On the effects of capitalism, and coming back from war without a leg

Capitalism means a lot of things, blablabla money, blabla society, but I want to talk about what capitalism means to me, as an individual sitting in my office, wasting time by writing about basically nothing.

Capitalism, as I know it, means that you work really hard to gain a set of skills (usually specialized) which you can then sell to your employer, thereby earning money, thereby buying food, a place to live, clothes, and anything else that you can afford.  There are about 300 million people in the United States who are de facto a cog in the capitalist wheel, just on the fact that in our society, you need money to eat and have a roof, and to have money, you probably have to sell yourself to someone richer than you, who can then use you as a tool to make more money. Or, you are dependent upon money that has been generated in such a fashion, which you did not help to “make.”  You, my friend, are a free-loader.

So, you are part of a whole. You, sitting there at your computer, are a part of this whole. For the purposes of this piece, let’s call that whole a “machine,” something that is working on a scale that is bigger than you, without your approval or recognition, regardless of whether or not you want it to.  We could call it a “blob” if we wanted to, it does not really matter.  Machines are more fun, though, because it creates a sharp contrast to being “human”

Humans are warm and machines are cold.  Humans (supposedly) care about each other and have feelings, whereas machines (supposedly) don’t care about anything really, and cannot feel.

I believe that the machine does not care about the individual humans that are running it.  The machine cannot feel pain or pity or anything; it only is. I believe that some people can cut themselves off from what it means to be human, to stop feeling, in order to become a better wheel for the machine.

———–

I wrote all that like 2 weeks ago then dumped it on account of its general blandness.

Here is an article about the US troops coming back fucked up, and not getting any help after they have their legs blown up and have nightmares.

The army lady goes, “I think we have the institutional structures in place, but at the individual level, some things don’t happen.”

In other words, we have the time, money and resources (institutional structures), but no one is taking the initiative to help out these kids (individual level).  That, my friends, is fucked up.

I knew a kid freshman year of college who was a skinny little bastard, like 5’5 or something, really skinny, etc.  He joined ROTC, and while I was studying 17th century British Lit junior year, he was setting up road checkpoints in Baghdad.  Shit, he might be there right now.

He moved in next door to me randomly at the end of my brilliant college career, and I asked him if he killed somebody.  I don’t give a shit, I’m the one fucking paying for his gun, and he is defending my “freedom,” so I fucking asked him if he ever killed anybody.

He said, “No” but told me some fucked up stories, one about how he had a bead on this dude’s head driving a truck. He was going to blast this dude, but he didn’t because the guy stopped, and he didn’t have a bomb on him after all.

That is a fucked up story to me.

If my buddy got his leg blown off in Iraq, I hope somebody would help him when he got back, make him feel better about it and shit, maybe try to make the nightmares go away.  I can literally only imagine the intensity of going to war, and I bet that’s all you can do too. Halo doesn’t count, shit head.

——-

Where do these two stories meet?  I don’t know.  Capitalism is fucked, and makes people like machines to become better $ producers.  We are dehumanized (made to stop feeling) in order to become better worker bees for the good of the whole.

It gets fucked up when the bees break a leg, or get shot, or freak out at their desk, and they get swept aside for the good of this fat ugly nation.  Fuck that, I feel a lot of shit, and I guess that’s why I started this gay blog.

If you or your buddies go to war, I hope you come back un-shot and ok, and I also hope that you don’t have to shoot someone else.

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3 Responses to “On the effects of capitalism, and coming back from war without a leg”


  1. 1 suityourself March 28, 2007 at 11:58 am

    stoney, this is like bartleby… but you already knew that.

    an interesting formula that may be applicable is this — the sum of the parts is greater than the whole. that means something i guess, but if you change the context, you could argue that it all the “cogs” got together, they could whip the fuck out of the machine. but you gotta remember, the machine is not a machine. it’s made out of individuals. some of them worked to get what they got. some were born with it. just the same, they’re all people with diverse motivations. that’s the problem. it’s easy for us broke motherfuckers to be idealistic about the shitstem — cuz we have nothing to lose. but when we slave for decades and finally get rich, will we be willing to give it all up just because our business practices don’t fit with our broke-ass ideals?

    in my opinion, (probably just as shitty as usual), the real key is to teach morality and stop valuing material wealth. on the one hand, kids learn that big bad business men are assholes, but at the same time, they learn that the dude with the porsche fucks the hot model. the man with the big house has a better life than the one with a small house. such contradictions lead directly to the end-justifies-means stance that all rich fucks adopt. if we taught little kids that the amount of shit you can buy is not the determinant factor of your quality of life, maybe the tide could be stemmed in a couple hundred years (not that this shit-hole is going to be around that long).

  2. 2 suityourself March 28, 2007 at 11:59 am

    where the fuck is my avatar?! it showed up once, and now it’s gone, but it’s on my fucking profile.

  3. 3 colon farrel March 28, 2007 at 12:36 pm

    i have returned. i have been sleeping since st patty’s day…yeehaw


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