Thursday, April 19, 2018

Making Peace with Deplorables

The latest American war crime in Syria had all the predictable, deja vu makings of a cheesy cable  reboot, with all the same players playing all the same parts. We have Bashar Assad playing the pencil-mustachioed demogorgon, slaving over his bubbling cauldron of noxious chemicals. We have Vladimir Putin playing the Nosferatu-domed Sith lord puppet master who's long shadow somehow covers every grave from Douma to Salisbury, with no evidence needed to prove his inevitable guilt. We have the gallant White Helmets playing the tireless and spotless crusaders for truth with their cameras always set on the right place at the right time. And, of coarse, we have Donald Trump, Emmanuel Macron and Theresa May shedding their usual clown attire to play the part of the guardians of justice, brazenly defying the laws of man to achieve only what the gods can do and restore the precious sanctity of the global order.

Of coarse, like most cheesy cable reboots, the narrative provided by the mainstream press was roughly 80% bullshit. For the umpteenth time, the anti-Assad propagandists delivered sketchy evidence of a supposed poison gas attack that came just in time for a massive Syrian Army victory and our scatter brained president's latest empty threat to finally pull the troops out of that fucked to death hellscape we created in the Levant. Trump and his French and British counterparts wasted zero time waiting for pesky details like evidence before pronouncing Assad and his eternal partner in crime, Putin guilty as sin of committing an atrocity that they had absolutely nothing to gain from, with everything to lose. The western mass media for their part dutifully regurgitated the baseless accusations of their collective governments verbatim as if they were scientific fact. The Russians and Syrians welcomed an international investigation with open arms and the self-sainted masters of the universe (aka the First World) dropped bombs before one could take place and ruin their little war crime.

It all felt so damn normal because its all happened a million times before. Bill Clinton mastered the art of the micro-intervention back in in the nineties when he bombed some god forsaken place every time another sex scandal resurfaced. Donald seems to be a big fan of his ex-buddies playbook. Stormy who?....

Pretty much the only thing that didn't go according to plan was that Trump's seemingly indefatigable fan club didn't follow their dear leader into disaster this time. Apparently America First was more than just a nifty catch phrase for the deplorables, who nearly jammed up the White House phone lines in the days before the bombing, voicing their righteous fury over their beloved Donald's latest and most egregious act of hypocrisy.

The predator propagandists in the right wing media reacted in time with their demo audience's outrage, with former neocon saber-rattlers like Anne Coulter and Laura Ingraham following the money onto the peace train and Tucker Carlson, of all people, delivering some of the most stunningly eloquent antiwar prose heard on a major news site since Bill Donahue got shit-canned from MSDNC for the unforgivable crime of speaking out against the invasion of Iraq in 2003. It was nothing short of surreal. If you would have told me even a year ago that Fox News would become a veritable hotbed of non-interventionism, I would have called you crazy then doubled my meds.

I shouldn't have to tell you, dearest motherfuckers, how unprecedented this sea change is. I take zero pleasure in being proven right (repeatedly) about Trump anymore than I took pleasure in being proven right (repeatedly) about Obama. But I am overjoyed to be proven wrong about Trump's deplorables, at least in one respect. As an anti-imperialist trans person in Trump country, being able to find common ground with my redneck neighbors on issues of war and peace is beyond refreshing, it's goddamn empowering. For all their many, many, many flaws, the deplorables have shown a level of moral fortitude that the woke Obama progressives failed at miserably when their hero went to war. They have taken a stand against the supposed leader of their movement and I believe it may have had an impact.

In the days after the alleged gas attacks, Trump showed every sign of being primed and ready for a full blown, scorch the earth, shock and awe, bomb-a-thon. But after a couple of days of having his bridle ego raddled by his former cheerleaders' defiant disapproval he settled on just three targets in a largely symbolic and ineffectual (albeit, still grossly illegal) strike. This could be a coincidence, another sign that Trump is more bluster than bite, but I doubt it. While the "Resistance" busied themselves defending the sanctity of Bob Mueller's dead end Russiagate investigation, the deplorables were taking Trump's orange ass to the fucking woodshed over crimes he actually committed (what a concept!). I believe there is an opportunity here, if the truly radical left and the populist right can get over their respective prejudices to embrace it. Their is no reason why intersectionality can't benefit poor white trash and queer folks can't put America (or at least peace) first.

Many people forget that the original major league antiwar movement in this country wasn't the Students for a Democratic Society but the America First Committee, an organization that brought together left and right, from isolationist race-baiters like Charles Lindbergh to Christian socialist doves like Norman Thomas, and kept this country out of a brutal and senseless world war for years before being outflanked by the furor over the sanction provoked attacks on Pear Harbor. Donald Trump bastardized this dynamic movement by hijacking its name for a cheap popcorn headline. But the movement that formed around this lie has grown a mind of its own and I say we engage it.

Anti-imperialism makes for some strange bedfellows, dearest motherfuckers. But I'm open to sharing my bed with some white trash deplorables as long as they're willing to get down with a tranarchist like me and Trump isn't invited. Let the bed-in begin.



Peace, Love & Understanding- CH



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post

* Knights In White Satin by the Moody Blues
* My War by Black Flag
* Pilot Can At the Queer of God by Flaming Lips
* Iron Man by Black Sabbath
* Pepper by Butthole Surfers
* Baby's On Fire by Brian Eno
* Crisis Fest by Sunflower Bean
* Minor Threat by Minor Threat
* E-Pro by Beck
* Wild In the Streets by Circle Jerks
* Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes
* Eat the Rich by Motorhead

Monday, April 16, 2018

Revenge of the Invisible Girl

Cis-gender people take mirrors for granted. For most people a mirror is just a reflection of what the rest of the world sees, for better or worse. Mirrors can be cruel in the straight world, particularly if you're female, but it's a magnifying glass, pointing out and distorting the harsher fringes of reality. For trans and genderqueer people, mirrors are something much more cruel, something much more cerebral. It's a hissing funhouse mirror twisting the truth into knots until reality itself becomes a opaque concept. For most people outside the binary the mirror is a tool of dysphoria, pointing out all the things we aren't and all the things we'll never be. I've had my own struggles with the tyranny of the mirror and gender dysphoria, but my problems seem to be different, even from other queer folk.

You see, when I look in the mirror I see my true self. Even with the burly body hair and six o'clock shadow, I still see that angry little girl who rages beneath. My hirsute only adds to her androgynous mystique. The problem is, no one else sees her and trying to convince people that she's really there becomes unbearably tiresome. Being something no one else can see makes you feel fucking crazy. What's even worse, it makes you feel invisible. This is my dysphoria, being haunted by the invisible girl that only I can see in the mirror. And the damnedest thing is that she rarely feels more invisible than when she's among other queer people, my people.

I spent most of my life suffering from an affliction that I didn't even know existed. Being neither male nor female but a fluid mix of the two and everything in between, I didn't exactly grow up feeling like a girl and I just assumed that I must be male because that's what everyone told me I was. But I never felt right. I never felt content. And the older I got, the louder these feelings became. As I entered the maelstrom of my twenties, my dysphoria reached a late full bloom and being male began to feel like a cruel prison sentence, life without parole. It was only through my isolated agoraphobic autodidactism that I discovered that the universe was so much more colorful than pink and blue. After voraciously consuming the incendiary ideas of gender renegades like Judith Butler, Julia Serrano and Justin Vivian Bond, not to mention my online mentor, Angela Keaton, and a shitload of David Bowie, Lou Reed and Courtney Love songs, I came to the conclusion that I was queer and I made a conscious decision to reject the gender binary entirely.

After a disastrously failed attempt to find more answers through therapy (see Comrade Hermit Vs. the Tranny Whisperer), I decided that I couldn't trust a psychiatric establishment who's understanding of gender identity belonged in the Nineteenth Century with leech therapy and exorcisms. So I sought to find myself by finding my tribe. I began attending the few local queer support groups that exist in my agrarian corner of Trump Country. At first it was great and in many ways it still is. Its given me a sense of community and belonging that I had long gave up on ever finding. But the more time I spent with these wonderful people, the more dysphoric I seemed to get.

It was through zero fault of their own. They were all open and welcoming and I now count them among the few truly close friends I've made since high school. The damage was all self-inflicted but it hurt like a bitch regardless. When I looked at these beautiful people, my people, I didn't see myself. I didn't see anyone who looked like me. I didn't see anyone who felt like me. And that made me feel like an impostor. And that made me feel invisible. I'm not pretty. I'm not girly. I don't fit the standards of a modern day androgynous femme. As queer and female as I feel, I still like to wear my facial hair thick and I feel much more comfortable in sweats than skirts. I didn't fit in and for the first time in my life, I wanted too, I wanted too so bad.

I've spent the last few months suffering silently, twisting myself into knots trying to figure out how to get the rest of the world to see the invisible girl and every time I looked in the mirror she was still there, taunting me with the fact that I was the only one who could see her. Finally, it hit me like a bolt of lightening, that I had put myself into another closet. In spite of the fact that I felt perfectly femme and queer in my own burly skin, I let the perceived expectations of other queer people dictate how I should behave. This is the polar opposite of what being queer is all about. Being queer isn't about lipstick and pretty dresses or hiking boots and butch hairdos. Being queer is about being free, being free to be who we wanna be, to fuck who we wanna fuck and to fuck how we wanna fuck.

I'm through sweating my masculine idiosyncrasies. I'm done beating myself up for not being queer enough. When I look in the mirror I know what I see. I see a hairy genderfuck femme and she looks beautiful to me. I see the invisible girl in the mirror and fuck anyone, straight or queer, who is too goddamn blind to see her. They're the ones with the fucking problem, not me. I am my own gender, a serpent who has slithered its way out of the binary swamp that once enslaved me and, against all odds, I've sprung arms and legs and an identity all my own. I am a prototype of queer evolution. A bearded bull-dyke with a dick and a blog, hear me roar. And ignore the invisible girl at your own risk, dearest motherfuckers. She's pissed and out for revenge. Call her sir and she'll slit your fucking throat.



Peace, Love & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post

* the Middle by Jimmy Eat World
* When It's Cold I'd Like To Die by Moby
* Rebel Rebel by David Bowie
* Boyish by Japanese Breakfast
* What Goes On by the Velvet Underground
* For Once In My Life by the Decemberists
* Pretty On the Inside by Hole
* Suedehead by Morrissey
* List of Demands by Saul Williams

Monday, April 9, 2018

The Consistent Consent Ethic Volume 2: The Right to Die

A couple weeks ago I laid down the basic principles for a voluntaryist philosophy of law and order called the Consistent Consent Ethic. The theory goes that the notion of criminality should be based on consent and consent alone. Any "crime" committed with the consent of the "victim" is not a crime at all and should thus be left to the teachers and philosophers to govern through education rather than by the government through coercion. I specifically chose the morally challenging examples of abortion and statutory rape in order to underscore the fact that legal doesn't always mean right and that the law isn't always the best way to handle moral dilemmas.

This week I want to take my philosophy a step further and explore a right that I have come to believe is every bit as fundamental as the right to life; the right to die. To some this may ring hypocritical coming from an unapologetic (albeit decidedly unorthodox) pro-lifer. After all, as I've noted before, the nucleus of my Consistent Consent Ethic is the Consistent Life Ethic I was raised to cherish. The cornerstone of this philosophy, like my own, is the basic maxim of "do no harm". The ultimate harm being the taking of another human life. But there is another equally egregious violation of human rights that I believe thoroughly violates the consent of the individual and that violation is forcing life.

If a person has the basic inalienable right to live then it only follows that they have a basic right to die and criminalizing that right in any way violates both the principle of the law as based on consent and the consent of an individual who wishes to end their own life for any reason. The prohibition of euthanasia is the most obvious example of this violation. If a person has the right to die then a person should also have the right to assist another person in achieving this goal. After witnessing the long, slow and painful death of his own mother, Dr. Jack Kevorkian devoted his life and career to assisting other terminal patients in dying with dignity. Being a known eccentric with many unorthodox philosophies in the regions of life and death (wonder what that's like?), it wasn't hard for a government committed to the violation of the consent of its own citizenry to railroad the good doctor and send him up river for the crime of assisting others in their darkest hour.

Kevorkian's first euthanasia patient was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease who didn't wish to spend the final years of her life slowly disintegrating both mentally and physically. As a person who has lost both grandmothers to Alzheimer's, I can personally attest to the diabolical cruelty of that affliction. The only thing I can think of that is crueler than that despicable disease is forcing someone to slowly die from it out of some perverted need to protect the patient from themselves. This renders the suffering to the status of prisoners of their own biology (not unlike mothers kept from making the morally questionable decision to terminate a pregnancy) and, unlike Dr. Kevorkian, I believe that the abolition of the Patient Prisoner Complex should liberate all of us, not just the physically terminal.

There is a popular saying about suicide, that it is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. The son of a bitch who said that clearly had very little understanding about the hellish reality of living with depression. I have lived with depression my entire life and I can personally attest that there is nothing temporary about that disease. It is a nagging, relentless, rabid animal that sinks it's dull fangs deep into your soul and never lets go. I've been to some dark places but I have never been suicidal. I have always relied on that old Marxist concept of the Eternal Struggle to give my life of suffering meaning. I have devoted myself fully to the creation of a better world no matter how many lifetimes it takes and I will die fighting that fight with a pen in my hand. But that's my right and I would never dream of denying another persons right to end their suffering. Suicide is a tragedy but so is living a life of pain simply because our society stigmatizes and many times criminalizes the right to die by ones own hands.

And suicide isn't the only form of consensual death. In the early 2000's, in rural Germany, a lonely young man named Armin Meiwes was at the end of his rope trying to tamp down a paraphilia that had consumed him since childhood with the urge to consume others. Rather than going down the path of many similarly troubled souls before him and violating an innocent person's right to life and dignity, Armin made the principled decision to seek out a consenting participant in his dark fantasies. After putting up an add online seeking a well built man interested in being slaughtered, Armin visited with many curious suitors, nearly all of whom ultimately changed their minds and all of whom Armin made zero attempt to force his will upon. Finally, Mr. Meiwes came into contact with a young man named Bernd Brandes who's aching desire to be consumed coalesced perfectly with Armin's own unorthodox sexual appetites. Here is where the story ends. Two men who could only be loved by one another and who could only truly love each other once, engaged in a bizarre act of consensual homicide and cannibalism. Brandes gave his life for love and in many ways Meiwes did too, he remains in prison.

But I say, where is the crime? Who is the victim here? The man who consented (on film) to end his life for the sanctuary of knowing love as he understood it for just one night? Or the man who is imprisoned for having the moral discipline and fortitude to channel his dark desires into consensual behavior? Men like Jack Kevorkian and Armin Meiwes are not monsters. They are mavericks and dare I say role models who sacrificed themselves completely for the struggle of achieving a truly consensual society and I for one choose to honor them.

Life is a precious gift. But what kind of giver gives a gift that can't be given back if it doesn't fit? The Consistent Consent Ethic is not an easy philosophy to follow. It involves accepting the fact that not only will there always be people who will do things that make us uncomfortable but that they have every right to do them, rightly or wrongly, as long as they don't violate the rights of others. And by standing in their way and using the precious power of the law to govern their behavior just because we may find their consensual actions abhorrent, we not only violate the rights that even these transgressive figures have chosen to respect but we violate the very notion of a truly free and egalitarian society. By violating the Consistent Consent Ethic, we violate ourselves. We become the very monsters we abhor.

Government should not be a hammer to bludgeon away the things that make us uncomfortable with our own humanity. It should be a paint brush that connects every color in a tapestry of voluntary behavior. We abuse the careful use of this delicate tool at the risk of the masterpiece we call society. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to put down the paintbrush and let the colors speak for themselves.

No more painting by the numbers, dearest motherfuckers, let all the colors shine bright and strange and beautiful and ugly. Let freedom reign and let consent be the reignmaker.



Peace, Love & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post

* Freedom of Choice By Devo
* Rainmaker By Sleigh Bells
* Love Will Tear Us Apart By Joy Division
* Here Is Where the Story Ends By The Sundays
* Flesh Without Blood By Grimes
* Fourth of July By X
* Saturdays By Twin Shadow & HAIM
* Sappy By Nirvana
* She Drives Me Crazy By Fine Young Cannibals
* The Mercy Seat By Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

Monday, April 2, 2018

Enter John Bolton: Bringer of Doom

Generally speaking, the cabinet of one Donald J. Trump has been a veritable rogues gallery of lunatics and imbeciles, a revolving door of dangerously disturbed dilettantes who seem to be the invention of some fevered SNL employ on the ass end of a bad acid trip. Who could forget the foot gobbling antics of the king of panic, John Spicer, the dreamy eyed dominionist mysticism of billionaire bible thumper, Betsy Devos, or the near comatose mumblings of that hammer swinging Thorazine addict, Ben Carson.

Then there's the scary ones. The Hannibal Lecter's of Donny's TV Funhouse: The Goebbels-esque Rasputin of the alt-right, Steve Bannon. The cross burning DARE jihadist, Beauregard Sessions. The bullet headed desk-chair wedding butcher, Mad Dog Mattis. Not to mention a craven coven of other trigger-happy ex-officers like John Kelly and H.R. McMaster, the latter being the latest victim of a long line of irate Trump shit-cannings. On the one hand, it couldn't have happened to a nicer piece of shit. On the other, his replacement takes the cake as the single most deranged creature to grace the administration-who-couldn't-shoot-straight with his malevolent presence, the reigning king of neocon lunacy, John Bolton.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Mr. Bolton's blood spattered resume, let me introduce you to one of Satan's finer prototypes for the Antichrist. The man is one of the least apologetic architects of the Iraq War, which has gone down in history as the single most moronically suicidal military cluster-fucks since the Third Reich crossed the Danube. He spent a jarringly brief stint as the Ambassador to the UN before being chased out of the Beltway by both parties with pitchforks and torches like Frankenstein's monster in a rare feat of bipartisan sanity.

Since then, Mr. Bolton has served the twin roles, as Fox New's resident doom sayer, advocating the preemptive military strike as a solution to every conceivable problem from the Venezuelan constitutional crisis to autism, and as America's leading lobbyist for spooky Persian death cult, Mujahideen-e-Khalq (MEK), a terrorist organization that has earned comparisons to the Khmer Rouge for their zeal for civilian body-counts. Recently Bolton has become best known as the leading advocate for solving the Korean problem Hiroshima-style, which makes his new position as Trump's National Security Adviser a month before historic peace talks with the Kim Regime are set to take place more than a little troubling.

Personally, I believe that Bolton's presence probably won't have a big affect on Trump's position in regards to Korea. The North and South are making peace whether Bolton likes it or not and the only way for Trump to turn this rebellion against American hegemony into a win is to photobomb the handshake then tell the naysayers that even crazy Old-Man Bolton has his back. The real danger here is and always has been Iran.

Both the Donald and Bolton have been outspoken advocates of total war against the Islamic State for years and, as I've stated above, Bolton has the connections to make this nightmare a reality. This, I believe, is part of the reason for Trump's sudden lust for peace on the DMZ. If he can take credit for a historical peace deal it will make it just that much easier to go to war with Tehran before the 2020 elections, giving Trump the wartime presidential kick he'll need to beat a neoliberal crypt-keeper like Joe Biden.

I shouldn't have to tell you, dearest motherfuckers, that this would be a humanitarian disaster the likes of which we've never seen. Unlike the infamously dodgy regime of former Reagan playmate Saddam Hussein, the Islamic Republic represents the regions one semi-successful popular revolution and the only stable bulwark to Saudi Arabia and Israel's plans to expand the Red Sea with an ocean of blood that stretches to the peaks of the Hindu Kush and beyond. Any war with Iran will also be a war with Putin's Russia, who may have taken our Syrian escapade on the chin (relatively speaking) but would sooner dance with Dr. Strangelove than see their number one allie in the region left to the mercy of the psychopaths in the MEK.

So... yeah, dearest motherfuckers, we're kind of fucked here. In spite of his recent election year isolationist ramblings, Trump is too far in hoc to Sheldon Adelson and Crown Prince Bin Salman to abandon the Iran project now and Bolton is just the cheerleader to keep his scatter brain on course. Our best hope is that John Bolton's own notoriously colossal ego clashes with Trump's and gets his Loony-Tune ass canned before he can effect any irreparable damage. Otherwise it's 'goodnight John-Boy' for Iran and 'hello nuclear holocaust' for the rest of us. This is where we're at in this year of our lord, twenty-hundred-and-eighteen; praying for the whims of a malignant narcissist to save us from a diplomatic serial killer. And people ask me why I'm an anarchist....

Keep your fingers crossed, dearest motherfuckers. The days are getting longer but the shit just keeps getting darker.



Peace, Love & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post.

* My Little Dark Age By MGMT
* Last Caress By the Misfits
* Debaser By the Pixies
* See No Evil By Television
* Erasure By Superchunk & Katie Cruchfield
* Territorial Pissings By Nirvana
* Double Dare By Bauhaus
* The Cutter By Echo & the Bunnymen
* Heroes By TV On the Radio

Monday, March 26, 2018

The Consistent Consent Ethic Volume 1: The Right to Fuck

One of the most common misconceptions about anarchism is that it's all about lawlessness. The truth is that laws aren't the source of tyranny, the hierarchical machinery of the state is, and statelessness does not inherently equal lawlessness. With that being said, when it comes to law and order, most anarchists tend to air on the safe side with a less is more approach and I count myself among them. The common libertarian dictum is 'don't hurt anybody and don't steal anybodies shit'. I would take it a step further and argue that the core philosophy on what constitutes criminality is the concept of consent.

If a man takes another man's property with his permission it's a gift but when he takes said property against his neighbor's will it becomes theft. The lack of consent makes this act a crime. The same should be applied equally across the board. When a government, stateless or not, taxes its populace upon the threat of imprisonment, this violates that population's consent and thus, in my eyes, constitutes a crime. Some call this philosophy voluntaryism, a philosophy that preaches that in a just society all human interaction should be completely voluntary. In spite of my Bolshevik roots, I've come to embrace this philosophy, at least in spirit. But I prefer to call it the Consistent Consent Ethic.

Under this ethic, laws should not be based on morals, taboos or even right and wrong. These values are a private matter that is only cheapened when they're forced upon others. Thus you don't have to love hard drugs, prostitution and gambling to believe that the government or any other body has no right policing consensual behavior. And this isn't as easy for even me as it sounds. I happen to think junk, whores and craps are fine as wine (pun intended), but I am strongly pro-life. My Consistent Consent Ethic is a spin on the Consistent Life Ethic, a Catholic philosophy that preaches against the taking of human life, whether it be taken through capital punishment, war or abortion. The first two are clear violations of both Ethics. Abortion is where things get a bit more tricky. While I personally disagree with abortion, forcing someone to carry a pregnancy to term is a clear violation of their consent and thus I cannot justify the prohibition of abortion even though I find it to be morally repugnant.

Another tricky moral playing ground for my philosophy is the age of consent. While I abhor the idea of an adult taking unfair advantage of a child, the uncomfortable reality remains that, biologically and psychologically speaking, the age of consent is not a fixed age. It varies from individual to individual. One person's age of being capable of making informed and mature decisions may come a decade before another's. While it is undeniable that pre-pubescent children are not equipped in any way, shape or form to handle adult sexuality, many young adults as young 14 or 15 make informed decisions to be sexually active and policing these actions, even with the best of intentions is a violation of their rights to express their own biological agency. Of coarse there are always exceptions. Authority figures, be they parents, teachers, law enforcement or legal guardians hold an undo degree of influence over young people that often coerces them into making decisions against their will. This, along with such predicaments as relations between correctional officers and prisoners, is the one place where the notion of statutory rape is not offensively absurd.

This doesn't mean that I advocate relationships between forty-something scuzzballs and teeny-boppers anymore than I advocate terminating a fetus out of a selfish sense of inconvenience. I just don't believe that the law is the proper place to enforce my own personal morals. I prefer education, which offers far less tyrannical and far more empowering solutions to the problems of fetal manslaughter and sexual exploitation. Children need to be taught from a young age about their bodies, about their developing sexuality and about the fact that only they have the right to them. Schools often avoid this kind of education, not just because of outdated taboos and puritanical morals but because it enforces the dangerous idea that even children have rights and the most important among them is the right to defy authority, the right to say 'NO!'. We go out of our way in this country to infantilize children because infantilized children grow up to be obedient and compliant adults. They also make for easy targets. Predators don't target young adults for their bodies. They target young adults because of their perceived naivete. Statutory rape laws only enforce this naivete and create generations of malleable victims ready to be violated by the ultimate perverts in the state.

Education has also been proven to be a sound way to prevent abortion and with advances in birth control and contraception like the morning after pill, an age in which abortion is rendered nearly irrelevant is not too far in the future to be described as Utopian any longer. My fellow self-proclaimed pro-lifers show their true colors when they reject such common sense miracle drugs out of hand. When your alleged opposition to abortion prevents you from supporting sound strategies to defeat it, it becomes painfully clear that your true concern is not abortion but policing other peoples lifestyles by manipulating their biology. I don't know if this is sexist but it's definitely immoral, disrespectful and above all else counter productive.

People need to take a good hard look in the mirror and ask themselves what kind of a society they want to live in. Do they want their children to be controlled and sterilized and "safe" or do they want them to be educated, empowered and self-sufficient. Do they want all human life to be valued regardless of gender or age or do they want human life to be cheapened by arbitrary violations of privacy and self determination. Most of all, people need to ask themselves whether they want freedom or safety. Through education and social responsibility, the free can be safe. But through the strong arm of the state, the safe can never truly be free. And that is what voluntaryism, the Consistent Consent Ethic and anarchy are really all about.



Peace, Love & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post.

* If You Want to Sing Out By Cat Stevens
* Loaded By Primal Scream
* Under the Wire By Haim
* Asking For It By Hole
* Mistake By Middle Kids
* Surrender By Cheap Trick
* Hey By the Pixies
* Waitress By Hop Along
* Venus as a Boy By Bjork
* Laid By James
* In the Street By Big Star

Monday, March 19, 2018

Give Peace a Chance

It's pretty rare for me to have good news to report on American foreign policy for this post. So rare that I'm not really sure how to fucking do it. But I have a hard time reporting on the recent advances in the Korean peace process without being cautiously optimistic. Not only are the North and South talking disarmament but our typically petulant Man-Child-in-Chief has pulled a fucking 180 and decided to join them.

That's right, dearest motherfuckers, Mr. Fire-and-Fury has made the unprecedented decision to take his finger off the button and meet with Kim Jong Un, making him the first sitting president to meet with a North Korean leader. Don't get me wrong, the summit has been tentatively scheduled for May and with the Donald's gerbil-like attention span and juvenile impressionability, a peace smashing calamity remains very possible. But with Spring on the horizon and the sonic winds of March blowing the dreary cold of Winter away, I've made my own unprecedented decision to stay positive and give peace a chance.

Unfortunately, the fair weather peaceniks in the mainstream left-wing "Resistance" have chosen a different tact. Rather than applauding when the president finally does something right for a change, they've allowed their partisan tribalism to poison their (half-hearted) zeal for diplomacy and thrown their lot in with the craven war junkies of the neocon jet-set. The common bitch made by these desperate dilettantes is that Trump doesn't know what he's doing, he's in over his head and he has no veteran "expert" Korean diplomats to back him up. And they're right, but I fail to see how that's a bad thing.

America's defunct Korean policy has remained frozen in carbonite since the grey flannel days of the early Fifties, when men were men, women were women, and we leveled the communist North for trying to reunify their peninsula after we sabotaged attempts for a unified Korean election which even Stalin supported. After drowning the peninsula in a tsunami of napalm, the US spent the better part of the next 65 years holding dress rehearsals for round two of the holocaust on the DMZ. The Kim dynasty responded with a decades long quest for a nuclear deterrent. Under the circumstances, I can hardly blame them. The US, in kind, over responded to this response by burying the North alive in crippling sanctions that made the hermit kingdom's already devastating floods and droughts down right genocidal in a despicable attempt to starve and terrorize the nations proud populace into purging the Kims and bowing to American influence.

With the exception of a brief Carter sanctioned reprieve in the 1990's, this has been the policy of our sainted diplomatic "experts", who the limousine liberals and their new neocon friends rotting away in Pelosiville want Trump to seek council with. And with the recent sacking of the shockingly sane Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson, and his replacement with ex-CIA Director and known sociopath, Mike Pompeo, they might just get what they want.

Naturally, Trump's deluded fanclub remains equally delusional, suffering from the almost laughable notion that Trump's childish, Truman with dick jokes, tough talk scared the North into compliance. Quite the contrary. Trump's belligerent and downright deranged attitude towards the peninsula is probably what convinced South Korean president and probable Nobel Peace Prize nominee, Moon Jae-In, to make his own unprecedented decision to bravely defy the wishes of his increasingly unstable American handlers and go it alone in seeking a peaceful resolution with his slightly less unstable northern counterpart, the baby-faced trust-fund despot, Kin Jong Un. I suspect that Trump senses this loss of American influence on the peninsula and has decided that his best bet is to jump into the mix at the last minute and steal the credit to feed his own insatiable ego.

God help me, but I say let him. The only thing consistent about Trump's ADHD-style of global leadership is his colossal ego. The neocons know this and milk it like a dairy farmer. Remember the jumping jacks and cartwheels those cunts did after he bombed Syria? Trump is a malignant man-child who thrives on positive reinforcement. So lets bite the bullet and suck the Orange One's micro-cock for peace. Lets make it abundantly clear that Trump can only be a big boy when he plays nice with others. I know it's fucking gross (not to mention a long-shot) but I'd do worse things for peace, dearest motherfuckers. How about you?

So three cheers for the Ginger Caligula and Korean peace! After all, we can always impeach the son of a bitch after the ink dries.



Peace, Love & Empathy- CH



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post.

* Give Peace a Chance By John Lennon
* Don't Get Me Wrong By The Pretenders
* Like Dylan In the Movies By Belle & Sebastian
* I Am a Scientist By Guided By Voices
* Mr. Tambourine Man By Bob Dylan
* In Bloom By Nirvana
* Satellite of Love By Lou Reed
* The Boy With the Arab Strap By Belle & Sebastian

Monday, March 12, 2018

Putin is Everywhere

Ever since the untimely disintegration of the Soviet paper tiger, America has been an empire in search of a scapegoat to justify its own violent existence. These scapegoats have usually taken the form of a third world tin-pot despot who the Mandarins of the mainstream media have dutifully spun into a cartoonish monster-of-the-week worthy of a stale Outer Limits rerun.

Who could forget our old frenemy, Saddam Hussein AKA the Great Porn-Stash, a dastardly Arab madman who hid his WMD's so far up his ass that even Rumsfeld couldn't shake them loose at the end of a noose. Or the Slamming Slavic, Slobodan Milosevic, who's holocausts were so efficient that the bodies vanished into midair the moment NATO boots touched Balkan soil. And Muammar Gaddafi, that Mad Dog of the Middle East who threatened American (in)security with his gold Dinars and his support for unsavory terrorists like Nelson Mandela and Steven Biko.

But America finally hit the fucking jackpot with Vladimir Putin. Finally, a boogeyman we can all believe in. For conservatives, he's the reincarnation of Josef Stalin, come to reclaim the lost glory of the storied Evil Empire. For progressives, he's a fag-bashing Orthodox nationalist with his sight set on that equally mythic Fabian miracle of globalism. And judging by his latest state of the nation address, even Vlad is sinking his teeth into the roll with his Bond-villain Ted-Talk about reducing Mar-a-Lago to nuclear vapor, albeit with the true intent of inspiring boners from crippled Russian nationalists who long for an age when being Russian didn't mean being impotent.

It's all bullshit of coarse. Smoke and mirrors. As crafty a chess master as old Vlad has proven to be in Georgia, Ukraine and the Middle East, he is merely the quasi-democratically elected leader of a rusting petro-state with a Jurassic nuclear stash that's about as funky-fresh as Gorbachev's port wine stain. Well over a year into the fakakta Russiagate witch hunt, with every intelligence organization known to man or beast taring the White House apart like a pig-tossed crack house, the most that neocon super sleuth and torture porn addict Robert Mueller has managed to scrounge up in the way of Russian collusion is a handful of right-wing, B-grade oligarchs attempting to suck up to the Kremlin with fruitless Trump Tower rendezvous', mercenary island retreats and half-baked click-bait farms. None of which has anything to do with Darth Putin, at least not in meaningful sort of way.

But just try telling that to the hysterical Hillary-ites over at MSDNC, who's wild eyed Russophobia makes Joe McCarthy look like Allen Ginsberg. To them, Vladimir Putin's strings can be seen behind anything if you look hard enough to make your eyeballs bleed. Putin is more powerful than god. He's kind of like Elvis is to hillbillies, just waiting for them behind every Burger King drive-thru window. This strange phenomenon was best personified by the great Mojo Nixon's college rock cult classic "Elvis is Everywhere". But I think the Rachel Maddow's and Joy Reid's of this world could use their own rendition....

....Cause Putin is everywhere. Putin is everything. Putin is everybody. Putin is still the king. Putin is in your jeans. Putin is in your Big Mac. Putin is in your iPhone! Putin is in your mom! Putin is in everybody. Putin's in the young, the old, the fat, the skinny, the Alt-right and Black Lives Matter. The brown and blue people got Putin in em too. Everybody's got Putin in them. Everybody except one person that is....  Yeah, one person! The Beautiful opposite of Putin....  John McCain has no Putin in him....  And Putin is in Bernie Sanders but Putin's trying to get out! Listen up Bernie baby! Putin is everywhere. Putin is everything. Putin is everybody. Putin is still the king.

But man, there's a lot of unexplained shit out there in the world. Lots of people say, what the fuck's going on? Let me tell ya! Who brought down the Twin Towers? Putin! Who shot up Sandy Hook? Putin! Yeah man, you see guys walking down the street, pushing shopping carts, and you think they're talking to Allah, they're talking to them self. Man no, they're talking to Putin! Putin! Putin! And you know what's going on in that Bermuda Triangle? Down in the Bermuda Triangle....  Putin needs boats. Putin needs boats. Putin. Putin. Putin. Putin. Putin. Putin. Putin needs boats....  Yeah cause Putin is everywhere. Putin is everything. Putin is everybody. Putin is still the king. Man o man, what I want you to see, is that the big V's inside of you and me....

That's right Democrats, you're the stupid party now. Well, the other stupid party. You got a problem with that? Tell it to fucking Putin. The one place that caviar slurping motherfucker really is, is in your head.



Peace, Love & Empathy- CH



P.S. I'm Putin in drag.



Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post.

* Elvis is Everywhere By Mojo Nixon
* Crazy By Patsy Kline
* Karma Police By Radiohead
* Everybody Wants to Rule the World By Tears For Fears
* Lithium By Nirvana
* Bae By The Front Bottoms
* Party At Ground Zero By Fishbone
* Personality Crisis By New York Dolls