Daniel Barenboim

Is such a pretender.

You see him so animated getting into the rhythm of the thing, emoting about, pointing or lowering, or shushing then triumphantly sieg heiling.

He adds nothing but theatre as the orchestra plays on out of tradtional duty. They feel it in their bones while Barenboim celebrates his tribe’s victory of their history. It’s in his bones too.

Daniel Barenboim is the centrepiece. He’s the ring master the crowd must come to see and everything about him is all about Them.

It’s quite a tribulation to see our soul traduced by his spectacle.

Furthermore, I don’t think many understand what it is they are witnessing.

Ignorance is bliss.

So much so they even celebrate it with coughs and BBC promos.

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9 Responses to Daniel Barenboim

  1. Pat Hannagan says:

    Ha! What a joke.

  2. Pat Hannagan says:

    This guy suicided over songs like this:

    This fuckwit never did suicide even though he pretended to have contemplated it:

    • Pat Hannagan says:

      Got all the stereotypes down pat.

      • Reg Sipco says:

        You’re a cunt, Hannafagagain.

        May I remind you of one of the few and only few left White men still posting on behalf of truth, from his soul?

        That’s right: John Friend.

        Here’s one to him:

      • Reg Sipco says:

        Wait, sorry, I didn’t see the nigger in the Jew Yank Suit. Great song regardless of that.

    • Reg Sipco says:

      Nah, it’s all spiritless emotional blackmail. It’s bereft of balls. It’s all feel good feel nothing.

      May as well play me Jazz at the 1920s, or rap right now. Or, dead brained evangelists spruiking their money god devotion to usury.

      You make me sick. They make me sick. You all need to die.

  3. Reg Sipco says:

    Sometimes I hear the horn of the leaving freight train hoot in the distance.

    You have to have no sound, be quiet, everyone asleep or silently studying to hear that.

    No music can compare to the empty nothing noise, then double toot, traveled on the air, then back to silence.

    Puts you in your place.

  4. Reg Sipco says:

    Dogs bark in the distance. Crickets make their creaking repetitive noise. You’re under a lamp, at a laptop, on a deck, drinking.

    A something maybe a branch breaks in the distance or close.

    The dog stretches. It ate your chook.

    Falling bark. Now a frog.

    At a tablecloth everyone gone to bed.

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