"...it's not the training to be mean but the training to be kind that is used to keep us leashed best." ~ Black Dog Red

"In case you haven't recognized the trend: it proceeds action, dissent, speech." ~ davidly, on how wars get done

"...What sort of meager, unerotic existence must a man live to find himself moved to such ecstatic heights by the mundane sniping of a congressional budget fight. The fate of human existence does not hang in the balance. The gods are not arrayed on either side. Poseiden, earth-shaker, has regrettably set his sights on the poor fishermen of northern Japan and not on Washington, D.C. where his ire might do some good--I can think of no better spot for a little wetland reclamation project, if you know what I mean. The fight is neither revolution nor apocalypse; it is hardly even a fight. A lot of apparatchiks are moving a lot of phony numbers with more zeros than a century of soccer scores around, weaving a brittle chrysalis around a gross worm that, some time hence, will emerge, untransformed, still a worm." ~ IOZ

Apr 1, 2010

Thought for an afternoon without rain...

Poppet Bush broke the old order.

Barack Jesus Reagan just got started building up a new one.


Nyet, tovarisches.

For profit, did Poppet break the old order's back - profit in the conquering and losing of Mesopotamia, of tax cuts timed with endless war time spending. With Part D and the final shiv between the ribs, the monetizing of the federal secretariats. The already coming end of the Westphalian age got a boost, but it started to unravel way back with Mao.

Westphalia's time has passed.

Enter Captain Peace Prize, sweet Barack Jesus Reagan.

Again, no conspiracy. We hoi polloi had had enough, taking change all serious like, and even giving credence to Latino labor sentiment. And though they'd put us down in a pinch, the Wall Streeters and Colorado Springers still need us to float some debt and buy, buy, buy. Or at least fork out enough in the user fees and payroll taxes to fund the gutting of the Commons, to bring it to it's bitter end.

Barack, the pacifier, the change agent, shifting swiftly from sloganeer to "sell out," whale killing, oil drilling, brown children blood spilling, taking back the hope and giving us the hopium.

Seducer man, giving away the dope, later to charge for it. The price: just a little compromise, every now and then. And then some more. Until we cheer what we condemned, and our moral sense resembles mad cow brain three minutes before the moment of death.

But, soon they can afford to spring clear of us, these new Corporate men, get us an easy dole and lifetime subsistence, effect the transformation of the last dregs of the Commons into a full time market spectacle, hoodooing us along until we reach our dead ending, so much fodder, so many lumped and lacking even proletarian sense.

What next?

Monkey wrench it, comrades. Go bizarre and unwieldy. Grow like mold and find the cracks, the spaces between the tiles. Press and press, and keep on fragmenting, keep on changing, red queen the Red Queen and bring Hob Robin back to play the aces.

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