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Is this where the Cocytus and Acheron meet in the midnight grove at the cutting edge?  GENERAL PARALYSIS.  No!  No!  No!  A 1000 times No!  The last "no" twitching like the severed chicken-heads in Robert Frank's The Sin of Jesus.  "I am pursued like a wolf out of the sheep-fold," said the prophetess Maximilla against her will.  Air-waves... blow-out.  The "drip" is immolated!  Blessed be the teen-queen who dashes her records against the Hi-fi.  Hollywood officials sign her up.  Vista-Scope captures the movement.  Behold, on the wide screen Mother Nature turning herself inside out, exposing growing grey agony.  Cameras!  Action!  Darkness!  Bullets rip through Mother Nature at supersonic speed, taking big hunks of grey-stuff with them.  Print it.  The landscape grows smaller, sucking itself in... deeper and deeper where the ridiculous artist paints nature's dirty secret under the "dim religious light" in a Manhattan loft.  In such an atmosphere the artist might cry out with St. Mary Magdalen of Pazzi, "O nothingess! how little art thou known!"  Our gaze becomes full of cyclotrons and accelerates into a lead wall.  "We want honest art criticism!" demand the art-lovers.  Alas, the extinguishment of the major spot lights is taking place.  Before the Grand Wipe Out, Grandma Moses appears in the Burning Bush of Life Magazine, then dissolves into an unusually cheap pile of ashes... Such ashes recall the words of Dionisio Vazquez, the preacher admired by Pope Leo X: "Wretched and skeptical worldlings!"  That is our ration of grace for the time being. The iconoscope is drawing to the End.  There are other things to do before starting again.  Like understanding Cezanne. 

Anything for the [[strikethrough]] drugged [[/strikethrough]] sleep of spiritual suicide?  Yes, by Death... [[strikethrough]] loads [[/strikethrough]] myraids of vacant dreams with dematerialized souls plotting the destruction of the Millenium.  [[strikethrough]] Deadly night-shades preparing [[strikethrough]] Hamburger Heaven prepares for [[strikethrough]] the light that isn't light.[[/strikethrough]] sport on the jelly-tart, according to blitzed theology. Wailing gives way to numb limbs and roots, before the declining Inquistor [[Inquisitor]].

Transcription Notes:
--> I followed the punctuation (& peeked on the next page) to decide on the order of the phrases in the last sentence: "Wailing gives way to numb limbs and roots, before the declining Inquistor [[Inquisitor]]."