"The cutting room is a cruel place, where writing that may have cost blood to commit to paper is kneaded and pummelled like so much insensate clay."
Jasper Rees, "Blood and ink on the floor," Independent, April 13, 1997
I began this blog in May, 2005, with the intention of creating a working manuscript of the history of left dhimmi fascism. I finished that first draft long ago, and now I think it's time to let this effort rest in peace at last. I have much editing and revision to do on this and two other manuscripts that have lain in the dust too long. If ever they are to come to life, then I must work to make them live.
As the new year begins this blog ends. I wish to thank all of you who contributed so much to my understanding of the problems we face and the solutions we might gainfully employ to make our nations and our lives more worthwhile than they will be should we continue languishing in self-hating dhimmitude and Left fascism as a matter of unconsidered course. I am optimistic, and I am enthused about the coming year. I'll meet you there. Meanwhile, I have friends to join for the celebrations of our lives.
Thank you all very much for your efforts and concern.
You do look, my son, in a moved sort,
As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd;
Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled:
Be not disturb'd with my infirmity:
If you be pleased, retire into my cell
And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk,
To still my beating mind.
William Shakespeare, The Tempest
Best regards, Dag.