John lifeless leads the caravan
I hear the red wolf howl
through centuries of rusted sand
the spirit of my religion
cracking bones at midnight
on the caverns of my blood
that dream again and dream again abroad
the key to this oblivion
in desert’s lifeless skin
sail on sail on traverse eternity
from dawn to tomb
my kin they die of thirst and hope
at both wrists open veins
that prove to them
and wish my love would rot
no bitch I need to chase
offering those who covet - salt
to yoke the ancient nothingness
the hunger of a jackal
the strength of my religion
inside the prison and the walls
amidst the wonder
and the beauty of it all
From Stein's retweet of Karlin's thesis which I read (& skimmed a bit).
I must disagree with the good doctor. Rap Brown usta say "jealousy is as American as cherry pie." Self-judgment is the essence of a consumer-based economy, and as necessary as breathing.
We wouldn't spend (out our asses) like stupid sheep if t'weren't fer keeping up with our Jones'es. An' Wall Street would collapse quicker'n you can say corinavus, which is wot Cain was try'nt'a impress upon Able.
How we view ourselves is largely based on our view of others, fer better or worse, til death parses us.
Take the boys in Out There - a fabled yarn (or tangled web) 'bout life in the Hippie era after The Nam. You might say "Kurt became a big wig in a major US company" with a perty house (& wife) in upper Empire State. And Buddy became a dope dealer with the demons of deceit, and Rodey became a writer. But whatcha caint say is "who's better off?" That is, which one should be jealous of t'uther.
Cuz we all - all of us - worshiped Buddy, as he was the most clever, the most talented, and the most fun to be around. His was the magnetic pull that all our little lives orbited 'round. Quite symbolically (and factually) a charismatic dope dealer is the literal epicenter of the whole Hippie culture. And personally we all wanted "t'be like Mike."
Why? Well, is simply a measurement tool - like all discernment. Discrimination is the mental capacity to distinguishing apple from orange (lessen it's BlueOrange) (great play, btw).
Like correctional officer Dickhead said 'bout his shiny new Oldsmo'bubble "is a real pussy magnet." Now he may been a fokkin' moron, but most young dumb girls would assent t'his assertion. Or like Kazzy - Buddy's pal, who reminded me a lot of (sheik) Rudolf Valentino said 'bout the meaning of life "well, I popped a lotta cherries in my time." An' fer some reason, I was jealous.
But again, the real perty girl Katie (the other magnetic center of that particular universe) once said 'bout her life "no...I guess I wouldn't change it...I got my three boys, and that's everything to me." Hopefully all parents feel that way. Y'see, what each of us gots aint trade-able. But the only way we can know that is to measure it 'gainst everbuddy else. An' like Lennon said "I don't believe in Zimmerman."
The angst, the dread and self-loathing is "we coulda done better." And the guilt is "yeah, we shoulda done better." But the reality is - we didn't - and we got diff'rint reasons for that. But at least "it was wild...sorta."
Organizations typically have one man as decision-maker. Whether governor CEO general king or Pope, the principle is the same. It is the basic tenet of human organization - top down leadership. This derives from familial and tribal groupings - the head of the family and head of the tribe decides for the rest, with input from whatever council provides counsel.
Keep in mind, explaining begins with "how things work" not what works best. One man deciding things rightly or wrongly, is how human organization works. Discussion of "rightly or wrongly" must account twenty-five thousand years of derivative system-making - as this is what has derived to be. We can look at the founding of America, the death of Julius Caesar, and French and Russian revolutions, as among historical landmarks that considered this derivative. A discussion of gender roles is here.
So what is the point of top down leadership. Well obviously it derives from organization. There is a need to group, thus "group" needs to be organized and needs leadership. It's the same as explaining how fingers of a hand work to grasp an object - they do what the brain tells them to.
But in the simpler discussion of "how things work" and not the more complex "why" we've scant empirical evidence of "the best way." For example, we could point to the reign of Queen Victoria as great success in duration and prosperity for Brits. But colonized victims of Imperial England might see it otherwise; and thus for every long and prosperous empire.
So let's confine this to "how" which is more evidentiary based, not the theoretical "why" which is continually evolving. Dictatorship works well or poorly per the man in charge. But it's duration depends on two factors - might makes right, and the continuing need to convince the subjugated.
Abe Lincoln exemplifies this. The founding fathers of America wrestled with how to restrain a dictator. Their efforts led to Civil War because the diverse state governors had more say than the central federal president. But Lincoln had both more might and more wide-spread personal appeal in rallying people to his cause, and so dictated the unification of America.
The obvious counter-argument is - why are these organizations in constant crisis. But again, that's a "why" argument, not a "how" explanation. The great American example is Franklin Roosevelt who dictated our current national empire. But counter examples of fools in leadership roles include Nero who destroyed Rome, Hitler who destroyed Europe, and Trump who is destroying everything that Lincoln and Roosevelt built, i.e., the world as we know it.
I reckon Plato may've said it better, but I aint never read his book.
a tin can rattled 'cross the street
then down the sidewalk in the wind
noisily like a drunken bum
or worn out hobo
who's lost his charm
having served its purpose
whatever that was
some while ago
and rattling loudly
endlessly now
to nowhere
no shelter no home
like all of us
no functionality
to spare
in the viral silence
of an age gone by
Surprises me that no one's mentioned the biologic of corinavus. I heard there's this river in Africa called Nile - it floods every year turning the flood plain into amazing fertile growing soil. They call it - nature.
And when I'se in the college, this course in psycologgy say that when you put a reasonable number of rats in a big enough cage, they fare well. Triple the number of rat, an' all hell break loose - murder, mayhem, perversion, madness - their environment caint tolerate massive overcrowding. So naturally, they self-destruct.
The point was to analogize that the same was likely true fer human bein. When we so desperately overcrowd, by nature, we gonna start self-destructin with murder mayhem and et cetera. And if that aint 'nuff, Mother Nature gonna give us a quicker out - massive death by disease - to cull the herd. So, by our standards, Nile flooding is fantastic way to make rich growing soil. And auto-destruct by virus is.........what? The same ferkin thing, I reckon. The strong survive, the weak die off, overcrowding decreases. And lessons in biologic are.......never ever learned by dumb humans.
If t'were deers or some other critter enjoying life in the wild, we'd say - kill 'em 'til we gots a sustainable population. They's jus' dumb animals. (Not like us.) Like Pete Seeger say "why do we never learn?"
Some oerpowering need of "in charge" I guess. Like we's in charge of whatever small stuff we can be, and alla rest - some almighty all knowing ruler like DonJay Trump or Jaime Diamond in charge of. Yeah.....well nobody dumb 'nuff t'believe that. (Okay, so half the people in the country are that dumb) and they also think the Spirit in the Sky is watchin' oer all of it. I reckon this sorta resignation of personal responsibility help folk sleep at night (or sleep alla they lives away, in a manner a speaking.)
And I reckon is natural enough - we devolved from cave dwellers where the concept was - dad's guarding the cave entrance, so the rest a us can catch our eight hours a night eyes shut, worry free. An' all this progressed t'where's we can keep our eyes closed alla time now. DonJay and Jaime got it covered.
But the "or not" is what y'might wanna consider. Cuz y'either puts a sharp guy like Obama in charge a stuff, or yah's kinda gotta it hangin' out there fer the wolfs and bears t'take bites off'n yer ass. Dontcha know.
Whist wonderin' wot to listen to while scrubbing kitchen floor by hand - is wunnerful exercise, I highly recommend it - beats exerbike all t'hell. But I think I knowed the answer all along - influenced by Marc Eliot Stein's opry podcasts (he aint the only high-toney feller around, y'know).
So I selected Andre Previn's orchestration of Tchaikovsky per Ken Russell's film The Music Lovers starring The London Symphony. Is amazing, no?
Bought that record back in '72 or so after cajoling friends t'go see the movie with me. Probably Bushie and Deano, cuz I know we all saw Jeremiah Johnson and Bushie tried to convince Deano they oughta move to Colorado and become mountain men, which is a pretty good idea really, if you think about it.
Which reminds me, back in them days when I'se in and outta college (I was a non-traditional human, aren't we all) but anyways, I use'ta go to NYC fer Christmas break and see plays and stuff. So one New Years I'se at Lincoln Center - Avery Fisher Hall or sumers, watching symphony perform stuff by that American John Phillip Sousa, I think, or some such wonderful music. And was incredible. Me sittin' there in balcony cheap seats (actually on a knee peering thu railing trying to get as close to that sound as possible). Wow, just overwhelming.
And a few years later, I got that again. So we was doin' public good works stuff down in Panama. I'se with 24th Tactical Fighter Wing flyin' a desk in Admin and Sarge say "hey Lieutenant (you aint doin' nuthin') why'n't you go down t'the Catholic School an' paint they ceiling for 'em?" So I did that, cuz like Marty McFly say "don' never call me chicken" an' dontcha know the damn ceiling on the second floor gymnasium is actually falling in, but so why not paint the sucker anyway. I'se good at it cuz we moved around when I'se a poor kid and y'learn t'do stuff like that, hang wallpaper and what not. We was resourceful folk.
An' so there I am, paintin' this huge old dyin' a fast death ceiling, and kindly old nun bring me cookie and what not, fer break. So...is never gonna get finished anyway, not even with me working hard fast and honest like I do. So, catch m'breath an' light up a smoke, and sittin' there in the second floor window lookin' out at bright sunshine, here come US Army marching band, a marchin' rehearsin' an' playin' Stars and Stripes Forever right there in the little street below me. And of all the folk in whole wide werl, I'se the only person wot gots a ringside seat t'watch and listen to them fabulous music makers play that fantastic music. Thanks Sarge.
Saw that lyin' piece a shit Mitch McConnell on the news this morgen, an' thought to myself "Mitch, you lyin' piece a shit." He calls small business "job producers" and in an augenblink I recollect fifty years of interaction with them there job makers.
Like walkin' into any place of business an' sayin' "I'd like a job." An' kindly old gentleman (or whoever) say "y'know son, we here to make money fer me an' mine, not you an' yours. This is business, not some kinda socialist hippie commune where we all share the profits."
He goes on (politely) "y'gots t'understand yer existence (such as it is). You exist...to work yer ass off so's to make me rich. You're what we call working class - a worker bee - a production line producer of goods and services. And taken together as a whole - you're consumers too - buyers of the stuff you make - which in turn, I can sell back to you."
Well, that doesn't make much sense, but I guess I can kinda understand it. Small business aint in business to make jobs, they're in business to make money...for themselves. So I ask the old guy "you pay my salary, right?"
"Shit boy" he says "you gotta make me enough money to pay for your own salary. Otherwise I'd be losing money by having you around, dontcha see. And look 'round you...you gotta produce enough to pay for this here building, and all the equipment in it. If'n y'caint do that, we's losin' money. And that aint the point, now is it?"
"So" I ask (also politely) "I gotta produce enough to pay for...like twice my salary, right?"
"Shit son" he say "you gotta make enough t'pay fer my big ole house, my fancy car, my vacation to the Bahama's, my kids' college - all that shit - come from the sweat a yer brow down t'the crack in yer ass."
"Doesn't seem fair" I mention "the harder I work...the more you make."
"Now you gettin' it boy" he says "welcome to the American dream."
And he adds "I appreciate guys like Mitch McConnell lyin' out they ass - cuz that's what we pays 'em to do. Put a nice spin on things, dontcha know. Present us in the best possible light - like makin' money for ourselves is somehow patriotic...our duty to the flag and country. An' some poor slobs even believe that shit. Hope so, anyway."
Then he shoes me out the door "move along now boy, I got work for people to do." And I notice a sign above the door "your time is my money." An' I thunk to myself "yo Mitch, this here world-wide crisis is like the perfect storm to change how all this Capitalist shit works." N'est pas?
