Friday, March 24, 2017

Soldier Dog Soldier

Episode Seven

It’s never a good idea to travel in the middle of the road
The edge provides more options

Atomisms (N.O.W. Issue #3)

When they brought conscription in there was an outcry from the left. But outcry and action are two different things; and the left was a flaccid and toothless bureaucracy. The move was justified by the fact that the military needed to be boosted to assist the police whose duties had, after years of savage cuts in public funding, been put out to tender. A privatised police force worked to achieve the profit margin by feeding the privatised prisons to the brim, which fact of course meant that more prisons needed to be built to accommodate the rise.
Why had we ignored all the warnings; G4S; Serco; Blackwater.
Conscription started with school leavers who could not study further because of the privatisation of education and the rising cost thereof excluding a large portion of the population – universities making huge profits on the influx of wealthy students from the east felt no compulsion to keep prices down to accommodate the breadline local fodder. The first intakes were shambolic and light heartedly portrayed in the positive light of character-building. Suicide statistics were excluded from the public domain in the interests of National Security.
You’ve gotta ask yourself if you’re happy to be associated with a species that would breed all the wolf out of a dog, leaving a neurotic ball of fur or a long bodied stub legged victim to bolster the fragile but over-inflated ego of its master. I mean what was the point of all that domesticated crossbreeding? Fashion? Money? A fucked-up god-complex?
You’ve gotta ask yourself if you’re happy to be associated with a species that would breed it’s young to be soldiers, to carry out those dirty duties in the manner of a clever dog.
You gotta tell yourselves to stop training your dogs (and raising your kids) to be soldiers.
Year 2 saw my call-up papers arrived on the tail of Atom’s. We already knew we weren’t going to go – we couldn’t, we were not equipped to function under enforced regimentation.
There are those who choose to be treated so, good luck to them, we were going to have to go off-grid.

Friday, March 17, 2017

Halfway Inbetween

Episode Six

Moment ~ Brooke Shaden

“40 years of incrementally ramped-up capitalism had brought us to this. The rumbling of discontent that was characterised by the much-increased membership of the Labour Party on the wave of Corbyn’s rise has served to expose the rotting flesh around Labour's wound: Blairism.
The Blairites have a symbiotic relationship with the Tories, so when the calls to get rid of the Tories rise from the ranks, the Blairites who in all but name hold control of the labour party, when faced with this call to arms, instead choose to attack Corbyn.
Let’s face it, the Tories are sitting ducks for any party that can drum up enough noise to beat them in an election. The stick insect Teresa May has only one task set for her: do nothing! Hang on until it’s impossible not to concede to an election.
The only party with enough noise to do so is Labour: yet neither faction chooses to call for an election, each afraid they’ll blow it – to be beaten by Cameron’s caretaker government would be as nothing in the shame league tables compared to being beaten by the Insect’s invisible gang of bitter bureaucrats.”
@IngrateAl 20.01.2017

As they were snuggling the knot against the base of my skull I was haunted by the thoughts of our honeymoon daze.
Well they couldn’t fire the whole department, that would’ve made too much noise, especially in the middle of such a ‘lucrative and sensitive project’, so only Atom and I were fired from !.com.
Perhaps using !.com’s stationary and printers to kick-start Ninja Office Worker #1 DEBUT ISSUE! wasn’t too bright on our part. Who knew that each individual page in an A4 pack of printing paper would carry an electro-statically implanted version of !.com’s iconic logo. But hey! We were revolutionaries! And we did manage to publish and distribute N.O.W. #2 and #3 before getting caught.
The rest of the department were permitted to stay on the straight and narrow, given that all eyes were on them, it must’ve been hellish. Jimmy Mac managed to keep himself invisible; somehow his role in the production of N.O.W was not noticed.
So here we were – Atom and I - sole remaining members of the Pointing Finger, stuck in that tiny flat that I was renting via the Rentitorama down the road.
Atom wasn’t house trained in any way and as anyone knows it’s important for people to keep out of one another’s hair. We had some days of keeping up the pretence that we were not going to end up together and then it just became our reality.
There were times when I wondered whether they’d lobotomised him during his ‘retraining’ in the Logistics section; nothing really phased him, always optimistically ready to move forward.
He wasn’t averse to learning though, so the toilet seat kinda stuff was relatively easy to establish. Cleaning up behind himself took a little longer.
I’m making it sound like I was just another ‘re-trainer’ in Atom’s life – no, we had good times, we laughed, we argued, we drank and smoked and enjoyed the mutual treasures buried in our young bodies.
Through our time in the flat Atom remained unshakable in his belief that to understand a thing is to be free to move forward and learn the next thing – he accumulated ideas and they clung to him like barnacles on a pier leg – rough-edged and safe below the waterline.
He still had that old bike that they had given him in the early days; back when !.com still pretended to give a shit about anything but the yellow brick road; and he used it check the city’s pulse. Like some alien he observed the ebb and flow - where people still made eye contact in attempted civility and where it was best to follow an ‘eyes down’ policy and pretend that the world doesn’t exist, the walls being built to protect ‘what’s mine’ and the rising paranoia that hung over everything like a bell jar - pedalling around for hours on end gathering ‘data’ for Jimmy Mac’s master-code-fuck.
I’ll be honest: we didn’t have a clue what we were doing; we were young and idealistic; we knew the system was wrong and we could feel the change coming. Like I said; we didn’t have a clue.

Friday, March 10, 2017

Leave Nothing But Tracks

Episode Five

Les petits métiers - Le travail du chapeau ~ Gewll

Tanks roll down the country lanes
Where uniformed children wait
At their fathers’ executive gate
Statuettes woven from privilege

Atomisms (N.O.W. Issue #1)

The Pointing Finger didn’t really get anywhere until we got Jimmy Mac.
That which constituted the revolution in those early days was the usual mess of bickering factions
going nowhere and undoubtedly disregarded by those on listening duty; laughing at our revolutionary bullshit.
Gender politics, the fear of offence, our tongues twisted by the fact that we were performing that hackneyed revolutionary meme.
Office workers with minimal actual skill besides moving paper about and raiding stationary cupboards.
Jimmy Mac definitely had skills though, and some of us figured we might as well use them and just see what happens. Atom (who was still Adam in those days) knew him from before; he said Cajones (as Jimmy liked to be known) had got him through a lot of shit back in the day.
I never got the ‘Cajones’ thing myself; he was a tall skinny red-bearded shit-stirrer who never got over the fact that the system had us all tied down to mediocrity.
Shit-stirrer or not, it was him who set up the link-page that got us noticed, got us off the ground; Jimmy launched “Can’t See the Wood”; a key in our efforts to getting our ideas out there; more importantly, he was there when the noose was tightening around my neck.
Suffice it to say that that cat has my blessing to call himself whatever he wants.

Friday, March 03, 2017

Dog Soldier Dog

Episode Four

Alberto Martini

Nobody thought it was going to be easy; fuck, nobody though it was even possible to stop the machine from grinding us between the cogs of money and greed for power; if I’m honest, I don’t believe most people were even aware that their shoelaces were being tied together by those merry banksters and their rotting patrons.
But Atom didn’t seem to notice any of the detractions and I was too fired up to care, so we dived in headfirst, breaking the meniscus of mediocre discontent with our strident calls to arms.
Unite behind the Pointing Finger!
This is urgent, this is N.O.W.
The Pointing Finger is aimed at you!
This is not the future, this is N.O.W.
Our taglines hung in the air unsupported, there to fall on deaf ears.
The 3 editions of Ninja Office Worker that we managed to publish were aimed at the wrong audience: the precariously contented middle classes.
We were na├»ve in our belief that the ‘I’m alright Jack’ crowd were gonna get off their arses for anything that didn’t boost their status or grace their paved drives with bigger and bigger SUV’s.
When it comes down to the wire, what’s mine will always trump what’s best.
There were those however, who were listening.

Friday, February 24, 2017

Eat The Rich

Episode Three

“The government… the system has become… abstract.
We are no longer required to believe that they know what they are doing.
Abstract: the whole governmental level of society lives in a parallel and fairy tale world, a world that cannot be sustained without the consent of the worker bees in our world.
We are indeed the Morlocks.
But it doesn’t end there, there is yet another parallel world which relies on the fairy tale world to feed and maintain its existence. This is the world of power, greed, excess and mass murder.”
P.Norodnik – Thug Culture (N.O.W. Issue #3)

Atom once said he thought it was all about Real Estate – “Consider the trees,” he said (He sometimes manifest a minor messiah complex) “their success at spreading their seed is measured on how far they can throw it or have it transported to new ground. Since Real Estate is, for any given tree, finite, success carries with it the seeds of failure; in the end it will be his offspring that encroach to strangle his patch of sunlight.”
I can quote that verbatim since I wrote it down at the time; I remember the little crowd looking bemused, as if waiting for the punchline.
I got it though, but I knew that we are not trees (more’s the pity), that Real Estate was only part of how we ended up where we were.
Greed, selfish protection of ‘the air that’s mine’, perverted patriotism (is there any other kind?), loss of vision, anything for an easy life.
Easy; we had a real problem with Easy – we had been duped into believing that those things that made the process easier were good things – more than that: easy was the goal we should all aim for.
Since the Industrial Revolution, we had been sold the dream of automation; the dream of a population at leisure.
Reality is such a dream-fucker.
Those of us who had read Wells’ Time Machine were perhaps surprised to find that all those years later we had become the Morlocks – there to service the leisure needs of the Elite Eloi. There to make things easier for them.
In those days you could be arrested for anything: looking dangerous, talking out, texting while wearing a polo shirt.
It was becoming more and more easy to see that we were not all created equal.
Call it what you want: Capitalism, Neoliberalism, the law of the market, the natural order of things, the system had led us to the point where more and more of us were becoming aware that easy wasn’t working at all any more, it seemed to us that the tide was turning and we were gonna have to rise with it.
H.G. Wells being almost certainly a member of the 19th century Aloi himself, is interpreted as imagining the Morlocks as low class brutes, reduced to the baser traits of mankind while the Aloi were cultured, gentle creatures elevated to the higher (good) characteristic of mankind.
It now seemed that perhaps Wells did have deeper insight into the mechanisation of the world, perhaps those dark, post-industrial revolution nights planted a seed in his mind that he had not the experience to interpret; perhaps the Morlocks were the oppressed and the Aloi the oppressor.
And here we were, 21st century Morlocks, feeding the thieving elite by making ourselves easily consumed, or easy consumers – easy money, easy credit, easy access, easily led, easily fed with zero nourishing bullshit, easier than 123, easy as falling off your bike.