long after heraclitus

Das Ziel des Rechts ist der Friede, das Mittel dazu der Kampf. So lange das Recht sich auf den Angriff von Seiten des Unrechts gefasst halten muss–und dies wird dauern, so lange die Welt steht–wird ihm der Kampf nicht erspart bleiben. Das Leben des Rechts ist Kampf, ein Kampf der Völker–der Staatsgewalt–der Stände–der Individuen.
    Alles Recht in der Welt ist erstritten worden, jeder wichtige Rechtssatz hat erst denen, die sich ihm widersetzten, abgerungen werden müssen, und jedes Recht, sowohl das Recht eines Volkes wie das eines Einzelnen, setzt die stetige Bereitschaft zu seiner Behauptung voraus. Das Recht ist nicht blosser Gedanke, sondern lebendige Kraft. Darum führt die Gerechtigkeit, die in der einen Hand die Wagschale hält, mit der sie das Recht abwägt, in der andern das Schwert, mit dem sie es behauptet. Das Schwert ohne die Wage ist die nackte Gewalt, die Wage ohne das Schwert die Ohnmacht des Rechts. Beide gehören zusammen, und ein vollkommener Rechtszustand herrscht nur da, wo die Kraft, mit der die Gerechtigkeit das Schwert führt, der Geschicklichkeit gleichkommt, mit der sie die Wage handhabt.
    Recht ist unausgesetzte Arbeit und zwar nicht etwa bloss der Staatsgewalt, sondern des ganzen Volkes. Das gesammte Leben des Rechts, mit einem Blicke überschaut, vergegenwärtigt uns dasselbe Schauspiel rastlosen Ringens und Arbeitens einer ganzen Nation, das ihre Thätigkeit auf dem Gebiete der ökonomischen und geistigen Produktion gewährt. Jeder Einzelne, der in die Lage kommt, sein Recht behaupten zu müssen, übernimmt an dieser nationalen Arbeit seinen Antheil, trägt sein Scherflein bei zur Verwirklichung der Rechtsidee auf Erden.
    Freilich nicht an Alle tritt diese Anforderung gleichmässig heran. Unangefochten und ohne Anstoss verläuft das Leben von Tausenden von Individuen in den geregelten Bahnen des Rechts, und würden wir ihnen sagen: Das Recht ist Kampf – sie würden uns nicht verstehen, denn sie kennen dasselbe nur als Zustand des Friedens und der Ordnung. Und vom Standpunkt ihrer eigenen Erfahrung haben sie vollkommen Recht, ganz so wie der reiche Erbe, dem mühelos die Frucht fremder Arbeit in den Schoos gefallen ist, wenn er den Satz: Eigenthum ist Arbeit, in Abrede stellt. Die Täuschung Beider hat ihren Grund darin, dass die zwei Seiten, welche sowohl das Eigenthum wie das Recht in sich schliessen, subjectiv in der Weise auseinanderfallen können, dass dem Einen der Genuss und der Friede, dem Andern die Arbeit und der Kampf zu Theil wird.
    Das Eigenthum wie das Recht ist eben ein Januskopf mit einem Doppelantlitz; Einigen kehrt er bloss die eine Seite, Andern bloss die andere Seite zu, daher die völlige Verschiedenheit des Bildes, das beide von ihm empfangen. In Bezug auf das Recht gilt dies wie von einzelnen Individuen, so auch von ganzen Zeitaltern. Das Leben des einen ist Krieg, das Leben des andern Friede, und die Völker sind durch diese Verschiedenheit der subjectiven Vertheilung beider ganz derselben Täuschung ausgesetzt, wie die Individuen. Eine lange Periode des Friedens – und der Glaube an den ewigen Frieden steht in üppigster Blüthe, bis der erste Kanonenschuss den schönen Traum verscheucht, und an die Stelle eines Geschlechts, das mühelos den Frieden genossen hat, ein anderes tritt, welches sich ihn durch die harte Arbeit des Krieges erst wieder verdienen muss. So vertheilt sich beim Eigenthum wie beim Recht Arbeit und Genuss, aber für den Einen, der geniesst und im Frieden dahinlebt, hat ein Anderer arbeiten und kämpfen müssen. Der Frieden ohne Kampf, der Genuss ohne Arbeit gehören der Zeit des Paradieses an, die Geschichte kennt beide nur als Resultate unablässiger, mühseliger Anstrengung.
    Diesen Gedanken, dass der Kampf die Arbeit des Rechts ist und in Bezug auf seine praktische Nothwendigkeit sowohl wie seine ethische Würdigung auf dieselbe Linie mit der Arbeit beim Eigenthum zu stellen ist, gedenke ich im Folgenden weiter auszuführen. Ich glaube damit kein überflüssiges Werk zu thun, im Gegentheil eine Unterlassungssünde gut zu machen, die sich unsere Theorie (ich meine nicht bloss die Rechtsphilosophie, sondern auch die positive Jurisprudenz) hat zu Schulden kommen lassen. Man merkt es unserer Theorie nur zu deutlich an, dass sie sich mehr mit der Wage als mit dem Schwert der Gerechtigkeit zu beschäftigen hat; die Einseitigkeit des rein wissenschaftlichen Standpunktes, von dem aus sie das Recht betrachtet, und der sich kurz dahin zusammenfassen lässt, dass er ihr das Recht weniger von seiner realistischen Seite als Machtbegriff, als vielmehr von seiner logischen Seite als System abstracter Rechtssätze vor Augen führt, hat meines Erachtens ihre ganze Auffassung vom Recht in einer Weise beeinflusst, wie sie zu der rauhen Wirklichkeit des Rechts gar wenig stimmt – ein Vorwurf, für den der Verlauf meiner Darstellung es an Belegen nicht fehlen lassen wird.
    –Rudolph von Jhering, Der Kampf um’s Recht, 1884
The end of the law is peace. The means to that end is war. So long as the law is compelled to hold itself in readiness to resist the attacks of wrong—and this it will be compelled to do until the end of time—it cannot dispense with war. The life of the law is a struggle,—a struggle of nations, of the state power, of classes, of individuals.
    All the law in the world has been obtained by strife. Every principle of law which obtains had first to be wrung by force from those who denied it; and every legal right—the legal rights of a whole nation as well as those of individuals—supposes a continual readiness to assert it and defend it. The law is not mere theory, but living force. And hence it is that Justice which, in one hand, holds the scales, in which she weighs the right, carries in the other the sword with which she executes it. The sword without the scales is brute force, the scales without the sword is the impotence of law. The scales and the sword belong together, and the state of the law is perfect only where the power with which Justice carries the sword is equalled by the skill with which she holds the scales.
    Law is an uninterrupted labor, and not of the state power only, but of the entire people. The entire life of the law, embraced in one glance, presents us with the same spectacle of restless striving and working of a whole nation, afforded by its activity in the domain of economic and intellectual production. Every individual placed in a position in which he is compelled to defend his legal rights, takes part in this work of the nation, and contributes his mite towards the realization of the idea of law on earth.
    Doubtless, this duty is not incumbent on all to the same extent. Undisturbed by strife and without offense, the life of thousands of individuals passes away, within the limits imposed by the law to human action; and if we were to tell them: The law is a warfare, they would not understand us, for they know it only as a condition of peace and of order. And from the point of view of their own experience they are entirely right, just as is the rich heir into whose lap the fruit of the labor of others has fallen, without any toil to him, when he questions the principle: property is labor. The cause of the illusion of both is that the two sides of the ideas of property and of law may be subjectively separated from each other in such a manner that enjoyment and peace become the part of one, and labor and strife of the other. If we were to address ourselves to the latter, he would give us an entirely opposite answer.
    And, indeed, property, like the law, is a Janus-head with a double face. To some it turns only one side, to others only the other; and hence the difference of the picture of it obtained by the two. This, in relation to the law, applies to whole generations as well as to single individuals. The life of one generation is war, of another peace; and nations, in consequence of this difference of subjective division, are subject to the same illusion precisely as individuals. A long period of peace, and, as a consequence thereof, faith in eternal peace, is richly enjoyed, until the first gun dispels the pleasant dream, and another generation takes the place of the one which had enjoyed peace without having had to toil for it, another generation which is forced to earn it again by the hard work of war. Thus in property and law do we find labor and enjoyment distributed. But the fact that they belong together does not suffer any prejudice in consequence. One person has been obliged to battle and to labor for another who enjoys and lives in peace. Peace without strife, and enjoyment without work, belong to the days of Paradise. History knows both only as the result of painful, uninterrupted effort.
    That, to struggle, is, in the domain of law, what to labor, is, in that of economy, and, that, in what concerns its practical necessity as well as its moral value, that struggle is to be placed on an equal footing with labor in the case of property, is the idea which I propose to develop further below. I think that in so doing I shall be performing no work of supererogation, but, on the contrary, that I shall be making amends for a sin of omission which may rightly be laid at the door of our theory of law; and not simply at the door of our philosophy of law, but of our positive jurisprudence also. Our theory of law, it is only too easy to perceive, is busied much more with the scales than with the sword of Justice. The one-sidedness of the purely scientific standpoint from which it considers the law, looking at it not so much as it really is, as an idea of force, but as it is logically, a system of abstract legal principles, has, in my opinion, impressed on its whole way of viewing the law, a character not in harmony with the bitter reality. This I intend to prove.
    –Rudolph von Jhering, The Struggle for Law, translated by John J. Lalor, 1915

étienne de la boétie on the master-slave dialectic

C’est ainsi que le tyran asservit les sujets les uns par les autres. Il est gardé par ceux desquels il devrait se garder, s’ils n’étaient avilis : mais, comme on l’a fort bien dit pour fendre le bois, il se fait des coins de bois même. Tels sont ses archers, ses gardes, ses hallebardiers. Non que ceux-ci ne souffrent souvent eux-mêmes de son oppression ; mais ces misérables, maudits de Dieu et des hommes, se contentent d’endurer le mal, pour en faire, non à celui qui le leur fait, mais bien à ceux qui, comme eux, l’endurent et n’y peuvent rien. Et toutefois, quand je pense à ces gens-là, qui flattent bassement le tyran pour exploiter en même temps et sa tyrannie et la servitude du peuple, je suis presque aussi surpris de leur stupidité que de leur méchanceté. Car, à vrai dire, s’approcher du tyran, est-ce autre chose que s’éloigner de la liberté et, pour ainsi dire, embrasser et serrer à deux mains la servitude ? Qu’ils mettent un moment à part leur ambition, qu’ils se dégagent un peu de leur sordide avarice, et puis, qu’ils se regardent, qu’ils se considèrent en eux-mêmes : ils verront clairement que ces villageois, ces paysans qu’ils foulent aux pieds et qu’ils traitent comme des forçats ou des esclaves , ils verront, dis-je, que ceux-là, ainsi malmenés, sont plus heureux et en quelque sorte plus libres qu’eux. Le laboureur et l’artisan, pour tant asservis qu’ils soient, en sont quittes en obéissant ; mais le tyran voit ceux qui l’entourent, coquinant et mendiant sa faveur. Il ne faut pas seulement qu’ils fassent ce qu’il ordonne, mais aussi qu’ils pensent ce qu’il veut, et souvent même, pour le satisfaire, qu’ils préviennent aussi ses propres désirs. Ce n’est pas tout de lui obéir, il faut lui complaire, il faut qu’ils se rompent, se tourmentent, se tuent à traiter ses affaires et puisqu’ils ne se plaisent que de son plaisir, qu’ils sacrifient leur goût au sien, forcent leur tempérament et le dépouillement de leur naturel. Il faut qu’ils soient continuellement attentifs à ses paroles, à sa voix, à ses regards, à ses moindres gestes : que leurs yeux, leurs pieds, leurs mains soient continuellement occupés à suivre ou imiter tous ses mouvements, épier et deviner ses volontés et découvrir ses plus secrètes pensées. Est-ce là vivre heureusement ? Est-ce même vivre ? Est-il rien au monde de plus insupportable que cet état, je ne dis pas pour tout homme bien né, mais encore pour celui qui n’a que le gros bon sens, ou même figure d’homme ? Quelle condition est plus misérable que celle de vivre ainsi n’ayant rien à soi et tenant d’un autre son aise, sa liberté, son corps et sa vie !!


Jean-Léon Gérôme, Slave Auction, 1866, The Hermitage, St. Petersburg

Thus the tyrant enslaves his subjects, ones by means of others. He is protected by those from whom he would have to guard himself, were they not abased: but, as it is well said, to split wood one needs wedges of the selfsame wood. Such are his archers, his guards, his halberdiers. Not that they themselves do not often suffer at his hands, but these wretches, accursed alike by God and man, are content to endure evil in order to commit it, not against him who wrongs them, but against those who, like themselves, suffer him and cannot help it. And yet, when I think of those men who basely flatter the tyrant to profit at once from his tyranny and from the servitude of the people, I am almost as astonished by their folly as by their wickedness; for to get to the point, how can they approach a tyrant, but by withdrawing further from their liberty, and, so to speak, embracing and seizing their servitude with both hands? Let such men briefly lay aside their ambition, or slightly loosen the grip of their sordid avarice, and look at themselves as they really are; then they will realize clearly that the townspeople, the peasants whom they trample under foot and treat like convicts or slaves, they will realize, I say, that these people, mistreated though they be, are happier and in a certain sense freer than themselves. The laborer and the artisan, no matter how enslaved, discharge their obligation through obedience; but the tyrant sees men about him grovel and beg for his favor. They must not only do as he says; they must also think as he wills; and often to satisfy him they must anticipate his wishes. Their work is far from done in merely obeying him; they must also please him; they must wear themselves out, torment themselves, kill themselves with work on his behalf, and since they cannot enjoy themselves but through his pleasure, replace their preferences with his, distorting their character and corrupting their nature. They must continually pay heed to his words, to his intonation, to his glances, and to his smallest gestures: let their eyes, their feet, their hands be continually poised to follow or imitate his every motion, to espy or divine his wishes, or to seek out his innermost thoughts. Is that a happy life? Is that a life properly so called? Is there anything in the world more intolerable than that situation, not just for any man of nobility, but even for any man possessed of a crude common sense, or merely of a human face? What condition is more wretched than to live thus, with nothing to call one’s own, receiving from someone else one’s sustenance, one’s own accord, one’s body, and one’s life!!

—Étienne de La Boétie (1 November 1530 – 18 August 1563), Discours de la servitude volontaire, 1549

the rabbits and the goats

Once there was a great clover meadow divided into two equal parts by a clear river which ran between. One field was the home of the grey rabbits, the other of the white rabbits. Each one had enough; none had too much, and all were happy.
    One day four white goats came to the field of the white rabbits and four black goats to the field of the grey rabbits, and the goats said to the rabbits: “This field is ours. Do not touch a stalk of clover.” “Who gave you the land?” asked the rabbits. “Our God and yours. The Man who lives on the Hill,” answered the goats. “Oh!” said the rabbits.
    Presently some of the older rabbits got together and, with noses twitching, nervously asked the goats: “Where shall we go and how shall we live?” “You cannot go anywhere,” said the goats, “and if you will cut clover for us we will give you enough to keep yon alive, unless you are greedy. The greedy must die.” “Oh!” said the rabbits.
    So the four white goats divided one field into quarters, each taking one as its own, and the four black goats divided the other field in the same way, and for a long time the rabbits brought the goats the hay which the goats sold to the pigs who lived on an island in the river. The goats became very fat and prosperous, but the rabbits had hardly enough to eat. The rabbits continued to have large families and grew more and more numerous, so that the clover allowed by the goats was not enough and the rabbits were starving. Some of the rabbits then said: “Brethren, four goats cannot harvest this clover. We do all the work. Let us stand together and refuse to labor unless we get more clover and shorter hours.”
    So the rabbits formed a hundred and thirty-seven unions, so that each rabbit could find a union tor its kind. There was a union for rabbits with a spot on the right fore-foot, and a union for rabbits with a spot on the left fore-foot, and so on, for all manner of rabbits, including lop-eared rabbits and blind rabbits. Sometimes the rabbits with a spot on the 
left fore-foot would walk out and sit by the edge of the field and look at the clover and refuse to work unless given more clover and shorter hours. This action was called “a squat.” Sometimes the rabbits with a spot on the right fore-foot would walk out on a squat. Sometimes it would be the lop-eared rabbits, or the three-toed rabbits, or the blind rabbits, or whichever was hungriest, and the others would do the work for the goats till those out on a squat would get so hungry looking at the clover they would, one by one, slip back into the field and go to work, and sometimes, if the crop was very big and the pigs were squealing for clover, and business was good, the goats would give the squatting rabbits a little more to eat and shorter hours.
    But when the rabbits had bred to such a multitude that there were more rabbits than were needed for the work, poor, hungry, mangy or scabby rabbits would offer to work for less clover, and then the whole thing would be in a dreadful uproar; the union rabbits would squeal “Scab!” at the poor mangy rabbits, and the goats would bleat: “Let them alone. We have a God-given right to have them work for us for less clover.” And all the other union rabbits, left-foots, right-foots, fore-foots, hind-foots, lop-ears and so on — all except the ones who were squatting — would go on harvesting the goats’ clover for them, but crying continually: “Scab! Scab! Scab!”
    Things went on this way for a long time, the white rabbits and the grey rabbits getting poorer and poorer, and the white goats and black goats getting fatter and fatter. But presently the black goats and the white goats quarreled over which should furnish clover to the pigs. The black goats declared war on the white goats, and each shouted to their own rabbits: “Quit working for us now for a while and come fight for us”; so the white rabbits rushed at the grey rabbits and the grey rabbits rushed at the white rabbits and they killed each other, squealing strange squeals: “Patriotism!” “Fatherland!” “Our Country!” “Our Flag!” “The Goats forever!” “God bless our Goats!”

    The goats wept and gave a little clover to the orphan rabbits, and hung small yellow bells on the two-legged and three-legged rabbits who had lost legs in the war, so these rabbits sat all day tinkling their bells and were fed by the other rabbits and were greatly venerated for their intelligence.
    
During the war the white goats sent for white foxes to fight for them, and the black goats sent for black foxes to fight for them, and the rabbits were glad and said: “We will feed the foxes who fight for us.” After a long and bitter war, and the killing of many rabbits, peace was declared between the black goats and the white goats and they divided the Pigs’ Island between them by a solemn treaty, and were fatter than ever.

    So the rabbits, white and grey, went back to their fields to work, only each had to labor harder because there were so many crippled rabbits and so many foxes to support. The rabbits were thus harder worked and poorer than ever, but every time they grumbled or one of their unions squatted the goats set the foxes on them and drove them back to work.

    Things became so unbearable that an old grey rabbit called all the rabbits together, white and grey, and said to them: “Are we not all rabbits? Are we not all brothers? Are we not all enslaved? Our mistake was in admitting the right of the goats to own the land, because that has enslaved us. We must live from the land. Without it we die. Our remedy is to undo this error and to assert that not even our God, the Man on the Hill, can give away the ownership of the fields. They must be as before, open and free to whomsoever will use them. If the goats want clover, let them get what they can use, and no more. The same with the pigs, and the same with rabbits; and as for rabbits killing each other, it is worse than wicked — it is foolish.” “But,” said a large white rabbit, “what will become of the foxes?” “Let them die,” said the grey rabbit. “But they won’t die. They will eat us,” said the white rabbit. “No,” said the grey rabbit, “there are many more of us, and we can kick powerfully if we want to. Moreover, unless we work for the goats, how can they buy the chickens they feed to the foxes? Foxes cannot eat clover.” “But how are we to do this? The goats are larger than we are,” said the white rabbit “Easily,” replied the grey rabbit; “let us unite in one great brotherhood. Not lop-eared or blind rabbits, but just rabbits, all rabbits, in one common band. Then let us say to the goats; ‘We will harvest no more clover for you. Work yourselves, or starve. We deny your ownership of the fields. We will help ourselves.’ Oh, my brothers,” he added, “see this mutilated ear which was chewed by a white rabbit while each of us was fighting for the goats, he for the white goats, I for the black. Let it be so no more. Let us all get together as one band of brothers. Let us break this ownership of our fields by the goats, and then no more shall our little ones starve in meadows of abundance.” “Very fine words,” said the white rabbit, “but only words. Do not listen to him. He is a visionary. A dreamer. Labor is not vision. Labor is life. Life is labor. Let us all go back to our jobs. That is life. We can from time to time squat and kick as before, separately and independently, for more clover and shorter hours. That also is life. Anything beyond a little more clover or shorter hours is vision, and sensible rabbits will not bother with it.”
    
So the rabbits all returned to labor for the goats, while the foxes watched them from the shade.

a day with my old partner

Subrah Iyar lives on a gated estate at 15292 Kennedy Rd, Los Gatos, CA 95032.

On June 29 I paid him a visit:

I brought along some visiting cards.

Subrah’s bodyguards called for reinforcements:

Overseen by the unblinking eye of Bragmardo, I assumed my Pedobear watch:

Meanwhile, Subrah’s neighbors sped by:

It was my pleasure and privilege to keep them safe from Subrah’s child raping pals:


here we go again


Resumption of Public Protests at Rosewood Sand Hill Compound



From: Michael Zeleny
<zeleny@post.harvard.edu>

Fri, Sep 23, 2011 at 4:53 PM

To: Ajay Vashee <avashee@nea.com>, Ali Behbahani <abehbahani@nea.com>, Amita Shukla <ashukla@nea.com>, Arno Penzias <apenzias@nea.com>, Brooke Seawell <bseawell@nea.com>, Ching-Ho Fung <cfung@nea.com>, Chip Linehan <clinehan@nea.com>, Chuck Newhall <cnewhall@nea.com>, David Mott <dmott@nea.com>, Dick Kramlich <dkramlich@nea.com>, Ed Mathers <emathers@nea.com>, Forest Baskett <fbaskett@nea.com>, Frank Torti <ftorti@nea.com>, George Stamas <gstamas@nea.com>, Harry Weller <hweller@nea.com>, Hugh Panero <hpanero@nea.com>, Jake Nunn <jnunn@nea.com>, James Barrett <jbarrett@nea.com>, Jay Graf <jgraf@nea.com>, Jimmy Treybig <jtreybig@nea.com>, John Nehra <jnehra@nea.com>, Jon Sakoda <jsakoda@nea.com>, Josh Makower <jmakower@nea.com>, Justin Klein <jklein@nea.com>, Krishna 'Kittu' Kolluri <kkolluri@nea.com>, Louis Citron <lcitron@nea.com>, Mark Perry <mperry@nea.com>, Megan Alderete <malderete@nea.com>, Mike O'Dell <modell@nea.com>, Mike Ramsay <mramsay@nea.com>, Mohamad Makhzoumi <mmakhzoumi@nea.com>, Nitin Sharma <nsharma@nea.com>, Patrick Chung <pchung@nea.com>, Patrick Kerins <pkerins@nea.com>, Paul Hsiao <phsiao@nea.com>, Paul Walker <pwalker@nea.com>, Peter Barris <pbarris@nea.com>, Peter Behrendt <pbehrendt@nea.com>, Peter Morris <pmorris@nea.com>, Peter Sonsini <psonsini@nea.com>, PM Pai <ppai@nea.com>, Ravi Viswanathan <rviswanathan@nea.com>, Richard Whitney <rwhitney@nea.com>, Rick Yang <ryang@nea.com>, Robert Croce <rcroce@nea.com>, Robert Garland <rgarland@nea.com>, Rohini Chakravarthy <rchakravarthy@nea.com>, Ryan Drant <rdrant@nea.com>, Sara Nayeem <snayeem@nea.com>, Scott Gottlieb <sgottlieb@nea.com>, Scott Sandell <ssandell@nea.com>, Sigrid Van Bladel <svanbladel@nea.com>, Sujay Jaswa <sjaswa@nea.com>, Suzanne King <sking@nea.com>, Tim Schaller <tschaller@nea.com>, Tom Grossi <tgrossi@nea.com>, Tony Florence <tflorence@nea.com>
Cc:
Subrah Iyar <Subrah.Iyar@webex.com>, john.chambers@cisco.com, "David W. Affeld" <dwa@agzlaw.com>, sandhill@rosewoodhotels.com, policechief@menlopark.org, wadixon@menlopark.org, grojas@menlopark.org, sakaufman@menlopark.org, wlm@jsmf.com, danielprimack@gmail.com

Dear NEA,
I share your relief at settling our dispute regarding my access to your private property. As you know, I will no longer appear in front of your office. I am equally relieved that your single claim challenged only my “conduct in repeatedly trespassing on private property, leaving [me] free to express [myself] as [I desire], at any lawful place and time, with the sole exception that [I] cannot make unauthorized entry onto the NEA office complex.” You objected to the location of my protest but did not dispute its content.

Starting on 31 October 2011 and continuing indefinitely, I shall resume my protest against your abhorrent investment practices. I shall do so on the public easement near the entrance to your complex. I shall also protest against anyone who would do business with you, based on their implicit endorsement of your immoral practices. I shall take photos and record videos of everyone entering your complex, post the images online and distribute them on bills posted throughout the San Francisco Bay Area, and offer rewards for the first correct identification of names and addresses of everyone who does business with your child rape sponsoring enterprise. I shall display signs and banners illustrating the purpose of my protests. As before, I shall be armed with legal counterparts of U.S. military rifles and pistols, in full compliance with all applicable federal, state, and local ordinances. As before, I invite you to comment on my plans, should you have any legitimate objection to the time, place, or manner of my expression of my Constitutionally protected message.

Michael@massmeans.com | Zeleny@post.harvard.edu | 7576 Willow Glen Road, Los Angeles, CA 90046 | 323.363.1860 | http://www.subrah.com
http://larvatus.livejournal.com | "All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better." — Samuel Beckett


miyuki ishibashi


Ishibashi’s strong resentment toward the establishment stems from her family’s plight at the end of World War II, a war she blames on Japanese militarists.
    As Japan’s defeat became increasingly evident in 1944, Ishibashi’s father was drafted in Korea.
    He died a year later. Ishibashi said her mother “went through hell” in the course of being repatriated to Japan and in raising her then 1-year-old daughter amid the rubble of a defeated nation.
    After graduating from Waseda, Ishibashi spent some 10 years as a singer and actress, traveling to Russia for the first time in 1976. She was captivated by Moscow’s desolate nature, which dovetailed with her childhood hardships.
    Ishibashi began to collect and sing underground Russian songs, which portrayed the true feelings of the people suppressed by the communist regime, and grew increasingly aware of the reality of Soviet life.

—Yumi Wijers-Hasegawa, “Songs of oppressed now serve to inspire”, The Japan Times, 25 March 2003

monday nothing

The Fugs, named after Norman Mailer’s euphemism punctuating the pages of The Naked and the Dead, were conceived in a former kosher meat store on East 10th Street in late 1964, when 26 year old Ed Sanders published 42 year old Tuli Kupferberg’s poetry in his highbrow literary journal, Fuck You: A Magazine of the Arts:

We drew inspiration for the Fugs from a long and varied tradition, going all the way back to the dances of Dionysus in the ancient Greek plays and the “Theory of the Spectacle” in Aristotle’s Poetics, and moving forward to the famous premier performance of Alfred Jarry’s Ubu Roi in 1896, to the poèmes simultanés of the Dadaists in Zurich’s Cabaret Voltaire in 1916, to the jazz-poetry of the Beats, to Charlie Parker’s seething sax, to the silence of John Cage, to the calm pushiness of the Happening movement, the songs of the Civil Rights movement, and to our concept that there was oodles of freedom guaranteed by the United States Constitution that was not being used.


Ed Sanders and Tuli Kupferberg photographed by Richard Avedon in 1967
The Fugs consisted of three members: Tuli Kupferberg, native New Yorker and “one of the leading Anarchist theorists of our time,” Ken Weaver, humorist and poet, and Ed Sanders, fellow poet and leader of the group. Their inspiration was irreproachable. Their performance was parodic. There were musicians, there were noisemakers, and then there were The Fugs. “From now on nothing holds us back, cacophony forever”, crowed Ed Sanders during a 1964 recording session. The form suited the subject. Nothing is Kupferberg’s inspired paraphrase of a Yiddish potato folk song into a supreme ode to negativity:

Monday nothing, Tuesday nothing
Wednesday and Thursday nothing
Friday for a change a little more nothing
Saturday once more nothing

Sunday nothing, Monday nothing
Tuesday and Wednesday nothing
Thursday for a change a little more nothing
Friday once more nothing

Montik gar nicht dinstik gar nicht
Mitvokh und donershtik gar nicht
Fraytik in a noveneh a gar nicht kuggele
Shabes vayter garnicht

Lunes nada martes nada
Miércoles jueves nada
Viernes por cambio poco mas nada
Sábado otra más nada

January nothing, February nothing
March and April nothing
May and June a lot more nothing
Ju-u-ly nothing

29 nothing
32 nothing
39, 45 nothing
1965 a whole lot of nothing
1966 nothing

Reading nothing, writing nothing
Even arithmetic nothing
Geography, philosophy, history nothing
Social Anthropology nothing

Oh, Village Voice nothing, New Yorker nothing
Sing Out and Folkways nothing
Harry Smith and Allen Ginsberg
Nothing nothing nothing

Poetry nothing
Music nothing
Painting and dancing nothing
The world’s great books a great set of nothing
Arty and farty nothing.

Fucking nothing, sucking nothing
Flesh and sex nothing
Church and Times Square all a lot of nothing
Nothing nothing nothing

Stevenson nothing, Humphrey nothing
Averell Harriman nothing
John Stewart Mill nihil nihil
Franklin Delano nothing

Karlos Marx nothing, Engels nothing
Bakunin, Kropotkin nyothing
Leon Trotsky lots of nothing
Stalin less than nothing

Nothing nothing nothing nothing
The whole scene’s a whole lot of nothing
Nothing lots and lots of nothing
Nothing nothing nothing nothing NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING

NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING
Nothing nothing nothing NOTHING nothing
NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING nothing nothing
Lots of it

Nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing
Not a Goddam thing.

Here’s wishing Tuli Kupferberg a whole lot of Nothing.

Tuli Kupferberg and Ed Sanders photographed by Bob Gruen in 2003