school shooting shirtHigh school is inherently violent. Between the pillars of competitive sports and the bullies that can create; between the constant ping ponging of hormones and emotions that lead to overdoes of self-love then self-hate; to the social structure pinned to a rigid timetable of obligations and humiliations; high school is mass violence, barely contained.

As a culture we rely on high school to play backdrop to all sorts of conflict narratives – most of them humorously nostalgic. The trope of the high school delinquent, the out-of-control rebel youth bucking the adult system is seen as quaint, as it is ubiquitous.

Each of us could name several cherished movies about the rebellion of teenagers against the Man. Some of them might, even, end in mass violence…

Incorporated into this, now, is the unreality of actual school shootings. Unlike the glamorization and cultish interest in specific “Serial Killers,” school shooters’ instill and afford a connection to identity, ideology, and action. They have a community.

While serial killers embody a narrative power, their murderous behavior is too individual, specifically aberrant, and too chaotic to offer a wide based ideology or plan of action. The school shooter, as perfected by the Columbine Killers, provide a clarion call of emulatable identity, ideology, and action.

My point is this – we have a white male subculture based around school shootings and attaining one day totals. We have Youtube videos of dissecting the tactical failings of Columbine and other shootings. We have a group of young boys’ ranting manifestos against bullies, withholding hot chicks, or cliquish social revenge. We have electronic connective tissue of community and identity that indoctrinates, disassociates, and encourages participation in a movement of like minded school shooter “revolutionaries.”

Mix that with their toxic masculinity, a large dose of consumer-based media fame, and a stupidly easy access to military grade weapons, you begin to see the contours of WHY this shit keeps happening over and over again. We might like it to be digestible to “mental illness” or just “guns” but not to address the Cult of Violence, is to miss a very significant piece of this fucked up shit puzzle of murderous rampage.

But just to be clear, having said all that, if it were up to me I would take all your fucking guns away from you…


Global Online Subculture Surrounding School Shootings

Cult Of Eric and Dylan

Revolution of the Dispossessed: School Shooters and their Devotees on the Web

Inside the Race to Stop the Next Mass Shooter


First, I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Council-er or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can’t agree with your methods of direct action;” who paternalistically feels he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by the myth of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait until a “more convenient season.”

MLK 16 April 1963

Jamie ReidThe biggest problem facing any real resistance to the Trumpland narrative gripping the American narrative are the aged hippies, and other middle class Liberal whites, who were college age in the 1960s and early 70s.

These folks feel they accomplished things. They take credit for ending a War. They pat themselves on the back for integrating their local public schools. They embraced the Gay Party Scene.

But now these white people are unreasonably cranky and clueless and stuck in this outrage loop that swings between feelings of sheer exhaustion and disrespect. They feel entitled to their new agey racism and hippy dippy cultural appropriation because of their notions of antiquated liberalism. They have not progressed with the Progressives.

They want to shame Trump. They think their outrage should be enough. They want the Administration to know someone is watching, someone with a TSK TSK head shake at the ready. And because of this, the Trumpites will continue smashing through the Distraction Economy, dominating the news cycles and meme generators with new meaningless provocations.

These things that Trump says in his tweets are inherently meaningless in the scope of what actual shit these tweets obscure. The United States bombs Syria and kills 200 Russian fighters (who may have been there illegally) and there is barely a blip, while Trump tweeting about the 14th Season of the APPRENTICE is bigger news. There is something seriously wrong.

And what is seriously wrong rests firmly on the shoulders of the aged hippies, sitting at home trying to do yoga in front of their endless Fox News consumption, swept up in the Distraction Culture of Outrage. A state of unease that relies upon fury and anger to diffuse any real, actual angry outlets which might threaten the status quo. A status quo that is finalizing all the things that the 1960s and 1970s radicals fought against.

Dump out the bongwater into your hanging fern and help out.


“Everyone an outlaw, until it time to do outlaw shit.”

I picked this up because THE NATION recommended that if I, a pasty suburban leftie liberal, wanted to understand the “forgotten man” Trump voter, I should read this. I find out near the the end, that the goddamn NATION magazine paid the tab on HST’s drink account to dictate this into a handheld tape recorder. Shady.

But the suggestion is not “that” wrong. As with everything HST wrote, there is a near perfect, poetic epiphany right near the end of the article/book that just sparks with soul cleansing crystal magic poetry. In the case of the Angels, HST crafts it out of the sheer loserdom that defines the cyclists’ whole reason for being.


“In terms of the Great Society the Hell’s Angels and their ilk are losers – dropouts, failures and malcontents. They are rejects looking for a way to get even with a world in which they are only a problem. The Hell’s Angels are not visionaries, but diehards, and if they are forerunners of the vanguard of anything it is not the “moral revolution” in vogue on college campuses, but a fast-growing legion of young unemployables whose trapped energy will inevitably find the same kind of destructive outlet that “outlaws” like the Hell’s Angels have been finding for years. The difference between the student radicals and the Hell’s Angels is that the students are rebelling against he past, while the Angels are fighting the future. Their only common ground is their disdain for the present, or the status quo.” p. 256-257.

Lost by their own hobbying, lost by their own addictions, lost by their own purposeful sense of community and belonging. But still given a certain nodding respect by conservative society and it’s wide belted police force. Because, the Angels, are, when it is said and done, still young white boys and probably could be rehabilitated.

HST does an amazing thing, much like Arendt, he unpacks the bluster to strip the myth down to the most banal reality of the outlaw. While he never coins the phrase, the HELL’S ANGELS can be seen as a study in the “banality of hooliganism.”

HST spreads out how popular culture, namely the movie THE WILD ONE inspired the conception of the Angels. Not only were the Angels fans, they sought to emulate and surpass the look and attitude of the bikers in the movie. But the press conflated real news with the events in the movies, to heighten the fears of small town America, when their windows rattled when a bike barrelled past.

It is really the long stretch where HST does a play by play of the party at Bear Lake illustrates just how absurd the whole game of cat and mouse becomes – where the most dangerous thing are the “squares” armed to the teeth and those teeth floating in a bile of pent up fearful rage. The begrudging respect the police afford the motorcycle revelers and the pure drunken inaction of the revelers themselves, puts a fine point on the weekend adventure.

But there are honestly disgusting and troubling aspects to the Angel’s – their attitude toward women, sex, and rape is primal and tribal. But, I wonder, to what extent does their embrace of demeaning and owning women, beating them into submission, and forcibly raping them did not just give full articulation to the mores of the post-war American spirit?

Not to mention their reactionary racism. While they seem to have no issue with individual blacks, they hate “the blacks” writ large. They fear retaliation after kicking the shit out of a young black guy in their bar. The white paranoia was conservative and unironically embracing the “law and order” tactics that are used to corral and harass them, as well.

But the most embarrassing part of the book is when the Keasey/Ginsburg crowd adopts the Angels. I mean why wouldn’t old Uncle Alan want to make it with some greasy smelling bears while quoting Whitman as he came? The Angels were made for his fiddling bits, the slumming would be delicious. He even wrote a four page nonsense poem about them – under the pretext of convincing them not to wail on his gentle anti-war protesting friends. Oh the wiles of the poet, his song weakening the brutal heart of the barbarian to spare the valley of the river nymphs!


HST’s book is an artifact to a time when America was still outraged by the unkempt appearance of the Hell’s Angels, before the “look” became ubiquitous. Now the sight of a bearded, shirtless, leather vested man’s man roaring down the highway, spilling beer and flipping off the camera is used to sell watches to stock brokers, not to instill fear into the hearts of upstanding mom and dads.

And maybe that is what the Trump supporters are most angry about. They are no longer feared and their existence considered outlaw. They are “forgotten” because their idea of outlaw culture is no longer outlaw.


Вся власть советам! -Bolshevik Slogan, 1917.

If you are a political junkie like me, you will be able to trace a map through many different shades and denominations of political thought.

You will be able to grimace at the naivete of Brutalist phases. You will understand how the path through “Smash the State” anarchism lead to Art, not Statescraft. You will struggle with macro v. micro bummer sticker slogans. There will be hard landings into soft realities. And, ultimately, you will completely fail to grasp the mathematics of Economic drivers.

Yeah. If you are like me, you will be horrified hearing yourself defending the “Intelligence” community, placing all your money on the ineffectuality of careerist bureaucrats, and worrying about the dismantling of the State.

On a nearly hourly basis, the Trump Presidency turns the world upside down. The frantic pace is the only consistency anymore. All ideology is stripped of moral pretense making hypocrisy meaningless. Finally, the cynicism of the System is paramount as we are constantly assured by politicians, pundits, and our fellow citizens that Nothing Matters Anymore.

As such, I am constantly confuzzled [reference: Winnie the Pooh] and often dislocated along my personal political spectrum. The radical ideas I hold dear are nearly fulfilled in Trump (though in some upsidedown world sorta way). The more liberal agenda I subscribe to seems woefully ineffectual or unwilling to confront the threat of Trump head on. And the Brutalist in me is an unforgiving prick that does want to watch the racist, uneducated masses burn themselves to cinders in the fire of their own ignorant fuckery.


The Angel of History

We are no longer dealing with a safe Paul Klee painting, but a Hunter Thompson Hell’s Angel, cranked out of his mind, head careening back, his beard tipped in flashing red and white, the siren is progress chasing him into a cul-de-sac future, trapped in a prefabricated development.

needWe are all familiar with those horrible late night reality shows and the “afternoon judges” programs that litter the cable schedule. Shows like Cheaters, Blind Date and Judge Matthis / Judy / People’s Divorce Court. They are defined by the shoestring budgets, failed catalog model casting, and incomprehensible story lines.

These shows are cynically designed to appeal to drunk insomniacs, unemployed high school dropouts, and low IQ trailer park idiots. The main appeals of these shows are bright colors and flashing graphics scrolling over the casts’ humiliation parade.

These shows are time killers. They are meant to be constantly droning on in the background – their perfect audience is distracted, sleepy, high on drugs, woofing down junk food in the middle of the night. To the tv stations that broadcast them they are schedule stuffers, cheap revenue generators/band aids. They keep the station on the air and bring an audience to the low rent bail bondsmen and local ambulance chasers and for profit degree mills who cannot to advertise during peak hours. They are trash shows deigned to bring an distracted audience of idiot losers to the garbage advertisers.

The Trump Reality Show Presidency entered its late night syndication phase a few weeks ago. His administration moved beyond any sort of narrative structure. Not that they were ever that concerned with consistency of message, in fact, they seemed to thrive on the reactive outrage of their policy-less actions.

BUT. Now the Trump Reality Show is blatantly just serving the needs of its bottom line – the Presidency’s whole purpose now is to make Trump Inc. money. The ultimate gangster, Trump, is levying the Office to grease the wheels of his meager business ventures. The examples are amazing and varied. HERE HERE AND HERE.
So. It is not original nor new to say that Trump is profiting from the Presidency. What I am arguing is for a new way to understand just what is going on and how to better oppose it. Since we’ve entered the “syndication” (inclusive of the mafia syndicate implications) phase of the Reality Show Presidency,  we can assume certain expectations.

First, in true syndication re-run fashion – we’ve seen everything Trump has to offer. We’ve seen all the episodes many times before and know what joke is coming next. While there is some comforting entertainment value to tuning in every night, Trump is not going to deviate from the already broadcast script.

Second, Trump’s antics, if there is any design to them anymore, are a being used to generate revenue for his family. While the news nation focuses on the next “insult or outrage,” Trump is barely concealing using the influence of Office of the President to grease the wheels of international business deals.

Third, Trump’s re-run content is actually overshadowing the first-run original content that is being crammed in-between commercials. For instance, the Health Care Act that was just passed in the House should be the headline, but instead, we are bludgeoned with the idiocy of Trump returning to the fact that he won the election.

In the end, there is very little that Trump, himself, can do anymore that is new. We’ve seen his carnival sideshow act before. So just like Elminadate or a re-run of Major Dad, we should tune in only when sports are on. Otherwise, the first run shows are far more dangerous, right now.

bomb throwing bunnyIn the reality show landscape of our current political state, all news is punditry and all punditry is news, the “fake news” cry is legitimized by the ahistorical zeal of combative (and escalating outrageous) opinion.

And Trump is the embodiment of this ahistorical, opinionated, “knownothing” specialist. His mastery is outrage and inflated self-promotion. His appeal is that he is boring, predictable, and completely without mastery or insight.

He sounds like the undereducated, “common sense” every person, the common schlub, who’s deepest thinking is religious or trades’ based (mechanic hobbyists or overweight outdoor’s men).

Trump has the platform to shout these banalities to the world, so when he angrily opines about chicken buckets or celebrity weight gain, he reifies the basic thoughts of the distracted masses. He appeals to the hopeless, economically trapped middle class, since he broadcasts their specific grievances – grievances based in the crisp unfairness of the world, in all its full, escalating anger.

But the distracted mass is most concerned with the poverty of their daily life overwhelmed by the inoperability of systems they are financially and physically constrained by – debt, underemployment, constant barrage of status affirming materialism. They are literally starving in their bloated bodies poisoned by the chemical additives disguised as affordable food. Their lives are angry and inflamed and they lash out with provocations meant to quell the waves of empathy they refuse to feel for those most like themselves.

Their patience disappears into a long, frustrated sigh of resignation. In order to distract themselves from personal injustices (real or perceived), their anger jumps from micro to macro in half of a step. And then, across a national stage, populated by beautiful people with perfect smiles talking about things that barely touch any of our lived experiences, comes the blistering voice of Trump.

His limited vocabulary offering up the limited solutions that most people conclude on their own without a second thought. Trump is not a refreshing gush of honesty. In fact, Trump is the most dishonest mockery of the common sense solutions.

Trump pulls from the drama of reality tv narratives, as we’ve seen, but adds to it the selective coherence of conspiracy theories and “refreshing” acknowledgement that the world is unfairly screwed to fuck “us.”

And it is all based in an fake relationship with reality – bad faith, lies, distortion, and ruthless public relations spin. Trump’s ability to plant stories or seed the news with stories about himself are well documented. He understands the cult of fame is based in endless propaganda, so he became a bumbling, lying thug of publicity.

All the outrageousness and terrible misinformation Trump spews aside, his real resonant message remains – “See how unfairly I am treated? ME? Donald Trump? I understand how fucked the System is for YOU, since it is screwing me too!”

Even though that is complete and utter bullshit, total crap-mouth shit-talk, it resonates with the distracted middle class, who feel the same way about all their bad decisions and inability to wiggle out of the economic snares trapping them.

Trump is America’s temper tantrum made flesh.

Taking a cue from the famous-ish essays in Jean Baudrillard’s The Gulf War Did Not Take Place, Donald Trump Is Not The President.

This seems like a stupid, counterfactual thing to say and it may be a stupid thing to say. BUT. Donald Trump does not exist.

At least not in the way, you and I exist.

all seeing trumpDonald Trump is a hysterical projection of a modern capitalism machine. Donald Trump is not even a hysteric for that would imply too much agency on his part.


Instead, Donald Trump is an illusion cast on billowing puffs of smoke, churned out by a machine designed to maximize exposure (buzz) of image and brand.

We’ve seen how Trump is NOT a business man, but rather the appearance of a public ideal of what and how businessmen look and act.

We’ve seen it proven that Trump is NOT that rich but rather glitters in a way a poor person believes expensive things glitter.

We’ve seen how Trump’s ideology is NOT political but rather an ideology of consumption – mainly of more Trump.

Given this context, Donald Trump does not exist, but is rather a crude accumulation of hysterical operations.

Since Donald Trump does not exist, he cannot actually be President of the United States.

So who or what IS it that was elected and holds office?

A Leviathan in the purest sense of the word. An undulating, cadaverous, gigantic monstrosity of stitched together tendrils of every shit taking, puffed up, treasonous, racist incoherence possible. Its a swirling turd filled vortex of a toilet flush that refuses to go down the drain.

This awful, simmering bullshit collation plays grab-hand peek-a-boo from behind the intermittent trickery of the projection from the Donald Trump Machine.

The Donald Trump Machine produces multilevels of meaningless and in that meaninglessness rests all its power and violence. For it is hidden, delayed, and virtual – happening off screen at a speed we cannot track with human faculties.

As such, we cannot oppose the Donald Trump Machine. The industrial process explained above is unassailable.

Its lies cannot be countered by truth. Its decoys cannot be exposed as fakes. Its inconsistencies cannot be made consistent. Language and reality are indelibly altered by and for the Donald Trump Machine and its system cannot be challenged by its own system.

Nor is the Donald Trump Machine threatened by an objective reality outside of itself, for any otherness is neither acknowledged nor understood. The Donald Trump Machine is a closed system in the purest, most hateful sense of a closed system.

So where does this leave us? Nowhere good.

And with little opportunities for resistance that will change the functioning mechanisms we could resist against.


Our best option is to band together to acknowledge and keep alive the floating bits of reality and truth – to recognize and celebrate the gritty insolubility of this virtual, unreal, not-happening-in-reality Presidency.

Here I am reminded of an E.M. Cioran quote “Whether or not there exists a solution to problems troubles only a minority; that the emotions have no outcome, lead to nothing, vanish into themselves – that is the great unconscious drama, the affective insolubility everyone suffers without even thinking about it.” ALL GALL IS DIVIDED p.31.