"The eventual target is a change of regime in Russia itself led by local pro-democracy and pro-European forces that are weak for the moment, but are being bolstered by the West by various forms of engagement and exaggerated media projection.
The systematic vilification of Putin personally should be understood in this context.
His strong leadership is seen as standing in the way of the change that the US and the EU would like to see happen in Russia, one that will allow them to exercise control over its politics and economics from within.
The democracy and market economy ploy is handy for bringing about regime change today in the Ukraine and tomorrow in Russia itself.”
Jaipal Singh, speaking at the Constituent Assembly of 1949, at which the members contended that tribal self-rule would lead to chaos: “One was the power solution, the other was the knowledge solution. The vehement language of some of our Members inclines towards power solutions. They want to force the tribal people of Assam to do things against their wishes and expressed will. I suggest that is no solution at all. If you do that you are certainly going to bring about what you fear. You are not going to obviate, but you are going to bring about a further disintegration of India.”
You know how really addicted smokers reach mechanically for their cigarettes as soon as they wake up? These days I am mechanically reaching for my phone and logging onto twitter. It’s 6:30 in the morning. I’ve already tweeted thrice.
"You can think of these booms as half the history of the city: the other half is catastrophe, earthquake, fire, economic bust, deindustrialisation and the scourge of Aids. And maybe you can think of them as the same thing: upheavals that have remade the city again and again. Though something was constant, the sense of the city as separate from the rest of the country, a sanctuary for nonconformists, exiles, war resisters, sex rebels, eccentrics, environmentalists and experimentalists in the arts and sciences, in food, agriculture, law, architecture and social organisation. The city somehow remained hospitable to those on the margins throughout its many incarnations, until now."
“I didn’t stand for anything. If I wanted to matter — even just to myself — I would have to be less free, by deciding to choose in some kind of definite way. Even it was nothing more than an act of will.”
“He hated sloppiness, in dress, in thinking, in writing. You could find precision in everything he wrote, and you could also sense it the moment you met him. He was impatient with academic jargon… jargon corrupts our language and thinking, he taught us. Find your own language. At no time has this been more important than in our contemporary world, where language has become debased and lives so utterly disposable.”
I WAS BORN A FULL GROWN MAN, COMPETENT AND CAPABLE IN EVERY FACET OF LIFE, DRESSED IN REASONABLY PRICED BUSINESS ATTIRE, MY POCKETS FILLED WITH CAR KEYS, CREDIT CARDS, A CELLULAR PHONE - ALL READY AND WAITING TO BE USED IN A LIFE THAT HAD BEEN PREPARED FOR ME BY SOME UNKNOWN FORCE. IT WAS THE YEAR 1604, AND I EMERGED FACE DOWN ONTO A DAMP FOREST FLOOR, 6 FOOT 3 INCHES OF GLISTENING CAUCASIAN MALE, ALIEN SON TO A BEWILDERED, EXHAUSTED JAPANESE FARM HAND WHO HAD ESCAPED THE PRYING EYES OF THE VILLAGE TO BRING FORTH ME, THE ULTIMATE BASTARD. SHE DIED THERE, BUT I STRODE OFF INTO A NEW AND COLOURFUL HUMAN FUTURE AND HAVE CARRIED HER IN MY HEART EVER SINCE.
Am I the only one who finds this kind of…grotesque? Visibly aging actors, including a post-That Ain’t Right Bob Saget, brought back for the sake of nostalgia (granted, it’s meant to be funny, but it wouldn’t be if it weren’t for the nostalgia, like nostalgia is the one and only running joke apart from Jimmy Fallon substituting for one of the nostalgic roles), highly visible evidence of plastic surgery, plus none of them are even trying to act, and it’s all supposed to anything besides creepy and absolutely terrifying? Like, now I’m thinking that maybe the whole 90s nostalgia thing has gone way too far, and the whole internet whirlwind of Remember When-ness is making it profitable for the likes of Jimmy Fallon to unbury pop culture from its resting place in history, put a wig on it, and send it back to invade our childhood memories.
*Also, granted, Bob Saget made an entire stand up career by juxtaposing completely depraved comedy with our memories of his wholesome Fullhouse character, but that’s still in a sense moving forward (FH Bob/post-FH Bob) rather than literally rehashing the same FH lines and FH sets in some eerie this-is-kind-of-the-same-but-it’s-not-the-same-because-you-know-who-we-are-now televised trick mirror.
so anyways i go to this village with a friend and we’re talking to people and someone is just like, ‘how do we know you’re not a spy?’ 'who sent you?' 'you're one of them' etc. they don’t trust my english notes and so on i can’t exactly prove anything but i tell them that i’m just a journalist and i’m interested in hearing their story, that no one sent me, that of course i knew this village existed they tell us we’re not going anywhere until they figure out who we are and, just to be sure, take away our motorcycle so we’re there and we’re going to spend the night and i can see everybody eyeing me suspiciously and i can feel their anger they were still extremely polite and someone gave us their hut to sleep in and they fed us and everything but night’s falling and i’m feeling scared because i can’t get a phone signal and i can’t call anybody to tell them i’m safe and they’re talking about keeping us there for weeks and ask us who we know who can attest for us and someone mentions bringing the maoists in to decide for us it was just the two of us yeah i’m scared because if i can’t get word out my friends might call the cops and if the cops come for me then it’ll look really, really, really bad not only might they decide in that moment that i was a mining co. spy after all but the cops are bound to fuck that village up maybe even burn it down "kidnapping a foreign reporter" is excuse enough ya know but i don’t want to go make that phone call because at that moment i don’t want to do anything suspicious like wandering off to find some signal and make a phone call and at night people get drunk and we’re talking to some of the villagers amiably — like the younger ones who are educated and who believe us — but some of the other ones start brawling with us and telling us everything they find suspicious about me and how they don’t believe me one bit my friend is like fighting with them again, he’s telling them about how he’s done so much so support the anti-mining movement and how we were happy to be there and learn and that seeing their anger was helping us understand that even if they wanted to beat us up they can go ahead and beat us up, because at least that way the world would learn about their story i’m just silent because i don’t know what to say and anything i say could be a liability in any case and the women! the women were so fierce, so much fierce than the men the men kind of were like starting to believe us but the women were shouting like, ‘no this is our village and we can’t take any risks! tie ‘em up!’ it was pitch fucking dark and there were all these weird bugs crawling up my leg and suddenly everything felt so unfamiliar so hostile i was wondering where i was and what i was doing here why i wasn’t back home in new york i was choking back tears because even crying would have made it worse but if it wasn’t for my colleague i don’t know what i would’ve done he like, saved my life they would have never believed me if it wasn’t for him he knows how to talk, you know? and he’s really been involved in all sorts of tribal movements he’s tribal himself so as long as i was with him, and there were no cops, i was safe but i definitely was relieved to get out of there the next day oh yeah so this all happened and the next morning it was as if a spell was lifted there was one guy who was still creating drama but most people gave us huge smiles and told us good morning and showed us their forest and everything people were like going to church and wished us a happy sunday they apologized for the whole situation they were like, sorry but we had to do that we can’t trust outsiders anymore we would’ve done that with anyone, etc. maybe the whole scene was just a test but next time when i go, i’m going to take someone they trust i never knew how it felt not to belong in a place until that night i don’t think i’ll ever forget it how suffocating the darkness seemed like it was a lump in my throat that kept getting bigger huge fucking roaches crawling up my leg! i pretended like they weren’t bothering me haha because somehow in my mind it made sense that it would offend them if i stepped on the roaches or something
“Madness is both positional and political. The category of sanity has always been unstable, a description of whatever range of behaviors was considered least bothersome when the medical textbooks were being written. Women who wanted to go to work were once deemed insane, as were homosexuals and political activists. Deviant behavior is still considered treatable, depending on your demographic: Women are twice as likely to be diagnosed with borderline-personality disorder, and black men from deprived backgrounds far more likely to be deemed schizophrenic, both labels that get stamped in indelible scarlet on your medical records.”