kill the rabbit

i came across this in J.G. Bennett's "Journeys in Islamic Countries," Vol. 2, which seems to me likely to be the inspiration behind one of the many famous scenes in a classic movie:

The Inspector would not let me go inside the tombs, and he and the gendarme stood with their guns drawn. It was afterwards confirmed to me by the Railway Inspector that not only wolves, but tigers also, have been seen in these tombs, and that visitors were attacked not long ago.

All that we saw were a couple of hares hopping up the ancient streets, a vulture on the Ziggurat as we first came up and many lizards. I am really curious to know whether the story of tigers, told me so seriously, is to be taken seriously.

while we're at it:


and echoing fritz peters' account of "innerly free, outwardly playing a role":

[Mr. Gurdjieff] had a distinguished visitor that day — A. R. Orage — a man who was well-known to all of us, and accepted as an accredited teacher of Gurdjieffian theory. After luncheon that day, the two of them retired to Gurdjieff’s room, and I was summoned to deliver the usual coffee. Orage’s stature was such that we all treated him with great respect. There was no doubt of his intelligence, his dedication, his integrity. In addition, he was a warm, compassionate man for whom I had great personal affection.

When I reached the doorway of Gurdjieff’s room with my tray of coffee and brandy, I hesitated, appalled at the violent sounds of furious screaming — Gurdjieff’s voice — from within. I knocked and, receiving no reply, entered. Gurdjieff was standing by his bed in a state of what seemed to me to be completely uncontrolled fury. He was raging at Orage, who stood impassively, and very pale, framed in one of the windows. I had to walk between them to set the tray on the table. I did so, feeling flayed by the fury of Gurdjieff’s voice, and then retreated, attempting to make myself invisible. When I reached the door, I could not resist looking at both of them: Orage, a tall man, seemed withered and crumpled as he sagged in the window, and Gurdjieff, actually not very tall, looked immense — a complete embodiment of rage. Although the raging was in English I was unable to listen to the words — the flow of anger was too enormous. Suddenly, in the space of an instant, Gurdjieff’s voice stopped, his whole personality changed, he gave me a broad smile — looking incredibly peaceful and inwardly quiet — motioned me to leave, and then resumed his tirade with undiminished force. This happened so quickly that I do not believe Mr. Orage even noticed the break in the rhythm.

When I had first heard the sound of Mr. Gurdjieff’s voice from outside the room I had been horrified.… Now, leaving the room, my feelings were completely reversed. I was still appalled by the fury I had seen in Gurdjieff; terrified by it. In a sense, I was even more terrified when I left the room because I realized that it was not only not “uncontrollable” but actually under great control and completely conscious on his part. I still felt sorry for Mr. Orage.

and, besides gurdjieff - monty python correspondences, there's on one hand, VFTRW p. 173:

From the most ancient times through experience of life and wise statesmanship, life itself gradually evolved fifteen commandments and established them for the good of individuals, as well as for all peoples. If these fifteen commandments were actually in us all, we would be able to understand, to love, to hate. We would have levers for the basis of right judgement.

and, on the other hand,
that is, mel brooks.