So SCOTUS made yet another polarizing and controversial decision this week. They decided that corporations, once again, are people, and women, once again, are not. Big surprise right? I could fill volumes of blogs complaining about how the SCOTUS is wholly owned by the Fascist States of Americorp, or how the general populace is once again being oppressed by the silly putty like drooping silver fox balls of old white cronies, or how Antonin Scalia probably has oddly long nipples inside weirdly small areolas, but I won't. It's gotten to the point in this country, especially over the last few decades it seems, that the check the judicial branch of government is supposed to provide has become more of a nullification or even re-writing of the laws the so called "people's house" puts forth. To lambaste the blatantly corporatist rulings handed down over the years by SCOTUS is an exercise in futility, as well as taking on each shitty ruling one at a time (which has gotten no where ever because the SCOTUS will always use stare decisis, Latin for we are never wrong so go fuck yourself.) The old adage goes like this, "you must treat the disease, not the symptom". Never has there been such a need for this wisdom.
The problem, the disease, (besides Scalia's crazy nips), is the institution of judicial review. If you are not familiar with what that is, lemme sum up; judicial review is the process by witch the highest court of the land examines a law, not to see if it has been broken or violated, but rather if the law is in fact constitutional. If the law in question is found to be unconstitutional then that law is no longer a valid statute or rule. The SCOTUS has the power of precedent, a precedent they set for themselves during the Marshall court in Marbury V. Madison, the unprecedented case to which the first precedent was set for precedent setting by giving themselves the power of precedent and hence forth all decisions would uphold a precedent or set a new precedent, but rarely every go against a previously set precedent. Marbury was appointed a judge by Paul Giamatti, but the paperwork didn't go through until Giamatti left office to play the Rhino in the Amazing Spiderman 2. The guy on the nickel became president, and was all like fuck yo appointments Paul Giamatti, and told his secretary of state not to process the papers that would allow Marbury to become a judge. John Marshall, the chief justice at the time, wrote the court's opinion in the ruling,(that was in favor of Marbury, in case you give a shit). In that opinion, Marshall decided that the SCOTUS needed a bit more power than it already had, and decided, despite no mention of it in the constitution anywhere, that it was well within the power of the supreme court to judge the constitutional validity of a law itself, not just whether it had been breached. This was one of president nickel guy's biggest regrets as POTUS, letting this precedent happen without any sort of challenge. Since that day, the SCOTUS has re-written laws, and interpreted the US constitution like a date rapist sees signs that the victim wanted it, I mean after all, if Santa Clara County didn't want to be fucked by the Southern Pacific Railroad, then they shouldn't have treated it like it was a person...right?
You may think that judicial review has also been a useful tool to the oppressed, and you would be right. Cases like Brown V. the Board of Education was a huge victory in the civil rights movement. Miranda V. Arizona provides for protection against police, and makes for badass banter between good guys and bad guys in our favorite buddy cop films, "you have the right to remain...dead." Roe V. Wade afforded women the protection of their bodies, although it seems that the court is doing something it rarely does here in the Hobby Lobby case, reverse itself...to a degree. These are all great landmark decisions, but nothing that could not have been achieved through legislation. See the civil rights act of 1965 for example. It is not, nor has it ever been the job of the high court to have any sort of say in the writing or even interpretation of the laws. Their job is to be the final stop in the appellate process in judging whether or not a law has been broken. Their check on the other two branches is to find them guilty if they break the laws that government is tasked with writing and executing. That's it.
So while judicial review can be a catalyst for social justice, the fact that most of the time it enables oligarchs to rob more, oppress more, and monopolize the majority of wealth, makes the process devoid of any merits it may eek out of its judicial pooper. Let's stop arguing over table scraps, and start demanding a real seat at the table.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Rebelion For Sale; The High Price of Sticking it to the Man
Once upon a time I was a production assistant. One of my first gigs as such was on a music video for a rock band called Rise Against. They were, and possibly still are, considered a contemporary punk band, a nice way of saying over produced, demo study drenched, MTV creation. My description of them may be considered unfair by some, but fuck those people.
I was hired as an "intern", or slave if you believe in the whole truth thing. My task on this shoot was to cast extras in the music video, coordinate their call times/report details, and wrangle them on set. The night before I was slaving, I mean interning, at the band's show whilst they played a packed Metro on Chicago's north side. The producers told me to seek out very "punkish" looking Rise Against fans and convince them to be in the video shoot taking place over the next 48hrs in the city. The pay; you get to be in the video! With your favorite band! That's cool right?! Maybe after the shoot you can lick their balls and take their kids to the zoo! So like a good exploitable drone, I did just that. I collected about 100 names and numbers from fans who looked like they fit the hot topic demo MTV or whatever shit head record label was going for. The next morning I spent hours racking up a huge cell phone bill reaching out to all these starry eyed rebels so that they can get their chance to work for free! The first location was the brown line train that circled the loop. 1171 productions was the gracious host of this event, and while they could have paid the standard day rate per extra, which in today's dollars starts around $75 for 8 hours of work, but they decided that just being around the "band" was worth sooooo much more. They also would be generously providing cold chicken fingers and chips, along with all the room temperature water these kids could stuff down their faces.
So me and my band of pop culture clothing models/slaves/interns/set dressing with ears, boarded the brown line for the evening's work. As I suspected, all the kids had a blast "rocking out" with one of their favorite bands as the song "Give it All" blared over the PA system and Rise Against lip synced like the anti-establishment cherubs they are. They had a blast...for about an hour. Soon there after the fatigue set in, the el car reeked of b.o., and faces got punched. Time is money on a film set, so bathroom breaks for the slaves were not on the schedule. Soon, those with, and without a penis were forced to piss in water bottles, bottles that had no where to be discarded but at their feet. Like good unsullied soldiers, the punker kids still gave all their energy, moshing and pogo-ing over and over again to the same three cord shit-bomb of a processed "punk" song. Then suddenly, the first actual punk thing happened that evening. As I am standing by the doors of our el car, two female punk extras decide they had slaved long enough. Now keep in mind, part of my pitch the night before was not only "you get to hang out with the band", but also, "you get to be on MTV". I stopped the two women and asked why they were leaving. Their reply was something to the effect of, "this is terrible, you can't treat people like this, it's too dangerous." Ah, but lil ol' wanting to get ahead me tried like a good servant to get them to stay, and that is when I said one of the most embarrassing things I have ever said in my life, "Don't you wanna be on MTV?" The response was amazing, "Fuck MTV".
Over ten years later, and it is just dawning on me now, these women saw what the rest of us were to blind to see. Exploitation had finally reached its greasy tentacles into every facet of life. What was so evil and crafty about this revelation was that the modern bourgeois had developed one of their sleaziest tactics to date; inverse exploitation. Instead of leveraging needs like food, shelter, and necessities to exist over the heads of the unwashed masses hence forcing them into servitude, they were able to get folks to jump at the chance to be used.
The video was chalked full of anti-establishment memes and visuals. Punker kids rampaged the city, posting fuck Bush stickers and vandalizing corporate imagery. I watch the video now and it makes me sick. Mostly because I am aware of how the video was made, but also the veiled hypocrisy it transcends. I picture a room full of greedy shit heads laughing their asses off every time they review the profit margin their product gleans. That product being "counter culture". It's very disturbing to know that this generation is being duped, just like the previous one, into becoming another cog in the consume/debt/slave culture. And that is the true counter culture; an inverse corporate totalitarianism to which people are unwittingly active in their own oppression.
So go on and buy the spiked bracelet, download the song about hating your parents, slather the hair dye into your head until the chemicals seep into your brain. But as you do it, realize something; you're the problem. You have voluntarily turned yourself into the chattel that these leaches feed off of, the only thing now is, they profit from being the bad guys.
I was hired as an "intern", or slave if you believe in the whole truth thing. My task on this shoot was to cast extras in the music video, coordinate their call times/report details, and wrangle them on set. The night before I was slaving, I mean interning, at the band's show whilst they played a packed Metro on Chicago's north side. The producers told me to seek out very "punkish" looking Rise Against fans and convince them to be in the video shoot taking place over the next 48hrs in the city. The pay; you get to be in the video! With your favorite band! That's cool right?! Maybe after the shoot you can lick their balls and take their kids to the zoo! So like a good exploitable drone, I did just that. I collected about 100 names and numbers from fans who looked like they fit the hot topic demo MTV or whatever shit head record label was going for. The next morning I spent hours racking up a huge cell phone bill reaching out to all these starry eyed rebels so that they can get their chance to work for free! The first location was the brown line train that circled the loop. 1171 productions was the gracious host of this event, and while they could have paid the standard day rate per extra, which in today's dollars starts around $75 for 8 hours of work, but they decided that just being around the "band" was worth sooooo much more. They also would be generously providing cold chicken fingers and chips, along with all the room temperature water these kids could stuff down their faces.
So me and my band of pop culture clothing models/slaves/interns/set dressing with ears, boarded the brown line for the evening's work. As I suspected, all the kids had a blast "rocking out" with one of their favorite bands as the song "Give it All" blared over the PA system and Rise Against lip synced like the anti-establishment cherubs they are. They had a blast...for about an hour. Soon there after the fatigue set in, the el car reeked of b.o., and faces got punched. Time is money on a film set, so bathroom breaks for the slaves were not on the schedule. Soon, those with, and without a penis were forced to piss in water bottles, bottles that had no where to be discarded but at their feet. Like good unsullied soldiers, the punker kids still gave all their energy, moshing and pogo-ing over and over again to the same three cord shit-bomb of a processed "punk" song. Then suddenly, the first actual punk thing happened that evening. As I am standing by the doors of our el car, two female punk extras decide they had slaved long enough. Now keep in mind, part of my pitch the night before was not only "you get to hang out with the band", but also, "you get to be on MTV". I stopped the two women and asked why they were leaving. Their reply was something to the effect of, "this is terrible, you can't treat people like this, it's too dangerous." Ah, but lil ol' wanting to get ahead me tried like a good servant to get them to stay, and that is when I said one of the most embarrassing things I have ever said in my life, "Don't you wanna be on MTV?" The response was amazing, "Fuck MTV".
Over ten years later, and it is just dawning on me now, these women saw what the rest of us were to blind to see. Exploitation had finally reached its greasy tentacles into every facet of life. What was so evil and crafty about this revelation was that the modern bourgeois had developed one of their sleaziest tactics to date; inverse exploitation. Instead of leveraging needs like food, shelter, and necessities to exist over the heads of the unwashed masses hence forcing them into servitude, they were able to get folks to jump at the chance to be used.
The video was chalked full of anti-establishment memes and visuals. Punker kids rampaged the city, posting fuck Bush stickers and vandalizing corporate imagery. I watch the video now and it makes me sick. Mostly because I am aware of how the video was made, but also the veiled hypocrisy it transcends. I picture a room full of greedy shit heads laughing their asses off every time they review the profit margin their product gleans. That product being "counter culture". It's very disturbing to know that this generation is being duped, just like the previous one, into becoming another cog in the consume/debt/slave culture. And that is the true counter culture; an inverse corporate totalitarianism to which people are unwittingly active in their own oppression.
So go on and buy the spiked bracelet, download the song about hating your parents, slather the hair dye into your head until the chemicals seep into your brain. But as you do it, realize something; you're the problem. You have voluntarily turned yourself into the chattel that these leaches feed off of, the only thing now is, they profit from being the bad guys.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
The Riddle of Money; A Caveman's Lesson
I am confused by the concept of money. Not so much in that I don't understand how it works, because I don't, and that seems to be the only way such a convention can be viable. I am more so confused by the fact that such an enigmatic system is still relevant in modern society. Most folks have little to no grasp on how the theory of money works, which is how it has been able to sustain itself and become a larger and larger detriment to those who don't know the riddle of money. The best way I can paint the Dalian abstraction of such a convention (Ha! Dali puns) is to bring you on a metaphorical journey back in time. A much simpler time when people wiped their assholes with giant leaves (or not at all), and being eaten was a legit concern.
Imagine if you will, a pre-historic cave community. Members of this stone age commune go about their lives much as you would picture it. They hunt and gather, protect each other from predators, and even barter with each other from time to time. One particular individual, Glorg, has a great skill set when it comes to game hunting. He not only is a very efficient hunter, but also extremely skilled in the craft of making animal pelts. These pelts are immensely useful to Glorg and his family. They keep them warm in the winter, make for an aesthetically pleasing wardrobe, and are much easier on the skin when removing un-wanted bodily fluids. Glorg has a neighbor, his name is Glerg (Names are in the infantile stage of development). Glerg and his family are surviving just barley due to his limited caveman skills. He has taken notice of Glorg's fine pelts and what a boon they are to his family, especially how much hotter Glorg's wife looks in her fur bikini. Now Glerg has nothing to barter with his neighbor for those pelts, but fears he and his family may not make it through another cold winter without them. So Glerg devises a rather clever plan;
Glerg: Hey Glorg! That new batch of pelts is looking great!
Glorg: Thanks man! I had an awesome hunt last week!
Glerg: Yeah yeah, that's cool. Hey listen, you think I can get my hands on a couple of thems.
Glorg: Jeez, I'm not sure pal. I wanna help you out, but winter is just around the corner and I'm not sure if I can part with any. Do you have something to trade?
Glerg: I sure do!
Glerg reaches into his cave and pulls a crude animal skin filled with jagged and filthy rocks.
Glorg: Oh man, um, I don't think I need a bunch of rocks Glerg.
Glerg: What are you talking about?
Glorg: Well, I mean, even if I did, I can get those anywhere for free. Shit, there's more rocks like that strewn about my feet.
Glerg: Not like these rocks.
Glorg: How so?
Glerg: These rocks right here represent something much more valuable.
Glorg: Really? What?
Glerg points to a small pile of very smooth and shiny rocks at the foot of his cave. Glorg is confused (naturally).
Glerg: These rocks are good for trading in for the prettier ones you see stacked up by my cave.
Glorg: Those are nice.
Glerg: So will you trade me for some pelts?
Glorg: You mean the shiny rocks?
Glerg: No, silly, these
Glerg lifts the bag of shitty rocks up so Glorg understands what he means.
Glorg: Why don't you just trade me some shiny rocks for some pelts?
Glerg: Glad ya asked. You see, the rocks I hold in my bag here are good for the shiny ones, which means you can trade them in anytime you want the shiny rocks. Or, or, you can trade the shitty rocks for something else you may desire. It's great because if gives you the freedom of choice.
Glorg: (still confused) So if I want the shiny rocks I can just give you the shitty rocks for them? That seems kinda goofey. Again, why not just trade me the shiny rocks, you have the same amount of shitty rocks.
Glerg: Ah, see that's the beauty of it. This pile of shitty rocks I hold in my hand is no where near the value of shiny rocks I have.
Glorg: Wait, what?
Glerg: Yeah, there is no way in caveman hell I'd let you trade in this pile of dog-shit rocks for my entire pile of shiny rocks! What am I? An idiot?
Glorg: So why would I want to trade you for a pile of something I can't use?
Glerg: Of course you can use them! You can have a portion of shiny rocks whenever you want! Or you can trade with, oh say Glarg down the way for some of his bone necklaces. The point is, you get to choose, and choosing is freedom!
Glorg: I guess I see the benefit in that...
Glerg: Of course there's a benefit! A fantastic one you'd have to be a moron to pass up. I could give you a few shiny rocks, and that would be that. But if I give you the shitty ones, not only will you get more, you can trade them for other things! Do I have to spell it out in Mammoth feces for you?
Glorg: I dunno, wouldn't the shitty rocks lose value the more I trade them?
Glerg: Good point, easy fix. I'll gather more shitty and shiny rocks the more you and the others trade them.
Glorg: Yeah, but the shiny rocks are way more scarce, what happens if you can't find anymore shiny rocks?
Glerg: Then we can trade shitty rocks on credit until we find more shiny rocks! Duh!
Glorg: What if that never happens?
Glerg: These rocks are shiny!! Look how shiny!! You can get all kinds of cool stuff with them! How is this confusing to you?! You're acting like a Neander!
Glorg: Hey! That's not cool to throw slurs like that around bro! I have few, and the word is Neanderthal, friends!
Glerg: Yeah? And how's it going for them?
Glorg: They are slowly starving and being run out of their land by cavemen.
Glerg: So you wanna end up like a dirty Neander...sorry, NEEANDERTHAL?!
Glorg: No.
Glerg: So make the trade! The reason they're about to go extinct is because they are too stupid to understand complex concepts like mine!!
Glorg: I guess you're right.
Glerg: Damn right I am!
Glorg and Glerg made their trade. Glerg and his family went on to survive the winter staying warm and spiffy looking. Meanwhile, Glorg took his pile of shitty rocks and was indeed able to convince other cavemen to trade them for goods and services. Eventually the cave folk of Glorg and Glerg's commune decided it would be easier to spend time gathering rocks to trade. Soon hunting and gathering skills deteriorated as the entire population of that community focused all their energy in creating complex shit rock derivatives, ponzy schemes, and a short lived rock trading futures market. A few years latter Glorg found himself alone by a river bank up to his elbows in a pile of jagged shit rocks crying over his dead family who had starved from lack of food. He choked on his own tears and a large chunk of sediment as he had reflected on the poor choice he made.
What's the moral of this story? It's simple; don't believe the hype. - Chuck D
Imagine if you will, a pre-historic cave community. Members of this stone age commune go about their lives much as you would picture it. They hunt and gather, protect each other from predators, and even barter with each other from time to time. One particular individual, Glorg, has a great skill set when it comes to game hunting. He not only is a very efficient hunter, but also extremely skilled in the craft of making animal pelts. These pelts are immensely useful to Glorg and his family. They keep them warm in the winter, make for an aesthetically pleasing wardrobe, and are much easier on the skin when removing un-wanted bodily fluids. Glorg has a neighbor, his name is Glerg (Names are in the infantile stage of development). Glerg and his family are surviving just barley due to his limited caveman skills. He has taken notice of Glorg's fine pelts and what a boon they are to his family, especially how much hotter Glorg's wife looks in her fur bikini. Now Glerg has nothing to barter with his neighbor for those pelts, but fears he and his family may not make it through another cold winter without them. So Glerg devises a rather clever plan;
Glerg: Hey Glorg! That new batch of pelts is looking great!
Glorg: Thanks man! I had an awesome hunt last week!
Glerg: Yeah yeah, that's cool. Hey listen, you think I can get my hands on a couple of thems.
Glorg: Jeez, I'm not sure pal. I wanna help you out, but winter is just around the corner and I'm not sure if I can part with any. Do you have something to trade?
Glerg: I sure do!
Glerg reaches into his cave and pulls a crude animal skin filled with jagged and filthy rocks.
Glorg: Oh man, um, I don't think I need a bunch of rocks Glerg.
Glerg: What are you talking about?
Glorg: Well, I mean, even if I did, I can get those anywhere for free. Shit, there's more rocks like that strewn about my feet.
Glerg: Not like these rocks.
Glorg: How so?
Glerg: These rocks right here represent something much more valuable.
Glorg: Really? What?
Glerg points to a small pile of very smooth and shiny rocks at the foot of his cave. Glorg is confused (naturally).
Glerg: These rocks are good for trading in for the prettier ones you see stacked up by my cave.
Glorg: Those are nice.
Glerg: So will you trade me for some pelts?
Glorg: You mean the shiny rocks?
Glerg: No, silly, these
Glerg lifts the bag of shitty rocks up so Glorg understands what he means.
Glorg: Why don't you just trade me some shiny rocks for some pelts?
Glerg: Glad ya asked. You see, the rocks I hold in my bag here are good for the shiny ones, which means you can trade them in anytime you want the shiny rocks. Or, or, you can trade the shitty rocks for something else you may desire. It's great because if gives you the freedom of choice.
Glorg: (still confused) So if I want the shiny rocks I can just give you the shitty rocks for them? That seems kinda goofey. Again, why not just trade me the shiny rocks, you have the same amount of shitty rocks.
Glerg: Ah, see that's the beauty of it. This pile of shitty rocks I hold in my hand is no where near the value of shiny rocks I have.
Glorg: Wait, what?
Glerg: Yeah, there is no way in caveman hell I'd let you trade in this pile of dog-shit rocks for my entire pile of shiny rocks! What am I? An idiot?
Glorg: So why would I want to trade you for a pile of something I can't use?
Glerg: Of course you can use them! You can have a portion of shiny rocks whenever you want! Or you can trade with, oh say Glarg down the way for some of his bone necklaces. The point is, you get to choose, and choosing is freedom!
Glorg: I guess I see the benefit in that...
Glerg: Of course there's a benefit! A fantastic one you'd have to be a moron to pass up. I could give you a few shiny rocks, and that would be that. But if I give you the shitty ones, not only will you get more, you can trade them for other things! Do I have to spell it out in Mammoth feces for you?
Glorg: I dunno, wouldn't the shitty rocks lose value the more I trade them?
Glerg: Good point, easy fix. I'll gather more shitty and shiny rocks the more you and the others trade them.
Glorg: Yeah, but the shiny rocks are way more scarce, what happens if you can't find anymore shiny rocks?
Glerg: Then we can trade shitty rocks on credit until we find more shiny rocks! Duh!
Glorg: What if that never happens?
Glerg: These rocks are shiny!! Look how shiny!! You can get all kinds of cool stuff with them! How is this confusing to you?! You're acting like a Neander!
Glorg: Hey! That's not cool to throw slurs like that around bro! I have few, and the word is Neanderthal, friends!
Glerg: Yeah? And how's it going for them?
Glorg: They are slowly starving and being run out of their land by cavemen.
Glerg: So you wanna end up like a dirty Neander...sorry, NEEANDERTHAL?!
Glorg: No.
Glerg: So make the trade! The reason they're about to go extinct is because they are too stupid to understand complex concepts like mine!!
Glorg: I guess you're right.
Glerg: Damn right I am!
Glorg and Glerg made their trade. Glerg and his family went on to survive the winter staying warm and spiffy looking. Meanwhile, Glorg took his pile of shitty rocks and was indeed able to convince other cavemen to trade them for goods and services. Eventually the cave folk of Glorg and Glerg's commune decided it would be easier to spend time gathering rocks to trade. Soon hunting and gathering skills deteriorated as the entire population of that community focused all their energy in creating complex shit rock derivatives, ponzy schemes, and a short lived rock trading futures market. A few years latter Glorg found himself alone by a river bank up to his elbows in a pile of jagged shit rocks crying over his dead family who had starved from lack of food. He choked on his own tears and a large chunk of sediment as he had reflected on the poor choice he made.
What's the moral of this story? It's simple; don't believe the hype. - Chuck D
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