Volume 9, Issue 2, page 3

MAY, 1962
Vol. IX, No.2

Recusant Voice of 'The Infinites
for Earth, Mars, Venus, Saturn,
Pluto, and Zydokumzruskehen 2
Published monthly, except for the combined January-February and
the July-August issues, at 207 N. Washington, Enid, Okla.

Editorial Office: 2522'4 North Monroe, Enid, Okla.

Mail Address: Postoffice Box 528. Enid, Okla.

Subscription Price: $2 a year, $5 for 3 yeas. Single copies 25t
Second class postage paid at Enid, Oklahoma.

EDITOR: The Rev. Mr. Dr. ALPHIA OMEGA HART, I-2, D.D., D. Scn.,
F.Scn., B.Scn., HDA, HCA, et al ad infinitum ad nauseum

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POLICY: Don't take it so damn' seriously.
The infiniteness of Man is not reduced
to a "split infinity" by wars, taxes,
or "experts" who seek to sell him what
he already has in an infinite amount.

Sub-Policy: We reserve the right to change
our minds from issue to issue, or
even from page to page, if we desire.

Sub-Sub-Policy: Each Man has the inherent
right to be his own and only " Authority" -- with his wife's permission.

Sub-Sub-Sub-Policy: We have no objection to
"educated guesses" about Man's destiny -- if there's no price tag to it,
and if the guesser has no objection to
our guessing that he's only guessing.

His annual checkup over,
Herman stood awaiting a verdict.
"Can't find anything wrong
with you," the doctor said, as
he scribbled on a prescription
pad. "No cancer or ulcer -- bit
of hypertension, but that's to
be expected at your age. Take
this" -- and he handed Herman a
slip of paper -- "and get it
filled. Take one every hour or
so. What you need do is relax
a bit. You're too tense."
"How do you relax?" Herman
asked innocently.

The doctor grunted, patted
Herman on the back, and turned
to his nurse. "Tell Mrs. James
I'm ready, now. How many are
waiting? I've got a meeting at
three, you know." He glanced
hastily at the watch on his

Not one doctor in a hundred
knows what he means when he
says "Relax!" It's merely a
word he picked up in his studies, or read about in one of
the magazines that come to his
office -- but it's certainly not
advice he practices. His very
air, as he leaves no doubt in
Herman's mind that he's a busy
man, with other patients waiting for him to hurry and make
way for them, instills no relaxing feeling.

At the drug store, he found
the prescription more than his
available cash, so he offered a
check. Only after he had submitted all identification cards
in his wallet -- plus a call to
the doctor -- was his check accepted. Fuming at the delay
and implied suspicion, he went
to the parking lot, only to
find someone parked so close
to him that he had difficulty
getting into his car.

To quiet his nerves, Herman
took his first pill from the box,
washing it down with saliva.

Out on the street -- since he
was going nowhere and in no
haste to get there -- he drove
slowly. Cars passed him, honking bullyingly. Heads poked
from car windows, yelling obscenities at him. A car full
of teen agers cut sharply in
front of him, harassing him
with their taunting antics for
the next mile. In anger, he
turned off the road and headed
for home, taking his second
pill, again with saliva.

His wife was out, and he remembered belatedly that this
was her bridge day. He turned
on the T-V, but the programs
and singing commercials bored
him. He turned to the paper he'd
picked up downtown. A murder,
a kidnaping, some speeches on
the "Russian crisis ", talks of
higher taxes and the increased
federal deficit, and uprisings
in Algeria and South America.
With a snarl, he tossed the
paper onto a table, and took
his third pill, washing it down
with a small glass of whisky.

Fiction? Yes, but it does
seek to point out the frustrations the "Hermans " -- who have
reached the point where small
things bother them -- meet when
they try to relax. In these
"case histories" are found the
seeds of arthritis, high blood
pressure, heart troubles, cancer, ulcers, and frayed nerves
from which even the so-called
therapists are suffering.

Medicine points proudly to
the life span of man which is
double or more what it was only
a few decades ago. No longer
do malaria, tuberculosis, cholera, and the like become the
deadly "plagues" they once
were. But it is highly questionable that any of this longevity can be credited to improvements in pills and other
poisons available in such quantities and variety at the corner
"hypocretary" (taken from the
words "hypocrisy" and "apothecary"); instead, much of today's "health" is due directly to mass sanitation, improved
working and living conditions,
preventive education. For example, neither quinine, atabrine or other medication will

do to malaria half what a few
squirts of oil will do on a
mosquito breeding place.

Psychiatrists and psychologists, like buzzards sweeping
in to feast off medicine's
mangled prey, are impotent in
the fight against tenseness.
One has only to look at the
"therapist" to discover that
he, like the short-lived medical doctor, doesn't "take his
own medicine", or, if he does,
that the "medicine " will do no
one much good.

Nor is religion, as constituted, a solution, for here,
too, the "terrorists" are in
the saddle with "Hell" a sword
of Damocles. Recently, a minister friend -- who probably lives
his "faith" as well as anyone
we know -- suffered a "stroke".
He's recovering, apparently,
due to rest and relief from
pastoral duties -- but his own
"educated" prayers and those
of his followers are bringing
results no faster than might
be expected for one less religiously involved. When "faith"
and "prayer " work, they probably are effective to the extent.
the patient relaxes his tensions -- not the "faith "itself
nor the words of the prayer.

Those who seek relaxation
outside themselves will find
only frustration -- and more tension. For tenseness is a physical "army", equipped to wall
off physical man from the God
within -- the God Who is eternal ,
Who cannot be killed by germs
or eradicating poisons, Who is
not affected by a pace of living
that "looks to the stars" but
keeps nerves taut and on "the
ragged edge" of transition.

Ahead of us is the "space
age", which probably will bring
its own non-survival woes. But
if we let the tenseness of the
"machine age" incapacitate us
prematurely, there may be no
"space age". At least, not on
a material basis.