Kowtow Quotes

Only fools pity survivors their scars and you should never kowtow to fools

England is not the jewelled isle of Shakespeare's much-quoted message, nor is it the inferno depicted by Dr Goebbels. More than either it resembles a family, a rather stuffy Victorian family, with not many black sheep in it but with all its cupboards bursting with skeletons. It has rich relations who have to be kow-towed to and poor relations who are horribly sat upon, and there is a deep conspiracy of silence about the source of the family income. It is a family in which the young are generally thwarted and most of the power is in the hands of irresponsible uncles and bedridden aunts. Still, it is a family. It has its private language and its common memories, and at the approach of an enemy it closes its ranks. A family with the wrong members in control - that, perhaps is as near as one can come to describing England in a phrase.

For the first time there appeared on earth kings, dictators, high priests, emperors, prime ministers, presidents, governors, mayors, generals, admirals, police chiefs, judges, lawyers, and jailers, along with dungeons, jails, penitentiaries, and concentration camps. Under the tutelage of the state, human beings learned for the first time how to bow, grovel, kneel, and kowtow. In many ways the rise of the state was the descent of the world from freedom to slavery.

Don’t hide for anyone,” he stated, pushing my hair off my shoulder. “Only fools pity survivors their scars and you should never kowtow to fools.

Only fools pity survivors their scars and you should never kowtow to fools.

Those who kow-towed to the prosecution and denounced the Nazi regime got it in the neck just the same. It serves them right.

Innocent people shouldn't be made to beg for their lives. The weak shouldn't have to kowtow to receive help, from us or anyone else.

the kowtow was symbolically voluntary: it was the representative deference of a people that had been not so much conquered as awed. The tribute presented to China on such occasions was often exceeded in value by the Emperor’s return gifts.

Some spoke critically of neoliberalism, the sense that the idea of the free market has somehow crowded out all others. This was true enough, but the very use of the word was usually a kowtow before an unchangeable hegemony. Other critics spoke of the need for disruption, borrowing a term from the analysis of technological innovations. When applied to politics, it again carries the implication that nothing can really change, that the chaos that excites us will eventually be absorbed by a self-regulating system. The man who runs naked across a football field certainly disrupts, but he does not change the rules of the game. The whole notion of disruption is adolescent: It assumes that after the teenagers make a mess, the adults will come and clean it up. But there are no adults. We own this mess. —

She was damned if she was going to kowtow to him.

kowtowing

A person can allow a tyrannical world to bully them. One can kowtow to the demands of petty tormentors; blithely accept being the drummer boy for other people’s private parade. Alternatively, a person can seek to obtain autonomy over their life.

There is no questioning the foundational myths of the social justice warrior. If you merely wish to discuss the assumptions or the data, you're a wretched misogynist and anti-diversity. If you doubt their conclusions, you're part of the patriarchy. And if you refuse to kowtow to their demands, they unleash the mob on you.

Another takes over. “I wouldn’t kowtow to Arabs whose ancestors parked camels on lucky patches of sand …” “… or to red gooks. I’d establish—I’m not afraid to say it—our country’s rightful—corporate—empire. Because if we don’t do it …” “… the Japs’ll steal the march. The corporation is the future. We need to let business run the country and establish a true meritocracy

Consciousness of the bad is an essential prerequisite to the promotion of the good. It is no use trying to build a second storey on a house whose walls are rotten. It is best to demolish it. It is both cowardly and foolhardy to kowtow to social standards when one believes neither in the society nor in its standards. Their courage is your cowardice, their cowardice your courage. It is all a matter of nomenclature. One could say it needs courage to be a coward. A conundrum, but a quotable one. Make a note of it. And

She had always thought history was made up of grand gestures, as recent, momentous events seem to demonstrate. The British Prime Minister kowtowing to the Nazi Fuehrer at Munich, the quarter-million troops landing on D-Day, the two atomic bombs that ended World War II. But now she knew better. History could be judged grand even if the event was, on the surface, small. For here, right in front of her, was history in the flesh, history that would be immortalized in print and film. The city council and mayor had surrendered, and evidently so had the biggest department store in town.

My spiritual teacher describes a person with a big ego as “a feather pretending to be an arrow.” Intuitively, this rings so true. When I tune in to patients who are egotists, their self-esteem feels frail and wobbly, but it steadies once they discover a sounder sense of worth and connection to Spirit. Forget about how impressive egotists might look on the outside or how others kowtow to them. They are grand pretenders, even to themselves, with underdeveloped hearts. Egotists parade what they’ve got: possessions, social status, or even the “high spiritual plane” they believe they’re residing on compared to us mortals.

You say respect my elders, but what you mean is respecting my betters, is that not right? Are you so full of your own arrogance that you need me to bow and kowtow to you like some throwback fledgling? Or perhaps we should reinstate the role of concubines in our society. Then you may have the pleasure of claiming me and forcing me to fall to my knees, bowing low in respect of your masculine eminence!” Gideon watched as she did just that, her gown billowing around her as she gracefully kneeled before him, so close to him that her knees touched the tips of his boots. She swept her hands to her sides, bowing her head until her forehead brushed the leather, her hair spilling like reams of heavy silk around his ankles. The Ancient found himself unusually speechless, the strangest sensation creeping through him as he looked down at the exposed nape of her neck, the elegant line of her back. Unable to curb the impulse, Gideon lowered himself into a crouch, reaching beneath the cloak of coffee-colored hair to touch her flushed cheek. The heat of her anger radiated against his touch and he recognized it long before she turned her face up to him. “Does this satisfy you, my lord Gideon?” she whispered fiercely, her eyes flashing like flinted steel and hard jade. Gideon found himself searching her face intently, his eyes roaming over the high, aristocratic curves of her cheekbones, the amazingly full sculpture of her lips, the wide, accusing eyes that lay behind extraordinarily thick lashes. He cupped her chin between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, his fingertips fanning softly over her angrily flushed cheek. “You do enjoy mocking me,” he murmured softly to her, the breath of his words close enough to skim across her face. “No more than you seem to enjoy condescending to me,” she replied, her clipped words coming out on quick, heated breaths. Gideon absorbed this latest venom with a blink of lengthy lashes. They kept their gazes locked, each seemingly waiting for the other to look away. “You have never forgiven me,” he said suddenly, softly. “Forgiven you?” She laughed bitterly. “Gideon, you are not important enough to earn my forgiveness.” “Is your ego so fragile, Legna, that a small slight to it is irreparable?” “Stop talking to me as if I were a temperamental child!” Legna hissed, moving to jerk her head back but finding his grip quite secure. “There was nothing slight about the way you treated me. I will never forget it, and I most certainly will never forget it!

With the rise of the state all of this was swept away. For the past five or six millenia, nine-tenths of all the people who ever lived did so as peasants or as members of some other servile caste or class. With the rise of the state, ordinary men seeking to use nature's bounty had to get someone else's permission and had to pay for it with taxes, tribute or extra labor. The weapons and techniques of war and organized aggression were taken away from them and turned over to specialist-soldiers and policemen controlled by military, religious, and civil bureaucrats. For the first time there appeared on earth kings, dictators, high priests, emperors, prime ministers, presidents, governors, mayors, generals, admirals, police chiefs, judges, lawyers, and jailers, along with dungeons, jails, penitentiaries, and concentration camps. Under the tutelage of the state, human beings learned for the first time how to bow, grovel, kneel, and kowtow. In many ways the rise of the state was the descent of the world from freedom to slavery.

I'm accommodating enough to yield on unimportant things, but I'll never give way on a point that matters. When it comes to trifles, such as social conventions and the like, I'm willing to go out of my way God knows how far, but I always loathe myself for being like that. It is because of this sickening wishy-washiness of mine that I can kowtow to any smug well-dressed gentleman, if only he deigns to address me politely. Otherwise, I am liable to get into a violent argument with some moron, which is even worse. All that, I suppose, comes from lack of self-control, because I've grown up in seclusion, hiding in my corner. After letting myself go like that, I always leave furious and promise myself that I'll never be caught at it again, but the next day I get caught once more. This even causes people sometimes to take me for...for a sixteen-year-old! But instead of acquiring self-control, even now I'd rather withdraw even deeper into my corner, however misanthropic that may seem to others, and snarl: "All right, I know I'm awkward, but I don't care, good-by!" I mean it and I say it once and for all.

Billy ran around with a rare old crew And he knew an Arsenal from Tottenham blue We'd be a darn sight better off if we knew Where Billy's bones are resting now Billy saw a copper and he hit him in the knee And he took him down from six to five foot three Then he hit him fair and square in the do-re-mi That copper won't be having any family Hey Billy son where are you now? Don't you know that we need you now? With a rat-tat-tat and the old kowtow Where are Billy's bones resting now? Billy went away with a peace-keeping force 'Cause he liked a bloody good fight, of course Went away in an old khaki van To the banks of the River Jordan Billy saw the Arabs and he had 'em on the run When he got 'em in the range of his sub-machine gun Then he had the Israelis in his sights, went a rat-tat-tat And they ran like shites Hey Billy son where are you now? Don't you know that we need you now? With a rat-tat-tat and the old kowtow Where are Billy's bones resting now? One night Billy had a rare old time, Laughing and singing on the Lebanon line Came back to camp not looking too pretty Never even got to see the holy city Now Billy's out there in the desert sun And his mother cries when the morning comes And there's mothers crying all over this world For their poor dead darling boys and girls Hey Billy son where are you now? Don't you know that we need you now? With a rat-tat-tat and the old kowtow Where are Billy's bones resting now? Have a Billy holiday… Born on a Monday Married on a Tuesday Drunk on a Wednesday Got plugged on a Thursday Sick on a Friday Died on a Saturday Buried on a Sunday. "Billy's Bones

But what’s with all the sentimentality about nature anyway, and the kowtowing to it, as though adhering to the “natural” had some sort of ethical force? It’s not like nature is such a friend to womankind, not like nature doesn’t just blithely kill women off on a random basis during childbirth or anything. No one who faces up to the real harshness of nature can feel very benignly about its tyranny. Sure, we like nature when it’s a beautiful day on the beach; less so when a tidal wave kills your family or a shark bites off your arm. If it were up to nature, women would devote themselves to propagating the species, compliantly serving as life’s passive instruments, and pipe down on the social demands. It’s only modern technology’s role in overriding nature—lowering the maternal death rate, inventing decent birth control methods—that’s offered women some modicum of self-determination. If it comes down to a choice, my vote’s with technology and modernity, which have liberated women far more than getting the vote or any other feminist initiative (important as these have been), precisely by rescuing us from nature’s clutches.

Younger Kindred often thought it was a big deal to steal stupid things just because they were vampires, but Lucita had found that it was the stupid things that most often led to trouble. Steal some gas and you piss of the station owner. Piss off the station owner and he calls the cops. The cops get called, they look for you, and all of a sudden feeding without complications becomes nigh impossible (because God knows that a cop would rather look for a gas thief than mix it up with someone likely to be packing, or interrupt a domestic disturbance). And so it went, and it was easier to pay the twelve bucks and avoid complications. If the situation had demanded, she would have had no compunction about killing the old man and putting his blood to good use, but since the situation didn’t warrant such, there was no point to causing trouble for herself. After all, normal young ladies who did normal things tended to fade from the memory of those that saw them—and Lucita didn’t like to be remembered. That was the whole logic behind the damn Masquerade, to be honest. It wasn’t because there were any vampires out there who were “good guys” (though some folks spent years, decades, or even centuries trying to play the role) and the Masquerade was some great and altruistic thing done for the sake of humanity. No, it made working easier. It made feeding easier. And it meant less competition and fewer hassles from kine with torches and shotguns. So few kindred on either side of the fence understood that. It wasn’t about kowtowing to the Antedeluvians or keeping the world safe for poor fragile humanity. It was about getting things done with a minimum of effort. There was no idealism involved. Lucita just liked avoiding unnecessary complications.

How can you not kowtow to their every whim when you know what they can do for you? If you value their ability to make you happy too highly, you can end up giving them the means of your destruction.

Watching you and my daughter, seeing how you’ve survived things other women couldn’t--” She licked her lips. “That steel in your backbones came from your bringin’ up, from me. I’ve taught you to stand up and fight back. I’ve raised you proud. Lately, I’ve been staring into my looking glass, wondering where the old Rachel has got off to.” “Oh, Aunt Rachel, you’ve only done what you felt you had to for me and Amy.” Rachel nodded. “Yes. But there comes a time when a body must draw the line." She sighed and rolled her eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at her mouth. “If it’s a draw between a baby and Henry, I’ll kick his ornery butt all the way to the fancy house in Jacksboro and tell him to stay there this time.” Appalled and uncertain how to react, Loretta said, “Fancy house?” “You don’t really think he goes there to get tobacco and coffee and the Godey’s Lady’s Book for us, do you?” Rachel touched Loretta’s shoulder. “Don’t look so woebegone. He leaves me alone for nigh on a month after. I consider it a blessing.” Loretta threw back her head and gave a weak laugh. “Uncle Henry visiting a fancy house? Oh, Aunt Rachel, I bet those ladies double their rates when they see the likes of him coming!” “No doubt,” Rachel said grimly. “A lover, Henry ain’t. I’ve wasted a lot of years kowtowing to him. I don’t plan to waste any more. I can make it without a man. Just you watch me.” She pushed to her feet and extended Loretta a helping hand. “Come on, little mother. I’ll fix you some remedy for that rolling tummy.” “Oh, Aunt Rachel, do you think it’s for sure?” “Sure enough that we’d best start cutting out nightshirts. I got flannel tucked away in my barrel. That’ll make up nice.” Loretta smiled, and taking a deep breath, she passed a hand over her brow. “I am powerful pleased, Aunt Rachel!” “Just keep thinkin’ that way until I get Henry told.” “Do we have to tell him right now?” “Honey, if you go to upchucking of a morning before you can reach the privacy, he’s gonna know anyway. May as well light his fuse when we’re expecting the explosion.

are a ninja, but you do not make us kowtow.” He lifted an eyebrow at the girl. Kitsune sneered. “I’m not like those ninjas. People don’t need to bow and scrape simply because I'm a ninja. I’ll never be like them. Everyone deserves to live their lives, not cower in fear.” Goro looked at her again with that penetrating gaze before giving a nod and a bow from the waist. “Welcome then, Kitsune, ninja of the...” “Fox clan,” Kitsune finished. Goro frowned, then shook his head, as if ridding himself of the look of disdain, replacing it with a smile. “Of course. Welcome, Kitsune of the Fox clan. You helped Jack retrieve the spirit orb and thus have

Innocent people shouldn’t be made to beg for their lives. The weak and the suffering shouldn’t have to kowtow to receive help, from us or anyone else.

I kowtowed, "Your Majesty is brilliant and outstanding, this criminal really does not know how to roll. Why don't you teach this criminal how to roll, this criminal will then roll for you to see!

How many times can a man kowtow and snivel before his thorny little crumb of pride pokes him into action?

Honesty was a thing that could never be a thing. In a blaze of hubris and misplaced enthusiasm, we kowtowed to it, thinking it would make us better people, but conveniently forgetting that an abstraction was incompatible with the specificity of a human’s needs and wants.

I wonder how often evangelical Christians in today’s world have completely inverted these priorities, kowtowing to the overly conservative, judgmental insiders and blasting away at the non-Christian world for not adhering to Christian morality. Yet how can we expect non-Christians to pursue Christian morality when they do not have God’s Spirit within them, the Spirit who alone makes such obedience possible?

According to the Nobel Committee (the group of ultra-liberals in Norway who pick the prize winners), Obama was awarded the 2009 prize “for his extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples.”8 Really? After less than a year in office? This was an award modeled after Seinfeld—it truly was about nothing, and meant nothing, at least in reality. Even the Obama administration had the good grace to be embarrassed by the award. Besides giving an abysmally naïve “speech to the Muslim world” in Cairo and talking about things like nuclear nonproliferation and climate change, the man had done squat in terms of forwarding world peace in the months he had been in office. He said so himself: “To be honest, I do not feel that I deserve to be in the company of so many of the transformative figures who’ve been honored by this prize.”9 Though the administration was not quite embarrassed enough to show the good grace of declining the honor in favor of someone who actually deserved it. But here’s why this award matters—because it fits so perfectly with Leftist philosophy. Obama was a global rock star who had replaced the “evil” George W. Bush. He was also the first African American to lead the United States. And the Nobel Committee wanted to do what felt good. They wanted in on the action. Essentially, this once-prestigious organization decided to act like squealing teenagers at a Beatles concert; they got caught up in “Obamamania” and just couldn’t help themselves. It felt good, so it felt right. So they did it. And then this Nobel Laureate went on to spend eight years undermining world peace by kneecapping the one thing that keeps a lid on this bubbling cauldron of a world: the U.S. military. He also invaded and destabilized Libya, broke his promises on Syria, has been downright dismissive to Israel, kowtowed to China, and let Russian President Vladimir Putin walk all over him (and therefore us). This man has done more to destabilize the world than perhaps any American President, ever. And guess what? Even the Nobel Committee who scrambled to award him the prize came to regret their decision! The Nobel Institute’s director at the time told the media in September 2015 that they “thought it would strengthen Obama and it didn’t have this effect,” and “even many of Obama’s supporters thought that the prize was a mistake.”10 Oops.

This was classic regulatory arbitrage. Bank managers were not unaware of the risks they courted. Wall Street has simply never kowtowed to regulations that pull the plug on profitable businesses. They always find their way around them.

All countries that trade with China are compelled to support China’s position on Taiwan (i.e., that Taiwan is part of China). This is a technicality that the U.S. also observes, but it is practically meaningless. China will not open relations with a country that has diplomatic relations with Taiwan. So, we have to understand that this hypocrisy regarding China is universally observed. Ukraine is not taking China’s side against Taiwan in kowtowing. Everyone does it. It used to be that South Africa did not recognize China, maintaining its relations with Taiwan. But then the ANC took over and China was recognized. I do not know if there are any countries, anywhere, that do not have diplomatic relations with China.

Anneke, I don't know what the FUCK just got into you, but if you want to have a job here, I suggest you go home now and think about what you want to say to us tomorrow to make us want to keep you." I look him dead in his beady little eyes and with a deep sense of calm, I unload, pretty as you please with honeyed tones. "You don't have to worry, Murph. I don't want to have a job here. I'm tired of the bullshit kowtowing to entitled crap-buckets like the Mannings. I'm tired of you and Mac never giving me my due or having my back. I'm tired of you feeding all the good stuff to your obsequious cousin Liam and leaving me all the shit. I'm tired of your endless series of talentless legs and boobs and hair extensions that you like wandering around here despite their general incompetence. I'm finished. I'm the best you had and the only one you should have trained to replace you in three years when you want to retire and still draw income. And you've never once done anything to show that you know it. So, since it's clear that you will always take the word of the client over someone who has been a valuable employee for nearly a decade, I am fucking done." I never raise my voice; the smile never leaves my face. I deliver this blow with as much grace as I can muster, throw my bag over my shoulder, grab the small box of my personal effects, and push past him before he can even close his gaping jaw. I head out of my office, feeling flushed and nervous, but also giddy. Liam is standing next to the front desk, chatting up Pinky Tuscadero Barbie. "That's a lot of yelling back there, Annamuk." He leers at me. "That time of the month?" The Barbie giggles. "Hey, Liam? A word to the wise. That fancy truck? Doesn't mean you don't HAVE a tiny little dick. It just means that you want the WHOLE WORLD to know it." And with that, I open the door wide, letting the frigid wind blow through, leaving them both gape-jawed in a tornado of papers.

There is a tendency for us to flee from the wild silence and the wild dark, to pack up our gods and hunker down behind city walls, to turn the gods into idols, to kowtow before them and approach their precincts only in the official robes of office. And when we are in the temples, then who will hear the voice crying in the wilderness? Who will hear the reed shaken by the wind? Who will watch the Galaxy rise above the eastern hedge and see a river infinitely deep and crystal clear, a river flowing from the spring that is Creation to the ocean that is Time? We are dust flicked from the scorpion's tail. The woodcock cries in ascending circles; the wild geese thrash the air with their heavy wings. The night is the old wood; the night is the native pool. Antares is a lamp, burning and shining; rejoice in its light.

And suddenly we are back at Walden Pond, or on the tiny planet of the Little Prince, as poor as church mice and as rich as lords. I count every star in Sagittarius as mine. I kowtow to no one for their possession

As I read deeper in the Zen poets, I soon stumbled upon Ikkyū, the fifteenth-century sword-wielding monk of Daitokuji, who had entered a temple at the age of six and gone on to express his contempt for the corrupt monasteries of his time in famously controversial poems. Like the Sixth Dalai Lama, in his way, Ikkyū had been a patron - and a laureate - of the local taverns, and of the pretty girls he had found therein; and like his Tibetan counterpart, or John Donne in our own tradition, he had deliberately conflated the terms of earthly love with those of devotion to the Absolute. The very name he gave himself, "Crazy Cloud", had played subversively on the fact that "cloud water" was a traditional term for monks, who wandered without trace, yet "cloud rain" was a conventional idiom for the act of love. His image of the "red thread" ran through the austere surroundings of his poems as shockingly as the scarlet peonies of Akiko. And in his refusal to kowtow to convention, the maverick monk had turned every certainty on its head: whores, he said, could be like ideal monks - since they inhabited the ideal Zen state of "no min" - while monks, in selling themselves for gold brocade, were scarcely different from whores. Many of his verses trembled with this ambiguity. One couplet, taken one way, was translated as "Making distinctions between good and evil, the monk's skill lies in knowing the essential condition of the Buddha and the Devil"; taken another way, it meant: "That girl is no good, this one will do; the monk's skill is in having the appetite of a devilish Buddha.

that we can improve,” Schoenfeld penitently announced. Of course, as Schoenfeld meekly hinted, Duke has been engaged in color-coded programming and funding for decades, pouring money into, to name just a few endeavors, a black student center, a black student recruiting weekend, and such bureaucratic sinecures as a vice provost for faculty diversity and faculty development and an associate vice provost for academic diversity, who, along with the faculty diversity task force and faculty diversity standing committee, ride herd over departmental hiring and monitor the progress of the ongoing Faculty Diversity Initiative, which followed upon the previous Black Faculty Strategic Initiative. But no college administration in recent history has ever said to whining students of any race or gender: “Are you joking? We’ve kowtowed to your demands long enough, now go study!” And why should the burgeoning student services bureaucracy indulge in such honesty? It depends on just such melodramatic displays of grievance for its very existence.

She’s picking it up from you, Betty. The way you are. How can she grow into a confident young woman when she sees you kowtowing

Without thinking about it, the Judge put his thumb and fingertips together and tapped them lightly against the tabletop several times. This was an ancient gesture in China. The story was that one of the early Emperors liked to dress as a commoner and travel about the Middle Kingdom to see how the peasants were getting along. Frequently, as he and his staff were sitting about the table in some inn, he would pour tea for everyone. They could not kowtow to their lord without giving away his identity, so they would make this gesture, using their hand to imitate the act of kneeling. Now Chinese people used it to thank each other at the dinner table. From time to time, Judge Fang caught himself doing it, and thought about what a peculiar thing it was to be Chinese in a world without an Emperor.

The Principal was either a fool or a crook. I understood what she wanted; but I never wiped up the floor with myself for anyone; I could not kow-tow or use the stupid flattery which the other teachers used to curry favors from the head of the school. I could not pretend for the sake of expediency, and I did not intend to try.

Clarence Thomas after being falsely accused: “This is a circus. It’s a national disgrace. And from my standpoint, as a black American, it is a high-tech lynching for uppity blacks who in any way deign to think for themselves, to do for themselves, to have different ideas, and it is a message that unless you kowtow to an old order, this is what will happen to you. You will be lynched, destroyed, caricatured by a committee of the U.S. Senate rather than hung from a tree.

According to critical thinkers like Zola and Illich, one of the functions of medical ritual is social control. Medical encounters occur across what is often a profound gap in social status: Despite the last few decades’ surge in immigrant and female doctors, the physician is likely to be an educated and affluent white male, and the interaction requires the patient to exhibit submissive behavior—to undress, for example, and be open to penetration of his or her bodily cavities. These are the same sorts of procedures that are normally undertaken by the criminal justice system, with its compulsive strip searches, and they are not intended to bolster the recipient’s self-esteem. Whether consciously or not, the physician and patient are enacting a ritual of domination and submission, much like the kowtowing required in the presence of a Chinese emperor. Some physicians, unsurprisingly, see

I thought you’d run. Most people would have.” “You would have caught me.” “True. Most people figure that out too late.” Fine, Brad, let’s talk this through, if that’s what you want. And yes, I used your first name. I don’t kowtow to you anymore. At least not in my own head. “You betrayed me in Ukraine,” I said. “We’ve been over this.” “No, we haven’t.” Winters sighed, like I was wasting his time. Fine with me. I knew he wanted to be at Camp Speicher even less than I did. I was comfortable in this environment; he wasn’t.

The wheels of evil will keep turning even during the apocalypse. That’s what I’ve realized. People will keep gossiping, kowtowing to their bosses, rescuing their TV sets and astrakhan coats. Just before the world ends, human beings will be exactly the same as they are now. The same as always.

Mostly, we swaddle ourselves in the sacrilege of self-justification and kowtow to a God we have silently rechristened ego. All things are acceptable in the all-seeing eyes of self-interest. Within the walls of our flimsy Jericho, we court ruin.

a reenactment of the outrage over the kowtow incident that soured early Chinese-British relationships, the British expressed their anger over the fact that, in the Viceroy’s letters, the empress’s name was written in larger letters than Queen Victoria’s.[li]

MODERN SCIENCE CAN SOLVE ANY TECHNICAL PROBLEM IT RECOGNISES therefore 257 THE GREAT FUTURE OF MANKIND WE CAN DOME THE CRATERS OF THE MOON AND GROW FORESTS IN THEM and then STRIP FROM VENUS HALF THE CLOUDS WHICH MAKE HER SURFACE A FACSIMILE OF ANCIENT HELL AND GIVE HER MOIST AIR RAINING AN OCEAN WHICH, STOCKED WITH PLANKTON AND WHALES, WILL COMPOSE A WARM PACIFIC PLANET WITH VOLCANIC ISLANDS WHERE SLOWLY NEW LIFE WILL TAKE ROOT and then HOLLOW THE LARGEST ASTEROIDS, LIGHT ARTIFICIAL SUNS IN THEM, ACCELERATE THEIR AXIAL ROTATION TO PRODUCE CENTRIFUGAL INTERIOR GRAVITY, BUILD HORIZONLESS GARDEN CITIES ROUND THE WALLS AND LET ADVENTUROUS GENERATIONS SAIL TO THE STARS IN THEM because WITHOUT FIGHTING OTHERWORLDLY HUNS, PLUNDERING OTHERWORLDLY AZTECS, KOWTOWING TO OTHERWORLDLY SUPERMEN, WE CAN CREATE ALL THE GOOD WORLDS WE EVER IMAGINED and thus LOVE, SEX, BIRTH, CHILDREN NEED NO LONGER LEAD TO POVERTY, FAMINE, WAR, DEBT, SLAVERY, REVOLUTION, THEY WILL BECOME OUR GREATEST GIFT TO THE UNIVERSE WHICH ENGENDERED US! However THE COST OF FERTILISING THE WASTE OF THE UNIVERSE, STARTING WITH THE MOON, IS SO GREAT THAT ONLY A RICH PLANET CAN AFFORD IT so we must EMPLOY EVERY LIVING SOUL TO FERTILISE OUR OWN DESERTS, RESTOCK OUR OWN SEAS, USE UP OUR OWN WASTE, IMPROVE ALL GROUND, NOURISH EDUCATE DELIGHT ALL CHILDREN UNTIL ALL ARE STRONG, UNAFRAID, CREATIVE, PRACTICAL ADULTS WHO LOVE AND UNDER-STAND THE WORLD THEY LIVE IN AND THE MANY WORLDS THEY COULD LIVE IN 258 GLORY RAGE RADIANCE for it is technically possible to CREATE A WORLD WHERE EVERYONE IS A PARTNER IN THE HUMAN ENTERPRISE AND NOBODY A MERE TOOL OF IT yes God we can BECOME GARDENERS AND LOVERS OF THE UNIVERSE BY FIRST TREATING OTHERS AS WE WISH THEY WOULD TREAT US AND LOVING OUR NEIGHBOURS AS OURSELVES (What happened three nights later when you went home to Denny?) FUCK OFF YA FUCKIN BASTARDING BAMPOT YE! LEA ME ALANE YE BLEEDN CUNTYE! YE ROTTN PRICKYE! Yes I’ll tell you about that but not right now. Give me a bit more time. Please. God.