*In this our virtual panopticon the cyborg hash of ghosts often seems to be fighting Hobbes’ “mere war of all against all.” Everyone has an opinion. In the pulpit of the text box, it’s bully or be bullied. Hot cognition uber alles. But online “discourse” is not so much War-of-All-against-All. It’s more War of All Those Who Can Dish It But Not Take It, against All. And in that war all have equal right unto all whinge.
Ostendo primo conditionem hominum extra societatem civilem (quam conditionem appellare liceat statum naturae) aliam non esse quam bellum omnium contra omnes; atque in eo bello jus esse omnibus in omnia.
I demonstrate in the first place, that the state of men without civil society (which state we may properly call the state of nature) is nothing else but a mere war of all against all; and in that war all men have equal right unto all things.
I would like to propose that the first Tuesday of September be declared “Dead Labor Day.” I think we all should acknowledge the victory of Capital over Labor in the late 20th and early 21st centuries. The victory of corporate personhood over persons. The victory of debt-based fiat finance over everyone else. We built that.
Labor, in the sense of doing real work making real stuff or providing real services for non-corporate real people, is almost dead. Modern capital, unrestrained free enterprise, has almost sucked us dry, sucking more and more jobs from the economy. Unions have been reviled, weakened, co-opted, destroyed. The dwindling number of people doing real work are generally ill paid and looked down upon. Just ask a teacher. Ask the immigrants who harvest and prepare our food. Ask the people who take of the elderly in the warehouses for dying. Et fucking cetera. The rest of us either have no job at all or are ourselves partially vampirized minions like Renfield in Dracula, feeding flies to spiders, spiders to birds, on the grovel for a cat. Confined to the cube farm like inmates in an asylum. We want more life. A bigger cat.
“Making” has become a hobby. An accessory to the lifestyle. Cosplay with tools. Very few of us are doing, as Gary Snyder put, the common work of the tribe. In this twilight in which we find ourselves, labor is fetishized, not celebrated, even on Labor Day. Let us remember that on Dead Labor Day.
Posted in Laundry List, Politics, Steal This Meme, Talking to myself letting you listen
Tagged Capital, corporate personhood, Dead Labor Day, Karl Marx, Labor, Labor Day, makers and takers, Vampirism
A photo a day keeps the Doctor in play.
The tiny decay in the apparatus
of language pierces
all sister tongues
with drowsing needles of black rain.
Symphonies of liquid porcelain,
sad blue eternities,
white chrysanthemum dynasties,
sink into the marrow
of our bones.
A blacker poetry sleeps
in the bellies of women.
The feral daughter cleans her soft knife
in fresh milk and smoke.
There is danger of electric shock.
Do not kiss
Tesla was born on this day in 1856.
A photo a day keeps the Doctor in play.
Frottage: Flag of My Disposition
Vertical, or horizontal?
The frottage was made by rubbing Caran d’Ache watercolor crayons on 80 lb. drawing paper placed over inscriptions on various monuments in Civic Center Park in Denver, Colorado. It is in effect a collage frottage, not a scissor dance, but a bit of the old soft shoe, so to speak. I did a bunch of these frottages during a manic period circa 1990 or so. I was the guy flattening sheets of paper against various textured surfaces, fumbling for crayons, talking to myself, that you crossed the street to avoid. The quote is from Whitman.
Remember that on this day in 1845 Henry David Thoreau embarked on his experiment in living simply, by Walden Pond, on a piece of land owned by his friend Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Remember that on this day in 1855 Walt Whitman published the first edition of his Leaves of Grass.
Remember that on this day in 1862 Charles Dodgson on a picnic excursion told Alice Liddell a story that was published on this day in 1865 as Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll.
On this day I remember the words of these who are my Moses, my Solomon, my Elijah, the prophets of my Torah and the writers of the constitution of my heart as much as the words of Thomas Jefferson that the gaggle of “Founding Fathers” edited and amended into the proclamation that was not signed by most of them until August 2, 1776.
Happy Independence Day. Hold those truths self evident, y’all.