slow motion bombs

content/trigger warning for drug use and very graphic descriptions of child abuse and murder.

i am going to continue where i left off on my last post on programming, but feeling the need to write this has been prompted by another sort i have subjected myself to, that being the first season of True Detective. it’s become interesting to me because of what the writers have obviously pulled from real world tragedy and events. there are so many layers to the types of crimes the detectives are investigating that one needs to have read years of research to keep up with it in a way that does any amount of justice to the victims who are now being used for production value, caught in webs of criminality that explicitly work from the top of the rungs on down. so, ~spoiler alert~ too, which is the least of my concerns, but there ya go. i have waded in and out of investigating ritualistic abuse and murder for the last couple of years, but i still feel woefully undereducated to take in the full scope of what this series is putting out there.

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programming

overall i’m sick to death of news cycles, of the work it takes to pry oneself away from the quickness with which new issues and discussions are presented to us. your twitter feed, no matter how carefully curated, has also been capitalized on in this regard. it largely doesn’t matter who you follow because of how it works to enclose thought. hashtags, trends, etc. old news. we were supposed to have left the old [nightly] news behind with these developments. “i don’t even watch teevee.” it doesn’t matter; we are now TV. we exist in something called the real world, or “irl” — how else could we be algorithmically useful if such a sphere didn’t exist, after all.

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poverty of thought inspired by Democracy Now

as any good liberal playacting-as-leftist is to do in the states, i listened to Democracy Now broadcasts for years, after graduating from NPR of course. day after day, i received snippets, sometimes more lengthy reportage, of the world’s news as filtered through Amy Goodman’s specific sort of gravelly tone that seems to define the handwringing condition of “deep sympathy” while avoiding any of the passionate urgency that one might think their range of coverage could foster. and perhaps that dulling of the senses takes years to develop and then cast aside when one considers what “poverty of thought” means in the american progressive media environment.

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Satan and his masters

what’s been marketed as Satanism ain’t nothing i fuck with, and for that matter, neither is what is known as Christianity today with its adherents bought into their own brand of fascist mysticism. without fully realizing that this sort of goosestepping thought to be guided by archangels themselves is yet another tactic to divide and conquer and create tension, young people reject the phantom of this religion in the name of toting something edgier along the lines of Satanism that is certainly not new on the scene as a ruling class marketing and propaganda tool. New Atheism works along similar lines, meant to appeal to disaffected middle class young adults perpetually stuck in adolescence who think the greatest oppression they have ever faced was their parents forcing them to sit through Sunday sermons. and they are correct to some degree — the mind is trapped in a myriad of ways under this fascist regime. people know they are missing a lot, but they are not always sure of what. the gloved hidden hand of the ruling class waves into existence alleged alternate belief systems to ease this internal tension and, again, directs this angst toward other exploited and oppressed individuals with similar class constraints.

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coming together, over what?

Here come old flattop, he come grooving up slowly
He got joo-joo eyeball, he one holy roller

Admiral George Stephen Morrison, father of rock star idol Jim Morrison. He was commander of the US Naval forces during the farce known as the Gulf of Tonkin Incident that helped escalate the pillaging, murdering, and utter destruction in Vietnam.

pictured with the clean cut Jim, patched cardigan and all, on the Bon Homme Richard in January 1964.

He got hair down to his knee
Got to be a joker he just do what he please

— “Come Together”, John Lennon, released 1969

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baby drivel of faux feminism

i get so tired of being nice about people who are ostensibly lumped onto “my team” — the left liberals who are dominating ideas of being “far left” presently. daily i find less and less reason to attempt to find common ground with any of them.

i don’t know the full implications of some new Ghostbusters movie that is to come out other than the regular faux feminist twitter bleating of an all female cast. wow, this changes everything! or at least something, right — representation and symbolism blah blah; women too can break class constraints to answer to even higher members in the hierarchy. like having a feeeemale pwesident!

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of the streets

i’ve been meaning to make this post for the last week or so. reflection calls. i hope perhaps not too inwardly. twitter really has me feeling like people in the streets fighting and people sent to the streets, dumped by a system that is through with them in a useful capacity for the masters, is a game, a rhetorical exercise in one upping each other in commodified exchanges of words. pick an issue that’s stuck in your craw that another person who can retain anything close to citizenship in the seat of empire holds, this fleeting designation for capitalist usefulness, and add poor people to it — you have an analysis in 140 characters or less. veganism versus meat eating is always a good one to claim to speak for the disparate on. i digress, somewhat.

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