our system’s sun

Native American activists in the Dakotas seeking to defend their lifeblood waters are being met by a militarized police force whose goal is to defend the short-term financial gains of a multinational corporate entity. This should not surprise anyone - since its inception, the American republic has abused, marginalized, and stolen from the indigenous tribespeople who originally inhabited Turtle Island (the North American continent). Previously, the Sioux tribe was forced violently from its ancestral lands by the U.S. military so that Americans of European Descent (i.e. white people) could take over the fields and valleys the tribe had for millennia groomed, tamed, and settled. Now, in the previously unwanted territories to which it was sent, the Sioux tribe is again under assault, this time so that an oil pipeline can be dug into its sacred soils and under its treasured rivers. Using technologies to capture and utilize solar power, America could run entirely on the nearly endless supply of fresh energy that arrives each morning from Sol, our system’s sun. Instead, America runs on old sunlight trapped by plants long ago in formations now buried deep below the earth - black, viscous old sunlight that must be pumped from deep underground before being moved often thousands of miles to refineries and storage dumps by pipeline, train, or truck. If each Ynki home or business were to collect its own solar electricity and use that self-generated power to cook food, make heat, or run electric automobiles, each Ynki home or business would become independent of (and by necessity take profits away from) the corporations that control this nation’s energy economy. These corporations want to make sure that American homes and businesses run on old and dirty rather than new and clean sunlight, since, this way, they get paid for each watt of energy used. Therefore, they spend untold millions of dollars lobbying against investment and research in solar-energy technologies; such technologies could upend their market dominance and disrupt their profit margins, and they will do nearly anything to maintain their stranglehold on consumer freedom. It bothers them not that the fluids containing old sunlight, if allowed to flow freely, tend to poison the land and pollute the waters - the only thing that matters to these corporations is that the Ynki simply can’t do without what they are selling and that he will pay a high price to maintain his addiction. If a person is concerned about the sad state of affairs in the Dakotas but cannot join the Standing Rock Sioux at their water protection sites, he ought consider reducing the amount of old sunlight he uses by heating less and driving fewer miles. Additionally, he ought contact his elected representatives and demand they work toward the adoption of solar energy initiatives instead of acquiescing to the demands of petroleum (old sunlight) producers. Stand strong, brave Sioux brothers and sisters rallying at Oceti Sakowin - this American author recognizes your sacrifice, and thanks you for it. Mahalo.

© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥

this shit again

With World War 3 looming on Syria's plains we think to ourselves: Please not this shit again. The powers that broker this conflict are such that they do not care for mankind's freedom much but rather would bomb out and fully destroy a people and nation with war-making toys. They'll trumpet the reasons and cry foul and shame when what really happens don't match with their aims then build some more rockets and make some more tanks while at home poor children give for little thanks. So long as politicos stranglehold truth and cheat us each time we enter voting booths we'll never have peace and we'll always know want while they with their riches our worthiness taunt. Let's not spend on weapons what could keep us fed and provide for all who lack a home and bed and send us out into the vast scape of stars instead of just sitting there stuck in our cars. As it stands the system of wasting crude oil to propel us slowly to places of toil where we then do labor to make others rich has turned out to be a right and proper bitch for it keeps us warring to cobble up crude and acting like children too old to be rude. The role of the U.S. must change and right soon for we are careening toward a high noon with those we have bombed and with those we have not who scream at us: You've your true virtue forgot!

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

people in motion

On a velocipede, or bicycle, a person is a largely independent entity beholden to few others. The velocipedist drags himself across the phaltscape (or asphalt landscape) by pumping a crank with his legs in order to move a thin chain across a series of skinny gear wheels. Beyond the maker of his smog-sled, he interacts only occasionally with replacement parts manufacturers. In order to commute across the face of the Earth, he requires neither filling station nor foreign oil; he has use for neither computer diagnostic tool nor power-train warranty; he spends his money on things other than monthly finance charges, oil changes, state inspections, and car washes; he is one person in motion whose mobility hinges on his ability to balance on a pair of rubber tires and to keep his head on a swivel.

Let us briefly consider, however, the operator of a motor-vehicle, or car. In order for her to move herself across the phaltscape, she needs prospectors, wildcatters, pipeline inspectors, ship captains and crews, deep-bore drill operators, indigenous security forces, foreign policy wonks, navies, supply-chain logistics specialists, fueling-station clerks, unleaded-gasoline delivery drivers, brake-line hose manufacturers, industrial robot maintenance engineers, TIG welding specialists, and many others; in order for her to stay in motion, a thousand other people need to be in motion; her mobility hinges upon all elements of a ridiculously complex system working together in perfect harmony, a thousand different people all doing their job with precision, care, and diligence.

On the one hand, the driver who fills up her car with gasoline keeps the money flowing to a thousand different persons working in a hundred different places; her actions grease the wheels of the global economy and tighten the bonds between peoples; her dependency on the pump, her slavery to the self-propelled chariot, fills the pockets of armies of workers around the globe. On the other hand, however, oil and its derivatives are a dirty business that relies on the burning of a useful and valuable resource; their production and removal taint the groundwater and the soil of any region where they are found; their sale has made the autocratic leaders of oppressive regimes – persons who support and finance terrorism – fantastically rich. The driver's mode of transportation leads to war and pollution, while that of the cyclist promotes self-sufficiency, healthful living, and peaceful interaction with both Nature and neighbor. Free yourself from that self-propelled glass and steel prison; mount a velocipede, today.

mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥

on freedom's price

Ask most any motorcyclist sporting a leather vest, jacket, or chaps, and he'll say that “The freedom of it” is one of the primary reasons that he rides. Ah yes, seductive and elusive Liberty, she who beckons from near and far, always around us but forever just out of reach, always tantalizingly close yet frustratingly far away, how we love her! We think about freedom, yearn for it, love it, enjoy it, abuse it, and harp on it, speaking of it in hushed tones and genuflecting before that giant copper-clad statue of goddess Liberty standing in New York's harbor to welcome the poor and the huddled masses to these our bountiful shores. Some people among us – the aforementioned bikers first and foremost – seem to be trying to actively execute their right to freedom by riding around on big, motorized machines that pollute the air we all breathe and shatter the quiet we all enjoy.

Everything comes at a price, even Liberty, and the price we citizens pay for the bikers' freedom is higher than most: we arm our young men and women and fly them to sovereign nations in the Middle East and Central Asia where they kill and maim and bomb in order to secure a steady supply of gasoline for all of those in-line flathead v-twin noisemakers; we give Arabian oil sheiks American dollars to pay for gasoline to run all those hogs, perfectly content in the knowledge that some of our money will be used to fund terrorist organizations such as Al Qaida in the Arabian Peninsula and Hamas; we maintain diplomatic missions, puzzle over foreign trade policy, and arrange trade treaties so that bikers might wear t-shirts and vests made by foreign manufacturers emblazoned with the symbols of these United States, Old Glory printed on Bangladeshi cotton, the Stars and Stripes stitched into Vietnamese cowhide; we inhale the fumes of their idling engines and wince with every revving of their obnoxiously-loud tailpipes while wishing they would just all go home, read a book, and think about how downright lame their little scooters are.

Motorcyclists actively decrease their own amount of personal Liberty by relying on complicated machines to move them around; to maintain their little slices of freedom they are beholden to mechanics, parts manufacturers, tassel twisters, carburetors, regulators, and tow truck drivers. If motorcyclists would take a moment to examine the roots of the craze for two-wheelers, they would find the lowly wire donkey, the velocipede, the muscle-powered bicycle. Oh, if only these fools would throw off the chains of slavery to oil-pumping Arabs and wrench-chucking mechanics and return en mass to the device that grants its user nearly unbridled freedom, the crank-powered bicycle. Just think how quiet our world would be, how greatly motorcyclists could improved their health and fitness, and how much less gasoline we would have to kill and maim and bomb for if we could but free Liberty from the demands of endless warfare and disassociate her from mundane pettiness and wasteful sloth. When someone wears a vest upon which is printed a picture of a bald eagle wrapped in the American flag floating above a chopper-style motorbike while riding on a chopper-style motorbike, that person proves only his disrespect for the stars and stripes and his love for redundancy; when he relies on a combustion engine to move him across the face of the earth rather than letting his thigh and calf muscles drag him across that selfsame phaltscape, he puts nothing on display but his laziness and lack of vigor. Please, dear reader, if you love Liberty, value human health, and respect the lungs and eardrums of other people, sell your hog, buy a velocipede, and be free. Mahalo.

© mentiri factorem fecit (場黑麥)

right of way

Recently, NPR aired a show which included mention of efforts undertaken during the first decades of the Twentieth Century to teach the American public to cowtow to the automobile, explaining that Americans had to be trained to think that roads were the domain of cars, the rightful place of automobiles, and that citizens not driving cars had no right to be on them. As a velocipedist – an avid and regular bicyclist – I suffer daily of the affects of this mis-education of my fellow upstanding Yankee, who now sees the car as an almost sacred thing, whereas persons not trapped within the stifling confines of these glass-and-metal prisons are seen as bothersome interlopers upon our tens of thousands of miles of commonly-owned bituminous track.

A car is nothing more than a hunk of steel and glass and plastic with a person or persons sitting on its plush seats and being moved around through space-time by the internal combustion of gasoline, a byproduct of oil, for which our brave brothers and sister pour out their blood and tears in distant and dusty places; oil is a poisonous thing that must be pulled from deep below the earth and refined before it can be used, whereas a bicycle is a few pounds of metal and rubber that allows a person to move himself around through space-time using little more than the muscles rippling beneath his taut and ruddy skin. And yet – daily – I am confronted by at least one person who considers his souped up, gasoline-guzzling shitbox, and his business, to be far more important than the car, conveyance, or business of anyone else.

Just two days ago, in fact, as I was approaching a blind intersection on my way to the local public library, I heard a motor behind me rev up, as if the vehicle's owner intended to pass me in the scant thirty feet that separated us from the stop sign. Putting myself squarely in the lane, I balanced for a moment, waiting for a gap in the approaching vehicles before shooting down a narrow side alley. Riding squarely in the center of the alley, the impatient driver approached to within a few feet of my bicycle's rear wheel, revving his engine and making as if to pass me where there was no room to pass. Flying into the next, two-landed road (the alley ends in a yield, not a stop, sign) and barely making it in front of an approaching car, I had moved to the far right side of the lane and was approaching my next right-hand turn when I heard that same engine rev up behind me. Turning around to see what was the matter, I made eye-contact with the impatient driver, whose vehicle – a black SUV – was so close to the silver Volvo behind me that I could see neither grill nor bumper. Passing the car in front of it, the truck screeched to a halt directly next to me, restricting all north-south traffic by completely Blocking The Box, the man within it staring at me menacingly.

Turning after having made the appropriate hand-signal (I signal all turns, and am loathe to ride at night without running-lights fore and aft), I glanced back again, laughing at the impatient man and giving him a little fare-thee-well hand flick. These egregious actions caused the man to reverse his vehicle very quickly (on a one-way street, into oncoming traffic), whereupon he, with squealing tires, raced down the road toward me, screeching to a halt next to me on the sidewalk where I had taken refuge near a tall brick building. “You're a real tough-guy, eh?” the man said, pushing his finger against some sort of box on his throat. Scrambling to keep moving, I bounced down the sidewalk and started to pedal onward, glancing back and noticing the black car had a Harley-Davidson front plate. The man pulled into a gravel lane, threw open his door, jumped out, and began to stalk toward me, chest puffed up and face fixed in the tortured rictus of a man whose heart is calcified with fearful hatred. Seeing that I had bruised his ego, and knowing the human ego to be one of the most terrifying and murderous of foul things ever to grace the planes of our fair Universe, I kept moving. “You're a real tough guy, eh?” the man said again, to which I responded with a shouted, “Slow down!” The man, of course, shouted back, “You slow down!”, touching a finger to his tracheal collar before speaking, each time.

A number of things became clear to me during yesterday's altercation. First, the man's business was so inconsequential (even though he seemed in a terrible hurry) that he could take time out of his schedule to run down and harass a bicyclist who had dared to retain right of way. Second, the man considered himself more important than anyone else on the road, riding everyone's ass and generally being a poor sport about things. Third, seeing that his belly resembled a beer keg and that his throat was perforated with a plastic speaking-collar, the man had ruined his health and body by eating too much, smoking too much, and drinking too much, which had obviously filled his heart with such frustration and self-loathing as to make him a Danger To Others. And, finally, he had allowed himself to be brainwashed into thinking that roads were made for cars (or, at least, for vehicles with gasoline-combustible engines), and that roads were the domain of nothing else, causing him to menace persons who happened to have left their own homes a few moments before he did, putting them, unwittingly, in his hateful path, riding, of all fucking things, bicycles.

To persons who insist on driving cars everywhere they go (even though, of course, buying gasoline puts cash in the pockets of Saudi Arabians, who use our money to fund terrorist groups such as al-Qaida), please remember that bicyclists are simply persons who have freed themselves from the prison-like confines of internally-combustible vehicles, flinging off the foul fat-folds of sloth and moving their bodies around using only muscle power. So, dear friends, please give other persons the right of way, even if they are not burning as much oil as you are burning while out-and-about; and, of course, please share generously of our common roadways, byways, highways, paths, alleys, lanes, and streets; but, most importantly, keep a smile on your face, a song in your heart, and your head on a fucking swivel. Mahalo.

場黑麥 mentiri manufactorem fecit

what to do to help our war effort

Often over the past few months, while conversing with seemingly intelligent, apparently clear-thinking individuals, I have run into indifference and ignorance toward the fact that America is at war. For over a decade now, this nation has waged its wars in strange and distant places, battling fierce peoples in dusty villages, fighting a mysterious, shiver-inducing organization that, as would the hydra, grows new heads to replace any old heads that get lopped off, mozambiqued, or otherwise violently removed. During these conversations, my counterparts nearly always ask, “What is it that I can do, personally, to help our boys and girls win these wars that we have sent them off to wage?” To address this question, and to free my heart of much worry and consternation, here are two things that the person interested in helping America win the wars that she is waging can do: first, reduce the amount of gasoline consumed; and, second, plant a victory garden.

As to the first point, gasoline, a strategic national resource, is distilled from crude oil, which is pumped from the ground by states such as Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, and Yemen. These states not only promote and fund terrorist groups and terrorist activities, they also regularly violate their own citizens' human and civil rights. By burning gasoline in our own cars, we take it away from the cars, boats, and airplanes of the military; by burning gasoline, Americans fund terrorism, since the money we pay goes to the aforementioned states, which fund terrorism and violate basic human rights. The patriotic American wishing to avoid funding terrorism will stop driving his car.

As to the second point, ours is a fertile and rich land capable of producing great varieties of vegetables in abundant numbers. In the spirit of our forefathers, and of their father's fathers, the self-sufficient, self-respecting America will, wherever she is able to, erect and maintain a garden in which she grows anything and everything she can possibly grow. She does not purchase apples from New Zealand, cabbage from Brazil, or soybeans from the People's Republic of China – she grows these things herself, tending for her plants with loving care and patient foresight. It matters little if she maintains a single pot filled with herbs or a plot of raised beds running the entire length of her driveway; what does matter is that she honors our warriors' sacrifice by making a few sacrifices of her own.

These are but two, relatively simple things that persons can do to ween our country off of its addiction to foreign oil and artificially low prices and to free up logistical and manufacturing capacities for use in the general war effort. Perhaps we might later organize aluminum and steel drives, and set up Exchanges for Neighborhood Self-Sufficiency and Self-Reliance, but, for now, let us focus on these two primary objectives: to stop using so much damn oil, and to grow ourselves what food we ourselves consume. Please remember to spread the aloha, and to keep your heart light, and buoyant. Mahalo.

場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit

on the United Slaves of America

Do you often drive to malls and to other places of direction-less shopping, only to buy something you don't really need? Do you buy the newest gadgets just as they are released, spending your hard-earned money without a second thought? Do you while speaking in polite company wax suddenly poetic about television shows, explaining their plot-lines instead of making conversation, speaking emphatically about people whom you do not know personally and who do not actually exist? If you have answered Yes to any of these questions, you are more than likely self-enslaved to conspicuous consumerism, to driving around in your car wasting gasoline without a clue as to your purpose, to accruing superfluous debt, and to staring at the compelling and intricately woven tales that emerge regularly from a flickering plastic box (which you likely bought at high price and labored diligently to mount upon your living-room wall).

Can you imagine living now, today, without electricity? Can you imagine living in a world in which electricity were in sporadic or limited supply? Can you imagine not being able to purchase, at any time of day or night, as much cheap gasoline as you to wish buy at any one of thousands of separate, well-lit retail locations? Do you consider resource-conservation, composting, and recycling to be a waste of time? Have you become so addicted to your pocket computer that your mind has lost its ability to reason, to recall important information, to think for itself, or to keep itself occupied past the setting of the sun? If you see a reflection of yourself in any of these scalding but poorly-worded questions, you are a slave to Big Oil, a slave to your own automobile, a slave to electricity, a slave to your electrical devices, a slave to the white men who own the electrical companies, a slave to the coal that makes the steam that runs the electrical plants, a slave to the railways that transport the coal, and a slave to the whims and fancies of the fat-cat fuckers on Wall Street who trade in and control the price of coal futures (and who, by fiat, trade in and control you and your ability to Pursue your Happiness).

If you are a self-respecting, happiness-loving patriotic American, you would do well to fight self-enslavement to any external thing, person, device, physical condition, and state-of-mind. The patriot is self-sufficient in order to preserve his country's limited natural and national resources and to make sure his (self-imposed) need does not affect his country's ability to provide for the common defence. The patriot does not rest her hopes and dreams on external conditions such as bandwidth speeds or back-to-school-sales – rather, she maintains a pure and loving heart into which and from which all the Blessings of Liberty flow; she keeps her heart in its nebulous state and denies herself all but the basic necessities; she is a tough and hardened operator who minds not cold, heat, nor personal privation – she focuses rather on providing for the general Welfare, on establishing Justice, and on forming a more perfect Union in her own life and, by extension, in the life of her vast and beautiful nation.

A mere one hundred and fifty years ago, we Americans went to war amongst ourselves to battle the evils of slavery (among other reasons), yet now, in 2012, we pay good money to enslave ourselves willingly to TV shows, digital gadgets, internal home lighting, pillow-top mattresses, rich and fatty foods, automobiles, shopping malls, and gyms. One of my ancestor died fighting the evils of slavery, shot by a sniper's bullet during the battle of Vicksburg; by remaining vigilant to the ever-grasping, ever-enticing tendrils of our ridiculous modern society and of their power to destroy my virtue, I shall make sure his sacrifice was not made in vain.

場黑麥 ioanni elymucampus fecit

p.s. the author would like to point that he is no less a slave in these matters than most other Americans living today

on idling enemies

From oil (as in crude oil, sweet crude, Big Oil, oil wells, the British Petroleum Gulf Disaster of 2011, and the like) we get gasoline. From oil we also get plastics (which are used to make water bottles, baby toys, toothbrushes, car seats, laptop cases, lampshades, bottlecaps, pens, linoleum, clothing, shoes, and the like). Oil is a precious and a strategic national resource of the United States of America, and it is the duty of each and every citizen to protect his nation's precious resources. Therefore, the patriotic citizen never allows his gasoline-powered vehicle to idle for longer than 30 seconds, since idling past 30 seconds compared to turning off and later restarting the vehicle wastes gasoline, and gasoline, as it is a derivative of oil, is a strategic national resource. (Idling while stuck in traffic may seem unavoidable until one sees bicyclists flying exuberantly by, unopposed.)

The patriotic citizen educates himself about his use of this precious national resource – he does not waste it, because wasting it would mean that the brave men and women fighting America's war would perhaps not have enough gasoline to complete their missions. If a person were to wish to harm the United States of America and to make her less able to provide for the common defence and the general Welfare, that person would drive an unnecessarily large, gas-guzzling vehicle. The person who drives a vehicle disproportionate to his “need” to get around (such as a lone person driving a Ford 350 or a Dodge 3500) is an enemy of the state, because he burns more gas moving himself around than he might if he were to make a small personal sacrifice and drive a smaller car with a smaller engine. (Today's homo non-sapient accepts readily the lie that she might commute to her job by car, drive her car to the store, drive her car to the gym, drive her car to school, all without consequence; at least in America, we can no longer afford to be lazy, worthless people who drive our cars fucking everywhere.) In order to protect his nation's future (and to make sure the troopers fighting our wars have enough gasoline for their military vehicles), the true American patriot rides a bicycle whenever possible.

Life requires water. Without water, there is no life. Without water, humans die. Because it is a component essential to maintaining the general Welfare, and since it is needed to effect the Safety and Happiness of the American citizen, water is one of this nation's precious and strategic national resources. Businesses that waste water are enemies of the state. Persons who waste water are enemies of the state. Persons who allow the faucet to run while they brush their teeth; who run the tap while shaving; who hose down a driveway instead of sweeping it with a motherfucking Broom; who maintain lawns in the desert (instead of planting drought-resistant, native species); who toss cigarette butts into lakes; these persons are all enemies of the state. Please, dear reader, if you consider yourself a patriot, please examine your use of America's precious resources, and adjust your habits so as to improve this country's ability to survive in the future and to fulfill the parameters of the Constitution.

場黑麥 ioanni elymucampus fecit