Pick a Side

Pick a side. Doesn’t matter which; it is about as relevant as the name on a concert t-shirt. The important thing is that you have a brand to engage your tribalism with.

Now that you know what side you’re on, it’s time to go hunting! Get out there and scour the web for the stupidest, most ignorant, ill-adjusted, mentally unstable people you can find from the opposing side. Expose these troglodytes to the cleansing light of public condemnation and mass cyber bullying. If you’re not lucky enough to find one of these people yourself, then just pile on with the rest of your tribe.

This is fun, isn’t it? Oh, they make you so angry, don’t they? Such a delicious mix of moral outrage and strident self-expression. It’s important work you’re doing: digging the rot out of society, one shitty person at a time.

The goodness doesn’t end here, though. See, what you can do now is take these shitty people and use them and their words to condemn the thinking and philosophy of the other side. Make that person your opposing faction’s mascot. They can be your brush to paint your enemy entire with.

Do not allow the enemy a chance to confuse your conviction with thoughts and arguments; nuance and context. The underpinnings of their philosophies are meaningless. The deep thinkers who spent decades crafting their notions are dust in the wind of your righteous fury.

No, finding the most debased, slack-jawed cretin that claims adherence to their philosophy is all that you need to extinguish its credibility forever. For you have destroyed them! You have exposed and crushed them!

Isn’t victory sweet?

Now, you may occasionally feel a pinch. Sometimes you may look about at your words and those who fight on your side, and realize that you share more in common with those enemies you fixate on and attack than with the philosophers who formed the arguments you regurgitate.

You may come to suspect that those who spend all their time fixating upon, baiting, and fighting with the lowest cretins from the other side are in fact the cretins of their own. That in playing a game, we share more in common with our opponent than the philosopher that crafted the pieces we play with.

This is nothing, though. A passing spasm. Don’t reflect too deeply on it, lest you realize you have been playing checkers on a chess set with the village idiot as opponent.

Push these thoughts aside and carry on, brothers and sisters. Carry on.

The important thing is that you’ve won so many games!

History Lesson, 2070

So, class, why is it that the United States turned to fascism when it did?

Well, as funny and pathetic as it might sound, all it took for America to accept overt white supremacy and fascism was a relatively small drop in white people’s standard of living coinciding with racism no longer being considered humorous or acceptable in mainstream culture.

However, what followed in the years to come is in no way funny, and is the reason that America’s first flag, the Star-Spangled Banner, is now considered a symbol of hate.

American Party

Being a citizen of a client nation of the American empire has always required a certain level of cognitive dissonance and culpability. How do we balance what is marvelous about America with what is evil?

It’s like America is throwing a fantastic barbecue party. There are clowns and a bouncy castle for the kids. There’s so much junk food! There’s live music! Booze! Drugs! Hookers! It is off the fucking chain!

Those of us who can get into the party are just so excited to be invited. We want to be there so much, we ignore that the land America is throwing the party on was stolen from people America murdered. That the food and drugs are paid for with blood money. That the hookers are sex-slaves.

Easy to turn a blind eye, though, because the party is just so much fun.

However, everything is going on around a big shed right in the middle of the yard. We’re all there enjoying ourselves, pointedly ignoring that shed. It’s not talked about. We don’t even look at it. It’s like it doesn’t even exist.

That’s Uncle Sam’s shed, by the way. America’s patriarch. The man who does the dirty work providing all the fun we’re having. That shed is Uncle Sam’s torture chamber, where he liquefies his victims once he’s done working on them.

The shed has always been there. It has always been in use.

But we all party on, doing our best to ignore it.

Now the party’s winding down, though. The sun’s coming up and we desperately need some real food, a long shower, and a deep sleep. Where’s my ride, anyway? The only people left here are the hardcore burnouts doing blow around the fire pit, listening to one of the hookers get sodomized in the bushes nearby.

How do I get home from here?

Oh, there’s Uncle Sam himself now. He’s wandered out of his shed, and he hasn’t bothered to change out of his “work clothes.”

That is a really nice, red white and blue leather apron, though. I wonder what kind of hide it’s made out of?

Criminal

Always remember that conservatives, wherever they be, are actually pro-crime. Crime is their whole business model. Stock market scams; white-collar larceny; tax and liability avoidance; corporate regulation circumvention; corruption; sexual assault; police brutality: they love all this shit!

Just so long as it is their kind of people doing the dirt. The White Patriarch does what he wants. Society exists to facilitate him. Whatever he does is not regarded as “real crime” by his system; by the conservatives and neo-liberals he buys to grease its wheels.

It is poor people and their crimes that conservatives hate. Do keep this in mind when they go on about being tough on crime: they are talking about crushing the poor. The rich have always paid one group of the poor to brutalize and suppress the rest. This is the mechanism of the state.

The police do exist “to serve and protect.” Without a doubt. You just have to keep in mind that it aint you they are serving. They exist to protect those they do serve from the likes of you.

But do tell us more, oh corporate shills, how taxation for social welfare programs and education is the real class warfare.

Morning Chaos

Going to take that first piss in the morning, brain still foggy with dreams. One of life’s simple pleasures.

Suddenly, my pee stream bisects; both streams are perfectly missing the toilet. Crisis! Must immediately decide whether to continue pissing on the floor with both streams, or to get one in the toilet, sending the other onto a wall (whichever I choose, since being a Japanese setup, it’s a toilet in a tiny room all to itself).

Like Afghanistan, there can be no happy solution.

Much as that country’s invaders, past and present, I totally fuck everything up by attempting all three possible solutions, one after another, in quick succession. I thus ensure that while no one area is completely drenched in piss, everywhere gets a nice sprinkling.

If only I could just fuck off at this point and leave the toilet to deal with this itself. Sadly, this is not Afghanistan, and I am no imperial power.