Tag Archives: 1984

7th of April 4th, 1984…

– On Social Equality and Production –

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“Capitalism is the legitimate racket of the ruling class.” Al Capone

Unfortunately, life as we know it, seems to have never been at the ideal stage of what today would be called “individual, self-sustaining” economy.
Individuals making virtually all of our world’s societies, “belong” to states, or state controlled institutions, being branded from cradle to grave as “citizens”, free by definition, slaves by all means.
As previously discussed, it would take approximately from 24 hours to a week’s time, to make everyone on this planet rich; from toddler to centennial all could be rich by just tipping the world’s financial balance on behalf of the working masses. Struggle to live would become a historical past, consumption would soar, skyrocketing over our wildest dreams, to last nevertheless only as long as the last item on the last shelf would go into someone’s basket. On that dreadful day, any such a utopia shall turn into an Armageddon competing Apocalypse…
Mankind would quickly realise that behind the empty shelves there are no more labourers to fill them back, no one to dig out or harvest the raw materials, no one to turn them into consumption goods, no one to stock the warehouses, with the last cashier to have long left to spend their life-sufficient fortune on a paradise island, where right in the middle of a spa treatment, the masseur would have left to pack for a life of cruises around “infinity and beyond”…
Cliché words like “financial market”, “economy”, “money”, “bank account” and others alike would turn into dust, to be blown by the winds of a terrible, lurking nightmare… Unnumbered hoards of long-faced shadows of formerly rich people scavenging for a daily bread no one’s available or able to bake anymore…
So what are we supposed to do?
Anarchism, revolts and revolutions are useless…
Today’s revolutionaries are always tomorrow’s dictators.
Bloodsheds of viciously holding to power, just to be swapped for something similar, of a slightly different political “colour”.
As someone has wisely said, revolutions carry within themselves the seeds of their own destruction, same “…isms” with something attached at front.

– to be continued… –

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6th of April, 1984…

– on social justice, or “soylent green is people”… –

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The – true or not – story about Stalin’s demonstration of what power and authority really are, keeps haunting me as a reminder of the mockery called “social justice”, regardless of its camouflage, in and through which it’s being fed to the unsuspecting, dumbed-down masses, who are slowly but surely arriving at Stalin’s chicken’s ultimate, humiliating “serenity” of a full belly, regardless of of its price…
Because since there’s truly no such thing as “free lunch”, a price needs to be paid for it, in full, by someone. And if I rightly assume that the ruling elite does not want to pay for someone else’s meals, who does?
Well, a basic exercise of logic tells me, that the overall profits of those in politico-economic authority comes from two main sources. One comes from simply and shamelessly NOT paying the vast labouring/working masses their due wages, and the other one from ruthlessly taxing what’s been left. The rest goes of course to the same elite, robbed and stolen through viciously over inflated prices of “commodities” such as water, heating, electricity, shelter and food.
And for the still unsuspecting morons, still happy in their ever shrinking, middle-class daydreaming rocking chairs, I shall add that the seemingly billions (un)paid in taxes by these covert slave masters, are actually just a small part of those same unpaid wages, necessary for subsidising the very governments they manipulate for their own, private interests, chiefly purchasing the carefully rationalised breadcrumbs, needed for keeping them at the barrier between survival and the understanding of how the system actually functions, or as Orwell put it, on a “state charity” level, enough to exist, but never enough to live…
How else would these masses, wherever they may be, cheeringly adore their leaders and governments, who are shamelessly informing them (more or less accurately…) about the billions spent on the state’s expenses of offices, personnel, PR, RRs and/or Bentleys, while demanding their sacrificial understanding of budget cuts for education, health and social services, motivated by austerity measures required by financial crises the elite themselves have generated in the first place?
Knowing this, how could the people viciously tolerate the sufferings of millions of underfed, starving, dying children, the horrific, agonising waiting lists for basic, cheap, life-saving medical treatment, or the savage incarceration of people caught stealing their starving family’s next meal…?
This dumbing-down’s end result is idiotic stupidity, with masses worshipping outright slave masters playing infatuated “dragons” in the sordid “den” of entire nations’ struggle for a daily living…
For us, every day seems to have become, “soylent green day”…

– to be continued… –

3rd of April 4th, 1984…

“There come a time, kemosabe, when good man must wear mask.” The Lone Ranger’s Tonto

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A “brother” can remain “big” only until the narrow bridge into adulthood has been crossed. Beyond it he should remain what we all should be to each other: simply brothers.
As time and eternity are identical beyond what we see as “life-spans”, the concepts which remain beyond our short, conscious passings through our individual life-times, should be seen, considered and understood at their ab-ovo value and meaning, bare-stripped of all unnecessary loads of mor(t)ality.
Mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters to each other, living out the seeds of common sense within us…
Alas, our eyes are already sore, tormented by the inherited grains of quicksand, of generations upon generations of heirs to “that” arche-authority which sits distant, quiet and obnoxious about the whatever origins of this…
Unfortunately, life can never be what – hopefully – should have been; no one can walk naked anymore in some daydreamed Eden gardens, without the prospect of a planned rape nearby.
Innocence must were clothes, holding a solid stick nearby.
There’s no real hope. It died the day when death came into this world, bringing an ever nearer end to individual lives.
Two things remain for facing authority: submission and defiance. One cannot coexist with the other for reasons beyond necessary survival, even though shaded alternatives as “theatrical submission” may well be one of defiance’s many masks. When confronting injustice at authority’s levels, even my enemy’s enemy is a better option than submission.
In this world of inflicted hopelessness, truth and lies have become inseparable allies for defiance’s sake.
As Orwell so clearly coined it, to die hating them has become the true meaning of freedom, liberty’s pulsing core.
Submission to authoritative injustice is complicity; defiance against it has become true justice…

-to be continued…-

2nd of April 4th, 1984…

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From the religious thinkers who associated this intelligently complex Universe with a “believed in” entity capable of it, through Francis Crick to Ridley Scott, mankind seem to have been left with with a sense of some desperate need to reverse engineer this “miracle called life”, back to something more plausible than an accident; something their rational minds wouldn’t need to accept following only an intellectual lobotomy.
This, mankind’s continuous search for reasons, for logic where life-facts were offered for acceptance, forces the mind and the heart to doubt anything “a priori”, mainly when the authority behind the offer is the same with the one demanding unquestionable obedience, sincere submission.
If we are capable of anything worth being mentioned, then I would chose mankind’s innate incapacity for uncoerced stupidity; we just can’t freely love what’s being forced upon us.
Oh yes, we will love O’Brian and his likes, but only following a well-planned facial rendes-vous with a cage-load of hungry rats; but that ain’t love, babe…
Some time after leaving Christianity’s well designed “golden cage”, I stumbled in my tired search for raisons d’être, upon Phillip Pullman’s “His Dark Materials” famous trilogy. Liberated, but still having shackles protruding through my thoughts, I have found peace; the peace only a rather weird freedom to hate, any being, beings, God or gods, anyone claiming responsibility and/or authority for, and over this utter mess called “existence”.
Even though, for a writer’s reasons Pullmann singled out the Vatican as the Magisterium responsible for being the accomplice of a long gone authority, senile and confined by other, “ascending to authority” authorities, to a state of mental oblivion, I discovered the sublime peace which arrives only upon the sweet wings of hate, as I said, of anyone and anything having to do with injustice. Because as I also mentioned, we are innately incapable of loving injustice, and I dare say, even in a degenerate state of some doing it, injustice has always a source, an arche-place of ignition, a cause of which those acting it, are only pathetic effects…
Unfortunately and as usual, we seem to have been conditioned to “cause blindness”, which prevents us from ever seeing the true cause at the origin of the tentacle ramified effects. Because THERE IS, THERE MUST BE an arche-authority which by perpetrating itself through uncountable aeons, has fooled us into accepting any other authority instead of the adult, responsible, independent and autonomous authority of SELF…
And anyone or anything claiming authority beyond the rightful boundaries of SELF, is by its very own nature an usurper, worthy of oblivion.
Because “power’s” other name is “authority”…

-to be continued…-

1st of April the 4th, 1984… -on defiant hopelessness-

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“To hang on from day to day and from week to week,
spinning out a present that had no future…” G. Orwell

No one knows where, or when it starts, as no instance can be recollected neither of space nor time, of that flash moment of realising truth, the truth
At first it’s like a bothersome feeling of an acute uneasiness of mind, a transcending understanding of wrong and evil, lie and betrayal.
There’s no same event triggering it, no resemblance whatsoever of any dimensional frames. It may be under the bed of hiding your first packet of cigarettes in a home where everybody smokes, or the frozen still merry-go-round witnessing a bi/multi/polar granny violently shaking a grandson’s hair and attached head, because of the hideous crime of being five playground minutes late for supper…
It’s realising the truth of “1984” O’Brian’s diatribe on power; that power is desired by those holding it -or other aspirants it may be said-, for the sole purpose of holding on to it…
Power exists not merely as a philosophical concept; it is an entity , with its sole purpose of displaying itself against and above its subjects.
Power’s only means of survival is both dualistic and parasitic, as it must have a host, and also a subject upon which vexation – it’s life-force – shall be applied. This is vitally essential for both the master puppeteer of power, and his/her subjects, as the owner of power must exercise its vexing’s —self-sustaining— attributes in order to continuously remain its host, while its victims must exist in order to maintain “life” in both Power and its host. And “must” excludes liberty and/or freedom on both sides of this tragic symbiosis, making life nevertheless easier at the upper end of any face-stomping boot.
You see, liberty and/or freedom have always been reciprocally exclusive even with power, as these cannot exist until power does.
In the —rethorically speaking— end, life has never been anything else but the “defiant hopelessness” of carcasses, subjects to Power’s greed to maim.
“Must” nevertheless, seems to have a slightly different meaning for Power’s host, some sort of pathetic cream upon its illusion of life, whipped afresh by every whiplash of vexations; a perpetually inescapable samsara without any known heaven of absolution.
Power and its subjects, a never ending downhill purgatory of an its own tail biting snake head, “eternally” bound to each other for Power’s existentialist sake…
I am an honest agnostic, which means I believe that the infinite complexity of what we know as Universe, with its endless structures of combined information, cannot be the blind result of a random happening. Having said that, I have to cut short the eventually mounting joy of any I.D. reader, because my belief in a —maybe— once planned cosmic event at which’s end we have found ourselves facing our daily struggles, seems to have gone somewhere at a moment in time/lessness wrong, as wrong as the event itself.
As a formerly trained, ministry and education graduate, with twenty years of a very active international ministry, I have come to understand not only the faultless logic behind my doubts in a very faulty masquarade called “evolutionary science”, but also in any religion’s attempts to capitalize upon this rational truth in order to transform it into a(n) Elohim/Jesus/Allah/etc “did it” club, good enough both to scare away any evolutionists from even considering I.D. and the gullible into seeing it as “the” foundation of a self-inflicted hope in a never arriving “saviour”…

-to be continued…-

Democracy’s twerking corridors of power (2)…

[NOTE: Please click “Like” only AFTER reading!]

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As I was writing this essay, “We the people…” came to my searching mind. Looking it up where available, I understood history’s tireless farce in producing written proofs of power’s insatiable appetite for justifying its own mischievous ends, when at the end of the above, after a peacock’s tail of grand tales, a handful of “representative of the people’s” people signed, turning the afore mentioned into the mockery document of a mockery democracy. You see true democracies shouldn’t need declarations and constitutions if they wouldn’t plan to harvest beyond their own orchards’ boundaries. No one outside pathological taxonomies needs fear of their own selves…
I have a personal history of turning my friends into my enemy’s friends by daring to become a critic of what’s unjust, regardless of family relationships, religion, gender, political and/or sexual orientation.
But you see, truth does hurt, both forth and backwards, with bestowed isolation as a never requested side dish.
I started my unplanned career in Ceausescu’s “scientific, dialectic and historic socialism” where Orwell’s “1984” seem to have been the catehetical blueprint of a system boasting socio-economic achievements equaled only by, and in an utopia yet to be built by the Carpathian “genius” himself, thus being told to leave a political school for believing aloud that their Marxist-Leninist system is good, just “we the people” aren’t good enough to carrying it out…
My best friends turned to be my worst betrayers before West’s coveted freedom proved to be less of what I have hoped of liberty…
Just another wandering Jew I discovered myself to be, turned back from the doorsteps of my Land of Tikva by kin asking for proof of my origins the old Nazis burnt together with my past as they were leaving Northern Transylvania…
And wandering I’ve been sent by kin holier than the young Hungarian Rabbi who ushered us back into the hope harder to kill than the sense of unwantedness becoming more and more of an eerie companion…
Wanderer seeking a place I can call “my own”, where I don’t have to smell the stinking boots of anyone’s “freedom” stamping on my face.
I’ve been to room 101, and I know the source of “democracy’s” never fading light. There were no rats in cages over my face, just drawers of “anonymous”  reports from my “friends”, gnawing at my bleeding hart and pissed trousers…

I dread of the day when “We the people…” shall turn into “Weep thee people…”, with no one to bring anymore stones upon our graves, for all the stones have been thrown at the collective stoning of our own souls…
Some time ago, democracy issued a statement of intent, announcing its borderlessness, turning the world into its soon-to-become the political-correctness conform, though empty playground, where only the unplanned children’s ghosts of the -numerically- great People’s Democracy shall remain to play the sordid games of these new, shapeshifting Nazis…

Oh, Democracy, you twerking bitch rubbing your black holes against anything in between full pockets…

Beware ye all erecting your reachings against her so much desired end; should your interests miss the incubation vaults, instead of toys and dolls, you’ll be crying for toilet rolls…

“Guard your heart, above all…”

or Orwell’s 1984, revisited…

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“Who controls the past, controls the future…
…who controls the present, controls the past.”
George Orwell

It’s never been easy to return… Anywhere…
Especially to places echoing unwanted memories, long gone past times stubbornly alive and well enough to torn -always nearly- healed wounds. Then comes the bleeding, the tears, and the eagerly seeking emotional “healers”, ready to open another “friendly wound” nearby, just to reassure themselves a higher place in some heavenly Disneyland…

Having -to some degree, and to the outspoken surprise of many- successfully baptised in two (1st, 2nd) former articles, Orwell’s “1984” onto a -never intended by the author- creationist pamphlet, I decided to return for a much needed revision of the past, motivated by my newly found liberty of thinking, in a honesty driven attempt to do some justice to both Orwell and myself.

To shortly summarise it, I don’t believe anymore in a biblical creationism which’s originator is supposed to be a deity not at all impressed by the worldwide daily torture and genocide of innocent humans, with a tragic emphasis on children -all for his glory-.
I never believed either, because there’s nothing neither rational nor logic to believe in, evolutionism, having settled myself into believing in mankind’s absolute depravity, in a world where the one thing worth living for, is the love of those who love you… And if no one loves you, read Philip Pullman’s “His Dark Materials” monumental Trilogy and you’ll see, you’re not alone!

Having said that, I shall proceed to using the introductory quote in a much more simple fashion than that of some fans, who like to over-complicate Orwell even when that hasn’t seem to have been intended by Orwell himself. Because it is as clear as an evening’s shadow, that Orwell’s statement is nothing more than a very logical statement of the obvious. Or, to have it a bit straightened, who controls the past, does that from the same present from where the future is highly influenceable too.
In my -actually our-, rather awkward case, the past starts exactly where any logical inquiry should start, at the unknown, precise moment of our collective origins, shrunk for practicality’s sake only to humankind’s.
To be frank, no one has the slightest, absolutely comprehensive idea of what and how it was, or about who has done it, I myself joining therefore the ever swelling number of the “ain’t got a clue” club, with its daily multiplying group, or individual branches, all based on fairly unclear preferences.

As the main reason of this “revisit” is an utmost determined attempt to change the present-influencing past, I have to humbly remind my reader that the “YouTube” called devilish invention (cursed be its name), stubbornly stores hours of my past, of which as much as I would dream about, I can’t dissociate myself. As a matter of fact, some of the issues discussed there still occupy the “convictions” shelves of my intellectual stand, those having to do with what Pullman called “experimental theology”, as they deal with both scientific and spiritual matters, an otherwise just fancy terminology for the seen and the unseen…
Unfortunately still, probably several thousands of gullible Christians are still being spoon-fed by interested groups and individuals with things I’ve honestly said in a recent past when I believed and vigorously defended every single thing I’ve said; nevertheless, that’s not the case anymore…
It was exactly the rigour of facts against make-beliefs which convinced me to take everything I’ve adhered to, down to those infrastructural basics where not even Paul the Apostate’s “hopeful belief” could paint over the plain, factual truth.

What can I do about it, now?

Well, exactly what you Dear Reader can see for yourself: writing out my heart, the one about I’ve so painstakingly learned it is not the root of all evil, but the one true fountain of anything left good in us, oftentimes so stained and tired that it does nothing but wrong, thus hopelessly crying out for help…

Do I control the past? Yes, by all means, if I am at any subsequent time able to take a stand against anything I’ve done in it, I am controlling it.
Can I repair the wrongs I’ve done in the past? Yes, by all means, if I am able to -at any possible level- address what I’ve done in it, I already started repairing the damage caused… All of it? Oh, come on!
We’ve got a problem, us humans, with this “all” concept of ours, which robs us of the so many, literally infinite satisfactions, sacrificed at the feet of our self-made gods of an inexistent “perfection”.
Nothing’s perfect, no, and sorry all you religious folks, your gods are no exception, otherwise how do you think we’ve gotten all this, historically proven c**p? Out of something “perfect”? Oh, please, would you grow up?
Any “all” has a start which none of us knows where and when it will end, bearing within like a seed’s germ, what’s going to grow of it.
There’s no wholeness, no perfection, just parts of an unknown infinite, where nothing has any meaning without it’s vicinity, where right and wrong have become mere points of view, and one’s life seems to always be, someone else’s death…
There is nevertheless a beautiful common sense of good, the one reflected back through the eyes of innocent little children!
They haven’t learned to lie yet…

Life sucks, my friends, or as the wise uncle Solomon has put it, “All is vanity.”
As a matter of fact, I should start a “new” religion based entirely on the biblical Book of Ecclesiastes…

Unfortunately for me, “There’s nothing new under the sun…”