American Gothic: the whorehouse and the charnel house…


Though your sins be like scarlet,
they may become white as snow;
Though they be red like crimson,
they may become white as wool.
[Isaiah 1:18]


She and her lawyers had those emails deleted, and they didn’t just push the ‘delete’ button; they had them deleted where even God can’t read them.
US Representative Trey Gowdy


The keening refrain heard from both Beltway investor-class zealots as well as their on-the-take corporatist-media solons—those, in particular, hand-picked to moderate invitation-only electoral ‘debates’—has to do with the vulgar, obscene, immoral, etc., campaign strategy of the GOP contender.

The argument in play (with a straight face) appears to be that America’s standing in the world, our good reputation and unimpeachable history of benevolence and plain dealing to humankind, east and west, is being raked across coals by a political gate-crasher roué—specifically (and, more to the point)—lacking in the graces and finesse needed to sustain the two-hundred-forty-year-old fraud that is Empire.


It is not so much that the gate-keepers are harried to the point of undoing by the exposure here, or scandalous revelation there—since they’ve already made up their collective will and narrative to deceive, etc.—“but, by god, man, at least have the tact and polite discretion to bleach your harddrive, so to speak. Our formative years and earliest traditions and counsel are defining moments, and offer sensible cues to earnest, would-be participants: first, hang Mary Dyer…thoughtful, decorous pause…and only then dispatch the Pequots [Mystic massacre overseer: “sometimes the Scripture declareth women and children must perish with their parents… We had sufficient light from the Word of God for our proceedings”].


“The point is that although to the untutored eye it may seem that we lack a ‘moral compass,’ nevertheless, we do have a certain tacit ‘code’—which you appear oblivious to—and, it is this tone-deaf approach to ‘the American success story’ we find to be…unnerving—we’re sensitive, you know? You may feel hard-pressed to locate ‘sensitive’ in the nativist epistle, but it’s there: it’s a subtle history…


“Yes, it’s true that ‘the business of America is business,’ i.e., that’s what we’re about here: we make money, as a matter of faith (if only to confirm the meet and abundant blessings which the Creator, in His knowing, yet difficult-to-fathom way, has pledged to our ‘exceptional’ selves). But, we don’t cotton to your ‘conspicuous consumption’ ethos: part of our global, self-anointed role of the exceptional is being beautiful and, well, the dogged pursuit and conniving for capital is…we’d rather not think about it, much less talk about it: in a word, your presence is inhibiting more…’complex’ personalities.


“No—we do declare that a flexible, ‘compliant’ contender like ‘H’ is more in keeping with the trajectory we’re on (our ‘mission,’ if you will).”


An ‘idealistic,’ epic lesson in hypocrisy, infidelity, encroachment, abduction and enslavement and cronyism demands, if nothing else (for its survival), the discreet. At the very least, we can limn the charnel house she has in mind by turns of ‘valor,’ ‘sacrifice,’ and even (reliably) ‘deliverance.’


Yet, there doesn’t appear to be anything honorable, righteous, etc., that we can ‘narrate’ into our penchant (lust?) for capital. Which is why, in daylight, we drive quickly past our mistress and the scene of domestic betrayal (we much prefer identity-politics ‘success stories’ to any discussion of the ruinous, cutthroat class war being waged here), but write paeans and hymns of demented glory, films and poetics by the score about slaughterfests we’ve arranged.


‘H’ will attempt some redundant, infamous manner of characterizing the killing fields (a variation on ‘worth the sacrifice’?), much as the investor class-configured brothel will curb and divert the rank and file: any crisis they breed or conjure will suffice (will serve to placate, or otherwise defer the mobilization at hand).

We may yet again invoke prophetic verses, but compulsively, to salve a phantom ‘conscience’ (much as an amputee will worry the errant ‘itch’), though, in our death-dealing ‘spirit of 9/12,’ revisited, despising the tedious, banal plea for ‘swords into plowshares’ in favor of the refreshingly pragmatic and forthright ‘wars, and rumors of wars.’


‘H’ and ‘nuclear codes’ as strap-on phallus…

their ‘true believer’…


One recurrent topic among political analysts this year has to do with the lesser evil concern: which of the two mainstream contenders is the least harrowing, deplorable, etc., aspirant for leader of the exceptional nation as global hegemon.

This argument speaks to the debilitated, reckless mindset of ‘H’ as ‘feminist’ bellicose arriviste, with something to prove—once and for all—to the dominant (read: male) Beltway cohort as capital-obsessed warmongers and proxies to financiers, Fortune CEOs and the stock-portfolio opulent minority.

The inverse sexist worldview of supposedly politically correct ‘feminists’ implies that a woman possessing absolute power (q.v., Acton) has been a long time coming. That is, by virtue of the fact that a female will soon have essentially limitless command (underwritten by those who peddled their influence to her now-obvious double-dealing campaign), results not realized by the male peer will now obtain—‘and, watch!’

This runs beyond the common conceit of, e.g., media-personality egoism (the self-focused news anchor, arrogating to himself the right to dissemble, deceive, etc.) to an addled, manic radical anxious to prove her mettle to male political rivals.

The pressing concern is that ‘H’ will pursue an antagonistic, overtly hostile policy with, for example, Russia, specifically (and, miming her false, grotesque protégé Nuland’s affected-machismo ‘fuck the EU’ combative hauteur) with a ‘fuck you, Vlad’ provocation to Moscow. Here, the affected-machismo ‘we came, we saw, he died,’ matures (armed with her oft-mentioned ‘nuclear codes,’ inferred by ‘H’ as stark male aggression, sinew, coveted power as male prerogative?) into a more overt, Kubrick-inflected doom, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and ‘Love’ Putin.

Which is to note, earnest, resolute ‘H’ calculated that the Beltway would be more accessible to ‘the lady’ if she dispels any doubt about her being, for example, passive, reticent, etc. She is certainly not naturally incapable of the most malign traits and inclinations of the male aggressor (Truman-incited inferno, rampant My Lai bloodletting, etc.) but—and owing to, e.g., socio-political repression—in general, those doubtful, base features have not been given their space and moment to emerge (the latent become actualized) until, that is, a Late Capital frenzy meets the useful diversion of identity politics.

The rub being that Mr. Putin seems as yet uninterested in accommodating Empire’s supposedly ‘irresistible’ dictates (it does not appear that Moscow—immovable object—will readily yield to our ‘indispensable’ presence without friction), and her tenure, therefore, does not bode well for what remains of ‘civilization,’ such as it is. Her heedless, inhumane statecraft—aided and given assurance by the impunity which graced her spouse’s scandal-ridden regime—coupled with, e.g., current Middle East jihadi holocaust and despair, bespeak a nuclear-brinksmanship event on our horizon, but sooner rather than later. (JFK would not stand down in that perilous moment—will Mr. Putin model Khrushchev’s sanity if the MIC loses what little is left of theirs?)

Again, as the so-called sex-identified ‘glass ceiling’ has been breached—which supposed ‘progress’ being hailed and marketed this year—and, as an incautious, career zealot is game for ‘results’ (which opportunity having been denied her cohort until what is now perceived as their ‘breakout moment’), she will not now be deterred. ‘H,’ it would seem, has scores to settle, much time has been lost (in the female ‘endlessly deferring’ to the dominant partner), but here, an ethics-free corporatist satrap is, we are assured, ‘equal to the task.’

With a regard for precipitous policy schemes (e.g., Libya), contemptuous, defiantly brazen lying and vicious bravado (q.v., mentor/role model Albright’s idiotic betrayal of her own barbaric, degenerate mindset vis à vis the deaths of half a million children in Iraq), etc., in ‘H,’ the oligarchy and MIC have something more than a willing, ‘team player,’ more than a common war belligerent, more than a venal, greed-driven agent of the Beltway.

In ‘H,’ they’ve found their fanatic—the self-loathing fanatic and her ‘nuclear codes’…

[‘Over the past several years, Washington’s neocon-dominated foreign policy establishment has pushed a stunning policy of destabilizing nuclear-armed Russia in pursuit of a “regime change” in Moscow. This existentially risky strategy has taken shape with minimal substantive debate behind a “group think” driven by anti-Russian and anti-Putin propaganda.’ Robert Parry,]

an open letter to Democracy Now!…


Congratulations, Amy—how clever of you for having located a nun (‘we did it—finally!’) who would fall in with your ill-informed, mean abortion-on-demand festival, at which you would be—what?—the pom pom girl?


Was activist/author Doug Valentine correct, then, in identifying your media enterprise via Hypocrisy Now? Specifically, for this argument, on your often-repeated sophistical theme, it would appear so.


Other than this one ‘feminist’ coup aired today, do you generally ‘coach’ Catholic guests (e.g., Sr. Megan Rice, Frs. Vitale and Dear, Kathy Kelly, etc.) before recording DN! with the shrewd injunction not to talk about that ‘A’ word?


Dan Berrigan—whom you continuously claim to have been a close friend—condemned abortion-on-demand, as did Dorothy Day. And, all you could manage was to artfully gloss over that inconvenient point when you showcased their life’s work? Not surprisingly, then, your protégé, too, betrays the penchant for scheming ‘street creds’—but, with his brother (‘I lived with Phil Berrigan’ [?]).


The ‘feminist’ faux Left media personality posturing herself as emissary of truth for the non-violent revolution—shame on you, Amy, for this demeaning crusade you have not actually thought through: the destruction of the life of a nascent human being cum feminist ‘liberation.’ It’s too easy, it’s just too facile a ‘fix’—don’t you see that?


The consistent life ethic: no to war, no to capital punishment, no to abortion on demand—this is the ethical battle as it stands. Granted, it is immense, and a terrible moral campaign inheres for those who would right all of the ills which plague us, i.e., humanity as Community.


If, then, we have not the stomach for that fight, we adopt the ‘path of lesser resistance’ worldview—as you, Amy, have fashioned. If, by the same token, we are game for the truth, then, like Dorothy Day—another New York feminist journalist, though one not interested in ‘career moves’—aching, we ‘bear it away’…


Further, if you’re genuinely interested in what a courageous (i.e., non-politically correct) feminist has to offer on this woeful, all-too-pressing concern, see Naomi Wolf: ‘Our Bodies, Our Souls‘.


Abortion-on-demand will never be the fait accompli you long for—never. It simply strays too far from what ennobles us, for example, the essential life-drive that sustains our capacity to dream. In a word, it is a nightmare masquerading as a ‘fix,’ or solution—the problematic (we failed to address) abides.


Consistent Life Ethic

[Thomas Paine: ‘I am distressed to see so little attention paid to moral principles: it is this that injures the character of our revolution–and discourages the progress of liberty all over the world…’]

HRC and the male peer…

or: Empire’s Lady Macbeth (‘Hold, hold!’)


The Beltway, having been the exclusive domain of the male agents of Empire—as legislators, executives, warrior caste, proxies to financiers, etc.—was evaluated by HRC as ‘accessible’ to those women willing to adopt what are actually the very worst traits, inclinations, etc., of the dominant cohort. And this, with the amoral (shutting down) preferable to the immoral (merely looking away), to wit: the outwardly banal readiness to countenance death (unto collateral massacre) of non-combatants, an ethics-free courting and wielding of Power, and a tacit ‘code’ of denial expected of all career-focused agents therein—these features of an endlessly malign, investor class-configured realpolitik are safely re-coded as, for example, ‘decisive,’ ‘pragmatic,’ etc.

Hillary simply sized-up the sex-biased rules of political engagement, drank deeply of the amoral worldview, and awaited her inevitable opportunity to cry ‘havoc!,’ that is, to prove her mettle with the male peer…a kind of boastful, ‘I’m not squeamish about spilling blood, far from it—watch!’


And, with the obscene unfolding of regime change in Libya, she well and truly earned her place at that imbrued, heedless, grim table. A literary role-model may inhere—that is, Lady Macbeth prays for the will to ‘lead,’ as implacable, heartless behaviour is read, both then and now, as ‘authority’ and ‘resolve.’


Come, you spirits / That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here / And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full / Of direst cruelty! [1.5.40-43].

And, soliciting…

Make thick my blood; / Stop up the access and passage to remorse / That no compunctious visitings of nature / Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between / The effect and it! / Come to my woman’s breasts / And take my milk for gall, you murd’ring ministers! [44-48].

All through Tehran, children, the elderly, will soon pray, fearfully, to Allah that they may be spared the carnage HRC surely means to visit upon them—one year hence—in the name of ExxonMobil, Goldman Sachs, and her own self-serving iteration of realpolitik as ‘pragmatic,’ Late Capital-frenzied statecraft.

Wherever in your sightless substances / You wait on nature’s mischief. Come, thick night / And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell / That my keen knife see not the wound it makes / Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark / To cry ‘Hold, hold!’ [49-54].

The earnest, Wellesley-bred, ‘can-do’ belligerent seeks to validate her claim to command the global war machine, with husband-mentor counsel there to aid and abet, that prior regime’s impunity a useful assurance of death-dealing success, in Iran, or wherever: HRC will not now be deterred, as in destiny…as in self-will run riot.

War, the Democratic Party and the 2016 elections

The Warmongering Record of Hillary Clinton

[painting: Ellen Terry (as Lady Macbeth)  John Singer Sargent, 1889]




an open letter to Jill Stein…

Jill: it is surely a fine thing when a grassroots movement is galvanized by a collective moral conscience, that is, to oppose the investor class ‘looting’ of the Commonwealth, the oligarch programme begun, e.g., in the Enclosure Acts.


But, ask if enthusiasm, popular appeal, emboldened by a sense of moral ‘right,’ etc., will suffice to counter the Thatcherite, seemingly pathological, now-global pursuit of capital. Was there any recent show from the Left more heartening, more focused, more actualized than the Occupy movement? And, further, did those guardians of the Right not suppress it, mercilessly, violently (via a mandate from ‘on high’), once its tactics, presence, etc., were perceived as a present danger, and so, the cause is stalled? This is not to promote a pessimist’s worldview but, rather, ‘know the enemy.’

Which is to say, we’re not confronted by a rational cohort open to reasoned appeals, sincerity, etc., but, rather, consider a parasitic element so single-minded in its manic ‘feeding frenzy,’ that not only does it mean destruction of the Other, its collective behaviour (given imprimatur by the Beltway and its media) suggests a self-destructive will to consume, i.e., even if that ‘consuming’ translated into its own demise. (Dr. Michael Hudson’s recent text Killing the Host points up this ‘driven’ nature.)

Yes, Frederick Douglass is correct to identify the ‘will to Power’ of tyrants, i.e, nothing is conceded without a demand. Tyrants, though, often exhibit a life drive: in addition to a despotic nature, on some level. at some moment, they will relent in order to survive. Be alert, then, to the likelihood that we’ve gone beyond the era of the ‘ignorant despot’ to another plane: e.g., consider those bellicose agents of the Beltway who argue to surviving a nuclear conflict. Douglass’ idea of the received ‘demand’ presupposes a rational recipient of same—no evidence of ‘the rational’ abides in a manic, addled Beltway.

By all means, be enthused, yes—and be aware, too, of the System’s aberrant, self-destructive urges…

Enclosure Acts

the classic jazz idiom: life affirming…


a school of higher learning…


‘The poet makes himself a seer by a long, prodigious, and rational disordering of all the senses….This is an unspeakable torture during which he needs all his faith and superhuman strength, and during which he becomes the great patient, the great criminal, the great accursed – and the great learned one!’
Arthur Rimbaud

‘Jazz is the big brother of the blues. If a guy’s playing blues like we play, he’s in high school. When he starts playing jazz it’s like going on to college, to a school of higher learning.’
BB King

Of a socio-cultural phenomenon like jazz, Charlie Haden recalled his counsel to young students, noting, ‘I tell them if you strive to be a good person, maybe you might become a great jazz musician.’

And, why would that be? That is, why would Haden make a rather bold, direct point of identifying just the one musical modality?

Classic jazz—the pieces and players we turn to again and again—is that often-complex musical form composed by a discerning, studious collective, to then be ‘abstracted’ (interpreted, improvised, etc.) by yet other knowing masters of the genre—and, further, to be appreciated by the third element in the aesthetic triad: the devotee of classic jazz composition, performance and recordings.


There abides within the classic jazz idiom, in both composing and performing—and, let it be stressed—a requisite freedom. This most needful thing occurs, in, for example, a player’s uninhibited courting of the creative Muse, that demiurge existing just outside his sensibilities, the familiarity zone of his day-to-day often prosaic, frequently precarious world. To be faithful to that innovative, subtle resource is all-consuming, a devotional akin to the acolyte’s glimpse of the sublime—and, to which privilege other, lesser-gifted beings may at times marvel. A poet of Rimbaud’s vision understood this courting of the Muse in a similar vein, citing a ‘derangement,’ knowingly cultivated, as he put it, in the interest of his vocation—a ‘calling,’ possibly in a literal sense, so acutely did he perceive it:

‘I want to be a poet, and I’m working at turning myself into a seer. You won’t understand any of this, and I’m almost incapable of explaining it to you. The idea is to reach the unknown by the derangement of all the senses….It’s really not my fault.’

The director Antonin Artaud speaks to a similar, disorienting rite (that Rimbaud had fairly apologized to his confidante is an index of the upset), here, for actors in working his Théâtre de la Cruauté:


‘Furthermore, when we speak the word ‘life,’ it must be understood we are not referring to life as we know it from the surface of fact, but to that fragile, fluctuating center which forms never reach… we should become as victims burning at the stake, signaling each other through the flames.’


The jazz player listens, and is attentive to, the nuanced, fleeting cues and prompts from the Muse, which are realized, quickly and accurately, as a phrase coordinating with the underlying harmonic base, as well as the rhythmic pulse. Of his dues. Bird noted that he was playing eleven to fifteen hours a day, for three or four years—internalizing the mechanics of the alto, honing his response, a fluid, graced ‘No Mind’ (wu-shin), as Zen adepts have it. Those thousands of hours of ‘woodshed’—the discipline (discipleship) of an acolyte, a harkening unto Artaud’s ‘fragile, fluctuating center…signaling each other through the flames,’ i.e., post-war Be-Bop visionaries, tout ensemble, remnants of the Black Shoah, fluent in the new jazz argot of upper partials, altered dominant sevenths, the signature flat five, etc.—were a Zen seminary for 52nd Street’s hieratic beatified, the Beat cognoscenti vanguard (The Band’s Garth Hudson: ‘But actually the greatest priests on 52nd Street and on the streets in New York City were the musicians. They were doing the greatest healing work…’). Again, Rimbaud, on any possible catharsis:


‘This is an unspeakable torture during which he needs all his faith and superhuman strength, and during which he becomes the great patient, the great criminal, the great accursed – and the great learned one! – among men. – For he arrives at the unknown! Because he has cultivated his own soul – which was rich to begin with – more than any other man! He reaches the unknown; and even if, crazed, he ends up by losing the understanding of his visions, at least he has seen them! Let him die charging through those unutterable, unnameable things: other horrible workers will come; they will begin from the horizons where he has succumbed.’


Jazz educator and vibraphonist par excellence Gary Burton describes the difference between a solo passage in, say, pop music, and jazz as one of contriving an effect, versus the arc of a jazz narrative, i.e., a ‘storytelling,’ in the triadic harmony, melody and that most essential element, cadence (or, pulse), as framing device. Again, the composer here is en route to a unique kind of text (texere, to weave), not primarily in a lyric (in the first-person voice, Billie Holiday’s ‘Fine and Mellow’) but, rather, the virtuoso player’s own spontaneity as a composer.


A hallmark, then, of the classic jazz ‘composition’ is a disposition to re-invention upon the foundation—the essential characteristics—of a chord structure: the AABA 32-bar form is just one instance, heard in the non pareil ‘Body and Soul.’ Note Coleman Hawkins’ graced, inspired tenor flight over the proto-narrative waters, touching down here, alighting there, ‘Body and Soul’ as springpoint for the immediate composition he establishes: a narrative upon a narrative, or meta-text via the immediacy of jazz improvisation, Rimbaud’s creative frenzy via the stalwart Muse Hawkins has been courting. Here, an immolation of the Black poet, who rises, and then scales Parnassus via San Juan Hill and Minton’s proving ground, the Harlem crucible where post-war young jazz avatars ‘die charging through those unutterable, unnameable things,’ like the reality of Jim Crow, Charlie Parker denied a cabaret card (disallowed access to his namesake’ 52nd St venue!), or Billy Strayhorn at Columbia Presbyterian, bringing off ‘Blood Count’ with his last spark and will, and so on.


It is the profound sense of purpose instilled therein which informs the classic work, of course—a particularly dramatic account in the case of Strayhorn, certainly, but no less present in, e.g., Lady Day, under interdiction, singing ‘Strange Fruit.’ In defiance of a lifetime of racism, yes, but the healing event that derives from making known America’s ongoing, hideous ‘secret sin’—simply not mentioned among the polite, the white, etc., the healing of sacred witness (‘what you do to the least of my brothers…’), a witness to the grotesquerie of ‘the City on the Hill’ jump-started by the slave labor of King Cotton, etc.—is coadjutor to post-war Black defiance, too. It is a jazz praxis in play here, an aesthetic ideology which mandates an activism—the revolutionary act of speaking the truth (full disclosure) where the false Empire survives via omission, duplicity and loveless addiction to a preposterous, failed ego.


Black America, in its Gethsemane, hears its prophet Coltrane narrate ‘Alabama,’ on the heels of the 16th Street Church bombing in 1963, and the demons of American Gothic are purged, again, again, etc., with every witness, every re-creating and renewing of the piece via Trane’s performance of it, composed on the spot, an unhindered chromatic (<Gk, color) altarpiece and stream of consciousness hymnal, America’s salvific moment, a dispensation and ‘remission of sin’ via its four child martyrs who, in fact, inspired (invoked?) the piece. ‘Alabama’ is a classic work as its mystic, welcoming depth will not be sounded, yet it gives and gives. Surely, it petitions more than condemns.


The Black poet—America’s own (not a European derivative)—having been compensated with disdain and the lash, returns quality, instead of kind. That is, he hands America the healing, uninhibited, glad grace of jazz. By his stripes we are healed. Again, Rimbaud might just as well have been considering Coltrane, before the fact:


‘Every form of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he consumes all the poisons in him, and keeps only their quintessences. This is an unspeakable torture during which he needs all his faith and superhuman strength, and during which he becomes the great patient, the great criminal, the great accursed – and the great learned one! – among men.’


So, yes, Charlie Haden, a devotee of the art form has to cultivate a sophisticated, sensitive and learned aesthetic within himself in order to…’understand’ the composer and subsequent performers of the piece, in all their joy, anguish, rage, hope and civilized knowing. The ennobling spirit, the curative catharsis of its better angels, jazz is surely the ‘school of higher learning,’ a nourishing mother and balm…it is twice blest, of a noble quality, for both—herald and beatified—an epiphanic ‘signaling through the flames,’ but of the Promethean kind, an endowing of warmth, light and, here, absolution: feel it, know the Light…

it belongs to Community…

Obama’s enfeebled impersonation of ‘staunch guardian of democratic ideals’ is as multidimensional, as complex, as a pay-per-show Ivy League soft-porn sweat fest: it exists on just one mephitic, tedious plane, full of sound and fury, with the quite obvious, soiled capitalist mattress he lies in—with, e.g., his benefactress, the effete doyenne of Chicago’s ruling-class elite, Penny Pritzker—further betraying earnest claims and appeals to the idealist ‘security’ motif underwriting his oh-so-bad, essentially war-criminal, demeanor.

The only aspect of the US social, political and economic construct being ‘secured’ lies in the realm of investor-class interests, their prerogatives, their entitlements, their ‘right to know.’ As for the rest of us, we will continue to be treated to contemptuous, defiantly brazen lying, all in the service of sustaining the global parasite, that is, the investor class-configured status quo.

These final assaults by Empire—being the death throes of the moribund Late (finance) Capital—are as panicked as the investment bank debt markets are agitated to find and rape new coffers, when scarce few are left. The bleached bones of the sacrificed working-class—both here, via the urban homeless, as well as the offspring of same, swept up in a doomed-to-fail global militarism—witness to the piggish, self-indulgent, degenerate rich, their servile allies in the State, and the goon, hoodlum-like enforcers of the rule of their law.

This is Acton’s ‘absolute Power’ writ large…it is Arendt’s ‘banality of evil’ run rampant inside the Beltway, inside the boardrooms, as well as the editorial offices of the corporate propagandists ensuring it comes off without a hitch—and, it does…

And, what is the cure? His name is Edward Snowden, his name is Bradley Manning, his name is Julian Assange, his name is Daniel Ellsberg, and the Berrigan brothers, Dorothy Stang, Noam Chomsky, Howard Zinn, and the many nameless activist/participants who deny the claims of Power-for-its-own-sake by resistance, by truth to Power. Thwart Power, challenge Power, resist Power, frustrate Power, obstruct Power, yes, even cheat Power. And then, give to Community, sustain Community, be in Community. It belongs to Community, it was stolen from Community—take it back.

[addendum, 12.16: ‘So, basically, Obama made it appear as if he was representing the people where he slammed down hard on them. Just as he slammed down on them in his work in Chicago when he gentrified the city’s black neighborhood, making billions of dollars in real estate gains for the Pritzker and Crown families. He was able to deliver his constituency to his backers, using false promises and a “golden tongue.”‘ Dr. Michael Hudson, ‘Orwellian Economics’]