Transmissions

Oh the irony! You go and create a website to declare war on this culture and you end up representing it on the internet. Yes, now that we’re on hit number 6000 I might as well acknowledge our new group of comrades here: people who searched for Jesus on google images found this site as their first choice. I’m not sure how this happened but through some confluence of google magic about half of the images I’ve used here have gone straight to the top of the google hierarchy. A close second place is freaking ice cream of all things! I can only imagine what someone searching for an image of goddamn jesus or ice cream  must be experiencing while clicking through this madness: but it’s still pretty cool! So welcome mainstream America (and Central America, Africa, Middle East, Korea, Indonesia, Australia, that one person in Hong Kong, Western Europe and mother fucking Canada!)

I saw that a few thousand stayed around for a little bit and a few of you stayed on for a long time and even started coming back. Good. I found the above image on the same search engine that led you here. I think that it sums up what this whole website is about.

I think I should also introduce the writing here. A lot of the stuff in more recent months basically sucks. However, if you poke around in the archives there are plenty of little gems. Also there are a shitload of outstanding videos archived. But here is a list of my best work:

My Morning in America

The Omen: Killing Us Softly

Fear of Flying: Welcome to the Disneyland Police State

Joyous Treason: We Don’t Need Anymore Reasons

Being that indoctrinated people obviously are not usually aware of their state of enslavement in the “west” (it’s a sphere!) I try to point out the horrors of daily life that are often just overlooked as “normal” and “the way things naturally are.” So, if you are new here and have enjoyed yourself, email me at rejection08@gmail.com.

If you’ve been here before I’m also at the top of the google heap with David Gilbert, Arundhati Roy, Sleater Kinney, Atari Teenage Riot, Chomsky, Noam Chomsky, Huey P. Newton, Mickey Z and Derrick Jensen. Fucking cool! However–sadly–I’m getting more hits off of the above mentioned stuff and “turntable” and “arrow up.” Whatever. With google it could change tomorrow, so let’s just play with it!

But back to the newbies here. If you didn’t know already, there are thriving subcultures here subverting the DOMINANT culture we were all born UNDER.  And as a welcome gift I would like you to see what the news looks like within our culture: ENJOY!

Back soon suckas!

I’ll be back with my own stuff soon.  I haven’t mentioned Iraq in along time:

I followed my last week of seven straight closes with this week’s six straight closes. I’m simply in survival mode. I’ll get through, I always do.  I had a lovely day before work with Sophia. Gardening is always therapeutic. Especially gardening with Sophia.

Agonizing pain aside, how about a quick,  little story about crying on the road?

So, I got off from work early one day last month and had the pleasure of driving home from work while the sun was still awake and Spring was still springing. Anyone who has been to the region can probably attest that springtime around the GW parkway near DC and my new “Homeland” McLean VA  is so absolutely and refreshingly lush with green life and beauty that it is easy to forget that we inhabitants live in the central powerhouse of global fascism.

I was turning off of Old Dominion rd. onto the small, local off-ramp during a minor traffic jam. I was in what I like to call a non-mood: neither happy nor sad. I was just getting through another day of “Life” in the Empire of Nothingness.

As I was turning onto the ramp my typical male radar noticed a women singing passionately in her car. She was all alone just like me. I was blasting music out of my Volvo speakers and she was blasting music out of her fucking skull. As I got closer to her, and her car, I realized that she was weeping. Intensely.

The surprising moment for me was my tears that were already flowing the second I saw her in that moment. It happened in a second. As I was turning right onto the ramp, she was turning left onto the street. As I was looking at her, the light changed and I started to drive. I saw her face turn to me and I turned my face away. I drove away.

I mean, who has time, right?

Who has TIME?

I wonder what would happen if we all started talking. Here is the music from the scene. Vampire Weekend are a Ruling Class band I can sink my teeth into. At least they know that they are evil!

Don’t blame the actual, real dogs here.

This, uh, looks a little uncomfortable. Is this torture? Is this terror? Is this madness? Is this FASCISM?

Yes it is. Yes we can!!

So I was reading a great article on Znet.

It makes me quite sad to report that my worst writing (and new blogger period) was dead-on accurate. Here is what I wrote in 2007:

The Torture Is Propaganda

I want to take a step back for a second and talk about framing of issues, in this case about torture. I have heard liberals say the main reason to stand against torture is that “it doesn’t even work”. This plays right into the whole Jack Bauer flim-flam about a “ticking-time-bomb” scenario horseshit. I for one suspect there is not a time-bomb at all and would add that torture does work. It works just as it was designed to do: to get false confessions out of terrified people.

If we know that these “wars” are not about what we are told they are then we can also expect that our “leaders” might have a lot of difficulty finding “perps”. We also know that our “leaders” use terrifying myths about “others” that only they can protect us against to keep us in line. Well to keep us in line then requires that they produce these “evil conspirators” from time to time right? Of course the real conspirators, like say- Osama bin Laden, are too valuable as a propaganda tool to actually arrest. So instead we get low level operatives; and I suspect we also get a few totally and/or mostly innocent people who were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Question: If you were held in an isolated cell for months and months, then years and years, tortured and then viewed your child being molested by a soldier, would you confess to anything to make it stop? I don’t have kids, but I suspect I would confess to being Osama himself to make it stop. Guess what, this really takes place.

Whether it was torturing a “witch”, a Black Panther or some poor guy from Afghanistan in Guantanamo Bay, the propaganda of torture is the same and twofold. For those that believe the war is real, it acts as reinforcement for the belief that those in power have everything under control. For those that don’t believe, it acts as a warning. I think those in power want us to know what goes on in those dungeons or, in “the Brig”. It shows those of us who might resist these “wars”, what they are capable of, and willing to do on a whim.

They want us to know that any one of us could be Jose Padilla.

Keep in mind I wrote this using nothing more than my innate bullshit detector. With all of their resources why couldn’t CNN or The New York Times reach the same obvious conclusion?

(more…)

Its not really a place, but a state of being in various places in the United States. Its not Compton or Gaza; its a nowhere land of shopping malls, lost time and minds.

I’m sure that other lands have Shit Towns, but I’ve never been.

Its where dreams almost always die. Where innate abilities and passions are slowly extinguished. Where bright eyes go dead.

RUN!!

RUN!!

Run right through that door right now!

Years ago when I was trying to pull myself out of white trash Northern Virginian existence to a DC hipster delusion, I found myself in a bar in Arlington. I was talking to the then owner Alice Despard about great writers. At the time I didn’t really know much about “great writers” I mean I had read Emerson, Whitman, Voltaire, a girlfriend had turned me on to Tom Robbins and that Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance book, but I was still in way over my head.

Though I was creative and charismatic enough to bullshit my way around the DC indie rock subculture I always felt that if I let my guard down for one second my southern accent would return and the charade would be up: “we found you out boy, back to Manassas with you now, to work in auto parts stores!”

[To those who know me personally, this is where that strange and sudden insecurity comes from.]

More on this later, back to Alice:

She asked me if I was getting into any particular authors lately. In the social position I was in at the time, I was just barely learning to think for myself at all. I wasn’t doing things like “getting into any particular authors” I was mainly concerned with making sure my language usage, fashion and attitude mimicked those that I wanted to be around. I had fallen in love with DC culture and wanted to be apart of it and for some reason I felt compelled to be around rich or middle class people with some education and a desire to wear gas station worker jackets when they didn’t have to.

At that moment in my self education I had just bought a Nietzsche anthology and when she asked me what authors I was into I just blurted out his stinking name: Nietzsche. She started to laugh politely and I asked, “Are you a fan?” and she replied, “I might read him for a laugh while taking a shit.” Wow, who knew!

So fast forward to a few hours ago; I was having my morning coffee, cigarette and then planning my daily massive shit and I arbitrarily chose between that big Emerson book and that old Nietzsche book on the bookcase. The first page I turned to on the shit-pot—I’m not making this up—was this:

“The Labor question. — The stupidity — at bottom, the degeneration of instinct, which is today the cause of all stupidities — is that there is a labor question at all. Certain things one does not question: that is the first imperative of instinct. I simply cannot see what one proposes to do with the European worker now that one has made a question of him. He is far too well off not to ask for more and more, not to ask more immodestly. In the end, he has numbers on his side. The hope is gone forever that a modest and self-sufficient kind of man, a Chinese type, might here develop as a class: and there would have been reason in that, it would almost have been a necessity. But what was done? Everything to nip in the bud even the preconditions for this: the instincts by virtue of which the worker becomes possible as a class, possible in his own eyes, have been destroyed through and through with the most irresponsible thoughtlessness. The worker was qualified for military service, granted the right to organize and to vote: is it any wonder that the worker today experiences his own existence as distressing — morally speaking, as an injustice? But what is wanted? I ask once more. If one wants an end, one must also want the means: if one wants slaves, then one is a fool if one educates them to be masters.”

What an honest statement from a clearly sadistic (and for me) useless mind! But I kind of dig it. I wish Lou Dobbs would get on the air and just be so fucking direct, (or Obama for that matter!)

You do know that you’re a slave…right?

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In somewhat related news I and everyone else in “my” company just met a raise and bonus freeze coupled with a 6% salary reduction. Yippee!

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When I first had this thought, I was nervous that I had become a paranoid conspiracy theorist. I had this suspicion that the current “financial crisis” was in some way manufactured. I don’t feel paranoid or incorrect anymore. This is a step in the right direction. American workers are going through a Structural Adjustment Program

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New essay? It’s coming. Most of you that come through here are writers, amateur writers (like me) or friends. From the “writers” portion of you, you know the creative process: you start writing what you think you want to say and then something else comes out…what you really want to say and write!

It’s turned from my usual bombast and word-games to something I’ve not tried yet: sincerity. If I can pull it off it should be pretty freaking beautiful. Wish me luck and grace. I wish everyone the same.

We’ve all seen the video by now. Was he reaching for his Taser? Probably not. Was he startled by Oscar’s “struggle” or “resistance”? Not so much. So why did he take out his gun, stand up and execute Oscar Grant?

I don’t think he planned it. I don’t think he went to work that night hell bent on killing yet another black man. And I’ll admit, the video shows his surprise. So why did he do it?

Here is the answer: because he wanted to. Because that’s what they’re trained to do.  That’s what this culture is; what it does.

What that fucking cop did was no different than what the well trained and well groomed bigot does when he/she blurts out a racial slur in “polite” company. He/she acted on their conditioned nature and played out this societies program for so-called normality. However, the second after the racial slur (or bullets) come out, the agent is immediately aware of the ramifications of their actions.

The husband that hits his wife knows within one second that he has fucked up. Do we forgive? We should not.

Cops are trained to (and do) loath the general public. Us. Think about how cops are trained to hate people like me: anarchists.

We need to understand that cop’s bullet as him blurting out “nigger.” Or “thug.”

To say it again: he did it because he wanted to. Programmed to. For one second (in his sick mind) he had “justice” with those “thugs.” It doesn’t matter what Oscar’s human story was anymore than the story of a slaughtered family in Gaza. The people that pay for the bullets also “pay” for “education.” And journalism. And Research. And science. And industry. And media. And “Defense!” And so on.

None of the words matter. They call it “law and order” and/or “progress.”  I call it Occupation. And we play out the tragic, pathetic and horrific script written for us by the rich and powerful each day.

I feel like a time bomb.

Judge for yourself:
Have you ever heard of Surplus Labor/a>

They didn’t the day this picture was taken, but better late than never! Yippee! Finally an ethnic cleansing we can get into! Check it out: Die You Fucks!

Listen to Bill Hicks you destroyers of everything! “Kill yourselves.” Seriously. You know people are going to start picking you parasites off soon anyway, so just take care of business with your little imagined idea of “dignity”: kill yourselves on golf courses, (that we’ll soon reclaim/re-wild) suck the tailpipe of your limos, jump off of the Swiss alps, fly your Lear Jets into the NYSE (and save of us the trouble of dismantling it ourselves!) Just take you and the other one to ten percent of you parasites anywhere in the universe but here. Perhaps you could take your Space Shuttles to Mars and play with your Rover. Perhaps you could just put pistols to your black hearts. It doesn’t really matter: just go away, hide or die. Preferably die. Man, that felt fucking great!

Speaking of Bill Hicks and fuckfaces killing themselves, here he is doing his thing.

And Hicks again: sometimes the “sinner” is really the saint.

Speaking of the word “fuckface,” here is me making an ass of myself on Zed’s front stoop.

And here is why I can’t write a political word right now. Because blogging seems besides the point once you witness this (yet armed struggle seems to make so much more sense):

Hey Israel:

Eric Stoltz sez: “You’re Over.”

Hey Max, what in the fuck are doing yacking about your sex life in the 90’s and shit?

Good question. Which I will answer more directly over the weekend. In short: the “holidays” are usually pretty rough for me. Certain emotions sneak their way back and skeletons start dancing in closets and so forth. Actually, if anyone wants to go to my archive, one will notice a missing month. At least this January I’m trying!

Now, I need to write the greatest advertisement in human history for a certain event. Hasta Manana!

The intellect and charisma of Arundhati Roy, from my point of view, should have already smashed empires.  I have to extend a thank you to Mickey Z and Expendables everywhere for this video. It’s fucking great!

PS: I’ve been sick all week and still in my in-law’s basement. Well, we are moving in to our new home in two weeks, this virus has nearly been beaten and I’m infected with a new bug: The chatty writing bug. More love soon!

Palestine, Greece and the whole world: Solidarity and Revolution NOW! What better time than now or what better place than here?