parameters for success

One of the reasons that video games are popular is that the parameters for success within them are clearly established. In the game Clash of Clans, for example, as long as one player destroys a certain amount of his opponent’s defensive towers and property he is rewarded with trophies, stars, and in-game resources on top of what was gained through raiding. He know that he must wipe out at least fifty percent of the other’s things or kill the opposing town hall in order to be a success. He feels good after a win, and bad after a loss.

In the world outside of video games, however, the parameters of success (and the celebrations and positive feelings that should accompany doing something well) are often lacking. For freelance workers who lack a direct command structure, the success of accomplishing tasks and meeting deadlines is rarely celebrated, acknowledged, or even recognized - even though progress was made. The correct emails are sent on time, but only infrequently do clients issues words of encouragement and praise. The job of the client, after all, is to receive things and pay for them, not soothe egos or boost morale; it’s up to the worker to stay motivated and light of heart.

As kids, our parents (hopefully) praised us when we got something right and helped us to regroup when we didn’t. As adults, however, and especially as orphaned adult freelancers, we bear the twin burdens of establishing the parameters of our own success as well as instituting rituals to regularly acknowledge and properly praise ourselves when we stay on target and get things done. Given our trying economic realities and the supreme value of time, this author recommends that such rituals be kept cheap, short, and simple. A minute or two of quiet reflection during which one imagines putting the completed project in a box and giving it to the recipient, to the sounds of cacophonous fanfare and much rejoicing, is better by far than wading once more into the breach, without pause.

By copying the video-game model of clearly established success, it’s possible for life as a freelancer to be both rewarding and bearable.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

on honoring logically

In one model of the universe, a person is continuously and perpetually judged by That Which Cannot Be Named on the level of respect shown not to other humans who are powerful but to those who are powerless. Society gives judges and police officers, for example, the power to take away a person’s liberty and life, respectively. Food service workers and small children, on the other hand, enjoy no such or similar rights and privileges.

Mocking or ridiculing a judge or police officer will have immediate, negative, and possibly deadly temporal consequences to one’s liberty and life, whereas doing the same to a fast-food cashier or stray orphan will likely not. Within the framework of this dichotomy, one enforced by a threat of bodily harm that is approved by society at large, the former expect to be respected but the latter do not. Fry-cooks and babies generally don’t go hunting for someone they perceive as having wronged them; judges and police officers do.

Armed with the knowledge that it is vastly more beneficial for one’s karma to shower great respect on helpless kids and little respect on mighty officials, a person can choose to drastically reduce the level of respect shown to the powerful and drastically increase the compassion, love, and patience shown to the powerless. Consequently, it is acceptable to completely ignore police officers (unless forced to do otherwise), to educate oneself about exactly when and when not it is recommended to speak to them, and to find legal ways to hold them to task (without mercy) when they operate outside of their rights or violate their sworn oath.

In short, treat those whom society gives the least power as if they were a cherished friend, beloved parent, or favorite sibling. The rewards outweigh the risks.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

spies swine plastic

There are spies in my cell-phone. They were planted by clandestine government agents whose job is to promote corporate profits at the expense of democracy and human rights.

There are swine in the white house. They were installed by people who live their lives in fear of whatever their television sets tell them to fear.

There are children starving in America. They starve because capitalism is the most efficient system ever created to drain resources from the many in order to enrich the few.

Plastic pollutes all waters both salt and fresh. This plastic pollution exists because people living in the Western world have bought into the false notion that some things can be discarded after having been used only once.

As long as billionaires profit from the aforementioned imbalances, they will persist. As long as I and the population at large continue to pursue comfortable lives instead of virtuously meaningful ones, these injustices will continue. I’m waking up. Are you?

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥

themed, useless crap

A cold war is being waged in this rural Pennsylvania town between the agents of two trumped-up organizations: the Steelers and the Ravens. From Pittsburgh and Baltimore respectively, the televised efforts of these two professional sports teams have so ensnared the imaginations – and, more importantly, the purse-strings – of the hard-working, blue-collar, middle-class denizens of this sad little place as to have hijacked the identities of people who spend what little free time they get eating potato chips, drinking cheap beer, and staring at self-illuminated boxes.

I imagine that the inner monologue of a fan of one of the many over-hyped national football league (NFL) teams goes something like this: “Do I donate to charity and help feed over three million starving American children or do I spend a hundred and fifty dollars on a ten-foot-high flag bearing the logo of my team? Do I perpetuate obesity and sloth within my family by stuffing cheese-doodles into my mouth as I sit on my financed couch with my eyes glued to an enormous television it will take me the next fifteen months to pay off? Do I send my check to an organization fighting poverty in this country's rust-belt or to a cluster of distant Chinamen cranking out solar-powered pathway lights emblazoned with an image of a highly stylized scavenger-bird designed by a wealthy corporation? You know what… fuck the poor, and fuck the kids – I need this overpriced bullshit so I can put it out in my yard and show my neighbor that I favor a different squad of men-in-tights than he does.”

I waste neither time nor money watching professional sports, preferring instead to read books on different and unrelated subjects, preferring instead to expand my mind by teaching myself languages and learning about organic gardening; I memorize neither statistics nor the success-rate of special trick plays, preferring instead to stay silent during useless NFL-related conversations, preferring instead to plumb the depths of my dark and twisted ego in order to bend it to my will, driving addiction and need from my life; I choose not to look on as angry fat dudes run into each other, preferring the freedom of a vigorous bicycle ride over sedentary slavery to a season of two minute warnings. I admit to puffing myself up here, to hoisting myself aloft in an attempt to differentiate myself from pig-skin-loving simpletons; as a Son of the American Revolution, however, and as a self-respecting and productive artist, I cannot afford to waste any more of my precious life on foolhardy pursuits than I have already wasted trying and failing to satisfy the root of mankind's evil, the ego. This, in my humble opinion, is part of the attraction of professional sports: they very often serve as proxy identities for persons too lazy or weak-of-will to do something unique with their lives worth talking about; they give pack-runners whose existence revolves around the act of consumption a topic to discuss that does not have to do with kids, jobs, or failing health. It is wrong of me to judge and to ridicule people for paying top dollar for jerseys or pennants or banners proclaiming that, “This Is Giants Country,” or something similarly absurd; the words I have written here are just as much driven by a darkly thrusting ego as are the shouted cries of thirty thousand star-struck fans. I am a worthless cunt for spending time crafting this article, but these thoughts well up inside me when I am shredding through town on my velocipede, and I know not where else to turn for release. On some level, I don't give a flying fuck (IDGAFF) what other people do, although I wish sometimes they wouldn't be so fucking flagrantly lame. Oh brother.

© mentiri factorem fecit (場黑麥)

declaration of corporate supremacy

  When in the course of pursuing profits it becomes necessary to remind the People for whom it is they toil, and to formulate the rules by which they shall lead their lives, we, the assembled capitalists and corporations headquartered in these United States (but by no means necessarily operating here), only occasionally and perfunctorily respectful to the Opinions of Mankind, declare that the economic well-being of our executive boards and voting members by far outweighs the Right of the People to Safety and Happiness. The original Declaration of Independence, that document upon which the United States was founded, those words that might have given mankind the right to Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness, is, and has for some time now been, a dead and forgotten document, its declaration of unalienable rights null and void, its formulation of the core principle of the role of government - to bring about the Safety and the Happiness of the People - ground to dust under the jack-boot of our Capitalistic Greed.

  We hold these Lies to be enforceable through police action: that a small percentage of Americans should by rights reap the profits generated by the labor of who work in this country and across the known world; that we have the right to speculate and to risk the invested monies of those Americans stupid enough to have entrusted us with their savings, and, when our speculations fail and millions of Americans lose their hard-won gains, to be safe and secure in our gated communities, our ill-begotten money protected by the federal government, our risky businesses kept from failing by the taxes paid by the very people whom we had hoodwinked originally; that we shall profit from the sale of drugs, such as alcohol and tobacco, that are legally available to the People, drugs that kill them by the hundreds of thousands and maim them by the millions, while supporting the persecution and the imprisonment of the People in for-profit penitentiaries owned and run by us, for the crime of consuming drugs not to our liking, such as marijuana, drugs that have no discernible negative affect on their health or on their Happiness; that the US government should wage un-winnable wars against faceless foes (see the "war on terror") so that we may continue to manufacture, develop, and sell arms and weaponry, wars that might be won only if every person on Earth were placed in concentration camps and lobotomized forcibly; that we have the Right, through unscrupulous and down-right false advertising, to convince the People that unbridled consumption and unchecked personal debt are the bedrock of the American Dream, that Happiness does not grow from within, that it is not a fragile state of mind that blossoms from patience and self-understanding, but that it is something we cram into our wallets and pocket-books, that we spend in our shopping plazas, that we waste on useless items that supposedly make life easier but that constitute little more than clutter; that it was our patriotic duty to abandon the American manufacturing sector for foreign shores, sacrificing the jobs of millions of our countrymen to boost our profit-margins, allowing children across the Pacific Rim to work as slave-laborers in free-economic-zones so that unemployed Americans could buy cheap goods that break soon after the first use; that we have the Right, regardless of the complaints of tree-hugging hippies, to rape and destroy the land for short-term gain, to poison the streams with runoff from our mine, to clear-cut the once-great forests for export, and to pump the animals we slaughter for food full of steroids and antibiotics instead of providing them with clean and open places in which to live out their short and pathetic lives; that we have willingly and to vast personal profit rejuvenated the methods of the ancient Romans for controlling the lower classes by providing them with bread (fast food) and circuses (television), methods that poison the body and the mind but that keep the rabble blessedly quiet and contented throughout their pitiful and mostly worthless lives; that we will run our corporate societies, not as democracies, but as totalitarian fiefs, while convincing our workers that, through hard and dedicated labor, they might reach the highest rungs of our bogus organizations, while, in reality, they will, after infighting, backstabbing, and reckless self-promotion, find themselves flung out into the cold, the pathways to our fleeting and hollow ranks closed to all but a most rapacious and lustful few.

  At no point in the long yet subtle Process of making a mockery of this once great Nation did we pause to consider that our hoarding of the nation's wealth would violate the Constitutional directive of promoting the general Welfare, although we will, by funneling the collective wealth of all Americans into the pockets of our cronies and fellow oligarchs, secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and to our Posterity, not to all Americans equally, but to those who have, as we have, dutifully sacrificed their sacred Honor on the altar of the Insatiable Hag of Materialism, to those who have shat, as we have shat, upon the once-grand notion of Liberty and Justice for All. We have stopped our ears to the Voice of Justice, preferring rather the Shriek of Lies, preferring rather to profit from spying on the People (through the sale and maintenance of the materials necessary to the surveillance society), under the unpatriotic and anti-American Patriot Act, rejoicing in the violation of the flimsy protections once, but no longer, afforded the People by the Constitution.

  All this we pledge, and more, for: we have the means to lobby the Legislature for our own gain; we have the money with which to live comfortably for ten lifetimes while millions of American children go to bed hungry each night; we have convinced the People that consumption is preferable to ingenuity, that watching TV is preferable to creative expression and the telling of stories, that there is a universal formula for Happiness, a formula that starts with a dollar sign. We, therefore, the capitalists and corporations headquartered in these United States, Assembled, appealing to none but our majority share-holders, by our own authority and the might of our wrongly appropriated wealth, brazenly Publish and Declare, that this Country belongs to Us now, that the dream of a more perfect Union has no place in the world of top-few-capitalism, that eighty percent of all Americans shall toil ceaselessly to make us, those of the remaining Twenty Percent, rich beyond reckoning, that government is instituted not to secure the Rights of the People but to satisfy our every Desire, and that the People have no Right either to alter nor to abolish their government, as it long ago abandoned Them to satisfy the needs of the most monied few, as it is now too late, and They waited too long to act.

  So suck it, you hard-working American fools, and while you are sucking it good and hard, remember that you have abandoned everything for which your ancestors once fought and died.

Ultima Ratio Regum - 場黑麥 John Paul Roggenkamp