Da. da. Aye.
Haha. Poor pacifists. Great idea, if it wasn’t for the fact that humans are the way they are. And, the way humans are, the poor fucking pacifists will always get a slug in the face and go down, in the end. I mean, I like pacifists and all, but I know it will never work in the long run. I am a pacifist myself as long as you don’t try to fuck me over, at which point I will do my best to stop you, with violence if necessary. Basic human tendencies go against the grain of pacifism. One should not forget that humans are animals, and that one of the reasons humans have survived as a species is because they are aggressive.
Okay, I know I am apparently contradicting myself here, as I’ve already written about refusal to comply, which is, if you will, a form of passive resistance. So I’ll admit there are very strong forms of pacifism. But, if we look at the big picture, passive resistance has had little influence.
The problem with pacifism is that it only works when many people hold together and pull it through. But I ask myself, and I ask you: who can you rely on to pull that kind of thing through? Don’t forget: humans are individual animals… aggressive animals, devious, self-serving animals. Our evolution has favored aggressive behavior. We are talking about basic, genetically anchored tendencies here, tendencies that have helped us survive and spread.
Or am I wrong? Can you really see us crazy apes living together in peace? Can you really envision a time when not a single one of us will be thinking of how to fuck all the other apes over, just so he can live a little bit better than he is living now? I’m fine living the way I live, but there are always going to be some apes who aren’t satisfied, who want more, and see violence as a way of getting it.
Sometimes all it takes is an aggressive demeanor. From raising you arms, expanding your chest and yelling out your will to dominate, to raising your voice ever so slightly at a damned meaningless meeting… ways of getting your way. Wrong or right, the loudest will be heard. Overbearing assholes… but I have to admit that they get things done, and how they want, at that. How I hate those assholes. How I hate this dominant paradigm.
But, much as I’d love it to be true, you aren’t going to beat them with pacifism. Not in the long run. You’re going to have to fight.
Drinking in the taverns
Talking with the slatterns
Asking what they’d dreamt of being
I wanted to be a dancer, one said
But not in bed
I wanted to be an author, said the next
Buried deep in text
Telling the stories that need it… gimme another one, will you Joe?
The third left with a john
A sweaty little Don
Before I could ask
the fourth cried… I wanted to be a housewife
That’s the life
One man, no cares
One said, with an uncertain smile, how the hell am I supposed to know
That’s all so long ago
twenty for a ‘job, fifty for a bang, and if you want my backside it’ll cost you a hunerd
Said the sixth, and I wondered
If she’d even heard what I’d asked
I wanted to be a whore, said the last
No future, no past
And here I am, living my dream
Something one might want to be aware of… and a perfect example of the horrible power political lobbyists have in our world. Thanks for the pointer, Mr. Haupt.
Yes, we are willing to pay the water company to deliver it into our houses in clean pipes and meter it. We are not really paying for the water, but its delivery.
How would we feel if a company stepped in and took that right away from us? Now we need to pay for water.
That’s exactly what Nestlé is trying to do. At the World Water Forum in 2000, Nestlé successfully lobbied to stop water from being declared a universal right.
If water is not a universal right, how about air?
Check out this article. It makes my skin crawl. This is something we ALLOW to happen. Like sheep we stand and watch how our…
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Recently someone told me I am confusing my readers. All right, I’ll let you in on it, it was that officious little bastard who calls himself Mr. Wilder. The bloody fucking EDITOR. He said: why do you post every six days? It’s totally confusing! Post once a week, everyone understands that. You post every six days… monday, next week sunday, people look monday, next week saturday, they look monday… and so on, until they look monday and you post first on tuesday!
What the fuck…? Doesn’t he realize I have to keep my readers on their toes? No way am I ever going to let them get in to any kind of rhythm here. That would be far too easy. Rhythm is routine, and routine is mindless, and mindless… that is to say mindsdlessness is… mindlessism? Ähhh…
Whatever. Fuck ’im. Never ever will I blog once a week. Not on my life. Not even on yours. If you find it confusing, tough titty in the big city, as my parents used to say.
Listening to Chipatapata, from Thomas Mapfumo
I hear you scream. Well, what do you want me do about it? Should I be hypocritical and say: poor thing. Or: you’ll be fine, don’t worry.
Do your thing. And if you fail: tough tits, try again. Believe me, the entirety of humanity is just as devoid of a plan as you. Most of them have even less of a plan than you do, if that is a consolation. I know it is hard to believe, but it’s true.
Do something. No matter what. If you have an idea, any fucking idea at all, you are in front of half of humanity already. And if you stick to it… well, aye.
Perhaps you are just a mouse. But you’ll be fine with that as long as you always give the finger to the eagle. Do your thing, be aware that you are necessary. The eagle is nothing without the mouse. Mice rule the world, as long as they are aware that they can give the eagle the finger. Be rude. Most of the eagles are just mice anyway. They are just as afraid as you. Quite possibly more so. Somebody put them there and said: you are an eagle, boss the mice, dammit.
So do your thing. In the end, there is no one to stop you but your own bloody helpless self. You have the power. Power. You. Yep. You are the boss of you.
What the hell is that? Sorry, I don’t get patriotism. I haven’t yet personally met a single country that is worth it. Patriotism means I am supposed to love my country, right or wrong. Well, I am just barely able to do that with women, now and then… but I am supposed to be able to do it with a… a country? A place, a really big piece of land, bigger than I can reasonably conceive of? I couldn’t care less. I’ll defend what I consider to be important, if necessary with violence, to the death even, yes, but a country? No.