You either make sense or you make money. First meeting today for the cooperative food production concept. I’m very excited about it; even the prospect of the inevitable carping and second-guessing and backbiting interests me, because the idea is so good that I’ll be speechless when the negative reviews start rolling in. Setting that aside: I have a good amount of confidence that we can cobble together some kind of plan that can work.
If nothing else, a functioning local cooperative enterprise will send a signal to the other inmates. They’re all waiting to see even one of us make it over the fence. And the let the floodgates open. I want to see many more cooperative ventures start up around here, and everywhere. Aren’t people becoming sicker and sicker of the constant intrusion of corporations into every corner of our world? They do such a good job of fucking with us while dressed in governmental drag that very few can figure out the real rules of the game, but they’re getting overconfident and less concerned with hanging back. The jig is almost up for them. The global psychic defense mechanisms are beginning to crack apart, and the moment of catharsis is going to be a real fucking bell-ringer. Book your seats early for that show, because it’s going to blow the roof off.
Perhaps success came too soon for the corporation. Coming up after these messages: the corporation admits it has a problem and enters rehab… for the first time.
Kidding. It won’t be like all that eschatological handjobbery, the moment of revelation, the epiphany which clarifies all that has come before and all that is to come. It’s going to be a long grind all over the place, although in a generally downward-tending trajectory, as more and more things fall apart and the centre has increasing trouble holding. And what gives it added velocity is our slowly increasing awareness of the real costs of the enterprise we call ‘human life on earth’. One thing which people who consider themselves to be aware should be doing is helping other people to start to look under the hood at what’s making all this work, and to ask themselves whether the party is worth the price.
As a species, we’re having the all-time killerest house party, and it’s all going to end in arrests and broken marriages. But while the booze is flowing, and even though the end is in sight, we rage on into the night, blasting the stereo and filling the ashtrays, driving the neighbours crazy.
Oh, but in the morning,
Oh, but in the morning haze
will you still feel as fine,
will you still need to trade day for night?
