We Will Tape Your Mouth Shut -- Part 3
I am a communist. A call for courage. Americans can get caught up in the terror of that knock on the door. In reality, they're not knocking on doors. They're breaking them down. We will come for you while you sleep. We will take your children, and tear up your home. Because we feel like it. You will disappear. The deviant will not be satisfied until we are dead. No one agrees with me on that. The editorial board is outraged, as well they should be. Too little. Too late. But what can we do to save America. Too little. Too late. But it's not fair. Too little. Too late. He doesn't mean to kill us. Too little. Too late. He knows what is good for us. Too little. Too late. But he loves America and he's a successful businessman. Too little. Too late. Brace yourself for the recession. It will not be a little recession. And it's too late in the game to stop anything. Federal judges are feeling it. About time. But federal judges are too little, too late. What makes them inviolate. The rest of us are still reeling. The subtext is one where power is telling everyone that they are expendable, and if they do not follow the orders of the deviant, he can make you vanish. Just like that. The people who are going to actually need that courage the editorial board articulates will be the people in the streets. Your military will arrive locked and loaded. When the military starts killing peaceful protestors, all bets are off. What the deviant is fearful of is that we will find that courage.
I am a communist. "The administration must be crystal clear that we are aligned with democracy, free markets and the rule of law. If we stray from these values, we risk losing what makes America a great nation." The congressman from Nebraska is a little late to the party. It's a done deal. And Bacon knows it. He is putting a gloss to it that is an out-of-touch reality. Where's your great nation now. These people at the top of the food chain cling to things will get better. This in the face of there is no evidence for it. Not even a whisper. Your great nation has been turned into an outhouse. Your great Nation is patently absurd and beneath contempt. Putin won. It's over. Oh, but we must all come together and fight for Democracy. You, Sir, do not know Democracy. I want to see the Congressman in a resistance march. Then, we can have a sit down. If it sounds like a suit, it's a suit. Why are we wasting time publishing someone who has nothing say. Resign from Congress and put your money where your mouth is. Congressman, you are expendable. This is war. This is not a culture war. We left that bit of doggrel right after the escalator show of shows. Putin has the entire hot dog and he's eating it. And some congressman comes along with rhetoric that we are this great nation. How did that work out for you. Your great nation is a dead great nation. Americans want Putin. They love Putin. There are people who say they want to fight. But all they have are a bunch of silly words. The emptiness is profound.
I am a communist. I did not know that the Supreme Court cannot enforce its decisions. I had assumed the Supreme Court had guns to back them up. Everyone else has guns, why not them. In today's world, you have to imagine that everyone you see is packing. We can thank the Supreme Court for that. How can a government have no guns. Do we have any spares we could give their royal highnesses. I would vigorously argue that the Supreme Court could use fifty more justices to decide what the law says. I would like to see an actual court versus an aristocracy. Teachers. Cops. Folks who sweep the streets. Fire fighters. Bus drivers. Hotel desk clerks. Maids. Head Start Aides. Cooks. Waiters. Bicycle fixer people. Car mechanics. Dog groomers. Doormen. Fishermen. Garbage collectors. But no. One word: Lawyers. That is all we ever get. Oracles from the attic. Why can't the Supreme Court look like us. Because we are the Little People and we need help getting dressed in the morning. We might be the Little People, but the Little People have bite. The deviant and the Chief Justice have both betrayed us. No one knows what the constitution says. No one knows what the Constitution means. It's all wrapped in mystery and shadows. No one believes it. No one follows it. No one cares. We are just trying to stay alive out here, and maintain some distance from psychotic insanity. Isn't that what us serfs are supposed to do. Work until our teeth turn blue. As men, the current crop shivers in its shoes.
The real struggle at the New York Times is not financial. The real struggle is to remain relevant. Yet the publication continues down its world-weary path like a wounded animal. It is not concerned with content. It's selling names. NYT comment moderation is a gimmick. It was created by marketing. Of course, book publishing does the same exact thing. You are being pitched with the columnists names to sell the paper. You are being pitched books in the same way. It's about the writer's name. Not the content. I have gotten RAVE reviews from them. It's a totally meaningless experience. I have done writer tours. Always in bookstores. I am becoming close to a guy group (we do not want women because they are so timid) where we are discussing demonstration tactics. Like dumping corpses on federal steps. Put death in their face.
I have spies. We have all signed Non-disclosure Agreements that would be a barricade to forcing us to disclose who we are and what we stand for.
We stand for free speech. We oppose censorship. We are very angry about the Chinese refusing to produce AIDS meds. What does that mean. It means we are going to die. The American public loathes us. As if. I fucking care. We are going to fight back.
We will not die quickly. We still have some time to look at what real resistance is. The New York Times refuses to cover the issues of China and HIV meds. A hundred dollars a pill will kill us, too. The deviant will execute us at every available opportunity. We firmly believe that. He's coming for you whether you can see it or not. Americans love blindness. We will not bend the knee. Look around you. Buying groceries is one of the most powerful experiences you will ever have. Be prepared to be shocked.
I am a communist. Marx got it right: "There must be something rotten in the very core of a social system which increases its wealth without diminishing its misery." How do you measure misery. When I am writing in foreign countries, I like to go visit grocery stores. I go straight to the potato bin. How many people are grabbing potatoes. What do the potatoes look like. How much does a single potato cost. Here's what I see: A crowd of elderly women fighting each other over potatoes that are moldy, filthy, small, gnarled, pieces of garbage. Where are this country's leaders. They're usually hidden away behind the temple's walls, guarded by an army of deviants so a creature of their kind can spread his poison. Americans love their toxic culture. The rich get the nice potatoes. Elderly women get the worms. The rich scream that they saw a worm in their potato. The poor eat the worm.
The capitalism you have convinced the poor to eat does not trickle up to the rich. What trickles up to the rich are the tax breaks they seek. All those poor rich people. Someone should pay for the misery the rich have to deal with. Brooms and pitchforks. We need a new fund for deviants. A slush fund to grow more worms. When people get sick, it's their own fault. The rich need more money because the help have been arrested along with their relatives and children. Get on the plane. The deviant has no economic agenda. America refuses to see that the deviant has been spreading worms in the potato bin.
I am a communist. So what is all this stuff about how you can save the system. Even the word -- system -- is a regularly interacting or interdependent group of items forming a unified whole. You are articulating informed theory that people might behave one way or another. All this work to prop up corruption, indifference, resilience, deviance, and greed. I cannot think of one good thing about America. I will be glad the day when I can leave it. Murder as public policy is only possible when death and indifference form their own bubble and resistance is TikTok. There are pins. But to pop someone else's bubble you have one big problem. The only way to pop another bubble is to sacrifice your own, and then, and only then, we move toward the Last Man Standing. What are you so afraid of. The last man standing will be someone you do not know nor will you ever. Your bubble pops and you're a dead man. You will not know you are dead because there is no there there. I would argue that you can take 400 million people and no one questions a single systemic paradigm that is going to apply to everyone in the cave. The cave bullies want more stuff. The idea of more stuff for all homo sapiens in the cave was radical then, and it's always been radical. Will someone please ask Americans what their purpose on this planet is. I know this: All daddy need do is pound his chest. We already know it's complicated. This sounds like fading hope to me. So much for propping up what we feel inside.
I am a communist. The deviant wants to kill us all. But Americans do not believe it. David Brooks is not alone. The pessimism he seems to struggle with isn't pessimism, it's reality. The dividing line between suicide and homicide is razor thin. Rapist psychodynamic traits emerge as an overly assaultive, hypersexual white male from the criminal subculture who can accept a wide range of sexual deviance and who shows a significant level of emotional fury. You elected it. Rapists rape out of a habitual impulsive style of narcissistic gratification. No one believes the deviant wants to rape an entire country (make that the world) because all the avenues we might have once used to marginalize the deviant, have been co-opted. Schumer had his chance. Shut it down. Display some courage, Chuck. The democrats are really institutionalists. Their articulated response is to save the very institutions that want to eat them alive. Like Congress. Liberalism is a disappointment. The deviant has studied our routines. It knows when we come and go. Profiles miss the point. "I'm in charge, and I either get to rape someone or I will rape you all." Rapists want to murder your agency as a homo sapiens. Many rapists are sexually impotent. The criminal subculture connects rape with hyper-masculinity. "I have the power therefore I must use it. What can I rape today." Education. Medical research. Congress. Industry. Military. Aviation. "If I have nukes, I must use them." Be brave. Tell him no. I dare you.
I am a communist. The business community has always been disingenuous, crooked as a barrel of fishhooks. AI is helping business make more money. I just came home from the grocery store. Two bags. Milk. Bread. Soap. Eggs. No meat. $350.00. I was so glad to get my kids out of this country. Where is AI for me. Just as sick people and poor people and people who cannot afford suits, or shoes, have the rug pulled out from beneath them. The deviant's wife does not buy groceries. We are the ones who are being punished. The deviant is punishing us. So is AI. The deviant stole the last election. Where is AI on stolen elections. We are the poor and every last one of us is reeling. We do not vote because what is the point. AI will come for us anyway just like authority always does. The hatred we feel for authority is almost unimaginable.
The deviant doesn't have to shoot us standing at the bottom of the ditch. He is starving us. It's easier. This publication has no clue as to what it means to be impoverished. This colors everything it publishes. AI is a gig NYT will not discuss at any level although they employ it. Poverty is not an issue to AI. AI doesn't know what poverty is. It doesn't regurgitate paradigms to help the poor. A rich guy's toy. And so are we. So what does this publication do. It focuses hard on AI and etiquette. This is the problem. Not the solution. AI has no answers for the world-shaking problems of etiquette. Imperial fealty means the deviant is the new AI.
I am a communist. "Timely artistic response." What does that exactly mean. Theatre bounces off Pop Culture, and Pop Culture bounces off (I am not going to say theatre) iconic moments. Writing hits the same stuff: Catharsis, solidarity, pushback, hope, outrage. How about insurrection. I am currently reading all the Greek plays: "Oedipus Rex." It is not an incest play. Incest is Big Accouterment. It is provocative.
I channeled Oedipus and published My Brother, My lover. Clutch your pearls and weep. How could I. Get over it. Jean-Baptiste Poquelin (Molière) satirized the king to his face. That almost never happens. It is my job to lie. All theatre is a lie. People ask: Why did you lie. Some books write themselves. Politics makes good theatre. Politics, too, is accouterment. Getting a play produced is almost impossible. In New York, theatre folks are all around you. They know how to push a play toward process.
Before I was a writer, I was an actor. "Le Médecin malgré lui" (1666). I did it in high heels. I have written plays where the entire audience walked out. Those have a sweet spot, too. "Company" takes aim at relationships and the monotone of American life. Free fall is a good thing. I recommend it. In both theatre and book publishing, the corporation owns the rights. They always, always, try and get you to tone it down. It is what they do. Product placement is a pornography. Theatre and books are both performances. Blanche Dubois and desire will never be a footnote.
I told NYT that I was not sure on this one. It gets a little close to the fire. Usually, when I say stage, I'm saying the stage of public opinion. I asked them not to publish it. They did anyway. -- Tim Barrus
