The Fickle Sword of Damocles

Ever since ancient times, a sharp sword of catastrophic danger has hung over the human race—  a razor-sharp sabre suspended by a single thread, which, were the thread to be severed, would fall upon us, mankind, maybe killing millions of people. 

Just now, we are frightfully aware of that “sword”, as another madmen tramples across borders, brandishing the dreaded  threat of nuclear disaster. 

The presence of that legendary, cataclysmic sword is, however, nothing new.

It has hung above us for two millennia of time, although never—until 1945—with the disastrous destruction of nuclear warfare.

The metaphor of a so-called “Sword of Damocles” was made known in a theatre of ancient Sicily or Greece, many many moons ago. Centuries later, poets. . . Chaucer, Shakespeare and others  took up the imagery of the Sword of Damocles for dramatic or literary effect.

In 1914, a profound dramatization of of this Peril was acted out in actual history.

 The disaster began in June of 1914. Here’s how the dreaded “Sword of Damocles” fell upon Europe in a fatefully tragic chain of events.

The first thing that happened: a Prince/Heir to the Austrian throne, Franz Ferdinand, was assassinated in June,1914, by a Serbian rebel, down in Sarajevo, Bosnia, an area in the Balkan region of southeastern Europe.

It was a fatal treaty  that dragged the Russians—and, as it later turned out— damn-near the whole world— into the confrontation that escalated into World War I.

Here’s what’s so sad about how this royal f*k-up began:

In the early 20th-century, the Russian Czar Nicholas and the German Kaiser Wilhelm were cousins. They were both grandsons of the British Queen, Victoria! Before this time, they had a familial, cordial relationship. They could have ended this thing before it even started, were it not for the Sword of Damocles, also known as the Flying Fickle Finger of Fate.

In this particular  finger of fate disaster, the “thread” by which the “Sword” hung was a treaty, or two.

The Austrians had a treaty with the Germans, while the Serbs had a treaty with the Russians.

Wilhelm’s cousin, Czar Nicholas of Russia, felt duty bound—by a treaty with the Bosnian Serbs— to go down to Serbia  and rescue the contentious Serbs from their  bully Austrian wannabee overlords.

When the Austrians attacked the Serbians, the Russians were treaty-bound to attack the Austrians, which meant that the Russians were also at war with the Germans.

Cousin Nikky and Cousin Willy were suddenly at war with each other.  

The actual “Sword” of Damocles was the German head honcho, Kaiser Wilhelm. Even though he was Nicholas’ cousin, he was a bellicose bastard, not unlike his later successor of 20 years later, Hitler.

On 26 July, 1914, Britain—God bless ‘em— called for a peace conference. Good luck with that. God save the Peace.

But on 28 July, Austrian Emperor Franz Josef did indeed declare war on Serbia. Damn! But—long story short—he chose to attack France!

Don’t ask. Long Story.

Now as if that weren’t bad enough . . . way up north, the Czar was already amping up his legions of millions. The hell if I know why. A whole slue of Russian trains were being set loose to transport millions of  soldiers  and armaments southward to the conflagration.

 Now—after one thing leads to another— there are ten million soldiers suddenly rolling along those shiny new rails, rushing head-long into  world war.

What’s really tragic was: as the War juggernaut was cranking up full throttle, Cousin Willie telegraphed Cousin Nicky to say that he would back down if Nicky would just not get involved.

So the thought occurs to Cousin Nicky balks: Wait a damn minute? is there a way out of this sudden madness?

Alas! The Sword of Damocles severed that olive branch.

It seems those European Royals were so excited about their new-fangled military hardware and their new toy railroads!

But it was too much trouble, at that point in time, to turn back the tide of war. So the Sword of Damocles fell and it was not lifted until 1918, after millions of people had died.

Let us hope and pray that the dreaded Sword of Nuclear Damocles does not fall on Ukraine as Vlad the Mad creeps toward Donbas!

Smoke

Smoke

Fall, 1969

 

       It was a revolutionary time. Throughout the land, the King of Soul was widely at work, but so was the jester, in a coat he borrowed from James Dean, or so it has been reported.

       News at 11:00.

~~~

Speak out, 

you got to speak out against the madness

you got to speak your mind

if you dare.

But don’t, no don’t, try to get yourself elected.

If you do you had better cut your hair.

       David Crosby’s words vibrated out from the stereo.  Stills and Nash chimed in with the refrain:

And it appears to be a long,

appears to be a long,

appears to be a long,

appears to be a long,

such a long, long, long, long time before the dawn.

        Donnie handed the joint to Maureen. She took a hit and said, “I heard them do this song at Altamont a few months ago.” Holding the smoke in, her voice sounded like the stretched tip of an aired balloon. 

        “Oh yeah? What was that like?

       “She let the smoke out. ”Crazy. It was a zoo.”

        Maureen, a New Jersey girl, rough around the edges and just like one of the guys, slightly heavy-set in jeans and the work shirt, laughed. “Crosby was trying to sing this song. I felt sorry for him. There was this weird vibe all around. It wasn’t anything like Woodstock. The stage was down low.  It was more like a barroom blast than a rock concert. People were just sort of milling around, all around the stage, while the groups were trying to do their thing, get everybody cranked up with the rock blasting out of those big speakers. I mainly wanted to hear Crosby, Stills and Nash. When they went on, I could hardly see them. We managed to worm our way in and sat down on a blanket about forty yards out from the stage When they did this song, they wound it way out, with these long guitar leads, trying to draw the song out, jazz it up, not like the album version. I guess that’s kind of like the Dead do with their stuff. I felt like, when Crosby was singing this song he was trying too hard, like over-dramatizing it, striving to project the song’s message out and over the heads of all those jokers who were standing around, like they had some important reason to be there. But those people were definitely cutting off the energy of the musicians. I felt like it was kind of putting a bummer on the whole thing.”

. . . and a few minutes later. . .

. . .and they got more obnoxious as the day went on. The worst thing that happened was at the end. After dark, all the vibes got even more weird. The Stones were playing, and there was, like, a constant scuffle going on around the stage. Some people were really tripped-out, freakin out, right next to the band, and Mick Jagger kept yelling at the people right around the stage, telling them to cool it, and calling for ‘those cats to stop beating people up.’ I mean, he even threatened to shut down the whole concert, like, ‘if you people don’t quit punching each other out we’re gonna split.’ He kept saying that over and over. It was like, whiny, ‘we’re gonna split, we’re gonna split, man.’  He was sounding like my little brother whining, when my big brother would pick on him. “We’re gonna split, we’re gonna split. Na nana booboo!”

All of the above is excerpt from  chapter 17 of my 2017 novel, King of Soul.

King of Soul

Dr. King on the Mountain

There is an intimate, prophetic link between the ancient Hebrew liberator, Moses. . . and the 2oth-century liberator, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.:

They both had a mountaintop inspiration from the Lord. . . an experience in which a prophetic vision was imparted to the prophet: a vision which opened the way for deliverance of God's people from enslavement, or deliverance from a slave mentality.

Many years ago, I wrote and recorded a song about these two prophets, and a mountain-climbing experience that I had related to their respective visionary treks up the rocky path of divine inspiration.

"Mountaintop" words are shown below.

If you care to hear the sung version, you can listen to it at Josh's YouTube site: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3hQNMr0A48    

Or you can hear the song from my website, linked here at the bottom, below these words:

Well I walked out; I walked out to Pisgah mountain

Well ole Martin Luther King; he’d been up to the mountaintop

and I wanted to see what he had seen.

And ole Moses—he’d been up to the mountaintop

and I wanted to see what he had seen.

When I reached the top of Pisgah mountain

what did I see? I saw a promised land

just waitin’ for me, and waitin’ for all of ye.

Well I walked down from the mountain and into the town

Well ole Martin Luther King—he’d been to see the big man

and I wanted to see what he had seen.

And ole Moses—he’d been to see the Pharoah.

Yeah, he’d been up there and I wanted to see what he had seen.

The promised land is what you make it to be.

Struggle to unwind your unconstant state of mind.

Just take a walk up the mountain, my friend

and you will see.

What goes on down in that dirty old town

is bound to be.

You can make up your mind, my friend

and you can make it up good.

Are you looking for the promised land

or are you dying, are you dying in a wasteland.

‘cause I may be asking you now; I may be asking you:

Are you looking for the promised land?

And what you gonna say

when my Lord comes on that day.

‘cause I may be asking you now; I may be asking you.

But someday, Lord, yeah, He’s gonna ask you too

And what you gonna say when my Lord

comes on that day?

Glass half-Full 

Alexei Navalny

Last night I watched, for the second time, a documentary flick on HBO that I am now recommending to anyone in the world.

Alexei Navalny is a Russian dissident leader who has striven, through his entire life, to obtain justice, mercy and freedom for his fellow-citizens in Russia.

And he has paid a dear price—not in money, but in his own personal freedom—for his bold advocacy of democracy in the midst of the Russian beast state. 

He is in prison now. During a period of relative freedom, between two imprisonments, he managed to make a the documentary video that you can see on HBO. Alexei has received continuously faithful help from his wife, children and other friends. Their loyal presence and support throughout their struggle is front-and-center visible in the incredible documentary that they made.

Navalny’s message of freedom is especially poignant now, as Putin strains his Russian State and People in his attempt to enslave the Ukrainians. 

I was born in 1951. My appreciation for Freedom has  continuously boosted throughout my 71 years of life. However, there are three memories that I will share with you that are especially poignant.

In 1961, our President John F. Kennedy visited the people of Berlin, Germany. At that time, the Russians, having occupied Germany since the end of World War II, were building a wall to separate the captive people of East Germany from the free people of West Germany.

President Kennedy spoke boldly to those Berliners, and to the world at large. He challenged the people of the world: “Let them come to Berlin” . . . to see the plain and obvious difference between political bondage—as seen on the Russian side of the wall— and, as seen on the Western side of the wall. Our President intensified his identity with the free people of West Germany when he announced: “Ich bin ein Berliner!” 

Now, in the 21st century, Alexei Navalny would qualify as one of those rare brave souls to whom Kennedy dedicated his "Profiles in Courage."

A couple of decades later, President Reagan took the protest to another level, very plain and simple: “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”

One more memory I’ll share with you. When I was still a young man, early 1970’s, I heard a haunting melody sung, a capella, by Crosby, Stills and Nash:

“Find the cost of freedom, buried in the ground.”

The dearest cost of our collective freedom is that ultimate price of sacrifice, offered by brave men and women who have, throughout history, paid that ultimate price of death, in their rugged slog through oppression and tyranny.

Alexei Navalny is one Russian patriot who has found himself close—very close—to that ultimate price of being laid in the cold, cold ground. 

And yet, and yet, he’s still alive and cooking.  

Check our the video on HBO. The name of the movie is “Navalny.”

For more information about this modern-day Patrick Henry, I recommend Wikipedia:  

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexei_Navalny

Glass half-Full 

Rebel Republicans Rumble

Rumble, rumble, toil and tumble

Republican rebel reps: they rumble.

They rumble through the Gaetz of hell

so lately cast by Trumpian spell

Alas! poor McCarthy, they knew him well.

Republican Rogers tries to tell

his fellow Repubs to cease their rumble. 

But Richard muzzles Rogers’ remark to a mumble!

In this very first Repub majority

they fall into a ripped authority

as the rapier of rabid rebuttal

Reverts them to a Rebel scuffle,

Reminding us of that Rebel Insurrection

that happened by RebelRepub direction,

that happened exactly two years ago

as Rebel Repubs stooped so dam low.

"Friends, Rebels, MAGA peers,

Lend me your Trumpy ears!"

They said

while a few folks were lying dead!

"Take our Rule of Law and shove it.

We know we Rebels are far above it." 

Doesn’t matter that Rebels stormed the Dome two year ago.

"Now We RebelRepubReps are running the show!

Just so you know.  

You ain’t seen nothing yets!

Here come that  Rebel Gaetz!

We'll blow the wad on Hunter's laptop!

This is our version RebRepRap hiphop!

We’ll teach Kevin how to run the HouseRep Rubble

with Rebel Republican toil and trouble!"

Glass half-Full 

The Red Dragon Problem

 A long, long, time ago, in a kingdom far away. . .

Magi men from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is He?”

When Herod the king heard this, he got really upset, something terrible.

Later, when he figured out that the Magi had tricked him, he got even more bent out of shape. So he sent his thugs to execute all the male babies in Bethlehem and its vicinity. 

Overkill, literally.

But that mini-holocaust didn’t pan out the way he hoped it would: No king of the Jews was slain. They didn't even find one, at least not yet. 

Herod  the Anti (first of many) and his diabolical minions shape-shifted their way through history, never giving up the search for that kid on whom they would inflict the final solution.

Later, after the had child grown, administered miraculous grace and healing to hundreds, if not thousands, of the locals—Jews and others who happened to be in the vicinity—Herod and his well-connected allies were able to find Him. They convinced Governor Pilate to do their dirty work and so he did and they hung the troublemaker up, Roman style, on a cross and they thought they had solved the problem of the upstart Galilean. But that bloody execution put Him out of commission for only three days.

The Executed One bounced back. 

Later, we got a fuller report from Patmos, a little more back-story: 

When the dragon realized that he had been thrown down to the earth, he got really pissed off and, as things went down,  he persecuted the woman who had given birth to the male child.

That old red dragon would pop up every now and then in history to do his dirty work and take another shot at eliminating the problem. 

Eventually, he came up with a plan that would surely be a final solution.

But persecuted Yids got by with a little help from their friends, the Brits, the Yanks,  and a few airborne others. . .

"The two wings of the great Eagle were given to the woman, so that she could fly into the wilderness, to her place, where she could be nourished for a time, times and half a time"

(as the Times reported from Patmos)

Sometimes destiny takes a long, long time to work itself out.

Glass half-Full

Trouble on the Mountain

In the middle of time, as we know it . . . on the cusp of B.C. and A.D., along came a prophetess, Anna. She spoke profoundly, in a prophetic way, to all people who were looking for:  the redemption of Jerusalem. Whatever that is. . .

The Western world has been wondering, for over 2000 years now, what is meant by the “redemption of Jerusalem.” This concept is yet to be clearly manifested.

  But we do notice that now, in 2023, the opposite is happening, again.  The furies start to fly, maybe because Pandora has opened her box? but that’s just an old Greek wives’ tale.

Yesterday, all those troubles seemed so far away; now it looks as though they’re suddenly here to stay.  Newly-appointed Israeli Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir visited the mosque, with Israeli Security guards surrounding him. 

His visit has stirred up a hornet’s nest of Muslim rage.

According to Jean Shaoul, writing yesterday for the World Socialist, Itamar had posted pictures of himself last May while he and his family were visiting the mosque. At that time he had  “called for its destruction to ‘establish a synagogue on the mountain.’”

That’s pretty serious stuff, and the fact that Itamar is now an official of the Netanyahu administration has upped the ante in this notorious poker game of the Temple Mount/Haram al Sharif.

Yesterday, January 5, Ben-Gvir stirred up a hornet’s nest of Muslim rage when he visited Al Aqsa again, this time in his official capacity with a group of Israeli security guys surrounding him. 

The problem here goes back to the seventh century BC, when Muhammed, the Most Holy Prophet of Islam, was transported in a nocturnal vision, to the mountain and had a visitation with Allah. 

According to Abu Abd al-Rahman and his translator, Frederick S. Colby, in The Subtleties of the Ascension, 2006: 

“The narrative describes how the Prophet was led by the angel Gabriel in the middle of the night from a location in Mecca to a remote location, which came to be identified with Jerusalem.”

The location at issue is the historic mountaintop in Jerusalem, called Haram al-Sharif  by the Muslims, called the Temple Mount by Jews and Christians. 

The mountain had originated as a holy spot because, in ancient times, Abraham had sacrificed a ram there instead of his son Isaac. Centuries later, the Jews established their tabernacle there. 

Later, under King Solomon, they built their Temple. The Israelis have hopes of building a new temple there. If they are ever able to erect one, it might look something like this:

 Their original Temple was destroyed in 70 AD by the Roman general Titus, as Jesus had vaguely predicted.  Centuries later, the Dome of the Rock, Muslim holy site, was  built there, which still stands.  

A dozen years ago, I wrote a novel, Glass half-Full, in which a news reporter strolled across the spacious plaza pictured above, and wondered why the Jews could not build their new temple there, and everybody would be happy with both Jews and Israelis attending their sacred place on the mountain.

During the 1967 war between Israelis and Muslims, General Moshe Dayan took military possession of the sacred mountintop. He (wisely) forbade his men to wreck the place. 

History reveals that this mountaintop is the hottest spot in the world for contention and enmity. Someday the words of the prophetess Anna will be fulfilled, when the “redemption of Jerusalem” is achieved, however that plays out. Notice that the western gate is currently closed. Someday, it will be opened.

Glass half-Full