Monday, November 21, 2016

Paradise City


The Swiss Disease: "Oh Won't You Please Take Me Home?"



Since the election, I have searching for the thread to pull that unravels the event and reveals the exigence;  certainly, the material realities for the working class in this country was a big factor, and to some extent, racial and gender paranoias that handed the victory to Trump, despite polling, indicating a Clinton victory in a national example of the Bradley Effect.

South Park's 20th season has, thus far, been a meditation on nostalgia; Mr. Garrison, as a Trump style candidate, becomes President in part due to a toxic nostalgia in the form of addictive member berries.   While Parker and Stone are not the first to observe nostalgia as a narcotic, what is interesting to me is that nostalgia, out of our usual usage, was considered a medical condition until the twentieth century.

Given that we now understand addiction as not a moral failing but a brain disease, I am not sure the torpor of nostalgia shouldn't garner a similar re-evaluation.


True, I am no addiction specialist, nor a medical doctor;  I am nothing but a struggling academic, writer of occasional philosophic/philologic soy bombs, and rubbernecker at the self-immolation of the American Dream as Dumpster (Trumpster?) fire.   So feel free to disregard this assessment of the current zeitgeist as the quintessence of nostalgia:  Matthew 5:14 is Paradise City.

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There are studies that show conservatives are predisposed to racism and lower I.Q.s, and while that maybe true, it is also the confirmation  bias of the smug liberal attitudes about conservatives, and is one of the reason we are all forced to inhale the burning milk carton smoke that is Trumpster Fire administration; the lazy reliance on essentialism.

People did not vote for, nor elect Donald J. Trump, because they were biologically determined to vote that way.   It was not because of some variety of  cognitive impairment; the numbers tell a different story.  College educated whites, people making over 70 grand--all voted for Trump.   This doesn't fit the "deplorables" narrative of  rednecks as Trump's base.  

Further contradicting the narrative is the unsurprising generational oppression factor; Baby Boomers voted for Trump.

The hell, you say?

The hell.

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As far as generations go, the Baby Boomers suck.  They fought for Civil Rights, only to "grow up" and fight against Civil Rights.   They protested the Vietnam War, and saber rattled us into Iraq. They turned self-expression into selfishness, individuality into individualism.  For all the hippie ethos and Woodstock nation horseshit, when change didn't come easy, they cut their hair and ran into the arms of the Establishment.   Instead of reforming the Establishment from the inside, they gutted it, and replaced it with a all-consuming obsession with personal freedom (theirs) as the hegenomy.  They may have read Ginsberg in college, but they offered themselves to Moloch by the eighties.

Ironically, in terms of social safety nets, organized labor and infrastructure, the real liberals were their parents, who actually lived through real hardship.   All the Boomers had do was make sure women, homosexuals and black and brown people had equal access to these things.  That's it.

Instead, they decided to do "their own thing, man."  The "we" became the "me".   Remember the eighties?  Remember Reagan?  America as the shining city on the hill?


We built this city. On Rock N Roll!


The "we", of course, is in the royal sense.

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In my 42 years, I've lived through the eighties at least twice: the first time, from the first grade until the ninth grade under St. Reagan of Santa Barbara, with all the terrible hair, fashions and gated drums and synth horns, not to mention the Cold War, Iran-Contra and the inflation of the bubble to burst twenty years later;  the second time, at the turn of the Millennium, with Bush and the simulacra of the first era--which is funny, because the eighties were, in many ways, just the simulacra of the fifties, really, with some of the sixties and seventies that had been distorted from self-expression to self-regard.  The eighties--and the oughts, were reactionary.  After the upheaval of sixties, the disappointments of the seventies, and the post coke and disco malaise of the late seventies, America wanted its wubbie, and regressed to the jingoism, perceived moral absolutes and safety of the Boomer mediated 1950s, when men were men--unless they were black or brown or into other men--and women didn't utter the letters "ERA" unless they were asking their husbands about Fernando Valenzuela.

The second times, the reactionary wasn't baked into the election of 2000 and was not the zeitgeist, though it quickly became reactionary at September 11th, and re-regressed to the jingoism, adding received moral absolutes of the War on Terror (which, pronounced .by Bush, sounded like "Terra", as in, Earth, but whatever).  Certainly, by this point, women, the LGBTQ community and Black and Brown people were pushing back against the reactionaries, as were youth seeking a more inclusive society.  This push back came in the election of our first African American President.

But let's be clear; each period of reaction ideologically doubled down on the last.  Reagan made Eisenhower look like Roosevelt, Bush made Reagan look Carter.  We are entering another period of reaction, with an evident doubling down on ideology of the last.  Thought Bush Cheney raided the treasury, appointed no-nothings, and promised dangerous incompetence on an epic scale?  Have you been paying attention to the transition?


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A Washington State woman, born during Truman's second term, voted for Trump because she "gave up on hope" after Obama failed to fix four hundred years of capitalist-racist exploitation, again demonstrating why those of us in Generation X and younger think the tales of the Woodstock generation are mostly a dodge along the "I didn't sell out, I bought in" variety to justify how "do your thing" became "do my thing", how individual expression became rugged individualism, how "we" became "me"--or the royal "we", as it were.

Hollow as Jerry Rubins hocking vitamins.  Yippie!

Hollow as David Horowitz "Academic Bill of Rights".  O'er the Ramparts he watched.


I didn't sell out; I bought in.

When you buy in, you wanna protect your investment, ya see?  And what could be safer than a return to when that investment was absolute virtue.

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The term "nostalgia tour" is self-evident, when applied to the reformation of classic bands for the a victory lap and cash grab.   The boomers invented this concept as a way of entrenching a cultural hegenomy ("classic rock", rather than "oldies", because, hey, Grandma still wears Birkenstocks and rocks out to The Cream, so she's not "old", but "classic".  I'd argue there's nothing more classic than Jerry Lee Lewis, but then again, I am a sullen Gen X'er, so what do I know?) as well as exploiting the glory days for money (The Eagles got this started with a reunion and ticket prices only those with means could afford, but now, its a given).  The announcement of the Guns N Roses "Not in this Lifetime" tour, with three-fifths of the original line-up seemed like nostalgia served up for X generation.  This was the first band that "felt" like my band, so I was kind of excited, but too fucking broke to afford a ticket.

Anyway, GN'R could have--and probably do-- relied on the pumping middle aged fists wasted on 

Member berries during the third verse of "Paradise City"--a verse rife with longing for return:

Captain America's been torn apart
Now he's a court jester with a broken heart
He said "turn me around and take me back to the start"
I must be losing my mind "are you blind?"
I've seen it all a million times
The Trump supporter might assert that diversity, "PC" culture, feminism, Black Lives Matter and the usual bogeymen have torn apart Captain America, and that "the start" was the time before all of "this nonsense".   Try the Member berries--they are delicious, imported from Switzerland, apparently.

Yet this song was written during Reagan, and longs for time before the Reagan era's Ozzie and Harriet mediated past, but something else--perhaps not for past that ever was historically, or a mediated past that exists as subsequent simulacras, but the creed erasaed by mediation and simulacra.

In that case, it is not nostalgia at all, but a wistful remembrance of what could be, and the work we still have to do.

It's worth noting that  GN'R are, demographically, on the bubble between Boomers and X'ers, so maybe that blows up my whole point.

Or maybe it doesn't.

Friday, November 11, 2016

The Fault is Not in the Stars

So the worst happened.
And still we live.

As I process the uncertainty, grieve the future, and puzzle at the present,  I keep circling around to my basic sense of self;  my relationship to the Democratic Party has been difficult.   I left in the nineties because of Bill Clinton's triangulating hippy punching neo-liberalism.   I did not vote for a Democratic Presidential candidate until the manifest disaster of George W. Bush in 2004, when I backed a flawed candidate.  It was Barack Obama who made me feel that the party was something I wanted to fight for, even as I then began to wonder why these policies didn't seem to be for me--not really.   I can't really afford the health insurance on what I make trying to tread water in the career Sea of Sorrow.   As I wrote before the election; I get it.

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Tuesday, November 8, 2016

Gimme Fried Chicken!





"Look, I know we've had our differences, The_Wizard, and you've said some pretty mean things about me in the past--some of it was true--and this kind of dynastic thing seems kind of undemocratic . . .but let me ask you:  What the fuck ya gonna do?"


     1.  One Vision


It's amazing how language and musical accompaniment can change our perceptions.  For example, the above Laibach classic is actually a cover of another classic.   Holy shit, right?

Laibach's continuing musical project is to reveal Fascist undertones in Western Popular Music by rearranging the music and imagery into something that would be comfortable in Triumph of the Will. Queen drummer Roger Taylor has said that his lyric for "One Vision"was inspired by the decidedly not-a-Fascist Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., but the arrangement, as with all Queen songs, is over the top, with soaring vocal harmonies, guitar harmonies--everything you would expect from the squillionaire legends.  Switch the title to "Birth of a Nation", sing the lyrics in German, and change the music from Queen's signature pop/ heavy rock stylings to something all together more martial, more strident, more, frightening.  The lyrics, about a utopian vision of "free at last" racial harmony becomes recast into a National Socialist volksreich, civil rights into might makes right, the benevolent civil rights leader into a malevolent fuhrer.

That was the point, of course.  As the great band Living Colour sang, all leaders are, potentially, a cult of personality.  It all depends how the you frame it.  It's like I tell my students about arguments; the introductions are not just thesis containers, conclusions are not just the "almost done" perfunctory paragraphs;  they are the "frame" of the argument.  They orient the reader to the body of the argument, the evidence, the explanation of the evidence.  They give the argument purpose and meaning.  Frames, in circumscribing the argument, shape it.   Phenomenologically, the frame and the argument are one in the same.

     2.  Narratio


In thinking about these two candidates, neither candidate's arguments seemed particularly inviting to me.  I--and my family--are Sanders people (disappointingly, some Sanders people became Bernie or Bust, despite his admonitions, and despite his crafting the platform, Sanders had the cult of personality foisted upon him, and his message of reason and humanity became ideology, and the busters ideologues sharing Breitbart stories and Hillary for Prison memes). Clinton was not my candidate (herehere) because of her centrist instincts, her hawkishness, and the panoply of unforced errors that envelop them like a fart in a car.   A lefty by disposition, the GOP offers me little, and actually seems to go out its way to tell me to "go fuck myself".  This time, beyond the "go fuck myself", they actually seemed to pivot to something altogether more dark: a populism that recalled the worst in human history (here, here) while displaying an absolute disregard for even tenuous truthiness into absolute delusion, pouring gasoline on smoldering class and race resentments, effectively burning down facts for his follows and replacing it with a political ideology that is unconcerned with fact, unconcerned with discourse, unconcerned with anything other than aggressive rage and its own inchoate will to power.   The rise of the Alt-Right, with its thin veneer of irony and the humor only a meathead could chortle to, is altogether a different animal than the Klan, and the usual right wing suspects.  Beyond John Birch, we find ourselves looking at a preppier-troll version of Derek Vinyard, yet, I wonder how many of these trolls will go all in, with the rhetoric and the ideology, and become street soldiers. "Go fuck yourself" will most certainly become "Up Against the Wall, Motherfucker", if they have their way (and my online interactions, as well as crawling through the sewer of comment sections, see to indicate this maybe the case).


     3.  Adulting is no fun


During this last administration, I lost my appointment through Ohio collegiate restructuring (fuck you very much), and watched the pathways to baccalaureate degrees disappear for the poor and working class students.  During this period, there were brief periods of respite (a Visting Instructor position that only lasted a year--fuck you very much) and a whole lot of teaching at practically every higher education institution in three states for half the pay.  I have realized that whatever trappings of the middle class I had obtained are slowly disintegrating.  Deeply in debt, and struggling to pay bills, skipping meals, I am grateful for my wife and certain that we will be okay once she starts kicking ass for the people as a defense attorney.  I understand the frustration, the sense that, for the son of an autoworker, the scales have been thumbed the whole time.  I feel that, after doing the right things--college, pursuing a career that is not lucrative but necessary and in demand--that the ladder has been pulled up as it always has been, and should just have known my place and stayed where my people had always been: in the factory.  Except the factory closed, and that job is gone, too.

There.  I said it.  I feel class resentment.  I feel exploited.  I had a full time appointment, was moving up the ladder, getting great evaluations, contributing to all levels of the university, and by the stroke of a rich and prominent man's pen, it was all gone, and I'm now here, hustling every day for scraps, trying to get by on the hope that the institution will remember its mission, and I will be restored to my career.  Good luck with that.
I am one of the forgotten, wondering how the fuck all this happened.

Here's what is doubtless: None of this was ever the fault of Black people, Latinos, the LGBTQ community, Feminists or Hollywood.  No vague notions of walls, or "America First", or "Greatness" will fix this.  No unfocused rage, no amount of trolling will fix this.

People like Trump did this to me, moneytizing everything.  Trump wants to end the Department of Education, costing nearly 500000 teachers their passion and livelihood.  What do you think will happen to me, with no contract and no representation?

People like Trump want the WASP male restoration to permanent hegenomy. What do you think will happen to my students who are not WASP males?  Back to the ghetto, back in the kitchen, back in the closet.  Know your place.

On a roll here.

People like business hippie Gary Johnson did this do me.  He has the practically same education policy as Trump, costing nearly 500000 teachers their passion and livelihood.  I realize, of course, I will be free to spend that time contemplating the irony for a working class person is that the prescriptions in Hayek's The Road to Serfdom is literally the road to serfdom.  But hey, weed will be legal!  And I'll be to broke to enjoy it.  Freedom and shit.

Okay, what about the Greens?

The Greens didn't do this to me; that is true.  And they would likely improve the country a great deal. Call me when they get a serious candidate.

     4.  The Frame


My candidate didn't win the nomination, but he did win the platform.  There is a roiling,robust liberal-left coalition dragging the Democratic party left (no, not the GOP talking point "left", which has recently included, get this: John Kasich), but to an actual, people's, New Deal Loving Left to keep the corporate and centrist Democrats in check.

We need a New New Deal.  I've been saying it for years.

What is the best, most realistic chance for this: Hillary Clinton.


Why?

Because I am sure that, give the choices, she is closest to that point of view, as the nominee of Roosevelt's party.

And?

I don't want to jailed as a political prisoner by the Fascist Trump and his followers.

Anything Else?

That, in my 42 years, I have voted for the first Black President, and then, the first Woman President, is pretty radical.  Not in the 80's, Point Break  "Warchild only lives to get" sense. No.  It is rad-i-cal.  Which is why the reactionaries, the authoritarians, the alt-right and the cranks are losing their shit.  Good.  The National Creed is coming to pass, slowly but surely.  The arc of the universe bends toward justice.

     . . .
Well, shit.