Would Alan Shepard Be A Trump Supporter?
There’s an inner thing in every man
It is found in every light of hope,
It knows no bounds nor space
It has risen in red and black and white,
It is there in every race.
It lies in the hearts of heroes dead,
It screams in tyrants’ eyes,
It has reached the peak of mountains high,
It comes searing ‘cross the skies.
It lights the dark of this prison cell,
It thunders forth its might,
It is ‘the undauntable thought’, my friend,
That thought that says ‘I’m right!’
Fuck The Commission
All the pot shenanigans almost make me want to run for the House again:
The Senate nixed a last-ditch effort Thursday night to have Vermont voters weigh in this coming November on whether they support legalization of marijuana.
With the legislature braced to adjourn for the year on Saturday, that defeat likely means lawmakers will leave without any marijuana legalization — or even a commission to study it.
“Fuck the commission,” a frustrated Senate Judiciary Committee chair Dick Sears (D-Bennington) said after his effort to create a public advisory vote failed.
The House failed to do the right thing--literally just before drinking some bubbly--and we can't even let the People who elected them vote on the subject. Well-done, legislators. Who needs to generate additional revenue whilst decriminalizing a drug less harmful than the ones you use?
Single-party rule really does suck when the majority is made up of cowards.
"So, who wants to eat chiminichangas next year?"
Yom Hasikaron laShoah ve-laG'vurah
Copyright holders have apparently disabled embedding, so I can't do what I'd planned with Conspiracy today. But still, think about that lovely home in Wannsee and matters at hand as we witness the Rise of Trump. Never forget.
And she still looks up to her big bro...
we've had enough of playing games with history
Young America, tie up the killer's hands. Let there be an escalation of truth to overwhelm the escalating lie crushing people's lives! Flowers, make war! Defend what's beautiful! Drown the city streets and country roads like the flood of an army advancing and in the ranks of people and flowers arise, murdered Allison Krause, Immortal of the age, Thorn-Flower of protest!
"We must try to radicalize the American people..."
It was the most significant day of all of our lives because in 48 hours more young people were radicalized, revolutionized and yippieized than in any single time in American history.
- Jerry Rubin on the aftermath of Kent State
Four dead 46 years ago, including Allison Krause. As her younger sister, Laurel, wrote back in 2009 (emphasis mine):
To Allison, it was an obligation to show dissension to the government invading Cambodia. She made her decision, and we all know the outcome.
Allison’s death symbolizes the importance of our right to protest and speak our truths freely.
Looking back, did the Kent State protest and killings make a difference? Well, there was a huge response by Americans.
The Kent State shooting single-handedly created the only nationwide student strike with over 8 million students from high schools to universities speaking out and holding rallies afterwards.
Indeed, it turns out that violent repression often results in greater mobilization of the masses, and Kent State is a good example (emphasis again mine):
[T]he majority of Americans supported the Guard's actions at Kent State. Many parents viewed the shootings as the tragic lot of a generation weaned on permissiveness. This view directly contradicted student reaction and resulted in further division between generations. The country experienced its first national student strike, in which over one third of the Nation's campuses were involved. There were approximately one hundred strikes per day for the four days following the deaths, as universities throughout the nation were besieged by protesting students. One hundred thousand marched in Washington to protest the war and the killings at Kent.
What's more, in the wake of Kent and the Jackson State killings later that month, we saw "nearly a million marchers on both coasts in April, 1971; 12,000 activists performing civil disobedience in Washington in May; and 100,000 marching in 1972 against the mining of North Vietnam's harbors, and at the January, 1973, 'counter-inaugural' against the bombing of Hanoi."
Interestingly enough, Kent State happened in the midst of the first rumblings of student strikes, and the massacre appears to have galvanized the movement and became a rallying event as much as the Maine, Pearl Harbor or even 9/11 (emphasis mine once more):
The slight hope and deep frustration on which the Movement had been floating was transformed to pure despair and pure rage. There was nothing to talk about, only sides to be taken. After Nixon's speech announcing the invasion, scores of campuses had gone out on strike in a contagious competition. After Kent State, it was hundreds, and it was untenable for students opposed to the war to cooperate with the part of the System with which they had the most contact and the most control, their universities.
Not just for students but for their parents, who were part of the Silent Majority Nixon needed, Kent State was a stunning event. A gasp of recognition rippled through mainstream America: these were their kids being shot down! The madness of the war, if not the war itself, had finally come home. These "average Americans" could accept the use of state power to draft lower and middle-class kids...They could accept the unleashing of the raw power of the state against unruly and disdainful foreigners. They could even accept police killings of black activists...What they could not accept was the state turning on their own kind, and when parents of Kent State's dead went on television, bitterly denouncing the attack, the Silent Majority listened.
When I and two other strikers began leafleting in an advanced science class, the professor recovered from his astonishment at the sight of these hairy barbarians and politely asked us to wait a few minutes until class ended. We complied equally politely, but after Kent State, bands of raging strikers roamed the campus in search of offending classes, and Chicago went down for the count.
Now America's ruling elite worried less about how to win the war and more about how to avoid losing the country. The young were gone, the troops were unreliable, and unions were starting to break ranks with the hawkish AFL-CIO. America's house was becoming divided, and the owners' strongest instinct was to tone down the war as much as was needed to save their power at home.
By the fall of 1970, America's elite, unrepentant but pragmatic, had moved to a new consensus, in essence telling Nixon and congress to cut the necessary deal: the end of the war for the end of the Movement. Now the war was really over...The Movement dwindled and died from 1970 to 1973 as all US forces came home...After the US air and ground combat role ended with the signing of the 1973 peace accords, the Movement could only watch the slaughter from the sidelines. It had become a Sword of Damocles, as the SWP's Fred Halstead said, hanging over Nixon and then Ford should they try to increase aid or reintroduce US forces, but the sword stayed in its sheath.
Kent State didn't shut down protest. It did scare folks, but it wasn't The Movement: it was the very people we were resisting who had a vested interest in the status quo. When did The Movement fade away? After they'd essentially won.
Lesson for today's Berners, who don't know/have forgotten: win or lose, we must keep fighting, radically.
I Just Can't
It is creation itself like the growth of a tree
[H]appiness is woven out of the peace of hoursAnd strikes its roots deep in the house alone:The old chest in the corner, cool waxed floors,White curtains softly and continually blownAs the free air moves quietly about the room;A shelf of books, a table, and the white-washed wall—These are the dear familiar gods of home,And here the work of faith can best be done,The growing tree is green and musical.For what is happiness but growth in peace,The timeless sense of time when furnitureHas stood a life's span in a single place,And as the air moves, so the old dreams stirThe shining leaves of present happiness?No one has heard thought or listened to a mind,But where people have lived in inwardnessThe air is charged with blessing and does bless;Windows look out on mountains and the walls are kind.
Corporatism Is In America's DNA
Indeed: An act to incorporate the inhabitants of the city of Washington, in the District of Columbia. Bernie hates corporations, so he hates America!
for there you have been and there you will long to return
I am a pencil that cannot sharpen,
ink that slides off paper,outside of our time, I am lost,
a one ended boomerang.
Samuel Wagan Watson.
Ora sì ch'io son contenta
From the Republic
Book III (Socrates narrates):
[W]e must assume a control over the narrators of this class of tales as well as over the others, and beg them not simply to but rather to commend the world below, intimating to them that their descriptions are untrue, and will do harm to our future warriors.
That will be our duty, he said.
Then, I said, we shall have to obliterate many obnoxious passages, beginning with the verses,
I would rather he a serf on the land of a poor and portionless man than rule over all the dead who have come to nought [Odyssey, 11]
We must also expunge the verse, which tells us how Pluto feared,
Lest the mansions grim and squalid which the gods abhor should he seen both of mortals and immortals [Iliad, 20]
O heavens! verily in the house of Hades there is soul and ghostly form but no mind at all! [Iliad, 23]
And we must beg Homer and the other poets not to be angry if we strike out these and similar passages, not because they are unpoetical, or unattractive to the popular ear, but because the greater the poetical charm of them, the less are they meet for the ears of boys and men who are meant to be free, and who should fear slavery more than death.
After The Rain
Close This Book
As l walk patiently through life
poems follow close—
blind, dumb, agile, my own shadow;
the mind’s dark overﬂow, the spill of vein
we thought red once but know now, no.
The poem called death
is unwritten yet. Some day will show
the violent last line,
the shadow rise,
a bird of omen
snatch me for its ghost.
And a hand somewhere, purposeful as God’s
close like two eyes, this book.
"I’m going to be really good for America."
President George Washington, April 30, 1789:
Among the vicissitudes incident to life, no event could have filled me with greater anxieties than that of which the notification was transmitted by your order, and received on the fourteenth day of the present month. On the one hand, I was summoned by my Country, whose voice I can never hear but with veneration and love, from a retreat which I had chosen with the fondest predilection, and, in my flattering hopes, with an immutable decision, as the asylum of my declining years: a retreat which was rendered every day more necessary as well as more dear to me, by the addition of habit to inclination, and of frequent interruptions in my health to the gradual waste committed on it by time. On the other hand, the magnitude and difficulty of the trust to which the voice of my Country called me, being sufficient to awaken in the wisest and most experienced of her citizens, a distrustful scrutiny into his qualifications, could not but overwhelm with dispondence, one, who, inheriting inferior endowments from nature and unpractised in the duties of civil administration, ought to be peculiarly conscious of his own deficiencies.
President Donald Trump, please take note.
What good is melody, what good is music?
Doomed To Repeat
They said, my saints, my slogan-sayers sang,Be good, my child, in spite of all alarm.They stood, my fathers, tall in a row and said,Be good, be brave, you shall not come to harm.I heard them in my sleep and muttering dream,And murmuring cried, How shall I wake to this?They said, my poets, singers of my song,We cannot tell, since all we tell you isBut history, we speak but of the dead.And of the dead they said such history(Their beards were blazing with the truth of it)As made of much of me a mystery.
Cruelty with purpose is not cruelty - it's efficiency.