EC 541
A Happenstance Witness and The Holy Ghost:
Neither a novel or
documentary, but for the patient reader
a timely story
about the collapse of Modern and Post-Modern Times.
By © Ludis Cuckold
God and Theatre (9)
Assuming
that our history books are at least partially right (not necessarily as to who
won or lost the war, but that there had been one), the peddling of fake
democracy began in ancient Athens, which was among the first city-states that came
to a dominant position by depriving the wood of Zoe. The justification for such
a violent Will and denial of nature begins with Aristotle (click at 8:00),
who lived in a time when God and his Mother were chased from Earth and virtual reality
began its long march to replace love with dust.
As the professor
at above link somewhat correctly observes, without the city there would be no theatre
as we know it. For most of us theatre begins with the Greek tragedies, one of
the most famous of which is Sophocles “Oedipus Rex”. As the professor tells it,
Oedipus is both a beast and a God. Yet, the professor does not explain why
Oedipus, according to him a “zoan*”, “a ferocious beast”, “a
thing that moves by its own motion’’ (see 59:00+), came to be God. The lecture
presents me with the problem of trying to figure out what the professor means
by ‘beast’ (why? Because he most likely does not know who his mother is?) and ‘god’.
*’Zoe’,
Greek meaning life, a word that in the course of time and with advance of
modernity reduced ‘Zoe’ to ‘Zoan’, meaning ‘wild life’, naked life, mere life, crawling
or moving flesh; the word survives in Latvijan as ‘mežonis’/ ‘mezhonis’, re
‘meža Jānis’ or ‘forest(mežs)+John(Zhonis)’. In English ‘zoans’ is found as sentimentalized
forest fairies.
The Germans present their zoans somewhat more realistically, as here
per Lucas Cranach the Elder in 1509.
Because I,
too, am interested in theatre, I do not trace its beginnings to the Greeks, but
to the Aztecs of Mexico for whom the theatre did not mean a tempered or
politically correct performance
on a stage of our beat and ‘civilized’
civilization, but for who ‘theatre’ was a bloody event on the high platform of Templo Mayor.
The
platform was where the King of the Aztecs sacrificed men, women, children, and
because he had the authority to ‘play out’ a sacrifice, secured for him and his
court the privileges of King and courtiers. The entire community participated
in the performance of sacrifice. For the Greeks, theatre, too, had religious
significance, but for the most part the community was in attendance not in
order to participate, but to make-believe. Euripide’s “The Bacchae” may be an exception to this rule.
Why were
such human sacrifices necessary?
As the professor
explains, while the city actualizes human potential, this potential is not of a
natural, but virtual reality. In order to persuade the ludies (some call them
rudes) of the city to serve the King, the King must do something of a very
charismatic nature. Nothing has more charisma (attention getting and
unforgettable) than human sacrifice. Indeed, it creates of the King a God, Who
in the event of an attack on his (and potentially our own) kingdom is able—because
of his charisma—to solicit men willing to self-sacrifice themselves in battle
to save the kingdom. When the charisma wears off, as it has in our time, Rome—whether
it be Beijing, Jerusalem, Moscow or Washington—collapses in on itself.
Human
sacrifice has numerous expressions, among them child sacrifice, sacrifice of
young virgin girls, sacrifice of prisoners, sacrifice by lottery of the
anonymous citizen or countryman, and in the event of an extreme emergency even
the King or Queen.
As author
of “Oedipus Rewritten”—a
play rewritten because I believe the current version of “Oedipus Rex” by Sophocles
is a fake of a deliberately lost/ burnt original. Too, I believe the origin of
the Greek theatre is similar to that of the Aztecs. My version of the play
tells of what happens when an infant boy, presumed to be the King’s successor,
is not exposed to the risks of sacrifice (by exposure to the elements) to the
Gods. Incidentally, the replacement of Gods with God suggests that the reality
of life in field and forest has been replaced by the utopian fantasies of
globalists who live behind concrete walls of a city.
In effect,
the story of “Oedipus the King” tells
why Thebes does not hold or bind its citizens to itself or its 'fake' king.
Because Thebes
fails to bind, some fourteen people (beginning with Oedipus’s father—King Laius
(?Ludis)—and ending with Tiresias the Priest), most from Oedipus’s household,
lose their lives. The failed authority is not due to Laius, the father of
Oedipus, but the result of the failure of Iocaste, Oedipus’s mother (once a
whore in Corinth), who for a mother’s reasons, does not wish to see her son die,
not even for the good of the people of the City of Thebes. After the son
escapes the ritual of sacrifice, the only way to recapture his birthright (a
legalism) to the throne is by his mother marrying him. It is the mother who
arranges the circumstances in such a way that at the end of the story she may
wed her son.
The
charisma necessary to create and maintain a city, which will exist only if the
ludies are willing to dedicate themselves to its existence, is axiomatic. Unfortunately, in
our time the axiom has been dismissed by politicians as something that is found
only on the moon. Virgin Galactic
will take us there. A sleepwalking public does not know better.
The
dismissal of sacrifice by politicians in Washington, D.C., Moscow, Brussels, et al accounts for the dismissal of what
little remains of much bruised
Christianity*. The idea that John Basil, John Baptist, and/or Jesus
sacrificed their lives so the culture of the wood could live is for most people
living of the 21st century an alien notion. As the professor of
Shakespeare may come to agree, zoans living in ‘caves’ have been replaced by zoans
living in apartments. Government masquerading
as a Cyclops is no myth. The transition has been made with relative ease: all
one had to do is dismiss God, Deus, and Allah and reinstate same with the ‘good
life’ suggested by Aristotle and offered through taxation and the magic performed
by the shamans of science.
*Christianity,
a word that derives from the word ‘cross’, ‘krusts’ in Latvijan, ‘kirsti’ in
Lithuanian. As an image the word suggests an X, while as part of a tale, it tells of a cross road (it plays a
crucial role in Oedipus Rewritten). In the Lithuanian language, the letters I
and R have been transposed. When re-transposed, ‘kirsti’ becomes ‘Kristi’. Pope
Francis may not be abandoning Christianity as the link suggests, but may be joining
the leadership of the Empire
in Washington and Brussels in capturing for secular power what has not yet been
captured by it.
Be that as
it may, ‘the good life’ is a secular notion offered by those who spend their
life—from cradle to grave—living the ‘good life’ in a cityfied environment, but
are cut off from ‘real’ life. Our imagination cannot perceive (and our time is
the evidence there of) that when ‘good life’ comes to its far end, it turns
into corrupt life.
The crux of
the problem is that when ‘good life’ meets with ‘difficult life’ and its return
depends on it’s ability to endure difficulties, miscarriages of economic
policies, disappointments, death of loved ones, disappointments in love, etc. it does not know how to replace a BMW with
a horse*. What if the ‘good life’ becomes exposed to conditions that cause one
to think of ‘ending one’s life’? What if for all the prayers one offers to
Whoever, Whoever never makes a response—not even by discovering the idea of God?
*An
Latvian anecdote asks a practitioner of the ‘good life’ whether he knows how to
yoke a horse to a wagon. The man answers: “No problem.” When asked to prove it,
the man asks: “At which end of the wagon do you want me to start?”
This is
when marbles resting for a long time peacefully on a perfectly level table
start rolling of their own volition off the table, and the once heroic left
becomes not only a degenerate
left, but an imbecilic one.
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