Selling Fear

The Faces of Diversity are not the Faces of Fear

Howdy Friends and Neighbors.  The Reverend Squeaky-Eye here, coming at you from the fine nation of Austria.  I hope all of you Brothers and Sisters out there are prospering and dispensing kindness to one another.

Today I want to talk to you about something that is troubling me, troubling me mightily.  That something is the practice of selling fear.  Why anyone would knowingly sell fear to the good population of our planet is a mystery, but it is something that is happening as surely as toast falling butter-side down.  The thing is, if we take a closer look at the wily mechanics of the Downpressor Man, we can see that it is not so much of a mystery after all.

If we study history, we can see that those who aspire to authoritative rule over a people or nation tend to employ similar tools to achieve their nefarious ends.  One of the primary tools that these Downpressors use is that of trying to make one segment of the people fear another segment of the population.  The example that springs to mind, of course, is that of Hitler preaching a doctrine of fear about our Jewish Sisters and Brothers.  We all know the horror that resulted from his doctrines.  That is a heinous example, true enough, but it is not the only example.  These sorts of people, the people that have a desire to rule rather than govern, they know that one way to achieve a state of control is to cause a division amongst the people.  One effective way to divide the people is to sell them the doctrine of fear.  

Now the Downpressor, he is going to sell fear based on any number of things.  He may tell the good people the idea that folks of a certain race are to be feared.  He may tell the good people the idea that anyone of a certain religion is to be feared.  The Downpressor, he looks around and tries to find a place to drive a wedge, a wedge to divide the people.  A people divided are an easier group to bamboozle.  Those that would seek to hold us down, they're playing a shell game.  They want to create a diversion, a trick, a sleight of hand.  The aim of selling fear is to distract attention from the real shenanigans that the Downpressor wants to foist off on the people.  Don't be fooled Sisters!  Don't be fooled Brothers!

Brethren, I am here to tell you that fear is a powerful tool.  Fearful folks will do things that no right-minded citizen would ever contemplate.  When we give in to the pull of fear, we can find ourselves justifying actions that we would normally abhor.  Again, we do not need to look too far back into history to find examples of what fear-based thinking can do.  In the 1940's, Japanese-Americans were interned in ten camps across the western United States.  About 62% of the folks interned were citizens of the United States.  It was, and remains, a travesty of justice.  Fear in action, that's what it was, pure and simple.

The Downpressor Man, he's not really selling.  What he is actually doing is buying.  First off, the Downpressor, he's going to paint a picture for you, a picture of a bogey-man that purports to threaten us, our family, or some segment of our way of life.  Once he gets that hook of fear set into us, set in deep, he's going to offer a solution to the fear that he created in the first place.  That's where the selling comes in, the trick, the three card monte.  The Downpressor, he is going to offer up security, a false security, as a snake-oil cure for the whatever fear he's selling.  But like we said, Sisters and Brothers, he ain't selling.  He's buying.  And what he is buying is our complicity in his shell game.

Now it is true that we are all citizens of our respective nations, but we are also citizens of this lovely planet Earth.  Through the phenomena of social media and globalization, we are more closely linked to every other human being on the planet than at any other time in history.  This trend is only going to continue.  I am privileged and blessed to have traveled to many fine nations in this world.  I have met many fine folks who inhabit those nations.  What I have discovered during the course of my travels is not how different folks are, but how much the same we all are.  Most of us want pretty much the same things.  We want enough food for ourselves and our families, we want adequate shelter, and we want our children to have a better life.  I have yet to meet anyone who wants to be afraid.  So how do we push back against the fear that the Downpressor Man is selling?

When someone comes to us preaching a doctrine of fear, I believe we have to ask ourselves "What is he selling?"  If some Downpressor tells us, for example, that 23% of the fine folks on this planet are bad people, what is he really after?  I think that he is looking for a place to drive that wedge, make us afraid, and make us complicit in his grab for power.  When I hear a man selling fear, instead of solutions, I see a man trying to pull the wool over our eyes.  If we are to believe this hate-mongering, then we would have to fear one out of every four of our neighbors.  No, Friends and Neighbors, No!

Show me a man preaching fear, and I will show you a snake-oil salesman, a trickster, and a Downpressor.  It makes no never-mind whether he is blaming this group or that group, this race or that race, this religion or that religion.  If someone is selling us fear, fear of our neighbors, I believe it is incumbent on each and every one of us to ask ourselves why.  Why should we be afraid?  When has fear of the "Other" ever benefited a society?  The answer, of course, is simple:  Never.

Pissing Off the Neighbors

There are Kangaroos in Australia.  

There are no Kangaroos in Austria.

Howdy Friends and Neighbors!  The Reverend Squeaky-Eye here, coming at you from the grey winter wonderland of Wien.  Like many of you, I'm sure, I have been watching recent events on the world stage with a certain amount of trepidation.  Honestly, a great deal of trepidation.  Just about the time I reckon that things can't possibly get any weirder, they go and take a cosmic leap further down the old weirdness scale.  

What's troubling Yours Truly today, puzzling the hell out me actually, is this notion that it's a good idea, a smart play, to make all of the neighbors angry.  Now neighbors can be a mixed blessing.  Those of our Brethren that came up in a small town know what I'm speaking of.  The same is true for our Sisteren that might have grown up in an apartment building with neighbors on both sides.  The thing about neighbors is that there has to be some give and take.  All take, and the balance gets upset, so then do the neighbors.  When the balance with the neighbors gets tilted, strife enters into our happy communities.

Now this big beautiful world of ours, it's not really as big as we sometimes think.  There used to be this concept called the "Six Degrees of Separation."  Simply put, the idea is that no living thing on the planet is more than six steps away from any other living thing once we begin a chain of connections.  It works like this:  I know a fellow in a small village in Laos.  You know a gal in Kamchatka.  You and I know each other.  There you have it, only three degrees of separation between that upstanding villager in Laos and that gal in Kamchatka.  Now, I use the past tense about the Six Degrees because anymore, it's tough to get further than four or five degrees.  We can emulate our Jungian Brethern and call it Synchronicity, or use the beautiful Buddhist metaphor of Indra's Net, it really doesn't matter.  When we look at our world as a series of interconnected folks, we get a clearer understanding of just how much neighbors matter.

In our little village of a world, there are about 196 individual countries, or neighbors.  Like any other neighborhood, there are agreements and squabbles.  Unfortunately, countries tend to let things get out of hand, doing things that good neighbors should never do.  Regardless of the squabbles, any country is inextricably linked to a greater or lesser number of other countries, either through shared borders, trade agreements, alliances, or a combination of these links.  

"Yes, we see your point Rev, but what has this got to do with Kangaroos?"  Right you are, Friends and Neighbors, right you are.  What Kangaroos have to do with this is that Kangaroos come from Australia (not Austria). 

The true and brave soldiers of Australia have stood shoulder-to-shoulder with those of the United States for a good long time.  Heck, I don't know how a country could ask for a better ally than our pals the Aussies.  The Aussies have fought alongside the USA in World War I and II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, in Iraq, and in Afghanistan.  The Australian armed forces are currently involved in the conflict in Syria.  That is what makes the actions of Donald Trump so puzzling.

In one of what became a bewilderingly stream of antagonistic contacts with the neighbors of the USA, Trump hung up on the Malcolm Turnbull, Australia's Prime Minister.  That's right, Folks, Trump hung up in the middle of a phone conversation with the leader of a foreign country.  Regardless of the nature of a conversation, hanging up on someone just doesn't make it any better.  In the case of foreign diplomacy, it is simply not done.  The result is strife in the neighborhood, and with one of our very good neighbors.

This was after Trump so angered Mexico's President, Enrique Peña Nieto, that Seńor Nieto cancelled a scheduled state visit to the USA.  Again, strife with the neighbors in our little village.  The USA shares a very long border with Mexico.  More than that, we share huge cultural and trade ties.  The total dollar amount of two-way trade between the USA and Mexico was 583 Billion dollars in 2015.  That is mucho dinero my Brethern.  There is also, of course, Trump's ludicrous idea to build a wall along the entire US-Mexico border, but that is the stuff of another post.

While Trump was casting stones, he managed to anger a good many more of our close allies.  China, for one, is not happy.  Not happy at all.  "Well Reverend, why should we care about that?"  I'm glad you asked, Friends, and doubly glad that your question is merely rhetorical.  The answer, of course, is trade.  The combined trade between the USA and China totaled 482 Billion in 2015.  Look at that electronic device on your table.  Turn it over.  Where was it made?  Yes, indeed.  China.  

The United States has a fine neighbor to the north, our friends the Canadians.  A helpful and courteous people if ever there were such.  And yet, and yet Brothers and Sisters, even the Canadians are mad at this man Trump.  He has angered the Canadian government, which actually takes some effort.  And guess who is the second largest trading partner of the USA?  Of course, Canada.  Trade totals for 2015 between the two nations equaled 662 Billion dollars.  I believe we are starting to see a pattern here.

Then, just today, a poll was released in Germany that showed that seven out of ten Germans feel that the USA is not a trusted ally.  That is a drop of over 37% since November of last year.  Based on this most recent poll, German citizens feel that the USA and Russia deserve about the same level of trust, and that level of trust is very low.  And why should we care?  Because Germany has been one of our staunchest allies for over half a century.  Germany is one of the most important countries in the European Union.  And, just to keep a theme going, the combined trade between the EU and the USA amounted to 1.1 Trillion dollars in 2015.  

Sisters and Brothers, as our global village get smaller and more interconnected, it just doesn't pay to  stand out in the yard in a wife beater and threaten the folks in the next yard.  No one takes kindly to that, particularly if the next day you ask them to watch your house whilst you are away.  Angry words, once unleashed in the neighborhood, take on a form and consequence all their own.  

It is our neighborhood, Brothers and Sisters, and we can make of it what we will.  As always, keep a helpful hand out for those in your village, and a sharp eye out for the Downpressor Man.  I will leave you with what I believe are the finest words ever written about throwing anger and pride into speech. 

"Primer Lesson" by Carl Sandburg

Look out how you use proud words.
When you let proud words go, it is not easy to call them back.
They wear long boots, hard boots; they walk off proud; they can't hear you calling--
Look out how you use proud words. 

 

Sources:

 

The Local :  news@thelocal.DE

 

Office of the The United States Trade Representative

 

PoemHunter.com

The Shining Spotlight of History

The Eagle and Fasces (bundle of sticks) Icon of Mussolini's Fascist movement.

History offers us a guiding lamp, often a brilliant spotlight, a tool with which to acknowledge the past.  For example, throughout history authoritarian regimes have taken certain actions to control their citizens.  These actions bear out a remarkably similar pattern.  By allowing the lamp of the past to shine on actions of the present, we may be able to prepare for the future.  If we turn a blind eye to what history illuminates, we remain in the darkness of ignorance.  Remembering the deeds of some of the darkest chapters in human history can be uncomfortable, but this remembrance can be vitally important as well.  Comparing the deeds of the present to those of the Nazis, or Italy's Fascists, can be seen as harsh.  When the comparison is valid, however, the truth must win out.  If it does not, we are lost.

As an authoritarian regime rises to power, whether through legitimate elections or a coup d'etat, there seems to be a commonality of action and message.  When one thinks of Hitler's Nazis, or Mussolini's Fascists, there are common actions that resonate with readings of history.  Looking at the political makeup of the present day, one can see these commonalities borne out.  A list these actions and messages might run thus:

• Muzzle the Free Press such as to gain control of the flow of information to the populace.
• Create and vilify an "Other" and then blame that "Other" for the the nation's troubles.
• Create a false crisis or threat, usually perpetrated, or about to be perpetrated, by the "Other."
• Sell the populace fear.  Fear of the "Other," fear of the outside, fear of each other.
• Require those cast as the "Other" to have to register or submit to an identifying symbol.
• Lie and lie again, wearing the people down through repetition of methodical propaganda. 

In 1929, Mussolini created his High Commission for the Press.  The sole purpose of this governmental body was to control the press.  In 1934, Hitler created the Reich Ministry for Popular Enlightenment and Propaganda.  Impressed by his Nazi allies, Mussolini then created the Ministry for Popular Culture.  The aim of these repressive instruments of state was the complete suppression of any voice other than that of the the leaders of the respective states. 

One need not look far to find modern examples of suppression of the press.  The current administration in the United States is making strong and coordinated efforts to muzzle the freedom of the press.  The same so-called leaders are attempting to clamp down on any scientific information that might conflict with their policy views.  Shining the lamp of history of these ill-concealed efforts clearly illuminates the intent.  Again, a basic tenet of authoritarianism is the control of information to the populace.  Control the flow of information and thus control and isolate the population.

 NSDAP Parteiadler Eagle

The Nazis vilified the Jewish people as the "Other," those responsible for all the ills of the Volk.  Mussolini cast Bolsheviks, Socialist and Liberals as the "Other."  He also painted "Americanism" as a great evil, a grease stain spreading across Europe.  In the light of history, we can see that the first step towards the persecution of a class of citizens is demonizing that class.  When the state controls the flow of information, it can then promulgate the message that a certain group, class, or race, are the cause of all troubles in the state.  Once a group of people have been demonized as the "Other," it is a much smaller step to initiate the persecution of that class or group. 

When there exists a class, race, or group of people who are the "Other," those deemed the evil outsiders, the next step is to create a crisis or threat that is being, or is about to be, perpetrated by that vilified class.  Whether it is the usurpation of wealth, the dilution of the sacred master race, or the threat of direct attack, the authoritarian state will attempt to focus the attention of the populace on the threat of the "Other."  This manufactured threat, once set into place, becomes the means by which a given group are persecuted.  In short, this is the formula that can, and has, led to genocide.

The process of isolating the perceived "Other" from the "Good Citizens" is tactic that is in active practice today.  One only needs a light with which to see the process.  When the leader of any nation is openly speaking about a registry of a particular group of citizens, such as a "Muslim Registry," that leader is engaged in an act of repression.  There are too many historical precedents to see acts of this nature as anything other than what they really are.  Likewise, proposing lists or registries of activists, such as citizens working for the rights of Trans-Gender citizens, is an act of repression.  When we utilize the lamp of history, we see that the Nazis imprisoned and murdered homosexual citizens, as well as Gypsies, Jews, and other citizens of the Reich.

Whether in the pages of George Orwell's seminal work "1984," in the reality of Nazi Germany or Mussolini's Fascist Italy, or in the present time, authoritarian leaders thrive when and where they are able to sell fear to the populace.  Fear is a very powerful tool, serving to both isolate citizens as well as motivating them to acts that would not be possible otherwise.  Fear of the outside, fear of the "Other," economic fear, nationalistic fear, all of these are the tools of the authoritarian.  Time and again throughout the course of history, fear has been used to control and cow a ruled population.  When we hear the voice that is selling fear, we should be able to discern the motivation lurking behind the siren's call. 

Today, the gospel of fear is being preached, and preached loudly, from the very heart of the government of the land that is purported to be the sanctuary for the huddled masses yearning to be free.  Viewed in the shining light, one can discern a simple message.  If the people are afraid, they will look for security.  An authoritarian power will use this fear to offer security to the people.  The price of that false security is an abrogation of the liberty of the people.  This simple ruse has been used in the past and it is being used today.  In the United States, a very palpable example of this is the so-called Patriot Act.  The purported benefit of this law is the security of the people and the very real cost of this law is the diminishment of the the people's civil liberty.  Another example is the proposal to build a wall across the entire southern border of the United States, a structure that would serve as a colossal monument to fear.

Another tactic of an authoritarian "leader" is the use of the lie.  Once the press has been effectively muzzled, the state can disseminate lies.  Lies, repeatedly told, forcefully told, can wield a great power unless there exists the counterbalancing force of a free press.  At a certain level of power, a repressive group can, and has, discarded the truth altogether.  Again, one need not look far to see examples of this in the present day.  When a person in power speaks of "Alternative Facts," they are employing the use of Double-Speak, an Orwellian term, and a chilling one.  Turning lies into "Alternative Facts" is a singularly telling example of discarding the truth in its entirety. 

It is of paramount importance for the free citizens of the world to make use of the perspective that history offers us all.  We are only doomed to repeat history insomuch as we ignore history.  When we misguidedly utter phrases such as "It won't happen this time," or "It cannot happen here," we are engaged in burying our heads in the collective sands of ignorance.  Tyrants do, in fact, rise to control their own citizens.  They may do so without at first resorting to force.  Both Hitler and Mussolini rose to power by means of elections.  History clearly illuminates this cold fact for us if we will only open our eyes.

In conclusion, when the bright lamp of history shows us the way, it is incumbent on all of us to follow that light.  To do otherwise is to suffer in darkness and curse our self-made fate.  When the light shows a tyrant to be a tyrant, it is the moment to utter the words Sic Semper Tyrannis, and to resist that tyranny. 


Sources:

Wikipedia for Fascist Icons

George Talbot  "Censorship is Fascist Italy 1922-1943"  (2007)

David Gilmour  "The Pursuit of Italy"

David S. D'Amato  Article of January 28, 2016

Spending Wisely

While we call for a boycott, here is one Trump product we wholeheartedly endorse.

Hi Ho Friends and Neighbors!  The Reverend Squeaky-Eye here, coming at you from the good land of Austria.  Our fine Brethren of this European nation have just seen fit to inaugurate their new president, Alexander Van der Bellen, a member of the Green Party.  It's grand to be able to start off a post with a bit of positive news during these trying times.

While Marco is busy with the harsh world of publishing, he has handed over the blog reins to Yours Truly, and happy I am to have the chance of a friendly palaver with all of you good Sisters and Brothers.

Now I know, I know people, times are hard and times seem dark.  We can feel the heavy hand of the Down-Pressor Man all around us.  The blows rain hard and heavy during these first days of the administration of that rich man, that friend of the rich man, Donald Trump.  With less than one week in the Oval Office, this agent of the Down-Pressor has slashed at health care for the people, reproductive rights of women around the world, and tried to muzzle both the free press and scientists paid with pubic tax dollars.  Worse yet, he has authorized the building of a wall between our great nation and the great nation of Mexico, a wall that, if built, would be a lasting monument to the policies of fear and bigotry.  Maybe this man will throw a giant bronze hood over the Statue of Liberty as well, such that we will not have to see the tears that the great lady will be shedding.

"But Reverend, what can we do?"  I hear your lament, Brothers and Sisters, I hear it loud and clear, echoing across this great land of ours.  The first thing all of us can do is lift up our hearts.  Woe to them that give into despair.  No!  When dark times are upon us, it is our duty to raise a ruckus, make some noise, and fight back.  The Down-Pressor, he never sleeps, and Bretheren and Sisteren, he ain't sleeping now.  He's wide awake and coming for us.  What he wants, what he always wants, is darkness where he can do his nefarious deeds all quiet-like.  So I say this:  Don't give it to him and don't give in to him!  That's right!  Shed some light and make some noise! 

"We hear you Reverend, and those are some fine sounding words, but words won't get it done."  Again, I hear you and right you are.  So here are some things that we can do, concrete things that make a difference.  First off, we all need to exercise our rights as free citizens of this grand nation.  Contact your Representatives and your Senators.  Write them, call them, email them, and comment on their websites.  When we do this we all need to be specific.  Just saying "I don't agree with this Mr. Trump and what he's doing" is not going to get the job done.  When we write to our elected leaders, we need to be polite, firm, and specific.  I believe the best approach is to clearly state the single issue that we are objecting to, why we are objecting to it, and what we want that elected leader to do about the issue.  If there are ten issues (and Lord knows there will be) then write or call ten separate times.  Let me say it again Friends, be polite, firm, and specific.  We can all do this!

When we aren't barraging our leaders with messages, we can take it to the streets, emulating our wonderful Sisters (and their beloved men-folk) who stuck those beautiful pink pussy hats on their heads and marched across the land.  Raise the standard and raise it high.  This fellow Trump, he's got an ego on him that defies scientific efforts at measurement.  He doesn't like it when folks don't show up at his little inauguration party and go marching off to make noise about him, noises he doesn't care for.  Keep it up, that's what we have to do.  This is going to be a long haul, make no mistake.

Now there's another thing we can all do, a thing that has served us well in the past.  The Down-Pressor, he doesn't like it when folks tamper with his pocket book.  It agitates the hell out of him.  One of the truly effective ways to send a message to some fat-cat corporate swell is to take a dollar or two out of his wallet.  Drives 'em crazy.  My Friends, it is simply as pie to spend your dollars wisely.  Heck, it don't take no effort at all.  If we don't agree with some action that a company is taking, why, we just don't spend our hard-earned dollars at their store.

Boycott, Brethren!  Boycott, Sisteren!  That's what I'm preaching here today.  Now this fellow Trump, he makes it pretty easy.  Like we were saying, he's got him an ego the size of one of his ugly towers.  Heck, he sticks his name all over everything he owns.  So to send him a message about what we think of his doings, we make double-damn sure we don't put a single dollar in his pocket.  Here is a list of businesses and products that this fellow has his greedy fingers into:

• Vorando Realty Trust  (NYSE:  VNO S&P 500 Component)
• Merchandise Mart (Chicago -- Just don't step foot in the building)
• Toy's R Us (30% + share)
• Trump Turnberry Golf Course (Scotland -- The PGA already smelled how bad this was)
• Trump Hotels (DC, Florida, Hawaii, Chicago, Las Vegas, New York, Virginia, Vancouver, Toronto, Panama, Ireland, and Scotland)
• Trump eau de Toilette  (ewwww!  Macy's pulled the plug on this and so should you)
• Trump Books LLC

This is just a short list, but you see how easy this can be.  Don't spend a dime at, or on, any of these businesses, resorts, or products.  Our fine friends at Quartz have developed a comprehensive list of businesses owned or controlled by Trump.  Just peruse the list and spend your money elsewhere.


The Big List from out friends at Quartz (with a tip o' the Rev Lid)

Remember Friends and neighbors, we are all in this for the long haul.  Don't despair, take action, and remember that you are not alone.  And when you are feeling down-in-the-dumps, or need to take a dump, here is one product that will lighten your load:

Trumpster Butt Wipe (Thanks Amazon!)

 

Cold Feet for the New Year

 The last night of the year.  It always feels like the last night on Earth.

I have a healthy remuda of well-broken excuses for not writing.  Every writer needs them and the smart writer keeps the excuses close to hand.  For example, I could say that I have not been working at the blog because I am suffering the ill effects of banging against the ramparts of traditional publishing.  (True)  Or, if I saddle up that trusty old sorrel over there, I could trot out the excuse that I have been shocked to inactivity by the misfortunes in my native land.  (Not so true)  There is nothing to be done but to strain this metaphor to the death, pull the pickets and hobbles, and the let the ponies run where they will. 

All of that strained metaphor and the lovely references to a remuda ('fess up, you had to Google that one, right?) cannot hide the fact that this is a fluff piece, an easy pony to climb back up on.  As KV would say, "HI Ho."

Yes, it is Silvesternacht in Wien, New Year's Eve Viennese Style.

Despite the bone-chilling cold we set out for another Silvesternacht celebration.  650,000 people made their way down to the Alt Stadt to sip hot punsch out of silly mugs, smoke like chimneys, and waltz in the streets.  This last is not an exaggeration.  Folks really do waltz in the streets during Silvesternacht.  The old city is lit up like a faerie land, all the bars and cafes turn into punsch stands, and everyone freezes their asses off to welcome the new year.

The Rathaus, Groundzero for the fireworks.

How much to you like your fellow human?

We squeezed into the confines of the Rathaus area, past the security and fencing.  The crowd was literally seething shoulder-to-shoulder.  Tourist hint:  Unless you are stout of heart, staying outside the Rathaus is a better way to see the fireworks and not have a panic attack.  The press of humanity was tight as the band banged through a steady covering of the Beatles, the Stones, and then more Beatles.  The punsch was luke-warm, the crowd was hot, and the smoke thick.  

Happy 2017

I believe that it will be an interesting year, both personally and at a community level.  The calamities of recent political events will continue to take their course.  But this is a fluff piece, so the machinations of the Fascists will have to wait for a later post.  But not much later.  

 Merry-Makers Transported.  The after-crowd on the U-Bahn.  I love the U-Bahn.

For myself, the New Year brings the promise of life as a card-carrying resident of Austria, out from under the shadow of limited visas.  I will continue to throw myself against the ramparts of traditional publishing, re-writes, and revisions.  When I have bloodied myself enough to satisfy my infantile pride, I will move on to more sensible means of publishing.  That accomplished, it is back to the looming novel projects, of which three have magically appeared as folders on my laptop.  

So, it is now 2017.  Happy-happy, Joy-Joy.  Personally, the last year was an adventure and a challenge, a wonderment of love and travel and creativity.  For the world, I think 2016 was more of a sharp kick in the face.  I guess the world will have to answer that one.  It is a New Year and what will happen is yet to be seen.  And so the end of a fluff piece and a forced return to real blogging.  Stay tuned for the Death of Absurdity and the Perils of Reading Les Miserables. 

Tasks

My days are usually quiet, particularly the mornings.  By quiet, I mean literally quiet.  The walls of the this modest apartment are the boundaries of a sanctuary.  Morning is the time for work.  Up until last week, the quiet of the morning was dedicated to sending out submission packages to prospective literary agents.  Looking for a literary agent is a bit like knowingly having sex with the devil after buying him (or her) dinner.  Back to the devil and his due:  forty-four submissions were sent out, exposing my second novel's soul to the prying eyes of the world.  Grow a thicker skin, Son, you're going to need it.

One less thing to wait on.

It has been a time of waiting.  I wait for rejections from literary agents, for my residency title to be approved, and for a care package from the Boyos back home.  And then things begin to happen.  My package arrives, stuffed full with lovely cigars from the states.  New things, new things!  And then, miracle of miracles, I receive news that my title application had been approved, that a letter should be on its way any day.  And Lo!  Arriveth the letter at my box:  Please come pick up your title on December 23rd.  Now there is a first rate Christmas present.

  Cornbread, my attempt to bring Down-home to Vienna

Regardless of whatever writing project that I might be engaged in, the Hausmann duties remain.  Meals to make, dishes to wash.  Before enlightenment: chop wood, carry water.  After enlightenment:  chop wood, carry water.  

Steak salad was another novelty, particularly the warm mushrooms and peppers above the cool greens. 

I simmer, I taste, I stir.

Outside the walls of my sanctuary, the world is not so quiet.  In Europe and the Americas the Fascists push back the light, trying to crawl from under their respective rocks.  Sometimes they emerge fully, as in the United States.  It is the same message, always the same message.  I hear it, I see it emblazoned across the headlines and the websites.  The message these benighted creatures bear is that we should fear the Other.  It is the Other that is to blame for everything that is wrong, everything that is keeping us from being "Great."  The Other comes in many forms, for there are many brands of fear.  Whether it is your Muslim neighbors, your Gay or Lesbian neighbors, your Brown or Black neighbor, or just someone who was born in another country, the message is that you should be afraid of them.  The Fascists are selling fear.  And folks, it's moving off the shelves like fried-food-on-a-stick at a county fair.  

This week afforded me time for reading.  I am back to devouring books.  This week I re-read The Crucible by Arthur Miller.  Always a powerful work, it once again resonated when viewed against the current events of the world.  For me, Miller's words take on new power.  Written during the red scare of the cold war, it is a chilling tale of the Salem witch trials and the penalty of swimming against the tide of public hysteria.  Perhaps even more pertinent now, this play was written in response to the 1950's witch hunt against anyone who might be tainted by the touch of communism (read: any heterodox views).  As world political views become ever more Us vs. Them, With Us or Against Us, it is important to remember the consequences of blind adherence to an orthodox belief structure.  The consequences are that people die.  Not literary characters, real human beings.  If they ever come for me, if I ever find myself confronted with the choice between joining them or paying the price, I will remember Giles Corey:  "More Weight"

The holiday season is upon us and there is nowhere on earth I would rather be at Christmas than in Wien.  Okay, yes, it is cold and gray and the gloom of the winter seems to bite from across the years of the little ice age.  But the lights shine and the Christkindlmarkt calls.

I do not believe that the Viennese are fully prepared to embrace simple happiness.  Thus the custom of standing outside in the freezing (no exaggeration) cold merrily sipping hot Punsch and smoking.  It is my theory that the bite of the bitter cold brings enough suffering to buffer the joy of drinking and smoking.  The the Viennese love to drink and smoke.  But better to suffer for joy.  Who knows what mischief could result from unbridled happiness.

My favorite stand.

The drink menu for a frosty night at the Spittelberg Christkindlmarkt.  One of the reasons that this is my favorite stand is the owner's sense of humor and literature.  Check out the penultimate selection on the menu.  When living in an absurdist world, it is a good idea to have a reference point.  This particular reference is to Douglas Adams' A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  The Donnergurgler is the Viennese version of the Pan-galactic Gargleburster, the most wonderful and dangerous cocktail in the known galaxy.  Oh, for you non-math folks, the price is 42 times 10 to the negative power of one.

That's 4,20 Euro.  In case you were wondering.

Outside the walls, outside the walls.  Last weekend we were at a Christmas market in Vienna.  This week, a homicidal maniac plowed a tractor-trailer lorry into a crowded Christmas market in Berlin.  What madness is this?  Innocent people, people warming themselves with Puncsh on a cold winter night, just as I was.  It cleaves my heart.

More and more I feel that I have entered a world that is governed by absurdity.  Or un-governed by absurdity, if you will.  As if I were caught inside of Terry Gilliam's film "Brazil."  Periodically things explode, but not-to-worry, not-to-worry, things are under control, we've got the blighters on the run.  Hogwash.  But an excellent example of art mirroring life. 

And so it is Christmas and what have I done to make this world a better place?   Not enough John, not enough.  That is the hard answer.  My world, inside these walls, is a place of love and quiet strength.  I am blessed.  Outside these walls, I carry that love and quiet strength with me.  Fear has less and less power over me.  That is the greatest gift, I suppose, a lot more important than my little worries about a residency title.  So, for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa,  or whatever other holiday tradition you embrace, I wish each of you personal freedom from fear, personal freedom to be happy, and the courage to reach out to your neighbors and wish the same for them. 

Creativity and Chaos

There has been a dearth of blog entries on my part, but no dearth of writing.  And there has been no shortage of momentous events, some jubilant, some catastrophically dark.  So it goes.  As Kurt Vonnegut had Dr. Swain say:  "Hi Ho."  Not nis best novel, even by his own reckoning, but I love the Hi Ho bit.  And like Vonnegut, in my blog I can and will write anything I damn well please.  So, a preemptive warning:  What follows may piss you off.  If it does, tough shit.  "Hi Ho!"  I'm not in a mood to play nice.

 

Okay, i lied.  This first part is pretty nice.  My Heart and I returned from Thailand six days prior to our scheduled "Second" wedding, the official Austrian wedding, the ceremony that binds us together in the sight of the law.  Serious stuff.  Food was ordered, last minute crises averted, and sickness overcome.  (I almost lapsed into The Big Lebowski's What makes a Man shtick.   Oh, screw it...  "Funny, I can look back on a life of achievement, on challenges met, competitors bested, obstacles overcome."  Okay, whew, I feel better now.

The ceremony came off without a hitch and at the end of it we most certainly were hitched.

Our officiant did her best to interject romance and sentiment into what is basically a civil ceremony and she did a fine job.  

Our little wedding party retreated to the quieter warrens of Vienna for a private dinner at a local Trattoria.  We were welcomed, then showered with food, drink and congratulations.  All was well.  

Backtracking in time: I am standing on the Jetway getting off the plane in Vienna.  Next to me, a large woman is coughing and sneezing in all directions at once, without the benefit of a hand over her mouth.  Picture Linda Blair from The Exorcist, except with a stream of biotic nasties instead of that, um, other stuff she was spewing out.  Three days later, just before the wedding, I felt the twinges, that about-to-be-bad feeling in the back of my throat.  The day after our O-fficial wedding, it struck.  Racing through time to the present:  I am just getting over this monster head cold, which has made everything else over the last two weeks that much weirder. 

Welcome to Austrian Bureaucracy.   It's a lot like the American version of same, but in a different language.   And see there on the ticket, they write the dates funny over here. 

And only a few more folks ahead of us.  This was the line to get a ticket to go upstairs to sit and wait in line for an interview with the real Bureaucrats, the ones that mattered.

Sick, out of sorts, and trying to be patient:  sure, that's a good combination.  Hi Ho.  With our stack of documents cradled in our arms, we rushed to the magistrate on the first business day after our wedding.  It was a Monday, cold and sunny.  Waiting, waiting again, then into the office for paper sorting, finger print scanning, and fee paying.  Shortly after lunchtime, we emerged with a partial application and a request for three more documents, documents that were listed nowhere on the website or the printed instructions.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Hi Ho.

The problem is that there is a large ticking clock in the background.  Can you hear it?  It's like the giant crocodile hunting Captain Hook.  Tick Tock, Tick Tock.  I am back in Austria on a 90-day tourist visa, my "D" visa having expired at the end of August.  So, ninety days from my arrival, I have to leave Austria.  Not only do I have to leave Austria, I have to leave all Schengen countries as well.  That is, of course, unless, of course, our friends at MA35, the Magistrate, approve my residency title.  (How many fragments can be smashed into a single sentence?  Writer Joke.  Sorry.)  Then I can stay.  Simple, no?

So My One and I get busy.  We contact people, collect the requested documents, print them, copy them, and ready the forms for submission.  By Wednesday evening, everything is ready.  Thursday morning, flying solo, I'm back on the U6 riding all the way across Vienna.  My Mission:  Get past the gatekeeper and hand these document directly to the person working on our case.  My One says I don't stand a chance.  

Step One:  Get a number to queue up for the run at the Gatekeeper.  Use this time to practice game faces.  Game face One:  Lost Puppy Look.  Game face Two:  Overly Earnest and Concerned Idiot.  Practice alternating between the two game faces without appearing to do so.  Ready, set....

I am at the window and the only thing the Gatekeeper wants is to get rid of me and move the queue along.  She looks at the documents and the cover letter.  "Yes, I see.  Well, I will give these documents to my colleague."  Remember, this is all happening in German.  Game face One, STAT!!  Do NOT leave the window!  Puppy Dog - Puppy Dog - Puppy Dog!!! Okay, Switch to Game face Two:  "Ich habe angst uber diese Dokuments."  I have fear (distress) about these documents.  Yeah, that was me, in Deutsch!  Pretty good, too!  You should have seen the annoyingly earnest look I had plastered on my face.  Deeply troubled but idiotically vacant eyes, pleading for some respite.  I was just about to switch back to Game Face One when the young woman got tired of my antics and returned the documents with a new waiting ticket for upstairs.  Ha Ha!  Victory is Mine!!  I get to wait in the Big Line!!

Upstairs, at the original office, the documents were eventually handed off in person.  I sat at that woman's desk while she double-checked the documents, noted the documents, and told me three times that documents were in order.  Finally, on the third assurance, I reluctantly stood up from the desk. 

We have done what we can do.  Seventy days from today, if I don't have a Title, I will be retreating to another locale.  Croatia might be nice.  I hear that Zagreb is a fine town in January.

Okay, so by now, I've become really sick and, of course, My One is sick as well.  This is the time that the Chicago Cubs, the team that broke my heart as a child, as an adolescent, and as an adult, choose to make it to the World Series!!  That, in and of itself, is unbelievable.  More unbelievable still, I am unable to watch a single game of the series.  Between the time difference, lack of viewing options, and being now seriously ill, I miss every game.  I did not watch a single game of the entire goofy let's-push-it-to-the-last-game World Series.

I suck.  And I had RP McMurphy's words pounding in my head, telling me that even in jail, man, even in the joint they let us watch the World Series.  I mean, you're talking about the World Series here.  They woulda had a riot on their hands.  But I didn't watch it and I suck and the Cubs will probably never win again and it will all be my fault.

What happened next was self-inflicted.  Mea Culpa.  A writer friend of mine dared me to take up the National Write a Novel challenge.  The task is to write a new novel, from scratch, in the month of November.  Sure, what could go wrong.  Fifty thousand usable words of prose by the end of the month.  And, idiot me, I missed a day.  Now, eleven days later, I have over 29,000 words of a brand new novel logged into my laptop.  While I was seriously ill.  I'm telling you, don't try this at home Kids.  And no, in case you are wondering, this new novel has nothing to do with my previous novel, Serial-Z.  I'm just using Serial-Z as my pen name.  Putting it in perspective for a reader, a 3000 word chapter takes about eight hours to write, if I am on my game and the words are flowing.  That doesn't count time for actually inventing the story, characters, plot line, etc, etc.  

My proof reading team members (You guys Rock So MUCH!!!!) are chasing me as fast as I can write, waving corrections at me.  Besides being an ace proofreader, My Heart has been supportive and understanding in the face of my writing obsession.  I'm a lucky man.  By the end of the month, I will have written a second novel.  For me, that is a good thing.

But...

 

Good Going, you poor deluded maniacs.

But none of this really matters, does it?  I mean, who cares if I get married to the most amazing woman on the planet, write a novel or two, or get kicked out of the Austria.  In s single month, the Cubs won the World Series and Trump won the Electoral College Lottery in the USA (sort of).  That means that the world is going to come to an end and no one will read my novels because, duh! the world will have ended.  If I wrote this crap into a novel, no one would believe it. 

Okay, speaking of which...  People of the Untied States of America:  Have you lost your collective minds?  Really?  A reality talk-show host, narcissist, racist, inciter of violence?  That is the best that our collective American will could conjure up?  Fear, hatred, brute force, divisiveness?  This is what we chose to lead our nation?  More guns, more walls, more fear, is that going to make America great?

So, it won't matter if I write books.  Books have become superfluous.  Ideas seem to diminish in meaning as the world is bombarded with lies and hatred spewed from the mouths of the collective Down-Pressor Man.  By all that could be considered holy, we need to wake the fuck up!  Just because some clown says a thing Three Times (it's the magic manipulation number), that doesn't mean the thing is the truth.  Well, good luck to all of us, all over the world, because we are going to need a lot more than luck to survive this catastrophe.  Maybe, just maybe, four years of Trump's vitriol will galvanize some of us into fighting for real change, real election reform, real reform of the lobbyists and corporate interests that are running America.  Not long ago, Jimmy Carter had the courage to say that the Untied States of America is no longer a democracy, but rather an oligarchy.  I agree with him. Here's a link to one of those articles.

Carter Link - UK Mail

An Oligarchy, as you remember from civics class, is the rule of the many (us) by the few (those with money and, hence, power).  It is NOT a good thing.  Democracy is the rule of  the many (us).  We must wrest our very ailing shreds of democracy back from the monied powers that are currently holding it hostage.  It may already be too late, but we have to give it another go, don't you think?

I don't want to live in fear, so I don't.  When I hear dangerous minds preaching the gospel of fear to others, I hear those words for what they are:  Lies.  Fear is never the answer, fear causes the problem.  My neighbors are not my enemies, be they Black, Brown, White, Woman, Man, Gay, Straight, Muslim or even Hard-Shell Baptist.  They are not my enemies.    They are simply my neighbors, here in Vienna, in America, in SE Asia, in Mexico, Panama, Colombia, Ecuador and Canada.  Those hard working folks in India and Sri Lanka, they are me neighbors as well.  All over the globe, all of those people, they are my neighbors.  They do not scare me.  I am not afraid of them. 

The Enemy, the darkness that extinguishes the light, is the person who stands in front of a crowd, any crowd, anywhere, and espouses hatred, espouses violence, or sows the seeds of fear into the hearts of those listening.  The Fascists have always risen to power on their ability to sell the idea of fear of the Other.  Allow me to reiterate that statement, just to be clear about this point.  The Fascists rise to power by selling the idea of fear.  They will tell you that you should be afraid of your neighbors, of anyone that is different from you, of anyone with any ideas other than your own.  By selling you fear, they attempt to divide and conquer. Do not listen to the voice of fear, it will enslave us. 

So, I urge you, man the barricades, raise the call, donate, get active, do what you can, but Fight the Power.  The Down-Pressor Man is laughing today, and it is not a pretty sound.  Push back, it is all we can do.

Lastly, Leonard Cohen died today.  Another strong voice silenced, yet another strong voice that lives on.  I will leave you with his words, so much more powerful than mine.

Anthem by Leonard Cohen

The birds they sang at the break of day
Start again I heard them say
Don’t dwell on what has passed away
or what is yet to be.

Ah the wars they will be fought again
The holy dove she will be caught again
bought and sold  and bought again
the dove is never free.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.

We asked for signs the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood of every government –
signs for all to see.

I can’t run no more with that lawless crowd
while the killers in high places say their prayers out loud.
But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up a thundercloud
and they’re going to hear from me.

Ring the bells that still can ring …

You can add up the parts but you won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march, there is no drum
Every heart, every heart to love will come
but like a refugee.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.