Hollow Men

One of our highly cultured contributors was so "moved" by the HHI "poem" (he muttered something about bowels), he suggested we counter with some real art.

He recommended T.S. Eliot's brilliant poem, The Hollow Men, which we agree perfectly captures the angst and personality of the typical HHI history poseur. We particularly like the appropriateness of the first stanza:

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Link to the entire poem (do yourself a favor and read the entire piece.).