Friday, January 29, 2016
Upon Whom the Ends
of the Ages Have Come…
A fantasy for an Apocalypse
© Ludis Cuckold (2015)
21 Unisexing The Commons Gay
Several months passed.
When the occasion arose, I asked Daisy whether Stud would hold to his word and marry her, Daisy answered that Stud had said nothing on the matter. When I added: “And you have no suspicion that he is simply yopting you for the sake of getting his nuts off, and still believe that he is banging you for the love of you?* Have you no concerns that you are putting yourself and the lives of your children at his pleasure?”
*An old Latvian saying has it: “To fight and to fuck is no sin. It is the power of love!”
Daisy responded with the standard response of post-Soviet de-communalized (I am tempted to say ‘decommissioned’) and despiritualized youths. I paraphrase: “We are free to do as we like. He and I are free to let go if we want. I have told him that if he wishes to leave, he is free to do so.” When I suggested that such a response offered no security to her children, and that a 22 year old yopter was hardly old enough to serve her children as a father, the reply repeatedly was the same: “He is free to go whenever he wishes.”
I was disappointed with “free” Latvija as never before. A great draft of wind was pulling all the curtains out the window, and whatever belief I had in Latvija as a community went with the birds.
It occurred to me to ask if Daisy would consider marrying me as an alternative.
She looked surprised, and answered neither yes nor no. I took advantage of the hesitation. The next question I asked was: “Will you marry me if I win the Eurojackpot lottery of 23 million euros?” That sum was the prize for the draw that weekend.
Daisy did not speak, but nodded her head.
“Am I to understand that if I win 23 million euros in the lottery, you will leave Stud and come to me of your own free will?”
Again Daisy said nothing, but in a silent affirmation squeezed my hand. I was not persuaded. Still, her answer pleased me. It sent a message, however tentative, that if the price was right she was willing to negotiate. On the other hand, I became the lottery ticket’s Pimp. Or perhaps it is the other way around.
“What about your children?” I asked “I have helped you, and now have even proposed to you. I doubt I would have extended myself as much if you did not have children. Or do you think that you are worth the price for no other reason than your ego and the meat on your bones? You surely know that a local whore, even the one who has befriended you, will pull me off for twenty euros?”
I then showed Daisy the lottery ticked which I had bought for the next ten weeks running. She was impressed: for one, because I could afford to buy that many chances at a time; secondly, because she could assert her skepticism and be wise that my investment would come to naught. There was little I could do, but explain that my forebears, the (stupid?) Herrnhuters, had let important decisions be decided by drawing lots in the belief that the outcome was part of God’s will.
Unfortunately, this also brought up the question of whether God had willed that the Herrnhuter contribution and self-sacrifice in the creation of Latvija be ignored and brought to naught.
Given that we now can (287 years after the Herrnhuter arrival in Livonia) see that secular decision makers and their ‘spiritual’ advisors are worse than those who invested their trust in God, and the outcomes of decisions made in Washington, Moscow, Beijing, Brussels, and Rome have led to horrific disasters only the hubris of great fools can cause, perhaps it is time to return to the notion that the universe was not created by anyone of human intelligence.
Though I realize that my chances of winning a lottery are infinitesimally small, and robbing a bank is a more certain way to come by money, I have been buying lottery tickets for some time. While the idea of winning may be unreasonable, it is desperate reason that urges me to try communicating with the scarab of synchronicity.
As the man said, the banks have no money, only liquid assets now running dry as the California aquifer. Say, I had bought a ticket and won the 1.6 billion dollar Powder-puff lottery that was recently peddled in America. What would I do with the money? Surely, I would throw away my shoes, walk barefoot across America, and pass out money to everyone who came my way and denounced the Federal Reserve.
Why would I do such a foolish thing? Because by the time I got to the other side of America, the dollar could be worthless. As America is playing its Trump* card, a world of Cuckolded Peoples are watching and waiting for Trump to knock out the Kenyan globalist playing out America’s future on a golf course.
Money buys the individual. That is a proven fact.
But the need to protect one’s self and family created the community wherefrom the Commons. That, too, is a fact.
From what I have read, the Commons did not originate for fear of men, but for fear of tigers and like. The original fortress was of two blocks of houses facing each other in a jungle clearing or along a river <=>. In a jungle the ‘street’ that ran between the houses was blocked off at either end by a gate. While the doorways of the houses faced the street, the walls of the houses faced out, abutted each other and were especially strong. If a tiger wished to eat a child, it would have to breach the gate at either end of the ‘street’ and face the village guards and the villagers themselves. If the houses were along a river, you put your faith in your boat and the current of the river to carry you to safety.
While money ‘frees’ the individual from the need of community, the absence of such a need unleashes a frenzied globalist fantasy of Utopia under One centralized government protected by nuclear bombs. The People’s slogan “In God We Trust” is replaced by the slogan “War is Peace” of exeptionalists. The exceptionalist U.S. government has unleashed at least 19 trillion dollars of debt (more than $58,000 per individual American) to guarantee that exceptionalism prevails and the rest of the world submits. So much for the descendants of the Pilgrims—they remember no more of history than the post-Soviet Latvians.
It does not take a genius to realize that with legitimate avenues to ‘communal life’ blocked by privatization, globalization, and passing of individual rights to corporations, humankind is facing corporate cannibalism. A thousand years between grinding teeth have destroyed the ability of the Commons to resist the government genius.
If one may guess, only the nullification of the Westphalian Peace Treaty will help create the conditions that renews the conditions that enable opposition to rampant secularism (artificial intelligence, virtual reality, democracy in an urban environment, fear of death, love without will, denial of other intelligence than human or human created AI, the Pope, etc.) and its wanton destruction of morality and life. If we think of it—is not life dependent on the forces that support community?
If I am correct in believing that the Muslim revolt against a libertine West embodies the degree of resistance required to bring down governments run by corporations, then the Pope in pseudo Rome is egg batter. Hopefully, Western Christians, too, are about to rise in a revolt of people determined to achieve a New World Order other than the one brought by the fascist communities of full-employment, aka government bureaucracies. As the Danish and other globalist governments (today a descendant of the Vikings, a Dane commands NATO) co-opt their citizenry, it becomes obvious how profoundly the U.S. has infiltrated and neutralized Europe as a political entity.
After returning to Latvija and noticing that the much hallooed reestablishment of Latvija as a post-Soviet State in no way reestablished Latvija as a republic of the Commons, but—instead of arresting those who were sabotaging a recovery—surrendered to ‘gay rights’ and ‘rainbow revolution’ activists advocating the virtual love of sex as replacement of natural love for community. Today these same advocates are advocating apologies to the Islamic Vikings for the rape of European women, while young European girls hide in closets.
Forced to become wise to the exploitation of minority opinion by governments in search of ever greater centralization of power, I reoriented my perspective regarding the nature of ‘democracy’. I began to understand George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” was a fairy tale that is more than just a tale about pigs and horses, but talks about a world ruled by empires. What else is a world fully globalized if not an Empire ruled by pigs—whether the Empire is in the East or West?
After I had digested the news that Daisy was not impressed by my offer of marriage, I, nevertheless, continued to argue that I would be ‘better’ for her children, than Stud. To make my point, I regularly bought the children bananas, which Daisy could not afford to buy.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Upon Whom the Ends
of the Ages Have Come…
A fantasy for an Apocalypse
© Ludis Cuckold (2015)
20 The Sorrows of Old Werther
The story told by the German poet Goethe that made him renown, and for which story he was to be known in particular (though he wrote many works, including the play “Faust”), was “The Sorrows of Young Werther”. The story in a few words:
A young artist visits the countryside, meets a young country girl, falls in love with her, then discovers that she is betrothed, and—like it or not—a lovers’ triangle develops. Realizing that he is the ‘guilty party’ or, if you will, the party that causes disharmony, and that Lotte will not renege on her betrothal, the young artist asks a friend for a loan of his pistols, and kills himself.
By taking suck of Daisy’s milk, and the fact that she was not shy about giving me her breast, led to a series of changing circumstances for me.
Though the difference in ages between us was more than fifty years, my adventurous spirit (my X once said that she admired me, because every time I fell on my face, I got up again and moved on) and physical contact with Daisy, caused me to acknowledge that my hormones and state of mind (unbeknownst to myself) had found me in need of love.
With the apparent failure of ‘renewed’ post-Soviet Latvija [its leading political party led by a former Chair of the Latvijan Saeima (Senate) whose assistant is famous for giving the Latvian Commons ‘the finger’], it did not take long for me to realize that the unexpected event, was a message from my ‘vegetative nervous system (aka the first of our three brains) that because off the failure of my community to survive yet another war, I was at a loss and in need of love. Whether I should focus my love on Daisy or whether she just happened to be there when the proverbial Jungian scarab fell on the desk, was a question that only time would answer.
There was, however, another question: What did Daisy think or make of it?
Daisy said nothing. If the offer of her milk was an act of surrender, she did not follow up on it with any other gesture.
Still, if it was all an accident, Daisy’s milk served as the ‘host’ and, though I am not a believer in either transubstantiation or miracles, she had let the happenstance become a transubstantiating event for me.
So, how does one read one’s own heart?
If it was my heart that had spoken, it had probably done so, because it knew that Daisy was not the first woman to close the gap between need and succor. I remembered reading a story how Florence Nightingale had offered her breast to a wounded and dying soldier. Maybe it was some strange synchronicity that transubstantiated Daisy into Florence. Was I the dying soldier? Perhaps, perhaps not. My X once told me that the one thing she liked about me was that whenever I fell on my face, I got up again and went on. Daisy certainly put new life in me.
Given that the Latvian Commons had gone dead on itself (the dead and I continue to speak the same language, but somehow it is no longer the same), Daisy’s courage in facing me down (if that is what she had done) soon became my new emotional anchor to a Latvija its leadership had happily buried and sent the bill to the dead Stalin for his contribution. Though the relationship between Daisy and me was not sexual, the sexual overtones were necessary to make my homecoming more than that of a skater skating over ice by the light of a half moon.
Daisy did not draw back her hand when I reached to touch it, but it led to a disappointment. When I attempted to ‘pet’ her thigh, she took the occasion to tell me that she did not wish me to continue.
Alright, I had over reached, but had she not opened the door just a little? The Greek word for ‘host’ is dora, gift. For the Latvijans ‘dore’ means a hole in the trunk of a tree where the bees nest and gather honey.
Just how much was Daisy opposed to my touching her? After all, the forebears of Latvians, while being sexual moralists and objecting to sexual contact by way of sexual organs other than for creative purposes, likely did not object (so goes my argument) to sexual contact if it occurred by way petting.*
*While the memory of petting among today’s Latvian youths has been practically eliminated by consumerist morality advocated by ‘business’, their forebears, by way of the Bosnian Bogomils, and Italian and French Cathars, may have been the inventors of the first condoms as a result of petting as a form of affection. As a widely traveled German geographer Johan Kohl observed in the early part of the 19th century, the mitten is more than a hand warmer among Latvians by way of being a favored gift object. A gift of hand knit mittens among proto-Latvijans (and possibly hand knit socks among the Livs) was a way of saying “yes” in a language that had no yes word. As a gift that was exchanged between the sexes, mittens and socks were likely used as an object that brought the sexes together. Which is to say, petting among men and women using mittens as an object of modesty had it both ways: it facilitated sexually meaningful contact (interestingly, mittens were also used by beekeepers) even as it avoided unwanted pregnancies.
I heard rumors that Daisy’s stepfather Stefan continued to make sexual advances on her. I tried to persuade her to leave the shack, where the family lived in one room. Daisy told me that she had applied to the village authorities to assign her living space in the village.
As it happened, such a living space became available. Though the apartment had been used as a meeting place by local alcoholics and the walls were mildewed and nearly black, Daisy accepted the offer in a hurry.
Apparently the hurry was because her stepfather Stefan continued to violate her. Indeed, since her return from England and recent birth, he had forced her to submit to him and had caused her to become pregnant again. I was shocked to discover that Daisy had recently had her second abortion.
Only by means of such belated information did I begin to understand that Daisy’s attachment to me and acceptance of my help was related to such hidden and untold abuse.
Through a media contact, I succeeded in persuading the town officials to pay for the renovation of the rooms assigned Daisy and her children. Nevertheless, I was surprised that after I showed up to help paint the rooms, I was introduced to a young man, whom Daisy said was her cousin. She also told me that—in deference to my age—he was to take my place as painter.
It did not take long for me to realize that ‘cousin’ was a word meant to divert me, and that the young man was (like for some women their ‘gay friend’) her new Stud. In short, this was her way of escaping, both, her stepfather and me.
You may think, ha, ha, that’s that.
No, not actually, because love has ways of persisting, even harnessing sexuality in unusual ways when denied.
Though Daisy stopped asking me for work and did not visit me, there were occasions when the fact that she had children and was economically distressed, and because I had a car and sometimes money, an occasional call from Daisy was inevitable when one of her children got sick and needed to go to the hospital, when there was a toothache and the only dentist’s office open was the next town over. I never refused to come help.
Such occasions kept us in touch.
I used these occasions to speak frankly. I did not hide my point of view. I told Daisy that I was surprised that she believed that Stud could protect her better than I could. I told she was making a mistake if she believed that her ‘cousin’ could protect her better than her ne’er do well friend in England. I tried to avoid speaking impatiently. When I touched her hand, she did not pull it back. Sometimes I wondered if she responded only because I was so many years older and she felt that an old man was little more than a thing among other things. Was this the reason I was useful to her?
When I discovered that her ‘cousin’ was eight years younger than she, I became angry. Her Stud in England, too, had been younger than she. (I had my ideas why this was so.) I could not resist asking Daisy if she and her latest lover planned to marry. Daisy responded by saying that she did not know, but that it was a possibility. Then she asked me why I thought marriage was necessary.
Soon after one such conversation, Daisy asked me to drive her to work. She also asked ne to give Stud a lift. I got up my courage and used the occasion to broach the question of marriage. Stud replied “yes”, he would marry her. While the statement seemed firm enough, I had my doubts about its honesty: the “yes” was not followed up by any further affirmative words or conversation. I kept my peace.
The lie is common practice among the Latvijan Commons today. When giving the matter some thought, one can only conclude that the people of the Commons are reacting to a voice that speaks from within: ‘Do not trust anyone, make use of anyone you can fool.’ While the Commons is told that such a voice was the result of the Soviet times, it was a little surprising that Capitalist times did not change anything.
But why should it? The ‘shock’ therapy that was said to come with ‘freedom’ and by way of Harpard University did not improve the lot of the Latvijan Commons. While some individuals became wealthy, the majority who found themselves ‘freed’ from the Soviet yoke could not find jobs and were destitute. Most Latvijans who returned to Latvija from the exile (trimda) were so brainwashed by their host nations that when they sold their former properties in Latvija, they took the money with them back to the U.S. or England or
wherever. Initially, I was one of these innocents. Surely what I did was lawful. The entire ‘free’ world was on my side of any argument even though I was robbing the community and country my forebears had founded.
The Novo Ordum Seculorum of post-Soviet times and the Latvijan government—likely installed with the aid of Western intelligence services—in fact initiated a quick divorce between the government and the people. When one looks for a cause for the pronounced split, one finds the cause is—money. Bizarre as it may seem, money was the only glue that bound the government to the governed and to the nation’s past. Since to research and tell the story of the past costs money, and money was scarce, the past became irrelevant.
A German author had once described the Soviet government, including those of the West, “The Tin Drum”: the Commons was forced to dance to shallow vibrations inside the heads of the mindless descendants of The Age of Enlightenment. Of course, there had been a past once, but there were no sinews left that bound it to the present and the world was coming to an end with a wimper.
As far as Daisy was concerned, arguments on behalf of marriage, such as: # for the sake of community stability; # for the sake of security of personal relationships and children; or # how the fireman’s common-in-law wife receives no insurance benefits when her ‘husband’ is killed in a burning building—such arguments held no weight for either her or most Latvijan youths. Discussions of such matters did not occur at the kitchen table, but—if they occurred at all—it was at the bar, where alcohol blurs the unreality of virtual reality, and the ever present television set in the background offeres well packaged delusional ads telling of prosperity just ahead.
For its part, the Latvijan government, composed of people desperate for a job and, therefore, consisting mostly of bribed bureaucrats, bought into the ‘secret’ of the Western Empire—re: people can be easily fooled by gradualism, a near unnoticeable creep of events, that only a secretive ‘deep government’, and a well-paid and well organized political bureaucracy can carry off. The means of executing such a gradualism are many.
One of the methods of gradually destroying a nation is through ‘strategic depopulation’ or accelerated migration. At the time of this writing, the Baltic nations have been forced to endure such strategic dispersion for twenty-five years and the end is not in sight.
Another method of destroying a nation is by occupying the country with refugees from far away cultures. Of course, these refugees have been subjected to similar stresses that the Latvians have been. While foreign occupations offend the natives, they do not offend the secularists and shareholders of major corporations that have most of the money* and are the true owners of the country defined as a corporation. These tactics go unnoticed in countries with large populations.
*Money; though I do not agree with all the ideas puts forward by the lecturer, I find the gist of his argument rather compelling. The argument is a bit long (1.17-1.41 =24 min.), but interesting, and may be at least amusing to the readerOs.
In any event, the sinews that once held a people to a land and a geographic area, have been loosed to the people’s despair.
De-culturalization of a Commons is the result of denationalizing a county by means of mongrelizing, in one way or another, of its population, which—given it has access to money—has no interest in bonding as it had done in former ages when one believed that “Greater love has no man (the word ‘man’ has been changed to ‘one’; two words that have no pareidolic associations) than this, that a man become ‘one’ lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13) has been replaced by burnt toast. The same is true for marriage. A soldier fights to defend money, not his community. Daisy is a perfect example of a mother living in a de-communalized village. It is unlikely to matter to her children what country they are born in.*
*To be born in the wood is not the same as to be born in the city. The environment of nature is not the same as the environment of a virtual setting. When the city-born act on their instinct, they act as those born in the wood, and (no surprise!) act destructively.
As much as Old Werther may desire Daisy to respond to his love for her, none but a winning lottery ticket that brings a large sum of money will gain her for him. Were such a lottery ticket to come in, Daisy would come to Old Werther post haste. But who then is she and who is he? Is she not a whore, is he not one who pimps for himself by happenstance?
Neither old nor young stand much of a chance when in the path of a deadweight juggernaut hauling money from an Empire called Hopium on a planet known as Utopia—unless Nature itself comes to their aid.
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Upon Whom the Ends
of the Ages Have Come…
A fantasy for an Apocalypse
© Ludis Cuckold (2015)
19 The Eschaton: Resisting Destruction of Life
Though destruction is as old as trees falling in the forest, it is also true that in the beginning no one heard or remembered hearing trees fall. It is for this reason why in the beginning birth and death occurred like ‘water in water’. It all looked alike until the bird of memory awoke and wrote the first song.
It was then that out of the wood came a black cat called Rumyancov, he who in the spring wanders from homestead to homestead and competes for the love of fair Minna with a white cat named John Purr. Both toms sing a concert that no human ever forgets. Fair Minna is dazzled by her effect on these admirers, feels something in her tummy begin to swell, and out of the cottage cheese are born a number of kittens.
When the kittens have grown big enough to catch their first bird, they bring their game and lay it at my feet out of gratitude that I let them catch the mice that, come autumn, remember to come and occupy my house. The kittens jump into my lap and give me a p-u-r-r, which sound—by the dint of a note—makes a quantum jump and rings b-u-r-r. This is how p-u-r-r and b-u-r-r came to be part of the first song sung to separate creative love from eternal unconditional love.
John Purr then comes and tells Rumyancov: “my song is fairer than your song”. Rumayancov replies to John Purr: “Prove it!”
That is how the story of Adam and Eve, and Abel and Cain came into being. When Abel was killed by Cain, a new song had to be written, because Cain told Abel: “What’s p-u-r-r to me! I prefer b-u-r-r”.
While the bowler hats of Bolivian women are said to have been introduced to them in 1920 by British railroad workers, the origin of hats goes back to i) head cover against the weather, ii) to elevate the wearer’s stature, and iii) to give the wearer greater identity. I suspect that for the Herrnhuters (which word means “wearers of men’s hats”), it was a signal sent to tell everyone in sight of it that the wearer was an important person, surely no less important than the barons who had lorded over proto-Latvijan peasantry for a very long time.
Since the hat sits on top of our heads, and both project our faces, which express our personality, the hat is something like a roof over a very special house. By looking at the faces of houses, we can tell the period they were built in; for example the Jugendstil architecture in Riga.
What interests me is the likelyhood that the wearing of hats implies a certain mindset—that is to say, the Bolivian women see themselves from the perspective of a 19th and 20th century political and cultural setting, which may be comparable to the setting that prevailed among Latvijans during the 17th,18th and perhaps earlier centuries. If so, it may also be like the mindset of the European countryside around the time of 1415, when John Hus was set afire by Christian elites of Europe. While overt executors are now history, they have been replaced by neo-capitalists, who no longer execute humans by means of a horrific act, but kill them as a result of pollution producing manufacturing methods that cause cancer that kills nth times more people.
The ‘Christian’ deniers of history in 19th century Latvija not only lied the Herrnhuters out of existence, but reconfigured Latvijan history in a way that has made Latvians practically forget the invasion of their land by western Christians (proto capitalists and their mercenaries) in the 11th or earlier centuries. If neo-Christian Latvians, having forgot that their predecessors had burnt books once, burn books today just to make doubly sure that history is truly dead, their forebears surely burnt them in times past. Not surprisingly, imitating their oppressors, Latvian elites have long practiced gathering and assembling false evidence into pseudo reality.
An updated example of what never was, but now is, screams for attention when a remnant of descendants (in Liepa, Latvija) of Herrnhuters, apparently caring little to research the nature of the faith of their forebears, have accepted a neo-Christian minister as their leader, and are letting said minister to claim he is leading a Herrnhuter revival. If this were not such a deliberate lie seizing the bully pulpit, one would surely tear hair and go hunger to the death. Instead, I try think of a history that is not knocked off its track and has not deviated from the path of reality.
The tragedy of Christians in Livonia began, when the Crusaders attacked Cathar Christians in what is known as the Albigensian Crusade in Languedoc (formerly known as Ocetania), in southern France. Not that many years later the crusaders also attacked Jersika, a proto-Latvijan city in Lower Latvija (Zemgale). The name Jersika most likely used to be a colloquial name for Jerusalem. According to the Russian mathematician and alternate historian Anatoly Fomenko (link and read ‘The Chronology Issue’), Jerusalem used to be the name of many cities (tsargrads) that were resident sites for the Kings of all autocephalic Kingdoms.
Only Polish poet, Michal Borch (1806-1881) dares imagine and express the tragedy implicit in Rīga bishop’s dastardly campaign. As King Visvaldis (‘Ruler of all’) escapes the demolition by fire of Jersika-Gersike across the River Daugava [Jaunava (Virgin)] and watches the fire consume it, he (in the words of the poet) screams:
“Ai, Jersika [Jerusa-lem], beloved city!
Ai, inheritance from my fathers!
Ai, unexpected destruction of my people!
Woe is me, that I should be born
to watch the demise of my community!”*
*(Quoted from historian Kaspars Kļaviņš “apSTĀVĒŠANA”.) Incidentally, “Jer..” may also be written “Dzher” or “Djer”, whence names such as Dzherzinski, which rhymes with “Dzheru” as in Jeru-salem and may originally have stood for ‘man from Jerusalem’.
The meaning of Borch’s poem is that the destruction of the kingdom of Jersika, Gercike (Jerusalem) was not simply the destruction of a pagan city ruled by a proto-Latvian king, but that it was the capital of Jersi-ka or Jerusa-lem, a name that stood also for a kingdom. Whether the Cathars of Jersika were in contact with those in Languedoc, we do not know, but the attacks by the Catholic Church on both within a given time period (1198-1218), causes one to think that the attacks were synchronized.
If Western Christians had not been fooled by the written word of the princes and had refused to join in the violence, which was followed by unrelenting destruction of all things past (to make the neo-Christian factions seem older than they really were)—Jersika may in due course have become a nation in the contemporary sense of the word.
The razing of Jersika (1209) occurred within the same twenty year time period that Pope Innocent III declared a crusade and proto-capitalist war on Languedoc. Because the Cathars had a long history in Languedoc (which by way of history longue duree connects it to today’s civil unrest in Catalonia, Spain), the initially successful Catholic or neo-Christian campaign resulted in a local uprising against the French nobility to which the Pope had given the right to seize the properties of dead and captured Cathars. Understandably, at that point control of the war was taken over by King Philip II of France. Thus, Languedoc passed into the hands of the French crown.
Known as the Albigensian Crusade, the war led by the French crown was as murderous a ‘proto-capitalist’ war in the West as in later crusades it was to be in the East. A little known essay by Voltaire describes the events in Lanquedoc (and implicitly in Livonia) better than most accounts that I have read.
As remembrance a la longue duree of the past, the history of the Civil War among Christians heralds the eschaton of the future; that is to say, as the secular Capitalist system of today was complicit (showed its nature) in the events (property confiscation) of the 11th century, so today’s eschaton results in the occupation of Latvija (hopefully only temporarily) by faux pas* military maneuvers that NATO is launching against Eastern Europe and Russia.
*NATO occupation of Latvia and Eastern Europe differs little from the events of the American Civil War of 1861-64. While the centralization of power in America was masked by a pretended liberation of black people from slavery, the European Union is trying to mask a similar centralization of power by unleashing a mass of refugees from Muslim nations into Europe proper. Which one of the nations of Europe, if any, will offer a foothold to the Confederation of European opposition? If I had to venture a guess, I would suggest either South- or Northeastern European Balkans as the fulcrum from which to turn the tide.
While Russia has shown no signs of overt aggression against any nation on its western borders (the Baltics including), the post-Soviet Latvijan media encourages Latvijans to accept the ‘new’ Empire’s fictions and ‘demand’ a 2% increase (of GDP) in the arms budget (likely to buy little hardware, but set precedent for a higher defense budget in the future), even as the people endure a 25 year long cycle of dire poverty, with the consequence that many are fleeing the country; its youths perform poorly in poor quality schools; and the country, subject to the mindset of a post-Soviet bureaucracy has no long range development plans.
Such a grim picture was facing the people of Livonia only in the aftermath of the Great Northern War.
My forebears came to Livonia to save proto-Latvijans from loss of self-consciousness as a Commons. Such a loss of Self was overtaking it as result of Swedish (with French support) aggression on Russia in which war Livonia was wiped nearly clean of population. It left but wolves to howl among a remnant of Livs. People still alive were hiding in the wood and were reluctant to leave it.
Though for many reasons, I am not taking part in the politics of post-Soviet Latvian government, as a descendant of the Herrnhuters, I have a stake in the outcome of Latvijan government’s actions. It is no less so, because my de facto* (not de jure) Godfather, happens to be the First President of Latvija.
*How this came about, I explain in one of the following chapters.
I realize, of course, that the reader may be tempted to say: “Ho, hum…. ought we give credibility to one, who at the age of eighty pretends to be the White Knight to a young woman raped by her stepfather? Did not Daisy’s own mother call her a whore? Did she not abandon her children and go to England to posit love upon some lost youth of Latvijan descent? Was she not cuckolding you when she gave you suck of her breast for a taste her milk? You must have all your forebears turning in their graves.”
Indeed, at the End of Times, it is not only history that falls apart. The Latvijan president (elected by the post-Soviet Latvijan Parliament/Saeima, not the people) has just had a heart attack, and has had an operation to have a valve in the heart replaced and may be declared an invalid; the Latvijan government, having joined NATO, is occupying (together with NATO) its own country; and it may not be long before the financial system of the world goes ‘kap-loo-e-e-e!’
It is just possible that with the Eschaton so near, a Herrnhuter revival is called for, and Latvijans will be reminded to rediscover their real past.