Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Gallows by the Roadside ~Updated~

Until cybernetic network control is achieved, efficient tyranny will rely on fear of the use of force. All serfs and functionaries cannot always be suffering imprisonment or torture, because these things cost time and energy. Enough serfs/functionaries need to be free enough to both imprison and torture others, and to produce resources for elite consumption and serf/functionary maintenance.

Ergo the gallows by the roadside; the crucifix; the televised trial and execution.

The actual sight of decomposing, mutilated bodies is unpleasant to many serfs and functionaries, and even tidy coffins covered by flags can upset non-elites in a visceral-enough way to require increased monitoring costs.

As deathlords grow more skilled at making direct foreign genocides and domestic torture/imprisonment seem like progress because the weapons are clean and robotic, the vocalized concern about brotherhood louder, and the serfs possessing televisions and drywall (thanks Michael & Marla!) instead of storytellers and stone, the bodies must be removed. No more can the gallows by the roadside be used to pre-neutralize thoughts of disobedience.

In a clean, tidy, modern society, therefore, maintaining a belief in progress means sanitizing the bodies of the mutilated dead. Formally, the king must not glance in their direction. The king must be moved, and perhaps even weepy, over the thought that such lacerated corpses exist. The king must not point and say, "Look, scum, and tremble, for this would be you were you to disobey me." And yet, if people aren't aware of the dark consequences in store for them in the event of failure to obey, they might start doing irresponsible things like not tithing, requiring increased enforcement costs in serf-torturing and serf-killing.

What would the ideal situation be, for elites? Ideally, someone else would do the job of threatening subjects for them--and do it without even getting paid. Someone else would, of their own merits, take it upon themselves to, in their free time, disseminate horror stories and pictures of the victims of elite tyranny, warning the serfs and functionaries of all the terrible fates in store for them if they would dare to resist the elites: imprisonment; torture; rape; murder; the destruction of one's entire home, neighborhood, city, country, culture, and so forth.

This ideal situation has already been achieved. Under the eyes of total mass media monitoring, those who most intellectually dislike elite crimes--those who most believe they loathe imperial war, genocide, mass imprisonment, and domestic surveillance--are themselves the most involved in making the other farm animals aware of just how scary it can be when Obama/Buffet/Winfrey/Clooney/Cheney/et. al. get mad.

Even better, what if the non-elites carrying out this dissemination were not only unpaid, but also subject to punishment by elites--subject to punishment for the very helpful actions they take? What if the people who freely do this work do it not only for no pay, benefits, or direction, but do it while knowing that this beneficial service can still be considered treasonous or supportive to the enemy at any time, resulting in disappearance and/or any of the other bad consequences of which they speak? This is an outsourcer's dream. Why pay a malnourished Cambodian boy ten cents a month to solder chips onto mobile thesauri for a corps of trained propagandists when you could take fifty dollars in monthly internet-access charges from a college-educated professional from Minnesota, who will also buy and maintain his own equipment, while still working at a regular job, in order to use his free time to promulgate long, detailed stories of all the bad things that happen to your enemies and how good it is for people to obey you?

The Cambodian kid might quit, damage a few smartphones out of anger, or form a union, while the greatest threat from the Minnesotan is that he might simply--gasp!--stop blogging. And anytime you like, he's five minutes from a patrolling black and white who can haul him off for sedition procedures if some of the words get too dicey.

(Plausible deniability, too! Three hundred years of history later, it can be effectively argued that there was no attempt to terrorize commoners with dangerous consequences. In fact, the tomes will read, the elites of the time disapproved of vulgar descriptions of their acts.)

Who tells you about how scary the prisons are? Who tells you about the inmate-led kill-rape labor camps waiting for you if you use drugs or don't pay your taxes or take it too far beyond "voting"? Who tells you about the sun-bleached bones of the brown children whose parents, ten years ago, were thinking favorably about nationalizing oil? The message is always, "There, but for the grace of God, go you." And you get it.

Who tells you about how scary disobedience is? It's not the king or the soldier. It's their unpaid, unknowing lackeys, the "shocked, shocked I tell you" agents of information warfare, who aren't even aware that their job is to scare the populace and keep them in the state of feared shock that is the uppity typing pools of the progressive blogosphere. The best assassin, as Vincent Ludwig said, is one who doesn't know he's an assassin. And the best psy-ops agent is the one who doesn't know he's a psy-ops agent. The one who thinks he's resisting. Yes, Chris Floyd; yes, Arthur Silber; yes, High Arka; yes, Justin Raimondo; you are among the most effective agents of empire. Somewhere out there, you know that all those angry squeaks are not physically halting, nor will they ever physically halt, the stuff that you profess to dislike so very, very much. Soldiers of sorrow. You got played. You did it.

Updated: Logging for posterity a little gem borrowed from one "buck," who was afraid to leave the warm glow of his tribe, but who was quite brave over there, to intriguing effect:
So, your logic is that by mobilizing to stop the Tea Party and the crazy racists and woman-haters who wanted Romney to win, Obama is actually doing a BAD thing? So say somebody is forced to use drones in order to stop Romney from using nukes; are they now as guilty as Romney for furthering that crime by committing imperial war? Should we just give Romney the keys to the big red button and let him do whatever he wants because we know that's what will happen if we don't try in the best possible way to resist him?

Yes we are all part of this process by the fact that we pay for it! But you have no idea what Obama or any of his administration do IRL to stop this abomination. For all you know many of his staff and Obama himself could be actively working behind the scenes in political ways you can't even understand to minimize the damage caused not just by the war machine but to slow, mitigate against, or prepare for climate change, STOP the regression in women's, and thereby human, rights by the GOP and their war on women or the any example of the host of nightmares facing all of us. Chris is so obsessed with getting attention that he can't stop talking about all the things Obama does WRONG and he never stops to think what Obama is doing RIGHT by preventing the reTHUGlicans from getting in power and stopping us from birth control and making us live in The Handmaid's Tale.

You have no idea at all, but when somebody calls you on the lack of coherence or logic in the post at a nice safe place owned by Chris and surrounded by friends, because you're afraid to comment anywhere else you're not surrounded by allies who agree with you, the overly wrought but definitely not high minded prose, and the total absence of intellectual heft in your polemic you get very defensive. I can refer to many other times in other places where you post unverifiable examples with the same smug sanctimony you displayed in your reply to A Popular Person Here and it moved me to finally say my piece. The reason I am brave is because I am willing to stand in a group of friends and agree that the group is good and that people who raise unpopular questions are bad and that is why you are not brave.

Definitely a prole on the Obama campaign and not once have I felt insulted, castigated or berated when listening to any speech or debate by the President or by any DLC official who shares his perspective. Instead I feel like at least I am not the only one who understands how bad and dangerous the Tea Party racists and their war on women actually is to this country. I feel like at the very, absolute least the ability and will to say NO to them isn't completely denuded or absent from my fellow humans in this country or others who agree that it is about time America had a BLACK MAN for President. And if you can say NO to something as bad as the Tea Party racists then that is all that matters and the intellectual inquiry stops THERE. Questioning Obama and his methods is like saying you WANT Romney to be president. You find a group that agrees with you on something and then you STOP SEARCHING because you have a group and a group is really what matters. That's it, that's all. I don't look to Obama, Clinton, DailyKos, or you for my marching orders. I go to the canvasser's building to hear, sometimes, perspectives I had not thought about or to hear someone else articulate the dread I am feeling about what if Rick Santorum became ayatollah of this country and wouldn't you feel bad because you cared about Obama's drones and are you happy now? Rick Santorum is ayatollah are you happy NOW?! That's what we, as a social species, do in times of stress, anxiety, terror and fear; we come together with like minded people to give each other encouragement, an ear to listen with, or just a place to read about how someone else is seeing the Tea Party nightmare unfolding before all of us. I suggest you keep this in mind when you unrealistic radicals take to insulting DailyKos and Atrios and progressive bloggers and people desperately trying to get out the vote to help Obama save this country from Romney.

Sunday, November 25, 2012


As they say in the vernacular: Jesus Christ, are they typecasting these guys?

David Brin--famed, independent author.

Terry Goodkind--also a famed, independent author.

Of course, these are just two independently successful people who, like John Galt, Bill Gates, Henry Ford, Andrew Carnegie, and John Rockefeller, clawed their way up through hard work and dedication, etc.

But just for giggles, as a purely hypothetical, intellectual speculation about something that is not true, if the Cold War expansion of domestic intelligence services under 1947's National Security Act had actually resulted in the cultural management goals laid out by its authors, then the characteristics of acting operatives would be as follows:

1) A common age, as they would've been ready to be tapped around the time the latter stages of the National Security Act took effect and catapulted them into renown.
2) Prior military/intelligence agency connections.
3) Born Caucasian, in keeping with the conservative spirit of the post-Red Scare era in which they would've begun early planning.
4) Born male, same reason.
5) An eerily non-traditional route to market.
6) No prior artistic credentials or achievements.

If we run David and Terry through that set of variables, we see that each was born just in the vicinity of the National Security Act (1950 and 1948, respectively), each has prior connections with military intelligence, and each has no artistic history at all until major corporate publishers suddenly got in uncanny bidding wars over their first exceptionally long works, distributed them worldwide, reviewed them in the newspapers of record, etc.

(The "length of first work" variable is of note on its own merits. Because of standardized shelf spacing requirements on government-funded library and corporate retail store units, first-time novel-approved authors are generally required to limit themselves to 100,000 words, or around a 300-page book, to start, if/until they develop the track record to justify taking up more inches per widget. This is why even J.K. Rowling had to start out with standard-sized Harry Potter books, and didn't get to creep up into 800-1,000 page territory until she'd gotten 2-3 books in.)

These stern white patriarchs push Ayn-Rand-style selfishness, but plenty of people do that for no pay anyway. They're just not as abruptly successful at doing so.

Granted, Brin and Goodkind are nothing at all like Tom Clancy. After all, despite being a white male born in 1947, with military technology connections and instant success selling rugged, manly, capitalist techno-novels, Tom Clancy still has his hair. Even better, he was never forced to grow one of those proto-hipster short beards that implies intimate knowledge of both astrophysics and quantitative easing.

The human-shaped brand known as "Tom Clancy" now formally acknowledges that it doesn't write the propaganda attributed to it (see his Wikipedia entry and mix well with The Predictable Stories), so he definitely doesn't fit in, and this silly hypothetical model of "entertainment by government-approved news sources" crumbles.

Nothing to see here; carry on. It would be ludicrous, irresponsible, and completely wrong to suggest that any of these people actually has anything to do with the government; unequivocally, none of them do. As said before:
These aren't the days of J. Edgar Hoover, stuff like that never happens anymore, and this certainly isn't Soviet Frickin Russia. It's not like our tax dollars are funding ghostwritten Isaac Asimov ripoffs promoted by public libraries and major retailers with the purpose of properly ordering society and acclimating a target subgroup to certain political ideas, dude.
It's not like the resident comptrollers of some impossible conspiracy are going to be adjusting their plans to include agents other than white males as the faces of their exceptionalist messages. Even if they existed, they would never be that fiendish or that clever.

The mere fact that we modern citizens of western free republics are able to discuss silly theoretical and untrue ponderables like the ones above proves that this isn't someplace repressive, like Russia or North Korea, where the press isn't free and the autocrats actually pay people to create "news" and "entertainment" that makes the local economic system and government look good.

This is the West. This is America. We have freedom of speech, and that kind of stuff just doesn't happen here.

Anyway, forget this silliness and go buy a DVD copy of Atlas Shrugged, or an old Jarhead, or just attend a showing of Red Dawn. Or see something less obvious, like The Avengers or Iron Man or Batman.


The confluence of (1) strictly anti-homosexual religious orders and (2) male agents of said orders molesting male children has gotten obvious enough to be acknowledged in 21st century America. This correlation between bachelor priests and choir boys had been an old joke for centuries, but a lot of people still feigned shock when the latest round came out.

The correlation doesn't only occur in the context of religions that repress sexuality. People who are stridently, loudly, publicly, showily "against" things are often driven to those behaviors in order to further repress feelings they don't want to deal with; they're the Strom Thurmonds arguing for racial separation while screwing black housemaids, or the Larry Craigs fighting against homosexual rights while playing with boys.

With that in mind, consider another anecdotal observation from a good western progressive who is very, very concerned about equality, justice, and shimmering rainbows, and who is frequently drumming upon others to become as "aware" as he is and to "re-evaluate" and "not mansplain it" and to "check privilege":
just 2 days after [pride event] I just had the most traumatic homophobic dream last night where I beat a gay man and [personal stuff].

(Do you finally see how prejudiced and hate-filled you are? You aren't so committed to these issues that you have violent dreams about the very things you're fighting against!)

Like many of the penitent priests confessing the sins of their desires, doth the strident advocates of sexual display wreak havoc. The people who really care--who really are "colorblind" in the metaphorical sense; who really don't have a problem with whatever it is; those people--will often not be the ones vigorously insisting that everyone needs their face rubbed in [circumstance or type or desire] to understand. They won't adopt reverse bigotry and demand adherence to a new formal code. And those who do make those demands will often be the opposite.

The biggest parades will usually be held in the saddest and most terrible of places, the most loudly moral will usually be the most hideously vile, and as the terms shift into a new phase, the most vociferously "equal" may be the very ones hiding the darkest desires, and having the greatest need to appear not to be.

See you got some niggas on your side
That say they're your friends
But in real life they your enemies
See the enemies will say they true
But in real life those niggas will be the snitches
Its a dirty game y'all


Friday, November 23, 2012

Unintended Consequences

So, depleted uranium. Fallujah.

...decades of testing. Hiroshima. U.S. soldier guinea pigs. Warning reports before the first Gulf War. Strong concerns raised by veterans of that war getting rare cancers and passing rare cancers onto their children.

Yet here, at Arianna's vanity site, Mr. Koehler laments that war has "unintended" consequences, such as depleted uranium poisoning.

Look for this as the new phase of deception and brutality: the most humane, passionate condemnations of "war," alongside the insidious, filthy claims that the baby-killing, fetus-mutating results were not meant to happen. Whatever delightful confessions the sinner makes, he has built into his statement an exoneration of depleted uranium use that implies its after-effects were a real shocker.

This telegraphs the next elite punch: as populations grow more savvy about war-as-product (which looks like it may take another 50-100 years), elites will have their engineers develop new waves of weapons and consumer products with unintended consequences. Decades or centuries later, with formal "war" and "states" completely absent, the same beneficial effects of war will be obtained through "domestic police action" and "unfortunate sickness caused by the unforeseen interaction of _______ and human DNA."

So, look out! The morality of the deception will be the same, and the same types of people will be either suffering or getting rich, but the complexity of the facade will go up another notch. 2112 will see politicians discussing the latest book that critically analyzes the tragic wartime presidency of Barack Obama, while they apologize for the health effects of the replacement of water by "iH20" and promise that the next release will be better.

Mr. Koehler is one of the more advanced new intelligence agents: the kind who can scathingly and progressively criticize recent political decisions in a way that subtly exonerates the actors for the worst that they did. The deliberate uranium poisoning of Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and American soldiers is a far greater crime, and will claim far more victims, than the actual numbers of dead from the initial explosions. It could even lead to the end of humanity, if enough D.U. gets scattered worldwide to make antilife dreams come true. Sending flak into an eight year old Iraqi girl, putting her through tremendous pain and fear, and causing her to take twenty minutes bleeding to death are terrible things, but Koehler's willing to blame Bush for that, while implying that Bush didn't also know about the twenty little Iraqi girls he was going to give mortal, drawn-out lung defects to with that very same cluster of D.U. goodies.

Beware of those sickest tendencies, even in yourself, to gloss over even one crime. The interlinked human stories of those who recoil in horror can suffer, unintentionally, the same distortion affect that the deathlords are deliberately creating through their entertainment agents. It is on the backs of these tiny little mistakes and omissions that the new fallout horrors are borne. The psy-ops guys running fake websites and social networking accounts will duplicate the full range of mark behavior, including progressive indignation. The guard against infiltration is the willingness to be critical of everything, even the self, because Koehler might not be aware that he's performing cointelpro work without even getting paid. Gautama Siddharta: It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

The Smart Math Class ~ Updated

Photo from Green Olive Tours/Oren Ziv/ActiveStills.org.

In East Asia and Western Europe, where most standardized pre-university education includes a decent summary of human-math-up-to-that-point-in-time, the little American math-class divide doesn't tend to happen as often. In America's K-12 machine, though, customers get segregated into one of three math classes: the remedial ("dumb") section, the many sections of nameless average (which would be equivalent to special education in East Asia and Western Europe), and the one "advanced" ("smart") section, which is equivalent to the standard East Asian/Western European courses, but with lower expectations and a reduced set of covered material.

Focusing on America, and tracking the careers of the little advanced students into adulthood, we see the crop of future journalists, engineers, lawyers, doctors, academics, and occasionally, recreational pilots who make up the foundation of liberal America. They generally have the raw stuff of projective intelligence, and are more than ready to tackle challenges like improving the hinge on a microwave, writing a good "hook," explaining insurance cost overlays without having read the full summary, or, more commonly, increasing ramjet efficiency on the F-35 Village Strafer by 0.06% at a cost of only $137 million.

Along with the few points of increased examination prowess and quiet note-taking competence exhibited by the smart-math-class Americans comes the sad tendency toward obedience and reward-seeking. I.e., for most, it was never about the math, but about pleasing Teacher that drove the regimented steps of curriculum and career achievement.

A sad by-product of this tendency has been the cutesy causes of the American professional class. So many are content to follow the white line toward ecstatic re-evaluations of what sixth-wave trans-sexual-preferences really means to the stay-at-home father, and the nuances of securing eco-friendly corporate sponsors for the rally to raise funds for the phone campaign to raise awareness about the benefits of the Free Access To Organic Juice Bars Act (FATOJBA). And the best part is, everybody wins, amirite?

Dear L.G. writes, "It is always governments and power factions (none of whom do the fighting) who truly want war. Some citizens fall for the marketing, but most want peace." The translation of signs in the photo above, courtesy her via the referenced orgs: "Jews and Arabs refuse to be enemies." This is good; to be Jewish and not Zionist is to be living evidence of the imperialist lie, just like being someone whose kid was buried in the twin towers and who isn't impressed with Dubya's explanation of a few random guys with planes and let's have a new war.

By contrast, blunt diversity in another form, from a different student in a different smart math class:

Next week we will welcome a new Democratic Caucus where -- for the first time in Congressional history -- the majority will be women and minorities. We expect to have 61 women, 43 African Americans, 27 Hispanics, 10 Asian Americans and 6 LGBT Americans in our Caucus.

So yeah, the Democratic Party is using race, sexual identity and sexuality as a marketing tool, and people are gushing over it. Juice bars for all.

At some level, the people gushing over these press releases, like so many iPhone users sharing sweaty rumors about storage capacity on the 712.42 model, understand that this is the dialogue of marketing. The same people who cheer with glee about that laminated Democratic Party press release above can offer a critique of the ways Republicans used Willie Horton to play off racism. Ergo they understand the ways that trumpeting race is a tool, and when they lap up the Democratic Party diversity releases, like the token minority lead in 1 out of 400 Disney movies, they're doing it by knowing, if unexpressed, choice.

All of which leads back to culpability and awareness: Access Granted. To enthuse about token social policy advances within the non-bombed portions of the world is to support the massacring occurring within the bombed portions. They are the soldiers. They're not actually as naive and silly about the Juice Bar Act or fifth-wave genderism as they pretend to be.

The Puritans came to America out of a desire for religious diversity and acceptance, too, and to be free from persecution, and create a society where all men could be treated equally. Um, Indians and slaves. Oops. And super-duper diversity is about societies where all people get a chance to live, except people living on the wrong part of the globe, or who our diverse representatives have decided no longer get to be included in the "living" list. Because gay transgender crippled depressed multi-ethnic people who Love Their Cats and Have Breast Cancer get killed in those dark places, too. And getting killed is a lot worse than being sure that that employee at the juice bar sneered at you when you weren't quite looking. No, really, it is.

The Jehovahn/Grecian/Roman/French/British/American evolution of brutal colonialism has always and ever been about professing different flavors of freedom, diversity, acceptance, and equality, while simultaneously killing the target of the day. So being really hip about any faddish equality movement spawned by upper class western academics--be it Protestantism in a time of crusades, deism in a time of Indian genocide, or third-wave feminism in a time of Arab genocide--is the grease that keeps the motor running. Hundreds of years of little equality movements have kept the western bourgeoisie smug and happy worrying about whether black slaves would get the right to become free and impoverished and work 16 hours shifts in daddy's factory in London for three pence a week--and they made much more noise about that than they ever did about the massacres and dislocations of X-hundred thousand Zulu.

Pioneers Learn to Sprint for Their Ships

Plymouth Bay, Massachusetts — In the settlements of the New World, puritans now measure the distance from tribal lands in seconds, not miles, counting the time it takes for an incoming Indian raid to hit.

In this coastal city about 10 miles east of the tipis remaining after the last war, with a population of about 40,000, the residents have 30 seconds to run for cover. So when the cowbell pierced the tense quiet at afternoon prayer on Monday and several shouting braves roared toward the city, Prudish Goodwife, 55, stopped cutting apples for a cake, she said, and ran with her grandchildren to the Santa Maria II, a stout British frigate on loan from the Dutch East India Company.

“The fire, the smell of the fire,” she repeated, clearly in shock, minutes after one of the godless savage braves had waved a tomahawk menacingly at a neighbor’s yard, where once heathen redskins had played with their children. The tomahawk was later found stuck in the side of the barn near the church, causing damage but no injuries, and guaranteeing eternal hellfire for all tribal peoples.

“That war whoop! Only God can help us,” Ms. Goodwife said. “It’s not luck, it’s a miracle.”

Christopher Smith and his son Richard, 5, were taken from a house nearby to the leech-tent, being left very afraid after two savage women accosted them to steal a horse the Smiths had borrowed from the tribe during the initial landing at the colony. Richard and a brother, Jeremy, 15, have taken to sheltering under a dining table where a mattress has been placed. Richard had another close call when he was drinking with some friends on a salted cornfield where some old braves came by to reminisce once last season. The experience so frightened the heroic settlers that they wet their breeches and ran instantly to demand that colony leaders do something about the red menace.

On the sixth day of the pilgrims' smallpox campaign against the savages of the coastal forests - which colony leaders say is mainly aimed at restoring deterrence and stopping scalping — the sides seemed poised between a possible cease-fire and further escalation. Thousands of British troops, along with 25 tonnes of heavy cannon and the bloated corpses of ten recent victims of tuberculosis, have been sent from the kingdom by His Majesty, waiting for the order to land and infect and massacre the eastern tribes by whatever means necessary. British evening papers reported that Director Chamberlain of the Dutch East India Company was holding a private meeting with investors to decide the fate of the American tribes, but there was no word on what, if anything, they had decided.

When questioned, a captured shaman said that his people had been driven away and his children killed, despite Director Chamberlain's contention that only non-Christian savages were being punished.

More than 800 braves have tried to retake the settlement since the fourteenth wave of colony landings began. A young mother and two men were killed in one attack. But despite the fear caused by years of conflict, many settlers said that without a cease-fire guaranteeing the eternal quiet of the tribes, they would prefer the westward expansion to carry on.

Colony leaders call this willingness to endure “manifest destiny” and say it allows them to make their decisions comfortable in the knowledge that they have wide public support.

“I’m for a ground operation so there will finally be calm,” said Captain John Smith, the father of two boys destined to serve in the militia garrison, which has been frequently attacked by the soulless savage scum. Nearly 12 brave soldiers have lost their lives clearing cornfield west of the colony, before the last Seneca Chief was shot, alongside the rest of his tribe, in a recessed pit dug not far from the colony's present-day boundary.

As militia soldiers rode through a Mohawk village in the northern woods, pummeling tipis, godless squaws and cursed redskin brats with lead balls, braves from there moved toward the colony in retaliation, but were mostly stopped and cut to pieces by mounted soldiers with rifles.

But with war whoops on everyone's mind, normal life has nevertheless come to a halt.

“We can go on,” said Cotton Mather, 51, a preacher and family health counselor, drinking morning coffee with colleagues at a table outdoors as more soldiers galloped west. “It is worth suffering a bit more to finish the job we began by putting this colony here in the first place.”

Many here said that if the pilgrims had just killed all the savages to start with in the initial landing, they wouldn't have to keep fighting the few remaining members of the tribes.

Mary Crepe, 45, was home playing cards on Saturday when an accursed heathen brute shot an arrow into the old wall out back of the house three down from hers. Her family had been huddled, crying, reading their bibles for the past six hours, and escaped unharmed.

“We’ve smoked peace-pipes with the lying gremlins before,” Ms. Crepe said on Monday, at home because she didn't want to go outdoors.

“I’m no expert. The colony's leaders should decide how to clean this continent off,” she continued, “but we need a solution so that white people can live in quiet for years.”

On a post near her neighbor's home, other colonists had pasted a portrait taken from a newspaper of Captain John Smith, alongside portraits of Moses and Jesus and others who supported the mission of cleansing the New World.

(All courtesy the New World Times.)

Saturday, November 17, 2012

I dare

I have a hundred million dollars. If I even cared to, I could buy you. "Law" does not apply to me. I live where I wish, rest when I wish, play when I wish, and play with kinds of toys you've never heard of. History is written the way I want it to be.

I dare those of you down there to come get me.

I have ten million dollars. If I even cared to, I could complain to enough of your bosses to get you fired. "Hunger" and "shelter" are "worries" from fiction. I don't travel as often as I'd like, but it's always a pleasant option, and I have every toy that I know enough about to want. If I really want to work a little, I can get things named after me.

I dare those of you down there to come get me.

I have a million dollars. I could come up with something to hire you for if I felt like it, but I don't. If I'm extremely prudent, I might climb a little higher. "Hunger" does not apply to me. I work for toys and pleasures, but if I really needed to, I could strip bare to the bones and still survive without getting off my couch.

I dare those of you down there to come get me.

I have prospects. I fight and scrape for a shred of security, but at some point, I think it will be all right. Sometimes, I get imitation toys and pleasures, but I have to keep my eyes on the prize. I know what hunger smells like, because I had to glimpse it once as part of my training. I don't want to stay here forever.

I dare those of you down there to come get me.

I am a citizen. I fight like a rat to keep in a plate and a bed. At any point, I could be out of those, but if I fight hard enough and stress mind and body to breaking with every other thought, I'll stay where I need to be to endure within these walls.

I dare those of you down there to come get me.

I have nothing, but I'm here. I fight like a rat not to starve while your robots try to kill me. At any point, I could die, but as long as I'm here, I'm alive, and that's something.

I dare those of you down there to come get me.

Succeeding Access Granted.

Don't hate the player; hate the game.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Access Granted

No Quantity Of Dead-Child Pictures Has An Effect

Buried away in underground steel vaults at Langley, watched over by dispassionate armed guards, it is not. It's all out there, and the late twentieth-century ruse that it wasn't ever all out there is just as silly/deadly/false.

Book after book of firsthand accounts of the stuff in the years before the Iran-Contra Affair. South American women having their photographs taken by American journalists, describing being raped by roving bands of brigands. And yes, we can't trust those women, who are probably lying just to get attention, but what about the white male Air Force officers, DEA & intelligence agents describing how dozens of officials at the highest levels of government were having South American peasants murdered, land cleared, drugs grown and shipped to the U.S. for sale, and some of the money siphoned to buy weapons for presumably bad people? Including ones whom the old wealthy white guys in suits said were bad. And said at that time--not even later?

In theory, this should have been ground-shattering stuff. If any of the standard narratives from any point between 1776 and 2019 held, then but one of the above revelations from the vicinity of Iran-Contra should've sunk the ship, or at least really shaken things up. Granted, so should've Pearl Harbor (TM), or Nineleven (TM), or WMD, any of that, but clearly, this has no effect on the populace.

Still, the minor murder and rape sprees in South America once seemed, to me, like something that would bring a change. This particular set of paperwork came from an R1 institution, publicly accessible, where anyone could just walk in and read anything for weeks, as long as they didn't expose themselves to freshman students. And the stuff is on the internet anyway, but no one believes the internet, so seeing it in hardbound books and major newspapers from serious corporate publishers should've, in theory, been enough.

...particularly when it assaulted their own purported sensibilities, however twisted and racist and culturally superior those sensibilities were. Again, Iran-Contra, and the associated pieces of El Salvador, showed us that the most strident, conservative Americans were okay with white Christian women being gang-raped by swarthy Salvadoran men. Because when white nuns tried to feed and shelter the displaced children of rebels, America would send local warlords to rape-kill them (the nuns, or the children? both!). Shocking, to a leadership that's supposedly crazily Christian and white supremacist? No; those fronts are clearly false. It was no surprise later on when they proved more than able to keep business as usual going with gays and blacks and metrosexuals wearing the suits.

And as to the raw horrors--again, no. It's no more of a revelation than the Indian genocide or the Arab genocide. Hiroshima and robot child-killing drones don't have an impact. No quantity of dead-child pictures has an effect.

Everyone Already Knows

Well, duh. But it's hard to take, sometimes. It continues to befuddle people. Over and over, internet bloggers will complain that people are being raped, tortured, and killed, as though these revelations will have any effect on the grindery. Sometimes, it seems like a Republican might care; sometimes, a Democrat. Sometimes, maybe even a progressive who, with utmost resignation, votes for Obama. But the revelations don't have that effect, do they? Obama has killed, by officially acknowledged figures, a few dozen-K children, and that doesn't stop them. That Particular Number is not a sobering one, or even anything to be thought about.

Why? Because they already knew. So you think that if they understand the magnitude of the horror, they will realize the price isn't worth it. Add in a few more dead baby pictures. Talk about the millions of starved, homeless children. Remind them that, even if they've rationalized Iraq, they forgot about Somalia, the Sudan, the underage girls getting raped every year in Okinawa under SOFA protections. Still no effect. It bounces right off of the resigned American liberal like an accusation of close-mindedness hitting the pudgy dimple in Sean Hannity's chin.

Because they already knew.

When you walk into a car dealership, or into a Sprint store, you know the salesman is going to lie to you. He's not necessarily going to lie quite as blatantly as some salesmen. He's going to get to know you, play up your strengths, apologize for his manager, grumble with you about the price of gas and repairs, and help you settle on the best possible option, that being something on the dealership. You know this, and even if it works on most people, it doesn't get you angry if you know the game and you're buying your tenth car. Similarly, screaming at the deliberately-powerless Indian technical support staff gets you nowhere, ergo once you've figured that one out, you don't take it personally.

Yet, for some mysterious reason, there's still a healthy amount of internet-progressive anger and confusion at being confronted by the Standard American Resigned Liberal, with their salesman's faces and swift talking.

Resource war. The pessimists believe, deep down, that the resources on the planet can't handle its population. They're terrified that the population might grow, and that they might get lost in the shuffle. They're terrified inside by the belief that if a different nation was the hegemon, it would be as cruel to America as America is to other nations while America is the hegemon.

So they turn to a contest of the killers, and beg someone to make them feel good, and progressive, about the same old show. They cling to Obama's skirts, hoping that he'll not only be a bigger bully than all the other bullies they believe in, but that he might leave them alive once the next resource war is over. Their hearts hold no hope that it can be stopped. Asking them to vote with their conscience is meaningless, because they are voting their conscience--they're making a self-interested vote for their own protection, choosing a hardened killer to protect them from swarms of dark children, who they're sure would be just as mean to them if the shoe were on the other foot.

You're A Little Smarter

So, hooray. You figured out Obama. You realize he, and his operators, are not helping the standard bloodthirsty liberal do a lesser-evil thing, but in fact, leading them through a cycle of exploitation and slaughter. And you're afraid, because if you fight back, you'll be killed. You don't want to be treated like Bradley Manning or Pat Tillman or a traveling Arab, so you whine a little on the internet, pay your taxes, and fund the whole thing. If you're really a renegade, you wave a sign at disinterested drivers every couple years or so--you communard, you!

Welcome to being just as slimy as the Standard American Apologist. In the equation of death before dishonor, you've chosen dishonor. You know that it's open war--you know that the elites are massacring the planet, and not even out of a partially-selfless desire to help their own "country," but just for themselves. And your resistance is indignant words.

So whine, Arthur. Use naughty words at the salesmen, like expressing another ten years of shock at their price-gouging is really going to make them feel ashamed and knock it off. Every week, pump out a new piece of genocide porn, Chris. They're getting off on it--the tyrants delight in those extra squeaks and protests as they rip your brocade clear, while the audience, all of whom have already seen the show fifty times, are getting their fix just as thoroughly while you re-describe it in titillating detail.

The more of the adult show you see, the more culpable you are for allowing it to continue. Your increased perception is the proof that you knew what you were doing at the time of the crime, and that you intimately understood the ways it was plotted, financed, rationalized, carried out, and dusted away. Your verbose insults and incredulity are really at yourself, for pretending that sending essays to Skynet Colorado will wake up the horde of junior mafioso that is openly cheering on this show while wishing on a star that it weren't quite so bloody except that everyone knows it has to be. The resigned votes for Obama and his drones were the feigned woes of someone who just ate half a cheesecake and promises to start dieting tomorrow. For the twentieth time. This month. And if you're smart enough to figure out Obama's front, you're smart enough to figure out the show his vote-soldiers are carrying on.

The innocent shock of decades spent being shocked anew would be a lot more sweet and believable if it weren't always accompanied by the passing of the collection plate. The guilty one is at the keyboard. Look in the mirror and see the Creator.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

That Particular Number

(Crafted in response to an anonymous pair of resignations about lesser evils. They were long, thorough, and thoughtful.)

It's chilling how much those look like me, but ten years ago. In order to justify to oneself why supporting any given tyrant murderer is okay, there's really only one plausible way to go, and that's to be pessimistic: "It's terrible, but it couldn't be any better." So we all ended up there, at some point, if we couldn't see that the way to a better world would never come by supporting tyrants.

In deciding to accept that compromise, what are the terms we're willing to accept? They're different for everyone, of course, and maybe that's the way it should be. Ask yourself if there is any line beyond which you're not willing to go. For example, let's say Obama has directly ordered the killing of, oh, 10,000 little Arab children by a combination of piloted air to surface attacks, robot drones, and house raids. It's certainly much, much higher than that, but let's just say that, as of November 2012, it's only 10,000 children.

You presumably wouldn't support Hitler, even if he were a lesser evil than Hindenburg or any given Kaiser who wanted to throw off war reparations and finish out the World War. And let's just say Hitler killed 1.5 million children in non-open war, with the Holocaust. Even though he massively improved economic conditions in Germany for a good while, threw off the WW1 debts, saved thousands from starvation, improved prenatal care for vulnerable women and low income families, etc.

So, somewhere in between 10,000 and 1.5 million murdered kids is your tipping point, right? (Again, assuming that Hitler is simply too evil to support, even if he's "lesser." If Hitler is acceptable, then that's a separate subject.) Decide for yourselves what That Particular Number of killed children is. Write it down, and think about it, and be open to the possibility that if, someday, the Democratic Executive child death toll reaches That Particular Number--whatever it is, between 10,000 and 1.5 million--then that's the point at which you're not willing to keep going.

Goodness knows, we need to exempt the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, or we're already at that number. Let's just say 1992--Reagan is out of office, Bush, Sr. is out of office, and we'll completely exempt anything that Dubya did, so we'll eliminate from consideration anything that happened during his entire administration. That Particular Number will apply only to your lifetime; to 1992 forward, and not counting Dubya's 8 years. We'll ignore the napalm melting the skin off of however many little Vietnamese girls; we'll overlook however many Cambodian kids, Laotian kids, etc. were killed under Democratic presidents, and we'll just focus on Democratic Party executive killings post-1992. We won't even count things that Democratic Congresses supported under Dubya; we'll assume that as mere Senators/Representatives, they sort of had to go along with executive policy, so Obama and the rest of the party don't have to take any credit at all for supporting the authorization to attack Iraq, funding the war that had already started, or any of that.

Back to That Particular Number. That's the point at which you'll no longer accept, say, America's stunted version of judge-derived, insurance-company-screwed abortion rights, or some other little domestic policy candy, as "enough" to justify the horror of tearing life from all those "non American children." (And yes, Democratic Party Executives kill "American citizen" children too, but let's even give the Party a pass on those killings. That Particular Number can just include "foreigners.")

Write That Particular Number down. You don't need paper; you never need to tell me or anyone what it is; just emblazon it on your soul, and remember it forever. And tell yourself, "When the Democratic Party kills _______ children in my lifetime, that is finally IT. That is when I stop accepting any nicety they give me, and declare them TOO EVIL to support, no matter how lesser they claim it is. That is when this ends, for me. Once That Particular Number is reached, the game is over. No more Democratic Party, and no more support for any leader of any kind who bombs/shoots kids, because they crossed my line."

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Outdated Hurricane News

It is urgently important to prevent new super-storms from touching down in early 2013.

Hurricane season is now just weeks away, and I want to urge those whose values are generally in line with mine, to make this goal one of your priorities during this period.

An activist colleague recently said to me: “I hear you’re supporting Hurricane Sandy.”

I was startled, and took offense. “Supporting Sandy? Me?! I lose no opportunity publicly,” I told him angrily, to identify Sandy as a dangerous storm, a storm that could drown people and cause property damage, and that can get you really, really cold. Would you call that support?”

My friend said, “But on your Weather Channel interview, you urged people in coastal states to leave their windows open, leave children unattended on the beach, and leave gasoline-burning vehicles operating overnight to increase atmospheric carbon dioxide! How could you say that? I don’t live in a coastal state, but I could never put children at risk like that under any circumstances, and more importantly, I thought we were supposed to be using fewer fossil fuels.”

My answer was: an even bigger tropical storm in 2013, or maybe years later, would be no better -- no different -- on any of the serious offenses I just mentioned or anything else, and it would be much worse, even catastrophically worse, on a number of other important issues: making your toes extra cold, flooding a few more car dealerships, or breaking up WiFi access for hours longer per day than Sandy.

I told him: “I don’t ‘support hurricanes.’ I 'oppose yetis' and other harbingers of even bigger arctic storms. This is not a contest between Hurricane Sandy and Mr. Smiley Sun. The climactic conditions in a handful of coastal states are going to determine whether Hurricane Sandy or Hurricane Anne or Hurricane Christine, or some other chick-named hurricane is going to sweep through here in the next few years, or not."

As Bill the Weather Guy said recently, “There are potentially storms out there more dangerous than Hurricane Sandy, including particularly the "red spot" on Jupiter, which could be dangerous not just to this country, but to the world. It’s worth expending some effort to prevent their rise to power, without sowing illusions about Sandy.”

The only way for good and decent people to stop these yeti-driven super-storms of the future, at this date, is to persuade enough people in coastal states to ripen conditions for future Sandy-level storms: to support building coal-firing plants and urge the government to continue using ramjet engines in their top-gun craft. And that movement has to include, in coastal states, those disillusioned "climate concerned" who are at this moment inclined to stop supporting such things (because like me they’ve been not just disappointed but disgusted and enraged by the environmental effects of burning coal and jet fuel for hundreds of years).

They have to be persuaded to pollute, and to pollute in a way that will cause more storms like Hurricane Sandy, despite the terrible results of those storms. That’s not easy. As I see it, that’s precisely the “effort” Bill the Weather Guy is referring to as worth expending right now to prevent future Jupiter-type super-storms from appearing. And it will take truly intelligent people -- some of you reading this, I hope -- to understand why this is a good thing.

The traditional "clean environment" mantra, “Let's stop super-storms entirely before any more of us get drowned," amounts to saying: “I want Jupiter's red spot to destroy us all.” And that’s absurd. It constitutes shameless apologetics for places like Jupiter and the storm-riddled land of the yetis, however unintended. It’s crazily divorced from present reality.

It’s true that the differences between Hurricane Sandy and some hypothetical yeti-class storm are not nearly as large as astronomers or bigfoot-chasers claim, let alone what we would want. It’s even fair to suppose that they both cause billions of dollars of damage and kill and inconvenience us.

And it’s not at all harmless to be propagating absurd falsehoods like "clean environment." It has the effect of encouraging people, even in coastal states, to try to withdraw funding for coal-fired plants and a nationwide network of military vehicles consuming over half the petrol on the planet. That’s an effect that serves no one but the yetis, and ultimately encourages Jupiter's red spot to consider relocating.

It’s not merely understandable, it’s entirely appropriate to be enraged at Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Sandy, and the tsunamis of Japan. As I am. They have killed many people, and it is entirely human to want to put a stop to these terrors.

But rage is not generally conducive to clear thinking. And it often gets worked out against innocent victims, as would be the case here domestically, if refusals to encourage more Sandys and Katrinas resulted in Jupiter's red spot flying to Earth and settling down.

Encouraging more Sandys and Katrinas, and the increasingly intense storms they portend, is not going to stop things from getting worse--the opposite. But after we encourage more storms like this, it will be up to us to produce positive climate change elsewhere in the rest of our lives -- through organizing, building movements, and agitating.

Urging people to listen to their "conscience" is, I believe, dangerously misleading advice. I would say to a progressive that if your conscience tells you to do anything other than to buy an extra car and hire a homeless person to drive it in circles at night, while making lots of sudden stops and starts, you need a second opinion. Your conscience is giving you bad counsel.

Once you've hired that driver, use e-mail, op-eds, social media, and movement building--all recognizable phrases that sound very reassuring--to work toward creating a healthy environment.

(From the reanimated frame of The Artist Formerly Known As Daniel.)

Friday, November 2, 2012

This machine ate my quarter!

One of the more predictable of the many very-predictable 21st century events has happened even before a diagnosis of lingering cancer could make it more stirring: George Lucas, the plagiarizing fake-hippie of repackaged, half-glimpsed Orientalist mysticism, sold a popular brand recently. Disney stockholders will become the new proxy owner-managers of Star Wars (TM), able to finally wring out of the franchise some of the lower-grade merchandising that George Lucas simply wasn't able to bring himself to do, taking actions even more soulless than selling McDonald's glasses, Lego figurines and cartoon-themed video games based around the brand's "characters" and "settings." Advanced consumer scientists are researching just what those increasingly profane prostitutions will be. (No, really; they are.)

Even J.R.R. Tolkien had enough true love for his history-tome-written series to tell Disney to keep the fuck away from it, and to steer his franchise heirs, accordingly, toward a better rendition of it.

Another moment should be set aside to discuss the vile businessman George's plagiarism. Lucas' clumsy theft of a dead woman's words should not slip the cultural memory. His appropriation of Han Solo's splintered character from Margaret Mitchell, and the rise to colossal branding power of the results of his pithy narrative, with its equally blunt score, rode on the back of enough theft to make Shakespeare blush, and Lucas couldn't even dress up the purloined plots with bardian dialogue. Before the second Star Wars trilogy, when Lucas could afford to hire teams of nameless production assistants (un-cited screenwriters) to cover his dialogue--resulting in standard Hollywood screenplay coupled with lightsaber duels--the first trilogy showed us that Lucas couldn't even manage the Hollywood level on his own. His dialogue in Episodes IV-VI is a mishmash of Joseph Campbell near-quotes about the force, along with copies, word-for-word, of Margaret Mitchell's Rhett Butler. Yes, word-for-word: the most direct, laziest type of theft. Rhett Butler may have been a patriarchal asshole, but he was Margaret's patriarchal asshole, and even in this land of soultheft, what Lucas did should have somehow come out and crushed him into a Disney buyout thirty years ago.

The branding, of course, can't possibly get worse. The franchise has already been expressing itself as Lego-based action movies; Disney can't possibly further profane the reanimated corpse of what was, at its inception, the product-placement equivalent of a bloated Dickensian street-whore who hides her syphilis in the shadows of a cheap boarding house. The inevitable success of the foul intermarriage will be seen in the "few" dozens of millions, or the "respectable" hundreds of millions, that Disney's recycled scripts will later make from the parents of the next generation of mindtrapped children, who will be dragged enthusiastically to this by the adults that Lucas' first empty worldvision helped produce. (Agenda hint, again, from Lucas: Obama is "a hero in the making.")

This transaction effectively telegraphs the recapitulation of this grand antilife fugue in which we can't stop acting; a counterpoint melody of the dark theme playing our time. Our cultural transcriber, our Colosseum's fight-fixer, is a high-level intelligence agent who steals pieces of culture and becomes obscenely wealthy peddling them to a populace raised in a nursery of cartoon play-figures, who can never see the world as it lies. It really wasn't about the cash. There was no creative vision; there was no Pygmalion's love; there was no realization that a character should be as unmarketable as a warrior's honor.

America's inability to understand the nature of real supervillains is George Lucas' inability to write well. Real supervillains, when discussing mass murder, do not wear Nazi uniforms or black cyber-suits, goose-step around with their hands laced behind their backs, choke one another at the table, and snicker at the prospect of blowing up a planet of civilians. Instead, they shake their heads gravely, treat one another respectfully, and talk about the moral qualms of massacring children (here's Arthur Silber quoting some White House press releases on that subject). Supervillains don't name their weapons "Death Stars," but "Guardian UAVs."

By the same token, love is not vampire puppy love. Real strong women don't spend their time hissing "bitch!" and using bows and arrows. Real moral qualms run deeper than lightsaber color or one of two four-letter appellations for being on the right side. Our culture's marketable "art"--the raped husk of visual design, literature, and human emotions and struggles--and our participation in it, is why we don't know the real thing when we see it outside of the artistic context. If you want to learn anything, it begins with art. Even the capacity to imagine how to learn properly comes from imagination and art, which is why the soul-crushing of each new generation of children, and the reduction of its education about the human experience, has to be carefully reduced to a shell-game of skin-deep characters and situations. Why is a kiddie-cartoon-and-roller-coaster-ride company such a powerful, megabillion industry? That's why. Building this kind of bland populace, whether through puritanical Christianity or mouse ears, is a cradle-to-grave process.

Much commercial success forthcoming. To quote VastLeft: "Spoiler alert: A warmongering corporatist will win the presidential election." (Let's even hedge our bets--who cares if the next movie fizzles in some way? The 'toon revenues and product rights will pay for this purchase many times over, even if this were strictly a Forbes-type playing-hard investment issue, and not social engineering.)

Have real people, real characters, and real emotions any foothold in this place? Lucas has always been a pointless managerial whore, but even after everything else he's done, this particular act is equivalent to public acknowledgement of Obama's Tuesday-morning drone-murder meetings, and the piles of shredded brown children produced thereby. For those of us who already knew there was no wizard of oz, there's no surprise at the mechanics, but the act itself is staggering. Here, news cameras from all over the world were present as Geraldo stormed into the Lucasfilm offices to find George Lucas' executive administrative assistant whipping a hundred and forty-three independent-contractor B.F.A. writers to make them produce the next spinoff paperback faster.