“They saw their injured country's woe;
The flaming town, the wasted field;
Then rushed to meet the insulting foe;
They took the spear, - but left the shield.”
Subjective Utility: the utility or satisfaction an article gives to an individual based upon his personal judgment and desires rather than upon market judgment
________ A Primly Moral Pose _________A primly moral pose can serve to maskBilious temperament and vile conceit ––In fact the urge to cripple and defeatThe one once loved now harshly brought to task.Counterfeit religion acts the fiend,Hobbling Affection’s natural courseOvercoming love with fake remorse.No bliss survives when righteously demeaned.What makes a creepy, sickening sense of shameHaunt happiness as though ‘twere harlotry ––Even husband’s needs belong with deviltry?Evil righteousness kills Passion’s flame.Let him whose pious poison mars affectionSuffer from rebellion and rejection.~ FreeThinke
We ARE what we BELIEVE we are.Ergo, "training children up in the way they should go" is of paramount importance. "As the twig is bent, so grows the tree."However, once we've been subjected to the seductive, deceptive, Siren Call of Mammon we are plunged, whether know –– or choose to acknowledge it –– or not, into a desperate struggle to save our souls through constant mental fight. It has bece increasingly obvious to me that Satan is firmly in charge of the temporal world. The allure of profound UGLINESS, PERVERSION, DISRESPECT for others, extreme RUDENESS, the metastatic growth of unrestrained INSOLENCE, LAZINESS, SLOTH, SELF-DESTRUCTIVE PRACTICES, an endless variety of POINTLESS, PROFITLESS, WASTEFUL, UNWHOLESOME and frankly INANE PURSUITS that have taken over, debased and redefined our culture since the end of the First World War [Think "Roaring Twenties," "Organized Crime," glamorization of Gangsters, Divorce, Adultery, Promiscuity, Illegitimacy, Alcoholism, Drug Addiction, militant Inanity, adopt of or reversion to Primitive Tribal practices, extreme tattooing, mutilation, bizarre anti-social customs, the increasing evaluation of "Swinging," Sadism, Masochism, Transvestism, Transsexualism, and increasingly Dissolute Behavior in general] prove this conclusively –– to ME. As has oft been stated, "Satan's greatest accomplishment to date has been to convince the world that he doesn't exist."
_______________ BOB _______________Blithely terminating family lifeIn mad impulse to boost her ego strengthThe little woman ceased to be a wife.Told by pop psychologists at lengthExistence as a mother was a scam ––Robbing women of Fulfillment’s joys ––Outmoded –– overrated –– a flimflam ––Like childhood with no candy and no toys.Deserted and dumbfounded the poor father ––Bereft of help –– was left alone to raise ––In sorrow and chaotic endless bother ––The little ones perplexed, and in a daze.Children so deserted often growHarpooned by blades of grass they later mow.~ FreeThinke
Perhaps Noel Coward thought he was merely being funny, perhaps not. We'll never know for sure. In any event, despite the dissolution and sad end of his life at age 73, this notable playwright, composer, lyricist and beloved, blatantly homosexual, much misunderstood icon of stage, screen and television turned out to be a major prophet of what we were making of ourselves in the twentieth century. The song used to amuse me greatly when I first made its acquaintance back in the 1950's, but lately, –– considering what has happened during the pat fifty-odd years ––, it frankly makes me weep.WHAT’S GOING to HAPPEN to the TOTS? (1927)
Life today is hectic.Our world is running away.Only the wise can recognize The process of decay.All our dialectic Is quite unable to sayWhether we’re on the beam or not,Whether we’ll rise supreme or not,Whether this new regime or notIs leading us astray.We all have Frigidaires, radios,Television and movie showsTo shield us from the ultimate abyss.We have our daily bread neatly cut, Every modern convenience butThe question that confronts us all is this:What’s going to happen to the childrenWhen there aren’t any more grown-ups?Having been injected with some rather peculiar glandsDarling Mum’s gone platinum And dances to all the rumba bands.The songs that she sings at twilightWould certainly be the highlightFor some of those claques that Elsa MaxwellTakes around in yachts.Rockabye, rockabye, rockabye my darlings,Mother requires a few more shots.Does it amuse the tiny mitesTo see their parents high as kites?What’s, what’s, what’s going to happen to the tots?Life today’s neurotic, a ceaseless battle we wage;Millions are spent to circumvent The march of middle age.The fact that we grab each new narcoticCan only prove in the endWhether our hormones gel or notWhether our cells rebel or not,Whether we’re blown to hell or not,We’ll all be round the bendFrom taking Benzedrine, Dexamyl,Every possible sleeping pillTo knock us out or knock us into shape.We all have shots for this, shots for that,Shots for making us thin or fat,But there’s one problem that we can’t escape.What’s going to happen to the childrenWhen there aren’t any more grown-ups?Thanks to plastic surgery and uncle’s abrupt demise,Dear Aunt Rose has changed her nose But doesn’t appear to realizeThe pleasures that once were heavenLook silly at sixty-seven,And youthful allure you can’t procure In terms of perms and pots.So lullaby, lullaby, lullaby my darlings,Try not to scratch those large red spots,Think of the shock when mummie’s faceIs lifted from its proper place,What’s, what’s, what’s going to happen to the tots?What’s going to happen to the childrenWhen there aren’t any more grown-ups?It’s bizarre when grandmamma, without getting out of breathStarts to jive at eighty-five and frightens the little ones to death.The police had to send a squad carWhen daddy got fried on vodkaAnd tied a tweed coat round mummie’s throatIn several sailor’s knots.Hushabye, hushabye, hushabye my darlings,Try not to fret and wet your cots.One day you’ll clench your tiny fistsAnd murder your psychiatrists.What’s, what’s, what’s going to happen to the tots?~ Noel Coward (1899-1973)Notable Coward Quotations:It is discouraging how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit.Work is much more fun than fun.Wit ought to be a glorious treat like caviar; never spread it about like marmalade.
Noel Coward may generally be regarded as a "lightweight," but as usual, Popular Perceptions –– and the acid-tongued opinions of Critics, Academicians, the tedious pronouncements of repulsive Jewish "Intellectuals," and the ponderous ratings of self-styled, self-important Philosophers –– almost unfailingly miss the mark.Noel Coward was a remarkably great artist, who could say more of value in a few lines of witty, deceptively brittle, comical-lyrical-satirical poetry than many of the noted Great Sages have said in huge tome of turgid, impenetrable prose.
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