There Will Be More Blood

“Men’s memories are uncertain and the past that was differs little from the past that was not.” Cormac McCarthy

I don’t know what to make of the Orlando mass shooting, the latest rampage to occur in this country of guns and gun violence. When the news broke I was sad and disheartened, but also curiously numb; the shooting happened thousands of miles from where I live my life, and none of the victims were known to me or my small circle of family and friends. I did think of the victims, their kin, their friends and co-workers, their acquaintances, and how their lives would be altered from here on. A life can never be the same after a random act of violence. I don’t know why civilians in America are allowed to purchase assault-style weapons. Like other sacred texts, we have perverted the 2nd Amendment of the Constitution beyond recognition.

When I read the news the novel Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy came to mind, one of the strangest and most violent novels I’ve ever read, a story where blood is spilled on nearly every page; I don’t profess to understand the allegorical aspects of Blood Meridian, though it seems to suggest that extreme violence is deeply rooted in the American psyche and our first, most abiding option when dealing with Others is to kill them.

The mainstream media and all its jabbering servants fixated on the radical Islam angle, linking the shooter to ISIS, claiming he self-radicalized via the Internet, and was so incensed about US military actions in the Muslim world that he selected a target – a gay nightclub – to make his final statement. If the man’s intent was to protest US foreign policy wouldn’t it make more of a statement to attack a government building, military base or some other symbol of US power, like a bank? It seems to me that the man was wrestling with other demons and that the ISIS angle is a convenient peg to hang motive on, not to mention a handy justification for the ongoing wars against the Muslim world and for maintaining a massive, unprecedented system of mass surveillance in this country.

Fear strangles liberty.

The morning I read about the Orlando killing, I also read – and saw some videos – of the mayhem in Marseilles caused by what was reported to be Russian and English soccer fans. This was straight mob violence, people running amok, kicking and punching anyone who got in their path; I saw one man get blindsided by a punch, and another hit over the head with a chair. It was horrifying. That morning the seething world felt like it had finally toppled from its axis.

Like all the other mass shootings on this fruited plain, Orlando will slip into memory. Columbine. Newtown. Aurora. San Bernardino. Legislative proposals will be made to curb sales of assault weapons but almost all will fail once the NRA bribes pliant legislators. Money speaks louder than blood and sorrow, so the killing will continue, no matter who the victims are, young, elderly, gay, straight, white, black or brown. White mass killers will be determined to suffer from mental illness; black, brown, Asian, or Muslim shooters will be labeled terrorists or suspected terrorists.

US bombs fall on Syria, US drones swoop over targets in Afghanistan and Pakistan and Yemen. Turning points are reached, benchmarks achieved, milestones eclipsed, but still the wars continue; they are immune to reason and experience; they are self-perpetuating; and they are futile. Imperial nations must always have an implacable enemy, and if one doesn’t present itself, the imperial power creates one, either by design or happenstance.   

A Dream Dies in Houston

There was plenty of media hype ahead of the US Men’s semi-final soccer match against perennial world power Argentina, lots of rah-rah USA that I found comical. Not that the US didn’t deserve to be in the semi-finals, after all, they beat Costa Rica, Paraguay and Ecuador, but none of those teams are in the same class as Argentina, a lesson the US learned with a vengeance on Tuesday night in Houston.

The way the “experts” on Fox Sports were talking prior to the match, the vapid Alexi Lalas chief among them, you would have thought that American players like Clint Dempsey, Bobby Wood, Michael Bradley, and Alejandro Bedoya were World Class, first-rate, top shelf guys, able to compete against any team in the world. Now, it’s true that Wood, Bedoya and Jermaine Jones were all suspended for the semi-final, but even if that trio had been in the starting eleven it would have made little to no difference.

Dempsey, so effective in the matches leading to the semi-final, was a ghost against Argentina; in fact, the match was nearly eight minutes old before he got his first touch. That is but one measure of how dominant Argentina was; their midfield players stymied the US completely, forcing Bradley to make a number of errant passes. Fabian Johnson couldn’t get forward, and it took nearly 30 minutes for DeAndre Yedlin to make a run and cross a ball into the box. On the night the US managed just one shot, and it was not even on frame. Forward Chris Wondolowski, partnered with Dempsey up front, scores handfuls of goals in MLS, but against Argentina he looked as hapless as a man lost in a foreign country.

Argentina pounced on every loose ball and forced the US to chase and defend. At times it appeared that Argentina was toying with the US, just pinging the ball around the midfield, ever a step ahead of Kyle Beckerman and Michael Bradley.

The match commentary by Fox broadcasters JP Dellacamera and Landon Donovan struck a hopeful tone, even after the US conceded a goal within four minutes of kickoff, Donovan suggesting that Argentina might be tempted to sit back and relax a bit. That made me chuckle. Teams like Argentina, Chile and Germany at the national level, and Bayern Munich, Real Madrid and Barcelona at the club level, rarely lift their foot from the gas; when they get one goal they want two, and when they have two they want three, and so on, but, given the American audience, Donovan’s comment was understandable; his corporate employers would not have been pleased if he had said that the US was doomed for a very long and very frustrating night and destined for nothing more than a spot in a meaningless third place match.

The quality of soccer in the US is improving and the growth of MLS is a testament to the sport’s rising popularity across the fruited plain, but the US has a ways to travel before the national team can run with the big dogs of this hemisphere. Even the bombastic Alexi Lalas has to admit this now. The US didn’t just lose Tuesday night, it got thumped, no two ways about it.

Argentina plays football the right way and that makes them a fun team to watch. Yes, they have Lionel Messi, arguably the best player in the world, but look down the bench and you see a depth of talent. Let’s not forget that even without Angel Di Maria, Argentina didn’t miss a beat.

Pick Your Poison

“So. The presumptive nominees for the two major parties are among the most singularly despised people on the North American continent. One makes terrible decisions as a matter of course, and the other has no ideas whatsoever beyond a fictional notion of his own greatness.” 

William Rivers Pitt

“You’re gonna’ have to get over it,” my wife told me the morning after Hillary Clinton won the California primary. “I don’t want to hear you bitch for the next five months.”

I thought Bernie would do better in my home state, in fact, I thought he was going to win the primary and delay the coronation of Madam Clinton. I never believed that Sanders could overcome Clinton’s iron grip on the Democratic Party machinery and actually win the nomination -- the table was rigged from the jump. Look at the debate schedule, the one-sided media coverage, the primary rules, all of it tilted in favor of Madam Clinton. But Bernie and his supporters, millions of them young and getting their first exposure to national politics, made a contest out of what was supposed to be a stroll in the park for Hillary. God, how that must have ticked her off, the clear, unassailable fact that millions of people simply don’t trust her or like her.

The mainstream corporate media did its best to ignore Sanders, but when the man started winning states and pulling in huge crowds, the networks and elite pundits had no choice but to take notice. Clinton’s carefully managed campaign stops never approached the enthusiasm and energy of a Sanders event; Bernie’s message and connection with people -- particularly the young -- was genuine rather than manufactured.

Deep in her shriveled, money-grubbing, neoliberal, war-mongering, power hungry, and utterly corrupt heart, I’m sure Madam Clinton knows -- has to admit to herself in a quiet moment -- that Bernie Sanders would have cleaned her clock if the playing field had been level. If the fight had been fair, Clinton would have been smoked.

You can bet that all the Democratic Party honchos and heavyweights, from President Obama down, will now strongarm Sanders to abandon his quest and throw his weight and, more importantly, encourage his supporters to toss their collective weight to Madam Clinton so she can defeat the evil, atavistic Donald. The bigwigs will guilt Bernie, tell him that if his reluctance or refusal to enthusiastically support Clinton helps Trump win the White House, the fault will be his and his alone, and does he want to risk being the man responsible for placing Trump’s finger on the nuclear trigger? C’mon, Bernie, they’ll say, do it for party unity, for your country and your legacy. Clinton’s not the enemy.

Yeah, the honchos will lay it on Bernie heavy and thick.

Meanwhile, the Donald -- deluded by his own myth -- thinks he actually has a chance of enticing Bernie’s supporters into his camp. The Donald can’t seem to grasp that the views and dreams of Bernie’s people are antithetical to his. Bernie’s followers are inclusive, multicultural, tolerant of differences, and forward-thinking, in short, everything that Trump’s supporters are not.

I remind myself that America is a democracy in name only, and that our elections are tainted and fraudulent, which explains why our choice in November will be between a dangerous buffoon and a serial liar who happens to be a woman; I have no issue with the woman part, none at all. My issue is the fact that her name is Hillary Clinton, wife of Bill, the man who, as much as any single political figure, dragged the Democratic Party to the right.

This nation cannot afford a President Trump any more than it can afford another President Clinton. Pick your poison, voters, and cross your fingers.

Ali

“There is never time in the future in which we will work out our salvation. The challenge is in the moment, the time is always now.” James Baldwin

Muhammad Ali has passed on and the tributes rightfully light up social media. I remember his epic battles with Joe Frazier, and how he knocked out George Foreman in 1974 in a fight few thought he could win. I admired Ali’s skill and flair, his style, that flicking left jab, the footwork, the rope-a-dope. What I find more admirable now, all these years later, is how Ali refused to be drafted, stood for his principles and beliefs, and went to jail during the prime of his career rather than compromise. His exploits in the ring were remarkable, but that act of conscience said everything about the man.

Why would an African-American man in the mid-1960’s willingly ante up his life for a government and a country that considered people of his skin tone second-class citizens? Ali recognized hypocrisy when he saw it and refused to be part of it, even if it cost his freedom.

Paris is drowning. Here on the Platinum Coast, our main water supply, Lake Cachuma, is little more than a puddle. The promise of some relief from an El Nino deluge never happened.

In the name of profit, capitalism is murdering this planet. I want to believe that we will come to our senses before it’s too late but the evidence I see all around tells me that the point of no return has already passed. Hotter winters, fierce storms, fires, flooding, melting arctic ice; the world’s oceans are full of plastic. But are the world’s capitalists turning from the abyss? No, of course not; the problem with capitalism is that it recognizes no limits, it must always have more regardless of the consequences, even if that means cannibalizing itself.

The world seems to teeter and veer out of control. Refugees from war zones drown and the world stifles a yawn. Nobody wants desperate people coming across their national borders. Meanwhile, the wars in the Middle East and North Africa go on. Can anyone other than the purveyors of armaments claim to be winning?

Political commercials on the tube, one after another, promises of change and a better day if only we elect so-and-so. The ads make so-and-so sound like a saint and a savior. I’m too cynical to believe in a savior. Two earnest young women wearing Bernie Sanders t-shirts knocked on my door and asked if I had voted or was planning to vote, and did I need a ride to my polling place. “Girls,” I said, “I’ve voted before. I know where to go and what to do, but thank you nonetheless.” After they left I wondered if they understood that it is what happens on the ground between election cycles that makes change happen; a real movement doesn’t end when the quadrennial carnival packs up and hits the highway out of town.

And Muhammad Ali is gone. The bitch about getting older is watching idols and icons -- the anchors of our memories -- pass away.