In Honor Of Bill Hicks Day

The One About Not Only Can't You Handle The Truth But You Don't Even Really Want It.



"I want the truth!"



"You can't handle the truth!"



From the movie A Few Good Men



Truth. Everyone claims to want it. But in fact precious few do.  Most people are more often than not searching to have their opinions, illusions, and deeply cherished beliefs re-enforced, rather than challenged. To hear someone speak truths that are contrary to our views is very difficult.



Part of the problem is that all of us perceive through such limited and limiting senses.  As a result, truth can change sometimes, as we find new and better ways of finding things out.  This is what has often resulted in explorers at the forefront of the sciences being punished for daring to speak of a truth different from what the religious leaders of the day held to be true.



Other times however, the truth has not changed one iota.  But rather what has happened is that certain people have found it personally inconvenient for the real truth to be acknowledged. So they engage in that most ancient of arts, the one known as "Spin Doctoring".  Trying to convince us that what is true is a lie and what is a lie is actually the truth.



Take the current situation in Libya.  One that has come about in part because of the world's refusal for at least the past decade to do anything about that country's dictatorial leader. And now that he has given up any pretense of restraint in his actions against the very people that he is supposed to lead, we now act as if we didn't just months ago treat him as if he was a stellar part of the international community and always had been. To make matters even more bizarre in our attempts to back the anti Qadhafi forces now we are considering arming those in rebellion against him.  To hear the news media tell it the rebels are a simple heartful people, unschooled in the ways of modern warfare.  A good-natured, well-meaning, if slightly backwards bunch.  Does this rhetoric sound familiar?  Did they dust off the scripts used when they were trying to justify arming the Afghan people in their struggle against the Soviet Union?



The simple ugly truth is that the United States is becoming the kind of nightmare that one once thought only existed in well-meaning but overly earnest science fiction stories.  A country in a state of perpetual warfare, where a narrow class of elites enjoy peace and plenty while the rest of us toil so as to permit them to continue to enjoy the standard of living to which they have become accustomed.



Once in a while someone will appear.  Someone who speaks up and says the truly true things.  The things that we do not want to hear.  Not because they are not true, but rather precisely because they are.



And how do we thank such a person?



Do we kill him?



Oh goodness no.  We have gotten ever so much smarter than that.  We have learned that a big messy death, or even a seemingly quiet one, leaves too much potential risk for the deceased to become a martyr and from martyr to become an icon. So now we simply marginalize them. We ignore what they are saying to the best of our ability. And when they manage to become unignorable we ridicule them, or we claim that they are a dangerously delusional zealot.  Or in some cases we simply jail them, or silence them in other ways.



But the important thing is that we are able to get them off the stage as quickly and cleanly as possible.  So that we are able to return to our tiny little lives secure in the knowledge that all will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.



One such person whom I wrote about earlier in the week was Joe Bageant.  But another person who passed seventeen years ago now was Bill Hicks.



Bill spoke out against commercialism, and materialism, and the futility of politics as usual.  He spoke of the potential locked within the human race and how to possibly unleash it. But more than speak of it he lived it. There exist no commercials of Bill hawking products, nor wacky sitcoms with him as the star. And how did we thank him for it?  We ignored him.  While attention was being lavished on the bland, safe, inoffensive comedy stylings of Jay Leno, Bill was left to languish. Eking out an existence, the major saving grace being his popularity in places like England, Australia, and Scotland.



Finally after an uphill struggle for recognition Bill made a fundamental mistake of being openly anti-Clinton, which further alienated people, since in the simple-minded dualities of the day there must be a bad guy and there must be a good guy, and many people had decided that Clinton was the good guy.



Finally far too early Bill died from cancer.



But now thanks to the internet and word of mouth the truth that he shared is truly finding the audience that it should have found well over a decade ago. Some might opine that it's too little too late.  But I'm hoping it will turn out to be more a case of better late than never. I'm hoping that things like the quote below will be heard and truly paid attention to.  And maybe, just maybe, even acted upon.



Keep The Faith My Brothers And Sisters and Happy Bill Hicks' Day!



"The world is like a ride at an amusement park. And when you choose to go on it, you think that it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills, and it's very brightly coloured, and it's very loud and it's fun, for a while.



Some people have been on the ride for a long time, and they begin to question - is this real, or is this just a ride? And other people have remembered, and they come back to us. They say 'Hey! Don't worry, don't be afraid, ever, because, this is just a ride.'



And we...kill those people. Ha ha ha. 'Shut him up! We have a lot invested in this ride. SHUT HIM UP! Look at my furrows of worry. Look at my big bank account and family. This just has to be real.' It's just a ride. But we always kill those good guys who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok.



But it doesn't matter because: it's just a ride. And we can change it anytime we want. It's only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings, and money. A choice, right now, between fear and love.



The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourselves off.



The eyes of love, instead, see all of us as one.















Here's what you can do to change the world, right now, to a better ride. Take all that money that we spend on weapons and defence each year, and instead spend it feeding, clothing and educating the poor of the world, which it would many times over, not one human being excluded, and we could explore space, together, both inner and outer, for ever, in peace."



William Melvin "Bill" Hicks (December 16, 1961 – February 26, 1994)

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The One About for 03/30/2011

The One About Compassion For The Affluent.

"It is preoccupation with possessions, more than anything else, that prevents us from living freely and nobly."



Bertrand Russell



"I guarantee that I have more debt than all of you. With 6 kids, I still pay off my student loans. I still pay my mortgage. I drive a used minivan. If you think I’m living high off the hog, I’ve got one paycheck. So I..I struggle to meet my bills right now. Would it be easier for me if I get more paychecks? Maybe, but at this point I’m not living high off the hog."



Sean Duffy



It seems like lately we hear quotes like the one from Representative Duffy a lot from those on the Right.  Especially when they are seeking to defend budget cuts, and austerity measures, and other ploys and plans that adversely affect the working classes.  Understandably the standard reaction from Progressives is to mock and deride people who say such things.  Call them clueless, and heartless, and out of touch and greedy.



I not only understand such reactions but I've had them myself.



But I'd like to suggest that we take a step back and look a little deeper.  Because I think that such statements point to a deeper truth.  An ugly truth that we are all loathe to grapple forthrightly with.



We are a nation addicted to consumption.



Every last one of us.  We are kept in a state of perpetual false need.  Through advertising, and through peer pressure.  We are sold want, and desire, and fear of not having.



We are convinced that with just one more thing our lives will be complete.  A better job, a lover, more friends, a spouse, an I-Pad, a new car, bigger boobs, things, Things, THINGS!



The worst part of this sickness is that it is cruelly deceptive. "I'll be happy once I get a raise... Oh man I wish I had a new boat like Bob's, I know I'd be happy with a new boat... My life will finally be complete when I meet the man of my dreams and he marries me..."  But there is no end to it.



Not unless we choose to end it.



Now don't mis-take me here.  I'm not some knucklehead carrying on about the nobility of the destitute, nor am I suggesting that wanting and having "things" is inherently bad.



What I am saying is that when you filter everything in your life through a materialistic lense, your view of the world, your fellow humans, and yourself will be forever distorted, quite probably irrevocably.



So now I bet you're wondering what is to be done about those who are not only infected with this sickness but seem to be bound and determined to spread it.



Well clearly they must be stopped.  Their message of     materialismus uber alles must be shown up for what it is. An effort to spread a very dangerous virus of the mind and spirit.



But I think it best if we do not do it from a place of hatred. But rather from a place of compassion. Like dealing with a rabid animal.  The animal must be stopped, kept from infecting anyone else.  But we don't hate the animal.  Rather we pity it and wish to keep anyone else from sharing its fate.  Likewise should we pity anyone who when confronted with the suffering of those who have less than them, can only enumerate all the ways in which they think of themselves as having the worse situation.  Pity them and pray that we ourselves never become so deeply afflicted.



Keep The Faith My Brothers And Sisters!

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Joe Bageant And The Dirty "W"'s

The One About Joe Bageant And The Dirty "W"'s.



If you fancy yourself a Progressive, and are not a neo-Luddite, then you have probably already been informed via Facebook, or Twitter, or some other wonderful info sharing service about the passing of Joe Bageant over the weekend.



There have been and will be a lot of heartfelt articles written about Joe, by people who knew him.  People who counted him as friend, or mentor, or inspiration.  I wish I could count myself as amongst the former two, but will have to content myself with belonging among the latter one.



There is a great deal about Joe that is praiseworthy.  The honesty of his writing.  The warmth and humor and humanity that shone through his work.  These are good things for a writer and for a human being to have.



But there was something specific to his work that touched me deeply and has been a large influence both on the way I think and the way I write about Progressive issues.



It was the fact that Joe was not afraid to talk about the two dirty "W"'s.  Words that all too often Progressives seem unable or unwilling to talk about.  Oh sure they might discuss them obliquely, but seldom if ever directly.



The dirty "W"'s to which I refer are two words.



The first is "Working Class".



I am I couldn't say how many generations of that class.  I saw my father obtain the trappings of the middle class life, only to watch as he was crushed when it was all snatched away from him by a country that was rapidly changing.  A country that was moving from an economy of industry and manufacturing to an economy that seems to export bullshit as its primary product.



So when the members of the Corporatocracy decided they didn't have enough wealth and turned their hungry gaze on the middle class and began to strip them of their mediocre share of the money pie before the first decade of the twenty-first century was even near done I will not lie, I shed no tears.  I've known for the last twenty years that this time was coming.  Meanwhile everyone from the most centrist pseudo Liberal to the truest far Left Progressive seemed to be talking in panicked tones about what could be done, "To Save The Middle Class."  Oh so well-meaning all of them.  And all so fucking blind.  Even one's that I have enormous respect and affection for like Elizabeth Warren.  Blind.  Well allow me to open your eyes.  Here's the secret.  The one that almost no one seems to want to talk about.  Without tadpoles, there are no frogs.  Likewise without a healthy and prospering working class There Is NO Middle Class.  It's just that simple.  This is the way it is supposed to work.  The poor dream of being working poor, the working poor dream of being working class, the working class dream of being middle class, and the middle class dream of being rich.  The ideal, the admitted fantasy was that if you worked, and saved, and did the right things and the smart things then it was possible for you to move ahead, to make a better life for yourself and your family.  Then through education and a certain amount of reasonable assistance to level the playing field your children would be able to do a little better than you.



But the Master class in the seventies didn't feel they had enough.  Not enough money.  Not enough drugs and toys.  Not enough whores and sycophants.  And worst of all they made themselves as insulated and isolated as possible from any potential wrath.  In the thirties, people were hungry, and angry, and miserable.  Miserable enough to act up and just possibly make life equally miserable for their Masters, or for some of the less pacifistic to even end those lives of privilege.  It had the Master class scared.  Just scared enough to decide that it was better, safer, for them to play ball with Roosevelt's New Deal than to take their chances with the serving classes.



But then came the boom of the war years and those in the starving classes saw things get just a little bit better.  Better enough that they started to worry about keeping what they had.  And so while the mass of Working Class Americans went to bed satisfied enough they stopped keeping a close eye on the doings of the Corporate Fuckpigs. And while they weren't looking those same Fuckpigs with gradual swiftness silently undid every bit of protection put in place for the average working person.  Financial protection?  Gone. Social safety net? Cut to shreds.  Now there are even those who would do away with things that were once considered the unassailable bedrock of this country.  Things like the minimum wage, Social Security, and public fire fighting departments.  They seek to return us to a time when we all drew breath at the pleasure of our "betters"



And while there are some who talk about these things, far too often still all the talk even in the most Progressive of venues is of the middle class, the middle class, the middle class.



But read Joe's writings, a concern for, a love for, and an identification with The Working Class permeates every thing he writes.  He understood that without a healthy, thriving working class, the middle class is nothing but a drunken delusion.  And he understood that the country was staggering towards sobriety like a drunk staggers towards wakefulness after a month-long bender.



Someone else might have injected a tone of hope into his prose.  But not Joe.  He spoke his truth no matter what anyone felt about it.  Sometimes I think that even included himself. I think he wanted to have hope, hope for a great Progressive awakening.  Kind of the way one hopes a loved one will get off the booze and into sobriety.  But Joe was a keen observer and he knew that America was more likely to hunt up the bottle, even if there was only dregs and take a long deep pull in the hopes of getting drunk enough to escape back into the sweet delusions that held so many of us in thrall all these years.



But Working Class wasn't the only dirty "W" that Joe was brave enough to talk about.  He also was the master of talking about "White People".



Is there any group of people that Progressives are more afraid to speak of?  And who can blame them.  Far too often the ones who would speak up to defend poor and working class whites will not talk of the perpetually shitty deal that the system has given them right along with people of color, but rather continue the poisonously delusional bullshit of insisting that the working and poor whites only suffer because of the programs created to help poor and working people of color.



But not Joe.



Joe was the only writer I have found so far that was able to articulate the stinky donkey shit deal that poor and working class whites have been given in terms that made central a simple truth.  When the Master Class gazes upon one of us from the lower classes, they don't see black, or white, or male or female.  They see us only as objects, to be used or made useful and if we cannot fulfill those two purposes then we are to be discarded.  Joe understood that the only time that the color of a poor person's skin matters to the Master Class is when they want to fool that poor dumb white sumbitch into making common cause with the oppressor against those with whom they actually have the most in common.



I will tell you now that I am as white as they come, but I would be a lot quicker to trust a black man I've never met who looked like he knew what a days work was than a white man in a suit who looked like his idea of struggle is deciding whether to summer in France, or on the Cape.



It was from Joe that I learned to have as much sympathy for working class and poor white people as I do for anyone else.  because we have all been handed the shit end of the stick.  The shape of the stick might be different from group to group, and the smell of the shit might vary, but in the end there is only one "Us" and only one "Them" if you have eyes to see beneath the crap they've stuffed into our heads for the last couple hundred years.



The only other person I've come across who managed to make any of the above truth evident was Howard Zinn.  Another hero in the Progressive struggle whose loss is very keenly felt.



In the end, I can't claim to know what kind of person Joe Bageant was.  For all I know he was a card cheating, wife stealing, horse rustling son of a bitch.  I only know him through his writing.  But that writing made a change in me more profound than anything I've known in some time.  So I figure that's good enough.



Rest easy Brother Joe, you will be remembered and you will be missed.



Keep The Faith My Brothers And Sisters!

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