The battle of the Overpass... the blood (or bruises) of our comrades calls for something that starts with R, or another starting with V, both of which end in E, and I think we all agree on that one!
Eric Blair said:If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face— forever.
Why's not-really-named-Orwell writing under a pseudonym, and why's he in North America in the first place?
Eric Blair said:Our civilization, pace Chesterton, is founded on coal, more completely than one realizes until one stops to think about it. The machines that keep us alive, and the machines that make machines, are all directly or indirectly dependent upon coal. In the metabolism of the Western world the coal-miner is second in importance only to the man who ploughs the soil. He is a sort of caryatid upon whose shoulders nearly everything that is not grimy is supported.
I finally realised what c0d was referencing, and all I'm saying is Blair/Orwell is currently in the UoB. However, he has no placement in government... and the Brits have sent men!
Eric Blair said:In Ellis Island Barracks in New York, the day before I joined the militia, I saw a French militiaman standing in front of the officers' table.
He was a tough-looking youth of twenty-five or six, with reddish-yellow hair and powerful shoulders. His peaked leather cap was pulled fiercely over one eye. He was standing in profile to me, his chin on his breast, gazing with a puzzled frown at a map which one of the officers had open on the table. Something in his face deeply moved me. It was the face of a man who would commit murder and throw away his life for a friend--the kind efface you would expect in an Autonomist, though as likely as not he was a Maximalist. There were both candour and ferocity in it; also the pathetic reverence that illiterate people have for their supposed superiors. Obviously he could not make head or tail of the map; obviously he regarded map-reading as a stupendous intellectual feat. I hardly know why, but I have seldom seen anyone--any man, I mean--to whom I have taken such an immediate liking.