ITT: POLITICS LOL

"I took a class on Internet and Identity and you know what the whole thesis of the class was that people's identities change when their real one is shielded by the computer" - Tionna Smalls

Remember how, not five minutes ago, I stated my general displeasure with presidential candidates? Well, I am fickle and addle-brained. Cast your third eye (that's the internet eye) upon this twilight monstrosity, which is basically Ron Paul doing what Ron Paul does best, which is to say, be a crazy, lovable bastard. Mike Gravel is similar. Okay, okay. I give. I admit it that, for once, I was... slightly hasty in my judgment. We are sons of Adam - we are fallible. Let us forget that it ever happened. I endorse any candidate, any candidate at all, who is willing to basically flip the bird to the mass of the gathered republican party, dismiss them for the wastrels that they are, screams "FOLLOW ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE", and then leaps into the dinosaur-infested jungles, with a machete clutched between his teeth.

In short - hey, time travelers, if you're reading this, can you steal some kind of tangent universe Teddy Roosevelt to be our forever president? We'd totally owe you a solid.

Anyway, I bring this up not because I am suddenly ALL POLITICAL or whatevs, but because of YouTube. And to a lesser extent, Myspace. And to an even lesser extent, Fa-che-bewk. And their presence, and impact on modern culture, or whatever. You see, I was perusing this this unbelievably patronizing article about Kate Nash, a songstress of which I am fond, and the author brings up the good point that exposure is slowly becoming a substitute for quality, which, if you were able to decipher my terrible prose, is kinda what I've been saying all along. But it's cool. I mean, Sasha Frere-Jones, as an author, is at least marginally better than I am (remember when he said that indy music wasn't influenced by black culture? By citing the effing Arcade Fire? Yeah, man's not too hep, but it's not like the New Yorker is really with-it anyway) and hell, the dude can have his opinions or whatever. But on the point of exposure, he and I are of one mind. Which is partially what is so amusee about the current presidential race - that the standards to which we hold our pop star lady-types are actually quite a bit higher than the standards to which we hold the Executive Branch. In a way, the race to become president is less a matter of politics, and more a matter of simple celebrity. Whomsoever can make of themselves the most visible spectacle without being viewed as a dangerous madman (or at least a dangerous madman who won't let them queers get married) is going to be a winner. Which is perhaps why figures like Ron Paul and Mike Fucking Gravel (and, okay, I guess Obama is still kinda like this) favorites of the internet - they are identified as the underdogs. As surely as any real fan of music would spit contemptuously on a scion of Nickelback or Limp Bizkit (or Maroon Five or Daughtry or Li'l Wayne or Brittany Spears or...), so too does the discriminating voter wrathfully ponder who in their right mind would vote for Giuliani or Mitt Romney. There's just nothing there - an empty showcase of questionable achievements and corporate backing. In an age where exposure is increasingly becoming the the most important facet of any political movement (at least the non-Masonic ones), choosing the right candidate is not so much a matter of politics as it is one of good taste.

In that, the internet has created a sort of Blogger Brahmins, an elite caste of intelligent individuals, broadcasting the refined opinion, and formed loosely into tiny coalitions of like minded thinkers (except for us - we are far too hateful to ever have a links section). Our choice of presidential candidate, then, becomes part of our online cosmetics, our intellectual appearance. So too are we able to judge others based upon where their own proclivities lie. It becomes a matter of dangerously inbred little cliques who make choices not so much based on moral duty than controlling how they wish to be perceived. I am a freak in a schadenfreud complex with the republican party. Ron Paul all the way! I can see similar reasoning behind Zach's fondness for Mike Fucking Gravel and James's's Obama endorsement (of the three, which do you think stands the most chance of making it into the white house? HMMMM!).

I am glad that I vocally disagree with my comrades. I would not enjoy the thought that myself and all of my friends think the same way about any issue (and we are also able to almost always refrain from facestabbing each other with butter knives). There is enough groupthink and cronyism at large amidst what is arguably the largest audience ever devised - having massive appeal is no indicator of actual quality, as Sasha Frere-Jones states, and in the face of a future where everyone has their fifteen minutes of YouTube fame, we have to be aware of the debasements and personal sacrifices that come alongside the glories of wtf-ever kind of new metaverse is being shilled at us this week. Ha ha, run-on sentences. Okay. I am a grump and hate the future. THOMAS CARLYLE OUT~

The Replacement Post

So I typed up this giant thing that was more naval-gazing about how I'm basically a guiltily mindless consumer of all that is shameful internet culture, when I found out that WTF blogger lied when it said it saved that draft! My anger immediately manifested itself in the form of a frowny emoticon.

D:<

Regardless, there's been a lot of politic talk on here lately, and I can't blame anyone (except for James and Zach, damn them), because politics are probably big and important. I sometimes worry, because I have no great feelings for any candidate, because my preferred system of government would be some kind of bucolic anarchy, where small city-states barter with each other. And maybe compete against each other with champions in a dome. A Thunder Dome. Maybe this thundering dome is ruled over by an evil genius midget riding on the back of a mentally handicapped giant (what, no link to a picture of Dick Cheney standing on Bush's shoulders? Internet, you have failed me again!). Maybe it isn't. My ideal government is not as well thought out as, say, my fondness for pictures of cats (which is agonizing in its complexity).

I cannot, in good conscious, endorse any candidate. I simply cannot care - eight years (barring, I guess, several months of vacation) of continual emotional and psychological abuse at the hands of George W. Bush have rendered me into a kind of jelly. My reaction to things is no longer a matter of conscious thought and decision, but rather, it is a kind of alchemical process. As surely as you can generate electricity from a potato, I generate disgust at any individual who proclaims him/herself lord over his peers. The very notion of power coming from anything other than the sun makes me a little bit sick. This presidency has become the Vietnam of our generation, so you can imagine what the people who are going through the real Vietnam of our generation are thinking (answer: varied). My college educated white boy internet-ennui has nothing on a guy who had to get his legs amputated because he was driving his humvee on the road. Let us not even discuss the civilian population of Iraq, nor the irresponsible kill-happy mercenaries that are charged with their safety, else I be forced to drown my worries in laudanum and Edward Gorey cartoons (James! Do not take Lye by mistake!), and then resort to an even more florid style of writing.

Instead, let us speak, you and I, huddled over this little flame we call Elevennames. Changes are afoot, many of them on purpose! We shall become a raging bonfire, no doubt, driving back the darkness of our times. You will notice our costly advertisements, at the shocking fee of free*. Do you have a business? Is it funky (we at elevennames are at least funky) and fresh? Do you find us not offensive to most senses? Are you not Blackwater? By all means, then, do as A-ha commands, and take on us!

*As I was composing this, the price jumped to $.02. HIDE YOUR POCKETBOOKS, THE BLOGGER ROBBER BARONS ARE COMING TO TOWN.

Also, perhaps staff expansion. Hur hur hur. More later.

Would you like a preview of potential theme week? I think you would.

Mike Gravel

"[A]s a candidate, he's been a very successful avant-garde video star." -John Moe, of Weekend America

Mike Gravel has not yet withdrawn from anything, despite being briefly hospitalized with a  respiratory infection and placing more-or-less dead last in every primary so far. Nor should he withdraw from anything. It is in no way too late for him, and his strategy may yet succeed.

Which is not to say that he'll ever be President--he won't.

However, by running for President and staying in the race, he gets his name out there, and occasionally gets a chance to talk about his National Initiative, which is something that could matter a lot more than who we elect to be the next puppet of the military-medical-industrial complex and the realpoliticians.

The American political system needs to be reformed, and I don't think that even someone like Obama, who wrote a book called The Audacity of Hope, is going to be capable of doing that when the people that hold his strings are the people that benefit from the status quo. He might just be using them to get elected, but he's too streamlined, too likable, too prepackaged Pepsi-Cola Kennedy for me to be able to fully trust.

Some friends of mine like Edwards, and tell me he's a good person, but there's just something about him that makes my skin crawl a little bit. He's too much a politician. They're all too much politicians, too little like people.

Give me an honest old angry man without a hope in hell any day. Give me someone who understands, and will say, that American exceptionalism is fucking up our psychology, that we have no moral high ground left, that the time has come for honesty, humility and peace.

Give me someone who believes in personal responsibility and in using the tools you have to make a difference, and who will tell us what he really thinks.

Gravel is that man. Obama isn't. Neither is Edwards. And even though he'll never win the election, I'm going to vote for him in the primary. Maybe it'll make him feel better about the whole fucking thing. Maybe it'll make some people think that he's worth listening to. It probably won't do either, but if I'm going to cast my nearly-meaningless primary vote, I might as well do it for a guy I like.

I suspect that the fix will be in by the time Pennsylvania primaries come around anyhow.

It's called a Fuckup because it doesn't go like anyone wants. Welcome to democracy; make yourself a shiv and try not to drop the soap.

In Lieu of Actual Content

Not to undermine the seriousness of Elevennames (a serious blog for serious writers), but I feel it vital at this juncture to point out a little something of how an Elevennames post comes to be.

Step 1: We bitch at each other over IM

Zach : Of the new site design, Beth said, "It looks like it sits in an overstuffed chair and sips brandy while oppressing the working classes. So Thomas must have picked it."

Thomas : I've been looking for that big ASCII middle finger for a few minutes now.

Step 2: We determine the guilty party

Zach : Also: let's go make fun of James for being lazy.
Zach : As he hasn't updated eleven names yet.

Zach : Then you could just both go back to hating me, and the cycle would be complete!

Thomas : UPDATE
Thomas : DI DI MAO
Thomas : DI MAO LUN
James : ?
Thomas : DO IT; DO IT NOW
James : done.
James : 11names is publishing now.
James : 11names is updated now.
Thomas : Right.

Step 3: Repeat Step 1.

Thomas : Ha ha ha ha ha. Editing!
Zach : Also suspected that might happen.
Thomas : The problem here is that you are a suspicious. Pokemon. A suspicious type. Type of pokemon.
Zach : Suspicious type pokemon.
Zach : And yeah, I pretty much am.

Zach : So, basically, I have to amend the list until we set up some better means of access.
Thomas : Tough but fair. I'll come up with a list. I could have sworn I already did.
Zach : ...maybe!
Zach : I asked you to email me some once.
Zach : *goes to look through email*
Thomas : I say this because I am almost certain that I did.
Thomas : And if I didn't, that you aren't organized enough to prove me wrong!

Cate: you james, and zach have a horrible blog?
Thomas: Yes. It is horrible and making us hate each other.

Thomas : PROJECT RUNWAY D:<
Previous message was not received by James because of error : User James is not available.

And there you have it. More on politics, and other stuff, later. Maybe the glorious return of theme weeks!

Not So Fast, Mr. Ellis.

Fuckup 2008, Mr. Ellis says.

He's entitled to his opinion, certainly. He makes a living off of his opinion and his rambling output, which is far greater and far more lucrative than mine. So his opinion is worth something.

Quite how much, only Mr. Ellis knows. But. I'm here to talk politics, (as per usual) and that brings in a whole other can of worms. Because, you see, for Mr. Gravel (or any other candidate who is failling by the wayside now) to be important, he needed people to pay attention to him early, and build a grassroots network. In other words, get the good word out.

This is where the American populus comes in. I was introduced to Mr. Gravel by Zach only a couple days ago. I hear after Iowa, he has since dropped out. Depending on who you ask, this is a failure or a success of the internet. On the one hand, I would not have heard of Mr. Gravel without Zach, but on the other one, the information comes too late to be of use.

If you want to make a difference in presidential elections, you have to get involved early. YOU have to go out, and tell your friends about this candidate, and get the word out. I am reminded of the savage quote from the West Wing, where someone (inevitably striding...) says "If you skip jury duty, you can't complain about the OJ verdict," which is a nice way of saying, this is a participatory democracy, if you don't participate, your perfect candidate does not have to appear.

Iowa, as we need to be reminded, is a strange place. If you want to meet a candidate and speak to him or her, while they are in Iowa, you can look up where they are going to an event near you, and you can ask them a question or two there. Hell, at least two candidates moved their families to Iowa 4 years ago. The time to know and get the word out about Mr. Gravel was about nineteen months ago, when there was time for his supporters to accumulate and coalesce.

But now, and this month is far, far too late. The Obama nation has swept up most of Iowa's Democrats, and the rest went to Hillary or Edwards. Don't get me wrong. I like Obama, and it is not just because his house is the physically closest to my parents'. It is because he promises change, and there's a praticular little thing about his past that I like. He graduated the first black editor in chief of the Harvard Law Review. This is prestigious, and it is hard to oversell it's importance.

He could have made five million dollars a year in New York City law firm doing nothing but shaking people's hands when he left Harvard (fight fiercely...). Read that sentence again. I'll wait.

Mr. Obama went to the South Side of Chicago to do political organizing instead. The only reason why he was a lecturer at the University of Chicago is because they're a group of people who are contrary, haughty and insufferably intelligent. Had he gone anywhere else in the city, he could have been a tenured faculty member before he stepped foot on campus, if not the chair of the department.

That's not to say he's clean, or he's perfect, or that he appeals to me completely. There is the money he took from large drug companies and HMO's to fund his campaign, his "present" votes on some major issues, and his vote yes on the Patriot Act.

But. He promises change, and right now, we need it. By we, I mean America, but then I think of America's effect on the rest of the world, and then I realize, the world, too, needs a change from Mr. Bush. So I can be more inclusive, and perhaps should be.

Oh, to hell with it. I support Obama. And by that, I don't mean a "I hate everyone else, and I hate him less." I mean, Edwards leaves a slime trail, Hillary Clinton smiles like she's trying to hide her fangs, and I'd rather vote for Obama than those two. I will affirmatively for someone, rather than against another candidate.

I don't care if I look stupid. If I show that I am invested in this, it's because I believe everything American above 3 should be. I care. I'll even trust Obama's gut, and I've got faith that he'll pick good people to surround himself with for the job.

I'll bring this back to Mr. Ellis. He calls it a fuck up, likely, because the American people will pick a candidate that moves toward the center, and because little progress would be made on how the United States extracts blood and oil from the rest of the world regardless of who is elected.

I don't know if Obama can or will want to bring Nike or Pepsi or Nestle to heel. But I believe that he's a candidate that will do what he thinks is best in stressful situations, has the mental capacity to interpret crisis-es with subtlety and accuracy. I believe he'll undo or at least try to repair the damage to America's international image and the Patriot Act.

I'll take it. I'll take it (as Refused put it) hook, line and sinker.

Blogging at Home for the Painfully Alone

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have a life full of dignity and self respect. Wouldn't it get dull after a while? When would you talk to yourself under your breath, telling yourself how stupid or ugly you are? That you shouldn't do something because you'll only fail spectacularly at it (hello College, Social Life, and Elevennames!), like you've failed at everything else?

This would, in an ideal situation, be the point where I say "But then you go ahead and do it anyway and then you feel great about it because you aren't trying to prove anything to anyone." But I am not going to say this. Because it is a filthy bastard lie. I have done plenty of things that I knew I should not have done, and I did not feel good about doing them. That voice in your head that tells you about your limitations is there for a damn good reason. I don't doubt that sometimes it must be ignored, the times when you have to talk to the girl or write the paper or do something bold and brave and hooray inducing. Other times, individuals must be aware that no amount of blatant denial will hide their obvious, tragic failings. Which is part of what makes the internet such a miracle; we are forever observing people who participate in this culture of blatant denial. Sometimes we even reward them! The great yawning chasm of despair that mortal men call YouTube is seeded on a minutely basis with people who want the whole world to see their failings and arrogance. This is not to imply I'm naval-gazing over some kind of recent phenomenon, either; observe Danny Tanner and America's Funniest Home Videos, or even that Funt guy and his show. There is precedent here - I mean, what did people do at gladiatorial games, if not laugh at the funny looking or unlucky contestants? I mean, there wasn't a lot of replay value when they were eaten by tigers or whatever.

So instead of (can I begin a sentence not on a preposition, just once?) musing about the gradual erosion of dignity and the whole notion of Blogging Like An Adult (I just googled that!), I just figure that the whole thing is a social construct anyway, and I've got enough of those already, kthnx. I grew up with dungeons and dragons - I don't need another set of codified instructions about imaginary entities interfering with my daily life. Suffice it to say, the old crank in me hates everything, while the kid in me likes the two scoops of raisins. Or whatever. Effing Family Guy has ruined my entire generation. Or has it?

Anyway. My point (the irony is that I got distracted by the adult ADD website) is that, uh, the internets are an evolution of natural human patterns, and, uh (ha ha, check out that list of 151 strengths of adults with ADD! "The Positive's (sic) of ADD") that there's really nothing fancy or newfangled about it, that it's just more voices to contend with - that if they weren't supplied from the outside, they'd probably come from within. Human personalities seem to be consciously self regulating in a way that I (in my intense and scientific studies) have not noticed in animals. Which is to say, a trained dog will not look down it's nose (okay, so it will, hey, why don't you shut up?) at a dog which doesn't have any sort of normal socialization. And that hey, maybe that's the point of humanity's progress! Perhaps every social and scientific advancement has just been one great escalation of snobbery, a great sociological pyramid of gentrification, constantly seeking that one universal, Fonzy-like cool that will end the search. It certainly sounds bleak enough to be a cosmic truth, and fits nicely into the myths of lost civilizations.

Yeah, Atlantis? It was real cool until all these effing hipsters moved in, and the developers built all those new hotels and then the Gods killed the fuck out of everyone there.

But we, as mankind (perhaps man unkind? Oh ho!) will continue to build these giant enormous misguided attempts at setting ourselves apart from the crowd; our Williamsburgs or our Towers of Babel, and in the end, we're going to be left with a thousand languages and a million Brooklyn Vegans, leaving behind only disunity in their wake. We, as a species, will always look back to the studio 54's of our past, proclaiming that before us came a golden time, and that it is what we strive for, and that only disease and death await us in the future. Which is true!

In summation, we can have our metaverses and second lives and other kinds of annoyingly populist dreams about the future of technology, but we also have to acknowledge that, ultimately, they're going to jump the shark. As Yeats wrote, the center cannot hold. Or, as the alternapress can point out, Vice is going to be bought out by MTV. And that, in the end, is the mad rush and joy of being human - fast paced, tossing your all behind a hope or an ideal (we're all scenesters - don't deny it!), and then praying that we don't be too embarrassed by them in later on. Or that if we are, then at least we can be proud that we ignored that little voice inside our heads long enough to actually go for something, to risk being put in a compromising position so that we can know, for just a few moments, that for a short while we were the mad pulse of humanity, driving it onwards to it's next heartbeat.