Friday 10 January 2020

WOTAN



“In Germany Shall diverse sects arise,
Coming very near to happy paganism.
The heart captivated and small receivings
Shall open the gate to pay the true tithe.”
 



“When we understand the archetypes that dominate a person or a culture, we can have profound insights into what is going on in that person or culture and even make intelligent guesses about what might unfold. In a world that is increasingly difficult to understand, it can be helpful to go back to archetypal underpinnings to see if we can gain enough of an overview to make sense of the chaos.

For me, this exploration began when I happened onto some little-known articles that Jung wrote between 1921 and 1945 about an archetype that was bubbling up in the psyche of the German people. Every German patient he saw, young and old, intelligent and unintelligent, seemed to be carrying a new archetype. 

He called it “the Blond Beast,” because it often appeared that way in the German unconscious. 

By 1930 it had surfaced enough so that he was able to identify it as a reemergence of Wotan, the berserker god of wisdom and war in Germanic and Norse mythology. Wotan is, in many ways, parallel to Dionysus in Greek mythology. He’s the ecstatic, attractive one— with boundless energy— who overturns so much. 

By the early 1930s the movement of which Wotan was the archetypal force had a name, Nazism, and it was overtaking Germany. By 1940 it was rampant, and by 1945 it had left most of Europe in wreckage.

This is a brief history of the emergence of an archetype in a culture within living memory. It isn’t a good example, though, because it miscarried. 

But it could have gone in another direction. 

There had been legends throughout Europe that a third Reich would rise up in Germany and be the salvation of Europe. 

Jung connected the old legends with this new stirring, and for more than ten years he watched carefully to see if a new dispensation, a new kind of life, the salvation of Europe, might be emerging. But it turned out to be a stillbirth. History often sputters before it gets on the right side of a new capacity or a new evolution in human consciousness. 

We mustn’t lose hope.


Excerpt from: "Inner Gold: Understanding Psychological Projection" by Arnie Kotler. 

Read this book on Scribd: https://www.scribd.com/book/257708562







Essay on Wotan
By Dr Carl Gustav Jung
 

[First published as WOTAN, Neue Schweizer Rundschau (Zurich). n.s., III (March, 1936), 657-69. Republished in AUFSATZE ZURZEITGESCHICHTE (Zurich, 1946), 1-23. 

Trans. by Barbara Hannah in ESSAYS ON CONTEMPORARY EVENTS (London, 1947), 1-16; this version has been consulted. Motto, trans. by H.C. Roberts:]

 

En Germanie naistront diverses sectes,
S’approchans fort de l’heureux paganisme:
Le coeur captif et petites receptes
Feront retour a payer la vraye disme.
 
— Propheties De Maistre Michel Nostradamus, 1555

 

[“In Germany Shall diverse sects arise,
Coming very near to happy paganism.
The heart captivated and small receivings
Shall open the gate to pay the true tithe.” ]
 

When we look back to the time before 1914, we find ourselves living in a world of events which would have been inconceivable before the war. We were even beginning to regard war between civilized nations as a fable, thinking that such an absurdity would become less and less possible on our rational, internationally organized world. And what came after the war was a veritable witches’ sabbath. Everywhere fantastic revolutions, violent alterations of the map, reversions in politics to medieval or even antique prototypes, totalitarian states that engulf their neighbours and outdo all previous theocracies in their absolutist claims, persecutions of Christians andJews, wholesale political murder, and finally we have witnessed a light-hearted piratical raid on a peaceful, half-civilized people.

 

With such goings on in the wide world it is not in the least surprising that there should be equally curious manifestations on a smaller scale in other spheres. In the realm of philosophy we shall have to wait some time before anyone is able to assess the kind of age we are livinging. But in the sphere of religion we can see at once that some very significant things have been happening. We need feel no surprise that in Russia the colourful splendours of the Eastern Orthodox Church have been superseded by theMovement of the Godless — indeed, one breathed a sigh of relief oneself when one emerged from the haze of an Orthodox church with its multitude of lamps and entered an honest mosque, where the sublime and invisible omnipresence of God was not crowded out by a superfluity of sacred paraphernalia. Tasteless and pitiably unintelligent as it is, and however deplorable the low spiritual level of the “scientific” reaction, it was inevitable that nineteenth-century “scientific” enlightenment should one day dawn inRussia.

 

But what is more than curious — indeed, piquant to a degree — is that an ancient god of storm and frenzy, the long quiescent Wotan,should awake, like an extinct volcano, to new activity, in a civilized country that had long been supposed to have outgrown the Middle Ages. We have seen him come to life in the German Youth Movement, and right at the beginning the blood of several sheep was shed in honour of his resurrection. Armed with rucksack and lute, blond youths, and sometimes girls as well, were to be seen as restless wanderers on every road from the North Cape to Sicily, faithful votaries of the roving god. Later, towards the end of the Weimar Republic, the wandering role was taken over by thousands of unemployed, who were to be met with everywhere on their aimless journeys. By 1933 they wandered no longer, but marched in their hundreds of thousands. The Hitler movement literally brought the whole of Germany to its feet, from five-year-olds to veterans, and produced a spectacle of a nation migrating from one place to another. Wotan the wanderer was on the move. He could be seen, looking rather shamefaced, in the meeting-house of a sect of simple folk in North Germany, disguised as Christ sitting on a white horse. I do not know if these people were aware of Wotan’s ancient connection with the figures of Christ and Dionysus, but it is not very probable.

 

Wotan is a restless wanderer who creates unrest and stirs up strife, now here, now there, and works magic. He was soon changed by Christianity into the devil, and only lived on in fading local traditions as a ghostly hunter who was seen with his retinue, flickering like a will o’ the wisp through the stormy night. In the Middle Ages the role of the restless wanderer was taken over by Ahasuerus, the Wandering Jew, which is not a Jewish but a Christian legend. The motif of the wanderer who has not accepted Christ was projected on the Jews, in the same way as we always rediscover our unconscious psychic contents in other people. At any rate the coincidence of anti-Semitism with the reawakening of Wotan is a psychological subtlety that may perhaps be worth mentioning.

 

The German youths who celebrated the solstice with sheep-sacrifices were not the first to hear the rustling in the primeval forest of the unconsciousness. They were anticipated by Nietzsche, Schuler, StefanGeorge, and Ludwig Klages. The literary tradition of the Rhineland and the country south of the Main has a classical stamp that cannot easily be got rid of; every interpretation of intoxication and exuberance is apt to be taken back to classical models, to Dionysus, to the puer aeternus and the cosmogonic Eros.No doubt it sounds better to academic ears to interpret these things asDionysus, but Wotan might be a more correct interpretation. He is the god of storm and frenzy, the unleasher of passions and the lust of battle; moreover he is a superlative magician and artist in illusion who is versed in all secrets of an occult nature.

 

Nietzsche‘s case is certainly a peculiar one. He had no knowledge of Germanic literature; he discovered the “cultural Philistine”; and the announcement that “God is dead” led to Zarathustra’s meeting with an unknown god in unexpected form, who approached him sometimes as an enemy and sometimes disguised as Zarathustra himself. Zarathustra, too, was a soothsayer, a magician, and the storm-wind:

 

And like a wind shall I come to blow among them, and with my spirit shall take away the breath of their spirit; thus my future will sit. Truly, a strong wind is Zarathustra to all that are low; and this counsel gives he to his enemies and to all that spit and spew: “Beware of spitting against the wind.”
 

And when Zarathustra dreamed that he was guardian of the graves in the “lone mountain fortress of death,” and was making a mighty effort to open the gates, suddenly

 

A roaring wind tore the gates asunder; whistling,shrieking, and keening, it cast a black coffin before me. And amid the roaring and whistling and shrieking the coffin burst open and spouted a thousand peals of laughter.
 

The disciple who interpreted the dream said to Zarathustra:

 

Are you not yourself the wind with shrill whistling,which bursts open the gates of the fortress of death? Are you not yourself the coffin filled with life’s gay malice and angel-grimaces?
 

In 1863 or 1864, in his poem TO THE UNKNOWN GOD, Nietzsche had written:

 

 I shall and will know thee, Unknown One,
Who searchest out the depths of my soul,
And blowest through my life like a storm,
Ungraspable, and yet my kinsman!
I shall and will know thee, and serve thee.
 

Twenty years later, in his MISTRAL SONG, he wrote:

 

Mistral wind, chaser of clouds,
Killer of gloom, sweeper of the skies,
Raging storm-wind, how I love thee!
And we are not both the first-fruits
Of the same womb, forever predestined
To the same fate?
 

In the dithyramb known as ARIADNE’S LAMENT, Nietzsche is completely the victim of the hunter-god:

 

Stretched out, shuddering,
Like a half-dead thing whose feet are warmed,
Shaken by unknown fevers,
Shivering with piercing icy frost arrows,
Hunted by thee, O thought,
Unutterable! Veiled! horrible one!
Thou huntsman behind the cloud.
Struck down by thy lightning bolt,
Thou mocking eye that stares at me from the dark!
Thus I lie.
Writhing, twisting, tormented
With all eternal tortures,
Smitten
By thee, cruel huntsman,
Thou unknown — God!
 
This remarkable image of the hunter-god is not a mere dithyrambic figure of speech but is based on an experience which Nietzsche had when he was fifteen years old, at Pforta. It is described in a book by Nietzsche’s sister, Elizabeth Foerster-Nietzsche. As he was wandering about in a gloomy wood at night, he was terrified by a “blood-curdling shriek from a neighbouring lunatic asylum,” and soon afterwards he came face to face with a huntsman whose “features were wild and uncanny.” Setting his whistle to his lips “in a valley surrounded by wild scrub,” the huntsman “blew such a shrill blast” that Nietzsche lost consciousness —but woke up again in Pforta. It was a nightmare. It is significant that in his dream Nietzsche, who in reality intended to go to Eisleben, Luther’s town, discussed with the huntsman the question of going instead to”Teutschenthal” (Valley of the Germans). No one with ears can misunderstand the shrill whistling of the storm-god in the nocturnal wood.

 

Was it really only the classical philologist in Nietzsche that led to the god being called Dionysus instead of Wotan — or was it perhaps due to his fateful meeting with Wagner?

nietzsche schopenhauer whitehead bergson kant psychonaut sjostedt-h philosophy phenomenology book text vertexes antichrist
Noumenautics: metaphysics – meta-ethics – psychedelics

 

In his REICH OHNE RAUM, which was first published in1919, Bruno Goetz saw the secret of coming events in Germany in the form of avery strange vision. I have never forgotten this little book, for it struck meat the time as a forecast of the German weather. It anticipates the conflict between the realm of ideas and life, between Wotan’s dual nature as a god of storm and a god of secret musings. Wotan disappeared when his oaks fell and appeared again when the Christian God proved too weak to save Christendom from fratricidal slaughter. When the Holy Father at Rome could only impotently lament before God the fate of the grex segregatus, the one-eyed old hunter, on the edge of the German forest, laughed and saddled Sleipnir.

 

We are always convinced that the modern world is a reasonable world, basing our opinion on economic, political, and psychological factors. But if we may forget for a moment that we are living in the year of Our Lord 1936, and, laying aside our well-meaning, all-too-human reasonableness, may burden God or the gods with the responsibility for contemporary events instead of man, we would find Wotan quite suitable as a casual hypothesis. In fact, I venture the heretical suggestion that the unfathomable depths of Wotan’s character explain more of National Socialism than all three reasonable factors put together. There is no doubt that each of these factors explains an important aspect of what is going on in Germany, but Wotan explains yet more.He is particularly enlightening in regard to a general phenomenon which is so strange to anybody not a German that it remains incomprehensible, even after the deepest reflection.

 

Perhaps we may sum up this general phenomenon as Ergriffenheit — a state of being seized or possessed. The term postulates not only an Ergriffener (one who is seized) but, also, an Ergreifer (one who seizes). Wotan is an Ergreifer of men, and, unless one wishes to deify Hitler– which has indeed actually happened — he is really the only explanation. It is true that Wotan shares this quality with his cousin Dionysus, but Dionysus seems to have exercised his influence mainly on women. The maenads were a species of female storm-troopers, and, according to mythical reports, were dangerous enough. Wotan confined himself to the berserkers, who found their vocation as the Blackshirts of mythical kings.

 

A mind that is still childish thinks of the gods as metaphysical entities existing in their own right, or else regards them as playful or superstitious inventions. From either point of view the parallel between Wotan redivivus and the social, political and psychic storm that is shaking Germany might have at least the value of a parable. But since the gods are without doubt personifications of psychic forces, to assert their metaphysical existence is as much an intellectual presumption as the opinion that they could ever be invented. Not that “psychic forces” have anything to do with the conscious mind, fond as we are of playing with the idea that consciousness and psyche are identical. This is only another piece of intellectual presumption. “Psychic forces” have far more to do with the realm of the unconscious. Our mania for rational explanations obviously has its roots in our fear of metaphysics, for the two were always hostile brothers. Hence,anything unexpected that approaches us from the dark realm is regarded either as coming from outside and, therefore, as real, or else as an hallucination and, therefore, not true. The idea that anything could be real or true which does not come from outside has hardly begun to dawn on contemporary man.

 

For the sake of better understanding and to avoid prejudice, we could of course dispense with the name “Wotan” and speak instead of the furor teutonicus. But we should only be saying the same thing and not as well, for the furor in this case is a mere psychologizing of Wotan and tells us no more than that the Germans are in a state of”fury.” We thus lose sight of the most peculiar feature of this whole phenomenon, namely, the dramatic aspect of the Ergreifer and the Ergriffener. The impressive thing about the German phenomenon is that one man, who is obviously “possessed,” has infected a whole nation to such an extent that everything is set in motion and has started rolling on its course towards perdition.

 

It seems to me that Wotan hits the mark as an hypothesis. Apparently he really was only asleep in the Kyffhauser mountain until the ravens called him and announced the break of day. He is a fundamental attribute of the German psyche, an irrational psychic factor which acts on the high pressure of civilization like a cyclone and blows it away. Despite their crankiness, the Wotan-worshippers seem to have judged things more correctly than the worshippers of reason. Apparently everyone had forgotten that Wotan isa Germanic datum of first importance, the truest expression and unsurpassed personification of a fundamental quality that is particularly characteristic of the Germans. Houston Stewart Chamberlain is a symptom which arouses suspicion that other veiled gods may be sleeping elsewhere. The emphasis on the Germanic race — commonly called “Aryan” — the Germanic heritage, blood and soil, the Wagalaweia songs, the ride of the Valkyries, Jesus as a blond and blue-eyed hero, the Greek mother of St Paul, the devil as an international Alberich in Jewish or Masonic guise, the Nordic aurora borealis as the light of civilization, the inferior Mediterranean races — all this is the indispensable scenery for the drama that is taking place and at the bottom they all mean the same thing: a god has taken possession of the Germans and their house is filled with a “mighty rushing wind.” It was soon after Hitler seized power,if I am not mistaken, that a cartoon appeared in PUNCH of a raving berserker tearing himself free from his bonds. A hurricane has broken loose in Germany while we still believe it is fine weather.

 

Things are comparatively quiet in Switzerland, though occasionally there is a puff of wind from the north or south. Sometimes it has a slightly ominous sound, sometimes it whispers so harmlessly or even idealistically that no one is alarmed. “Let the sleeping dogs lie” — we manage to get along pretty well with this proverbial wisdom. It is sometimes said that the Swiss are singularly averse to making a problem of themselves. I must rebut this accusation: the Swiss do have their problems, but they would not admit it for anything in the world, even though they see which way the wind is blowing. We thus pay our tribute to the time of storm and stress in Germany, but we never mention it, and this enables us to feel vastly superior.

 

It is above all the Germans who have an opportunity,perhaps unique in history, to look into their own hearts and to learn what those perils of the soul were from which Christianity tried to rescue mankind.Germany is a land of spiritual catastrophes, where nature never makes more than a pretence of peace with the world-ruling reason. The disturber of the peace isa wind that blows into Europe from Asia’s vastness, sweeping in on a wide front from Thrace to the Baltic, scattering the nations before it like dry leaves. or inspiring thoughts that shake the world to its foundations. It is an elementalDionysus breaking into the Apollonian order. The rouser of this tempest is named Wotan, and we can learn a good deal about him from the political confusion and spiritual upheaval he has caused throughout history. For a more exact investigation of his character, however, we must go back to the age of myths, which did not explain everything in terms of man and his limited capacities, but sought the deeper cause in the psyche and its autonomous powers. Man’s earliest intuitions personified these powers. Man’s earliest intuitions personified these powers as gods, and described them in the myths with great care and circumstantiality according to their various characters.This could be done the more readily on account of the firmly established primordial types or images which are innate in the unconscious of many races and exercise a direct influence upon them. Because the behaviour of a race takes on its specific character from its underlying images, we can speak of an archetype “Wotan.” As an autonomous psychic factor, Wotan produceseffects in the collective life of a people and thereby reveals his own nature.For Wotan has a peculiar biology of his own, quite apart from the nature of man. It is only from time to time that individuals fall under the irresistible influence of this unconscious factor. When it is quiescent, one is no more aware of the archetype Wotan than of a latent epilepsy. Could the Germans who were adults in 1914 have foreseen what they would be today? Such amazing transformations are the effect of the god of wind, that “bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, nor whither it goeth.” It seizes everything in its path and overthrows everything that is not firmly rooted. When the wind blows it shakes everything that is insecure, whether without or within.

 

Martin Ninck has recently published a monograph whichis a most welcome addition to our knowledge of Wotan’s nature. The reader neednot fear that this book is nothing but a scientific study written with academic aloofness from the subject. Certainly the right to scientific objectivity is fully preserved, and the material has been collected with extraordinary thoroughness and presented in unusually clear form. But, over and above all this, one feels that the author is vitally interested in it, that the chord ofWotan is vibrating in him, too. This is no criticism — on the contrary, it is one of the chief merits of the book, which without this enthusiasm might easily have degenerated into a tedious catalogue. Ninck sketches a really magnificent portrait of the German archetype Wotan. He describes him in ten chapters, using all the available sources, as the berserker, the god of storm, the wanderer,the warrior, the Wunsch- and Minne-god, the lord of the dead and of the Einherjar, the master of secret knowledge, the magician, and the god of the poets. Neither the Valkyries nor the Fylgja are forgotten, for they form part of the mythological background and fateful significance of Wotan. Ninck’s inquiry into the name and its origin is particularly instructive. He shows thatWotan is not only a god of rage and frenzy who embodies the instinctual and emotion aspect of the unconscious. Its intuitive and inspiring side, also,manifests itself in him, for he understands the runes and can interpret fate.

 

The Romans identified Wotan with Mercury, but his character does not really correspond to any Roman or Greek god, although there are certain resemblances. He is a wanderer like Mercury, for instance, he rules over the dead like Pluto and Kronos, and is connected with Dionysus by his emotional frenzy, particularly in its mantic aspect. It is surprising that Ninck does not mention Hermes, the god of revelation, who as pneuma and nous is associated with the wind. He would be the connecting-link with the Christian pneuma and the miracle of Pentecost. As Poimandres (the shepherd of men), Hermes is an Ergreifer like Wotan. Ninck rightly points out that Dionysus and the otherGreek gods always remained under the supreme authority of Zeus, which indicates a fundamental difference between the Greek and the Germanic temperament. Ninck assumes an inner affinity between Wotan and Kronus, and the latter’s defeat may perhaps be a sign that the Wotan-archetype was once overcome and split up in prehistoric times. At all events, the Germanic god represents a totality on avery primitive level, a psychological condition in which man’s will was almost identical with the god’s and entirely at his mercy. But the Greeks had gods who helped man against other gods; indeed, All-Father Zeus himself is not far from the ideal of a benevolent, enlightened despot.

 

It was not in Wotan’s nature to linger on and show signs of old age. He simply disappeared when the times turned against him, and remained invisible for more than a thousand years, working anonymously and indirectly.Archetypes are like riverbeds which dry up when the water deserts them, but which it can find again at any time. An archetype is like an old watercourse along which the water of life has flowed for centuries, digging a deep channel for itself. The longer it has flowed in this channel the more likely it is that sooner or later the water will return to its old bed. The life of the individual as a member of society and particularly as a part of the State maybe regulated like a canal, but the life of nations is a great rushing river which is utterly beyond human control, in the hands of One who has always been stronger than men. The League of Nations, which was supposed to possess supranational authority, is regarded by some as a child in need of care and protection, by others as an abortion. Thus, the life of nations rolls on unchecked, without guidance, unconscious of where it is going, like a rock crashing down the side of a hill, until it is stopped by an obstacle stronger than itself. Political events move from one impasse to the next, like a torrent caught in gullies, creeks and marshes. All human control comes to an end when the individual is caught in a mass movement. Then, the archetypes begin to function, as happens, also, in the lives of individuals when they are confronted with situations that cannot be dealt with in any of the familiar ways. But what a so-called Fuhrer does with a mass movement can plainly be seen if we turn our eyes to the north or south of our country.

 

The ruling archetype does not remain the same forever,as is evident from the temporal limitations that have been set to the hoped-forreign of peace, the “thousand-year Reich.” The Mediterraneanfather-archetype of the just, order-loving, benevolent ruler had been shattered over the whole of northern Europe, as the present fate of the ChristianChurches bears witness. Fascism in Italy and the civil war in Spain show that in the south as well the cataclysm has been far greater than one expected. Even the Catholic Church can no longer afford trials of strength.

 

The nationalist God has attacked Christianity on abroad front. In Russia, he is called technology and science, in Italy, Duce,and in Germany, “German Faith,” “German Christianity,” or the State. The “German Christians” are a contradiction in terms and would do better to join Hauer’s “German Faith Movement.” These are decent and well-meaning people who honestly admit their Ergriffenheit and tryto come to terms with this new and undeniable fact. They go to an enormous amount of trouble to make it look less alarming by dressing it up in a conciliatory historical garb and giving us consoling glimpses of great figures such as Meister Eckhart, who was, also, a German and, also, ergriffen. In this way the awkward question of who the Ergreifer is is circumvented. He was always”God.” But the more Hauer restricts the world-wide sphere ofIndo-European culture to the “Nordic” in general and to the Edda in particular, and the more “German” this faith becomes as a manifestation of Ergriffenheit, the more painfully evident it is that the”German” god is the god of the Germans.

 

One cannot read Hauer’s book without emotion, if one regards it as the tragic and really heroic effort of a conscientious scholar who, without knowing how it happened to him, was violently summoned by the inaudible voice of the Ergreifer and is now trying with all his might, and with all his knowledge and ability, to build a bridge between the dark forces of life and the shining world of historical ideas. But what do all the beauties of the past from totally different levels of culture mean to the man of today,when confronted with a living and unfathomable tribal god such as he has never experienced before? They are sucked like dry leaves into the roaring whirlwind,and the rhythmic alliterations of the Edda became inextricably mixed up withChristian mystical texts, German poetry and the wisdom of the Upanishads. Hauer himself is ergriffen by the depths of meaning in the primal words lying at the root of the Germanic languages, to an extent that he certainly never knew before. Hauer the Indologist is not to blame for this, nor yet the Edda; it is rather the fault of kairos — the present moment in time — whose name on closer investigation turns out to be Wotan. I would, therefore, advise the German Faith Movement to throw aside their scruples. Intelligent people who will not confuse them with the crude Wotan-worshippers whose faith is a mere pretense. There are people in the German Faith Movement who are intelligent enough not only to believe, but to know, that the god of the Germans is Wotan and not the Christian God. This is a tragic experience and no disgrace. It has always been terrible to fall into the hands of a living god. Yahweh was no exception to this rule, and the Philistines, Edomites, Amorites and the rest,who were outside the Yahweh experience, must certainly have found it exceedingly disagreeable. The Semitic experience of Allah was for a long timean extremely painful affair for the whole of Christendom. We who stand outsidejudge the Germans far too much, as if they were responsible agents, but perhaps it would be nearer the truth to regard them, also, as victims.

 

If we apply are admittedly peculiar point of view consistently, we are driven to conclude that Wotan must, in time, reveal not only the restless, violent, stormy side of his character, but, also, his ecstatic and mantic qualities — a very different aspect of his nature. If this conclusion is correct, National Socialism would not be the last word. Things must be concealed in the background which we cannot imagine at present, but we may expect them to appear in the course of the next few years or decades.Wotan’s reawakening is a stepping back into the past; the stream was damned up and has broken into its old channel. But the Obstruction will not last forever;it is rather a reculer pour mieux sauter, and the water will overleap the obstacle. Then, at last, we shall know what Wotan is saying when he “murmers with Mimir’s head.”

 

Fast move the sons of Mim,and fate
Is heard in the note of the Gjallarhorn;
Loud blows Heimdall, the horn is aloft,
In fear quake all who on Hel-roads are.
Yggdrasill shakes and shivers on high
The ancient limbs, and the giant is loose;
Wotan murmurs with Mimir’s head
But the kinsman of Surt shall slay him soon.
How fare the gods? how farethe elves?
All Jotunheim groans, the gods are at council;
Loud roar the dwarfs by the doors of stone,
The masters of the rocks: would you know yet more?
Now Garm howls loud before Gnipahellir;
The fetters will burst, and the wolf run free;
Much I do know, and more can see
Of the fate of the gods, the mighty in fight.
From the east comes Hrym with shield held high;
In giant-wrath does the serpent writhe;
O’er the waves he twists, and the tawny eagle
Gnaws corpses screaming; Naglfar is loose.
O’er the sea from the norththere sails a ship
With the people of Hel, at the helm stands Loki;
After the wolf do wild men follow,
And with them the brother of Byleist goes.
 

———————————

The Last Light




That's why I need to find a place where things will be different.

Because that's still in my kids.

But that light, it's getting fainter every day we're out here.
And I can't I can't imagine that part of them dying.

I'll do whatever it takes to keep it alive.




















Alicia Clark,
Daughter of Madison :
Where'd you get these? 


Alfia:
What? 




Alicia Clark,
Daughter of Madison :
Where did you get these?! 


Alfia:
A semi on Route 40 in Oklahoma.
Used to have a bunch of them.
Why? 




Alicia Clark,
Daughter of Madison :
Wait, wait, wait.
W-What did you do with them? 

Alfia:
I traded 'em for an interview.


[Walkers growling.]


Alfia:
What?




Alicia Clark,
Daughter of Madison :
Get back.

Hey! 



Alicia Clark,
Daughter of Madison :
You knew her? 

Alfia:
Who? 


THE INTERVIEW
Madison Clark :
What happened there doesn't matter.

Althea : 
What does? 




Madison Clark :
The fact that what I'm looking for might not be possible.


Althea:
Why not? 


[Thunder rumbles.]




Madison Clark :
There are certain things you always remember about your kids.
No matter how old they get.
No matter how much things change.

You don't need a camera 'cause it just sticks.

We were renting this house in the mountains one summer.
Had these big windows overlooking the lake.


One morning, a bird flew right into one of 'em.
Messed up its wing.
May have been worse off inside.


They named it Wilhemina.
"Amina" for short.
They kept her in a shoe box.
Nursed her back to health.


Took turns at night setting their alarm so they could get up and check on her.


Dug up bugs and worms to feed it and gave it water from an eyedropper.

It went on for weeks.


That damn bird just seemed to get worse and worse.
But they tried to feed it.


They gave it water, anyway.


My son was such a sensitive little boy.
My daughter just decided that bird was gonna live.


[Sighs.]


Every morning, I got up just dreading what I was gonna find.

And then, one day, as I walked down the hallway, I heard something.

[Thunder rumbles.]

Chirping.
Amina was flying around the living room.

She lived because my kids didn't give up on her.

They gave her a chance when no one else would.

There's not a whole lot of that left anymore.


Althea:
No, there's not.




Madison Clark :
That's why I need to find a place where things will be different.

Because that's still in my kids.

But that light, it's getting fainter every day we're out here.
And I can't I can't imagine that part of them dying.

I'll do whatever it takes to keep it alive.

***********

Althea:
She never told me your name.
The stadium-- this was The Place She was Looking For? 

[Walker growling.]

Morgan :
[Body thuds.]
I'm just trying to help my friend.





Thursday 9 January 2020

The Victorious Lobster


“To say it again: There is very little difference between The Capacity for Mayhem and Destruction, integrated, and Strength of Character. 





This is one of the most difficult lessons of life. Maybe you are a loser. And maybe you’re not—but if you are, you don’t have to continue in that mode. Maybe you just have a bad habit. Maybe you’re even just a collection of bad habits. Nonetheless, even if you came by your poor posture honestly—even if you were unpopular or bullied at home or in grade school28—it’s not necessarily appropriate now. Circumstances change. If you slump around, with the same bearing that characterizes a defeated lobster, people will assign you a lower status, and the old counter that you share with crustaceans, sitting at the very base of your brain, will assign you a low dominance number. Then your brain will not produce as much serotonin. This will make you less happy, and more anxious and sad, and more likely to back down when you should stand up for yourself. It will also decrease the probability that you will get to live in a good neighbourhood, have access to the highest quality resources, and obtain a healthy, desirable mate. It will render you more likely to abuse cocaine and alcohol, as you live for the present in a world full of uncertain futures. It will increase your susceptibility to heart disease, cancer and dementia. All in all, it’s just not good. 




Circumstances change, and so can you. Positive feedback loops, adding effect to effect, can spiral counterproductively in a negative direction, but can also work to get you ahead. That’s the other, far more optimistic lesson of Price’s law and the Pareto distribution: those who start to have will probably get more. Some of these upwardly moving loops can occur in your own private, subjective space. Alterations in body language offer an important example. If you are asked by a researcher to move your facial muscles, one at a time, into a position that would look sad to an observer, you will report feeling sadder. If you are asked to move the muscles one by one into a position that looks happy, you will report feeling happier. Emotion is partly bodily expression, and can be amplified (or dampened) by that expression. 29 Some of the positive feedback loops instantiated by body language can occur beyond the private confines of subjective experience, in the social space you share with other people. If your posture is poor, for example—if you slump, shoulders forward and rounded, chest tucked in, head down, looking small, defeated and ineffectual (protected, in theory, against attack from behind)—then you will feel small, defeated and ineffectual. The reactions of others will amplify that. People, like lobsters, size each other up, partly in consequence of stance. If you present yourself as defeated, then people will react to you as if you are losing. If you start to straighten up, then people will look at and treat you differently. You might object: the bottom is real. Being at the bottom is equally real. A mere transformation of posture is insufficient to change anything that fixed. If you’re in number ten position, then standing up straight and appearing dominant might only attract the attention of those who want, once again, to put you down. And fair enough. But standing up straight with your shoulders back is not something that is only physical, because you’re not only a body. You’re a spirit, so to speak—a psyche—as well. Standing up physically also implies and invokes and demands standing up metaphysically. Standing up means voluntarily accepting the burden of Being. Your nervous system responds in an entirely different manner when you face the demands of life voluntarily. You respond to a challenge, instead of bracing for a catastrophe. You see the gold the dragon hoards, instead of shrinking in terror from the all-too-real fact of the dragon. You step forward to take your place in the dominance hierarchy, and occupy your territory, manifesting your willingness to defend, expand and transform it. That can all occur practically or symbolically, as a physical or as a conceptual restructuring. To stand up straight with your shoulders back is to accept the terrible responsibility of life, with eyes wide open. It means deciding to voluntarily transform the chaos of potential into the realities of habitable order. It means adopting the burden of self-conscious vulnerability, and accepting the end of the unconscious paradise of childhood, where finitude and mortality are only dimly comprehended. It means willingly undertaking the sacrifices necessary to generate a productive and meaningful reality (it means acting to please God, in the ancient language). To stand up straight with your shoulders back means building the ark that protects the world from the flood, guiding your people through the desert after they have escaped tyranny, making your way away from comfortable home and country, and speaking the prophetic word to those who ignore the widows and children. It means shouldering the cross that marks the X, the place where you and Being intersect so terribly. It means casting dead, rigid and too tyrannical order back into the chaos in which it was generated; it means withstanding the ensuing uncertainty, and establishing, in consequence, a better, more meaningful and more productive order. So, attend carefully to your posture. Quit drooping and hunching around. Speak your mind. Put your desires forward, as if you had a right to them—at least the same right as others. Walk tall and gaze forthrightly ahead. Dare to be dangerous. Encourage the serotonin to flow plentifully through the neural pathways desperate for its calming influence. People, including yourself, will start to assume that you are competent and able (or at least they will not immediately conclude the reverse). Emboldened by the positive responses you are now receiving, you will begin to be less anxious. You will then find it easier to pay attention to the subtle social clues that people exchange when they are communicating. Your conversations will flow better, with fewer awkward pauses. This will make you more likely to meet people, interact with them, and impress them. Doing so will not only genuinely increase the probability that good things will happen to you—it will also make those good things feel better when they do happen. Thus strengthened and emboldened, you may choose to embrace Being, and work for its furtherance and improvement. Thus strengthened, you may be able to stand, even during the illness of a loved one, even during the death of a parent, and allow others to find strength alongside you when they would otherwise be overwhelmed with despair. Thus emboldened, you will embark on the voyage of your life, let your light shine, so to speak, on the heavenly hill, and pursue your rightful destiny. Then the meaning of your life may be sufficient to keep the corrupting influence of mortal despair at bay. Then you may be able to accept the terrible burden of the World, and find joy. Look for your inspiration to the victorious lobster, with its 350 million years of practical wisdom. 

Stand up straight, with your shoulders back.



KNITTING






“Feminists like Bindel, Greer and Burchill come from the schools of feminism which remain concerned with matters of women’s reproductive rights, the rights of women to escape violent and abusive relationships and much more. They are also women who believed in breaking down the stereotypes over what a woman should be or could be. Perhaps the most obvious point of non-overlap with the trans movement is that in many ways trans does not challenge social constructs about gender, but reinforces them. 


Consider a prominent male-to-female transsexual YouTuber like Blaire White, who on becoming a woman (prior to announcing a de-transition late in 2018, in order to father children) adopted the body type of a sort of teenage male fantasy pin-up woman: all prominent breasts, flicking hair and pouting lips. Or consider the other end of the female archetype spectrum. 


In December 2015 Julie Bindel was finally allowed to speak at the University of Manchester where she appeared on a panel with the trans writer and activist Jane Fae. During Bindel’s speech and at other points in the event Fae sat knitting a purpley-pink garment of some kind. She had brought her knitting with her. 


Or consider April Ashley, who in one documentary film celebrating her 80th birthday in 2015 was shown going back to her childhood haunts in Liverpool, where she was receiving the keys to the city. Throughout the film it is impossible to throw off a sense that Ashley is auditioning as a stand-in body-double for HM the Queen.


Despite the vilification that a particular generation of feminists has received for not getting on the trans train, it is never explained why they should. Their language may be colourful when they attack this target–as when they attack other targets–but the accusations of being hateful, dangerous, encouraging violence and even of not being feminists sidestep the legitimate questions they raise. Why should certain feminists feel entirely fine about men who become women only then to either flaunt their perfect breasts, ape the royal family or take up knitting?” 

Tuesday 7 January 2020

The Critic






That wasn’t your idea

You don’t really believe that

You don’t really know what you’re talking about

That isn’t true. 



“Anyways, at about the same time — and I don’t exactly know how these things were causally related. I guess it was because I was trying to figure out who I was and how that could be fixed. Something like that. I started to pay very careful attention to what I was saying. I don’t know if that happened voluntarily or involuntarily, but I could feel a sort of split developing in my psyche. I’ve actually had students tell me that the same thing has happened to them after they’ve listened to some of the material that I’ve been describing to all of you. But I split into two, let’s say. 

One part was the old me that was talking a lot, that liked to argue, and that liked ideas. There was another part that was watching that part, just with its eyes opened, and neutrally judging. The part that was neutrally judging was watching the part that was talking, and going, that wasn’t your idea; you don’t really believe that; you don’t really know what you’re talking about; that isn’t true. I thought, hm! That’s really interesting! That was happening to like 95 percent of what I was saying, and then I didn’t really know what to do. I thought, ok, this is strange. Maybe I fragmented, and that’s just not a good thing, at all. It’s not like I was hearing voices, or anything like that. It wasn’t like that. People have multiple parts. 

So then I had this weird conundrum: which of these two things are me? Is it the part that’s listening and saying, no, that’s rubbish; that’s a lie; you’re doing that to impress people; you’re just trying to win the argument. Was that me? Or was I the part that was going about its normal, verbal business? I didn’t know, but I decided that I would go with the critic. And then what I tried to do—what I learned to do, I think—was to stop saying things that made me weak. I mean, I’m still trying to do that. I’m always feeling, when I talk, whether or not the words that I am saying are making me align or making me come apart. I really do think that the alignment is the right way to conceptualize it, because if you say things as true as you can say them, then they come out of the depths inside of you. We don’t know where thoughts come from. We don’t know how far down into your substructure the thoughts emerge. We don’t know what process of physiological alignment is necessary for you to speak from the core of your being. We don’t understand any of that—we don’t even conceptualize that. But I believe that you can feel that. 

I learned some of that by reading Carl Rogers, who’s a great clinician. He talked about mental health, in part, as the coherence between the spiritual—or the abstract—and the physical—that the two things were aligned. There’s a lot of ideas of alignment in psychoanalytic and clinical thinking. But, anyways, I decided that I would start practicing not saying things that would make me weak. What happened was that I had to stop saying almost everything that I was saying — 95 percent of it. That’s a hell of a shock—this was over a few months — to wake up and realize that you’re mostly deadwood. It’s a shock. You might think, well, do you really want all of that to burn off? Well, there’s nothing left but a little husk—5 percent of you. Well, if that 5 percent is solid, then maybe that’s exactly what you want to have happen.


The Secret of The Ancient Order of The Whills








222 INT. POLIS MASSA-
OBSERVATION DOME-NIGHT

On the isolated asteroid of Polis Massa, YODA meditates.

YODA: 
Failed to stop the Sith Lord, I have. 
Still much to learn, there is ...

QUI -GON: (V.O.) 
Patience. You will have time. 

I did not.

When I became one with the Force I made a great discovery. 
With my training, you will be able to merge with The Force at will. 

Your physical self will fade away, but you will still retain your consciousness. 
You will become more powerful than any Sith.

YODA :
Eternal consciousness.

QUI-GON: (V.O.) 
The ability to defy oblivion can be achieved, but only for oneself. 

It was accomplished by a Shaman of the Whills. 
It is a state acquired through compassion, not greed.

YODA :
. . . to become one with The Force, and influence still have . . . 
A power greater than all, it is.

QUI-GON: (V.O.) 
You will learn to let go of everything. 
No attachment, no thought of self. 
No physical self.

YODA: 
A great Jedi Master, you have become, Qui-Gon Jinn. 

Your apprentice I gratefully become.

YODA thinks about this for a minute, then BAIL ORGANA enters the room and breaks his meditation.

BAIL ORGANA: 
Excuse me, Master Yoda. 
Obi-Wan Kenobi has made contact.




223 EXT. MUSTAFAR-LANDING PLATFORM-DAY

The CLONES have placed ANAKIN in a medical capsule. They float the wounded Sith Lord into the belly of the IMPERIAL CRUISER. 
DARTH SIDIOUS follows the capsule into the ship. 
The ship takes off.

224 EXT. POLIS MASSA-LANDING PLATFORM-NIGHT

OBI-WAN lands the Naboo Cruiser on the landing platform of the isolated post of Polis Massa. 

YODA and BAIL ORGANA, along with a FEW GROUND CREW, are waiting as the ramp lowers and OBI-WAN emerges, carrying the unconscious PADME in his arms, followed by ARTOO and THREEPIO.

BAIL ORGANA: 
We'll take her to the medical center, quickly.

225 EXT. LANDING PLATFORM-CORUSCANT-IMPERIAL REHAB CENTER-DAY

The shuttle lands. 
DARTH SIDIOUS and CLONE TROOPERS leave the shuttle. 
ANAKIN's body is carried along in a floating medical capsule.

226 INT. POLIS MASSA-MEDICAL CENTER-NIGHT

POLIS MEDICS work, on PADME in an operating theater. 
OBI-WAN and one of the MEDICAL DROIDS enter an observation room where BAIL and YODA are waiting.

MEDICAL DROID :
Medically, she is completely healthy. 
For reasons we can't explain, we are losing her.

OBI-WAN :
She's dying?

MEDICAL DROID :
We don't know why. 
She has lost the will to live. 
We need to operate quickly if we are to save the babies.

BAIL ORGANA :
Babies??!!

MEDICAL DROID :
She's carrying twins.

YODA :
Save them, we must. 
They are Our Last Hope.

The MEDICAL DROID rushes back to the operating room. 
ARTOO and THREEPIO watch, greatly puzzled. 

ARTOO BEEPS.

C-3PO :
It s some kind of reproductive process, I think.

227 INT. CORUSCANT-IMPERIAL REHAB CENTER-DAY

ANAKIN, in the medical capsule, is lifted onto a table in the Rehab Center. 
DROIDS go to work on him. 
ANAKIN has new legs and a new arm.

228 INT. POLIS MASSA-MEDICAL CENTER-NIGHT

The TWINS are being delivered as BAIL ORGANA, YODA, ARTOO, and THREEPIO watch. 
OBI-WAN is in the operating theater with PADME. 
He takes her hand.

OBI-WAN: 
Don't give up, Padme.


PADME winces from the pain. 
The MEDICAL DROID is holding the BABY.



MEDICAL DROID: 
It's a boy.

PADME: 
Luke . . .

PADME can only offer up a faint smile. 
She struggles to touch the baby on the forehead.

MEDICAL DROID :
... and a girl.

PADME :
. . . Leia.

R2-D2, THREEPIO and BAIL ORGANA watch from an adjoining space.

229 INT. CORUSCANT-IMPERIAL REHAB CENTER-DAY

VADER, dressed in his black body armor, lies on the table. 
Nose plugs are inserted and the mask drops from above, sealing tightly. 
The helmet is fitted and VADER begins breathing.
230 INT. POLIS MASSA-MEDICAL CENTER-NIGHT

OBI WAN leans over PADME and softly speaks to her.

OBI-WAN:
 You have twins, Padme 
They need you . . . hang on.

PADME: 
I can't . . .

PADME winces again and takes OBI-WAN's hand. 
She is holding Anakin's japor snippet.

OBI-WAN:
Save your energy.

PADME: 
Obi-Wan . . . there . . . is good in him. 
I know there is ... still . . .

A last gasp, and she dies. 
Obi-Wan studies the necklace.

231 INT. CORUSCANT-IMPERIAL REHAB CENTER-DAY

DARTH SIDIOUS hovers around the periphery of a group of MEDICAL DROIDS who are working on ANAKIN. 
DARTH SIDIOUS paces in the foreground. 
A DROID approaches the Dark Lord.

MEDICAL DROID :
My Lord, the construction is finished ... he lives.

DARTH SIDIOUS :
Good. Good.

The DROID moves back to the table where DARTH VADER lies. The table begins to move upright. 
DARTH SIDIOUS moves in next to DARTH VADER.

DARTH SIDIOUS: (continuing)
 Lord Vader, can you hear me?



DARTH VADER, with his dark mask and helmet, moves up into the frame until he is in a CLOSEUP.



DARTH VADER: 
Yes, My Master.



DARTH VADER looks around the room.



DARTH VADER: (continuing) 
Where is Padme? 
Is she safe, is she all right?



DARTH SIDIOUS moves closer to the half droid/half man.



DARTH SIDIOUS: 
I'm afraid she died. ... 
it seems in your anger, you killed her.



A LOW GROAN emanates from Vader's mask. 
Suddenly everything in the room begins to implode, including some of the DROIDS.



DARTH VADER: 
I couldn't have! She was alive! 
I felt her! She was alive! 
It's impossible! No!!!



VADER SCREAMS, breaks his bonds to the table, and steps forward, waving his hands, causing objects to fly around the room. 
SIDIOUS deflects the objects, but some of the DROIDS aren't so lucky. 
VADER'S PAINFUL SCREAMS echo throughout the Center.



232 EXT. NABOO-ALDERAAN STARCRUISER



BAIL ORGANA's Starcruiser approaches the city of Theed.



233 INT. ALDERAAN CRUISER-CONFERENCE ROOM



BAIL ORGANA, YODA, and OBI-WAN sit around a conference table.



YODA: 
Pregnant, she must still appear. Hidden, safe, the children must be kept.



OBI-WAN: 
We must take them somewhere the Sith will not sense their presence.



YODA: 
Split up, they should be.



BAIL ORGANA: 
My wife and I will take the girl. 
We've always talked of adopting a baby girl. 
She will be loved with us.



OBI-WAN: 
And what of the boy?



YODA: 
To Tatooine. 
To his family, send him.



OBI-WAN: 
I will take the child and watch over him. 
Master Yoda, do you think Anakin's twins will be able to defeat Darth Sidious?



YODA: 
Strong the Force runs, in the Skywalker line. 
Hope, we can . . . Done, it is. 
Until the time is right, disappear we will.



BAIL leaves the conference room. 
YODA stops OBI-WAN.



YODA: (continuing) 
Master Kenobi, wait a moment. In your solitude on Tatooine, training I have for you.



OBI-WAN: 
Training??



YODA: 
An old friend has learned the path to immortality.



OBI-WAN: 
Who?



YODA: 
One who has returned from the netherworld of the Force to train me . . . your old Master, Qui-Gon Jinn.



OBI-WAN: 
Qui-Gon? But, how could he accomplish this?



YODA: 
The secret of the Ancient Order of the Whills, he studied. 
How to commune with him. 
I will teach you.



OBI-WAN: 
I will be able to talk with him?



YODA: 
How to join The Force, he will train you. 
Your consciousness you will retain, when one with the Force. 
Even your physical self, perhaps.




It’s Not Just You









“This is Why Clowns are Good —because they show that The Image is not a fact, but it’s a reflex of some kind.

And when you think everything is just that way, The Trickster comes in and it all blows apart, and you get The Becoming Thing again.”







HINDLE: Silence! I need time to think. 

TODD: What will Sanders say? 

HINDLE: Silence! 

TODD: Doctor, tell him. 

HINDLE: Sanders will not return. 

TODD: I hope for your sake he does. 

HINDLE: Why should he? The others didn't. 

I wish to announce the strategy for the defence of The Dome, implementation immediate. 

We will raze to the ground and sterilise an area of forest some fifty miles radius. 

Objective, the creation of a cordon sanitaire around the dome. Method of implementation, fire and acid. Acid and fire. 

TODD: This is insane. There is no danger. 

DOCTOR: And then? 

HINDLE: And then we will wait for rescue. 

The mother ship. 


TODD: Mother ship doesn't return for six seasons. 


HINDLE: We'll be patient. 

TODD: Doctor, tell him. 

DOCTOR: What are you defending the dome against? 

HINDLE: Against out there. The trees, plants. 

DOCTOR: Oh, I see. 

HINDLE: Yes? 

DOCTOR: Well, perhaps if we could define the exact nature of the threat posed by the trees 

HINDLE: I've told you. Seeds, spores and things. 

Everywhere. Getting hold, rooting, thrusting, branching, blocking out the light. 

DOCTOR: Yes, but I-

HINDLE: Don't you see! 

DOCTOR: Nearly, nearly, nearly. I thought that the Kinda -

HINDLE: No, the Kinda are not important. They're just the servants. 

DOCTOR: Of? 

HINDLE: Of the plants. The plants feed them. Did you know that? Then return, that's why. That's why. 

DOCTOR: Why do you think the plants are hostile? 

(The Kinda raise their weapons and move forward.) 

HINDLE: Because they are. 



[Forest]

(Todd stops by some shrubs.) 

TODD: 
Doctor, there's something following us. 

DOCTOR: 
Nonsense. 

(He walks on, then a twig snaps.) 

DOCTOR: 
There's something FOLLOWING us....!!

TODD: 
Come out from there, whatever you are. 

(Someone holds out a figure like the jack-in-the-box. Todd goes to there and the person leaps out from the other side of the shrubs. It wears a mask just like the one in the dome, and holds the doll, then ducks out of sight again.) 

DOCTOR: 
Look. 

(A group of Kinda arrive.) 

TODD: 
So many of them. They normally only associate in groups of three or four. 

(The masked figure jumps out again between them and the Kinda.) 

TODD: 
Doctor. 

DOCTOR: 
Culturally non-hostile, didn't you say? 

(The figure removes his mask. He's the Trickster or village jester. He tries to step forward, but mimes that his right foot is stuck to the ground. When he pulls it free, he jumps forward to land at the Doctor's feet. The Doctor helps him up, smiling. The Trickster moves his hand in front of his face, changing his expression from neutral to scowl and back again.) 

DOCTOR: 
Yes, we take the point, don't we. 

TODD: 
Yes, the clown stroke jester's a familiar figure, anthropologically speaking. 
He diffuses a potential source of conflict through mockery and ridicule, don't you. 

(Trickster nods while his marotte shakes its head. Then he points at the Doctor.) 

TODD: 
Your turn. 

DOCTOR: 
Er, well, I don't really see what I could, er. 
Wait a minute. 

(The Doctor holds up his coin, puts his hands behind his back then brings them back for the Trickster to choose. Both hands turn out empty. The Doctor produces the coin from the Trickster's ear. The Kinda applaud.) 

DOCTOR: 
It's all quite simple, really. 
Just a, just a matter of practice. 
Your turn. 

Saturday 4 January 2020

THE RESURRECTIONISTS


SPOCK :
 And yet, you can be in two places at once. 
 



 
 
The Resurrection Argument That Changed a Generation of Scholars

(George and Lorraine kiss. Biff's gang enter the dance and Marty hides underneath a table, his hat falls off and he grabs it just in time.)

Marvin: (o.s) 
Let's do another one!

Skinhead: 
Where'd he go? He just came in here?

1955 Marty: (o.s) 
Something that really cooks.

(3-D spots 1955 Marty on the stage about to play Johnny B Goode.)

3-D: 
Look -it's him. How'd he get up on stage?

Skinhead: 
I dunno, but when he gets down we're gonna nail him.

Match: 
How the hell'd he change his clothes so fast?
 






SPOCK: 
Father. 
 
SPOCK PRIME: 
I am Not-Our-Father. 
There are so few Vulcans left, we cannot afford to ignore each other. 
 
 
SPOCK: 
Then why did you send Kirk aboard, when you alone could have explained The Truth? 
 
SPOCK PRIME: 
Because, YOU needed each other. 
 
I could not deprive you of the revelation of all that you could accomplish together. 
 
Of a friendship, that would define you both, in ways you cannot yet realize. 
 
SPOCK: 
How did you persuade him to keep your secret? 
 
SPOCK PRIME:
He inferred that universe-ending paradoxes would ensue should he break his promise. 
 
SPOCK:
You lied. 
 
SPOCK PRIME:
Oh, I... I implied. 
 
SPOCK:
A gamble. 
 
SPOCK PRIME: 
An Act of Faith. 
One I hope that you will repeat in The Future at Starfleet. 
 
SPOCK: 
In the face of extinction, it is only logical I resign my Starfleet commission and help rebuild our race. 
 
SPOCK PRIME:
And yet, you can be in two places at once. 
I urge you to remain in Starfleet. 
I have already located a suitable planet on which to establish a Vulcan colony. 
 
Spock, in this case, do yourself a favour. 
Put aside logic. 
Do what FEELS right. 
 
Since my customary farewell would appear oddly self-serving, I shall simply say good luck.