I decree.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Norton

Yeah I want to be this guy when I am older.

Conversations with a friend on labour-Capital relations.

I was having a conversation with my friend about the research he was doing on a strike that happened over 100 years ago. We were brainstorming and it got me excited for my ideas, so I thought I would put a bit up for reading. The ideas may be expanded upon in the future on my blog and in my writings.

10:07pmMe

The blame for the violence fell on the homestead strikers and public opinion swayed back. The government moved harshly against them, and the mill simply shut down ending unionization on that particular plant.

10:09pmMe

Not surprising as Marx himself had the viewpoint of Government that coincided with this.

Pretending neutrality to maintain order, but serving the interests of the rich. Not that the rich agreed among themselves: they had disputes over policies. But the purpose of the state was to settle upper-class disputes peaceably, control lower class rebellion, and adopt policies that would further the long-range stability of the system. -Howard Zinn in The People’s History of the United States

While many unions continued successfully with their struggles, in this steel business area the combined might of capital, and the politicians they owned, proved too much for Steel workers.

The gap is growing still. The recent court decisions, union membership, and trends of southern states to become right to work states, has lead to a realization. The government still seeks to settle disputes between capitalists, not workers and business. Giants such as wall-mart crush the unions before they form all the same. In many parts of the country to speak of unions, is to speak for socialism, a word looked at with disgust.

10:14pmMe

The government does nothing to aid labor in making a place as equals to capital, instead it is always the subjugated to rich white men.

10:15pmMe

You know what

I have to stop

I could actually see writing a good paper on this myself...

Untitled.

I'm hungry, hurt multiple times, sick, procrastinating, battered bruised, hardly ever amused, thinking of migrating, the heats to thick cannot move without perspirating.
I'll eat some crackers and wash my mouf outwit listerine. That stuff is harsh but now comes in tangerine.

Drive full blast the stereo and air please, down to the doctor to help with my disease. He said I cannot help you with the voices in your head, or the feeling that you'd be better off dead. I can give you four pills, one to help your dick up, one for the dizzy spells, two more to ease the chills. So what if you are underemployed, or hardly like the company of those who you once enjoyed, you can still beat off, and stand up in the breadline.

Only I can do a double bypass.

Did you ever have something so great that you could not hold onto. You search to replace it, you find a way to and you squeeze even tighter to hold on to the replacement only for it to slip through even faster. Each time you try again it becomes harder to hold onto. Pretty much everything you hold onto begins to have the feeling of Crisco to it. Then you are just left with slick empty hands.

No good for heart surgery.

I try to wash my hands of the whole thing. There unfortunately is blood in the water.

Our Normalcy Bias

I woke up sick. The head on my neck was a soaked rag falling apart at the seams trying to cover up a grinding stone. My body is so tired and sore, it worn thin from the previous day and the work of laying still. I rolled onto the shores of my bed as oil, with twice the consistency and half of the attention. Still as damaging. The day before a hurricane, I moved things around in my life with bluster, just trying to make it closer to the mainland and someone who would look me in the eye and smile. Instead, emotions flooded and the citizens fled.

There is a war or two, at least where I use the big guns. I blow things up, watch them blow things up, and then try to rebuild so we can blow things up together. Collaterally speaking, the casualties are low, by comparison. This is our war and not your war, the goals are fuzzy and we cannot begin to consider victory with lips silent or functional. No one can relate but those with nothing in this moment but a battered, empty, and used flak jacket. Don't give me any flak.

I hear shouting in the distance, hushed by the fireworks. There is no hope. There is hope, just not here. I can hope, but it is no change. What is there to believe in? What about the markets? We need some jobs.

The men scurry like ants, carrying grains of sand to build a mound. They do this for no reason of the queen, nor of drone, nor of army ant. They work for that tunnel, and even though it can collapse under foot of that kid and his sticky shoes, they want that to be their own.

When the poison rains down upon them and the landscape is tore asunder the chaos continues. They scatter, and will rebuild, if they can. What value is an ant then? What value in a tunnel? I never once heard an ant scream.

I do not build tunnels, I do not build anything. I just listen for the scream of an ant. Hope that we all wake up better, or at least wake up concerned about what has happened and why it continues to happen.

Disaster is the new normal. 24-hour coverage will continue until someone shuts off the channel. If you wait in the fallout shelter, you will die just the same.

I woke up worse than when I went to bed.

I cut myself on puzzle pieces that would not fit. I hurt my back hanging my head, and my neck by holding my head high. The shoulder from trying to slap that puck too hard, and my ankle was rubbed raw just like my emotions. My heart was inside so I could not survey the damage. I imagine it was like an earthquake in Haiti. Those who lived in there, now live on the rubble in tiny shacks waiting for the rich to care enough to actually give them some tools. It is your misfortune I hear them say.

If the ice melts, we will have more water but fewer beaches. No one cares about the bears or the penguins. Why should they have a place to stand when I have nothing to stand for? They can always live on the continent of garbage.

Maybe the drug addict you love needs to be put on the street, maybe the depression will kill him or at the last second, they will turn towards salvation.

I just tend to think disasters will never happen, because we already live in tornado ally. We shall all get our bailout but can we ever rebuild? As those memories get scattered across the counties I wonder what memories can we make by making another home here.

Disaster is the new normalcy. I seem to have a bias towards it, and you do too. I say fuck anyone who tells you it will change with vague words. There is no wisdom for those who live in a desert and cry of thirst besides leave. If they can leave they might not, if they cannot they will not. We all trade the beach for our lives when the coast falls into the ocean. That will never happen except it already has and will continue. In 2012, it will be worse, as it was in 2000 and it was every time the moon blocked the sun. A moments notice, a disaster, and then it is back to normalcy. Disaster is the new normalcy. Sometimes we have to have a service for the survivors. I would cry for you, if you would survive me too.

Time for a lunch break... eww pimento loaf.

Disaster is the new normal.

Normally I would never let this hurt so much, but the people that understand me are fewer still after the last plague. Swine flu did them in. I hate to see you leave, I hate to have another person not read my words or talk to me with less enthusiasm until they drift away, kidnapped perhaps on some pirate ship. Truth is there are too many things going extinct to worry about the rare species of creature that can put up with all of this and all of me. The sky is falling chicken little but you told us too soon. We developed a normalcy bias, now what do we do?

Chicken Little said, "we must go tell the president!!!" Foxy Loxy said, "dude, fuck that guy he won't do anything but steal from you, that commie bastard."

"Just as well", said Chicken Little, "what is the point now that she left me, and every girl I try to replace her with is flawed. Even worse is the parts where they are better than here are far between, and when I get settled for less it is on these few qualities I build my excitement for. Of course they leave and now I don't even get that.. So the next girl has even more to live up to... I think the last one at least understood me even greater than the first girl I loved..."

"Maybe I should cut my wrists," said Chicken Little.

"If you cannot pull yourself up, then fine. But your parents will be hurt and you will go to hell," Said Foxy Loxy.

"Oh, well, I suppose I should read a book or something."

"Why don't you get a job, you lazy ass. I hear they are looking for construction workers in New Orleans."

"I wonder what is on the internet..."

What a disaster.