Eulogy for an old friend who was assasinated

When I was young, when earth was younger, and I spent a week or two every summer in Bridgehampton playing capture the flag by acres of potato fields, and causing dune-erosion by jumping off the dunes, with children of friends with my parents. The step-brother, as old as the oldest sister, who with her sister a year younger than me, my two younger siblings, and her younger brother compised… his name was Paul Klebnickoff, and he told me to call him Pablo.
 
As far as memories go, for we must understand the dualism of appearance and truth represented by Western Civilization, and a memory is an illusion, but then responded to, and when young, felt as real; Pablo was always very kind to me, never competing unruly, consistent with a kind word to me, and utterly competent with the grade A intelligence about.
 
I then saw him when I was in tenth grade, at Exeter, where he was a senior. I did not get into Exeter, praise the lord; but he showed me around the halls and told me about the work required.
 
That was about the last I saw him. He went to Berkley, where he became maybe even more liberal. I say Liberal, because I distinctly remember him explaining, to my mother and I, back in 1981, that some people around exeter were “tools”. And that this agnomen was pejorative, and signified—-what specifically I can only guess—I only vaguely recollect the term “tools” as signifying people, implied a going along with the system, perhaps ensuring the system, and not questioning it.
 
Yet I really am a tool. I use my body as a tool planting potatoes, and harvesting carrots for sale, in my pursuit of agriculture—-a trade of integrity some decade of reflection was required to aspire to. Because Paul did not go into agriculture after Berkley; he went into journalism; and naturally rose to the top; becoming the editor of Forbes Magazine’s European Edition. This may be as far from agriculture as you can get. A long time ago, many, many people spent their lives in agriculture, or so I hear. Paul lived in Moscow, as he was also in charge of the Russian Office.
Among many exploits; Pablo wrote a book about a Russian oil and car tycoon, who was Jewish, mobster, and allied with Muslim Chechen rebels; if I have it straight; who was a part of Yeltsin’s fall into a lawless Russia. Paul also published a list of Moscow’s 100 richest people with their addresses; and many of those people don’t want to fall prey to gangsters, disputing the propriety of such publication with death threats; to the extent his getting out of town was a natural concern.

Yet he had faith; or was caught up in the battle; to a degree where leaving town before the shit hits  the fan, to politely retreat, to live to fight again another day; was stopped by an hitman as he left his Moscow office one cold Russian night.

He was one of at least 12 journalists who was hit between 2000 and 2006; no prosecution has been successful. This is the reign of terror upon the press. And the press should step up and strengthen itself with truth, at least psychically.

Because I know, if he had kept in touch with me, I would have saved him. See that is what is so vexing about this death. I had no idea he was a Forbes editor in Moscow. Ironically, The Forbes, live not far from the farm I organically grow potatoes at; in part out of memories of the long island potato farms near.

See, I go to church; not every week, or even more than 3 times a year some years, but I have gone to church; and a darn good one; The Presbyterian One (even though I am half orthodox). There have been years I went to church practically every other week. The whole reason why we Russians hate communism is they took the church out of government; whereas previously, ideally, the Russian orthodox Church provided the spiritual compass for government dealing the nation. With the lawlessness resulting from the deprivation of service; Paul died.

And the first thing you learn in Presbyterian Protestantism is the Kingdom of God is what you call the Human Being. It is a jazzed up term for a serious situation on earth; and you use it to protect yourself from a harm that may exist in the newspapers, but does not really exist. It’s how you know everything is fake.

Now whether this would suffice him protection from assassin’s bullets I don’t know. It does help you relate to bad guys, because it ascertains that the bad guys don’t know what they are doing. That people are forgiven not because Christ died for you, for he was seen alive on Easter, hence the whole Easter celebration; people are forgiven because the human race is the kingdom of god, and the kingdom of god can not move itself, so it is run by the kingdom of heaven, which is the afterlife, and thus moral choices are made by the kingdom of heaven and not individuals as they seem.

So if you made a mistake; you can know this, and try a clean slate.

But the newspapers deliberately contradict the testimony to the kingdom of god, to the human being. Thus the journalist has a morally ambiguos trade; whose ambiguity herein must be specifically acknowledged. Being a journalist by trade might make you ignorant enough to be in over your head; unless you can tune into a psychic state for your profession; that I haven’t seen yet; though other professions do seem to have psychic states; for the truth of the kingdom of god, or human being, is essential to doing a good job; Unless your job is to lie; that makes the psychic state more essential, and harder to establish.

Western Civilization is a prop for population; and the show it creates, while having faint significance; not providing the reality naturally sought. And I know service of this kind to him; might have at least provided the detachment necessary to get out of town by sundown.

So I really don’t know what happened. But I do know one thing; Law and Religion; do mix. But it helps if you know the scientific quality to religion.

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