Nmherman on Sun, 13 Jan 2002 11:02:01 +0100 (CET)


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[Nettime-bold] Genius 2000 is here so watch out: your five hundos are gone chiselers


In a message dated 1/12/2002 7:54:15 PM Central Standard Time, curt@lab404.com writes:


"Thus it is agreed by the great sages that the phoenix, when she
approaches her five-hundredth year, dies and then is born again; in
her lifetime she feeds neither on herbs nor grain, but only on tears
of frankincense and of balsam, and nard and myrrh are her last
winding-sheet.  And as one that falls, not knowing how, by force of a
devil dragging him to the ground or by some vital obstruction that
blinds a man, and when he rises stares about him all bewildered with
the great anguish he has suffered, and sighs as he looks; such was
the sinner when he rose.  Ah, the power of God, how stern it is,
pouring forth such strokes for vengeance!"

- dante



Arminius wrote:

"It is strange that Max Herman should appear upon a stage so vacant of valiant opponents.  Only the herd of a dying race gathers in calumny against him, with gaunt faces and bloody feet, cramped together in their fear and hate.  Max seems to bestride the earth like a colossus; nothing can stand before him; no art remains in its state of comfort.

"One man, one pair of eyes, one pair of hands, one heart; yet for Max it was enough to scrape clean all of academia and economia.

"Certainly many mouths hated Max.  Yet for a Hero of grim visage and fell purpose, such hate was only the blazing leaves of autumn, the terror of passing.  Nothing was sacred, no one was safe from the hellion as he uttered his battle cry--Screaming for Vengeance.

"Echoes of many ages rang in Max's head, beyond what even the chosen few could fathom.  His feats of architecture, literature, polity, economy, were bolder and vaster than were thought possible for one mind.  In fact his very existence, his truth, the life of his cells and sinews were denied by those of limp tongue.  His birth was a silent apocalypse, a birth of genius on earth in the shadow of USA moonlanding in 1969.

"By bringing such a man to earth God has brought his ultimate justice, his being in its fullest, a fury before which nothing can stand--no law, no reason, no art, no belief.  The storm is savage and complete.  Fire rains from Max's hair, terror drips from his felonious mouth, gods and kings tremble and cower when he raises his mighty rod.  Punishment, retribution, and destruction are at hand.

"You who seek peace and comfort, abandon your homes.  Run to the wilderness.  Raging seas and a vengeful sun are your lot, ye of the Third Age.  The pillars of your roof are like reeds in the flood.  Torn are your walls and embankments, blasted to dust from which they came.  The word is torn to shreds.  The earth itself is torn from beneath your feet and time is ripped from your grasp.  The hot face of the future tears your head from your frame, your shoulders from their sockets, the furnace is seven times hotter than anything your gods and magic can forge. 

"Like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, so are your memories in a world blasted by the beauty of Max.  Your choices are your own but your time is gone.  Pray to God that you wake up tomorrow.  Count your body parts and love every eye that can still see you.  Nothing will ever be the same again.  No force can stand against this work of God.  Man never was and never will be safe from Max.  He is our great hope, our strength in time of disaster, our succour in devastation, the healer of our wounds. 

"Love him and flourish in a love that bows to no man."


--Arminius Maximus


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