Æsthetics of Revolution

 In Mongolian, the word ‘nokier’ (no-key-er) refers to a prince sent away from their tribe to live as a dignitary in another tribe. This is where the word for that old-school, indestructible cell phone the ‘Nokia 2100’ came from. Nokia (fem. Nokier), the foreign princess. Generally, the utility of a nokier is manifold, maintain good relationships with neighboring tribes, prevent inbreeding, provide an outlet to the king for second or third-born sons and daughters, and because they are married into this iteration of aristocracy they contribute to maintaining that aristocracy in the following years. Often, the son-in-law would be called upon to fight on behalf of the khan and die in battle, playing into some kind of martyr narrative. From this I glean, that aristocracy and its systematic social maintenance is basically as old as society itself, as old as inbreeding, as old as the need to maintain good relations.  

The challenge for me here, is that I feel this so acutely. I feel sent away from my tribe to some unfamiliar place, sure they speak the same language and understand the culture to a point, but it is not a place of culture, it contains separate values unto itself. This is Denver, not Los Angeles. In spite of what the conservative voices in the back row think, it will never be Los Angeles. And I realize with increasing clarity, how, and why that is. And I think it is time to come clean, as I have not been completely honest with you; while I am a master horticulturalist, I am also something of a nokier. I was sent away from my tribe to here, I think, to figure out the shape of future maps.  

It did not look like that in person. They were disappointed in me. My tenants, my handlers, as if I were just quitting them. As if I were walking away from something I have built without reverence for its beauty or inertia. But deep inside I know that its beauty will proliferate without me. And I must flicker in and out, I live for the reprisal of empire, it is one of my favorite, favorite things. And my empire lives and breathes in these sweaty warehouses that ooze pulsating sound and I would be lying if I said I don’t live for it. Depending on how things are going this ‘ability’ is something of a dynamo. Once I can get it going it’s something of a power-wellspring. I can only imagine how sharpened a being could become, only to realize that I am very sensitive, for a human. It is this hyper-awareness that is so troubling and intoxicating in equal measure. As if incarnating the concept of “underground” is something I could ever resist in this life or any other.  

Truly, I had become complacent, complacent in a way that I had become aware of. As if treating people outside of my friends as if they were disposable. As if no matter what happened in the night I could always retreat to Boo, or Kore, or Spout, or Furby, or Déjà vu’s place. As if every now and again some windfall of drugs or music or both would just fall into our laps, and we would magically make it disappear into money. I had become comfortable with the ease for which things came to me. Like Jack Skellington wandering away from Halloweentown in search of something, anything new. I drove myself away from an empire of my own design, and for what? Something new.  

  

What attracted me to Denver at the time was this style of graceful dub-influenced, bass music. I fucking love bass music. The idea of this emergent genre struck me as utterly fascinating. My producer friends in LA are working out this Brazillian-bass, Californian-hood-rat-type-genre and it felt like everywhere in the world was developing their own culturally complex sound, Berlin, Amsterdam, London, Miami, Chicago and so on, coming up with their own unique forms of electronic music. I liked where Denver was headed in this regard. In truth though, it was more of the æsthetics of this, most of the talent in this city is just passing through. Pretty much everything is. Denver’s design is that of an enormous airport terminal, you’re stuck here until you make your connection and for some reason, everything is overpriced.  

  

I guess, in that sense, I'm just fighting for my right to party. I wonder if things unfold as I imagine, if this will modify my understanding of ‘the party’. Even the counterculture shifts with the mainstream more and more these days. Like so much of everything, this too is hard to downregulate. Too much has been happening too quickly. It is becoming increasingly clear that it is time to brace for impact. I say this as this administration has made a concentration camp in Florida. These people are fascists, bro. You must see this. Bear witness to the crassness of it all. We must watch them with their shopping carts, up and down Washington Boulevard selling their wares for a little capital to buy drugs. All day, every day. It’s like a mechanical, drug-fueled, purgatory. But this is also something of a curse. I see it for what it is because of the creativity to do so. The imagination to behold the potential, and the debasement of its reality. In a sense, it feels as though there isn't anything else (or left) worth fighting for. I mean, the quality of life draped across the work to maintain it, is unobtainable. I don’t want to clean up after losers all day every day for the rest of my life so that I will never be able to afford a family, or a quality of life that I will ever get to experience that resembles peace. I do not have the inner silence to look beyond the profoundness of my existence to make so little of it. (I could be elbows deep in dancefloor pussy tonight.)  I think this is where our paths diverge most acutely. With the city willing to kick so many people to the curb to hide their mistakes is utterly bananas. But they’ve certainly shown their hand. And if they were to give you the boot it would be one of the most disrespectful things I can imagine at that level of ‘professionalism.’ Gave your whole life to them, and they could cut you down like a weed to save face that they fucked up so insanely. In this instance, I don’t have a family that relies on me, as if by design, I have nothing to lose, because I have nothing. I can lose myself on Saturday night in a warehouse. Some people my age have homes, stock options, zillions in bitcoin: I... I can move my hands in interesting ways.  

  

So then what? Nothing to be gained because nothing is to be ventured. Let’s cut to the chase: —what is to become of Denver in all of this? What are the tolerances? What are the parameters? What does any of this even look like? And perhaps most importantly, will any of it matter?  

We must ask ourselves, is this place worth saving? It is a hub, but for who? The intersection of conservative and liberal mindsets? The Democrats and the Republicans? Who is this for? The governor and all his various ties to the housing and real-estate markets? And for what?— an overpriced box that takes 3/4 of our income? This is not the dream of the founding fathers. This is a bastardization of what it means to be an American. And we’re all sick of it. We’re all fed up with the never-endingness of it. Never enough money, never enough work, never enough calories in a body, never enough hours in the day. We weren’t meant to live like this. Dying in-and-of carbon-dependent infrastructure while we profess their freedoms. God, what a time to be alive. Not for too much longer though, not with all this carbon-dependent infrastructure that has high-centered our society.   

But what can we do now? This child-rapist is the president, the country of Palestine has been wiped off the map, its people killed as rats in a burning building, a supreme court so corrupt and belligerent that it makes me want to fucking puke. Meanwhile, a war rages on the other side of the planet, where one side of the western world has a blank check to fight forever and the other with the economy of Texas, has fed 1 million men into a wood-chipper made of enemy drones and domestic kleptocracy. Perhaps China invades Taiwan to extend some exacerbated chip-war foreign-relations-trade fiasco that has gotten out of hand and the never-ending domestic atrocity train has no brakes.  

So, when will we recognize it? When will we realize that “Alligator Alcatraz” was in fact always intended to be Alligator Auschwitz all along. When will our failure to act be too belligerent to be ignored? When they start calling ICE the Schutzstaffel (the SS) because ‘Protection squadron’ in German seems to suit the president’s fancy randomly. Justified, of course, by some nonsensical reason. And I guess it falls into a kind of television generation; people so accustomed to turning their brains off and doing as they are told that unless the villain explicitly says the extent of their plan is “for evil reasons” our society cannot seem to muster the necessary nuance to understand that the fascism has already arrived.  

Now let’s refract this through the prism of our minds: we must, as a society, adjust our conception of money. As it sits, it has run away from any semblance of reality such that it is in the way of our society. I don’t think we have the time for philosophical musings between society and currency and their varying levels of interrelatedness, but said plainly, we are off the deep end. Money as a concept, is off the deep end. As if something is taking place that dissolves the meaning of it. There was this time when things were interrelated with money, but they are not here anymore. They’re selling us shit and telling us its gold and its concreteness is lost in the process. What does 100$ mean when it has the buying power of 20$? 5$? Isn’t money just a lie we all bought into. Is it like god? How is cryptocurrency different than the dollar at this point? To that end, what value are they based on at all? The ability to buy drugs and guns? We certainly can’t buy anything else!  

But this is where it comes to a head: our monetary system has become this runaway behemoth that cannot be stopped. It can’t even be touched, literally if it were a kaiju it would be at least physically easier to stop. But this intangible system has unraveled our everything and now we’re just broken robots pushing forward without meaning to our purpose. Meanwhile, money has too much import. It’s become everything. Like some kind of Akria-ass Lovecraftian horror, it has subsumed everything in its volatile path.   

   

Let’s explore this: Healthcare. It’s fucked— a guy with a worm in his brain from eating roadkill is the director of health and human services. We pay more to the institutions that withhold healthcare from us than we do for the actual care. And we’re out here using GoFundMe to try and save our friends and loved one’s lives. Crowdsourcing our existence like a bunch of pathetic cunts. Because, money. This is the same timeline where a healthcare executive was assassinated outside of a conference and the bullet casings we labeled, “delay,” “deny” and “depose.” Famously the three tactics that healthcare employees use to get out of having to do their jobs in the most profitable way. This is the same timeline where my friend Rick died from cancer because he was a successful artist and not a mediocre lawyer. He was a great guy that did memorial paintings and had a beautiful soul. With the capacity of our medical science, he could have been saved. But it doesn’t matter when we are bred to accept this style of extortion; and the only people that can afford this kind of treatment are the people that profit from this kind of system. And that is plain. At its end, imperfect and beautiful as his soul was nobody was there to paint Rick Rodriguez’s memorial.   

“Nowhere in the world pays more, to get less.” It’s not overutilization, it’s not some external prevalence to illness, it’s not some esoteric, unfathomable outlier; its greed. The pharmaceutical industry is the most well-funded lobby in history. Literally, measured in the dozens of billions of dollars. And that’s the point, isn't it? We have transmuted our health into their money, in the *fucking* single worst alchemic transmutation ever conceived. But eventually when I get cancer from living in Globeville I can rest assured, after a lifetime of paying for top-dollar healthcare, for the entirety of my career, they will surely do everything in their power, to deny my claim.   

It’s crazy that we have the technology to program DNA using CRISPR genes in the same timeline that we have people unable to afford insulin. And the problem in this, is the money. Insulin is not rare. It’s tedious to produce, but it’s not particularly hard at the industrial scale for which it is done. Because of its interrelatedness to government, there’s a million-and-three examples of this up and down the industry. And ‘we the people’ get none of it; not the tax breaks, not the price breaks, not even a good-faith case to be made for our very existence. And therein lies the point; we’re dying out here because we are not financially mobile enough to pay for the treatments necessary to sustain. The systems that claim equity, are in fact, using bureaucracy to run out the clock on our lives. It’s happening every day. Every American knows somebody that was killed by the system. Think about it for two seconds, someone will surely come to mind. Money may have helped the situation, but money did that. Like a health-dependent caste system we have become entrapped into. Our ‘mobility’ has become our chains.   

This could not be truer when referring to our labor and our relationship to our labor. Like you, I am bound to this job. Job hugging. Not even in the manner that anyone might think. It’s not worth it, but we have no choice. As if ‘the seizure of the means of production’ would even help at this point. Our money doesn’t mean anything beyond the hourly rate for which we sell our bodies. And therein lies the problem: fundamentally, money is based on self-importance. The tech-bro motherfuckers believe that an hour of their life is worth more than your paycheck, their day: your month, their month: your life—  

While that is in a sense, strictly speaking your financial lifespan worth of money, but we all know your lifetime earning doesn’t mean shit to these entities. Because you don’t either. Because nothing does. Not the death of nature, not the death of children, not the death of culture, but the survival of money: the survival of a number on a screen. The survival of a piece of paper that denotes conceptual value. Because there is no amount of chickens that can be traded for the removal of a brain tumor. There is no amount of money that is ever enough for anybody. Least of which these oligarchs of affluence that seem to have shanghaied our society, government, and future.  

So what does this have to do with our relationship to our labor?  

It’s meaningless.   

In a society where one person makes as much as an entire city in the same day. And that person is thumbing the scale, and that person is involved in government, regulations, civic processes, and that person is financing everything from both sides. We are but ants to them; nuisance to be wiped from the counter in revulsion. As if the systematic eradication of the Palestinian people looks like anything other than the jihad of cockroaches in one’s kitchen. How dispassionately violent it all is, and still just the eradication of infestation with militant, procedural impunity.  

 Of the same DNA as feeding your son-in-law to impossible odds on some foreign battlefield so that your daughter can rule as regent in (what is now) her village. Purely, Nokia diplomacy. And why? It doesn’t make any sense to me beyond its militant strategy. In the way that any individual ant must look at a human, beyond comprehension. And I suppose that is the point, isn’t it? We inhabit time in such a way that systems of finance beyond our comprehension rule everything around us with a severity of life and death and we are powerless to change or influence them because of their prepositioned self-important, self-substantiating nature that allows them to dissolve the only power into financial power and the only ones that get to have power are those that possess finance. And, like God, its power is imaginary.   

 

There is no amount of chickens that can be traded for brain surgery. But, there is a finite amount that they will pay per severed finger. Per grandson. How many museums launder a reputation? How many observatories wash the blood away from killing your wife and her lover in a motel room? The fact that we live in times like these and have for decades tells a revealing story to the lack of our values. Times like these have existed long before me, to that end we must recognize a simple truth: there is no morality. What is revolution in the face of this persistent violent peace? It is the lens of time that shapes how we perceive the present. These legacies of power and money that shape and have shaped everything. Devoid of grace or beauty, we have surrendered our humanity to these machinations. And for what? Line go up. Rich man rich. The deeply emotional experience of authoritarianism?   

Because if there is something we clearly don’t give a shit about here in America, is humanity and human rights. When conjoined with a critical level of class inequality, and a critical trend to autocracy we have a real problem; becoming enslaved. Systematically, the process of downgrading money and increasing the divide between our labor and our earning power, and trending into fascism, would imply that our society is trending toward human servitude. Slavery, the most valuable commodity ever conceived.  Which is curious, more than diamonds or gold, stock or options, human labor on the cheap is the most valuable thing throughout history. Not just our work, but our bodies, as if, beyond our hands, our genitals and minds are also subject to external possession. As if our tangible flesh is subject to the concept of value. This is a reality that I know well: and it makes me want to fucking puke. Because the truth is we use human bodies to mine diamonds, human bodies to produce the hydrocarbons, human bodies to fuck the unfuckable; and all of it is made possible through the bastardtisation of money.   

It’s not only the injustice. Is the derogatory bullshit of it. I don't even want to get into it because this kind of ‘derogatory’ is its own kind of gross. It cuts with a dirty blade, and it wounds on all fronts. The truth is clean though; we are tired of hurting. I am so tired of hurting that I would rather die than be a part of this shitshow. Make no mistake I’m not suicidal, that’s lazy, and I exist out of spite. But rather, to be destroyed in the process of something greater—  

The idea that somebody, in some far-off future will experience the violet skies of the desert, that they will know the Sierra Nevada as I have, the mountains will beckon them like a thick alseid on a sunny morning. And I would desperately like to retreat to these places, but the fight has come to us. It threatens the very biosphere. It threatens my home. It threatens us existentially. And while these companies (and they are all companies) have locations and addresses, nothing seems to pause the headlong dive into our own oblivion. The Mojave will exist with or without us. It doesn't know its name. Even if every inch of it becomes solar fields— eventually, it will be the desert again. But, I, selfishly, don't want to live in a polluted hellscape where all new ideas and systems and opportunities for existential advancement are smothered in the cradle because institutional hegemony has deemed it so.  

 

He said: while working for the city.   

 

Because realistically, it’s all rotten to the core.  And I wonder if this is a problem solved by bullets. I wonder if it is a problem solved through greater violence. I envision the fabric wrappings of AR-styled rifles covered in hardware, flapping slowly in a ferocious wind as cartridges tumble into the air with processed randomness, framed in drone explosions and burning vehicles, as the swell of the symphony playing the national anthem crescendos.    

Or, is it a problem solved by words?  

Are these doing anything? We’re living in what they call the “post-truth era” where everything is lies, to the point that people can believe whatever they want. Where objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.  

 At time of writing the man is destroying part of the white house as another of his ridiculous distractions from the release of the Epstein files, which really is just a red herring to say that he rapes kids. As if we are living in this matryoshka doll of lies and politics to the point where we have no functional government. And what are we going to do about it other than suck and die? As the speaker withholds the confirmation of an already elected states woman who will be the deciding vote for the release of the Epstein files. Meanwhile, many of the victims are currently alive and have been releasing this information for years... And...  

This is what we’re doing instead of working towards a more perfect union. But we’re facing an interesting reality; with enough money, can fascism pantomime its way into a perfect future?   

Can fascism accomplish anything other than optics?          

  

Dog —  

                  These people do not understand violence. Literally, subset rule –1 in the international violence handbook: do not be showing your hand like this. They’re out here grabbing daycare ladies and roofers, like we couldn't figure out where their families live. That’s the thing: war is war. And these people seem to want the *optics* of war, but I assure you, they don’t want no smoke. And truly, I don’t want to have to deliver that smoke. Because all is fair in love and war; with the necessary imagination, both can grant absolution.  

But the truth is: all this ticky-tacky gestapo bullshit is going to go on until there is nowhere to go but down. And then it starts to look a whole lot more like our mind’s eye of a revolution... and I am curious if it truly will. Like, what is the point of all of this? Shipping some Honduran gardener to a black site in Africa, for what? To make one random guy’s life hell? Some protestors that can afford a lawyer? It’s just this perpetual shark-bump before the bite, and sometimes it peels off, and sometimes he follows through in the most corrupt way imaginable, and sometimes the Democrats show their feckless hand and cave to the fascists like a bunch of treasonous cowards. As if we’re treading water before some cataract like our little sleeve floaties have had any impact on the rapids beforehand, this too, is just words.   

 

Though, words are what precede all things in human experience. It appears, given our time and place, we must awaken some of their meanings. Because while this is just words. I mean this with full measure; the weapon of this revolution is language.  

I think of the word ‘patriot’ mired in the mediocrity of a sports team as though we have appropriated ourselves. The patriots of this moment will not be in suit and tie, they will not be clad-up in modern combat gear, standing on the capitol steps with some nazi-coded flag like they are handing fascism out like lemonade. The patriots we need now will be people with the time and willingness to put that time into language. To act on that language, not just squirrel it around in autocracy, generating lots of pages but no meaning, utterly incumbent on the money that separates so completely that they become external to the people they once were from. A patriot will become someone with time to spend in the face of how desperately money subsumes their lives. It was easy for Sam Adams to get 100 guys to his barn for rifle training, but we collectively keep grinding away at that fryer with a drive through because housing represents 65% of our earning power and we’re too ‘busy’ to act up and put that (excellent use of our time) in jeopardy.  

Contrastingly, an uncommon expression that should be understood: ‘quisling’. Scandinavian for a bureaucratic traitor. Named for Vidkun Quisling, a Norwegian nazi collaborator who created a puppet government to export Jews and comply to any and all nazi requests. Moral of the story; he was a traitor in a suit. He met his end by firing squad. These current motherfuckers will too. Does Stephen Miller think that his handling of ICE will let him off the hook in 5 years. The only justice for a traitor is death. Not isolation, as was the case for Karl Dönitz, who until 1980 spent his entire post-war life writing memoirs that glazed his inculpability in the deaths of tens of thousands of people. Just because they wore a tie does not mean that they will be taken lightly. We must understand treachery in these terms. Not a debate, but a reality, and the understanding that the reality of this fallout has destroyed the caliber of this country for generations. And the brutal reality of it is that people (such as yourself) stood idly by while these rapist conmen subsumed in money have ravaged this country and butchered it for every fictional dime it was worth and we are left with the pieces while the quislings of America get to live out their days in the self-serving comfort that they have made. I assure you; they will not. We will butcher them in an equal and opposite way for which they have butchered this nation.    

Thus, we need to understand what revolutionary times will look like. And as cool as it sounds; 4th generation warfare is a battle of ideals. Not territory, not gunfire, not   

bombs— concepts. People that represent those concepts. Surely there will be here-or-there political killings, and in a sense (unfocused as it is) all these school shootings kind of are that. But the rampant gun related violence that we have apparently, nationally normalized is literally killing as many people as a warzone. But then again cars kill fifty-thousand people a year and nobody seems to give a shit about that either. So basically, nothing will change because nothing can change, and we’re just stuck here hoping that our kids don’t get gunned down at school, or (somehow more dangerously) we don’t get run over dropping them off.  

So what is a ‘revolutionary’ in all this? Tri-corner hat and all, what does it look like? And in truth its already happening, all these spaces on the internet, the airwaves, the podcasters the influencers, the propaganda, the continual molding of the narrative— and maybe because I'm a bit more sensitive to it, I notice it more? But, like, it’s staring right at you: these plain-as-day bad faith arguments. Generative AI, inflation, racism, tech-bro stock bullshit, church, lobbying, and the greatest offender of it all: money.  

This revolution will need to bring about the end of money as we understand it in a way that has a lasting impact on the quality of life for literally billions of people. We HAVE the technology; it's just not evenly distributed. That unto itself is ridiculous. This is also the same timeline that measles is on the rise because of belligerent stupidity, so it’s hard to gauge what kind of future these people really want. Almost like they want a pat on the head for eating paste. It makes no fucking sense. But then, money. If you think about the hold that money has on our culture, society, quality of life, everything, there is a fundamental flaw to our way of life. There is too much importance on this one, intangible thing. The same could be said for god; as we mourn another active shooter at a Hannukah celebration yesterday— like, what god? What wealth? What money? And in larger context, what authority?  

Because these are imaginary things, they do not have power over me. I’m quite aware that they do not have power over the masses either. While they are still in the process of waking from the American dream, they are awakening to the reality that this nonsense cannot continue. The literal planet cannot continue in this way. And while it would be easier to kill them, they must be converted, they must come to understand that we must be the shepherds of this earth and not its rapists. Knowing that no imaginary alternate reality is going to take place without action is the first step. Praying that things change in lieu of acting is the equivalent of saying words to no one. It is a selfish attempt to personally absolve responsibility to injustice. Jim doesn’t need you to pray for him; his wife needs help getting groceries while Jim is in recovery. And that takes work. We don't need to pray for Jim; we need to have a medical system that guarantees his speedy recovery and backs his family while he is in recovery, from any medical need so normalized that it presents no financial burden whatsoever on him and his kin. And, we are all his kin. He is a member of our society, ‘he’ and 'us’ are one and the same. As if the homogeneity of our kindred society has become subsumed in obsession with the concept of pronouns and not their utility. It’s so ignorant and pathetic that my mind lenses around its meaning to understand it as if this (right here) is why we can’t have nice things. The emotional  

lazines— the hegemonic emotional laziness of our culture and our time has brought us this reality, and it’s pathetic. In the future when people ask why this was necessary, we should say, in a nutshell, emotional laziness. They sat in front of their televisions (absorbing advertisements) for so long that they forgot how to be a culture. And in doing so they became advertisement cattle, pushed from one feed lot to the next, consuming whatever was put before them, uncritically. There is no end game either; they don’t get slaughtered as we do with actual cattle; the goal is to keep the cretins cloning and feeding. They are the self-replicating batteries to the machine. In that sense, I too; was born as one of these lower-class batteries. Insert thought-terminating cliché.  

The reality is that this will require a revolution to enact, and revolutions (in spite of what you may think) are a process. Not a bunch of gunfire, not a guillotine in the streets, not anything super exciting and violent. It’ll be a bunch of words and then policy, and then, in  its millions of steps, the construction of the future. But it does feel strange, like there is no finish line. When the money is meaningless, the game is uninteresting, the risks are not enjoyable, just the grind of a familiar monotony until we come to accept the fate that was set out for us. And that's not liberty. That’s not a fate I'm willing to accept. It’s not a future worth living in. So then, what is this process?  

  

I *envision* a process of words and refinement. Philosopher kings that create a better society for everyone involved in a unilateral and meaningful, value-based caliber of life dictated by the content of a man’s character: but ICE has already started killing people in Minneapolis. Gunning down people in Portland. A behind-the-scenes dissapearing of some random person, but they weren’t random. They were people. People in our neighborhoods have already gone missing, and we can’t mourn for them because we have to get to work. I envisioned something more than this, and instead the cold reality of sycophantic dog-whistle politics has proven that there is no ‘philosopher-kings’ solution; just violence. Just the shitty, primal familiarity of violence.  

I would like to go over that but I cannot know what violence the future brings. Only the predictable inevitability of violence to come. As our government traded our pathetic excuse for healthcare so that ICE could harass, and dominate, and brutalize us in the streets. People like your boss, Mike Keyser enabled it. Chanted its slogans at me. Embodied its values, whatever those might have been. And now I must embody something else. Something in contrast to the violence. Something in opposition to the beliefs that Mike has held, clutched to his chest, like a lie that he cannot be separated from, because he; and in equal but different measure, you, have become not even “accustomed to” but rather, dependent upon. It is simple enough to understand though: they put a box in front of these people that projects nonsense into their faces at all times. They grew up on it. And now it's a teat that they cannot be weaned of. And it tells them to sit on their ass and absorb whatever the box says, it tells them they are 'good' and 'right' and that they never need to be critical of what is projected at them. And so they never develop; just trumpeting lies as useful idiots. And all the while they are going to debate if that woman deserved a summary execution. Argue if native Americans have the right papers to be here. Disappearing people left, right, and center and the useful idiots will tout that it was deserved for some reason. Rambling off their lies like virtue. But to who? When everyone who was genuine has been destroyed and everyone left is a liar, you can trust nothing. There is no genuine compliment, no earnest request, no good-natured humor, just the treasonous betrayal of every interaction framed in ulterior motives.  

There is no endgame to what they are doing. They cannot win. The aggressor and the victim cannot be one in the same, and it has become abundantly clear that they are turning us into the victims of their cruelty; we cannot afford to stand by while they seek to enslave and ruin us and our way of life. It is about control and domination and nothing else. Like a plot so threadbare that there can be no happy ending, just the reprisal of violence until we are no longer the prey.  

  

At time of writing Renee Good and Andrew Pretti have been summarily executed on the streets of Minneapolis by ICE agents who remain utterly unaccounted for. The administration is just lying about everything, openly, obviously. Recently released Epstein documents implicate Trump and dozens of powerful individuals in a child sex trafficking ring that transcends decades and countries. Trump is in Georgia looking for election fraud for 2020. He shit his pants in a press conference at the oval office the other day. An Epstein victim has come forward claiming that they caused the trauma to trump’s posterior in a depraved act of sexual gratification. What a time to be alive.  

 

Meanwhile, I meditate on what it would look like. What does the end of Trump look like? Where will Maga go? What happens to these guards at detention centers that have been raping people? Will our economy ever be the same, or recover at all? All valid questions. Again, what a time to be alive. And it feels strange, in the way that the kidnapping of Nicholas Maduro is in every sense interrelated to the oil infrastructure in Swansea. This is the world the children made. The incessant simulacra of a violent wilderness. A polluted criminal enterprise where empire is expressed over land and sea, domestic and abroad, and all the while the craven incarnation of self-fulfilling and self-serving.   

There is truly no going back, like a storm that has subsumed us into its chaos, pulling us into itself the maelstrom of circumstance; we must rise to meet our fate. To whatever context that means.