Papoose-50 Shots

R.I.P. Sean Bell

On Waging Peace

For this paper, I will be assessing the book Waging Peace: The Art of War For the Antiwar Movement by Scott Ritter.

Scott Ritter is an ex-marine and former chief U.N. Weapons Inspector in Iraq from 1991 until 1998. He has been highly critical of United States foreign policy and states that Iraq possessed no weapons of mass destruction prior to the invasion in 2003. The CIA, later confirmed this.

Because of his disdain for the Bush administration and opposition to the Iraq war, he has been somewhat popular or noteworthy in the antiwar movement.

Although he says he admires the people within the movement, the way it is structured bothered him enough to write a book proposing an alternative.

Waging Peace is that book. In it, he basically reiterates an earlier essay with the same points. He believes the antiwar movement’s non-hierarchal, often leaderless quality is detrimental to its effectiveness. Imitating the military’s or FEMA’s vast bureaucracy is his solution.

There are a number of problems with this. The first glaring problem and obvious one would be that top down structures do not necessarily mean success. FEMA’s handling of the post-Katrina situation testifies to that.

He seems to fail to understand that many in the antiwar movement will not operate under authoritarian leadership. Indeed, many in the movement have quite anarchistic and libertarian attitudes on top-down control. These people will abandon a militaristic modeled movement.

It is a dangerous thing to imitate your opponent or enemy. How long before you are indistinguishable from them? Personally, becoming a mirror image of the military or government is not a goal of mine.

Ritter’s second biggest suggestion is basically to move to the center of the political spectrum. He advocates citing the constitution as a way of showing our patriotism and appealing to apolitical middle class America.

Never mind that many in the movement hold ideas of direct democracy and outlooks of property completely at odds with the old piece of paper. Forget that many of us reject nationalism and view it as a symptom of war itself. Without even knowing these two characteristics of the movement, one can see that he wants us to become center-left Democrats.

I’m sorry, Scott, center-left Democrats already exist and they supported or were mostly apathetic about the invasion. No need to increase their numbers.

When it comes down to it, it is apparent that Ritter is barely familiar with the many antiwar groups and organizations and he most defiantly does not understand them. He fails to make the connection between top-down leadership, nationalism and war. He neglects to acknowledge the millions of people in the streets pre-invasion or the media’s shameful participation in the buildup of lies and Propaganda.

In summary, his book is borderline useless, unless curiosity gets to you, and you want to briefly explore the mind of some who just doesn’t get it.

Fred Hampton Flick

The Young Lords

Picture this.

You reside in a country where racial oppression, if not sanctioned and protected by law, is tolerated and encouraged by attitude. You not only look different than the majority, but speak a different language. Public services and institutions ignore you, police harass, beat and kill you, employers refuse to hire you and society as a whole views and overtly treats you as a second class citizen. This is the atmosphere in which the Young Lords came into existence.

The Young Lords were a Puerto Rican radical group active in numerous cities in the late 60’s to early 70’s. The point of my speech is to briefly inform you of their formation, actions and decline. I am focusing on the New York and Chicago chapters, because that is where, arguably, they made their largest impact. That said, they also made important contributions in Philadelphia, Hartford and in Puerto Rico itself.

After the 1966 Division Street riots in Chicago, political organizations began to form to express the concerns of the Puerto Rican community. The influence of these groups, in addition to contact with Fred Hampton and the Black Panthers, led a turf gang called the Young Lords to become radicalized.

Inspired by the Chicago group, the Young Lords Party in New York formed, comprised mostly of college educated individuals and students, in 1969. They adopted much of the Chicago group’s outlook, but with more intellectual Marxist-Maoist analysis of capitalism, and the Puerto Rican situation.

The Young Lords established breakfast programs for children, dental clinics, community daycare, health clinics, testing for TB and lead poisoning, clothing drives, and cultural history events and education. They used whatever space and money they could get their hands on to provide these services without cost to the people in the neighborhoods.

The city governments, police, and some churches were quite hostile to the Young Lords and would refuse them space for their community programs. When and if that happened, they simply took the matter into their own hands. A TB testing vehicle that had been avoiding the Puerto Rican and black neighborhoods was simply hijacked, brought to those areas and put to use. Churches that refused to allow their empty basements to be utilized as free breakfast centers for poor children were occupied until they agreed. Another one of their many direct actions was to gather all the garbage the city neglected to pick up and pile it into a busy street, where it was burned in broad daylight. Trash collection problems soon became a thing of the past. They were willing to do whatever it took to establish their rights and protect their self dignity.

It was precisely because of this do it yourself attitude of direct action, that the Young Lords came under heavy FBI and police infiltration and repression. Add youth and standard left wing factionalism to the mix, and disintegration and implosion were unavoidable. By the mid-70’s, they were basically nonexistent.

But even though they dissolved, their commitment for equal rights, services for the poor and willingness to lay their bodies on the line for a worthy cause hold lessons for us today, a time when we’re supposed to funnel out hopes and beliefs through almost indistinguishable wealthy candidates and politicians who care little about what happens to the average person. The Young Lords demonstrated that important, vital and beneficial programs could and can be implemented outside the sanctioned system by the people themselves. Many of the original members are still politically active today, from stopping the U.S. Navy’s bombardment of Vieques to struggling for Puerto Rican independence, they have shown they are in for the long haul.

Breaking the Spell

An hour-long look at the 1999 Seattle WTO protests and the anarchists who traveled there to set a new precedent for militant confrontation, this documentary picks up where Pickaxe left off. Filmed in the thick of the action, including footage that aired nationally on 60 Minutes, it captures a moment when world history was up for grabs. Includes new commentary track by filmmakers Tim Lewis, Tim Ream & Sir Chuck A. Rock. [63 min.]

Nas-Pre Illmatic Demo Tape

The Pre-Illmatic demotape. Nuff said.

here!

RNC WELCOMING COMMITTEE ORDERS TASERS FOR EVERY PROTESTER

RNC WELCOMING COMMITTEE ORDERS TASERS FOR EVERY PROTESTOR

Mar 14th, 2008

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

March 13, 2008

Press Contact: Diablo Bush, rncwcmedia (a) riseup.net

RNC WELCOMING COMMITTEE ORDERS TASERS FOR EVERY PROTESTOR

MINNEAPOLIS/ST. PAUL - The RNC Welcoming Committee (RNC-WC), an anarchist and anti-authoritarian organizing body based in the Twin Cities, announced today that it has ordered tasers for each of its members and friends. The announcement comes on the heels of last month’s St. Paul City Council approval of a St. Paul Police Department (SPPD) request for 234 tasers. Due to a unique corporate-anarchist confidentiality agreement, the exact number of tasers or documentable evidence of this new order will not be disclosed.

Both the SPPD and RNC-WC taser orders are scheduled to arrive before the September 1 so-called Republican National Convention (RNC) in St. Paul. However, “The RNC Welcoming Committee’s order of tasers has absolutely nothing to do with the upcoming Republican convention,” said Ann O’ Nymmity of the RNC-WC. “These deadly, yet humane, weapons are needed simply to protect the safety of members of our community on a day-to-day basis. The timing is purely a coincidence.”

Last month, St. Paul police spokesperson Tom Walsh made similar statements to the Associated Press, saying that in regards to the RNC, his department’s purchase is “in no way related [to the timing of the RNC in St. Paul]. It simply isn’t.”

During scheduled protests of the RNC, local police and federal agents are likely to get violent. In Minneapolis last August, police used tasers and pepper spray to attack a nonviolent Critical Mass bike ride which coincided with the “pReNC”, a weekend of radical organizing in preparation for the RNC.

The RNC-WC does not have state-approved funding revenues. O’ Nymmity explained: “Our plan is to finance the purchase through raids on local WMD manufacturers, such as Alliant Techsystems.” The SPPD is funding their taser purchase through $210,000 from drug raids. O’ Nymmity added:
“Through their website, the RNC Welcoming Committee is also accepting contributions from the public.”

Tasers, manufactured by Taser International, Inc., range from $300 to $1,000 and the fashionable weapons come in a variety of styles, including “black pearl,” “electric blue,” “metallic pink,” “leopard print,” and “forest camo.” O’ Nymmity noted, “We imagine St. Paul police will be visiting us soon, and now we’ll have something to talk about when they do. For instance, I can’t wait to compare my leopard print model to St. Paul police deputy chief Matt Bostrom’s metallic pink one!”

Once the RNC-WC order is finalized, the St. Paul Police Department will no longer have a monopoly on the weapons that have been implicated in hundreds of deaths nationwide, including the killing of a Fridley man by Minnesota State Troopers in January.

The Welcoming Committee has no plans to purchase machine guns, rubber bullets, pepper spray, tear gas, concussion grenades, batons, water cannons or helicopters, all of which will be at the disposal of local police and federal agents in September.

O’ Nymmity concluded, “Convention delegates and attendees should feel free to enjoy their five-star hotels, three-course meals, and “gentleman’s clubs” without fear of protest or disruption. After all, if they follow the law and don’t start any illegal wars or anything, what should they have to worry about?”

The Psycho Realm Presents El Chavo y El Ferruco

I have no idea when and how this came out, but I found it on another blog.


http://rapidshare.com/files/107337707/Psycho_Realm_Presents-_El_Chavo_y_El_Ferruco__2006_.rar

Welcome To Iowa, Karl Rove!

The slow build up of anticipatory adrenaline reached a climax as I walked into the entrance of the IMU building in Iowa City Sunday. The chanting could be heard almost immediately and soon visuals revealed it was a squad of radical cheerleaders pumping up the protesters. A faux Karl Rove, massive 40K check in hand, was begging to have it signed, but everyone declined.

Members of the UI Anti-War Committee, Women For Peace, Wild Rose Rebellion, Iraqi Veterans Against the War and the press socialized, conversated, debated, etc. All groups handed out fliers to the poor souls waiting in line to hear the architect of war, torture and right wing madness spew phrases of vomit inducing bullshit out of his cavernous pie hole.

Unauthorized banners "spontaneously" came into being on the side of a parking ramp across the street. The lack of prepaid negotiations resulted in the banners being removed by the vanguard of the elite (pigs).

After several moments being unsure, I decided to actually witness the speech. Sitting with a bloc of protesters, we stood up, booed, and reversed our seats, turning our backs to that bastard Rove as he entered the stage as a sign of disrespect.

What followed was a hour plus of his avoidance of direct questions and rehashing the same old tired cliché sound bites that we've heard for too many years. A few brave ones made an admirable attempt at a citizen's arrest, listing the numerous crimes against humanity Rove has been a party to. They were thrown out swiftly. The rest of the audience held a considerable number of equally passionate persons and at countless times, the bastard had to endure heated accusations of truth from them.

After the speech, a piece of intel surfaced that disclosed his location at a local restaurant. An additional protest was thrown together on the sidewalk outside the establishment. We held banners and brandished amplified sound, demanding him to face us. Several passers-by joined us and eventually a waitress came out to warn us of possible police involvement. She concocted an obvious fable about a similar personal experience with protesting and the police, which we completely disregarded.

Somehow it was learned that he was trying to exit the back of the eatery, and several of us sprinted down to a small walkway that led through some buildings to the back. We were cut off by a security guard who got a little pushy and brandished threats of police calling. A couple of us remained there, while the others cordoned off another possible escape route, thus covering all possible exits.

Rove and his security personal eventually abandoned the sneaky escape attempts and exited out the front door, where he was met by the majority of the protesters and was visibly shaken, looking caught off guard. Your PR prowess may work for the TV, but it doesn't mean squat to real life people who don't accept your fuckery.

That concluded by day of direct action. YAY!

Black Site Proxy

It started to come back to him. The light, once such a rewarding presence,penetrated through his just opened eyelids and caused immense pain to his half a century old retinas. He managed to squelch a gasp of surprise that bubbled up right before it escaped his throat. His mind was a mess.

"Where am I?" he thought, but no answer could satisfy his inquiry. Vague,broken up shards of memories slowly swarmed through his brain. At that moment, the earth shifted. No, not the Earth, him. He had been roughly lifted up.His vision had crossed the boundary between blindness and blurriness and he could barely make out his feet dragging on a concrete surface. A language he could not make out was being spoken in hushed anger. After what seemed like miles, his body was carelessly deposited into a small room with no light to speak of.

"Where am I? What's going on?" he groggily questioned, but the only response he received was a blow to the head, which sent him reeling back into utter darkness.

He awoke, much later, with a clarity that was absent previously. He tried to make sense of his predicament, but his lack of recollection impaired his ability for coherent thought. The only thing he was sure of was that at sometime he had been in an airplane. He tried to dig into the inner depths of his memory for his name, and after several moments, it came to him. Hassan. His name was Hassan.

A quiet mechanical noise buzzed above his head. It was too dark to know for certain, but the flickering of a red light seemed to be about 10 feet above him.
A camera? Approaching footsteps seemed to confirm this and Hassan was consumed with fear. What now?

The door violently burst open and fluorescent light flooded in immediately, blinding Hassan enough for the source of the footsteps to grab him without struggle and move him to yet another room.

A wooden table and two metal chairs were all that occupied this dimly lit room and Hassan was unceremoniously dumped into one of the chairs. Three men entered the room from a side-door and stood behind him while the one that had transported him seated himself.

Without even hearing them speak, he knew they were American. But what did they want and why was he here?

What followed sent Hassan into a delirious state of hopelessness and mortal terror. In numerous folders provided to the main American through the hours, they implicated him of countless crimes and conspiracies. It didn't matter that Hassan had grown disillusioned with religion as he aged and had not attended the mosque in years. To the Americans, he was an Islamic terrorist bent on the murder of innocents.

Hassan knew he had no way out of this. Deny or confess, he would still be held captive indefinitely and possibly tortured. He had viewed the Arabic language stations and was aware that Muslims were being abducted all over the world.

He thought of his children and grandchildren. Did they know what had happened with him? His status as the local shopkeeper kept his family from utter poverty. Would they be able to survive without his advice and guidance?

The combination of louder threats coming from his captors and the growing panic of his situation made the butterflies in his stomach rise up and attack his chest rabidly until he blacked out once again, this time for good.

A victim of a heart attack.
A victim of extraordinary rendition

“Will There Be a Day When I‘m Autonomous?”

I've always had this incredible urge to write on everything. Sometimes I can't resist this urge and I do. Pencils, markers, brushes, acrylic, oil and aerosol paint have all been my tools to wage war on bland surfaces. Notebooks, trains, schools, garages, mailboxes and clothes have all fallen victim to my victimless crime. Illegal or not, I frequently daydream while staring at buildings and institutions and raise possibilities of potential art projects.

Why this obsession with forcefully altering my particular environment started, I know not. I do know that since I was a young child, artistic expression has been a main concern of mine, regardless of any perceived risk. There's nothing that gives me more hope in mankind than when I stumble upon a previously unknown piece of art. Whether that art be in a museum, a home, or in a back alley, the drug like feeling of adrenaline that consumes me is exhilarating.

Especially exciting to me is art with a message behind it, social or political. Something that emotionally or intellectually leave you no choice, but to evaluate what is being said. Considering or disregarding is then up to you.

I am as equally passionate about sponsored art, although in a negative way. Art loses its meaning and bite when a logo is attached to it. Even the most fantastic piece is ruined when a company tries to co-opt that creativity. This is a trend that shows no sign of stopping.

I have a suspicion that sometime in the future I may have to make a decision concerning sponsored art. In this highly product driven culture, often the only refuge for an artist from poverty is "selling out". Can I maintain my ideals if and when this situation arises?

It has taken years for me to realize that for me to be generally satisfied with life I need to have either political activism or artistic expression occurring. Merging the two would be an ideal occupation for me, and indeed, the major point of attending college is to accomplish this.

If my future does not include a life that allows hours of uninterrupted painting, drawing and writing, I will be disappointed, to say the least. My creativity is incompatible with a nine-to-five lifestyle and it has often come down to creating or working. I want to avoid this compromise of the soul for the needs of survival. Time will tell if this is a realistic goal.

Until then I will look at art not as a luxury, hobby or habit, but the very essence of my life and necessary for sanity. I will continue to excavate my imagination for untapped reserves until my motivation evaporates. Finally, I will carry on the tradition of looking at life itself as semi-absurd and attempt to satirize and subvert it through every available medium.