How long will we allow the hyper-rich to divide us, impoverish us, and use media to direct our anger to women, people of color, immigrants, or any other without privilege? These distractions keep us powerless and uninvolved while they turn our water, air, and land into poison.

Trump Days: I Don’t Agree to Disagree


Trump is scum, so if you voted for him you should have a pretty good explanation because I doubt you consider yourself a scummy person. Yet whenever I try to pull the knot apart with his supporters I’m met with phrases like boys will be boys. That’s not a reasonable explanation. That’s the disgusting justification of predatory behavior. But seriously, why did you think giving a psychopathic Cheeto access to nukes, was a good idea? That’s not a petty a thing we can resolve by agreeing not to. We’re not trying to decide whether Dr. Pepper tastes better than Coke. You’ve just boldly exclaimed that people can be openly racist, assault women, commit a list of atrocities, and you’re going to ignore it. You can’t give a bigger fuck you to every American and immigrant who isn’t a straight white man. And I really don’t care if that’s how it’s always been. The first thing that needs to go is the electoral college. It was a quick fix to keep northern states from constantly outvoting the south, where private property made up a great deal of the population. Clinton won the popular vote. And if that mattered it would be a lot of the same thing: war, poverty, and the next TV series. As for Bernie, I gave a monthly donation to his campaign after he announced he was running. I don’t understand how someone as morally keen and open-minded as Bernie Sanders managed to end up in government, much less stay there. I do, however, know the final result of all the above. Gridlock. What I don’t know is why, with three candidates whose moral framework goes from too good to be true to three decades of more-than-qualified in the usual affairs to build a wall—the very thing Pink Floyd warned against 37 years ago—you chose to be another brick.

Trump Days : Mourning

I spent election night drinking my shock away, and the next few days mourning the fatal illness that has gripped our democratic republic. And now, I believe electing the worse possible candidate for America’s highest office may have been the right choice. Not because I think his campaign was some half-brain scheme at thoroughly trolling us, or because he’s easing off some of his promises (probably an attempt at seeming legitimate until he can finally set his shoes on the Oval Office desk). No, I’m happy because I’ve finally been so shaken up that I’m willing to work without pay, stay up late, and build a community capable of making an entirely new state. When a rapey misogynist, tax-dodging, white supremacist, who isn’t even capable of managing a Twitter account, is elected to lead us to a better world, the system has utterly failed. And if you’re holding out for impeachment, I have bad news. Then you have to deal with Mike—you’ll have a baby if it literally fucking kills you—Pence. We only have one option, and I’ll be the first to admit it’s an awkward one. We must work together. We must shed our lofty individualism and organize to withstand the disaster that waits. Then we have to reach out to Trump’s supporters. Seems counter-intuitive, but the farther we push them away from our ideas and out of the world we’re building, the closer they are to the very thing we’re fighting.

Not Far From Zero

Poverty is control. It’s a way to keep people from self-actualizing. Many are familiar with Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. He set out in the opposite direction of psychology at the time and began to study healthy, thriving people to find out what a person needs to transcend—to live so fully that they begin to achieve outside of themselves, create. But to do this, all the needs must not simply be met but mastered. For those unfamiliar, starting with the base: physiological, safety, love or belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. Climbing this pyramid requires money. You have to get away from zero. Some are born away from it, into wealthy families, most of us are born very close to it. When I graduated my dad had managed to save a grand for me. At the age of 18, I was $1000 away from zero. And, not surprisingly, I’m not that better off at 31. What can a person do when most of their spare time goes to sleeping and their paycheck to bills? Poverty, and consequently, suppression of our collective potential is an essential element of capitalism because transcendence ultimately usurps all systems of control.


They’re everywhere, shouting orders, micromanaging, walking around in circles with a clipboard checking boxes their superior will glance at and throw away. If a corporation had a body then the board would be the brain, and management would be the spinal cord. But a corporation isn’t a person, it’s a system of control enforced by management. They’re only there to remind us that we are at the mercy of a small group of hyper-privileged, super wealthy assbags, who’ll cut our hours and benefits so they can fill each other’s wallets with bonuses. These people, get paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to screw everyone out of every cent possible—maximizing profits. What could be better than an endless chain of managers you have to answer to? How about a diverse, well-trained, adequately staffed, workforce. There’s not a thing management do that couldn’t be done by the general laborers. But they don’t want you thinking like that because you might start to question their purpose? Or, what exactly it is that executives do from distant offices that couldn’t be done at local shops by the working people and community? Why is it that money always moves up and never seems to make its way back down?