coley
Well-Known Member
maybe we can go back to the time of beards and fine moustaches...
Sexist, sorry can't do smileys, might need the bog
maybe we can go back to the time of beards and fine moustaches...
Name them.
maybe we can go back to the time of beards and fine moustaches...
Sad really, because her parents, Arthur and Eva, were smashing folks who really threw themselves into the struggle.Samantha Brick.
The "resource based economy" lot (wtf does that mean anyhow? No one could ever explain it to me) reminds me of 19th Century utopian socialism.
I think there's a fundamental difference between the zeitgeist/project venus lot and some of the other conspiraloons though, in that the zeitgeist/project venus lot were genuinely looking for an alternative to capitalism - a "resource based economy" built around an open source software computer system that you inputed all the resources of the world into and it decided how to allocate them, coupled with complete automation of things so no-one has to work... a technocracy and a utopia. They thought it would mean freedom but couldn't get to grips with questions of what happens when you can't automate a process and how are decisions made about the software programming. Really poor but very different to the ron paul type conspiraloons who wanted more capitalism.
Last year I helped a bit with the TUSC campaign in the Manchester Central by-election. The people there seemed pretty sound and it was good to know them, sadly when the election came we fell way below the mark. I agree TUSC aren't perfect but at present they seem like one of the more credible left alternatives, although hopefully TUSC/SP will get on board Left Unity, which seems to be getting somewhere because it's more than the same tired old leftie hacks.I've still got loads of respect for lots of people in the party though, and there is loads of stuff that the SP has got right, they're way ahead of most trot groups in terms of grassroots campaigning and getting stuff done. It has been quite a big decision for me and I still feel quite conflicted over it but there were a few decisions over the last year or so that I really didn't agree with, got serious reservations about a lot of the PCS/RMT stuff for example.
maybe we can go back to the time of beards and fine moustaches...
There do share several common beliefs though, such as that 9/11 was an inside job, the government is poisoning us with chemtrails and water fluoridation, vaccines kill you and "Big Pharma" is covering up the truth, and all this is so the Illuminanti, Freemasons and/or NWO can enslave us under a one world government.
That pretty much sums up pretty much every Occupy in the UK outside of London (although even there they were still a major presence there, and that didn't stop Occupy London being full of other problematic shite). Leeds seemed to have it together for a while, the one time I was there Billy Bragg played there for a bit and there were some trade unionists there too, but they fizzled into nothing quite quickly, it was quite a small group anyway.My first visit to Birmingham Occupy, when I asked them what it was about, I was told it was protesting about chemtrails and the fake queen.
The Palo Alto Borders was my psychogeographical center. It seems strange to say that of a store, never mind an outlet of a giant and mostly uniform chain, but there was nowhere else I was so free to grow up.
Mostly when we went to Borders we would pick an uninhabited aisle (Christian Lit was probably the most popular), sit down, and read aloud from the most outlandish book we could find.
Why didn’t we go to a library? Or a park? Because public spaces were custodial. Librarians looked like teachers, and we didn’t want to be shushed. In Palo Alto on the weekends, the parks are marked off for Little League or AYSO or youth lacrosse games during the day. We were trying to avoid the PTA mafia, not waltz into their lair. And just try hanging out in parks at night without risking a chat with the police.
Speaking of Clowns, here's an article on Jacobin http://jacobinmag.com/2012/02/race-war-or-murdering-your-parents-a-left-debate/ with extra tweets by Malcolm "big shoes, bulbous red nose" Harris. Link taken from this, interesting, article http://mattbruenig.com/2012/05/10/purity-leftism/
Want some more? OK Then. http://thenewinquiry.com/features/obituary-borders-books-and-music/ The New Inq-wirry. Here's Nathan Barley himself. Check this out for bollocks.
Wild. Behold, Capital, and tremble.
You can almost taste the ennui. The rest of the article's that same overwhelmingly narcissistic confessional shite that every fucking no-mark who's lived an upper-middle class life of generic Daria-esque bullshit feels everyone ought to read. It's fucking dreadful, way worse than even Penny has managed. Maybe they should spend some fucking effort editing their blogs beacuse that one has a huge section that's repeated in the middle because clearly no-one proof-reads Malcolm Harris, not even Malcolm Harris.
Fuck all those times I have been to Waterstones I have been doing it wrong!Once again, what is this stuff?
"On Friday afternoons in middle school, groups (by then co-ed) that could easily hit double digits would wander the blocks lazily, not having yet discovered the booze, drugs, and sex that would later send us to smoky basements in houses temporarily without parents. Borders was the assumed launching place for any downtown meetup; we learned each other’s waiting aisles. On nights we felt enterprising, we’d gather a group for capture the flag and use Borders’ two levels as opposing territories.
As a romantic destination, Borders lacks a certain ambiance, but it was the scene of countless half-dates and more awkward proto-flirting than the dances at the private girls’ school. The human sexuality aisle was our real sex-ed class, a copy of Sextrology —probably unsellable from all the adolescent finger smudges—taught us the various ways bodies fit together and why the punch lines of certain jokes heard years ago on playgrounds made sense. We read each other’s sexual horoscopes loudly, and usually failed to stifle giggles when an actual customer walked by.
As half-dates became the real thing, Borders was still the place I felt most at home, surrounded by plenty of books I could jabber about nervously. I still remember making out in one of the fiction aisles with my high-school girlfriend. "
Most people think I look much younger that I actually am, this clearly puts me in a marginalized group. I just need to think up a collective name for 'people who look younger than they are' and then no one who looks their age will ever be able to tell me I am wrong about anything ever again.
Most people think I look much younger that I actually am, this clearly puts me in a marginalized group. I just need to think up a collective name for 'people who look younger than they are' and then no one who looks their age will ever be able to tell me I am wrong about anything ever again.
"Youth, after all, is not a permanent condition, and a clash of generations is not so fundamentally dangerous to the art of government as would be a clash between rulers and ruled"
As anyone with a copy of the first album by The Clash could tell you...
In other words, all people that aren't considered oppressed in the same way that any Oppressed Individual™ is oppressed in are considered guilty until proven innocent, and need to continuously abide by a set of arbitrary commandments that a certain group of oppressed people (whom by default represent ALL people facing that oppression) in order to be considered worthy of allydom, which can be instantly revoked the moment you say or do something that hurts the feelings of one of these great and holy Oppressed People™. Also you have no recourse should you find you get upset, or merely disagree with what an oppressed person says, and heaven help you if you think that something that's deemed oppressive may not be as awful as the Oppressed Individual™ makes out, because that's "derailing", a cardinal sin which results in instantaneous expulsion from Ally Club, resulting in the tarring and feathering of the offending privileged person, and a placard strung around their neck saying "Evil Enabler of Oppression". Remember, the people in the oppressed intersection are ALWAYS right, and if they say it's oppressive, it is, no ifs or buts. Four legs good, two legs bad!On privilege issues here is part of anti-body chauvinism "fat acceptance movement" delineating acceptable behaviour from its allies ie anyone not fat, after questioning this slogan:
http://thisisthinprivilege.tumblr.com/post/48885126420/fatanarchy-kittyoftheyear-uhhh-no-there-is
"The first rule of ALLY CLUB: You do not talk in ALLY CLUB.
The second rule of ALLY CLUB: You DO NOT TALK in ALLY CLUB.
The third rule of ALLY CLUB: If a marginalized person says STOP, the argument is over.
The fourth rule of ALLY CLUB: Ganging up on marginalized people and/or their blogs with a bunch of your privileged buddies means you’re out of ALLY CLUB. If marginalized people come after you in droves? YOU’VE FUCKED UP. APOLOGIZE. DON’T EXPECT TO BE FORGIVEN.
The fifth rule of ALLY CLUB: If you ping a bunch of marginalized people with the same bullshit “honest question, guise!” then you’re out of ALLY CLUB and automatically inducted into TROLL CLUB.
The sixth rule of ALLY CLUB: No “what about me,” no “but privileged people don’t have perfect lives, either.”
The seventh rule of ALLY CLUB: If you fuck with marginalized people you do not get to say when the argument is over. It’s over when the marginalized people you fucked with say it’s over.
The eighth rule of ALLY CLUB: If this is your first time reading a social justice blog run by a certain group of marginalized people, DO NOT SUBMIT SHIT."
All allies are allowed to do/criticised for "being a shitty human being" for not doing is repeating parrot-like what those in the intersection are saying in general. Any disagreement or discussion of the sorts of tactics or messages that might be applicable can be brought to an immediate halt by: "If a marginalized person says STOP, the argument is over."
In these circumstances it's inevitable that people who do not feel they are being listened to or that having a marginalised status=more listening time, will create their own privilege axes: asylum seekers to wield an 'immigration privilege' to have some power against other immigrants, ex illegal immigrants to accuse legal immigrants of 'legal immigration privilege', 'dark' West Africans might begin stressing 'colourism' to stop middle-class mixed race people at the top, non-fertile women sensing 'child-discussion privilege' amongst mothers, young offenders accusing other working-class young people of 'outside bars privilege'.
Working-class society pulled into permanent coalition with middle class, becoming a large snowglobe of bitterness and recrimination aimed at groups and sub-groups also oppressed.
Once again, what is this stuff?
"On Friday afternoons in middle school, groups (by then co-ed) that could easily hit double digits would wander the blocks lazily, not having yet discovered the booze, drugs, and sex that would later send us to smoky basements in houses temporarily without parents. Borders was the assumed launching place for any downtown meetup; we learned each other’s waiting aisles. On nights we felt enterprising, we’d gather a group for capture the flag and use Borders’ two levels as opposing territories.
As a romantic destination, Borders lacks a certain ambiance, but it was the scene of countless half-dates and more awkward proto-flirting than the dances at the private girls’ school. The human sexuality aisle was our real sex-ed class, a copy of Sextrology —probably unsellable from all the adolescent finger smudges—taught us the various ways bodies fit together and why the punch lines of certain jokes heard years ago on playgrounds made sense. We read each other’s sexual horoscopes loudly, and usually failed to stifle giggles when an actual customer walked by.
As half-dates became the real thing, Borders was still the place I felt most at home, surrounded by plenty of books I could jabber about nervously. I still remember making out in one of the fiction aisles with my high-school girlfriend. "