Hi Caroline: I watched the COSMOS presentation video Marco posted, and noticed from the photo of you in it that you have an extra two pairs of arms, and six hands. To go with “madrush” Morelli, that’s some serious multitasking capability. Do you go out in public like that? You might scare children with all your arms out in the open and moving simultaneously. How many balls can you juggle?
A GIF of the spider lady wrapping up her catch from a really wonderful and charming low budget stop-motion animated fairytale made by Christiane Cegavske, entitled “Blood Tea and Red String” (2006):
Trump gets up in front of the C.I.A., mentions God, suggesting that the supposed Big Guy upstairs, behind the clouds and smiling down like a proud father, caused the rain to let up for what Trump in his self-grandiosity appears really to believe was his coronation, and only had the rain start up again after he had finished that “very, very” important speech, the like of which has never before been witnessed on earth. (“Very” appears in his limited vocabulary to be one of Trump’s favorite words.) Next Trump despite the evidence brags about how big a crowd attended his inauguration. Size clearly is very important to him. Now not only do we have an “alt right”, we have “alternative facts.” All of this apparently comes down to us from an alternative universe.
A trinity for Trump and his cabinet and followers from one of my favorite and most intelligent anarcho-punk bands named Crass, who didn’t only talk the talk, but walked the walk - an actual working collective of politically attuned creative individuals - (To those who listen to too much slickly produced popular music which induces fantasy for escape, conditioned to expect a certain limited range of “pleasant” sounds, this music is exactly as it should be, in-your-face, abrasive and with snarl in it, with dirty and irregular edges like real life, the getting of the message through more important than the beauty-side of aesthetics):
"You’ve Got Big Hands"
Out of the chaos we divide,
Fucked up, muddled up, looking for a side.
Stay on the outside, don’t go in,
Don’t think that you can do it, if you sell out they win.
It’s not like that the changes are made,
Give in to them, your chances are delayed.
You’ll feed with your energies the things that you hate,
Diluting your strength each time they say yes.
Their hands are big, they’ve got big hands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands.
You’re talking with sounds they don’t understand,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands.
They’ve got big mouths to shout demands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands.
They’ll let you past a couple of times,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands.
You think you’re getting somewhere, you’re fucking blind,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands.
This structures stretches, it’ll bend but not break,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands.
This system channels any threat that you make,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands.
It will do anything to accomodate,
Accomodate you and your liberal ideas.
You’re the child in their garden,
The dog on their lead,
Their token to changes that are never made.
Can’t you see that for centuries it’s been the same,
Plenty like you have been seduced to the game.
The chain’s still as tight, won’t let in the light,
Can you tell me what’s different?
Whose hopes you will feed?
Will you feed their arses,
Will you feed their hands?
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands,
Big hands, big hands, big hands, big hands.
“Big Man, Big M.A.N.”
They’re telling you to do it,
Grow up and tow the line,
They tell you if you do it,
Everything will turn out fine.
Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, what a wonderful life,
God, queen, country, colour telly, car and wife.
Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, what a wonderful life,
God, queen, country, colour telly, car and wife.
It’s great if you can do it, it doesn’t take a lot,
Just means you must destroy what sensitivity you’ve got.
Well, that’s an easy bargain for the things you’re going to get,
You can treat the wife like shit, own a car, a telly set.
Slip off in the evenings for a little on the sly,
And if the wife complains, fuck her first, then black her eye.
There’s lots of worthwhile jobs for the lad who wants to know,
Lorry driving’s fun, you’re always on the go.
One hand on the wheel, the other up some cunt,
Or jerking off to Penthouse with with motorway up front.
The police force offers chances for a bright intelligent lad,
To interfere with anyone cos they’re there just to be had.
It offers quite a range for aggression and for spite,
To take out your frustrations in a justifiable light.
It’s a mans’ life in the army, good pay and lots of fun,
You can stab them with your bayonet, fuck them with your gun.
Look smart in your uniform, that always pulls the skirt,
Then when you’ve fucked them good and proper, tell them they’re just dirt.
Cos man is spelt big M.A.N. it’s the letters of the law.
Man is spelt big M.A.N. that’s who the law is for.
You see there’s lots of chances in this land of hope and glory,
Try and make your own rules, that’s a different story.
If you’re a man, you’d better act like one,
Develop your muscles, use your prick like a gun.
Fuck anything that moves, but never pay the price,
Steal, fuck, slaughter, that’s their advice.
Are you man enough? Ask the posters on the walls,
Have you got what it takes? Guts and balls?
Keep your myth of manhood, it’s been going on too long,
A history of slaughter is the proof that it is wrong.
Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N.
Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N.
Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N.
Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N.
Big man, big M.A.N. Big man, big M.A.N.
Big man, J.O.K.E.
Big man, what a fucking joke.
Consider in relation to your work-in-progress “Incantation on Death”, Caroline, and your own work-in-progress “I am the Singularity", Marco, the following recitation by Crass member going by the name of Eve Libertine of this powerful and controversial piece entitled “Reality Asylum”:
P. S. Mr. Ed Mahood, if you read this, I feel I owe you an apology from my feisty commenting over at Marco’s post “A new model for the left?” which has heading it that video of Slavoj Zizek speaking. I greatly appreciate your substantial and sustained thoughts, your fine mind and the good wisdom and guidance I discern in your overall spirit. I admittedly have much to learn and sometimes let my sarcastic wisecracking get a little out of control, feeling by so doing I can tend to kill rather than stimulate conversation.
P. P. S. Amusingly, while preparing all this for posting, I was listening to other Crass songs, scrolling up and down, and seeing the Spider lady spinning away in the GIF, I must say: she keeps good rhythm.