It was moving day again, something I never look forward to. It's not just ripping everything up and traveling to a new city; it's the reasons behind it, and the realization that I would be a fool to try and stop it. We've set up safehouses all over the continent, and only we know which ones we're moving to... It's a perfect system. In theory.
There's 15 of us in this troupe, traversing the country and doing what we can where we can to try and improve things a bit. But we aren't the only troupe out there, so we have to look out for each other. We've never met another troupe, but we leave messages in the safehouses, signed by each of us. They do likewise. By my count, there's a little more than a dozen troupes, but lately communication has been getting more sparse. Then, we are spreading out more, too. Supplies are running low. Though we try to do what we can for the others, too; when we gather food and water, we make sure to leave some for the next weary travelers to take sanctuary in our hideaways. And they could be anything, really: high-rise apartments, minimalls, stockyards, warehouses... even churches, if we can shut things up well enough. It's a well-connected network of buildings spanning the known globe over... at least, the known modified globe. Since the bombs fell, and the satellites followed shortly, we're not sure if anything has survived on the other continents. Then again, we do our best to stay away from the coasts, too. Strange things happen near open water.
But like I was saying, it was moving day. We're on a rotating schedule, never staying more than 4 days in one place. The mutants and ghouls wise up pretty quick when there's fresh, unscorched meat to be had... heard a story once of a cadre that stayed a full week in one town, only to be staring point-blank down the maw of some particularly nasty dretches and skivs. I wouldn't have believed anybody to be so stupid until we happened across the town. San Pablo, the sign said. Ain't no Pablo I ever saw.
Breaking camp is the easy part, really. Siphon the gas there is to be had into the trucks and equalize their tanks, with three "steamers" with completely full tanks. Load the steamers with most of the food and provisions, load the people into the other four rollers with the rest of the equipment. You know, the water purifiers, Giger counters, extra ammo, generators, stuff for making camp outside if absolutely necessary. Three people to each steamer (one to drive, two to defend, one in the cab and one riding bitch while lashed to the tops), one driver to each roller, one gunner to lead and rear guard rollers. Wait for high noon and roll out. Generally we already had our positions planned out by the time we took, but this time we were a little disorganized leaving... and that almost got us killed.
See, all of us can drive, but only a few of us know how to keep the steamers running nice. Since driving steamer is so taxing, the four of them are on rotating schedules, with the one on rest making rear guard defense, arguably the most relaxing job on the trail. This week, Oiler was supposed to take rear guard, but there was some confusion. Bosun wanted it (as did the rest of the steamheads, truth be told), but it really was Oiler's turn. Didn't matter. Bosun wanted to fight for it. Took three people to break up the scuffle, me and Twitch running interference while Head shouted at both of them for being stupid... and he was right, but nobody wanted to hear it from Head. This only got Bosun more pissed off, and he ended up charging Head and knocking him pretty good across the noggin, making him swell up even more. I had to bandage the kid back up, and talk him down from a fight. All in all, Oiler still got rear guard, but we didn't get out of there until near sundown, which meant we had to shoot our way out of town. Had a couple shriekers needed to be picked off (I was riding the whip on top of our lead steamer), but they weren't much of a problem. The dretches coming out of the woodwork were worse, since they're fat and tend to kind of explode when you hit 'em, which gunks up the machines; Twitch got two, and Bosun ran another three over in the steamer. We didn't even get to Omaha until almost midday, which meant a whole morning wasted when we should've been set up and ready to search during the bright hours.
Stupid fucking time. At least we got here safe. As it stands, the troupe's just about ready to go on reconnoiter; let's see if the land of corn and honey has much left to offer instead of old, melted electronics and mutant bovines.
=Dr. Bones, Survivalist, 4 Years Post-Fall Log Completed, 3rd week of Summer, 3:48 PM
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
On The Nature of Distraction
It's strange how time seems to mean so little when you don't sleep. Supposedly, the body uses things like sleep to regulate our perception of an abstract, namely time. However, in this modern age of time-keeping pieces, sundials, and water clocks, that internalized system has become not only obsolete, but redundant.
I look at the clock on the computer. It says one thing, one thing which I could take as fact. However, the clock on my phone says a different, though similar thing. Do I take that as fact? Or how about the clock by my bed, reading an entirely different interpretation of time itself? Is that to be believed as correct? Or the clocks in the bathroom, one of which never changes, the other of which never stays consistent or still, the two in constant conflict?
Not that we can trust these external systems anyway. Even things which are considered givens, namely the day-night cycle, are inconsistent and improper as means of demarcating a concept: During the summer the time of light is longer than the time of dark, and vice-versa in the winter... but only in the north. And only sometimes. To the extremes, things normalize, with what essentially amounts to six months of light followed by six months of dark... months themselves only confusing matters more. And what of the equator, where day-night cycles are constant but there are no seasons to base other things off of, with the exception of a singular rainy season that lasts anywhere from one "week" to four "months" depending on the year and precipitation collection elsewhere, and the modification of various fronts of warm and cold air, not to mention global climate change?
My computer says 1:06 AM. My phone says 1:04 AM. The clock by the bed reads 1:29. The analog clock in the bathroom reads 6:00, while the digital clock flashes a steady 11:38 PM. Eventually these numbers will blur, and when the Witching Hour hits, it won't really matter anyway. The ghouls will come, their stinking breath and festering promises seeping through the cracks in the windows like an icy fog. Roiling and swelling and receding just as fast, they will pass, as they always do, though they ravage the streets of any poor sap that happens to be caught outside. The shutters will be down over the window, the locks secured, the lights on outside, though inside is only darkness.
And when you can't sleep, that darkness won't let you know you're failing in your singular Herculean task of human stability: sleep. If it weren't for the glow of this monitor reflecting off the pistol in my lap, I'd never be able to tell if I was awake or dreaming.
I never wanted to sleep to begin with; I just hope the dreaming is a few more hours away.
=Dr. Bones, Survivalist, 4 Years Post-Fall Log Completed, "1:10 AM"
I look at the clock on the computer. It says one thing, one thing which I could take as fact. However, the clock on my phone says a different, though similar thing. Do I take that as fact? Or how about the clock by my bed, reading an entirely different interpretation of time itself? Is that to be believed as correct? Or the clocks in the bathroom, one of which never changes, the other of which never stays consistent or still, the two in constant conflict?
Not that we can trust these external systems anyway. Even things which are considered givens, namely the day-night cycle, are inconsistent and improper as means of demarcating a concept: During the summer the time of light is longer than the time of dark, and vice-versa in the winter... but only in the north. And only sometimes. To the extremes, things normalize, with what essentially amounts to six months of light followed by six months of dark... months themselves only confusing matters more. And what of the equator, where day-night cycles are constant but there are no seasons to base other things off of, with the exception of a singular rainy season that lasts anywhere from one "week" to four "months" depending on the year and precipitation collection elsewhere, and the modification of various fronts of warm and cold air, not to mention global climate change?
My computer says 1:06 AM. My phone says 1:04 AM. The clock by the bed reads 1:29. The analog clock in the bathroom reads 6:00, while the digital clock flashes a steady 11:38 PM. Eventually these numbers will blur, and when the Witching Hour hits, it won't really matter anyway. The ghouls will come, their stinking breath and festering promises seeping through the cracks in the windows like an icy fog. Roiling and swelling and receding just as fast, they will pass, as they always do, though they ravage the streets of any poor sap that happens to be caught outside. The shutters will be down over the window, the locks secured, the lights on outside, though inside is only darkness.
And when you can't sleep, that darkness won't let you know you're failing in your singular Herculean task of human stability: sleep. If it weren't for the glow of this monitor reflecting off the pistol in my lap, I'd never be able to tell if I was awake or dreaming.
I never wanted to sleep to begin with; I just hope the dreaming is a few more hours away.
=Dr. Bones, Survivalist, 4 Years Post-Fall Log Completed, "1:10 AM"
Thursday, March 20, 2008
The State of the Union
There's been a strange trend in America lately, one of scandal and outrage, spying and glorification of espionage. In a recently-released statement, it was found that Bill Clinton rendezvous'd with Ms. Lewinsky while Hillary was home. And not just 'home'... In the White House itself. Thanks to some sort of disclosure running out, the records of Hillary's daily schedule for quite a long time (some 11,000 pages worth) were released by the National Archives, along with a huge mountain of raw data gathered elsewhere.
There are some who are supporting Hillary now more than ever thanks to the releasing and subsequent dissemination of this information; they admire her courage to stand by her man as he cheated on her under her nose. They think it is noble that she faced public humiliation time and time again and yet had the strength to stick with it, and now she's trying to get herself into a position to make things right.
On the other hand, there are those that are condemning Hillary more than ever over the very same things. They aren't sure they trust someone who could stand by her man as he abused her in a roundabout way, humiliating her over and over, forcing her into a spotlight -- and a position -- that she never asked to be put in. Many would say they think it is better when a person in an abusive or otherwise unsavory relationship comes to her senses and steps forward than to stick with it, trying to salvage something that might never have been in the first place.
My position and thoughts on the matter: Who the fuck cares? What business is it of ours, the general public, to pry into these peoples' lives with such vigor, to feast upon their inequities and flaws like slavering animals, to continually rip at the carcass of their underlives, bringing them into the open? Are we truly so mindless, so starved for fanaticism, that we must look inward to destroy what we already have than to look outward and hope to expose and, ideally, rectify issues -- which, arguably, are much more dangerous and pressing -- in the global reality?
JFK had a number of affairs both foreign and domestic, and nobody said a word until after his death. Hell, let's go further back: Jefferson had affairs with his slaves and fathered a number of illegitimate black children that we're only just now figuring out. Did this stop them from being excellent leaders? Did these revelations suddenly reverse the good that they did while running the country? Are they now to be vilified and left for dead in the annals of history as adulterers?
For a long time, things like leaders' private lives were taboo subjects for reporters and newspeople. Despite the sheer amount of dirt they may have had, unless it had something to do with a president's professional life and conduct (Watergate, anyone?) it was off-limits. And really, I think that's the way it should be. These people, for better or for worse, were elected by the people they were sworn to serve. In reality, what they did behind closed doors was their business and their business alone; far be it from us to judge. Are we so perfect ourselves? Shit.
For decades, America has been viewed rather globally as something of a cesspit, this writhing mass of sin washed over with a veneer of pompous righteousness. It's a gross indignation and outrage that we as a collective can feel anything other than indifference towards such acts; when 50% of all marriages in the country end in divorce, when infidelity rates are through the roof, when lives are shattered and families torn asunder daily via the improprieties of the people who live them (remember, a full half of the population)... who the fuck are we to judge?
Final thought: What Bill does with his trouser snake is Bill's business. What Hillary chose to do when confronted with the information was her business. It's not mine, yours, or anybody else's. You could argue that it reflects on their abilities as a leader, but it really doesn't. Find me someone in a position of power who hasn't succumbed to some modicum of desire, privilege, or the benefits the prestige of their office grants them, and I will show you someone you know absolutely nothing about.
And to be honest, I don't really blame Bill. It seems like the marriage was political to begin with... and really, if I had to wake up next to H-Cli every day, see that face staring at me first thing in the morning, well. I'd be looking for some relief, too. I wouldn't let that anywhere NEAR my wet, sticky cigar.
There are some who are supporting Hillary now more than ever thanks to the releasing and subsequent dissemination of this information; they admire her courage to stand by her man as he cheated on her under her nose. They think it is noble that she faced public humiliation time and time again and yet had the strength to stick with it, and now she's trying to get herself into a position to make things right.
On the other hand, there are those that are condemning Hillary more than ever over the very same things. They aren't sure they trust someone who could stand by her man as he abused her in a roundabout way, humiliating her over and over, forcing her into a spotlight -- and a position -- that she never asked to be put in. Many would say they think it is better when a person in an abusive or otherwise unsavory relationship comes to her senses and steps forward than to stick with it, trying to salvage something that might never have been in the first place.
My position and thoughts on the matter: Who the fuck cares? What business is it of ours, the general public, to pry into these peoples' lives with such vigor, to feast upon their inequities and flaws like slavering animals, to continually rip at the carcass of their underlives, bringing them into the open? Are we truly so mindless, so starved for fanaticism, that we must look inward to destroy what we already have than to look outward and hope to expose and, ideally, rectify issues -- which, arguably, are much more dangerous and pressing -- in the global reality?
JFK had a number of affairs both foreign and domestic, and nobody said a word until after his death. Hell, let's go further back: Jefferson had affairs with his slaves and fathered a number of illegitimate black children that we're only just now figuring out. Did this stop them from being excellent leaders? Did these revelations suddenly reverse the good that they did while running the country? Are they now to be vilified and left for dead in the annals of history as adulterers?
For a long time, things like leaders' private lives were taboo subjects for reporters and newspeople. Despite the sheer amount of dirt they may have had, unless it had something to do with a president's professional life and conduct (Watergate, anyone?) it was off-limits. And really, I think that's the way it should be. These people, for better or for worse, were elected by the people they were sworn to serve. In reality, what they did behind closed doors was their business and their business alone; far be it from us to judge. Are we so perfect ourselves? Shit.
For decades, America has been viewed rather globally as something of a cesspit, this writhing mass of sin washed over with a veneer of pompous righteousness. It's a gross indignation and outrage that we as a collective can feel anything other than indifference towards such acts; when 50% of all marriages in the country end in divorce, when infidelity rates are through the roof, when lives are shattered and families torn asunder daily via the improprieties of the people who live them (remember, a full half of the population)... who the fuck are we to judge?
Final thought: What Bill does with his trouser snake is Bill's business. What Hillary chose to do when confronted with the information was her business. It's not mine, yours, or anybody else's. You could argue that it reflects on their abilities as a leader, but it really doesn't. Find me someone in a position of power who hasn't succumbed to some modicum of desire, privilege, or the benefits the prestige of their office grants them, and I will show you someone you know absolutely nothing about.
And to be honest, I don't really blame Bill. It seems like the marriage was political to begin with... and really, if I had to wake up next to H-Cli every day, see that face staring at me first thing in the morning, well. I'd be looking for some relief, too. I wouldn't let that anywhere NEAR my wet, sticky cigar.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Wherein I Discuss My Relationship With Cigarettes
I bought a pack of cigarettes today (for those that must know, I bought them to sell; there's quite the amount of money to be gained from selling cigarettes to desperate college kids who are too lazy to go to the store themselves. One pack of cigarettes is about 20 cigs at around 5 bucks a pack depending on brand; sell those at two bucks a piece, you're making a 35 dollar profit. And people will pay it, because people are lazy) and on the front is a notice about how the tobacco contained in these cigarettes "mostly" comes from family-owned and operated tobacco farms. Camel filters, Turkish blend. You think the starving family tobacco farmers in Turkey care about how their crop is being used?
Before you go off on me, keep in mind I'm utilizing this as an extreme way to illustrate a point. People have been farming tobacco across the pond since before we were a twinkle in the New World's eye. I have little doubt that for millenia the various hashish smoking cultures have been cutting their grass with tobacco (or a very similar herb) in order to make it more 'friendly'; I know the old adage that if you don't cough, you don't get off, but c'mon; who actually likes hacking up a lung in an attempt to get high, other than dumb preteens in middle school who think being high is the single most awesome attempt you can make at being an adult? (Kids: Don't do drugs irresponsibly. I'm a Doctor, and I approve this message.) So what's the upshot? Guilt.
Guilt is a powerful motivator in American society, especially since that whole Recycling boom in the 80's and 90's, which is yet another bullshit thing but I may touch on that later. Nowadays you can't spit without hitting a product that has been partially recycled to save the planet, or grown in a free-range chemical (or "enhancement")-free environment in an attempt to ensure the least possible amount of suffering. So now we have this whole subculture that is convinced that helping free-trade is THE way to exist.
Now, I have no problem with free-trade. It helps the global economy in a general sense and, more importantly, it makes people feel special. (Dear reader: please keep in mind I really have no issue with helping the global economy, but there are multiple ways to accomplish this goal, none of which are inherently bad with the exception of the reinstatement of slavery. YOUR VOTE COUNTS.) But there's this push, especially in the US, about buying all-organic or torture-free or something that would benefit the non-commercial. Now, keep in mind I found this on a package of cigarettes, an item known to kill, perhaps the single most damaging legalized product in the nation (with the exception of semi-automatic ammunition). A little friendly sticker on the front with an image of two hands clasping each other, letting me know about the poor Turkish farmers I was benefacting by buying this particular pack of cigarettes.
I swear to fuck this is some sort of guilt-trip for the rich, for people who don't have real problems. Because now they KNOW Camel is the brand that supports the global tobacco market, they have to buy Camels to show they care, care in supporting farmers while killing their own kin. It underlines a deeper problem, that of supreme dissatisfaction, of not being a real human unless you take these asinine measures to show you care... which beggars the question, how much can a smoker really CARE about starving families in Turkey who supply their habit?
Something to ponder.
Before you go off on me, keep in mind I'm utilizing this as an extreme way to illustrate a point. People have been farming tobacco across the pond since before we were a twinkle in the New World's eye. I have little doubt that for millenia the various hashish smoking cultures have been cutting their grass with tobacco (or a very similar herb) in order to make it more 'friendly'; I know the old adage that if you don't cough, you don't get off, but c'mon; who actually likes hacking up a lung in an attempt to get high, other than dumb preteens in middle school who think being high is the single most awesome attempt you can make at being an adult? (Kids: Don't do drugs irresponsibly. I'm a Doctor, and I approve this message.) So what's the upshot? Guilt.
Guilt is a powerful motivator in American society, especially since that whole Recycling boom in the 80's and 90's, which is yet another bullshit thing but I may touch on that later. Nowadays you can't spit without hitting a product that has been partially recycled to save the planet, or grown in a free-range chemical (or "enhancement")-free environment in an attempt to ensure the least possible amount of suffering. So now we have this whole subculture that is convinced that helping free-trade is THE way to exist.
Now, I have no problem with free-trade. It helps the global economy in a general sense and, more importantly, it makes people feel special. (Dear reader: please keep in mind I really have no issue with helping the global economy, but there are multiple ways to accomplish this goal, none of which are inherently bad with the exception of the reinstatement of slavery. YOUR VOTE COUNTS.) But there's this push, especially in the US, about buying all-organic or torture-free or something that would benefit the non-commercial. Now, keep in mind I found this on a package of cigarettes, an item known to kill, perhaps the single most damaging legalized product in the nation (with the exception of semi-automatic ammunition). A little friendly sticker on the front with an image of two hands clasping each other, letting me know about the poor Turkish farmers I was benefacting by buying this particular pack of cigarettes.
I swear to fuck this is some sort of guilt-trip for the rich, for people who don't have real problems. Because now they KNOW Camel is the brand that supports the global tobacco market, they have to buy Camels to show they care, care in supporting farmers while killing their own kin. It underlines a deeper problem, that of supreme dissatisfaction, of not being a real human unless you take these asinine measures to show you care... which beggars the question, how much can a smoker really CARE about starving families in Turkey who supply their habit?
Something to ponder.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Wherein Life Is Discussed
You know, there's not a whole lot I like about this area, I have to be honest. I don't like the smells, I don't like most of the people, I don't like the lack of connectedness. I don't like the size, I don't like the sounds, I don't like the weather. I don't like the mentality, I don't like the way it's expanding, I don't like the industry. I don't like the fact that it shuts down at 9 PM, that if you don't drink or own a boat there's nothing to do, that if you're hoping for a good time you're looking at traveling at least two hours in any direction to find entertainment.
But one thing I do like is this: I love how dark it gets. I love how remote it is. I love that, despite everything, you can get away with relative ease. I was out walking just a little bit ago and was left marveling at how alone I actually was. Nobody was out driving despite it being Friday night/Saturday morning, and Leap Day at that. Nobody was wandering the streets being vagrants or looking for transients. I didn't have to explain to any person who I was, why I was here, and what I was doing not at home. There were no drug-sniffing dogs, no gangbangers, no skaters with an attitude. Just me, the road, the wind, and the sky. And oh, what a sky it was.
The thing about here is that it doesn't get much precipitation. We're high desert. We get lots of wind, but as far as rain goes we're left pretty dry. So the clouds tend to be a bit on the pathetic side. I stood for half an hour just staring up into the sky, watching the thin wisps streak across the sky in an intricate spiderweb of chaos, without form or function, trying desperately to gather strengths and become a storm. It created an interesting illusion, where the sky was interconnecting layers on a two-dimensional plane, with neither depth nor substance to differentiate. There was one sky, the True Sky, which was deep black, a window to the heavens, constellations shining brightly against a backdrop of nebulous space, our arm of the Milky Way. And then there was the Cloud Sky, catching the light from elsewhere in the Tri-Cities, everything reflected off the great Columbia, giving the sky light but no illumination.
It was almost like two worlds, one that was black and deep, True Sky, and another that was so dark it was white, Cloud Sky. The two danced and twirled together, advancing, parrying, parleying, prying, guarding, attacking, defending, pushing, falling, like playing children or quarreling lovers. The distinction between the two is rarely more than an issue of semantics, really. I watched Cloud Sky change shape, forcing True Sky into submission in its own right, forced to give way... and then I watched True Sky punch a hole in Cloud Sky, creating its own version of shape and form and life, a smirking show of one-upsmanship. And I came to understand how this mirrors life in a strange, almost caustic way.
We come into life at a disadvantage, trying desperately to differentiate ourselves, to prove our worth over our 'better man', our brothers, our fellows. We do this following codes of conduct instilled from us since the moment we've left the womb, rules and guidelines that are somehow ineffable and unchallengeable. It's an awkward ploy, a facade of fragility, demonstrating in an amazing microcosm how far we have yet to go to to achieve any sort of enlightenment. A philosopher whose name escapes me put it best: "The wisest man is the one who admits he knows nothing at all." It is the acceptance of ignorance -- true ignorance -- that allows us to expand. A difficult task in a society that is determined to keep us bound and boxed, compartmentalized and forgotten. Like Cloud Sky and True Sky, we are at odds with each other, when really it is those around us that shape us and mold us into what we are, what we once were, and what we will become.
But one thing I do like is this: I love how dark it gets. I love how remote it is. I love that, despite everything, you can get away with relative ease. I was out walking just a little bit ago and was left marveling at how alone I actually was. Nobody was out driving despite it being Friday night/Saturday morning, and Leap Day at that. Nobody was wandering the streets being vagrants or looking for transients. I didn't have to explain to any person who I was, why I was here, and what I was doing not at home. There were no drug-sniffing dogs, no gangbangers, no skaters with an attitude. Just me, the road, the wind, and the sky. And oh, what a sky it was.
The thing about here is that it doesn't get much precipitation. We're high desert. We get lots of wind, but as far as rain goes we're left pretty dry. So the clouds tend to be a bit on the pathetic side. I stood for half an hour just staring up into the sky, watching the thin wisps streak across the sky in an intricate spiderweb of chaos, without form or function, trying desperately to gather strengths and become a storm. It created an interesting illusion, where the sky was interconnecting layers on a two-dimensional plane, with neither depth nor substance to differentiate. There was one sky, the True Sky, which was deep black, a window to the heavens, constellations shining brightly against a backdrop of nebulous space, our arm of the Milky Way. And then there was the Cloud Sky, catching the light from elsewhere in the Tri-Cities, everything reflected off the great Columbia, giving the sky light but no illumination.
It was almost like two worlds, one that was black and deep, True Sky, and another that was so dark it was white, Cloud Sky. The two danced and twirled together, advancing, parrying, parleying, prying, guarding, attacking, defending, pushing, falling, like playing children or quarreling lovers. The distinction between the two is rarely more than an issue of semantics, really. I watched Cloud Sky change shape, forcing True Sky into submission in its own right, forced to give way... and then I watched True Sky punch a hole in Cloud Sky, creating its own version of shape and form and life, a smirking show of one-upsmanship. And I came to understand how this mirrors life in a strange, almost caustic way.
We come into life at a disadvantage, trying desperately to differentiate ourselves, to prove our worth over our 'better man', our brothers, our fellows. We do this following codes of conduct instilled from us since the moment we've left the womb, rules and guidelines that are somehow ineffable and unchallengeable. It's an awkward ploy, a facade of fragility, demonstrating in an amazing microcosm how far we have yet to go to to achieve any sort of enlightenment. A philosopher whose name escapes me put it best: "The wisest man is the one who admits he knows nothing at all." It is the acceptance of ignorance -- true ignorance -- that allows us to expand. A difficult task in a society that is determined to keep us bound and boxed, compartmentalized and forgotten. Like Cloud Sky and True Sky, we are at odds with each other, when really it is those around us that shape us and mold us into what we are, what we once were, and what we will become.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
THIS IS THE RECKONING
This is it, ladies and gentlemen. D-Day, February 10th, 2008. I'm watching this unfold with baited breath; simply spectacular displays of humanity and justice. There's been a decent showing of support for Anonymous and what they stand for; and the Australian protests have ended, to great effect. Here's a slideshow commemorating the events. By the way, this is the only proper use of this song. Ever. EVER. I mean that. The song is shit. But this is for a noble cause. I'll put my internet posturing away for a day in observance.
Meanwhile, I'm watching the London raid live as of 3:52 AM PST and it's pretty incredible. There's a parking complex of some sort across the street from the Scientology Org, and it's FULL of people chanting and picketing and generally fighting the good fight. At the same time there's raids going on in Switzerland, Sweden, Norway, Italy, and so forth. There will be a small gap between the London raid and the raids in New York and Clearwater, which promises to be an amazing time. Clearwater has hired at least 10 off-duty cops to help control Anonymous should they get rowdy.
I promise more info as it becomes available. Rock the fuck on, Anonymous. Rock the fuck on.
EDIT #1: Anonymous addresses the Media, clearing some (really fucking retarded) misconceptions:
So incredibly intelligent.
EDIT #2, circa 11:45 PM: As D-Day '08 draws to a close, there is a lot to report about and a lot to reflect back on. Through the works of the Internet and the abilities of those involved, it has turned into a truly epic day. But first, what happened.
The London protests came to a close in spectacular fashion, with lots of support all around. For the most part it was a bit more on the silly side than most would have liked with lots of retarded memes being bandied about, but the good was done. People were educated. The BBC got involved... then Rolling Stone Magazine got involved, conducting an exclusive interview with one of the brainchildren of this whole thing, a beautiful Anonymous we owe Enturbulation to. Should prove to be a wonderful thing. Unfortunately, the rest of Europe was mostly a bust, due to adverse weather or political conditions, though Ireland had some amazing turnout. They really enturbulated their thetans, enough to necessitate a counter-protest. Even France got in on it, with Nono the Clown. Way to go Frenchfags!
Not much happened between there and the US, but I have to tell you, the US pulled it off with some amazing style. New York City had an incredibly impressive turnout, boasting over 250 Anons in attendance. The cops were for the most part on their side as well, everyone stayed behind the barricades, all was quite well. Score one for Anonymous on American soil.
Washington, D.C. had an excellent time of it, over 200 people showed to do what people do best in the capital: Protest their little hearts out. Lots of good came of it, as well as cake in memory of Lisa McPherson, whose birthday would be today if she was still alive. Granted, the cake itself was in slightly terrible taste (sporting an airbrushed design of her autopsy photo), but the message was heard loud and clear. The man himself, Arnie Lerma was there and couldn't have been prouder. And in a surprise twist, an amazingly strong young woman stepped forward and told her tragic tale of her father, who was a Scientology "minister" for 25 years before finally hanging himself 3 years ago because he felt he was so trapped. For three long years she had remained silent, but Anon gave her the strength to step forward, and she told the crowd, over 200 brave and compassionate strangers, her painful story. There is help out there for her.
Down south, Atlanta had quite the ride. Over 100 people peacefully protest the church from across the street. What do they do? Call in motherfucking riot police. Seriously, guys, isn't that a bit much for a peaceful protest?
And then, of course, ground zero. Clearwater, FL, home base for Scientology International and the resting place of the Ft. Harrison Hotel. It was truly an epic event, pulling in the anons from Tampa and Miami both to protest things on their own home turf. The hotel was more or less shut down as over 400 anons surrounded the building and protested. The people of Clearwater had had enough, even the news was for the most part on their side. Step 1, yeees.
Meanwhile, our friends in the great white north of Toronto rocked it out with over 200 people despite temperatures well below freezing. These guys were the troopers, staying out for hours, trading off signs between each other when their fingers went numb, doing everything they could to stand together as one legion against the freezing masses and educate. My heart goes out to these brave souls. Rock, Rock On!
The protests swept across the nation, traveling ever westward across the Midwest. Farmington, MI, Kansas City, Indianapolisand Cincinnati all sported well over 150 people a piece, spreading out thousands of fliers and cards and pamphlets out. Epic Win rocks the Midwest like a hurricane mixed with a tornado mixed with a plague of really annoying chirpy early-morning birds, though Columbus had some hardships with a bus... 2 Anons injured, one hospitalized, though there was no malice or tampering that anybody can see. Just a bizarre accident. Though that raid was still pretty awesome. And let's not forget the Texans, who managed to land some nice news time. Way to make it big, Houston.
A little closer to home, Seattle really rocked the house with over 250 people showing up to protest the Church and all it stands for. They got some really awesome media coverage as well, even though they had to travel to where the people were to be most effective. If I was still living in Seattle, you bet your ass I would've been there, wearing an awesome mask, a snappy 3 piece suit, rallying the troops and raising hell for the Co$. Come rain, sleet, or blood, i would have been there to show my support and rickrolling with the best of them.
But the big one was in Los Angeles. There was some confusion over this one, as there was so much ground to cover, but it was nothing less than a massacre, in a good way. Anonymous was out in full force, though the best thing I can do is give you a snippet of the raid report:
We arrived at the Complex at 11:00 sharp. There were already about 100 people there. We could not picket across the street because the sidewalks were blocked off, so we picketed on the same side of the street as the "church". Well, there was one security guard on a bike that was circling the parking lot. I have seen him before and I'm pretty sure he is a Scientologist. There were a few others hanging around, but it really looked like Co$ bussed their staff out of town for the day and hired some guards from a security company. They must have been really nervous! The Police were circling constantly, but there were no problems. Also, there was a mysterious Ice truck with tinted windows that parked close to us. It certainly looked like a tricked-out OSA-mobile. I'm sure they were recording and filming everything. We'll find out if anything shows up on RFW.
In addition to Anonymous, there were many old-time critics there: Tory and Mark, of course, Michael Pattinson, Graham Berry, Myself (I hope I'm not missing anyone). Mark Ebner showed up on a Scooter and circled around for awhile.
The public was great -- lots of honks of support and thumbs-up. People were handing out flyers to the stopped cars -- the Anonymous guys were really energetic and would not hesitate to run across Sunset to do this. About 12:30 we began circling the complex before heading to the HGB (Hollywood Guarantee Building where the L. Ron Hubbard Life Exhibition is housed). I noticed that the windows of rooms where the staff is housed had been completely taped over, blocked out with white sheets taped to the windows. They must have stayed up all night! We're talked 8 floors, about 200+ windows that had been sealed off from the outside world. Did I say they were nervous? Scared shitless is more like it.
Warmed greatly, noted ex-Clam and rabid Anonymous supporterTory Magoo spoke her joy and admiration via video for all Anonymous to hear:
Thank you, Tory. And thank you, Anon. Truly today was a great success, but it is only the beginning. I am simply amazed at how well this worked, that nobody got so stupid that fights were started. The police were always cooperated with, even in Chicago where the protest was disbanded due to a mix-up filing the permit. I am astounded that no Anons got arrested, whereas two Scientologists (one in Adelide, Australia and one in Boston) were put in the clink. We've reached out and touched some people and saved at least one life, perhaps countless more. As the news outlets race to get the story out locally, perhaps they'll all look up and realize this was truly a global outreach (I'm looking at you, NPR) and people who aren't necessarily Internet savvy will begin to look up and wonder and learn. This is only step one, however. We have to keep the ball rolling. Perhaps if the weather is good I can head over the mountains and attend the raid in Seattle on March 15th to celebrate Hubbard's jowly birthday. I hear there's promise of non-offensive cake!
Thank god for the Internet.
Meanwhile, I'm watching the London raid live as of 3:52 AM PST and it's pretty incredible. There's a parking complex of some sort across the street from the Scientology Org, and it's FULL of people chanting and picketing and generally fighting the good fight. At the same time there's raids going on in Switzerland, Sweden, Norway, Italy, and so forth. There will be a small gap between the London raid and the raids in New York and Clearwater, which promises to be an amazing time. Clearwater has hired at least 10 off-duty cops to help control Anonymous should they get rowdy.
I promise more info as it becomes available. Rock the fuck on, Anonymous. Rock the fuck on.
EDIT #1: Anonymous addresses the Media, clearing some (really fucking retarded) misconceptions:
So incredibly intelligent.
EDIT #2, circa 11:45 PM: As D-Day '08 draws to a close, there is a lot to report about and a lot to reflect back on. Through the works of the Internet and the abilities of those involved, it has turned into a truly epic day. But first, what happened.
The London protests came to a close in spectacular fashion, with lots of support all around. For the most part it was a bit more on the silly side than most would have liked with lots of retarded memes being bandied about, but the good was done. People were educated. The BBC got involved... then Rolling Stone Magazine got involved, conducting an exclusive interview with one of the brainchildren of this whole thing, a beautiful Anonymous we owe Enturbulation to. Should prove to be a wonderful thing. Unfortunately, the rest of Europe was mostly a bust, due to adverse weather or political conditions, though Ireland had some amazing turnout. They really enturbulated their thetans, enough to necessitate a counter-protest. Even France got in on it, with Nono the Clown. Way to go Frenchfags!
Not much happened between there and the US, but I have to tell you, the US pulled it off with some amazing style. New York City had an incredibly impressive turnout, boasting over 250 Anons in attendance. The cops were for the most part on their side as well, everyone stayed behind the barricades, all was quite well. Score one for Anonymous on American soil.
Washington, D.C. had an excellent time of it, over 200 people showed to do what people do best in the capital: Protest their little hearts out. Lots of good came of it, as well as cake in memory of Lisa McPherson, whose birthday would be today if she was still alive. Granted, the cake itself was in slightly terrible taste (sporting an airbrushed design of her autopsy photo), but the message was heard loud and clear. The man himself, Arnie Lerma was there and couldn't have been prouder. And in a surprise twist, an amazingly strong young woman stepped forward and told her tragic tale of her father, who was a Scientology "minister" for 25 years before finally hanging himself 3 years ago because he felt he was so trapped. For three long years she had remained silent, but Anon gave her the strength to step forward, and she told the crowd, over 200 brave and compassionate strangers, her painful story. There is help out there for her.
Down south, Atlanta had quite the ride. Over 100 people peacefully protest the church from across the street. What do they do? Call in motherfucking riot police. Seriously, guys, isn't that a bit much for a peaceful protest?
And then, of course, ground zero. Clearwater, FL, home base for Scientology International and the resting place of the Ft. Harrison Hotel. It was truly an epic event, pulling in the anons from Tampa and Miami both to protest things on their own home turf. The hotel was more or less shut down as over 400 anons surrounded the building and protested. The people of Clearwater had had enough, even the news was for the most part on their side. Step 1, yeees.
Meanwhile, our friends in the great white north of Toronto rocked it out with over 200 people despite temperatures well below freezing. These guys were the troopers, staying out for hours, trading off signs between each other when their fingers went numb, doing everything they could to stand together as one legion against the freezing masses and educate. My heart goes out to these brave souls. Rock, Rock On!
The protests swept across the nation, traveling ever westward across the Midwest. Farmington, MI, Kansas City, Indianapolisand Cincinnati all sported well over 150 people a piece, spreading out thousands of fliers and cards and pamphlets out. Epic Win rocks the Midwest like a hurricane mixed with a tornado mixed with a plague of really annoying chirpy early-morning birds, though Columbus had some hardships with a bus... 2 Anons injured, one hospitalized, though there was no malice or tampering that anybody can see. Just a bizarre accident. Though that raid was still pretty awesome. And let's not forget the Texans, who managed to land some nice news time. Way to make it big, Houston.
A little closer to home, Seattle really rocked the house with over 250 people showing up to protest the Church and all it stands for. They got some really awesome media coverage as well, even though they had to travel to where the people were to be most effective. If I was still living in Seattle, you bet your ass I would've been there, wearing an awesome mask, a snappy 3 piece suit, rallying the troops and raising hell for the Co$. Come rain, sleet, or blood, i would have been there to show my support and rickrolling with the best of them.
But the big one was in Los Angeles. There was some confusion over this one, as there was so much ground to cover, but it was nothing less than a massacre, in a good way. Anonymous was out in full force, though the best thing I can do is give you a snippet of the raid report:
We arrived at the Complex at 11:00 sharp. There were already about 100 people there. We could not picket across the street because the sidewalks were blocked off, so we picketed on the same side of the street as the "church". Well, there was one security guard on a bike that was circling the parking lot. I have seen him before and I'm pretty sure he is a Scientologist. There were a few others hanging around, but it really looked like Co$ bussed their staff out of town for the day and hired some guards from a security company. They must have been really nervous! The Police were circling constantly, but there were no problems. Also, there was a mysterious Ice truck with tinted windows that parked close to us. It certainly looked like a tricked-out OSA-mobile. I'm sure they were recording and filming everything. We'll find out if anything shows up on RFW.
In addition to Anonymous, there were many old-time critics there: Tory and Mark, of course, Michael Pattinson, Graham Berry, Myself (I hope I'm not missing anyone). Mark Ebner showed up on a Scooter and circled around for awhile.
The public was great -- lots of honks of support and thumbs-up. People were handing out flyers to the stopped cars -- the Anonymous guys were really energetic and would not hesitate to run across Sunset to do this. About 12:30 we began circling the complex before heading to the HGB (Hollywood Guarantee Building where the L. Ron Hubbard Life Exhibition is housed). I noticed that the windows of rooms where the staff is housed had been completely taped over, blocked out with white sheets taped to the windows. They must have stayed up all night! We're talked 8 floors, about 200+ windows that had been sealed off from the outside world. Did I say they were nervous? Scared shitless is more like it.
Warmed greatly, noted ex-Clam and rabid Anonymous supporterTory Magoo spoke her joy and admiration via video for all Anonymous to hear:
Thank you, Tory. And thank you, Anon. Truly today was a great success, but it is only the beginning. I am simply amazed at how well this worked, that nobody got so stupid that fights were started. The police were always cooperated with, even in Chicago where the protest was disbanded due to a mix-up filing the permit. I am astounded that no Anons got arrested, whereas two Scientologists (one in Adelide, Australia and one in Boston) were put in the clink. We've reached out and touched some people and saved at least one life, perhaps countless more. As the news outlets race to get the story out locally, perhaps they'll all look up and realize this was truly a global outreach (I'm looking at you, NPR) and people who aren't necessarily Internet savvy will begin to look up and wonder and learn. This is only step one, however. We have to keep the ball rolling. Perhaps if the weather is good I can head over the mountains and attend the raid in Seattle on March 15th to celebrate Hubbard's jowly birthday. I hear there's promise of non-offensive cake!
Thank god for the Internet.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Gather the Troops and Circle the Wagons Li'l Lady, We're Going to War!
There's been a lot happening in the world of Internet v. World of late, most notably the Anonymous vs. Scientology debacle. There have been falsified "powder attacks" against the Church, and Anonymous groups have started scouting raids to see what the lay of the land is like. Some have acted prematurely and immaturely; however, others are stepping forward to help put those faghats back in their place.
There was some concern within the people behind Operation Chanology as to whether they were doing the right thing, if anything was actually going to happen with this. Despite their all-star cast of Ex-Clams backing them, there's still the concern of "What about the others?" Though scared, though facing repercussions, the 'others' decided to step forward and voice their support in a powerful message:
These messages have bolstered their ranks and offered hope to other possible Ex-Clams, but there is something more important at stake, something that Anonymous needs if they're going to succeed: some exposure. While there have been some minor news bits circulating around, mostly footnotes surrounding larger stories, today Anonymous received an amazing windfall: NPR ran a surprisingly fair and balanced story on the conflict. This is amazing because it means that Anonymous is now public domain. People unconnected to the internet in such a way (like my own loving mother, Xenu bless her offspring and give us all space cessnas) now have a way of hearing about this, which is exactly what is needed and necessary.
The more people who know the truth, the stronger the movement goes. The more that's revealed, the less strength the Church can hope to gain, no matter how many celebrities they recruit. Gotta love their double-standards (excerpt courtesy of the the Something Awful forum goons):
Courtesy of Routine 2-12, which I'll be damned if I can decipher. Supposedly they hook you up to the E-Meter (a mystical low-grade electrical impulse reader, like a really shitty lie detector) and read you the list of words and phrases. If the needle jumps at the end of a certain word or phrase, that's what Scientologists call a "rock-slam" and will hammer you about that aspect of Scientology, trying to discover what you have against X aspect of the 'religion'. Really ineffective unless you're already open to the whole Scientology thing, but I guess level IV auditors (the people who run the E-Meter tests and badger you about your personal life, scumball interrogators) can use it to pretty devastating effect.
Oh, and just in case you were thinking "But LRH is just some dumb dead sci-fi writer, he's harmless! No reason to attack him!", you may want to think again. The LA Times did an exposé in 1990 on Hubbard that was pretty revealing. Gotta love all of those hypnotic sex-magics.
With NPR on board and other news outlets taking notice thanks to some very sage advice from people who are decidedly not Anonymous, the 10th is shaping up to be quite the extravaganza. ohgodthreemoredaysdontmakemewait
There was some concern within the people behind Operation Chanology as to whether they were doing the right thing, if anything was actually going to happen with this. Despite their all-star cast of Ex-Clams backing them, there's still the concern of "What about the others?" Though scared, though facing repercussions, the 'others' decided to step forward and voice their support in a powerful message:
These messages have bolstered their ranks and offered hope to other possible Ex-Clams, but there is something more important at stake, something that Anonymous needs if they're going to succeed: some exposure. While there have been some minor news bits circulating around, mostly footnotes surrounding larger stories, today Anonymous received an amazing windfall: NPR ran a surprisingly fair and balanced story on the conflict. This is amazing because it means that Anonymous is now public domain. People unconnected to the internet in such a way (like my own loving mother, Xenu bless her offspring and give us all space cessnas) now have a way of hearing about this, which is exactly what is needed and necessary.
The more people who know the truth, the stronger the movement goes. The more that's revealed, the less strength the Church can hope to gain, no matter how many celebrities they recruit. Gotta love their double-standards (excerpt courtesy of the the Something Awful forum goons):
Check this out, I'll translate for you:
HCO (Hubbard Communication Office) Policy Letter, Jan AD13 (He send these out by the hundreds)
Central Org
OBJECTIVE THREE
Celebrities (Interesting!)
Rapid dissemination (basically, the quick spread of the 'religion') can be attained with the advent of 2-12, by the rehabilitation of celebrities who are just beyond or just approaching their prime. This includes well known to the public and well liked but who has passed his or her prime, or any rising figure. The Association or Organization Secretary is to personally do all contact work. A Class IV auditor only may be assigned to do the actual processing. The only process to be used is routine 2-12 utilizing a special List One. (Here comes the kicker!) The pay is to be "Any contribution you would care to make if we have helped." No other pay is demanded.
HAH, special treatment in Ron's own words, proof they target celebrities to spread their vile lies.
Courtesy of Routine 2-12, which I'll be damned if I can decipher. Supposedly they hook you up to the E-Meter (a mystical low-grade electrical impulse reader, like a really shitty lie detector) and read you the list of words and phrases. If the needle jumps at the end of a certain word or phrase, that's what Scientologists call a "rock-slam" and will hammer you about that aspect of Scientology, trying to discover what you have against X aspect of the 'religion'. Really ineffective unless you're already open to the whole Scientology thing, but I guess level IV auditors (the people who run the E-Meter tests and badger you about your personal life, scumball interrogators) can use it to pretty devastating effect.
Oh, and just in case you were thinking "But LRH is just some dumb dead sci-fi writer, he's harmless! No reason to attack him!", you may want to think again. The LA Times did an exposé in 1990 on Hubbard that was pretty revealing. Gotta love all of those hypnotic sex-magics.
With NPR on board and other news outlets taking notice thanks to some very sage advice from people who are decidedly not Anonymous, the 10th is shaping up to be quite the extravaganza. ohgodthreemoredaysdontmakemewait
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
90's Rock: A Phenomenon of Bizarre Expansion, Part 1
From the dawn of time, man has striven to create in all manner of ways. Everything from the insane scratchings of a madman to terrifying implements of war has been the result of the human race's inner drive to make, to express, to communicate in a meaningful way, each as varied and amazing as the last. We can analyze it all we want, try to deconstruct it, break it down to its base parts and in doing so attempt to gain a greater understanding, but all in all we are left with what we always had: a raw expression of drive, desire, and emotion. And of all these things, music is one of the most mystifying, hypnotizing, provocative, and misunderstood of all; a form of creation we only barely understand, but have such an innate knowledge of that it is utilized to enhance almost every aspect of our lives.
We sing lullabies to help our young sleep, compose ballads and sonnets to woo the busts of maidens, pen symphonies in massive ego-stroking contests, use chords and melodies to masturbate all over our ears in a wonderful ecstasy. As a musician, I've internalized all these things, and I understand how they influence others. I can't work without music playing in the background, but it has to be appropriate music; if it doesn't enhance my perceptions, I cannot hear it. We all have our likes and dislikes, just another level to the phenomenon that is music. Regardless of personal taste, however, there is something to love about all genres of music, and today I'll be touching upon one of them: 90's rock, also called 'alternative rock' and 'grunge'.
"Rock" as it stands has an interesting history, a child of the Blues of old in a straight style, hard-hitting and in your face, stuff that would make your parents' parents cry out in woe. Repetitive, loud, noise for noise's sake... and yet, we can't get enough of it. Elvis. The Beatles. Led Zeppelin. The Who. Devo. Through the years the sound has evolved, but the message is the same: We're not gonna take it.
The rock music of the 90's filled a much-needed role in the musical world as we moved on from the incredibly depressing pile of a decade known as the 1980s. That was a terrible time full of terrible sounds that deserve to be dragged out behind the wood shed and shot. A lot. But suddenly, there was this brightening of the sky... a whole slew of bands who grew up listening to Led Zeppelin and the Sex Pistols, shunning Madonna and Micheal Jackson and Kenny Loggins. They wanted something harder, something dirtier, something grungier... and since nobody else was providing, they took up their instruments and provided for those that would or could not.
Perhaps one of the most influential of these bands was the group Nirvana, hailing out of Aberdeen, Washington (Aberdeen's only claim to fame in recent times; though in the 1900s it was hailed as the 'grittiest town on the west coast', this side's home for saloons and whorehouses). Started by singer/guitarist Kurt Cobain and bassist Krist Novoselic, it provided the seemingly downtrodden teens of white Suburbia exactly what they needed: an outlet for their ennui. When surrounded by strip malls and a despairingly bleak public transportation system, 90's teens found their lives in a unique turmoil. Nirvana, then, provided a voice for these tortured embodiments of boredom and disinterest. The band's pain was the peoples' pain, crowding the airwaves with hypercharged angst the likes of which we haven't seen since. Raw and unforgiving, they told it like it was, giving birth to the entire grunge movement in one fell swoop. Cobain's death in 1994 also slammed the final nail in the band's coffin, sealing up the grunge scene as suddenly as it started. Tragic, yet fitting in its own way; his own thoughts on the band's success ran exactly counter to everything he was trying to express. From restless dissatisfaction to tragic poignancy, his life punctuated the coming-of-age story of thousands of teenagers across America, and Nirvana's influence can still be felt today. Though I must admit, I really hate what's been done with it.
Nirvana's breaking out onto the scene opened the proverbial floodgates for a slew of other bands with similar ideas on how music should be: violent and remorseless, speaking from the heart instead of from the synthesizer. Following Cobain's blistering attitude, the band Alice in Chains quickly followed in popularity. Formed in 1987 in Seattle, Washington by guitarist Jerry Cantrell and vocalist Layne Staley, when they broke out on the grunge scene they were a little older, a little more mature, a little wiser than those around them; a little more weathered, a pinch more jaded, a smidge more indulgent in their heroin addictions. All of this was channeled into their music, which became a powerful backbone for the unimpressed youths of the MTV generation. If Nirvana was the fire that fueled the voice of youth discontent, Alice in Chains became the awesome older brother chucking jars full of gasoline into the conflagration. The controversy surrounding their untitled, I mean self-titled... fuck it, the album with the goddamn three-legged dog on the cover from animal-rights activists only helped to add to the band's popularity. After all, that dog is pretty badass. And the album kicks some ass unto itself, a powerful peek into the unrest of the time. Unfortunately for those of us that appreciate good music, Alice in Chains sort of faded away in the mid-90s as Staley's heroin addiction grew stronger; he passed away in 2002 in true rocker fashion: the heroin overdose. We'll be seeing a lot of our Black Tar buddy in the future.
We sing lullabies to help our young sleep, compose ballads and sonnets to woo the busts of maidens, pen symphonies in massive ego-stroking contests, use chords and melodies to masturbate all over our ears in a wonderful ecstasy. As a musician, I've internalized all these things, and I understand how they influence others. I can't work without music playing in the background, but it has to be appropriate music; if it doesn't enhance my perceptions, I cannot hear it. We all have our likes and dislikes, just another level to the phenomenon that is music. Regardless of personal taste, however, there is something to love about all genres of music, and today I'll be touching upon one of them: 90's rock, also called 'alternative rock' and 'grunge'.
"Rock" as it stands has an interesting history, a child of the Blues of old in a straight style, hard-hitting and in your face, stuff that would make your parents' parents cry out in woe. Repetitive, loud, noise for noise's sake... and yet, we can't get enough of it. Elvis. The Beatles. Led Zeppelin. The Who. Devo. Through the years the sound has evolved, but the message is the same: We're not gonna take it.
The rock music of the 90's filled a much-needed role in the musical world as we moved on from the incredibly depressing pile of a decade known as the 1980s. That was a terrible time full of terrible sounds that deserve to be dragged out behind the wood shed and shot. A lot. But suddenly, there was this brightening of the sky... a whole slew of bands who grew up listening to Led Zeppelin and the Sex Pistols, shunning Madonna and Micheal Jackson and Kenny Loggins. They wanted something harder, something dirtier, something grungier... and since nobody else was providing, they took up their instruments and provided for those that would or could not.
Perhaps one of the most influential of these bands was the group Nirvana, hailing out of Aberdeen, Washington (Aberdeen's only claim to fame in recent times; though in the 1900s it was hailed as the 'grittiest town on the west coast', this side's home for saloons and whorehouses). Started by singer/guitarist Kurt Cobain and bassist Krist Novoselic, it provided the seemingly downtrodden teens of white Suburbia exactly what they needed: an outlet for their ennui. When surrounded by strip malls and a despairingly bleak public transportation system, 90's teens found their lives in a unique turmoil. Nirvana, then, provided a voice for these tortured embodiments of boredom and disinterest. The band's pain was the peoples' pain, crowding the airwaves with hypercharged angst the likes of which we haven't seen since. Raw and unforgiving, they told it like it was, giving birth to the entire grunge movement in one fell swoop. Cobain's death in 1994 also slammed the final nail in the band's coffin, sealing up the grunge scene as suddenly as it started. Tragic, yet fitting in its own way; his own thoughts on the band's success ran exactly counter to everything he was trying to express. From restless dissatisfaction to tragic poignancy, his life punctuated the coming-of-age story of thousands of teenagers across America, and Nirvana's influence can still be felt today. Though I must admit, I really hate what's been done with it.
Nirvana's breaking out onto the scene opened the proverbial floodgates for a slew of other bands with similar ideas on how music should be: violent and remorseless, speaking from the heart instead of from the synthesizer. Following Cobain's blistering attitude, the band Alice in Chains quickly followed in popularity. Formed in 1987 in Seattle, Washington by guitarist Jerry Cantrell and vocalist Layne Staley, when they broke out on the grunge scene they were a little older, a little more mature, a little wiser than those around them; a little more weathered, a pinch more jaded, a smidge more indulgent in their heroin addictions. All of this was channeled into their music, which became a powerful backbone for the unimpressed youths of the MTV generation. If Nirvana was the fire that fueled the voice of youth discontent, Alice in Chains became the awesome older brother chucking jars full of gasoline into the conflagration. The controversy surrounding their untitled, I mean self-titled... fuck it, the album with the goddamn three-legged dog on the cover from animal-rights activists only helped to add to the band's popularity. After all, that dog is pretty badass. And the album kicks some ass unto itself, a powerful peek into the unrest of the time. Unfortunately for those of us that appreciate good music, Alice in Chains sort of faded away in the mid-90s as Staley's heroin addiction grew stronger; he passed away in 2002 in true rocker fashion: the heroin overdose. We'll be seeing a lot of our Black Tar buddy in the future.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Post The First: Wherein Life Begins
To begin with something like my life up to this point or an introduction would be saccharine. It would be an illusion, a cocoon of meat, a twisting, parleying mound of excrement that neither accomplishes substance nor provides understanding. And it all falls into the domain of physical social constructs to begin with, niceties that have no place in the virtual world nor should develop. With a flick of the fingers and a dance of text we can convey everything we'd ever hope to say without ever being in need of preface. So I'll skip it.
It would appear that the virtual world that we've come to love is starting to spill over into the real world, the automation struggling against its reins and attempting to drive the cart of life in its own direction. I don't know about you, but I for one embrace this; I'm loving every minute of what's happening. The best example I can give is what's happening between the aptly-named Anonymous and the Church of Scientology. Taken on their own, neither group is particularly noteworthy or deserving of any praise or malice; for the most part, they're rather ignorable, truly contributing little to what's happening around them.
Anonymous began much as they remain: An ever-growing gaggle of idiots utilizing stolen Japanese software to shock their friends, harbor their grudges, trade all sorts of strange and disturbing pornography, and basically jerk each other off through the wonders of the Internet. 4chan is the single most popular group of Anonymous, being the original American group of geeks and dweebs who stole the most beloved of Nihon Softuwaru: The Imageboard. Here, they proceeded to expose massive amounts of people to the beauties of Goatse, Tubgirl, Lemonparty, and then began introducing their own. Lots of jockeying and maneuvering trying to get others to download gray-area child porn and creating a breadth and depth of image macros, internet memes, retarded sayings, catchphrases, and in-language that before this time there has never been a society on the face of this planet so dedicated to retarded exclusivity. It's one of those things that you either 'get' or 'don't get'... win or fail, tits or GTFO, the language is all the same. Despite its humble beginnings, however, it has exploded into an internet phenomenon, currently rated 299th most-traveled website in the whole internet according to Alexa. That's a lot of geeky 12-year-olds.
4chan, however, spawned its own revolution. Thousands of splinter sites exist, each filling a different niche that 4chan itself can't or won't pander to. They are slower, but more specialized, their userbases less inflated, the pseudo-social bonds stronger. The Overchan is a veritable cornucopia of anything you'd like (or wouldn't like) to see, cataloging not only just about every -chan that has or ever will exist, but also a few spin-off imageboard sites such as AnonIB. And it's here, in these niches and alcoves of the Internet, that the Anonymous I'm going to talk about is drawing their real power. 4chan merely lends a publicly accessible, easily-identifiable face and focal point to the Anonymous world power.
On the other side of this quorum, you have the Church of Scientology. These guys have been around for years, and their influence is strange and varied. Started by pulp sci-fi writer and rotting corpse L. Ron Hubbard in 1953 on a drunken bet after everyone pissed on the blarney stone and called it good. A Scientologist will tell you that the church aims towards "a civilization without insanity, without criminals and without war, where the able can prosper and honest beings can have rights, and where man is free to rise to greater heights." When in reality, there is lots of evidence to the contrary. Through the use of hypnosis, various mind-control techniques, rudimentary induction of Stockholm Syndrome, and even murder, their numbers have swelled worldwide, and the cult continues to flourish. Such well-regarded (ahem) names as Tom Cruise, John Travolta, Kirstie Alley, Ghandi, Hitler, Mother Theresa, and Urkel all proudly fall under the Scientology banner. Fortunately, my man Will Smith dodged that particular bullet, would that we could all be so lucky.
So why the hubbub over a bunch of celebrities and a cult that's been around since the 50s? Issues of legality aside, the CoS has done a lot of really really nasty stuff since its inception. Most notable in 1976 was Operation Freakout, where Hubbard's wife and 11 other Scientology operatives were attempting to infiltrate various Government buildings and organizations, including the IRS, to gain information on their detractors and defame and discredit them, most notably the author Paulette Cooper for the scathing book she wrote against the CoS 5 years prior. The fortunate thing is that Hubbard's wife and those working with her were caught and arrested, though the damage had been done. The church gained even more press in 1982 after it was found that Hubbard had embezzled over $200 million from the Church of Scientology.
I'm going to type this again.
In 1982, it was found that Hubbard had embezzled over $200 million from the Church of Scientology.
Fortunately he died in 1986, a coward in hiding. Though his Church followers would claim that he simply "discarded his body" to do "higher level spiritual research", and now resides on "a planet a galaxy away". The most interesting thing about his death, however, is the fact that Scientology is where it is today. Most cults fizzle out when the leader sheds this mortal coil; however, the Church of Scientology has only gained popularity since, and boasts a total membership of over 8 million followers worldwide.
But I'm not here to talk about all of that and what it entails; there's lots of great websites that do a spectacular job of laying the facts -- no more, no less -- out on the table.
I'm much more interested in talking about the conflict itself. Remember earlier how I mentioned that Anonymous was actually made up of thousands of people across a number of splinter groups dotted around the world? This is important. These various groups of Anonymous are an amazing and varied bunch. The main hub -- those found on 4chan's /b/ -- are mostly mindless, a group of hyperactive, nerdy teens with too much time on their hands and severely crippled social skills. But they're smart, and their numbers are impressive. All it really takes is a few charismatic and focused people to get them to begin to mobilize and act -- and these are the other Anonymous, the different sect, the close-knit, knowledgeable few that understand not only how the Internet works and how Anonymous works, but how best to apply that strength. This upper-crust, the mobilizers, like to call themselves /i/nsurgents after the /i/nvasion board originally of 711chan (now deceased). Their track record is rather impressive, hitting targets from the sprite-chat program Habbo Hotel all the way up to retarded pundit Hal Turner, with varying degrees of success.
Now, they've turned their sights on the CoS, and for good reason. It's not often that I say this, but I support Anonymous on this. They've done their research, and they're mobilizing quite well. Their collective effort, known colloquially as Project Chanology is very impressive, sporting a number of plans over a plethora of avenues. Their efforts have polarized the internet, and garnered attention on a national level; XenuTV.com's Mark Bunker (a longtime opponent of Scientology and most of what it stands for) has been interviewed by various radio and TV stations... even the BBC is getting in on it, sending correspondent John Sweeny to do some field investigations on the Church and what it's about, only to be assaulted.
There's raids planned for the 10th of February, all over the world, where members of Anonymous are going to go to various church or "org" sites across the globe and picket the CoS's methods and hopefully help some of the members who are feeling trapped. I'm not in a place at the moment where there's an Org nearby that I can show up at, but you can bet your ass that I'll be here, watching and cheering.
Fuck Scientology. Anonymous is legion.
It would appear that the virtual world that we've come to love is starting to spill over into the real world, the automation struggling against its reins and attempting to drive the cart of life in its own direction. I don't know about you, but I for one embrace this; I'm loving every minute of what's happening. The best example I can give is what's happening between the aptly-named Anonymous and the Church of Scientology. Taken on their own, neither group is particularly noteworthy or deserving of any praise or malice; for the most part, they're rather ignorable, truly contributing little to what's happening around them.
Anonymous began much as they remain: An ever-growing gaggle of idiots utilizing stolen Japanese software to shock their friends, harbor their grudges, trade all sorts of strange and disturbing pornography, and basically jerk each other off through the wonders of the Internet. 4chan is the single most popular group of Anonymous, being the original American group of geeks and dweebs who stole the most beloved of Nihon Softuwaru: The Imageboard. Here, they proceeded to expose massive amounts of people to the beauties of Goatse, Tubgirl, Lemonparty, and then began introducing their own. Lots of jockeying and maneuvering trying to get others to download gray-area child porn and creating a breadth and depth of image macros, internet memes, retarded sayings, catchphrases, and in-language that before this time there has never been a society on the face of this planet so dedicated to retarded exclusivity. It's one of those things that you either 'get' or 'don't get'... win or fail, tits or GTFO, the language is all the same. Despite its humble beginnings, however, it has exploded into an internet phenomenon, currently rated 299th most-traveled website in the whole internet according to Alexa. That's a lot of geeky 12-year-olds.
4chan, however, spawned its own revolution. Thousands of splinter sites exist, each filling a different niche that 4chan itself can't or won't pander to. They are slower, but more specialized, their userbases less inflated, the pseudo-social bonds stronger. The Overchan is a veritable cornucopia of anything you'd like (or wouldn't like) to see, cataloging not only just about every -chan that has or ever will exist, but also a few spin-off imageboard sites such as AnonIB. And it's here, in these niches and alcoves of the Internet, that the Anonymous I'm going to talk about is drawing their real power. 4chan merely lends a publicly accessible, easily-identifiable face and focal point to the Anonymous world power.
On the other side of this quorum, you have the Church of Scientology. These guys have been around for years, and their influence is strange and varied. Started by pulp sci-fi writer and rotting corpse L. Ron Hubbard in 1953 on a drunken bet after everyone pissed on the blarney stone and called it good. A Scientologist will tell you that the church aims towards "a civilization without insanity, without criminals and without war, where the able can prosper and honest beings can have rights, and where man is free to rise to greater heights." When in reality, there is lots of evidence to the contrary. Through the use of hypnosis, various mind-control techniques, rudimentary induction of Stockholm Syndrome, and even murder, their numbers have swelled worldwide, and the cult continues to flourish. Such well-regarded (ahem) names as Tom Cruise, John Travolta, Kirstie Alley, Ghandi, Hitler, Mother Theresa, and Urkel all proudly fall under the Scientology banner. Fortunately, my man Will Smith dodged that particular bullet, would that we could all be so lucky.
So why the hubbub over a bunch of celebrities and a cult that's been around since the 50s? Issues of legality aside, the CoS has done a lot of really really nasty stuff since its inception. Most notable in 1976 was Operation Freakout, where Hubbard's wife and 11 other Scientology operatives were attempting to infiltrate various Government buildings and organizations, including the IRS, to gain information on their detractors and defame and discredit them, most notably the author Paulette Cooper for the scathing book she wrote against the CoS 5 years prior. The fortunate thing is that Hubbard's wife and those working with her were caught and arrested, though the damage had been done. The church gained even more press in 1982 after it was found that Hubbard had embezzled over $200 million from the Church of Scientology.
I'm going to type this again.
In 1982, it was found that Hubbard had embezzled over $200 million from the Church of Scientology.
Fortunately he died in 1986, a coward in hiding. Though his Church followers would claim that he simply "discarded his body" to do "higher level spiritual research", and now resides on "a planet a galaxy away". The most interesting thing about his death, however, is the fact that Scientology is where it is today. Most cults fizzle out when the leader sheds this mortal coil; however, the Church of Scientology has only gained popularity since, and boasts a total membership of over 8 million followers worldwide.
But I'm not here to talk about all of that and what it entails; there's lots of great websites that do a spectacular job of laying the facts -- no more, no less -- out on the table.
I'm much more interested in talking about the conflict itself. Remember earlier how I mentioned that Anonymous was actually made up of thousands of people across a number of splinter groups dotted around the world? This is important. These various groups of Anonymous are an amazing and varied bunch. The main hub -- those found on 4chan's /b/ -- are mostly mindless, a group of hyperactive, nerdy teens with too much time on their hands and severely crippled social skills. But they're smart, and their numbers are impressive. All it really takes is a few charismatic and focused people to get them to begin to mobilize and act -- and these are the other Anonymous, the different sect, the close-knit, knowledgeable few that understand not only how the Internet works and how Anonymous works, but how best to apply that strength. This upper-crust, the mobilizers, like to call themselves /i/nsurgents after the /i/nvasion board originally of 711chan (now deceased). Their track record is rather impressive, hitting targets from the sprite-chat program Habbo Hotel all the way up to retarded pundit Hal Turner, with varying degrees of success.
Now, they've turned their sights on the CoS, and for good reason. It's not often that I say this, but I support Anonymous on this. They've done their research, and they're mobilizing quite well. Their collective effort, known colloquially as Project Chanology is very impressive, sporting a number of plans over a plethora of avenues. Their efforts have polarized the internet, and garnered attention on a national level; XenuTV.com's Mark Bunker (a longtime opponent of Scientology and most of what it stands for) has been interviewed by various radio and TV stations... even the BBC is getting in on it, sending correspondent John Sweeny to do some field investigations on the Church and what it's about, only to be assaulted.
There's raids planned for the 10th of February, all over the world, where members of Anonymous are going to go to various church or "org" sites across the globe and picket the CoS's methods and hopefully help some of the members who are feeling trapped. I'm not in a place at the moment where there's an Org nearby that I can show up at, but you can bet your ass that I'll be here, watching and cheering.
Fuck Scientology. Anonymous is legion.
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