In the old days the idea was you go to this cave by a fountain and ask a question. From some fruit bushes by your head comes the answer.

Now the oracle is our comments. There are series of events from the disaster lexicon on the ground. These generate images to which people respond with comments. The managers, the gods, sample the comments and know which pictures, which stories to address.

As long as the narrative is clear and there are not too many story lines which might conflict the thing is manageable (the Ukraine thing, the Gaza thing).

But the thing starts to suck in everyone who wants to get their bloody leg into the action, the story-lines break up – you get a heap of dirty grey rubbish truffled with body parts (the Malaysian aeroplane), or the story-lines get puzzling like the transport of ammunition from Poland to Northern Syria.

After the rideau de fer the rideau de feu – the transport of the Soviet era ammunition to the Kurds and its replacement for the Poles with Nato update bullets actually makes the picture clear, both ends of the new curtain in place. But of course that is just a story line I’ve invented.

People talk about making sense of these things. But there is no sense. I put this box on an aeroplane. This man dies. And there is no story. There is just a blind battle between states of affairs and a terrible cry howling soundlessly for ever.


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