It’s a holiday over here and the Sundayness of the day is fucking with my circadian rhythm. Most of the stores are closed and it’s overcast and quite cold (low teens centigrade), which, incidentally, has been a meteorological joke for over a month, now: they had their fearmongering Greta Thunberg “Extinction Rebellion” regime change march a couple of weeks ago, during which they tried to terrify the kiddies ‘n Hipster demographic regarding “global warming”… on what just happened to be a rather chilly Friday-the-20th. September is normally a fairly warm month in Berlin but not this year. It was unseasonably cold until the middle of July, this year, and it got chilly, off and on, all across August and September and today (October 3rd, the yearly commemoration of German re-unification) it really feels like winter.
They’re going to have to seed the clouds with barium 7 or powdered tinfoil or WhatTheFuckium, or something, to trigger a tornado on Xmas Eve if they really want to terrify the Germans into getting on board with the “C02 (aka vital plant-air) is the Devil” panic. But, hey, if that inspires the banning of all private automobiles from the city center, and the forbidding of discount air travel, and triggers the planting of a billion of new trees in Germany, I’m all for it, Creepy Social Engineering Bullshit Scheme notwithstanding… but it won’t, would never, would it? Ban cars? Ha. All They want to do is introduce a scary new Global Control Apparatus and make trillions on a corrupt and protectionist Carbon Trading Market… the Environment is the last thing on Their minds. As ever.
So it was good to see the slapstick of the “scary” (the world is burning up, kids, and you’re the kindling!) posters plastered all over the Hipster Expat gentrified parts of Berlin during a week we all had to wear our ironic jackets instead of our oil-desert burnooses.
Because it’s a Thursday that feels like a Sunday (and I’m not in the recording studio again for another week), I did lowkey things like shop at the “Sunday store” (Ullrich, at the Zoo) with Beloved Wife while Offspring, barricaded in her Technocave, worked on her Dürer-like ink drawings.
Such a great pleasure to steal a married kiss or two in the aisles of the store full mostly of bachelors with trolley luggage in transit, or nervous fledgling couples buying wine for dinner parties, and sallow-skinned Nomosexuals with clanking baskets of beer bottles and all. Wife’s idea of a treat is a wee packet of cashews-‘n-cranberries, which she managed to fetch while I stood in line thanking The Fates that I had someone to joke with and discreetly nuzzle, and whisper obscenities of endearment to… a playful, sweet-natured and tall, fit, skinny-legged musician with magazine hair and the profile of a princess on a Roman coin (much younger than I but I beat her running half a block for the train, btw, and I was lugging a heavy bag of groceries at the time, too, man: one must continually and Picassoishly earn the luxury of one’s younger Wife’s animal interest in bed, you know: when one can’t, the relationship shifts subtly toward a tender nurse/patient vibe one hopes to put off until one’s 80s, after which one’s kindness and wit will need to take totally over as one’s famous penis retires) .
(I talk a lot of Conjugal Sex on my site, and in my Fiction, because Conjugal Sex is a Primordially Positive Political Act if it is loving; to fuck (with) someone one loves is First Among Optional Social Virtues and packs far more of a bliss-wallop than any drug, material acquisition or approbation from the crowd… and certainly more wallop than fucking without love, as a sport or act of conquest: I advertise it unapologetically like the un-nutty, non-Teutonic, Wilhelm Reich of Color that I am, having studied Willy since 16 and discarded, by now, all but the core virtues of his unified and often fanciful theory).
The smelly alcoholic in line in front of us, at Ullrich, had no power to depress me as I held’s Wife’s hand like a talisman against booze fumes. Though the day was sepulchral as Berlin can get in December. We bought a fine carrot/ orange/ mango juice, some ground beef (sorry cows), a chocolate Santa for Offspring (the other day I had Offspring in fits of mirth on a twilight walk as I suggested an updated version of Xmas featuring Santa on a light-up cross) , other stuff, the above-mentioned cashew/cranberries and a dodgy bag of Quinoa chips.
Ended up reading quite a lot this afternoon, scanning a connected cluster of articles on a general topic I’ve been especially interested in for a couple of years now; read this bit from one of them:
In 1966, after the JFK assassination, before the RK assassination, and after the Warren Commission, a lot of data had come out about the CIA that they weren’t really answering to the Presidency. And so The New York Times started to do a series on this in 1966 and they sent questioners around and they started getting hints that some of the media people might have been involved. And that the CIA was running off the books operations and running things without presidential approval. In fact, one of the things The New York Times reported on in this really good series they did was how there was a shipment of sugar, I think it was in Puerto Rico, and it was from Cuba en route to the Soviet Union and a CIA operative got in and tainted or poisoned the sugar. You know to ruin it so they couldn’t, so it ruined the trade between Cuba and the Soviet Union. Well somehow President Kennedy got wind of this so he ran his own counter operation and he sent operatives in to switch out the poisoned sugar or whatever to save the situation. And the CIA was pissed at him and of course Kennedy was furious with the CIA because they’re running an operation he hadn’t ordered them.
Now, this is quite interesting in a way that isn’t immediately apparent. Why would JFK act to protect the stability of the relationship between Cuba and the Soviet Union?
There are all kinds of Genuine Third Wave Parapolitical Researchers popping up online (to replace all the awful “big foot/ flat earth/ Mandela effect” Nuts/ Shills/ Pied Pipers out there) and they each inherit a flame from the torch of great Second-Wavers like the unimpeachable (and recently dead) Dave McGowan or the info-rich, nearly-verified John Judge, and the sometimes-too-earthy Scott Creighton, et al. Who are themselves descendants of Mae Brussell and Sherman Skolnick.
I’ve spent roughly fifteen years reading this stuff intently (learning to separate the pyrite from the gold) and I’ve come to a few conclusions that put me, even, a wee bit further out than most of the above (except Dave, who I exchanged a few emails with over the years): most of the Parapolitical Radicals I can think of position a hypothetically pure version of Communism as the cure that is the polar opposite of the disease called Capitalism*.
Whereas I think Communism (in theory and practise) was/is one of Capitalism’s many tools; I think it was a creation of 19th century, Industrialist-backed Intelligence… an act of covert War funded by Anglo/American/Germanic powers to cripple Russia and unseat elements of the Aristocracy. But why Communism, say, for the Third World? Isn’t that crypto-bourgeois/ colonialist thinking? Are there no indigenous systems that various nations of the brown and black might not come up with for themselves, if left unmolested for long enough? Is it really true that only the work of a 19th century, upper middle class Germanic Jew might save them?
I think “Communism” is an old and ongoing project that very, very few are in on. I think the stridently anti-Commie Ivy League Cowboys of the early CIA, who poisoned that sugar shipment (referenced in the excerpt above), weren’t in on it, and they weren’t in on the fact that Castro was a mole in cahoots with another faction of the CIA, or whatever branch of US GOV Intelligence was actually in harmony with JFK regarding “Communism”. In other words, the Ivy League Cowboys, having gone rogue and being out of the loop, kept threatening to inadvertently fuck up The Cuba Project. Cuba/Fidel was a mole, a double-bluffing honeytrap/ listening post on the threateningly Revolutionary movements of the Caribbean and South America, working with (if not for) the upper levels of the CIA.
So of course JFK had the poisoned sugar switched out and of course JFK called off the Bay of Pigs and of course the 600-odd CIA assassination attempts on Fidel were either CIA-foiled or theatrical hoaxes, and so on. Fidel kept an eye/ear on every wannabe Leftist Leader in the region for 50 years and he helped to bankrupt and embarrass the USSR. The avowed scourge of Yankee Imperialism who loved baseball, appeared on the Ed Sullivan show and supposedly seduced (and fell in love with) an aging beauty-queen (former soap opera actress) “journalist” for Yankee Network Television… the counter-intuitively effeminate El Jefe who was mythologized as a Latin Lover by a New York Times one would have assumed would have been rather more invested in painting Fidel as unflatteringly as possible… was given his own little palm-treed Duchy with which to play El Jefe until he finally died quietly in bed, a fate that Patrice Lumumba or Hugo Chavez or Chez Guevara were far too genuine to have been granted.
And don’t get me started on that son-of-Industrialists Karl Marx, who wrote (often scaremongeringly) bourgeois editorials for bourgeois Yankee newspapers during the Civil War and who wrote his seminal “anti-Capitalist” masterworks on a convenient stipend from his wealthy pro-Capitalist uncle (while he wasn’t fucking his Ruling Class Wife). By 1849 Marx was a rather notoriously revolutionary anti-Capitalist, which explains, we guess, why he was able to settle in the capital city of notoriously anti-Capitalist England that year, dying there quietly in his sleep in 1883 and earning himself all kinds of monuments in stridently anti-Capitalist London. But I’ve been over all this in other editorials.
(Among my actual friends and acquaintances, over the years, the “Communists” were invariably Oedipal middle class kids, usually Jewish, whose parents hated Communism: the mechanism was that simple).
What I thought while reading today (esp. the stuff about James Jesus Angleton, the guy of the year, as far as my reading goes, this year) was: Even your Devils have Devils!
My overall point in the latter part of this piece is that the Marx/ Communist/ Fidel stuff rather separates me from the Third Wave Parapolitical Researchers I admire most; they haven’t peeled back that Nth layer of the onion yet; they still Believe, I think, most of them. Perhaps they haven’t really teased out the implications of East Berlin under the Stasi as clear-mindedly as they have illuminated the Existential horrors of Imperial Life under the Washington/NATO Mafia? Which doesn’t stop me from reading them and gleaning the work for fresh insights, but it does, sadly, mean that I can’t approach them, and establish contact, the way I was able to, years ago, with Dave McGowan.
I suppose advanced degrees of Enlightened Cynicism require a certain number of years to achieve, eh? Crusty as I am.
But I never believed; I never even Believed in The Beatles (as much as I dug them), and I had rumbled Santa (and Jesus, in rapid succession) by the time I was in first grade. It’s too bad that I’m the most skeptical of the lot (barring an interesting forum commentator named Paul Rigby) because although I’m not a bad Thinker, I’m far from the best researcher. These Second-Wavers are my clear superiors in that regard and they deserve your attention, even if you buy into (quite forgivably) the “Communism” trick:
A) The Mighty Lorenzo of POPAGANDA
B) The wonderfully Pynchon-themed DIRE SQUAMUGLIA
and his/her TWITTER
C) The always-precise, battle-tested and ultra-ethical DENIS RANCOURT
D) New Source I’m just now reading: a nicely Rich Article re: The Notorious “Ghost”
E) New Source I picked up a few weeks ago
*ADDENDUM: THE DREAM
I think the opposite of (and cure for ) Capitalism-as-we-Know-it is simply Reform Capitalism based on good faith collective bargaining, anti-usury banking, anti-monopoly markets, stringent environmental and consumer protection laws and high tax rates on the bullshit, non-value-creating, high-speed AI financial transactions that are really just massively unfair Serf-to-Ruling-Class asset transfer scams.
Reform Capitalism would feature Free higher ed, inexpensive healthcare, subsidized housing. “To each according to her/his ability to earn, from each according to his/her capacity to give”.
The socio-economic range in such a society would stretch from Thousandaires to Millionaires; both the Homeless and the Billionaires are vivid symptoms of a sick, unbalanced system. The transition to Reform Capitalism would be relatively easy, bureaucratically and infrastructure-wise: merely bring back good old fair/useful rules/regulations and add new ones and enforce them uniformly. Only a reactionary and deeply corrupt .00001% of the population would resist, vociferously, and foment counterrevolutionary schemes, but they’d be gently sequestered (without Internet) on various Islands, for a generation (or two), for everyone’s safety: their vast and unethically obtained estates (and golf courses) … anything larger than, say, 10 acres… would be turned into national parks/ nature preserves) while Reform Capitalism took root.
Psychopathy Testing would be carefully applied to corporate ladders and public services.
Medicinal Extortion (eg Cancer or AIDS Racketeering/ Price Fixing) would become a felony; Big Pharma and Big Agriculture and Big Energy would be subdivided into highly-competitive regional players by anti-Monopoly tribunals and held to high ethical and safety standards. Teachers would earn as much as lawyers; doctors would earn as much as mid-level baseball stars (do now) and star athletes would earn as much (at most) as mid-list writers. Everything else would appear to be rather familiar: physical money in actual wallets, windfalls got from entrepreneurial sensations (like Jello or fidget spinners), banks offering toasters, Gov-subsidized summer jobs, expensive stuff and cheap stuff and quality affordable stuff between. People could be house painters or cat-sitters or brain surgeons if they chose to… choice would be a Cardinal Value. Responsibility would be a Cardinal Value. There would be a very high Reproduction Tax levied against each parent having more than a second child.
The Drug and Oil Mafias (no longer protected/ maintained by Washington/ NATO) would wither at their various shut down poppy and oil field sources… arguably the most bloody reform and, possibly, the Last War of Capital, paving the way for Clean Energy (largely Solar) and Clean (non-carcinogenic) Marijuana (smokeless? edible only?) and FDA-regulated hard liquor (and MacDonald’s).
Exotic fruits and I-phones would be prohibitively expensive (because: fair conditions/wages for Coltan miners and tropical fruit pickers); the lowly PC would be embraced as the standard and very Green option for connectivity (rendering the paperback a must-have during commutes). There wouldn’t be draconian ideological indoctrination, or figureheads (like Marx or Washington) to worship on plinths in squares or on money (which would feature animals)… the system would be free to maintain its shape not via brainwashing and armed coercion but because people thrived under it.
And so on.
PS Among the things I read today (not all of them on Parapolitics; quite a bit on Lit, too) I found this sentence: “The teenage Edward Shils went to the then all-boys Central High School in Philadelphia,” as did I! The year I graduated was the last year it was an all-boy academy. I had a fantastic time my senior year, bringing a fully-fledged sense of the avant garde to class every day (the days I didn’t run off to hang out downtown instead, one such AWOLing distinguished by the fact that I called up to my Chemistry teacher, Mr. Tansley, on the third or fourth floor, and waved as I ran off into the little woods behind the school to grab the train to Center City). One of my rituals was to wander in and out of first-period “home rooms,” telling all the boys, as I burst into a room, that they were pinheads who were going to burn in Hell, a performance for which I usually got applause.