BLACK XMAS, GAY MARRIAGE, & HATE MAIL

“If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is a part of yourself. What isn’t part of ourselves doesn’t disturb us.”
-- Hermann Hesse 1877-1962: “Demian” (1919)

BLACK XMAS

How sadly fitting a metaphor for the financial maelstrom about to consume us. A Wal-Mart (“Lowest Wages, Always”) employee on Long Island was crushed to death by a stampede of desperate shoppers. This only the most vicious example of the fights and injuries that broke out at Wal-Marts nationwide. It was reported there were more shoppers than shopping bags.

Across the world, however, there were consumers with bags. Having purchased a brand new Yamaha outboard motor and state of the art inflatable dinghy, they pulled up to a slum dock in Mumbai, shed their hunters orange windbreakers, and, showing off their young physiques in matching t-shirts and blue jeans, proceeded to unload their custom loaded individual backpacks. When a harbor master asked about the contents of their bags, they said, “We don’t want any attention, don’t bother us.”

Those of you who might wonder about my twisted tales need only look at the cruel expressions of human nature around us. How else to account for the kinds of evil that cloak themselves in guerrilla ideological justifications and first world nationalistic righteousness. When a religious fanatic murders a woman and child, or an unmanned high-tech drone missile wipes out an innocent wedding party, I call it evil. What the ultra committed muhajadeen and western right wing patriot have in common is the amoral capacity to use that cold, cognitive element that makes us “The Highest Animal,” to overcome the empathetic impulse. Simply put, they carefully rationalize the folly of maintaining a moral conscience, thus walling off any internalized opposition, innocent or otherwise, to those who might reject their apocalyptic worldview (See Dick Cheney’s 1% doctrine).

Meanwhile, our fellow citizens dying of thirst can take heart, the Space Shuttlers finally got the urine-to-water conversion machine working. Perhaps one day we’ll see a trans-Atlantic pipeline that ships America’s converted urine to sub-Saharan Africa. We could set up tributaries via the urinal outlets at sports bars. Bud-lite would be discounted for those who voluntarily ingest diuretics, thus partaking in that most noble, and altruistic, act (the piss is a communal discharge): sacrificing their pee on behalf of our dying brethren. Now if they can get that shit-to-donuts contraption working we’re in business.

GAY MARRIAGE and RACE

Let’s talk about race and homophobia. Why the inordinately high percentage of blacks that voted against Proposition 8, the ban on same-sex marriage in California? In my long experience teaching at the college level, I’ve found African American students to be the most stridently homophobic of all minorities. Rather than explain why, I thought I might include this excerpt from Charles M. Blow’s editorial in today's “New York Times”:

(1) Blacks are much more likely to attend church, according to a Gallup report, and black women are much more likely to attend church than black men. Anyone who has ever been to a black church can attest to the disparity in the pews. And black women’s church attendance may be increasing. According to a report issued this spring by Child Trends, a nonprofit research center, weekly church attendance among black 12th graders rose 26 percent, while attendance for white 12th graders remained virtually flat. In 2006, those black teenagers were nearly 50 percent more likely to attend church once a week than their white counterparts. And it is probably safe to assume that many of them were going to church with their mothers since Child Trends reported that around the time that they were born, nearly 70 percent of all black children were born to single mothers.

(2) This high rate of church attendance by blacks informs a very conservative moral view. While blacks vote overwhelmingly Democratic, an analysis of three years of national data from Gallup polls reveals that their views on moral issues are virtually indistinguishable from those of Republicans. Let’s just call them Afropublicrats.

(3) Marriage can be a sore subject for black women in general. According to 2007 Census Bureau data, black women are the least likely of all women to be married and the most likely to be divorced. Women who can’t find a man to marry might not be thrilled about the idea of men marrying each other.

HATE MAIL

On Monday, March 31st, 2003 a photo of Sophia and myself appeared in The Ann Arbor News. Standing under a poster saying “Drop Bush, Not Bombs,” the caption read, “Ann Arbor resident Randy Tessier, left, strums his guitar to accompany antiwar songs as Sophia H. of Ann Arbor sings along with protesters on Main street in downtown Ann Arbor Sunday night.”

The following Tuesday I received two letters (transcribed as written) with no return address. My address (which is in the book) was handwritten on one envelope and typed on the other. The first contained a defaced version of the News photo with the following enclosure:

“Tessier --

As your strumming around Ann Arbor, which by the way “Shaky Jake” makes better noise then you do, remember who in hell gave the freedom to do so.

I don’t think you anti-Americans really give a damn any way, it’s your gutless type that GIs, sailors, Coast Guard etc. really detest, I am a Vietnam Vet and I hate you, loath you at the highest with bitter contempt, not one of you know what the hell your doing, nor do your type no what to do, men/women are fighting you and you spit on them, well I spit on you and have, watch your back ass-hole.

Did you make a date with the bitch next you in that photo in the paper? When Memorial day comes, stay off the street, when the 4th comes don’t go to any parades you ass-holes don’t belong, gutless fucking cowards, your scum are the minority and the cowards you are will try to weep the good out of an American victory, Hussein – his regime is FUCKING HISTORY !

I see that plastic guitar is made in Iraq, I bet by Hussein’s thugs.

-- Allen Harris”

Of course there is no such person. The second letter, shorter and typed, read:

“Tessier –

Which are you a Marxist, Communist, Liberal, Libertarian Socialist? Your not an American that is for damn sure, you are Anti-American spreading bias bull shit, and you clowns don’t even know what the hell your doing, nor do they know how to play a guitar, nice try ass hole!

There are thousands of men & women in Iraq fighting for you, and all you do is piss on them, I am a Vietnam veteran and I put you fuck heads in the same class as those in the 60s gutless cowards and are traitors pure and simple.

I say FUCK YOU! And GO AMERICA! And GO MR. BUSH! AND GO TROOPS!

-- Dick Jones”

Since my name’s in the book, it wasn’t difficult for Mr. Harris, or Jones, or whatever his name is, to send along his opinion. It’s a free country, why not?

Now fast forward to the blog I posted on November 3rd, 2008: “Endorsements and Embarrassments.” This was an unabridged version of a document published in “The Ann Arbor News” shortly after the election.

And so, 5 years later, I received this (typed) letter:

“After 8 years, America is better

Tessier,

Local observations, what has changed? America is safer, America is still free, has a Democracy, and Capitalism, still has free speech depending who you are, America’s problem! Caused by whom? Blame America first is the liberal-left’s idea of a problem.

Silence conservative speech is aproblem, conservative talk TV is aproblem, all those yard signs are a problem, the free market is a problem, supporting the troops is a problem, keeping terrorists out of America is a problem, not having huge taxes is a problem, having the great military is a problem.

Attacking the enemies of America is a problem, not giving illegal Mexicans full rights is a problem, not having faggot marriage legal world wide is a problem, not having a one party country is a problem, not spending enough is a problem.

Not having a huge government that makes Americans depend on them is a problem, not giving full rights to illegal immigrants is a problem, not being a third world country is a problem not having every court system fully liberal is a problem, God is a problem, the Ten Commandment is a problem, which Obama will change.

Having terrorists at GETMO is a problem, lets free them all, not having a socialist Markxist dictator is a problem, not blaming America enough is a problem, Bush’s anti-terrorism is a problem, supporting any victories of America is a problem, flag waving is a problem, having no fear of a free world is a problem, not hating Bush is a problem, not supporting Israel’s defeat is a problem, not supporting Iran is a problem.

Not supporting liberal-left agendas is a problem, not supporting Obama is a problem, supporting any conservative is a problem, not apologizing to the world for America is a problem, supporting patriotic themes is a problem, a liberal democracy is socialism/communistic and fully Marxist.

Not supporting this is a problem, not having a one world bank is a problem, shame on you if you don’t support all this, shame on you if you don’t support and accept this manifesto of destruction.

GOD BLESS AMERICA, GOD BLESS THE MILITARY”

Old bigots never die, they just keep buying new phone books.

Peace - Randy

F I C T I O N

“Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature…and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears, would you consent to be the architect on those conditions?”
- Fedor Dostoevsky 1821-81 “The Brothers Karmazov” (1879-80)

The public area of the Michigan State Psychiatric hospital at Newberry contains six visiting rooms, florescent-lighted cells measuring 10x12, with walls and ceilings of Celotex. In each chamber, in addition to an electric ceiling fan, a permanently fixed steel table and chairs, there are concealed microphones, and as a part of the door, a one-way mirror observation portal. On Sunday, the seventh day of 2005, a solitary room was booked for 3:00PM,the hour Ward Stakel had selected for his first confrontation with Claude Guerre.

Just prior to that interview, Stakel gathered himself in the drifted over parking lot, preferring the numbing blizzard to the task before him.

“Testing...testing…I'm afraid, afraid of the truths I might uncover, lies I might inspire, or worse, the inability to recognize the difference."

Rewind.

"I'm afraid, afraid of the truths I might uncover, lies I might inspire, or worse, the inability to recognize the difference."

His wire was working. That night he would edit and transcribe the tapes, carefully manipulating their linear witness.

As Stakel remembers it:

"Nicole wanted to be there, behind the glass, but was instead stranded at the Detroit Renaissance Center, her residence since New Year's Eve. As far as I was concerned, this had to be the guy! Rosen's testimony, Guerre's movements and actions at that time, and what I would hear that day all pointed to him as the killer. Entering the room I was overcome by a sense of nausea, of awe and dread. And then I saw him."

"I imagined a bigger man, more physically imposing; not some rail-like wraith with lemur eyes. He was 62 years old but could've passed for 40. Oblivious to the core, he wore a tattered wife-beater, black horned-rim glasses, and black shoes with no socks or shoelaces. I shook his hand. It was warm and clammy."

"'Mr Guerre,” I began, “my name is Ward Stakel. I am here on behalf of a private client with regard to events that took place some 40 years ago. You do, of course, have the right to say nothing. However, I must also tell you that you can no longer be prosecuted for any criminal actions you may have engaged in at that time. Further, should your responses be forthcoming enough to satisfy my client, we will waive the criteria for parole.”

He eyed me icily, with dirty, piercing eyes, a thoroughly despicable looking creature, with a repugnant, sneering grin. Seemingly unmoved by what should have inspired some kind of response. With a soft soprano whine, and articulate diction, he spoke.

"Been there, done that." Isn't that the quaint little colloquialism one uses in these situations? But all of these things happened so very long ago,” Guerre said, oddly serious for a moment.

“Now Mr. Guerre-“

“Claude.”

“Claude, we're interested in what you remember about your time in the Queen City and St. Ignace area around 1971. Do you recall an acquaintance you may have had? A Mr. Louis Oliver? He claims to have been a friend of yours in those days."

"I remember him all right, Oliver was a joke. Always worried about right and wrong, good and bad. A lot of good it did him, all this talk. It never seemed to prevent him from making the wrong choice.”

“What kind of choices might these be,” I asked.

“How subtle. Oh...you know, like deciding whether to kill someone or not. Come on. Where are you going with this? What is it you want to know?”

“Why don't we begin by talking about your childhood, you know, your family background?”

Fixing me with those wild eyes, Guerre spun a tale. He remembered when he was 13. His father had euthanized the family cat, Boots.

“No matter what we tried, Boots refused to use the litter box. This went on for months, until one day dad decided to, as he so delicately described it, to 'put Boots away.' Only my father would think of electrocution as a humane method of death. Papa assured us that the cat would die immediately, mercifully. However, when it tore away from the electrified snare, he trapped it in a burlap bag and beat it to death with a shovel.”

That was the only episode from his family life that Guerre mentioned. By his brief account, he had worked as a morgue attendant, paramedic, short order cook and cab driver--all before the age of twenty.

“Let's talk about Oliver.”

“A strange one, such an intellectual, so shrewd. And such an interest in…what was his theoretical spin? The dynamics of moral consideration, that was it! How lofty. Ha Ha. Such a talespinner and glib talker, Spewing his academic snake oil as if it might make words more potable for having been treated with his unique blend of erudite semantic additives.”

"I can never tell you what you want to hear; but I can tell you something about Louis and I."

"What Claude?"

"They were moored at the Big Bay Marina.”

“Who Claude?”

“Some yacht girls from Cleveland, or Erie. Somewhere like that. We took them to an apartment above the Lumberjack. It was late. Louis disappeared with one up an attic ladder, while I entertained the others with my guitar. I never saw her again. He strangled her.”

"Strangled who, Claude?"

"I don't know. Just her. As it turned out, at least according to the newspaper I read, she was really a man. ‘Someone left a cake out in the rain.' Certainly a romantic lyric, don't you agree Mr. Stakel? May I call you Ward?"

"No. Please don't use my first name,' I whispered."

“As Louis descended the ladder carring a sawed off shotgun, I produced a Nazi bayonet I had stolen from my Pappy's brother, uncle Bull. It didn't take long to hogtie and gag them. There is nothing duct tape can't do. Did you know they used it during the Viet Nam War to repair Helicopter rotors. Amazing. Then we marched them down to the basement. I tended to the two youngest first. Taped their hands together, using an overhead steampipe to suspend them. I positioned them in such a way that they couldn't avoid watching us. We ordered the other two to undress. Grabbing a dusty refrigerator box from between the coal stoker and furnace, I flattened it out, forming a large stiff rectangle. Since I felt it was inordinately cruel to ask the eldest to stretch out on the cold concrete floor, I provided this makeshift pallet as her final resting place, securely afixing her hands and feet in a splayed position. The last girl, so beautiful, skin so exquisitely while, like alabaster or porcelain, I tied spread-eagled, face down on an old fashioned bumper pool table."

"The basic tools of torture are fist and boots. Nothing else is really needed to inflict suffering. Other items that come to mind, of course, are knives, broken bottles and cigarettes--all of which we had at our disposal. In the way of a whip, we had a scourge of electric cord and rubber fan belt. According to Oliver--a connoisseur of pain--a method of torture commeon to India and Pakistan is, Cheera, a torment in which the victim's legs are spread apart until the muscles tear and great bruises form in the groin. We applied this. We also used electric shock, targeting the genitals, nipples and lips--which are not only the most sensitive parts of the body but also the most private and personal ones. Applied by simply touching the skin with bare wires. Needless to say, we first sexually assaulted them. Oliver dutifully informed me this is regarded as the supreme agony, causing the victim the ultimate humiliation, indignity, and lasting psychological damage--a problem these girls wouldn't have to worry about. After this, we garroted them with guitar strings.

A funny story my friend! Is it not? Cest la vie. Me, a boulevardier, raconteur, bricoleur, flaneur, and doctor, having fun; I remembered a jet out of K.I. Sawyer--an F101 Voodoo, I believe--that went down in Lake Superior in 1962. They never found the pilot. And I thought right then, I'll kill Oliver. No witnesses.”

Guerre paused.

"I had come expecting to hear the worst," Stakel recalled," but not in the form of a story like this. I had hoped to learn what happened to Don Merryweather. Instead I was regaled with a story so appaling I was left with more questions than answers. If this were true, who were these women Guerre, and possibly Oliver, had murdered? Guerre's confession, although implying the fate of Nicole's father, failed to satisfy my understanding of why. What motive? What intent compelled these horrible crimes?”

Stakel sought refuge in the solace of inexplicability. This crime was a simple twist of fate, a violence without meditation, pre or otherwise. The victims might have died in a plane crash or earthquake. But Stakel couldn't leave it at this. They had suffered cruely, and needlessly.

"I saw no desire for redemption in his eyes. No remorse. No flicker of self-examination. Still, I attempted to temper my anger with consideration, my ultimate judgment unfolding from my sympathy, no, my recognition of the cruel possibilities of human nature and an understanding of the need for retribution when these forces are unleashed. For Guerre's pathetic psychosis had never given him the chance to experience what flows from an affect nourished by the dynamics of human emotion, he had no empathetic, and thus moral, function. His longing was without love, his hatred without spite.

My sympathy, however, brooked no forgiveness, no mercy; but it did require that I meet that moral obligation of understanding the man I was about to condemn. His sentence was sealed, albeit on strictly circumstancial evidence.”

Greetings From San Antonio

What country can we occupy...errr...liberate next?

ciRcLE sHoPping

“Consumer wants can have bizarre, frivolous, or even immoral origins, and an admirable case can still be made for a society that seeks to satisfy them. But the case cannot stand if it is the process of satisfying wants that creates the wealth.”
- J. K. Gailbraith 1908-- : “The Affluent Society” (1958)

“In a consumer society there are two kinds of slaves: the prisoners of addiction and the prisoners of envy.”
- Ivan Illich 1926-- : “Tools For Conviviality” (1973)

“The metamorphosis of consumption from vice to virtue is one of the most important yet least examined phenomena of the twentieth century.”
- Jeremy Rifkin 1945-- : “The End of Work” (1995)

There’s a new trend in consumer culture. It’s called “Circle Shopping.” Before explaining exactly what this means, I might direct your attention to George Romero’s 1978 film “Dawn of the Dead.”

“Dawn of the Dead” shows the apocalyptic effects a zombie epidemic would have on society. In the film, a plague of unknown origin has caused the reanimation of the dead who prey on human flesh, which subsequently causes mass hysteria. Several survivors of the outbreak barricade themselves inside a suburban shopping mall.

One of the looming psychiatric crises of the approaching depression will be how to deal with the ensuing psychological withdrawal brought on by the unavailability of cash or credit to satisfy our consumer addictions. Like those zombies in Romero’s film who mindlessly lurch from store to store, catatonically responding to a primal cultural indoctrination urging them to buy something, anything, “Circle Shoppers” are slaves to a mode of experience that defines them.

What do I mean by this? As an example I offer this story about a visit I once made to my blessed sister’s house. While showing me around her gorgeously appointed domicile, she ushered me into a closet with hundreds of shoes, T-shirts, and other extraneous items of cheaply made wearing apparel.

“Brotherman,” she said,
“look at these bargains I’ve found over the years.”
She then held up eight pairs of tacky golden Aladdin Slippers purchased at the Dollar Store.
“Sisterwoman,” I says,
“why on earth do you need eight pairs of these Sheik Sandals (she’s got big feet), wouldn’t one or two pairs suffice?”
Her response?
“Since they were only a dollar a piece, I had to buy them all.”
“Have you ever worn them,” I says.
She says, “no, they’re too small, but they were such a bargain, I had to have them.”

Sis wasn’t interested in the purchase as much as the purchasing. Over the last fifty years we’ve been trained to ignore austerity and embrace prosperity. Our unabiding faith in capitalism made us forget that historical change can take a regressive as well as progressive course. Why shouldn’t we think of our assets (employment status and homes) as ATMs rather than securities. Wages would rise, home values would follow, and things would get better and better.

“Happy days are here again,
Skies above are clear again.”

How selective we were in ignoring the lessons of the Great Depression. It’s as if we got the first four words and ignored the last. After all, “again” contains the the unpleasant implication that there were once “unhappy” days, and even worse, they might come again. Also recall this song was recorded in 1929, before, not after, the economic debacle that would soon follow. Those who came of age before the sixties knew this (the credit card was invented in 1950). But that’s not us.

And so a kind of “want addiction” displaced the outdated idea that assessing the modest requirements of existence and prudently meeting these life needs might be a sensible budgetary strategy. It was suddenly in vogue to have what you don’t want rather than to want what you don’t have.

We became addicted to buying, and not the things we buy. And so my sis was most proud of the quantity and passion of her consumption rather than what she actually bought. It might just as well have been brushed aluminum Chia-Pets, bargain bin Bedazzlers, reduced priced Flowbees, or Ronco Cellulite Cream Reducer. It’s not the utility of what you buy, as much as the feeling that your purchasing bring about a consumptive and redemptive satisfaction. But what happens when the cozy economic context that enabled this behavior collapses?

But what do we mall zombies do when there’s no more cash, the house is in foreclosure, and the cards are maxed out? It’s simple, we “Circle Shop.” All that’s required is a fixed stipend of cash that can be recycled endlessly. One caveat, avoid becoming desperate to the point of liquidating the the cash that suspends spending withdrawal symptoms.

“Circle shopping” is simply this: One goes to the mall, fixes upon the item they obsessively crave, buys the fetishized object of their desire (add to cart), goes home and agonizes over the unaffordable debt they have just accrued, frantically returns the item, and then rejoices in the rush obtained at having their grub stake refunded so that they might shop again.


NOTE: Copyrighted in 1929 by Milton Ager (music) and Jack Yellen (lyrics). “Happy Days Are Here Again” was recorded by Leo Reisman and His Orchestra, with Lou Levin, vocal (November 1929), and was used in the 1930 film “Chasing Rainbows.”

A New Blog is Coming

BIID

Mitch Mitchell

Circle Shopping

Cancer Vaccine

Bill Debroux

Santa Claus

...and more

Endorsements and Embarrassments: "The Widening Gyre"

To The Ann Arbor News:

With the election over, here’s some local observations on the last two weeks. The urgency of this presidential race, like most pivotal moments in history, gestures toward an earlier aesthetic analog that presages what’s before us: William Butler Yeats’ much anthologized poem, “The Second Coming” (1921).

There’s no gainsaying our culture is perilously close to a time when “the centre cannot hold.” Just as there’s no amount of American will, or sense of Exceptionalism, that can turn a paradigm shift into a predictable cycle.

The clinging belief that economic issues are the crux of America’s problem belies the fact that we are ignoring the real issue of how best to position ourselves for a radical global realignment where we are not the dominant world power. Evidence of this has been growing over the last decade. China is the looming mercantile power, and we’ve globalized and outsourced our way into an economic nightmare. All the while, ignoring the facts of an unsustainable housing bubble, “house of cards” credit debacle, and dead end addiction to grossly consumptive vehicles. When Al Gore came to Detroit some years ago, preaching the message of hybrids and fossil fuel reduction, he was laughed out of town. Now comes the auto companies, hat in hand, and on the brink of bankruptcy, begging for a government bailout.

So where’s the endorsement angle? The Ann Arbor News, a paper which supported Bush in the last two elections, could focus only on tax policies in refusing to endorse either candidate. And this in an election where the obvious attention to substantive issues, and desperately needed break from eight years of disastrous policies, made the choice of who should be president a no-brainer. One of the major tragedies of 9/11 was that it allowed Bush to play the fear card, and the subsequent public paralysis this strategy engendered has alienated us from the world and emboldened our enemies. My friends, regardless of what the News saw as the reason to waffle, we have much more to worry about than our pocketbooks. That commerce and profits are the News’ sole concern is glaringly evident in those obnoxious advertizing stickers they now affix to their masthead, favoring crass commercialism over journalistic pride.

Torture, war, hunger, and social and economic justice, also bear mentioning as issues to consider in making an endorsement. Not surprisingly, The Ann Arbor News ignored these concerns. The News’ moral and political indecision certainly confirms Yeats’ bitter resignation that we live at a time when “The best lack all conviction, while the worst/Are full of passionate intensity.”

As for embarrassments, I’m appalled that some Obama supporters would trample upon that most fundamental right of a liberal democracy: political dissent! On the issue of McCain/Palin signs being trashed, there were some letter writers who assumed the role of apologists for those who did this. Shame on you. Others I spoke to claimed that these were contrived occurrences trumped up by conservative conspirators.

As someone who has received hate mail for protesting the war, and who plays in a local band with a left-leaning political agenda, I can assure you that a “blame the victim” rhetoric, and intolerance of publically displayed conservative values, doesn’t help the liberal cause. In fact, engaging in this outrage smacks less of liberalism than vandalism, gangsterism, and thuggery.

I live on Marian Avenue, a street on which there is a majority of Obama/Biden signs. On the day following Halloween, I noticed my Republican neighbor’s McCain/Palin signs had been pulled up and thrown in the gutter. Another neighbor and I gathered them up and returned them to his lawn. I also noticed a fellow citizen, a resident of 5th Street, carefully straightening out and repositioning her defaced McCain/Palin signs.

Engaging in this kind of behavior is not only civilly unconscionable, it is also a betrayal of what American Democracy is all about: the toleration of differing political beliefs; the willingness to allow free expression of those beliefs; and a commitment to defend this freedom of expression no matter how much it might conflict with one’s own set of political values.

To any and all McCain/Palin supporters who suffered these indignities, I deeply apologize for those who perpetrated these profoundly unpatriotic acts.

Randall L. Tessier