Rant: Lying, or Simply Stupid?

I’ve heard a couple of time on this blog and a couple of times on other media that I believed Clinton and Trump are “the same.” My patience with this rubbish is gone.

Obviously, I at no time said or implied that Clinton and Trump were “the same.” On the contrary, I repeatedly insisted on the difference, and attempted, as best I could, to analyze those differences within the context of capitalist politics. I used the phrase “the threat of Trump” in this post, made several posts on Facebook in which I referred to the different interests of the various capitalists who supported each of them and how that was significant, and on twitter linked to a WSWS article that said (paraphrasing from memory) that millions of workers will see a Trump victory as the herald of increased assaults on their living standards, and will see a Clinton victory as continuing an intolerable status quo. Anyone who considers those to be identical is an idiot.

However, for those of you who are either foolish enough or, more likely, dishonest enough to still maintain that I think Clinton and Trump were “the same,” let me pose a simple question: If you voted for Clinton, that means you did not vote for Trump, and you also did not vote for the Jill Stein. Are you, therefore, claiming Trump and Stein are the same?

An Old LJ Post: The Drug-Allergic Invalid

Apparently LiveJournal is going weird, and everyone’s diving off it and saving their posts. I don’t have a great deal from my old LJ days that I want to save, but this post, from 18-December-2006, needs to be preserved in the annals of, uh, whatever annals one preserves such things in.

Back from the doctor

The doctor says my symptoms are absolutely classic for having a bad drug reaction. She even showed me off to another doctor as having perfect symptoms. I was very proud.

I am the very model of a drug allergic invalid
With bright red rashes from my feet that make their way up to my head
I have no wish for food or wine or sexual amenities
I only wish to stop the swelling up of my extremities

My hands are swollen up so much I cannot hold a cigarette
How many days this will go is more than I can figure yet.
When I shuffle down the hall like a weak septuagenarian,
You’d say I was within a couple days of set for buryin’

You’d say he was within a couple days of set for buryin’
You’d say he was within a couple days of set for buryin’
You’d say he was within a couple days of set for buryburyin’

When you see I can do nothing except watch reruns of “Drag-a-net”
While choking down the steroids and the Benedryl and Tagamet
When it takes me seven minutes to get from my desk down to my bed
You’d see I was the model of a drug allergic invalid

When it takes him seven minutes to get from his desk down to his bed
You’d see he was the model of a drug allergic invalid

I began taking Sulfa on November 27. My glands became swollen on Dec. 7. On the 8th I started developing a rash. That’s when I stopped taking the sulfa. On the 12th, the fever hit, and lasted 2 days, peaking at 102. Around that time, my glands were no longer swollen, but I had some muscle ache. On the 15th, my hands and feet started swelling. Naturally, it was Friday, so I couldn’t go in to see the doctor until today. The swelling has gotten worse since then. I was prescribed steroids, and told to continue taking the Benedryl and Tagamet.

I search the internet for lists of symptoms and the latest memes
That deal with how to make my body stop producing histamines.
When I see my body is now just a single toxic whole
It makes me wish I’d never even heard “Sulfamethoxazole.”

When I cannot stand up without assistance or good leverage
When my lips are so puffed up that I cannot drink hot beverage
In short with the swelling and the rashes on my the skin so red
I am the very model of a drug allergic invalid.

In short with the swelling and the rashes on his skin so red
He is the very model of drug allergic invalid.

One of the Songs I was Raised On

There’s a song that is partially quoted in The Skill of Our Hands, the most recent book by Skyler White and me. It’s to the same tune as the haunting Irish ballad, “Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye” (my favorite version is by Odetta), and its US Civil War update, “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.”

The version quoted in the book was one of songs we’d sing in the car when I was a kid, along with “Solidarity Forever,” and, “Avant di Popolo” and “Hold the Fort” and so on. When using the song in the book, I changed the word “Fools” to “Fooled” in the tag line because the former strikes me as slightly offensive. So, with that change, here are the full lyrics as I learned them, in case anyone is interested.

The battle is on that none can shirk
—-In field and street.
The lines are drawn twixt those who work
—-And those who eat.
We are the many, they are the few
But we’ve always done what they told us to
Now the time has come when we’ll not be fooled anymore.

How do they hold the upper hand?
—-The answer runs.
They’ve got the gold, they’ve got the land
—-They’ve got the guns.
Divide and conquer has been the trick
With the gift of gab and the hired dick
But the time has come when we’ll not be fooled anymore.

Mighty the engine, vast the field
—-From coast to coast.
The skill of our hands, the wealth they yield
—-Is all Earth’s boast.
For ours are the hands on those machines.
Just think for a minute of what that means.
And the time has come when we’ll not be fooled anymore.
The time has come when we’ll not be fooled anymore.

Fantasy Writing and Titles of Nobility

I’ve heard many people decry the tendency for historical fantasy or secondary world fantasy to concern itself with the actions of the nobility. Such people have a valid point, but they also ought to understand that in order for an individual peasant, let us say, to have a significant effect on his or her world requires either some sort of inherent magical gift (which has its own problems), or else to ignore everything we know of history. The peasantry as a class is not in a position to independently transform society; so much the less is the individual peasant able to effect the sort of sweeping changes we often want in our stories. In order to permit the freedom of action we need from the protagonist of a fantasy story set in medieval, renaissance, or even reformation Europe (or its analog), that protagonist pretty much has to be of the upper class. And yes, there are exceptions.

For Americans there is an element of the romantic and the exotic about titles of nobility, about Baron Soandso, or Count Thisandsuch, that I suspect is missing, or at any rate different, for who were raised in places where a feudal aristocracy was part of history.. In reality, the feudal landlords were vicious bloodsuckers—when not for personal reasons, than simply because of the nature of the property relations that ultimately defined everyone’s life. What I am not about to do is suggest is that American fantasy writers ignore the exotic and romantic elements—your readers have them in their heads, and unless you see your job is primarily pedagogical (which I do not), what is in the reader’s head is key: it is easier to play with the reader’s head if you work with what you know is rattling around in there.

What I want to point out is that the tension between the actual nature of the nobility and this sense of the romantic and exotic is something that, if we’re aware of it, we can play with to produce interesting effects. Just a few subtle hints about the reality, while still permitting the swirling capes and Byronic posturing, can really bring home the world and the character, and add a sense of depth. That is, be aware of the reality and of the feelings of the reader.

It’s another thing to play with.

International Women’s Day

100 Years ago today, commemorating International Working Women’s Day, the women textile workers in St. Petersburg, Russia called a strike to protest the war and the lack of bread. They sent to the steel workers for support, which support was not refused. Five days later, the Romanov Dynasty was gone forever.

It was not an accident, as Marxists like to say, that the most oppressed, downtrodden section of society led the way in overthrowing an autocracy that ruled 1/6th of the globe.

No one can predict what form the coming struggles will take, but I think it’s safe to say that the poor and working woman—in Trotsky’s words, doubly and triply oppressed—will not take the last place in the fight.