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| [[File:Molesworth.png|400px|thumb|right|Back in the jug agane.]]
| | {{a|isdamyth|{{image|eagle ninja|png|}}}}{{d|ISDA ninja|/ɪzdə ˈnɪndʒə/|n|}} |
| An old lag, back in the jug agane for another term or lat, algy, geom, hist, bulles cads oiks, skool dog, skool sossages and MASTERS everywhere chiz chiz chiz. [[Jolly Contrarian|Self portrait]] to the right.
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| [[ISDA ninja]]s have a wealth of esoteric knowledge quite useless to them in any other environment than the one in which they pass their careers — waste deep in the septic sludge of {{isdaprov|Additional Termination Event}}s, engaged in trench warfare with souls that, deep down, we recognise as like-minded, but still arrayed in slit trenches a few score yards away from us lobbing unexploded covenants at us by day and night. | | One trained in the ways of the [[Single Agreement]]. |
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| There is war poetry that they write about their enemies who might otherwise be friends, share a drink
| | Steeped in the knowledge of the [[First Men]] and, yea, even before them, to the black dawn of prehistory when free cash flows were first discovered in the wild and artificially set against each other for pleasing effect by the [[Children of the Woods]]. |
| | {{Quote|{{Baskerville|These ''{{Baskerville|were}}'' the [[Children of the Woods|{{Baskerville|Children of the Woods}}]], and those that dwelt among the plants and [[hedge|{{Baskerville|hedges}}]]: there they dwelt with the [[general counsel|{{Baskerville|general counsel}}]] for his work. (1 Chronicles 4:23)}}}} |
| | [[ISDA ninja]]s have a wealth of esoteric knowledge quite useless to them in any other environment than the one in which they pass their careers — waste deep in the septic sludge of {{isdaprov|Additional Termination Event}}s, engaged in trench warfare with souls that, deep down, we recognise as like-minded, but still arrayed in slit trenches a few score yards away from us, lobbing unexploded covenants at us, as we would to them, by day and night. |
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| ===Strange Negotiation===
| | There is war poetry that they write about their enemies who might otherwise be friends, share a drink, see sunsets glow and so on. |
| ''With profound apologies to Wilfred Owen. Honestly, I am really sorry to do this to you.]]<br>
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| It seemed that from that [[conference call]] I [[Escalate|escalated]] <br>
| | {{quote|{{strange negotiation}}}} |
| Some profound dull {{isdaprov|representation}}, long since [[Waiver|waived]] <br>
| | {{sa}} |
| Through [[credit]] whose dyspeptic permission granted <br>
| | *[[Children of the Woods]] |
| Though [[caveat|caveated]] teeth, a route to our sweet resolve. <br>
| | *[[Ninja]]s |
| | | {{c|Ninjas}} |
| Yet also there [[Encumbrance|encumbered]] assets groaned, <br>
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| Too [[Fixed charge|fix’d in charge]] or [[pledge]] to be bestirred. <br>
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| Then, as I probed the liens, one sprang up, and cried<br>
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| With piteous [[recharacterisation]] in his eyes, <br>
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| Lifting distressèd claims, as if to clarify. <br>
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| And by his carve-out, I knew that sullen hall,— <br>
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| [[Without limitation|Absent limit]], [[For the avoidance of doubt|all doubt avoided]]: we stood in Hell. <br> | |
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| With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained; <br>
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| Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground, <br>
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| And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan. <br>
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| “Strange friend,” I said, “here is no cause to mourn.” <br>
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| “None,” said that other, “save the undone years, <br>
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| The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours, <br>
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| Was my life also; I went hunting wild <br>
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| After the wildest beauty in the world, <br>
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| Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,<br>
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| But mocks the steady running of the hour, <br>
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| And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here. <br>
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| For by my glee might many men have laughed,<br>
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| And of my weeping something had been left, <br>
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| Which must die now. I mean the truth untold, <br>
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| The pity of war, the pity war distilled. <br>
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| Now men will go content with what we spoiled.<br>
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| Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled. <br>
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| They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress. <br>
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| None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress. <br>
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| Courage was mine, and I had mystery; <br>
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| Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery: <br>
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| To miss the march of this retreating world <br>
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| Into vain citadels that are not walled. <br>
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| Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels, <br>
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| I would go up and wash them from sweet wells, <br>
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| Even with truths that lie too deep for taint. <br>
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| I would have poured my spirit without stint <br>
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| But not through wounds; not on the cess of war. <br>
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| Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were. <br>
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| “I am the enemy you killed, my friend. <br>
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| I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned <br>
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| Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed. <br>
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| I parried; but my hands were loath and cold. <br>
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| Let us sleep now. . . .”<br>
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