Miles Mathis bumps into a handful of recurring numbers in his research: 1, 8, 33, 47.
I don’t think anyone has done this before, so let me try to demystify them. 1 may also be written as ‘I,’ the first person singular subject personal pronoun, (e.g., “I go on for ever.”) , not the numeral.
And 8, 33, and 47 are three ways of saying the same thing: Infinity. Once again, “I go on for ever.”
The numeral 8 may be rotated clockwise or counter-clockwise in order to be transformed into a lemniscate (inifinity symbol). Similarly, a 33 is simply a lemniscate broken into halves. Finally, the safe prime number 47 also represents a lemniscate when the 4 is rotated counter-clockwise and the 7 clockwise and the two numbers joined.
To better understand the employment of the aforementioned numbers as meaningful signifiers, one may start by reading Baron Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s poem, The Brook (1886).
I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorpes, a little town, And half a hundred bridges.
Till last by Philip’s† farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles.
With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.
I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling,
And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I travel With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers; I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers.
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows.
I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses; I linger by my shingly bars; I loiter round my cresses;
And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
The Brook, essentially, is blood.
An exclusive club named after the poem was founded in 1903 and is presently situated at 111 East 54th Street in Manhattan, a lovely building designed by Delano & Aldrich. Notable members include John F. Kennedy, Henry Kissinger, John Jacob Astor IV, William K. Vanderbilt, Fred Astaire, Michael Bloomberg, as well as my own cousin, U.S. Ambassador to the United Kingdom, John Hay Whitney*, who had honorary status, rather than a traditional membership. On closer examination of membership, one is under the distinct impression that the club is a shelter for elite gays, both yesterday and today.
Gay Talese, the literary journalist (Read: Fiction) who helped manage the Manson hoax, is a member. The brand of literary journalism that Talese traffics in is now referred to as New Journalism, which is simply another way of saying State-sponsored propaganda.
I can’t confirm this here, but I believe Anthony Lejeune, who died last year, was a member. Pretty sure he was gay. Additionally, he got educated at Merchant Taylor’s, Northwood, which should tell you an awful lot about his pedigree and mission. He may very well be regarded by peers as The Brook’s unofficial biographer. Doubtless he had socked away copious notes on fellow members. I don’t know if OMT status was ever conferred on this Merchant Taylor’s alum, but it’s safe to say other OMTs were awarded entrée.
*John Hay Whitney bears the name of my 10G grandfather (his 9G), Puritan John Whitney, sometime member of the Worshipful Company of Merchant Taylors**, one of the 12 Great City of London Livery Companies, prior to emigrating to the United States with his wife Elinor in 1635. I’m descended from John’s son Joshua, b. 15 July 1635 in Watertown, Mass., while John Hay is descended from Joshua’s brother Richard, born 12 years earlier in Isleworth, Middlesex, England.
In my research, I have taken the Whitney’s back to my 11G grandfather, Thomas Whitney, a gentleman, who was born c. 1550 in Westminster, England, though he is of unknown parentage. It has been suggested that Thomas is the son of Sir Robert Whitney, Knight, born 1525, Icomb, Gloucestershire, but the suggestion is apocryphal.
**As early as the end of the 17th century, the WCMT had morphed in function from a bona fide guild of tailors with ties to Savile Row into a philanthropic organization. Then, as now, philanthropic organizations were established as money laundering fronts.
I started this post in order to quickly demystify the signifiers 8, 33 and 47. But what does it all mean? In a word, with a little help from the Fates (or a lot + Money), bloodlines may be made to ‘murmur under moon and stars’ practically forever, at least in name and mandate. This wasn’t the case with John Hay, who did not have offspring of his own. Instead he married the ex-wife of James Roosevelt (son of FDR), Betsey Cushing, and adopted her children Kate and Sara.
But it remains the case with the this descendant of John Whitney…
I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
My Descent from John Whitney:
Thomas Whitney, 1550/Mary Bray, 1564 → John Whitney, 1592/Elinor, 1595 → Deacon Joshua Whitney, 1635/Abigail Tarbell → Cornelius Whitney, 1680/Sarah Shepard, 1690 → Matthias Whitney, 1720/Alice Robbins, 1723 → Matthias Whitney, 1746 → Celia Whitney, b. 1785, of Litchfield, CT, my 5G Grandmother, who married James Jackson, 1778, NYC → Willet Jackson, 1812/Betsy Fanning Cummins, 1816 → James Adelbert Jackson, 1846/Alice Rosella Glidden, 1847 → Avis Gertrude Jackson, 1869/John Prescott McCrillis, 1869 → Alice May McCrillis, 1911/Samuel James Merring, 1911 → Linda Ann Merring, 1944/Thomas Walter Fahy, 1943 → Thomas Robert Fahy, 1977/Christina Jeanette Fahy, 1973 → Thomas Robert Fahy II, 2016
The descent from John Whitney is surely interesting, but there are others equally so, including my Glidden line, which finds an historical terminus in BeanMacDhomhnil, c. 1275, Scotland, first chief of Clan MacBean, through Jonathon Glidden’s (b. 1696, Exeter, Rockingham, NH) wife, Margaret Bean, my 7g Granny. I was happy to learn that John Bean, her grandfather and my 9g Grandfather, who was exiled to Exeter by the English, fought for the Royalists against Cromwell’s New Model Army. In other words, he fought for the right side in the English Civil War.
So far, I have been able to trace the Glidden’s back to my 12g Grandfather, John Glidden, b. 1550, Pancras, Bideford, Devon, England.
In future posts, I will be fleshing out my understanding of the Glidden and Whitney lines, as well as the Olmsteads, Jacksons, Sherwoods, Carters, Mays, and others.
Speaking of Miles Mathis, he has been a great inspiration to me. Were it not for him, my passion for genealogy mightn’t have been rekindled. He also gives great cat advice.
† Tennyson mentions ‘Philip’s Farm,’ by which I suggest he is alluding to Metacomet’s final resting place, Misery Swamp, a stone’s throw away from Mount Hope Farm, Bristol, RI, the summer encampment of the Pokanoket Tribe of the Wampanoags. Which is to say, I am of the opinion that The Brook is an oblique retelling of King Philip’s War, the aftermath of which served to anneal the character of the Puritans, hardening their hearts, tempering their spirits and renewing their singular devotion to the cause of the Merchant class.
Joshua Whitney and his son Joshua Whitney Jr. both fought in King Philip’s War and I would assume that had no uncertain impact on the both of them as men, brothers, sons, and fathers.
That being said, were the bill or a companion bill to pass the Senate, it would not be signed by Trump (or any sitting President), as it was never destined to become law. What is more, the future of the Grand Canyon’s mineral wealth is above Trump’s paygrade. Consequently, he’ll be asked to shred the bill like a good soldier and the federal lands in question will remain optionable by mining interests in the decades to come.
Sacha Baron Cohen as Stalin, Stephen Dorff as Lenin and Seth Rogen as Kalinin.
It’s doubtful that Intelligence has derived more enjoyment from any other paste-up in recent memory — at least since Sgt. Pepper’s. Speaking of which…
Take note of Mikhail Lashevich (Gaskovich) awkwardly pasted atop a bookcase on the far right. He is the distorted mirror image of Shirley Temple (below), perched atop a cloth grandmother figurine, which is, as it happens, also an inanimate object, which suggests both personages were created assets, propped up by artifice. Interestingly, Shirley Temple (a descendant of the Dunhams and possibly Richmond Fells via that cloth grandmother figurine, Cynthia Fell Temple) was born a few short months before Lashevich faked his death after sowing general discord and fomenting a sloppy revolt by the Mongols against the Manchurian Government. The year was 1928. Lashevich likely took his Gaskovich name back and emigrated to the States for his next assignment, as he was only 44 and had proven able to pull off midlevel hoaxes and pranks at home and in foreign lands.
It is improbable that this is a depiction of an actual event, for then, as now, the 8th Congress merely needed to live in the imagination of the public. This particular iteration of the 8th Congress portrait was released c. 2006; it probably undergoes regular updates to ensure that the Congress weasels its way into the imaginations of successive generations. Intelligence, however, has outdone itself this time by utilizing the visages of the above-mentioned actors, who do not remotely resemble the original thespians of the Revolution.
In fact, it looks like all of the Congresses were faked. Take the 5th (July 1918), for instance. Here is an alleged photograph:
This is a bad paste-up. Check out the lower left of the photograph where portions of two pasted-in participants are drawn in atop the rug on which Smilga and others’ feet rest. Also, no one in the picture can agree on the location of the photographer, because each pasted-in individual was photographed independently, elsewhere and under wildly different lighting and circumstances. You aren’t supposed to notice, but they used the exact same photograph of Lashevich in the 8th Congress that they used in the 5th. In the photo of the 5th (2nd row, 3rd fellow from right), he’s been made slightly darker and a hat has been pasted on his head. This doesn’t pose a continuity problem because these aren’t real historic photographs. They are fakes made much more recently in order to flesh out our synthetic historical narrative.
For comparison, here’s a random class picture taken in 1918.
These lads all know where the camera is and they are all lit uniformly by a window, flash bulb or combination of the two from the right. More importantly, none of the guys are listing oddly to the left or right, as though getting photographed on a ship that’s about to capsize. Now you know how to tell the difference between a paste-up and a real photograph.
Finally, lest you forget, this is 1918, 80 years after Louis Daguerre shared his process with the public. Autochrome had already been broadly used for nearly a decade. In other words, the worst mass production cameras were taking better pictures than those we are asked to believe produced the Congress photos, the quality of which is on par with those produced by Niépce 100 years earlier.
A closure plan for the mining complex near Arlit is now official. Orano’s board cited declining reserves. Minister of Mines, Hassane Barazé, cited untenable costs relative to a depressed Uranium spot price.