Full text of the above paywalled article can be read here.
I’ve been getting back into photography lately after a very long hiatus.
My grandpa left me an old Minolta SRT 101 35mm film camera he had a friend buy for him in Japan and bring back to the States in the late 1960s. That’s the camera I used when I took photography in high school.
The class was simple black and white photography. Film, darkroom, contact sheets, prints. No phone screen, no instant review, no Photoshop to save a shot you didn’t quite get right. You had to slow down.
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Spotify’s free tier finally lets you pick a song and press play. I like the idea in theory. In practice it lands as a late concession in a market that has been slowly hollowing itself out. Lossless arrived the same week, which is nice for sampling new music, but I do not treat streaming as ownership anymore. I use Spotify to scout. I find tracks through other people’s playlists, make a note, and then I go collect the song for my own library if it matters to me. That is the only way this keeps feeling like music rather than content.
The same logic applies to movies and TV, except the gap is even more obvious. Services love to stamp high def or 4K on a page, but the quality is not the same as a disc or a well made file. A UHD Blu-ray can push far higher bitrates than a typical 4K stream, which means more real detail and fewer compression smears in dark or fast scenes. Discs also carry lossless audio formats like Dolby TrueHD, while the stream you get from an app is usually the lossy, bandwidth friendly version. If I care about how a film looks and sounds, I keep my own copy. The difference is not placebo.
Meanwhile the platform layer has been busy rearranging the walls. Google just announced it will require developers to verify their identities before their apps can be sideloaded outside the Play Store, starting in a few countries in 2026 and expanding globally in 2027. They frame it as safety. Maybe it is. It also narrows the open space that made Android feel like a real computer in your pocket. You can call that nuance. It feels like a slow squeeze.
On the desktop, Chrome has marched ahead with Manifest V3 and the deprecation of older extensions. The end result for normal people is simple. Many of the ad blockers they relied on either broke or had to accept limits, and the experience of the modern web slid further into sludge. If you have felt like Chrome got worse at protecting your attention, you are not imagining it.
YouTube doubled down too. The service has been in a public fight with ad blockers since 2023 and ramped enforcement again this year. More ads, longer ads, pause screen ads on TVs, and videos that refuse to play if a blocker is detected. I understand their business case. I also understand why people feel pushed toward alternatives when a three minute clip turns into a five ad obstacle course.
So yes, Spotify giving free users on demand playback is cool. Lossless is cool. In the bigger picture it has been a land run of corporate greed the last couple of years. Prices go up. Quality goes down. Control tightens. The exit door gets smaller and is labeled as safety. People notice. I am seeing more curiosity about how to take care of your own media, especially among younger listeners who grew up inside apps and are now learning there is a world outside the feed. That is healthy.
For me the solution is simple and boring. I do not pay for music or TV streaming. I use Spotify for discovery, then I collect what I love. I maintain a private digital library of films, shows, audiobooks, and music. It is organized. It is backed up. It is mine. When a service drops a title or wrecks the compression, my copy does not care. When a platform changes the rules, my library keeps playing.
If that sounds old fashioned, good. The future I want is hybrid. Stream to explore. Collect to keep. Build a home archive that reflects your taste and survives the next round of product decisions. The platforms can be windows. The vault should be yours.
For a while I have worried about how deeply market logic has seeped into every corner of modern life. We measure success in quarterly earnings and page views, not in wisdom gained or problems solved. The same pressure that turns art into disposable content has begun to turn science into a private club where access and recognition are rationed out by cost, prestige, and branding.
Capitalism’s influence is not new, but its present scale is unprecedented. Corporate funding steers research agendas toward fast-moving technologies that promise immediate returns. Universities fight for patents and spin-offs. Journals hide publicly funded findings behind paywalls that keep out anyone without an institutional badge. Even the informal conversations that once drove inquiry now live on platforms that monetize every click. Curiosity still exists, yet it is forced to pay rent in a marketplace of hype.
The article below captures this tension with unusual clarity. It challenges the idea that science is an open, self-correcting commons and argues that a small priesthood now controls who speaks, who is heard, and who gets the tools to test new ideas. I found it an important reminder that knowledge can be enclosed just as land can be fenced off.
If we care about the long-term health of science, we need to imagine structures that reward truth over profit and collaboration over gatekeeping.
Of My Hiatus
It’s been about six months since my website went offline and I’m sure there have been a least a few wondering why and where I’ve been. Mostly, I’ve been getting older and dealing with all the wonderful surprises that comes along with that. Read More
From Pages to Pixels: The Digital Evolution of Borges' Library of Babel
One fall evening in 2011, immersed in the pulsating energy of Houston, Texas, I found myself caught in the entrancing maze of Jorge Luis Borges' 'Labyrinths'. Among his enthralling tales, "The Library of Babel" stood out, intertwining existential questions with an intricate, expansive allegory.
Borges' library is boundless, composed of hexagonal rooms filled with all possible combinations of twenty-five basic symbols. This vast repository houses every conceivable narrative - fact or fiction, every potential book, and all the possible versions of our life stories.
Coming across the Library of Babel website in 2015 was like finding Borges' theoretical labyrinth had materialized. The brainchild of programmer Jonathan Basile, the site manifests Borges' thought experiment, creating a digital library that yields every conceivable arrangement of 3200 characters.
The notion that this blog post, in some form, already existed in this digital universe even before I penned it was equally astonishing and mildly unsettling. This realization guides us towards one of Borges' central existential themes - the pursuit of meaning within a sea of chaos and excess. It personifies the paradox of infinity: within a library so extensive, the odds of locating a specific book are almost nil, mirroring our elusive search for purpose in life.
Moreover, the website illuminates philosophical discourses. Every potential narrative contained within the library suggests a deterministic universe - implying our lives might be pre-written on some distant shelf. However, like many, I find solace in the concept of free will, primarily because conceding to the lack of it seems both unproductive and somewhat dispiriting.
The website also examines the dichotomy between language's ability to express and its inherent restrictions. Just as Plato's allegory of the cave underscores the disconnect between perception and reality, the library encapsulates the expansive potential and limitations of language. Among the infinite nonsense texts, somewhere lie every profound thought, every exquisite poem, every great novel - all adrift in an ocean of randomness.
Navigating this digital domain feels akin to wandering through a mist-laden dreamscape - a place where reality melds into illusion. The Library of Babel website, much like Borges' story, compels us to reconsider our comprehension of reality. It displays the grandeur of human imagination, the potentialities offered by technology, and our inherent desire to unearth patterns, order, and meaning amid chaos.
Reflecting on my inaugural rendezvous with Borges' "The Library of Babel" back in 2011, I marvel at our capability to bring this immeasurable library to life. It serves as a testament to the boundless potential of the human mind. As I venture further into this digital maze, I am reminded that we are not merely explorers but also architects of our own narratives, inviting discovery in a realm that is without limits.
A Dying Art and Cultural Exchange Through Soulseek
In a world that is rapidly advancing towards the zenith of digitization, there exists an undercurrent of practices that are remnants of the bygone era, slowly fading away into obscurity. One such practice is digital piracy - a phenomenon that has shaped our online experiences in ways more profound than one can imagine. This isn't a call to arms or an endorsement for illicit activities. Instead, this is an exploration into the subculture of piracy, the ideology of Kopimism, and the fascinating world of Soulseek.
The very mention of the term 'piracy' conjures images of rebellious hackers breaching firewalls and unearthing the treasure troves of copyrighted content. For me, piracy has always held a deeper, more spiritual significance. It is a testament to the enduring spirit of sharing, a manifestation of the Church of Kopimism's philosophy of information as a universal birthright. The thrill of discovery, the joy of sharing a long-anticipated album leak, the magic of opening a window to a whole new universe of music - piracy was, and continues to be, a transformative experience for me.
A testament to this transformative experience is the time when I managed to procure an album leak before its official release. I burnt the music onto CDs and left them at a coffee shop, offering them for free. The music, an arcane secret just moments before, now resounded in the coffee shop, creating an invisible bond between strangers. It was magic; it was rebellion; it was a celebration of shared culture.
In the homogenized landscape of the web, individualism thrives in unexpected places.
Today, the landscape of piracy is almost unrecognizable. The advent of music streaming platforms and stringent anti-piracy laws have changed the game. Yet, amid the dying embers of a once roaring fire, there exists an oasis of the golden days: Soulseek.
Soulseek, a peer-to-peer (P2P) network, is a relic from an era when Limewire was the dominant force, and torrents were a novelty. Yet, as torrent sites began facing legal scrutiny, P2P networks like Soulseek were largely forgotten by the authorities. As the world moved on, Soulseek remained, a sanctuary for those still bewitched by the thrill of discovery and sharing.
At Soulseek, the spirit of piracy, sharing, and discovery is very much alive. Search for a simple file, say "bhagavad gita.pdf," and you would find a plethora of hosts ready to share. Yet, the real magic lies beyond that single file. These hosts, these curators of forgotten arts, house libraries of content that would leave any digital connoisseur awestruck. From books that span across cultures and eras to music that reverberates the echoes of the past, it's all there, waiting to be discovered.
These are not just hosts; they are torchbearers of a dying art, preserving, and nurturing a culture of sharing. This vast world of content, curated not by algorithms but by individuals, adds an indescribable depth to our digital universe. It's a treasure trove of shared human culture that exists on the fringes of the internet, away from the grasp of commercialization and censorship.
In a world racing towards an ever homogenized culture dictated by algorithms, Soulseek stands as a beacon of individualism and shared cultural wealth. Here, the forgotten craft of piracy is not just alive; it thrives, preserved by those who understand its deeper, spiritual significance.
This journey through the world of digital piracy serves as a reminder of how much we've lost in our quest for convenience and conformity. Here's to hoping we remember to keep the spirit of sharing and discovery alive, in whichever form it takes in the ever-evolving digital landscape. For, in the words of Aaron Swartz, "Information is power. But like all power, there are those who want to keep it for themselves."
6.8.23
My journey through the philosophical realm hasn't been linear. It’s more akin to a trail through a dense forest with turns, detours, and unexpected clearings, with my intellectual compass being a persistent curiosity. The roads I have traveled have been shaped by the works of many great minds, three of whom stand out: Aldous Huxley, Joseph Campbell, and Jiddu Krishnamurti. Each of them has left an indelible imprint on my thoughts and my perception of the world around me.
During a period of exploration and self-discovery in my life, I found myself engrossed in the works of Aldous Huxley. It was a time characterized by my experiments with mind-altering substances, seeking to unearth deeper understandings of consciousness and perception. Huxley, a British intellectual and writer known for his novel "Brave New World," had also ventured into this terrain. His vivid descriptions of his mescaline experiences in "The Doors of Perception" resonated with me. He proposed that our brains function as reducing valves, limiting our awareness to facilitate survival, but at the cost of a broader perception of reality. His encounters with substances that dissolved these barriers felt simultaneously radical and deeply intuitive.
But Huxley wasn't just a literary maverick exploring psychedelic realms; he was also an ardent student of human nature and society. He was drawn to Eastern philosophies and mysticism, and his interest in Jiddu Krishnamurti's philosophy was palpable. Huxley’s writings became a bridge that connected my own explorations with the profound insights of these Eastern philosophies.
As my journey progressed, I stumbled upon the works of Joseph Campbell. I'd been delving into Carl Jung’s theories, fascinated by the collective unconscious and archetypes. Campbell, renowned for his work on comparative mythology and the concept of the "Hero's Journey," seemed like a natural progression. His compelling narratives about universal patterns in myths and stories across cultures provided a fresh perspective on my own life journey. Campbell's ideas reflected Jung’s archetypes but expanded them into the narrative realm, showing how our individual life stories echo these timeless mythic patterns. The personal and the universal were no longer distinct, but interconnected layers of the human experience.
Finally, the teachings of Jiddu Krishnamurti were introduced to me in college, thanks to a professor named Brian Deer. Krishnamurti’s philosophy was unlike anything I had encountered. His emphasis on self-awareness and the need for individuals to free themselves from conditioning was both challenging and enlightening. His declaration that "Truth is a pathless land" was a reminder of the importance of personal discovery and the limitations of second-hand knowledge.
I recently found out that Brian, who used to engage us in stimulating discussions about Krishnamurti, is now a public defender. This made me smile; it somehow makes perfect sense. If Krishnamurti urged us to question our conditioning and liberate ourselves, isn’t that what Brian is doing now, challenging a system that often seems to presume guilt and assisting those who might otherwise be without aid?
The teachings of Huxley, Campbell, and Krishnamurti have shaped the way I view myself and the world around me. Huxley taught me the value of pushing boundaries and challenging the status quo. Campbell showed me the universality of human experience and the potential to find personal meaning in the grand narratives of humanity. Krishnamurti emphasized the importance of self-inquiry, reminding me that the journey towards understanding begins and ends with the self.
In a way, we are all products of our influences, a melting pot of ideas and experiences that shape our worldview. I am grateful for the influence of these three remarkable minds. Their teachings continue to guide me, not as dogmas, but as lights illuminating the path of exploration, a journey with many twists, turns, and no fixed destination. After all, as Krishnamurti said, truth is a pathless land. I guess the joy lies in wandering.
Cloudflare Tunnels: A Homelab Experiment
A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon the intriguing concept of Cloudflare Tunnels, a service that securely exposes your local web services, applications, or APIs to the internet. Interested by the possibilities of implementing it in my own environment, I decided to set up my own Cloudflare Tunnel as a side project in my homelab and share my experience with you all.
Cloudflare Tunnels rely on Cloudflare's extensive infrastructure of data centers, edge servers, and caching services, using the secure TLS protocol for encrypting connections between your server and Cloudflare's network. This makes it possible to bypass limitations imposed by residential ISPs, such as CGNAT (Carrier-grade NAT), allowing users to host web services securely and with relative ease. An added advantage of Cloudflare Tunnels is that you don't have to expose your home network or configure your firewall/router settings, which can be a complex and risky process.
In my homelab setup, I decided to create a simple website and host it using a Cloudflare Tunnel. I began by setting up a Python web server on a Windows virtual machine and then configured the Cloudflare Tunnel using their GUI tool. I installed the lightweight daemon 'cloudflared' on my server to handle the connection between my server and the Cloudflare network.
Throughout this project, I encountered some challenges with the CLI configuration of the Cloudflare Tunnel, but eventually managed to get everything working smoothly. I even added a fun little twist to my website in line with my recent AI trend by including the new AI generated Drake song Heart On My Sleeve by Ghostwriter (which is a banger, btw).
My journey with Cloudflare Tunnels has been both educational and rewarding. The technology provides a practical solution for hosting web services while bypassing traditional roadblocks, making it an excellent choice for securing internal web applications, remote access to internal resources, or even as a secure alternative to traditional VPNs. As I continue exploring the capabilities of Cloudflare Tunnels, I encourage fellow tech enthusiasts to delve into this fascinating world and uncover new possibilities for their own homelab setups.
3CX Supply Chain Attack - My first experience on the front lines
A few weeks ago, I witnessed a significant cybersecurity incident: the 3CX Supply Chain attack. 3CX is a global communications software provider that offers voice and video calling solutions for businesses and has a substantial customer base, with more than 600,000 customers and 12 million users in 190 countries. While I won't divulge specific details about my company or job title, I was responsible for monitoring the infection across multiple organizations and delving into the issue when SentinelOne EDR alerts first emerged. Read More
About a year ago, I watched HBO’s miniseries adaptation of Emily St. John Mandel’s “Station Eleven,” and it has left an indelible impression on me ever since. The show, a slow-burning, visual masterpiece, weaves a captivating tale of survival and connection in a post-apocalyptic world, striking a deeply personal chord within me that I just can’t shake. Set 20 years after a fictional pandemic wipes out most of the world’s population, “Station Eleven” explores a world where few people have survived, leaving behind a society without government, communication, or reliable travel. It’s a world of small groups of survivors and roaming bands of bandits, where art and culture have all but vanished.
It’s not your normal show by any means, and the first few episodes may require some patience. As the story unfolds, it explores the transformative power of art and the resilience of the human spirit, which reminded me of the few times in my life when I’ve experienced theater or a truly intimate solo musical performance.
One of the things that stood out to me were the incredible performances by Himesh Patel and Mackenzie Davis. They brought a genuine sense of empathy to their roles, making it easy to connect with their characters as they navigated the harsh, post-apocalyptic world.
“Station Eleven” is a visually stunning work of art. The cinematography captures both the bleakness of the devastated world and the moments of hope and human connection that shine through the darkness. It’s this balance that makes the show so engaging and memorable.
However, what I liked most about “Station Eleven” was the Traveling Symphony. The Traveling Symphony is a traveling theater troupe that performs Shakespeare plays and classical music on a circular route through the Great Lakes region called The Wheel. The troupe is led by the Conductor, a former actress who believes that art is essential for human survival. The Traveling Symphony travels from community to community, performing in makeshift theaters and barns. The troupe’s performances provide a much-needed source of entertainment and hope for the people they encounter. In the show, it’s suggested they visit the same towns and settlements regularly (seasonally or once a year, it’s never said exactly), fostering ongoing relationships with the communities they perform for and providing a sense of continuity and familiarity in a world filled with uncertainty. I particularly relished in the villagers’ profound reverence for the Traveling Symphony, as if they were the only light in the world. While the concept of a traveling troupe preserving art and culture in a post-apocalyptic world may sound simple or even cliché, the miniseries succeeds in presenting it with such heartfelt sincerity, making it impossible not to be captivated by the artists’ enduring dedication to keeping the beauty of art alive in the darkest of times.
This miniseries really made me think about the importance of preserving our shared culture and art, even in the darkest of times. It is a profound exploration of the human spirit and our ability to connect with one another through art, music, and shared experiences.
2011
Not many people know this about me but I’m quite the data hoarder. My full disk backups stretch all the way back to 2008 which is probably more than 99.999% of other people my age. Some people have scrapbooks, others have their memories preserved in social media posts dating back to the dawn of the modern internet. I’ve always been fond of offline, digital backups, personally.
Maybe if I had a better memory it would be a less significant experience. But every 3-4 years when I review and reorganize my backups there’s always something that catches me off guard. This Saturday, March 11, 2023, on the eve of Daylight Saving Time and a week before Spring officially kicks off, it was 2011. Specifically, an album that came out that year by a band called Explosions in The Sky. Take Care, Take Care, Take Care. Just the name alone causes me to slightly seize up with emotion. The 46 minutes and 5 seconds of instrumental magic, spread across 6 tracks, transport me back to my youth, to a year that shaped the course of the next decade of my life.
That year, I was grappling with the loss of my closest friend and mentor. My faith in romantic relationships had been shaken after years of unrequited pursuits. On top of that, I was facing other personal challenges that I won't delve into here. 2011 was the year I dropped out of college. I was brimming over with creativity and on many occasions, optimism. But ultimately the stress prevented me from staying organized and disciplined enough to stay in school. No one will ever know how truly isolated I was during that time. I’ve honestly never recovered from the stress, isolation, and failure of that year.
While rummaging through folders upon folders of old data today, I unearthed a copy of Take Care, Take Care, Take Care. It was like opening a time capsule, reminding me of the all the change I went through in 2011, of the losses I mourned and those that slipped through my fingers before I even noticed they were gone.
It was mid-April and I had gotten my hands on Explosions in The Sky’s new album a week early as part of my participation in the Warez scene. I grabbed my laptop, connected it to my car’s stereo and drove out to a secluded recreational area for a private listening party of one. It was windy. I remember opening my driver’s door at one point, standing beside my car and opening my arms as the Great Plains wind blew around me and the songs played. Let Me Back In, the last song was titled. As I felt control of my future slipping away I remember that sound.
In a healthy state, analog tape is pale brown, the color of the magnetic audio recording contained therein. In 2001, William Basinski, looking to digitize a collection of older tape loops he’d made out of easy listening music, found that the tape began to flake a bit as it played, like paint peeling. Playing the loops repeatedly, they began to lose their composition as the tape disintegrated. What starts as a snippet of a forlorn brass instrument eventually degraded into a pale imitation, as though he’d produced a composition and then, immediately after, performed its faded memory.
The Disintegration Loops is immensely long (the first of its four parts is over an hour), but it is made up of repeated snippets sometimes as short as five or 10 seconds. Over the course of that mammoth running time, you hear the piece fall apart, literally. “I’m recording the life and death of a melody,” Basinski said in a 2011 Radiolab interview. “It just made me think of human beings, you know, and how we die.” The mysteries of life and death are perhaps too big a question to be answered by tape drone, and Basinski doesn’t attempt to. His piece is beautiful and sad, temporal and infinite; its changes are imperceptible, yet ever-present. It sounds like wind, like a ship’s horn heard in the distance when lost at sea, on track to either rescuing you or passing you by.
Basinski made the accidental discovery of the tapes’ disintegration in 2001, shortly before the attacks on the World Trade Center. From his home in Brooklyn on September 11th, he made a short film of the light just before the evening’s end. When Disintegration Loops was released, a still from that film made up its cover. The music has since been entwined with the loss of that day, and rightfully so, but it represents forward momentum, too. Hearing the sound slowly degrade, it's clear it will eventually disappear entirely. But until then, it keeps going, trying its best to play before reaching the end. –Source: http://pitchfork.com/features/lists-and-guides/9948-the-50-best-ambient-albums-of-all-time/
The Flaming Lips 2009 album Embryonic has been forgotten
No one ever really talks about it, but it was a HUGE album when it came out. To this day I would put Worm Mountain in my top 20 favorite songs of all time. Watching the Planets and See the Leaves are incredible as well.
In terms of indie music, the album was wildly influential. A lot of things after it released sound like it and very few things did before. It blended rock and modern electronic music in a way that hadn’t really been done before. MGMT was huge back then, and they actually produced Worm Mountain, but even MGMT didn’t hit that spot. They were more jaunty where Embryonic was a punch in the face.
Pitchfork gave Embronic a 9/10 when it released in October and ranked it as the 4th best album of the year two months later. Behind only Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion, Dirty Projectors’ Bitte Orca, and The xx’s self titled debut. Ahead of classics such as Grizzly Bear’s Veckatimest, Phoenix’ Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, Real Estate’ self titled debut, and Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ It’s Blitz.
Almost all of those albums have been referenced and praised to no end in the last decade. Despite this, you could make the argument that Embryonic was more influential. I would also argue that no one has done that hard hitting electronic rock sound better.
Post script: I haven’t done an exhaustive study on the topic, but I feel like if there was a top 10 album based on if an album’s song titles were used as writing prompts, Embryonic would be in that top 10. Silver Trembling Hands, The Ego’s Last Stand, The Sparrow Looks Up At The Machine.. just golden stuff.
Post post script: repeat everything I just wrote except top 10 albums to make animated videos for based on the song titles.
Jai Paul
Pitchfork finally released a review (above) of Jai Paul’s album that leaked over 6 years ago now that it’s actually been officially released and is available to listen to legally. I’m going to drop some of my favorite exerts from the review. with a bit of my own input below.
”When Paul arrived at the start of the decade, he found himself among a vanguard of innovative and ambitious musicians who were opening up a dialog with the major pop establishment. James Blake was stretching Destiny’s Child songs into alien new shapes; Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon was wailing on Kanye records; Rostam Batmanglij was toying with Auto-Tune in Vampire Weekend and Discovery; Frank Ocean was covering Coldplay with startling sincerity. Leading up to the 2013 leak, some of the feverish anticipation surrounding Paul’s official debut album involved the widespread notion that it was high time for him to fully claim his place alongside such peers—and that, if things fell into place, he could very well surpass them all. Then, everything fell apart. “ I couldn’t agree with this paragraph more. So many people have copied off of Jai Paul’s sound. It’s a shame he has never gotten the recognition for the sound he largely invented and this groundbreaking album that leaked 6 years ago.
”….The mind reels when imagining the colossal impact this song could have made if it was given a proper release years ago—the charts it could have climbed, the brains it could have blown, the joy it could have spread. Propelled by samples of Ravi Shankar’s soundtrack for the 1979 Bollywood film Meera, “Str8 Outta Mumbai” is a miracle of cultural synthesis, in which a young British man of Indian descent gloriously expands what pop music can be. At the song’s apex, right when you expect a Prince-ly guitar solo to hit, a Hindi vocal sample erupts instead. I’ve listened to this song hundreds of times across the last six years, and that moment still fills me with awe. It’s the sound of borders breaking, of traditions mingling, of a utopian closeness that so often seems so far away. “
Pitchfork’s rating: 8.9/10
My rating: 10/10
Essential Tracks: Zion Wolf Theme, All Night, Str8 Outta Mumbai, Crush, Jasmine, Vibin’, Desert River, BTSU
Identity Politics and the Rise of the Republican Party
Identity politics are toxic. If Democrats don't start learning the lessons about this election that are right in front of their eyes they're going to lose again come midterms. Democrats just lost control of all three branches of government for the first time since 1928. It's time to reassess. Maybe take a look at what the populist leader on the left has to say..
Read moreFor all my conservative friends, this perfectly illustrates the hypocrisy of conservative politics. It's always fiscally irresponsible until it affects them directly. Conservatives tell me that tuition free college isn't "realistic", that raising taxes on the 1% would destroy the economy, that reenacting the Glass-Steagall Act to prevent risky banking practices that lead to the 2008 finical collapse is 'over-regulation' and unreasonable.
Have you ever seen the movie The Big Short that came out last year? It's about the 2008 financial crisis and how the deregulation of Wall Street caused the greatest financial disaster since The Great Depression. Before the credits roll at the end of the movie they say that no one learned from 2008, and that the same risks are being taken again.
The banks didn't want the federal government to get involved until they needed to be bailed out. Conservatives are believers in the so called 'free market' until they're not. People argue conservatism as if it's philosophically valid but in the real world they're just protecting their own interests. What do they have to gain by making college free? They graduated 20 years ago or they own a business or were, like Donald Trump, born on third base and go through life thinking they hit a triple. Where all the conservatives who make $12 and hour. You won't find any.
The federal government should act in the best interests of the American people, not just the people rich enough to influence our political system. In philosophy there is an ethical concept introduced by Immanuel Kant called the Categorical imperative. It's basically a way of evaluating whether or not an action is ethical. The Categorical imperative says that whenever we consider completing an act, we should also consider what kind of things may occur if what we choose to do were applied across the board to everybody.
A guy walks up to a woman at a bar. He flirts with her. He makes small talk, but the woman insists she isn't gonna go home with him.
Guy says, "What if I offer you $1 million to sleep with me?" The woman's never had a million dollars in her life. She stops and considers the offer very seriously.
The guy changes his mind, says, "What if I change my offer to a dollar instead?"
Woman is aghast. "What kind of woman do you think I am?"
Guy says, "We already figured that out. Now we're just negotiating."
This is exactly how I feel when I honestly try to imagine myself voting for Clinton. For weeks all we heard about was the 'Platform' and how Bernie was helping to make it the most progressive in history. But ultimately the platform doesn't mean anything. Bernie's endorsement doesn't make me want to vote for Hillary because when I voted for Bernie in the primary it wasn't just because I believe in him. A large part of why I voted for Bernie is because I believe establishment politics are broken and the system is so far removed from being a functioning democracy. I voted for him because I reject the judgment, Neoliberal philosophies, and the lack of character of Hillary Clinton. Those reasons didn't suddenly disappear. Neither Trump or Hillary are fit to be president and I intend to fight on for the revolution by supporting downticket races and promoting the hell out of Jill Stein.
I'll be the first to admit that since the endorsement it's been tough getting out of bed in the morning. But I wrote a few lines of Homer to hang on my door for inspiration when I go out every morning:
Striking his breast, reproved his heart with the worlds:
'Endure, my heart; e'en worse thou didst one endure.'
The Bern for Revolution In My Heart
The Democratic National Convention is a month away and I've never felt such compulsion in my life. I can feel the winds of revolution rising to the chorus of millions of Americans suddenly realizing impossible is nothing, defeat is never permanent and to struggle for justice is to earn this precious gift of life we've all been given.
With my calendar laid out in front of me and a stack of unpaid bills to my left I'm trying to imagine a way. I'm trying to imagine how I might get there, how it might work out, and then I'm also trying to imagine setting aside the dream to honor my responsibilities. Imagining the latter tears me apart inside. I won't pretend i'm right all the time but I do try to stay as close to the edge as I can. By that I mean that out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center. Most people stick to the center, society couldn't function if it didn't teach people to need the safety and predictability of that place where you obey authority, pay your bills, have kids and raise them to become another self-multiplying cog in the machine.
But the edge, that's where you get dirty and accept pain and rejection in return for something quite different. True courage is only found after learning what there is to be afraid of by experiencing it. You can never understand the shape of the world until you've spent some time near the edge, out where you might fall over. I walk beside the edge as much as I can trying to catch a glimpse, straining to hear a whisper of what is, what's to come, and what might be. If I had been alive during the mid 18th century I'd like to imagine I'd have written an almanac entitled 'depending on the whether'. But almanacs have become relics from our time spent toiling in agrarian society and like the the fruits of the American revolution, are outdated beyond usefulness. The orbit of the earth and the position of the stars in our sky can offer no guidance in a world that frequently changes overnight. In order to see the shape of things, I stay as close to the edge as I can without going over.
Here I am now, at the precipice with the wind howling at my back. Everything i've learned, all the doubt, the fear, the pain and the hope- it all tells me now is the time to take a step without feet. The winds have never spoken more of revolution, perhaps won't again for another 20 years. I'd hate to miss it. Depending on the weather.