Posted By Roger Stritmatter on March 2, 2011
It’s just not looking very good for the Stratfordians at Wikipedia.
Yes, Nishidani and Tom Reedy, aided and abetted by various and sundry well-intentioned admins who have tripped over the Peter Principle, have mounted a fierce battle over many months.
They have bullied and browbeaten, and defined and refined, and COID and RSed, and adhoced this and adhoced that, not to mentioned actually banned a number of really knowledgeable editors, tossing them out on their ears rather than cleaning the wax out of their own, and in the process confirming Wiki’s well deserved reputation for rarely taking the risk of allowing a controversial topic to truly represent the “state of the debate,” but instead adhering first and foremost to the chief principle of the modern pseudo-skeptical doctrine: Never apply your skepticism to the accepted canons of a truth as promoted at a given instant in history by the grand Poohbahs of higher knowledge, whether they are literally a priesthood or merely a secular one in disguise.
Pay no attention to that little man behind the curtain, for he is a great and powerful Wizard of Oz.
On the contrary, always make sure that you aim your fire against the dis-empowered outsiders and above all never pause long enough to realize what anyone who studies intellectual history knows: Most experts most of the time have been wrong about some things, and some experts more than a little of the time have been wrong about almost everything.
Still, as I was nursing my wounds from the last round of gnashing of teeth, and waiting for the gnashers to decide if they are going to ban me from the site — or, more accurately, from certain discussions, as it does not appear that I have up until now at least made myself sufficiently odious to warrant absolute ostracism from Wikiville, and may even be allowed to continue editing pages about guinea pigs and Tupac (who famously got beaten up by police officers for asking them why they were threatening to arrest him for jaywalking when, of course, his crime was his music, not where his legs happened to be in relation to a cross-walk)….as I mused on these and other karmic injustices, and mysteries both difficult and deep, I came across this little gem of vernacular satire:
Let us imagine that Neuticleman found himself from boyhood fascinated by spears, obsessed with the magic of willy. There is overwhelming evidence for this obsession from his earliest writings, so it is a very safe assumption that it began early, perhaps from the first moment his mother whispered a nursery rhyme in his ear:
Willyspear, willyspear, sate on a hill,
If he’s neut gone–he sits there still.
Now, I wish I could say I wrote that. But actually I only FOUND it. Still, I really did LOL when I read it. Surely it’s the best brief book review of Stephen Greenblatt’s foray into authorship that I’ve read. If there’s a better one, I haven’t seen it. So I thought I’d pass it on to those erudite enough to get the joke. If you liked that, click on the “Found” button, visit, the site, and tell she-who-bites that you liked it.