	id AA15503; Thu, 17 Nov 94 18:15:51 CST
Subject: Conspiracy Nation -- Vol. 2 Num. 87


              Conspiracy Nation -- Vol. 2  Num. 87
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                    ("Quid coniuratio est?")
 
 
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ADJUNCT TO:
Observations on America's 216th Birthday
 
Dave Emory bringing up his "credo" brought to mind a section of 
Thomas Wolfe's (not to be confused with a later American writer 
commonly known as Tom Wolfe) classic posthumous work, *You Can't 
Go Home Again*. The following is part of a chapter from that book.
 
 +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +  +
 
I believe that we are lost here in America, but I believe we 
shall be found. And this belief, which mounts now to the 
catharsis of knowledge and conviction, is for me -- and I think 
for all of us -- not only our own hope, but America's 
everlasting, living dream. I think the life which we have 
fashioned in America, and which has fashioned us -- the forms we 
made, the cells that grew, the honeycomb that was created -- was 
self-destructive in its nature, and must be destroyed. I think 
these forms are dying, and must die, just as I know that America 
and the people in it are deathless, undiscovered, and immortal, 
and must live.
 
I think the true discovery of America is before us. I think the 
true fulfillment of our spirit, of our people, of our mighty and 
immortal land, is yet to come. I think the true discovery of our 
own democracy is still before us. And I think that all these 
things are certain as the morning, as inevitable as noon. I think 
I speak for most men living when I say that our America is Here, 
is Now, and beckons on before us, and that this glorious 
assurance is not only our living hope, but our dream to be 
accomplished.
 
I think the enemy is here before us, too. But I think we know the 
forms and faces of the enemy, and in the knowledge that we know 
him, and shall meet him, and eventually must conquer him is also 
our living hope. I think the enemy is here before us with a 
thousand faces, but I think we know that all his faces wear one 
mask. I think the enemy is single selfishness and compulsive 
greed. I think the enemy is blind, but has the brutal power of 
his blind grab. I do not think the enemy was born yesterday, or 
that he grew to manhood forty years ago, or that he suffered 
sickness and collapse in 1929, or that we began without the 
enemy, and that our vision faltered, that we lost the way, and 
suddenly were in his camp. I think the enemy is old as Time, and 
evil as Hell, and that he has been here with us from the 
beginning. I think he stole our earth from us, destroyed our 
wealth, and ravaged and despoiled our land. I think he took our 
people and enslaved them, that he polluted the fountains of our 
life, took unto himself the rarest treasures of our own 
possession, took our bread and left us with a crust, and, not 
content, for the nature of the enemy is insatiate -- tried 
finally to take from us the crust.
 
I think the enemy comes to us with the face of innocence and says 
to us:
 
"I am your friend."
 
I think the enemy deceives us with false words and lying phrases, 
saying:
 
"See, I am one of you -- I am one of your children, your son, 
your brother, and your friend. Behold how sleek and fat I have 
become -- and all because I am just one of you, and your friend. 
Behold how rich and powerful I am -- and all because I am one of 
you -- shaped in your way of life, of thinking, of 
accomplishment. What I am, I am because I am one of you, your 
humble brother and your friend. Behold," cries Enemy, "the man I 
am, the man I have become, the thing I have accomplished -- and 
reflect. Will you destroy this thing? I assure you that it is the 
most precious thing you have. It is yourselves, the projection of 
each of you, the triumph of your individual lives, the thing that 
is rooted in your blood, and native to your stock, and inherent 
in the traditions of America. It is the thing that all of you may 
hope to be," says Enemy, "for --" humbly "am I not just one of 
you? Am I not just your brother and your son? Am I not the living 
image of what each of you may hope to be, would wish to be, would 
desire for his own son? Would you destroy this glorious 
incarnation of your own heroic self? If you do, then," says 
Enemy, "you destroy yourselves -- you kill the thing that is most 
gloriously American, and in so killing, kill yourselves."
 
He lies! And now we know he lies! He is not gloriously, or in any 
other way, ourselves. He is not our friend, our son, our brother. 
And he is not American! For, although he has a thousand familiar 
and convenient faces, his own true face is old as Hell.
 
Look about you and see what he has done.
 
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Aperi os tuum muto, et causis omnium filiorum qui pertranseunt.
Aperi os tuum, decerne quod justum est, et judica inopem et 
  pauperem.                    -- Liber Proverbiorum  XXXI: 8-9 

 Brian Francis Redman    bigxc@prairienet.org    "The Big C"
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"Justice" = "Just us" = "History is written by the assassins."
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