After a third round of communication with Blurb.com (see “Authors Must Read” for details) I have pulled all my books from their company site and will no longer be doing business with them. Considering some seven years and hundreds of hours of time and money spent setting them up for print production by these clowns posing as business people. I do not do this lightly.
However, I cannot in all good conscious deal with a company that does not protect its customers. One that bends to the whim of parties unspecified and then won’t even provide any details as to what is exactly the situation is about. Let them service other careless Liberals who say and do what they are told and daily engage in customary hypocrisy virtue signaling but never backing up their pathetic words with and meaningful action.
Perhaps other authors who have a mind to bind their ideas into the printed page might reconsider the impact of the current corporate hegemony whatever their views in terms of similar cases of potential vulnerability to material that can be arbitrarily yanked at any time?
Everyone has their own path and challenges. For me I would rather have the power to control my own ideas as opposed to by bullied by some organization that won’t even give me the respect of a discussion. Goodby Blurb.com!
I had supposed long ago that when l left middle school I felt that I was as likely a candidate for being generally considered as worthy of consideration of being as educated person as the next. This did not mean that I had been recognized by those who officially designate such things as an exemplary student or even a stand out athlete. It did mean in a more personal sense of same that I had made a pact with myself to take the coming challenges that I sensed were out there waiting to be encountered and make it my business to find a way to compensate for any of the shortcomings that I might be found to be insurmountable. A mental exercise held with myself and myself alone. Yet, in hindsight, a mental exercise unlike one from any previous time where one would expect to build upon the foundation of current society. But one that would seem to suggest being the subject of an experiment who had as a result of it had been thoroughly indoctrinated by a divergent cultural perspective insinuated simultaneously while the facade of something reasonably conventional had been thoroughly diffused. The medium of what was loosely considered family entertainment in the home called television. The late nineteen-sixties became considered a time of the start of a significant fundamental shift in the mindset of the population of the Western World from national to a global oneness. The irony being that the designated rival of Communism versus what I was told was Capitalism was in fact simply a different means based upon a slightly different structure of social control. Given the hindsight of so many decades since, it is now apparent that those times found me pre-programed to accept and even in my own way enable this change.
The significance of an active violent cancellation of national leadership by internally planned assassination that represented the mainstream social mores some five years previous by what were essentially a well-embedded cadre maintaining clandestine Socialist based ideologues. The predecessors of the same institutionalized defacto standards that are now prevalent affecting all citizens of the USA. Old dynasty’s that had been subsequently dissolved in fruitless massively destructive internecine rivalries of their hereditary leaderships that subsequently dismantled their control while transitioning all wealth in the process into the hands of agents interspersed at all levels that had tirelessly work from within to depose them. The domestic based agents of this hegemony having been introduced to seats of great influence through an open gate provided by the quasi-Socialist administration of Franklin Delano Roosevelt who had been instrumental in ensuring a subsequent world war. Once again functioning upon a global scale through the organ of the U.S. Federal Government, these operatives assuming existing control of the nation initially through emergency economic measures that easily transitioned into war powers based executive branch mandates. A recondite Socialist ingrained elite that acted at the behest of the overseas cabal directing the dissolution of Europe and Asia through an unprecedented level of conflict through modern arms. The segments of commerce and mass communication directly in the hands of this group whose mission was to destroy the remaining vestiges of old empires remaining after the last horrendous world conflict and replace them with their global based vision of the same. These viewpoints collectively assuming the cover term. “Liberal.” A polite term that masked the transplanted quasi-religious sect from Eastern Europe that had in recent centuries fashioned their own members into the model of what would be known as the modern multi-national corporation Something that had once again been evident in the subsequently assassinated President’s compromise to gain power in election. The members of his cabinet taken from a select group of the previous leadership that had conducted this elitist’s gambit in the second world war some twenty years previous.
My own formative generation that had been superficially ingrained with what today might be called the ‘traditional values’ from our parents in actuality primed to dispose of them. Though the ‘old’ generation had also been passively indoctrinated through hard times by Hollywood movies and national radio broadcasts that attempted to instill a collective consciousness through a singular popular identity of unilateral passivity in patriotism. Something that did not exist in light of the constant flood of immigrants from overseas burdening a newly birthed egalitarian professed society that did not in actuality possess one. The avatars that were presented encompassing a morality based upon cartoon values as guided in media bombardment by that same previously mentioned foreign cabal. Something that had been silently invaded a century previous and subsequently molded into the heir apparent of the old European mentality challenged empires. . Now they were free to continue their enterprise as the last wholly intact force to reshape the damage on a global scale that they had wrought by their agency. The facade of professing newness while demonstrating a fearful illusory umbrella of mutually assured destruction with the designated ‘strawman’ rival of what was called Communism. A world view that had eventually became recognized as a public relations based construct that was part and parcel the exact same system except based upon the use of a consumerism as a means of indirect social control.
Now my generation and I were fashioned into a contradictory framework of being both a consumer and social anarchist. The manifestation of same in using our resources to gain purchase ideological materials in the form of books, audio recordings and paraphernalia that enhanced a youthful young adult motif of an adherent to the amorphous lack of values of something called a counterculture. The springboard the propaganda promoting a facade to the disassembled world of ‘new’ democratic values though implementing socially conscious consumerism favoring technology displacing old cultural idenities of local communities slowly dissolving regional individualism. The ashes of the old world fostered by the careful machinations of this cult now the foundation for rebuilding a new one along the lines of internationalism and a singular pyramid structure. Something that my own post-war generation had been oblivious to until later life when we had found ourselves at its mercy. The tried and true pattern of constant economic and constant fear based instability fostering inherent competition versus cooperation now perfected in ‘Liberally’ employed upon successive generations of children and grandchildren giving us the world as it is today. These well-laid psychologically inflicted socially implemented means of control now in place worldwide in a system that might challenge and Orwell with its sophistication and subtleties of unsuspected influence upon the average citizenry of all the political units of the earth. Wisdom eventually coming at an extremely high price.
It seems that those that embrace the world of following the impulse to foster their own personal sense of aesthetic self-expression doom themselves to perish alone as wholly unrecognized for any of the superlative achievements. That relative degree of recognition for which they strive always elusive and too often conferred posthumously based upon a false sense of prestige that has nothing to do with the intent of the artist’s inspiration int he first place. And perhaps those that are most ready to dismiss it out of a fear and a kindred sense of egotism that makes them a natural rival of the artist.
I seem to also be someone whose past periodically catches up with me at poignant intervals during rocky points of existence. Big dreams reverting to nightmares. Empty places that I fill with Déjà vu mixed with unconscious despair. But not being the crying kind, deferring to those proclivities of that once famous oeuvre of an Arthur J. Prufock. I would prefer to scuttle about my own private ocean bed in a blissful solitude. This dust barely settled from the last century being inevitably stirred up again by the conservation of its old stone edifices to serve as beards for the anarchy of repetitive structural postmodern monotony. The old being freely supplanted by youthfully ignorant echoes of this same trite scheme. And I being stricken now caught in a moldering frame with the curse of youth still vibrantly in force within.
Modern A-B-C’s of sine-wave modulation standing in for song lyrics. An anonymous machine-like mechanical chorus completely usurping the libretto of the singer who become a mere accompanist to his own star billing. Perhaps no one knows how to really draw or sing anymore and they must cover their tracks? They by rightful destiny that I so scrupulously avoided, might be an audience composed of my grandchildren traipsing about with the misapprehensions only successive decades of hard life experience can resolve and decisively put to rest. This hiatus suffered on the fringe of a roundabout of change for change’s sake posing as inspiration a reminder of so many of my own past confusions. And defeats.
Chicago, as that city on the lakefront. The main drag border of culture and commerce supporting occasional leftover halls of ivory and stained glass ceilings that by happenstance alone still serve to convey a lost era when architecture was imbued with civic personality and the soul of a future vision. The ebb and flow of errant humanity collectively motivated by common deceit to travel daily through ruts and familiar linear beelines being wholly ignorant of such purpose. Though their own previous namesakes long ago erased as a species. Something that might have served as a foundation stone for building their own personal identities now long ago been wiped out. This stasis of absolute conformity operating smoothy within an immovable continuum. Something all too obvious to the objective observer who connects with stark regularity the predictable quirks of commercial avatars too easily counted. All manner of vermin bustling about their immediate surroundings with similar missions in mind. The common behavior shared by all of deflecting all potential rivals in near vicinity at any cost.
Community now a vague descriptor left over from a bygone era out of date before computers and phone machines perverted the nature of time. Before cell phones robbed humanity of the ability to take int he muse of their surroundings at leisure and be overwhelmed with the majesty of the natural universe. Powered enclosed wagons and that natural friction come of portable interior spaces now far removed from the passing terrain outside. The palpable fictional illusion of a group identity carrying moral envy to illogical extremes fostering conversations with total strangers based upon brand names and socially supervised interests. The contingent all to happy to abandon their awkward individualisms in favor of the semiotics of outward appearances as governed in the moment by the latest styles commercially pushed by the corporate drugged culture of the most recent trend. A pantomime more likely a coverup to exhibit a silent strength in numbers as opposed to a pleading cry of weakness. A fatal irony cast by this plastic mentality that all will eventually decline into an amorphous approximate.
So anonymous at last! A passing act in the waking Hell of the eternal misplaced promise. Better to be unseen and fit in with the background rather than stand out and be an easy target solely responsible for their own highs and lows. Life eventually defaulting to a bitter brew of cheap beverage. A developed disdain for orally exercised distastes. Maybe the worst pricks in the world are the best judges of human nature? So many people want someone else to write their script so their tale comes out as a happy ending. But at this point even if they had $100,000,000.00 they would still end up swilling two-dollar beers. This era rankles at the sound of the truth being told and covers its ears until the comfort of the most specious nonsensical fiction drowns that out. So be it!
If you have ever noticed in a multiplex big budget possible disaster there is a strenuous marketing effort involved in blasting your senses with the proper selection of trailers of upcoming bombs that Hollywood has to offer. Most of which you probably see the best part of the film within the two to three minutes of non-stop action packed into the respective preview. Forget seeing the movie that you expected to see you are there to wade through ten or twelve mind and ear numbing, “Boom, Boom, Boom!“, sonic assaults specially tuned to two digit frequency ranges stick in your mind like a steel barbed arrow would stuck in your flesh. Considering that Tinsel Town has long abandoned pleasing the default population’s sensibilities in favor of apply techniques of incessant virtue signaling of the brave new world that they want to come to pass it is all you can do to not get up and walk out. “Oh look, its another emotionally maxed out female anti-hero going postal!” At least until the main feature starts which is generally at anybodies guess. Maybe their marketing department could figure out how tired I am of seeing wispy doe eyed suburban heroines high on the heroin of third wave man hating feminism? How many whites villains do I have to constantly suffer defaming through until it balances out some overwhelming disparity of numerical realities in non-white national crime statistics? Why would I thrill to the male of the species being tried and hung guilty of being the scapegoat in a diversity happy black female victim rage soaked scenario? No wonder it takes breakaway walls and sugar glass not to mention a hefty amount of rotoscope’d post-production image replacement to acrobatically wire work your villain through space into a plate glass window. if you are ninety pounds soaking wet. Do bull dykes and young wimpy black suburban males really get orgasms from this stuff? All the while, the speakers roar and writhe in low bass deep sea echo chamber huffing. Probably in a fashion not too dissimilar to some grammar school delinquents snuffing model glue contaminated acetone. Ouch!
So, OK, anyhow, now on to the feature movie. . . ?
Hard being a ghost retreading former territory that once so long ago I, along with so many long gone faceless others had hoped to have to tread about like terrible dinosaurs. But we like so many countless others became errant memories barely whispered of if ever acknowledged. Our dust intermingles now, blowing through the particles of long lost ancient temples from forgotten kingdoms and other societies that have collapsed without a peep. Those that we never knew or could hardly have imagined. The possibility of their existence having taken up this same space as deep to the mind as the pre-diluvian plains that now stretch out in every direction on the ocean’s floor. This irresponsible present no shelter to provide the eternal muse of those that dream themselves as perpetually immortal. The very ones that harbor their fragile cleverness in an arrogance that supposes that they could ever know anything more finite than the cold indifferent wind blowing through the centuries. What fools we were in youth to allow ourselves to be fooled!
So when did the race addictive penchant for mob violence against one’s own become the latest popular fad? To take a pick axe to virtues completely incomprehensible to those raised to be part of a herd. Card carrying fellow travelers raised by a system impregnated by antipodal minded Marxists to snap to attention when the Red Orchestra plays its old tired calamitous tune of “Monkey See, Monkey Do!” To so easily go along without a single question or speak up on your own behalf in maybe even whispering under one’s breath a single unrepentant, “No!” To allow one’s self to be led around by the nose with a ring of specious political diatribes undermining one’s own bedrock values from under their own feet. All the while believing that such recreation in this atavistic minded sensibility will not change their own particular situation one iota. For those too jaded by the sanctity of security afforded by the smokescreen of their Middle Class self-hating lifestyles with those smug attitude of nothing will change for them so soon to shatter their own suburban plate glass picture window in a hail of pavement stones that they have encouraged their own dear youngsters to throw. Nothing in that sense ever does really change. A fool is ever a fool’s own undoing.
So put one’s own neck in that ready noose that is casually offered by the current fashion of the times. But don’t cry when it is suddenly yanked tight and you choke! The lambs being guided on the way to their eventual slaughter having all along been the ultimate master plan. For regime change is a notion that begins at home only when practiced by cadres of artful foreign deceivers brought too readily into the bosom of one’s land. Dumb livestock may bleat in protest within the slaughterhouse pens on the way to their own demise. But at least they haven’t been guilty of shutting their senses to the inevitable fact of it now operating in full gear. Much less intelligent still are those who deny their own reality and defer judgment in their own defense without a peep because it might offend. The ultimate tyranny being the notion that speech of any type is too intolerable to be publicly heard. The fallacy of willfully plunging one’s head in the sands of indifference while being steadily co-opted into acceptance of yet another patent lie that has been sold as for the good of all.
It seems there is a controversy that in a divided sense borders on a tempest in a teapot and out and out socially oriented moral hazard. The progenitors release these dispatches as regularly as time release capsules into the social fabric. My guess being to slowly burden the public’s consciousness with at the very least useless and trivial irritants. The reasons behind same vary from the articulated corporate monopoly spheres’ overall agenda of complete world domination to just being spoilers to demonstrate to a population that would prefer to be left alone to their own devices who is boss in the thinnest possible definition of the word, ‘entertainment’. Having empowered itself through the authority of so many police and crime based dramas over the years the media has taken over the duty of trying public individuals in it kangaroo courts of manufactured public opinion.
A notable member of those on the list rounded up for public castigation and rotten cabbage throwing is one James Gunn. Wunderkind director of the latest brand of illusory human saga designed to replace all traces of actual historical heritage through the extra potent acid of unbounded Post-Modernism, Guardians of the Galaxy. It seems that Mr. Gunn has revealed a penchant for repeatedly expressing himself in the analogy of sexually abusing children in that great virtual planetary private men’s room, Twitter. The organization that had employed him to produce his highly grossing movies casting out of his latest project like a hot potato. At face value of the allegations that would naturally spring to mind from a brief reading of many of his tweets, a reasonable proposition. Something that appears on the surface to be a long overdo house cleaning by the interlocking multinational monopolies posing as film companies in light of the political and economic backlash of the viewing audience who don’t accept the notion of being considered socially deplorable by Marxist standards.
Taking a closer look at this particular episode reveals something that suggests that beneath the surface of all things crafted Hollywood and political exists a rotten core. In this case, the fabric of this director’s output that in two eight figure budgeted previous epics appear to be designed to dement and scramble the mind as efficiently as any Madison Avenue ad giant or Tavistock Institute study. The notion of crafting the illusory technology of computer graphic eye candy to wallpaper psychologically twisted syndromes in chronic displays of dysfunctional behaviors color coded in hues of green, blue and golden reek of a truly perverted view of contemporary society. Only the tormented mind of a Metropolis Rotwang could cook up such subconscious horrors to throw at the id’s of an already culturally damaged generation. Mr. Gunn has his fun dreaming up the pathetic and disturbed and packaging it in a manner that raises the specter of a Willie Wonka chastising children with his own product in a single bite.
Consider characters that can be read out of the bible of the tabernacle of the destruction of God and Western Society, the DSM-6. Handsome young fatherless manginas that wander vacantly through existence unable to connect with the notion of monogamous relationships. Scarred women literally green with envy and bipolar behavior who exercise their inner frustration in bouts of destructive physical fury. A musclebound male anima lost too long ago in a gym cum tattoo parlor that seems totally lacking in any mental sophistication that substitutes steroids for common sense. A Raccoon posing as a perpetually irascible first born sibling in disguise ever one step ahead of inexhaustible supply of social rejects and random delinquents who he delights in torturing with an never empty bag of technological tricks. And then best of all a clueless infant that seems fatally bound to recalcitrant perpetual innocence of any and all situations so as to be the perennial victim ala a Voltaire’s Candide. A motley crew of social degenerates all! Then consider their adversaries! Golden fairy princesses gone overboard with the the precious metal as a visual offering for everything. A mean spirited surly looking blue guy who like to whistle through his teeth to shoot an arrow through anyone who gets in his path with his metal Mohawk crew covered pate. A random vaguely human looking castoff from the extras not used in the now defunct Pirates of the Caribbean franchise.
Take these Marvel action figure inspired cartoon personas and add scenarios that quickly boil down to errant devious fathers, ice cold emotionally removed mothers, tons of playground style situations of toys and other meaningless cancerous Dungeon and Dragon card scenarios and stir them in an updated vessel modeled upon the caldron of Macbeth’s three witches and you have a truly toxic brew that assure that any who drink of the same will be fated to be accosted by the NWA’s version of man not born of woman. If this is the finest expression of Mr. Gunn’s genius and that of his pre-Millennial generation then I might suggest taking up heroin overdosing as a more productive hobby. One might pause at this point and reflect upon the proposition of the citizenry of this current era in point of fact being under heavy duress of a highly organized pyramid focused power structure that is determined to concert humanity into products upon a metaphorical conveyor belt from which there is no escape. This genre of movie making not designed to entertain but to dement. Is it fair for Mr. Gunn to be taken to task for his disturbing tweets? No, Mr. Gunn and the media companies that employ his sort of mental visually mounted analogies need to be given a proverbial ride out of town covered in tar and feathers on a rail.
As a child I could recall that methane smell of the Southside. Something that was ever present coming from the tank farm by the canal at Cicero. Going south of the newly constructed expressway meant that smell or occasionally smouldering potatoes. Now it’s Sitting on the main thoroughfare in front of a little bar. Two dollar bottles of beer on a pleasant weekday afternoon spending eight dollars in a six dollar world playing Siddartha. Recovering from a third world moral animatronic wet dream fulfilled by endless ghetto rangers asking what your sense of ‘better’ is? Neocon wrapper flavored Jooooz repetitively pulling their same old schemes. A sensation of expectation that has no defined rational beyond a feeling. Not so extraordinary in terms of so many times before experiencing the same. Need for the sake of arcane nerd speak. Reality being belief based upon the habit of belief. The consensus of belief. The need to look behind the curtain and take the left handed path. Not just to believe for the simple sake of believing.
The usual crowd of the mentally down and out. Petty political complaints fill the air. Set the boundaries of discourse. Who can find a fit topic to bespeak to strangers outside your immediate circle? Everything abounds in demoralized Ruralpeans and professional victims! Social destruction on an unprecedented global scale. And you wanted to hear about relief from same? The way that Society is currently configured is that everyone no matter how grievously misshapen who pitches in the shekels from weekly labor to purchase the latest glad rags on the customary sale racks get to expect respect from their circle of miscreants following the same regimen. No one asking question is allowed to awaken the the sleepers as that might hurt the otherwise perpetually fragile economy. But the truth remains that a pig is a pig and someone who is a self-centered self-empowered miserable human being who has nothing better to offer than the latest sports scores or who wa on last nights Late Show is damned to enslavement in Hell of this ongoing social fiction.
The measure of a person is their actions and their grit to be themselves in the best sense of same and not just another passive sycophant to the Kabbalah of modern online I-phone marketing. All the other products of the commercial empire are skin deep and don’t amount to a hill of beans when they hall your corpse to the bone parlor. The simple sense that we are all here for more than to work in the factories and provide new bodies for the meaningless wars of a society that do nothing more than find new enemies, defeat them, and then turn them into consumers to spend the rest of their existence buying useless crap. You are either yourself alone or a member of a runaway consensus that promises a feel good existence but never ever reaches the mark. All that counts is your family and those who really love you.
The growing weed patch of stoners wiped out spiritually by the proclivity of grass. A fucking passion play of suckers in a growing world of no self respect. No moral fiber or courage. As a child I took in the fumes of prosperity. Now I gag on the reek of despair. Absolutely nothing is out of bounds if it demeans the notion of a unified wholesome culture. Lets split the perceivable world into a rainbow of labeling and invite the imbeciles to cut themselves off from any hope of a meaningful consensus. Be fucking rude at every opportunity and turn ourselves into a half-breed fuck gutted Obama milkshake Neo-phobe. Loving everything so much that we are compelled to destroy it on a knee jerk whim hailed from above. World Socialism and the feel good of being part of the good people that all of a sudden have to think twice about sucking our beverage through a plastic straw. “Where are the paper ones!” Morons! What social fetish will it be tomorrow. ‘WE’RE KILLING MOTHER EARTH!” Well then why not just kill one’s self to make room for the Third World industrial baby makers? Sooner or later all of you that might survive will be carrying a sidearm. America the beautiful and the home of misandry.
“Back to those two dollar beers you old White Bastard!” How dare you speak the truth. You truth. And that IS true. An individual makes the world that they live in by the set of words they habitually speak. Society above demands that all popular music sound like an out of balance washing machine. “Simon Sez!” The ad nausem culture of deflection. You can’t shoot through a plexiglass ceiling! Especially when all you see is high heels above! Gather up all you self-empowered people and congeal your many petty tales of irritation in one smoking pot. Embrace your own self-created destruction with open arms! Medicate your undeniable urges with it as it it is a balm! A world culture where unseen Archons feed upon this distress! I can no longer believe in a material universe!