Benjamin Whitmer's Blog, page 28

Dreams: A Meditation on Halloween

Art by Vince Larue, text by Barry Graham.

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Occupy Denver full of shit, Denver anarchists not so much

Yesterday, there was a fairly decent showdown between the DPD and protesters in Denver. You'll notice, of course, that I didn't say there was a showdown between Occupy Denver and the DPD. Because those in Occupy Denver, having as minimal an understanding of the First Amendment and civil disobedience as they do of math, only participated to the extent of doing DPD's work for them. This from the Denver Post (and a great slideshow here):

The first midafternoon confrontation had police and state troopers shoulder-to-shoulder pushing a group of marchers off the state Capitol steps, which is out-of-bounds to protesters without a permit. Some of the Occupy Denver sympathizers then raced to set up tents in Civic Center, where city officials have allowed ongoing food tables and sleeping bags but not sleeping structures.

Those who resisted the removal of tents, food tables, and etc. were not Occupy Denver. They were too busy screaming "shame" at those who were actually engaged in defending their rights. And, although both Occupy Denver and the DPD have been quick to characterize those who resisted the removal of those tents as violent, that's horseshit. Civil disobedience demands, well, disobedience.

Not to be a prick, but that kinda means you don't do what you're told. It means standing on a broader principle, like, say, that aforementioned First Amendment — namely "the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances"– and not fucking being told you don't have that right by goons, state-employed or no.

As usual, both here in Denver and elsewhere, there are a number of folks who don't understand their own rights. A commitment to non-violence does not mean an agreement to allow one's rights to be abrogated at will by the state. Nor does it mean that one won't, when necessary, engage in self defense.

Those in Occupy Denver who were snitching out activists who had the guts to do what they never would, they're a joke. They're easily co-opted, and the worst kind of gutless. Which is why I've expressed some measure of hesitation about the Occupy folks. I've seen their kind before, and I've made it my goal in life not to be anywhere near them, under any circumstance. They're not worth working with. Hell, they're not worth conversing with.

Fact is, here in Denver, it looks to me like the Occupy folks have no more interest in the courage of their own conviction than they do in actual social change. They're greatest interest is in feeling really good about themselves in between planning their next organic meal and sipping their Starbucks latte. It's a movement of personal purity, and nothing more.

That said, you did find resistance yesterday, and of the best kind. But it wasn't found in Occupy Denver. It was found in the likes of Denver Anarchist Black Cross, Colorado Street Medics, West Denver Copwatch, and other loosely affiliated groups which were largely attacked, while used, by Occupy Denver. If you need to support somebody, support them.

Update: Oh, and this seems apropos. Fuck the Law — Riot Now!

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Look what I got in the mail

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That'd be Send My Love and a Molotov Cocktail, a beautiful collection of stories set in riots and revolutions, edited by Andrea Gibson and Gary Philips. And, man, I couldn't be prouder than to be sharing space with the likes of these folks:

Summer Brenner
Cory Doctorow
Rick Dakan
Andrea Gibbons
Barry Graham
John A Imani
Penny Mickelbury
Sara Paretsky
Gary Phillips
Kim Stanley Robinson
Luis Rodriguez
Paco Ignacio Taibo II
Ken Wishnia
Michael Moorcock
Michael Skeet
Larry Fondation
Tim Wohlforth

I think being in a volume with Michael Moorcock probably just sent my book-thieving acid-ingesting fifteen-year-old self into something like an epileptic fit.

Needless to say, I haven't been talking enough about this book, but I plan to change that over the next couple of days.

Patrick O'Rourke not going to the Supreme Court

This is the kind of stuff that you can't make up. Patrick O'Rourke, the not very sharp University of Colorado attorney who lost the Ward Churchill case but was saved by the judge, was recently named a finalist for the Colorado Supreme Court.

Unsurprisingly, in O'Rourke's letters of reference, the Churchill case comes up a couple of times. I say unsurprisingly because it seems like CU is looking to reward everyone involved in that First Amendment gutting — including Larry Naves, the judge who saved CU's ass after O'Rourke proved himself incapable of any occupation more demanding than holding saliva in his mouth.

Unfortunately for O'Rourke, it looks he lost out, however. Which is too bad. But, hey, he oughtta be proud that by the nature of his connections, he almost made it. Given what I've seen of his legal prowess, I can only imagine the amount of ass-kissing he had to put in to get as close as he did.

Quote

From Under the Volcano, which, somehow, I am only just now reading.

He was not the person to be seen reeling about in the street. True he might lie down in the street, if need be, like a gentleman, but he would not reel. Ah, what a world it was, that trampled down the truth and drunkards alike!

And:

[I]'s amazing when you come to think of it how the human spirit seems to blossom in the shadow of the abattoir.

How in God's name had I not read this yet?

Just out of curiousity

Can we stop the debate about whether or not cops are part of the other 99% now?

How about now?

Okay, now?

Per that last one, it's worth noting that the young lady taken to the hospital is none other than Amelia Nicol. Ms. Nicol was recently the victim of a pretty absurd attempted frame-up by Denver's finest. One which ended with the Denver Police Department looking like idiots.

Which brings to my mind, at least, all kinds of questions about why this squat was chosen to be raided. And how, exactly, Ms. Nicol ended up in the hospital.

Also, speaking of DPD's vindictiveness, corruption, and brutality, my absolute favorite Denver news story of the last week has a federal judge threatening to send federal marshals to retrieve excessive force complaints from DPD's Internal Affairs Bureau. Because, as they are wont to do, the Denver Police Department are flaunting their right to stomp the shit out of anyone they like with absolute impunity.

Quote

From a female senator in Roberto Bolaño's 2666. She is looking for her best friend, who is one of the feminicidios. I've been turning this one over in my head for awhile now.

As you're well aware, this is a macho country full of faggots. The history of Mexico wouldn't make sense otherwise.

What I found in my son's room over the weekend

I've taken to sleeping with my 1911.

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Robert Frost

Robert Frost has taken over our life here at the Whitmer estate. It started with my maternal grandmother, who died a couple years back. My daughter, now seven, is more than a little on the sensitive side, and fixated on her death.

It turns out that of all the things I'm lousy at as a parent, it's dealing with grief at which I'm lousiest. I don't believe in God, cosmic energy, universal life connections, nor any of the other shit you can use to platitudinize a child. But I knew her grandmother's favorite poet was Robert Frost, so I suggested we read a poem or two when she got sad. And it seemed to work.

And, unsurprisingly, she got a little obsessed. And lately my five-year-old boy's been joining in, so we've been reading a poem or two at bedtime. They're pretty perfect for reading with children, in that there's always stuff to figure out, and nice concrete images.

They're also really, really dark. Before I actually read much of him, I had Frost pegged as the kind of cute, folksy shit I avoid like sitcoms and Starbucks music. But, Jesus, they're dark. Brooding and menacing and full of doom and gloom.

Example #1, his first poem from his first collection, A Boy's Will:

Into My Own

ONE of my wishes is that those dark trees,

So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,

Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,

But stretched away unto the edge of doom.

I should not be withheld but that some day

Into their vastness I should steal away,

Fearless of ever finding open land,

Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.

I do not see why I should e'er turn back,

Or those should not set forth upon my track

To overtake me, who should miss me here

And long to know if still I held them dear.

They would not find me changed from him they knew—

Only more sure of all I thought was true.

Update: If there's a better epitaph I don't know what it is. (Picture pilfered from here.)

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Guns, Books, Etc.

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NPR's World Cafe looks back on the Louvin Brothers and Merle Haggard.
"The detective sighed and said, 'Mr. Warden, I will shoot the very first one of you to put a hand on my prisoners and then I'll shoot one more of you for good measure.' He nodded his farewell in a gentlemanly manner and added, 'Kindly step the fuck off the train.'"
Somebody wanna explain this to me? (Hint: it's the reviews.)
"it's fair season on the rez. each region on the reservation has a fair with parades, marching bands, carnaval rides and of course, rodeos. this coming weekend the western agency fair will begin in tuba city. my friend, austin mix (who is distantly related to fabled cowboy tom mix), has a roping area he calls the roping zone. western agency the rodeos start friday. here's my contribution to his announcer's stand."
Excellent advice for budgeting your money for guns and range time.
"Every time I read Pride and Prejudice, I want to dig her up and hit her over the skull with her own shin-bone."
Leon: The Professional , the action figure.