m: Nikola Chubrich To: Ernst Meyer Subject: thanks for hiding my phone Date: Sun, 27 Dec 2020 13:14:43 -0500 You saved me from a terrible mistake. How did you learn to do a multiversal passage across a Lagrangian cusp? I haven't even written the paper yet. I am also missing my pants. Might you return those as well? Please note the prepending irony above. All subjunctive, all peradventure. Right now, peradventure, I am flying in a DC-3 to the North Pole, or peradventure the South, or peradventure peradventure Mars.....or so on. My vision for Filthy Academy after its Carthaginian peace: a memorial to the fallen. A reflecting pool. In the generalized Parthenon, one flame. On the walls, all the suicides from sexual abuse and racism in American prep schools. On the other side, a generalized Pantheon with many tiny flames: the bright ones for the genocide of the Korean war, and in an outer ring, the dim ones for all the half-enslaved South Koreans of the American Empire. But we need this empire, Dr. Meyer: at least until Putin and Xi Jinping are out of the way. And that will be another four years again. All that can be done in the meantime is to quietly reduce the 50% tax rate on Korea. My paper is entitled On the Classical Mechanics of the Leptons of Mankind. I will not send it to Noam Chomsky. He is a communist and an anarchist. I will feel comfortable sending it to a chaos theorist, professor Ellis, whomever he is comfortable sending it to, Noam Elkies, Lushen Wu, and Christian Lin. I will send it to you first. Would you kindly translate it into German for me? And make whatever improvements to the substance of the text as you see fit? That will then become the main paper, and the English text will be secondary. Noam Elkies reads German, as any competent physicist, humanist, and human being should. Also Chinese. Now, three letters. And I must confess, Dr. Meyer, regarding my subjunctive problem from Portsmouth, I have fessed up----to Nina Vinogradskaya, my art restorer. A kind woman, a saint, and I sent her your Sterbenschronik as she is caring for her mother with dementia, and I told her (mustn't I) that this was her highest mission in the world. And I told her she must not help me. But I had to unburden myself. And then a letter to Kathelin. And then a letter to Dawn Harms, conductress extraordinaire of the Bay Area Rainbow Symphony. And now I must get up to Portsmouth to sign papers, but I have no wallet or phone. Help me, oobee doobee woobee, you're my only hope! Another Lagrangian cusp please. I very much appreciate that your multiversal manipulations are not taking place via Hamiltonian earthquakes. How very thoughtful of you. Yes, that's it: try the cusp first of all. But my God. To get a multiversal transit through a cusp: that, mein herrdoktor Margrave von Braunschweig-Swakopmund, is mastery. And thus the authorship is yours, should you want it. Nikola. To Nina Vinogradskaya: Dear Nina: I think I've got the pawnbroking thing figured out anyhow. I wish the best for your love of your mother. It is the highest calling in the world. You may wish to read Sterbenschronik from my mentor E.J. Meyer, on the website here. It is the most moving piece of writing I have ever read. I asked the Mathematician Noam Elkies to ring Der Abschied and Trinklied from Das Lied von der Erde on the Lowell Bells, as the pandemic was breaking. And as this was the first and only time Die Welt has sung together as the one species it actually is, I do believe there will be peace in the world. Nikolai III. (On the lowdown, obviously. I mean I'm not certain, and tell no-one, but I've been living with this burden for the past year, and I have to tell someone. There was an odd resemblance in my grandmother: she didn't look at all Serbian. And my personal Theotokos Mary Mills lied about everything, didn't seem to be from anywhere, was very Japanese, had a not-quite American accent even though she claimed to be from San Francisco, and when I looked at the picture of someone who is known to have been martyred in 1918, and reputed to have survived: they looked alike. She spent all her time gardening by the mill pond in Portsmouth, NH, and taught me how to be happy. Dear God, I don't want to deal with this. I think it can be safely put off for at least four years. And then I have a cousin who is far more suitable. So please tell no one. Assume I am insane. I did actually end up in a mental hospital, where I started to have a flood of memories from somewhere else.....oh God.......the snow falling outside, a row of tall windows, me not allowed outside to go sledding, Bolsheviki then and now.............I do not know how I survived this, I do not know. All I'm saying is, there may be hope. And if you can help me in any way, I understand you must not: your obligation is to your mother above all. God bless you, Nina: for repairing my art, and being a friend. I have had few in my life of difficulty. And now I must go out and smoke again, as it is the only thing that cures ulcerative colitis. What a horror.) Correction appended: I must amend the preceding message: my father lives. So I cannot put in closing what I did. I also now have a plan for postponing the subjunctive inevitable for eight years. Thanks be to the God, as my beloved fencing Coach, Henry Harutunian, used to say. (Don't let me tell him, dear God!!!!) To Kathelin Grey: I think possibly in a few days, not right now. I would love to get in touch with Chris and Robsky though. Actually, scratch that: I would like to hear from your friend. May he simply write me with his theory of control? I have my own theory, and it turns out to be precisely classical mechanics. The problem earlier this year is that I did not understand how to apply Hamiltonians: they are really, really tricky. And if you are stuck with only Lagrangians, they can lead you right over a cliff: OK for leptons that don't care if they live or not, such as electrons and Saddhus/Saints/Taoists/Monks: but not so OK for leptons that do care about living, such as quarks and people: in other words, leptons in tightly bound systems. So that was quite a puzzle. So send this along to your friend: actually, scratch that. Send it along to Robsky and Chris; I'd prefer to get the unvarnished foshizzle of any conceivable nizzle from Bruce. Whatever happened to your Manic-Depressive friend in London? We had some really interesting conversations. I have lots of help here: my remarkable friend Christian Lin, as well as Dr. Meyer. When they order me, I obey. I have lithium if I need it, but since it causes colitis, I have to use this godawful cigarettes: which turn out to be better than lithium. And lithium is actually wonderful, when taken at a low dose. It really helped me, but then it destroyed my digestion. And it's no good to take for more than a week or two. Dr. Meyer firmly believes this, and even Dr. Rake-it-in believed it too. What a strange experience that was. She was an object-relational therapist who helped me a lot, and then she did something that could have gotten me killed. Or did she? Hmmmmmm. Psych hospitals are full of mind games. Is this my graduation exercise? A dawning awareness. It might be. Don't let me sue Susan Rako just yet. She just might be the most brilliant therapist in existence. But I won't open that can of worms just yet. Thanks for being here, now. I am having no synchronicity, except that Danger Maus hid my wallet and phone from me. And that was a good thing, or else I would have defected to South Africa today, I was getting so sick of this country. What a disaster that would have been. Kitteh is obliged to bring Maus what Kitteh knows. Maus then Pooh-poohs what Kitteh brings, Das hat mit mir nicht zu tuns it, Platos it, Kants it, waits it out, has a think, suggests Schopenhauer.....you get the idea. In reality, he learns it immediately, and then uses it against silly Kitteh. Kitteh learn. Kitteh say "sir". Kitteh stupid. Kitteh know kitteh know nothing. Maus claim maus know nothing, but Kitteh know Maus know EVERYTHING. Kitteh have no idea where will end up. Swakopmund likely Maus's idea ever since 1936. Mouse like cheese; Maus like Kultur. Kultur in Namibia; no Kultur here. Kitteh serve Maus for rest of Maus life. Thpwing! Trap sprung. Could this be bliss? Warning enuf: Kitteh also send everything he write to DM. Watch out Kathelin: Maus be Kittehfy you. To Dawn Harms (subsequently Lushen Wu, Cody Cortes, Christian Lin, and Robert Ted Parker): Subject: I was molested at Milton Academy (you already got this) Today, from Milton Academy, in my subjunctive dreams, about to be Hannibalized: Subject: Fuel Excellence for our Students and Faculty Logo: Dare to be True {c.f. Orwell} Your gift to the Milton Fund works harder than ever to fuel an excellent experience for our students and faculty. Thanks to provisions granted by the CARES Act, your gift works harder than ever for your 2020 tax return, as well! New Charitable Deduction for Non-Itemizers Taxpayers who take the standard deduction rather than itemizing their deductions can claim a charitable deduction of up to $300 for cash donations made in 2020. Higher Deduction Limits Individuals can deduct cash gifts to the extent of their entire adjusted gross income. Please note that the higher deduction limit does not apply if the gift was made to a supporting organization or for a donor-advised fund. Please make your gift by December 31 to be eligible for the 2020 charitable giving tax benefits, and fuel diverse learning opportunities for students throughout the year. Thank you for investing in all that makes Milton exceptional for our students and faculty. Is it possible to donate sarcastically, Dr. Meyer? To Laura Weinstein, curator of Islamic art at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston: Well, if you want a hedge, I suggest buying half gold, half platinum. I'm using JM Bullion, also Apmex. Safe deposit boxes are not a good idea: they can be confiscated in time of crisis. I am having rolls of coins and boxes of bullion delivered to my parents' house. The process of buying and selling is super cheap, easy, and safe. (I suggest avoiding silver because it is way too bulky. Palladium might play a small role, but it is awfully expensive right now.) If you have access to the markets, buying precious metals mining stocks, platinum and gold, is a good idea versus ETFs. I don't trust complex financial instruments. And platinum and gold are often found mixed with copper, which plunges in case of a recession, so you have to find a pure play mining concern. I chose Anglo Gold Ashanti, which owns Mponeng mine, the deepest gold mine in the world. They clearly have impressive capabilities, and their stock, curiously, has not been following the gold price. I think it's always good to have some gold. My mentor, E.J. Meyer, escaped Germany on 23 March 1939, age 9. Needless to say, all of their funds were confiscated. His brilliant mother, who was a gentile, hid gold in the crate. This was a risky move: the elder Dr. Meyer had been let out of Buchenwald post-Kristallnacht, departing from Bremerhaven on 8 December. Nevertheless, it worked out according to plan. The customs officer arrived at 10 am, an hour early, and sealed the crate. When the SS officer arrived on time at 11 am, the customs officer jovially slapped him on the back, and said: "there's nothing to see here, my good fellow!" And they departed for Bremerhaven, whence they sailed for New York, their crate lovingly packed full of heirlooms from Braunschweig----and concealed gold. But when they arrived in the harbor, the ship's captain ordered the crates owned by Jews on board dumped in the harbor. The heirlooms were ruined, the gold remained. But as for the ruin of their heirlooms; and even the murder of his father's family; Dr. Meyer says: water off a duck's back. Still, I would much rather be rich than poor; and also alive, rather than dead. Pawn shops are not open on Sundays. But it turns out I have another option. I was molested at Milton Academy by two English teachers. There is a ferocious network of abusive pederasts there, probably down to the present, hiding in plain sight under the label "gay"; only one so far has been prosecuted. Another has been publicly exposed (by the Jesuits): one Robert Cornigans; but he has moved to Thailand (typical). But the other, Todd Fry, remains in Boston. The impact of sexual molestation on my life has been horrific. It has scarred my entire family, and deeply crippled me. I was functionally illiterate after Fry's mostly psychological assault, and struggled academically. I was never comfortable applying for a job (for obvious reasons); I have never worked a day in my adult life. I have spent easily half a million dollars on therapy and psychiatric hospitalizations (five of those). Psychiatrists have abused me too (my most recent one did) by ignoring sexual abuse and labeling my bipolar. Once I finally was able to acknowledge the abuse, the symptoms disappeared. I am fully recovered, but half my life has passed in disability. I'm very much tempted to show up at Todd Fry's door, demand money from him, and then take a little ride to the head of the Board of Trustees. Tomorrow. And demand as much cash as I can get. I've already written a little epic poem about Filthy Academy (they were teaching students as young as fourteen about anal fisting at conferences within the organization Todd Fry founded). I'd be happy to show it to them, and remind them that if they are not so inclined to be generous, then I might very well publish the poem without pseudonyms. And if I do that, Laura, then you can have about any art you want. So may the whole MFA. And I am a little worried about what will happen to the MFA in the event of a crash.