Monday, June 25, 2018

Silly Fascists, Concentration Camps Are For Kids!

Donald Trump is putting families in concentration camps. I wish I was being hyperbolic or facetious, I wish a lot of things right now, decidedly un-Christian things. But, sadly, I am being completely and unabashedly honest when I say that our president is locking up children and pregnant women in sun roasted desert kennels unfit for rabid coyotes, let alone toddlers. I honestly can't think of any other way to put it. I honestly wish that I didn't have to fucking write this thing. But I'm an agoraphobic and I don't own a gun. This blog is the only weapon I've got. This blog and the vitriolic disgust that it weaponizes.

My disgust with a president who is using terrorism to ethnically cleanse whole corners of this country. There remains no other sane reason to rip infants from their mother's tit, wailing and screaming. Like the brazen daylight gestapo raids, these TV-ready acts of inhuman cruelty are designed for the express purpose of terrifying a community of millions to flee for their children's lives back into the arms and machetes of cartels and death squads.

My disgust in a cruel and draconian immigration system that predates Trump's reign by decades. It wasn't so long ago that this country was an open border sanctuary nation that welcomed yesterday's wetbacks, the Italians, the Polish, and my own people, the Irish, fleeing sectarian violence and state sanctioned starvation, with open arms. This lucid and humane system that helped build this country has been traded in for a barbaric, Kafkaesque, labyrinth of slow and costly rules and regulations that give desperate people no choice but to take the law into their own hands. All in defense of an invisible line drawn in the desert by people who stole it from the ancestors of the very same "illegals".

My disgust with a country that outsources misery with corrupt one-sided trade laws that are anything but free and genocidal puppet states that are anything but democratic, and then coldly refuses sanctuary to the refugees that these imperial policies produce. El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras were all gruesome playgrounds for Reagan's anti-communist death squads who raped, murdered, and tortured hundreds of thousands of innocent people on Uncle Sam's dime. Along with Mexico, what remained of these blood spattered banana republics had their ancient indigenous subsistence agrarian systems depleted by cheap imports from the factory farms up north, where many of these out of work farmers crossed the boarder to reclaim their pilfered livelihoods. These same nations have also been held hostage by our equally corrupt war on drugs. Civilians have found themselves caught between warring factions that have both grown bloody rich, not from the plants that have long grown there but by the prohibition that made a war on these plants a booming industry for both sides of the fight.

My disgust with both political parties who would rather crack each others skulls before the unblinking eye of mid-term election news coverage than find an actual fucking solution to this mess. The Republicans, who sell their terrified constituency of endangered white males a one way ticket to a past glory that exists only in the imaginations of overgrown children, with the price of admission being the scapegoating of a people even more powerless than they feel. And the Democrats, who use the Latino vote like a goddamn condom, playing the part of the great white savior when it was liberal lions like Bill Clinton and Barack Obama who set the stage for Trump's theater of cruelty with their own despicable, record breaking, deportation regimes. To the fucking sycophants who runs this sinking ship of a country, no horror is too sacred to be pimped out for electoral cache.

My disgust is more powerful than the highest caliber handgun on the market and I have plenty of high powered disgust to go around. But I reserve the lion share of my vitriol for the very notion of the border itself, a state contraption who's very existence depends on violence and degradation. The unspeakable cruelty we are currently witnessing on our southern border is the inevitable result of its very existence and we now see this beast in it's truest manifestation across the globe. In Italy and Greece, where boatloads of refugees are driven back into the watery grave of the sea. In the Balkans, Hungary, and Poland, where walls of razor wire have been erected to slit the wrists of the orphans of wars that those very nations partook in. The border itself is a contraption designed for fascistic terror. Its abolition should should be the priority of any sane creature with some fraction of a heart. I don't have an easy solution to Trump's kiddie concentration camps or the family friendly penal colonies he was brow beaten into replacing them with, but a riot would be a nice start. Let this post be the first brick that crashes through the White House window.

Fuck you, Donald .J Trump, super sadist. Fuck you very much.

Peace, Love, & Fury- CH

Soundtrack; Songs That Influenced This Post

* Reign In Blood by Slayer
* List of Demands by the Kills
* Down In It by Nine Inch Nails
* Suspect Device by Stiff Little Fingers
* Prison Song #01 by System of a Down
* Police Truck by Dead Kennedy's
* People of the Sun by Rage Against the Machine
* Getting Closer by Nitzer Ebb
* Too Many Puppies by Primus
* Can Do by TV On the Radio
* Rock & Roll N*gger by Marilyn Manson

Monday, June 18, 2018

Create Two, Three, Many Stonewalls

I'm sure I don't have to tell anyone its Pride Month. Its been advertised everywhere from Google to Twitter. A coming out party for the wholesale corporate appropriation of an underground movement. Its not even Queer Pride Month anymore, that title has become too politically incorrect, it might make the straight world uneasy. It's LGBTQ Pride Month, that Disneyfied assimilationist alphabet soup cooked up to get the breeders comfortable enough to bother curing AIDS.

Not that I have anything against Pride Month, quite the contrary, I'm very proud to be a genderfuck lesbian. I'm just apoplectic over the fact that I finally came out just in time for my community to sell out. If you were to go on the advertisements and fanfare alone you'd think we were celebrating the day that drone strike sociopath Barack Obama granted us the right to government sanctioned monogamy. The liberal establishment who suddenly loves us so goddamn much always seems to fail to mention that Queer Pride Month was originally launched to commemorate a violent uprising against the very state they hold so near and dear.

June became Pride Month in celebration of the Stonewall Uprisings of late June, 1969. After the NYPD launched another violent raid against another underground gay bar, the Stonewall Inn, in Manhattan's Greenwich Village, the T-girls and gay boys decided they weren't in the mood to get bashed again by a bunch of bribe taking, sexually confused, neckless, cretins with badges. June 28, 1969 was the day the fags bashed back. And they bashed hard. These weren't today's garden variety house queers either. This mob was a beautiful patchwork of the colors of the queer rainbow that have been erased by the LGBTQ establishment in favor of marketability. These were the drag queens, unpassable trans women, Radical Faeries, and flannel bound bulldykes, my people. We took on the state and we fucking won. We literally kicked the ass of the meanest police force in the country, digging our nails into their thick necks and cracking their jar-heads wide open with bricks. By the time we were finished with our enemies in blue they were running for their lives from the queer volcano they ignited.

This was the birth of the Queer Liberation Movement. Within weeks a score of revolutionary organizations were hatched across the Five Boroughs and eventually the country. Influenced by fellow anti-colonialist urban guerrilla movements like the Black Panthers and the Latin Kings, they weren't asking for reform, they were demanding revolution and they were declaring war against the state that oppressed them. This is precisely what the mainstream left and their assimilationist quislings are trying to pink wash with their politically castrated Pride Month and the tragically defanged LGBTQ movement. Queer liberation has always been an inherently anti-statist movement and contrary to popular belief our fight is far from fucking over.

To paraphrase the late Che Guevara, we need to create two, three, many Stonewalls. We need to create a Stonewall in every red light district being gentrified by corporate "family" fascists. We need to create a Stonewall in every prison where trans people are cruelly quarantined into isolation for their own protection when it's the guards who are the real threat. We need to create a Stonewall in every public school where children are segregated and deprived based solely on the contents of their genitalia. We need to create a Stonewall in every clinic that denies people basic services for not conforming to the gender on their birth certificates. We need to create a Stonewall in every tax-exempt church that still advocates abuse against their children, our children. We need to create a Stonewall in every federal agency that victimizes our people for crossing the border or trying to make a goddamn living with their own bodies. We need to create a Stonewall at the headquarters of every pharmaceutical lobby that takes our tax dollars through corporate welfare and jacks up the cost of hormones sky high to a level that only a pampered bitch like Caitlyn Jenner could afford.

And we need to create one great big queer fucking Stonewall uprising in Washington D.C. where a fascist empire presides over its unwilling subjects across the globe with all the mercy of the Marquis De Sade. Where the pitiless war machine orders drones and bombs and bullets to murder our brothers and sisters and everything in between with endless wars and homophobic puppet regimes. We need a million Stonewalls, dearest motherfuckers. And we need to keep that fire burning until we chase every pig out of town.

Peace, Love, & Empathy- CH

Soundtrack: Songs That Influenced This Post

* 1969 by the Stooges
* Queen Bitch by David Bowie
* Revolution by the Beatles
* Saints by the Breeders
* Queen by Perfume Genius
* Street Fighting Man by the Rolling Stones
* Your Dog by Soccer Mommy
* Ahead by Wire
* Modern Girl by Sleater-Kinney 

Monday, June 11, 2018

Fuck You, God (....I Love You)

I don't have to tell anyone who's read this blog that I have a rather complicated relationship with god. I seem to swing violently from dewy eyed new age mysticism to church burning blasphemy. Chock this up to being raised in the wrong gender in a decidedly fag-bashy diocese of the Catholic Church. Being told in so many words that your true self belongs in hell, forever, by a bunch kiddy-diddling fuck-heads in backwards collars tends to leave a mark.

On the other hand, I was also raised by a devout and loving mother who seems to see angels all around her and believes with all her heart that they serve every creature, big or small or queer. I never shared her undaunting faith, like my chemist father, I've always been a little more skeptical, but goddammit if I didn't respect the absolute hell out of it and on more than a few occasions the power of my mother's faith has felt like a salvation on a desperately damned planet of false prophets and self-serving hate-mongers.

So, yeah, my relationship with spirituality is kind of complicated. At no time does this manic washing machine of existential cataclysm get more absurdly bipolar then in times of severe crisis. And wouldn't you know it, this week turned out to be a real fucking dumpster fire. I was suppose to take the week off and go to the Jersey shore with my folks and my brother, a trip we scrape together for and look forward to all year. But last week some snoozing twat ran over our momentary tranquility with a fucking car, literally.

My 59 year old father was out for his daily mourning run last Tuesday when, out of nowhere, he gets completely shit-housed by some overworked paper man asleep at the wheel. Broke both legs, a foot, his nose, carved up his face like a goddamn Christmas roast and left him in a pool of blood for my brother to find him. My father is the strong silent type, not very emotional, but he's the glue that holds the rest of the whack-jobs in this fucking family together. When he got creamed, we all got creamed.

I've already been fighting off a particularly nasty bout of depression and anxiety all month long and when my mother woke me to the news that my dad was in the emergency room, I went into a kind of spiritual split personality disorder. On one hand, I clutched a rosary in my fist like a closeted Republican at Mardi Gras, begging god to give us a fucking break. On the other hand, I was spitting bullets at Christ for being such a fucking cunt.

We work hard and suffer our asses off all year, hanging on to one goddamn week away from our miserable existence and you plaster our soft-spoken patriarch on some ass-wipes grill like a goddamn grasshopper? What the shit is your fucking problem, son of god? Cancer, Lyme disease, depression, Alzheimer's, gender dysphoria, and now fucking car crashes? What's next? Bubonic plague? You'd think we nailed you to that fucking cross ourselves. Give us a fucking break for once. Kind and loving god, my fat tranny ass.

This was where my already severely scarred brain was at when we went to see my father in the hospital. My brother was a goddamn trooper but me and my mother could barely keep our collective shit together. You'd think the car hit us, twice. But god speaks in weird accents when you least expect it. In this case it was through my black and blue father. This man of few words said two things from his hospital bed that blew my mind like an acid trip. He told us he felt bad for the bastard who hit him and he told us it was a miracle that it wasn't worse.

Perspective is a tricky bitch. Just when you think you've got it all figured out, you don't. I think maybe god, supposing such an entity exists, is pretty similar. If my crippled father can see the bright side through black blood bandages then maybe god isn't such a cunt after all. Maybe that very compassion is god and we all have a bit of her inside us. I don't know. But I thank god or whoever-the-fuck that my father is alive to gently show us our place with his strength.

Hold on there, dearest motherfuckers. Somethings out there, it's bigger than us, and together we're going to carry that weight.

Peace, Love, & Empathy- CH

Soundtrack; songs that influenced this post.

* A Deal With God by Kate Bush
* In Heaven by Japanese Breakfast
* Selfish Feelings by Christopher Owens
* Strange Condition by Pete Yorn
* Rejoice by Julien Baker
* There Is a Light That Never Goes Out by the Smiths
* On My Knees by Middle Kids
* It's Okay by Dead Moon

In loving memory of Anthony Bourdain, who taught me how to tell the truth until it hurts. Godspeed, you fantastic bastard. You won't be forgotten.

Monday, June 4, 2018

Rise of the Decadents: Notes From a Spenglerian Faggot

In spite of my Freudo-Marxian syndicalist roots I pride myself on being something of a cafeteria philosopher, taking a little influence here, there, and everywhere, even from the fringes. Fuck, who am I kidding, especially from the fringes. Wack-jobs make the best visionaries. But as far as the far right is concerned you'll be hard pressed to find any work of philosophy with anything resembling intellectual depth. Even the non-racial shit (few and far between) is plagued with the kind of half-baked mysticism that's only fascinating to a pre-teen metal-head (been there, done that). I make an acception, however, for the work of German Conservative Revolutionary Oswald Spengler, in particular his World War era magnum opus Decline of the West, which is more than worth thumbing through, even for a genderfuck anarchist derelict like me.

The basic thesis is that the world is broken up into distinct cultures (Greco-Roman, Persian, etc.) that tend to have a shelf life of roughly two thousand years. Every culture rises, stagnates, and develops into a civilization once its creative impulse wanes. And every civilization falls into a murky abyss of cultural decadence (people like me) and monetary greed (people like Trump) from which a new culture springs, starting the cycle over again. The focus of Spengler's theory was that at the dawn of the First World War, Western Civilization had reached it's winter time. The Faustian Civilization, as Oswald referred to the stagnant West was bleeding out. It's organic aristocracy of philosophers and prophets had been replaced by a plastic plutocratic elite. It's spirituality had been replaced by the paper god of money. It's temples had become transformed into veritable piggy banks for greedy heretics. And most foreboding of all, the West had entered into a final state of militant Caesarism with it's increasingly desperate populace looking to enigmatic strongmen for guidance in the turbulence.

Sounds familiar, right? Much like his fellow Teutonic doomer, Karl Marx, Spengler's philosophy seemed a bit presumptuous at the time but with each passing generation it seemed to become more and more relevant. It seems downright prophetic in today's crumbling American Century. We as a society have lost all meaning in an era of total technological isolation and savage environmental devastation. While the already damned American Empire makes it's dogmatic death march to World War 3 with the rising culture of Eurasia and the oceans begin to boil like Satan's cauldrons, our directionless citizenry can't seem to be bothered to so much as look up from their flickering devices to see the growing mushroom clouds on the horizon. The few who do look to uber-statist demagogues like Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders to save them from themselves. As the Mountain Goats once sang, the warning signs all bright and garish, too far in number to ignore.

On one hand, as a stalwart anti-imperialist, I'm tempted to welcome the destruction of this violent civilization with arms wide open. On the other hand, being an openly perverted genderless heretic, I have to ask, where do I stand in this Faustian winter time. According to many figures on the Splenglerian right, it's people like me who represent the decadence that is drowning what remains of civilization in a slurry of iconoclasm and sin. I'm gonna just rip the fucking needle off the record right now and take the dangerously contrarian position of agreeing with my enemies. Sinners like me are gutting this rotting civilization like a goddamn jack-o-lantern and I say good riddance. In fact I would argue that this controlled cultural demolition is precisely the cure that Doctor Spengler ordered.

What so many people on the right and the left fail to recognize is that Spengler was not an ideologue or even a pessimist. He was an analyst and a decidedly pragmatic one at that. Spengler didn't view the observations in Decline as inherently bad or inherently good but rather as inherently inevitable. To Spengler cultures were complex organisms and, like all organisms, They're born, they live, and they die. My personal spin on this theory is that decadents like myself are a necessary part of this life cycle and that the rise in queer identity can be directly traced to it. When a culture stagnates into a civilization the only right thing to do is to put it out of its misery. That's where we come in.

The unholy decadents achieve this end by upending everything that the prisoners of the collapsing West hold near and dear. Dated notions of gender, race, government, and religion, all must be purged in the fires of a cultural revolution that only freaks like us can wage. Think of us as Faustian lumberjacks, chopping down the dead trees of a derelict society to make room for a new forest. Radical traditionalists shouldn't look upon us as a historical aberration but rather as a nomadic tribe like that of the Mongol hordes, laying the ground work for a new dynasty with our acts of constructive vandalism. However, I say it's high time the decadents take it a step further and form a Spenglerian race all our own.

According to Spengler, the only power stronger than the opium of capital is blood aka race. Counter to the standard biological interpretation of race popular with the poseurs of the Third Reich and the alt-right, Spengler defined race as a people united in outlook. If this doesn't describe the queer community and our more radical allies then I don't know what does. And who better to construct a new culture than the wreckers of the last, a ragtag stateless tribe of faggots, trannies, dykes, witches, doms, power bottoms, anarchists, libertarians, whores, Gnostics, occultists and other assorted liberated radicals. Together we can create our own civilization, the anti-civilization of post-modern stateless tribalism. A new spiritual awakening beyond the tired trappings of stagnant puritanical dogma. A new pantheistic religiosity that defies the boundaries of the last. No color. No gender. No gods. No masters. Maybe this wasn't quite what Spengler and Marx had in mind but they taught me that a proper understanding of the patterns of the past can help us define our future. Call me their bastard dauphin and quiver.

This is a call to arms, dearest motherfuckers. As the West crumbles beneath our stilettos let us form a new culture of unfettered liberty. Let the queer age begin and let it begin with me. After all, every new beginning comes from some other new beginnings end....

Peace, Love, & Empathy- CH

Soundtrack: songs that influenced this post

* Closing Time by Semisonic
* Man-Size by PJ Harvey
* Fake Empire by the National
* Old College Try by the Mountain Goats
* Geyser by Mitski
* Rise by Public Image Ltd.
* Honey Bunny by Girls
* Turn It On by Flaming Lips

P.S. I'll be going to the shore next week to get my head straight. It's a yearly necessity. So there'll be no post next week. But never fear, my crazy faggot ass should be back in fine form two weeks from today. PEACE- you know who.