Showing posts with label Matt Taibbi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matt Taibbi. Show all posts

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Occupy Sesame Street

What started as an idea that I had in the shower today, actually turned out to be a thing already. From the internet, Occupy Sesame Street:


So there's that... but the correlation I intended to draw was much different than this weak meme. It is clear that Occupy Wall Street has legs, and it obviously has sleeping bags - and those sleeping bags have paid off. What was initially written off and subject to a widespread media blackout, has lasted long enough to be taken Not Seriously by various pundits, then written off as un-American, and now, finally, been given credence

How the idiot pundits could not get it, I kind of understand. It's like this - those wretched talking head types are so used to The Game, and how ideas are bundled, packaged and gift wrapped into little dumbed-down, bite-sized morsels for mass distribution and consumption, that when a Genuine, Earnest idea makes a splash, they scramble for the Real Meaning, assuming that any political notion is just a sweet candy shell surrounding a bitter, nasty husk of some back-room truth. They can't cope with the possibility that an idea could be, on the face of it, the very idea that it's supposed to represent. Their circuits become scrambled, and there's a waft of blue smoke as the motherboard begins to fry. But, you know, these are our trusted news sources.

So yes, these young people are gathering to be collectively Anti-American, Anti-Capitalism Commies who's main intent is to be a slacker burden on society. OR, they are of the generation who grew up through the Dot Com bubble and a few huge economic dips, and feel disenfranchised by the pervasive notion that a stark few control most of the wealth, while people are losing their homes because the very few rich, when left to their own devices, just couldn't help themselves, and had to defraud and raid the retirement of the middle class. All while shareholders have just enough control of the major employers in the US to ensure that any job worth working gets exported to China in the ever-quest for rising stock values. Like that poor horse in True Grit, American Industry will be ridden until it falls exhausted, only to be shot in the head by Rooster Cogburn, or, in this case, those Super-Wealthy 400 families who, I suppose, will need all that money so they can live on the Moon.

All this while Politicians are doing a very short-sighted version of The Dirty to fill their pockets on what's left of the American Dream, selling off any local government property and revenue that isn't bolted down, so to speak.

Take these raw facts, push them through the Play Doh Spaghetti Factory of Michael Moore and Matt Taibbi and a few other choice voices, you get these little focused pills of rage that the youth eats up like hot cakes. They get mad, they all instinctually know that the system is fucked up, and they organize -  much like their Grandparents did in the Sixties.

And the pundits don't get it. "What does it all mean?" they ask from behind their cheap Formica and pancake makeup. It's like Sesame Street. Sometimes a huge yellow bird reciting the alphabet is just a huge yellow bird reciting the alphabet.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Notes on the Top Hat Set

Don't you dare plug the hole in this silly rowboat...

Somebody let the pigs out of the blanket. Yesterday I read this article by Matt Taibbi regarding the remaining paperwork on the banking crisis, swift justice, homelessness, bad financial instruments, etc... over on Rolling Stone and I think it's safe to say that we're all goners. With the high level of foreclosures due to anything-goes banking, the amount of bad credit that's out there... what can credit even mean anymore?

Remember the early 2000's, when the streets were flooded with men in Top Hats and Monocles, wearing Tuxedos, running around carrying big $ sacks? It felt like good times, but as we all know those sacks weren't filled with gold coins... it was just a mix of old trash, fingernail clippings and shit. But the bags were air tight, we couldn't smell it.

Now, here we are, some ten years later and we can see them through high powered binoculars... they're shoveling something - but what? Looking out from the ridge into the Great Quarry, there's a single black desk in the middle. Paperwork is scattered everywhere. Dozens of men in very nice suits are digging furiously, some with shovels, others with bloody fingers. They're burying something.

We were goners the minute banks started selling things.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Big White Meatball

"That head of hair is too good for the Valley." - Ari Gold

Preparing for a trade show is a lot like poking yourself in the eye with a fork. There's an extreme sense of urgency, and it all comes down to that last lingering moment when all the Magic happens - the world around you disappears and you struggle to focus on the horrible, life-changing thing that's about to happen. And you did it to yourself.

Well, shit. If that analogy worked for a trade show, maybe it works for our country, too. Any time I try to pay any attention to the news or what's happening in the world around me, I feel like I'm poking myself in the eye with a fork - staring down the tines and I can't look away, and in the end I only come away hurt.

Just the other day I read an excerpt from Matt Taibbi's new book that painted a picture of modern politics as Wild West scene run by a bunch of two-bit hustlers and Pole Junkies (popularity poles, you dimwit), hocking America to a Baghdad pawn shop at deep discounts. Leasing highway overpasses, selling off parking meter revenue to the highest bidder and other fun tricks that really tickle your gag reflex.

I'm drained... at the end of my fork there's a big white meatball staring back at me. What does it want? I should have used a spoon...