By Pitchfork © 2011

Blog of Week of March 28, 2011 and April 4, 2011

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Freely quote with attribution

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Morris:  Emil, you wanted to see me?

Emil:  Yes, my dear friend, I did.  There's something you should respect for what it could become.

Morris:  Something about you?  You’ve not looked, acted yourself lately.  Is something bad about you that weighs on your mind, dear friend - wastes your strength and talent?  Are you going to make it, Emil?

Emil:  Something, yes.  About me – just me – no.  Something bad might could be about all of us.  Yes, wasting strength and talent.  Yes.  I’ll make it.  You’ll make it, too.  However, in His name.

Morris:  What, Emil?

Emil:  Summertime, Morris, and the livin’ ain’t going to be easy, like the Gershwin Lullaby does not say.

Morris:  Summertime?  Whose summertime?  Summertime when?  Summertime where?

Emil:  Ours, Emil, and others; but, for now I’m looking at ours.  This summertime – in a few months.  Right where we’re standing.  Here.  Terra sorta firma.  Amerika.

Morris:  Us?  Now?  Here?

Emil:  Us – and others.  Now – soon it would seem possible.  Here – and elsewhere.

Morris:  I know you see things.  Hear things.  Understand things.  Tell me, dear friend.

Emil:  Morris, imagine Amerika is a place with a big wall around it, or a big dam, or whatever to protect it from chaos – broadly social, financial, spiritual.  There are other sovereigns similarly protected; however, Amerika’s walls or dams or what-not are the biggest.  The rest are scattered within those high places.  That is, doom Amerika, doom the rest.  Oh, this is not all one-way, but it might as well be.

Morris:  OK.  And when – a beginning or an end?

Emil:  By June, if I had to bet.  We'll hear it, see it, feel it before June.  First markers are already out, red flag's thrown.  Age-old problems.  New-age days.

  Please, dear friend, give me a month or so either way, but June's OK with me.  An unmistakable beginning.  Pressure cracks could be unmistakable by June.

Morris:  Pressure?  Cracks?

Emil:  It’s a cumulative thing, don’t you know.  This bad gets added to that bad gets added to another bad.  Morris, I have this piece of paper on my desk.  I drew a circle on the paper and a line down the middle of the circle to make two half-circles.  Good things happen for our country, and I put a dot on the right side of the half-circle line.  Bad things happen, and I put a dot on the left side of the half-circle line.

Morris:  How long have you been doing this?

Emil:  A little over two years.

Morris:  What’s the circle look like?

Emil:  Like something off of Hermann Rorschach’s desktop on the left side – the bad stuff side.  Clean on the right side – the good stuff side.  I did put a few dots on the right side, but I had to erase each one.  Who knows how a court appeal’s gonna go?  This is about the limp and leaderless.  What about the Scott Browns of Amerika?  The Bill O’Reillys?  The heft and haul of The Hateful?  What’s yet to be lost in the blind illusions of the elite?  

Morris:  Pressure?

Emil:  Money, food.  That's all about which this need be to start up.  And it has started, and the inevitable stalks and strikes then lies in wait then stalks and strikes again.  In a couple of months – QE3, overt or covert or not at all. Bond rollovers priced off the cliff.  Precious metals’ mismanagement overrun by market demand, betraying the social sepses of currency crime.  Inflation and more, more, more, and the growing shadow hot on heels.  Derivatives hard-by the too-hot-to-handle borderline - the cliff, for them, too.   A third or is it a fourth politicians' war lost in a row?  Apostates' tolling for governments' good riddance to hell, especially the federales - the greater the governance, the greater the good riddance I'll always say.  The paradigm lost in relearning the hard way that historical imperatives cast way beyond a lifetime’s memory.  Jacob’s descendants closing on a neo-Masadaic moment.  'Holes to the left of me.  'Holes to the right of me.  Foot in mouth, head up butt . . . easier and easier to spot 'em.  Obummah, Rude, the lot of 'em - they gotta read what not in their sentenced souls.  Headless, heedless horses' asses.

Morris:  Cracks?

Emil:  Food battles, wars – not fights – battles, wars.  Crop lost, squandered.  Strident solipsism.  Opportunists’ insults and insinuations into social and cultural structure and function.  Civil skirmishes – people on people, governments on people, people on governments, even governments on governments as numbed notions of sovereignty soak up the fresh fullness of freedom - that blossom into standoffs and worse and surprising, stunning, successful oppositions and dolorous defeats.  And depravity.  And deprivation.  American money worth less on their way to worthless.  Governments’ true colors unfurl in overarching, overreaching, overbearing controls and conceits and confiscations.  The rout of law’s rule.  Subsistence; our great-grandfathers' standard of living.  The crueler consequences of cruel consequences, now and then.

Morris:  What do you see?  What do you hear?  What touches you?  What do you know?

Emil:  I see the tortured tugging and tearing at our social fabric; I see ended expectation and authority; I see the best and the worst of human imperfectability; I see consuming commitment to community or consuming commitment to corruption and chaos; I see the unprepared in panic.  I look around and see it's not the same everywhere - some sooner, some later, some lesser, some greater.  I hear the whining of weakness of wills and ways and wisdom; I hear the wailing of the undefended and defenseless.  I reach for the touch of the greater Invisible Hand and fear for the feel of the coldest hand upon us.  Nine rifles speak volumes of brutality - doesn't matter whose got 'em.  I know that governance varies directly with individual irresponsibility.  Like that great man wrote and said, 'It's not just the scruff of the slue; it's the size of it, too.'

Morris:  By this summertime?

Emil:  May it not be so, my dear friend.  If not, then later.  It’s about when.  Now, it’s only about when.

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