Posted in Answers, Reality by waldopaper on July 6, 2014

Gettysburg, July 4, 1864

confederate_gunWhen you see the Southern Cross for the first time
You understand now why you came this way  –RD Curtis

Necromancer: practices a form of magic that involves communicating with the deceased. Is such a thing possible? Rosa Thorn was nine months old on July 4, 1864. 

The Battle of Gettysburg had been over for a year.  Rosa would move from Cemetery Hill to town when she was about 10 years old. She died in 1878 at age 14.  Cemetery Hill is where Rosa formed her earliest memories and became enlightened upon seeing a flock of birds above the hill.  Others called it crazy.  Her mother said Rosa was not very healthy.  For the rest of her life Rosa would say. “I saw the birds.”  From there, Rosa could see and understand the whole war.

The Southern Cross fantasy never was.  For those who wave around stars and bars and firearms, it exists today in their meme-fevered brains,  A Strange and Blighted Land according to author Greg Coco.  “This particular brand of religious myth had not really taken a hold on society.”(247)  That came later, along with the blowflies who want to establish a white male theocracy and fantasize about using violence to do it.   They conjure a demon from the ground.   Necromancers practice an ancient and dangerous magic.

There will probably not be a time when the living outnumber the dead.   This real silent majority tells us “…to trivialize its sheer horror by perpetuating the glorification of war in any form, is to misrepresent the participants’ motives and memories.”(373)   People living at that time didn’t think about thanking the veterans until the veterans started thanking themselves.  Nobody in their right mind would take any kind of pride in creating a stinking and hellish nightmare like “Gettysburg.”

We all communicate with the dead, whether a sigh at an empty chair… or symbols, rituals and language to bring back slavery or our dead grandfathers.  Easy to see the difference if you remember the past is not dead… it’s not even past.  It is still with us today, even though the armies that contested that horrible ground had few machines more complex than a coffee grinder.    Horsepower was really horse power… not ergs or watts ground down by math to render a sovereign tea.  Here lies the technology trap.

Lemurs thump hollowed ground with machine pistols, and primates evolve just like machines do responding to selection pressure.  Southron cross roads are still outside the battle field, and we converge on it dragging a two-ton heavy thing a mile a minute.  Religious rite hisses in our darkened infrastructure cracks, and their venom can kill.  You can see why one union soldier described the uncoiling butternuts as the most beautiful thing he ever saw.  Gadsden serpent can still bite and intends to do so.

 You understand now why you came this way.  Slavery sucks.  Jackasses can yee-haw all the kandy korn metaphor they want about tyranny and god and even government by the people.  People in chains and cages are not metaphors.  Bullets hurt mules and men alike.  That’s the union that will tear the fascists down.  This is no sportsball patriotism game.  This is as real as energy from the sun… real as life itself:  we are all crew aboard space ship Earth.  This is reality, not religion.  This is the only magic that actually works.

Writing survives to tell us about the valley of rotting meat   There were no birds after the battle, no buzzards or bluebirds.  There were blowflies and maggots and rooting hogs.  There were looters and scavengers and gawkers and surplus soldiers who picked the battlefield clean after about a year.  Rosa was just learning how to walk then.  Now she seems only a faded stone spike in Evergreen Cemetery.  But what is time to the dead?  As she is now, so we shall be and what so far have we so nobly advanced?  Patriotism?

 Nationalism is ballast for blowflies.


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  1. robinonfoot said, on July 6, 2014 at 10:21 pm

    did you send this to Kim and Craig and Pancho?   Man, Jeb… your stuff blows my mind.   I didn’t know that the cut up snake had a name, by the way… the gadsden snake, eh?   But the whole of the piece… oh man, it makes me shake and shiver.   as it should.    I posted this on fb.   Now to read  the next email you sent.   Thanks for this, my brother.    It was neigh on impossible to talk to you over the patriotic bombasting… still I like to see the sparkles….  sigh.  

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