A year of Trump is like a bubonic colonic for the ages
It begs the question, what is America about, now, then, in the 1940s, during the 1960s, 1920s, anti-war, anti-racism, anti-monopoly, a society built on stealing land and eradicating better people and cultures than that superstitious, pious, nature-fearing riffraff that ended up here colonizing and genociding?
Every treaty and every lawyer defending every inhumane contract. Until, ahh, now, lefties defending Trump, as in “give him a chance, what a change from the neoliberal monster, Killary-Clinton,” but, flaws, sickness, psychopathy, sure, lefties, charge on and on about this child un-man who has rape charges leveled against him, who is as big a human stain as any dictator foisted up by capitalists, except this boy-man, this aberration of sexual bravado impotence, well, not a hair’s worth of gumption – you know, at least the dictators sending in death squads spent time in their own militaries, and as rebels.
But it’s the age of paper pusher generals sending wedding parties into the smithereens of John Wayne huffing lung cancer scenes, where an Obama can drone drop kick-kill thousands with the joy of joy-stick lunacy. And not a peacemaker, as this golden shower spoon wimp Trump will be yet another one, pushing his bully dysfunction onto the placating ones, the watchers, the Little Big and Small Eichmanns.
Rallies on Tweeter, Facebook, this fourth grader in the playground ignoramus, well, he is the PT in Barnum the snake oil and bank-backed man of erasing history. He like Obama, and the others, will go down as party putzes and capitalists of many a technicolor coat.
This foaming creep – guess what, he can be, and will always be, Not My President, because, well, many of us (not enough) do not believe that psycho Yankee Doodle Dandy crap of The People Have Spoken Therefore Unify Around the Office. True lovers of their national boundaries, well, we are universalists, hooking our rebellion and revolution onto the global rebellion. What’s good for the Third World is good for USA-Canada-EU-Australia-Japan.
This foaming creep – guess what, he can be, and will always be, Not My President, because, well, many of us (not enough) do not believe that psycho Yankee Doodle Dandy crap of The People Have Spoken Therefore Unify Around the Office.
It’s remarkable, that 75 percent of the eligible voters in US of A did NOT vote for a locker room dud, and yet, we have media scrambling to even know how to do their thing, the entire mess of America on the right, center, left-center so botoxed and Candy Crushed and Final Four-Superbowl fawning that there is no public square of discourse, no rallies around rhetorical brilliance, no public intellectuals, nothing but one giant Facebook cluster-f*&@!, that social media, concision and the superficial cut downs and har-har-har one liners lift the collective IQ of America to a brilliant Room Temperature Fireside 70 degrees.
When you take the backbone out of youth and old, when it’s all for one and none for all, when everyone is out for their raise, job, security, those bling things, and the look, style, anything outside the brain, then we are here, where people can not talk, argue, discuss, and that’s on both sides of that political crap aisle, especially liberals who want to control everything, every emotion, every nanny thing, as they want compliant consensus builders, no sparky stuff, no rallies with bricks back at the Gestapo cops, no fire crackers, nothing, just take it, because, the powers that be know, and we do not.
Oh the America of unlimited selection (sic) lock-step in the grove of buying all that BS, Junk, Bunk, oh, we devolved mammals, consumopithicus, upright bipedals but crawling to our craves kicking and screaming, “One More Presidents Day Sale First,” all of us forced into this gear-stuck overdrive heading to the same brick wall that is the downfall of many humanity because of our collective dirty habits all bundled up in the thing that is capitalism.
We consume the news, play armchair prognosticator thinking “they” over “there” can take to the streets, can burn down the palaces or Congresses, that “those people” can overthrow tyranny and despotism, but not in the ole grand flag US of Assassinations. Police state ever-expanding, infecting workplace, all those bs non-profits loving the UA’s and Credit Checks and Background Checks, a country of no second chances, unless your name rhymes with ELITE!
So, rallies or marches, they may be just emotional gatherings, with no teeth, but gatherings they are, and speeches are made and people who are doing the hard rolled up sleeves stuff are there, inspiring or inciting for change. I have had it up to my eyeballs with those lefties, again, lecturing and patronizing and just so-so culturally hip to lambaste us, all of us, with giant broad stroke brush. How naive we are, how childish, how poor losers were are.
Because presidents must stay, must be protected, and Justices (sic) of the Extreme Court must be lifers, and all that rule of law must move hard forward, left and right, or the entire smoke and mirrors deadly America will be based on a genocide and campaign of marketing terror. End of discussion.
We are the only shining light on the hill, most of the left-center-right brothers and sisters believe. And they are as wrong as they always have been.
Really, rally in Portland, Friday, that day, that pomp and ridiculous day of the trip known as Americas Imperialitis, insipid inauguration, the democrats playing nice with the casino capitalist, Bill and Hillary attending, even Michelle not even tough enough to rebuff Trump’s clutching her shoulders and laying kisses on her cheeks. This is the flavor of these advertisement politicians and their wives – why in hell would a grown black woman want that perverted man’s peck on her cheeks? Respect for the office but not the man, Michelle?
I have never understood how fake and fawning that class of people is – handshakes and back pats, after the most demeaning, lying crap during debates and campaigns. These people do not care about us, the proletariat, those of us so far off their ass-kissing, sociopathic mark. Yet we are their financial marks. Seeding blankets with small pox or Detroit water with lead or Compton with crack or, well, the picture has been painted many many a time many many years ago. And yet, and yet, again, the so called left media, columnists, some good guys and gals in the left wing trenches, still saying “Give that White Racist Misogynist Silver-coke-spooned, reckless, elitist patronizing worthless wage theft tycoon, capitalist lying human, Donald Trump, a chance.” ? and ? and ? This is the state of illogic in America, looking at these worthless humans who would like nothing better than to lock up a hell of a few more million Americans than are now in jail, who want every safety net and regulation and oversight and force of protecting community’s health safety welfare cut cut cut.
One big roast, one big lampoon. America.
It’s amazing to see leftists rationalize anything good about Trump, as if everything that is corrupted and corruptible and consciously felonious about this fellow doesn’t count when it comes to America’s relationship with Russia (not average Russians) – how Clinton was Bad, Trump is Good, amazingly, that’s the dichotomy, that Trump will not take the USA to the brink of global Armageddon because it’s a game changer under Trump.
We can never come out and say, Clinton bad, Trump bad, Obama bad, Bush bad, and on and on. America is and always has been Murder Inc., and this country run by this bullshit propaganda machine and corrupted political system, lubricated by the media madness, the marketing, the celebrity culture, consumption, rootlessness, all this can’t be erased in these changings of the capitalist guard, every four years, eight, let’s impeach the bastards, like we expect “the others over there” to do. No matter how half-time show, Blue Angels Flyover 21-gun salute this bullshit system of oppression and obedience and manifest destiny this country is, there is a fabric of land-human theft, driven through enslavement and the rich taking the largess of this society’s first nations’ commons and now this nation’s current struggling New Adam/New Eve. That stealing and genocide is the DNA that allowed for the selling and trading of enslavement and, now, it’s slavery by fiat, all those rules and regs promulgated by the Capitalists, for their saving grace portfolios and profit margins and shekels.
This is the kind of insipid co-opting reality TV and reality News and reality History have done to the American soul – downtown, non-profit, one of the country’s biggest protests/demonstrations/collective shared gatherings just blocks away, and the leaders of this joint (where I work as a social worker) do not encourage participation. In fact, these non-profits supposedly helping the down and out not only fearful of political action, but ball-less because non-profits live off the spleens of the capitalists, the philanthropists, and want neutering and spaying within the rank and file: we shall not take a stand politically, and we shall not endorse or appear to endorse any demonstration.
The main part of the controlled protest started in Pioneer Square, in downtown Portland, where those bastions of reprobate business and ethics, Bank of America, Target, Starbucks, et al, boarded up storefronts and let staff go early, and complained about lost wages, that the effort to control and police any democratic and first amendment protected demonstration was way too much.
They never wonder why their places are being brick smashed. The American Dream is what that 9/11 fiasco was about – wanting to kill our way of life? Why would anyone want to send three airplanes into missile launching collision when our way of life is so sought after the world over, maybe extraterrestrially? Everyone wants to be the guy’s apprentice, the zombie ghost writer of the art of the deal, colonoscopy 101?
Some of us were gathered Friday in our cities during the absurdity of the creeps in DC Kabuki dancing to hell with us in the slipstream because it was as an act of communitarianism, and someone like me wanted to gauge the emotional, logical and ethical under pings of the reason for this demonstration – which sorts of people where there. In the end it was a mishmash, and no one single thread was the seam stitcher: LGBTQ, enviro, students, tenants union, disabled, unionists, workers, agitators, families, homeless, municipal and county workers, elderly, wheelchair users, flag-burners, Dakota Access Pipeline water protectors, anarchists, teachers, business owners, and the like.
How many people in my circle say it’s game over, and that it is not only not worth it to protest, that in fact protesting negates anything, and the traffic snarls, and the negative press, all those bubble brain and bubble butt fake TV journalists on the streets filing stories on the front line (sic) where first amendment practitioners – protester and marcher – are never nuanced, interviewed, but instead the Bull Conner SWAT guys with five foot long batons are sympathized with, humanized, while the few frustrated rowdy ones throwing fire crackers back at the tear gas fanatics and flash grenade coveting cops are turned into criminals, miscreants, agitators, and, well, all good intentions were thrown into hell in a hand basket. The cops came on strong, with their Roman Sparta loving armor and synchronized mob inciting march. This is the state – the so-called democrats taking the side of law and order, taking the side of the faux TV news angles and out of balance focus on the front lines without taking the time to balance what the marchers and march were really about.
This is what the US Patriot Act, Homeland Security, War on Terrorism, compliant and complacent silent majority have done to the backbone of the collective soul of the American people: don’t fight back, don’t make waves, don’t talk back, don’t take it to the streets, don’t criticize with your body, don’t expect one iota of change from Uncle Sam, Brother-Sister workers in city hall, from the politicians, or from the elites.
In another universe under different gravitational fields, having people picking up and leaving work one day, a strike, like the women in Poland recently did, one day, to fight for reproductive rights that were legislated away, the “no legal abortion” rallying of the religious fanatics, well, that huge outpouring and industry-stalling day reversed the course of history, and the story was over, rewritten, rights restored.
Now, how does that happen in the right to work, at-will, right to kill America, as we see in the documentary, 13th, the right to slavery US of A, if we just don’t finally bundle up that gumption and fear mongering and apply it to the elites, the bankers, the financial thugs, the CEOs, all those companies getting pounds of flesh from us, workers, to satisfy the blood lust of the vampire parasitic capitalists? Walk off our jobs. Stop the engines of profit stealing.
Americans have turned into the thing of buy and sell, of vapidness, of instant gratification, easy wrong answers and of denigrating long right answers. Here, a hundred years ago, same critique, better mind:
“Perhaps the most extraordinary characteristic of current America is the attempt to reduce life to buying and selling. Life is not love unless love is sex and bought and sold. Life is not knowledge save knowledge of technique, of science for destruction. Life is not beauty except beauty for sale. Life is not art unless its price is high and it is sold for profit. All life is production for profit, and for what is profit but for buying and selling again?” – ― W.E.B. Du Bois, The Autobiography of W.E.B. Du Bois: A Soliloquy on Viewing My Life from the Last Decade of Its First Century
And so here we are, no protesting, no mass rallies shaking up the shake-down artists, no walk-outs, no strikes, because life in America is predicated on the buy, an anti-art of the sell, deal, rip-off, vagrant investing, and any chink in the capitalist armor will expose the entire house of mirrors for what it is – an America at the cost of the rest of humanity, each nanosecond of finger-licking good the body and soul of a Guatemalan coffee farmer, logger in Brazil, rice planter in Vietnam, all the tea in China ain’t good enough, for it’s a bigger and better and wider and more-more-more country with no stops, no ethics, and the world shall tremble asunder with the quaking Americano, interloper, devil, riding horses with white cap robes, the entire system predicated on a Zionism and Zeitgeist of buying, selling, owning, mortgaging off. Drain the swamp and plant a Disneyland, except that swamp is one of the more unique ecosystems, the Everglades, yet the marketing USA calls it a swamp, a quagmire, until the place is one vast tarmac and cement landing strip for malls and in and out taco-burger-burrito-pizza-hoagie-smoothie joints.
Like all the wasted trinkets, the American mind is like a fleeting trinket and babble shop, the toys for all ages, the infantile wonderment galvanized to the rickety art of the trade, the Craigslist from Hell workshop of busy brained and finger fanciful people who are less and less tolerant of ideas than any race in mankind’s history.
Out on the streets, the cops are in riot gear designed by Israel, and the police force in this all-American town of Portland, Oregon, trained in Tel Aviv, and each new assault weapon and flash grenade and concussion projectile, designed by the masters of the money whirlpool, and each mug shot and finger print taken, thrown into the cloud, servers of the 1984 kind, a proud Orwellian rectifying force of minds and philosophy and literature anticipating the absurdity and deadly force of modern transnational strategic structural systems of oppression.
Taking it to the streets is only reserved for Superbowl Sunday, for that madness in March, for the New Year coming and the old one going the way of a stack of old Reader’s Digests.
This country is not Mexico is not Argentina is not Spain is not France is not Italy is not Korea is not all the other taking-it-to-the-streets societies, whose normal everyday people go out and bang pots and torch tires and hold speeches and assemblies in the face of tanks and tasers. This country is not alive anymore, just virtual people, or gunslingers in the movie theaters, in the X-box, or slinging from a supersonic plane of death or a gyro sounding drone of dying death.
I was there looking at the brutes in armor, and watching their lock step, their big moves, their side stepping and their muscles and their collective ability to mete out death, lock-up, and permanent underclass!
Old people and kids and strollers and young same sex couples and the infirm and the metro sexual, the urbane and the profane, and the activists, the teachers and nurses and bus drivers, and a hundred others, archetypes and the normals, not in the script for American titans of business-war-pollution-drugs-labor-jail-land theft.
We march, maybe for many different reasons, and we collaborate, for the very fact the public square has been rounded into a Starbucks frozen delight bench and umbrella table. We are lost, like seal cubs in a sea of lactating mothers, lost, the scent of origin, the scent of the birth mother, lost in the confusion of loneliness and misbegotten journeys and endless currents and tides, the flotsam of calving glaciers banging them into delirium.
Americans lusting for that milk, that mother-lode of sustenance and nutrients, but lost in a candy world, the ideas like cotton candy, spun and spun by the systems and machines of capitalism.
We march closer to the moment of the flash-point of this country’s death.