British Steel

I have an idea for a TV show about a helicopter with these really big testicles that hang down which it uses to bonk people on the head. It’s kind of like Airwolf meets Boogie Nights. It’s called Ballscopter. The next time you see Frank Darabont can you just pass this idea along to him? Y’know, see if he’s into it.

Machiavelli, it might seem, ought to have been impressed by a prince who baffled his enemies, surmounted the consequences of his mistakes and died in his bed at the age of seventy-seven. Not so. There is a precluding fact, not noted, for example, in Toffanin’s Machiavelli e il Tacitismo, a diffuse production perhaps more praised than read. That is, the Tiberian books of the Annals were not published until 1515. Anyhow, the Florentine Republican abode under the spell of Livy - whose primacy was soon to pass. Livy furnished inadequate instruction for an age of courts and despots, of religious wars and peace more murderous than warfare.

In regard to what we are trying to understand and dare to praise despite the immense restrictions of human understanding, we are nothing. This being said, we are of course better than most humans, our humility lies on a metaphysical level.

Beware of cliches, as in any aspect of communication, cliches are there to discourage intimacy. They are a communal hymen which the prodding individual member always fails to penetrate.

But the real thing remains undiminished. It still gives pause to atheist me. Maybe there are mystical forces out there. Maybe humans can tap into them. That “maybe” is part of black metal’s magic. Too bad it’s virtually impossible to find now.