Category: blog

The Underground.

jamie

It’s growing.
You won’t hear about it on social media.
This may be the only public post I ever talk about it.

((Entertainment only. Just kidding. Borowitz has The Onion breath. Plausibly Deniable. Yup. Disclaimers-R-Us must be having a sale)).

Because Everything online is being monitored. AI is not only stealing art, literature, music and much more. It’s being used to build a digital prison. Surveillance and secret social scores. They track where you’re going. Who you’re with. What you say. I’m sure my score is concerning. Sooner or later some algorithm will flag me. I have that “red flag” kinda personality.

Truth. Rebels will be prosecuted here in America. It’s already happening. Shock Troops in our streets projecting power and fear. Resistance must be quashed. Speak out against the machine, threaten it’s mission in any way, and it will come for you.

Masked Federal Gestapo. In America. Shooting Americans in the face. Who will be next?

If you aren’t concerned that they might someday come for you, you’re either the biggest fool or the most selfish tool. Either way, good luck with that. The rest of y’all, I assume you are friendlies. That doesn’t imply trust. Trust, like respect, is earned.

So here we are. The enemies are among us, in power. Our government has fully turned against the governed. It’s a fucking disaster.
America, no matter what State Media-for-profit tells you, is in deep shit. They are literally making up the economic numbers now, hoping the truth will be lost in the extreme revisions. The news won’t report any of it. They have a stake in this occupation.

Profit. Corporate profits. It’s all about money. It’s about taking from us and giving to them. Robin Hood in reverse. Forcing the poor into submission is easier than forcing “the entitled” out of their “entitlements”. 

Money can buy anything in America. Now they bought an election, and our entire government, thanks to years of these wealthy pricks buying congressional representation that the average voter cannot imagine to afford.
Taxation without representation. The ones supposed to represent US, now represent only THEM. Do NOT count on them to save you. Prepare for the worst.

If you’re not in the underground, you’re working for THEM. Dig it?

Be Not Afraid. Socialism is Everywhere.

jamie

ALL GOVERNMENT SPENDING IS SOCIALISM. Every penny.

They just use that word “socialist” (often erroneously paired with “Communist” or “Marxist”) to convince you (using FEAR) that it’s better if they spend YOUR TAX DOLLARS on tax breaks for the few, the wealthy and privileged. And maybe a few for-profit prisons to lock the rest of us up in (if we get high to try and forget the atrocities done by these miserable sons of bitches who are running this country).

Most people in prison are there for non-violent DRUG POSSESSION. In for-profit prisons, many of which hire them out for a fraction of minimum wage. Modern slavery.
Why? Profit. Exploit ordinary citizens for their own gains. People go to jail, or die, but they make money. So it’s OK.

They don’t make as much money if the government decides feeding the poor, or housing the homeless is a better use of the money. Because it helps people, they call it “charity”. The only reason they give to charity at all is for the tax write-offs and PR.
They call people who need help LAZY.
They say refugees who need help are ILLEGAL.
They say children who need help are EXPENDABLE.
All excuses NOT TO HELP

Like walking past a disheveled person asking for help on the street. Don’t look at them. Ignore the problem. Make excuses not to help.

Folks, THEY blame the poor, but the RICH are the problem. The WEALTHY have set up this system to exploit us, from cradle to grave, and they keep turning the screws, hoping we die. Less LAZY ILLEGAL EXPENDABLE HUNGRY mouths to feed, equals more profits for THEM.
Pure Capitalism is CRUELTY.

It’s $38 Trillion Now


Socialism recognizes the things people need to survive and thrive, and tries to guarantee those things to all through government ownership of those resources. Food. Medicine. Clothing. Housing. Education. Police. Fire Dept. EMTs. Energy. Military defense. Research. Good stuff for ALL. Democracy decides what’s important to us.
We all chip in to make sure everyone has what they NEED to survive and thrive. Importantly, innovators can still get rich selling people NEW creations and advances. For as much profit as they can. Things people WANT. Not what they NEED to survive.

In either Socialism or Capitalism, those with more must give more. That’s the social contract.

But Capitalism must be regulated to protect the social contract. Socialism IS that contract. Democracy decides. Capitalism doesn’t go away. It just gets deprioritized over survival, and human decency. Profits are NOT more important than the social contract to help each other.

Getting rich by exploiting what people NEED to survive is IMMORAL.
Getting rich by imprisoning people for profit is immoral.
Getting rich by controlling all of the food production and constantly raising prices to ensure “economic growth” (aka increased profits) instead of eliminating hunger, is immoral.
Getting rich by sending our children off to die, protecting “economic interests” (aka oil profits, weapons revenue) is IMMORAL.
Getting rich by controlling (for profit) all of the ENERGY society needs to exist and grow is Immoral.
Getting rich by deciding who deserves medicine by how much they can afford to pay is IMMORAL.

This is NOT a RED vs. BLUE situation. The two parties are BOTH working against US, The American People. This is a HUMAN DECENCY issue. Greed vs. Kindness and Decency.
This is a HAVE-TOO-MUCH vs HAVE-NOT-ENOUGH situation. Most of us fall into the SECOND group. We should start acting like it.
Towards THEM, and especially towards Each Other.

Stupid Shit I Did

jamie

Back in the 70s, we lived near Buffalo. I had a Canadian friend who used to get us all into a lot of trouble. I recall we smuggled fireworks and beer back from Canada one time. Stuff like that.

One such time found us in Fort Erie, Canada, right across the Niagra River from Buffalo, the Peace Bridge connecting the two countries there.

International Railway bridge to USA, Fort Erie Canada

Just north of the Peace Bridge there’s a railroad bridge, crossing the teeming Niagra River several miles above the falls. That one summer day, I found myself in a parking lot just downstream from the bridge, drinking beers and probably smoking weed. I had no idea what was about to happen.

This isn’t a story of tragedy. No one was ever hurt. All the more reason to say, specifically to my kids, but also to yours, Kid’s don’t try stupid shit like this.

Now, I won’t draw things out, I’ve embellished enough.

Before I knew what we were doing, we found ourselves walking out into the railroad bridge, our Canadian guide assuring everyone he’d done it many times before. When we reached the appropriate spot, he started climbing, up above the track level, where we all stood watching him climb.

A good 20 feet over our heads, he suddenly stopped, yelled something I don’t remember, and threw himself off the girder, into the wind above the rushing current, his curly blonde locks trailing behind as he flew through the air.

He seemed to fall forever, and I remember him doing a flip about halfway down. I’m not sure if that really happened, or if it’s just an embellishment that grew into “truth”, as I retold this story over the years. What seemed like a couple minutes later, he hit the water and disappeared under the dark green rushing waters.

A couple of guys immediately jumped from the platform right after he hit the water, taking them slightly less time falling before disappearing beneath the dark waters.

They all came up eventually, after what seemed like a lifetime. They reappeared above water about half a football field downstream from where they hit, and started swimming hard towards the breakwall, and the ladder to safety. Miss that ladder, and who knows where you would be able to get out of the river, before being washed downstream towards Lake Ontario. Over the falls.

This is a story about peer pressure. There was no going back. Accept the fear. Then jump. They made it to safety. We all figured we could too. And we did. I swam harder than I’ve ever swam before or since, to make sure I caught that ladder.

I told myself it would be ok. Then I jumped. The fear was gone. So we’re the excuses. Just me against the river. Cliche I know. But those moments where you MUST succeed. Do or do not, there is no try. Those moments change you. Forever.

When I finally hit the water, I remember wondering, “How deep will I go?” as the momentum carried me deeper and deeper. For a second I wondered if I would make it back to the surface. I’m not the most buoyant person. The water was dark, green and cold, and I started swimming across the current, toward the ladder even before I eventually surfaced.

I swam so hard that I reached the wall way above the ladder, I had to tread water and wait to drift downstream to it. Some of us went for a second round, and a couple people tried the higher perch to jump from. I remember walking back onto the bridge, watching them jump, and then walking off the bridge again, to dodge a train coming through en route to Buffalo. I guess I didn’t want to tempt my fate twice.

I think about what would have been, if I had chickened out, and never made that leap of faith into that river. Maybe it gave me confidence later in life. Or perhaps it just made me more cautious. Either way, every big decision I’ve made since has probably been affected by this one moment.

I find myself reflecting about it, not to encourage myself to cheat death, but to remember to live. To be not afraid to leap into destiny, with enough faith in ourself to come out the other side better for the journey.

I’m pretty sure it’s also one of those moments that remind me not to be such a dumb fuck.

If I was a Simpsons character…

[Disclaimer: The Bridge is only 22 feet above the river, and the shipping channel is pretty deep so, perhaps my memory embellished the experience and potential dangers just a tiny bit).

Boulder, CO. Where the Hip Meet to Trip.

jamie

That was title of the 1979 Time Magazine article about Boulder Colorado. Naturally, I decided to go to college there. Mostly to get as far away from home and my Goldwater Republican parents as possible. I stayed in Boulder over the summers, to avoid conflicts. It was a different city when the college wasn’t in session. I think we met Morris the first or second summer.

They called it Guyana Punch, and the Guyana Parties at Morris’s place on The Hill were legendary.
Everyone brought a bottle. Liquor, any kind was acceptable. Everclear, 151 rum and vodka were the foundation. Water, KoolAid and assorted juices and fruits were added, and the party was off and running.
Somewhere during the evening, sheets, tabs, and assorted microdots always found their way into the punch, and everything got colorful and weird.

Music. Usually Grateful Dead tapes from some show someplace that was “the best trip ever”. Great times. Great people. Great music always makes the scene.

When the punch eventually ran dry, and all the places to buy real beer were long closed, literally hundreds of people tripping their balls off wandered off into the Boulder night on their own psychedelic adventures.
I remember one night after Morris’, we ended up smoking weed with these girls at this witches coven house down the street. At least I thought they were witches.

At some point, my buddy Adam turned into The Devil during the Stones Sympathy, and I wandered off, caught up in one of those trips, where facing one’s own fears turns into battles with demons and dragons. My roommates spent hours looking for me. I spent hours looking for me, too. Eventually I wandered home I guess, because I woke up there the next afternoon. Nobody remembered and dragons or witches but me.

All things must end. Eventually, the Guyana Parties did too. Morris, the Cat who threw the parties (and probably always dosed the punch) moved on to who knows where. Times changed. We grew up.

The Boulder scene changed a lot when the cocaine started rolling into town. Coke and acid really don’t mix. It changed the party. The whole scene, and not for the better.
You don’t threaten to kill people to get more acid or mushrooms, but with meth and coke, lots of liquor…you never know.

Things melted down. People ended up in jail. Everyone was a narc. Nobody could be trusted. Eventually, I was glad to be out of the hip-meet-to-trip delusion. Every trip ends, I guess. Everyone I knew got out alive, so I figure it’s a win.

I’ve stumbled into a lot of crazy party scenes since, and sooner or later the mood always gets heavy. It’s all fun and games. Then they change the meds, some new people change the mood, and everything changes with it.

Not usually for the better.