6 – Fire Systems Designer
Limerick-inspired Alphabet of Occupations: 6 – Fire Systems Designer
Limerick-inspired Alphabet of Occupations: 6 – Fire Systems Designer
Ok, so we’ve done our month-of-love thing and now it’s back to our regular programming. Let’s take a cynical but comical look at the world once more.
Any time I try to sit down and contemplate the “seriousness” of reality and all its demands (mostly made by people who want economic number-to-go-up all of the time), I fail miserably.
Reality
Existence
Being
In the face of, and in contrast to, not being
Is laughably absurd, and no matter how you try, you cannot intimidate me with it.
I laugh at every attempt and so it is a daily practice of mine to contemplate the various individual demands on me and my time and make sure they are sorted into the appropriate non-anxiety-inducing buckets in which they rightly belong.
This poem is a commentary on that.
The military industrial complex is directed by capital, not politics. Politics is subservient to wealthy conservative families backed by wealthy conservative private institutions. No matter how “we-the-people” might think we have a say, we don’t.
We-the-people vote for parties, and the money decides on the people who actually run the things. It’s a clever little ruse designed to make us think our votes matter and it lets the money make even more money by writing their campaigning sponsorships off to tax.
The level of delusionality in American leadership right now is simply off the charts. Taking advice from crackpots who reinforce his racist underpinnings, the diaper-wearing CIC is positively off his meds and putting on a public display of racism, homophobia and total scientific and economic* ignorance that will most certainly immortalise him for centuries, but absolutely not in the way he thinks.
*except of course for the intentional market manipulation to create some trading volatility for the big ole whales.
I’m not an economist. But I have a brain. The ruler of the free world does not. In his head he has a hamster in a wheel running frantically to protect his fragile little ego. Or not. It could also be completely empty. From outside it’s very hard to tell the difference.
Jeffrey Sachs tears Trump a new one in this video and in my poem.