"Fiction in WS Theory has incremental effect; latter as night the day
exhibits dialectical transformation of quantity into quality, mainly lousy.
Quality in this volume is called Flood, which in time of Sage King Yu The
Great was manageable, thanks to his wives' suicide. Since Age of Sage Kings,
more likely kills Elsewise useful taxpayers; causes emperor to remit out of
Benevolence, uncollectable taxes; coerces magistrates, long unaccustomed,
to perform routine duties of office plus, being watched, overtime extras;
and great scholars to make nuisances of themselves over unconscionable waste
& extravagance of the Court, about which nothing can or has ever been done."
--From the Book of the Never Learning.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I could fix ya up with Ammianus Marcelinus, who I guarantee'll turn yer
head around 'bout sexual intercourse. 'Sides, he'll think your breasts, which
are quite large, nicely rounded, gorgeously aureoled, firm, and healthy looking
in relation to the scrawny, plucked-chicken rest of you. Once more, and for the
last time, WHITE MEN LIKE BREASTS!"
"Dru, I accept that, on the purely intelectual level. If you will accept
at same superficiality the effects of the Yankee art thieves coming out of
the tunnel in Trier, Gaul, just as likely, you think? Imperial Residence,
like Jiankang, no? Well, these guys got an expression, "Giving the country back
to the Indians," meaning the chaos that'd happen if the indigenous people were
wicked-enough to deserve their vanishment, see. What is, see, been done with
Western Europe, *given back to the Indians*, FIERCE AND WARLIKE TRIBES, from
whom alone, in their pallor, the idea of white people is kept alive. Tellin'
ya, Dru, sheer dumb luck there will ever be such Thingies as WHITE PEOPLE, and
sheer dumber luck they are gonna END UP ruling Asia, cuz nobody else did. That,
Dru, is a LONG WAY from breasts, but so is Life. Except when Life really needs
them.
"I swear, Dru, Antioch's so full of philosophers, full of theologians, FULL
OF IT, I can't just like sit around and hang out anymore! Oh, yeah. Read."
------------------------------------------------
Breast
*xiong*
In popular art it is the male breast that is strongly emphasized, not the
female. The ancient Chinese believed that for a man to have a well-developed
bust was a sign of good fortune. Indeed, the founder of the Zhou Dynasty had
no less than four breasts, which was considered a peculiarly auspicious omen.."
(Eberhard, Chinese Symbols, Routledge, 19861993Ų, p. 48)
-----------------------------
"YOU are looking fucking weird, sweetheart."
"Dru, we gotta get down to business. Money. Power. Difficult, problematic
even, shit we gotta do."
"What IS my business, sweetheart. You see the sign? *Drusilla's Holistic
Healing Clinic And Full Service Beauty Shop*. THAT is the seed money what
begat generations of cashflows past, present, yet unborn. Line of sight of
the Praetorian Prefect of Oriens' Military HQ, Persian-Mesopotamian Front,
which in turn has intimate, if unacknowledged till conclusion of Peace, may
it endure forever, give it a year, relation to the raw material for Antioch,
largest single center of manufacturing industry in The World."
"Wait a minute...."
"Fair. You call yours Tianxia...."
"All Under Heaven."
"Makes us even."
"You might still be right, anyhow."
"Go on where you started. So long as it's not dangerous. Got a lot to lose."
"What you got to *gain* is total vertically integrated control over the...
ooo...WHOLE SILK INDUSTRY...from the shores of the Isles of Penglai, where
dwelleth Xiwangmu's neglected husband, to the Mountains of Kunlun, home of the
Goddess Xiwangmu, Queen Mother of the West, her very self, where Tocharians
change China money to Central Asia money, they are redhead white people, and
I have a crush on one, name of Barbara. Down to the Lands of the Posi, where
Sogdians, wild Posi, carry the silk, singing cowboy songs, gitalong little
dogies, an' shit, down the ol' Silk Trail. To here, this place, where Xiwangmu
is called Atargatis, losing naught whatever inna translation, and moneymad
worshippers of Him Who Evicted the Moneychangers From The Temple alone in your
The World are making Big Money off what any sensible rich man gotta strip naked
offa himself to pass civil service tests for the Kingdom of Heaven, amen. All,
as the Wise Women of the East do say, is One, maybe with interest, just a
little bit more. O hear ye the sound of raw materials in the song of thatched
hutted woman being made artificilaly stupid feeding mulberry leaves to hungry
ugly buggies, crooning, "Soon enough, my lovelies, you'll be dead/And gone to
your last reward/Covering more aristocratic cunts than mine/In Amitabha's
Western Paradise in Italy....
"Makes me wanna sing too....
"Behold a Framework shall Conceive
"And bear a Son
"And they shall call his name Immanuel."
"What kinda idiot....
"Immanuel Wallerstein, like your Jesus, is Jewish! Now, I'll have you know
that I have consulted Jews of great scholarly learning, who resemble Chinese
more than anyone not actually Chinese, diverging only in something called jokes
but not far enough to be consequential at this time. They tell me that, in
historical fact, your Jesus was guilty as charged, in terms of the persecuto-
rially biased Due Process of Law, as Romans regarded it, whereunder he was
tried for treason. In full feathered faith he was the Messiah, like a lotta
other ambitious guys, he roused rabble furious for years at Pilate's theft
of the Temple Treasure, which is what he wanted his job for. But in such a
way that a clever lawyer, with objections your honour stuff, could get him
Off for saying, Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's; render unto God which
is God's.
"A call for nonpayment of taxes loud & clear, Pilate being in a state of
Perpetual Itch, like Poison Ivy, over this Temple Treasure Thingie. Jesus
was consequently made to die the death, proof positive he was not the Messiah.
In social science, Messiahism is/was what's called a Scripted Role, meaning,
there is a Job Description, whereof part is, you don't die till AFTER you have
won the war of national liberation against the imperialist occupation forces.
"Now, if I choose to believe in Immanuel Wallerstein, who is not dead, as
the Messiah, and follow his Scriptures, I have BLIND FAITH, buttressed&forti-
fied by reason and computation, that together, you and I, or more modestly,
you and me, can prevent the ever-existence of Immanuel Wallerstein, the
United States of America, Anton Sunderland Wroxxt, the Indo-European
Corporation, 32 Broad St, New York City NY, and the very notion of white
people and there superior white essence. We make one little change in theory
first. That is, we reject the Wallersteinian Sutra about the Chinese being or
having been IMMUNE TO CAPITALISM. I'll explain later."
"What kind of disease is that?"
"Ow."
"You are immune to Small Pox, congratulations. You may get ugly, but unlike
most women, not for that reason alone. It is unclear, from the doctrine in this
Sutra, whether the Chinese had a 'shot' as you did, or whether their were in
their blood monoclonal antibodies or some molecular-biological Thingie in
default of which nothing whatever among the Americans is accounted Scientific."
"There is much religious teaching in this."
"Soon enough, I shall instruct you in the Primordial Weberian Lie, the
doctrine of the Disenchantment of the World by science, rationality, and
capitalist calculation. One counterexample, which should suffice to discredit
the whole of the doctrine, is the remarkable resemblance, in attributed power
to do Evil, between the Bad Molecules which the Americans hunt out and destroy,
along with the bodies and souls of the victims they have possessed and who are
Damned, beyond all amelioration let alone salvation, and the demons you X-tians
are just beginning to Beleve In; the latter have got some way to go yet before
they arrive at their full-fledgedness as the Satanic Host, with whose
soldiers women must unwillingly yet unresistingly copulate, cause the penises
of their own husbands to fall off, and induce by magic the deaths of their
own domestic animals without whose traction and milk the family will starve.
"White people, Drusilla, will never change, they will always believe this
nonsense, kill hundreds of thousands at a time for reasons they will deny
ever existed a few years later; hence by the strictest logic nobody at all
was killed."
"There has never been anything good about them?"
"There is the First Amendment. However."
"What."
"It was in effect vitiated by the Second Amendment."
"Here is the task before you.
"Firstly, you must exceed by a considerable magnitude the ephemeral feat
of Zanab, Queen of Palmyra, and create peace over the entire Near Eastern
Silk Road zone. This may require the help of Arabs, whom Zenobia offended.
Recall the boast of Amr al-Qays."
"I do."
"Not that the achievement was puny. This, Dru, is a one hundred pound note
of the Syrian Arab Republic, and this ludicrous woman, here, <choke>, that's
ostensibly Zanab."
"Why should...."
"If you read my book, Mirror Image:... you will grasp instantly that this
warfare over minute stretches of the silk route was, so long as the Roman
Empire was expanding aggressively eastward, looked extremely profitable in
booty, loot, and, when the diplomats made the peace with the dissipation of
Alexander The Great grandiosity delusions, caravan tolls. Promising, with
further expansion, to be get more profitable still. Curiously, the aggressive
expansion was Dys-Known!"
"What?! No more of this madness."
"Just means, suppressed out of all awareness, unless you had an EXPLICIT AND
POWERFUL MOTIVE TO BELIEVE WHAT WAS MANIFESTLY IDIOTIC, WRONG, AND STUPID, that
no such thing ever was; what WAS, was instead, the DECLINE AND FALL OF THE
ROMAN EMPIRE."
"No shit."
"Which got believed, instead of what you saw with your own eyes, and healed
with your hands when their male organs failed in defeat...."
"Drusilla, I know everything ever known to have existed in the papyrus
archives of the Praetorian Prefecture, much as you know unwritten gossip."
"Up to what Valens told you in bed."
"He is, was, in effect...."
"As I calculate by multivariate analysis of political-intrigue configura-
tions that Valens will be dead in less than two years, and that this will
occur, now that you've blessed me with data of such intimacy, by his charge
at the Goths' lines much as he Penetrated your Front...heeheehee...."
"Cavalry. Fritigern."
"Ohshit, more variables. Must allow for wagons in circle."
"I detect a memory trace, ah. Daniel A. Foss, Int Hist West Civ, 105-106.
Lecture One. Daniel A. Foss copies the professor's scrawl. 'Battle of
Adrianople, 378. What did this mean. That the Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire was Real. *Sensu idiologica*. The humdrum stupidity of a Valens, whose
fatuous belief had been, with the finest military animals in captivity, he
would make chop meat of Persian Faggotry, is memorable exclusively for his
presumed *genocidal hatred to extermination* of Goths he wished, rather, to
give jobs. All agreed, except price of food. Harhar. What Valens signally
failed to do was to get killed by Persians in Persia, where Julian succeeded!
"Pardon my showing off, O Dru, Empress to be of Asia, but I must, simply
must, cite one of these historians of Late Antiquity, whose lifestudy is,
perhaps, littering the streets around us. He said, 'The Emperor Julian,' in
Society and Holiness in Late Antiquity, Princeton, 1982, "He JulianŲ fought
like a Roman Emperor, and he died like one.'
"Rot, bahhumbug, lies, possibly gay hero worship even if this guy's straight
cuz Classics Depts are strange places. Which Roman Emperors were so stupid and
militarily incompetent to die in combat against enemies foreign as opposed to
domestic? Decius. You know, died ambushed by Goths, 251, persecuted the X-tians
but didn't know how. Valerian. Captured by Persians 260, used as footstool by
Shahanshah. Claudius II Gothicus, killed 268, by Goths, nickname undeserved.
"You kill Roman Emperors in *civil wars*, don't white guys know anything?"
"Chinese emperors?"
"Murdered in bed. Official cause of death, alcoholism and debauchery, age
at death maybe 17, rarely over 20."
"What's the fuckin' point?"
"If Valens'd been less Retarded, nobody'd marked the fall of the Roman
empire for another fifty years, what with all the conquering in Persia, unless
there was stalemate, which in my book was structurally determined, but I've
talked myself into a position where it's UPFORGRABSVILLE."
"Sweetheart, I'm drunk."
"Got some smoke?"
"I'm Christian. Us X-tians get bombed on alcohol; Barbarians, Heathens,
and, who knows, if the Arabs ever got religion, them too, get stoned off
weed. It's a VERY DEEP CIVILIZATIONAL THINGIE."
*********************
"Nnnn."
"Dru, you gotta make up a Religion to unify the Tribes."
"Now?"
"When you got tribes to unify. Else, it's *unsafe* cutting across Asia. You
can maybe do it once, cuz yer an Imperial Princess, out to make up for overlong
premarital virginity under the now falsified assumption she's not related to
the Son of Heaven. But turns out his kid sister! I swear, made it my business
to have sex with every potentate with the title Great King and up! Just, as
you said, to add to my collection. The American guys call it "nothing your
belt," but they collect and they love to fuck. Not the reverse. But you get
my drift.
"What I am suggesting is more serious. We make it religiously Impure for
a tribe to make war as usual to loot caravans of bactrian camels, as usual,
and kidnap wives, as usual. Make drinking cup of falled hero kiled by unfalled
greater hero, redistribute his wives to the deserving, and humansacrificificate
unmarried daughters who, though cooked & eaten by tribal community, have their
honour preserved. All'a'that's gotta go. Lookit this book, here."
"Andre Gunder Frank, The Centrality of Central Asia."
"Dru, I dunno whaddafug he's talkin' 'bout, though it is perfectly obvious,
even to the illiterate, that Central Asia, whatever else you may say about it,
is centrally located."
"From Afghanistan, I shall descend upon the fertile plains in all directions
like a Dirty Bird of Prayer."
"DRU, DO NOT LAUGH AT ME. My brother, the Retard, is gonna be Son of Heaven,
an' just who the fuck are you. White people find this point difficult to grasp.
Between my abstract genius and your human touch, in its own way a species of
genius, true, you will fulfill your destiny, which is either rulership over
East and Central Asia, in a loose-hegemonic state system, to be sure; Else,
to get beheaded and martyred as a saint. As it happens, one of your covert
desires, as you cannot join or have Faith in *anything* without MAKING IT BIG,
right?"
"True. I have Healed, miraculously, the unanticipated consequences, most
conspicuous in the failure of the male member to do as it was customarily wont
to do. Im-Potency, premature ejaculation. This, the unanticipated consequences
of Original Sin, in general a blessing for overworked, maltreated womankind.
Will explain later. Unless this is wrong. Romans made us wear veils before
aught was X-tian, but some Arab will get blamed for it, mark my words. X-tians
said, it is unfair everyone must be forced to fuck. This has wisdom in it. In
any society where there is high and low, the number of the ugly by definition
vastly exceeds the number of the handsome, cute, and gorgeous: the reason for
this being, the handsome, cute, and gorgeous be them who got CLASS. It must
always be so. For nobody may be allowed to be equal. I cannot understand
why; maybe you shall in due course teach me."
"And you couldn't get Martyred cuz the X-tians were in."
"Absolutely right. You copped Sainthood by Abstinence, Selfdenial,
Starvation, Desert Heat, Whips & Scorpions, and sitting on top of a pillar till
your shit falls off whilst food is thrown up and people throw up at you whilst
revering your every hairy stink."
"Then your, uh, clients told you to go to China?"
"Felix and John Chrysostom, Metropolitans of Antioch, whose impotency I
healed, though know not for what purpose they needed it, given their exalted
stature in the Church entailing the strictest celibacy...."
"Now, Dru, the schedule requires you to be here, at Kucha, the Stone Pillar
of the Tocharians, redhaired giants who change money, sell scriptures of the
Buddha, and overcharge weary travellers at diners, motels, and the few remain-
ing inns, by July 382. In August, an army under the command of Fujian, the
proto-Tibetan emperor of North China, calling himself Former Qin dynasty, with
all Turks and Mongols at his command, will arrive at Kucha. You will say, 'The
Empress of West and Middle Asia proposes marriage to the Emperor of East Asia.
This is an offer you cannot refuse!' And he will not refuse. Such is my plan.
Then, the two of you march together, horde in horde, to ensure that the result
of the Battle of the Fei River, in 383, is the reverse of what it says in the
history books, which is that Fujian lost/will lose. Then, Dru, my dearest lady,
Asia and all the silk in it or upon it is yours, excuse me, I mean, Thine!"
Daniel A. Fos