Charlie Kaufman is among the most brilliant and creative screenwriters today and is the mind behind modern cinematic masterpieces such as “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” and “Synecdoche, New York”. In this address to the British Academy of Film and Television delivered a few years ago he shares insightful thoughts on his craft and the nature of thought itself. It’s a speech which everyone could potentially gain something of value from.
By Mark Anthony Rockeymoore
Source: Sacred Space in Time
Many people believe that they know what is going on in the world.
They avidly watch the evening news, read the newspapers, browse the media sites online keeping up with recent events in politics and culture, drawing conclusions based upon their own understanding and the trends of the day. The mainstream media presents memes depicting certain themes they desire the masses to internalize and, subsequently, materialize. Alternative media does the same.
And yet, despite the prognostications of those who believe they know best, their predictions rarely come true, their dire outcomes evaporate back into the wishful nightmares that seem to typify the oft unspoken desires of many. The extraordinary detail to be found in many expositions concerning the confluence of past, present and future upon any topic bearing upon the matter of humanity’s fate often defies description. The varied and fantastic prognoses of those who have taken upon themselves the mantle of prophet seem to lead those who query down a rabbit hole of phantasms, ghosts, demons and even angels hell-bent upon the utter destruction of Terran consciousness from the manifest matter of Creation itself.
The idea of the world existing in some kind of matrix-like relation to the greater reality of the Cosmos, comprised of infinite universes and dimensions, layers and agglomerations of consciousness and potentiality, has migrated from the purely alternative and awakened consciousness paradigm and is currently threatening sleeping and mainstream consciousness with a bombardment of books, television shows and movies that present the structure of alternative belief systems in the guise of fictional narratives.
Of course these memes are structured with very specific outcomes and thought directives in mind. Human supremacy, concentrated violence, cultural, political and racial aggression all underlie the overtly entertaining and colorful multimedia presentations of stories designed to evoke very specific states of mind and emotion. States that lie quiescent, dormant for the most part, until triggered by external events. The timeline is indeed a human one, designed and carried out by larger accretions of consciousness formed over many hundreds of years, intent upon maintaining elite domination of the world through the voluntary acquiescence to an agenda non-life oriented in nature.
All of the institutions of society play their part. From sports to government, from corporations to churches. The same powers and principalities invoke the remorseless and ponderous force of millennia of capital accumulation applied against the natural will and intent of a significant number of the planetary population who are aligned more with the idea of a sustainable world than with the consumptive and death-oriented agenda of the elite. Those inhabitants of the so-called developed countries are immersed within a sea of electromagnetic confusion, vapidly entranced by the dancing mimes of illusory entertainment, bodies malnourished by fast and processed foods, unstructured water and medications designed to diffuse consciousness and debilitate the body.
Those who consider themselves awakened are little better off, isolated and paranoid, confused by the preponderance of information and the apparent inconsistency of diversity, as fantastic vistas of potentiality compete for relevance and perceptive reality. The extra-terrestrial question, Dark Ops, political gamesmanship, cultural and material genocide, the origins of humanity and our destiny. Themes that swirl and compete in consciousness for domination, the synthesis of a multitude of topical areas utilizing right and left-brained modalities of lateral thinking successfully achieved by some few, yet fatally flawed by the inclusion of deliberately falsified data and information purposefully skewed to favor certain agendas over others.
Considering the fateful importance of clear and concise thinking, immersion within the streams of information competing for ideological and material dominance, the only sane response is continuing and applied concentration upon the modalities of perception themselves.
The instruments of our immersion, the temples, prisons of our consciousnesses.
The body and mind remain the lenses through which our spirits and souls interact with the material world. Clarity of intent, clarity of perception, clarity of speech and action rarefy the experience of the Seeker. Through the mechanisms of chaos synchronicitous events coalesce around thoughts, words and actions, weaving a tapestry of seamless interaction between the experiencer and the experienced, the Seeker and that which is sought. The deliberately confusing potpourri of information settles into the still, zero-point void of the Absolute from whence it arose, presenting vistas undreamed to those who seek also that return to the form of original consciousness, that point of knowledge and ignorance, of birth and death, of creation and destruction.
Too many speak of helping humanity when helping only themselves. Many are presented upon the worldly stage, interchangeably in energetic signature, in the guises of guru, shaman, priest and preacher, misleading those who are willingly misled. To each who truly seeks comes the answers sought, finite though they may be. The completion of one path leads inexorably to the beginning of another. The wheels within wheels, spirals beyond spirals, cycles infinite and eternal in conception gird our daily sojourns, mired as they may be in minutia and the dramas of our lives.
Attempting the interpretation of the world itself while still encapsulated within the limited consciousness structure of the individuated and divided consciousness is to present bias in the guise of the ineffable, to assume the knowing of that which is unknowable and inherently respondent to and, in many cases, subjected to the very instruments of perception itself. The uncontrolled emotive sheath, the undisciplined mental, the unknown soul constrained, these are the barriers to explode through to achieve the clarity necessary to perceive – even so, in a very limited fashion – the barest outlines of what is really going on.
Knowing is a continuous process. Ignorance is the default state of egoic existence. Pride, hubris threaten ever; only gratitude, openness and pure intention can pierce the locks girding the Portals of True Understanding, revealing the star-swept vistas of eternity beyond. No matter the prognostication of the street-corner prophet, the peaceful ruminations of the Sat sang-bound sage or the rabid denouncements of the internet conspiracy monger, no limited consciousness constrained by their own attachments to materiality holds the keys to the pearly gates, nor the favored ear of the ineffable.
While some do indeed see beyond the veil, are capable of abilities beyond the norm, these powers – called siddhis in the east – often present those possessing them with more problems than solutions. Daily adherence to the tenets of personal transformation remain the key to discernment. These same directives, as laid out by every, single ancient spiritual system known to humanity, provide the answers, while leaving the ultimate questions to that which possesses the ultimate answers. That of which we are ultimately conceived, ultimately returned to and ultimately inseparable from.
Clear, live and learn. Or, as the old folks say, let go, and let God. All is proceeding as per God’s plan, no matter how that term is defined or by whom. Pay attention to your part in it and situate yourself accordingly to find the answers relevant to your life and destiny. No part is too small. Every actor holds the spotlight for their part in the play, a production both infinitely variegated and boundlessly intricate.
Smile, play your role and rejoice in every moment. Paradox rules. Nothing is important or meaningful. And yet, everything is. Let the fear of the unknown die stillborn in your breast, for not even the angels of heaven know more than you do about what is to come.
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By Josh Indar
Source: PopMatters
I used to think stealing was subversive. Now I know I had it backwards.
It’s just after nine on Saturday morning, a half-hour after my wife discovered the package. I’m at my desk, pawing nervously at my computer mouse, dragging the arrow across a monitor where the image of a mysterious stranger glows colorless in the washed-out light of dawn. I freeze the frame for a better look, not knowing what information I hope to gather. He’s middle-aged, nondescript. He wears light-colored pants and a fleece sweatshirt, and is carrying a small cardboard box, holding it gently, almost tenderly.
I rewind two minutes to 6:02AM. A brown or maroon minivan pulls up and parks. The man gets out, opens the rear lift gate, rummages around. Now he has the box. He’s walking across the driveway. Has he practiced this? Staked out the place? Have we seen him before? Someone we know?
Fourteen strides bring him to our front door, and he bends down to carefully place the box on our doorstep. Like the man, the box is nondescript—small and tan and unmarked. I let the scene play out for the tenth or 20th time, switching between two camera angles. As he leaves, our security light startles him. He brings up his hand to shield his eyes, annoyed, or maybe just surprised, and I see him as some mad bomber, some fugitive from a TV news story, caught on tape as he makes his getaway.
The security light seems to jolt him a little. He quickens his pace, lengthens his stride. Ten paces bring him back to his van, where he jumps in the driver’s seat and glides off down the empty suburban street. I rewind to watch the scene again, glancing guiltily at the little tan box sitting on my desk. I’ve closed it back up to hide its contents, but it’s still there, inanimate yet insistent, pulsing with unanswered questions.
***
Ever wonder what might be the most subversive act you could undertake in modern America? I have. I used to think stealing was subversive, an idea I probably picked up from reading too much Yippie propaganda as a teenager. It was an idea that fit comfortably with my lower-middle class identity and the fact that, like most young people, I wanted a lot of stuff I couldn’t afford. So I stole—not from regular people but from chain stores, because I reasoned they were soft targets of corporate America and deserved to be bled a little bit. Plus it was a cheap thrill that made me feel dangerous and cool.
I finally gave up shoplifting in my 20s, having been caught a couple times and waking up to the fact that I was not actually bringing down Babylon by pilfering stuff I didn’t even need. I still wanted to play out my revolutionary fantasies though, so I set my sights on creating art that might serve as some catalyst to action—a rallying cry, a message from the underworld—anything to minutely deflect the fatal direction this country’s been headed in ever since the vampire lord Reagan locked us on our present course.
To do this, I made music, wrote manifestoes, passed out pamphlets, spray-painted walls. I was grandiose and ridiculous and painfully naïve, but I believed in what I was doing, even if I didn’t know exactly what it was. I was zealous and immature and probably terrible to be around. I fantasized about arson and assassination squads. I thought I was being subversive, but I didn’t understand the meaning of the word.
As I grew older, my life took that time-honored path from caricature to cliché, my ideals sprayed like seafoam against the rocks of everyday life—kids, marriage, college, career. Through it all, I tried my best to stay active and informed, but in the end I found myself like most everyone else, sitting passively and impotently at a computer, cursing the army of dolts and liars and greedheads that have made it their mission in life to ruin my country and diminish the prospects of my children’s happiness and prosperity. I swallowed my powerlessness and gave up on direct subversion, attempting instead to make changes from within.
To this end, I landed a job in education, and from there, I still do what I can to make change, albeit on an individual and painfully gradual basis. I live off the dwindling largesse of the taxpayer, helping foster and homeless youth get their high school diplomas, so that they at least have a chance at a better life. It’s important work and I enjoy it. It pays the bills and eases my conscience, makes me think that even if I’m not boldly reshaping society, at least I’m not adding to its misery. Yet I’ve always felt I was missing something.
***
We all want so much. So many shiny things catch our eyes and divert our attentions. We exist in perpetual envy, sizing each other up, counting and coveting and judging our worth and the worth of our fellow citizens based on whatever status markers are currently in vogue. My 13-year-old son struts around the house singing about stacking paper and making it rain, of guarded mansions and red Bugattis and gold-plated pistols.
On my friend’s Facebook page, I get in a pointless argument with a millionaire who tells me how sick she is of me and my kind stealing from her via the tax system, how she deserves every penny of her riches because she’s worked harder than everyone else and made better choices, completely ignoring the luck and privilege that enabled her to do so.
Walking downtown, I step over a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk, his back against a chain link fence, dirty belongings splayed around him. In a weak and quiet voice, he asks me for change and I instinctively say no, I don’t have any, and as I round the corner I feel in my pocket anyway, coming out with a rumpled five. Will I miss five bucks? Can I give up a cappuccino today so that this dazed human being can survive another few hours? I put it back in my pocket and unlock my car, but as I’m getting in I feel guilt pooling like blood in my stomach, so I decide to go back and give him the money, but as I take a step toward him, I see that a police car has pulled up to the curb.
We have a new law in town that makes it illegal to sit on a public sidewalk, because businesses complained that homeless people were driving away customers. I wrestle with my thoughts for a second. I’m late for a meeting. I don’t want to deal with any cops right now. I don’t even know this guy—what’s his story? What’s his problem? I have bills to pay and kids to raise and lunch to buy.
The door of the cop car swings open and a man in a blue uniform steps out, looking efficient, professional, authoritative. I shove the fiver back in my pocket and get in my car, ashamed. As I drive away, I see in a flash of stark detail all the systems and devices and conditioning that stops me from giving away even a tiny fraction of my hard-earned yet unimpressive bankroll, and I realize that the truest form of subversion in this tainted republic is not shock or violence or humor. It’s generosity.
But let’s go back in time a bit, to the beginning of this story.
***
As my wife is leaving for her morning run, she hollers that there’s an unmarked package on our doorstep. I ignore her, as I’m busy checking my status and reading the news. I’m doing the same thing when she comes back a half hour later, only now she’s holding the box, a worried and expectant look on her face. She places it in my hands, unopened. It’s light, but there is something inside. I turn it a bit, give a gentle shake. I’m mildly afraid.
A couple days before, some anonymous asshole, we assume the neighbor kid, threw an egg through the cracked back window of our family van, making a smelly and disgusting mess inside. We often awake to find trash strewn on our lawn, or our trees and shrubs covered in toilet paper. We’ve both had stuff stolen from our cars, and sometimes at night we get loud phantom knocks on our front door. It’s petty stuff, but it affects us.
We don’t feel welcome in our neighborhood, hence the security cameras. We feel harassed and beleaguered and out of step with the patriotic Americans who populate our street, with their giant trucks and NRA stickers, country music and Super Bowl parties.
“What do you think’s in it?” my wife asks.
“Probably a dog turd.”
“Naw, feels more like a dead rat.”
We laugh as if we’re joking. The box has complicated flaps that keep it tightly closed. I shake it once more and it doesn’t explode, but still, I hold it away from my body, just in case it is a bomb. That way I’ll only lose a few fingers, maybe a hand, but hopefully get to keep my vital organs. I suck in a breath and we brace ourselves for whatever psychological trauma is about to be inflicted on us. The flaps slide out and the box opens, revealing a large stack of white, restaurant-style napkins.
“That’s weird. I wonder…”
The words evaporate as I turn over the napkins, revealing a neat stack of greenish paper. The box falls to the floor. Nestled inside are ten crisp $100 bills and an anonymous note thanking my wife and I for some unidentified “service to our community”.
“What the fuck is that?” we say in unison.
***
I feel awful watching the footage of the delivery, like I’m the most unworthy wretch in the world, treating this beautiful gesture as if it’s some kind of crime. Here I’ve been given this amazing gift, with no strings attached, and yet I feel… what? Violated? Confused? Someone must have made a mistake. All the awful questions that came up when we discovered our car had been vandalized came flooding back. Why me? Who would do such a thing? What did I do to deserve this?
I tell myself to relax and rejoice, but I can’t. I’m too freaked out. My wife says maybe the money is stolen or counterfeit, some kind of diabolical trap. I try to think of anyone we know who could possibly give away a thousand bucks. There’s no one. Whoever did this is way out of our league.
As I stare at the box of cash, I realize that what’s bothering me is not the gift or the giver. It’s not the way it was delivered or the fact that I can’t properly thank the man who left it. What bothers me is my own reaction. I feel sad and fraudulent and incapable of understanding. It’s not that I don’t feel grateful—far from it. I’m intensely aware that this is a kind of secular miracle, a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.
But how does one repay such a gift? What saintly act is required to make one feel deserving? I decide the proper thing to do is to take out my checkbook and pass the money on, to UNICEF or cancer research or any number of a million worthy causes. But as the day wears on, my weak altruism is pushed aside by the realities of my financial situation.
There’s the $5,0000 we owe to the IRS. The county wants property taxes and our insurance payment is overdue. There’s the kids’ orthodontist bills and their nonexistent college funds, our student loans, the $800 I need to get my car fixed so it’ll pass smog check, the maxed-out credit cards, the mortgage, the broken fence and the old garage door that we have to prop open with a two-by-four.
UNICEF and the starving kids and the cancer victims will all have to wait. I really do need the money. The thing bumming me out the most, I realize, is how small a difference this enormous gift will actually make. It would take a hundred thousand of these miracles just to get me out of debt, let alone help all those who need money. But… wow.
***
I did end up giving some to charity. A pittance really, but it’s something I guess. As of this writing, I’ve yet to tell anyone (besides my mom) about the gift we got that Saturday. I guess I’m still embarrassed about it. I also don’t want anyone to be envious, to have people wonder why it came to me and not to them. I have lots of friends who deserve that money at least as much as I do, and many of them need it more.
I wish it weren’t like this. I wish I were the subversive money bomber, planting little, tan boxes on people’s doorsteps. I wish our society wasn’t so focused on money, so demanding of greed. I wish rappers and pop stars would stop bragging about all their stupid money and start giving it away, so my son could learn why it really is better to give than receive.
I wish I knew how to make enough to pay my bills so that the five dollars I withheld from that homeless guy wouldn’t spark a moral crisis and make me feel like a cowardly shit every time I step over someone who needs my help.
Now I realize that the true gift of my anonymous benefactor wasn’t really the money at all. It was the knowledge that came with it. The most subversive statement you can make is a simple act of generosity.
In a vote last Sunday, 53.7% of Swiss voters rejected a government plan to fund the procurement of 22 Gripen fighter jets which would have cost at least $3.5 billion. In a public statement, Susanne Leutenegger Oberholzer, a Social Democrat member of parliament said: “The people have spoken. We surely don’t have the money for such unnecessary acquisitions.” Supporters of the plan such as Federal Councilor and defense minister, Ueli Maurer argued “This decision has the effect of creating security gaps” but a majority of voters expressed their belief that money spent to procure the planes could be better be spent on other things.
This story should be especially striking to U.S. citizens, who are constantly told they live in a Democracy yet don’t have a chance in hell of voting down similar military spending proposals or ones much worse like the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter project. According to a Bloomberg article quoting Pentagon officials, the program’s life-cycle cost including development and decades of support is projected to top $1.5 trillion. The manufacture of the F-35 funnels business to a global network of contractors including 1,300 suppliers in 45 states, making it the defense project “too big to kill”. Despite a number of high profile technical problems and numerous delays the F-35 remains in development and is expected to go into full production in 2019, seven years later than planned. By that time other countries are likely to have cheaper unmanned drone fighters with superior performance and capabilities. How does this colossal waste of money and time make us safer?
Cecily McMillan being arrested as the NYPD clears Zuccotti Park during a six-month memorial celebration of the Occupy Movement in March 2012
By Dave Lindorff
Source: This Can’t Be Happening
Occupy activist Cecily McMillan, convicted on May 5 of second-degree felony assault of a New York cop whom she and witnesses claimed had grabbed her breast from behind, bruising it, stood her ground before her sentence was rendered, refusing the judge’s insistence that she should “take responsibility for her conduct.”
Risking the possibility that Judge Ronald Zwiebel might sentence her to the maximum seven years for the charge she was convicted of, McMillan would only apologize for what she termed “the accident” of involuntarily throwing back her elbow when grabbed by behind from someone she could not even see. Insisting to the judge that she lived in accordance to the “law of love,” she said, in her pre-sentencing statement, “Violence is not permitted. This being the law that I live by, I can say with certainty that I am innocent of the crime I have been convicted of… I cannot confess to a crime that I did not commit. I cannot throw away my dignity in return for my freedom.”
It was a bold and risky stand for the 25-year-old New School for Social Research graduate student to take, given the high sentencing stakes. In the end, though, the judge, — who during the trial had blocked her defense from presenting key evidence that she had acted in her own defense against being groped by a cop (for example the police officer’s record of brutality and corruption), while allowing the prosecution to present evidence and statements normally not considered permissible in a trial (such as presenting to the jury evidence about an arrest of McMillan that had not yet been tried or adjudicated) — sentenced her to only a short term in jail.
She still has a five-year felony probationary sentence, which leaves her a convicted felon, a serious impediment to employment, and one that could leave her subject to limitations on her freedom of movement for five years.
McMillan’s many supporters nonetheless hailed the short sentence, which could see her released in as little as 60 days, as a victory, one which many attributed to the massive outpouring of support she has received since her arrest, during her trial, and since especially since her conviction. That support has included a jailhouse visit by two members of Pussy Riot, who condemned her conviction and jailing, a letter of of support from the president of the New School, support from five members of the New York City Council (but so far not a word from New York City’s supposedly leftist and former activist Mayor Bill De Blasio), an online petition signed by over 167,000 people, and an unusual letter from nine of the 12 jurors in her case calling on the judge not to sentence her to any jail time.
McMillan’s attorney Martin Stolar, said he was “relieved” that her sentence was not two years, but also said that he had appealed the conviction to the state’s Court of Appeal.
The 5/14 episode of the “This Can’t Be Happening” podcast featuring McMillan’s attorney Martin Stolar and Lucy Parks, a member of her support team at JusticeforCecily.com, who provide more background about the case.
Looking at my Autonomedia Calendar of Jubilee Saints, I noticed this week is a particularly rich one for birth dates of prominent historical figures, each a revolutionary whether in the fields of politics, art and/or philosophy.
Today marks the 119th anniversary of the birthday of Augusto Sandino, national hero of Nicaragua and inspiration for the Sandinista movement. To learn a little more about his life in the context of Nicaraguan politics and history, read this overview written shortly after returning from my trip to Nicaragua.
Other birthdays this week:
The great modern American revolutionary and central figure in the civil rights movement Malcolm X was born on May 19 1925.
On May 20 1959, Israel “Iz” Kamakawiwoʻole was born. He was a talented musician and outspoken supporter of the Hawaiian sovereignty movement making him in a sense the Bob Marley of Hawaii.
May 21 marks the birthday of French Primitivist painter Henri Rousseau (1844) and Beat poet Robert Creeley (1926).
Composer, poet, philosopher and pioneer of afro-futurism Sun Ra was born on May 22 1914.
May 23 is the birthday of Transcendentalist and early feminist writer Margaret Fuller (1810) and San Francisco gay rights activist and political leader Harvey Milk (1930).
Lastly, May 24 1941 is the birthday of influential musician and poet Bob Dylan.
By Nick Bernabe
Source: The Anti-Media
It seems like only a few months ago (because it was) when the government that rules America was condemning the brutal crackdown against protesters by the Ukrainian government. The then-Russian backed regime was fending off large crowds of protesters who were angry about the Ukrainian government’s close ties with Russia, resorting to violence and anti-riot tactics to disperse the crowds.
In a statement issued by the White House on January 19th, before the new Western backed ‘legitimate’ government of Ukraine took power, US officials condemned the violence against protesters:
“We are deeply concerned by the violence taking place today on the streets of Kyiv and urge all sides to immediately de-escalate the situation. The increasing tension in Ukraine is a direct consequence of the government failing to acknowledge the legitimate grievances of its people.
Instead, it has moved to weaken the foundations of Ukraine’s democracy by criminalizing peaceful protest and stripping civil society and political opponents of key democratic protections under the law. We urge the government of Ukraine to take steps that represent a better way forward for Ukraine, including repeal of the anti-democratic legislation signed into law in recent days, withdrawing the riot police from downtown Kyiv, and beginning a dialogue with the political opposition.
From its first days, the Maidan movement has been defined by a spirit of non-violence and we support today’s call by opposition political leaders to reestablish that principle. The U.S. will continue to consider additional steps — including sanctions — in response to the use of violence.”
In a noble yet ironic –selective at best– attempt to stand up for human rights, what the US government said in the above statement made sense. Kind of.
While fighting for freedom of speech is a good thing, it should be stood up for even when it’s inconvenient. Now, as the US and allies in the West deliver billions in loans, tech and intel to the new central-banker-run government in Ukraine, Kiev is fully engaging (and killing) pro-Russian protesters in the East of Ukraine and even in the Southwestern port city of Odessa. Ahh yes, the sweet smell of selective humanitarianism.
Then –lockstep with American political talking heads– US media outlets immediately began referring to these pro-Russian (former)protesters as insurgents, militants, militiamen, radicals, separatists and terrorists just before the killing started a few months ago. They knew it was coming. 40 pro-Russians were burned alive in a building on Friday and there was hardly a mention of it in the news. You see, now the protesters are called terrorists so it’s okay to kill them. When did the media stop calling them protesters and start calling them terrorists? When it became politically convenient. Iraq remembers.
The US government (and citizen by default through taxes) is actively supporting the crony, human rights abusing, unelected Ukrainian regime through billions in loans, military training and equipment of which we can only speculate about.
As an American citizen, I do not consent to this insane foreign policy. And, according to a recent survey by the Wall Street Journal, it seems that at least 47% of Americans agree with me:
Americans in large numbers want the U.S. to reduce its role in world affairs even as a showdown with Russia over Ukraine preoccupies Washington, a Wall Street Journal/NBC News poll finds.
In a marked change from past decades, nearly half of those surveyed want the U.S. to be less active on the global stage, with fewer than one-fifth calling for more active engagement—an anti-interventionist current that sweeps across party lines.
…The poll findings, combined with the results of prior Journal/NBC surveys this year, portray a public weary of foreign entanglements and disenchanted with a U.S. economic system that many believe is stacked against them. The 47% of respondents who called for a less-active role in world affairs marked a larger share than in similar polling in 2001, 1997 and 1995.
Good! So the propaganda isn’t working, but the government doesn’t really care about public opinion anymore. After all, how many Americans would actually support sending billions of US dollars to an oppressive Ukrainian puppet regime while our own schools and infrastructure dwindle into a bureaucratic wasteland and the country falls $16+ Trillion into debt? Not me.
Another small detail to remember as the US government escalates tensions in Ukraine under the banner of de-escalation (I know it’s Orwellian, but what isn’t nowadays) is that the American government likely helped overthrow the democratically elected, Russian-aligned former government of Ukraine. As this leaked tape of a conversation between diplomats proves, the US government hand picked central banker Arseniy Yatsenyuk to be the new ‘legitimate’ leader of Ukraine long before the coup took place. Oh yeah, “Fuck the EU” while we’re at it!
Victoria Nuland, Assistant Secretary of State for European and Eurasian Affairs, later haphazardly apologized for her remarks that were recorded and leaked anonymously when she appeared at a press conference, clearly shaken up and taken back by the leak:
So while the US government and their media cohorts continue to push for the West’s version of “stability, democracy and self-determination” in Ukraine, the truth is that they were and continue to be part of the driving force causing these very problems they seek to fix. But hey, what’s new?
In no way do I seek to condone Putin or Russia’s actions in Ukraine. Russia is also a large oppressor in the region and is an oligarchy which is structured and governed much like America, for the rich. The Russian-American proxy war in Ukraine will have one guaranteed loser, the innocent Ukrainian civilians who are caught in the crossfire of this banker resource conflict. Both American and Russian citizens must regain control over their governments or these injustices will continue. Please share this article if you think WWIII is a bad idea.
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