II, le Schrub (fragment)
Joseph R. Stromberg
the plains of Frankistan, the warre councill meet in an abandoned
(an aide): What say’st thou of the prisoners, Sire, unauthorized
combatants of the plain?
(field marshall): We’ll shackle them in Cuba, and do them worse
than dogges, e’en tho none there had a hand in it (whispers)
that we can prove. ‘Tis nothing, and le Shrub him selfe shall
take it like a pretzel to his bosom.
But how, milord, shall we spin it for the people, the dim-brained
beasts, when three or four their names thou ken’st, may crave
to know it meets the laws of war?
Of Chomsky and his ilk, pray, mind me not, for they like insects
ever buzz my tent and dryve me spare and e’en here in Frankistan.
(a groom): My lord, news is there! And none too good, as tho’t
were not sufficient to the daye, the Moors grow restless and hold
their hatred close, they say.
A drone or two will stay their tongues and thus the sleeping wogs
of Dar’ll bide the night, and of our courses unaware.... Heark,
someone comes. ‘Tis Cheaney.
(viceroy): Goo’day, my Noble Lords, and may ye ever so abide,
stalwart, true, and bold, as the chicken wears the hawke his hyde.
I come from our Great Souveraigne’s stowe, he greets you all and
bids me Say his minde....
(aside): If mind he have but, oh, I do forget my selfe....
What’s that, milord, hast thoughts for us to bare? Come out of thy
‘Twas nothing, Sire for the twinkling of an eye I beheld in thought
my share in smithies that the great flying drones do build, with
all their fire...
Yea, in this bold warre, we here much treasure to our Owne estates
shall gather and engross, withoil, I meant withall. A mighty
thing of one kind and unical, but not affix’d to our standard
now, nor must we say alowde such things. For lyttle birdies do sing
kuwait, kuwait, and a word to the wyse is a poke in
must read you of our Sovrein’s thoughts..... [puts on reading glasses]
(reading): ‘We, Georgilius II, stupor mundi et stupor Tuesdi,
King of Thisse and Duke of Thatte, Oure Noble men in Armes do greete
and to yowre better understanding and ratiocination of oure Cause,
do mind yowe all, Viz: Evildo’rs there are, who hate us solely
of our freedom, which they disrelish much, yet nonetheless We seeke
no wider fields [note to our selfe: save oyle], no territories
grandized; for all We ask and strongly crave is that the Universall
world Our pow’r do honour, and reckon Us the Finall judge of all
thinges, spirituall and worldly, [No, I can’t intervene in the Alabama
Governor’s race, I We are instructing our thegns,
and stop interrupting me Us while We are working!].....’
further more, our king doth say: ‘And as to Baghdad, a towne in
Jersey as Our hooded and privy Court of Unseen justice hath declared,
which cometh so under Our souvereigntie and Our most rightfull
jurisdixion, We instruct and bind you, loyall thegns, to
beleaguer, siege, and tredd it under foote, so that Our writ shall
run and Oyle may flow, and waste away the memory of gasoline at
dollars twain/the gallon. Do this, Our faithfull servants, and leave
No tern unstoned. Salutem ad vos omnes, Nous George le Deuxieme,
votre pissante Sovereigne et Seignior de toute le monde. Per fidem
et per gemmas familiares.’ Hic expliciunt litterae Georgii II.
himself:) Methinks he meant ‘puissante.’
By my fai’, he saith a mouthfull and halfe again, and so our taske
is sett: invade, o’erthrow, and last, bestryde the global,
worldwide sphere and bring it under lawe. Democracie whate’er
that be we shall engendre, And nations build, tho’ pale
Buchanan like it not, and natter negativo. To kick his shin
I’m fain, but we have other bidness. Leave them to their
brooding, and some (I wene) unto their lazy faires, there
is no matter in’t. For should they bold and troublous wax and, restless,
cry ‘Regime change starts at home,’ Our sovereigne’s Fiery Eye shall
spy them out, howeverso they roam.
Well said, brave lad, thou’rt in trim, and risest up the ladder
(to himself:) but for my part, abroad with you, for who can trust
an adder?.... I, aw, my thoughts got out of traine... The oylie
bird gets the world – No, I mean to say, the early bird gets
the worm; but never mind, it’s rimes we need and numbers
plural. Call PoinSin’ster!
(interjecting): I fain would push the Button!
Hold thy knavish tongue, Pearlygate, thou bloody stupid wanker!
Just bide a while… The Button may yet have its day….
(classified): There’s figures in everything, yer Grace,
in amplitude and size, but whate’er they compass great or small,
we know them on this wise: Our mighty Universall eye by
wiles classified and hidden, seeks out to know if an’ all the wights
are doing what they’re bidden but, more, at our shrouded,
bushie stowe, whose dread name no man utters
DARPA PANOPTICON! The Pyramid his Eye! I knew a man once, he worked
in stone, a mason then..... Well, shut my mouth....
sound of swords unsheathed...)
Stay your sword hands, bold Knights, we few these things
may know, for we are wise and good, unlike the lambs who putt us
here. But for the record, mind that anywight who saith the words
my Lord was lately out with, wide and side and out of doors, shall
suffer fine of $500,000, and for thirty yeares rot in prison under
durance vile most foederal, tho’ there’s some discretion in it.
It hingeth on the judge... but they are with us.... Whose butter
smears their bread is well within their ken; they are not dim but
But I want more news of Dar-, that thing we do not say
Well and good, bold fledgling Knight, ‘tis on the ground of (nods
gravely:) Need To Know (aside:) and we all know thy need.
With clever tools and odd devises, sparkfed, quick, and nimble,
all worldly things we see (and hear) and store them in One
Place unphysical, whilst thimble readers sort things out and make
our knowledge total… but if ever we’re in court, my friend: we’ve
never spoke, all this is anecdotal…
This inner lore we here lay bare, not for the mean and low, those
common broadsheet scribblers with their ‘publick right to know.’
Call ye to mind the idle japes and empty words I told ‘em, of ‘known
unknowns’ and those ‘unknown.’ I very nearly sold ‘em. And
when I predicated thus: ‘The absence of evidence is not evidence
of absence’ – some thought me Harry Stottle. The rest, the silly,
idle fools, took recourse in a bottle.
est potentia, Bacon saith. To know what things is, is to grasp
them tight, and so to bind them, and like Prometheus the
fire, to bend them to Our Will. Surveillance total, just descryved,
is father to this miracle, permit me this small jest
for melding Latine with the Greeke, all empire is empirical.
And of such hue I’ll further own, ere our discourses flag, Sir Tom
of Ridge, he hath a poke it is his great Black Bagge….
By Immortal Caesar’s ghost, I say, and by my jewels familiar: ‘tis
done! We’ve made quick work of it, tho’ I do myne owne back
pat. The best and brightest, we and on to Universall Empyre! Away
with rights and Bills, old hand-stained rotten parchments, which
beckoning paths do block. They mock our Will, Our soveraign
’is Will, that is....
Away with chartered rights and bills! Praise Petroleum, our god
alchemical, known to George, our lord supreme, in all his rocks
and layers. For strategy and stratigraphy in euphony
cohabit – yes, the stratum’s the thing, and that’s the bottom
of it. So pull the wool and blind the side and wink the hood! Why!
– legally we swear and hold – the thing does not perplex
us: Iraq, Iran, and Araby were ever parts of Texas.
so we play’rs have strove to find out reason’s awful rime
numbers culled and calibrate to sound the dreadfull tyme
done our best to plumb the depths and fathom all the friction
Tho’ running up against stone walls bedeckt with Legal fiction
men their damn’dest doo as bulwarkes of the Secret state
bits and bytes like gods to see, with which they calculate
George le Shrub, his rule be long, and Heaven help his toyle
tyme he’s had, much like his dad, and endeth up with Oyle
well that ends swell.
Joseph R. Stromberg [send him
mail] is holder of the JoAnn B. Rothbard Chair in History at
the Ludwig von Mises Institute
and a columnist for LewRockwell.com