"Life is a very sad piece of buffonery,
because we have... the need to fool
ourselves continuously by the spontaneous
creation of reality... which, from time to time,
reveal itself to be vain and illusory".

Luigi Pirandello 1867 - 1936

  

Night of Ruins

  

      <<<<<<<<<< TOURNAMENT OF FEAR >>>>>>>>>>

   I was waxed by an old, old friend recently. He was quite agitated, actually. Uncommonly so. I didnít understand his reasons at first, but they soon became "evident". During the previous week I had posted several times to environmental activism and anarchy newsgroups and also sent a few relevant posts as cc to my environmental/rebellion interested friends. Pretty soon it became clear that he didnít mind that I had sent them, but the fact that I had sent them and included his address, to full public scrutiny. He was in short, worried that public servants would, if a friend of a friend of a friend some time in the future would commit an illegal act, certain public servants would seek him out and kick in his door.
   What kind of a world is that? What kind of society do we live in, for such a fear to exist, and be valid?
   Because, in a sense, of course, heís right. There is a possibility, however remote, that they indeed will come and wax him, whether a friend of a friend of a friend do blow something up or not.
   I have agreed to not repeat such open mailing in the future, upon accepting (kind of) a validation of his fear. I donít understand it, but because heís asking me to, I do accept it.

   Thereís an old saying: ęFear is the keyĽ, and indeed it is. Itís blood and milk to the system of civilization. The whole system of stick and carrot, is quite simply a necessity for society to work. People must be threatened, dulled, encouraged to reach for a carrot they can never reach, or the entire house of cards would crumble in a minute.

What a fucked up, shriveled world!

  

      <<<<<<<<<< TOURNAMENT OF FEAR >>>>>>>>>>
       by Amos Keppler

Active Participant

We fear so much
We cling to what we know
Our daily life
And we fear the unknown
How will tomorrow be
We're afraid of might happen
Maybe we'll lose our job
Nuclear war may start tomorrow
Will I be one of the countless victims
Killed in the traffic, mutilated at work
I mean... it can happen to me
As well as others, right
We are scared of the bogeyman
In the blackest night
In daylight we fear the postman
All other things at the clock of three
In short, we fear too much

The master of the game lowers the flag
The Mistress of change flips the coin
Let the race begin, let all pretense end
The game is afoot, let's all play tag
The Mistress of change shows her groin
Let us all pull back in, let all do as we tend

Laughter and rejoice roars from the crowd
The audience expects a helluva show
They'll get it Bread and circus in abundance
From their stands they cheer and spit an piss
At the poor sods down there in the field
There are cameras, there are microphones
Nothing is missed, nothing is lost
Every detail is recorded and distorted
Of The Tournament of Fear

What is behind the closed door?
Why don't you open it and take a look
What then, is real fear
Is it a nagging feeling in the back of the head
Or pure terror, pale skin and cold sweat flowing
Is it the axeman coming at you from the dark
Or when you face the unintelligible
That which you know can't be explained
With the reason you're raised to believe in

Yes, my young ladies and gentlemen
There are ghosts and shadows
Vampires hunt the night
We know this deep down where it counts
We know it when we look in the mirror
We exist from day to day and dare not live
This is what fear does to us

Go to work, join society every day
Use your sore knuckles, your pointed elbows and
Knock peoples socks off Off with the head
Thumbs down, sword in the hand
Blade through the neck Off with the head
No question about it, this is my land
Electric prod in my crotch, must go on
The carrot is there ahead of me...somewhere
If I can't reach it, it's my own fault
I am useless, oh, so useless Off with my head
OFF WITH THE HEAD

Whipped horses run in circles
In the arena of coagulated blood
Covering their own tracks
Drive them forward, drive them hard
Skip them to the sausage factory
Of The Tournament of Fear

Fear is the key
Fear is the milk
Fear is all things
Rejoice spectators
You, too, are a part of
The Tournament of Fear

  

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Uploaded 1999 - 05 - 27

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