carl zorn is gone. finito. toast. ferme. morte.

from the as yet unrescued underbelly

of the authenticly lost Long Island community,

the news emerges today  (oh, boy, chubby checkers, oh boy)

that the cheese-bellied scam toad sissy underpants hero

Carl Zorn

is dead.
gravely, unconsciounably  gone. Forever. Morte

finito

yet,

Farmingdale expats

siloed in Potemkinized villages

in pea-brained Westchester,

financed by frontmen of Chicago School economists,

those whose depakote drenched dreams still visage

a blonde bride on the arm of an elegantly drunk Pelham physician

as their myleine sheathed Madonna,

cannot hear….

High Lama: It is the entire meaning and purpose of Shangri-La. It came to me in a vision, long, long ago. I saw all the nations strengthening, not in wisdom, but in the vulgar passions and the will to destroy. I saw the machine power multiplying, until a single weaponed man might match a whole army. I foresaw a time when man, exalting in the technique of murder, would rage so hotly over the world, that every book, every treasure, would be doomed to destruction. This vision was so vivid and so moving, that I determined to gather together all things of beauty and of culture that I could, and preserve them here, against the doom toward which the world is rushing. Look at the world today. Is there anything more pitiful? What madness there is! What blindness! What unintelligent leadership! A scurrying mass of bewildered humanity, crashing headlong against each other, propelled by an orgy of greed and brutality. A time must come my friend, when this orgy will spend itself. When brutality and the lust for power must perish by its own sword. Against that time, is why I avoided death, and am here. And why you were brought here. For when that day comes, the world must begin to look for a new life. And it is our hope that they may find it here. For here, we shall be with their books and their music, and a way of life based on one simple rule: Be Kind! from Lost Horizon, 1937.

Do I dare and do I DARE?

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. T.S. Eliot,1917.

And the bird called, in response to The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery, And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses Had the look of flowers that are looked at.\” —T.S. Eliot: Burnt Norton”]

"Quick, said the bird, find them, find them, Round the corner. Through the first gate, Into our first world, shall we follow The deception of the thrush? KARL ZORN IS DEAD!

Cowardly Lion: I do believe in spooks. I do believe in spooks. I do! I do! I do! I do believe in spooks. I do believe in spooks. I do! I do! I do! I do! CARL ZORN IS DEAD!