Few Great Men Would Have Got Past

The Ancient Dream Of Man To Fly Among The Stars And Go Through The Could And Look Down On The Lands And Seas Has Degenerated In Its Realization To The Socialized And Apathetic Behavior Of Passengers Who Hardly Look Out The Windows.

Anarchism Is Grounded In A Rather Definite Social-psychological Hypothesis: That Forceful, Graceful And Intelligent Behaviour Occurs Only When There Is An Uncoerced And Direct Response To The Physical And Social Environment; That In Most Human Affairs, More Harm Than Good Results From Compulsion, Top-down Direction, Bureaucratic Planning, Pre-ordained Curricula, Jails, Conscription, States.

Comedy Deflates The Sense Precisely So That The Underlying Lubricity And Malice May Bubble To The Surface.

When A Village Ceases To Be A Community, It Becomes Oppressive In Its Narrow Conformity. So One Becomes An Individual And Migrates To The City. There, Finding Others Like-minded, One Re-establishes A Village Community. Nowadays Only New Yorkers Are Yokels.

Let Me Formulate The Artistic Disposition As Follows: It Is Reacting With One's Ideal To The Flaw In Oneself And In The World, And Somehow Making That Reaction Formation Solid Enough In The Medium So That It Indeed Becomes An Improved Bit Of Real World For Others.