If you should find yourself in a conversation with a person of color, and that person uses an epithet to describe someone of his race or the race of another, it is then perfectly acceptable for you (regardless of your sub-race or racial identity) to use said epithets.
Example: an African-American (AfrAm) uses the word "nigga" in front of a European-American (EurAm). From that point forward, said EurAm can use said racial epithet freely in that conversation.
The reasoning: if said AfrAm decides to say nigga, it would be racist of him to prohibit said EurAm (whose sole disqualification for using said word is the color of his skin) from using the term.
Conclusion: if you don't want people to use racial epithets, don't use them yourself. If you use a racial epithet and are offended subsequently by another's use of same, another who may not share your inherent characteristics, you are acting in racist fashion.
Ultimately, we are all of one race. One single race. Any man from any group of people can mate with any woman from any other group of people and have live, viable offspring. Arguments contrary to this stance are not based on fact, but on lies, fear, and hatred.
One love, people.
Don't use terms like kike, squint, nigger, honkey, or spick unless you have an elastic and deep-rooted sense of humor and an equally deep-rooted sense of inferiority.
Buck up. Stay safe. Be true.
Think about it.
JPR
americanifesto.com | updated Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday
04 February 2011
29 January 2011
on rioting in oppressed nations
Since the fall of the autocratic government in Tunisia, there have been uprisings in other states in and bordering the African continent. Pundits and politicians point to efforts of past presidents or to wars of aggression waged in the region to explain this sudden increase in democratic expression.
I, however, will suggest different causes. I will suggest that the oppressed masses in a country ruled by a ruthless and authoritarian dictator (Egypt) who is supported by the United States of America (for purposes of the shadowy and ill-defined goal of regional stability) rose up on their own, without foreign intervention, for three reasons:
1) They are sick of living under the iron boot of a ruthless dictator who oppresses his population with America's tacit blessing
2) They do not wish to be invaded in another illegal war of aggression waged by the US when the American government decides that support of said dictator has become politically or economically unsustainable
3) They have decided that since American forces are bogged down in wars initially begun for self-serving reasons (control of Iraqi oil, punishment of terrorist in Afghanistan), and since America shows no sign of removing those regimes that truly oppress their people (most notably Saudi Arabia), any progress toward an open and democratic society must come from the downtrodden populace itself.
An old maxim reads: Something given has no value.
The Iraqis do not see the value of their democratic institutions because they did not ask for them in the first place.
The Afghanis do not see the value of democratic institutions because the system they have been running since Alexander the Great passed through over two thousand years ago worked; they saw no need to change their ways in order to accommodate an upstart political philosophy.
These uprisings are not signs of democracy's success; they are signs that, via social networking websites, individuals can change their world.
The United States is resembling more a police state, a society of rigidly enforced controls and widespread homogenization. What will happen when the people here, the millions upon millions of individuals who every year are extruded from the anus of the capitalist machine to wallow in a cold pit of washed-out excrement, what will happen when they call for change? Will our government welcome their demands with open ears and mind, or will it send in the riot cops and water cannons?
Democracy fails largely because people are not intrinsically equal. Simply put, some people are better than others. The way our system is set up here in America, those citizens with better connections or a better jumping off point will have better lives filled with more Happiness and greater Safety than those people without the skills or contacts or capital needed to excel.
Have we developed in harmony with the goals enumerated in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution? Is our government providing for the general Welfare and creating for all her citizens a world of Safety and Happiness? Can we honestly say that we live in a democratic society and not one run by the interests of the military-industrial complex and the massive intelligence gathering and law-enforcement communities? If there were riots in American streets, our country would eventually become more democratic. If there were masses of protesters screaming for the repeal of the Patriot Act, that foul and unconstitutional piece of legislation would be repealed. If our citizens risked their lives to speak, perhaps our senators would not fight so ferociously to maintain low taxes for the wealthiest three percent of all citizens.
We can only hope.
We can only read our founding texts and demand liberty, equality, and justice for all.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
JP
I, however, will suggest different causes. I will suggest that the oppressed masses in a country ruled by a ruthless and authoritarian dictator (Egypt) who is supported by the United States of America (for purposes of the shadowy and ill-defined goal of regional stability) rose up on their own, without foreign intervention, for three reasons:
1) They are sick of living under the iron boot of a ruthless dictator who oppresses his population with America's tacit blessing
2) They do not wish to be invaded in another illegal war of aggression waged by the US when the American government decides that support of said dictator has become politically or economically unsustainable
3) They have decided that since American forces are bogged down in wars initially begun for self-serving reasons (control of Iraqi oil, punishment of terrorist in Afghanistan), and since America shows no sign of removing those regimes that truly oppress their people (most notably Saudi Arabia), any progress toward an open and democratic society must come from the downtrodden populace itself.
An old maxim reads: Something given has no value.
The Iraqis do not see the value of their democratic institutions because they did not ask for them in the first place.
The Afghanis do not see the value of democratic institutions because the system they have been running since Alexander the Great passed through over two thousand years ago worked; they saw no need to change their ways in order to accommodate an upstart political philosophy.
These uprisings are not signs of democracy's success; they are signs that, via social networking websites, individuals can change their world.
The United States is resembling more a police state, a society of rigidly enforced controls and widespread homogenization. What will happen when the people here, the millions upon millions of individuals who every year are extruded from the anus of the capitalist machine to wallow in a cold pit of washed-out excrement, what will happen when they call for change? Will our government welcome their demands with open ears and mind, or will it send in the riot cops and water cannons?
Democracy fails largely because people are not intrinsically equal. Simply put, some people are better than others. The way our system is set up here in America, those citizens with better connections or a better jumping off point will have better lives filled with more Happiness and greater Safety than those people without the skills or contacts or capital needed to excel.
Have we developed in harmony with the goals enumerated in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution? Is our government providing for the general Welfare and creating for all her citizens a world of Safety and Happiness? Can we honestly say that we live in a democratic society and not one run by the interests of the military-industrial complex and the massive intelligence gathering and law-enforcement communities? If there were riots in American streets, our country would eventually become more democratic. If there were masses of protesters screaming for the repeal of the Patriot Act, that foul and unconstitutional piece of legislation would be repealed. If our citizens risked their lives to speak, perhaps our senators would not fight so ferociously to maintain low taxes for the wealthiest three percent of all citizens.
We can only hope.
We can only read our founding texts and demand liberty, equality, and justice for all.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
JP
21 January 2011
an open letter to Gov. Rendell
Dear Governor Rendell of Pennsylvania.
I was very pleased to hear you use the "humans-have-been-doing-it-since-the-dawn-of-civilization" argument to justify expanding the gambling industry in Pennsylvania (a link). Yours is a valid argument based on sound scientific data, most notably the archaeological record (a link).
If all goes well with your efforts, humans in this fine state will be allowed to pursue two of the activities they have enjoyed since the dawn of time, most notably drinking alcohol (here) and games of chance.
Since you have used this argument to justify the expansion of gambling, the argument can now be used to justify the cultivation and consumption of cannabis, a practice that also dates to the dawn of recorded civilization (a link). The state of Pennsylvania is one of the largest volume drug dealers in the world, selling more alcohol, which is a drug, than nearly any other entity in the world (a link). Since the state is already in the business of selling drugs, it is logical to assume that it would allow its citizens (who are allowed to brew and self-distribute beer under license {a link}) to cultivate and self-distribute (under license) a fellow drug, cannabis, for their own consumption.
Access to alcohol is an ancient right of mankind.
Access to gambling is an ancient right of mankind.
Access to cannabis is an ancient right of mankind.
Please take steps to modernize the current cannabis laws (a link) so as to bring them into accord with the proud and ancient traditions that humans have been following for many thousands of years. Our society cannot afford its continued persecution of men and women enjoying this long-standing tradition.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
John Paul Roggenkamp
I was very pleased to hear you use the "humans-have-been-doing-it-since-the-dawn-of-civilization" argument to justify expanding the gambling industry in Pennsylvania (a link). Yours is a valid argument based on sound scientific data, most notably the archaeological record (a link).
If all goes well with your efforts, humans in this fine state will be allowed to pursue two of the activities they have enjoyed since the dawn of time, most notably drinking alcohol (here) and games of chance.
Since you have used this argument to justify the expansion of gambling, the argument can now be used to justify the cultivation and consumption of cannabis, a practice that also dates to the dawn of recorded civilization (a link). The state of Pennsylvania is one of the largest volume drug dealers in the world, selling more alcohol, which is a drug, than nearly any other entity in the world (a link). Since the state is already in the business of selling drugs, it is logical to assume that it would allow its citizens (who are allowed to brew and self-distribute beer under license {a link}) to cultivate and self-distribute (under license) a fellow drug, cannabis, for their own consumption.
Access to alcohol is an ancient right of mankind.
Access to gambling is an ancient right of mankind.
Access to cannabis is an ancient right of mankind.
Please take steps to modernize the current cannabis laws (a link) so as to bring them into accord with the proud and ancient traditions that humans have been following for many thousands of years. Our society cannot afford its continued persecution of men and women enjoying this long-standing tradition.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
John Paul Roggenkamp
19 January 2011
nipples
Every time I look at my shirtless self in the mirror, I get slightly aroused by my nipples. For a moment I imagine they are the nipples of a woman. Within milliseconds, however, my neural processors kick in and my growing excitement is squelched by the sudden and painful realization that these nipples, my nipples, are not, unlike the teats of a dame, objects of sexual desire.
But are a man's nipples really any less sexually offensive than those of a woman? Leading men in all sorts of films display their nipples proudly and without fear of censorship or retribution. Sportsmen remove their shirts in victory, flaunting their largely useless but invariably pert little man-teats. It is fact that a male's nipples are a byproduct of the evolutionary conservation of resources, their development only halted by a sudden explosion of testosterone triggered by the genetic code. Until the fetus decides what it is supposed to be, it develops male and female in identical fashion.
Sometime, it gets confused, and makes hermaphrodites.
Very few men indeed can produce milk from their breasts, although most of the plumbing seems to be in place. What I am trying to say is that man-teats are just as repulsive to some and arousing to others as the nipples of women. So why are men allowed to remove their shirts in America without fear of immediate legal retribution and vociferous communal outrage? Should not women also have the right to go shirtless, displaying their fine and shapely nipples for all who care to look? In our current world, women are not allowed to show their breasts because they are mostly larger than those of men, and because, in certain situations, they produce milk. But when was the last time you witnessed, in contemporary cinema or sport (outside of porn, of course), a woman with leaking breasts? I would hazard to say you have not. But as soon as a tiny bit of tender female teat-flesh is exposed, a film goes from PG-13 to R, while when Dan Craig emerges from the ocean all glistening and moist, his nipples cutting holes in the wind, the crowd gasps and applauds approvingly.
Get over your hypocrisies, America, and release women's nipples from their exempted status. The ladies didn't fight for suffrage in order to wear shirts all the damn time.
Release your nipples, and join the fight for gender equality.
The time is now.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
JP
But are a man's nipples really any less sexually offensive than those of a woman? Leading men in all sorts of films display their nipples proudly and without fear of censorship or retribution. Sportsmen remove their shirts in victory, flaunting their largely useless but invariably pert little man-teats. It is fact that a male's nipples are a byproduct of the evolutionary conservation of resources, their development only halted by a sudden explosion of testosterone triggered by the genetic code. Until the fetus decides what it is supposed to be, it develops male and female in identical fashion.
Sometime, it gets confused, and makes hermaphrodites.
Very few men indeed can produce milk from their breasts, although most of the plumbing seems to be in place. What I am trying to say is that man-teats are just as repulsive to some and arousing to others as the nipples of women. So why are men allowed to remove their shirts in America without fear of immediate legal retribution and vociferous communal outrage? Should not women also have the right to go shirtless, displaying their fine and shapely nipples for all who care to look? In our current world, women are not allowed to show their breasts because they are mostly larger than those of men, and because, in certain situations, they produce milk. But when was the last time you witnessed, in contemporary cinema or sport (outside of porn, of course), a woman with leaking breasts? I would hazard to say you have not. But as soon as a tiny bit of tender female teat-flesh is exposed, a film goes from PG-13 to R, while when Dan Craig emerges from the ocean all glistening and moist, his nipples cutting holes in the wind, the crowd gasps and applauds approvingly.
Get over your hypocrisies, America, and release women's nipples from their exempted status. The ladies didn't fight for suffrage in order to wear shirts all the damn time.
Release your nipples, and join the fight for gender equality.
The time is now.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
JP
15 January 2011
a dearth of differences
Leave your house and drive three days and tell me what you see.
If you are in America, you will see town upon town, city upon city, places resembling each other in so many ways as to approach homogeneity. The shops are the same, as are the drugstores. The houses are carbon-copies of one another; when seen from the air, the grids in which they are arranged are indistinguishable from the grids of the next town over. Sure, the people are likely to vary slightly in appearance and dialect, but will they vary to any significant degree? The people speak a common tongue, they watch the same shows, they bemoan in common tones the state of their lives, yet they seem to have lost the courage to break out of their self-imposed little prisons.
Did we developed in this way because our parents came to age in the industrialization and normalization period of the post-war era? Did we reach this point because our parents' parents grew up poor and toothless during the Great Depression? Do we allow this homogeneity to spread because it is the path of least resistance, a path that nine times out of ten leeches the color from our lives, a path that leaves us with a weak and faltering sense of personal identity?
Get in where you fit in, the saying goes, a saying that exemplifies the citizen's drive toward a supposedly perfect cookie-cutter life. Then again, if people are happy being clones, they should by all means homogenize, and shed any vestigial characteristics that might allow them to be picked out of a crowd.
Conditions in our larger cities still appear good. Here, myriad tongues are spoken, the races mix, new culture blooms, the senses are stimulated. It is to these places that the young and the creative flee. Out in the sticks, however, out in the bumfuck boondocks, the distillation of our culture into a few scant and puny rituals progresses apace (these rituals include watching football, souping up cars, going to parades, and shopping). While these rituals seem desirable to those advanced in age, or to families seeking a quiet nest from which to grow, the erosion of the cultural diversity, nay, of our very cultural identity, this erosion bodes ill for our fine nation.
I am not sure if the President's call to shop and the rapid cultural homogenization that followed in the wake of Nine-Eleven have anything in common, or if they even belong in this same piece, but here it stands, immutable and preserved for all time in the digital medium. I lost a large amount of respect for the people of this country when, shortly after 11SEP2001, then President Bush said, "I encourage you all to go shopping more," and an unanimous silence was heard around the country as citizens dusted off their credit cards dutifully. It is the job of our nation's leaders to inspire us to serve our country, to create programs that would allow regular people to do irregular things in an effort to make this a better place; it is not their job to call upon us to spend money simply for the sake of spending money.
So, before you reach for the remote, before you browse the endless aisles without a clear purchase in mind, before you settle down to business as usual, ask yourself if there is something you could be doing to make a better place out of the little space call home, and out of the larger space you call country.
Spes Mea In Ratio Est - JPR
07 January 2011
on the subtlety of fear
I am just come from the shores of the Old World, that stalwart mass whence many Americans trace their blood. I arrived still entrenched in the cold and calculating mindset in which I have spent many nights in the past seven years, a mindset of constant vigilance and persistent distrust for mister John Law. There I strode through the cobbled lanes of Amsterdam, that fine city on her Graachten, crop-dusting smoke, always changing locations, the senses trained for any sign of police, trapped in a latent and deep-seated modus operandi that had kept me (relatively) clear of the law for some time. Only slowly and via repeated conversation did I shed this fear and come to look on the cops as many Europeans do, as a bothersome but largely benevolent force tasked with assisting and serving the population.
Do we look on the police in these fine United States in the same way? Would you, as a pennyless beggar or down-on-his-luck fellow approach the cops and expect a sandwich and a warm place to sleep at night? Would you do as you pleased, pissing in the street and making a ruckus at all hours in a residential neighborhood, if you knew a police station were within the radius of a thrown stone? In the US, people do such things, but, ere long, they find themselves approached, questioned, or apprehended by the police. In Europe (at least in the larger cities), all these things are done regularly, in broadest day and darkest night, freely and without a second thought.
For lack of a less grand statement: What have we done to ourselves and to our country? Why have we acquiesced to injustices stemming from the Patriot Act and similar legislation designed to make us safer, sacrificing our liberty at the alter of a delusional sense of security? I am a sounding board in some ways, a shape-shifter who changes according to the immediate social surroundings, adjusting myself to the situation at hand, taking on the mores, hopes, and fears of those around me; and a few weeks into my stay, I realized that I had taken on the subtle fears of the greater American population, adjusted to the suspicions that pervade our land, acquiesced to the notion that the police are something to fear, that they have some sort of power over my state of mind, over my Happiness.
In this, I have erred grievously.
Again, I have erred grievously.
It is not for us to live in fear of the police, to hide our passions, to refrain from doing the things which give us joy or satisfaction, always keeping out a watchful eye for the uncouth, reporting to supposedly higher authorities that which we do not understand. My hat goes off to the brave men and women who wear their hair differently, who have tattoos, who dress in colorful thread, for those who are stared at when they walk down the street or followed through grocery stores.
We speak of freedom in this country, but I suspect that all this talking stems from the fact that we know, deep down, that our freedoms are being taken from us one by one, that we conform to the drugs society wants us to take so as not to draw attention, drugs that our states sell to us and allow to be sold, that this once free land is no longer that, but has become something altogether different.
I weep for my country, for these United States of America, for I have drunk of the nectar of a truly liberal society, and, having done and ingested and worn and said what I pleased, I have returned and seen with new eyes an increasingly militarized society, armed soldiers in train stations, police on every block, even the small towns riddled with cops, their gazes hard and menacing.
Is this the country our forefathers envisioned, a country marbled with fear of the unknown and of the unknowable (the true extent of a person's mind), a country that forces grandmothers from their wheelchairs to be frisked, a country where sickness (addiction) is treated as a crime, where the consumption of a freely-growing plant can land you behind bars?
We speak of our freedoms. We speak of the greatness of our country. And yet our prison are filled to capacity, our police officers have automatic weapons, and our new national past-time is, of all the lame and pointless things, shopping.
Recently, federal officers, agents representing the state, attempted to force me into confessing to a crime I did not commit. Although they did not use physical force (beyond detaining me for a short period of time), only methods of coercion and intimidation, I fear now that was my last straw, that point at which I had finally had enough, the point at which I am ready to leave these verdant shores in search of more liberal pastures. For when a Son of the American Revolution, a man with the shield of the American Union inked indelibly into his flesh, a 9-11 volunteer, when that man, after a brief repose to foreign lands, upon his return no longer feels at home in the country he loves and yearns for those distance places, it is at that time that his government has failed him, failed the very people for whom they are supposed to bring into existence Safety and Happiness (according to the Declaration of Independence, our society's bedraggled and ignored blueprint).
Shining Liberty has been cast out into the darkness; Restriction and Suspicion have taken her place at the nation's table.
In our modern America, we are not free in the sense of true liberty, no matter how much we try to convince ourselves to the contrary. We have allowed our government to fail us, and have made a mockery of our once fine society, preferring a torn umbrella of supposed security to the cleansing downpour of freedom.
Woe is unto the world, our nation is dying at the core.
May we find some way to save her. Hold out, fair Columbia, for all may not yet be lost.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
John Paul Roggenkamp
Do we look on the police in these fine United States in the same way? Would you, as a pennyless beggar or down-on-his-luck fellow approach the cops and expect a sandwich and a warm place to sleep at night? Would you do as you pleased, pissing in the street and making a ruckus at all hours in a residential neighborhood, if you knew a police station were within the radius of a thrown stone? In the US, people do such things, but, ere long, they find themselves approached, questioned, or apprehended by the police. In Europe (at least in the larger cities), all these things are done regularly, in broadest day and darkest night, freely and without a second thought.
For lack of a less grand statement: What have we done to ourselves and to our country? Why have we acquiesced to injustices stemming from the Patriot Act and similar legislation designed to make us safer, sacrificing our liberty at the alter of a delusional sense of security? I am a sounding board in some ways, a shape-shifter who changes according to the immediate social surroundings, adjusting myself to the situation at hand, taking on the mores, hopes, and fears of those around me; and a few weeks into my stay, I realized that I had taken on the subtle fears of the greater American population, adjusted to the suspicions that pervade our land, acquiesced to the notion that the police are something to fear, that they have some sort of power over my state of mind, over my Happiness.
In this, I have erred grievously.
Again, I have erred grievously.
It is not for us to live in fear of the police, to hide our passions, to refrain from doing the things which give us joy or satisfaction, always keeping out a watchful eye for the uncouth, reporting to supposedly higher authorities that which we do not understand. My hat goes off to the brave men and women who wear their hair differently, who have tattoos, who dress in colorful thread, for those who are stared at when they walk down the street or followed through grocery stores.
We speak of freedom in this country, but I suspect that all this talking stems from the fact that we know, deep down, that our freedoms are being taken from us one by one, that we conform to the drugs society wants us to take so as not to draw attention, drugs that our states sell to us and allow to be sold, that this once free land is no longer that, but has become something altogether different.
I weep for my country, for these United States of America, for I have drunk of the nectar of a truly liberal society, and, having done and ingested and worn and said what I pleased, I have returned and seen with new eyes an increasingly militarized society, armed soldiers in train stations, police on every block, even the small towns riddled with cops, their gazes hard and menacing.
Is this the country our forefathers envisioned, a country marbled with fear of the unknown and of the unknowable (the true extent of a person's mind), a country that forces grandmothers from their wheelchairs to be frisked, a country where sickness (addiction) is treated as a crime, where the consumption of a freely-growing plant can land you behind bars?
We speak of our freedoms. We speak of the greatness of our country. And yet our prison are filled to capacity, our police officers have automatic weapons, and our new national past-time is, of all the lame and pointless things, shopping.
Recently, federal officers, agents representing the state, attempted to force me into confessing to a crime I did not commit. Although they did not use physical force (beyond detaining me for a short period of time), only methods of coercion and intimidation, I fear now that was my last straw, that point at which I had finally had enough, the point at which I am ready to leave these verdant shores in search of more liberal pastures. For when a Son of the American Revolution, a man with the shield of the American Union inked indelibly into his flesh, a 9-11 volunteer, when that man, after a brief repose to foreign lands, upon his return no longer feels at home in the country he loves and yearns for those distance places, it is at that time that his government has failed him, failed the very people for whom they are supposed to bring into existence Safety and Happiness (according to the Declaration of Independence, our society's bedraggled and ignored blueprint).
Shining Liberty has been cast out into the darkness; Restriction and Suspicion have taken her place at the nation's table.
In our modern America, we are not free in the sense of true liberty, no matter how much we try to convince ourselves to the contrary. We have allowed our government to fail us, and have made a mockery of our once fine society, preferring a torn umbrella of supposed security to the cleansing downpour of freedom.
Woe is unto the world, our nation is dying at the core.
May we find some way to save her. Hold out, fair Columbia, for all may not yet be lost.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
John Paul Roggenkamp
16 December 2010
amstelledamme
the ultimate city, a town like no other, packed together the masses of humanity, great volumes of smells and cultures abutting one another, where a man can pass out on a bench in a coffeeshop and he will not be harrassed, where the cops exist to help you and are not out to take off your head, where business is constant and the tongues congress, a messy riotous wonderful city this Amsterdam.
X
X
09 December 2010
Hale & Hearty
I am again on maneuver, and my senses are sucking in massive amounts of tiny details I otherwise normally miss. If I had the choice I would not stop moving until I had rid myself of this need to vagabond. Stay well little house and may all the Xmas dreams of the rugrats come true. - Allah, Ganesha, Pappa Legba, St. Christopherus, Hermes: please bear these passengers along their path; keep them this day frOm fate's patient wrath. Jp
07 December 2010
through the long cold dark
Times of duress are powerful; they change the way a person thinks; they change which genes are activated, sometimes altering indelibly how a person feels, acts, and speaks. There is nothing abnormal about adverse circumstance, and without it, our human race would be pitiful and nowhere near the state to which we have evolved.
Personally, I have witnessed these changes, these rites of passage, on three primary occasions.
I learned to hate myself, find myself useless and worthless, on the night my father pistol-whipped me psychologically for an adolescent infraction; only through diligent and constant effort have I reached my current stage, and gained the ability to function within a framework of relative stability and self-contentedness.
When Mother died, I lost the only person who would ever love me unconditionally; I have since come to see the strange thing we call love not as a burden or a crux, but as a pleasant but fleeting state not subject to human needs or desires, rather a beast all its own, mercurial and fleeting, neither to be grasped after nor yearned for, but allowed to blossom and whither of its own accord.
The third rite of passage occurred on a hill in Elysian Park, a stone's throw from the boundaries of Dodger Stadium, in which I was bound to the earth by tendrils of living energy and peered deep into my soul, altering it and removing my need for booze and lessening the stranglehold of the dark hidden mass that all of us, at least those of us who dare acknowledge its presence, have faced at one time or another, that holding bay of fear and anguish and hatred that boils in the dustier corners of the psyche.
Our circumstances will vary; we will all take different lessons from these events; for every one of us who makes it through the long cold dark hale, sane, and pensive, a dozen more will emerge broken and empty, shattered remnants of their former selves.
There is no way to avoid the rites save death, and such a choice would only ruin the whole fun of the matter, which is understanding how the new you, the person who has traveled to the forbidden cave, defeated the dragon, and returned with the chalice brimming with newfound abilities and wisdom, will use her new talents for the betterment of herself and the human race.
More often than not the new you will little resemble the old, and the passenger will find previously comfortable surroundings and relationships foreign and unwelcoming. Invariably, he will seek new surroundings in places unexplored, new connections with people who have shared said or similar rites, abandoning his previous commitments and casting away all he has known in the effort to shape a world more attuned to the needs of his newly expressive genetic and psychological imperative.
There is nothing abnormal or strange about this occurrence. In fact its absence should be cause for alarm, for individuals who do not undergo sufficiently challenging circumstances, who have not bent their bodies and minds to the breaking point and come back whole, will have no true idea of their role in life, of their deepest and most magnificent potential. Without the proper rites, men will not advance beyond boyhood, and women (who undergo an early and life-altering change in puberty, thereby enjoying a head-start) will be less likely to advance from under the false shelter of those who would keep them in the confinement of societal or marital bondage. (I am in no way implying that women cannot judge or decide for themselves, only that the sense prevails that they are intrinsically weaker and therefore less prone to good judgement, regardless of volumes of data to the contrary.)
In our Western society, the rites of passage have taken on farcical appearance, robbed of their strong necessity by the development of an aversion to danger and a pervasive desire to protect: we do not en mass challenge our wits in the wild; we complain incessantly about the pressures of our lives; we have supplanted true exertion with cushioned religious ceremonies and a romp in the back seat of dad's Pontiac.
Few are those who seek the hard passage, the honest exploration of inner limits and potential, and fewer still are those who dare to brave the extremes of the world with eyes wide open, their lips parted in smiling anticipation of the impending hardships.
My hat goes off to doctors, Marines, and all those who seek the edge of reason fully aware of the dangers they will face. May your hearts see you through, may your wounds heal, and may the wind be always at your fore.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
JP
Personally, I have witnessed these changes, these rites of passage, on three primary occasions.
I learned to hate myself, find myself useless and worthless, on the night my father pistol-whipped me psychologically for an adolescent infraction; only through diligent and constant effort have I reached my current stage, and gained the ability to function within a framework of relative stability and self-contentedness.
When Mother died, I lost the only person who would ever love me unconditionally; I have since come to see the strange thing we call love not as a burden or a crux, but as a pleasant but fleeting state not subject to human needs or desires, rather a beast all its own, mercurial and fleeting, neither to be grasped after nor yearned for, but allowed to blossom and whither of its own accord.
The third rite of passage occurred on a hill in Elysian Park, a stone's throw from the boundaries of Dodger Stadium, in which I was bound to the earth by tendrils of living energy and peered deep into my soul, altering it and removing my need for booze and lessening the stranglehold of the dark hidden mass that all of us, at least those of us who dare acknowledge its presence, have faced at one time or another, that holding bay of fear and anguish and hatred that boils in the dustier corners of the psyche.
Our circumstances will vary; we will all take different lessons from these events; for every one of us who makes it through the long cold dark hale, sane, and pensive, a dozen more will emerge broken and empty, shattered remnants of their former selves.
There is no way to avoid the rites save death, and such a choice would only ruin the whole fun of the matter, which is understanding how the new you, the person who has traveled to the forbidden cave, defeated the dragon, and returned with the chalice brimming with newfound abilities and wisdom, will use her new talents for the betterment of herself and the human race.
More often than not the new you will little resemble the old, and the passenger will find previously comfortable surroundings and relationships foreign and unwelcoming. Invariably, he will seek new surroundings in places unexplored, new connections with people who have shared said or similar rites, abandoning his previous commitments and casting away all he has known in the effort to shape a world more attuned to the needs of his newly expressive genetic and psychological imperative.
There is nothing abnormal or strange about this occurrence. In fact its absence should be cause for alarm, for individuals who do not undergo sufficiently challenging circumstances, who have not bent their bodies and minds to the breaking point and come back whole, will have no true idea of their role in life, of their deepest and most magnificent potential. Without the proper rites, men will not advance beyond boyhood, and women (who undergo an early and life-altering change in puberty, thereby enjoying a head-start) will be less likely to advance from under the false shelter of those who would keep them in the confinement of societal or marital bondage. (I am in no way implying that women cannot judge or decide for themselves, only that the sense prevails that they are intrinsically weaker and therefore less prone to good judgement, regardless of volumes of data to the contrary.)
In our Western society, the rites of passage have taken on farcical appearance, robbed of their strong necessity by the development of an aversion to danger and a pervasive desire to protect: we do not en mass challenge our wits in the wild; we complain incessantly about the pressures of our lives; we have supplanted true exertion with cushioned religious ceremonies and a romp in the back seat of dad's Pontiac.
Few are those who seek the hard passage, the honest exploration of inner limits and potential, and fewer still are those who dare to brave the extremes of the world with eyes wide open, their lips parted in smiling anticipation of the impending hardships.
My hat goes off to doctors, Marines, and all those who seek the edge of reason fully aware of the dangers they will face. May your hearts see you through, may your wounds heal, and may the wind be always at your fore.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
JP
03 December 2010
Caucasian-Americans
When in public (news)people find it necessary to use a different name for people of color, they often resort to African-Americans or Hispanic-Americans rather than blacks or Latinos. These terms alternate with nearly each sentence, thus maintaining a modicum of respect and political correctness.
Why, however, are people of European descent almost always referred to as whites, and never as Caucasian-Americans? Should this shrinking group also receive a politically correct descriptor similar to the ones bestowed upon the growing minority populations?
In an effort to be fair to all, and to clarify to perhaps uninformed listeners what is exactly meant by the term whites, the aforementioned descriptor should enter widespread and mainstream usage.
Since this is a forgotten little blog in the vast ocean of internet white noise, I fully expect it to go unread and unheeded. But still, think about it.
X
Why, however, are people of European descent almost always referred to as whites, and never as Caucasian-Americans? Should this shrinking group also receive a politically correct descriptor similar to the ones bestowed upon the growing minority populations?
In an effort to be fair to all, and to clarify to perhaps uninformed listeners what is exactly meant by the term whites, the aforementioned descriptor should enter widespread and mainstream usage.
Since this is a forgotten little blog in the vast ocean of internet white noise, I fully expect it to go unread and unheeded. But still, think about it.
X
17 November 2010
rage nocturnal
I awake to find the flag ripped and hanging limply from the wall. The thick blanket, the one that keeps me warm, is stuffed into a corner against the far wall; I shiver under the thin sheets, cold night air pouring through the open window inches away. The books on the side table are strewn about the room, along with papers and dust-covers that have been placed strategically about the floor.
Vague memories of vivid nighttime dreamscapes flourish as I prepare breakfast before diving back into the deep psyche, where they will mold and fester until their next resurfacing.
Is this torment fleeting and temporary, or will it stay with me into the future? Will I awake bruised and shaking even if I satisfy some of the more nagging wants that slumber in the dark recesses of my soul? I think I will, for the dreams are nothing new; they were with me as a child; into adulthood they have lasted; there seems no end in sight. I am not afraid, for in them I do things otherwise impossible, and I spend time with the people who wish not to spend time with me, lost loves and failed conquests, forgotten friends and faceless enemies.
In my dreams I am free to fly and maim and kill and race, defying the laws of physics and riding the great diving skywhales until my beeping cellphone cries dawn.
Wake me not before my time, but leave me to my sleep and tortured dreams.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
JP
Vague memories of vivid nighttime dreamscapes flourish as I prepare breakfast before diving back into the deep psyche, where they will mold and fester until their next resurfacing.
Is this torment fleeting and temporary, or will it stay with me into the future? Will I awake bruised and shaking even if I satisfy some of the more nagging wants that slumber in the dark recesses of my soul? I think I will, for the dreams are nothing new; they were with me as a child; into adulthood they have lasted; there seems no end in sight. I am not afraid, for in them I do things otherwise impossible, and I spend time with the people who wish not to spend time with me, lost loves and failed conquests, forgotten friends and faceless enemies.
In my dreams I am free to fly and maim and kill and race, defying the laws of physics and riding the great diving skywhales until my beeping cellphone cries dawn.
Wake me not before my time, but leave me to my sleep and tortured dreams.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
JP
02 November 2010
mechanism: fear
Few mental states are more dangerous than that of fear.
A person living in fear of threats real or imagined will make decisions not based on rational, systematic analysis, but on preconceived notions that act as a lens through which reality is seen as full of terrible things.
I have used a simple phrase many times in the last decade to calm rising fears and thus, I hope, keep a clear and open mind. Lao Tzu, in the Tao Teh Ching, says: Must I fear what others fear? What abysmal nonsense this is.
Indeed, people are disposed to be afraid of things, a condition most likely inherited from our distant ancestors who needed that fear to keep them on guard from beasts and wild men, and whose memories of hunger and months of freezing winds propelled them to store food and to weatherproof their lodgings.
American society is a safe and peaceful one: we crack down on slight infractions and wage our wars overseas, allowing us to live our lives in relative quiet. But, like many other holdovers from our past, like obesity and blood-lust, we cannot shake our fear, and we sometimes become its victim.
Take our current political discourse. Starting with 9-11 and the release of the federal fear-meter (which was always kept near the highest level), and continuing into today's fear-mongering punditry, fear has become as ubiquitous in our national conversation as the shadowy, largely misused demand for freedom.
Streamlined fear-mongery is dangerous because: it is exhausting; it provides no clear solution to the given problem, rather highlighting the danger and thus giving it power; it gradually seeps into every chambers of a person's mind, crippling them by turning them into a purely reactionary and weak being.
Fear is with us to stay. We cannot control this ancient tool once necessary for survival, but we can reach out to those among us who operate out of fear, people who kill doctors and try to blow up abortion clinics, people who believe that our president is both Muslim and foreign-born, and let them know that their aggression will not stand, that their fears are unfounded and that they have an obligation to those around them to unwind their twisted brains and calm the fuck down.
The fearless man is he who can embrace his fears and thereby understand them.
We are not a nation of fearful, reactionary weaklings. We are a strong, intelligent people who can (and must) work together for the benefit of the human race, who do not swallow the loudest man's snake oil and proclaim it good, but who read the label, think for a moment, have a sniff, and toss it unused to the ground.
So, the next time someone starts ranting about all the scary things he sees in the world, turn off the TV and go face your fears head-on.
Ultima Ratio Regum
JP
A person living in fear of threats real or imagined will make decisions not based on rational, systematic analysis, but on preconceived notions that act as a lens through which reality is seen as full of terrible things.
I have used a simple phrase many times in the last decade to calm rising fears and thus, I hope, keep a clear and open mind. Lao Tzu, in the Tao Teh Ching, says: Must I fear what others fear? What abysmal nonsense this is.
Indeed, people are disposed to be afraid of things, a condition most likely inherited from our distant ancestors who needed that fear to keep them on guard from beasts and wild men, and whose memories of hunger and months of freezing winds propelled them to store food and to weatherproof their lodgings.
American society is a safe and peaceful one: we crack down on slight infractions and wage our wars overseas, allowing us to live our lives in relative quiet. But, like many other holdovers from our past, like obesity and blood-lust, we cannot shake our fear, and we sometimes become its victim.
Take our current political discourse. Starting with 9-11 and the release of the federal fear-meter (which was always kept near the highest level), and continuing into today's fear-mongering punditry, fear has become as ubiquitous in our national conversation as the shadowy, largely misused demand for freedom.
Streamlined fear-mongery is dangerous because: it is exhausting; it provides no clear solution to the given problem, rather highlighting the danger and thus giving it power; it gradually seeps into every chambers of a person's mind, crippling them by turning them into a purely reactionary and weak being.
Fear is with us to stay. We cannot control this ancient tool once necessary for survival, but we can reach out to those among us who operate out of fear, people who kill doctors and try to blow up abortion clinics, people who believe that our president is both Muslim and foreign-born, and let them know that their aggression will not stand, that their fears are unfounded and that they have an obligation to those around them to unwind their twisted brains and calm the fuck down.
The fearless man is he who can embrace his fears and thereby understand them.
We are not a nation of fearful, reactionary weaklings. We are a strong, intelligent people who can (and must) work together for the benefit of the human race, who do not swallow the loudest man's snake oil and proclaim it good, but who read the label, think for a moment, have a sniff, and toss it unused to the ground.
So, the next time someone starts ranting about all the scary things he sees in the world, turn off the TV and go face your fears head-on.
Ultima Ratio Regum
JP
27 October 2010
a critique of corporate governance
I was recently involved in a discussion on reddit.com (my profile) regarding the extent to which socialism is to blame for the perceived downfall of America. My counterpart, arealrevolutionary, argued vehemently for the transfer of power from elected officials and our current system to a form of corporation-based governance that he was utterly convinced would stop local cops from killing innocent people. He also argued that a completely open drug market functioning outside of any governmental control, as opposed to our current situation in which the US federal government supposedly controls drugs, would greatly alleviate our crowded prison system and basically fix most of society's problems. He was also against low-income housing, arguing that, well, I'm not sure he was arguing anything other than the fact that he doesn't like low-income housing as it is not a profit-making enterprise. (His primary source book is: Enterprise Law, by Benson)
["A Critique of My Adversary:" The main thing that bothered me about our discussion was the fact that arealrevolutionary never answered my questions, although I asked him several. He always skipped direct answering and instead posed a counter-question based partially on the question I had asked him. While this is a good tactic occasionally, when you need to buy some time to formulate an answer or when you are simply drawing a blank, constant use of this tactic indicates a lack of courage when making direct statements; also, it indicates that you have not thought out fully the breadth of your viewpoint, and that you are incapable of direct and honest debate. A second thing that bothered me about this person's viewpoint (which I pieced together based on his counter-questions) is that] :
He supposes that corporation-based governance (CBG) would by far trump our current system of elected officials and (albeit very 18th century) representative government. He argues that a local police force owned by a corporation would never allow psychopathic or otherwise dangerous people into their ranks who might shoot an innocent person for no reason, as such behavior would negatively affect their profit-margins (presuming that all local residents have purchased the services of the corporate police force, which they would likely be forced to if they lived in a certain area). While I see his point, I cannot but shiver at the thought of granting the right to execute law and order to a for-profit enterprise that might at any time close down your local branch due to cost-cutting measures. (Consider this: you are traveling outside of your corporate police force's area and are questioned by a different corporate police force. Would they treat you kindly and with common decency? Would they be able to incarcerate you on false charges (which would, supposing that the corporation owned the jails, increase the corporation's overall profitability and therefore fit into their profit-motive) if they knew they would not face repercussions from a person not in their corporation or on her board of directors?)
Basically, the CBG system has not been tried on a national scale ever in the history of America, and therefore, as a theoretical model, it is unproven. Governments large and small have been experimenting with aspects of socialism for over a hundred years now, and while socialism has led to the betterment of countless lives (as well as to the death of equally countless lives, but so it goes), we are still experimenting with the notion of common goods and how to finance them, and American society is still to a significant degree socialist. Furthermore, neither the Constitution nor the Declaration mention anything about CBG, so attempts to establish this theory on a national level would presuppose complete abandonment of our nation's founding principles as well as the founding of a new nation (which is granted to us in the Declaration, but which should not be done for light or transient causes).
One of the dangers within this theoretical model would be the takeover of local corporate governments by larger and better financed corporations that would not be willing to adapt to the demands of each location (due to operational streamlining that mitigates losses to the profit-margin), forcing local individuals to live by the rules the corporation thinks is best rather than by rules that would best apply to their unique situations, a problem still prevalent in our current society.
Another danger of this model is the path required to reach it (think complete societal breakdown, civil war in the US, chaos on a global scale, upheavals lasting for decades). Furthermore, corporations are focused nearly exclusively on maximizing their profits. An economy, unlike the one we have today, that is supposedly free from oversight and control, would be rife with faulty and dangerous products that could kill and maim innocent people until enough were killed and maimed that someone would raised her voice and would perhaps even band together with others to boycott or close the offending manufacturer, at which point people would begin demanding quality controls on consumable products, at which point the market stops being free and socialism rears its ugly head.
One could argue that in the above case the individual would be able to sue the manufacturer, but corporations generally have vast resources and can therefore hire skilled and numerous lawyers who would relentlessly pursue the accuser and drag her name through the mud, provided of course that lawyers would still exist in this theoretical model and that they would have a place to meet and do their lawyering and someone with the authority to distribute justice to whom they could plead their case.
The counterargument to the above case will be this: corporations would not sell faulty products because they need to keep the customers happy so that their profit-margins stay high. The way to increase your profits is to sell cheap stuff that soon breaks, forcing the customer to buy new cheap stuff. This is the way it is now, and no mythical free market is going to cure corporate greed or customer acquiescence. Americans have become used to the sad reality of cheap products; we expect it and live with it.
Would we acquiesce to our local CBG shutting down because of a hostile takeover? Would we still enjoy the rights and freedoms we have today? Would our children sing songs to the heroes of Big Tobacco or to the Pioneers of the Microchip? Would we take up arms to defend the interests and boundaries of our corporation, even if the boundary cut through our neighbor's house? Would corporations wage wars not just of the purse-strings and of market-shares, but live wars with dead people and carpet-bombing?
This thought experiment about the potential benefits of CBG is still evolving within my brains; the above are some contemplations. (For a glimpse at a fictional CBG world, read Snow Crash, by Stephenson.)
word is bond.
JP
He supposes that corporation-based governance (CBG) would by far trump our current system of elected officials and (albeit very 18th century) representative government. He argues that a local police force owned by a corporation would never allow psychopathic or otherwise dangerous people into their ranks who might shoot an innocent person for no reason, as such behavior would negatively affect their profit-margins (presuming that all local residents have purchased the services of the corporate police force, which they would likely be forced to if they lived in a certain area). While I see his point, I cannot but shiver at the thought of granting the right to execute law and order to a for-profit enterprise that might at any time close down your local branch due to cost-cutting measures. (Consider this: you are traveling outside of your corporate police force's area and are questioned by a different corporate police force. Would they treat you kindly and with common decency? Would they be able to incarcerate you on false charges (which would, supposing that the corporation owned the jails, increase the corporation's overall profitability and therefore fit into their profit-motive) if they knew they would not face repercussions from a person not in their corporation or on her board of directors?)
Basically, the CBG system has not been tried on a national scale ever in the history of America, and therefore, as a theoretical model, it is unproven. Governments large and small have been experimenting with aspects of socialism for over a hundred years now, and while socialism has led to the betterment of countless lives (as well as to the death of equally countless lives, but so it goes), we are still experimenting with the notion of common goods and how to finance them, and American society is still to a significant degree socialist. Furthermore, neither the Constitution nor the Declaration mention anything about CBG, so attempts to establish this theory on a national level would presuppose complete abandonment of our nation's founding principles as well as the founding of a new nation (which is granted to us in the Declaration, but which should not be done for light or transient causes).
One of the dangers within this theoretical model would be the takeover of local corporate governments by larger and better financed corporations that would not be willing to adapt to the demands of each location (due to operational streamlining that mitigates losses to the profit-margin), forcing local individuals to live by the rules the corporation thinks is best rather than by rules that would best apply to their unique situations, a problem still prevalent in our current society.
Another danger of this model is the path required to reach it (think complete societal breakdown, civil war in the US, chaos on a global scale, upheavals lasting for decades). Furthermore, corporations are focused nearly exclusively on maximizing their profits. An economy, unlike the one we have today, that is supposedly free from oversight and control, would be rife with faulty and dangerous products that could kill and maim innocent people until enough were killed and maimed that someone would raised her voice and would perhaps even band together with others to boycott or close the offending manufacturer, at which point people would begin demanding quality controls on consumable products, at which point the market stops being free and socialism rears its ugly head.
One could argue that in the above case the individual would be able to sue the manufacturer, but corporations generally have vast resources and can therefore hire skilled and numerous lawyers who would relentlessly pursue the accuser and drag her name through the mud, provided of course that lawyers would still exist in this theoretical model and that they would have a place to meet and do their lawyering and someone with the authority to distribute justice to whom they could plead their case.
The counterargument to the above case will be this: corporations would not sell faulty products because they need to keep the customers happy so that their profit-margins stay high. The way to increase your profits is to sell cheap stuff that soon breaks, forcing the customer to buy new cheap stuff. This is the way it is now, and no mythical free market is going to cure corporate greed or customer acquiescence. Americans have become used to the sad reality of cheap products; we expect it and live with it.
Would we acquiesce to our local CBG shutting down because of a hostile takeover? Would we still enjoy the rights and freedoms we have today? Would our children sing songs to the heroes of Big Tobacco or to the Pioneers of the Microchip? Would we take up arms to defend the interests and boundaries of our corporation, even if the boundary cut through our neighbor's house? Would corporations wage wars not just of the purse-strings and of market-shares, but live wars with dead people and carpet-bombing?
This thought experiment about the potential benefits of CBG is still evolving within my brains; the above are some contemplations. (For a glimpse at a fictional CBG world, read Snow Crash, by Stephenson.)
word is bond.
JP
19 October 2010
classical music for war
If I could go to war, I would not be playing heavy metal from the loudspeakers of my M1 Abrams MBT, but one of the following pieces of classical music:
Bach: Violin Concerto #1 In A Minor, BWV 1041 (listen)
Beethoven: Symphony #6 In F, Op. 68, "Pastoral" (listen)
Mozart: Symphony #40 In G Minor, K 550 - 1 (listen)
Imagine the look on some Arab's face when you're shredding up the streets near his house in a massive metal beast with violins soaring and the beat of giant kettle-drums pounding in his skull.
The obvious choice, the one portrayed in film, is the Flight of the Valkyries (listen) by Wagner, which scared the hell out of Charlie back in 'Nam, and which is perfectly suited for combat because it is heavy and it invokes the Norse gods of war.
The modern enemy however might be wise to this strategy, and might have been trained to ignore Wagner's mounting crescendo of massed brass. He will not be ready for the hopeful oppression of Bach's Concerto in A Minor, a piece so full of misery that even the most battle-hardened opponent is likely to soil his trousers.
Semper Fidelis, Blood and Steele, Lead the Way.
Bach: Violin Concerto #1 In A Minor, BWV 1041 (listen)
Beethoven: Symphony #6 In F, Op. 68, "Pastoral" (listen)
Mozart: Symphony #40 In G Minor, K 550 - 1 (listen)
Imagine the look on some Arab's face when you're shredding up the streets near his house in a massive metal beast with violins soaring and the beat of giant kettle-drums pounding in his skull.
The obvious choice, the one portrayed in film, is the Flight of the Valkyries (listen) by Wagner, which scared the hell out of Charlie back in 'Nam, and which is perfectly suited for combat because it is heavy and it invokes the Norse gods of war.
The modern enemy however might be wise to this strategy, and might have been trained to ignore Wagner's mounting crescendo of massed brass. He will not be ready for the hopeful oppression of Bach's Concerto in A Minor, a piece so full of misery that even the most battle-hardened opponent is likely to soil his trousers.
Semper Fidelis, Blood and Steele, Lead the Way.
18 October 2010
top 3 non-patriotic things *
* that people do thinking they are being patriotic.
#3 Complaining about people in the US who do not speak American English fluently. The US government has not designated any language as an official language. Not English, not Spanish, not Hindi. Please contact your congresswoman to push for the adoption of an official language, but until that time, STFU and mind your own business. (see No Official US Language)
#2 Complaining about socialism in America and then cashing an unemployment, welfare, or social security check, driving on the freeways, or going to a national park. Socialism is alive and well in America. Without her, we would be in terrible shape, exposed to the cruelty and greed of pure capitalism, living at the mercy of rapacious lenders and unscrupulous bankers hell-bent on reaping a disproportionate share of the nation's collective capital, which, as it has been brought into being by the collective efforts of all laboring Americans, belongs to all citizens equally. Remember, the Constitution states that: We the People, in order to create a more perfect Union... provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, etc., and by doing so expresses far more socialist than capitalist ideals. (see Socialism in America)
#1 Wearing t-shirts and costumes made out of the Stars and Stripes. The flag of the United States of America is a living entity and any mutilation thereof or affixing thereof to t-shirts or other clothing is unlawful and disrespectful to the spirit of our nation (see here, US Flag Code).
#3 Complaining about people in the US who do not speak American English fluently. The US government has not designated any language as an official language. Not English, not Spanish, not Hindi. Please contact your congresswoman to push for the adoption of an official language, but until that time, STFU and mind your own business. (see No Official US Language)
#2 Complaining about socialism in America and then cashing an unemployment, welfare, or social security check, driving on the freeways, or going to a national park. Socialism is alive and well in America. Without her, we would be in terrible shape, exposed to the cruelty and greed of pure capitalism, living at the mercy of rapacious lenders and unscrupulous bankers hell-bent on reaping a disproportionate share of the nation's collective capital, which, as it has been brought into being by the collective efforts of all laboring Americans, belongs to all citizens equally. Remember, the Constitution states that: We the People, in order to create a more perfect Union... provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, etc., and by doing so expresses far more socialist than capitalist ideals. (see Socialism in America)
#1 Wearing t-shirts and costumes made out of the Stars and Stripes. The flag of the United States of America is a living entity and any mutilation thereof or affixing thereof to t-shirts or other clothing is unlawful and disrespectful to the spirit of our nation (see here, US Flag Code).
hoarfrost
the minutes grow for time is fleeting
no longer flows the tide of reason
but lies and discord rule the land
while far apart lone hero stands
from treason blight and ballyhoo
through guile and wit and self-denial
he lives to see the end of trials
and swears upon the witness-stand
that none compare when held to you
but all his words are dashed away
when you kick him out one fine day
to travel on your own true course
awash in cash and competence
and leave him there in loneliness
to always wonder what might have been
if your relationship had been less forced
and you had stayed his friend
13 October 2010
what difference, loss or gain
I have just finished reading The Death Ship by B. Traven for the second time. Many years have separated the readings, and I am glad I have waited so long.
For anyone who has not read The Death Ship, do so, but only if you have a sound emotional and spiritual foundation - this book will shake you to the core. Anyone reading this blog will know that I am not easily shaken, and do not lightly post such things as "shake you to the core," so take heed.
Beyond the overt anti-authoritarian and anarchist leanings of the book, it underscores the worthlessness of the human cogs in the wheels of the global capitalist machine and highlights the evil that permeates the world of those wretched people whose god is money.
Give me the Yorrike any day, a fine ship on whom all are equal in their pain, suffering, and lack of statehood, a foul tramp whose every surface seems designed to rend flesh and to sear it from the bones. Her bowels so much resemble the world in which some modern fools toil, those too smart to sell their soul for pennies, those who refuse to break themselves for a shiny pair of shoes or to adjust to society's accepted standards, those who have rejected all and become outcast and shunned, abandoned, hanging onto life by a thread but happier than the banker sitting in his high and shining home.
Most shocking for me this reading around was the progression of the Yorrikkan sailors from living souls to walking dead, a process I realize I have also undertaken in the years following my father's Great Speech of Paternal Punishment, during which he tore from me the honest and deep-rooted will to live.
I am dead inside, a bunkmate to Pippip and Stanislav. Now I know why people fear me, why women instinctively grasp the hand of an errant child at my approach, why I am looked upon with sheltered fear and resignation, why I can only maintain the lie of life for so long before people become wise and seek company other than my own.
Thank you, Yojimbo, for staying with me as I cried, for being too young to ask me why, for allowing me to accept my broken inner state in pitiful silence, for not trying to soothe the pain, for loving me when I had lost the strength to love myself.
Although I may seem to walk past you, dear reader, on the street, there is forever a death ship rolling beneath my feet; I am resigned to this state, and begrudge not the Universe for the way things have turned out.
numquam ponenda est pluralitas sine necessitate.
X
For anyone who has not read The Death Ship, do so, but only if you have a sound emotional and spiritual foundation - this book will shake you to the core. Anyone reading this blog will know that I am not easily shaken, and do not lightly post such things as "shake you to the core," so take heed.
Beyond the overt anti-authoritarian and anarchist leanings of the book, it underscores the worthlessness of the human cogs in the wheels of the global capitalist machine and highlights the evil that permeates the world of those wretched people whose god is money.
Give me the Yorrike any day, a fine ship on whom all are equal in their pain, suffering, and lack of statehood, a foul tramp whose every surface seems designed to rend flesh and to sear it from the bones. Her bowels so much resemble the world in which some modern fools toil, those too smart to sell their soul for pennies, those who refuse to break themselves for a shiny pair of shoes or to adjust to society's accepted standards, those who have rejected all and become outcast and shunned, abandoned, hanging onto life by a thread but happier than the banker sitting in his high and shining home.
Most shocking for me this reading around was the progression of the Yorrikkan sailors from living souls to walking dead, a process I realize I have also undertaken in the years following my father's Great Speech of Paternal Punishment, during which he tore from me the honest and deep-rooted will to live.
I am dead inside, a bunkmate to Pippip and Stanislav. Now I know why people fear me, why women instinctively grasp the hand of an errant child at my approach, why I am looked upon with sheltered fear and resignation, why I can only maintain the lie of life for so long before people become wise and seek company other than my own.
Thank you, Yojimbo, for staying with me as I cried, for being too young to ask me why, for allowing me to accept my broken inner state in pitiful silence, for not trying to soothe the pain, for loving me when I had lost the strength to love myself.
Although I may seem to walk past you, dear reader, on the street, there is forever a death ship rolling beneath my feet; I am resigned to this state, and begrudge not the Universe for the way things have turned out.
numquam ponenda est pluralitas sine necessitate.
X
07 October 2010
pass ye not, proletarian
Starting with the publication of the Communist Manifesto in the middle of the 19th century, workers began to unionize, demanding a greater share of the capital they had labored so hard to produce. Governments around the world went to great lengths to hinder the actions of these previously impoverished masses toward self-betterment, sending in armed forces and passing legislation to put them down and thereby, at least for a short time, protecting the vast holdings and wealth of the aristocratic upper classes.
The efforts to stamp out the workingman's desire for a livable wage faltered largely due to the zeal of the revolutionary movement and the sheer number of participating laborers. One of the effects this struggle had on societies at the time was to allow people, who theretofore had not had the means to move beyond their village or district, to travel to places remote and foreign in order to find work. Such migrations were possible in a time of relatively open borders and, compared to today, nearly non-existent passport and border controls.
Following the calamity of the First World War, a war fought for increases in liberty, passport and border restrictions were greatly increased, to the point where nowadays it is impossible to travel anywhere within a country and especially beyond its sovereign borders without some form of picture identification. Previously, travel had been so expensive and the costs involved in obtaining traveling papers so great as to restrict travel-ability to all but the most well-to-do.
Positively, this widespread attempt at restricting the movement of workers and thereby the expansion of the socialist paradigm was unsuccessful in hindering the spread of the ideal of egalitarian earning potential.
Negatively, this worldwide traveling restriction has greatly reduced the liberty of the citizenry as a whole. It has put at risk of incarceration not one man but many. It has led to the militarization of society at large (think armed troopers in airports) and has given the federated governments of the world the ability to browbeat and otherwise strike great fear in the hearts of honest and patriotic people.
There is no going back. We will never again, at least not in our current world society, be allowed to follow the winds of shifting fortune freely. We will always be kept nicely under control, with fear in our hearts, and with a passport clutched in our sweating hands.
Let liberty once again reign free - unbind her. There are certainly risks involved, to person and to property. The greatest risk, however, is to the notion that the American government has assured us of Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. Once Liberty is fully taken from us, and the promise of the Declaration of Independence has been broken, our lives and our happiness are forfeit.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
JP
The efforts to stamp out the workingman's desire for a livable wage faltered largely due to the zeal of the revolutionary movement and the sheer number of participating laborers. One of the effects this struggle had on societies at the time was to allow people, who theretofore had not had the means to move beyond their village or district, to travel to places remote and foreign in order to find work. Such migrations were possible in a time of relatively open borders and, compared to today, nearly non-existent passport and border controls.
Following the calamity of the First World War, a war fought for increases in liberty, passport and border restrictions were greatly increased, to the point where nowadays it is impossible to travel anywhere within a country and especially beyond its sovereign borders without some form of picture identification. Previously, travel had been so expensive and the costs involved in obtaining traveling papers so great as to restrict travel-ability to all but the most well-to-do.
Positively, this widespread attempt at restricting the movement of workers and thereby the expansion of the socialist paradigm was unsuccessful in hindering the spread of the ideal of egalitarian earning potential.
Negatively, this worldwide traveling restriction has greatly reduced the liberty of the citizenry as a whole. It has put at risk of incarceration not one man but many. It has led to the militarization of society at large (think armed troopers in airports) and has given the federated governments of the world the ability to browbeat and otherwise strike great fear in the hearts of honest and patriotic people.
There is no going back. We will never again, at least not in our current world society, be allowed to follow the winds of shifting fortune freely. We will always be kept nicely under control, with fear in our hearts, and with a passport clutched in our sweating hands.
Let liberty once again reign free - unbind her. There are certainly risks involved, to person and to property. The greatest risk, however, is to the notion that the American government has assured us of Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. Once Liberty is fully taken from us, and the promise of the Declaration of Independence has been broken, our lives and our happiness are forfeit.
Ultima Ratio Regum.
JP
loaded for bear
The boxy car slows to a halt at a stoplight. Messages and swastikas have been drawn on its dusty windows, and trash and discarded clothing litter the interior.
"Look at those guys next to us," Goodkill says from the driver's seat, pointing at another boxy car of the same make sitting pristinely next to them, its exterior spotless and waxed, its three occupants looking as if they were just enjoying the hell out of being alive. "I wonder what it must be like to roll with a crew that isn't constantly fucking up and therefore constantly on the lookout for the cops."
Steele does a bump off the bullet and hands it up to Tall Tony.
"Are you trying to say we do too many drugs, Winston?" Tall Tony asks as he prepares a bump for Goodkill, who is at least four beers deep at this point although he is driving like a champion, texting and changing the music while steering with his knees.
"There is no such thing as too many drugs."
"Cop three streets up on the left," Steele says, peering past the headrest so he can provide the third set of eyes needed to keep the intel in the car as fresh as possible.
"I see him," Goodkill says, glaring in the rear-view mirror as the squadcar rushes past. "Is he making a u-turn? No, good. Tony, fix me up another bump - that last one was weak as shit."
Steele leans back into the trunk-space, pretending to look for something but really casing the traffic behind them for the telltale form of a Crown Victoria or a suspicious bump on top of one of the cars. "All clear to the rear," he says, fishing out a bag of grass from its hiding place and assembling the materials needed to roll a joint.
"I'm really curious what it would be like to roll clean, with your boys, not drunk, not high, not more high, just sober and going to do something kinda lame but also kinda fun, like disk-golf."
"Sounds fucking boring to me," Tall Tony says, taking the joint from Steele and jabbing the window button to ash out the window. "Could you un-child-lock the windows, Goodkill?"
"Well, my lungs are killing me so, no, I will not un-child-lock the windows because we are hotboxing this vehicle in order for me to get a contact high from you chronmonsters."
"Cop a quarter mile ahead of us, two lanes over to the right, speed dropping, blinker activated, and he's gone," Steele says. "Could someone please pass me the bullet?"
"Look at those guys next to us," Goodkill says from the driver's seat, pointing at another boxy car of the same make sitting pristinely next to them, its exterior spotless and waxed, its three occupants looking as if they were just enjoying the hell out of being alive. "I wonder what it must be like to roll with a crew that isn't constantly fucking up and therefore constantly on the lookout for the cops."
Steele does a bump off the bullet and hands it up to Tall Tony.
"Are you trying to say we do too many drugs, Winston?" Tall Tony asks as he prepares a bump for Goodkill, who is at least four beers deep at this point although he is driving like a champion, texting and changing the music while steering with his knees.
"There is no such thing as too many drugs."
"Cop three streets up on the left," Steele says, peering past the headrest so he can provide the third set of eyes needed to keep the intel in the car as fresh as possible.
"I see him," Goodkill says, glaring in the rear-view mirror as the squadcar rushes past. "Is he making a u-turn? No, good. Tony, fix me up another bump - that last one was weak as shit."
Steele leans back into the trunk-space, pretending to look for something but really casing the traffic behind them for the telltale form of a Crown Victoria or a suspicious bump on top of one of the cars. "All clear to the rear," he says, fishing out a bag of grass from its hiding place and assembling the materials needed to roll a joint.
"I'm really curious what it would be like to roll clean, with your boys, not drunk, not high, not more high, just sober and going to do something kinda lame but also kinda fun, like disk-golf."
"Sounds fucking boring to me," Tall Tony says, taking the joint from Steele and jabbing the window button to ash out the window. "Could you un-child-lock the windows, Goodkill?"
"Well, my lungs are killing me so, no, I will not un-child-lock the windows because we are hotboxing this vehicle in order for me to get a contact high from you chronmonsters."
"Cop a quarter mile ahead of us, two lanes over to the right, speed dropping, blinker activated, and he's gone," Steele says. "Could someone please pass me the bullet?"
01 October 2010
on the futility of firm beliefs
I believe in nothing, and everything. I believe in all gods and creeds and think they are all so much baloney. For many years, indeed for most of my life have I lived, although mostly secretly so as not to offend my late father the Lutheran pastor, outside of the umbrella of true and diehard belief.
For decades I have been confused and scared by this condition of non-belief, for with everyone around me praying to some unseen and unfelt god I was afraid that my lack of faith would somehow damn me to eternal hellfire and also send me down a spiraling hole of woe and discontentment. While the argument could be made that this has in fact happened, that I have descended into the rabbit hole of rationalistic pantheism and emerged a crippled and worthless soul, I argue that my path has left me with the ability to embrace and pursue avenues to Happiness that I might otherwise have missed (by ruling out avenues to Happiness that I have tried and abandoned). It allows me to question all aspects of my understanding of myself and the world and has kept me away from the shackles of belief when faced with trying times.
Were I a true believer in some sort of omnipotent god, I would not have been able to weather the Night at Elysium in which I suffered hallucinations from food poisoning that allowed me to change fundamental aspects of my personality (i.e. to ease the pain of losing my mother and thus bridle my need to wantonly abuse substances). Instead I would likely have quaked in fear and prayed for guidance for weeks thereafter and would not have had the self-control to wrest from the situation a positive ending.
One major downside to this lack of firm beliefs is the fact that, after every confidence-shattering event such as a major relationship breakup or death in the family, I must rebuild my self-esteem and work hard to right the balance of positive and negative thoughts in my head, without the help of a religious support group, without a shoulder to cry on, without assistance from the outside. (Believe me: no one really cares, and if they say they care, they are either flat out lying or otherwise trying to sell you something.)
You are born alone, you live beholden to none but those whom you choose, and you die alone. I understand that while my refusal to seek outside help retards the healing process to a large degree, each subsequent existential crisis, although unique and painful in its own fashion, becomes easier for me to recover from and the process of restructuring my psyche happens more quickly and with fewer longterm errors.
I firmly believe that everyone I know and love will abandon and betray me at their earliest convenience. I also believe that those I know and love will support me fully until the end of my days, although I have withdrawn nearly all attempts to gain said support, which is an inhuman and unnatural state of being because people expect you to rely on them and if you don't they cut you out of their lives in subtle but profound ways.
To sum this up a bit, I have tried to stop complaining about my hardships, and try to deal with them quietly and privately, without a strict reliance on some form of scripture, with only the Tao Te Ching to get me through the hardest parts, the best book for those seeking to mold their psyche and quell internal unrest I have ever read. Most people, however, like it when people complain, because they then have an excuse to complain themselves and get all the pent up tension off their chest.
Well, this went from firm beliefs to interpersonal relationships, but as almost no one but I (and you X0) reads this blog, continuity is paramount to rambling expression.
"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." W. Goldman, The Princess Bride
numquam ponenda est pluralitas sine necessitate.
JPR
For decades I have been confused and scared by this condition of non-belief, for with everyone around me praying to some unseen and unfelt god I was afraid that my lack of faith would somehow damn me to eternal hellfire and also send me down a spiraling hole of woe and discontentment. While the argument could be made that this has in fact happened, that I have descended into the rabbit hole of rationalistic pantheism and emerged a crippled and worthless soul, I argue that my path has left me with the ability to embrace and pursue avenues to Happiness that I might otherwise have missed (by ruling out avenues to Happiness that I have tried and abandoned). It allows me to question all aspects of my understanding of myself and the world and has kept me away from the shackles of belief when faced with trying times.
Were I a true believer in some sort of omnipotent god, I would not have been able to weather the Night at Elysium in which I suffered hallucinations from food poisoning that allowed me to change fundamental aspects of my personality (i.e. to ease the pain of losing my mother and thus bridle my need to wantonly abuse substances). Instead I would likely have quaked in fear and prayed for guidance for weeks thereafter and would not have had the self-control to wrest from the situation a positive ending.
One major downside to this lack of firm beliefs is the fact that, after every confidence-shattering event such as a major relationship breakup or death in the family, I must rebuild my self-esteem and work hard to right the balance of positive and negative thoughts in my head, without the help of a religious support group, without a shoulder to cry on, without assistance from the outside. (Believe me: no one really cares, and if they say they care, they are either flat out lying or otherwise trying to sell you something.)
You are born alone, you live beholden to none but those whom you choose, and you die alone. I understand that while my refusal to seek outside help retards the healing process to a large degree, each subsequent existential crisis, although unique and painful in its own fashion, becomes easier for me to recover from and the process of restructuring my psyche happens more quickly and with fewer longterm errors.
I firmly believe that everyone I know and love will abandon and betray me at their earliest convenience. I also believe that those I know and love will support me fully until the end of my days, although I have withdrawn nearly all attempts to gain said support, which is an inhuman and unnatural state of being because people expect you to rely on them and if you don't they cut you out of their lives in subtle but profound ways.
To sum this up a bit, I have tried to stop complaining about my hardships, and try to deal with them quietly and privately, without a strict reliance on some form of scripture, with only the Tao Te Ching to get me through the hardest parts, the best book for those seeking to mold their psyche and quell internal unrest I have ever read. Most people, however, like it when people complain, because they then have an excuse to complain themselves and get all the pent up tension off their chest.
Well, this went from firm beliefs to interpersonal relationships, but as almost no one but I (and you X0) reads this blog, continuity is paramount to rambling expression.
"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." W. Goldman, The Princess Bride
numquam ponenda est pluralitas sine necessitate.
JPR
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