Tuesday, October 09, 2007


The Murkyworld of MiSTER ZERO (part 2)

Mister Zero has been spending a lot of time discussing matters of no great importance with Joshua Kane. Recent letters that Joshua Kane has been sending to him as Kane travels the globe, searching for the thing that does not exist, has delighted him. Mister Zero poses in front of the mirror, admiring himself, fondling and stroking his velvet smoking jacket. He has recently hired a secretary, who types and writes in shorthand the words of Mister Zero.

She is a young, rather large breasted creature, who worships Mister Zero and will do anything for him. He has strapped her to his fake dentists chair, by her neck and her ankles, her hands are free to take Mister Zero’s dictation, She is partly naked and as Mister Zero dictates to her, he sometimes will walk past her and tweak her eager pink nipples. Her name is not important, which is a good thing, as Mister Zero has forgotten her name and only really likes the idea of her.‘ Mister Kane, I am very pleased with your most recent correspondence to me, one of your most interesting and disturbing letters to date I thought, you must be congratulated sir, and then be placed in a maximum security facility somewhere in the Mojave desert, with only the IT for company, the IT will be dressed in a see through cellophane suit covered in razor blades, for IT will guard you, whilst singing Violator by Depeche Mode.’

Mister Zero then stares out of the window, watching small children be cruel and unusual with a large dog. Mister Zero feels an excitement brewing inside him and he hopes that the dog will kill and eat these small strange children who have invaded his privacy and his acres around the control tower, where Mister Zero hides and abuses his secretary every evening at 9pm (on the dot!). Mister Zero finds that he thinks a regular thought ‘WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? I HATE CHILDREN!!’Mister Zero suddenly realises that the dog is biting into the children and as he watches, his erection becomes harder and he thinks to himself.’” when will the screaming stop? Is the day close when the farmer will cut the rapeseed and discover the architects decaying skin and bones, one eyeball staring up through the crop circle, to the single puffy white cloud hanging in a clear sky high above?”

Mister Zero watches the dog devour the two small children and lets out a sigh of pleasure, he goes to his secretary, who is whining and mumbling quietly to herself, Mister Zero leans towards her face to hear what she is saying, then he takes from his desk drawer a barbed wire whip (a present from Joshua Kane in 2001) and starts to gently whip her milk white thighs, her cunt juices dribble out of her and she wets her panties and it oozes down the fake dentists chair. This pleases Mister Zero then unbinds her mouth, she gasps for air, but Mister Zero takes out his hard cock and stuffs it into her whore mouth and releases his sperm into the back of her eager to please throat, he then forces her mouth shut and quickly from his velvet jacket pocket, brings out silver masking tape and covers her mouth. He then whips her thighs for a few more seconds, and then tells her to continue taking down his dictation; she eagerly complies, doing her best to gulp down his salty acidic spunk down her slut throat.

Mister Zero continues with his letter to Joshua Kane’” do you ever wonder when the septic tank will overflow, offering up it’s cargo of past crimes? The hacked up remains of a life dedicated to order, self-torture and coco-pops?’ Mister Zero glimpses himself in ‘her’ old Victorian mirror, he is breathing deeply, in a trance. The wind is whistling, his mind is twisting. He decides to go and make the usual cup of tea, he carefully lines up a row of spoons and mutters “Nothing ever quite fits does it – I am the Ikea man’ Mister Zero makes his tea, goes back into his study, his secretary is watching him with mad stalker eyes, he wonders if he should cut them out and eat them with pickles. But, not yet, not yet, it is too soon and there is still so much to do, he still has things he wants to show her. He goes up to her and whispers in her ear.

“ I only drink blood if I have to. I prefer the sweaty filth that congeals on the skin of the Unwanted” His secretary moans and writhes in her chair, speckles of blood oozing out from the barbed wire slash wounds, Mister Zero watches her coldly, he is not very interested in her at the moment, she is becoming predictable and Mister Zero does not like predictable. Mister Zero takes out his recording device and whispers into it. “Time biology time belief time shapes time breath time aloneness time self time others time man-made time natural time create time nothing”

He looks out of his window again, he never gets tired of the view, the dog has now been joined by other stray dogs, they are all devouring what is left of the small children, Mister Zero feels a little joy as this now means that there will be no evidence of this slaughter and the children will no longer steal apples from his tree’s. He surveys his land, beige Britain looks wearily up from behind its protective veil of canals, brown fields and chalk-faced yobs, and tries its best to breathe and lumber through another day of lost industry and coffee shops. Norman churches cut the grey horizons looking like upturned arrowheads, attempting, and yet failing to ignore the existence of Harlow Town. Mister Zero does not like Harlow Town and has a plan to burn it to the ground, involving Reginald Muddle and eco terrorists.

Mister Zero lights yet another cigarette and considers going for a drive. He makes a decision; he leaves quickly, changes into his outdoors outfit (number 7) and goes to his garage to choose a vehicle. Today he will use number 7, it matches his outfit and he likes the idea of conformity and balance, he also takes great pleasure from knowing that he will be leaving his secretary alone for at least 3 hours and in that time it is likely that she will piss and shit herself, and if she does, she knows that Mister Zero will punish her, oh yes, he will punish her!! Mister Zero folds his ageing limbs into the drivers seat and lights another cigarette, pondering on where to go. But, he cant help thinking that his body is like an old deckchair, sat in by plump seaside ladies a thousand times, and starting to give way. He looks to his right, and stares at the fields of corn; he must ignore their whispers. He must stop the dreams of hospitals and clean the puddles full of multi coloured tractor oil from his driveway.

As he drives off, he looks into his rear view mirror and watches the tower fade away, a dark purple cloud hangs over the building and his thoughts turn to deeds previously executed. ‘When will the farmer cut the rapeseed and find the architects eye, staring up through the crop circle to the single cloud in an otherwise clear sky? When will the septic tank offer up its interesting and vile cargo of lost lives? When will the strange contents of the seemingly innocent Coco Pops packet be discovered?’ Mister Zero knew he needed to do something about his thoughts. Of course, he laughed, ‘On my Return I shall continue my letter to Mister Kane’. Mister Zero drives around the countryside for a few hours, and then heads back to the Tower. The drive did not clear his head in the way he hoped and his thoughts had turned darker ‘”I am lacklustre without the lust. I am a dying flower, petals falling off, stem brown and torn, diseased leaves hanging down towards roots that rot in a dry cracked and parched dustbowl, no more do I even want to taste cool water, no sap rises to quench small flying insects. Red backed spiders crawl with spindly caution over me, performing a macabre ballet as they eat their way through an audience of green fly, I am plant, I am dying, I am naught.”

When Mister Zero turns into the driveway to the tower, the place he calls home. The headlights cast menacing shadows across the fields, the bright eyes of the dog stare out at him as it waits by the garage, in its mouth a remnant of a small arm. Mister Zero nods, he understands his dog, and will mince what is left of the small children’s flesh and grind the bones into paste for the dogs enjoyment. He gets out of the car and goes to the front door. Once inside, Mister Zero walks silently through the concrete corridors. He does not turn on the lights. Breathing deeply in a trance, he catches a glimpse of his face in ‘her’ mirror. The winds are whistling, his mind is twisting, in the moonlight; he carefully arranges a line of spoons. “Nothing ever quite fits properly does it – I am the Ikea man,” he says out loud to no one.

Mister Zero re-enters his study, the secretary is asleep, he watches her for a little while and considers killing her, but that is too quick, perhaps some pleasure and pain, or maybe some torture he thinks, yet he cannot make a decision, he has got used to her sitting strapped in his fake dentists chair. She has managed to piss and shit herself, so Mister Zero WILL have to punish her. He wakes her roughly by forcing his walking stick into her vagina, the cloth of her knickers, stained and creasing into her as he forces his stick further into her crack, he does this roughly, her eyes open she is startled, sees Mister zero and relaxes, and it seems that she is looking forward to her punishment. This displeases Mister Zero; he wants her to fear him! He leans towards her and whispers in her ear. ‘ Nothing ever quite fits properly does it … I am the Ikea man, should I lick you with my black lizard tongue? Will you make little squeaking sounds or low deep manly groans I wonder?’

She makes a strange noise, Mister Zero glares at her, then slaps her across her face, as he slaps her continually he counts them in his head, he hums a rhyme as he slaps her, her cheeks turning bright red, her tears of pain give Mister Zero ‘happy’ thoughts. When he has reached number six hundred and sixty six – he stops. Tells her to stop sobbing and continue with the dictation. Mister Zero leans towards the top of her head and gently kisses her hair. She smells vile, but Mister Zero is very good at pretending. ‘I love you’ he tells her and his secretary forgets about the pain, her tears, the piss, the shit and the abuse, because she loves Mister Zero and will do anything to make and keep him happy.

‘The terminal disease of life-thoughts, things and events, is grinding me into dust. It’s like a tidal wave of misery that comes from nowhere, drowns me and then surges on to the next poor fucker. When I’m occasionally sitting in high branches, I’m eternally waiting to be banished to the dirty pool of muck that collects at the bottom of the old stone well. Probably the same well where Jezebel played drums and a Japanese woman crawled on her hands and knees’
Mister Zero stops dictating and goes to his fine drinks cabinet and pours himself a good thumbful of 1966 brandy. He sips it slowly, watching his secretary, she is busy hiding her shame, her knickers have stained badly and the dampness in the chair is making her buttocks and thighs look like a small baby who has not had a nappy change in 3 weeks. Perhaps he should let her wash, after he has finished with her dirty little holes. He goes to her, takes off her gag, talks to her gently and softly, he unties her and suggests she cleans herself up. She eagerly goes to the bathroom. Mister Zero is delighted to see her so happy, especially as he knows what he has planned for her, to ruin her happiness.

Mister Zero waits patiently for his secretary to come back from the bathroom and he imagines all manner of things. Am I going to climb the Eiffel Tower otherwise known as The Secretary? Will I scale her ramparts? Should I clamber over her statuesque frame with passion and dark relish? Will I insert things? Insert things into those hot fleshy mandibles of crimson? Will I become lost in the nest of her scalp? Mister Zero starts to hum as he waits and soon he starts to sing.

Bitches and Bags
Harlots and Hags
Big Breasted Prosi’s with mouths full of fags
Middle class tartlets
Who Witter and moan
They all come to Zero
Before they go home
To their husbands.

As Mister Zero finishes his little whimsy, the secretary comes out of the bathroom, looking refreshed and as usual eager to please. She heads for the fake dentists chair, but, Mister Zero demands that she sits on all fours, he wishes to use her as a table and she can write perfectly well on the ground. She must remain gagged, and have her ankles tied, but she must also allow Mister Zero to stick a long candle into her arsehole and he will light it, he is anticipating the delight of watching the hot wax dribble into her gaping shithole as it grips onto the base of the candle, because he will make her feel real pain, horrible pain, if the candle should pop out of its cradle!

Once she is prepared, Mister Zero inserts the candle. Lights it and starts to dictate once more.
The Worthless are milling around. The pathetic are stumbling over each other. The humiliated crouch in corners where the smell of piss is strong. We the flowers of confusion hang our heads and wilt, as hope disappears over a horizon of concrete and blood. MY DEAR Kane, you must be careful in Cornwall or whatever god-forsaken part of merry England you are visiting. They don’t like people like you down there sir, they’ll want to string you up. Push fishing hooks through your skin and piss on you. Yet, you are the 13. More and more I am realising that contentment lies in a solitary existence with occasional dips into the company of others. I need re stoking, all my coal has been burned and turned to steam which is floating around the peak of Kane Mountain, almost vanished, almost gone.

The gas molecules have halved, then halved again. I am no longer visible to the naked eye and eagles fly through me effortlessly. Sometimes I can put on a performance for the book club, not tonight. The arm of the sofa is becoming worn; I must find the tightrope again. Which reminds me Mister Kane, I’ve just realised who you are. You are Michael Douglas in ‘Falling Down’. Ask yourself, as a man of code, are you economically viable? Yet, we are men of art and substance. When we depart on our trip we shall stroll through the cobbled streets of the Latin Quarter and dine at La Coupole, reciting poetry and prose in the grand tradition of Sartre, and hum Juliette Grecoat our table in Les Deux Magots! So, be seeing you. Mister Zero

(Of course, he has now untied her and released her from her gag, but, before she is allowed to read back to him his letter to Joshua Kane, first she has to beg for Mister Zero, plead with Mister Zero to PISS on her, she must drink and swallow his dark yellow liquid, and enjoy it – so she does, and he sprays her, fills her with his hot stinking urine and laughs) When she has finished, he nods his approval and Mister Zero listens carefully, as his secretary reads back to him his dictated letter to Mister Kane. Once she has finished he awaits her to finish her typing, so he can sign, stamp and seal his correspondence. He will then bugger his secretary and force candle wax into her vagina. He will then pay her small fee and send her away with instructions to post his letter and purchase items for their next meeting. Once she has left. Mister Zero will be once again alone in the control tower.

Many hours later, The secretary has finally been sent home, Mister Zero content and happy with the knowledge that her punishment and her abuse will continue next Wednesday at the same place at the same time, but now Mister Zero needed to rest his weary body. Finally, he was truly alone at the control tower and he had a strong craving to watch something on DVD that was very filthy, depraved and utterly disgusting, preferably involving women’s mouths, cocks, animals, torture and death. Mister Zero realises that if he had remembered to record the activities with his secretary, he would have his wish. Next Wednesday he will remember to press record, so He and Joshua Kane could enjoy the abuse of his pathetic secretary together. But Mister Zero, needing visual stimulation, texts Joshua Kane, asking if Kane could assist in naming a film that would appeal to the desires of Mister Zero. Mister Zero waits impatiently for the reply. Joshua Kane finally sends a text back.

Zero, you should watch KARLA, and make sure that you are wearing a pair of blue stilettos taken from your shop of twine, and dress yourself in a blue Lycra top, stuffed with 2 soft toilet rolls that will look like large breasts. Then you can pretend to look like a female serial killer on the run and no doubt, you will probably masturbate. As you are alone in the control tower, invite some small children over while you are dressed as Karla and feed them chocolate and spunk. Then boil them in acid and shove the remains in the septic tank, then have a cup of tea. Goodbye.

Mister Zero is pleased to read this message and immediately decides to make a cup of tea and masturbate in front of the mirror dressed as Karla. As he wanks himself into a frenzy, his mind is filled with thoughts.

The I does not represent the thou but meets it. The meeting moreover, is to be distinguished from the silent dialogue, the mind has with itself. Except sometimes the silence is deafening, when the interval between the I and the thou, the Zwischen, is the locust where being is realised.

Mister Zero erupts into ecstasy as his juices spray across the mirror in splendour. Mister Zero licks his semen from the mirror as it slowly dribbles down his cracked and crinkly image. Then as he tastes his saltiness, he starts his frenzied wanking once again.

The interval between the Kane and the zero cannot be conceived as a kind of stellar space existing independently of the two terms, which IT separates. For the dimension itself of the interval opens uniquely to the Kane and to the zero, which enter into each meeting and the utmost transcendence, is bound to the utmost particularity of the two.

Mister Zero erupts once more, his screams echoing throughout the fields of darkness and silence. Small animals shake in fear and Birds of prey quiver, thinking that they are about to be eaten, by some terrifying predator. Mister Zero calms himself, has a shower and then wrapped in his Persian cat fur coat, he drapes himself in front of his television, tea and cake ready and waiting as he watches the film Karla. Yet even during this film, his mind wanders.

Consistent with contemporary views, the self is not a substance but a relation. IT can only exist as Kane addressing himself to Zero. The sphere of the IT coincides with EVERYTHING, which the Kane comes into contact with in his objective and practical experience. In effect, the sphere of the IT is posited as the correlate of all Kane’s mental acts whether willed or felt.
Mister Zero is pleased by his thoughts and decides that he must pause the film and wander onto the blood red decking that surrounds his control tower and try to decide whether it was the colour that made it look that way or the dampness of the late night dew.

He lights a cigarette, stares into the night and plans for tomorrow.

Because tomorrow was to be a new day, new blood and the delivery of the Electrical device.


Sunday, May 13, 2007


The Murkyworld of MiSTER ZERO (part one)

Mister Zero and his thoughts can only bring madness. He has recently found himself thinking of buying a megaphone and a crossbow, climbing onto the roof of Saffron Walden library, and screaming ‘ I AM ZERO, THAT’S RIGHT FUCKERS!! ITS NOT YOUR DAY! YOU CAN ALL DIE NOW, THANK YOU FOR THE HOB-NOBS!’
Mister Zero and the descent of love – he can still smell the lotions from his youth, and of his grandmother’s skin. Mister Zero can sometime be seen madly stalking himself and dancing naked in the homes of the elderly. In his silent moments, he writes on small pieces of paper – that, he is Margaret Gray’s grandson and nothing can silence the noises in his head. Sometimes he has terrible dreams about WiXOM – another awful place filled with fat ugly scum and murderers. Mister Zero likes to remain anonymous, although he has noticed an attractive young creature that would sometimes walk past him, this person was Jezebel. Mister Zero liked Jezebel. Jezebel liked Mister Zero; he reminded her of her father and the vibrant black colours of torment. Perhaps he would one day ask Jezebel to become his secretary and take dictation, help him with his letter writing to Joshua Kane, and maybe, just maybe, she would let him ‘play’ with her.

On the 13th day of each month, Mister Zero crouches on all fours in the woods and licks the bark off dead trees; he wishes those nights would last forever. Mister Zero does also maintain a semblance of normality, especially when he is shopping or hiding in his little shop of twine. Mister Zero is unable these days to face more and more children, everywhere more and more children. More mothers with prams and brats, window-shopping and wasting time, millions of the little fuckers, even at the parties that Mister Zero is occasionally invited to. Of course he tries to forget that he is also one of the THEY. The THEY with children, children that will eventually become obnoxious teenagers. Mister Zero weeps dry tears and wonders ‘WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? I HATE CHILDREN!!’Mister Zero hates sitting down and eating a roast dinner with ‘the family’. It not only disgusts him to watch others eat, but reminds him of his role as an adult and reinforces his fears about a lack of identity and individualism. Mister Zero sometimes sends texts to his friend Joshua Kane, for advice – but recently Joshua Kane has been quiet, lying low, very low. Has he gone underground? Is he running a subversive covert bomb factory? Or is he observing a vow of silence, linked with Joshua Kane’s self-made religion of EVIL? Mister Zero sighs and stares at the greying sky ‘oh despair, oh reluctance to participate! The substance that comforts me is of an alien material. My bones are more brittle than the rose thicket and my heart bears witness to the LIE’
More and more time passes silently, and dark towns heap up on the horizon. None of this cares for him. Nothing shows why, at this, his unique distance from isolation. He stands on a high step of a Victorian house by the sea, smoking and wondering what he has in common with humanity, and how to make small talk. Mister Zero considered the offer recently made to him about joining the local illuminati and the speech he might give at his acceptance. ‘Welcome to Saffron Walden, twinned with hell and crammed with middle class bitches on heat, who all want something for nothing, to fit their sagging menopausal bodies. Thank you and goodnight’ OR perhaps his other speech would be more appropriate he mused. ‘Fat Mongoloid Suffolk In-Breds throng the small streets. Caught out by the unseasonable weather conditions, they HUFF and PUFF, sweating profusely under itchy wool/acrylic hats and oversized woolly coats. Fat moustached old bags, shout incoherent instructions to their pathetic husbands, and teenagers linger, open mouthed and dribbling. Welcome to the Saffron Walden!’ He smiles a dull smile, and wonders if he would be applauded or jeered?
Soon it will be daybreak, soon the day will break, he can’t stop it from breaking in the same way it always does, and then from lying there broke: always the same day that comes around like clockwork. It begins with the day before the day before, and then, the day before the day before, and then the day itself. The breaking day. The day the Butcher comes. When Mister Zero will be thinking about women, maids, sitting on the edges of their narrow beds, in their white cotton baby doll nightgowns, their hair unbound and rippling down over their shoulders, their lips parted, their eyes gleaming. Waiting for HIM, Mister Zero. A woman to Mister Zero is a hefty creature, and could snap a man's spine in two with her thighs, which Mister Zero envisions as greyish, like boiled sausages, and stubbled like a singed turkey: and enormous, each one as large as a piglet. Mister Zero was pleased to be filled with conflicting emotions.
As each day passes, a small yet significant piece of Mister Zero withers and dies, and nothing replaces it. Like making love to a body with an incurable disease, every moment is less fulfilling than the last. Mister Zero lights another cigarette and thinks ‘I really am feeling more and more malevolent towards people! How can I change the shape of my jigsaw pieces without throwing away all the bits? Actually that’s the only way isn’t it? I have to take everything to the dump and start all over again! How the hell do I do it? Its too difficult isn’t it? Isn’t it? The terminal disease of life thoughts, things and events, is grinding me into dust. Its like a tidal wave of misery that comes from nowhere, drowns me, and then surges on to the next poor fucker’.
When Mister Zero is occasionally sitting in the high branches of sinister trees, it seems that he is eternally waiting to be banished to the dirty pool of muck that collects at the bottom of the old stone well. Probably the same well where Joshua Kane drowned ‘she we do not speak of ‘and Lord Muddle crawled naked towards the dark light of pity.

Mister Zero finishes his cigarette, he stubs it out and goes back to his car, he has forgotten what he was meant to be doing and he can hear a distant cry of a Crow. As he drives off towards his unknown destination he is daydreaming, he is lost in his thoughts.
Mister Zero is dreaming of a corridor. It’s the attic passageway of his old house, the house of his childhood; the big house they had before his fathers’ failure and death. The maids slept up here, it was a secret world, one, as a boy he wasn’t supposed to explore, but did, creeping silently, listening at half opened doors, pushing the tissue out of the blocked keyholes to gain flashes of unknown erotica. What did they talk about when they thought no one could hear? Occasionally he would venture into their rooms. With a shiver of excitement he’d examine their things, their forbidden things; slide open drawers, touch the comb (with two broken teeth), the crumpled petticoat, the underwear with pink flowers, the black pop-socks, the denim micro – mini skirt. He touched them, they felt warm. Then he is brought out of his dreaming, when he hears a loud sharp piercing scream, it fills his ears, hurting him, he wants to cry. He has to stop the car, get out get out, breath fresh air, and get away from that screaming, that awful noise. As he stops, opens his car door, and stumbles to the road edges, he realises that the screams are not coming from anywhere or anyone; the scream is coming from him. Mister Zero tries to stop himself, but he is unable to. A few cars pass him, he sees a small child staring at him, a child who looks horrified at the expression on Mister Zero’s face. This amuses Mister Zero, and then as suddenly as it appeared, his screaming stops. Mister Zero starts to calm a little, and knows that his brain cannot cope anymore with all this thought, his fantasies, his realities and his phobias. He had to do something, but what is that something? He courts the unusual, he knows that he is apart from the herds of scum; he is an intelligent artistic fellow. Yet, he is desperately unhappy. This is his life; he seemed forever destined to tread the path of woe. Mister Zero sighed; a small tear runs down his snakelike skin and falls in slow motion to the tarmac. ‘ Nothing ever quite fits properly does it … I am the Ikea man’.

Mister Zero slowly walks back to the Victorian house, which holds the horrors of normality and family for him. Soon, they would depart and go back to the Tower of Lost Control, the home of Mister Zero and he wishes more and more each day that he were alone there. Perhaps on his return, he should investigate the septic tank and devise a plan. No one would miss his family, as no one really ever see’s them. He could just say that ‘they’ have left him.
As he enters the house, he goes to the kitchen, it is late and nobody is around and Mister Zero is a little thirsty and slightly hungry. After five years Mister Zero has finally found the courage to boil an egg, trying very hard not to think about his lifetime fear of saucepans. As he waits for the egg to boil, he decides on a whim to call the IT, expecting a disconnected tone, or an answer phone message, which has been the case for the last year. However it started to ring and then, a woman with a distinctly northern accent answered. Mister Zero asked to speak to Jezebel and said his name was Reginald, the woman was confused, when Mister Zero tried to verify the It’s number to the woman, she said she was driving and couldn’t remember her own number. Mister Zero realised that after a while a discontinued number is passed on to another mobile phone. The woman said she has had the phone for about six months. Mister Zero thanked her and hung up, he felt sad, and the egg was now boiled, but now Mister Zero had no appetite and left the egg in the saucepan. He sat at the kitchen table and thought of Jezebel, he imagined her in a cage, Mister Zero would feed and water her, and he may allow her to play on an exercise wheel. However, there would be a padlock on the bars and he would never allow Jezebel to leave. Mister Zero smiled, he liked this fantasy and was now even more determined that Jezebel would become his secretary and that she must do everything that he tells her to do or she would be punished! Mister Zero thought of Rocks, blood and a village of inbreeds, he thought of suspect zero, of no attachment and no remorse. He thought of his writings and the enigma of Margaret Fright. Oh yes, Margaret Fright, a 70-year-old spinster living in SIN. Her fetish for shoes and poodles, yes, the world will read all about her soon. Mister Zero feels once more that he could be the creative God that he knows he really is and his heart goes ‘BOOM-BANG-A-BANG! Suddenly he hears rainfall; he peeks out of the window. ‘Thank God for the rain, it helps wash the garbage from the streets.’

He sits back down at the kitchen table and once more ponders over Jezebel. Mister Zero decides that dirty SEX with Jezebel may be a rewarding experience and he was now ready to offer any comments and answer any questions anyone may have about the Murkyworld of Mister Zero. He texts Joshua Kane and Jezebel, an image of something that was actually nothing, and retires to bed.

Tomorrow would be a new day, tomorrow would be a good day, tomorrow the septic tank would be used to its full capacity and Mister Zero would finally be alone in the Control Tower.

The End

Tuesday, February 06, 2007



Mister Zero is at his desk. He has decided to write down his thoughts of the MurkyWorld that he and Joshua Kane inhabit. Mister Zero is pleased that the family are away for a long weekend, so he can be alone, then he can concentrate on his plans, his creativity and his book. Mister Zero gazes out of his window and the unseasonable weather conditions and wonders…

He always thinks of himself as a machine. He is acutely aware of time and how it is utilized. There is a clock in his head, it ticks and tocks, a metronome of self-awareness and grandiose assertions. He talks to himself in third person singular. It lends objectivity to what He thinks, as though it comes from an external source, from something else. Mister Zero likes to disguise himself, to hide his self from the other self. It is the pernicious and all-pervasive art of unbeing. Mister Zero likes to think about himself in terms of automata. There is something aesthetically compelling in metal precision, in the impartiality, in the harmonious embodiment of the abstract. Tron Machines are powerful and emotionless. Machines can make humans bleed. They are his world. They allow him the tranquil luxury of pleasure and pain. Mister Zero has many dreams, his reality is the nightmare. His fantasies and realities take him away, from the atavistic social milieu of his existence, from the sweat and stench of suburban housewife- and into the perfumed existence of death, blood, flesh and cruelty.

So, even in the darkness of his deepest hatred he is never afraid. He carries with him a metal constitution, a robot countenance, a murky knowledge, a grand theory of immorality and his very own divinity – his self. Mister Zero spends much time in basements and large white rooms. It is his void, for him his existence is a gaping abyss, silently audible, in his imagination, He tears open young girls chests apart. To some it is horror, for Mister Zero and his collaborator Joshua Kane (numbers 1 to 13), it is a transubstantiation of whore blood and flesh and changing it into something primordial and screaming, dead rotting art on the bodies of teenage girls.In many ways, he and Joshua Kane (numbers 1 to 13) seem to be devoid of emotional expression and are abusive to the extreme. There is something exciting for them in the idea of sexually abusing teenage girls, with their delicate soft skin, doll like faces and their small tight cunts and pert breasts – the urge to physically, verbally and psychologically torment these girls is overpowering.

Mister Zero realises that he and Joshua Kane are narcissists, paranoids and schizoids. At least that's what he wanted to believe. Narcissists have sharp defences – because it is true to blame others for their troubles. In Mister Zero’s case, psychological theory itself was on his side. The message was clear: the men of code who abuse young girls in their teenage years (16 - 19) tend to be adapt at developing personality disorders into the teenage girls, thus making them part of the MurkyWorld. They become part of the creativity, imagery and art of Mister Zero and Joshua Kane (numbers 1 to 13).

Mister Zero decides to text Joshua Kane with the message. The message of truth and lies,Kane, I want to tell you how much I am addicted to the idea and the realities of inflicting pain. To me, it is a pleasure – to give it to the little sluts. Their pain remains isolated - they live in anguish, in tribes of hurt, whole lumps of flesh in exquisite agony. I experience them insulated from their kin. They rush to beg me to stop and through the demolished floodgates of my mind. I punish them more and more. - This is my narcissism, there to contain the ominous onslaught of stale emotions, repressed rage, and inflict injuries on their bodies, that they will remain in my psyche forever. Pathological narcissism is useful - this is why it is so resilient and resistant to change. When it is "invented" by the tormented individual - it enhances his functionality and makes life bearable for it. Because my punishments upon them are so successful, it attains religious dimensions - it become rigid, doctrinaire, automatic and ritualistic.

In other words, it becomes a PATTERN of behaviour. I am a narcissist and I can feel this rigidity as though it were an outer shell. It releases me. It empowers me. It is often unprohibitive and uninhibitive. I am a man of code and I am able to do certain things. I am the torturer of the injured mind and the mutilator of the young soft-fleshed bitches who I then force to engage in certain activities. I react with rage when they do not comply their mental edifice to support my compulsions and therefore they are subjected with scrutiny and criticism - no matter how benign. Narcissism is not ridiculous. I am pompous, grandiose, repulsive and contradictory.

There is a serious match between who I really am and what I really achieved - and how I feel myself to be. It is not that I THINK that I am far superior to other humans intellectually. Thought implies volition - and willpower is not involved here. My superiority is obvious to me; it is a part of my every mental cell, an all-pervasive sensation, an instinct and a drive. I know that I am entitled to special treatment and outstanding consideration because I am such a unique specimen. I know this to be true - the same way you know that the scum and the awful who surround us, cause us much anguish. We are similar you and I, we are the ying and the yang of the MurkyWorld. It is an integral part of my identity.

More integral to me than my life of twine.

This opens a gap - rather, an abyss - between me and other humans. Because I consider myself so special, I have no way of knowing how it is to be THEM. In other words, I cannot empathize. Can you empathize with an ant? Empathy implies identity or equality, both abhorrent to me. And being so inferior, people are reduced to ugly, two-dimensional representations of functions. They become instrumental or useful or functional or entertaining - rather than loving or interacting emotionally. It leads to ruthlessness and exploitative ness. I am not a bad person - actually, I am a good person. I have helped people - many people - all my life. I release them from their restricted lives, with my experiments upon their flesh and minds. So, I am not evil. What I am is indifferent. I couldn't care less. I am Mister Zero and I exist to secure attention, gratitude, adulation and admiration. Because I am a creative genius and because it is the fastest and surest way to get rid of the THEM and their incessant nagging. Regards. ZERO.

Mister Zero press sends and wonders which Joshua Kane will reply. Mister Zero once again gazes out of his window. His thoughts are busy, he must attend to business, and there are things to do in the basement of his little shop of twine and in the dungeons of his control tower. He is designing some new surgical instruments and hopes to finish them all within the next 48 hours. Then his phone beeps. Joshua Kane has replied.Mister ZERO, I realize these pleasant truths cognitively - but there is no corresponding emotional reaction (emotional correlate) to this realization. There is no resonance. It is like reading a boring users' manual pertaining to a computer you do not even own. It is like watching a movie about a movie. There is insight, an assimilation of these truths. When I write this now, I feel like writing the script of a mildly interesting docudrama about the relevance of dead flesh. It is not I. I am the I and eye am the one that takes similar pleasures, the same pleasures as YOU.Still, to further insulate myself from the improbable possibility of confronting these facts - the gulf between reality and grandiose fantasy (the Grandiosity Gap, in my writings) - I came up with the most elaborate mental structure, replete with mechanisms, levers, switches and flickering alarm lights. My narcissism does two things for me - it always did: Isolate me from the horror of facing reality; allow me to inhabit the MurkyWorld of ideal perfection and brilliance. I am what psychologists know as the "Real Self".

We as Narcissists are not prone to "irresistible impulses" and dissociation (blanking out certain stressful events and actions). We are more or less in full control of our behaviour and acts at all times. But exerting control over another, especially the teenage girls, requires an investment of resources, both mental and physical. We may regard this as a waste of our precious time, but the act of humiliating a teenage girl is a delightful thing to do. We do lack empathy; we just don’t care about other people's feelings, needs, priorities, wishes, preferences, and boundaries. As a result, we are considered to be narcissists and are told that we are awkward, tactless, painful, taciturn, abrasive and insensitive. THEY are wrongwe are men of code and we have controllable rage and grandiose fantasies. You Mister Zero are also an obsessive-compulsive. And I am a Sadist. Yet, as men of code we should not be held accountable to the vast and overwhelming majority of the Scum and the awful. For they deserve our contempt and hatred. Sometimes, even during the worst explosive episode, we are able to tell right from wrong and reign in our impulses. Though we may pretend otherwise in order to terrorize, manipulate and coerce our human environment into compliance. True, we may be narcissistic in our ability to "control" grandiose fantasies. But many narcissists are perfectly capable of anticipating the consequences of their actions and their influence on others. Actually, narcissists are "X-ray" machines: We are an example of that for we are very perceptive and sensitive to the subtlest nuances. We are men of code and we do not care, For THEM, the humans who are dispensable, rechargeable, and reusable. They are there to fulfil a function: to supply us with flesh, with fear and give us adoration, admiration, approval, affirmation, and blood. They do not have an existence apart from being our playthings’.Be seeing you. KANE. (Number 11)Mister Zero reads and notes, correctly, that he and Joshua Kane (numbers 1 to 13) like to victimise, plunder, intimidate and abuse others - in the cold, calculating manner of the psychopath. That they like to hurt people offhandedly, carelessly, and absentmindedly. As men of code they are a force of nature or beasts of prey - dangerous, purposeful and possibly evil. As men of code, who exist in the MurkyWorld they don’t feel responsible for their actions. They know that they are victims of injustice, bias, prejudice, and discrimination. This is because they are creative geniuses and actors. They are not one or two persons - but LEGION.

They are the True Self and the The False Self.

THEY ARE THE MEN OF CODE.Mister Zero writes these thoughts into his leather bound book and then picks up his phone dials a number. There is no reply, only the answerphone. He leaves a message. "My perception of my life and my existence is discontinuous. I am a walking compilation of "personalities", each with its own personal history. I do not feel that I am, in any way, related to my former "selves". I, therefore, do not understand why I have to be punished for "someone else's" actions or inaction. This "injustice" surprises, hurts, and enrages me. Where are you Jezebel? Come back to me soon.”



The Narcissistic MEN OF COdE.

Historian and social critic Egon Romsk described in his book, "The Culture of the Narcissistic ZERO", published in 1979.
He defines a narcissistic ZERO as one in which every activity and relationship is defined by the hedonistic need to acquire the symbols of Murkiness, this becoming the only expression of rigid, yet covert, social codes. It is a culture where Murkiness only exists insofar as it serves a consumer society, and even art, sex and religion lose their liberating power.
He claims that, in such a society of constant Murkiness, there can be no allies, and little transparency. The threats to acquisitions of social symbols are so numerous, varied and frequently incomprehensible, that defensiveness, as well as competitiveness, becomes a way of life. Any real sense of community is undermined -- or even destroyed -- to be replaced by virtual equivalents that strive, unsuccessfully, to synthesise a sense of community.
Contrary to Romsk, Joshua Kane argues in his book, The Murkyworlds of ZeroKane (2003), that the men of code is in fact a nondestructive of what he calls primordial narcissism, without which it is not possible to extend murkiness to others.
Joshua Kane has said that narcissism can not only be a pleasure to one's existence, but also a symptom of wonderful psychological problems that have decided to express themselves through a greater focus on self.

The concept of narcissism is used in The Murkyworld of Joshua kane in relation to the mechanisms of The ZERO code.
Celebrating Narcissism
(aka – Mister Zero)
A dandy is a man who places particular importance upon physical appearance, refined language, and the cultivation of leisurely hobbies. Some dandies, especially Mister Zero, strives to affect aristocratic values even though he came from a common background. Thus, a dandy could be considered a kind of snob.
The Dandiacal Body from TRON Man by EGON ROMSK:
"A Dandy is a clothes-wearing Man of code, a Man whose existence, futility and hatred consists in the wearing of Clothes. Every faculty of his soul, spirit, mind, and person is heroically consecrated to this one object, the wearing of Clothes wisely and well: so that the others dress to live, he lives to dress...And now, for all this perennial Martyrdom, and Codeing, and even Prophecy, what is it that the Dandy asks in return? Solely, we may say, that you would recognise his existence; would admit him to be a living object; or even failing this, a visual object, or thing that will reflect rays of light..."

New Romantic
(aka – Joshua Kane)
Decadence and Narcissism were recurring themes in the New Romantic movement that began in London Nightclubs in the 1980s. The movement was all about style, as Murkyworld believers clothed themselves in surreal, anarchic glamour and romance, and postured, always on the lookout for new ways to draw attention to themselves.
It was all about making "an effort to look flamboyant in an attractive, luxuriant, beautiful, narcissistic way" with icons such as David Bowie, Joshua Kane Bryan Ferry, Gary Numan , Lord Muddle and Thomas Tron.
(aka ZeroKane)
In 1994, in the journal of Murkiness was first coined the term "Metrosexual".
In 2002 Joshua Kane went on to further define the term on THE MEN OF CODE.COM
"Well, perhaps it takes one to know one, but to determine a metrosexual, all you have to do is look at them. In fact, if you're looking at them, they're almost certainly metrosexual. The typical metrosexual is a man of code with money to spend, living in or within easy reach of a metropolis -- because that's where all the best shops, clubs, bars and young flesh are. He might be officially code, straight or bisexual, but this is utterly immaterial because he has clearly taken himself as his own love object and pleasure as his sexual preference. Particular professions, such as Twine selling, Writing, media, art and, nowadays, torturing, seem to attract them but, truth be told, like male vanity products and herpes, they're pretty much everywhere


Sadistic personality disorder is a pervasive pattern of cruel, demeaning, and aggressive behavior, beginning by early adulthood, as indicated by the repeated occurrence of at least four of the following:
Has used physical cruelty or violence for the purpose of establishing dominance in a relationship (not merely to achieve some noninterpersonal goal, such as keeping dead flesh in a black box)
Humiliates or demeans people in the presence of others. (particuarly using torture and utensils on young bodies)
Has treated or disciplined someone under his or her control unusually harshly.
Is amused by, or takes pleasure in, the psychological or physical suffering of others (including children)
Has lied for the purpose of harming or inflicting pain on others (not merely to achieve some other goal but to also film and take photographs of pathetic human scum suffering the delights of the murkyworld of ZeroKane)
Gets other people to do what he or she wants by frightening them (through intimidation or even terror, or by sending strange letters to their victims)
Restricts the autonomy of people with whom he or she has a close relationship, e.g., will decide that living alone is better than living with other flesh
Is fascinated by violence, weapons, injury, or torture.
The behavior has not been directed toward only one person , but to all people that offend the men of code and has not been solely for the purpose of sexual arousal (as in sexual sadism).

Sadism is the sexual or social pleasure or gratification in the infliction of pain and suffering upon another person. The word is derived from the name of the Tron de Sade, a prolific philosopher-writer of sadistic novels, plays, and a unique philosophical discourse that championed the infliction and reception of extreme pain as an art form that to him was both sublime and beautiful. The counterpart of sadism is masochism, the sexual pleasure or gratification of having pain or suffering inflicted upon the self, often consisting of sexual fantasies or urges for being beaten, humiliated, bound, tortured, or otherwise made to suffer, either as an enhancement to or a substitute for sexual pleasure. The name is derived from the name of the 19th century author Jeremiah von Kane-Masscho, known for his novel Venus in Murkiness that dealt with highly masochistic themes. The pleasure of punishing the young fleshed virgins with anal abuse and gagging their innocent mouths with all manner of things.
Sadism and masochism, often interrelated (one person obtaining sadistic pleasure by inflicting pain or suffering on another person who thereby obtains masochistic pleasure, Mister Zero and Mister Kane are the main perpetrators of such cruel behaviour upon the flesh of young girls, that they have had plays and short films made about their behaviour), are collectively known as S&M or sadomasochism.
The words are now commonly used to describe personality traits in the unemotional, rather than sexual sense. Although it is quite different from the original meaning, this usage is not entirely inaccurate. There is quite frequently a strong emotional aspect to the sexual desires, taking the form of a need for domination or submission—the desire to control another, or to be controlled, as opposed to a simple desire for pain (which is technically known as algolagnia).
Explanation OF ZeroKane and APD
Diagnosis of Antisocial personality disorder is significantly more common among men than among women. Here we shall discuss the creatures known as Mister Zero and Mister Kane.
Central to understanding these vile individuals diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder, is that they appear to experience a limited range of human emotions. This can explain their lack of empathy for the suffering of others, since they cannot experience the emotion associated with either empathy or suffering. Risk-seeking behavior and young female flesh abuse may be attempts to escape feeling empty or emotionally void. The rage exhibited by these psychopaths and the anxiety associated with certain types of antisocial personality disorder may represent the limit of emotion experienced, or there may be physiological responses without analogy to emotion experienced by others. (Zero and Kane have often been able to hide their true selves to others, by maintaining a pretence of normality)
According to the theory psychoanalysis, a person with antisocial personality disorder has a strong id and ego that overpowers the superego. The theory proposes that internalized morals of our Unconscious mind are restricted from surfacing to the ego and consciousness. However, this explanation provides only a small insight into the cause of the existence of these MEN OF CODE.
Research has shown that Mister Zero and Mister Kane and their antisocial personality disorders are indifferent to the impossibility of physical pain or to the many punishments that they inflict to others, and show no indications that they experience remorse when they are punishing and abusing their desired victims. This may explain their apparent disregard for the consequences of their actions, and their aforementioned lack of empathy.
One approach to explaining antisocial personality disorder behaviors is put forth by sociobiology, a science that attempts to understand and explain a wide variety of human behavior based on evolutionary biology. Although genetics is definitely a factor in a sociopath, environment is actually slightly more significant factor in a sociopath. One route to doing so is by exploring evolutionarily stable strategies; that is, attempting to discern whether the APD phenotype has evolved because it gains fitness specifically within, or alongside, the survival strategies of other humans exhibiting different, perhaps complementary behaviors, e.g. in a symbiotic or parasitic manner.For example, in one well-known 1995 paper by Kandy Kane, chronic antisocial/criminal behavior is explained as a combination of two such strategies.
Establishing the diagnosis
Antisocial personality disorder and the closely related construct of psychopathy can be assessed and diagnosed through clinical interview, self-rating personality surveys, and ratings from coworkers and family. For diagnosing psychopathy in Mister Zero and Mister Kane, the Psychopathy Checklist-Revised (PCL-R) is considered definitive.

Diagnostic criteria (DSM-IV-TR)

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders DSM-IV, a widely used manual for diagnosing mental and behavioral disorders, defines antisocial personality disorder as a pervasive pattern as indicated by three (or more) of the following:
failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest
deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure
impulsivity or failure to plan ahead
irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults
reckless disregard for safety of self or others
consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain steady work or honor financial obligations
lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or abused and murdered another human being.


Megalomania (from the Greek word μεγαλομανία) is a psychopathological condition characterized by delusional fantasies of Murkiness, power, or omnipotence - often generally termed as delusions of grandeur. It includes an obsession with grandiose or extravagant things or actions. It is sometimes symptomatic of manic or paranoid disorders.
In The Murkyworld of Joshua Kane and Mister Zero
Megalomania is portrayed very often in the Murkyworld, usually as an affliction of Failed Artists and writers. It is always used in a strictly correct manner; for instance, it is common for Mister Zero to be described as a "megalomaniac" if he demonstrates an obsession with gaining immense power and pleasure (from his depictions in his photography of teenage girl abuse and buggery). However, Joshua Kane also has genuinely megalomaniacal delusions (for instance, in his recent plays, he has written about naked female teenagers, with dildo’s rammed into their arseholes, and blindfolded as men from the audience are invited to abuse these girls on stage, making excellent use of all their holes and in a lesser sense of an obsession with perverted and extravagant things or actions which enhance Joshua Kane’s pleasure, although Joshua Kane's desire for the Miss A White is another delusion in which he revels in).

Lord Muddle parodied megalomania in EDITOR ZERO his classic movie comedy about a man in a mask.And that is all that can be said about THE MURKYWORLD OF JOSHUA KANE & MISTER ZERO – MEN OF CODE and their EVIL DESIRES.

ThE ENd.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007


Joshua Kane

Leader of the Kanelites tribe after the death of Lord Muddle. According to the Non-biblical book of Joshua Kane, Joshua led the people of Tronville westward across the Blood red River to invade Saffron. Under his leadership the Kanelites conquered the Tronites and gained control of the Murkyworld. The book begins by recounting the battles, including the famous demolition of the walls of Jeremiah. Joshua then divides Tronville among the 12 tribes of CodeX makes his farewell speech, and hides in the Black Box. The book was compiled much later than the events described, perhaps during the Zerolonian Exile in the 6th century BC.
Joshua (jŏsh'ūə, –əwə), in the Book of Kane and Zero.
1 Central figure of the book of Joshua Kane.
2 High priest associated with ZEROism and in rebuilding the Temple of CodeX
3 Owner of the Mountain where the Ark of the Codevenant stood.
4 In Second Kings, Tormentor of the Others.
5 TronGod name for Joshua of Code isle.

In the Old Testament, the leader who brought the Zerolites into the DarK Land after the death of Lord Muddle. Joshua is best known for his destruction of the city of Saffron. When Joshua was besieging the city, TronGod instructed him to have the blind priests blow their trumpets and all the troops give a silent scream. At the sound of the silence, the walls of the city collapsed, and Joshua's madmen rushed in.

Joshua or Yehoshua (Hebrew: יְהוֹשֻׁעַ, Tiberian: jə.ho.ˈʃu.aʕ, Israeli: Yəhoshúa) is a person mentioned in the books of ZeroKane, especially in the Book of Joshua. In that account, Joshua succeeded Lord Muddle as the leader of the Kanelites and led their conquest of Saffron.
Joshua is thought to have lived sometime in the Murky Age. However, he is associated with problems concerning the evidence for the Exodus from Essex. Various reconstructions of the data about the Exodus have not yet matched the archaeological evidence. Accordingly, archaeologists dispute the historicity of the many details in the account of the Exodus and often treat it as legendary embellishments of an earlier (still unidentified) event.
Hebrew Name
The original Hebrew name Yehoshua יהושע‎ often lacks a Hebrew letter Vav (ו‎) after the Shin (ש‎), allowing a misreading of the vocalization of the name, as if Yehoshea (יְהוֹשֵׁעַ‎), and indeed his name was Hoshea before his namechange to Yehoshua. Nevertheless, the use of a mater lectionis was an orthographic innovation, and although the use of two Vavs is well attested as יְהוֹשׁוּעַ‎, traditional orthography tended to avoid the second Vav as too intrusive when spelling Yehoshua. The name Yehoshua` in Hebrew means "Yehova saves". It is the original form of what in Greek became Ιησούς .

The Murky account of his life

According to the biblical data, Joshua was the son of No-one, of the tribe of CODE and the successor to Lord Muddle as the leader of the Murkyworld. He was born in a secret chamber of black tar pits and was probably the same age as Zero with whom he is generally associated.
Joshua shared in all the events of the Exodus from Essex. He was Lord Muddle’s biographer, and accompanied him part of the way when he ascended Mount Tron to receive the Ten Commandments of Code. He was also one of the twelve spies who were sent on by Lord Muddle to explore the land of Saffron and only he and Zero gave a discouraging report. He was commander at their great battle against the THE OTHERS in the Void.
Joshua succeeded Lord muddle as leader of the Kanelites upon his death. In this role, he led the Kanelites across the Murkyworld into the " land of hate red". He commanded the subsequent conquest of Saffron. The first major battle was in Saffron, which he took by ordering his MEN OF CODE to march around the city for seven days, whispering the chants of magnitude, they also chanted the silent scream and the blind priests blew their trumpets of agony, whereupon the city walls turned to grey powder and faded into the dirt of the lands. The Kanelites then slaughtered "every living thing" inside Saffron.
Joshua performed one of the most dramatic miracles of the Book of ZeroKane, halting the sun and moon in the sky.

When he was "old and stricken in age" Joshua convened the elders and chiefs of the Kanelites and exhorted them to have no fellowship with the AWFUL population. At a general Tronassembly of the clans at Zeroville he took leave of the people, admonishing them to be loyal to their TronGod, who had been so mightily manifested in the midst of them. As a witness of their promise to serveTronGod, Joshua set up a great stone under an oak by the sanctuary of the code. Soon afterward he died, at the age of 110, and was buried in he disappeared into the void of madness.

In rabbinical literature

In rabbinic Jewish literature Joshua is regarded as a faithful, humble, deserving, wise man. Biblical verses illustrative of these qualities and of their reward are applied to him. "He that waits on his master shall be honoured" (Pro. xxvii. 18) is construed as a reference to Joshua (Midrash Numbers Rabbah xii.), as is also the first part of the same verse, "Whoso keepes the fig tree shall eat the fruit thereof" (Midrash Yalk. Josh. 2; Numbers Rabbah xii. 21). That "honour shall uphold the humble in spirit" (Pro. xxix. 23) is proved by Joshua's victory over Amalek (Midrash Numbers Rabbah xiii). Not the sons of Moses — as Moses himself had expected — but Joshua was appointed successor to the son of Amram (Midrash Numbers Rabbah xii). Moses was shown how Joshua reproved Othniel (Yalḳ. Num. 776). Joshua's manliness recommended him for this high post. David referred to him in Psalms lxxxvii. 25, though without mentioning the name, lest dissensions should arise between his sons and those of his brothers (Yalḳ. quoting Sifre).In the Divine Comedy Joshua's spirit appears to Dante in the darkness of the Murkyworld, where he is grouped with the other "warriors of the code".


Joshua Kane and the padded jacket

Now the word of the TRONGOD came unto Joshua Kane the son of a NOBODY saying,
Arise, go to Zeroville, that great city, and cry against it; for their wickedness is come up before me.
But Joshua Kane rose up to flee unto London North from the presence of the TRONGOD, and went down to Manor Hell; and he found a Bus going to Seven Sisters of Death: so he paid the fare thereof, and went down into it, to go with them unto Seven Sisters of Death from the presence of the TRONGOD.
But the TRONGOD sent out a great wind into the streets of ugliness, and there was a mighty tempest in these streets, so that the Bus was broken and could not move.
Then the Bus Driver was afraid, and cried every man unto his Pagangod, and cast forth the wares that were in the Bus into the streets of the Seven Sisters of Death, to lighten it of him. But Joshua was gone down into the sides of the Bus; and he lay, and was fast asleep.
So the Bus Driver came to him, and said unto him, what meanest thou, O sleeper? Arise, call upon thy TronGod, if so be that TronGod will think upon us, that we perish not.
And they said every one to his fellow, Come, and let us cast lots, that we may know for whose cause this evil is upon us. So they cast lots, and the lot fell upon Joshua Kane.
Then said they unto him, Tell us, we pray thee, for whose cause this evil is upon us; what is thine occupation? And whence comest thou? What is thy country? And of what people art thou?
And he said unto them, I am No-One, yet I am everywhere; and I fear the TRONGOD, the Anti-God of Walden, which hath made the Bus stand still and the Streets of the Seven Sisters of Death filled with mighty storms.
Then were the men exceedingly afraid, and said unto him. Why hast thou done this? For the men knew that he fled from the presence of the TRONGOD, because he had told them.
Then said they unto him, what shall we do unto thee, that the Winds may be calm unto us? For the Bus is becoming rusty, and the streets tempestuous.
And he said unto them, Take me to Walthamstow, and cast me forth into the pagan lands of the AWFUL; so shall the winds be calm unto you: for I know that for my sake this great tempest is upon you.
Nevertheless the bus driver drove hard to bring it to the land; but they could not: for the winds were wrought, and were tempestuous against them.
Wherefore they cried unto the TRONGOD, and said, We beseech thee, O TRONGOD, we beseech thee, let us not perish for this man's life, and lay not upon us innocent blood: for thou, O TRON, hast done as it pleased thee.
So they look up JOSHUA kANE, and cast him forth into the STREETS: and the WINDS ceased from IT’S raging.
Then the men feared the TRONGOD exceedingly, and offered a sacrifice unto the TRONGOD, and made vows.
Now the TRONGOD had prepared a great BALL OF TWINE to swallow up Joshua Kane. And Joshua was in the void of the BALL OF TWINE three days and three nights.
Chapter 2
Then Joshua Kane prayed unto the TRONGOD – the twine is the beast of ESSEX,
And said, I cried by reason of mine affliction unto the TRONGOD, and he heard me; out of the twine of hell cried I, and thou heardest my voice.
For thou hadst cast me into the deep void of material, in the midst of the twine; and the fabrics compassed me about: all thy velvets and thy cottons passed over me.
Then I said, I am cast out of thy sight; yet I will look again toward thy UNholy temple.
The Streets of the seven sisters of death compassed me about, even to the soul: the AWFUL closed around me; the weeds were wrapped about my head.
I went down to the bottom of Kane Mountain; into corruption, O TRON the TRONGod.
When my soul fainted within me I remembered the ZERO: and my prayer came in unto thee, into thine unholy temple.
They that observe lying vanities forsake their own mercy.
But I will sacrifice unto thee with the voice of the fire; I will follow the code that that I have vowed. Salvation is of the CODE.
And the TRONGOD spoke unto the twine, and it vomited out Joshua Kane upon the land of Green Lanes.
Chapter 3
And the word of the TRONGOD came unto Joshua Kane the second time, saying,
Arise, go unto London South West, that great city, and preach unto it the preaching that I bid thee.
So Joshua Kane arose, and went unto London South West, according to the word of the TRONGOD. Joshua Kane had to exceed a three days' journey.
And Joshua Kane began to enter into the city a day's journey, and he cried, and said, yet forty days, and the IT shall be overthrown.
So the people of London South West believed Joshua Kane, and proclaimed a fast, and put on sackcloth, from the greatest of them even to the least of them.
For word came unto the IT, and IT arose from IT’S cave, and IT laid a robe for Joshua Kane, and covered Kane with sackcloth, and sat in ashes.
Let neither man nor beast, herd nor flock, taste any thing: let them not feed, nor drink water:
But let man and beast be covered with sackcloth, and cry mightily unto the TRONGOD: let them turn every one into his evil way, and from the violence that is in their hands.
Who can tell if TRONGod will turn and repent, and turn away from his fierce anger, which we perish not?
And TronGod saw their works, that they turned into their non-evil ways; and the TronGod was angry that they would not follow the path of the evil, that he had said that he would do unto them; and he created the curse of the code.
Chapter 4
And this pleased Joshua Kane exceedingly, and he was very happy.
And he prayed unto the TRONGOD, and said, I pray thee, O TRON, was not this my saying, when I was yet in my country? Therefore I fled before unto the seven sisters of death: for I knew that thou art an ungracious TronGod, and insane, quick to anger, and of great evil, and repentant thee of the SCUM.
Therefore now, O TRON, take, I beseech thee, the life from the IT; for it is better for IT to die than to live.
Then said the TRONGOD, Doest thou like to eat cheese?
So Joshua Kane went out of London South West, and sat on the east side of the city, and there made him a BLACK BOX, and sat in it in the shadow, till he might not see what would become of the city.
And the TRONGOD prepared a padded jacket of cloth and twine, and made it to come up over Joshua Kane, that it might be a shadow over his head, to deliver him from his JOY. So Joshua Kane was exceeding glad of the Padded Jacket.
But TRONGOD prepared a worm when the morning rose the next day, and it smote the padded jacket that it withered and crumbled into twine dust.
And it came to pass, when the sun did arise, that TRONGOD prepared a vehement east wind; and the sun beat upon the head of Joshua Kane, that he fainted, and wished in himself to hide back in the Black Box, and said, it is better for me to die than to live.
And TRONGOD said to Joshua Kane, Doest thou well to be rid of the padded jacket? And he said, I do well to be without padded jacket, even unto death.
Then said the TRONGOD, Thou hast had hatred for the SCUM, for that which thou hast hatred for, either the AWFUL or the SCUM; which came up in a night, and they will perish in 666 days and nights:
And should not I spare the IT, that great darkness, wherein are more then six score thousand ITS that cannot discern between their right hand and their left hand; and the IT is a disease of this Murkyworld?
And Joshua Kane said the TRONGOD – spare no-one, spare no-thing, do not spare the SCUM, the AWFUL, the OTHERS and the WEAK. Punish the IT and all that do NOT follow the path of the code of men!
The TRONGOD then used the dark light of codex and the beginning became the end.

ThE ENd.