The Des Moines episode, so turgidly described, as if no attempt is required or possible to employ the English language with style or grace on the presumption that the reader has neither as well, is just another incident in the avalanche of trade, commerce, manufacture, physical science and mechanics which is gradually, and seemingly insensibly, sweeping us down to the valley floor from the majestic heights.
In principle, it is as different from the New Jersey incident as a pebble is different from a particle of dust.
It is an attack on the imaginative faculty, which, as we all know from Mr Armstrong is a concatenation of physico/chemico states of the brain, and its connection with education is indiscernible to the naked eye.
"You have many contacts out there among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination.."
Ballad of a Thin Man. Bob Dylan (1965 and just a kid.)
Mathos wrote-
Quote: Is there a doctor in the house?
That is the authentic squawk of the philistine parrot addressing an audience which it cannot conceive of being composed of anything other than philistine parrots like itself.
It is a refreshing and pleasant surprise to hear one voice raised expressing a degree of mild dissent.
A fanous poet wrote on the death of William Wordsworth-
Quote: He spoke, and loosed our hearts in tears.
He lay us as we lay at birth
On the cool flowery lap of earth,
Smiles broke from us and we had ease;
The hills were round us, and the breeze
Went o'er the sunlit fields again;
Our foreheads felt the wind and rain.
Our youth returned; for there was shed
On spirits that had long been dead,
Spirits dried up and closely furled,
The freshness of the early world.
That's harmless c.i.
