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BAD MOTHER FUCKERS AND MORAL WACK JOBS: MAJOR BARBARA, ARTS SCHOOL, FANATICISM, AND, MY OWN DISAPPOINTMENT

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One could reasonably ask the question “Have you read The Invisibles?” in almost any conversational arena whether it be philosophical, artistic, or during a business meeting in MidTown and, based on the responses, get pretty much all the information you need about the morality of your company.  . The timeless battle suggested by Grant Morrisson’s comic book series, between the psychic and physical enslavement of the human race and the mindbending weirdos, timetraveling freaks who oppose it,  is, in one way or another, being waged in every single discipline, from the diner I work at to the riots in Greece, from the blood, fire, and hammers of Bernard Shaw and Nietzsche (<3) to the dance moves of Iggy Pop. What Grant Morrison exposes in his magnificent series is a war that is as old to the gods as the war in The Middle East is to we apathetic Americans (which is, or so I’ve read in the times, the longest war in American History). I am here to affirm, not announce, for others have made and will continue to make the discovery, that we are still fighting a war whose origin transcends the scriptures of history, it is the war that produces all other wars, what I’d like to call, the Primordial War. It’s battle rages between two raging philosophies. One one side we have the Bad Mother Fuckers and the other side we have the Ethical Wack Jobs. Now without any description of either side, and in the wake of an era of punk slogans and vulgar shout outs, it will be difficult for the reader to determine which side I take. I’ll take my time hinting for a little bit. One could, for instance, consider Obama an Ethical Wack Job from the medicare side of things or a Bad Mother Fucker from the hip-hop side of things or war side of things. However, I am not arguing from the standpoint of standpoints. I’m showing sides that are as clear as The Red Socks and  The Yankees, NATO and The Poor, Tom Cruise and Astrophysicists. If one desires to quote this post at some point during their day, they are welcome to interchange the titles of Bad Mother Fuckers and Wack Jobs as much as they like so long as they don’t change the line-up I have to offer. One side is interested in homogeny and is interested in power because they are afraid of not having power and expresses this annoying insecurity through drones, bombs, paranoia, and being fucking annoying, the other is side is heterogeneous and understands why they are powerful and seek to spread an awareness of Life and the power of creativity. I can not keep up this game much longer without boring you, I’ll tlel you what the sides are: The Bad Mother Fuckers are the former and the Ethical Wack Jobs are the latter. I think Obama is a Bad Mother Fucker because he’s a president and has sucked at his job like all other presidents and has affirmed yet again how shitty the president’s job is. Plus he’s totally crazy about drones and robots and sent a digital hummingbird to spy on Osama Bin Laden, bottom line, the dudes got the same issues as Bush, or has inherited the same P’s (problems) as Bush because he took the job of being the president and the system that makes presidents is stupid. Now first off I want to make sure that I completely agree with a coworker’s post below about the simplicity of political involvement and am fervently against political apathy. This post is locking out of time and doing some talking outside of the NYC in 2011 and instead looking at how stupid shit is after 1000 years of Hail Mary’s and You Hurt My Feelings. As Richard Burton says out of his enormous heart in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolff, alongside his always gorgeous and equally unaccommodating Elizabeth Taylor, “I am suspicious of history!” I am suspicious of history. I am stepping outside of the endless rat making game of liberalism and conservatism and saying hey, presidents, they fuckin suck, America kinda sucks too. We just went to war with Libya without approval from Congress, not that Congress has any contact with the people at all, we just pop some heads in a room every once and a while and pray to gods that are away on business to get Congress to throw our two cents in. Bad Mother Fuckers enjoy feeling bad, they indulge in their slavery and pray for poverty and pity. I myself am sometimes a Bad Mother Fucker. My goal in this post is to ask us all to stop being Bad Mother Fuckers. If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you’re a Bad Mother Fucker. If you do know what I’m talking about but are going, yeah but really, did you really have to say it this way, or yeah but its so much work, your on the edge of being a Bad Mother Fucker but are on your way to being a Moral Wack Jobs. Being a Moral Wack Job is a lot of work, I agree guys, it takes a LOT of BALLS, so much big balls that people will have to look at your balls in your hands and you’ll have to defend your balls. This is obviously uncomfortable to the herd minded individual. If there is one radiant image that passes constantly through the history of man and his recording of himself it is cowardice. In Yevgeny Zamyatin’s We the protagonist, in praising reference to his insect-like, hyper-socialized, society OneState, says “Forget you’re a gram and feel yourself a millionth apart of a ton.” This is Bad Mother Fucker logic, except it’s a Bad Mother Fucker with balls, it might be, a writer! He’s a Bad Mother Fucker with balls because he knows he is apart of a ton, and that his self is composed more of his culture and society’s tastes than his own, and he makes it really clear that he doesn’t want his own tastes, that it is stupid and restless banter to have one’s own taste. Read this book it is so great, if you are a reader in the 21st century you’ve probably forgotten the goddamn title, so I’ll remind you, it’s titled We and it’s by Yevgeny Zamyatin. Also becoming A Moral Wack Job hurts, because it order to become a Moral Wack Job you have to give up parts of yourself that your really identify with, it will seem like a masochistic exorcise sometimes, it will seems like you are hurting yourself, but the striking difference will be: you will know you are hurting yourself. It is a process of Learning. In Major Barbara, an absolutely incredible play by George Bernard Shaw, Mr. Undershaft, a moral profiteer of guns and war, says “You’ve learnt something. That always feels at first as though you’ve lost something.” He is not talking about quantifiable knowledge here folks, he is suggesting learning something from yourself, that is, your body is giving you understanding. The human brain gives us the incredible ability to see into life and nature, to reflect on the speed, efficiency, incredible organization, and impeccable genius of the FLESH, the unconscious, the body. Moral Wack Jobs identify more with the FLESH than the SELF. It appears as though they are obsessed with their selves, but this is because they have poured their flesh into them selves through incredible methods and strategies, acrobatics and thought wars, which is what Fakehead is trying to give and promote. I feel strange now that talking about Bad Mother Fuckers is more fun than talking about Moral Wack Jobs. We all love talking about how bad we are. So far in history, there are more Bad Mother Fuckers than Moral Wack Jobs. There are more insect-humans than wolves. Among the ranks of Moral Wack Jobs are Lars Von Trier, Michel Foccault, Lou Andreas-Salomé, Malcom X, Jean Genet, James Thiérrée, Arthur Rimbaud, Herman Melville, Charlie Chaplin, Octave Mirbeau, Hannah Arendt, Freidrich Nietzsche, Orson Welles, Grant Morrison, George Bernard Shaw, Roberto Bolaño, William S. Burroughs, Tennessee Williams, William Shakespeare, etc. Do not fall under the illusion based off my line-up that artists somehow escaped the ranks of the Bad Mother Fuckers. Art Schools are full of them, in fact, art schools are Bad Mother Fucker breeders.  College is generally the training ground of BMFmentality.

Bad Mother Fuckers believe that creating anxiety and an oppressive, disciplinary environment is the only way to educate people, because people are prone to distraction and need to be TAUGHT that they can’t just play games their whole lives. This is the most idiotic mistake because it is exactly this attitude that makes people want to escape education because they are conditioned to feel bad about themselves and use their own guilt to monitor their progress. This is called making a police man inside of you. Art Schools, although full of wonderful professors, institutionally fall under the same category, and ever since the arts, in every medium, became economically opportune labor pools, they have been educating critic$ instead of artists, to embody cultural sense and utility so that their art will bring Mother Fucking Ca$h. Bad Mother Fuckers love Mother Fucking Ca$h but once they have their dough they need more dough to make sure they don’t lose the dough they just got. Again, these assholes don’t have balls, they are in love with their cowardice and spin suspicious webs out of fear-silk. Because ARTI$T$ are now interested in wealth (which usd to be really weird idea, even Beethoven, the King’s musician, ate with the maids), they are no longer interested in being untimely, an interest for the brave, for an artist has to be timely in order to make FA$T-CA$H. Because of Universities the arts have become jobs, and as jobs they have come with manuals, whereas in the past the arts involuted, mocked, and re-appropriated labor into cosmic battle plans and worked to innovate politics. Whether you are a Businessman or a Business-artist, you probably are a Bad Mother Fucker in this day and age. I had a teacher once who said that the goal of the avant-garde is not just to produce a new artistic form, but to create a new type of human. A very Moral Wack Job thing to say. Art has the political capacity to produce not only new forms of itself, but new humans, which is why avant-garde movements have come prepared with their strange practices, re-claim environments and space, create new life-styles, develop new artistic techniques, and challenge old dogmatisms while creating new values in their wake. In some sense, folks, the world has only been discovered once. Historically, we come to a piece of land, plot our homes, then our towns, import culture, import morals, and all of a sudden the world is colonialized, locked into place, and the power of discovery sealed. Bad Mother Fuckers believe in only one discovery; they are haunted by whatever first discovery they believe in (whether it be that God created the earth, Christopher Columbus discovered America, Humans evolved from monkeys, or that you believe your identity to be fixed and unchangeable). Moral Wack Jobs will argue that there are multiple discoveries, but also are constantly drying to re-plot land, re-discover the earth, re-define the human itself. Why do we hold onto so strongly to what makes us Ugly? Why do we make an ugly boss breed a little ugly ass boss inside our brains and carry him around to give us orders from afar. This is the real terrorism: the little bosses we let highjack our creativity. This is a Call to Arms. Let us be social instead of gregarious, let lose a passion for morality rather than defending one. I’ve never really asked this before, so I thought maybe in asking this question, maybe some people would just stop, because how many people really ask, Can we please stop being Bad Mother Fuckers? Sincerely, Trevor Boley. 

POSTER

ESSAY PROMT FROM FH2

Various thinkers have come to the conclusion that the “meaninglessness” of postmodern multiplicity and existential angst may only be overcome through the construction of new mythologies. 

Were we to construct a new mythology who or what would the gods be? Mythemes? Stories? What are they now? Is is possible to make sense of a world without mythologizing? 

Naive notes from the lovely riot

I’m usually not very politically active. To be honest, I’m not even very active in the spectator sports of politics.  I pay attention, somewhat shamefully, to the Ny Post-ed scandals I read about over the shoulders of my subway seat neighbors; I get all worked up from time to time about these drones bombing this or that Middle Eastern country, or how many people died in this or that Tsunami; I ask people I trust about how Obama’s doing and what’s going on with the recession, and sometimes I follow one little almost novelty news story about a murderer or a case of mistaken identity.  

I’m not a big fan of confessional writing so I’ll spare my readers my apologetic sorrows of my own apathy, but let me say, more as a possible interesting explanation than a defense, that I think I stopped caring about the effects of political action or the drama of world events when Bush got re-elected. I reflected on this subject somewhat abstractly in a piece I wrote for FAKEHEAD 2, I believe it was called “Becoming the Man” —a slightly devil’s advocated investigation of apathy, the rise of the hipster and the post 9/11-Bush era in NYC and the drive to become famous as being political in nature, as a desire to author the means of imagistic production and control.  It was a little convoluted to say the least.  

This week, however, I realized something much simpler and more visceral about my own scanty history of political involvement.  For originally self protective reasons, I recently became involved in the rent reform campaign, a movement which ultimately aims to protect New Yorkers against non-regulated rent but immediately has been fighting to make sure that when the rent laws expire at Midnight Tonight, that rent control and rent regulation don’t end (which would obviously put me out of a home). I went to a rally in Harlem at a Baptist church, I went to Albany on a free bus provided by the campaign, and I rallied in front of Cuomo’s office a few hours ago.  By rallying I mean I chanted slogans in unison with other protestors “Fight Fight Fight! Housing is a Right!” “Hey You Cuomo! De-control has got to go!” etc.  That’s really all I did, and all I was asked to do.  When we were all packed inside the capitol building in Albany, at first I was overwhelmed by observing what I was perceiving as anxiety.  ”Look at all these stiffs!” I kept thinking to myself, “They want to chant but they’re all so caught up in who starts the chant or what chant they want to be chanting and controlling the chants and being watched by the cameras chanting that we can’t even get a good rhythm going! The senators must be laughing at us, at our feeble attempts at unity! We can’t even say ‘the people united will never be defeated!’ without mumbling and sinking into an impotent monotone!”  And then I kept chanting, and I kept watching, and marching, and chanting and watching and soon I realized that there was no anxiety, or at least, none of the isolated self conscious sort which I had been so collegiately projecting onto my fellow protestors. We were hot and sweaty and getting a little tired and our voices were unified. Sometimes it just takes a little while to get going, and some people know enough to save their energy for the big battle coming up.  As I was chanting rhymes in unison I felt completely committed, like for once I was doing the right thing, like I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere else, and it was very simple actually.  The last time I had really been in a rally was when I used to go to all of the anti war demonstrations before Bush was re-elected, and I dimly remembered the same experience then.  I have this theory, which is a little hopeful I think, that the reason many of us young, driven, college-age kids fall victim to such depths of political apathy is not because we don’t care, or that we’re “more self consumed than fire itself” (as my mother puts it), but because we are so cripplingly anxious about doing the right thing, performing properly, keeping up to date on events precisely (better than everyone else! faster! more details!) that we are too perfectionist to take place in something as sloppy, as awkward, as complicated, as violent as politics.  When FAKEHEAD talked to Narco News renegade journalist Al Giordano, we asked him what he thought was the best way to stay informed about world news, given that we at least are so overwhelmed by the plethora of news sources, and he said that sometimes it’s best to follow one story thoroughly through diverse media, rather than read a little about everything and get caught up in a paranoid stupor (my words, not his).  He didn’t say that you should also get as directly involved with the stories you follow as you can, but given his own personal history, I think he’d probably be for that as well.  All I’m really saying is that by taking simple actions—showing up on time for the busses and rallies, following other protestors around, chanting—I ended up getting involved in a movement, meeting people, learning more about the logistics of passing a bill, listening to politicians explain their positions, learning about how our elected officials relate to the populace— which  all would have seemed a little daunting to me had I not been in the midst of it.  More importantly, the rallies have been effective. Two state senators got themselves arrested in Albany and Cuomo has finally said that he is insisting on not just an extension of existing rent laws, but strengthened rent laws http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/16/nyregion/cuomo-gives-legislature-ultimatum-on-extending-rent-laws.html

Protests continue, there are buses leaving every day for Albany for protestors to rally in the capitol building until the laws are strengthened.  

About the anti-war demonstrations, I guess what I realized is that maybe the reason I became so apathetic is just that I wasn’t completely aware of how easy it can be to engage physically in (at least the performance of) politics.  Calling the governor’s office, signing petitions, rallying and most importantly, VOTING does actually have an impact, whatever the overeducated cynics and morons might insist.  Until I see otherwise, I’m going to take a Pascal’s wager attitude towards democracy: If it works, my participation will only be beneficial, if it’s too corrupt, my participation will only be futile.  In Foucault’s Pendulum one of the many unreliable mouthpieces says “Without a sense of expectation, there can be no Paradise.”  I’m pretty sick of living in such an anti-paradise miasma, so for now I feel okay being a little foolishly optimistic, a little wrong and actively naive.  

one legged protestor getting arrested. photo by L. Atlas

the beautiful ceiling our tax dollars pay for in our capitol building 

Responses, critiques and questions much invited. 

from Luis de los Santos in Budapest

From our correspondent in Itacaré, Brazil.

from Buenos Aires, http://anarchistnews.org/?q=node/14531

Staff in Buenos Aires

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The fourth issue is in its primordial stages. What have you been up to? What the fuck is going on in your neck of the woods? Give us some ideas! Throw us some poems…. stories… images…. fakehead@babymanque.com