The Royals are Reptilians and I’m an Alien-Human Hybrid

It’s times like this that it becomes abundantly clear that I am either a changeling or an alien-human hybrid. Somehow, against all the impulses of the herd I have been born into, I am completely disinterested in the social life of people who have status merely by dint of being the product of the chance meeting between a lucky sperm and egg.

Not only that, I have never been able to comprehend how regular people can be so engrossed in the personal lives of those whose existence is completely foreign to their own, in terms of power, wealth and privilege. Frankly, it wouldn’t occur to a Royal to look your way if gazes were air and you were suffocating to death.

We are not amused.

A couple of years back the Queen’s solution to the deficit in the Palace heating budget was to raid the fund used to feed the poor. She can’t put on another sweater like regular folks, she has to heat her Palace with the bodies of the starving. Her Ministers had to explain why this would be a bad idea.

I need you to think about this concept: Her Ministers had to explain why taking food away from poor people who would starve without it, was bad. In other words, the idea that it was morally or ethically questionable had never crossed her mind.

This is the group people around the world are obsessing over; waxing rhapsodic about? These people, who have never been particularly talented, intelligent, beautiful or industrious. From what I have observed, their sense of public decorum is about on par with the average “man on the street”. What merit affords them the attention of 1/3rd of the worlds population?

Given that the chances of a mere “commoner” interacting with them in any meaningful way is practically null, I would find it exceedingly helpful if someone could explain in clear, concise terms, exactly why anyone should care about anything they choose to do?

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Guy Logic in Tool World

So I’m assembling a new drill press today and run into a perfect example of Guy Logic.

I’ll skip over the part where they assume I’ve assembled a drill press before and leave out helpful explanations and steps. Because, in my experience, the people who write tech. manuals couldn’t have possibly assembled the items they are writing about themselves. So there’s no point in bitching about the universal constant of half-assed assembly instructions.

I’ve gotten about half way through the assembly and everything is coated in machine oil, including my hands. Each of the plastic bags wrapped around each individual of the parts is coated, the machine is coated; I could give the Terminator a full-body massage and still have greasy hands.

I secretly believe machine oil is like some sort of pheromone for men. Either that or they believe it works that way on the women who smell it.

“Oooooo, he must be handy. He smells like greasy nickle soup. Hey, baby, I’m sexually available.”

So, I’m reading the directions and trying to keep the machine oil off the instruction manual – because I’m prissy that way- and come to the part where I am supposed to prepare the head assembly before putting it onto the base. The directions read:

Place the head assembly upside down on a level, flat surface.

In other words, take it out of the box, remove the greasy plastic wrapping and put it upside down on the table. But then I see a note at the bottom of the instruction series:

NOTE: This tool is heavy. Get help when needed.

So, what your sayin’ there bud is I should pick up a bulky, unwieldy, machine part featuring a slick, plastic hood with my grease-coated hands and hey, take care, it’s really heavy and flip it over to put it on the table.

And truly it is a heavy bastid. But the only tools they claimed one would need are a mallet, an adjustable wrench and a Phillips head screwdriver. There was nothing about an extra set of hands, attached or not, to a beefy grease-monkey.

If there were, I would have picked one up at the hardware store on the way home.

Visual Arts Reviews for the IC: People Places Power at Van Every/Smith Gallery

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Arts In View: Visual Art Reviews from Island Ford Art

Brad Thomas, curator
Van Every/ Smith Gallery Davidson College
Exhibit through Feb. 25, weekdays 10 a.m.–5 p.m., weekends 12 p.m.–4 p.m

Culturally, one of the more interesting things about photography in our age is how we take it for granted. Anyone with a cell phone can record an image. We’ve grown up with every mundane instance of our lives and every major cultural event defined, captured, and frozen in time. The still image provides clarity in a world in constant motion; revealing the “truth” of experience we miss as events unfold.

Photography also provides the opportunity to witness events and locales we may never be able to visit or experience. Many of the photos in the People Places Power provide the opportunity to appreciate the contrasts, beauty, minutia, and grandeur characterizing 21st century America.

This show of large format color photography at Davidson College re-examines tableaus and environments that we would not give a second glance as we passed in the safety of our vehicular cocoons. Some of the subjects lie sleepily far from the paths we travel while others were once thriving with activity at the center of commerce. These forgotten places, abandoned buildings, and people from the neighborhood have been captured in candid, unguarded moments.

Notable among these are images chronicling the deterioration of the former automobile powerhouse known as Detroit by Andrew Moore. Mr. Moore has undertaken an in depth survey of sites in and around Detroit. The photos in this exhibition focus on the defunct Ford Plant at River Rouge. Few images can convey the decline of US industry as sublimely as these photographs.

Victoria Sambunaris’ western landscapes are arresting from a formal perspective. The lack of strong directed light creates a flattened, compressed space and stacks the layers of the open landscape vertically. This gives the viewer a sense of viewing wall-hung tapestries, rather than a deep, expansive plane or geo-thermal features nestled in a Utah landscape. Ms. Sambunaris’ work along with David Taylor’s harkens back to large format images of exotic places exhibited for paid admission in the late 19th century. These are scenes of the contemporary frontier on a scale with nature.

Alex Prager’s image of a young woman illuminated by an open fire on a parking deck is striking for its juxtaposition of this single figure against an inner city nightscape. Another figurative work, by Richard Rinaldi, offers a nicely tonal black and white portrait of “Craig” a young man, shirtless with tattoos.

There are a couple of definite drawbacks to this show. First and foremost is the lack of gallery space. Any one of these artists could hold their own in a solo show of 30 or more works. Here, we are only offered appetizers; one or two works from each artist. And frankly, this is not quite as satisfying as catching the unique visual rhythms of one particular artist. As a viewer, one misses the subtle narrative that begins to develop in the course of a visual series. Clearly the emphasis is on the landscapes which are dynamic and required the largest spaces within the gallery. The more psychological images of people were relegated to the back room and their impact suffered as a result.

The curator must’ve understood the “sampling” aspect would be problematic, offering a table full of large format photography books featuring each of the show’s artists. Having access to the books provided the opportunity of seeing a broader survey of each artist.

The second problem also lay in the curator’s hands. Sometimes a curator will feel the need to shoehorn the images in order to have them fit into the “theme”. Unfortunately, this was evident in one or two instances; creating somewhat jarring visual and thematic interruptions within an otherwise cohesive exhibition.

As a side note, we would also like to direct you to the exhibition by student studio senior Alanna Ford (Jan. 12-19). Her work is clever, well considered and well crafted. It’s nice to see such mature work coming from someone in the earliest stages of their art-making career.

If you need more information on the artists or the shows at Davidson College, please go to our website, Piedmont Foothill Venues

We’ll see you there!

On walking the fine line between revisionist history and cultural sensitivity.

Two stories have come to light this week that examine America’s relationship with art, it’s depiction of slavery and our sociological  and cultural response to those depictions of history.

The first story, out of Georgia, centers on a series of murals painted by George Beattie depicting an idealized version of Georgia’s agricultural development.

The series starts with corn grown by prehistoric Native Americans, and proceeds to a 20th-century veterinary lab. The history in between the ancient and the modern eras includes slavery.

The incoming Republican agriculture commissioner, Gary Black, doesn’t like the work and feels it is no longer appropriate for the modern agricultural systems in Georgia. (Perhaps a golden idol to Monsanto would be more to his liking.)

Mr. Beattie is no longer alive to defend the work, but had obviously dealt with the issues raised prior to this incident.

Beattie’s 1995 defense of his work:

“As a human being, I am vehemently opposed to slavery, as anyone should be, but it was a significant epoch in our history; it would have been inaccurate not to include this period.”

In the second incident Publisher’s Weekly examines a Twain scholar’s efforts to “update”  The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn for a modern audience.

Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is a classic by most any measure—T.S. Eliot called it a masterpiece, and Ernest Hemingway pronounced it the source of “all modern American literature.” Yet, for decades, it has been disappearing from grade school curricula across the country, relegated to optional reading lists, or banned outright, appearing again and again on lists of the nation’s most challenged books, and all for its repeated use of a single, singularly offensive word: “nigger.”

Believe it or not, I find the first incident slightly more defensible than the second for this reason:

Twain was portraying the mores of his time. As a former newspaper man, he understood the importance of capturing the particular realities of a story, even if they were dressed in fiction.

In creating his painting series, Beattie was not portraying the essence of his era. He  chose to create a view of history that removed the suffering of the kidnapped victims of slavery. Neither did he depict the genocide visited upon the Native Americans who were driven off their tribal lands. He chose to create work that pleased his patron; work depicting idyllic moments; free of want or hardship. He edited out the uncomfortable moments in a foreshadowing of what Gary Black is currently attempting to do by removing the work wholesale.

Black claims he is not comfortable with the depictions because they whitewash the realities of Georgia using slaves to build it’s wealth and power. But by the same token, it seems he is attempting to push that uncomfortable skeleton into a literal and metaphoric closet.

In denying our history, we belittle the suffering of those already made small, nameless and faceless. How can we pretend the abuse did not happen? How can we bear to make the abhorrent more palatable by a self-imposed blindness, by euphemism or by proxy? What do these incidents say about our willingness to confront our past so that we remain aware of our potential, as humans, to dehumanize others?

As an artist, this chills me; this marginalization of painful truths for the sake of ease. It does not bode well for our maturity as citizens or as a society.

Opposing a social order in which it is possible for one man who does absolutely nothing that is useful to amass a fortune.

Your Honor, years ago I recognized my kinship with all living beings, and I made up my mind that I was not one bit better than the meanest on earth. I said then, and I say now, that while there is a lower class, I am in it, and while there is a criminal element I am of it, and while there is a soul in prison, I am not free.

I listened to all that was said in this court in support and justification of this prosecution, but my mind remains unchanged. I look upon the Espionage Law as a despotic enactment in flagrant conflict with democratic principles and with the spirit of free institutions.

Your Honor, I have stated in this court that I am opposed to the social system in which we live; that I believe in a fundamental change—but if possible by peaceable and orderly mean.

Standing here this morning, I recall my boyhood. At fourteen I went to work in a railroad shop; at sixteen I was firing a freight engine on a railroad. I remember all the hardships and privations of that earlier day, and from that time until now my heart has been with the working class. I could have been in Congress long ago. I have preferred to go to prison.

I am thinking this morning of the men in the mills and the factories; of the men in the mines and on the railroads. I am thinking of the women who for a paltry wage are compelled to work out their barren lives; of the little children who in this system are robbed of their childhood and in their tender years are seized in the remorseless grasp of Mammon and forced into the industrial dungeons, there to feed the monster machines while they themselves are being starved and stunted, body and soul. I see them dwarfed and diseased and their little lives broken and blasted because in this high noon of Christian civilization money is still so much more important than the flesh and blood of childhood. In very truth gold is god today and rules with pitiless sway in the affairs of men.

In this country—the most favored beneath the bending skies—we have vast areas of the richest and most fertile soil, material resources in inexhaustible abundance, the most marvelous productive machinery on earth, and millions of eager workers ready to apply their labor to that machinery to produce in abundance for every man, woman, and child—and if there are still vast numbers of our people who are the victims of poverty and whose lives are an unceasing struggle all the way from youth to old age, until at last death comes to their rescue and lulls these hapless victims to dreamless sleep, it is not the fault of the Almighty: it cannot be charged to nature, but it is due entirely to the outgrown social system in which we live that ought to be abolished not only in the interest of the toiling masses but in the higher interest of all humanity.

I believe, Your Honor, in common with all Socialists, that this nation ought to own and control its own industries. I believe, as all Socialists do, that all things that are jointly needed and used ought to be jointly owned—that industry, the basis of our social life, instead of being the private property of a few and operated for their enrichment, ought to be the common property of all, democratically administered in the interest of all.

I am opposing a social order in which it is possible for one man who does absolutely nothing that is useful to amass a fortune of hundreds of millions of dollars, while millions of men and women who work all the days of their lives secure barely enough for a wretched existence.

This order of things cannot always endure. I have registered my protest against it. I recognize the feebleness of my effort, but, fortunately, I am not alone. There are multiplied thousands of others who, like myself, have come to realize that before we may truly enjoy the blessings of civilized life, we must reorganize society upon a mutual and cooperative basis; and to this end we have organized a great economic and political movement that spreads over the face of all the earth.

There are today upwards of sixty millions of Socialists, loyal, devoted adherents to this cause, regardless of nationality, race, creed, color, or sex. They are all making common cause. They are spreading with tireless energy the propaganda of the new social order. They are waiting, watching, and working hopefully through all the hours of the day and the night. They are still in a minority. But they have learned how to be patient and to bide their time. The feel—they know, indeed—that the time is coming, in spite of all opposition, all persecution, when this emancipating gospel will spread among all the peoples, and when this minority will become the triumphant majority and, sweeping into power, inaugurate the greatest social and economic change in history.

In that day we shall have the universal commonwealth—the harmonious cooperation of every nation with every other nation on earth.

Your Honor, I ask no mercy and I plead for no immunity. I realize that finally the right must prevail. I never so clearly comprehended as now the great struggle between the powers of greed and exploitation on the one hand and upon the other the rising hosts of industrial freedom and social justice.

I can see the dawn of the better day for humanity. The people are awakening. In due time they will and must come to their own.

When the mariner, sailing over tropic seas, looks for relief from his weary watch, he turns his eyes toward the southern cross, burning luridly above the tempest-vexed ocean. As the midnight approaches, the southern cross begins to bend, the whirling worlds change their places, and with starry finger-points the Almighty marks the passage of time upon the dial of the universe, and though no bell may beat the glad tidings, the lookout knows that the midnight is passing and that relief and rest are close at hand. Let the people everywhere take heart of hope, for the cross is bending, the midnight is passing, and joy cometh with the morning.

I am now prepared to receive your sentence.

Statement to the Court
Eugene Debs, September 18, 1918

Eugene V. Debs Foundation

The Age of Black Swans (a poem)

in an outlier age
every swan jet black
nests on a sphere skewed extreme.
each day a thousand year rain
drowns misery in empty
bloated bellies,
washing over hearts
that will not wear
and cannot break.
signs and wonders
thick as smoke
we choke, waiting
for one
small
miracle
that can never come.

Visual Arts Reviews for the IC: Hidden Treasure

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Arts In View: Visual Art Reviews from Island Ford Art

Hidden Treasure

Every time I hear someone suggest we lack a local visual arts scene, I’m reminded Dorothy’s moment of revelation just before she finds her way home. When she’s asked what she learned from her adventures, she replies: “…if I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own backyard; because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with.”

In terms of our local arts resources, I agree with her. There are a number of good local venues that can be reached by car; most of them in under an hour.

So, what we want to do is briefly introduce you to these hidden treasures. Then you can take the time to explore them for yourselves.

It took us a while to find all the treasures in our area. While they don’t always have work of the size and scale you might find in, say, MOMA or the National Gallery, the work in these local galleries more than holds it’s own in terms of craft, relevance and content. So, if you are planning to make a day of it, find a good local eatery and enjoy at your leisure.

In future columns we’ll be talking about the work and the shows presented at these venues, but first we wanted to help you become familiar with them. We’ll also provide a little background and basically present an overview what’s available. At the end of this column you find a web address with links to the galleries. At the links you should find information on current and upcoming shows; along with operating hours. And their pages will also provide directions.

In Statesville, we have the Iredell Museums. Located on Court Street in the heart of downtown; this building is part of the historical “Bristol Block”. The Iredell Museums is an umbrella organization which covers both the Iredell Museum and the Children’s Museum. They feature a good variety of contemporary arts and contemporary crafts, traveling shows and regional artists and artisans.

In Mooresville, the Mooresville Artist Guild features local and regional artists, member shows and juried competitive shows. The Artist Guild is housed in the Old Mooresville Train Depot in downtown Mooresville.

In the northern part of Iredell County is the Hiddenite Center; housed in a restored 3-story Victorian Lucas Mansion. They are part local history, part art and history gallery, with a featured doll gallery on the 3rd floor along with various art classes.

To the west is the Hickory Museum of Art, which is part of the SALT block. Also featured in the SALT block is the Catawba Science Center and the Hickory Coral Society and the Western Piedmont Symphony and the Patrick Beaver Memorial Library. The Museum also has classes for children and adults.

A bit further west and north is the Wilkes Art Gallery in North Wilkesboro. In 2004 they moved into the original North Wilkesboro Post Office, in the heart of downtown North Wilkesboro. They have a beautifully renovated space that houses regular exhibitions and a variety of classes.

The city of Salisbury features the Waterworks Visual Art Center, housed in the renovated McCanless Motor Company showrooms. In 1999 Waterworks was accredited as a non-collecting museum by the American Association of Museums. It is one of only 14 nationally accredited museums in the state. Personally, we rank it as a world class museum. It is a beautiful facility and the shows are top notch.

Davie County is home to Brock Performing Arts Center in Mocksville. In addition to an excellent performing arts center, the Brock Performing Arts Center features visual arts exhibitions by local and regional artists along with juried competitive shows.

Mecklenburg County has a wide variety of arts venues. Our favorites are found in Davidson in Davidson College’s Van Every/Smith Galleries. In addition to exceptional exhibitions by well-established individual artists, in the Van Every Gallery, the Edward M. Smith Gallery features work from the students in the art department.

The Mint Museums are focused individually on fine arts at the Randolph and fine crafts and design at the Uptown location. The Museum at Randolph was originally the first branch of the United States Mint and in it’s incarnation as a museum, the first museum in North Carolina. The exhibitions are noteworthy and their permanent collection houses some hidden gems of their own.

The McColl Center was built in the renovated shell of the old ARP Church from the vision of Hugh McColl and the financing of Bank of America. In addition to exhibitions from cutting edge artists, the McColl Center established a series of artist’s residencies along with outreach and education.

With the venue information out of the way, now you can meet your tour guides:

Walt McGervey has Masters of Fine Arts Degree in Sculpture. He has taught various classes in art history and fine arts classes at university and at regional visual arts centers.

Karen Parker has a Masters of Fine Arts Degree in Painting. She works out of her studio and has instructed in painting, drawing and design classes at all levels for over 20 years.

For more information on the venues featured here go to: www.islandfordart.com/venue

Pledger Rand Paul Slam Dunks “Pig Party”

Then, having been awarded his place in Frat House fame, promptly ditches his hillbilly date. He wanders off to go burn a fattie with a really drunk sorority chick and falls into a deep philosophical discussion on the Aqua Buddha.

Libertarians and Tea Partiers all across America, and especially in Paul’s home state of Kentucky, are stunned and confused by his almost instantaneous abandonment of key elements of  his campaign platform. Most notably wherein he promised to end earmark (aka pork-barrel) spending.

But any girl who was ever socially awkward or from an impoverished home or less than magazine cover beautiful knows exactly what happened. Kentucky, it turns out, was the biggest Pig at the Pig Party.

Rand Paul, son of a doctor, never once got his hands dirty with an honest day’s labor. He’s the dreamy football captain with just a bit of a rebel streak. And when he suddenly invited Kentucky to the Frat Party, she couldn’t believe her luck. A handsome, intelligent up and comer like Paul could take her places. Possibly all the way to the altar in Washington D.C. And there he would give her the life she always dreamed of, but knew she could never have because she didn’t have “it”. i.e. classic good looks, money, connections.

Or in this case: jobs, infrastructure, political clout.

But he asked her anyway. He was charming, flirtatious. He asked her about her snow-globe collection. He seemed interested in her ideas and her ideals. So she passed up a Friday night date with “Herman Norman” to go the Frat House Party.

And once she was there, it all became incredibly, horribly clear. He needed her to get his foot in the door. Winning the Pig Party Prize meant he was “in”. No more hazing, no more low status bullshit. He could play with the big boys now.

All those pretty words floating away like the ashes of burning leaves.

Well, now what?

I lived in Eastern Kentucky for a year, teaching at a University there. One of the notable things about this area was it’s rather activist dislike of the government. A historical placard in town related that the local courthouse had been burned down several times over the years by people who didn’t appreciate the idea of government meddling in their affairs.

I’m hoping Kentucky gets pissed off. I’m hoping she doesn’t just fall into a heap of make-up streaked, blubbering butter cream frosting. To be honest, I’d much rather see her kick off her shoes, hike up her skirt and rally her kin folk. Because there is one thing a true Kentuckian understands and that’s a blood feud. Their philosophy always has been: Never let the government dick with you and never, ever forget it when they do.

Mr. Paul might do well to remember that.

Daddy TeaBagger Weeps: My Tea Party Turned Corporate Whore! (how spoiling the Boomers broke America)

Which is what I’ve been suggesting for some time now.

Boomers, on the whole, just don’t get it. Because, sadly, they never really “got” it in the first place. From the moment their collective purchasing power was recognized way back in the 50’s, every speck of an idea rising from that generational cohort has been microscopically scrutinized in order to figure out how it can be sold to the public at large. They are the Co-opted Generation, brought to you by the makers of Pepsi. “It’s the Herd Mentality that’s GOOD. And so GOOD for you tm“.

If they had been self-aware enough to take control of their own message, they could have actually have been a force to be reckoned with. But having been raised in a bubble that catered to their every whim, they assumed all that corporate fawning meant Power and Money were actually in agreement with their ideals. The sad reality: Corporations were using the 900 lb gorilla as a social and economic wedge; handily stripping out the substance and selling the pre-packaged, easily digestible product to the public at large. And if the rest of the country didn’t like it, the collective ire of a massive generational cohort would rain down fire upon your head.

So we end up with McDonald’s. Because kids on long trips don’t like eating unfamiliar food in unfamiliar places. ad infinitum

Once the pattern was established, it was easily and handily manipulated – for profit of course. And as time went on, it became increasingly easy to steer groups with special interests into their own intellectual cul-de-sacs. After all, wasn’t every egoistic whim they ever had worth exploring in deep navel gazing, cash-costing detail, regardless of the price to society at large?

Whittling away the generational mass, fracturing it, was a simple thing really. By their late 20’s most people’s interests and life path have gelled somewhat. They are no longer a “puppy-pile” of mate-seeking, group-thinking, exploratory youth.

At that point, it was just a matter of seeing the broad trends within the cohort and nudging them a little farther along the path. And this is less conspiratorial than it sounds. Because, bottom line, it’s always been about the Benjamins.

It was the Corporate sycophants in politics who saw the possibilities of using those differences for both corporate and political ends. They married Richard Nixon’s ground breaking political strategy of “us disenfranchised slobs” vs. the “elites” to the Corporate consumer group micro-marketing.

Minor personal digression: Ol’ Dicky Nixon was not attractive, he was not from a wealthy or politically connected family and he was not charismatic. But was incredibly intelligent. And most importantly, he was a political shark. He never stopped moving and he was a vicious bastard when crossed. In the end, I loathed him a bit less and respected him a bit more because of these things. But only a bit.

Fast Forward: Tea Party. The perfect blend of the Boomer ethos of “ME, ME, ME and to hell with how it affects other people” wedded to a political platform, funded by Corporate dollars.

Here’s the interview with Daddy TeaBagger “himself “. And since he’s not a Corporatist, unlike 99% of Washington, he’s pretty pissed that his brainchild has been Frankenfurtered to keep boot-licking Corporate butt-monkeys in power.

“In short, The Tea Party was and is about the the corruption of American Politics and the blatant and outrageous theft from all Americans that has resulted. It is about personal responsibility and enforcement of the law against those who have robbed, financially ****d and pillaged the nation.”

Ahem….. Excuse me. That’s “WAS.” No longer “IS”. Welcome to the real world, where you and what you want are irrelevant. Enjoy your stay. And please remember: It’s a Class War and the Rich are winning.

Show Me The Note, Motherfuckers!

Zero Hedge posts a followup to Gonzalo Lira’s The Coming Middle-Class Anarchy. Wherein Brian and Ilsa, a retired middle class couple, find themselves with an underwater mortgage. They also find themselves in a very typical bureaucratic run around.

In response, they sensibly did what more and more people will be forced
to do, if banks don’t pull their heads out of their obviously comfy
asses.  

They demanded to see the note.

I’ve spent a good portion of my free time over the last several weeks trying to find alternative branches to the narrative line that is quickly approaching.

Perhaps I’m not clever enough, or knowledgeable enough to faithfully follow Ariadne’s thread. Because I keep circling around the same conclusion: the mortgage (and by default the banks, no pun intended) system is going to grind to a halt because of this issue. And when it does, everything impacted by banking is going to grind to a halt.

The alternatives:

The banks screwed up. But they won’t risk losing market share by admitting it then taking the necessary steps to fix it.

The government can’t step in. Mortgage laws vary by state. There are a host of Constitutional issues preventing a mortgage “bailout” a la JP Morgan or Chrysler. For one thing the auto makers didn’t falsify documents. Their sin was poor business models based on the fact that the US of A can’t compete with countries with universal health care.

The middle class only needs a tiny spark to ignite all that bone dry rage they’ve got lying around. These folks, who have generally only known privilege, won’t have as much patience with the types of bullshit that the lower classes have long ago been broken to. Let those retired boomers…you know the original “Me” generation …decide to harken back to the good old protest days. Silverback Activists and the “Great Bank Sit-in (sponsored by Metamucil)”

Rage on disenfranchised white middle class hellions! Rage on!

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