many thanks to the always-groovy Tororo for a very illuminating passage & project--what follows is a (very lightly edited)machine-produced translation:
My God, do the men die them not well of eux - mesmes, my dear Reader, without
it is necessary to turn down the corner of the War, and that they enter itself
slaughter one another so barbarically? What spectacle to see a country covered
with men all arm until the teeth, in few of hours himself enter - coupper
stuffs it, to make bubble of the human blood torrens and in the country shaves
eslever of the dead body mountains, and jetter all it to the road network and
in the stomach of wolves and wild bestes?
However it is every day that one void people set against to cesspools
slaughter, and without it the world seroit not world: it was necessary, to go
up to the thrne of empire, that Caesar walked on the stomach of a million and
hundred thousand people of poor people escrasez to the War, of which the blood
estoit capable of abysmer the city of Rome. Cruel butcher shop!
However when me well shouted auray, certainly he/it will be something else of
it, and so much that the world will be world, I see it well, the War is
necessary there, and it is one: to make it is necessary.
It was probably a Demon (my dear Reader) and one of the more pain - pheasants,
celuy that inspired this pain - happy man whom the first invented the
artillery, and the means to kill all suddenly a people of thunder.
Alas! the venoit death her not enough quickly to cut us the throat to trestous,
without luy to give the wings, feathering the homicidal sagettes, so that
she/it stole for us outrepercer the curses?
What diroit Pline icy, who made so big uproar previously, who jetta so much and
so many so high screams, maudissant celuy who attached avoit of the feathers to
the stings of the javelins, to redouble the race of these murderous tips?
Ah God, in how many ways the barbaric very cruel man felonnie,
did she/it shape iron to slaughter the men?
Espieuxes, halebardes, spears, pikes, espes, swordfishes, two-handed espes,
scimitars, espes of fight, espes of service, malchus, and large knife, of
rapier, and of splitting; horrible estramassons, of steeping of Damascus
cutting steel and the iron-shod carts,; daggers, daggers, stillets,
demy-espes, and ten thousand ways of homicidal cousteaux, axes and cleavers,
braquemarts all bloody.
Las! all it is not anything that a light training of the simple antique,
because now one goes well more quickly to the murders, and to the slaughter;
the fire of the Sky so much awful, and the quarreaux of the clouds and God is
not anymore anything, if you relate the fights to fire that ravage the world:
simple and double guns, pistoles, carbines, arquebus, thick and small muskets,
firecrackers, pots and pomegranates, fauconneaux, pieces of country,
coulevrines, dragons, berches, petriers, let's die thick and small (reinforce,
redouble, endiablez to vray to say), artillery of melting, of wood, of earth,
of sea, mouths denfer that vomits the souphre, the stones, the balls of iron,
of the chains, the thunderbolts, the deaths, the hells, shattering the cities,
wrecking the peoples, astounding the armies whole, and suddenly giving several
deaths, and of a green country making a red sea, and a cemetery covered with
bones and quick and dead bodies all whole, representing on earth the
bourreleries of hell.
My God, what market of men, and of the life of the men!
Amy reader, me better aimerois to help you towards enclouer all the artillery
of the world, and in esteindre the memory that to learn you to speak of it.
But since it is not able to itself, at least I want you to help when it will be
necessary to curse, and to hate them so that you saches by what tip you are
necessary there to take, and in what terms to speak will need some.
Etienne Binet Essay of the nature marvels, and nobler artifices, 1621
---------------
the machine always reminds me of the hunchback in "The Name of the Rose"...
anyway, mixed in with the barely comprehensible gibberish there's always these flashes of strange & strangely beautiful poetry ("What spectacle to see a country covered
with men all arm until the teeth..." "Cruel butcher shop!". " happy man whom the first invented the
artillery, and the means to kill all suddenly a people of thunder. " "Ah God, in how many ways the barbaric very cruel man felonnie,
did she/it shape iron to slaughter the men? "--& many other phrases that suggest William Blake on a bender or Claudette Colbert with a headful of LSD & her hair on fire, Rimbaud chewing on a printed transcript of a Pentagon briefing & spitting out half-digested fragments at a broken microphone--or something like that---
I have to admit that I'm not familiar with the original work, altho the author seems somewhat familiar--at any rate he's now on my Must Read Soon list....
,
My God, do the men die them not well of eux - mesmes, my dear Reader, without
it is necessary to turn down the corner of the War, and that they enter itself
slaughter one another so barbarically? What spectacle to see a country covered
with men all arm until the teeth, in few of hours himself enter - coupper
stuffs it, to make bubble of the human blood torrens and in the country shaves
eslever of the dead body mountains, and jetter all it to the road network and
in the stomach of wolves and wild bestes?
However it is every day that one void people set against to cesspools
slaughter, and without it the world seroit not world: it was necessary, to go
up to the thrne of empire, that Caesar walked on the stomach of a million and
hundred thousand people of poor people escrasez to the War, of which the blood
estoit capable of abysmer the city of Rome. Cruel butcher shop!
However when me well shouted auray, certainly he/it will be something else of
it, and so much that the world will be world, I see it well, the War is
necessary there, and it is one: to make it is necessary.
It was probably a Demon (my dear Reader) and one of the more pain - pheasants,
celuy that inspired this pain - happy man whom the first invented the
artillery, and the means to kill all suddenly a people of thunder.
Alas! the venoit death her not enough quickly to cut us the throat to trestous,
without luy to give the wings, feathering the homicidal sagettes, so that
she/it stole for us outrepercer the curses?
What diroit Pline icy, who made so big uproar previously, who jetta so much and
so many so high screams, maudissant celuy who attached avoit of the feathers to
the stings of the javelins, to redouble the race of these murderous tips?
Ah God, in how many ways the barbaric very cruel man felonnie,
did she/it shape iron to slaughter the men?
Espieuxes, halebardes, spears, pikes, espes, swordfishes, two-handed espes,
scimitars, espes of fight, espes of service, malchus, and large knife, of
rapier, and of splitting; horrible estramassons, of steeping of Damascus
cutting steel and the iron-shod carts,; daggers, daggers, stillets,
demy-espes, and ten thousand ways of homicidal cousteaux, axes and cleavers,
braquemarts all bloody.
Las! all it is not anything that a light training of the simple antique,
because now one goes well more quickly to the murders, and to the slaughter;
the fire of the Sky so much awful, and the quarreaux of the clouds and God is
not anymore anything, if you relate the fights to fire that ravage the world:
simple and double guns, pistoles, carbines, arquebus, thick and small muskets,
firecrackers, pots and pomegranates, fauconneaux, pieces of country,
coulevrines, dragons, berches, petriers, let's die thick and small (reinforce,
redouble, endiablez to vray to say), artillery of melting, of wood, of earth,
of sea, mouths denfer that vomits the souphre, the stones, the balls of iron,
of the chains, the thunderbolts, the deaths, the hells, shattering the cities,
wrecking the peoples, astounding the armies whole, and suddenly giving several
deaths, and of a green country making a red sea, and a cemetery covered with
bones and quick and dead bodies all whole, representing on earth the
bourreleries of hell.
My God, what market of men, and of the life of the men!
Amy reader, me better aimerois to help you towards enclouer all the artillery
of the world, and in esteindre the memory that to learn you to speak of it.
But since it is not able to itself, at least I want you to help when it will be
necessary to curse, and to hate them so that you saches by what tip you are
necessary there to take, and in what terms to speak will need some.
Etienne Binet Essay of the nature marvels, and nobler artifices, 1621
---------------
the machine always reminds me of the hunchback in "The Name of the Rose"...
anyway, mixed in with the barely comprehensible gibberish there's always these flashes of strange & strangely beautiful poetry ("What spectacle to see a country covered
with men all arm until the teeth..." "Cruel butcher shop!". " happy man whom the first invented the
artillery, and the means to kill all suddenly a people of thunder. " "Ah God, in how many ways the barbaric very cruel man felonnie,
did she/it shape iron to slaughter the men? "--& many other phrases that suggest William Blake on a bender or Claudette Colbert with a headful of LSD & her hair on fire, Rimbaud chewing on a printed transcript of a Pentagon briefing & spitting out half-digested fragments at a broken microphone--or something like that---
I have to admit that I'm not familiar with the original work, altho the author seems somewhat familiar--at any rate he's now on my Must Read Soon list....
,
When they gave Antonin Artaud a microphone, he used to eruct incantations that were not without similitudes with this one... (Artaud was even once asked by the national radio channel, following a suggestion by Andr Malraux -it was in the '50s- to produce a radio show, that was immediately cancelled and whose tapes remained locked in the archives for, like, 20 years...)
I'm currently attempting to read this text in an imitation of Artaud's croaking voice... hard task, but worth the try!
I can't help feeling some pity for GWB. He is forced to wear shoes that are so obviously too big for him, he's pathetic. I try and save my hatred for cunning bastards like Richard Perle and some others.. as Rupert Murdoch...
Edited for having mistaken Richard Perle with Ronald McDonald
[Edited on Mar 28, 2003]
always groovy...