However, it is interesting that Montaigne’s great theme of inconstancy – his idea that, as he says over and over again, the I is the great natural monster, an ever changing Proteus at grips with an ever changing ocean of objects – becomes, in Lancre’s hands, the reason that the Basques are so attracted to Satan. Instead of rooting themselves to the fields, the Basques in this region, which includes Bayonne, are great sailors and whalehunters. Lancre suspects that the sea, with its bottomlessness and storms, makes these people rootless. Not only that, but the men tend to leave the women alone for long periods of time. Hence, the devil comes in. Montaigne, in the essay that is most concerned with witchcraft, “On the Lame”, presents a very interesting critique of the idea that to know is to know the cause of a fact. For Montaigne, this gets ahead of what one wants to know first: is there a fact? Signs from the future are not constitutive but regulative in the Kantian sense; their status is subjectively mediated, i.e., they are not discernible from any neutral “objective” study of history, but only from an engaged position — following them remains an existential wager in Pascal’s sense. We are dealing here with the circular structure best exemplified by a science-fiction story set a couple of hundred years ahead of our time when time travel was already possible, about an art critic who gets so fascinated by the works of a New York painter from our era that he travels back in time to meet him; he discovers that the painter is a worthless drunk who even steals from him the time machine and escapes to the future; alone in today's world, the art critic paints all the paintings that fascinated him in the future and made him travel into the past. In a homologous way, the Communist signs from the future are signs from a possible future, which will become actual only if we follow these signs — God is a potato and a can of boiling water and it has never been otherwise. Little dog. She knows a sidewalk and pees a while. We put our noses to the globe mallow and are bathed in tangerine light. In our pre-lapsarian dream we walk off-leash all summer. In our pre-colonial dream her feet are not cut by ice and I am not looking over my shoulder. In our post-prandial stroll we trail shadows because of earth and sun. In our pastoral state the clasps on her collar are coral. Little dog chooses red because it should be time for a revolution. When little dog wrinkles her brow I do not know but worry. Once at the top, the train goes down a steep, banked turn to the right where it enters the first inversion element, a roll over. A roll over (also known as a Sea serpent roll) first features an Immelmann loop quickly followed by a Dive Loop. Upon exit from this element, the train goes up a hill which features some banking at the top before descending and approaching the ride's next inversion, a sidewinder. A sidewinder is similar to an Immelmann loop however it features a half loop followed by a half corkscrew (rather than an inline twist). From the exit of this sidewinder, the train goes into a sharp helix before entering the ride’s final two inversions, inline twists. These two twists are followed one after the other. A banked curve to the right turns the train back around to face towards the station. At this point some models feature an additional helix to the left while others simply continue straight into the brake run. The standard model also has a relatively compact layout, providing for “footchoppers”. Near the North Pole, there were no curators … while on a promontory broken off / The screensaver image of a broken SE10 / Madame C’s nine cognates gather around boxes dropped / By Ever Afterlife Balloonists working on the script / of cargo cults. They argue (the cognates) that a manifest / Attached to shipment listing all collaterals and cogs, / Codes and codices for Mme’s Nothing Else Cockaigne Machine / In fact are elegaic poems, that David sings for Jonathan, / Gilgamesh for Enkidu. They inscribe themselves as / Manifestoes which proclaim their faith in algorithms of an / Unkown field of force. They’re cognizant and they can glow. They’re coeternal, and they rise to an occasion. / Although they tell no stories of their lives, their little trumpets blow.
[Note: Sources: Roger Gathman, “Montaigne and the witches”, at Limited, Inc., 3 Sept 012; Slavoj Žižek's, The Year of Dreaming Dangerously, as seen at Marxist Update, 10 Aug 012; Ari Feld, “Evening prayer”, at Pleiades 32.2; Jacqueline Lyons, “Because My Little Dog”, at Pleiades 32.2; some roller coaster language, quoted in Elisa Gabbert, “Vocab fetish”, at The French Exit, 3 Sept 012; DJ Spooky, FB post, 3 Sept 012; John Matthias, “Laundry Lists and Manifestoes”, as quoted in John Armstrong, “Reading John Matthias”, at arduity]