Showing posts with label power. Show all posts
Showing posts with label power. Show all posts

Saturday, June 21, 2025

An Abundance of Caution

What is there to say?
Security theater
Newspaper headlines:

- Mahmoud Khalil returns home after release on bail from federal detention after 104 days

- Pakistan to nominate Trump for Nobel Peace Prize

— The U.S. enters Israel's war against Iran

- "One Earth, One Health": International Yoga Day provides respite in a tumultuous world

- The U.S dropped bombs on three nuclear sites, President Trump said on social media

Congratulations to our great American Warriors.
There is not another military in the World that could have done this.
NOW IS THE TIME FOR PEACE!
Thank you for your attention to this matter
...

In the US, New York's police department says it is deploying additional resources to religious, cultural, and diplomatic sites across the city "out of an abundance of caution"



digable planets



What is there to say, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

After this query

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Writing log: June 21, 2025

Friday, April 25, 2025

Gunboat Diplomacy

A kiss in a shadow
Trying to catch the wind
The person who tied the bell must untie it

Gunboats on the Pearl River
Treasures loaded onto their wagons
Silver was drained from our veins

Torches in the Summer Palace
Countless lives lost under the lie of "Fair Trade"
Today, those same powers that pushed opium
Now threaten with trade wars and blockades

We're going to live together very happily
So face up to the rational voices
The shackles you cast will clasp your own wrists


After Presidents Xi Jinping, Donald Trump and Ministry of Commerce spokesman, He Yadong (April 23, 2025)

Oakland Container Port 053



Diplomacy, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

Bonus beats: Learn Chinese by Jin

Oakland Container Port 063



See previously: A Very Beautiful Thing and Facilitate

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Writing log: April 24, 2025

Tuesday, September 12, 2023

Blue Sand

The headline was striking sixty odd years later
The dust was said to be returning to sender
Swirling dervishes on magic carpets, a blanket of fine particles
Radiation straight from the souk, the message in a bottle

A sixties affair held, not in Provence,
   but rather in the Sahara
Uncharted territory
   in what they then called French Algeria
A convenient location,
   just a few Berber nomads around at best
The fruits of settler colonialism,
   a prime spot for a nuclear test

A case of droit de seigneur, this was the desert after all
Proud of his entrée to the nuclear club was General de Gaulle
Still, it's not something that one could sweep under the rug,
   this thing
Indeed, the test rather embodied a literal carpet bombing

First, the sharp flash of the detonation
Then, later, shock waves and the almighty sound
The scientists marveled at the novel reaction
The blueish fire that preceded the mushroom cloud

Ground zero, the impact crater, the hole in the dunes
The military had assigned a codename: Gerboise Bleue
The desert rodent of Reggane would be baptized in blue
The blue of the tricolor harkened to Saint Martin de Tours

In the aftermath, as expected, came the fallout in all its forms
The uproar was swift,
   later tests would have to be moved underground
Expressions of surprise
   that radiation would drift west and south
Significant traces detected
   in Upper Volta, Ghana and even Senegal

Ballistic rockets launched primed for nuclear payloads
The initial fear was of fission and Strontium 90 isotopes
Decay was all, the main byproduct was rather Caesium
It is an ill wind that blows no good, this reckoning

We are all casualties in the torrid zone of this triangle of fire
That, in a new century, nature had decided to share the wealth
Donations of micro doses spreading irony across the land
A radioactive gift to posterity, a legacy of blue sand



After: Irony as Saharan dust returns radiation from French nuclear tests in the 1960s (March 1, 2021)

France, don't do it! Atomic bomb tests in Africa

Blue Sand, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note. (spotify version)
strontium 90 - future generations

...

The Wife's history of Atomic Junction dug up lots of interesting material. Here's a 1960 speech by by Tawia Adamafio denouncing French Nuclear Tests in the Sahara. See also a few more clippings from Ghanaian newspapers of the time.

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Writing log: December 16, 2021

Tuesday, May 23, 2023

The Lobby

It's one thing to avert the eye and go for benign neglect
It's another when the chairman of the board is affected
I recall that when Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait
A furious response was simply not up for debate

With Kuwaiti elites, whether oligarchs or royal family, over a barrel
These major stockholders, the world over, were in mortal peril
Forget matters of sovereignty, it didn't need to be said
That it wouldn't be good for business, let alone US interests

Even today, western media, who would not normally exercise restraint about strangers
Suddenly become coy and sensitive about their coverage, and hew to their better angels
As India became a new epicenter, they initially started showing makeshift crematoriums
And the telegenic, albeit burning, funeral pyres; the utter collapse and dysfunction

But the tone quickly changed, even as things were getting worse
The reality is that Indians hold the power of the purse
It really comes down, in these things, to who pays the piper
Who has the loudest voice when it comes to the diaspora

For when, say, Google's CEO's close and extended family is affected,
You'd best believe there'll be outrage, and an almighty scramble
Suddenly those who would never otherwise spare a thought
Are seen to be urging solidarity for this catastrophe

And so I've been thinking about the power of the lobby
I wonder who, in extremis, would ever be coming for me
I have long studied the successful ones even if I disapprove of their sleaze
The Israeli, the Saudi and those others; smooth operators, well versed at advocacy

For when my countrymen were stranded in Libya, Lebanon, or what have you
Or even those unfortunate souls who were being trained by Nicolae Ceaușescu
When calamity struck, the lesson they quickly learned was rather sobering
Namely that not a scintilla of help was on the way, no one was coming

In the past, to hold a Ghana passport was to be a down-on-your-luck kind of person
Radioactive really, the kind of thing that attracts the worst sort of attention
The immigration agent would break out a broad smile as you made your arrival
Your ovaries or gonads, foreseeing their inspection, would start to shrivel

We always wished for a different passport, Liechtenstein, or, say, Luxembourg
Let's be frank here, of a Luxembourgian held for hostage, I have never heard
But it stands to reason, there is something quite apt, even if it's inequitable
To read a headline: "White contractors airlifted to safety before local Black people"

There is a great sorting hat at work, perhaps the gods have always played favorites
But it is rather tiresome for those of us who have to content ourselves with miseries
"The fellow with the fufu usually moves over to the man with the soup,
Never the other way around", goes that saying, and well known Nigerian truth

And so as I write my own stories, I realize that I too need a posse
That I need to build bridges, and help those on the lower rungs than me
In this liminal life in the glue layer, making connections is what matters
The head nod of appreciation, building up the lobby for my fellow travelers


ghana must go mission

The Loud Minority, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note, meditating on a lobby (spotify version)
...

Timing is everything
Observers are worried

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Writing log: May 14, 2021

Tuesday, November 29, 2022

The Chinese Ambassador

She'd normally do this kind of thing on her own
But fortunately I was back in Ghana visiting home
At the appointed time, we were scheduled to have dinner
And so off we went to meet the Chinese Ambassador

I didn't feel bound by the Chatham House rules, those we could surely ignore
For, indeed, neither I nor my mum were part of the diplomatic corps
The invitation was an opportunity for the Ambassador to meet and greet
And pick her brain, conversing in a setting that was quite intimate

The staff had done impeccable opposition research on my mother
But my very presence (improvised and unadvertised) was an X factor
That occasionally threw the Ambassador for a loop that was hard to measure
Like when I harrumphed, and made a point about the terms of my company's joint venture

Who was this Young Turk irreverently pointing out inconvenient truths
While quietly sipping his second glass of pineapple juice?
Who readily dug in to the more exotic fare, not your average dim sun
And mentioned the village of the chef of his favorite Chinatown restaurant

I'll admit, it was a lark, I was being provocative, it was indubitable
To see whether I could pierce the mask of the normally inscrutable
But there was a larger point, I suppose, we are a proud people
With a self confidence that can only abide being treated as equals

To his credit, the years of diplomatic training were so ingrained
That the Ambassador never came close to breaking the veil
He so deftly brought the conversation back onto his preferred topic
That I almost started to applaud his mastery of the arts diplomatic

The rest I'll leave to the mist of memory
Some details linger, the tea was legendary
The Ambassador's pragmatism about the fraught nature of the great game
And his respect for the small players who still beheld a culture of shame

The recognition of the ongoing perils of galamsey
Short term profiteering causing long term dismay
"But those kinds of things are private actions, not public policy, as you well know"
I couldn't resist the zinger: "It takes two to do the corruption tango"

I thoroughly enjoyed myself, that I must concede
This was very far from a symphony of deceit
An invitation to visit the motherland was duly extended to my mother
At the end of the evening, this lovely dinner with the Chinese Ambassador

Diplomacy means the art of nearly deceiving all your friends, but not quite deceiving all your enemies.

Kofi Abrefa Busia
hot summer by amos amit

The Chinese Ambassador, a playlist


A soundtrack for this embassy affair. We should all learn Chinese. (spotify version) ...

Timing is everything
Observers are worried

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Writing log: May 5, 2021

Friday, September 30, 2022

Inoculation Efficiency

We know the names by now, start with the golden child, Pfizer
Their application of mRNA vaccines led the way, as did that of Moderna
That last featured a weekend assist from good old Doctor Fauci
Fingers crossed, modulo new variants, we're on the way to herd immunity

And then there's the Oxford AstraZeneca variant that one should mention
Whose rollout in the UK temporarily saved the clown Boris Johnson
Surprising really, that vaccine bounce seems to have paused the clock
When the Grim Political Reaper should have dealt with him and Matt Hancock

For their neglect is measured in tens of thousands of dead bodies
And worldwide, there've been millions of devastated families
Sure, the virus sets the timeline and has moved to new epicenters
But the wounds have cut too deep; these are affairs to remember

While Merck were disappointed with the results of their own concoction
Uncle Amtrak Joe cajoled them to assist Johnson & Johnson
Well, cajoled is the nice way of putting that fact
He quietly threatened to invoke the Defense Production Act

They hastened to act quickly,
  this was no time to be quibbling about consent
When the specter has been raised,
   in this emergency, about waiving patents
No, it wouldn't do. Pharmaceutical profits,
   hook or crook, had to be maintained
Without intellectual property protections,
   monopolists are in a world of pain

We're all learning about logistics and vaccine supply chains
And about custom fridges and efficiently deployed cold chains
When you lack infrastructure
  you favor something cheap and easy to store
A surefire reason those in the global south would prefer a one stop shop

All those making a fuss about vaccine efficiency
  have fallen for misdirection
Spare a thought for those highlighting
  who controls the means of production
Generics is the watchword and its corollary is profits
Like the quote from The Graduate, "One word: Plastics"

One read that GlaxoSmithKline and Sanofi are also playing catch up
But all these new variants mean that there'll be time enough to level up
While we now hear about vaccine diplomacy,
   I must say it's a seller's market
For when no one is coming, as a buyer,
  you'll pay whatever usurious price is set

republique du tchad prix nobel de medecine 1905 robert koch Chad stamp

This note is part of a series: In a covidious time

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Writing log: May 3, 2021

Tuesday, July 26, 2022

Force Majeure

I like to think of good King Solomon as a claims adjuster
Whose renown came from the application of force majeure clauses
For the essence of his intervention in the famed custody dispute
   was none other
Than that how one reacts to sudden adversity
   determines whether we should get applause

It was Ananse the Spider who clean absconded with the pot of wisdom
When the tale of the lost stories became part of humanity's curriculum
Solomon's later strategic insight lay in the soul insurance he dispensed:
When the snake is in the house, there's no need to discuss the matter at length

Later, one can satisfy those with delicate sensibilities
Who would rudely cite due process, chapter and verse
But in the heat of the moment, borne of necessity
None can argue, decisive measures are of the essence

It is no wonder that a central banker,
In extremis, acts first to protect the rich
Ignore the cover story that the world was falling,
And all that business about systemic risk

Like a mother who instinctively gathers her brood
Hastening to escape a fire or avalanche
There's no time for observing the rules
Forget regulations, this is soul insurance

If I recall, it was the Sage of Omaha,
Warren Buffett, who once said
"Only when the tide goes out do you discover
Who's been swimming naked"

And Walter Bagehot in Lombard Street, it was that noted,
"Every great crisis reveals the excessive speculations
Of many houses which no one before suspected",
An altogether astute observation

We saw during the Great Recession,
Rules set aside, as if they were no longer in vogue
The haste with which the political system
Rushed to indemnify so many financial rogues

Scoundrels whose vulture capitalist behavior
Fomented wholesale casino Ponzi misdeeds
Not for nothing, many still made shocking profits,
Not the least of which the great vampire squid

Disasters, not least the covidious,
Reveal what societies are wont to value
They lay bare the fig leaves of consensus,
It's not what we say but what we do

Call it sharpening the contradictions
As the actions are often shown to be crude
These fugitive glimpses of the real world
And of those who were swimming in the nude

Oh the celebration at the outset,
   of the hordes, the brave essential workers
Yet some others formed betting pools
   on who would survive of their number
It was made fairly clear that if you worked in a meatpacking plant
You were an afterthought, for they only made to protect the banks

But back to our song of Solomon
And our erstwhile soul insurance agent
Who negotiated the terms and conditions
The policies and society's cost payments

Without shame we'll never reach herd immunity
Nay, for this policy there's no buyer's remorse
This pandemic is a signal moment of clarity
It's time to invoke the force majeure clause

Aburi mask

Force Majeure, a playlist


A
soundtrack for this note. (spotify version) See previously: Soul Insurance

This note is part of a series: In a covidious time

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Writing log: April 29, 2021

Tuesday, October 26, 2021

Masks of Civility

Masks of civility were our usual garments
Even as we boiled silently with rage
The understanding was that this healing process
Would allow those others to turn the page
A lifetime of turning the other cheek had rendered us quiescent
Still, it was altogether unbearable, this internal displacement

In this liminal zone, we lived strange days of fiction
Weary travelers in a land of contradiction
To expose the molten core of reinforced steel would betray our purpose
The arc of providence, historians said, would surely bend towards our shores

Our national anthem lifted every voice against the strife
We played the rhythm of loss badly for our kind of life
We were close companions of the shape of dread
Who sang I can't breathe, the chant of the living dead

Tracing its contours like connoisseurs of anticipation
The country's dream was a hollow promise, empty marketing
The mantra goes the customer is always right, of course
Meanwhile, you get what you pay for, there's no buyer's remorse

The knives are out, they aren't even bothering to hide their intent
They're coming for us with everything they've got in their rearguard action
The fig leaves of due process were revealed as decorative nipple pasties
Functional, yet entirely ornamental, their bosom's virtue exposed freely

They parade around the poles of propriety as they strip rights and tease
Unvarnished power grabs their sordid maneuvers as befits back room sleaze
The cynicism of state capture revealed in their state of undress
Squalid encounters with the long coat contingent, expect nothing less

In practice when no preemptive measures can be afforded,
The bearer is denied the privilege of rage
This normalcy prohibition leaves us bereft and misdirected
Consigned perpetually to post-facto outrage

Traverse minefields of hurt feelings and cultural sensitivity
The slate of unease is always wiped clean for the loud minority
Thus our usual reliance on truth and reconciliation is misplaced
Masks of civility are the province of the internally displaced

masks from Maame

Masquerade a playlist


A soundtrack to deflect attention from this note. (spotify version) Timing is everything
Observers are worried

See also: Normalcy Prohibition

This internal displacement is part of a series: In a covidious time.


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Writing log: March 13, 2021

Tuesday, May 04, 2021

Disturbing Tranquility

I practiced the coup drill for we already had our lost decades
Marked by tanks in the streets and the military men's arrival
When so many failed to stand up and be counted
And displayed an altogether impressive passivity
I dissent from that brand of disturbing tranquility
That culture of silence, that philosophy of survival
I'm not inclined to continue as the Ghanaian Sphinx

God knows, I'd rather be proved wrong at this stage
Even after living as an exiled soul, on the losing side
I'm part of a loud minority — tribes, vibes and scribes
My chosen soundtrack is that of the urban griots
Firm believers in the necessity of permanent outrage
Unleashing wistful zingers, satire deployed as a weapon
Irony as the key register even in impassioned conversation
Let it not be said that defiant stares are our only aggression
Voices inside, soul singing, we march on the road to freedom

Now they want us to turn back the clock
And return to the autumn of the patriarchs
When conquerors partied until the break of dawn
While the rest of us dealt with curfews, chits and laissez-passers
Subject to daily confrontations at arbitrary roadblocks
The fear of being caught out on the streets after dark
And to think that the foreign press counsels us to "accept reality"
I daresay it's an affront, intolerable this rogue civility
I'm therefore proud to be accused of disturbing tranquility

The coup leaders in Myanmar have released the names of seven opposition activists they want arrested. They were accused of disturbing tranquility, a rarely used charge.

BBC, February 13, 2021
wire maintenance

Disturbing Tranquility, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note. (spotify version) I nominate this pièce de résistance for the Things Fall Apart series under the banner of Social Living. Trapped in my pandemic cage, thousands of miles away from the kind of danger so many are facing in Myanmar, I could only contribute these words and a defiant stare.

An Afterthought a few months later


Obliquely, the above was born of a thought experiment. What if the men in khaki stepped back into the frame in today's Ghana? And the counterfactual: what should/could have been the response when they did step back into the frame almost 40 years ago? If more had been prone to disturbing tranquility rather than the masks of civility that we wore, would we be debating cultures of silence today? Ain't that peculiar? as Marvin would sing.

Anyway, some would say better Myanmar than Ghana (God forbid). But injustice anywhere is an outrage, and we should all stand in solidarity. The heart aches at the damage past and ongoing, and the things that we've lost.

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Writing log: February 13, 2021

Tuesday, April 06, 2021

No One Is Coming

No one is coming to help you is the bitter lesson
A signal moment of clarity in this your time of need

No one is coming to save you from this mess
The painful rule of thumb in the midst of your distress

No one is coming, there'll be no cavalry
The loudmouthed white hats trumpeting action are no sanctuary
Indeed, these days, those in the wild west have their own quandaries
In the frantic struggle for survival, some died with their boots on
It's best to solve your own problems, not rely on other persons

No one is coming, there's no need to ask
You might as well face up to the facts
Deferred maintenance leads to deferred dreams
Your own hands will have to repair the frayed seams

No one is coming, get it into your head
There's no saving grace, you've clearly lost that bet
Change makes you want to hustle, it is often said
Focus on resilience and adaptability instead

No one is coming, rise up to the test
In prior times, they could easily pay lip service
Indeed, some made it their self-appointed business
Truth be told, before the reversal of fortune, it was manifest
Your destiny was once removed, it was always clear they'd lose interest

No one is coming, there are no pat solutions
It may feel good to rely on international organizations
True, we all sink or swim together, embrace solidarity
Yet with the new variants, you may face your own mutations.
Buyer beware, some of the same ones who are now so vocal
Will soon remind you that, at heart, everything is local

In the Anglosphere, we saw the callousness of the response.
Once Wall Street was protected, the rulers lost all interest
Leaving the rest of us to plaintively wonder: whither survival checks?
In England, getting the Tory party to do more than the barest minimum
Was like pulling teeth in extremis, impossible in a timely fashion

The world over, elites are forced to confront crippled healthcare systems
No exfiltration, nor Medivacs, we all use the same hospitals
Those bearer bonds, those bank accounts, those offshore vessels
And digital blockchains are no protection, all that cybersecurity
Counts for nought when we haven't reached herd immunity
The Swiss now require vaccination certificates, newly-minted attestations
Quarantine even in the Cayman Islands, new procedures, rules and regulations

Accordingly, support bubbles of affluence are being pierced
Private jets navigate narrow, restricted travel corridors
Previous greed and privilege distilled, in short order, as if cursed
Now's the moment of reckoning, if not of buyer's remorse

"No one is coming to save you, it's up to us", goes the chant
Yes, well, it's the daily news even if it seems like a taunt
It was the purest folly to expect as much, is the insight
That others would forgo their insatiable appetites
Every man for himself, goes the conqueror's catechism
It takes behavior to get along, let's keep on singing.

Oh the humanity, "We have no place to bring our dead"
The overwhelmed owner of the funeral home plaintively said.
Air quality standards had to be relaxed to enable robust cremation
Such are the dilemmas of all public health interventions.

No one is coming to save you, we'll just have to endure the lockdown
In 1918, my grandmother recalled walking the streets of Jamestown
Skipping over dead bodies on her way through High Street to Trinity Church
A century later, many others are being similarly left in the lurch
She was ten years old when the influenza pandemic hit Ghana
Brought in by sea men visiting Accra, everyone suffered
Sorrowful, the scars endure and resonate as mood markers
The tale of the lost stories, these indelible chapters
Such, I suppose, is the conflicted legacy of my upbringing
The keen sense of outrage and the knowledge that no one is coming

No
No one
No one is coming
No one is coming to save you
No one is coming to help you
No one is coming
No one
No

Sea Never Dry

No One Is Coming, A Playlist


A soundtrack for this lament, taking a few liberties to add some sweet to this grief concoction (spotify version).
There is no help. None.

This uplifting folktale is part of a series: In a covidious time

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Writing log: January 31, 2021

Tuesday, June 09, 2020

Herd Immunity

I, like most of humanity,
Do not have the gift of prophecy
I was rather steeped
In the scientific method
And taught to seek out
Testable propositions
And rough heuristics
The lot of an engineer's education

And so at the very outset of this note
I'll turn to the soul singer, and appropriate a quote

Predicting the loss
Before I begin
So it don't cut too deep
When I don't win.
I hate it when I'm right
Much rather be wrong
I'd rather be wrong

My notion is that we're all players in a shell game
But that shame and fear will ultimately force the required political change
My falsifiable contention, however, had a part that I found loathsome
I wrote it weeks ago, sheltering in place, all by my lonesome

Let's keep the following proposition
At the back of our mind
Per the avuncular Doctor Fauci:
It is the virus that sets the timeline

Consider the distinctions
Between the following precepts
And remember, internal displacements,
Are strictly human concepts.

There's a markedly different,
Some say, alien scheduling
In the mode of operation
Of coronavirus RNA.

All these ongoing efforts
To shift the Overton window
Of received and conventional
Wisdom in this great USA

The walk of shame is a Hollywood fiction
Those recent examples notwithstanding
The Jacob Frey exception
Only proves the inconvenient rule

Boycotts, protests
And marches out of school
Wearing surgical or cloth masks,
Some tried social distancing
We listened to the young and old
The activists speechifying
Assisted by the customary
Red and white megaphones
The thing that lingers however is this:
The others, those others, play hardball
In this rigged Game of Thrones

The City of Brotherly Love
Just last week was taken over
By peaceful crowds
Singing old spirituals
And chants for social justice.
Rousing, yet graceful,
It was quite the scene.
But it also pays to be mindful
Of the fervent bullets that struck
And brought a summary end
To an earlier, righteous dream

Back in their big white mansions
Or second homes and apartment blocks
They're watching the dismaying parade
Of their "human capital stock"
The Dow Jones index just staged a surprising rally
Aided by reassurances from the Treasury
After the earlier, historic market rout
"It's a temporary inconvenience, there's no doubt"
You see they've gamed the whole scenario out
Their armies of public relations consultants
Advised a change of course: swiftly backing down
From the old faithful threat
Of "tremendous" military clout

A research note, it was short and savage
Factotums of The Great Vampire Squid
Suggested using the Fed's leverage
And minor fiscal action to keep the lid
On things. But here's the rub of Scrooge
The Ghost of Looters past
"The impact's going to be huge!
Tremendous! A one-time twelve hundred dollar check!
It will certainly be more than enough
Great again, for everyone to last"

Still, the phantom thread of greed
Lies at the heart of the matter
It explains the strategic retreat
To the hastily fortified bunker
And panic rooms serviced
By the crew of essential workers
At least those who manage to pass
The suite of rigorous testing,
Temperature checks tuned to their class

There's also all those actuarial tables
Now being furiously recalculated
By deputies of the Sage of Omaha
"As the Ewe proverb says, oh my brother",
We were reminded by Ananse the Spider,
His voice sounding as if gripped by a fever dream

"He who tests the depth of a river with both feet must be prepared to swim"

Now this winter of our discontent
Has gone on long past the month of Lent
Mardi Gras in New Orleans this year was a superspreading event
We're measuring the cost in excess deaths - a great amount.
We also know that after the earlier Sermon on the Mount
Came the reaction from Judas Iscariot, the young disciple
Our own Caesars obviously think they are nigh invincible
Free to discard the cautionary warning of The Mosquito Principle
Which simply states, with no equivocation or debate,
A simple phrase:

"Mosquitos don't discriminate"
More important, neither do viral clumps of RNA
Even in God's blessed and anointed country: the almighty USA

And so we heard the cries raised at the rally
Against The System and The Colossus
They yelled "Rhodes must fall"
To unhearing ears in limousines
That passed the scene, driving right along
The loudspeakers were playing their own song

And now to the Charge of the Light Brigade
The honor guards dressed up in their finest
Paramilitary stylings
Boxy, futuristic zombie uniforms
Courtesy of designers and celebrity architects
Straight from the prison and military industrial complex
Water cannons and helmets readied,
They were "locked and loaded"
A fearsome sight it was,
There were even recent graduates
Of the School of the Americas
With some sternly perched
Up high on their mounted horses

Everyone tried to step aside,
The crowd suffered and scattered
But a few were manhandled,
Or rather trampled
And some simply faltered
A double wound, this wrathful injury
Additional cases of assault and battery
It was those behind black-tinted windows, they said,
It was those privileged lives that really mattered

Throughout this ceremony of blood
And continued police brutality
Displayed in the full view of all humanity
They were learning the wrong lessons
Of the tale of the Sword of Damocles
'Twas Uncle Ben, if I recall correctly,
My memory of superheros is hopeless,
Who earlier said to Ananse the Spider

"With great power comes great responsibility"
A controversial opinion, even in the Spiderverse
That elevator pitch to those Masters of the Universe
Fell flat; it was an audience of rogue authoritarians
And Bunker Boys, all waiting for the barbarians
They still couldn't quite comprehend all this furor
So we may all yet reap The Wages of Thermidor

And so on to my gallows humour
Writ in the face of a covidious Reaper
I really wish this jaundiced zinger
Doesn't end up being a keeper
The short term gains are clearly treasured,
I do love to see this grand community
With decision move one step forward
While members of the Cult of Nostalgia,
Heads bowed, yet firmly averted,
Stay in denial, and look squarely backward
A bet about what happens over the long durée
Predicting the outcome of societal interplay
It was an amusing statement, I thought, a paradox for a day
That narratives of change may well get burnt by the sun
I hope history proves me wrong about this one:
There'll surely be time enough to assign the blame:

America's real herd immunity is to shame

Lions attack the modern traveller - p.50

See previously: Shell Games (Part I. Shame Cultures) for fuller context.

Herd Immunity, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

  • Mountain of When by Amel Larrieux
    Simple ingredients: drums, chimes and her ethereal voice. Yet the song excavates the terrain of shame cultures and buyer's remorse. I am continually lost in its hypnotic mantra, it unravels me at each listen.
  • White Mansion by Prince
    The Revolution was started in Minneapolis, Prince fashioned his unique sound. The album, a second coming, was titled Emancipation.
  • One Step Forward by Les Nubians
    An Afrofuturist groove from an album that also features "Temperature Rising"
  • Winter in America by Gil Scott-Heron
    This urban griot preached and prophesized our cultural soundtrack of televised revolution. He is sorely missed, but his legacy lives on. The music and his lyrics should have the last word.

The muse wills what she wants, I am her faithful servant

I nominate this note to the Things Fall Apart Series. Observers are worried.

File under: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Thursday, May 14, 2020

Shell Games (Part I. Shame Cultures)

A brief cultural history... of shame.

I was struggling with what to call this, I've already used Observers are Worried for earlier musings on the theme, and Buyer's Remorse didn't quite seem to work. I'm going with Shell Games, do let me know if it fits...

There's a lot of Sturm und Drang in US and British politics about whether They (the They of the political class) will do the right thing (for whatever one's values of the right thing may be) or if, and how, they will have to be kicked and dragged (by pitchfork wielding mobs) to it.

From this toli monger's viewpoint, it's all just bogus posturing. The fix is in.

With that out of the way, let's have a game of toli

Join me if you will in a shell game, a discursive bit of misdirection. I'll try to do this first bit, a brief cultural survey of shame, in one breath as some twitter toli. Then collect the result back here at this lowly joint. Alright, here goes...

Dick Fuld (for shame) versus Pakistani slum


Let's start with a vaguely relevant quote:
"I have yet to meet a liberal who can withstand the attrition of prolonged discussion of the unessentials."

That's a dyspeptic Tom Sharpe in Porterhouse Blue

In the UK, it will be shame and fear that ultimately force the required political change.

(And things are already in motion, even if grudgingly)

The fear part is to be expected (I have yet to meet a politician that doesn't want to get reelected).

Also: the word shambles still means something in British society.

The shame part is the most surprising development. After all it was glorious shamelessness that won December's snap election in Her Majesty's kingdom.

The novel coronavirus has somehow managed to tickle the funny bone of shame that had long been considered the Lord Lucan of Westminster.

Another case solved by Covidious Holmes, Watson.

Boris Johnson, albeit post ICU, even recently claimed "there is such a thing as society". Cue Road to Damascus editorializing by lazy Fleet Street hacks, even though it was, rather, a case of Bojo on Raqqa Street, post-Caliphate that is.

I've been writing a series on Social Living, so I'm rather attuned to these things. I can wax eloquent and at length on the nature of shame. Indeed shame has been my close companion since long before puberty (and its attendant excess [snip] - Oops, I almost overshared)

The Ghana I grew up in, during its lost decades, still retained significant aspects of a shame culture. This, despite being ruled by some of the most shameless rogues and dictators.

Shame and respect cultures of course have many downsides especially in their repression of all kinds of freedoms in favor of conformity and submission (expression, lifestyle etc.)

Societies and economies pay a tangible price for these constraints. I see you there Saudi Arabia. And you in the corner, yes you, you there subjugating half or more of your society to peonage. For shame.

The forcing function of shame can be a great moderator. Hypocrisy observed and widely broadcast is the essential mechanism. A prime example from 2,000 years ago:

"He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her".

All artists of course hold up a mirror to society. The great satirists have long pointed out the incongruities of the world, wielding shame as their prime weapon. Consider satire as a slightly distorted and cracked mirror directed at the soul of mankind.

I should clarify for the careless reader that I never wrote that Jesus was a mere artist or satirist. Per contra, one might argue that he was the greatest of artists and satirists that has ever... lived. Tremendous range our Christo.

Sidenote: was recently re-reading E.P. Sanders' highly lucid The Historical Figure of Jesus. Arguments about authenticity, legitimacy and historical memory resonate whenever one considers tradition and modernity, shame cultures, and the culture of shame. But I digress...

The Emperor's New Clothes is a timeless and radical commentary on the shamelessness of rogue authoritarians. Hans Christian Andersen hearkened all the way back to the Garden of Eden and the mythology of Fallen Angels.

If the original sin was knowledge, shame was our first glimpse of consciousness, if not self awareness. Confoundingly however, humanity quickly moved on from shame (The curse of Ham perhaps?).

Descartes would never get to write "I'm ashamed, therefore I am".

downfall of satan

Jonathan Swift's Modest Proposal about the nutritional value of chubby Irish children was meant to shock the conscience. And it did, and it continues to shame. Read his biography, however, and you'll notice the uphill challenge he would face. Shame only goes so far.

Of course, centuries later, a prescient Malcolm Bradbury would write Eating People is Wrong basically hitting people over the head in this respect. Rupert Murdoch's career-long asset stripping of Western shame had just began as Bradbury put pen to paper.

All this to say that, from what I've observed in my years in France, England and especially the US, the restraints of a shame culture have long been vestigial organs in the West.

The United States has of course been post-shame, and for an extended period of time too. Tissue rejection is an certainty at this stage, and, although many have tried, all have basically failed in their surgical attempts to graft shame back onto the nation's conscience, let alone its body politic.

Just ask some Iraqis about their experience of the praxis of American shame (before ducking their thrown shoes - mind the I.E.D. over there). Anyway...

America's real herd immunity is to shame.

Pick your favorite outrage. Mine are the shocking levels of inequality in the US. The greed and rapacity is unfathomable and I'm a connaisseur of the misrule of African despots.

The whole American healthcare shell game is another one for Captain Obvious. Where do we start on that front? For shame, it's taken an apocalyptic pandemic to settle the public health debate (and we're still hearing from straggling naysayers equipped with Koch-donated megaphones).

Sidenote: The broader healthcare debate hit uncomfortably close to home recently.

On Christmas Eve, our 6 year old swallowed a coin and had to be taken to the emergency room for x-rays and then surgery to remove it. He was back home 5 hours later. Thankfully he was back to normal by Boxing Day.

I just saw the hospital bill: $25,959.75

The penny dropped

Of course you, Dear Reader, must be taking advantage of all those great tax-advantaged savings vehicles right? All signed up for those simple silver or bronze healthcare exchange plans? We all need to have skin in the game, those wonks keep saying. COBRA health plan? Your solvent employer's plan? You are employed, right?

Oh yeah. The "right to bear arms". From Colombine, through Sandy Hook, to the Las Vegas shooter in recent memory. The Scarlet Letter "A" stands for arms.

As a 6 year old, I was reading my mum's columns in the Daily Graphic about The Coup Drill. By contrast, my 6 year old son is a seasoned veteran of active shooter drills. Living in America sang James Brown.

The incapacity of the US political system to challenge the NRA and stop the ongoing wholesale carnage speaks to a society steeped in shell games. It's taken a pandemic and enforced social distancing to protect US schools from the weekly slaughter. Unintended consequences...

As a father of two children who are darker than blue, I am finely attuned to the shameful precarity of the lives of those of their hue in America. Every step, every moment, outside of our home could turn into disaster.

My children like playing. They play with sticks and all manner of toys.

Sometimes they fight and throw tantrums. Man, they even scream. (I'm a shameful parent, I know, I never read the mindfulness chapter). They're literal minor threats, these ones.

These children like walking and talking.

And they like jogging.

They even like reading. Books have been known to be lethal weapons in this here land according to righteous police officers.

Also: my children like breathing. For shame, these United States.

We're getting a rigorous education in the school of hard knocks. Social Studies is our core curriculum.

Ghana vrs USA

The one thing that all the developed countries in the world insist upon is that they have the right to sell you weapons systems. They'll disagree about aid, their protective tariffs or debt relief, but if your poor country needs guns, by God, it's your right to find a supplier (and preferably ours).

They leaked the transcript:
Negroponte: Death squads in Honduras.
Gaddafi: Death squads in Liberia.
Negroponte: Massacres in El Salvador.
Gaddafi: Small boy units. Charles Taylor. 'Nuff said.

[both men seem to relax... become expansive in their gestures]

Conan Doyle's The Adventure of Silver Blaze hinged on "the curious incident of the dog in the night-time".

We are all Gregory noting: "There was no shame in the American night-time".

As Covidious Holmes would quip: "That was the curious incident".

This quality of shame aversion is confounding to the rest of the world. Not that Americans do much introspection even in the night-time. See also: Greene, Graham, The Quiet American.

Quoth that rogue who won the Nobel Prize: "America has no permanent friends or enemies, only interests". Some Vietnamese and Cambodians, let alone those Colombians who suffered the earlier September 11th, the 1973 edition, can testify about the virtues of the American gaze.

Still, my favourite recent Profiles of Shamelessness in the USA (POSIT USA): Paul Wolfowitz winning the Presidential Citizen's Medal and George Tenet winning the Presidential Medal of Freedom for Dubya's Mission Accomplished gruesome-twosome wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Still ongoing...

Digression: this is a point my soul brother Teju Cole once made, and vividly so

I deeply respect American sentimentality, the way one respects a wounded hippo. You must keep an eye on it, for you know it is deadly.

Which leads me to ask, why don't you come back to these blogging, twittering trenches? We need you, man. This is the web, all you need is an idea and a link. I'm not privy, but surely you can briefly escape the ivory tower - call it a covidious sabbatical?

Wetin you carry?

Also: fun. End of digression...

Like most teenagers however, the 400+ year old America never looks back even with the hangover of a good bacchanalian night out. The walk of shame is a Hollywood fiction, the Game of Thrones notwithstanding.

You can read Kevin Young's tome Bunk: The Rise of Hoaxes, Humbug, Plagiarists, Phonies, Post-Facts, and Fake News to try to pinpoint the year America's shame virginity was lost.

Let's posit, if you will, that America's loss of shame virginity occurred sometime in the 19th century, when first Manifest Destiny, and then Social Darwinism became explicit official ideology.

Sidenote: some cynics say that it was much earlier that United States' shame virginity was lost, say sometime between the Declaration of Independence with its lofty aspirations that "all men are created equal" and the Three-Fifths Compromise at the 1787 constitutional convention.

My favorite quote on this is the opening lines of the preface of one of my favorite books, James Ellroy's American Tabloid. Hard-boiled and concise:

America was never innocent. We popped our cherry on the boat over and looked back with no regrets.

It's perhaps apt to invoke Ellroy since the through-line of his entire oeuvre is destabilizing the world of rogue authoritarians. He hasn't ventured from the historical novel, but the contemporary rogues now leading the UK and US and other countries would be his kind of fallen angels

Per Demon Dog Ellroy's historical research, we should pinpoint the American loss of shame to a mass orgy on the lower decks of the Mayflower (I certainly hope it took place on the lower decks). That would make it sometime in 1620. Puts Pocahontas in another light, but I digress.

The word shame is not mentioned in the US constitution. The originalists know this too well in their shell game, pace Antonin Scalia and his surviving compere, Justice Thomas.

In any case, to recap, shame is, and has been, missing in action in America. The United States has been post-shame in living memory. Send in John Rambo (Ducks)

The current US leadership is indubitably post-shame. The Donald's entire life has been an existence proof of the possibility of inoculation at birth to the notion of shame. Birth of the Nation?

The mythology of the Puritan (work ethic and all) on the one, and the grifter on the other, and the spectre of the cowboy on the frontier are part and parcel of the same nexus of shame, or lack thereof.

Another mythological creature in America, certified by hastily drafted precedents in the Roberts Court as a person, is the almighty Corporation. The hydra-headed creature's Achilles shame heel was located in a polyp in the medulla of the appendix. Ergo invisible to the naked eye.

Karl Marx never met the full flowering of the late era capitalist corporation, but, like their contemporaneous ancestors, modern corporations are devoid of shame almost by definition.

It's a puzzle, the corporation relies on effective information flows for its operations. The contract is trust, responsibility, and loss of status. You would think Exit, Voice, Loyalty would be the frame. Rather, it's The Organization Man laying off troublesome essential workers.

Some office readings, juxtaposed.

No one in the United States has ever resigned in living memory if they've made a hash of anything. Resignation is a quite laughable suggestion. The normal practice is for people to fail upwards, see most CEO's statements as they announce layoffs just before the quarterly analyst call.

I have my own experience of these things. At Big Blue, they called it A Resource Action

No executive resigned in shame at the gross misallocation of capital and outright fraud of the Great Recession. I trust Dick Fuld has consultants planning his comeback in this covidious season.

Dick Fuld For Shame

The Donald pardoned Michael Milken just the other day. Just saying...

Tell a lie, Wells Fargo's Chairwoman, Betsy Duke and another of their directors did resign on March 8 2020 for gross neglect of their fiduciary duty.

Crucially, however, not a single penny of the compensation Duke and Quigley amassed for the years of graft they presided over has ever been returned.

Nor ever will.

It may feel like piling on good old Betsy (she's a Duke not a Devos after all). I should note that most grifters have traditionally been male. The patriarchy is strong on the grift.

Still, wasn't there a series? Oh yeah, the Dukes of Hazzard? We loved watching it growing up in Ghana. Before the second Rawlings coup that is. Then we only got martial music on GBC.

Well Fargo's original logo was a stagecoach. Suckers never realized that it was galloping away with their hard-earned money. Quick, call the cavalry. They've since rebranded of course.

For what it's worth, I still have a Wells Fargo account - the proceeds of my severance from Big Blue (back when they still gave severance). Proof of the great inertia that grifters bank on.

Per most free market critiques, every single Wells Fargo customer should have long since closed their accounts. Capitalism is supposed to be a brutal marketplace. The reality is of socialism for the oligarchs.

America's application of the death penalty is highly selective at the best of time. The unspoken rule is that corporations need not apply. Who is writing the script?

On a personal note, I would never advocate for the death penalty. My father spent the first 6 years of my life on death row in Kutu Acheampong's Ghana. My first glimpses of him were through visiting screens. I pay my tithes to Amnesty International etc.

Yet I'm now looking at some corporations with wist.

A little creative destruction is a temptation, said the union organizer as she readied her pitchfork, but I've got essential work to do at the nursing home before my night shift at the fish processing plant.

Last summer my dad disclosed, matter-of-factedly, that my mum had flown on the last flight that the doomed Boeing 737 MAX had taken to Ethiopia. She had noted "how the plane had that new plane smell". Mum is poker faced and still hasn't brought that episode up. The corporate death penalty seems apt.

I withdraw that last comment. One shouldn't pick fights with the military industrial complex - their shell game is strong. Even toli mongers know to advise themselves. I won't begrudge a bailout for Boeing.

The airline companies however... Those bean counters who literally removed peanuts from the "beverage service", padding their bank accounts while making the flying experience as intolerable as possible. Left to me the conditions on their bailout, well...

Never let a good crisis go to waste, said a Churchillian drunkard (victims of the Bengal famine of 1943 might differ). I'm thinking we should revisit the meat and food processing industrial complex, the nursing and care home situation, and the whole essential worker pipeline. Bailout conditions galore and a thorough reimagining of their form and function. This covidious pandemic has clarified that these segments are not fit for purpose. The prison industrial complex is in the same category.

Dean Baker has deep thoughts about Corruption and the Pandemic Bailout. It takes two to do The Corruption Tango.
Ghettos to the left of us
Flowers to the right

The Cross by Prince

Musical interlude: we need Prayer by D'Angelo

pyramid of capitalist system

The paradox is that friction and opacity is necessary for the smooth operation of capitalism. We don't "really" want to know how the sausage is made, we just want it on the breakfast table. It's a hard knock life for the essential workers at the meat plant of capitalism.

Slightly related (moving from friction to fiction):
The best book of fiction I've read all year is IBM's 2019 Annual report. Not normally a fan of the fantasy genre, but, well...

Let's call the Duke of Wells Fargo affair the exception that proves the rule. One wonders if there were any Dukes or Quigleys on the Mayflower.

The caveat is that the Duke of Wells Fargo's resignation occurred after the onset of the coronavirus pandemic. I contend that my essential point still stands even if Sam Cooke's change has now come.

This is a society that never looks back, with a ruling class that employs journalists (and the occasional historian) as house stenographers.

Case in point, The Donald has long worn his numerous bankruptcies as a badge of honor. It's a matter of character. National character (elections have consequences).

The rest of the world is watching, open-mouthed, in the manner of a slow motion scene in disaster movie. "We have to manage, oh", as they say where I come from.

Summarizing our research thus far: American shame was lost around 1620 on the Atlantic ocean but was briefly rediscovered in March 2020 by a covidious attack of conscience. 400 years. Blood, sweat and tears. The 1619 project's prescience.

Observers are worried

Observers are worried

How is it, then, that this novel coronavirus can cut through the great political inertia of the moment, as it were, and as I claim?

I'll handwave and go with the Rule of Four to propose some Toli Foundational Ironclad Laws of Americana (FILA).

  1. Shame Cultures
  2. Buyer's Remorse

Arggh the last two will have something to do with rhetorical drift and ye olde capitalist contradictions. I can't lay out all my cards yet.

In the USA, it will be the lawyers and the insurance companies who will ultimately call the political shots.

In the United States, the saying goes that nothing ever is completed until the lawyers get their cut. That's way the corruption tango works over here. As the song goes, it takes two, baby

Lawyers get a bad wrap in their role as the Bret Stephens bedbugs of this litigious society. It's a two-sided market and they provide much needed liquidity as all market makers do.

Sidenote: my father is a lawyer who made sure to steer me away from his profession so I'm well aware about legal reputations, libel and liability and so forth

Sidenote the second: my journalist mother also sat me down and forbade me her profession, and in that same conversation. This is why you get free toli from me.

Sidenote the third: when my cousin and I were Vibing with Abbey Lincoln, she told us to be bold and forgo misgivings of shame. "Throw it away" like she sang.

The thing is that lawyers are mere agents of capitalism, Marx would likely have labeled lawyers as the greater part of the lumpenbourgeoisie. Sophisticated apparatchiks to capital.

No. Insurance is where the real action is. And let's take a closer look at the fine print, as you have to do with all things to do with insurance.

The earliest shot across the bow in the US was the first acknowledged Tyson chicken meat processing plant outbreak

The Smithfield lawsuit, which simply asks that a meat packing workplace not be a death sentence irrespective of how menial one's job is, tipped the scale. The Smithfied pork factory in Sioux City will be the locus of the social justice fight.

Missouri Pork Plant Workers Say They Can’t Cover Mouths to Cough
"A lawsuit filed against a Smithfield Foods plant claims it has created a public nuisance by failing to protect workers from coronavirus infection."

The Donald promptly invoked the Defense Production Act on Smithfield and Tyson Foods' behest.

The tell is that this is the same Defense Production Act he'd refused to use for months to provide much needed Personal Protective Equipment or testing resources. His claim was that he only needed to talk, to wield the bully pulpit to get those other industries to do his bidding.

A few phone calls from food executives and he's now a True Believer in executive action instead of talking?

I recall that season three of True Detective centered on a Tyson Foods subtext; Nic Pizzolatto studied at the altar of James Ellroy especially in season two. They excavate the buried bones of American capitalism. Also David Simon

In his role as Chief Scientist on TV, Trump's Emmy-nominated scene was about the physics of shame liquefaction.

I expect some Tyson or Smithfied executive quoted him the immortal words of George W. Bush from 2008 as another world historic catastrophe was taking place on a Republican's watch, "This sucker could go down"

So we got a Trumpian illustration of pork barrel politics that would put Tammany Hall to shame.

Correction: we've previously established that this last is metaphorical license: there was no shame in Tammany Hall. Forgive me all ye descendants of Boss Tweed.

wheel patent cartoon

The issue is this: a plain reading of the language of 95 percent of OSHA regulations will be hard to square with the reality of a covidious workplace.

And don't get me started with HIPAA, the American with Disabilities Act, let alone the Equal Protection Amendment. You couldn't suborn every Federal judge (argh, Attorney General Barr may well try, but still)

A rewrite of the law couldn't pass Congress - @AOC is just itching for The Donald and the Republicans to try. And The Squad? Forget about it.

Hell, even mild Chuck Schumer had a malicious glint in his eye in a recent PBS interview when Mitch McConnell's trial balloon about "addressing corporate liability" was launched. That shell game is up.

Similarly, the Roberts Court, no matter how shameless it has been (and talk about world historic shamelessness), has found it hard to square most circles. I predict the same with this covidious conundrum, although the Chief Justice will surely die trying (and before Ginsburg I presume)

Then there's the Executive Branch. You simply can't apply the Defense Production Act (which is only meant for emergencies and for the industries explicitly specified when the act is promulgated) by fiat to the entire economy.

And if there is even one lawsuit that goes through, the spectre of class action lawsuits will raise its head. The law moves slowly but at that stage, the shell game is over.

Enter a lowly actuary as your friendly neigbourhood cop. The insurance companies will simply raise their rates for all business activity. What? You really think Warren Buffett doesn't have contingency plans?

From universities through car companies like my own employer, to daycare facilities, to sports events and restaurants, the revised insurance premiums will be astronomical. There's no vaccine against premium hikes.

Supply and demand will operate and the rigged market will find its equilibrium as it must. The free market will be said to have spoken. Prohibitive insurance will have made its mark.

The forcing function that will be driving political change in the United States is paradoxically not going to be the red hot heat of a pandemic Great Depression. The plan to sacrifice units of essential workers notwithstanding.

Rather it is the spectre of the actuary in some anonymous insurance back office who is the cowboy in the white hat. The mundane claims adjuster gearing up to crunch the numbers about this covidious scenario and dispassionately dispense justice, and in cold blood as it were

gil scott-heron ronald reagan and john wayne - b movie american selective amnesia

The legal eagles got the Hollywood films and all the press. From LA Law to Law and Order, there is built-in drama in their narratives. How come we never get the human interest epics about the lowly insurance broker?

Bureaucratic conflict just doesn't get its due. When the scripts are finalized, you'll start hearing "We're only following the science, we were only following the best available data and scientific advice". Mind you, we've known from the start that there's no vaccine, that no one has any immunity, that this is a new disease, that we don't know anything about it, how it works, its seasonality, its long term effects, side effects and so forth.

Soul insurance is the gig. Perhaps we should all rewatch The Adjustment Bureau as we shelter in place.

To summarize, soul insurance for America's covidious masses will be delivered by actual insurance companies, aided by the liability intimations of a few emboldened lawyers.

We are living in a state of global narrative collapse. The saviour and blame narratives are being readied and will be retrofitted post-hoc.

In the interim America's political class will follow the lead of the insurers. I'm looking very closely at the noises the insurers are making, reading their trade journals. That's where the action is.

I can already hear the politicians: "It's infrastructure week". The pivot is going to be shameless and, well, maybe there will be some genuine relief. The bodies will keep piling up in the interim though... the bodies...

The political blathering in the interim is just posturing and positioning for future advantage. The pity is that the posturing is at the cost of real lives. Currently around 3,000 daily in the USA. But all's fair in a shell game.

The perception of depraved indifference, and the prospect of punitive damages are the nuclear weapons of American jurisprudence.

American businessmen read the tea leaves and are no fools. Even the most cold-hearted can see the headlines in Europe e.g. Bosses risk criminal prosecution if they try to force employees to work without adequate protection

There's probably a joke about the Geico lizard in there somewhere. I did mention Bret Stephens earlier, didn't I?

So what we have here is a privatization of policy. Surely the delegation of essential decisions about public health, economics and politics to claims adjusters is a puzzling development. It's a highly inefficient way to organize society, well, but that seems to be the American way.

"These natives are crazy" to quote Asterix (or was it Obelix?). Still in mourning for Albert Uderzo

tag cloud: bush
Case in point Robert Redfield, the director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, expressed the ingenuous puzzlement of a true believer:
"I guess I anticipated that the private sector would have engaged and helped develop it for the clinical side"

The dictionary definition of the naiveté of a mark. Doctor Redfield was self isolating last I heard.

Switching perspectives from mark to grifter, the best historical antecedent was Alan Greespan coming to terms with the contradictions of his life's work, the Ayn Rand-inspired, Greenspan Put at the onset of The Great Recession:
"I have found a flaw. I don't know how significant or permanent it is. But I have been very distressed by that fact."
This one is good too:
"You know, that's precisely the reason I was shocked, because I have been going for 40 years or more with very considerable evidence that it was working exceptionally well".

Where to start with the target rich environment that is Alan Greenspan's legacy?

Bernie Madoff too was working "exceptionally well" with his Ponzi scheme for almost 50 years. Grifters tend to get Presidential Medal of Freedom in America as Chairman Greenspan well knows all too well from personal experience.

Our Donald wrapped a Presidential Medal of Freedom in America around Rush Limbaugh's neck just the other day.

Greenspan again:
"I made a mistake in presuming that the self-interests of organisations, specifically banks and others, were such that they were best capable of protecting their own shareholders and their equity in the firms"

Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Pardon my visceral reaction. GTFOHWTBS

The modern conservative is engaged in one of man's oldest exercises in moral philosophy; that is, the search for a superior moral justification for selfishness.

— John Kenneth Galbraith
A hypocrite

It all boils down to The Mosquito Principle if you don't mind my saying so

Mosquitos don't discriminate.

Some call it globalization; I know it as The Mosquito Principle.

The Grifters is one of my favorite Jim Thompson joints and I highly recommend it if you'd like some further reading about the prevailing aesthetic in Anytown, USA.

Outsiders underestimate the prevalence of grift in American society at their financial peril. There are tremendous levels here, to quote Dear Leader. Please note too that I live in Texas, to give some context for my comments. Watch your pockets.

I recommend The Grifters movie mostly for Donald Westlake's screenplay. My only quibble: Westlake cleaned up Jim Thompson's story for John Cusack, and removed the most disturbing bits about the Anjelica Huston character. Anyway Hollywood? Shell Game? Connect the dots.

I've often wondered if Bill Gates's philanthropic impulse stems from having the self awareness to see how his testimony in the Microsoft antitrust depositions made him appear (defensive, grasping and petty) to the world.

(I trust of course that his impulse was unbidden, genuine and long predated his brush with being branded as a garden variety oligarch)

It would be a convenient narrative, however, if it was indeed the shame of his exposure by David Boies, the very public dissembling about his monopolistic tactics that drove the philanthropic impulse. Shame as a forcing function.

From Carnegie's libraries through Alfred Nobel's prizes, there is a long tradition of soul salving by legacy and reputation scrubbing. As Rockefeller towers go up, Rhodes scholars must fall.

But back to the topic of Shame Virginity...

How about a new financial product: Insurance Certificates for Shame Virginity?

That great vampire squid, rhymes with Old Man Lacks a conscience, can securitize these and sell to some Finnish pensioner.

(I have a cousin who works there so I shouldn't spoil his game, treading carefully here...)

Wasn't there a rapper (or was it an NBA player) who claimed he got his teen daughter's hymen checked every so often? The Patriarchy is strong with T.I.

Marsha Ambrosius had a joint called Hope She Cheats On You (With A Basketball Player). I knew it was a revenge job, but I didn't know that her curse spanned generations. I'm doubly scared of her floetic powers.

In that vein, I propose we periodically inspect the USA for evidence of the continued existence of shame. AIG can underwrite our findings.

What? A mandatory probe of a society's shame membrane is uncomfortable to you? The patriarchy has had millennia of actual uncomfortable probes into half of humanities' nether regions.

Sidenote: for the avoidance of doubt, I was tweeting metaphorically in the previous tweets. Much like Bret Stephens before he bailed on Twitter. But I digress...

Still, there's an interesting question here, when exactly did certain societies lose their sense of shame?

The UK case is perhaps easiest, I think I've suggested a timeline between the rise of Rupert Murdoch (he bought the News of the World in 1969) and the disappearance of Lord Lucan (which would be 1974). The trivia that I hold in my head...

British shame was restored from the reign of shameless usurpers sometime in March 2020. The fifty-odd year period would be labeled by later historians as The Interregnum of Shame. Thatcher was their Cromwell. Bring out the bodies... (from the nursing homes)

I will deliver the requisite Toli Shame Certification to my nephews in Kent by Royal Mail. They have just passed the age of consent and, with the money they might save from Rishi Sunak's furlough scheme, should be able to come up with the dowry in deflationary pounds.

Queen Portia

Oh, never mind, I just read that our man Sunak and Mister Johnson wanted to stop supporting their taxpayers come July. But what about the coronavirus? For shame, they must have heard about The Grand Reopening of Texas or something

Sunak relented and extended the furlough through October, albeit less generously come August. He can smell the Premiership coming his way. Next he'll be doing his best Gordon Brown impression.

The problem for the Tories is that their smiles of concern for the common folk are never convincing, it's the reflection of the blades they conceal in their mouths.

It's so much easier when you can shout "Business. The economy. Responsibility. Hard choices". A turn to social justice is jarring.

"All of a sudden, the man who called
For a blood bath on our college campuses
Is supposed to be Dudley "God-damn" Do-Right?"

— extract from The B-movie Theory. Gil Scott-Heron's band was called the Amnesia Express at one point

Austerity with a human face is a hard one to pull off. The Washington Consensus never managed that with structural adjustment. Their model pupils were chimera, rogues and dictators all. See also Generals Babangida, Abacha and so forth. The disaster capitalism shell game.

Speaking of Structural Adjustments. Soul insurance, some poetry

The face of incredulity Listening to Boris Johnson dissemble has that effect. Observers are worried. (Sorry, I like recycling jokes)

The face of incredulity

The Pope agreed recently that you could ask God directly for forgiveness for shame and other failings. Makes you wonder if Martin Luther really needed to write 95 Theses when all that was really needed for Protestantism was a covidious bundle of RNA. More pandemic, less ink.

Before I forget, one should check one's privilege and hearken back to that long ago episode on the Mayflower. In this era of #MeToo and intersectionality, we need to interrogate that historical moment with jaundiced eyes.

Chief Monger, Toli Associates will take on the defense, pro bono. It's a matter of empathy - something in short supply in Justice Roberts' Disaster Capitalism Court. Objection, Your Culture.

The first issue is this: was there informed consent? Did America's loss of shame take place in a closed room as I've presumed, or was it out in the open glare of the mid-Atlantic sun, with seagulls overhead as the shoreline beckoned? Historians should supply us with floorplans.

With all due respect, Your Culture, even if the lovely young lady, America - look at her, yes, even if she was willing back then on the Mayflower, she's barely 400 years old now. There is such a thing as marital shame, despite what the covidious Prosecutor contends.

I know my counterpart asked if the young lady was willing and, granted, she since has been quite the bloodthirsty warmonger, but that was after the act in question Your Honor. The prosecution blames America first. It's the old stab in the back routine, sir.

The obvious question comes to mind: was the Ghost of Weinsteins Past on the Mayflower?

Note: I hope our man Weinstein has recovered from his case of COVID-19. Per Saki, Harvey would be much improved by being able to appeal his prison sentence. His lawyers need the dough. Let's advocate for a Weinstein pandemic stimulus.

Was there some kind of suborning or a quid pro quo at play on the lower decks of the Mayflower? Shame in exchange for the considerable self regard of Manifest Destiny? Promotional rebates for branding one's self as God's greatest country. Tremendous, tremendous exceptionalism.

Was it a partouze, a free-for-all? Was it A Midsummer Night's Dream per Old Billy Shakespeare or a Doctor Strangelove Kubrickious affair, Eyes Wide Shut? Assailants unknown. Cold case. The whole crew was in on it. Like Clint Eastwood's High Plains drifter, let's paint the town red.

Oh no. Wither R. Kelly? Does Miss Shame "remind me of my Jeep". America has always loved SUVs. God forbid. Or was it a Bill Cosby type joint? The mind wonders and wanders doesn't it?

Again was Jeffrey Ep[redacted because my alma mater deserves a few errors of judgement, let's not cast the first stone at our benefactors. Such are the youthful indiscretions of an institution that was a contemporary of those on Mayflower.]?

Let's interrogate things further. Why is shame presumed to be a lady? Why take the Lady Eve framing and Garden of Eden antecedent? What so heteronormative? Why so cis-gendered in our analysis?

What if America was actually willing? What if there was a Reversal of Fortune? What if it was a Gone Girl script? What if all this shameful behavior was willed? What if the US was the Keyser Söze of nations?

Here's a shameful episode. The very first thing I did when I got a whiff of the impending lockdown was to go get my car inspected to renew my registration. I didn't want to take my chances driving on Texas streets with an expired registration even during a pandemic.

My last trip to the grocery store on March 31st was preceded by the visit to University Car Wash. They throw in a coupon for a free car wash when you do a state vehicle inspection. Strapping young essential workers over there. Fringe benefits for the ladies.

The phantom thread, a river runs through it.

The thread. The thread. I'm losing the thread to bad taste. The pandemic has me lost like Columbus navigating the ocean for the East Indies. God, Gold and Glory

Laugh-Out-Loud Cats #96

Burning Spear has a reggae hottake on Columbus. The chorus goes "Christopher Columbus is a damn blasted liar". Gets straight to the point, doesn't he? But then he's the poet laureate of Social Living

Erykah Badu has an infection chorus in Certainly that goes "Turned my back and then he slipped me a Mickey". I've always wondered if that was written out of painful experience or if it was just artistic invention.

Oh hai, it's the internet, I can simply ask her. Per Clay Shirky's Here Comes Everybody, it's branded as mass amateurization and all that. No middlemen these days. Record Industry Rule Number 4080 has been rendered moot.

Hey @fatbellybella, did you intend Certainly as a funk remix of A Tribe Called Quest's The Infamous Date Rape?

Arggh, I prefer not to get too close to the source of the creative process. I withdraw the previous tweet. This one should remain an unanswered question, right?

Perhaps the moment is lost in time. Let sleeping dogs lie, as with all things to do with original sins. The culture of shame is what it is.

Let's round out this first effort by invoking James Ellroy's American Tabloid again.
"You can't ascribe our fall from grace to any single event or set of circumstances. You can't lose what you lacked at conception."

I remixed Ellroy with a Ronald Reagan speech a while back. I called it Angola. It was about the B-movie Theory

What, you really have something better to do in this covidious era? It's the coronavirus pandemic, surely you can read some arch concept toli?

Dolph Lundgren even makes a guest appearance in Angola, as does Jonas Savimbi, Mobutu and other assorted rogues. Manifest Destiny revisited as farce.

His had been an intellectual decision founded on his conviction that if a little knowledge was a dangerous thing, a lot was lethal.

Tom Sharpe - Porterhouse Blue
porterhouse blue

Shell Games - A Playlist

Turn to music, let's atone by curating a few tracks as a soundtrack for this part of the shell game: a pandemic playlist of shame. (spotify version)

Oh wait, I previously pointed folks to A Lamentable Playlist. Listen without prejudice Anyway a shameless remix never hurt anybody, "just ask Puff Daddy".

Throw it Away by Abbey Lincoln
One night I found these magic words
In a magic book

Throw it away
Throw it away
Give your love, live your life
Each and every day

And keep your hand wide open
Let the sun shine through
'Cause you can never lose a thing
If it belongs to you

There's One Born Every Minute (I'm A Sucker For You) by Jonathan Butler From the More than Friends album. His melodies take me home, to use another song title

Donald Trump, Black Version by The Time from the aptly name Pandemonium album. The Purple one and the baddest band went for delicacy. See also: Gigolos get lonely too

Continue with Character by Van Hunt, from his most Prince-imbued outing, he left nothing on the jungle floor.
Who are you?
When heavy weather is blowing?
Where is your character?
The one who keeps you going?

Huh, America? @VanHunt

Skeletons by Stevie Wonder. Mr Morris took on apartheid, Reagan, and Thatcher. With panache too, a welcome return to form

The Observers are Worried series kicked off with Stevie's look at what was in the closet and is now apparently ancient history: apartheid and its enablers. The funky sound of selective amnesia

Take a Look at Yourself by Guru deserves a look. Braggadocio in full flight
Take a look at yourself
Take one big look
Take a look at yourself (you dig ?)

The Wife mostly indulges my enthusiasms for these kinds of shell games, she's my Queen of Sanity per Bilal. Astonishing vocals from the Airtight Kid. I hear all of the soul music greats in his vocal runs.

Doctor Soul by Foster McElroy featuring MC Lyte. MC Lyte is my soul insurance. We need Doctor Soul in our lives if not Doctor Fauci. We can't remain marks in this shell game

Mountain of When by Amel Larrieux. Lyrically her strongest work. I get lost in this song every time.
Predicting the loss
before I begin
So it don't cut too deep
when I don't win
I hate it when I'm right
Much rather be wrong
I'd rather be wrong

A prime feature on any playlist, a track produced by Jam and Lewis for The Man with the Golden Voice, my soul insurance: Shame by Alexander O'Neal

Shell Games - A Playlist

Curated for your one-click pleasure (spotify version)

Gee Doctor Fauci (Remixed)

Oh what the hell, let's throw in a remix of Gee Doctor Fauci. Some show tunes from West Side Story. Excessive perhaps? Cut the fat, you verbose toli monger? Well, it's my entertainment for this pandemic. Partying like it's 2019.

See also:

One curiosity about writing or any craft is that one never knows what will connect with the reader. You toil away on some arch concept to the sound of crickets, yet your throwaway musings on swallowing pills (of all things), or say Ghana must go bags will be your lasting legacy.

Dear kindly Doctor Fauci
Ya gotta give me a chance
Cos Shame, remember? My old lady
Skipped town, a hasty disappearance
"There's no such thing as society
It's a shell game, ya bum
Wise Dame, done made a runner, see
Pay up those healthcare premiums
Sucker, reopen the great US Economy"

Dear kindly Doctor Fauci
Wontcha give us a break
There's all these grifters out here
They're really on the make
It's hard to make a living
When you're surrounded by snakes.
Quick fast organize a posse
We need a bailout. Not the breaks.

Dear kindly Doctor Fauci
Can't a fella go for a lark?
Pandemic's got me stuck and seething
Right up here in Noah's ark
You know, it's hard to keep breathing
Still, I'm kinda looking fondly out there at the sharks
This damned self isolation's been preventing me from swimming

Gee kindly Doctor Fauci
Claims Adjuster came round
From the insurance
They're skimping on the bailout
And wanna check
I'm giving all the creditors
That old song and dance
My light verse quickly
Devolving into dreck
Got trouble with the meter
Argh, don't look askance

Dear kindly Doctor Fauci
Look at me I'm still homebound
Man it's hard to get some privacy
When you're dodging The Real Inspector Hound
Tell him to go inspect some meat plants
These days can't be too careful,
Nary a fist bump, look straight, no sideways glance

Gee kindly Doctor Fauci
This plague is more than I can take
After that high yella Obama
I figured we lowered the stakes
Any idiot could be Top Gunner
Like a drunken bet on a wrong horse
That vote for Trump could be a fatal mistake
Got a serious case of buyer's remorse

Gee kindly Doctor Fauci
Pandemic's got me going insane
The usual suspects are evading the blame
This covidious horror
Carnage in our house of pain
Take a look at the man in the mirror
What I wouldn't do to exchange
Fates. Sing with that awesome tenor
"Make that change"

Dear kindly Doctor Fauci
You're getting really lame
Tonto, call in the cavalry
Or drifters from the high plains
The guy in the white hat
Came to the rescue in vain
He died with his boots on
'Tis a quite a pity that!
I surely maintain
We would have rather had John Wayne

Dear kindly Doctor Fauci
'Twas a painful family affair
They treat me like a juvenile
And they keep saying "fair is fair"
Instead of this rank denial
How about we pull back from despair
And stop misbehaving?
This pandemic is a trial
I'd suggest we try some Social Living

The above to the tune of Gee Officer Krupke and with apologies to Leonard Bernstein. I loved that showtune we practiced in that English boarding school. It resurfaced as I was contemplated The Grand Reopening of Texas, you see

Oh Christ, what have I done? I actually promised four Games of Toli and, 200-odd tweets later, I've barely gotten to the bottom of the first bit of filler. Shaking my head at the culture of shame, plumbing the depths, as it were

I hope this doesn't turn out to be like my Things Fall Apart series, 60 or so variations on the eternal theme and going. That joint was meant to be a weeklong affair. 14 years later, I still haven't clicked publish on 3 of those initial 7 pieces.

Anyway let's call it quits, fin, fini, Dear Reader. Pandemic's got me a bout de souffle, This has been Shell Games (Part I. Shame Cultures). Next up in Part II: The Skeptic's Credo. In Part III, A Taxonomy of Useful Idiots. We'll do Buyer's Remorse to conclude the series.

Feel free to join in on the blog or in real time on the pandemic Twitter toli joint

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