Archive for September 16th, 2014

The Melancholy Of Anatomy: Vini

Whoever lives two or three generations, feels like the spectator who, during the fair, sees the performances of all kinds of jugglers and, if he remains seated in the booth, sees them repeated two or three times. As the tricks were meant only for one performance, they no longer make any impression after the illusion and novelty have vanished.

—Arthur Schopenhauer

This is where I came in.

A Democratic president, trying, domestically, to do his best, but he could not. Even as, and out of his control, the nation’s domestic golem ipolice run amok; and, likewise beyond his control, the nation’s foreign police, running amok, thrust their greasy, slimy hands, into all and every orifice, domestically.

As, overseas, the Democratic president, mad as Lear, seeks to bomb, even as he restrains; seeks to restrain, even as he bombs. Clueless. With, nowhere, alive, to lay upon him a true and healing hand; nowhere, alive, any Cordelia.

Where I came in, into political consciousness, in this country, on this planet, was when the Democratic president was Lyndon Johnson.

Today, it is this Barack Obama person.

Today, this Barack Obama person, projectile-vomiting, running out of his ass, bleeding out of his very eyes, some sort of unutterable burstbrained ebola about some outfit nobody can even attach a consistent name to: ISIL, ISIS, IS.

No matter. The dudes—even if we don’t know their name—they are fucking Evil Incarnate! Shooting up ships in the Gulf Of Tonkin and blowing up the Maine and bayoneting babes in Belgium and masturbating like monkeys all over pictures of The Queen! They’re freakin’ worse than even Emmanuel Goldstein! Hitler! Stalinmaosaddamosama! Beelzebub! The very Luceiferian lightbringer hisself!

And the Lord said unto Satan, From whence comest thou? And Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.

—Job 2:2

They’re walking up and down in it—all the fucking world!—these Hitlers, these Commies, these Cong, these Lucifers, these Islamists, these terrorists, these beheaders, and so the US of A—USA! USA! USA!—must now, so it is soberly intoned, war, war, and war again, war world without end, amen.

Fuck you. Fuck that. It’s all the same as it ever was.

Only real difference is, this time, they fashioned, to shuck the jive, a dusky sort of golem, to paint it black.

Last time, when it became clear no one with a functioning brainpan could any longer live with, much less stomach, Lyndon Johnson, they rolled out the jabbering dipshit Hubert Humphrey.

This time—ye gods!—they are salting the earth with Clinton II. Who makes Humphrey loom like Stonehenge, compared to Clinton II’s Cardiff Giant.

It’s just foolish, people.

As Neil Young once said:

you’re all just pissing
in the wind
you don’t know it
but you are

and there aint’ nothin’ like a friend
who can tell you
you’re just pissin’ in the wind

Trying to change move redirect elevate any of this nonsense, from inside the nonsense, is futile.

Vote petition assembly speech press blog jabber buttonhole scream at a building twitfacelinkinstashit—all but wasteful wanking. All, in that you’ll do, is fucking age.

My friend Zack used to say: “My advice to you is to take your books, and get to the shelter.”

Absolutely goddam right.

George Orwell put it this way: “The whole thing is so utterly insane that it just sickens me. Eileen and I have decided that if war does come the best thing will be to just stay alive and thus add to the number of sane people.”

Beunaventura Durriti said, truly: “We are going to inherit the earth; there is not the slightest doubt about that. The bourgeoisie might blast and ruin its own world before it leaves the stage of history. We carry a new world here, in our hearts. That world is growing in this minute.”

Let it grow. Meanwhile: get out of the way. Of the blast and the ruin. Step out of line. Reject. Fade away. Evade every tendril of the madness. And, in a world—a universe—of your own: let it grow.

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When I Worked

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