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  •  Prince Prospero and his courtiers. (4.00)
    But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."
    Read the rest: The Masque of the Red Death.

    Massacre is not a family value.

    by Canadian Reader on Sun Nov 28, 2004 at 01:15:28 PM PST

    [ Parent ]

    •  Yeah, like that. (none)
      Fools never learn, do they.
    •  "And Darkness And Decay And (none)
      The Red Death held illimitable dominion over all!"

      (At this point Vincent Price goes HAHAHAHAHAHA!)

      In 1831 cholera killed 17,000 people in Paris.  The epidemic hit town during the Carnival season, when hordes of masked people were out in the streets making Le Whoopie.  When some revelers began collapsing in the streets, passersby rushed to help.  When they stripped off the masks to give the victims air, emaciated grey faces, the faces of living corpses, stared up at them.

      Aaagghhh!

      Poe wasn't making anything up. It all happened ten years before he wrote his story.

      There will be Soviet labor camps and Soviet torture chambers well into our great-grandchildrens' lives. --Newt Gingrich(1984)

      by angry blue planet on Sun Nov 28, 2004 at 07:21:25 PM PST

      [ Parent ]

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