Thursday, February 28, 2008

Obama

I'd really like to think that Obama is trouncing Clinton because of the latter's vote for the war, but I've seen too many Obama's supporters now not to suspect that support for Obama has become a substitute for bong hits. One guy walked in Subterranian Bookstore on Tuesday and exclaimed without any hint of face-saving irony, "Have you ever felt this much hope before?" "No, not since I was about to get laid sixteen years ago," I drily responded. "Yeah, man, Obama does that to you, doesn't he?" he said in pollyannish expectation of the Age of Aquarius.

Obama is a phony. True, he was against the Iraq War from the gitgo and deserves a bunch of credit for that. But, as Justin Raimondo has rightly pointed out, he is hardly anti-war. He wants to bomb Pakistan. Fine, that's the Clintonian distortion which missed Obama's always careful nuance. What he said was that if there is actionable intelligence, then he would bomb Pakistan. And he said that with his trademark intellectual ├╝berernestness. Yeah, well, anyone who has cast even a cursory glance at the history of "actionable intelligence" that our intelligence services have whipped up should realize that Obama might just well have said if his right pinky bends funny, he'll bomb Pakistan. Obama's qualifying nuance is as subtle as horseshit.

Yeah, Obama has said that he wants to get rid of the mentality that leads to disasters like the Iraq War. Really? Then we should at the very least re-think globalization which is a euphemism for corporate imperialism which uses American Might to open countries up for brutal exploitation of the market. That's pretty much why we're in Iraq, but His Obamaness has said that we can't shy away from globalization. More than that, he wants the occupation to continue with the new hot American export, mercenaries. The free market at work. The Chicago School of Economics would be proud, and Naomi Klein might well call Obama just another Chicago Boy. He does hail from the University of Chicago.

Having surfed various political weblogs, I am really astonished by how many cranks still think that Obama is a Muslim. I wish he were for if he were, then he would have had the fortitude to stand up to the Israel Lobby. All this worried talk about Obama being anti-Israel is caca. I wish it were so. I am not worried that Obama may be anti-Israel, I am worried that he is in fact pro-Israel. Israel is evil, and being anti-Israel is actually a good thing. We as Americans are supposed to champion human rights and stand against such evil as tyranny and ethnic cleansing, right? Israel was founded upon ethnic cleansing (and so was our country, by the way; we're hypocrites) and continues to this day to tyrannize the Palestinians who weren't cleansed. Israel is truly a brutal apartheid regime, and being anti-Israel is not anti-semitic, it is common decency, which Obama at one time shared. As an Illinios State Senator he was very much pro-Palestinian (even allowing himself to be photographed with Edward Said). Not any more. He has succumbed to AIPAC and now is pretty much their puppet. Obama campaigns on the promise that his rise to power will not compromise who he is. It already has.

Truth be told, I'd rather vote for a Muslim than a Mormon. Next to Mormonism, Islamic Theology, such as it is, appears coherent. Mormonism is the Scientology of the Nineteenth Century. But all this is moot. Obama ain't a Muslim, and I was not gonna vote for him anyway. He is a pothead's notion of a serious candidate. He is a phony.

Maybe Buckley was right about not letting the stupid vote

This polemical piffle is apparently the fourth most popular political weblog post on MySpace today. That MySpacers fawn over drivel like this was one big reason why I left MySpace: its users are idiots. And scary idiots at that. This virago wants to exile Mr. Obama simply because his symbolic patriotic symbolism is deficient. A Jehovah's Witness would consider it too much, by the way. I really don't care. I hate the National Anthem frankly. It originally was a Swiss Drinking Song. And, of course, it would be a drinking song because only a drunken sot would not give a tinker's damn to go from ridiculously low to ridiculously high notes and thereby ravage his voice.

Yet for this hag such deficiency in ceremonial symbolism is an infallible sign that Obama is a treasonous piece of shit. And scores of people on MySpace apparently agree with her with a vehemence that foams. If you don't place your hand on your heart while Francis Scott Key's doggerel is given far more credit than it ever deserved, then you are not expressing simply an understandable aesthetic sensibility, you are showing yourself to be a vicious traitor who has nothing but contempt for the brave men and women who sacrificed their lives for this country. And presumably the converse is true in these small but rabid minds, that any politico who scrupulously places his hand on the heart and even cries at the screech of "Home of the Brave" (I cry as well because my ears bleed) passes the patriotism test and, therefore, may lie us into war, send our brave men and women to their death simply on a whim, and neglect them when they come home mangled and maimed. An alleged symbolic contempt, in other words, trumps a very real contempt that does very real harm. Ceremony ├╝ber alles!

And I'm thinking that perhaps that recently deceased Buckley was right to suggest that perhaps the uneducated should not vote.

p.s. I should note that I am in no way a supporter of Obama. In fact, I hate him. Not because he supposedly shows contempt for the American Flag. That's a silly reason. The flag is simply a piece of cloth. No. Obama shows contempt for born babies. He thinks babies who have survived induced abortions should simply be left to die. I thought Democrats were supposed to help the people who cannot help themselves. But Obama does not think born babies are people. Because the Supreme Court has not ruled that these babies are not viable and, therefore, not persons. Obama thinks the Supreme Court has the power to define personhood. So, I suppose Obama would have been sympatico with the Dred Scott Decision.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

By the way

I missed mass this morning because of a lack of transportation. There should be a Mass at SIU-E tonight at eight post meridiem. I could hitchhike over there as I have been known to do, but it is very cold, windy, and wet. I could catch pneumonia and die or be stopped by a cop, get into argument with him over the justice of anti-hitchhiking laws, thereby get thrown into jail, where I might well be sodomized by some internet predator seeking a consolation prize. Yeah, I know missing Mass is a mortal sin, but I don't want to die or be buggered. I am going to hell anyway because I refuse to vote for the allegedly pro-life Republicans. So, what's the point? But, all the same, I should go to Mass on the off-chance that Bishops like Burke and Meyers are wrong, and that voting Republican is not the unique path to salvation. But, again, the prospect of death or being anally raped is not a price I am gonna pay. But if anyone is willing to give me a ride to Mass and thereby save my wretched soul, I'll accept. Otherwise, I will stay home and surf for videos of Ann Coulter being gangbanged by the American Enterprise Institute.

Letter to Sigmund Freud

[Note to my former readers on MySpace: Yes, I know that I've not posted anything new for quite some time. I am in a very deep funk. The 2008 election will be for me a reprise of 2004, a pro-war lunatic vs. a pro-abort psychopath, and Bishops like Burke and Meyers are going to tell me that if I don't vote for the former, I will go to hell. Not that they are pro-war, mind you, but they will argue that war is simply a prudential matter and, hence, takes a back seat to abortion, which is intrinsically evil and, hence, cannot be allowed under any circumstances. Yeah, well, the Republicans, Machiavellian fucks that they are, know this and will use the prospect of replacing Stevens with an anti-Roe justice to try to make believing Christians like me vote for their wars for the freedom to rape, pillage, and impose corporate fascism all over the world. In other words, McCain will try to keep Christian voters hostage to the chance of overturning Roe. Fuck this. I am just not going to vote. And if this sends me to hell, fine. Burke and Meyers can have their heaven all to themselves. If heaven is filled with people who think war is merely a prudential matter, then it is braindead, and I would prefer damnation to losing my brain.

Anyway, below is a post most of my former readers have read. I post it here now just because I want to save it somewhere. I had it on my Facebook Weblog, but then the powers-that-be there dismantled it. Facebook is far more fascist than MySpace ever was. Geez. Perhaps my departure from MySpace was not well-considered after all. Anyway, here is the post.--Sebonde]

Dear Sigmund,

You may think me repressed, Sigmund. You may think that I am just a victim of the Unbehagen of civilization. Fine. I should tell you that this thesis is baloney. Pre-marital sex no longer has the social stigma it once had. Kultur may still be straitjacketing the libido, Sigmund, but the Straitjacket is considerably looser than when you wrote Unbehagen in der Kultur. You would no doubt point out that I was reared not in the general American culture (whatever that is) but in a specifically Catholic one, which as we all know squeezes and constrains the libido far more severely than our general civilization does.

But it can be easily argued that our civilization needs a comparatively unrepressed, unbridled libido to fuel consumerist capitalism, which now rules the world. Our civilization now does not constrain the libido, it does all it can to inflame it. So, I guess you might say, Sigmund, that my Puritanical Catholic Upbringing and growing up in the decadent West pulled me into two different directions and left me a pathetic puddle of neurosis. Okay, fair enough.

I had pre-marital sex in 1992. With Justyna Nowotniak who is now a professor of Philosophy in Warsaw, Poland. Apparently she is an expert on Paul Feyerabend, the late philosopher of science. I don't know. I can't read her book. I don't know any Polish. We spoke in German when we knew eachother in Munich. She told me at the beginning of our sexual affair that it would be one "without form (ohne Gestalt)." I guess this meant that we would be no more than occasional bedmates or, as our vernacular now likes to say, "fuckbuddies" (a singularly depressing term). Well, I accepted this condition. Of course, I did. I was twenty-four years of age, I had never had a girlfriend, had experienced only one french kiss and just a handful of slow dances (perhaps no more than three, now that I think about it). I really wanted to fuck. I was also starved for feminine affection. So, yeah, who the fuck cares about having a Gestalt. Kiss me, baby, and take off your clothes! That was pretty much my attitude.

And it led to disaster, of course. It turned out that the form was more important than my libido had expected, but my libido had been too pre-occupied with its own storming of the Bastille to care. Of course, I was Catholic enough to know that I was sinning, but that didn't concern me so much as my need for affection. That's what got me worried. That's what made me slowly realize that if our fucks had no form, then I had no promise of lasting affection, and to be quite honest, I had become more addicted to her affections than to the boinking. In other words, the physical gratification of the bodily act alone did not satisfy me. I wanted love, enduring love, true love. But love is poetry, and in poetry form and content are inseparable. Their separation is a Nestorian Heresy.

And so I pressed Justyna for a form, and in love that means commitment. She replied that she wanted her Freiheit, her freedom. That did not mean anything. Not then, and not now. I kept pressing her to tell me what our fucking meant. It was simply a caprice, she said. There is no meaning. That could not satisfy me. The sex drive may be overwhelmingly powerful, Sigmund, but the desire for meaning is permanent. Friends of mine told me that had I played it cool, had I not tried to encroach upon Justyna's freedom, I would have probably gotten a few more fucks out of her. Yeah, more meaninglessness.

The sexual affair lasted all of February of 1992. It ended right before Lent. I went crazy. I wanted Justyna back, but, of course, the more I attempted to woo her, the more indifferent she was towards me until I was no more than a nodding acquaintance, if that. And that in turn made me all the crazier. The woman with whom I had the most intimate experience a man and woman can have together was now little more than a stranger to me. Our acts of sexual intercourse had as much meaning as rocks, and if I thought that there was love in our hydraulics of passion, I now had to admit that that was just one great big fucking lie. Just one fucking lie that made one big mockery of the notion of love.

Well, I've confessed this sin (and it was a sin for my twelve years of Catholic Schooling would not allow me the plea of ignorance) to a priest, and supposedly this act of fornication won't send to me hell now that it has been repented. But the damage remains. I am very cynical about love. I sometimes doubt whether it exists. Yes, of course, I want to have sex again. The sex drive is overwhelming. You taught us that, Sigmund. But this time I want to be one who tells the woman that this is just a caprice without any form that I prefer to have my freedom and that I just want to use her body for the fun of it. Chaucer taught us that once the sexual act is liberated from its proper context of chivalrous romance and indulged in simply for the sake of pleasure, it becomes in the next phase a tool for revenge. And that's how I understand the sexual act now. As revenge. So much for Freiheit, I suppose.

Now, do you understand why I think pre-marital sex is evil, Sigmund?

Yours,