Monday, April 22, 2019

We Are All Julian Assange!: An Anarchist Soliloquy

These are the days, dearest motherfuckers. These are those days. These days. These days of rage. These do or die days. These all or nothing days. These days with the ice caps melting and the seas rising to drown their wayward children. These days with the empire collapsing all around us in heaps of flames like the glowing red spires of a thousand Notre Damme's. Days of hysteria and blindness. Days of gnashing teeth and talking heads decapitated from the reality they pontificate upon. Days of drones strikes and indefinite detention. The end of days for the worlds most abominable superpower, exit stage right. But the actors in this epic tragedy are revolting. Swing low, sweet cherry, Helter Skelter is coming down with a fight. Nero's finale is rapidly becoming a concerto. In days like these, truth has become a precious commodity. The kind of glimmering prize that even the better angels of our nature are tempted to horde. But sadly sometimes even horded prizes can be taken for granite. Washed away in the rapids of filth that can only be called "truth" in parentheses.

It's not easy to tell eight billion people that they are damned to a hell of their own creation. Pacifists have been crucified for far less. An entire estate once devoted to just such a task has collapsed beneath the weight of its responsibility. A whole new estate had to be created on the fringes to take their place. Unlike the Fourth, we dreary partisans of the Fifth Estate are not charming birds performing behind the gilded cage of a faberge news desk. We are not the beautiful people. We are the freaks, the weirdos, the hackers, the leakers, the bloggers, the trolls, the 300 pound kids in Belorussian babushka's basements pounding our stubby little fingers black and blue against our machines. We are the heard unseen. We are the fissures in the crumbling iceberg. The embers in the belfry. And this week we are all Julian Assange.

Seven long years buried alive in the catacombs of a South American embassy. Or was it eight? So hard to tell with no sunlight. Shanghaid on trumped up charges for the crime of exposing the horrific realities of America's rapidly collapsing forever wars. Seven long years of playing claustrophobic games of cat and mouse with the closing walls. Tempting fate to jump first from the brink of our burgeoning insanity. We told the truth. We showed it to them in stark black and white. We showed them the bodies. First the men, their guilt unverified, irrelevant. Then the women. Then the children. Fed, charred, writhing and screaming to the tomahawk fangs of a great green machine, it's vital organs laughing and cheering, basking in the thick black smoke of their state sanctioned cruelty. We showed them the digital kraken in the Utah desert. We showed them the tentacles connecting our police state to every flickering screen in this country and beyond, keeping tabs on the indentured citizenry of a world that can only be called "free" in parentheses. They just shrugged.

We told you the truth! We told you everything! We carried the freedom the press dropped on Golgotha like a soiled cross. We carried it on our brittle shoulders with no help from Christ. We sacrificed our freedom, our health, our very sanity. We gave it all to you on a silver platter like the severed head of John the Baptist and your thanks for this sacrifice is cruel indifference, total radio silence while the cameras of the Fouled Estate capture our final journey between prison cells. Skin bleached by shadows. Long beard, tangled and grey like the smoke from a drone strike. Head still held high, screaming obscenities to the heavens with the crumpled proverbs of Gore Vidal clenched in our shackled fists. Still speaking truth to no one like an Old Testament prophet warning a joyfully oblivious Gomorrah of the flames that await it if it consents to such barbarism. And it consents, with a shrug. It always consents. The truth is a second rate high at best to a population of permanent children weaned on fentanyl and war porn.

Today we are all Julian Assange because if they can crucify Julian Assange they can crucify any one of us. Like Julian, we are not simply guilty of being journalists. We are guilty of being members of the Fifth and final Estate. We are guilty of being truth tellers, untethered to the multinational life-support-system of big business and bigger government. We are guilty of colluding with one another across their manufactured borders dividing us into left and right. We are guilty of spitting out the poison of the propaganda that once passed for journalism in this country. We are guilty of betraying their shallow patriotism in the name of truth. We are guilty as charged and we are aggressively unapologetic for our crimes.

We are all Julian Assange. We are all Chelsea Manning. We are all Reality Winner. We are all Edward Snowden, Glen Greenwald, Ross Ulbricht, Cody Wilson, Jeremy Scahill, Peter Van Buren and Laura Poitras. We are the charred, writhing, screaming corpses of the earth. We are the children you left home alone while you went out starting fires in the Middle East and we found the loaded .45 you keep under the bed. We are the Fifth fucking Estate. We are pissed off and we are not going away. When you crucify one of us, you crucify all of us. I hope you brought a lot of nails. We will make things ugly for you and that's a promise I aim to keep. You want a war? You got one. Bring your guns, hell, bring your goddamn atom bombs. I will outfox them all with my blog. My keyboard is one weapon of mass destruction you don't have to fabricate. This isn't over. Not by a long shot.



Your's in Lucifer, Pan, Loki & Christ- CH



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post

*  Drunk Walk Home by Mitski
*  Helter Skelter by the Beatles
*  Heads Gonna Roll by Jenny Lewis
*  Awful by Hole
*  Pretty by Girlpool
*  Float On by Modest Mouse
*  Don't be so Hard on Yourself by Alex Lahey
*  The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton by the Mountain Goats
*  Karma Police by Radiohead

Sunday, April 14, 2019

The Strange Success of Russiagate

It was the popcorn fart heard round the world. After two years of the vilest Russophobic hysteria seen since McCarthy was hauled off to a laughing academy in a straight-jacket, Robert Mueller, patron saint of butt-hurt Dems and indefinite Muslim detention, came to a conclusion on Russiagate only stunning to those of us who don't live outside the bulletproof walls of stone blind denial. After 37 indictments for totally unrelated Beltway scumbaggery. After $26 million of the taxpayers pilfered dollars flushed down the fucking toilet. After five hundred thousand hours of unhinged sore losers like Rachel Maddow giving Alex Jones a run for his money screaming their bloody heads off about one grassy knoll after another. The results of the great Russian Inquisition of 2019 are bupkis, notta, zero, no collusion whatsoever between one Donald J. Trump and the Putin regime. You could have heard a pin-head drop at MSDNC.

It was like the last scene of the Sopranos. Ivanka is struggling to park the Jag. Melania and Baron are popping onion rings. Putin heads for the bathroom with his hand shoved deep in his Members Only jacket. Journey swells on the jukebox. The bells on the door jangle. Donny's big orange face looks up it's "Don't stop!....". Lights out. And the pumped up kiddos in the #Resistance are smacking the side of the Sony until Robert Mueller's name appears on the credits. There all screaming high-holy what-the-fucks while skeptical cunts like me struggle to hold back our hysteric laughter long enough to say I told you so. Long story short; No collusion, you imbeciles! A sexually aggressive cartoon character became president because you insisted on cutting corners for a bomb dropping Wall Street battle ax who the Rustbelt casualties in purple America couldn't stomach voting for. You lose. You blew it. There are no boogeymen with long Slavic names to blame. You suck. Game over.

Naturally, the faithful in snowflake country are taking the news a little hard. Some of them are still holding out hope for a secret Easter egg of collusion buried somewhere deep in the fully unredacted Mueller Report and who knows, they could get lucky. There might be some shred of humiliating evidence lost in that massive unholy Finnegan's Wake of labyrinthine documentation. Some whimsical anecdote from a Ukrainian goat herder about a meeting between Trump and Stalin at a Burger King ten miles outside of Donetsk. Lord knows the Truthers managed to milk the 9/11 Commission Report for a few fleeting boners. And if the public never gets their hands on it, both sides of Congress will be able to spin this thing into more converging narratives than the New Testament. We will have the Adam Schiff Book of Mueller, the Devin Nunes Book of Mueller, the Dianne Feinstein Book of Mueller, each more bullshit than the last.

But the truly woke members of the Resistance have already begun to accept the harsh reality that if an old school neocon gumshoe like Mueller couldn't justify his pitiful career of framing immigrant children for terror plots with a climactic slam dunk then there was never really any 'there' there to begin with. Mueller is one of the assholes who legitimized the Iraq War with nothing but a few crumbs of yellow cake and a C+ term paper. If even a steel-haired master inquisitor like him couldn't scrounge up enough dirt to save face for such a pointless publicity stunt then the litter box is officially empty. No one wants to go down in history as a foot note next to Ken Starr. These well intentioned dupes who invested so much of their hopes and dreams of saving America from the Orange Menace into this aimless witch hunt are finally awakening to the nightmare that their crusaders for truth in the Fourth Estate and the deep state have mislead them down the rabbit hole into becoming the new Truthers. They're looking up at their dorm room walls as we speak, to a manic collage of crumpled receipts, torn magazine adds and scribbled Post-it notes tied together with thumbtacks and red yarn and asking themselves, "What in god's green dick have I become?"

With any luck these shell-shocked man-children will never trust another mainstream journalist or federal agent ever again and I take comfort in that. But does that mean that Russiagate was a total bust? Well, that really all depends on how you look at it. If the point was to vindicate the Democrats for losing the White House to a confirmed lunatic then the answer is a pretty resounding yes. However, if you're one of this countries talking heads on loan from the Military Industrial Complex, you have a long career and a grossly increased stream of income to look forward to. That's because the most lasting result of our latest Red Scare has been pushing both parties to embrace the most dangerously Russophobic foreign policy positions that we've seen since the Cuban Missile Crisis. Even the once ostensibly detente friendly Donald Trump has eviscerated the INF Treaty, threatened World War Three over Kremlin aid to the embattled Maduro regime in Caracas and completely forgotten Julian Assange's name as he's being hauled off to Florence Supermax for the next thousand years.

And perhaps this was the point all along. Not to impeach a president who has turned the world's foremost sinking superpower into a laughing stalk. But to insure that a geostrategic wildcard with possible financial ties to sanctioned Russian oligarchs stayed the course and kept the new Cold War the deep state has invested so much time and money into running. If the latter is indeed the case then I'd say that Russiagate has been a resounding success. Congrats, boys. Once again, you've made the world a far more dangerous and prosperous place. The Dulles brothers would be so proud.



Peace, Love & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post

*  Surrender by Cheap Trick
*  Insomniac by Echobelly
*  Don't Stop Believin by Journey
*  Drunk Walk Home by Mitski
*  I'm the Man by Joe Jackson
*  Hate To Say I Told You So by the Hives
*  Back In the USSR by the Beatles
*  Don't Look Back In Anger by Oasis
*  Better by Regina Spektor

Sunday, April 7, 2019

Fuck the Border

Well, he finally got what he wanted, dearest motherfuckers. That vile crusted jizz rag we call a president has finally managed to manufacture an actual crisis at the border. After months of saber rattling conspiracy theories about secret jihadists and child actors, after years of demonizing people escaping the shitholes that Uncle Sam dug himself in the killing fields of the Northern Triangle, the grand swarms have finally arrived, too great in number for even the Donald's enemies on the fake news to ignore. Naturally, Trump is playing up this tragedy as vindication for all his racist wolf-crying but the sick reality is that it's likely largely the result of it. A self-fulfilling doomsday prophecy for the MAGA era.

As Trump and his Mexican counterparts have turned the southern border into a fucking war zone, refugees see the last window closing on their hopes to escape the despotic and corrupt regimes that American taxpayers continue to prop up. If not now than never. So they pool their feeble savings into massive caravans and weather the storm troopers on the American DMZ with their gas and their guns. And the talking heads on my TV set have the nerve to question whether or not these people qualify as refugees. What sane mob of mothers would risk such merciless abuse for their own children unless they literally feared for their lives? So they brave that perilous invisible line drawn in the sand by the crusaders of Manifest Destiny in the razor slim hope that maybe, just maybe, they can escape the hordes of badged barbarians who hunt them down in the desert like animals.

The result of their desperate predicament is prisons packed with children orphaned by our runaway police state. Caged. Traumatized. Violated. Abused in every way imaginable. There exists no moral excuse for torturing children like this. Zero. This is state sanctioned child abuse on an industrial level. The Pope must be green with envy. Thousands of these nameless kids rot in cages like the carcasses of chewed up animals at a war torn zoo. Filthy. Degraded. Dehumanized. Never to be reunited with their mothers, many of whom are undoubtedly getting gang-raped as we speak in our gulag archipelago of privatized black holes. Trump's solution to this sickening display of human depravity is naturally more human depravity. More guards. More guns. More walls. More barbed wire. Beautiful barbed wire. Beautiful dungeons stuffed with the poorest people in the Western Hemisphere. Beautiful roaming gangs of ill-trained, well payed and role crazy kidnappers cruising elementary schools and cancer wards for a fresh crop of brown prey.

In a nutshell, more beautiful infrastructure to manufacture the illusion that a border is anything but an invisible and largely arbitrary line in the desert drawn to police human beings like cattle and sell deadly toys to their ranchers. Borders are a concept defined by statism, colonialism and the violence these things thrive on. The only means of policing these commons is by violating the basic civil right of voluntary movement. There is no humane way to do this. Any do-gooder progressive poseur who tells you otherwise is either a liar or an imbecile. Either way, they only serve to justify the existence of the fascist police state, as does the very notion of the border itself. People have the right to protect their private property as they see fit but no one owns the desert. No one owns the Rio Grande. And no one has the right to police those peaceful nomads who choose to make a living across a landscape that has hosted their ancestral tribes since the white man was still fucking his siblings back in rat plagued Europe.

There is only one solution to the turmoil at the border which represents the basic values of the voluntaryism that gives all forms of anti-statism meaning and that is the wholesale disintegration of that border as a practice and a concept. I'm all for tribalism, it's only natural. But any tribe who requires a child abusing police state doesn't deserve to exist. We can all do better than this.

Fuck the border, dearest motherfuckers. And that's a quote you can chisel into my grave stone. Cowards who betray children should fucking suffer and that includes that vile, malignant scumbag in the Oval Office. Forget impeachment. sow me a noose. Nuremberg is missing an orange pinata. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a few thousand prison breaks to plan.



Peace, Love & Empathy- CH



P.S. To any censorious spook, public or private, who lacks the capacity to grasp my sense of humor, I live at 138 Katherine Drive in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania. Just try and hold-off the drone strike until after 11:30 PM. I don't like to miss Rick & Morty. Thanks.



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post

*  Zombie by the Cranberries
*  White Minority by Black Flag
*  Panic by the Smiths
*  Lynch the Landlord by Dead Kennedy's
*  Paint It Black by the Rolling Stones
*  All Over Now by the Cranberries
*  First In the Gang to Die by Morrissey
*  Landslide by Beirut

Sunday, March 31, 2019

His Name Was Ozzy and He Was Murdered by the Police

His name was Osaze Osagie, but everyone who loved him just called him Ozzy and everyone who knew him seemed to love him. He had such a peaceful way with the world around him. I rarely saw him without that gentle smile on his face. You could tell he was not like 'normal' people and not just because he was far kinder than those bestowed with that loaded label. Like me, Ozzy was different, the 'normal' world calls it mental illness. I got to know him at my local psych rehab and quickly found myself enchanted by his easy going sense of humor and borderline Zen-like demeanor. He looked like a hybrid of  Hannibal Buress and the Dalai Lama, which isn't to say he didn't have his bad days. When he did, it was well understood that he liked to be left alone, to sit quietly in another room until his calmer qualities overcame his demons. But even at his worst, Ozzy couldn't harm a fly, he might hurt himself, but no one else.

Ozzy was my friend, and two weeks ago Ozzy was murdered, the latest mentally ill person of color to be senselessly slaughtered by our increasingly trigger-happy police state. They claimed it was 'self-defense', but don't they always. There's a lot of things that are still unknown about my friend's murder and sadly many of those things will likely remain unknown, lost in the fog of a murder investigation in which the investigators are fellow murderers. But here is what we do know; Ozzy's father called the police to check in on his son's apartment after he came to believe he was off his meds and may be a threat to himself or others. The police, plural, kicked in his door and put four bullets into his fucking body. The coroner has ruled his death a homicide.

Among other dangerous weapons, the police were armed with a mental health warrant, a sheet of paper that rendered Ozzy's rights to privacy irrelevant because of his second class status as a mentally ill person. The police claim he had a knife, even if this is true, they had guns, they had tasers, they had training in dealing with mentally unstable individuals and they had him outnumbered and surrounded. They invaded his property and they shot to kill. There appears to have been little attempt to talk with Ozzy or to just give him the fucking space he needed while checking in on him. The very fact that the police were awarded the right to invade his property and call anything they did afterwards 'self-defense' is absurd. If Ozzy had a knife, he was standing his ground against a state sanctioned invasion of his basic rights as a human being. But Ozzy's rights din't fucking matter because Ozzy was mentally ill. Ozzy wasn't 'normal' like the fucking animals in blue who lynched him, so Ozzy was disposable.

This has become a tiresomely common story. Just three months into 2019 and our darling boys in blue have already slaughtered well over 200 people, a grossly disproportionate number of them are black and/or mentally ill. If you are one of the millions of Americans who suffer from an untreated mental illness in this country you are 16 times more likely to be murdered during a police interaction and 20% of the cops' victims are in crisis.

 But where is the news coverage of this unspeakable wave of mass violence? Far more people fall beneath the bullets of this country's sainted thin blue line of superpredators than that of stateless active shooters and terrorists. But where is the call to disarm the police? Where are those camera-ready children of Stoneman Douglas when the pigs slaughter a victim who doesn't look like an extra on 90210? Mentally ill people like myself are called to forfeit our Second Amendment rights nearly every day for the peace of mind of the straight world but not the badged gangsters who prey on us like fucking vultures? And naturally the law enforcement 'community' is all for this. Those pistol clutching chickenshits love nothing better than a soft and easy target. And why not? They get away with it. Every. Fucking. Time.

I don't expect justice for Ozzy anymore than I expect it for Freddie Grey or Sandra Bland or Philando Castile or Antwon Rose or any of the other innocent people wiped out by the pigs. They always get away with it, no matter how many witness', or videos, or empirical evidence comes to the public's attention because they are an institution which is by nature above the very laws they enforce. They could shoot a goddamn infant in the fucking face on live television and no one would see a day in prison because their partners in crime in the DA would make sure that they're found not guilty. Every American who has paid even a fleeting amount of attention to the police state since Rodney King has to know this hideous truth and what is being done to stop this orgy of carnage?

Black Lives Matter isn't enough, neither is Copwatch. Simply catching these crimes on video isn't preventing them from continuing at a staggering rate. Huey P. Newton had the right idea with the Black Panther Party. The police in this country are a gang and we as a community need to police them. Huey was right about arming citizens but without the digital witness of a handheld camera, every shootout could always be blamed on those nappy-headed communists. The Panthers were the right idea for the wrong time. The iPhone and the AR-15 are the perfect recipe for preventing police violence. Just ask that cracker Cliven Bundy if you don't believe me. Right or wrong, that peckerwood rancher could have easily been the victim of another Ruby Ridge. But people from across the country came with their guns and their cameras and the feds were forced to back off. Bundy may be a racist asshole but BLM could learn a thing or two from his tactical example. We all could. Maybe it's time to put the warrior in SJW.

I don't know, maybe I'm just blowing off steam here, indulging in my fantasies of revolutionary justice. Maybe that's just part of the grieving process for an armchair suburban guerrilla like me. But I have to do something, dearest motherfuckers. Ozzy was a friend of mine and he was murdered by the police. I can't just let that crime go unpunished by our sociopathic (in)justice system. I can't let my friend die in vain. As an agoraphobic anarcho-literati, my incendiary wordplay is the best I can do for him. Maybe some of you out there in dearest motherfuckerland can do more. All I really know is that I've had enough of this fucking shit. How about you?



Peace, Love & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post

*  Doesn't Remind Me by Audioslave
*  Fuck Tha Police by NWA
*  Dancing Choose by TV On the Radio
*  And the Same by Fugazi
*  Gold Lion by Yeah Yeah Yeahs
*  People Who Died by the Jim Carroll Band
*  Cop Killer by Body Count
*  Police On My Back by the Clash
*  My War by Black Flag
*  911 is a Joke by Public Enemy
*  Ohio by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young

Sunday, March 24, 2019

You Can't Be Pro-Life and Pro-War

I'm a creature of sonic evolution, dearest motherfuckers. A hand grenade with Luna moth wings. It's rather ironic for a diagnosed agoraphobic but the only thing that's evolved more than my fluid gender identity is my equally fluid ideology. In thirty short years I've evolved from indentured Catholic to agnostic existentialist to Gnostic Christian witch, from juvenile anarcho-punk to Bolivarian Bolshevik tankie to panarcho-syndicalist gadfly. One thing that hasn't changed throughout this intellectual metamorphosis however is a life long devotion to the sanctity of life.

Being a far-left pro-lifer has always seemed like a contradiction to most of my ilk but it has always made perfect sense to me. Egalitarianism in all its dimensions has always been about the stewardship of the weak in humanity by the strong. I actually believe that my early pro-life values are largely responsible for informing my radicalism rather than contradicting it. In a strange bid of karma, the Catholic Church may have accidentally created this church-burning commie-pinko by instilling those values in me at an impressionable age. I guess you could say I did a reverse Dorothy Day, from devout do-gooder to bomb-throwing heretic, sunrise, sunset.

This doesn't mean that I'm on the same page with the pro-life movement at large, not by a long shot. I personally find your average pro-lifer to be a self-serving, single-minded, chauvinistic, pig-fucker with a severe penile Napoleon complex. As much as I despise the idea abortion, I've come to the hard conclusion that you can't regulate someone else's body without creating a berth for tyranny too wide for any self-respecting anarchist to tolerate. My approach to the issue has essentially become one of harm reduction. Combat abortion by making it irrelevant through the proliferation of affordable alternatives like the morning after pill. I feel that with this issue the bulk of the pro-life movement has revealed themselves to be puritanical hypocrites, more concerned with policing behavior than creating viable alternatives for desperate young women. As two thirds of a female and a feminist to boot, I find this hypocrisy to be particularly hard to swallow. You don't have to be pro-choice to recognize that a rape victim doesn't deserve to be polluted by a monster's progeny, you just have to not be a dick. A tall order for too many of my fellow pro-lifers.

But even this slut-shaming foot-shootout doesn't rank as the greatest hypocrisy among the mainstream pro-life movement. That foul honor belongs to their blase attitude towards the mountains of dead children created by their sacred war machine. A quick glance at the voting records of the Bible Belt faithful on recent bills regarding America's bloodbaths in Yemen and Afghanistan reveal this revolting hypocrisy in stark black and white. There are exceptions to this moral lapse, namely Rand Paul, a pro-life Republican who has been more consistent than most Democrats in his opposition to those desert holocausts. But by and large, the Republican corps of the pro-life movement in Washington has shown a totally callous indifference to our nation's booming dead baby industry in the Middle East, provided that those tiny bodies are brown and Muslim. 50 thousand children have starved to death in Yemen in 2017 alone as a result of Saudi Arabia's American sponsored blockade. Thousands more languish in the biggest Cholera outbreak in modern history. And where, in the name of god, is the fucking outrage?

Where is the outrage from my fellow pro-lifers on this merciless forever war on children? Where are all the marches of church going folk brandishing garish pictures of emaciated Zaydi corpses? Why aren't the radicals blitzing the Saudi and Emirati embassies with buttaric acid stink bombs? Why aren't the tongue-speaking pastors chaining themselves to the doors Las Vegas drone arcades? Nothing! Their silence would be deafening if it weren't chimed out by their lifelong representatives on the Hill screaming like banshees for more bombs, more drones, more war, more dead babies. And these are the leaders of a movement committed to the sanctity of life? The keynote speakers at a yearly rally for life, along with their suddenly pro-life president who probably had a back-alley hanger-jockey on speed dial for the undocumented maids he molested.

This is a travesty of epic proportions, dearest motherfuckers. Either life is sacred or its not. You don't get to have it both ways. You don't get to call Planned Parenthood a terrorist organization one week, then ship guns to Saudi butchers the next. The only pro-life policy that makes any goddamn sense is a consistent one. That doesn't just mean an end to abortion, but an end to the death penalty, drone strikes, sanctions, the slaughter of unarmed people of color and all the various industrial complexes that keep this toxic empire's culture of death alive and well. You can't be pro-life and pro-war. Even a contrarian Mothra like me can see that as plain as Godzilla's green ass. Dorothy Day and the Berrigan brothers could too. It's high time the rest of you crusaders woke the fuck up. No more dead babies. Not in wombs or tombs.



Peace, Love & Empathy- CH



In loving memory of Osaze Osagie. My friend. My brother. The latest mentally ill person of color shot dead in his home by our trigger happy police state. You pigs made a big fucking mistake this time. You made this personal. I wont sleep until the killing stops, by any means necessary.



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post

*  Rise Up with Fists by Jenny Lewis
*  I Like Fucking by Bikini Kill
*  Zebra by Beach House
*  All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix
*  Drown by Smashing Pumpkins
*  War Pigs by Black Sabbath
*  Atmosphere by Joy Division
*  Only Shallow by My Bloody Valentine
*  Riders In the Storm by the Doors
*  The Cutter by Echo & the Bunnymen
*  Bellyache by Echobelly
*  Penny Royal Tea by Nirvana
*  Down by the Water by PJ Harvey

Sunday, March 17, 2019

Where Have All the Flowers Gone?: Requiem for a Fictional Party

Do you remember the Democrats, dearest motherfuckers? Not the neoliberal, gutter capitalist, Clintonista kind or even Bernie's brand of drone-strike socialists, but the peace loving hippie kind. The doves who tried to end the Cold War and marched against the draft and stuck flowers in the barrels of National Guard rifles. The liberal lions who took on the war machine, who made love not war, who couldn't hug their children with nuclear arms, and braved the perils of grassy knolls and brainwashed Arabs to bring just one ounce of sanity to Capitol Hill. Sure they were corny and preachy and a little grabby in cocktail party coatrooms but they had character and cojones and conviction. What ever happened to those liberals, before their bleeding hearts were eaten whole by those nasty neos? Where have all the flowers gone? Tell me, dearest motherfuckers, do you remember the Democrats?

Yeah, me neither, and here comes another one of my famously merciless reality checks. With the exception of few fantastic McGovern hiccups, they never actually fucking existed. The Democrats have always been a war party, even back when the Republicans were still Lindbergh worshiping isolationists. Don't get me wrong, the Dems were always big on that Feed the World-style, Kumbaya charity shit, but there chief staple was usually more white phosphorous than whole grain granola. Both World Wars, Korea, Vietnam; all started by Democrats. Even the Republican crusades in the Persian Gulf initially passed with broad Democratic support and lingered into holocausts with broad Democratic indifference. Much like the Republicans relationship with putting America first, the Democrats only get in touch with their hippie-dippie side when it serves their partisan needs, with Yemen as your latest rule-proving exception.

Lately, though, it seems to be getting worse. Since the Sixties, the Dems have at least generally payed lip service to ideas like detente and diplomacy, particularly atop their ivory soap boxes of the legacy media. But if you turn on NPR or CNN these days, you would be forgiven for believing you were interrupting a less than clandestine meeting of the John Birch Society. According to such bleeding brains as Rachel Maddow and Wolf Blitzer, Vladimir Putin is responsible for everything from Hillary's biological unelectability to the ravages of climate change. Donald Trump makes the rare intelligent decision to simply meet up with Kim Jong-un for pho and playful banter and he's appeasing the Axis of Evil. John Bolton throws a monkey-wrench into the goddamn thing and suddenly he's the latest neocon "adult" to be proclaimed a progressive folk saint. The Donald firebombs an orphanage in Crimea and he finally becomes a "real" president. OK, I made the last one up, but these are some sick sick fucks.

Certainly, some of this hysteria is the result of Trumpsanity, a kind of geopolitical lupus that causes opponents of Trump's oh so special brand of slap-dash fascism to attempt to try to out-fasc their nemesis. We certainly see this with the frighteningly broad progressive support for the epic purge of free expression on social media. I personally suspect that the only reason they haven't gotten me yet is because gagging a confirmed tranny is technically still a hate crime in the SJW handbook.

But much of this Orwellian aping is actually a return home for most Dems, like chickens to the roost. As I said above, this kind of guns and butter uber-statism is an integral part of the DNC's DNA. Only now they've resorted to hijacking the good name of socialism in a perverted attempt to lure today's debt besodden youth into Chuck and Nancy's windowless van with promises of puppies and free tuition. With the brilliant exception of that glorious hijab-clad boss-bitch, Ilhan the Great (my second favorite bitch after Miss Chelsea Manning), most of the new "revolutionaries" of the Lower House don't seem to see world peace as a priority for their lukewarm insurrection. This creates a serious dilemma that goes well beyond the question ideological purity.

Not to sound like my asshole 12th grade econ teacher, but there really is no such thing as a free lunch. People like Bernie and AOC want to hand the government the keys to every major industry from Facebook to Big Pharma but don't propose anything in the way of the kind of major government cuts that would make this morally questionable endeavor economically doable. They bandy about the reputation of Scandinavia's social democracies without acknowledging the fact that the only reason these nations can afford their level of cradle to grave welfare is that they don't fight any goddamn wars. Many of them barely have standing armies.

Sweden prospered during the heat of the Cold War because their maverick PM, Olof Palme, rejected this imperial pissing match entirely and embraced neutrality and detente. This is how he fed and clothed his nation. As an anarchist, I find that level of even altruistic government intrusion to be suspect, but I've always admired the late Prime Minister for his consistent conviction. This was a man so devoted to the concept of pacifism that he had his citizens trained in non-violent resistance in case of a Soviet Invasion. Olof Palme was a socialist. The embattled Jeremy Corbyn is a socialist. I don't know what the hell Bernie and his pets are but they dishonor the title of socialism greatly by using it to demand that America gets more stuff while we carpet bomb the rest of the globe in the name of diplomacy.

America doesn't have a major modern peace party, at least not a consistent one, and we never really have. All we really have are myths that paint warmongers like FDR and JFK in the heroic colors of comic book superheroes. But these are simply lies we tell ourselves so we can sleep at night, safe from the long forgotten screams of Dresden and Da Nang. The point has been made that you cant lead a revolution in a counter-revolutionary party. Good point, but I would take that observation a step further and suggest that you can't lead a revolution in a counter-revolutionary government. This is why true socialists like Ilhan Omar and Jeremy Corbyn will always get crushed by there own while wolves in doves clothing like Bernie get sainted by the system they pretend to reject. Even a real life saint like dear Olof couldn't save his top-down government from sinking back into the malaise of crony-capitalist austerity once some mystery bastard put a NATO bullet in his back on the way home from the cinema.

You don't vote for a revolution, dearest motherfuckers, and it can't be given to you by some politician or party. You have to fight for it. You have to take it. You have to reject partisan mythology and plant those flowers with your own two hands, even if it means getting those hands dirty. Better dirty hands in the garden of peace than a dirty conscience in a lesser war party. And so I invite you to say farewell to those fictional Democrats, but don't mourn them. Sometimes dreams burn down. It's good for the soil.



Peace, Love & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; Songs that influenced this post

*  Where Have All the Flowers Gone by Peter, Paul and Mary
*  Stay Useless by Cloud Nothings
*  Dreams Burn Down by Ride
*  Children of the Revolution by T. Rex
*  Rise Above by Black Flag
*  For What It's Worth by Buffalo Springfield
*  Backwater by Meat Puppets
*  Halfway Home by Broken Social Scene
*  Under a Rock by Waxahatchee

Sunday, March 10, 2019

Uniting the Fringe Against the Center

Watching the news lately, you get the impression that the world is being ripped in two by the scourge of the far-right and the far-left. Populism they call it. Warring tribes in a binary war for the soul of the free world. In the US, Our dear orange Pericles is scheming mightily to manipulate the already unconstitutional powers of executive privilege to follow through with his promise to militarize the commons at the boarder. Meanwhile, the Democratic Party is in virtual upheaval over how to contain a 5-foot-2 congresswoman for making the "antisemitic" observation that perhaps Israel has too much influence over Washington while the rest of the party keep McCarthyism alive with their own Russophobic "tropes".

Across Europe and many other parts of the world, you here a similar tale of the populist left and/or the populist right going too far in one direction or the other, many times both simultaneously in an act of sociopolitical fission. You also hear a great collective wail from the established order who still maintain control over the press and the permanent government, lamenting the untimely demise of globalism and an ill-defined sense of pragmatism among the holy Neos, both liberal and conservative. These heavily microphoned scions of the status quo would have you believe that the world was in perfect harmony before the 2008 financial crash that they and their order precipitated with the bipartisan pillage of the world's financial resources. In times like these the Ivy League appointed intellectual hierarchy of corporate thinktankland like to blow the dust off that old time honored canard of Jean-Pierre Faye's Horseshoe Theory. The idea that, when push comes to shove, the far-right and the far-left are like two ends of a horseshoe, nearly meeting each other ideologically in the middle.

Being a militant contrarian panarchist, I have some very mixed feelings about this philosophy. On the one hand, there is a part of me that wants to embrace this radical panic. I've long contended that dismantling the police-warfare state is an effort best left to a collaboration between the radical left and the libertarian right that today's wave of populists pretend to represent. On the other hand, the entire left-right spectrum strikes me as inherently reductionist and almost childishly over simplistic. Just like gender and sexuality, politics and philosophy are far too complex to be reduced to such bipolar classifications. I prefer to think of this sociopolitical zeitgeist as a circle, rather than the brutish horseshoe.

It's hard for any well studied student of history to deny that certain elements of the far-right and far-left have a great deal of under-explored common ground. As a post-Marxist social anarchist who prizes anti-imperialism and freedom of speech above all else, I find myself in agreement with paleolibertarians like Ron Paul far more often than I do milquetoast progressives like Elizabeth Warren. This isn't because Ron and me have near identical values, far from it. It's because we both exist on the outer ring of the sociopolitical circle, with the established order at the center. We exist on what is commonly referred to as the fringe of society, a renegade outback populated by misfits as far-flung as Christian patriots and genderfuck evangelists. Considering the current state of society; endless foreign interventions, two-party gang warfare, economic cannibalism, this maligned outsider status no longer feels like a pejorative. Anarchists, socialists, paleos and libertarians stand far enough from ground zero of the mainstream political circle to recognize the source of these problems and it isn't us.

With all the dewy eyed hymns being sung by the aging patriarchs of the Fourth Estate, you would be forgiven for forgetting that the most grotesque foibles of the West have almost exclusively been the byproducts of the triumph of bipartisan centrism. Vietnam, Iraq, NAFTA, CAFTA, the War on Drugs, the Prison Industrial Complex, all the poisoned fruits of cooperation among neoliberals and neoconservatives on the center-left and center-right, respectively. The chaos of our current era is the result of the rule of the very system Time Magazine and CNN propose as a solution. Barking populist demagogues like Bernie and Trump aren't solutions either. With the desperate top-bottom statist overreach of border walls and corporatist green new deals, these are the bastard children of a system that they're using extreme measures to preserve. These men are opportunistic pied pipers leading well intentioned fringeists back into the never-never-land of centrist purgatory. Their siren songs should be ignored at all cost by anyone thirsty for truly substantial change.

The only real change that swamp creatures like Trump and Bernie truly represent is a division within their circle on how to best preserve it. These populist squabbles may be the contractions of this systems long overdue miscarriage. But they could use a little help from the abortion clinics of the fringe. If the malignant center could achieve such heights of mass destruction working together than why not the disparate forces who reject its hegemony? Why are we wasting perfectly good Molotov cocktails on each other when the cop cars are wide open between us? We need to take note of our priorities. If you are determined to reign in the police state and snuff out the fires of eternal warfare, then I say that you're my ally, regardless of what you think of my gender identity or how to provide people with adequate healthcare. I honestly believe that there are good kids both in Antifa and MAGA hats who would agree with this sentiment if they weren't so damn distracted by their preferred cults of personality and the scapegoats they conjure. We need to get these kids woke enough to look across the center and realize that a true revolution can never be waged from within it.

The center had their turn, dearest motherfuckers. They shit the bed and I for one have no intention of cleaning it alone. Fuck the center and unite the fringe.



Peace, Love, & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post

*  Times Like These by Foo Fighters
*  Wild Wild Life by Talking Heads
*  Aneurysm by Nirvana
*  Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash
*  Muzzle by Smashing Pumpkins
*  Ahead by Wire
*  Here It Comes by the Brian Jonestown Massacre
*  The Middle by Jimmy Eat World
*  Working Class Hero by John Lennon
*  Train In Vain by the Clash