Nine

[SIRRJAX MAXIM]

Damn…tis not the moon portends no good to us. Tis reason's wisdom that can 
make it thus and thus not nature. Love does not cool, friendship falter, 
brothers divide and postman murder by prediction.
Though tis the excellent and most terrible of all excuses. Why make guilty 
of paranoia the sun and stars and moon? The puppets are not scoundrels by 
swollen tides, no heavenly compulsion, no spherical predominance. 
Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders are plucked 
and pulled by the puppeteer's puppet's piper's tune and not by the waxing 
and waning of the earth-tilting moon.

He thinks he stands alone. No rebel to oppose his power. No favorite to 
seduce his affections. No teacher to mislead his judgement. Tis his firmest 
Maxim, that, whatever might be the consequences, his word should never be 
disputed or recalled. Now we see, we have maliciously observed that all his 
commands of exasperation and waste were more strictly executed than those of 
beneficence and favor. How he seeks the harmony of his authority and 
obedience.  How quick he is to chastise the proud, to protect the weak, to 
reward the deserving, to banish vice and idleness from his dominions, to 
secure the neophyte's adulation, to restrain the depredations of his 
flunkeys, to cherish and encourage such subordination, to increase his 
ascendancy. First, he will set upon your words with his dexterously 
destructive and painfully presumptuous puppet. Next, the vindicator: that 
puppet most dear and near to the puppeteer. He sets his bootlickers in the 
midst of the cyber-spaces so that they may more easily see his fabrications. 
Sculpture, form, and thou mayst chisel thy own features thyself my puppet. 
Colossal is his "hybris," His ideal is Caesar Borgoia, a conscienceless 
rascal. Some Pascalian hubris in the cards, some warped confidence that we 
are, but a heap of errors, powerless without grace, Pinocchios. Nothing will 
open our eyes to his truth. More puppets to deceive. Two to appeal to reason 
and two to appeal to sense, but each deceives the other. Pedantic puppet, 
dancing to the rhythms of the verbal circus songs, "performing" with 
"performing words," and "poodle doodles." Admired for the brain that is 
required for the creation of a great logogriphic pun. What with only a pile 
of dictionaries for the master marionette. Amusing hobby is all. And you are 
in vogue, like some negro of the jazz age to a wealthy dilettante.

Sir Jax Max

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