The mind is a compact, multiply connected thought mass with internal connections of the most intimate kind. It grows continuously as new thought masses enter it, and this is the means by which it continues to develop.


Perhaps the whole vortex of the great globe is vivified by a soul of the same kind, which is the reason why the laws of the system are observed, and all things are compensated. The whole world is one vortex vivified by God.


Today's Elites

Monday, January 02, 2012

The Standard Model of Physics and Edgar Allan Poe

I have remarked a short while ago that Poe, had he not been killed, would have come to reject the fraud of Isaac Newton's supposed genius. As Webster Tarpley, has so thoroughly documented Newton was but a cats-paw for the morally and intellectually dead souls then known as Il Nuovi in their feud over the fate of England's succession with the true founder of modern physics Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz.

Today, we have a replay of the nonsense of Newton's "method" for the calculation of the infinitesimal, which Charles Babbage so devastatingly mocked as the "dotage" of the British educational system, or what was in the nineteenth century passed off as such. The issue of what the particle theorists call perturbation theory brings us foursquare back into the realm of infinite (and infantile) regression of what Leibniz justly rejected as the wrong headed tilting at windmill's of the riddle of the nature of the labyrinth known as the continuum. Poe had a hook into this rather tenebrous domain via the sensational issue of Francis Bacon and Shakespeare. (By the way, it is entirely lawful that Georg's Cantor's mental breakdown went hand in hand with his involvement in both the continuum hypothesis and Francis Bacon is Shakespeare hoax!!) For it seems that Poe's contemporary litterateuse Delia Bacon, was the inspirator of this stuff.

How one could be so muddled as to somehow take the plays of Shakespeare as equivalent to the noxious neo-Aristotelian Francis Bacon speaks for itself. But this was unfortunately widespread back then and unless one had the weltanshauung of a detective like Poe did, much of the crux of such creepy crawly philosophy went unremarked. Even the man to whom Poe dedicated Eureka, Alexander Humboldt, otherwise a giant upon the world's stage, had been horns-waggled by the Newtonians. Now, this is not to deny that it is perfectly reasonable to suggest that Shakespeare's plays were a platform to provoke the public politically. They were preeminently so. This is what Fredrich Schiller's aesthetics was very much all about.

To conclude these musings upon the spot here, had Leibniz defeated the hoaxer Samuel Clarke and been made Prime Minister of England, perhaps there would have been no British Empire and the revival of rank oligarchic empire-icism of Hume, et al. And Mr. Poe's enemies would not have stopped him from what his alter ego, Andrew Marvell so marvelously punned as "making time run." So this morning it seems that the image Poe's unfinished work "The Lighthouse" grips my attention. For today, we should ony hope to be in the situation of a keeper of a lighthouse for the existential crisis that plagues the world. Hoping against hope that we will come to our collective senses. And not those of the Hoggian kind...

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