So, it's the Fourth-uh-July, once again, and I've made the hideous mistake of having the "news" on. I see that it's still wall-to-wall Jacko, along with a little miscellaneous trivia having to do with the resignation of the governor of Alaska (but not much of that latter, really). Meanwhile, official unemployment's going through ten per cent -- you can safely figure that real unemployment is more, by at least half again -- and our futile attempts to put down unrest in our recently-acquired southwest Asian provinces continue. The corporate/government criminals' club continue to create pseudo-money in order to steal it, since there's already nothing but debt in the "treasury" (maybe we should call it the "debtery?").
It seems to me that the misdirection ploy will work only so long. When people are actually hungry, they aren't going to be diverted by dead celebrities, and it's not even going to be easy to convince them that they need to be all wound up about the Iranians getting nukes and inconveniencing the Israelis. Not that they're suddenly going to become principled revolutionaries or anything; mobs are notoriously unthoughtful. All in all, we may be seeing some highly interesting times in the months and years to come.
3 comments:
Jim, do you follow the "A Tiny Revolution" blog? There's a blood-curdling link to a piece about Goldman Sachs by Matt Taibbi. If you think you knew the depths to which our banking establishment has sunk, you ain't seen nothin' yet.
I'm afraid you're right, my friend. Things are not going to be pretty, which is all the more reason to keep our sites aimed a little higher.
Jim:
I am already so tired of hearing about Jackson's death and troubles. After the funeral or whatever, we will be besieged with an unending stream of news about his estate, custody battles, and the rest of his family.
I thought we would never hear the end of it after Anna Nicole Smith's death.
I appreciate the fact that he died - we all face that. One of my favorite poems is "Thanatopsis" written by William Cullen Bryant at the age of 17. At the end, we are all the same when we lie down in the earth.
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