Like I keep reiterating, the debate over Wikileaks is as if not more important than what Wikileaks reveals. And while many of you (including me) will disagree with some if not most of what Elric says, he and I agree on this: Wikileaks, regardless of motive, regardless of good, hastens the implementation of the digital panopticon that was already inevitable.
- Twelve theses on Wikileaks.
- Questions of legitimacy.
- UPDATE! Assange is not Wikileaks.
- Mastercard wasn't patriotic, it was covering its ass.
- War on whistleblowers.
- UPDATE! One other thing.
- Failure to imaginate.
- Methodological kool-aid.
- UPDATE! Giftmas at Corporate!
- Subtle like an anvil.
- Grandpa Tool hearts Obama. He's no doubt right.
- Obama, all on his own.
- UPDATE! The Eighteenth-Brumaire of Sarah Palin?
- Lame lameness.
- Lame lameness.
- Have the terrorists won?
- Who is Coach Outlet?
- UPDATE! My future hell.
- On Ngwenya.
- UPDATE! It's probably been ten years since I've been there, but I used to be in Brickskeller all the time, so fuck.
- Watch Matt Damon recite BLCKDGRD! From here.
- UPDATE! Provincialism and the intellectual as social type.
- Obscure Sounds' Best of November, w/MP3.
- Favorite Lefty tunes of 2010.
- Cotton Jones.
- Gold day.
- Love fade.
- Joan Armatrading is sixty today.
A REACTIONARY TALE
I was a caring husband. I bought socks for my family. My swarthy wife liked to wear these thick woolen socks that came up to her milky thighs. I had a lover also. People could see me walking around each evening carrying a walking stick. My most vivid memory, looking back, is of a pink froth bubbling out of my infant's mouth. Not everything was going so well: one morning, malnourished soldiers marched down our tiny street, bringing good news. When good news arrives by mail, the cuckoo sang, tear up the envelope. When good news arrives by e-mail, destroy the computer. When an old friend came by to reclaim an old wound, I said to my oldest son: Go dump daddy's ammo boxes into the fragrant river. To reduce drag, some of my neighbors were diving headfirst into a shallow lake. We were rich and then we were poor. A small dog or maybe a cat now pulls our family wagon.