Corporate Capitalism Fucks the Gizmal

To start with, let’s get one thing straight here: capitalism isn’t bad. Basic capitalism isn’t the problem. People selling their goods and services for money that they can buy goods and services with is a fine way to function. There’s nothing wrong with this.

It’s the parasitic class of corporate capitalists that are the problem.

Let’s say I notice a hole in the market. I see there is a need for a product that does not exist. I form a company: Gizmo Inc. Then I make a small run of this product: The Gizmal.

The Gizmal works! I sell as many as I can make. Success!

However, I have a problem. I am not a multinational corporation. At this stage, I cannot afford to make all the Gizmals that I would be able to sell. I don’t have the capital to produce that much. But I only have a limited amount of time before other companies copy the Gizmal and exploit that market.

I have to scale up and make those Gizmals.

Well, thankfully, capitalism has developed a system for doing this. I take Gizmo Inc public to raise that capital.

The market analysts check us out and see that we’ve got something here. The numbers look good! We raise all the money we could ever need, and more, and scale the fuck up. Gizmals are flooding the market. It’s a hit!

Success!

In year one after going public, we sell ‘x’ number of Gizmals.

In year two, we sell 3x.

In year three, we sell 6x.

Our stock keeps going up and up! Gizmo Inc is flying high. With increases in sales like this, our profits are increasing at a level that makes the company very attractive to investors. The corporate capitalists love us! What could possibly go wrong?

Well, here’s the thing:

The market for Gizmals is finite. There are only a certain number of customers that need Gizmals. By year three, the market is saturated. Everyone who needs a Gizmal has a Gizmal.

Now, thankfully, we expected this, so our engineers cleverly designed Gizmals to only last for one year. They are designed to fail.

So, thanks to this clever planning, in year four we still sell 6x number of Gizmals. We also know that we will continue to sell 6x Gizmals every year until the Chinese figure out how to copy the Gizmal. But that will take them years. The profits will continue as before and we will keep churning out those Gizmals.

Good enough, right?

No.

See, the market capitalists are in the mix now, right? 6x Gizmals sold in year four is unacceptable. This is failure.

The market capitalists, with their analytics and projections, valued Gizmo Inc’s stock with the assumption that profits would continue to increase at the exponential rate of its first three years.

Getting the same profit this year that we did the last is not okay. This is failure!

Seeking to please the market capitalists, Gizmo Inc brings out some new products. We release the Gizmole, the Gizwizzle, and the Gizwizard.

Sadly for us, none of these new products are something the market needs. They sell okay for a year, but people quickly realize the products are bullshit.

The market capitalists need to be satiated, though. They need their fucking profits.

So, onto cost cutting. We slash jobs and move production overseas.

Success! Profits are up!

However, now the Chinese are catching up faster than ever, as our foreign production facilities hemorrhage workers to the competition as fast as we train them.

As well, the quality of our Gizmals plunges, effectively erasing the difference between our product and the Chinese knockoffs.

By year eight, Gizmo Inc is fucked. The market capitalists pick over the bones a bit, chop up the subsidiaries to sell whatever intellectual property still has value to the highest bidder.

Then it is done. Gizmo Inc is over.

And the market capitalists move on to the next host.

And begin the process again.

This is our world now.

A system requiring unlimited, constant growth trying to force its will on a finite world.

The highway has to run out sometime. Going full throttle right to the end of it might not be the best choice.

Scavengers

It’s the outrage scavenger hunt! Hooray!

It’s time to get offended! Time to get outraged!  What fun!

What’s this? Is that a white woman wearing a kimono?

Appropriation! Let’s all pile on and ruin her life!

It’s time to make a difference.

Did someone ignorant share an extreme opinion you don’t like?

We can’t just leave that alone to die a quiet death all by itself. No way!

Pile on!

This is important work we’re doing here.

Piling on. Ripping other little people to shreds.

Fixing the world.

One ruined life at a time.

 

The Judged

You can judge me all you want. That’s fine. But it doesn’t stop me from understanding you.

I think I am a troublesome rascal for you, and this is why you pester me so. You have constructed your notions of the world through the prisms of your philosophy, requiring everything be made to fit into stark categories. All this in aid of your Cause. Black and white. Right and Wrong. Those who are evil and must be judged, versus those who fight the good fight alongside you.

Now if I was simply evil to you, I think you would not trouble to assail me. It would be sufficient to stick me with some standardized label of dismissal. But something in my mere existence angers you. I do nothing but quietly live my life in a way slightly different than yours, but still you attack me as though I was the worst of those you fight. Yet I think even you must admit that in your spectrum of evil, I barely occupy the mildest edge.

This is the trouble with stark absolutes. You look at me and see mostly white; yet a white stained with stripes of black. You would decontaminate me of those stains: purify me through an immersion in your philosophy; a baptism into your Cause. What you fail to perceive is that there is no clear division of my parts. Grey is not a dirty white, it is its own entity. And I am nothing if not a spectrum of greys.

“But there is black there,” you may scream, “and I cannot abide it, for I have sworn myself its bitter enemy.”

Well, if I cannot be grey to you, then I must be black, and you must despise me as you do your worst enemy. But I am not your worst enemy, am I? Nowhere near it. And this is why you are so angry with me: for in me you see your Cause’s ultimate failure.

Why I am able to anger you so, simply by asking a question?

Because you have no answer that doesn’t paint me as evil. Your absolutism requires that you convict me based on thoughts you suspect I have. For in your philosophy, thoughts themselves become crimes. Your entire philosophy depends upon this, and without your philosophy, your Cause is mere noise.

You seek a revolution, yet paint those you would have fight for you with the same brush you swipe at your enemy.

So I say again: you can judge me all you want, and I am more than happy to leave you to it. I simply ask that in future you keep your judgements of me to yourself. You are no longer of any more interest to me than a puzzle solved. Until you can speak to me from within the beauty of a spectrum of greys, I have no more use for you.

Good day to you.

Valentine’s Day!

Well, I sure do hope that everyone has a good Sugar and Flower Companies Shoot Feminism in the Kneecap Day!

“Now, wait a minute!” our friend Strawman McDunderhead might be saying as they read this. “How does Valentine’s Day have anything to do with feminism? It’s just a lovely day for partners to buy things for each other.”

Well, no it isn’t. 

Now, I am willing to entertain the notion that there are many couples in which the men pretend that the Valentine’s hoops they jump through are something they want to do, and enjoy doing. I know that for the women in these relationships, it is important that their men lie about what they enjoy and what they want.

As Tori Amos put it: “she controls the way she makes you crawl.”

Whatever your deal is, that’s your business, but over here in the real world I am in no way obliged to maintain the fantasies of the dysfunctional and delusional.

The entire engine that drives the holiday is “romance.” Not true romance, but the consumer driven retail version. This is capitalism doing what it does: amplifying a basic human or societal impulse with advertising and then exploiting it.

The “romance” here is all about the male partner jumping through hoops set out by his female. He buys her shit solely for the purpose of keeping her happy, and to avoid being tarred and feathered as a “bad” boyfriend or husband by her friends and family.

This is a reinforcement of what ought to be an archaic practice in courtship: the male essentially buying his access to females. In the patriarchal model, the male provides everything: he pays. In the early stages of courtship, the female need only provide her presence and, at a certain stage sexual access.

Valentines Day, as it is pitched, sold, and policed through our societal norms and expectations does nothing but reinforce that pattern. Men buy the shit and women consume it. There is no reciprocity beyond the assumption of a guaranteed lay.

So, if a woman says they are truly a feminist, and at the same time care about what their man buys for them on this bullshit, made-up holiday, they are full of shit.

Hot Yoga

Assuming you’re hot, if you don’t post a picture of yourself doing yoga in an idyllic location every now and again, how are people going to know how deeply fulfilled you are as a human being?

They won’t know! And that would be deeply unfulfilling.

Inner peace and fulfillment just isn’t the same without an appreciative audience.

Better stretch out that taint and fill up on thumbs.