Some people, like the nice man at Gifthub, are just too dumb to live. Phil, hitting a tar baby with both fists is not going to keep those precious hands of yours clean. Mistress Candidia holds you in high esteem for your loyal service. Why don't you leave it at that? Let readers draw their own conclusions. As for Lucy Bernholz, she is perhaps the leading public intellectual in philanthropy today. She is a good friend of mine. She hardly needs a defense from you. I am sure she would appreciate it if you would just butt out.
My loyal servant at Gifthub had an exceptionally good year, increasing readership by 250%, to 1700 subscribers. Wealth Bondage has benefited from increased traffic and the good will generated by our involvement with such a high-integrity, public-spirited site. In his performance review, I granted the editor another annual subsidy and permission to use the Executive Washroom here at Wealth Bondage. He is such a good boy. I am thinking of putting him on MSNBC with Tucker Carlson. Wouldn't they be cute together?
"You bin runnin' roun' here sassin' atter me a mighty long time, but I speck you done come ter de een' er de row. You bin cuttin' up yo' capers en bouncin' 'roun' in dis naberhood ontwel you come ter b'lieve yo'se'f de boss er de whole gang. "
Who was Uncle Remus? Well, he was Uncle Tom after hours. What makes the dialogue with Lucy Bernholz interesting is that we both know the Rules of the House, she as Aunt Sally, I as Uncle Tom. We also both know the frustrations vented out back, in the Slave Quarters among those who serve wealth with a deferential smile. Now, when we begin to take the private transcript of subaltern people - Dumpster Dwellers - public our Masters and Mistresses in Wealth Bondage are beginning to overhear us drinking, dancing, capering and carrying on. Neither Lucy nor the nice man at Gifthub want Mistress to know that they frequent a Dumpster. For the Dumpster, my friends, is the great Tar-Baby; once touched you are covered all over in pitch. Better to pass the Dumpster by, as Lucy did, as it it did not exist.
Lucy was smart. She walked on by, to and from the Big House, head held high and proud. She cut me from her blogroll and never dropped by here to comment. I tested her and she passed. Albert, Philanthropoid, and Felix, though, are caught up in the Dumpster Tar-Baby. They have commented here and are now part of the public transcript of private discontent. "I speck they done come ter de een er de row." Mission accomplished, Mistress. We got Albert, Philanthropoid and Felix all stuck in the pitch. I will take them out back now Mistress with this big old whip and whup them good. The Thunderbird is to dress their wounds. I will make good niggahs out of them Mistress. Ms Lucy? Like your loyal servant at Gifthub, she has proven herself reliable, Mistress. Let her go in peace.
Lucy is right; I was rude. My feelings were hurt when she cut her blogroll, me included. I appreciate her collegial response. I just want to move on up into her world, into the Big House, accepted, honored and feted. Would it help if I lost the white leisure suit? I am very sensitive about my bad manners, my bad taste, my lack of education, and class. When important people like Lucy treat me like they do, as someone who does not quite belong, I lash out. It is how I got into the Dungeon Master business in the first place. The truth is, you can't master another person unless you can master yourself. I lost my temper, and I apologize. I hope to be forgiven. The Dumpster can be a lonely place.
We shall be told: what can literature possibly do against the
ruthless onslaught of open violence? But let us not forget that
violence does not live alone and is not capable of living alone:
it is necessarily interwoven with falsehood. Between them lies
the most intimate, the deepest of natural bonds. Violence finds
its only refuge in falsehood, falsehood its only support in
violence. Any man who has once acclaimed violence as his METHOD
must inexorably choose falsehood as his PRINCIPLE. At its birth
violence acts openly and even with pride. But no sooner does it
become strong, firmly established, than it senses the rarefaction
of the air around it and it cannot continue to exist without
descending into a fog of lies, clothing them in sweet talk. It
does not always, not necessarily, openly throttle the throat,
more often it demands from its subjects only an oath of
allegiance to falsehood, only complicity in falsehood.
And the simple step of a simple courageous man is not to partake
in falsehood, not to support false actions! Let THAT enter the
world, let it even reign in the world - but not with my help. But
writers and artists can achieve more: they can CONQUER FALSEHOOD!
In the struggle with falsehood art always did win and it always
does win! Openly, irrefutably for everyone! Falsehood can hold
out against much in this world, but not against art.
May we have his courage. Take your own theory, whatever it may be of art, truth and interpretation, or of religion, whatever keeps up your own courage, but speak what you know of intimidation, of fear, of self aggrandizement under current conditions. Pantomime what you dare not say.
Let us face up to the fact that if we make Gestapo tactics legal, mistakes will happen, and innocent people will be rounded up tortured, unfairly convicted in secret tribunals, and put to death. Having passed the act, folks, let's get on with it. Better that a few thousand innocent fellow citizens, and as many foreign nationals as need be, die under my hands than that a terrorist blow up another building or two or three. Do the math. You want justice or you want to be safe? You made your decision when you looked the other way when these laws were passed. Any reasonable person knew going in that when checks are balances are eliminated, shit will happen. Let's let the Gestapo do their jobs defending the Fatherland. This guy says he is innocent. If they gave him to me for three days, I guarantee he would change his story and confess to the World Trade Center bombing. They all do.
In answer to your question, Josh, no a Senator sent to GITMO by our Commander in Chief cannot vote on bills. Why? Because he is all tied up! Get it? I hope this helps, Josh. I would hate to leave you hanging.
The Inspector reads deeply, reflects, and months or years later, out come these incredible essays. He has published the next installment of his reflections on the Wealth Bondage Tong as an intentional community, and a harbinger of social change. Lohmann's reference to the work of James Scott has been extremely helpful to me, a breakthrough, in appreciating blogging, satire, parable, and carnival as "weapons of the weak," written into the margins of the "public transcript," hidden in plain sight, overheard by those who dare not hear us, or who hearing us dare not countenance us with a conversational riposte since that would make us "official," in ways we must never be, lest we explode Wealth Bondage from the inside out. So, we remain invisible, inaudible, but larger, more obtrusive, and louder every day. Thank you, Inspector, for making your work in progress public. Your writing is in the best interest of Wealth Bondage, the Tong.