Akhenaten's Dream In Plato's Mind

It’s been a long way since Earth was created from cosmic dust plus initial energy from the Big Bang left unleashed especially for us by an un-metaphorically cause that still remains undisclosed, un-theological, & humanly grasped. Despite there’s no consensus about such a spectacular phenomenon; body, mind & intelligence remain as lively fate-hunters of what make sense about us that I have to welcome you, Friend, to the Drama of Human Condition in search of the Artist’s Signature.

Thursday, March 17, 2016

The bIBLE again!

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Expressionist Poetry

FEBRUARY 14, 2012

Georg Heym

Georg Heym [Germany]

1887-1912

Born in Hirschberg, Lower Silesia in 1887, Georg Heym spent much of his short life battling conventional societal behavior. His parents, members of the Wilhemine middle class, were troubled by their son's behavior, and the young poet felt frustrated with the conventionality of their lives. His early influences, which show up in later poems, were figures such as Baudelaire and Rimbaud.

In 1900 the Heym family moved to Berlin, where Georg attending several schools before graduating from the Friedrich-Wilhelms-Gymnasium at Neuruppin in Brandenburg. Heym began to write poetry as a student.

Later he studied law at Würzburg, working in unfulfilling judicial jobs. He also began writing drama, producing Versuch einer neuen Religion in 1909 at the age of 22. He poetry, however, appeared upublishable. A year later Heym met Simon Guttmann, who invited him to the newly founded Neue Club. With members such as Kurt Hiller, Jakob van Hoddis, Erwin Loewenson (Golo Gangi) and regular visitors such as Else Lasker-Schüler, Gottfried Benn, and Karl Kraus, the group was shared objectives of writing works that rebelled against contemporary culture and spoke for political change. The Club also held regular "Neopathetisches Cabarets," meetings in which members presented work. Heym's poetry attracted great praise. And in 1911, publisher Ernst Rowohlt published his first book of poetry, Der ewige Tag, the only book to appear in Heym's own lifetime.

On January 16, 1912, Heym and a friend, Ernst Balcke, went for a skating party on the Havel river. They never returned, and their bodies were found a few days later. Evidently Balcke had fallen through the ice and Heym and attempted to save him before he also drowned.

Heym left behind a collection of fiction, Der Deib. Ein Novellenbuch, which was published in English as The Thief and Other Stories in 1994.

BOOKS OF POETRY

Der ewige Tag (Leipzig: E. Rowohlt, 1911); Umbra vitae, nachgelassene Gedichte (1912; München: Kurt Wolff, 1924);Marathon (1914); Dichtungen (1922); Gedicht (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1966); Gedicht (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer-Bücerei, 1968)

ENGLISH LANGUAGE TRANSLATIONS

Poems: English & German Selections, trans. by Antony Hasler (London: Libris, 2004)

Umbra Vitae

The people on the streets draw up and stare,

While overhead huge portents cross the sky;
Round fanglike towers threatening comets flare,
Death-bearing, fiery-snouted where they fly.

On every roof astrologers abound,

enormous tubes thrust heavenward; there are
Magicians springing up from underground,
Aslant in darkness, conjuring to a star.

Through night great hordes of suicides are hurled,

Men seeking on their way the selves they've lost;
Crook-backed they haunt all corners of the world,
And with their arms for brooms they sweep the dust.

They are as dust, keep but a little while;

And as they move their hair drops out. They run,
To hasten their slow dying. Then they fall,
And in the open fields lie prone,

But twitch a little still. Beasts of the field

Stand blindly around them, prod with horns
Their sprawling bodies till at last they yield,
Lie buried by the sage-bush, by the thorns.

But all the seas are stopped. Among the waves

The shops hang rotting, scattered, beyond hope.
No current through the water moves,
And all the courts of heaven are locked up.

Trees do not change, the seasons do not change.

Enclosed in dead finality each stands,
And over broken roads lets frigid range
Its palmless thousand-fingered hands.

They dying man sits up, as if to stand,

Just once more word a moment since he cries,
All at once he's gone. Can life so end?
And crushed to fragments are his glassy eyes.

The secret shadows thicken, darkness breaks;

Behind the speechless doors dreams watch and creep.
Burdened by light of dawn the man that wakes
Must rub from grayish eyelids leaden sleep.

—Translated from the German by Christopher Middleton

(1912)

Judas

Torment's curl leaps above his brow,

In which winds and many voices whispering
Swim by like waters flowing.

Yet he runs by his side just like a dog.

And in the mire he picks up everything saying said.
And he weighs it heavily. And it is dead.

Ah gently in the swaying eventide

The Lord walked down over the white fields.
It was him the corn-ears glorified.
His feet were small as flies
In the shrill gleam of golden skies.

—Translated from the German by Christopher Middleton

(1912)

____

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Schiller Poetry example

Cassandra

By Friedrich Schiller (1759-1805)

In Greek mythology, Cassandra was the daughter of King Priam of Troy. She was given the ability to foresee the future by the god Apollo, but also cursed because the populace would not believe her prophecies, including her warnings about the Trojan Horse and the destruction of Troy. Another daughter of Priam, Polyxena, was to marry the Greek leader Achilles, son of Thetis, which was to be the occasion of a peace treaty between Greece and Troy. Hymen was the god of weddings, Proserpina was the queen of the underworld, and Eris was the goddess of discord and sister of Ares, god of war. Ilion was the ancient name for Troy (as in the Illiad.)

Joy in Trojan congregations
Dwelt, before the fortress fell,
There were hymns of jubilation
Where the golden harp-strings swell.
All the people rested, weary
From the conflict fraught with tears,
Great Achilles sought to marry
Royal Priam's daughter fair.

And adorned with wreathes of myrtle
They went surging line by line,
To the gods' exalted temples
And Apollo's holy shrine.
To the passageways they'd taken
In a writhing bacchanal,
And to sorrow was forsaken
Just the saddest heart of all.

Joyless there amidst joy's fullness,
All alone she went to rove,
Just Cassandra shared the stillness
Of Apollo's myrtle grove.
To the forest's deepest quarter
Did the silent seeress flee,
Flung the headband of her order
To the ground most angrily:

"Everywhere is joy inherent,
Hearts rejoice throughout the lands,
Hope inspires my aging parents
And adorned my sister stands.
I alone must stay with sorrow,
Sweet delusion flies from me,
And approaching on the morrow
Dark disaster I foresee.

There's a torch that I see glowing,
But it's not in Hymen's hand,
Toward the clouds I see it growing
But it lights no wedding band.
Festivals are making ready
Yet my troubled spirit hears
Godly footsteps, swift and steady,
Bringing tragedy and tears.

And they scold my lamentations
And they mock me for my pain,
I must bear my heart's vexations
On the lonely desert plain,
Happy folk avoid me cooly
And the cheerful call me fraud!
Thou hast burdened me so cruelly,
O Apollo! Wicked god!

So that I might speak thy tidings
I received a prescient mind,
Why then must I be abiding
In the city of the blind?
Why have I prophetic fire
Yet can't hinder what I fear?
What's decreed must now transpire,
And the fearsome thing draws near.

When it hides the lurking terror,
Is it wise to lift the veil?
Human lives are only error
And with knowledge, death prevails.
Take away the bloody vision,
Take this wretched clarity,
Terrible! to be the living
Vessel of thy verity.

Give me back my darkened senses,
I'll be gladly blind by choice,
No sweet song from me commences
Since I first became thy voice.
Thou didst give the Future to me
Yet the Moment now I lack,
I have lost my Present truly,
Take thy false gift - take it back!

Never have I decorated
With the bridal crown my hair,
Since when I was consecrated
At thy doleful altar there.
All my youth was only weeping,
All I knew was bitter smart,
With the loved ones I was keeping,
Every hardship hurt my heart.

All around I see them wheeling,
Youthful playmates I have known,
Living, loving with such feeling,
Troubled heart was mine alone.
Springtime is for me no treasure
That the earth so festive keeps,
Who can live his life with pleasure
After gazing in thy deeps!

Blessings I give Polyxena.
Balmy love writ on her face,
For the greatest Greek she means to
Welcome with a bride's embrace.
How her breast with pride is swelling,
She can hardly grasp her bliss,
Even Ye, in heaven dwelling,
She doth not count blest like this.

And the suitor who entrances,
Whom I choose most longingly,
He implores with lovely glances
Fired by passion's fervency.
Visiting his habitation,
Oh, it would be my delight,
Yet a shadow of damnation
Steps between us in the night.

Pallid larvas from down yonder
Proserpina sends to me,
And wherever I may wander
All her spirits I must see.
In my childhood recreations
They would gruesomely intrude,
With such dread abominations
I may have no blithesome mood.

And I see the death-blade gleaming
And the glowing murderer's eye,
Nowhere, left nor right, 'tis seeming,
May I from this horror fly.
Seeing, knowing, never flinching,
I may not avert my gaze,
Now my fate comes closer inching,
All alone I'll end my days." --

And as yet her words did echo,
Hark! There comes an eerie sound,
From the portal of the temple,
Thetis' son, dead on the ground!
Eris shakes her serpent tresses,
All the gods are quickly gone,
And the thunder cloud oppresses
Heavy over Ilion.

Cassandra

. Mirth the halls of Troy was filling,
Ere its lofty ramparts fell;
From the golden lute so thrilling
Hymns of joy were heard to swell.
From the sad and tearful slaughter
All had laid their arms aside,
For Pelides Priam's daughter
Claimed then as his own fair bride.

Laurel branches with them bearing,
Troop on troop in bright array
To the temples were repairing,
Owning Thymbrius' sovereign sway.
Through the streets, with frantic measure,
Danced the bacchanal mad round,
And, amid the radiant pleasure,
Only one sad breast was found.

Joyless in the midst of gladness,
None to heed her, none to love,
Roamed Cassandra, plunged in sadness,
To Apollo's laurel grove.
To its dark and deep recesses
Swift the sorrowing priestess hied,
And from off her flowing tresses
Tore the sacred band, and cried:

"All around with joy is beaming,
Ev'ry heart is happy now,
And my sire is fondly dreaming,
Wreathed with flowers my sister's brow
I alone am doomed to wailing,
That sweet vision flies from me;
In my mind, these walls assailing,
Fierce destruction I can see."

"Though a torch I see all-glowing,
Yet 'tis not in Hymen's hand;
Smoke across the skies is blowing,
Yet 'tis from no votive brand.
Yonder see I feasts entrancing,
But in my prophetic soul,
Hear I now the God advancing,
Who will steep in tears the bowl!"

"And they blame my lamentation,
And they laugh my grief to scorn;
To the haunts of desolation
I must bear my woes forlorn.
All who happy are, now shun me,
And my tears with laughter see;
Heavy lies thy hand upon me,
Cruel Pythian deity!"

"Thy divine decrees foretelling,
Wherefore hast thou thrown me here,
Where the ever-blind are dwelling,
With a mind, alas, too clear?
Wherefore hast thou power thus given,
What must needs occur to know?
Wrought must be the will of Heaven—
Onward come the hour of woe!"

"When impending fate strikes terror,
Why remove the covering?
Life we have alone in error,
Knowledge with it death must bring.
Take away this prescience tearful,
Take this sight of woe from me;
Of thy truths, alas! how fearful
'Tis the mouthpiece frail to be!"

"Veil my mind once more in slumbers
Let me heedlessly rejoice;
Never have I sung glad numbers
Since I've been thy chosen voice.
Knowledge of the future giving,
Thou hast stolen the present day,
Stolen the moment's joyous living,—
Take thy false gift, then, away!"

"Ne'er with bridal train around me,
Have I wreathed my radiant brow,
Since to serve thy fane I bound me—
Bound me with a solemn vow.
Evermore in grief I languish—
All my youth in tears was spent;
And with thoughts of bitter anguish
My too-feeling heart is rent."

"Joyously my friends are playing,
All around are blest and glad,
In the paths of pleasure straying,—
My poor heart alone is sad.
Spring in vain unfolds each treasure,
Filling all the earth with bliss;
Who in life can e'er take pleasure,
When is seen its dark abyss?"

"With her heart in vision burning,
Truly blest is Polyxene,
As a bride to clasp him yearning.
Him, the noblest, best Hellene!
And her breast with rapture swelling,
All its bliss can scarcely know;
E'en the Gods in heavenly dwelling
Envying not, when dreaming so."

"He to whom my heart is plighted
Stood before my ravished eye,
And his look, by passion lighted,
Toward me turned imploringly.
With the loved one, oh, how gladly
Homeward would I take my flight
But a Stygian shadow sadly
Steps between us every night."

"Cruel Proserpine is sending
All her spectres pale to me;
Ever on my steps attending
Those dread shadowy forms I see.
Though I seek, in mirth and laughter
Refuge from that ghastly train,
Still I see them hastening after,—
Ne'er shall I know joy again."

"And I see the death-steel glancing,
And the eye of murder glare;
On, with hasty strides advancing,
Terror haunts me everywhere.
Vain I seek alleviation;—
Knowing, seeing, suffering all,
I must wait the consummation,
In a foreign land must fall."

While her solemn words are ringing,
Hark! a dull and wailing tone
From the temple's gate upspringing,—
Dead lies Thetis' mighty son!
Eris shakes her snake-locks hated,
Swiftly flies each deity,
And o'er Ilion's walls ill-fated
Thunder-clouds loom heavily!

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Nena ‎- 99 Luftballons

99 Luftballons

Artist: Nena

Rating:

1/5 2/5 3/5 4/5 5/5

Lyrics

GERMAN:

Hast du etwas Zeit fuer mich

Dann singe ich ein Lied fuer dich

Von 99 Luftballons

Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont

Denkst du vielleicht g'rad an mich

Dann singe ich ein Lied fuer dich

Von 99 Luftballons

Und dass sowas von sowas kommt

99 Luftballons

Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont

Hielt man fuer Ufos aus dem All

Darum schickte ein General

'ne Fliegerstaffel hinterher

Alarm zu geben, wenn's (sie?) war

Dabei war'n da am Horizont

Nur 99 Luftballons

99 Duesenjager

Jeder war ein grosser Krieger

Hielten sich fuer Captain Kirk

Das gab ein grosses Feuerwerk

Die Nachbarn haben nichts gerafft

Und fuehlten sich gleich angemacht

Dabei schoss man am Horizont

Auf 99 Luftballons

99 Kriegsminister

Streichholz und Benzinkanister

Hielten sich fuer schlaue Leute

Witterten schon fette Beute

Riefen: Kring und wollten Macht

Mann, wer hatte das gedacht

Dass es einmal soweit kommt

Wegen 99 Luftballons

99 Jahre Krieg

Liessen keine Platz fuer Sieger

Kriegsminister gibt's nicht mehr

Und auch keine Duesenflieger

Heute zieh ich meine Runden

Seh' die Welt in Truemmern liegen

Hab' 'nen Luftballon gefunden

Denk' an dich und lass' ihn fliegen

ENGLISH:

You and I in a little toy shop
Buy a bag of balloons with the money we've got
Set them free at the break of dawn
Til one by one, they were gone
Back at base bugs in the software
Flash the message, something's out there
Floating in the summer sky
99 red balloons go by

99 red balloons
Floating in the summer sky
Panic bells it's red alert
There's something here from somewhere else
The war machine springs to life
Opens up one eager eye
Focusing it on the sky
Where 99 red balloons go by

99 Decision street
99 ministers meet
To worry, worry, super scurry
Call the troops out in a hurry
This is what we've waited for
This is it boys, this is war
The president is on the line
As 99 red balloons go by

99 knights of the air
Ride super high tech jet fighters
Everyone's a super hero
Everyone's a Captain Kirk
With orders to identify
To clarify, and classify
Scramble in the summer sky
99 red balloons go by

99 dreams I have had
In every one a red balloon
It's all over and I'm standing pretty
In this dust that was a city
If I could find a souvenir
Just to prove the world was here
And here is a red balloon
Just to prove the world was here
And here is a red balloon
I think of you, and let it go

Friday, January 29, 2016

Carl Sagan’s Rules

The Baloney Detection Kit: Carl Sagan’s Rules for Bullshit-Busting and Critical Thinking

Necessary cognitive fortification against propaganda, pseudoscience, and general falsehood.

BY MARIA POPOVA

Carl Sagan was many things — a cosmic sage,voracious reader, hopeless romantic, and brilliant philosopher. But above all, he endures as our era’s greatest patron saint of reason and common sense, a master of the vital balance between skepticism and openness. In The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark (public library) — the same indispensable volume that gave us Sagan’s timeless meditation on science and spirituality, published mere months before his death in 1996 — Sagan shares his secret to upholding the rites of reason, even in the face of society’s most shameless untruths and outrageous propaganda.

In a chapter titled “The Fine Art of Baloney Detection,” Sagan reflects on the many types of deception to which we’re susceptible — from psychics to religious zealotry to paid product endorsements by scientists, which he held in especially low regard, noting that they “betray contempt for the intelligence of their customers” and “introduce an insidious corruption of popular attitudes about scientific objectivity.” (Cue in PBS’s Joe Hanson on how to read science news.) But rather than preaching from the ivory tower of self-righteousness, Sagan approaches the subject from the most vulnerable of places — having just lost both of his parents, he reflects on the all too human allure of promises of supernatural reunions in the afterlife, reminding us that falling for such fictions doesn’t make us stupid or bad people, but simply means that we need to equip ourselves with the right tools against them.

Through their training, scientists are equipped with what Sagan calls a “baloney detection kit” — a set of cognitive tools and techniques that fortify the mind against penetration by falsehoods:

The kit is brought out as a matter of course whenever new ideas are offered for consideration. If the new idea survives examination by the tools in our kit, we grant it warm, although tentative, acceptance. If you’re so inclined, if you don’t want to buy baloney even when it’s reassuring to do so, there are precautions that can be taken; there’s a tried-and-true, consumer-tested method.

But the kit, Sagan argues, isn’t merely a tool of science — rather, it contains invaluable tools of healthy skepticism that apply just as elegantly, and just as necessarily, to everyday life. By adopting the kit, we can all shield ourselves against clueless guile and deliberate manipulation. Sagan shares nine of these tools:

Wherever possible there must be independent confirmation of the “facts.”

Encourage substantive debate on the evidence by knowledgeable proponents of all points of view.

Arguments from authority carry little weight — “authorities” have made mistakes in the past. They will do so again in the future. Perhaps a better way to say it is that in science there are no authorities; at most, there are experts.

Spin more than one hypothesis. If there’s something to be explained, think of all the different ways in which it could be explained. Then think of tests by which you might systematically disprove each of the alternatives. What survives, the hypothesis that resists disproof in this Darwinian selection among “multiple working hypotheses,” has a much better chance of being the right answer than if you had simply run with the first idea that caught your fancy.

Try not to get overly attached to a hypothesis just because it’s yours. It’s only a way station in the pursuit of knowledge. Ask yourself why you like the idea. Compare it fairly with the alternatives. See if you can find reasons for rejecting it. If you don’t, others will.

Quantify. If whatever it is you’re explaining has some measure, some numerical quantity attached to it, you’ll be much better able to discriminate among competing hypotheses. What is vague and qualitative is open to many explanations. Of course there are truths to be sought in the many qualitative issues we are obliged to confront, but finding them is more challenging.

If there’s a chain of argument, every link in the chain must work (including the premise) — not just most of them.

Occam’s Razor. This convenient rule-of-thumb urges us when faced with two hypotheses that explain the data equally well to choose the simpler.

Always ask whether the hypothesis can be, at least in principle, falsified. Propositions that are untestable, unfalsifiable are not worth much. Consider the grand idea that our Universe and everything in it is just an elementary particle — an electron, say — in a much bigger Cosmos. But if we can never acquire information from outside our Universe, is not the idea incapable of disproof? You must be able to check assertions out. Inveterate skeptics must be given the chance to follow your reasoning, to duplicate your experiments and see if they get the same result.

Just as important as learning these helpful tools, however, is unlearning and avoiding the most common pitfalls of common sense. Reminding us of where society is most vulnerable to those, Sagan writes:

In addition to teaching us what to do when evaluating a claim to knowledge, any good baloney detection kit must also teach us what not to do. It helps us recognize the most common and perilous fallacies of logic and rhetoric. Many good examples can be found in religion and politics, because their practitioners are so often obliged to justify two contradictory propositions.

He admonishes against the twenty most common and perilous ones — many rooted in our chronic discomfort with ambiguity — with examples of each in action:

ad hominem — Latin for “to the man,” attacking the arguer and not the argument (e.g., The Reverend Dr. Smith is a known Biblical fundamentalist, so her objections to evolution need not be taken seriously)

argument from authority (e.g., President Richard Nixon should be re-elected because he has a secret plan to end the war in Southeast Asia — but because it was secret, there was no way for the electorate to evaluate it on its merits; the argument amounted to trusting him because he was President: a mistake, as it turned out)

argument from adverse consequences (e.g., A God meting out punishment and reward must exist, because if He didn’t, society would be much more lawless and dangerous — perhaps even ungovernable. Or: The defendant in a widely publicized murder trial must be found guilty; otherwise, it will be an encouragement for other men to murder their wives)

appeal to ignorance — the claim that whatever has not been proved false must be true, and vice versa (e.g., There is no compelling evidence that UFOs are not visiting the Earth; therefore UFOs exist — and there is intelligent life elsewhere in the Universe.Or: There may be seventy kazillion other worlds, but not one is known to have the moral advancement of the Earth, so we’re still central to the Universe.) This impatience with ambiguity can be criticized in the phrase: absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

special pleading, often to rescue a proposition in deep rhetorical trouble (e.g., How can a merciful God condemn future generations to torment because, against orders, one woman induced one man to eat an apple? Special plead: you don’t understand the subtle Doctrine of Free Will. Or: How can there be an equally godlike Father, Son, and Holy Ghost in the same Person? Special plead: You don’t understand the Divine Mystery of the Trinity. Or: How could God permit the followers of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam — each in their own way enjoined to heroic measures of loving kindness and compassion — to have perpetrated so much cruelty for so long? Special plead: You don’t understand Free Will again. And anyway, God moves in mysterious ways.)

begging the question, also called assuming the answer (e.g., We must institute the death penalty to discourage violent crime. But does the violent crime rate in fact fall when the death penalty is imposed? Or: The stock market fell yesterday because of a technical adjustment and profit-taking by investors — but is there any independent evidence for the causal role of “adjustment” and profit-taking; have we learned anything at all from this purported explanation?)

observational selection, also called the enumeration of favorable circumstances, or as the philosopher Francis Bacon described it, counting the hits and forgetting the misses (e.g., A state boasts of the Presidents it has produced, but is silent on its serial killers)

statistics of small numbers — a close relative of observational selection (e.g., “They say 1 out of every 5 people is Chinese. How is this possible? I know hundreds of people, and none of them is Chinese. Yours truly.” Or: “I’ve thrown three sevens in a row. Tonight I can’t lose.”)

misunderstanding of the nature of statistics (e.g., President Dwight Eisenhower expressing astonishment and alarm on discovering that fully half of all Americans have below average intelligence);

inconsistency (e.g., Prudently plan for the worst of which a potential military adversary is capable, but thriftily ignore scientific projections on environmental dangers because they’re not “proved.” Or: Attribute the declining life expectancy in the former Soviet Union to the failures of communism many years ago, but never attribute the high infant mortality rate in the United States (now highest of the major industrial nations) to the failures of capitalism. Or: Consider it reasonable for the Universe to continue to exist forever into the future, but judge absurd the possibility that it has infinite duration into the past);

non sequitur — Latin for “It doesn’t follow” (e.g., Our nation will prevail because God is great. But nearly every nation pretends this to be true; the German formulation was “Gott mit uns”). Often those falling into the non sequitur fallacy have simply failed to recognize alternative possibilities;

post hoc, ergo propter hoc — Latin for “It happened after, so it was caused by” (e.g., Jaime Cardinal Sin, Archbishop of Manila: “I know of … a 26-year-old who looks 60 because she takes [contraceptive] pills.” Or: Before women got the vote, there were no nuclear weapons)

meaningless question (e.g., What happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object? But if there is such a thing as an irresistible force there can be no immovable objects, and vice versa)

excluded middle, or false dichotomy — considering only the two extremes in a continuum of intermediate possibilities (e.g.,“Sure, take his side; my husband’s perfect; I’m always wrong.” Or: “Either you love your country or you hate it.” Or: “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem”)

short-term vs. long-term — a subset of the excluded middle, but so important I’ve pulled it out for special attention (e.g., We can’t afford programs to feed malnourished children and educate pre-school kids. We need to urgently deal with crime on the streets.Or: Why explore space or pursue fundamental science when we have so huge a budget deficit?);

slippery slope, related to excluded middle (e.g., If we allow abortion in the first weeks of pregnancy, it will be impossible to prevent the killing of a full-term infant. Or, conversely: If the state prohibits abortion even in the ninth month, it will soon be telling us what to do with our bodies around the time of conception);

confusion of correlation and causation (e.g., A survey shows that more college graduates are homosexual than those with lesser education; therefore education makes people gay. Or:Andean earthquakes are correlated with closest approaches of the planet Uranus; therefore — despite the absence of any such correlation for the nearer, more massive planet Jupiter — the latter causes the former)

straw man — caricaturing a position to make it easier to attack (e.g., Scientists suppose that living things simply fell together by chance — a formulation that willfully ignores the central Darwinian insight, that Nature ratchets up by saving what works and discarding what doesn’t. Or — this is also a short-term/long-term fallacy — environmentalists care more for snail darters and spotted owls than they do for people)

suppressed evidence, or half-truths (e.g., An amazingly accurate and widely quoted “prophecy” of the assassination attempt on President Reagan is shown on television; but — an important detail — was it recorded before or after the event? Or:These government abuses demand revolution, even if you can’t make an omelette without breaking some eggs. Yes, but is this likely to be a revolution in which far more people are killed than under the previous regime? What does the experience of other revolutions suggest? Are all revolutions against oppressive regimes desirable and in the interests of the people?)

weasel words (e.g., The separation of powers of the U.S. Constitution specifies that the United States may not conduct a war without a declaration by Congress. On the other hand, Presidents are given control of foreign policy and the conduct of wars, which are potentially powerful tools for getting themselves re-elected. Presidents of either political party may therefore be tempted to arrange wars while waving the flag and calling the wars something else — “police actions,” “armed incursions,” “protective reaction strikes,” “pacification,” “safeguarding American interests,” and a wide variety of “operations,” such as “Operation Just Cause.” Euphemisms for war are one of a broad class of reinventions of language for political purposes. Talleyrand said, “An important art of politicians is to find new names for institutions which under old names have become odious to the public”)

Sagan ends the chapter with a necessary disclaimer:

Like all tools, the baloney detection kit can be misused, applied out of context, or even employed as a rote alternative to thinking. But applied judiciously, it can make all the difference in the world — not least in evaluating our own arguments before we present them to others.

The Demon-Haunted World is a timelessly fantastic read in its entirety, timelier than ever in a great many ways amidst our present media landscape of propaganda, pseudoscience, and various commercial motives. Complement it with Sagan onscience and “God”.

One of my B's from the BBB

“You might speak of
‘the divine Rossini.’
You can also speak
of ‘the divine Mozart.’
But you cannot say
‘the divine Beethoven.’

That does not sound right.
You must say
‘the human Beethoven.’
It is in this way that he is great….
With Beethoven humanity enters
into music for the first time as the
principal argument in the place of
interplay of figures."

So mused Busoni in 1920... Go here or here

Let's take a chance and here what follows:

Ludwig van Beethoven
Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67
CONDUCTOR : Wilhelm Furtwängler /
ORCHESTRA : Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra
(Berliner Philharmoniker) / year 1947

1. Allegro con brio (8:04)
2. Andante con moto (11:11)
3. Allegro - attacca (5:50)
4. Allegro (8:13)

Ludwig van Beethoven
Symphony No. 9 in D minor "Choral", Op. 125

CONDUCTOR : Herbert von Karajan
ORCHESTRA : The Philharmonia Orchestra
YEAR: 1955

1. Allegro ma non troppo, un poco maestoso (15:04)
2. Molto vivace (10:09)
3. Adagio molto e cantabile (16:06)
4. Recitative: (Presto – Allegro ma non troppo – Vivace – Adagio cantabile – Allegro assai – Presto: O Freunde) – Allegro assai: Freude, schöner Götterfunken – Alla marcia – Allegro assai vivace: Froh, wie seine Sonnen – Andante maestoso: Seid umschlungen, Millionen! – Adagio ma non troppo, ma divoto: Ihr, stürzt nieder – Allegro energico, sempre ben marcato: (Freude, schöner Götterfunken – Seid umschlungen, Millionen!) – Allegro ma non tanto: Freude, Tochter aus Elysium! – Prestissimo: Seid umschlungen, Millionen! (24:07)

My Little Alexandria Library

Breaths So Far (An Index):

Hölderlin once said: "Language, most dangerous of possessions." Therefore, this is an attempt of writing a small book of poetry in a language that's not my own. However, I feel fortunate… Index (Suggested Order)

Next, you will find several extra poems which are related to the topics covered in the previous poems.

***
Another small book under construction. It is called Sweats, and it is supposed to be as follows (once again, suggested order):

Index

Adornos’ Sweat
Lennon’s Sweat
Judas Sweat
Comming Soon!
Comming Soon!
Comming Soon!
Comming Soon!
Comming Soon!
Comming Soon!
Comming Soon!

***
Other Poems

My Own translations:

Czeslaw Milosz
A Hölderlin (Rilke)
"Musée des Beaux Arts" (French for "Museum of Fine Arts") is the title of a poem by W. H. Auden

My Own English Poetry:

Think Different (a quite interesting movie ad) - my post