Thursday, 12 August 2021

What Can Men Do Against Such Reckless Hate…?








“Why ‘Beyond Order’? It is simple, in some regard. 

Order is EXPLORED TERRITORY. We are In Order when the actions we deem appropriate produce the results we aim at. 

We regard such outcomes positively, indicating as they do, first, that we have moved closer to what we desire, and second, that our theory about how the world works remains acceptably accurate. 

Nonetheless, all states of order, no matter how secure and comfortable, have their flaws. Our knowledge of how to act in The World remains eternally incomplete — partly because of our profound ignorance of the vast unknown, partly because of our willful blindness, and partly because the world continues, in its entropic manner, to transform itself unexpectedly. 

Furthermore, the order we strive to impose on the world can rigidify as a consequence of ill-advised attempts to eradicate from consideration all that is unknown. 

When such attempts go too far, totalitarianism threatens, driven by the desire to exercise full control where such control is not possible, even in principle. This means risking a dangerous restriction of all the psychological and social changes necessary to maintain adaptation to the ever-changing world. And so we find ourselves inescapably faced with the need to move beyond order, into its opposite: CHAOS.

  If Order is where what we want makes itself known — when we act in accordance with our hard-won Wisdom — Chaos is where what we do not expect or have remained blind to leaps forward from the potential that surrounds us. 

The fact that something has occurred many times in the past is no guarantee that it will continue to occur in the same manner.1 There exists, eternally, a domain beyond what we know and can predict. 

Chaos is anomaly, novelty, unpredictability, transformation, disruption, and all too often, descent, as what we have come to take for granted reveals itself as unreliable. Sometimes it manifests itself gently, revealing its mysteries in experience that makes us curious, compelled, and interested. This is particularly likely, although not inevitable, when we approach what we do not understand voluntarily, with careful preparation and discipline. Other times the unexpected makes itself known terribly, suddenly, accidentally, so we are undone, and fall apart, and can only put ourselves back together with great difficulty—if at all.

  Neither the state of order nor the state of chaos is preferable, intrinsically, to the other. That is the wrong way to look at it. 

Nonetheless, in my previous book, 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos, I focused more on how the consequences of too much chaos might be remediated. We respond to sudden and unpredictable change by preparing, physiologically and psychologically, for the worst. 

And because only God Himself knows what this worst might be, we must in our ignorance prepare for all eventualities. And the problem with that continual preparation is that, in excess, it exhausts us. But that does not imply in any manner that chaos should be eliminated (an impossibility, in any case), although what is unknown needs to be managed carefully, as my previous book repeatedly stressed. Whatever is not touched by the new stagnates, and it is certainly the case that a life without curiosity—that instinct pushing us out into the unknown—would be a much-diminished form of existence. What is new is also what is exciting, compelling, and provocative, assuming that the rate at which it is introduced does not intolerably undermine and destabilize our state of being.”

No, He is a RARE Boy, My Friend The Soldier.

 



 
"I caught Death in my sack! Wife! 
Do you see? I've caught Death in my sack! 
What about that, eh? Good, eh?"
 
Death, A Prisoner! 
 
The News, whispered from one of The Tsar's 50 wives to the other,
spread through the town as fast as gossip,
which is what it was
and nothing spreads faster,
and within 4 and a half minutes
the whole town knew,
and within 17 minutes
the whole country knew,
and by the following morning,
it was the talking point of a 1,000 languages.
 
 Death, A Prisoner!
Morte UN prigionero!
Tod ein gefanger! 
Smird ooznitzen! 
 
…..I forgot the Greek. 
 
Ekhmalotisame ton thanato! 
 
Exactly. 
 
 
And The Soldier, to be on the safe side,
set off with Death in his sack
and found the thickest forest
and the highest tree,
and clambered up it
and hung Death from the longest branch
and promptly fell off.
 
But there's nothing like
Death off-duty to cushion a fall.
 
So nothing died?
 
Nothing.
 
The oddest battles!
There were wars going on in most places
and they were very strange.
 
At the end of a day's carnage,
flashing swords and explosions,
the air thick with arrows
and the savage swoosh of axes,
nobody had died.
 
The armies would look at each other,
exhausted and intact.
 
Duels at dawn went on till midnight
when the rivals would go home confused.
 
Crossed lovers would throw themselves off cliffs
and have a long climb back.
 
And My Friend The Soldier was
The Most Famous Man in The World
because suddenly,
everyone could live for ever.
 
He sat in his palace and whistled his Ruby whistle.
 
ª[soldier whistling]
 
And then, one day, looking down from his window,
he sees his courtyard full of poor souls wandering,
old scrags of folk barely held together.
 
They were waiting, waiting for Death,
for Death's release and it would not come.
 
And The Soldier could not bear their sorrow.
 
Back he went to The Forest.
 
[Birds chirping]
 
Death? I've led you a merry dance,
but now you must have me and set the world to rights.
 
[Wind howling]
 
Death, come back!
 
But Death had fear of The Soldier and His Sack
and would not come back.
 
He was condemned to watch while others aged and died,
but Death would not come for him.
 
No, The Soldier, Old Kipper, Dried Beef,
lived on and on and on, until he could stand it no longer,
and dragged his dust and fragments
across to the edge of the earth
and slowly down to Hell.
 
[Knocking on door]
 
Yes?
 
A sinful soul comes to surrender his life.
 
Yes.
What's that you're carrying?
 
Nothing, an old sack.
 
A sack?
 
[Screams]
 
Let me in. I beg you.
 
Go away! Go on!
And take that horrible sack with you!
 
But where can I go?
 
We don't care, just jigger off.
 
I won't go unless you give me a map to Heaven and a way in.
And 200 souls you have no further use for.
 
[Devil muttering]
 
150.
 
Do you know what this is?
 
Don't wave that sack around!
All right, 200. Yuck!
 
Follow the map until you can go no further
and then go directly up until you get the sensation
of standing on your head.
 
That's The Edge of Heaven.
 
After that,
Follow The Church Music.
 
ª[organ playing]
 
Who approaches 
The Gates of Heaven? 
 
I am The Soldier who took Death prisoner, 
and I have brought 200 souls from Hell 
in The Hope that God will Forgive Me, 
and let me in with them. 
 
The souls may enter, but alone. 
 
Go then and Be Blessed. 
 
Take this, friend, 
and once inside, 
Call Me into The Sack. 
 
Remember, I delivered you 
from The Furnace. 
 
But you see, 
There is No Memory in Heaven. 
Souls Forget
 
The Soldier waited and waited, 
an INCH from Paradise. 
 
Until after a long time, forgotten, 
he turned and walked slowly back to Earth. 
 
And for all I know, 
he wanders still
 
So sad. 
 
No, he is a rare boy, 
my friend The Soldier. 
He's somewhere, about His Business. 
 
You sure? 
 
Come on, you can have your biscuit. 
 
[Sighs] [Sniffing] 
 
Do you know what this is? 
 
A sack. 
 
 
Well, if it's a sack, then get in it
Just checking. 
 
[Mumbling] 
Hmm? 
[Grunts] [Sighs] 

Why Winston Marshall Quit Mumford & Sons



On today's episode of ‘Honestly,' the musician speaks exclusively with Bari Weiss about why he chose to walk away from the band he loved. Read Winston's essay about leaving Mumford & Sons: https://mrwinstonmarshall.medium.com/... Subscribe to 'Honestly': https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast... Subscribe to Bari's Substack: https://bariweiss.substack.com/


I loved those first tours. Bouncing off a sweaty stage in an Edinburgh catacomb we then had to get to a gig in Camden by lunch the next day. We couldn’t fit all four of us and Ted’s double-bass into the VW Polo. I think it was Ben who drew the short-straw and had to follow by train with his keyboard. I remember blitzing it down the M6 through the night, the lads asleep beside me. We made it but my voice sadly didn’t, completely shot by exhaustion, I had to mime my harmonies. Being in Mumford & Sons was exhilarating.

Every gig was its own adventure. Every gig its own story. Be it odysseys through the Scottish Islands, or soapbox shows in Soho. Where would we sleep that night? Hostels in Fort William, pub floors in Ipswich, even the Travelodge in Carlisle maintains a sort of charm in my mind. We saw the country and then, as things miraculously grew, the world. All the while doing what we loved. Music. And not just any music. These songs meant something. They felt important to me. Songs with the message of hope and love. I was surrounded by three supremely talented song-writers and Marcus, our singer with a one-in-a-million voice. A voice that can compel both a field of 80,000 and the intimacy of a front room. Fast-forward ten years and we were playing those same songs every night in arenas, flying first-class, staying in luxury hotels and being paid handsomely to do so. I was a lucky boy.

On stage, to my left Ted, a roaring bear, with his double-bass flying high above him. To my right Ben, with his unparalleled passion for music, pounding at the keys. And Marcus leading us with all the might of a hurricane or all the tenderness of a breeze, depending on what the song demanded. What a blessing it was to be so close to such talent as theirs. It will be with immense pride that I look back at my time with Mumford & Sons. A legacy of songs that I believe will stand the test of ages. What we’ve achieved together has vastly exceeded the wildest fantasies of this shitkicker from Mortlake.

Who in their right mind would willingly walk away from this?

It turns out I would. And as you might imagine it’s been no easy decision.

At the beginning of March I tweeted to American journalist Andy Ngo, author of the New York Times Bestseller, Unmasked. “Congratulations @MrAndyNgo. Finally had the time to read your important book. You’re a brave man”. Posting about books had been a theme of my social-media throughout the pandemic. I believed this tweet to be as innocuous as the others. How wrong I turned out to be.

Over the course of 24 hours it was trending with tens of thousands of angry retweets and comments. I failed to foresee that my commenting on a book critical of the Far-Left could be interpreted as approval of the equally abhorrent Far-Right.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Thirteen members of my family were murdered in the concentration camps of the Holocaust. My Grandma, unlike her cousins, aunts and uncles, survived. She and I were close. My family knows the evils of fascism painfully well. To say the least. To call me “fascist” was ludicrous beyond belief.

I’ve had plenty of abuse over the years. I’m a banjo player after all. But this was another level. And, owing to our association, my friends, my bandmates, were getting it too. It took me more than a moment to understand how distressing this was for them.

Despite being four individuals we were, in the eyes of the public, a unity. Furthermore it’s our singer’s name on the tin. That name was being dragged through some pretty ugly accusations, as a result of my tweet. The distress brought to them and their families that weekend I regret very much. I remain sincerely sorry for that. Unintentionally, I had pulled them into a divisive and totemic issue.

Emotions were high. Despite pressure to nix me they invited me to continue with the band. That took courage, particularly in the age of so called “cancel culture”. I made an apology and agreed to take a temporary step back.
Rather predictably another viral mob came after me, this time for the sin of apologising. Then followed libellous articles calling me “right-wing” and such. Though there’s nothing wrong with being conservative, when forced to politically label myself I flutter between “centrist”, “liberal” or the more honest “bit this, bit that”. Being labeled erroneously just goes to show how binary political discourse has become. I had criticised the “Left”, so I must be the “Right”, or so their logic goes.

Why did I apologise?
Rub your eyes and purify your heart — and prize above all else in the world those who love you and who wish you well.” — Aleksander Solzhenitsyn once wrote. In the mania of the moment I was desperate to protect my bandmates. The hornets’ nest that I had unwittingly hit had unleashed a black-hearted swarm on them and their families. I didn’t want them to suffer for my actions, they were my priority.

Secondly, I was sincerely open to the fact that maybe I did not know something about the author or his work. “Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak,” Churchill once said, “courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen”. And so I listened.

I have spent much time reflecting, reading and listening. The truth is that my commenting on a book that documents the extreme Far-Left and their activities is in no way an endorsement of the equally repugnant Far-Right. The truth is that reporting on extremism at the great risk of endangering oneself is unquestionably brave. I also feel that my previous apology in a small way participates in the lie that such extremism does not exist, or worse, is a force for good.

So why leave the band?

On the eve of his leaving to the West, Solzhenitsyn published an essay titled ‘Live Not By Lies’. I have read it many times now since the incident at the start of March. It still profoundly stirs me.

“And he who is not sufficiently courageous to defend his soul — don’t let him be proud of his ‘progressive’ views, and don’t let him boast that he is an academician or a people’s artist, a distinguished figure or a general. Let him say to himself: I am a part of the herd and a coward. It’s all the same to me as long as I’m fed and kept warm.”

For me to speak about what I’ve learnt to be such a controversial issue will inevitably bring my bandmates more trouble. My love, loyalty and accountability to them cannot permit that. I could remain and continue to self-censor but it will erode my sense of integrity. Gnaw my conscience. I’ve already felt that beginning.

The only way forward for me is to leave the band. I hope in distancing myself from them I am able to speak my mind without them suffering the consequences. I leave with love in my heart and I wish those three boys nothing but the best. I have no doubt that their stars will shine long into the future. I will continue my work with Hong Kong Link Up and I look forward to new creative projects as well as speaking and writing on a variety of issues, challenging as they may be.

Winston Marshall

Kor





Who gets The Credit is of 
no importance —

What matters is this :

In the end the mountainside was covered with dead so that not a square metre of ground could be seen. 

We found T'nag's body by the river, its waters red with blood. 

Which of us had slain him, 
no one could say for certain. 

So we cut out his heart 
and all three of us feasted on it together. 


DAX
Big heart. 


KOR: 
You need more bloodwine. 


DAX: 
Thanks but I've had enough for a year. 
What I need is tea. 


(Dax goes over to Worf at the bar.) 

DAX: 
Mister Worf. 
I didn't see you come in. 


WORF: 
I was just about to leave. 


DAX: 
Join us. 
I'll introduce you to Kor. 


WORF: 
No. It might make the Dahar Master uncomfortable
I am considered an outcast by most Klingons. 


DAX: 
Kor isn't like most Klingons. 
Kor! I have someone I'd like you to meet. 


KOR: 
Oh? 


DAX
I'd like you to meet our strategic operations officer, 
Commander Worf. 


KOR
Ah — Worf The Traitor, 
The Pariah, 
The Lowest of The Low. 
(big pause then a grin

It's a pleasure to meet you. 

Any enemy of Gowron 
and the High Council 
is a friend of mine. 


WORF: 
This is a great honour. 


KOR: 
No doubt. 


DAX: 
Worf is a great admirer of yours. 


WORF: 
Yes. Please. 
(they sit) 
I have heard stories about you since I was a child. 
Your confrontation with Kirk on Organia, 
your attack on Romulus, 
your defence of the Korama Pass 
—

KOR: 
Everything I have done pales in comparison to 
what I am about to achieve. 
I am on A Quest. 
A Quest for the most revered icon 
in Klingon history. 


DAX: 
Kor. 


KOR: 
An icon that predates the Klingon Empire, an icon more sacred than The Torch of G'boj 


DAX: 
Kor. 


KOR: 
More revered than Sabak's armour, and more coveted than 
The Emperor's crown! 


WORF: 
The Sword of Kahless. 


DAX: 
You told me not to tell anybody. 


KOR: 
He guessed. 
I know where the Sword rests. Think of the glory, the honour of finding the bat'leth of the first Warrior King 


WORF: 
Lost for a millennium. 
It's return would change Klingon history. 
If you know where it is, we must bring it back to The Emperor. 


KOR: 
We? 


WORF: 
It would be an honour to accompany you, if you will have me. 
DAX: We could use another strong arm. 
KOR: And a stout heart. Besides, it will annoy Gowron. 
WORF: To return the Sword to our people. I would give my life for that chance. 
KOR: Children will sing our names for a thousand years. They'll erect statues of us in the Hall of Heroes. 
DAX: Before you decide on a pose for that statue, we need to find the Sword. What makes you so sure you know where it is? 
KOR: This. 
(He pulls out an old cloth) 
KOR: You see? 
DAX: See what? 
KOR: The imprint on the cloth. 


WORF: 
Yes! Yes! This held 
The Sword of Kahless. 


DAX: 
Don't be so sure. 
You could carpet this station with all the authentic Shrouds of the Sword that people have tried to peddle. 


KOR: No one tried to peddle this. It was given to me. 


DAX: By whom? 


KOR: I'll tell you everything later. Now I need you to confirm its authenticity. 


DAX: 
I'll look this over in the lab first thing in the morning. 


WORF: 
Why not right now? 


DAX: 
Right now my head is swimming in bloodwine and I'm going to bed. 
And so should you. 


KOR: 
Absolutely. 
As soon as I finish what's left in my cup. 
Maj ram, blood brother.

 
DAX: 
Maj ram. 


(Dax leaves, Kor refills his cup from another glass.) 


KOR: 
Imagine the look on Gowron's face when we present the sword to The Emperor.

Davy Crockett

Davy Crockett's Advice to Andrew Jackson


A QUARTER of the population of The United States watched Disney’s Davy Crockett •on television• in 1955 —

Children were absolutely CAPITVATED by him — they •all• wore The Hats —

And when he arrives in Andrew Jackson’s Camp, the FIRST Thing He Does, is •disobey• orders.




O'BRIEN: 
Come on. Santa Anna didn't care about the rules of war. 

If he'd executed Davy Crockett at the Alamo he would have considered it a point of pride. 

BASHIR: 
All right. Put it this way. 

In eighteen thirty six Davy Crockett was what, forty nine? 
Quite old for the standards of the time. 
His days as An Indian fighter were well behind him. 

He was just an ex-Congressman, 
all reputation

Now this is NOT A Man who was about to fight till his last breath, Miles. 

The situation was hopeless, 
he was out of ammunition, 
The Mexican army was swarming the Alamo's battlements. 

He would have surrendered
It's as logical as that. Simple. 

O'BRIEN: 
I'm not saying it couldn't have happened. 
I'm just saying there's no proof!

WORF: 
You are BOTH wrong. 

The only real question 
is whether you BELIEVE 
in The Legend of Davy Crockett or not

If you do, then there should be 
no doubt in your mind that 
He Died The Death of A Hero. 

If you do NOT believe in The Legend, 
Then he was just A Man 
and it does not matter how he died. 

(Worf leaves.

BASHIR
Well, I guess that settles that. 

O'BRIEN
I guess so.




"Attend all public meetings…and get some friend to move that you take the chair; if you fail in this attempt, make a push to be appointed secretary; the proceedings of course will be published, and your name is introduced to the public. But should you fail in both undertakings, get two or three acquaintances, over a bottle of whisky, to pass some resolutions, no matter on what subject; publish them even if you pay the printer – it will answer the purpose of breaking the ice, which is the main point in these matters. Intrigue until you are elected an officer of the militia; this is the second step toward promotion, and can be accomplished with ease, as I know an instance of an election being advertised, and no one attending, the innkeeper at whose house it was to be held, having a military turn, elected himself colonel of his regiment. … You may not accomplish your ends with as little difficulty, but do not be discouraged – Rome wasn’t built in a day.

If your ambition or circumstances compel you to serve your country, and earn three dollars a day, by becoming a member of the legislature, you must first publicly avow that the constitution of the state is a shackle upon free and liberal legislation; and is, therefore, of as little use in the present enlightened age, as an old almanac of the year in which the instrument was framed. There is policy in this measure, for by making the constitution a mere dead letter, your headlong proceedings will be attributed to a bold and unshackled mind; whereas, it might otherwise be thought they arose from sheer mulish ignorance. …

When the day of election approaches, visit your constituents far and wide. Treat liberally, and drink freely, in order to rise in their estimation, though you fall in your own. True, you may be called a drunken dog by some of the clean shirt and silk stocking gentry, but the real rough necks will style you a jovial fellow, – their votes are certain, and frequently count double. Do all you can to appear to advantage in the eyes of the women. That’s easily done – you have but to kiss and slabber their children, wipe their noses, and pat them on the head; this cannot fall to please their mothers, and you may rely on your business being done in that quarter.

Promise all that is asked…and more if you can think of any thing. Offer to build a bridge or a church, to divide a country, create a batch of new offices, make a turnpike, or any thing they like. Promises cost nothing, therefore deny nobody who has a vote or sufficient influence to obtain one.

Get up on all occasions, and sometimes on no occasion at all, and make long-winded speeches, though composed of nothing else than wind – talk of your devotion to your country, your modesty and disinterestedness, or on any such fanciful subject. Rail against taxes of all kinds, office holders, and bad harvest weather; and wind up with a flourish about the heroes who fought and bled for our liberties in the times that tried men’s souls. To be sure you run the risk of being considered a bladder of wind, or an empty barrel; but never mind that, you will find enough of the same fraternity to keep you in countenance.

If any charity be going forward, be at the top of it, provided it is to be advertised publicly; if not, it isn’t worth your while. None but a fool would place his candle under a bushel on such an occasion.

These few directions…if properly attended to, will do your business; and when once elected, why a fig for the dirty children, the promises, the bridges, the churches, the taxes, the offices, and the subscriptions, for it is absolutely necessary to forget all these before you can become a thorough-going politician, and a patriot of the first water.”





Four Perspectives






WINSTON ZEDDEMORE
[Practical] :
Hey fellas. 
You wanna take a look at this?

RAY STANTZ
[Child-like Wonder]:
Wow!

EGON SPENGLER:
[Rational-Analytical] :
 Early Renaissance, I think. 
Raphael, or Piero della Francesca.

PETER VENKMAN
[Clowning-Foolish] : 
No, I believe it's one of the Fettucines.




The Inner King and The Blessing Way








NAVAJO RESERVATION; TWO GREY HILLS, NEW MEXICO
(Mulder sits in a congregation of the Navajo. He is still draped in the blanket. Albert walks over and sits down across from him.)

ALBERT HOSTEEN
You must be careful now to end the ceremony properly
If you leave, you must not do any work, change clothes or bathe for four days.

MULDER
That's really going to cut into my social life.

(Everyone laughs.)




ALBERT HOSTEEN
The boys have a gift for you.

(The youngest boy walks up to Mulder and hands him a small pouch. Mulder opens it and pours out sunflower seeds. He smiles.)

You asked for them during your worst fevers.



MULDER
During my fever, I... 
I left here and travelled to a place.

ALBERT HOSTEEN
This place. You carry it with you. 
It is inside of you. It is the origin place.

MULDER
It wasn't a dream?

ALBERT HOSTEEN
Yes.

(Mulder stares at him, perplexed. A man stands and wipes out the design on the board that had been drawn on before. Albert stands.)

We are done now.

(Everyone else stands and starts to leave, except Mulder, who remains seated as the morning sounds ring in.)

Wednesday, 11 August 2021

SURVIVE THE ENCOUNTER









Street Survival, 
EDC How to Survive The Encounter with Law Enforcement


The Storm had now definitely abated, and what Thunder there was now grumbled over more distant hills, like A Man saying,

‘And Another Thing...' 

twenty minutes after admitting he'd lost The Argument. “


— Douglas Adams, 
So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish 

MR James: Ghost Writer

Barbelith








“They all heard something different then, didn't they? 
Ey.
What's Barbelith?”

“Interesting Question.
Do you know what A Placenta is?”

“Sort of, yeah... It's for babies...”

“It's the Life Support System for A Fetal Child approaching Birth. It DIES so that The Child can be BORN.
The Child is Your Universe.
I'll Show You.”

He-Man and She-Ra



“I think that this is something that is opening for the first time - 
I think when I was younger, the mood for men often involved ascension.... 
I mean, that’s a heavy suggestion of Christ, with ascension. 

And in the 60s, as you know, with Higher Consciousness and ‘Head’ material, was very strong.

So, it seems to me that the attempt to become a Man by ascending has not worked somehow.

And the movement I found valuable in my own life was the attempt to go DOWN into certain Earth-energies or Sorrows, also. 

And only recently have I begun to associate that descent with also a descent into Childhood, and into the Sufferings and Loneliness of Childhood.” 

— Robert Bly.


He-Man and She-Ra: The Secret of the Sword | FULL MOVIE UNCUT

Tuesday, 10 August 2021

Ripley Vs. The Man



I blew it out of the 
goddamn air lock. 






The Man :
I'd just like to go back to this point 
about the override destruct order.
Is it in the file? 

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status in Poor Standing :
I don't understand this. 
We have been here for three and a half hours. 

Now, how many different ways 
do you want me to tell the same story? 

The Man :
Look at it from our perspective, please. Please? 

Now, you freely admit to detonating the engines of 
and thereby destroying, an M-class starfreighter --
a rather expensive piece of hardware. 

42 million in adjusted dollars. 
That's minus payload, of course. 

 ...for which The Insurance will have already paid-out on DECADES ago, once The Nostromo was declared overdue and lost. 

The Man :
Now, The Lifeboat's flight recorder 
corroborates some elements of your account 
in that, for reasons unknown
the Nostromo set down on LV-426,
an unsurveyed planet at that time, 
that it resumed its course 
and was subsequently set for self-destruct 
by you for reasons unknown. 

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status in Poor Standing :
Not for reasons unknown. I told you. 

We set down there on company orders 
to get this thing, which destroyed my crew 
and your expensive ship. 

The Man :
The analysis team, 
which went over The Lifeboat 
centimetre by centimetre 
found no physical evidence 
of the creature you describe. 

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status 
in Poor Standing :
Good. That's because I blew it 
out of the goddamn air lock. 

Like I said. 

The Man :
Are there any species like this hostile organism on LV-426? 

The WoMan :
No. It's a rock. 
No indigenous life. 

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status 
in Poor Standing :
Did IQ's just drop sharply while I was away?
 
Ma'am, I already said it was not indigenous. 
It was a derelict spacecraft. 
It was an alien ship. 
It was not from there. 

Do you get it? 
We homed in on its beacon. 

The Man :
And found something never recorded once 
in over 300 surveyed worlds. 
"A creature that gestates 
inside a living human host." 

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status 
in Poor Standing :
Yes. 


The Man :
These are your words. 
"And has concentrated acid for blood."

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status 
in Poor Standing :
 That's right. 

Look. I can see where this is going, 
but I'm telling you that 
Those Things Exist

The Man :
Thank you, Officer Ripley. 
That will be all. 

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status 
in Poor Standing :
Please. You're not listening to me.
 
Kane, the crew member... 
Kane, who went into that ship, 
said he saw thousands of eggs there. 
Thousands

The Man :
Thank you. 
That will be all. 

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status 
in Poor Standing :
Goddamn it, that's not all. 

Because if one of those things gets down here, 
then that will be all. 

Then all of this... 
this bullshit that you think is so important... 
Well, you can just kiss all of that goodbye


The Man :
It is the finding of this court of inquiry that warrant officer E. Ripley, NOC14472 has acted with questionable judgement and is unfit to hold an I.C.C. licence as a commercial flight officer. 

Said licence is hereby suspended indefinitely. 

Now, no criminal charges 
will be filed against you at this time 
and you are released on your own recognisance 
for a six-month period of psychometric probation 
to include monthly review 
by an I.C.C. psychiatric technician. 

These proceedings are closed

Burke :
….That could have been better.
Look, I think the... Ripley? 

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status 
in Poor Standing :
Van Leuwen... Why don't you just check out LV-426? 

The Man :
Because I don't have to. 
There have been People there for over 20 years 
and they never complained about any ‘hostile organism’. 

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status in Poor Standing :
What do you mean? What People

The Man :
Terraformers. Planet Engineers. 
They go in, set up these big atmosphere processors 
to make the air breathable. Takes decades. 
It's what we call a "Shake 'N Bake" colony. 

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status in Poor Standing :
How many are there? 
How many colonists? 

The Man :
I don't know... 60, maybe 70 families. 
Do you mind

Lt. Ellen Ripley,
Woman of Low-Social Status 
in Poor Standing :
Families — Jesus