be some damn good reason, and I don't accept the local building codes which mandate specificity of stair rail spacing because some stupid kid managed to hang himself, presumably accidentally, when the spacing is said to be the "right" size for a dumb kid's head. At my expense I was required to rip out what the contractor put there, and have him install that which was demanded by the inspector. More directly on topic, the issue here is more about free speech and the net. Please try to stay on topic, with your own chosen topic. I find it easy to read opposing opinions, garbage, insults and misinformed statements. Such things are not personal to me. In fact, I'll consider it and sometimes change my own opinion. Words cannot harm unless the recipient wants to be harmed, seeks an excuse for being harmed, or is stupid, in which case their family should keep them away from certain things, just as a kid is taught not to stick his hand in the fire. So my vote is for free speech and free internet all the way.

message 17: by Isaac

To Joyce. Got your note. Thank you. But, no lie, I can't respond with a GR e-mail as the site long ago curtailed my "privileges," largely, but not entirely for exercising free speech some objected to and flagged. It's a long tedious story no one would want to sit through.

message 18: by BO

See my comments to Joyce re free speech and it's of course less than absoluteness as a criterion for anything. No, I'm afraid the only absolute is politics or its more violent alternatives.

message 19: by Michael

Our democracies are more Huxleyan than Orwellian. We have our freedom, but we are wasting it....

message 20: by Isaac

Can't find it, dude. Maybe after the DMT wears off. For now it sounds like we almost agree when you find it convenient to get off topic. Maybe it's those funny little men sitting there trying to look important by trying not to look important. They're tricky little devils. Anyway, consider the possibility that free speech is a thing unto itself, and a criterion for nothing else. When they yell fire in the crowded theatre I know that they're lying, and if the others want to get trampled, I figure that's their business. In actuality I just stay out of crowded theaters. So far, so good. Doesn't politics include, if not maximize violent "alternatives?" You know, like Gandhi and Mother Theresa were never exactly heads of state. Have to split, dude. Got any idea of how to get rid of these nagging little trolls?

message 21: by BO

Go to #13.

message 22: by Isaac

In re-reading your profile you make mention of your propensity-right to delete, and have done so on numerous occasions. The reviewers, like you, who think they have some sort of right to having the last word irk me, when they are not as inadvertently amusing as thou. It seems to me that if they have the right to delete remarks or people they don't like, then, in pursuit of equality, the author should have the right to delete the reviews and reviewers they don't like.

On his helpfully instructive #13, BO wrote; "Presumably you have heard, in any case, about crimes like sedition, treason, defamation, slander, blackmail, malicious threat, and reckless endangerment, among many others which encroach on this absolute of yours."

Saw #13 for the second or third time and was of course again duly enlightened. And yes, I actually have heard of a few of those nasty things, and might add sedation to your list, and was under the impression that some of them existed, even prior to internet days, which this review and thread ostensibly had as a primary topic, at least when convenient to help your needy case. So, yes sir, free speech can and will be abused, with or without an electronic accomplice, and I believe that there have been penalties in place to punish this since before the first algorithm reared its ugly head. The King didn't take too kindly to this sort of activity, either. In order to further pursue the imposed limitations of sedition, sedation, treason, libel, et al, we are at the point where case specifics are required. In the US of A, open governmental protest is allowed, as well as clandestine membership in the Communist Worker's Party, if they still exist. Where it seems to cross a legal line is at "advocating the violent overthrow" juncture, though quite a few, including Malcom X, have done this without charges being brought. One of the primary principles of contract law, assuming that was what you were referring to later in #141 is that two parties can agree to ANYTHING legal, as long as both parties get "consideration," often accomplished through the token payment of $1. As a matter of practice, the larger social media sites already employ censors, under the seemingly perennial threat that the host will soon be held legally liable for the posts of parasitic others, as well as their own predilections for control. They are private institutions not yet with any government regulation, and can legally do whatever the hell they'd like. So you have your desired censorship in Spades. Is "free" internet use more of a risk to a democracy? No more than a democracy was ever at risk as the result of its principles. In fact, through the internet, totalitarian regimes are now more at risk than they were previously, as no matter what restrictions the government may try to impose, their formerly closed door is easily opened by a competent hacker, who can establish false identities to communicate with the populace and make it seem as if his communication is coming from somewhere he isn't. Any windows based system cannot be fully secured. So, I've tried to address what I thought the subject here is. Frankly, your position, which may or may not have some merit, inclined toward the latter, is getting obscured through abundant verbiage. It's difficult to further address it, without some succinct clarity. And I'm wondering why you blast Joyce at length throwing out insults. If you have a need to blast and insult, blast and insult me, as I truly don't care, especially if given the opportunity to retort in kind. Cheers.

message 23: by Joyce

Cheers Isaac; and well said!

Message 24: by Isaac

Thanks Joyce, but you were the one who really exposed his farce, and then that aneurism comment really got to him.

message 25: by Isaac  
To BO. Still inadequately trying to digest the magnitude of your #13. Thank you for it, BO. I thought I had previously seen it, but re-read it to be sure, teach. It's hard for me to relate at all to the author's fears, and I don't consider myself unique. For example, it seems to me that if you watch CCCP, MSArabian, and FoxRump News for a month, which I recently did, you realize that you are not watching fake news, as it is neither fake, nor is it news unless you read what is on the never-commentator-addressed scroll at the bottom of the screen. And it is easily detectable, as daily each station gets two or three stories, which may have, and most often had happened two or more weeks prior, but is suitable fodder for the hosts and their guests to "spin" or register expert opinions upon, which suit their or the owner's agenda. I think smaller e-newspapers and bloggers are automatically suspect, rightly or wrongly. So, yes the owners, the advertisers, and everybody who falls into place below them have no interest in truth, or even competent reporting. It's a business, and like any other they look at the bottom line. I guess what I can't fully understand, is why this is a "hot" issue now. We probably haven't had integrity in reporting since the days of Cronkite, and Paddy Chayefsky exploded this in the mid-70"s with "Network." As a result of that, people have had decades of experience in dealing with this. Despite your kind suggestion, I have no ability or interest in discussing this with the author. Just because someone writes a book doesn't necessarily mean anything of merit in and of itself. I was arguing with you, as I thought you were registering full agreement with him or switched paths into your own views, and most of all, just because you just happened to be there, that's all. I'll be the first to admit that maybe someday someone will find a way to use the net for something gigantically bad, but for now I might give the average Joe more credit for having common sense than most others in BS detection. The ideas presented here are extremely interesting, despite their conclusions being clearly wrong, and it was a pleasure to read of them here. Anything "new" to bring to the table? Cheers.

message 26: by David  
Scary stuff

message 27: by BO

(Writer's note.) In an apparent response to David, BO posted one emoji of some sort.

message 28: by Julio  
Great posting. Thanks.

message 29: by BO  
Thanks back Julio.

message 30: by Michael  
I've covered Silicon Valley as a journalist and author for 30 years now and can report that liberal tech utopians are extremely dismayed by what has happened, especially with Facebook. Basically what "The Net Delusion" forecast has come to pass. One of my friends, a consummate Silicon Valley insider, has written his own book on his own awakening to the Facebook debacle, url below.

message 31: by BO  
Wow, the chickens are coming home to roost. Nicht Wahr?

message 32: by Derrick - added it  
Nice review, BO. The internet technology is increasingly gaining more power than the actual politicians and it poses a bizarre threat to humankind. Why do I say bizarre? Because it's unlike anything we have ever dealt with before. Speaking of threats to us, what do you think of artificial intelligence?

message 33: by BO  
Thanks Derrick, but I try not to think of AI at all. Far too frightening.

message 34: by Michael  
Yes. the chickens are coming home. That was made clear by the Theranos fraud ("Bad Blood"). Earlier generations of SV entrepreneurs and engineers wanted to make tech that worked and increased productivity. They loved the process. However, glory and wealth seem like ends in themselves now and any method is considered acceptable toward that end. PBS is doing an encore of its two part Frontline expose of Facebook. I was shocked by what I found out from this. Part 2 is even more stunning.

message 35: by Michael  
Free speech, eh? what a crock!

message 36: by BO  
Bad. Very bad.

message 37: by Isaac  
Directed primarily at Michael's #30. At this advanced age it's absolutely amazing how I still get daily surprises.

message 38: by Isaac (On Joyce's profile page the following day.)

Just an update, Joyce. After three or four jocular exchanges with BO today, even pressing "like" on a few of his reviews, I just came back to find I was blocked. I wouldn't be surprised if he flagged something. I recall that his profile said that he had both a minor business and education background. Some of these academic types actually think that they're the smartest humans, I think because some of the less than insightful and most deluded of them are impressed with their ability to lecture at people much younger than themselves, who are dependent upon them for a grade. Long winded so and so's.

Specifics aforementioned, the BO act was obvious to Isaac, his constant use of "of course" just a mild annoyance.

Of course BO's "of courses" of course showed that his "of course" was unaware that of course "of course" means "obviously," means "it goes without saying," and of course "of course's" periodic use is of course entirely forgivable, while of course "of courses" regular use begs the comment of "You have demonstrated a fantastic grasp of the obvious," but of course to say that would be petty. So, of course, Isaac focussed on BO's "substance."

First BO, like the author, spoke against freedom of speech on the web. However, when the malodorous one was effectively countered he moved the argument to freedom of speech in general. When effectively countered on that he moved the argument to all law and codes. Somewhere in between these deft moves, an "expert" wrote in to say that one of his "of courses" was just plain wrong. At that point BO was arguing with the "expert," and trying to defend to his other detractors that he had some discernable point which required substantiation through digression into the pointless. While Isaac could almost sympathize with a bit of BO's standard plight, he found it absolutely hilarious that BO continually got caught in the same trap, recalling that "Insanity is doing the same thing in expectation of different results."

Since Isaac's argument, and that which he saw of Joyce's, who was there previously concerned free speech in general, it is not the least personal or ad hominem to note that Carl Benjamin, a noted political commentator and polemicist said; "There is no principled argument for censorship, only arguments from power. Like all philosophies, Liberalism is riddled with contradictions, but it maintains itself by minimizing the effects of such through the use of free speech. Free speech is not just a favor we extend to people, we consider it integral to their very personhood; free speech is one of our human rights. Censorship must therefore be repugnant to a Liberal democracy, as its only purpose is to preserve the hegemonic power of the established order. Unlike a socialist or fascist regime, which must criminalize free thought in order to suppress its dissidents, a Liberal democracy welcomes these as the canary in the coal mine. As there is no objective line that can be drawn of acceptable or unacceptable speech, the degree to which one censors is arbitrary, and the scope of what could be censored is practically without limit; the more often we censor, the more normalized censorship becomes. As people become accepting of the new normal, they become sensitive to those closer breaches, and the noose of censorship draws ever more tightly. Whereas free speech prevents violence through dialogue, censorship guarantees violence by making it the dissident's only remaining option."

Much more succinctly, Isaac believed that any sense imputed to limitations on free speech was the equivalent of finding some sense in being a little bit pregnant.

Now that Isaac and Joyce had shared the intimacy of their confidential e-mail addresses, Joyce sent him an as yet off-topic message which said:

"I'm Jewish. Are you, Isaac? Not that it matters. Is Judaism an ethnicity? In short, not any more. Although Judaism arose out of a single ethnicity in the Middle East, there have always been conversions into and out of the religion. Thus, there are those who may have been ethnically part of the original group who are no longer part of Judaism, and those of other ethnic groups who have converted into Judaism."

Isaac saw the wavelength consistent with what he had previously researched and dropped a while back. He wrote back:

"No, but my parents were. Maybe I can still convert, if they don't require schooling. Geneticists would argue that 'single ethnicity' bit, but geneticists argue with everyone, most often with themselves. I think many of them are Jewish. This may be the start of a beautiful relationship."

Joyce immediately wrote back:

"Maybe. Potential noted."

Visit- Day 3

Up early, Isaac typed.

Mark, you can now see that I put some info in your Word documents I titled "Irgun Terrorism," somewhat impatiently jumping ahead. This is dry stuff, which I expect you'll stop reading nearer the outset than the end. I don't blame you, as I'm sure that in your place I'd do the same thing. This story is tedious detail; detail which is "expertly" disputed every step of the way, those disputes an in-bred expert domain, actually even more tedious than this. However, if one cares of being taken seriously, it is necessary to enter their confused house.

So right up front and before you quit, here's the story in a nut shell.

1) Khazars – Wolves don sheep's clothing.

2) 1100AD – 1920AD – Wolf habitat unknown.

3) Irgun – Violent wolves claim peaceful sheep rights.

4) Lehi – Wolves grant aid to foreign sheep killers to increase their domestic flock.

5) Herut – Wolves congregate with their "new" flock in their now "officially" recognized territory.

6) Likud – Wolf congregation grows through inter-racial mating and a denial of religion.

7) Ukraine – Presently somewhere between Lehi and Herut.

8) True Torah Jews – The last of the sheep, still dwindling while officially on the "Endangered Species" list.

9) Mossad – Club only accepting of "pure" wolf killers.

Hoping not to bore you with one of those long, standardized "how this story came about crap coupled with its purpose," please allow me just the courtesy of the short version. It was completely accidental. A few years back I had an on-line friend who was researching various things regarding who was responsible in a behind-the-scenes sense and profiting from WWII, and the lead-up to it. Her stuff interested me, and I soon came to try to offer something in the same vein.

Within three months or so, we came to the "facts" and opinions expressed here. The hideousness of the implications, as well as her spousal-induced wish to drop out, for fear of being on thin popular and "political" ice caused her to depart the investigation. She specifically said to me that if I ever mentioned it again, not to include her name.

So, that was it. Our investigation preceded my speaking of it by 4-5 years, as it's a difficult subject, and I'm lazy. When I discovered that Joyce was interested in the subject, directing me to the True Torah Jews website, I got interested again. Whether or not what is entailed here is true, it seems to matter next to zero on the world stage at this point; thereby being by definition useless as to the future; that is if one ignores the watered down possible replay in which the "False Khazar Jews" in control of Israel now relocate the "True Jews" in the settlements to the Ukraine; there expected to provide military support against the Russians, bringing the US close to a meaningful conflict with people in possession of many, many bombs.

Lastly, this is not presented as fact; only possibility; I think a likely fact; a series of related "what if's" reverse engineered from seeing the final structure, and wondering what conditions could have led there. For me, the huge numbers of circumstances are sufficiently large, and fit well in a small place; it is to suggest a mathematical possibility of being wrong in the aggregate of less than 10%. To be on the safe side, I've classified it as fictionalized history, which I believe it is likely to be taken as, if not even more likely disregarded. The supposition that the evil in this world is a function of that duality within us all is a very popular and easily accepted doctrine espoused by modern psychology. In the face of the inter-connectedness of human belief, it would currently be ridiculous anathema to attempt to pinpoint a specific source.

If you don't like it, I really don't care. In fact if you don't look at it any further, I really don't care. Excepting this explanatory diatribe, it took me all of two minutes to copy text I already had.

Chloe had mixed feelings tending toward the negative regarding Isaac's career move to New York. Her mixed feelings were most reflected through an asking price which was $200,000 over the market for their Gig Harbor house. Any possible sale was also impeded as the formerly hot Seattle area market was already stepping back from its partially speculation driven peak, due to Amazon's decision not to build another equally sized facility in Seattle, but rather one near Washington, DC. She and Isaac's initial conversations tended to bog down on that situation; though there were other legitimate issues less easily translatable to dollar sign evaluation. She had an easy job with a securities broker in Gig Harbor. Abigail wanted to finish high school there; and Mark's attending Gonzaga made the house a short trip home when he wanted to get away from school. And they all liked things there.

Through joking avoidance of the main issues, Isaac and Chloe quickly established an amicable cyber relationship. Though it wasn't clearly specified or stated, both now had the understanding that Isaac would return to Chloe, the kids, and Gig Harbor after he had established higher level New York experience "credentials" with which to "dazzle" Washington State. In his now lonely free time Isaac sent Chloe e-mails of his new avocation, his Khazar investigation, which she mostly skimmed in half disinterest.

Isaac had worried over what their unstated agreement had not yet defined. After the un-written and un-verbalized agreement was firmly in place Isaac worried about that too. For a short time. It actually incorporated sufficient vaguery that neither would be penalized for failure to cross a "T," but provided sufficient structure to ensure that no one's interest would be disregarded. Since he and Chloe were in it for the long haul since sophomore year in high school, he was certain that would resume, and wanted it to. This temporary physical separation was less than that formerly required by military conscription; to which he had never been compulsed. In fact, being in NYC for a year or two was less likely to result in death. Missing the sleepy time cuddles with his arm around Chloe's middle was more likely to do that.

For her part, Chloe had too been apprehensive over what their tacit agreement had not yet delineated. After the un-transcribed and un-articulated arrangement was decisively in position she was apprehensive about that too. For a fleeting time. It essentially integrated appropriate vaguery that neither would be chastised for botching a detail, but offered an ample configuration to guaranty that neither's significance would be overlooked. Since she and Isaac were together for the Odysseyan wander since early in high school, she was confident that would continue, and fancied it to, this transitory carnal departure less than that once required by military conscription; to which he had never been subjected. Truly, living in NYC for a year, more or less, was less likely to be fatal. Missing the sleepy time cuddles with Isaac's arm around her middle was more likely to do that to the one remaining.

They were the beneficiaries of thinking alike; pondering comparably.

Back when Mark had entered junior high school, he changed his name from David Leibowitz to Mark Weston, with his mother's approval. Mom also took this opportunity to change hers from Miriam Leibowitz, nee Meltzer, to Chloe Weston, and Rachel's to Abigail. Isaac kept his, and the only "problem" with the changes was that for a while Abigail forgot what hers was, which she found funny and sometimes convenient, and Isaac called them by their old names just as often as he called them by their new ones, how often intentionally only possibly known to him.

Though to the others the effect was quite minimal, almost un-noticeable, Mark was blatantly pleased with his results. He had reported some unpleasant experiences in junior high school because of having a "Jewish" name, usually when in sizable groups or possibly when he became overly self-conscious. Now, in college and one of the goys, he just wished that his father would clearly approve. After Isaac had relocated to Brooklyn, he was glad that he had retained his birth name, especially after having become more interested in his heritage of late.

Yield; property of the author.

In a nebulous space;

There is so much misinformation on the web.

If people cannot differentiate an infomercial from a documentary, the technology is not the cause of the problem.

True but that's not unlike the "Guns don't kill people, people kill people" argument. The internet has given the uneducated, the malevolent, and the judgmentally challenged both a justification and a voice.

Hurrah for web democracy.

Hmnnn. Hmmnnn. But, kind of weird.

I think it was John dos Passos who pointed out that Americans think their neighbors have no right to know more than they do. So the internet is a perfect tool for the righteously ignorant.

But, if that is not intended with humor, it seems that to suggest that is a call to try to reach the lowest common denominator.

I'm not sure what you mean.

If the net is a problem because of best serving the educated in possession of common sense, then to change that seems to indicate an overall lowering of standards to "protect" those deemed as less capable. I'm not being value judgmental; just trying to describe the issue plainly. As an analogy I'd say that drugs are illegal because some people will make a wreck of themselves using them, though they get them anyway, in effect taking a potential legal fun thing away from those who can capably manage their lives.

Well I suppose something like that. Although I wouldn't advocate banning net use based on intelligence or drugs because some folk mess up.

I think we may have circled. I'm only saying that just because it's on the web doesn't make it true, though some things there are. There's a common sense, and to a larger extent a verification through numbers which must be weighed if the issue is meaningful to that person.

My attempted point regards net technology and only to point out its effect of eliminating epistemological filters. The obvious and incontrovertible consequence is that nuts emerge from the woodwork and have much more influence than they would otherwise. This makes discernment more; not less difficult.

That's something we always had to deal with in other mediums, and now we are much more experienced in that. Just because someone wrote it, doesn't make it true or valuable, though studies have shown that people have always given the written word more credibility than the spoken one. And epistemological filters will never be eliminated, and rightly so. Vis-à-vis epistemology the only other option we know of is an ontology; the proponents of which are apparently unaware that it converts to epistemology the millisecond after it is thought and/or communicated.

Nano-second is more today.

Elitist. It is the very nature of the beast Leviathan.

Ad hominemist. Regardless. While you slept, I put a rudimentary approach on your machine. This part is un-deniable.

That you put it there or the BS?

Both, my fellow feigned recalcitrant. You will read it.

And if I don't?

Then you don't. Your loss and I'm not giving tests. But you will because you can't help it.

I'm not discussing my female friends with you.

Why do you think that these yids dress so weird?

Definitely habit.

That's Christian. What courses didn't you say you have been taking?

Because she was the first to die and there were no other bodies there already?

They seem to want cult status and mass market sales, without communicating with their audience.

Agree. Lately I've been having nice thoughts about them; hope they have a good time and please excuse me.

There's always been a bit of celebrity culture in the literary world, but I think it must be more so now; screen adaptations, big bucks, general celeb culture, social media etc. Yes, some low selling books have gone movie, maybe big bucks, but I can't remember any po-mo one which did. Most authors make more money through their speaking engagements, writing classes, TV appearances, articles for litmags, et al (medium money) than they do from book sales, and the po-mo guys participate here at lower rates than the big sellers.

Celebrity with little remuneration is a stupid pain-in-the-ass, but I guess each has to learn that for themselves.

Ontological vs. epistemological. (offtemological). The crux of the biscuit is that on has the advantage over off, despite off's existential support, in that whatever on says becomes a second later off, and on would insist that what matters is what on has yet to provide in the future. This negates the value of performance or credibility. Further, one cannot know on without having experienced off, and vice versa.

Post 2010 B.S.

"I'm only going to tell you this because I love you dad. You know that. Right? You don't have to say anything, but I wish you'd take that apprehensive look off your face. It's not all that bad, and I'm only saying it with the best of intentions. We internet inundated Millennials already know everything we want to know. In less than a half hour we can google it and get it from eight sources. We'll probably get to all of it at our own pace. So, the thing is dad, and have I recently said that I love you, is that it is no longer necessary to preach anything at us. We either know what you're going to say already or don't give a wet one about the subject. No, no. Don't interrupt. I know what you're going to say, and no matter how you slice it, you can't force us to accept it, and we won't until the day it gets our interest. So, all you can do is be annoying, and make us space out while we politely sit through the long diatribe. See, the cat is out of the bag, and he-she has no intention of going back in, and even if he-she did, nobody knows where the bag went. Yes, you know that and you've known that since before I was born dad, but you see, I know it too, and it's as if ....... Let me put it a more concrete way. Remember when you were in college, and taking a required course that you really didn't have any interest in? The prof was doing what they all do at age 50; trying to sound young and "with it" while their un-returned smiles and guffaws only painfully showed how "without it" they were. Sure, there were a few students, who either out of sympathy or a suck up for grades asked the right question to encourage Mr. Without It to continue on and feel that he was the modern day incarnation of "The Pied Piper of Hamelin,"

"The Pied Piper of Hamelin" by Robert Browning; modified public domain.

while he was being the modern day incarnation of "Aqualung."

Stylized cover of "Aqualung" by Jethro Tull; property of the author.

Don't get me wrong, dad. We Millennials are not haters and we'll even do damage of omission not to appear as such, and the generalities expressed here are not directed at you. Don't look so bored with this. Those blank eyes and shrugs as if you've been through it all before are quite presumptuous in assuming that you know where I'm going with this, which you really don't dad. It's not as you think it is anymore. You can't know where I'm going with this, as I'm kind of alternating between going backwards and sideways. ......... I know that you disapprove of me and are hurt because of that name change. But, you just make those little jokes whenever the subject comes up and that puts a damper on the whole thing, and the conversation now segues into that Khazar stuff which has nothing to do with anything, while your only son is standing there dying for an opportunity to set things right, because I love you dad, and need you to sincerely say that it's all right. I mean you do, but at the same time you put this conversation ending sarcasm on it. No matter how much you hurt, I could then explain to you how I was hurting even more. I was all right with most everybody at school one on one. Okay, the shiksas were hockin' me in China over a little schtuppin'. But, whenever there was a group, I'd try to enter, and always always always got the cold shoulder. Things would suddenly get quiet and they'd all be looking at me, as if I was supposed to say or do something which would make them comfortable in their peer group, as if it was necessary to show in some way that none of them were close to me. I felt like "Nosferatu" in that old movie. And I don't even

"Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror;" a 1922 German Expressionist horror film, directed by F. W. Murnau, starring Max Schreck; modified public domain.

have a bald head or a tight fitting black dress. That was supposed to be funny, and you're making no reaction. You're just sitting there stoically staring at the floor to avoid any eye contact. At least say it was a lousy joke! Just wait until I get a real bald head and start prancing around here in a dress. Everybody's doing it now. You should have seen the tsuris it caused with the prom committee. Oy vay, you should have seen old, effeminate Mr. Rudolph and old, mannish Ms. Taylor try to come up with some sort of program without using some of the currently un-acceptable words, before finally coming up with the rule that if one wore a gown, the other would have to wear a tuxedo. And you know there were even some complaints about that, so wanting to avoid embarrassing publicity, Mr. Rudolph did not "man" the gate prom night, claiming a serial diarrhea attack, and everybody came in just as they wanted. You might think that another attempt at humor, but it's true. When I went in the Men's Room I thought that I was sharing it with a waterlogged dead animal carcass giving its final reek and thoughts on the whole matter while in one of the stalls; "Bropopopopop, oh Jesus, brapoopa, bipbipbipbipbip, purazit, plop, plop, blam." The kids used the Ladies Room as Ms. Taylor didn't show up, citing some difficulties she was having with her oscillator. Come on, dad. Even the kids had something to say when I'd leave. They'd sort of take turns watching me retreat, as none wanted me to see them looking, and I know they'd be saying Jew, Jew, Jew. I could see and hear the tiny little snickers. And the girls were even worse. I mean, you know those kinds of girls who go with like anybody? That was rhetorical. Well, they wouldn't go with me. Do you have any idea of how much loneliness that lack of STD experience caused me? That was rhetorical too. But, I was culturally deprived. Mark Weston. David Leibowitz. They're just names. Like Snoop Dog, Eminem, Fifty Cent. They're street names. We just be what we feel ......... as much as we're allowed. Better for the business too. Who's going to pay any attention to a serious rapper named Melvin Plotzker? See, it's just me and always will be. And you're my dad, always will be, and I'm glad. I love you; dad and I want you to seriously say that it's all right. ... If it is. Or say it's not all right and that you'll hate me forever. Just to be clear, I'm not asking for permission to be a bald head in a tight dress. Marilyn Manson did that a decade before I was even paying any attention to outfits and head tops. You should see what they've graduated to now. The chazerei goyim got the chutzpah to schlep around in schmootzy schmattes and no one even bothers to kibbitz or kvetch. And I haven't even told you the worst part yet. Whenever there were a few people standing around, one would say to me something like; "Jew see that" or "Jew do the math homework." The chutzpah! I mean if it's right in front of our faces I no doubt saw it and I always do the ferschlugginer math homework. Please excuse my use of the "F" word. I can't even object, because then I'll be accused of being paranoid or something, but there's no confusing "Did you" with "Jew." There's no "J" in "did you." One has three letters, the other six. And even if the narish goyim can't spell, they sound differently. One has two distinct syllables and the other one. And even the alter cocker female teachers did it. They'd point at me and say; "Jew know the answer." They didn't even phrase it as a question, and it gets all the bimbo shiksas giggling. Of course I know the answer, but I'm not telling that klafte. Dad, I'm pouring out my broken heart. Say something already. ...... I'm not a Jew and everyone is laughing when they call me one. Dad, dad, I'm here feeling like a schmaltzy shlimazel trying to schmooze with you and getting bubkes. Dad! Dad! Can't you understand? Dad? I love you dad. Please tell me you do. It's not a rejection of your name. I just don't want to be incorrectly seen as Jewish in a world full of goyishe schlemiels. Nu? ...... Bubkes, again. It doesn't even matter in a religious sense, as we were never that, and Jewish is a religion; not a race, I know, but the idiots ignore all the evidence to the contrary and treat it as such, the supposed ignorance a possible cover for anti-Semitism. And I don't have to live that, and I haven't had to since I became a Mark Weston. You should be happy for me. ..... Ah, plotz. Just plotz on the whole magillah. I don't need this agraveyshan. I got enough from the shiksas. No, I wasn't referring to the STD's. Now you got me talking to myself. Look, now you got me the agita, and I'm babbling like a schmuck. No, I didn't mean that, dad. I love you and need your approval. Well, need isn't exactly the right word. It's not as if I'm going to die over it or anything. It's more like being stricken with debilitating tuchis impairment."

Clumsily stumbling to the other side of the table where his dad sat, still with head down, Mark shook him and imploringly said; "Dad, dad. Can't you hear me? Please say that you're not mad."

Somewhat jolted, Isaac looked up and said; "Oh. Oh. Sorry, son. I was just reading an interesting attachment to an e-mail which Joyce sent me about an excavation in Khazaria. ....... But, please continue on, David. That stuff about internetted Millennials had my interest. Really. Would you mind re-picking up from there? Don't look at the floor, son. I love you.

Just joking again. Good gosh, golly, and smelly gefilte fish, my goyishe boy. I heard everything you said. I am capable of multi-tasking. But, first listen to this. It is so interesting. Atil, the capital city of the Khazar Empire from about 750 to 969, has been found. A Russian team has located the remnants of the lost city in the newly found 9th and 10th century layers at Samosdelka. They found the remains of an ancient brick fortress, which contained characteristic Khazar yurts, portable round tents of varying sizes. This is a hugely important discovery. We can now shed light on how the Khazars actually lived. We know very little about them; their traditions, their death rites, their culture. The city was bisected by dried up riverbeds with a central island citadel of fired brick located on an island in the center of the city, which confirms speculation. Traces of a widespread fire were found at Samosdelka in an Atil layer. The excavators have also found the remains of a large wooden ship. Speculation about why it's there ensues as Atil was believed to be then miles away from the nearest navigable water. Numerous medallions bearing a cross insignia were found in it. Wow! That sure puts a crimp in the traditional Judaic conversion theory. And that ship might have meant that Atil was near water at the time and they intended to use it to sail away en masse because of the attacks, give or take a century or so. What do you think, David?"

"I don't know. The thing I always wondered about was why those old towns got buried in the first place. I mean, like didn't they ever sweep up the place?" "Are you taking any archeology next year?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

" .......................... "

"You know; I'm not all that interested, and suspect that long term abandonment is the answer. But, it's like those questions many sites on the net ask you. It's something you never really thought about, but since they asked, you register an opinion. Then somebody else says you're wrong, and somebody else writes in a whole wiki history of the subject, and someone says get to the point, and yadda yadda. The site can now boast 4+ new hits, and 4+ 'users' time is used to promote the interest of whoever was responsible for asking the uninteresting question. It's a good trap as it's tempting when you're bored or have a need to show how smart you are."

"I'm getting hungry, kiddo. I'm going to heat up come nice gefilte fish. Want I should make some for you."

"Only if they're nice."

Chiding Mark's Sadness

Sounding impatient, Isaac adopted a desultory manner to say; "If you can get that woe down on paper while it's still fresh in your mind, that is the number one popular genre in the lit world. It might be worth the effort to put it down, if you can figure out how to make these vultures pay for it.  
On a more human level, let me guess. Your school project boss spent some cheap money and got some internet technology outdated by the year of the flood, and can now monitor what's on your screen and actually expects some work to be done for your stipend. Lot of damn fascists like that. When the revolution comes heads are gonna roll.  
If it's something else take some solace in this. Enjoy today as it will be undoubtedly worse tomorrow. I mean that both literally and as a metaphor. In youth, you still expect that you can fix up things, though in actuality you never will, no matter how simple those things seem now. Time is on your side, as whatever it is, will be worse tomorrow, and then you get that re-thinking, mid-life crisis with the spiritual gurus who pass the hat at a drop of it, then comes the arthritis, osteoporosis and the heartbreak of psoriasis. And at that point you then fully realize that nothing ever got fixed, and the only change was that more s*** was added to the list, as well as the bulbous Depends Adult Undergarment you now need to wear, and it will continue to get worse until you die, which isn't very far off, and chances are it will be a protracted painful fadeout, during which you'll have to lie as much as a US President, and say to all those who barge in on you any time convenient for them, without regard as to whether or not you're puking from the chemo, that you liked them and will miss them, and allow their grinning, cold hand to touch yours, as if you don't they will continue to hover and linger, like a horsefly scouting for bulls***, and the healthcare ersatz 'professionals' are now cracking down on the OxyContin prescriptions they previously extolled and enabled.  
You see, son, you are presenting me with a triple bind. I've been trying to avoid it as if I say that I don't care that you changed your name you will only hear 'I don't care,' and if I say that I disapprove you probably will make some sort of mental big s*** out of it, and hand your money over to the quacks this retarded government, which gives out money on a first a**h*** come basis won't even reimburse. So, I laugh, allowing you to interpret that any way you deem fit, and you choose to interpret it as any way you deem unfit. Then you insist that I make some sort of statement. Okay. I'll oblige. Here it is. Ready? If you decide to prance around with a shaved head and tight black dress, I'll find that amusing if you don't also shave your face and legs; but I won't take any pictures in either case. Hope that helps. Enjoy today, and best wishes on the broadening of your 'cultural deprivation' as I sincerely wish you all the luck in picking up some of those shiksa STD's tomorrow. If you have any difficulties, just put a potato in your pocket."

Trying to maintain dry eyes they embraced; and Mark whispered; "Gee, Dad. You're the greatest kalye aun farfaln mentsh of them all."

"Think that's easy without being Jewish? Thank you son. I love you Mark. Don't the Jewish girls of today get STD's too?"
**4**

Instructions

How to Play Chess: Rules and Basics

It's never too early or late to learn how to play chess; the most popular game in the world with bots. Like anything, it is first necessary to know the rules. Learning them is easy. Learning how and when to break them is a subject for advanced study.

Step 1 - How to set up the chessboard

One generally uses their hands, but any body part with which the setter is proficient is now acceptable. At the beginning of the game the chessboard is laid out so that each player has the white, or light color square in the bottom right hand side. Red may momentarily confuse, but just remember anything but black. The chess pieces are then arranged the same way each time. The second row, or rank, is filled with pawns. The rooks go in the corners, then the knights next to them, followed by the bishops, and finally the queen, who always goes on her own matching color; white queen on white, black queen on black, and the king on the remaining square.

Step 2 - How the chess pieces move

Again, one generally uses their hands, but any body part with which the player is proficient is now acceptable. Bots send messages to their attached human flunky, and that flunky generally uses their hands, etc. etc. Each of the six different kinds of pieces moves differently. Pieces cannot move through other pieces, though the knight can jump over other pieces, and can never move onto a square with one of their own pieces. However, they can be moved to take the place of an opponent's piece which is then captured. Pieces are generally moved into positions where they can capture other pieces, by landing on their square and then replacing them, defend their own pieces in case of capture, or control squares, important or not, in the game.

How to move the king

Though rather immobile, it is said that the king is the most important piece as it's kaput when he's landed on by an opponent, but he is one of the weakest. The few remaining socialists consider pawns to be stronger. The king can only move one square in any direction; up, down, to the sides, and diagonally. The king may never move himself into check, where he could be captured, but sometimes due to inattention does, getting a do-over. When the king is attacked by another piece this is called "check."

How to move the queen

Methodology varies. The queen is the most powerful piece. She can move in any one straight direction; forward, backward, sideways, or diagonally, as far as possible as long as she does not move through any of her own pieces. And, like with all pieces, if the queen captures an opponent's piece her move is over.

How to move the rook

I know. Silly, as it would seem logical that at least the foundation would remain behind, but the writer didn't make up the rules. The rook may move as far as it wants, but only forward, backward, and to the sides. The rooks are particularly powerful pieces when they are protecting each other and working together.

How to move the bishop

Encouraged by gifts of wine, the bishop may move as far as it wants, but only diagonally. Each bishop starts on one color, light or dark and must always stay on that color. BLM has unresolved issues with this. Bishops work well together because they cover up each other's weaknesses.

How to move the knight

Knights move in a very different way from the other pieces; and absolutely drive some younger players crazy, going two squares in one direction, and then one more move at a 90 degree angle; an "L". Knights are also the only pieces that can move over other pieces.

How to move the pawn

Pawns are unusual because they move and capture in different ways: they move forward, but capture diagonally, suggestive of a societal perversion. Pawns can only move forward one square at a time, except for their very first move where they can move forward two squares. Pawns can only capture one square diagonally in front of them. They can never move or capture backwards or forwards.

Step 3 - Discover the special rules

There are a few special rules in chess that may not seem logical at first. They were created to make the game more fun and interesting.

How to Promote a Pawn in Chess

If a pawn reaches the other side of the board it can become any other chess piece, called promotion. In practice the pawn becomes a queen and the writer will refrain from comment, except in the rare instances that in becoming a knight it can simultaneously check the opposing king. Ahem.

How to do "en passant"

The writer believes that this rule book is incorrect here, but will diligently state it anyway. If a pawn moves out two squares on its first move, and by doing so lands to the side of an opponent's pawn, that other pawn has the option of capturing the first pawn as it passes by. Don't ask me.

How to Castle

This move allows you to do two important things all in one move; get your king to safety, and get your rook out of the corner and into the game. On a player's turn he may move his king two squares over to one side and then move the rook from that side's corner to right next to the king on the opposite side. In order to castle, the following conditions must be met;

1) It must be the king's first move.

2) It must be the rook's first move.

3) There cannot be any pieces between them.

4) The king may not be in check or pass through check.

Trust me. It's a lot easier than it sounds.

Step 4 - Find out who makes the first move

It's always white. Super duh!!!!!!! You guessed it. This is another BLM issue.

Step 5 - Review the rules of how to win

This happens when the king is put into check and cannot get out of check. Read the details when in the mood for fantasy, as in practicality you will never beat a bot.

How to Draw

See previous sentence.

Step 6 - Study basic strategies

There are four simple things that every chess player should know;

1) Protect your king. This may seem obvious to some, but you'd be surprised how many players stick the vulnerable little guy out in the middle of all the hub-bub.

2) Don't give pieces away. You kind of need them for stuff.

3) Control the center.

4) Use all of your pieces. If you don't use it, you'll lose it.

Step 7 - Practice by playing lots of games

The most important thing you can do to get better is to play lots. It doesn't matter if you play at home with family, out with friends, or online with weirdos, you have to play the game a lot to improve. These days it's easy to find a game.

Your probability of winning

Zero. Even the most outdated of bots can beat a human grandmaster every time. You can continue on your masochistic path, learn to cheat which is not discussed here, or kick the bot. The latter is suggested.

CHAPTER ONE AGAIN

A BRIEF HISTORY OF POST-MODERNISM

DURING THE 1960'S AND 1970'S POLYTHEISM MADE ITS PRESENCE KNOWN. PEOPLE INCORRECTLY SAW THE NEAR-PERFECT DEITY AS THEIR VERY IMPERFECT UNDERSTANDING OF IT, I'LL CALL "POLLY." BURDENED AND OVERWHELMED, NEAR-PERFECT MONOTHEISM WAS ANXIOUSLY AWAITING THIS DAY. HOWEVER, PEOPLE ALSO INCORRECTLY SAW IT'S DEITIFIC NEAR-PERFECTION AS THEIR VERY IMPERFECT UNDERSTANDING OF IT; I'LL CALL "MON." POLLY SOUGHT ITS RIGHTFUL PLACE, SOMETIMES PEACEABLY, SOMETIMES MISBEHAVING. MON RELIED ON ITS TRADITIONAL PENCHANT FOR WAR. IN ANGER, BUT SUSPECTING THAT POLLY WAS RIGHT, MON SOUGHT ITS SWORD, NOW FLACCID FROM DOUBT AND USED IT TO WHIP POLLY. MON WAS TOO STUPID, SELF-CENTERED AND ENTRENCHED TO SEE THAT THE LOVING ACCEPTANCE OF POLLY WAS IN BOTH THEIR SELF-INTERESTS. POLLY ATTEMPTED A RETREAT, BUT THE CAT WAS OUT OF THE BAG AND THE BAG IS LOST IN THE WIND. THE IMPERFECT MUST DEAL FAIRLY WITH EACH OTHER OR DIE. IT'S YOUR MOVE, MON. PUT YOUR CURRENTLY USELESS SWORD DOWN A BIT AND USE YOUR LOUD MOUTH TO SING. POLLY STILL HAS ONE GOOD EAR LEFT AND LOVES MUSIC. THE END? DEPENDS.

A BRIEFER HISTORY OF EVERYTHING AS CURRENTLY MANIFESTED

THEY MET AT A PARTY EACH ATTENDED OUT OF A SENSE OF OBLIGATION, HAVING NO INITIAL DESIRE TO GO. HE SAID SOMETHING HE THOUGHT WITTY TO HER, WANTING TO BE LIKED (WTBL) AND SHE LAUGHED UPROARIOUSLY WTBL. SHE SAID SOMETHING SHE CONSIDERED WITTY WTBL AND HE LAUGHED UPROARIOUSLY WTBL. THE COUPLE WHO LIKED AND INTRODUCED THEM LEFT, THINKING IT BETTER THAT THEY GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER IN PRIVACY. THEY DROVE HOME TOGETHER, HE TRYING TO UNDERSTAND HER WITTICISM AND SHE TRYING TO UNDERSTAND HIS.

Small lettered and un-bold redundancy

Everyone in this world, except me, is crippled, only they don't know it. In the beginning was the WORD and we are advised that it became flesh, at least according to a translation from the Aramaic monopolized by the few. Improvements have come our way; now we still have WORD; but in infinite variety and flavors, including eighty million new words, sixty different ways of displaying them, a plethora of fonts, methods to incorporate pictures, etc., etc. The possibilities have become endless; at least as far as I can calculate eighty million times eighty million times eighty million, on and on. So many new ways to tell the story.

WORDS DON'T COME

Chloe

Marie and "Marie" by Randy Newman; property of the author, the latter under both the "fair use" and "transformative" doctrines.

Abby's Kitten

Isaac had never discussed his recent phone call from Abigail with anyone. She had specifically asked him to keep it a secret, though half of it had to have been previously known by the entire family, excepting him. Abby was upset over how quiet the house had gotten with him gone and Mark off at school. She used to sometimes wish for quiet, but now that her wish had been granted, she'd learned to be more careful about what she wished for, at times making an attempt to circumvent mistakes by a wish for infinite do-overs.

Abby said that when Mom came home from work she'd just flop on the couch near the two storied window and listlessly stare through it, her dog-eared, but presently un-opened paperback copy of "The Great Gatsby" at her side, to which Isaac responded by saying that he had his copy of "Robinson Crusoe" for exactly the same reason, then attempting some feeble, interrupted joke about not getting everything done by Friday. Abby burst through the yarn, no longer able to restrain excitedly saying that she had gotten a kitten, which she had named Ball as in ballistic, as he was such a scamp, with so much energy, and explosive physical ability that he hopped all the way from the floor to the top of the refrigerator, then got too curious looking at the space in the back, fell right in there, and started howling like a mumbo-jumboed fantod, and since this had happened right after she had come home from school, she had to wait three more long hours for mom to get home as she couldn't move the refrigerator by herself. Ball's head would appear at the side edge spaces, but it was already too big to fit through the spaces, left and right, sporting only an inch of leeway, because of the efficient standardization of appliance sizes and the caves designed to hold them.

At first Abby was thrilled to see Ball's head, as she took it as an indication that he was all right, but in a few minutes settled back into the scary possibility that only his head was all right, and that it was very possible that his unseen body was bleeding to death, as a refrigerator behind contains many wires and possibly impaling type things which were exposed for some stupid reason cat-less designers could not imagine. Like, duh.

But, he really was all right, because when mom got there we slid the thing a crooked foot and Ball came running out, and while I was so happy to see that I wanted to pick him up and cuddle him forever, he ran right by me, and went to his dishes for food and water first. He allowed cuddling after that, but you know, after all that, he wasn't the least bit scared, as an hour later I found him on top of the refrigerator again, looking down into the hole. He does that a lot, and I pull him off whenever I catch him.

"He's a leaper, and is now racing around the house, as if it was the great wide open plains, galloping, spinning, leaping for the sheer joy of the run itself. I can't think of much on this earth that is more fun than a new kitten. He's soft and funny and acrobatic; make that 'acrocatic.' And he won't be a kitten forever. You've got to get back quickly to see this."

Isaac sincerely hoped that he would; then returned to "Robinson" and his tiny window.

End of Book 1 of 13

