Eveline

by James Joyce (from Dubliners)

She sat at the window watching the evening invade the avenue. Her head was leaned against the window curtains and in her nostrils was the odour of dusty cretonne. She was tired.

Few people passed. The man out of the last house passed on his way home, she heard his footsteps clacking along the concrete pavement and afterwards crunching on the cinder path before the new red houses. One time there used to be a field there in which they used to play every evening with other people's children. Then a man from Belfast bought the field and built houses in it-- not like their little brown houses, but bright brick houses with shining roofs. The children of the avenue used to play together in that field-- the Devines, the Waters, the Dunns, little Keogh the cripple, she and her brothers and sisters. Ernest, however, never played: he was too grown up. Her father used often to hunt them in out of the field with his blackthorn stick, but usually little Keogh used to keep nix and call out when he saw her father coming. Still they seemed to have been rather happy then. Her father was not so bad then and, besides, her mother was alive. That was a long time ago; she and her brothers and sisters were all grown up; her mother was dead. Tizzie Dunn was dead too, and the Waters had gone back to England. Everything changes. Now she was going to go away like the others, to leave her home.

Home! She looked round the room, reviewing all its familiar objects which she had dusted once a week for so many years, wondering where on earth all the dust came from. Perhaps she would never see again those familiar objects from which she had never dreamed of being divided. And yet during all those years she had never found out the name of the priest whose yellowing photograph hung on the wall above the broken harmonium beside the coloured print of the promises made to Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque. He had been a school friend of her father. Whenever he showed the photograph to a visitor her father used to pass it with a casual word:

-- He is in Melbourne now.

She had consented to go away, to leave her home. Was that wise? She tried to weigh each side of the question. In her home anyway she had shelter and food, she had those whom she had known all her life about her. Of course she had to work hard, both in the house and at business. What would they say of her in the Stores when they found out that she had run away with a fellow? Say she was a fool, perhaps, and her place would be filled up by advertisement. Miss Gavan would be glad. She had always had an edge on her, especially whenever there were people listening.

-- Miss Hill, don't you see these ladies are waiting?

-- Look lively, Miss Hill, please.

She would not cry many tears at leaving the Stores.

But in her new home, in a distant unknown country, it would not be like that. Then she would be married-- she, Eveline. People would treat her with respect then. She would not be treated as her mother had been. Even now, though she was over nineteen, she sometimes felt herself in danger of her father's violence. She knew it was that that had given her the palpitations. When they were growing up he had never gone for her like he used to go for Harry and Ernest because she was a girl, but latterly he had begun to threaten her and say what he would do to her only for her dead mother's sake. And now she had nobody to protect her. Ernest was dead and Harry, who was in the church decorating business, was nearly always down somewhere in the country. Besides, the invariable squabble for money on Saturday nights had begun to weary her unspeakably. She always gave her entire wages-- seven shillings-- and Harry always sent up what he could, but the trouble was to get any money from her father. He said she used to squander the money, that she had no head, that he wasn't going to give her his hard-earned money to throw about the streets, and much more, for he was usually fairly bad of a Saturday night. In the end he would give her the money and ask her had she any intention of buying Sunday's dinner. Then she had to rush out as quickly as she could and do her marketing, holding her black leather purse tightly in her hand as she elbowed her way through the crowds and returning home late under her load of provisions. She had hard work to keep the house together and to see that the two young children who had been left to her charge went to school regularly and got their meals regularly. It was hard work-- a hard life-- but now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable life.

She was about to explore another life with Frank. Frank was very kind, manly, open-hearted. She was to go away with him by the night-boat to be his wife and to live with him in Buenos Ayres where he had a home waiting for her. How well she remembered the first time she had seen him: he was lodging in a house on the main road where she used to visit. It seemed a few weeks ago. He was standing at the gate, his peaked cap pushed back on his head and his hair tumbled forward over a face of bronze. Then they had come to know each other. He used to meet her outside the Stores every evening and see her home. He took her to see The Bohemian Girl and she felt elated as she sat in an unaccustomed part of the theatre with him. He was awfully fond of music and sang a little. People knew that they were courting and when he sang about the lass that loves a sailor she always felt pleasantly confused. He used to call her Poppens out of fun. First of all it had been an excitement for her to have a fellow and then she had begun to like him. He had tales of distant countries. He had started as a deck boy at a pound a month on a ship of the Allan Line going out to Canada. He told her the names of the ships he had been on and the names of the different services. He had sailed through the Straits of Magellan and he told her stories of the terrible Patagonians. He had fallen on his feet in Buenos Ayres, he said, and had come over to the old country just for a holiday. Of course her father had found out the affair and had forbidden her to have anything to say to him.

-- I know these sailor chaps, he said.

One day he had quarrelled with Frank and after that she had to meet her lover secretly.

The evening deepened in the avenue. The white of two letters in her lap grew indistinct. One was to Harry, the other was to her father. Ernest had been her favourite but she liked Harry too. Her father was becoming old lately, she noticed: he would miss her. Sometimes he could be very nice. Not long before, when she had been laid up for a day, he had read her out a ghost story and made toast for her at the fire. Another day, when their mother was alive, they had all gone for a picnic to the Hill of Howth. She remembered her father putting on her mother's bonnet to make the children laugh.

Her time was running out but she continued to sit by the window, leaning her head against the window curtain, inhaling the odour of dusty cretonne. Down far in the avenue she could hear a street organ playing. She knew the air. Strange that it should come that very night to remind her of the promise to her mother, her promise to keep the home together as long as she could. She remembered the last night of her mother's illness: she was again in the close dark room at the other side of the hall and outside she heard a melancholy air of Italy. The organ-player had been ordered to go away and given sixpence. She remembered her father strutting back into the sickroom saying:

-- Damned Italians! Coming over here!

As she mused the pitiful vision of her mother's life laid its spell on the very quick of her being-- that life of commonplace sacrifices closing in final craziness. She trembled as she heard again her mother's voice saying constantly with foolish insistence:

-- Derevaun Seraun! Derevaun Seraun!

She stood up in a sudden impulse of terror. Escape! She must escape! Frank would save her. He would give her life, perhaps love, too. But she wanted to live. Why should she be unhappy? She had a right to happiness. Frank would take her in his arms, fold her in his arms. He would save her.

*****

She stood among the swaying crowd in the station at the North Wall. He held her hand and she knew that he was speaking to her, saying something about the passage over and over again. The station was full of soldiers with brown baggages. Through the wide doors of the sheds she caught a glimpse of the black mass of the boat, lying in beside the quay wall, with illumined portholes. She answered nothing. She felt her cheek pale and cold and, out of a maze of distress, she prayed to God to direct her, to show her what was her duty. The boat blew a long mournful whistle into the mist. If she went, to-morrow she would be on the sea with Frank, steaming towards Buenos Ayres. Their passage had been booked. Could she still draw back after all he had done for her? Her distress awoke a nausea in her body and she kept moving her lips in silent fervent prayer.

A bell clanged upon her heart. She felt him seize her hand:

-- Come!

All the seas of the world tumbled about her heart. He was drawing her into them: he would drown her. She gripped with both hands at the iron railing.

-- Come!

No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron in frenzy. Amid the seas she sent a cry of anguish.

-- Eveline! Evvy!

He rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow. He was shouted at to go on but he still called to her. She set her white face to him, passive, like a helpless animal. Her eyes gave him no sign of love or farewell or recognition.

Delight in Disorder.

by Robert Herrick [source: luminarium.org]

A SWEET disorder in the dress

Kindles in clothes a wantonness :

A lawn about the shoulders thrown

Into a fine distraction :

An erring lace which here and there

Enthrals the crimson stomacher :

A cuff neglectful, and thereby

Ribbons to flow confusedly :

A winning wave (deserving note)

In the tempestuous petticoat :

A careless shoe-string, in whose tie

I see a wild civility :

Do more bewitch me than when art

Is too precise in every part.

Ed Dorn's parody of Williams's "This Is Just To Say"

Ed Dorn's clever parody of the oft' anthologized poem about plums in the icebox can be found at Al Filreis's U Penn hosted English 88 page, which has a lot of interesting modern American poetry links to explore.

Payback time

Slacktivist notices how swiftly legislation revamping personal bankruptcy rules is making its way through congress. Reportedly, the law would make it more difficult for consumers to wipe out their credit card debt through personal bankruptcy. And yet, many of these same consumers aren't going to be able to pay back, so then what? I'm all for personal accountability. Americans in thrall to Mammon have bad spending habits. To keep up with the neighbhors, you turn spendthrift. Consumption is a race up a mountain of debt. Capitalism encourages us at every bend of the road, however, to keep spending, keep borrowing. We must fuel the economy, make the mighty American engine roar. Greedy companies aggressively market their cards to greedy consumers who greedily spend, and now the greedy companies are going to try and make up for the risk they failed to acknowledge when extending credit in the first place. Slacktivist wisely sees the catch 22. You can't get blood from a stone.

Mistake-o-nym of the day

I was grading papers today and came across this homonymic foul: "cereal killer". Who thought we'd ever be able to peek into the mind of a cereal killer?

Divining America: Religion and the National Culture

This Divining America site from the National Humanities Center is just fantastic. [homepage here]. In my previous post I linked to the same site's Puritanism page. This post links to a page by Grant Wacker of Duke Divinity School about the modern day Christian Right. He lays out the ideological cornerstones with clarity, and I've briefly summarized them here: The Christian right affirms the absolute certainty of moral absolutes; assumes that morality, politics, and culture are inseperable; asserts that the proper role of government is cultural/moral intervention and economic non-intervention; and insists on the legitimation of Judeo-Christian values, coupled with a delegitimation of secular and other religious values. Christian right wingers suffer from a grand persecution complex: everywhere are bogeypersons out to get them: the liberal media, the public schools, intellectual elites, Hollywood, the federal government, the United Nations, feminists, socialists, activist judges, junk lawsuit lawyers, non-white people, and the French.

Puritanism, Predestination, and the American Way

Useful backgrounder on Puritanism at the National Humanities Center, angled for teachers. It is interesting to note that Puritanism in England declined after the civil war and restoration of the Stuart monarchy in 1660. In America, Puritanism flourished among two factions, the Congregationalists and Presbyterians. In a sense, the British were capable of casting aside this wacko ideology only after the Puritans had revolted and took control under Cromwell with disastrous consequences. In America, there was no power base to act as counterweight and Puritanism took root in New England and the Mid Atlantic. Modern evangelicals are in the bloodline, certainly, and in the late 20th century, the reactionary Puritan mind has made a startling comeback, as a reaction to liberalism and the uncertain anxieties of modernity. Now in 2004, the Puritans have effectively taken power in America, and they are working feverishly to institute a theocratic republic, so at this point in time, it might be worthwhile to compare the Bush era to the Cromwell era and see if there's anything to be learned.
I've been thinking about why America is so fucked up lately. Here's a country with so much to offer and so little delivered. I think much of our national sickness can be traced to three roots: (1) Religious extremism (of which Puritanism is representative); (2) Materialism, or the worship of Mammon and the devotion to mercantile capital; and (3) Racism (the blood brother of chattel slavery and immigration). Much of what's wrong with us can be explained by analyzing those combination of factors, and much of the hypocrisy we witness has to do with the conflict betwen those factors. So for instance, extremist religion plus racism creates strange contortions of belief. The result? Lynch mobs, black men being dragged by pickup trucks, gay bashing, fear of commies and terrorists. When materialism meets religion, we get strange hypocritical syntheses like compassionate conservatism and assaults on entitlement programs, major rationalizations of greed (recast as the protestant work ethic), and the mythology of welfare queens and crack babies. Racism plus Materialism leads directly to the ghetto, the white trash slum, the trailer park, and suburban white flight. For each factor there are repressed antitheses: extremist religious theocracy vs. inclusive religious tolerance and secular democratic rule by law; obsessive free market materialism vs. economic liberalism and socialism; racism and fear of the "other" vs. multicultural diversity and melting pot integration. It's almost like a forcefield within which we can understand the dance of political, economic, and spiritual molecules in laboratory America.
None of this is very well thought out, I admit. I could be full of shit, and I may be leaving something (many things) out. It's just a sketch of some ideas that might be worthy of further analysis.
If I'm right about this re-emergent Puritanism, though, then we better put Nathaniel Hawthorne on the required reading list....

A quarter mill for George?

Editor & Publisher wonders why a conservative foundation awarded a quarter million dollars to conservative columnist George Will recently. An ethical George Will, living in a mythical land where Americans stood for something other than filthy lucre, would see such an "award" as problematic, as symptomatic of what increasingly appears, for numbskulls like myself living in the real world of disillusionment, to be veiled payola, still more propaganda quid for pro. I mean, c'mon, a quarter million dollars? You've got your street whores and then you've got your high priced call girls. It's all so discreet, isn't it.

Lest we forget Ohio

This may be woefully out of date and surely isn't news, but so what. The Green party site has posted eyewitness reports of the botched Ohio 2004 recount. Thanks are due to the Greens and Libertarians, who took up the quixotic mission of insisting that people's votes be counted accurately and properly. Obviously, the United States is electorally-challenged and is in need of major reform. Maybe we should try that purple finger thing?

And they kept digging....

The Nashua Advocate continues its impressive investigation of L'affaire Guckert. We are way inside the six degrees of separation threshold where GiGi, Republican financiers and political operatives get warm and cozy.

Christian right mum on Gannon Affair

Over at WorkingForChange, Bill Berkowitz has been phoning the right-wing family values organizations for comment on our favorite Talon-clawed manwhore G.I. Gigi. One might naively expect some measure of ideological consistency: the usual shrieks and homophobic wails about those fifth column, outrageous sneaky smarmy gays infiltrating the mediaspace and corrupting the morals of little Jane Whitebread and Johnny Christian. The silence is deafening.

Hawthorne quickie

During last minute prep before class, I careened into a useful page on Young Goodman Brown from a Florida Gulf Coast University English class and thought I'd better bookmark it before it flees from my short term memory. The page contains a few pieces of intelligible criticism and an annotated text of the story. As the red state menace of New Puritanism swoops down over the homeland, it might be worth ruminating over this story. Do we want to be raising another generation of Goodmen and Goodies such as this? Hawthorne probes the deeply conflicted soul of American Puritanism with relentless honesty.

Message Control

Our lily livered, chicken hearted president, the same man who ran and hid on September 11, 2001, who froze in panic that day and took a sudden interest in children's literature, who can't deliver a speech without a three ringer binder and flash cards, who screens political rallies by forcing attendees to sign loyalty oaths, has quietly dropped a town hall meeting with real Germans, Spiegel Online reports.

As an ersatz for the town hall meeting on Wednesday, Bush will now meet with a well-heeled group of so-called "young leaders." Close to 20 participants will participate in the exclusive round to be held in the opulent Mozart Hall of a former royal palace in Mainz, giving them the opportunity for a close encounter with the president. The chat is being held under the slogan: "A new chapter for trans-Atlantic relations." The aim of the meeting is to give these "young leaders" a totally different impression of George W. Bush. In order to guarantee an open exchange, the round has been closed to journalists -- ensuring that any embarrassments will be confined to a small group.

A new chapter? Reads like the same old script to me. This administration can't handle the truth; their cowardice and cynicism has no shame.

Talon News going down?

By all appearances, Talon News hasn't been updated since last Thursday, and links to news stories redirect to nowheresville at GOPUSA.com. Never was much of a news site, was it? Heavy duty scrubbing of the web decks cannot hide this embarrassing bunch of hypocrites.

Mark Crispin Miller interview

BuzzFlash interviews Mark Crispin Miller on the GannonGucket affair. Worthwhile.

A missing link?

Raw Story provides a plausible explanation for how fake reporter Jeff Gannon might have gotten inside-access to the White House. His boss at GOPUSA, Bobby Eberle, is related (perhaps the brother?) to Bruce Eberle, a kingpin of conservative fundraising, scams, and endorsement e-mail schemes. All this has a distinctive Rovian odor.

When fake news turns real

The New York Times > Arts > Frank Rich rips into the Gannon story with gusto. Not only does he do a great job at connecting the propaganda dots, he also whips the docile press:

The inability of real journalists to penetrate this White House is not all the White House's fault. The errors of real news organizations have played perfectly into the administration's insidious efforts to blur the boundaries between the fake and the real and thereby demolish the whole notion that there could possibly be an objective and accurate free press. Conservatives, who supposedly deplore post-modernism, are now welcoming in a brave new world in which it's a given that there can be no empirical reality in news, only the reality you want to hear (or they want you to hear). The frequent fecklessness of the Beltway gang does little to penetrate this Washington smokescreen.

Thanks Frank for noting the irony -- conservatives have seized the postmodern day, truth be damned.
In related news, Americablog reports new evidence showing our favorite fake newsman/prostitute Jeff sitting in on White House press briefings before the "news organization" he represented existed on the web. How precisely does a fake reporter get credentialed for a fake news organization that doesn't even exist yet? This story aint over yet.

GOPUSA Owner weighs in on Gannon affair

In a Dallas Morning News story (accessed via The Biloxi Sun Herald), GOPUSA chief contributes these laugh lines to the ongoing saga:

Eberle said he strives to keep his 2-year-old news site "completely separate" from the partisan GOPUSA, and said that if he, as editor, came across a story that was critical of Republicans, "you bet we'd be covering it. It's important to maintain the line between opinion and news, and I try very hard to do that," he said. "GOPUSA is overtly partisan; it says so in our name. But if you look on the Talon news site, it's just news."

Stop! Stop! My ribs are sore from laughing already....

Eberle neither apologized for nor defended Guckert's actions, saying instead that the question obviously "got attention because it was coming from the right" and that he would "counsel any new reporter to just be aware of the environment that they're in.

"I think there's a way of asking pointed questions from either perspective that don't necessarily come loaded with political bias," he said. "I don't think anyone should ask softball questions. ... Republicans and conservatives want to know what's going on, too. They have a lot of tough questions to ask, too."

Tough questions? He's kidding, right? I mean he knows we're not that stupid. C'mon, he said this with a wink and a nod. A little nudge with the elbow. Right? Eh? Yo Bobby! Good one....

Living Hell

One man's version of hell on earth: go on a cruise with Dr. Jerry Falwell.

Multicultural madness?

The freaks at WorldNetDaily continue to amaze. This month brings a renewed assault on multiculturalism in academia, which has turned Western Civilization upside down in one generation. Good grief. Has anyone else noticed how much this rightwing propaganda machine operates in perfect sync? It's all so coordinated. Their message gets propagated and reflected in funhouse mirror perspective, so you're never sure where it originated. It's everywhere all the time, in peripheral view, behind you, before you, saturating media space with paranoia, hysteria. It's ideological projectile vomit for the masses!

Fudge numbers

The Independent reports on the latest Pentagon batch of lies. They're inflating (with helium) the numbers of trained Iraqi police and army. Predictable. I wonder at what point in the distant future, the excrement will contact the fan blades. Will the moment be captured in freeze frame? Slow-mo? What will the splatter pattern resemble? Who will be hit by the blow back? Who will be touched? Who will be protected? Does reality exist in this pseudo-hyper-strata of media-spin and PR deception? Of course. But will the reality principle ever poke through the curtain? Where's our Toto to sniff out the Wizard of Oz? Gil Scott Heron was probably right: the revolution will not be televised.

Ministry of Information hard at work

The Memory Hole has thankfully rescued 17 of 20 reports of the Civil Rights Commission "disappeared" by the Republican ministers of information. I guess Bush's fine sentiments on freedom don't apply to freedom of information, free speech, or freedom of conscience. Similar "dissappearing" actions have recently gone down over at Talon News, you know, that bastion of new journalism and former home of star reporter Jeff Gannon. Seems as if all of poor Jeff's hard hitting articles have been wiped from the Talon News site. If you ask me, Nicolae Carpathia and the Global Community forces must be behind that one. Carpathia and potentate Leon Fortunato's fingerprints are all over this persecution of poor Jeff. Yes siree.

Arthur Miller: death of a giant

His tragedy Death of a Salesman distilled the essence of the American dream better than any work I know. What a great writer he was; the work lives on.

Kiss your academic freedom goodbye

Clearly, the rightwing is gearing up to take on the last bastion of free range liberalism: colleges and universities. Ohio is moving ahead with an Orwellian-named Academic Bill of Rights. Effing-wonderful. The latest cause celebre re: Ward Churchill is a clear ploy to stoke the base, rouse the rabble, smear the universities. Looks like they're going for a multi-pronged attack. In the Ohio case, they'll go after the public university systems first in the name of "fairness and balance." At Marquette, the College Republicans are demanding a refund of tuition because the university made them take down a sign or something. So they'll try to drain the funds away from the private colleges. I imagine they'll also wield inside-government power via the withholding of student loan guarantees and grants for those colleges unwilling to adopt "academic bills of rights." There's always Fox News to bash universities mercilessly. This will chill the waters, stifle dissent, and encourage self-censorship. Since I work in higher-ed, I'll try to record the chilling effect as it unfolds. The full court pressure is on.

Propaganda-gannon-guckethon

Daily Kos has posted a digestible press release of the Gannon dustup, with salacious details de-emphasized. This is not a story about a hypocritical man in underwear and dogtags. It's about the Bush administration planting propaganda shills in the press corps, and the larger story of how our mass media has lost almost all its credibility. Who funded Gannon's rising star? Who pays the bills for Talon News and its sister site GOPUSA? Texas Republicans. If journalists fail to reclaim their profession and do their 4th estate duty, that profession will wither and die. And then your're in Pravda-land.

Project Manager Leaves Suicide PowerPoint Presentation

At The Onion.

"When I first heard that Ron had swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills, I was shocked," said Hector Benitez, Butler's friend and coworker at Williams+Kennedy Marketing Consultants. "But after the team went through Ron's final PowerPoint presentation, I had a solid working knowledge of the pain he was feeling, his attempts to cope, and the reasons for his ultimate decision."
"I just wish he would've shot me an e-mail asking for help," Benitez added.
Butler broke his presentation into four categories: Assessment Of Current Situation, Apologies & Farewells, Will & Funeral Arrangements, and Final Thoughts.

Gannon Quits After Blogger Inquiry

More informative updates at MediaCitizen

Gannongate

So it seems Mr. Gannon of Talon News is not at first what he appeared to be. Jimmy Olsen he is not. How did this shill, this phony, this fake get access to the white house press room? And who's been signing his paychecks? The Conservative Voice is reporting that Mr. Gannon/Guckert whoever the hell he is, has claimed membership in West Chester University of Pennsylvani's TKE frat. Love the tie-in with Turk's Head's hometown. Other sources: World O' Crap and Media Matters. Wowie zowie.... 'Tis true, 'tis pity tis true....

Where are you going? To the crime library, Batman

CrimeLibrary.com has a very informative backgrounder on Charles Schmid, 60's serial killer and fabled "Pied Piper of Tucson". A Life magazine article on "Schmitty" inspired Joyce Carol Oates to create Arnold Friend, the demonic antagonist of her great short story "Where are Going, Where Have you Been?", which I'm covering in my lit classes this week. The story combines at least four thematic strains in unsettling ways: the illusory, romantic fantasies of adolescent girls coming of age; the victimization of women; the violent, manipulative psychology of the American serial killer; and the dreamlike allegorical power of all-knowing evil.

What rhymes with graft, shaft, and daft?

The NeoCon think tank Project for the New American Century has sent a letter to congress all but calling for a draft. Let's see, what shall we call this force enhancement? We can't come out and call it a draft. Here's a few possibilites: freedom force, liberty legions, or best of all, freedom volunteers.
How might you become a freedom volunteer? You go to a freedom force lottery site, where you would "win" free prizes like cases of Pepsi, AOL memberships, American Eagle tote bags, and a friendly invitation to a freedom force volunteer brigade seminar called "Freedom isn't Free". All freebies are contingent on the no strings attached mandatory meeting. After a short pre-screening interview and urine analysis, you are then "awarded" a six week all expenses paid vacation to the nearest fort. Here you are provided with force enchancement skills development, and a kevlar helmet. After that, the goverment provides you with a long term "free agent contract" which enlists you for a fixed term, and offers you a "signing bonus", just like the pro football players get, which entitles your family to a generous extra death benefit should anything happen to you on your "freedom and honor tour". Those resisting enlistment would be sent to mandatory voluntary re-education centers, where they would receive free instruction and therapeutic training to liberate them of seditious and treasonous tendencies. True rebels would be declared enemy non-combatants and invited to attend mandatory X camps in each state of the union, built on the Camp XRay model.
Each freedom volunteer (FV) brigade would have its own mascot and colors and compete in feats of valor on battlefields real and virtual. Some slogans we could use for bumper stickers, trading cards, yellow ribbon inscriptions, t-shirts, and funeral cards: FV Pride! Lucky to be a member of Team America! Be free, join today! Fight the terror with your freedom, now! Blood proud! Never say die hard! Feel the excitement - freedom on the march! Freedom is power!