Totality, Disinherited

November 21, 2011

A vampire chops garlic in a Creole kitchen.  The masked Michael Myers checks his email: no new messages.  Such are the subtle antagonisms of our daily dread.

Yet without this banality of conflict we lose the plot.  Fancy-freedom is the life of a coward.

It has been nearly three years since the false dawn of the student occupations.  Meantime we have kept abreast of political happenings.  None has merited our input.  Just before we insinuated ourselves into the affairs of the Middle East, their groundhog saw its own shadow, ushering in a longer Arab Winter than previously expected.

We were pleased to see that the first project of the Libyan Transitional Council, for example, was to set up a national bank, but, honestly, we prefer our revolutionaries with a little more stink.  A respectable nose-bone ratio.  Gamey taste.

Elsewhere, American politicians have been learning to play musical instruments at astronomical rates, Anarchists have insisted on debating whether a hermaphrodite who becomes intoxicated before an episode of self-intimacy is operating by consensus, and Jim Miller has continued to have more hang-ups than a mute telemarketer.

Like our mortal enemies of the vortex left, we disagree with Comrade Miller in his latest piece in the New York Times: “Will Extremists Hijack Occupy Wall Street?”  Three years ago we defended the tract on which the New School in Exilers publically defecated.   Democracy is not in the latrine.

The famous 99% that have been occupying Wall Street and other abstractions need to keep rule-by-consensus.  It is the best way to ensure they are fettered by their own ideology.  Fingers wiggling all the way to the cell block.

Rule-by-party or a herd of progressive non-profits would be equally desirable from our end, but that is not the beast we are encountering, by and large.  The present creature has a billion heads and a black hole for an anus.   We enjoy seeing all those heads up its ass, fingers wiggling.

In fact, we saw them coming a mile away. Allowed them a box to soap, a twitter to feed, a stream to live. It makes no difference to us. Every crisis at their doorstep only makes them weaker. Their self-appointed managers are as good as ours. Their police are better.

“Can we join a working group? Can we voice our frustration?” they ask themselves.

No need to infiltrate what is already ours.

“I’d like a tofu and arugula sandwich, please. Spread the democracy evenly.  Hold the arugula.  See you at the Assembly tonight? Nah, I have to do my econ homework. Don’t worry, the minutes will be online. Alright, tweet me later. Wait, what? Can you update the Facebook page? We got some wingnuts posting comments about you-know-who again. You got it. And make sure to record Tom Morello’s acoustic piece tonight. He’s so down.”

Our hopes are not high for a good old-fashioned melee, though for the record we would like to collaborate on some motherfuckers.  Colder weather will soon hush the uproar, and our lives will return to the minute creativities of small business ideas, like hangOVER, an intravenous saline slurpee that heals even the most vulnerable morning after.

30 bucks a pop.  Enya’s Greatest Hits on the speakers.  Storefront in a hip neighborhood.  Eggshell white interior.  Enya.  You want B Vitamins in that?  50 cents extra.  Smoothies and shots of wheatgrass at the counter.  Brochures for the new co-op that’s opening up around the corner.  The Resident Nurse? She’s a person of color.  Are “you” in?

-The Collaboration

Summer has terminated.  We hope you enjoyed your break.  Much of ours was spent advising the Obama team on all and sundry issues.

No we cannot.  We already did.

The Free Press and other publications on campus are running retrospectives of last year’s tumult between the student-commodities and the presidential one.  We read these with utter delight.  There is no better way to commemorate an uprising than by obliterating its force.  All uprisings have failed, so it is therefore appropriate to maintain their impotence with the most impotent instrument of them all: the pen.

Students, faculty and management have returned to their respective sectors. Hopefully all future communication between them will be restricted to the most banal circumstances. In the halls and in class, some whisper that all there is left to do is to annihilate the commodity, laughing.

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Stay in Exile

May 18, 2009

You.

Yeah, you, the one behind the computer screen with the saucer eyes and granola crumbs in your whiskers.  Don’t look around to your left and right.  We’re talking to you, potential collaborationist, potential disrade.  Wearing that ironic shirt, reading Foucault and listening to an album that’s so off-the-wall indie it’s the theme song from Full House on repeat for 83 minutes.  There is a subtle intimation of distortion at the beginning of minute 51, but no other added effects.

We want you to bask in our joy at the recent news that Bob Kerrey will remain as president of The New School for two more years.  Weeks ago, when he announced his resignation, we conceded a small defeat.  But we had been duped.  How genius: he was really just announcing his future resignation!

[insert generic manifestation of happiness here]

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We concede a loss in the ongoing struggle of the administration and the collaborationists versus the anarcho-anarchists, who recently referred to themselves as revolutionary time-sperm attempting to wiggle from the withered urethra of the present into the magnetic egg of the future – a transcendence they claim would threaten the gilded totality of domination.  Bob Kerrey has resigned.  His final statement reflected the small victory of our enemies: “I am a redundant entity. Additionally, I am a redundant entity.”

We regret his departure.  As a parting gift, we have bestowed unto him the body of a heavily armed Jesus Christ nailed to a painting that depicts a decapitated student washed up on a beach and handcuffed to a painting, as well as a partial collection of Steven Seagal’s action films on VHS.

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Occupy Nothing

April 14, 2009

We fully support the actions of the administration against the student occupiers and their supporters.  Enlisting the police as a private security force is a tried-and-true tactic of those with pull against those who push.  Private power lobs up resistance due to its deliciously alienating and hierarchical essence.  The police swing for the fences.  Batter up.  We love this shit.

You know something else we love?  Using students as laughable instruments of our strategy.  A New School Free Press reporter gave video footage he shot of the protest outside to the police.  That’s what we’re talking about.  Only if all students knew that actively negating the unlife of their compartmentalized pseudo-reality by the total seizure of an education-edifice and subsequently abolishing the imposed identity of that physical structure is a self-defeating enterprise, then we could use every last one of them as naive pawns on our two-dimensional chessboard of domination.  Heads cocked to the sky, we laugh maniacally at the prospect!  HA!, friend, HA!        

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