Takin' the pill
“I wouldn’t call it depression, exactly,” I told Brother Joe Bageant in a rare fit of human contact a few months ago. “Hell, I would,” Joe said. It was hard to tell if he was talking about my state of mind or his own, but since we share similar karmic trajectories, it didn’t matter.
Sad and happy are not the considerations here. Show me a “happy” person in a First World country cognizant of the world being devoured every minute of every day and I will show you a person who doesn’t give a thought to personal accountability, complicity and guilt.
My brother, Marvin, swallows damn near every lie broadcast by the Beltway Wurlitzer, even if he doesn’t digest them all. There’s often a look in his eye that says he knows it’s all a lie. He’s no true believer; just another idiot who mistakes his own fear and greed for “the way things are.”
Expecting me to gloat about the Democrats’ midterm victory, or at least take some pleasure in the power shift, Marvin seemed disappointed by my apathy. He was stunned to learn I hadn’t voted.
Like the vast majority of conservatives, if not every goddamn one of ‘em, Marvin only understands binary concepts. Yes, no. Good, bad. Black, white. God, Satan. Not surprisingly, he did not not pursue the discussion, much less understand my diatribe, so I wrapped it up. “For the hundredth time” I said, “I am not a fucking Democrat.”
A few months ago at a social gathering I couldn’t get out of, a husband and wife were beaming with pride as their nineteen-year old son, a shiny new Marine recruit, prepared for the killing fields. The kid is my niece’s boyfriend. He is quiet, obedient; a mama’s boy eager to do right as only naive, aspiring killers can be. I left early, my heart a tangle of pity, angst and rage.
If he wasn’t packing for Iraq or Afghanistan, it would have been some other place where dark-skinned people and diminishing natural resources converge. Venezuela. The Niger Delta, perhaps. Because war and death were the logical result of what transpired not on September 11, 2001, but on December 12, 2000. That most Americans believe otherwise can only be attributed to the mighty elixir of propaganda, denial and wishful thinking that has sealed our fate.
We have always preferred nationalism to truth. It’s where the money’s at.
I can only laugh at the talk of Americans “waking up” and “getting wise” to fear-based, greed-driven, reptilian conservatism. We are one terror event away from exposing that comfortable lie.
The architects of permanent war have nothing to fear. They – like the rest of us – know Americans will not demand justice because we don’t demand anything. We do what we’re told and call it good citizenship.
The American oligarchy has never enjoyed greater security. It is safely insulated by our rapacious appetite for comfort, sloth and distraction. The same people who demanded the invasion and occupation of Iraq – Republicans, Democrats and media propagandists, having filled their offshore accounts with golden digits wrought from the blood of innocents - will be selling another one in a few short years. Just ask anyone who remembers Vietnam or Iran Contra. That’s how we do things in the Home of the Brave, over and over and over. Despite our national obsession with crime, we still manage to have a recidivism rate for mass murderers. What a pity we don’t have a national obsession for justice.
Which leads us to the next dangerous lie: the reconciliation of a divided nation. Its fictitious nature is the very reason for its inclusion in the national script. By the time the 110th Congress is sworn in, The Machine will be blaring “unity” nonstop between commercial breaks. No (serious) crimes were committed during the making of this Fascist Paradise.
Roughly half the country is bat shit crazy – paranoid, bloodthirsty, and completely enthralled with authoritarianism. It’s all there: the security state; permanent war; post-Constitutionalism; oligarchy. It’s a long list. And for the last six years – eight, if you start with the harbinger of Clinton’s bogus impeachment – their delusions have been treated as the loyal opposition by the other half of the country, which is only half as insane as its right wing counterpart. Conservatives are now very much accustomed to their fantasies being realized, and no Democratic Congress is going to change that.
Decisions, decisions. Hillary or Obama? Rudy or John? Pizza or a cheeseburger? Moral sanction or slavery. Stay or go.
Guy Debord, in 1958, commented that "Victory will be for those who will have been able to create disorder without loving it." The Spectacle (i.e. The Machine), with its constantly evolving state of self-perfection, cannot be defeated. All it must do to prevail is exist.
It can, however, be fucked with. Disordered. Do you have the imagination? The courage? The will? Before you answer with a yes, no or maybe, bear in mind two things: (1.) Post-modernist America is a system, not a culture, and; (2.) there is nothing real about consensus reality.
Later, my friends. I have a pill to take.
Everybody knows that the dice are loadedMy spirit was thin. But for the love of a good woman and a few dogs, I would be well past the point of decay, a diaspora of forgotten particulate scattered across greasy asphalt parking lots and the odd patch of green. As it is, my atrophied soul could be confused with a small piece of tripe. It used to be bigger, brighter. More difficult to imagine.
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Sad and happy are not the considerations here. Show me a “happy” person in a First World country cognizant of the world being devoured every minute of every day and I will show you a person who doesn’t give a thought to personal accountability, complicity and guilt.
My brother, Marvin, swallows damn near every lie broadcast by the Beltway Wurlitzer, even if he doesn’t digest them all. There’s often a look in his eye that says he knows it’s all a lie. He’s no true believer; just another idiot who mistakes his own fear and greed for “the way things are.”
Expecting me to gloat about the Democrats’ midterm victory, or at least take some pleasure in the power shift, Marvin seemed disappointed by my apathy. He was stunned to learn I hadn’t voted.
And everybody knows that it's now or never“You don’t get it,” I said. “Contrary to conventional wisdom, the American people have learned nothing. There is no anti-war movement. No anti-Fascist movement. No contrition for our international arrogance and blood lust. No appreciation for the immeasurable suffering we inflict on the world and ourselves. No recognition of how the simplest acts we perform every day destroys life and nature and pretty much all that is good. And no reckoning for those who choose political expediency, greed and cowardice in the face of the greatest threat to face America since The Civil War.”
Everybody knows that it's me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when you've done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows.
Like the vast majority of conservatives, if not every goddamn one of ‘em, Marvin only understands binary concepts. Yes, no. Good, bad. Black, white. God, Satan. Not surprisingly, he did not not pursue the discussion, much less understand my diatribe, so I wrapped it up. “For the hundredth time” I said, “I am not a fucking Democrat.”
A few months ago at a social gathering I couldn’t get out of, a husband and wife were beaming with pride as their nineteen-year old son, a shiny new Marine recruit, prepared for the killing fields. The kid is my niece’s boyfriend. He is quiet, obedient; a mama’s boy eager to do right as only naive, aspiring killers can be. I left early, my heart a tangle of pity, angst and rage.
If he wasn’t packing for Iraq or Afghanistan, it would have been some other place where dark-skinned people and diminishing natural resources converge. Venezuela. The Niger Delta, perhaps. Because war and death were the logical result of what transpired not on September 11, 2001, but on December 12, 2000. That most Americans believe otherwise can only be attributed to the mighty elixir of propaganda, denial and wishful thinking that has sealed our fate.
We have always preferred nationalism to truth. It’s where the money’s at.
I can only laugh at the talk of Americans “waking up” and “getting wise” to fear-based, greed-driven, reptilian conservatism. We are one terror event away from exposing that comfortable lie.
The architects of permanent war have nothing to fear. They – like the rest of us – know Americans will not demand justice because we don’t demand anything. We do what we’re told and call it good citizenship.
The American oligarchy has never enjoyed greater security. It is safely insulated by our rapacious appetite for comfort, sloth and distraction. The same people who demanded the invasion and occupation of Iraq – Republicans, Democrats and media propagandists, having filled their offshore accounts with golden digits wrought from the blood of innocents - will be selling another one in a few short years. Just ask anyone who remembers Vietnam or Iran Contra. That’s how we do things in the Home of the Brave, over and over and over. Despite our national obsession with crime, we still manage to have a recidivism rate for mass murderers. What a pity we don’t have a national obsession for justice.
Which leads us to the next dangerous lie: the reconciliation of a divided nation. Its fictitious nature is the very reason for its inclusion in the national script. By the time the 110th Congress is sworn in, The Machine will be blaring “unity” nonstop between commercial breaks. No (serious) crimes were committed during the making of this Fascist Paradise.
Roughly half the country is bat shit crazy – paranoid, bloodthirsty, and completely enthralled with authoritarianism. It’s all there: the security state; permanent war; post-Constitutionalism; oligarchy. It’s a long list. And for the last six years – eight, if you start with the harbinger of Clinton’s bogus impeachment – their delusions have been treated as the loyal opposition by the other half of the country, which is only half as insane as its right wing counterpart. Conservatives are now very much accustomed to their fantasies being realized, and no Democratic Congress is going to change that.
Decisions, decisions. Hillary or Obama? Rudy or John? Pizza or a cheeseburger? Moral sanction or slavery. Stay or go.
And everybody knows that you're in troubleWhat to do about it. That’s what some people want to know. The answer, for all its vagueness, is obvious: Whatever your conscience can stand.
Everybody knows what you've been through
From the bloody cross on top of Calvary
To the beach of Malibu
Everybody knows it's coming apart
Take one last look at this Sacred Heart
Before it blows
And everybody knows
~ Leonard Cohen
Guy Debord, in 1958, commented that "Victory will be for those who will have been able to create disorder without loving it." The Spectacle (i.e. The Machine), with its constantly evolving state of self-perfection, cannot be defeated. All it must do to prevail is exist.
It can, however, be fucked with. Disordered. Do you have the imagination? The courage? The will? Before you answer with a yes, no or maybe, bear in mind two things: (1.) Post-modernist America is a system, not a culture, and; (2.) there is nothing real about consensus reality.
Later, my friends. I have a pill to take.
posted by Arvin Hill at 12/01/2006 02:56:00 AM
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