Inverted totalitarianism projects power upwards. It is the antithesis of constitutional power. It is designed to create instability to keep a citizenry off balance and passive.
“Downsizing, reorganization, bubbles bursting, unions busted, quickly outdated skills, and transfer of jobs abroad create not just fear but an economy of fear, a system of control whose power feeds on uncertainty, yet a system that, according to its analysts, is eminently rational.”
Inverted totalitarianism also “perpetuates politics all the time but a politics that is not political.” The endless and extravagant election cycles, he said, are an example of politics without politics. “Instead of participating in power, the virtual citizen is invited to have ‘opinions’: measurable responses to questions predesigned to elicit them. — Sheldon Wolin and Inverted Totalitarianism
Indeed, the hard wind and dessicating illogic of capitalism under the mantle of genocide of one people and mass spiritual starvation of the world, yes, our Grapes of Wrath: Jonathan Cook overacts, here, implying the Pigs of Piccadilly are somehow human?
Chants of “Shame on you!”, “You’re on the wrong side of history!” and “What will you tell your grandchildren?” were intended to make the task of carrying out the arrests as difficult as possible for the officers involved.
It was clear that many of those officers were struggling emotionally with the task of arresting peaceful pensioners. Most looked down at the ground or at the chests of the chanting protesters, but refused to meet our gaze.
ANd so the strike has no power under this Mashed Potatoes Cunt Trump: Resolution passed allowing Evergreen Public Schools to take legal action against striking workers
“‘I love the smell of deportations in the morning…'” Trump wrote on his social media platform Truth Social, alongside a doctored photo of himself depicted as Lt. Col. Bill Kilgore from the Vietnam War film Apocalypse Now.
“Chicago [is] about to find out why it’s called the Department of WAR,” the post continued.
Everything about the mercenary forces of the USA is fucked up, pussyfied and well, soldier of fortune like:
Hanks had been set to receive the Sylvanus Thayer Award for “outstanding” non-West Point graduates who exemplify “Duty, Honor, Country.”
The ceremony was scheduled to be held on Sept. 25.
“This decision allows the Academy to continue its focus on its core mission of preparing cadets to lead, fight, and win as officers in the world’s most lethal force, the United States Army,” Bieger wrote in the email, according to the Post.
Hanks is a fucking Pro-Military and Pro-CIA cunt, and so, you really know how fucked up those welfare cunts at the Academies are.
And you want capitalism to fuck you in the asshole and fuck your unborn grandchildren in the assholes?
He should be shot down in the street. Computer scientist and Nobel laureate Geoffrey Hinton predicted artificial intelligence will spark a surge in unemployment and profits as companies replace workers with AI. But it’s not the technology’s fault, he told the Financial Times, attributing it instead to capitalism. While layoffs haven’t spiked, evidence is mounting that AI is shrinking opportunities at the entry level.
Pioneering computer scientist Geoffrey Hinton, whose work has earned him a Nobel Prize and the moniker “godfather of AI,” said artificial intelligence will spark a surge in unemployment and profits.
Look at this fucking AmeriKKKan milquetoast fascism: CBS fucking “polls”
The National Guard was deployed to Washington, D.C., and reportedly may be sent to other cities. But wherever Americans live, it is speaking to larger issues – ranging from crime and their safety, to rights and freedoms and their views on the powers of a president.
Those in favor of President Trump’s deployment of National Guard troops to cities are largely in his Republican base and say it reduces crime, feel it makes them personally safer — even if they don’t live in cities — and that in principle they’d support deployment to other U.S. cities.
The majority of Americans are opposed, though, and those who are, tend to feel their own rights and freedoms would be less secure as a result. They do not think it would be effective at reducing crime or make them any safer.
To those in favor, it’s not a case of red-versus-blue cities. They’d support the Guard being sent to either Democratic- or Republican-led places, or coming to their own local area as well.
To those opposed, they believe the president is acting out of politics more than crime prevention.
[Note the Nazi Ukrainian flag on the right.]
Trump and his Jew Boy Streptococcus Miller are laughing hard, man, semen drips all around.
The Cunt-Tree of drying minds, dried up spirits, dessicated economies: This year, flows have not been above 810 cfs since July 9. And although flows in the 15-mile reach have been climbing since Aug. 23, — up to about 650 cfs on Aug. 27 — nearly all the water in the reach before this week’s rain was attributable to upstream reservoir releases specifically intended for endangered fish. Without releases for the recovery program, flows in the 15-mile reach could have dipped as low as 30 to 50 cfs.
“From my standpoint it’s amazing how a dry year just makes it really hard to get down even a third of that flow target,” said Bart Miller, healthy rivers director with Western Resource Advocates. “It’s a challenging time for water users, but a super challenging time for fish. For the fish it’s a huge stressor.”
Trump and his Minyan are the death variants of a new sort of virus.
Low river flows trigger calls, closures, stressed fish
Endless thievery:
U.S. Coast Guard intercepts two Chinese research ships in disputed portions of the Arctic Ocean
Some American claims to parts of the High Arctic have not been internationally recognized because the U.S. hasn’t ratified a treaty
Oh, the Jew Max with his fucking catchy bullshit headline: Drugboat Diplomacy? Fucking hell. Murder dude, murder.
With the US military assembling a naval strike force off the coast of Venezuela, and the Trump administration leveling dubious charges of “narco-terror” at Caracus, The Grayzone’s Max Blumenthal interviews journalist Diego Sequera of Venezuela’s Mision Verdad. We also will speak Oscar Leon of The Grayzone about Ecuador, the real base of narco-trafficking in the region, a country ruled by Trump loyalist and Miami-born billionaire Daniel Noboa, whose family stands accused of directing the drug trade under cover its international produce business.
Ahh, Trump:
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao/ Novel by Junot Díaz
They say it came first from Africa, carried in the screams of the enslaved; that it was the death bane of the Tainos, uttered just as one world perished and another began; that it was a demon drawn into Creation through the nightmare door that was cracked open in the Antilles. Fuku americanas, or more colloquially, fuku — generally a curse or a doom of some kind; specifically the Curse and the Doom of the New World. Also called the fuku of the Admiral because the Admiral was both its midwife and one of its great European victims; despite “discovering” the New World the Admiral died miserable and syphilitic, hearing (dique) divine voices. In Santo Domingo, the Land He Loved Best (what Oscar, at the end, would call the Ground Zero of the New World), the Admiral’s very name has become synonymous with both kinds of fuku, little and large; to say his name aloud or even to hear it is to invite calamity on the heads of you and yours.
No matter what its name or provenance, it is believed that the arrival of Europeans on Hispaniola unleashed the fuku on the world, and we’ve all been in the shit ever since. Sant But the fuku ain’t just ancient history, a ghost story from the past with no power to scare. In my parents’ day the fuku was real as shit, something your everyday person could believe in. Everybody knew someone who’d been eaten by a fuku, just like everybody knew somebody who worked up in the Palacio. It was in the air, you could say, though, like all the most important things on the Island, not something folks really talked about. But in those elder days, fuku had it good; it even had a hypeman of sorts, a high priest, you could say. Our then dictator-for-life Rafael Leonidas Trujillo Molina. 1
“Dios y Trujillo”; for running the country like it was a Marine boot camp; for stripping friends and allies of their positions and properties for no reason at all; and for his almost supernatural abilities.
Outstanding accomplishments include: the 1937 genocide against the Haitian and Haitian-Dominican community; one of the longest, most damaging U.S.-backed dictatorships in the Western Hemisphere (and if we Latin types are skillful at anything it’s tolerating U.S.-backed dictators, so you know this was a hard-earned victory, the chilenos and the argentinos are still appealing); the creation of the first modern kleptocracy (Trujillo was Mobutu before Mobutu was Mobutu); the systematic bribing of American senators; and, last but not least, the forging of the Dominican peoples into a modem state (did what his Marine trainers, during the Occupation, were unable to do).
[BEGIN FOOTNOTE]
For those of you who missed your mandatory two seconds of Dominican history: Trujillo, one of the twentieth century’s most infamous dictators, ruled the Dominican Republic between 1930 and 1961 with an implacable ruthless brutality. A portly, sadistic, pig-eyed mulato who bleached his skin, wore platform shoes, and had a fondness for Napoleon-era haberdashery, Trujillo (also known as El Jefe, the Failed Cattle Thief, and Fuckface) came to control nearly every aspect of the DR’s political, cultural, social, and economic life through a potent (and familiar) mixture of violence, intimidation, massacre, rape, co-optation, and terror; treated the country like it was a plantation and he was the master. At first glance, he was just your prototypical Latin American caudillo, but his power was terminal in ways that few historians or writers have ever truly captured or, I would argue, imagined. He was our Sauron, our Arawn, our Darkseid, our Once and Future Dictator, a personaje so outlandish, so perverse, so dreadful that not even a sci-fi writer could have made his ass up. Famous for changing ALL THE NAMES of ALL THE LANDMARKS in the Dominican Republic to honor himself (Pico Duarte became Pico Trujillo, and Santo Domingo de Guzman, the first and oldest city in the New World, became Ciudad Trujillo); for making ill monopolies out of every slice of the national patrimony (which quickly made him one of the wealthiest men on the planet); for building one of the largest militaries in the hemisphere (dude had bomber wings, for fuck’s sake); for fucking every hot girl in sight, even the wives of his subordinates, thousands upon thousands upon thousands of women; for expecting, no, insisting on absolute veneration from his pueblo (tellingly, the national slogan was ervant or its master, its agent or its principal, but it was clear he and it had an understanding, that them two was tight. It was believed, even in educated circles, that anyone who plotted against Trujillo would incur a fuku most powerful, down to the seventh generation and beyond. If you even thought a bad thing about Trujillo, fua, a hurricane would sweep your family out to sea, fua, a boulder would fall out of a clear sky and squash you, fua, the shrimp you ate today was the cramp that killed you tomorrow. Which explains why everyone who tried to assassinate him always got done, why those dudes who finally did buck him down all died so horrifically. And what about fucking Kennedy? He was the one who green-lighted the assassination of Trujillo in 1961, who ordered the CIA to deliver arms to the Island. Bad move, cap’n. For what Kennedy’s intelligence experts failed to tell him was what every single Dominican, from the richest jabao in Mao to the poorest giiey in El Buey, from the oldest anciano sanmacorisano to the littlest carajito in San Francisco, knew: that whoever killed Trujillo, their family would suffer a fuku so dreadful it would make the one that attached itself to the Admiral jojote in comparison.
[END FOOTNOTE]
The Grapes of Wrath (Chapter 1), John Steinbeck
To the red country and part of the gray country of Oklahoma, the last rains came gently, and they did not cut the scarred earth. The plows crossed and recrossed the rivulet marks. The last rains lifted the corn quickly and scattered weed colonies and grass along the sides of the roads so that the gray country and the dark red country began to disappear under a green cover. In the last part of May the sky grew pale and the clouds that had hung in high puffs for so long in the spring were dissipated. The sun flared down on the growing corn day after day until a line of brown spread along the edge of each green bayonet. The clouds appeared, and went away, and in a while they did not try any more. The weeds grew darker green to protect themselves, and they did not spread any more. The surface of the earth crusted, a thin hard crust, and as the sky became pale, so the earth became pale, pink in the red country and white in the gray country.
In the water-cut gullies the earth dusted down in dry little streams. Gophers and ant lions started small avalanches. And as the sharp sun struck day after day, the leaves of the young corn became less stiff and erect; they bent in a curve at first, and then, as the central ribs of strength grew weak, each leaf tilted downward. Then it was June, and the sun shone more fiercely. The brown lines on the corn leaves widened and moved in on the central ribs. The weeds frayed and edged back toward their roots. The air was thin and the sky more pale; and every day the earth paled.
In the roads where the teams moved, where the wheels milled the ground and the hooves of the horses beat the ground, the dirt crust broke and the dust formed. Every moving thing lifted the dust into the air: a walking man lifted a thin layer as high as his waist, and a wagon lifted the dust as high as the fence tops, and an automobile boiled a cloud behind it. The dust was long in settling back again.
When June was half gone, the big clouds moved up out of Texas and the Gulf, high heavy clouds, rain-heads. The men in the fields looked up at the clouds and sniffed at them and held wet fingers up to sense the wind. And the horses were nervous while the clouds were up. The rain-heads dropped a little spattering and hurried on to some other country. Behind them the sky was pale again and the sun flared. In the dust there were drop craters where the rain had fallen, and there were clean splashes on the corn, and that was all.
A gentle wind followed the rain clouds, driving them on northward, a wind that softly clashed the drying corn. A day went by and the wind increased, steady, unbroken by gusts. The dust from the roads fluffed up and spread out and fell on the weeds beside the fields, and fell into the fields a little way. Now the wind grew strong and hard and it worked at the rain crust in the corn fields. Little by little he sky was darkened by the mixing dust, and the wind felt over the earth, loosened the dust, and carried it away. The wind grew stronger. The rain crust broke and the dust lifted up out of the fields and drove gray plumes into the air like sluggish smoke. The corn threshed the wind and made a dry, rushing sound. The finest dust did not settle back to earth now, but disappeared into the darkening sky.
The wind grew stronger, whisked under stones, carried up straws and old leaves, and even little clods, marking its course as it sailed across the fields. The air and the sky darkened and through them the sun shone redly, and there was a raw sting in the air. During a night the wind raced faster over the land, dug cunningly among the rootlets of the corn, and the corn fought the wind with its weakened leaves until the roots were freed by the prying wind and then each stalk settled wearily sideways toward the earth and pointed the direction of the wind.
The dawn came, but no day. In the gray sky a red sun appeared, a dim red circle that gave a little light, like dusk; and as that day advanced, the dusk slipped back toward darkness, and the wind cried and whimpered over the fallen corn.
Men and women huddled in their houses, and they tied handkerchiefs over their noses when they went out, and wore goggles to protect their eyes.
When the night came again it was black night, for the stars could not pierce the dust to get down, and the window lights could not even spread beyond their own yards. Now the dust was evenly mixed with the air, and emulsion of dust and air. Houses were shut tight, and cloth wedged around doors and windows, but the dust came in so thinly that it could not be seen in the air, and it settled like pollen on the chairs and tables, on the dishes. The people brushed it from their shoulders. Little lines of dust lay at the door sills.
In the middle of that night the wind passed on and left the land quiet. The dust-filled air muffled sound more completely than fog does. The people, lying in their beds, heard the wind stop. They awakened when the rushing wind was gone. They lay quietly and listened deep into the stillness. Then the roosters crowed, and their voices were muffled, and the people stirred restlessly in their beds and wanted the morning. They knew it would take a long time for the dust to settle out of the air. In the morning the dust hung like fog, and the sun was as red as ripe new blood. All day the dust sifted down from the sky, and the next day it sifted down. An even blanket covered the earth. It settled on the corn, piled up on the tops of the fence posts, piled up on the wires; it settled on roofs, blanketed the weeds and trees.
The people came out of their houses and smelled the hot stinging air and covered their noses from it. And the children came out of the houses, but they did not run or shout as they would have done after a rain. Men stood by their fences and looked at the ruined corn, drying fast now, only a little green showing through the film of dust. The men were silent and they did not move often. And the women came out of the houses to stand beside their men – to feel whether this time the men would break. The women studied the men’s faces secretly, for the corn could go, as long as something else remained. The children stood nearby drawing figures in the dust with bare toes, and the children sent exploring senses out to see whether men and women would break. The children peeked at the faces of the men and women, and then drew careful lines in the dust with their toes. Horses came to the watering troughs and nuzzled the water to clear the surface dust. After a while the faces of the watching men lost their bemused perplexity and became hard and angry and resistant. Then the women knew that they were safe and that there was no break. Then they asked, Whta’ll we do? And the men replied, I don’t know. But, it was all right. The women knew it was all right, and the watching children knew it was all right. Women and children knew deep in themselves that no misfortune was too great to bear if their men were whole. The women went into the houses to their work, and the children began to play, but cautiously at first. As the day went forward the sun became less red. It flared down on the dust-blanketed land. The men sat in the doorways of their houses; their hands were busy with sticks and little rocks. The men sat still – thinking – figuring.
And so this Century of the Jew, this Century of the Mossad and Epstein and Ellison and Brin and Zuckerberg and Altman and Karp and Ackman, oh, these cocksuckers want us in a new dust bowl of hell.
As a politician he refrained from the anti-Chinese and anti-Korean rhetoric that is typical of other Liberal Democratic Party politicians.
There has been immense pressure on him to resign, including numerous false reports in the media that he had resigned, in an effort to force his hand.
Ishiba had become a tremendous thorn in the side of financial giants in Washington DC who have surrounded the senile Donald Trump and are planning to take over the entire world using AI and chokepoint control of trade, logistics, supply chains, retail sales, and money itself.
Under Ishiba, Japan took a few unprecedented brave stands. Not only did it admit refugees from Gaza when all other G7 nations were either silent, or backing the US and Israel, but it resisted Washington’s push for war with Iran, Russia, and China repeatedly.
Most likely the Trump administration will try to get a prime minister installed next like Sanae Takaichi, former minister of economic security, or Koizumi Shinjiro, current minister of agriculture. Both are products of Washington think tanks (Takaichi from the intelligence agency Congressional Research Service, and Koizumi from CSIS) who, unlike Ishiba, stand to benefit from doing Washington’s bidding.
The far-right party Sanseito that was created with the assistance of Trump’s team will try to infiltrate and destroy the LDP, in much the same way that MAGA infiltrated, and the destroyed, the Republican Party. The LDP has been a feudal system that allowed for a diversity of opinions under the banner of LDP. That age may be about to end.
It was unrealistic to expect Ishiba to carry out any remarkable reforms granted the corrupt nature of the LDP, and its close ties to Washington DC, but for a moment, he did shine.
Most likely the timing was related to two important events in the United States.
The first was the meeting of Donald Trump with the billionaires CEOs of the IT firms that want to rule the world [Sam Altman (CEO of OpenAI), Satya Nadella (CEO of Microsoft), Sundar Pichai (CEO of Alphabet /Google), Sergey Brin (co-founder of Google), David Limp (CEO of Blue Origin on behalf of Jeff Bezos of Amazon), Mark Zuckerberg (CEO of Meta), and Lisa Su (CEO of AMD)] was a turning point in American politics. The institutions of government have been abandoned and complete control of all aspects of society turned over to private multinational corporations that are dedicated to regulating and controlling human society globally. Their governance by AI has became the new norm.
This new government by corporations that decide reality and ideology has no tolerance for politicians like Ishiba who show too much independence, or for nations like Japan that still have some parts of the government that function independently of multinational corporations.
The Event. That was their euphemism for the environmental collapse, social unrest, nuclear explosion, unstoppable virus, or Mr Robot hack that takes everything down.
It’s a reduction of human evolution to a video game won by finding the escape hatch and bringing BFFs along for the ride
This single question occupied us for the rest of the hour. They knew armed guards would be required to protect their compounds from the angry mobs. But how would they pay the guards once money was worthless? What would stop the guards from choosing their own leader? The billionaires considered using special combination locks on the food supply that only they knew. Or making guards wear disciplinary collars of some kind in return for their survival. Or maybe building robots to serve as guards and workers – if that technology could be developed in time.
That’s when it hit me: at least as far as these gentlemen were concerned, this was a talk about the future of technology. Taking their cue from Elon Musk colonizing Mars, Peter Thiel reversing the ageing process, or Sam Altman and Ray Kurzweil uploading their minds into supercomputers, they were preparing for a digital future that had a whole lot less to do with making the world a better place than it did with transcending the human condition altogether and insulating themselves from a very real and present danger of climate change, rising sea levels, mass migrations, global pandemics, nativist panic, and resource depletion. For them, the future of technology is really about just one thing: escape.
Great articles, but that is it, no, articles. Just articles . . . reporting on our Grapes of Wrath Worldwide Caused by the Jews and their Eichmann’s.
Paul Haeder, Author 