Fiction…sometimes, and sometimes non.

One good exercise is to watch “The Motorcycle Diaries” followed in quick succession by “Before Night Falls.” Or better yet, READ them. You see the cause for change in ideology in the former, and the devastating effect it has on humanity in the latter. I remember the first time watching “Diaries” thinking that there must have been a huge disconnect (which they missed outlining in the film) between the Che Guevarra travelling throughout South America, and the Revolutionary, murderous Che who commanded death squads 10 years later in Cuba for Fidel. Indeed, seeing and acknowledging extreme poverty and the exploitation of the poor by the “haves” is repulsing (as it is to me to-day), but does it drive that violent instinct we all have to flourish like it did in Che? Is the repulsion and disgust that strong to change you from within, and then turn around and torture and murder the likes of homosexuals, intellectuals, artists, etc.?

This will be a weird and savage connect-the-dots to my idea above, but for a brief few seconds yesterday I felt it. This enormous rage and repulsion against a segment of humanity which, at least temporarily, yielded a murderous instinct within…one that was so powerful (albeit brief) and intoxicating, I actually had to check myself out of the particular situation and go pour a pint of black and tan. I watched about half an hour of a show on Bravo called “Housewives of Orange County” or something like that (I won’t bother to factcheck). It spotlights the daily lives of four or five Beverly Hills-type women whose mere existence on this planet is to consume and to annoy. Of course each woman has various augmented body parts, preposterously-skewed ideas on life, and is armed with a certain color American Express card, which actually mandates that owners spend at least $150,000 a year using it.

My pressure was rising with every minute I watched, but nevertheless I watched because I have never before SEEN people like this; I’ve heard OF them, having lived both in Los Angeles and Palm Beach, FL…but I had never seen or heard the likes of this sort of human waste. As I started thinking that the world would be better off if this sort of animal was literally eradicated by any means necessary (including travelling death squads a la Che), I realized that this is not entertainment, despite its billing by Bravo. It’s brainwashing…dangling the carrot…it’s advertisement for and perpetuation of a lifestyle which is detrimental to humanity and this planet in general. It’s consumerism in its most vile and foul incarnation. It’s the ugliest of ugly sides of capitalism and social class oppression; even a form of environmental apartheid.

And so in my rage at this despicable spectacle of human beings and their destructive behaviour, I thought of the triggers that must have driven Che to radically switch from the compassionate doctor he was studying to become, into the murderous communist revolutionary thug he ended up. And I fully understood the rage Che Guevarra cultivated and harbored for those of the upper class (politicians included) who “have,” and who mindlessly walk through this life, exploiting weaker or less fortunate human beings for the sake of consumerism and acquisition of material. I fully understood that society could stand to be without these human beings, and that this segment ought to be forcefully erradicated. And I fully understood that for that instant, I thought like a communist.

If you know anything personal about me, you know that I am an immigrant from a communist country. My mother defected to the States in the late 70s, fleeing an oppressive, totalitarian regime which sent hundreds of thousands, if not millions of innocent souls to their brutal deaths. You must realize how taken aback I was for thinking what I had just described. For aligning myself—even briefly—with that reprehensible dogma from which I was saved almost thirty years ago. It’s complicated. This government and this socio-economic system have driven me to the point at which I feel I have very little choice but to give in to my animal instincts and start going down a lethal, radical path. The better part, or larger part of me checks and balances that awful bile and vitriol. But it’s the first time I truly felt the absolute rage and hatred that, I assume, changed the likes of Che from compassionate men into revolutionaries. I am realizing that the maze which capitalism has created for its consumer-citizens, doesn’t have any way out. It has painted me into a corner, and no matter how much I resist and fight, I cannot make headway.

This is not a declaration. It’s a realization.

“The United States is unusual among the industrial democracies in the rigidity of the system of ideological control – “indoctrination,” we might say – exercised through the mass media.”
–Noam Chomsky

Rant O’The Day

No, no, don’t get me wrong. I’m not super-pissed that they’ve shut down practically all services here at my place of work. I’m fuming because they’ve shut them down in favo(u)r of security for one lady politician, making a last-hour, surprise decision to come and give yet another regurgitated speech to the energized suckers voters who actually believe they can make a difference in this election. I will try to compose myself (and this rant), after having waited twenty-odd minutes to just get into the parking lot at my office, only to be scrutinized and frisked and almost prodded by a handful of Secret Service goons with tailor-made earpieces and Men’s Wearhouse semi-cheap suits, driving gas-guzzling, black SUVs. My disclaimer: I am all in favo(u)r of supporting striking workers, even at the expense of services being cut off. Say what you will about the French and the snootiness, but those frogs have bigger bollix and more intestinal fortitude than a zillion Americanos put together. Here is a country full of purported paté eating snobs willing to go without mass transit, amenable to let the garbage pile up, in support of working-class strikers. In Toronto, over the past weekend, mass transit went on a short-lived work stoppage (two days) and the populace almost revolted in the streets, calling the walkouts slackers and lazy scum. Imagine that; Canadians being less than civil to one another! Our influence has rubbed off. Will we ever realize that the effects or, rather, resolution to these protests can actually positively impact and improve our lives? Apparently the French have. Not so the Gringos. Cut off water for more than two hours and see what happens. Better yet, cut off CABLE unexpectedly.

And so back to the wanna-be-lady-prez. In order for me to get to work this morning, I had to walk a venerable gauntlet of security detail. These are people that I truly despise–law enforcement in general, really. I felt like Hunter Thompson walking into the middle of that cop convention in Fear and Loathing. True, the massive hangover didn’t help, but the hyperactive, shifty-eyed gorillas brandishing many a concealed firearm outright ruined my mood and demeanor. I loathe politics. I don’t trust any of these nouveau automaton Manchurian Candidates, no matter what “fresh” ideas they bring to the table. That other bozo marionette claims he will effect “change we can believe in.” The geezer POW says “everything is possible in America.” I’ve been around for too long to swallow it. These weird freaks of nurture have been promising the same old rubbish for decades. Save the cow manure and let me get to work in peace. I’ve got a newsletter to put out to illiterate educators by the first of the month.

Quick, but related tangent here. Señor Darth Vader was also in town recently. He flew in yesterday for a few hours to meet with a group of other stormtroopers at a private residence here in the capital of this great state. His motorcade consisted of no less than 17 vehicles, most of them gas-guzzling SUVs. Following his fortified limo was an ambulance–presumably to offer assistance in case either our man’s pacemaker went off-beat, or he somehow managed to clip someone else with his buckshot-laden, duck-hunting musket. In any case, a stretch of 20 miles of highway was closed for more than two hours, so this neocon swine could make his meeting on time (whoa, that rhymes Tonto!). You can just imagine the traffic jam lined up, waiting for our man to make his graceless entrance. Bull in a china shop, y’all. Bull in a china shop.

In closing (thank Feck) my point is: I will suffer the lack of services in support of a good, social cause, but I will not tolerate enforced shortages and restrictions in favo(u)r of bottom dweller politicians peddling outdated ideas and beating dead horses. Remember kiddos, our vote most certainly does not count. Corporations have long ago become the Teacher’s Pet and any breadcrumbs that actually do reach us, have been properly funneled and processed with preservatives, anti-caking agents, enhancers, emulsifiers, stabilizers, and all kinds of acidity regulators and buffers.

I’ll leave you with some good news. Seems like the French influence is working. This is great news despite the corporate sponsorship.