The Celtic Roots of Quantum Theory by Robert Anton Wilson (Hyperlinked)

The Celtic Roots of Quantum Theory

The reality of metaphysics is the reality of masks.
--Oscar Wilde

We lived in Los Angeles and I thought I had a movie deal when I wrote this for an Irish magazine c. 1990. As far as I remember, they never paid for it and, probably, never published it... But I think it deserves an audience, and it seems apropriate for a volume of guerrilla neurolinguistics.
The movie deal droped dead, or went into coma, too.
According to "conventtional wisdom" and/or conventional folly, the ontological roots of Quantum Mechanics lie in German Idealist philosophy of the 19th Century. I dare to offer a different view here.


The day in 1982 when my wife, Arlen, and I arrived in Ireland we tried her battery-operated radio to listen avidly to whatever we might find: our way of dipping our toes in the new culture before plunging into its alien waters totally. By the kind of coincidence that I don't regard as coincidental, we found an RTE* interviewer discussing local legends about the pookah with a Kerry farmer. As a longtome pookaphile, I found the conversation spellbinding, but the best part came at the end:

"But do you believe in the pookah yourself?" asked the RTE man.

"That I do not," the farmer replied firmly, "and I doubt much that he believes in me either!"
-------------------
*RTE = Radio Telefis hEirenn, the State-owned but feisty and independent radio-TV monopoly.
-------------------
I knew then that I had indeed found my spiritual homeland, wherever I may otherwise roam, and that Yeats and Joyce and O'Brien had not risen out of a vacuum. We had planned to stay six months; we eventually stayed six years.

Anthony Burgess once argued that English English, American English and all the other varieties of Anglophonics have become rational and pragmatic [closure-oriented] but Irish English remains ludic and esthetic [open-oriented]. The rest of us speak dry prose; the Irish speak playful poetry.

While I see some truth in that formulation, I would prefer to describe all-other-English as belonging to what Neurolinguistic therapist Dr Richard Bandler calls the meta-model [statements we can logically judge as true or false] and Irish English as belonging to the Milton-model [statements not containable in true-false logic but capable of seducing us into sudden new perceptions.]

The Milton-model, named after Dr. Milton Erickson --"the greatest therapeutic hypnotist of the 20th Century," in the opinion of his peers -- contains no propositions subject to proof or disproof, uses language the way that Kerry farmer did, and can cause both intellectual and physiological transformations. Because of his many successes in curing the allegedly incurable, Dr Erickson often became proclaimed "the Miracle Worker."

Oddly, most of Dr. Erickson's patients did not think they had undergone hypnosis at all. They just remembered having a friendly chat with an unusually sympathetic doctor. ..

According to the Korzybsk-Whorf-Sapir hypothesis, the language a people speak habitually influences their sense perceptions, their "concepts" and even the way they feel about themselves and the world in general. "A change in language can transform our appreciation of the cosmos," as Whorf stated the case.

The clinical record of Erickson and his school indicates that language tricks can even make us ill or make us well again.

The Irish neurolinguistic system illustrates these theorems uncommonly well.

Whether you call it ludic language, Ericksonian hypnosis or the verbal equivelant of throwing LSD in the linguistic drinking water, Irish English -- even in the professional hands of all of Ireland's greatest writers --shows the same non-aristotelian "illogic" or Zen humor as that Kerry farmer.

Witness:

Death and life were not
Till man made up the whole,
Made lock, stock and barrel
Out of his bitter soul
--W.B. Yeats

Try taking all literary, scientiific, theological and philosophic connotations out of "death" and "life" -- see them merely as two predicaments of grammar -- and then -- ?

"Men are born liars." -- Liam O'Flaherty, in the first sentence of his autobiography.

Logcians call this an Empedoclean paradox. To an Irish stylist, it does not appear Empedoclean nor paradoxical but merely another pregnant bull. Since O'Flaherty belonged to the class of all men, he lied; but if he lied, his statement does not carry conviction, so maybe he told the truth....

"Are the commentators on Hamlet really mad or only pretending to be mad?"
-- Oscar Wilde.

Thy spirit keen through radiant mein
Thy shining throat and smiling eye
Thy little palm, thy side like foam --
I cannot die!

O woman, shapely as the swan,
In a cunning house hard-reared was I:
O bosom white, O well-shaped palm,
I shall not die!
--Padraic Colum

[A Romantic poem, in style; anti-Romantic in content -- whether you think of the female as a human lady or a symbol of Ireland a la Cathleen ni Houlihan, Dark Rosaline or shan van vocht, Colum still will not die for Her.]

"Durtaigh disloighal reibel aigris dogs."--Myles na gCopaleen

[It only makes sense if you pronounce it as Gaelic, and then it becomes ordinary English, expressing an ordinary English attitude toward their Hibernian neighbors.]

"They shall come to know good." -- James Joyce. [Read it silently, then read it aloud.]

"There is in mankind a certain
****************************************** Hic multa ******************************************************disiderantur************************************. And this I take to be a clear solution of the matter."
-- Jonathan Swift [all expurgations in Swift's original text.]

"I considered it desirable that he should know nothing about me but it was even better if he knew several things that were quite wrong."
-- Flann O'Brien

Or, to take a few examples that lend themselves better to condensation than quotation:

Consider Swift's "pamphlet war" with the astrologer Partridge, in which Swift claimed Partridge had died and Partidge vehemently insisted on his continued viability. Swift won hands down by pointing out that just because a man claims he's alive does not compell us to accept his uncorraborated testimony.

Or: Bishop Berkeley, proving with meticulous logic that the universe doesn't exist, although God admittedly has a persistent delusion that it does.

Or -- the scandalous matter of Molly Bloom's adulterous affairs in Ulysses, which number between one [Hugh Boylan] and more than thirty [including a few priests and Lords Mayor and one Italian organ grinder], depending on which of Joyce's 100+ narrators one chooses to believe. This grows more perplexing when one realizes that some of the "narrators" seem more like styles than persons: styles masquerading as persons.

Or maybe the ghosts of departed stylists, in the sense that Berkeley called Newton's infinitesmals the ghosts of departed quantities?

Colonized and post-Colonized peoples learn much about text and sub-text; and Yeats did not develop his mystique of Mask and Anti-Mask out of Hermetic metaphysics alone. In my six years sampling Dublin pubs [1982-88] I overheard many conversations in the form:

--I saw your man last night.
--Oh? And?
--All going well there.

Who the devil is "your man"? Does this concern hashish from Amsterdam for the Punk Rock crowd, gelignite on its way to Derry, or just ingrained habits --Masks and Anti-masks-- shaped by 800 years of Occupation? After all, the speakers might simply refer to tickets for a soccer game....[You will find a similarly oblique dialogue in the second section of the "Wandering Rocks" montage in Ulysses, except that "your man" has become "that certain party." Palestinians have probably become that "Irish" by now.]

I do not claim that Sassanach conquest alone produced Ireland's elusive wit and ludic poesy; but it sharpened tendencies already there as far back as Finn Mac Cumhal. Yeats says somewhere that Ireland was part of Asia until the Battle of the Boyne; but that dating merely represents W.B.'s reactionary Romanticism. Joyce knew that Ireland remained part of Asia; Finnegans Wake explicitly tells us it emerged from "the Haunted Inkbottle, no number, Brimstone Walk, Asia in Ireland."

You can test one level of truth in this by simply asking directions in both Tokyo and Dublin. In either place you will encounter old-fashioned politeness and friendliness unknown in most of the industrial world, and you will get sent in the wrong direction. Hostile humor? I think not. Asiatic languages, including Irish English, simply do not accommodate themselves to Newtonian grids, either spatial or temporal.

Arlen and I used to play a game in Dublin: whenever we saw two clocks we would compare them. They never agreed.

In Cork, the four clocks on the City Hall tower always show four different times; locals call them "the Four Liars."

The sociologist may class this as "post-Colonial syndrome"-- based on the baleful suspicion that the English invented time to make a man work more than the Good Lord ever intended -- but Joyce noted that the only three world-class philosophers of Celtic geneology, Erigena, Berkeley and Bergson, all denied the reality of time [and only Berkeley lived under English rule.]

A Dublin legend tells of an Englishman who, noting that the two clocks in Padraic Pearse station do not agree, commented loudly that this discordance"is so damned typically bloody Irish." A Dubliner corrected him: "Sure now, if they agreed one of them would be superfluous."

Even more in the Daoist tradition: Two Cork men meet on the street. "Filthy weather for this time of year," ventures the first.

"Ah, sure," replies the second, "it isn't this time of year at all, man."

Compare the Chinese proverb, "Summer never becomes winter, infants never grow old." Einstein's relativity and Dali's melting clocks belong to the same universe as these Hibernio-Chinese Eccentrcities.

In County Clare and the West generally one often hears the grammatical form, "My uncle was busy feeding the pigs one night and I a girl of six years...." [One also hears this in Synge's plays -- all of them.] Elsewhere in the English speaking world one would hear, "My uncle was busy feeding the pigs one night when I was a girl of six years..." The Irish English retains the grammar of Irish Gaelic, but it thereby retains the timeless or Daoist sense of a world where every now exists but no now ever "becomes" another now.

Nor does this neurolinguistic grid, or reality-tunnel, only manifest in Irish speech and literature. William Rowan Hamilton, one of Eire's greatest mathematicians, probably the greatest of all, made many contributions, but two have special interest for us here.

One -- Hamilton invented non-commutative math, which I shall try to explain. In arithmetic, 2 x 3 = 3 x 2, or they both equal 6 [if you haven't raised too many pints that night.] Ordinary algebra, the only kind most of us ever learned in school, follows the same rule: a x b = b x a. Everybody knows that, right? Well, in Hamilton's algebra, a x b does NOT = b x a.

More "Asiatic" influence? More of the Celtic Twilight? Well, in Pure Mathematics, you can invent any system you want as long as it remains internally consistent; finding out if it has any resemblence to the experiential world remains the job of the physicist, or the engineer. It required about 100 years to find a "fit" for Hamiltonian algebra, and then it revolutionized physics. Hamilton's math describes the sub-atomic [quantum] world, and ordinary math does not.

The reader may classify Hamilton's feat as a variety of precognition or maybe just as more of the Hibernian compulsion to challenge everything the Saxon regards as unquestionable.

Two -- Physicists of Hamilton's day endlessly debated whether light travels as "waves" like water or as discrete "particles" like bullets. He supported both totally contradictory models, although in different contexts. Among Fundamentalist Materialists, they call this the Heresy of "perspectivism," but again, after 100 years, it became part of quantum mechanics, although usually credited to Neils Bohr, who only rediscovered it.

Perspectivism also haunts postmodern literary theory, cultural anthropology -- and, especially, the Joyce Industry, as more and more Joyce scholars realize that all of the 100+ narrative "voices" in Ulysses seem equally true in some sense, equally untrue in some sense and equally beyond either/or logic in any sense.
Quantum Mechanics owes a second huge debt, and a perpetual head-ache, to another Irish physicist, John Stewart Bell.

Bell's Theorem, a mathematical demonstration by Dr. Bell published in 1965, has become more popular than Tarot cards with New Agers, who think they understand it but generally don't. Meanwhile it remains controversial with physicists, some of whom think they understand it but many of whom frankly admit they find it as perplexing as Mick Jagger with his guitar hopping around like a chicken on LSD in the middle of a Beethoven string quartet.

In a [hazardous] attempt to translate Bell's math into the verbal forms in which we discuss what physics "means," Bell seems to have proved that any two "particles"once in contact will continue to act as if connected no matter how far apart they move in "space" or "time" [or in space-time.] You can see why New Agers like this: it sounds like it supports the old magick idea that if you get ahold of a hair from your enemy, anything you do to the hair will effect him.

Most physcists think a long series of experiments, especially those of Dr Alain Aspect and others in the 1970s and Aspect in 1982 have settled the matter. Quantum "particles" [or "waves'] once in contact certainly seem "connected," or correlated, or at least dancing in the same ballet....But not all physicists have agreed. Some, the AntiBellists, still publish criticisms of alleged defects in the experiments. These arguments seem too technical to be summarized here, and only a small minority still cling to them, but this dissent needs to be mentioned since most New Agers don't know about it, and regard Bell's math with the same reverence Catholics have for Papal dogma.

The most daring criticism of Bell comes from Dr N. David Berman of Columbia, who believes he has refined the possible interpretations of Bell down to two:

(1) non-locality ["total rapport"] and
(2) solipsism.

We will explain non-locality below, but Dr Berman finds it so absurd that he prefers solipsism. ["Is The Moon There When Nobody Looks?" Physics Today, April 1985. He says the moon, and everything else, does't exist until perceived; Bishop Berkeley has won himself one more convert.]

Among those who accept Bell's Theorem, Dr David Bohm of the University of London offers three interpretations of what it means:

"It may mean that everything in the universe is in a kind of total rapport, so that whatever happens is related to everything else ; or it may mean that there is some kind of information that can travel faster than the speed of light; or it may mean that our concepts of space and time have to be modified in some way that we don't understand."[London Times, 20 Feb 1983.]

Bohm's first model, "total rapport," also called non-locality, brings us very close-- very, very close -- to Oriental monism: "All is One," as in Vedanta, Buddhism and Daoism. It also brings us in hailing distance of Jungian synchronicity, an idea that seems "occult" or worse to most scientists, even if it won the endorsement of Wolfgang Pauli, a quantum heavyweight and Nobel laureate. You can see why New Agers like this; you will find it argued with unction and plausibility in Capra's The Tao of Physics. It means atomic particles remains correlated because everything always remains correlated.

I suggest that physicists often explain this in Chinese metaphors because they don't know as much about Ireland as they do about China, and because they haven't read Finnegans Wake.

The strongest form of this non-local model, called super-determinism, claims that everything "is" one thing, or at least one process. From the Big Bang to the last word of this sentence and beyond, nothing can become other than it "is," since everything remains part of a correlated whole. Nobody has openly expressed this view but several (Stapp, Herbert et al) have accused others, especially Capra, of unknowingly endorsing it.

Bohm's second alternative, information faster-than-light, brings us into realms previously explored only in science-fiction. Bell's particles may be correlated because they act as parts of an FTL (faster than light) cosmic Internet. If I can send an FTL message to my grandpa, it might change my whole universe to the extent that I wouldn't exist at all. [E.g., he might suffer such shock that he would drop dead on the spot and not survive to reproduce.] We must either reject this as impossible, or else it leads to the "parallel universe" model. I'm here in this universe, but in the universe next door the message removed me, so I never sent it there.

Remind you, a bit, of that Kerry farmer?

Even more radical offshoots of this notion have come forth from Dr John Archibald Wheeler. Dr Wheeler has proposed that every atomic or sub-atomic experiment we perform changes every particle in the universe everywhichway in time, back to the Big Bang. The universe becomes constant creation, as in Sufism, but atomic physicists, not Allah, serve as its creators. Yeats again wakes? [He would, of course, place Bards as the creators, not mere measurers and calculators, but still the human mind has "made up the whole."]

Dr Bohm's third alternative, modification of our ideas of space and time, could lead us anywhere...including back to the Berkeleyan/Kantian notion that space and time do not exist, except as human projections, like persistent optical illusions.(Some think Relativity already demonstrates that...and some will recall Mr. Yeats again, and that Kerry farmer....) All particles remain correlated because they never move in space or time, because space and time only exist "in our heads."

Meanwhile, a Dr. Harrison suggests that we may have to abandon Aristotelian logic, i.e. give up classifying things into only the two categories of "true and real" and "untrue and unreal." In between, in Aristotle's excluded middle, we may have the "maybe" proposed by von Neumann in 1933, the probabilistic logics (percentages/gambles) suggested by Korzybski, the four-valued logic of Rapoport (true, false, indeterminate and meaningless) or some system the non-Hibernian world hasn't found yet. The Kerry farmer would handle all of this better than the typical graduate of any university outside Ireland.

And so we see that two Irishman, Hamilton and Bell, have the majority of physicists arguing about issues that make them sound like a symposium among Berkeley, Swift, Yeats, O'Brien and Joyce. Through their literature, speakers raised in Irish English have transformed the printed page; now their mathematicians, raised in the same neurolinguistic grid, have revolutionized our basic notions of "reality," which in the light of what we have seen, badly needs the dubious quotes I just hung on it.

Afterthought 2004: Two of the giants of quantum math, Schrödinger and Dirac, both spent time at the Institute for Advanced Studies in Dublin. Schrödinger, in fact, wrote his most important nonmathemetical book there -- What Is Life? [1948], in which he defined life as a function of negative entropy. This thought seemed so radical and far-out that nobody began to grasp it until Wiener and Shannon showed that information also behaves like negative entropy. Information = that part of a message you didn't expect; the unpredictable part.

Or as Wiener once said, great poetry contains high information and political speeches contain virtually none.

And therefore Life = negative entropy = high information = surprise and initial confusion = tuning-in the previously not-tuned-in.

Got it?


By Robert Anton Wilson.
http://www.rawilsonfans.com/articles/CelticRoots.htm

Links added by Fly.

Thankyou rawilsonfans, for all your hard work.--steve.

http://rawtrust.com/

ALP RAW WAKE 111 (2008) edit

RAW 111 ALP by Fly Agaric 23.

Robert Anton Wilson passed through the great river Liffey on 11th January, 2007. 1/11/07. As a student of synchronicity,I, like many others who have an interest in RAW works noticed the number 111 coded into RAW's last waltz. For those who wished to see it, of course. RAW loved James Joyce and his great work Finnegans Wake, and i have come to love the book too. RAW often writes about the number 111 and its relationship with the heroine (Zeroine) of Finnegans Wake: ALP.

"This 1:11 business turns out to be more curious than we realize at first, even if we note that it is connected with Bloom's son, who died at age 11 days, Shakespeare's son Hamnet who died at 11 years and the 22 (2x11) letters in the Hebrew alphabet or the 22 words in the first sentence of Ulysses. If ALP and APL invoke all this, the LAP, a further permutation, invokes the LAP where a Freemason wears his apron, as in Aleister Crowley's BOOK OF LIES, Chapter 54, in which some Freemasons guess that the lost Mason Word is AMO, whose number is 111, and some guess that it is LAP which also has the number 111. (By Cabala, AMO=A which is 1, M which is 40, and O which is 70, 1+40+70=111, while LAP=L or 30, A or 1, and P or 80, and 30+1+80=111.) William York Tindall, a Joyce scholar who likes to count, has noted that many long sentences in FW have 111 clauses. Anna Livia Plurabelle's untitled "mamafesta" in Chapter Five has 111 alternative titles; when sad, she is described as "wan wan wan"; in Chapter 8, she has 111 children. Most books on Cabala hiny at trancendental meanings in the fact that the Hebrew A or aleph=ALP=111 when spelled in full as aleph-lamek-pe. -- Robert Anton Wilson Coincidance.

To commemorate the 1st anniversary of RAW's voyage i thought i'd take a peek into FW and correlate some research together upon the 111/ALP epiphenomena. Acting upon a mostly mystical impulse i confess, acting as if 111 were a pregnant number conceived of at some Galactic Agency.  Another KEY to help enter over and into Finnegans Wake. Into RAW's Wake and the Universe.

"Alice Pleasence Liddel or ALP, "Finnegan said simply, "is one aspect of Anna Livia Plurabelle or ALP, the superwomen who contains all women, in Joyce's Finnegans Wake."

"Oh," I said. It seemed the only adequate comment.

"I have wondered, "de Selby went on, "if one can equate APL with ALP on cabalistic grounds, since both equal 111, what of PLA? But that is an irrelevance, i've decided. What is important is that in 1932 not only did Alice P. Liddell and John S. Joyce die, but the atom was split for the first time, and the 92nd chemical element was discovered--the last natural element, you see. For the first time in history, humanity had access to the energy of the stars and possessed a full catalog of the basic building blocks of the universe." - Robert Anton Wilson, The Horror of Howth Hill, email to the universe.

"Table 1

Columns II, III. THE HEBREW NAMES OF NUMBERS AND LETTERS

These columns indicate the principle moral ideas conected with the Sephiroth. The names  of the letters indicate rather the pictorial glyph suggested by the shape of the letter. But they also conceal a secondary meaning behind that of numerical value and the number of the Tarot trump of each. The value of the name of each letter modifies that meaning. For example, Aleph, while principally significant of Zero and Unity, expalins itself further by the number 111, the value of the leeters A.L.P. That is to say a study of the number 111 enables us to analyze the meaning of the number 1. It indicates, for instance, the trinitarian equasion 1 = 3. -- Aleister Crowley, 777, page 49.

I, one thing, as relation to one thing:

Hui sees relation to 10. --Ezra Pound, Canto CXI

"The text with its three-sided frame is very difficult to follow, but this is chiefly because it hides under its surface of dream Dublin chatter the strict doctrines of the ancient cabala. This makes much of the mystical significance of numbers. Thus, the creator - 'Ainsoph' in the cabala - is represented by the number 1. His heavenly consort is O (Joyce calls her 'Zeroine'). As he moves towards her the numbers 2 and 9 are produced, and, when they achieve union, the great 10 comes about. -- anthony burgess, HCE, pg 224

EXHIBIT A: Finnegans Wake. Page 111.

Coping with Joyce: essays from the Copenhagen symposium
By Morris Beja, Shari Benstock

peraw raw raw reeraw puteters out of Now Sealand in spignt

of the patchpurple of the massacre, a dual a duel to die to

day, goddam and biggod, sticks and stanks, of most of the

Jacobiters.

The bird in the case was Belinda of the Dorans,a more than

quinquegintarian (Terziis prize with Serni medal, Cheepalizzy's

Hane Exposition) and what she was scratching at the hour of

klokking twelve looked for all this zogzag world like a

goodishsized sheet of letterpaper originating by transhipt from Boston

(Mass.) of the last of the first to Dear whom it proceded to

mention Maggy well & allathome's health well only the hate

turned the mild on the van Houtens and the general's elections

with a lovely face of some born gentleman with a beautiful present

of wedding cakes for dear thankyou Chriesty and with grand

funferall of poor Father Michael don't forget unto life's & Muggy

well how are you Maggy & hopes soon to hear well & must now

close it with fondest to the twoinns with four crosskisses for holy

paul holey comer holipoli whollyisland pee ess from (locust may

eat all but this sign shall they never) affectionate largelooking

tache of tch. The stain, and that a teastain (the overcautelousness

of the masterbilker here, as usual, signing the page away), marked

it off on the spout of the moment as a genuine relique of ancient

Irish pleasant pottery of that lydialike languishing class known as

a hurry-me-o'er-the-hazy.

Why then how?

Well, almost any photoist worth his chemicots will tip anyone

asking him the teaser that if a negative of a horse happens to melt

enough while drying, well, what you do get is, well, a positively

grotesquely distorted macromass of all sorts of horsehappy values

and masses of meltwhile horse. Tip. Well, this freely is what

must have occurred to our missive (there's a sod of a turb for

you! please wisp off the grass!) unfilthed from the boucher by

the sagacity of a lookmelittle likemelong hen. Heated residence

in the heart of the orangeflavoured mudmound had partly

obliterated the negative to start with, causing some features

palpably nearer your pecker to be swollen up most grossly while --Finnegans Wake: Page 111. Part:1 Episode:5 Page:111

In the bag were fragments of the living substance of her dear lord - 'a christmas boxapiece for aisch and iveryone of her childer'. Her children are 1 hundred and Eleven in number (111 is the symbol of plentitude), and their names and the presents she gave them fill two and a half pages. --;anthony burgess, HCE, page 217.

EXHIBIT B: 111 RAINBOW girls and their presents.

Finnegans Wake, Page 209.

I promise I'll

make it worth your while. And I don't mean maybe. Nor yet

with a goodfor. Spey me pruth and I'll tale you true.

Well, arundgirond in a waveney lyne aringarouma she pattered

and swung and sidled, dribbling her boulder through narrowa

mosses, the diliskydrear on our drier side and the vilde vetchvine

agin us, curara here, careero there, not knowing which medway

or weser to strike it, edereider, making chattahoochee all to her

ain chichiu, like Santa Claus at the cree of the pale and puny,

nistling to hear for their tiny hearties, her arms encircling

Isolabella, then running with reconciled Romas and Reims, on like a

lech to be off like a dart, then bathing Dirty Hans' spatters with

spittle, with a Christmas box apiece for aisch and iveryone of her

childer, the birthday gifts they dreamt they gabe her, the spoiled

she fleetly laid at our door! On the matt, by the pourch and

inunder the cellar. The rivulets ran aflod to see, the glashaboys, the

pollynooties. Out of the paunschaup on to the pyre. And they all

about her, juvenile leads and ingenuinas, from the slime of their

slums and artesaned wellings, rickets and riots, like the Smyly

boys at their vicereine's levee. Vivi vienne, little Annchen! Vielo

Anna, high life! Sing us a sula, O, susuria! Ausone sidulcis!

Finnegans Wake, Page 210.

jary every dive she'd neb in her culdee sacco of wabbash she

raabed and reach out her maundy meerschaundize, poor souvenir

as per ricorder and all for sore aringarung, stinkers and heelers,

laggards and primelads, her furzeborn sons and dribblederry

daughters, a thousand and one of them, and wickerpotluck for

each of them. For evil and ever. And kiks the buch. A tinker's

bann and a barrow to boil his billy for Gipsy Lee; a cartridge of

cockaleekie soup for Chummy the Guardsman; for sulky

Pender's acid nephew deltoãd drops, curiously strong; a cough and

a rattle and wildrose cheeks for poor Piccolina Petite MacFarlane;

a jigsaw puzzle of needles and pins and blankets and shins between

them for Isabel, Jezebel and Llewelyn Mmarriage; a brazen nose

and pigiron mittens for Johnny Walker Beg; a papar flag of the

saints and stripes for Kevineen O'Dea; a puffpuff for Pudge Craig

and a nightmarching hare for Techertim Tombigby; waterleg

and gumboots each for Bully Hayes and Hurricane Hartigan;

a prodigal heart and fatted calves for Buck Jones, the pride of

Clonliffe; a loaf of bread and a father's early aim for Val from

Skibereen; a jauntingcar for Larry Doolin, the Ballyclee jackeen; >>

a seasick trip on a government ship for Teague O'Flanagan; a

louse and trap for Jerry Coyle; slushmincepies for Andy

Mackenzie; a hairclip and clackdish for Penceless Peter; that twelve

sounds look for G. V. Brooke; a drowned doll, to face

downwards for modest Sister Anne Mortimer; altar falls for Blanchisse's

bed; Wildairs' breechettes for Magpeg Woppington; to Sue Dot

a big eye; to Sam Dash a false step; snakes in clover, picked and

scotched, and a vaticanned viper catcher's visa for Patsy Presbys;

a reiz every morning for Standfast Dick and a drop every minute

for Stumblestone Davy; scruboak beads for beatified Biddy; two

appletweed stools for Eva Mobbely; for Saara Philpot a jordan

vale tearorne; a pretty box of Pettyfib's Powder for Eileen Aruna

to whiten her teeth and outflash Helen Arhone; a whippingtop

for Eddy Lawless; for Kitty Coleraine of Butterman's Lane a

penny wise for her foolish pitcher; a putty shovel for Terry the

Puckaun; an apotamus mask for Promoter Dunne; a niester egg

with a twicedated shell and a dynamight right for Pavl the Curate;"

Finnegans Wake, Page 211

a collera morbous for Mann in the Cloack; a starr and girton for

Draper and Deane; for Will-of-the-Wisp and Barny-the-Bark two

mangolds noble to sweeden their bitters; for Oliver Bound a

way in his frey; for Seumas, thought little, a crown he feels big;

a tibertine's pile with a Congoswood cross on the back for

Sunny Twimjim; a praises be and spare me days for Brian-the

Bravo; penteplenty of pity with lubilashings of lust for Olona

Lena Magdalena; for Camilla, Dromilla, Ludmilla, Mamilla, a

bucket, a packet, a book and a pillow; for Nancy Shannon a

Tuami brooch; for Dora Riparia Hopeandwater a cooling douche

and a warmingpan; a pair of Blarney braggs for Wally Meagher;

a hairpin slatepencil for Elsie Oram to scratch her toby, doing

her best with her volgar fractions; an old age pension for Betty

Bellezza; a bag of the blues for Funny Fitz; a Missa pro Messa for

Taff de Taff; Jill, the spoon of a girl, for Jack, the broth of a boy;

a Rogerson Crusoe's Friday fast for Caducus Angelus

Rubiconstein; three hundred and sixtysix poplin tyne for revery warp in

the weaver's woof for Victor Hugonot; a stiff steaded rake and

good varians muck for Kate the Cleaner; a hole in the ballad for

Hosty; two dozen of cradles for J.F.X.P. Coppinger; tenpounten

on the pop for the daulphins born with five spoiled squibs for

Infanta; a letter to last a lifetime for Maggi beyond by the ashpit;

the heftiest frozenmeat woman from Lusk to Livienbad for Felim

the Ferry; spas and speranza and symposium's syrup for decayed

and blind and gouty Gough; a change of naves and joys of ills

="">for Armoricus Tristram Amoor Saint Lawrence; a guillotine

shirt for Reuben Redbreast and hempen suspendeats for

Brennan on the Moor; an oakanknee for Conditor Sawyer and

musquodoboits for Great Tropical Scott; a C3 peduncle for

Karmalite Kane; a sunless map of the month, including the sword and

stamps, for Shemus O'Shaun the Post; a jackal with hide for

Browne but Nolan; a stonecold shoulder for Donn Joe Vance;

all lock and no stable for Honorbright Merreytrickx; a big drum

for Billy Dunboyne; a guilty goldeny bellows, below me blow

me,for Ida Ida and a hushaby rocker,Elletrouvetout,for

Who-issilvier -- Where-is-he?; whatever you like to swilly to swash,"

Finnegans Wake, Page 212.

Yuinness or Yennessy, Laagen or Niger, for Festus King and

Roaring Peter and Frisky Shorty and Treacle Tom and O. B.

Behan and Sully the Thug and Master Magrath and Peter Cloran

and O'Delawarr Rossa and Nerone MacPacem and whoever you

chance to meet knocking around; and a pig's bladder balloon for

Selina Susquehanna Stakelum. But what did she give to Pruda

Ward and Katty Kanel and Peggy Quilty and Briery Brosna and

Teasy Kieran and Ena Lappin and Muriel Maassy and Zusan Camac

and Melissa Bradogue and Flora Ferns and Fauna

Fox-Goodman and Grettna Greaney and Penelope Inglesante and Lezba

Licking like Leytha Liane and Roxana Rohan with Simpatica

Sohan and Una Bina Laterza and Trina La Mesme and Philomena

O'Farrell and Irmak Elly and Josephine Foyle and Snakeshead

Lily and Fountainoy Laura and Marie Xavier Agnes Daisy

Frances de Sales Macleay? She gave them ilcka madre's daughter

a moonflower and a bloodvein: but the grapes that ripe before

reason to them that devide the vinedress. So on Izzy, her

shamemaid, love shone befond her tears as from Shem, her penmight,

life past befoul his prime.

My colonial, wardha bagful! A bakereen's dusind with tithe

tillies to boot. That's what you may call a tale of a tub !"

Reichert (l.c.p.229) describes heroic language in Vico's words as halfway between divine and human or as a mixture of both; but he gives no example, leaving it to his readers to imagine what a heraldic language looked like, spoken and written an age before the invention of human language with its narrative potential and its logical implications. We would be lost, no doubt, had we not the lists of FW as fitting examples. As far as I can see, they agree with all descriptions given by Vico (l.c. 446, 484, 930 et al.). If this is correct then the lists in FW are an artist's realization of a philosopher's vision. - Joyce Foundation.

Soul Melts Into Air --Ezra Pound, Canto CXI

List 1 (071.10-072.16) is a "collision" (collection) of 111 abusive names given to the dreaming HCE by a drunken man (Shem?) who is demanding from him, the innkeeper, "more wood alcohol" after having been boozing already in six other Dublin pub. Joyce Foundation

Exhibit C: 111 abusive names.

FW, Page 71.

Firstnighter, Informer, Old Fruit, Yellow Whigger,

Wheatears, Goldy Geit, Bogside Beauty, Yass We've Had His

Badannas, York's Porker, Funnyface, At Baggotty's Bend He

Bumped, Grease with the Butter, Opendoor Ospices, Cainandabler,

Ireland's Eighth Wonderful Wonder, Beat My Price, Godsoilman,

Moonface the Murderer, Hoary Hairy Hoax, Midnight Sunburst,

Remove that Bible, Hebdromadary Publocation, Tummer the Lame

the Tyrannous, Blau Clay, Tight before Teatime, Real Your

Pantojoke, Acoustic Disturbance, Thinks He's Gobblasst the Good

Dook of Ourguile, W.D.'s Grace, Gibbering Bayamouth of Dublin,

His Farther was a Mundzucker and She had him in a Growler,

Burnham and Bailey, Artist, Unworthy of the Homely Protestant

Religion, Terry Cotter, You're Welcome to Waterfood, signed the

Ribbonmen, Lobsterpot Lardling, All for Arthur of this Town,

Hooshed the Cat from the Bacon, Leathertogs Donald, The Ace

and Deuce of Paupering, O'Reilly's Delights to Kiss the Man

behind the Borrel, Magogagog, Swad Puddlefoot, Gouty Ghibeline,

Loose Luther, Hatches Cocks' Eggs, Muddle the Plan, Luck before

Wedlock, I Divorce Thee Husband, Tanner and a Make, Go to

Hellena or Come to Connies, Piobald Puffpuff His Bride, Purged

out of Burke's, He's None of Me Causin, Barebarean, Peculiar

Person, Grunt Owl's Facktotem, Twelve Months Aristocrat,

Lycanthrope, Flunkey Beadle Vamps the Tune Letting on He's

Loney, Thunder and Turf Married into Clandorf, Left Boot Sent

on Approval, Cumberer of Lord's Holy Ground, Stodge Arschmann,

Awnt Yuke, Tommy Furlong's Pet Plagues, Archdukon Cabbanger,

Last Past the Post, Kennealey Won't Tell Thee off Nancy's Gown,

Finnegans Wake, Page 70.

Scuttle to Cover, Salary Grab, Andy Mac Noon in Annie's Room,

Awl Out, Twitchbratschballs, Bombard Street Bester, Sublime

Porter, A Ban for Le King of the Burgaans and a Bom for Ye Sur

of all the Ruttledges, O'Phelim's Cutprice, And at Number Wan

Wan Wan, What He Done to Castlecostello, Sleeps with Feathers

end Ropes, It is Known who Sold Horace the Rattler, Enclosed

find the Sons of Fingal, Swayed in his Falling, Wants a Wife and

Forty of Them, Let Him Do the Fair, Apeegeequanee Chimmuck,

Plowp Goes his Whastle, Ruin of the Small Trader,

He---Milkinghoneybeaverbrooker, Vee was a Vindner, Sower Rapes,

Armenian Atrocity, Sickfish Bellyup, Edomite,--'Man Devoyd of

the Commoner Characteristics of an Irish Nature, Bad Humborg,

Hraabhraab, Coocoohandler, Dirt, Miching Daddy, Born Burst Feet

Foremost, Woolworth's Worst, Easyathic Phallusaphist,

Guilteypig's Bastard, Fast in the Barrel, Boose in the Bed, Mister Fatmate, -- FW, Page 71.

"But the growing convergence of data from coincidence hunters and the latest theories in quantum physics suggest that the model that will tie all this together will be much more revolutionary than proof of ghosts or of UFO's or even of thought transference would be. We seem to be dealing with a force that is, as Kammerer said, as universal as gravity and without limitations in either space or time. --RAW, The physics of synchronicity, Coincidance.

Thanks MLA and all TOTT scholars and RAW lovers worldwide. Keep the Ravioli in Orbit!

Finnegans Wake Concordex is promulgated by Mark Thompson
and currently running on the internet host at lycaeum.org

Fly Agaric 23 aka Steve.

Alchemy and Finnegans wake By Barbara DiBernard: