Saturday, March 9, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Dependents of the State
But if the poor are dependent on the state, so, too, are America’s rich. The extraordinary accumulation of wealth enjoyed by the socioeconomic elite — in 2007, the richest 1 percent of Americans accounted for about 24 percent of all income — simply wouldn’t be possible if the United States weren’t organized as it is. Just about every aspect of America’s economic and legal infrastructure — the laissez-faire governance of the markets; a convoluted tax structure that has hedge fund managers paying less than their office cleaners; the promise of state intervention when banks go belly-up; the legal protections afforded to corporations as if they were people; the enormous subsidies given to corporations (in total, about 50 percent more than social services spending); electoral funding practices that allow the wealthy to buy influence in government — allows the rich to stay rich and get richer. In primitive societies, people can accumulate only as much stuff as they can physically gather and hold on to. It’s only in “advanced” societies that the state provides the means to socioeconomic domination by a tiny minority. “The poverty of our century is unlike that of any other,” the writer John Berger said about the 20th century, though he might equally have said it of this one: “It is not, as poverty was before, the result of natural scarcity, but of a set of priorities imposed upon the rest of the world by the rich.”
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Goodbye SF
A good read on the ever-more-alienating city I've just left.
--Ian Svenonius, "Seinfeld Syndrome." Psychic Soviet
As the suburban pre-fab landscape encroached further toward the city centers, the diversity that had characterized the metropolitan center vanished, unable to resist the virulant weapons of wealth, conformity, and mediocrity. Soon, the city itself was extinct, enveloped completely by its imperialist neighbors.
--Ian Svenonius, "Seinfeld Syndrome." Psychic Soviet
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Trash
Tonight we rocked out for Joe Smiths bday and it ruled. Population took me back to winter time at the Albion house...eyes closed, dancing my ass off, surrounded by loved ones. It left me feeling so good about punk and my friends. Ya'll....Dance like no one is watching....if I can take anything into my late 30's it's that. Dance like you're a fucking 2 1/2 year old....who gives a fuck....feel it....feel it, or you're dead. Peace and love. See you in the flesh. xoxoxoxoxo :) Let in the good, spread it around and live life like it's the only one you got....cause it is. :)
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Calling your store "Unionmade" (and modeling your logo on the AFL-CIO's) while not selling union made goods is just as asinine and insulting as calling your store "Americanmade" while selling things manufactured in China. It's blatantly misleading. It's fraudulent. It's the fashion equivalent of a TV preacher using Jesus love for the poor as a selling point to line his own pockets. On the other hand, subjugating the meaning of a real, serious political issue that affects millions of people's lives to the fact that you like the vibe of the sound of the name of it seems perfectly in character for a store that sells luxury-priced 1890s miners clothes to affluent people who will wear them while sitting inside their air-conditioned advertising agency office job.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
For electronic music, the central artwork was the night and everything spills off from that – a decentralised web that take in tunes, DJs, lights, friendships, drugs, after parties and dumb conversations that in some way go back into the scene. Which is, if you think about it, really similar to social networking and the online world, in that we’re all constantly creating this vast object that is made up only of the relationships and the actions of the people in it. It’s a lovely idea – that we should muck in, fuck up, have a bash and talk nonsense, and we should do it as much as possible, because every conversation we have and friend we make somehow contributes to this vast wibbly-wobbly thing we either call “electronic music culture”, “the internet”, or, by extension, “life”.
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