Past Postings

Previous William Thomas Sherman Info Page postings, quotes, observations, etc.

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While the physical, rightly or wrongly, we find necessary as means, make no mistake, Spirit is the ultimate end, goal or objective. "What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world, but loses his soul?" And imagine you even had all you wished for and desired. What good is it if is half-baked, a lie, or an illusion, and not the honest, unashamed, and unembarrassed truth?


What is worse -- to be the lowest thing in a wicked world or the highest?


The difference between a man driving a car over a dry dusty desert and an ant scurrying over inches of graveled cement on a hot day is that while the man drives the car, the ant is the car.


If we are not the absolute beginning and end of something, we can never be so isolated as in fits of despondency we might think. Either another one of us does and will live happy somewhere else, or else if we die, we can never really die alone.



A wee, little moth
With strange blue wings
Alighted on my hand
And would not let go;
As if to say
"If my life is so fleeting,
Why are my wings beautiful?
Let then me be with you.
For I'm frightened,
And don't know why I'm here."


If God is not freedom then he is slavery. But if he is slavery then he is not God.


If the Catholic Church is, as is proposed, out to suppress true science, and the Illuminati are the only ones to stop them, who then are these people with the billions of dollars making these Ron Howard and Tom Hanks movies?

For such as might be interested (thinking particularly of wargamers), below is a great find in the way of a rare map of Musgrove's Mill, S.C. -- site of the Revolutionary War battle of that name, August 18, 1780; which map is taken from J.B.O. Landrum’s Colonial and Revolutionary History of Upper South Carolina (1897), pp. 152-153.

Almost a Traitor -- The Strange Case of Silas Deane

In continuance of our arm-chair unraveling of some of American history's great mysteries, I would like once again to submit my own personal theory; this time with respect to the alleged apostasy of diplomat Silas Deane.

From very early on in the Revolutionary War, Sileas Deane played a no less than pivotal role in securing for America invaluable foreign aid and supplies from Europe. Despite such auspicious beginning he was later accused by colleagues and members of Congress of using his position to make illicit, or at least inordinate, profits in financial speculation. These informal allegations (to make a long story short) subsequently brought about his dismissal by Congress from his post as envoy in France. Insofar as we later know, these charges turned out to be largely false. Notwithstanding, he afterward attempted to solicit reimbursement for personal money losses he incurred in the course of his seeking and obtaining vital munitions, clothing and other subsidies for the American war effort only to have Congress summarily reject those claims. (Note. Years after his death, Deane was vindicated in this last, with the United States awarding his heirs a large amount in compensation.)
In late 1781, following Yorktown, some personal letters Deane had written to his brother and some others individuals, and which had been captured by the British, were published in the loyalist New York newspaper Rivington’s Gazette. In this correspondence, he expressed his despairing of the American military situation and the ineptitude of Congress to govern, a strong disapproval of the French, and a desire to settle for an honorable and peaceable reconciliation with Britain. Although the publication of these letters did little to bolster British aims or change the course of the Revolution, they did prove an indelible scandal and embarrassment to Deane; who defended his writings on the basis of their being nothing more than expressions of his personal opinion at the time. Few accepted this as an excuse; such that Deane subsequently suffered the ignominy of being lumped with Arnold.
What might have happened to Deane is that he may have been placed under pressures not all that very dissimilar to Arnold’s; only while fellow Connecticut native Arnold actually turned coat, Deane only went so far as to consider doing so -- but went no further. Even so, this was enough to damn him in the eyes of many. One piece of evidence that suggests his being so tempted is Deane’s argument against the French; saying that they had allied themselves with America only to get even with Britain and had no real sympathy with American ideals. This, after all, seems a very silly complaint, coming from an experienced and savvy ambassador no less; when even if true, the French could not be blamed for such a motive; nor should it have come as a surprise that the Bourbon court might look askance at Revolutionary goals and aspirations. That Deane should propose such an argument suggests that he was using it as an excuse to cover his resentment of Congress’, and presumably also the French court’s, mistreatment of him personally. Like Arnold, therefore, it seems perhaps not implausible that Deane was being deliberately antagonized by “someone” in order to push him to the brink. But again, unlike Arnold, Deane only came to the brink and it was not possible, as it turned out, to actually push him over it.
This seems further supported by Arnold’s bizarre and persistent effort when in London to become friendly to and make Deane’s association -- and whom and which Deane was at great pains to avoid, as shown in this letter from Deane to Benjamin Franklin:

“Sir,-I am informed by Col. Wadsworth and others lately from Paris that it was currently reported of me that I was intimate with General Arnold, and that a pamphlet lately published by Lord Sheffield owed to me most of the facts and observations contained in it. I have found by experience that from the moment a man becomes unpopular every report which any way tends to his prejudice is but too readily credited without the least examination or proof, and that for him to attempt to contradict them in public is like an attack on the hydra; for every falsehood detected and calumny obviated several new ones of the same family come forward. This has well nigh rendered me callous to the attacks made on me in this way; yet it is impossible for me not to wish to stand fair in the opinion of those with whom I formerly acted, with whose confidence and friendship I have been more particularly honored, and this occasions me troubling you with this letter. Though you have condemned me of giving been guilty of great imprudence (and that justly), yet I have the satisfaction to know that you are still convinced of my integrity and fidelity whilst in the service of my country, and whilst I had the honor of being your colleague; and I wish to remove from your mind, if possible, every idea of my having acted an unfriendly part toward the interest of my country, or of my having countenanced so notorious an enemy as General Arnold by associating with him since my arrival in this city. The next day after my being in London, when I had no reason to suspect that any one knew any thing of me save those to whom I had sent notice of my being in town, and of my lodgings, I was surprized to find General Arnold introduced into my chamber without being announced by my landlord until he opened the door (my circumstances do not permit me to keep a servant). Several gentlemen were with me, and among others Mr. Hodge of Philadelphia. I can most sincerely say that I never was more embarrassed; and after a few questions on either part, and as cold a civility as I could use consistent with common decency, he took his leave. You well know that he is one who never wanted for assurance or address, and, as if we had been on our former footing, he urged me, at parting, to dine with him, which I civilly declined. The next day I changed my lodgings, and received from him repeatedly cards of invitation to his house, which I declined accepting, and in a few days he again called on me, at my new lodgings, in the same unceremonious manner as before. A gentleman from America was then with me, and remained in my chamber until he left me. On my parting with him on the stairs, I told him very freely that his visits were disagreeable to me, and could be of no service to him; that I could not return them, except that I might call with Mr. Sebor some evening to pay our respects to Mrs. Arnold, from whom I had received so many civilities in Philadelphia. This we did a few evenings after, and from that time, now more than five months since, I have not seen him, except in his carriage, passing me in the street.”

In short, it seems not entirely implausible to me that Arnold was used by the same spirit persons who incited his treason to so discomfit and humiliate Deane, and this in turn as a sort of punishment for his not fully succumbing to their influence as Arnold had.

Later Note. One is reminded by the above quoted anecdotes, and as observed by us earlier, of Arnold’s own story having aspects of high comedy (i.e. spirit people making a fool out of him) to it; as well as high tragedy (viz. the last, if only with respect to Andre’s role in the scheme of events; not to mention Arnold’s pillaging raid on and demi-massacre at New London, CT in early Sept. 1781.)


Is it all right to curse a demon? Under certain circumstances, yes, and quite understandable to do so; yet, nonetheless, to do so requires the same care, skill and conscientiousness it takes to write a good song or poem; and anything less or without these is just plain, ordinary, ineffective cursing. And if he dare come to you as heaven, curse him all the more (heaven is of the truth, after, all not secrecy, tricks, insinuation, and bare sign language.) Recall, a ghost is a spirit; so that unless you somehow have military means at your disposal, what you really need to focus your attack on is his mind and his soul, and less so his body (assuming you can or are in a position to make any impression on that to begin with.) Go for the jugular and show no mercy if he persists, and if he continues to persist and while you are acting in imminent self-defense, you obviously have all the more grounds and justification for treating him in this manner. Meanwhile, know also when it is better not to hold back and not react, and instead maintain an air of strength and tranquility. At other times you might use humor or ridicule. In any event, if he's persistent you have to be persistent and don't cease giving him the devil. If he gives you the business then you have to give him the business; even if this requires a long, wearisome, drag out, knock down struggle. For, as Thomas Paine, many will remember, well said:
"Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated."


"The tremendous, earth shattering blast took the lives of the magician, goomer ghost, and some dozen other lesser ghouls and vampires."


Please don't let them change "FedEx-Kinkos" to "FedEx Office Print & Ship Center." (But nobody listens to me.)


Since we're on the subject --

Another curious and unusual photograph I encountered in my aforementioned surf-browsing was the above pic of the body of Rufus Wilmot Griswold; whose Poets and Poetry of America, you may recall, is listed (with reservation) among my recommendations. After he died, his remains were kept in a storage crypt and not formally buried till a number of years later, and even then and to this day without a headstone to cover his resting place.

Although Griswold can be rightly faulted for being at times an exceptionally acerbic and caustic critic; really quite unnecessarily splenetic, frivolous, and reckless in his censures (to give you one instance -- he without qualification, yet at the same time with all academic seriousness, summarily dismisses Thomas Paine as a drunken sot of little real merit), for some Edgar Allen Poe fans Griswold has come to be seen as a sort of "Salieri" to the ill fated Poe; who cheated and robbed the great poet and story teller of both his works and reputation.

While it is not for me at the moment to delve all that deeply into the subject, a more full coverage of the Poe-Griswold controversy can be found at

I would remark, notwithstanding, that it seems in my opinion there is good reason to suspect that Poe's both physical and career demise was brought on by his being assailed by spirit people; and that Griswold was influenced and used by the same to contribute in this. It is worth noting by comparison how immediately after Michael Jackson's death there surfaced any number of news articles which portrayed the singer as a has-been idol, drowning in debt, and who had generally fallen from grace. Griswold's famous obituary, which we reproduce below (courtesy of the above website), very interestingly shares a peculiar and bizarre need to denigrate and embarrass Poe; and which frankly contains what I consider a gratuitous, witchcraft-like kind of spite and bitchiness very possibly prompted by such spirit persons (when Griswold himself died found among his effects were three framed pictures; one of which was of Poe.) That Poe, as Griswold claims, should be seen out in public speaking to himself, or looking up in the sky while resigned to his purportedly self-perceived damnation all pointedly suggest or support the idea that Poe was being harassed by spirit people. That at least and again is at present my strong suspicion. Below, in any case and you can (as always) judge for yourself, is Griswold's review (written under the pseudonym of "Ludwig") of Poe's life and career that appeared in the New York Daily Tribune on 9 October 1849.

"Edgar Allan Poe is dead. He died in Baltimore on the day before yesterday.
"This announcement will startle many, but few will be grieved by it. The poet was known, personally or by reputation, in all this country; he had readers in England and in several of the states of Continental Europe; but he had few or no friends; and the regrets for his death will be suggested principally by the consideration that in him literary art has lost one of its most brilliant but erratic, stars.
"The character of Mr. Poe we cannot attempt to describe in this very hastily written article. We can but allude to some of the more striking phases. His conversation was at times almost supramortal in its eloquence. His voice was modulated with astonishing skill, and his large and variably expressive eyes looked reposed or shot fiery tumult into theirs who listened, while his own face glowed or was changeless in pallor, as his imagination quickened his blood or drew it back frozen to his heart. His imagery was from the worlds which no mortals can see but with the vision of genius. Suddenly starting from a proposition, exactly and sharply defined in terms of utmost simplicity and clearness, he rejected the forms of customary logic, and by a crystalline process of accretion, built up his ocular demonstrations in forms of gloomiest and ghastliest grandeur, or in those of the most airy and delicious beauty, so minutely and distinctly, yet so rapidly, that the attention which was yielded to him was chained till it stood among his wonderful creations, till he himself dissolved the spell, and brought his hearers back to common and base existence, by vulgar fancies or exhibitions of the ignoblest passion.
"He was at all times a dreamer-dwelling in ideal realms-in heaven or hell-peopled with the creatures and the accidents of his brain. He walked-the streets, in madness or melancholy, with lips moving in indistinct curses, or with eyes upturned in passionate prayer (never for himself, for he felt, or professed to feel, that he was already damned, but) for their happiness who at the moment were objects of his idolatry; or with his glances introverted to a heart gnawed with anguish, and with a face shrouded in gloom, he would brave the wildest storms, and all night, with drenched garments and arms beating the winds and rain, he would speak as if the spirits that at such times only could be evoked by him from the Aidenn, close by whose portals his disturbed soul sought to forget the ills to which his constitution subjected him---close by the Aidenn where were those he loved-the Aidenn which he might never see but in fitful glimpses, as its gates opened to receive the less fiery and more happy natures whose destiny to sin did not involve the doom of death.
"He seemed, except when some fitful pursuit subjugated his will and engrossed his faculties, always to bear the memory of some controlling sorrow. The remarkable poem of The Raven was probably much more nearly than has been supposed, even by those who were very intimate with him, a reflection and an echo of his own history. He was that bird's

"-- unhappy master
Whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster
Till his songs one burden bore --
Till the dirges of his Hope that
Melancholy burden bore
Of 'Nevermore,' of 'Nevermore.'

"Every genuine author in a greater or less degree leaves in his works, whatever their design, traces of his personal character: elements of his immortal being, in which the individual survives the person. While we read the pages of the Fall of the House of Usher, or of Mesmeric Revelations, we see in the solemn and stately gloom which invests one, and in the subtle metaphysical analysis of both, indications of the idiosyncrasies of what was most remarkable and peculiar in the author's intellectual nature. But we see here only the better phases of his nature, only the symbols of his juster action, for his harsh experience had deprived him of all faith in man or woman.
"He had made up his mind upon the numberless complexities of the social world, and the whole system with him was an imposture. This conviction gave a direction to his shrewd and naturally unamiable character. Still, though he regarded society as composed altogether of villains, the sharpness of his intellect was not of that kind which enabled him to cope with villany, while it continually caused him by overshots to fail of the success of honesty. He was in many respects like Francis Vivian in Bulwer's novel of The Caxtons.
"'Passion, in him, comprehended -many of the worst emotions which militate against human happiness. You could not contradict him, but you raised quick choler; you could not speak of wealth, but his cheek paled with gnawing envy. The astonishing natural advantages of this poor boy--his beauty, his readiness, the daring spirit that breathed around him like a fiery atmosphere--had raised his constitutional self-confidence into an arrogance that turned his very claims to admiration into prejudices against him. Irascible, envious--bad enough, but not the worst, for these salient angles were all varnished over with a cold, repellant cynicism, his passions vented themselves in sneers. There seemed to him no moral susceptibility; and, what was more remarkable in a proud nature, little or nothing of the true point of honor. He had, to a morbid excess, that, desire to rise which is vulgarly called ambition, but no wish for the esteem or the love of his species; only the hard wish to succeed-not shine, not serve -succeed, that he might have the right to despise a world which galled his self-conceit.'
"We have suggested the influence of his aims and vicissitudes upon his literature. It was more conspicuous in his later than in his earlier writings. Nearly all that he wrote in the last two or three years-including much of his best poetry-was in some sense biographical; in draperies of his imagination, those who had taken the trouble to trace his steps, could perceive, but slightly concealed, the figure of himself.
"We must omit any particular criticism of Mr. Poe's works. As a writer of tales it will be admitted generally, that he was scarcely surpassed in ingenuity of construction or effective painting; as a critic, he was more remarkable as a dissector of sentences than as a commenter upon ideas. As a poet, he will retain a most honorable rank. Of his Raven, Mr. Willis observes, that in his opinion, 'it is the most effective single example of fugitive poetry ever published in this country, and is unsurpassed in English poetry for subtle conceptions, masterly ingenuity of versification, and consistent sustaining of imaginative lift.' In poetry, as in prose, he was most successful in the metaphysical treatment of the passions. His poems are constructed with wonderful ingenuity, and finished with consummate art. They illustrate a morbid sensitiveness of feeling, a shadowy and gloomy imagination, and a taste almost faultless in the apprehension of that sort of beauty most agreeable to his temper.
"We have not learned the circumstances of his death. It was sudden, and from the fact that it occurred in Baltimore, it is presumed that he was on his return to New York.
"'After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.'
"- Ludwig"


I spent some time browsing daguerreotypes from the 1840's and 1850's on the internet and below are some of the more interesting tin-types that I came across. Number 5 is Albert Gallatin, President Thomas Jefferson's Secretary of the Treasury, and Number 6 is the Duke of Wellington. Number 4 looks to be Zippy the Pinhead's g-g-g-grandfather (as best as I could tell.) The rest are anonymous; though certainly no less amusing and touching for that. (Click on the thumbnail to see a larger image.)

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.


Don't you just love it how the most stupid, irrational, and arrogant people you know -- and who are ever careful to avoid any honest, fair or serious debate -- never fail to deride and mock others for their real or alleged lack of intelligence? Often they and Pharisees and hypocrites like them act this way because the devil assists and supports them with his cleverness and savvy. Yet wait till and come the day the devil no longer needs them and see then what such genius and smarts as they believe themselves to possess ever really amounted to.