Sunday, 24 July 2016

Convenient Collective Culpability

The files in the Department of Contradictions Held Fast Simultaneously are swelling to an extent only as the preoccupied would have it, which means they are piling up no matter how you dice it. Yet, still, I cry for distinctions.

Every death that comes to be attributed to another entails each of these accused's actions to be met with the speculation as to his or her affiliations, investigations, calls to wait for these and see, not to rush to foregone conclusions, succumb to fear's rationalizations.

This is most prominently manifest in the wrangling between self-identified liberals and conservatives of the brigade of social media, who, god love 'em, are changing the world one post at a time.

The flame throwing press certainly feed this and no matter how circumspect their "what we know and don't knows" would have it, certain words are taken up, always spoken and/or printed regardless of context. Is he or Is he not?

The consumer response asks "Can we not see that he is summoned from the ideology of my would-be ideological tormentors?" or "Isn't it just the fucking guns?" but never both or neither.

Whatever the stated position, one thing remains true to form: Whether we twist to non-ascription of the criminal so as to buoy tolerance of the innocent, or bend to calling everything names because to do otherwise is worthless and weak, we are at war. At least we are said to be. Always. Always at war with a Name. If there's thinking outside of this box, it hardly ever does anything other than question whether there might be two or three names. Even in the case where it is established that the namer made up The Named, the war on the name stays steadfast.

Despite the irrelevance of the claims of responsibility, the veracity of those claims or identity of the claimant, one way or another the name is propped up as something to oppose, or as in the case of the more activist warrior, something to kill for. Conveniently.

This bears repetition: the Name is something to kill for. Any association with the named need not be any nearer than that. The name alone is enough for untold trillions in expenditure, as well as swinging an axe at strangers on a train. The collective of the former adds further convenient justification to the motive of the latter, which in return feeds the former's irrational self-justification. Now, when I say irrational, I mean those who don't profit from it.


Bullying back with bullets
It's been said that yesterday's pistol wielding killer in Munich had been under psychiatric care and complained about having been bullied for seven years. I wouldn't venture to reckon if his excuse corresponded to the truth of his convictions but I do believe that the world would be better without meanness & violence and don't doubt that the bullied sometimes fire back indiscriminately.

Just imagine what it'd be like to live with the ever-present fear that you or your family might be recipients of an explosive projectile because somebody three doors down doesn't seem to be acting right according to "intelligence". Might you feel picked on? The American First Lady's call for awareness of bullying would take on a profound new dimension if so many people weren't trained in the art of believing the harm they inflict on the innocent serves a greater innocence.

Even if all of this is lost on us, it is not lost on those who pull the strings. If it were, it wouldn't be string pulling; it'd be the folly that the social media activist often says it is... right there next to his advocacy for the nearest puller of his strings.

__


When it was revealed that the apartment house in my 'hood that had been beset by riot cop-backed evictions belonged to a shell firm at whose sole behest — and lack of legal justification — the evictions had been carried out, it was too late for a mindset change even though the evictions were ruled unlawful. For it had already been established by a people not into firsthand knowledge that the automobiles burning nightly on the streets were attributable to the likes of those who occupy this particular building.

Forget that the occurrence of arson had largely abated prior to the convenient harassment that preceded the evictions. Let us rather view the increase in vandalism to everyone being harassed because the evidence is so perfectly circular.

Forget that the actual occupiers — as a matter of semantics — are any new occupants of the building, and by extension the neighborhood, who by virtue of the landowner's looking to late-capitalize off of hip property, would require the previous occupants' being removed.

While we're at it, let's just forget how landowners come to own the land in the first place.

The question is: If someone in your building is suspected of a crime, what circumstances need be met before Law & Order decides to bug bomb the lot of you and make room for the next crop of sub-gentry?

Other than the provincial concerns circling Berlin's imminent mayoral contest, one might wonder what & for whom is convenient this attempt underway to streamline how "far-left" and "far-right" are treated by the arms of city-state justice, by branding them the catchall "extremist" – superordinate to their respective legal transgressions as already defined.



Execute with extreme non-prejudice.
When a guy randomly knifes his co-passengers or takes target practice on mall shoppers, is the best response point-counterpointing sarcastic knife ban proposals versus how much deadlier the rapid fire of bulletry is, or a rush to pit the NRA against ISIS as enemy number one, considering the bottom-line ideology that weaponizes the world to its chattering teeth reaps the rewards of the conflicting principles that say we should profile & execute them by remote so that we don't have to discriminate against them in person?

Is this not the same pretzel logic that calls for due process while taking as given that the public executioners are telling the truth when they say the executed was a shooter, while in all the days and months before, the cockamamie stories cooked up by cops encountered deep disbelief thanks to the presence of (in)convenient video?

Might the difference maker be the universal headlines that co-dubbed the story titled Five Officers Down in Dallas the worst such case since 9/11, thereby rendering examination of any available video to "kooks" who can't quit? (We better keep an eye on them.)

Just how close can extrajudicial process kill, and do you only care about it in the "first they came for the (blanks)" way, which betrays that you don't really care about the (blanks)?

Can the Good Cop really protect the people from destined degeneracy? Might there be issues that trump all others, which in point of fact do not carry that name? Will the big culprits forever remain too big to tell?

Sunday, 17 July 2016

Double Dee goes to Karlsruhe

Dear S,

Thank you for your reply.

I have been so hin und her gerissen regarding your reception of my Humanity Sentence as so unduly irreverent so as to disqualify me from the field of Deutsch Denkertum. Then, that you referenced as leading Denker someone for whom there is no Simple English Wikipedia entry, well... talk about flippant!

Tuesday, 5 July 2016

Diary of an April Unseen

Tuesday 7b

I saw her from afar coming right toward me.
She wore canvas shoes and approached as if floating
in black and white. Even the dog who followed was
half-submerged in the black.

In truth, I've grown old waiting.

Now I comprehend too late that the closer she
came, the greater the distance, and that
we will never meet.
—Odysseas Elytis

Sunday, 3 July 2016

Der Parkbank Pinkler
Kapitel XII: Konstanz: Ballast der Ewigkeit

Die Wahrheit ist nicht da drin, es ist da draußen.
Doch, vielleicht hier drin, aber nicht da drin.
—irgendjemand irgendwann


Tuesday, 28 June 2016

Pieces of Woo

The music in my previous entry comes from Pieces of Woo: The Other Side (1993).


Original photo by Thi-Linh Le

Saturday, 25 June 2016

Dr. G. Bernard Worrell, Jr.

T & I met Judie Worrell at a WOOnderful gig in Chicago. I only slowly realized at the time that she wasn't just some sweet lady working the merch table for Bernie Worrell. She was & has always been the champion of all things Bernie, personal and public.

Last night he succumbed to illness. Today I feel for those who knew & loved him most, like, for example, his Rubberband brother Bootsy. Even more I hope for solace in peace for Judie, who's witnessable fortitude over the course of this year reminds me of the unreckonable resolve my mother showed when she bravely ushered my father forth.

Friday, 17 June 2016

Sunday, 5 June 2016

Trump's Ali's Legacy? Come on.

Let's not pretend — in our rush to yet again highlight Trump by lowlighting him — that America at large hasn't been using the icon that is Muhammad Ali as some sort of spotlight for itself (note that I let America off the hook by using the neuter pronoun). By trumpeting "Ali's legacy" America pretends its legacy has something in common. But what is America's legacy since Ali? What has changed as a result of Ali's actions?

Möbius Plank to the 33rd Degree

V. Rothschild Rockefeller V pushed the button for the top floor and watched as the attendant's eyes disappeared behind the closing doors. Given the lettering inside the jacket he'd just had hoisted upon his shoulders, NON-HEREDITARY BIRTHRIGHT TO BE FREE FROM DUTY-BASED RESPONSIBILITIES, it was an odd custom to have to select his own floor, strange alone when it was the only one available in the lift. Responsible or not, though, there were customs that would be adhered to, no matter how far... or high one'd come, or was going.

In this case, literally, he'd climbed the structure to the 3rd level where, escorted by seriously armed security, he would step into a horizont-ivator like the one in the Stasi Museum (yet another state that'd appropriated the compass for its emblem, he thought), ostensibly to the center column where he'd be ushered as high as 10 by a new set of guards whose badges indicated the prospective level – as well as their current grade.

From there he walked back to the end of the 10th corridor, adjacent to its outer column, and repeated the procession three levels at a time, each time accompanied by the corresponding initiates, all the way to the 31st, where he climbed a set of stairs to the next level, where he was not met by the only other 32er he knew — who had been however at the formal ceremony the previous evening in the lodge — but by a white-gloved servant with a key on a cushion, which V. used, with minor assistance from the man in the white glove, to trigger the opening of a hole in the wall, into which V. engaged his genitalia until ejaculation.

The elevator doors opened.