Well, my inner defeatist has triumphed over my better intentions. Considering I have nothing to add in terms of half-enlightened commentary to this ongoing circus - and have chosen to sit back and enjoy/mock the Spectacle - I will therefore no longer be maintaining this blog.
I'd like to thank my partners in crime who have contributed to the site throughout the year - Montag, BDR, Mike and CultureGhost.
was in the toilet pissing during a commercial break when he heard
Sauncho screaming at the television set. He got back to find his
attorney just withdrawing his nose from the screen.
"Aah...." collapsing on the couch, "Charlie the fucking Tuna, man."
all supposed to be so innocent, upwardly mobile snob, designer shades,
beret, so desperate to show he's got good taste, except he's also
dyslexic so he gets 'good taste' mixed up with 'taste good,' but it's
worse than that! Far, far worse! Charlie really has this, like, obsessive death wish! Yes! he, he wants
to be caught, processed, put in a can, not just any can, you dig, it
has to be StarKist! suicidal brand loyalty, man, deep parable of
consumer capitalism, they won't be happy with anything less than
drift-netting us all, chopping us up and stacking us on the shelves of
Supermarket America, and subconsciously the horrible thing is, is we want them to do it..."
"Saunch, wow, that's..."
"It's been on my mind. And another thing. Why is there Chicken of the Sea, but no Tuna of the Farm?"
So the birthers, the anti-tax tea-partiers, the town hall hecklers --
these are "either" the genuine grass roots or evil conspirators staging
scenes for YouTube? The quiver on the lips of the man pushing the
wheelchair, the crazed risk of carrying a pistol around a president --
too heartfelt to be an act. The lockstep strangeness of the mad lies on
the protesters' signs -- too uniform to be spontaneous. They are both.
If you don't understand that any moment of genuine political change
always produces both, you can't understand America, where the crazy
tree blooms in every moment of liberal ascendancy, and where elites
exploit the crazy for their own narrow interests.
an econ prof here at Hilltop that calls me Nephew. He's one of my favorite humans ever;
I call him Uncle. He's emeritus now though he still teaches an
occasional class. He's as stone an unfettered free marketeer as I am a
redistributionist (as he calls me). We had lunch today.
I said, Your fans are lunatics.
He said, You work with the fans you got.
said, How do I explain to you that exploitation is the only truly fair
economic and moral system without you thinking me a monster?
He said, You are the darkest, most cynical judge of humans I know. You know - you know - what domesticating humans to your
satisfaction demands, you'd sanction the breaking of spirit for peace,
why not let the exploiters win, the complicit survive comfortably, the
lazy survive poorly, because you already do.
He said, You
credit yourself sophistication for your acknowledging your complicity
and credit yourself generosity for demanding of your betters a better
minimum wage for your lessers when what you are doing is willfully
spiting progress for the benefit of your conscience.
He said, We bait the stupid because they genuinely hate you,
the equivocater with the college degree and better job and high-speed
internet and barely muffled disdain for the simply devout because our reasoning with you has fallen on as deaf an ears as your reasoning has fallen on the deaf ears of those "crackers" you hate so much.
He said, They understand they're powerless better than you understand you're powerless, and they'll be damned if they'll take orders from you.
He said, you're a goddamn English major, you don't understand the exploitative matrixes of narrative?