Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" entry for Hicham el Guerouj setting the world record at 1500m. (it says one mile on the screen but that is wrong, according to the time clocked).
Markin comment:
Not all the entries in this space are connected to politics, although surely most of them can be boiled down into some political essence, if you try hard enough. The following is one of those instances where trying to gain any “political traction”, or as I am fond of saying drawing the “lessons” would be foolhardy. I should also note that this entry is part of a continuing, if sporadic, series of “trips down memory lane” provoked by a fellow high school classmate who has been charged with keeping tabs on old classmates and their doings, even those of old line communists like this writer. Go figure?
This entry, although spurred on by ancient memories of 'grandeur’ on the running track and other reflections from youth is not, as is usually the case, the result of some query. Rather the reverse, a note of a couple of sentences, had been submitted by me, unsolicited, to that badgering classmate mentioned above and other classmates wanted to hear more. The ‘dust bowl’ in question is an old, woe begotten, rundown practice track that, as noted below, had (and still has) many uses as an 'athletic field'. And, as the interest shown in the story indicated, produced many “war stories” through the years. Markin
*****************
Warning: Those fellow classmates under a doctor’s care or who are taking prescription medications should not proceed to read the rest of this entry. This means that, given our demographic, about three people can reasonably be expected to read this thing. The tale I have to tell is not for the faint-hearted. If you persist you have been forewarned.
*****
I have written a number of entries in this space about the old days at the high school, and the like. This one follows in that same tradition, although with this twist- the “old geezer” described in the headline to this entry has requested anonymity for reasons that will become obvious once the tale he has asked me to tell unfolds. I think, however, that the average, above-average, classmates that the old high school produced can all figure this one out. Right?
For those of us who went to the local junior high school and can remember that far back this year marks the 50th anniversary of our graduation from that place. For the old geezer, a man given to the faux-heroic feat, the odd-ball, off-hand symbolic gesture, and a disturbingly steadfast adherence to the drumbeat of history this called for some action. Since this year also marked the 50th anniversary of his first seriously taking up running as a sport, under the guidance of Coach L., that gesture revolved around an attempt to run one mile around the old “Dust Bowl” track that has served as an ‘athletic field’ for the old town community since Hector was a pup. Thisattempt was made, in spite of the fact that he had done no more, at most, than run for the bus for the past quarter of a century, or more. Note also that the distance was one mile he sought to run. Not for him that old “lame” 600 yards around the front driveway circle at the high school that everyone had to do as part of the old-time President’s Physical Fitness Test. No, indeed.
For those not familiar with the location the old “Dust Bowl” is the field the next street over from the junior high. It served as our field at the junior high for some sports. It also was the place where the legendary 1964 football team, led by “Bullwinkle”, “Woj”, Jim F., Charlie McD., Tom K., Walt S., Don McN., Lee M. and a host of others practiced being mean under Coach L. in order to beat the beleaguered cross town arch-rival that year. Now I know some readers “know” that location, as the old geezer did.
Furthermore, it was also the training ground and meet location for the spring track team where the silky-striding Bill C. held forth in distance running, Ritchie McC. and others in the middle distances, Brooks M. in the sprints, Carl L. and Ralph M. in the hurdles, Al B. in the pole vault and a host of others who ran around in their skimpy black shorts, including the old geezer who was distinguished mainly by being a steadgastly well-below average runner. He was not sure on this one, nor am I, but, perhaps, the cheerleaders led by the spunky Josie W., the sprightly Roxanne G., and the plucky Linda P. also practiced there. In short, if you are not familiar with the locale then you stand accused of being willfully out of touch with old town reality.
I should also mention that this name “Dust Bowl” is not mere hyperbole on my part. In summer and fall, at least, there was more dust that the EPA would find tolerable these days. Moreover, as the old geezer told me the field ‘owed’ him. So revenge was also a motive here, as well. Apparently he still has cinders in his left knee from when he fell while running the on track 50 years ago. Ouch! He told me to ask you if you had similar “war stories”. Moreover, and this is symbolic in its own way, the track is not the normal quarter-mile one that you only had to go around four times (for the non-Math whizzes out there) but five laps to the mile. That may explain many things about our subsequent lives, right?
Okay, now to the big event. In the interest of accuracy this “event”, according to the old geezer’s information, occurred at about 9:00 AM on January 6, 2010. Now why he was not in Florida or at least in some warm house instead of being out on the “track” will go a long way to explaining the “inner demons” that plague this sixty-three year-old man’s psyche. Moreover, he continued on with his quest despite having to wait upon dogs, and their owners, who seemingly felt such an hour was ripe for a canine national convention at the old bowl. But, we digress.
The old geezer started off okay with the usual burst of adrenaline one gets when the big day finally comes carrying him along for a while, he then settled into a “pace” and all went well until he started breathing heavily, got light-headed and began feeling cramps in his thigh, and that was only on the first lap. It went down hill from there. But intrepid soul that he is he “dogged” it out. He informed me that his time for the mile has been declared a matter of national security and therefore not available to the public, although he did allude to an unfavorable comparison with the time it takes to get to the moon and back. Nevertheless the gesture is in the books, a member of the class of 1964 has been vindicated, and life can return to normal. Oh, the old geezer did mention this. For those of you with grandchildren under the age of five he is ready to take on all comers. Okay.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Out In The Be-Bop 2000s Night- Desperately seeking...
Markin comment:
Ya, I know I switched up on you. Usually when I write about the be-bop night, at least the times of my schoolboy “high-tide” feverish, mad monk-driven be-bop nights it is either the mid to late 1950s when I first got the itch, the wandering idea itch, or the early 1960s when I shared those be-bop nights with Frankie, Frankie, king of the be-bop schoolboy night in our old beat-down, beat-up, beat seven ways to Sunday, beatified, working class neighborhood. Certainly be-bop times don’t extend later than the late 1960s and the hitchhike highway road, a separate highway story road, but on this one I have to extend forward to the new millennium to make my pitch. So hear me out, will ya.
******
Desperately seeking…
an idea. I will keep this short and sweet. I have to admit to failure, abject failure, utter failure, despairing failure, and twelve other forms of it, in my efforts to keep up a steady drumbeat of commentaries about the old days at North Adamsville High (many of which, mercifully, have been relegated to the recycle bin, trash barrel, deep freeze space or other designated welcoming cyberspace disposal site). Failure, do you hear me? Why? I foolishly, again, again meaning here when one of my projects does not turn out right that is the characterization they deserve, believed that my commentaries would act as a catalyst and draw 1964 classmates, and other former students at North Adamsville, out. Hell, even an off-hand straggler from fiendish cross-town arch rival Adamsville would be given a hero’s welcome.
What I was really thinking though was, maybe, some long lost comrades of the schoolboy night like hang-around guys in front of Harry’s Variety (where the white-tee-shirt, blue-jeaned, engineer-booted, cigarette-smoking, unfiltered of course, sneering, soda-swilling, Coke, natch, pinball wizards held forth daily and nightly, and let me cadge a few odd games when they had more important business, more important girl business, to attend to). Maybe they could tell, finally tell, the secret swaying of the hips that got them all those extra games, and the girls. Or the gang around Doc’s Drugstore ( a place where all the neighborhood boys, all the sixteen year old boys, and maybe some girls too, all the plaid-shirted, black-chino-ed, “cool”, max daddies came of drinking age, for medicinal purposes of course). They could tell of magic elixirs from rums and raw whiskey, and confess, yes, confess that that whisky taste was nasty. Or, even holy of holies, Salducci’s Pizza Parlor up the Downs when Frankie, Francis Xavier Riley, was king of night (and a few days too) and I was his lord chamberlain. Maybe tell of some pizza dough secrets, or how to snag a girl with just the right jukebox combination. But no, no one came forth to spew their whitewashed stories almost a half a century later. Probably, on some of the stuff, some of the kiddish schoolboy night stuff, they don’t realize the statue of limitations ran out, and ran out long ago. But that’s not my problem.
At some point I figured out that this was not to be the case and I resolved to push on anyway at the whim of whatever demons were driving me on. Fierce demon, raider red bleeding demons, to speak out of gone-by days. I was going along fine until I realized and the readers, or at least a few readers, tipped me to this hard fact of literary life. I was recycling the same basic story just in little different guises. You know teen alienation, teen angst, teen love, teen hate, and teen lost themes. And girlless-ness, or too many girl-ness, or wanna have such. Same, ditto, Xerox. Praise be king trash barrel of the dark, dark just before the dawn night. And quick click fingers.
Now, frankly, I have run out of ideas. A recent re-reading of some of my commentaries has rubbed my face in that hard fact. Two themes, one mentioned above, in various guises have emerged; no, have jumped from the page at me, from the work- the 'tragic' effects of my growing up poor in the land of plenty in the 1950s be-bop working class night and that usual teenage longing for companionship and romance. Gee, those ideas have never been the subject of literary efforts before, right?
Okay, okay nobody asked me to volunteer to be the unpaid, self-appointed voice of the Class of 1964 and so I have only myself to blame. I swear I will get into a twelve-step program for the nostalgically-challenged just the minute I get out of the rehab program for political junkies. But in the meantime-help, or else. And what might that or else threat mean? I am desperate enough to steal someone else's thunder from the general North Adamsville High Message Board that I have been peppering with my ravings. Do you really want to hear me on the subject of Squaw Rock or other seamy, steamy tales of the seashore night? And name names. Or, how nasty so of our teachers were? Ditto on the names. Yawn. Or the kinky, perverted, long-suppressed dark side of the North Adamsville High School Band and what they did with those seemingly innocent instruments? Or ........go into back into that dreaded Recycle Bin? Think about it. Send an idea-quick.
***
P.S. Someone has suggested a comparison or contrast between Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis along the lines of the Rolling Stones/Beatles (Class of 1964-Stones or Beatles) or Brenda Lee/Patsy Cline (Battle of The Sexes-Round 235) commentaries that I had done earlier this year. This does not count as a new idea for me because I have already written a commentary for another blog that I belong to reviewing Jerry Lee Lewis's 2006 documentary- Last Man Standing.
Of course, Jerry Lee was better than Elvis-that's a no-brainer. But it is an idea that will find its way into these pages soon. Meanwhile how about some North Adamsville idea? I am ready to start writing about President John Adams, his wife Abigail, his son John Quincy, his grandson, Charles Francis, his great grandson, Henry and unto the nth generation if nothing better comes along. And believe me I have all the dirt on those guys and their dolls. You have been forewarned.
Ya, I know I switched up on you. Usually when I write about the be-bop night, at least the times of my schoolboy “high-tide” feverish, mad monk-driven be-bop nights it is either the mid to late 1950s when I first got the itch, the wandering idea itch, or the early 1960s when I shared those be-bop nights with Frankie, Frankie, king of the be-bop schoolboy night in our old beat-down, beat-up, beat seven ways to Sunday, beatified, working class neighborhood. Certainly be-bop times don’t extend later than the late 1960s and the hitchhike highway road, a separate highway story road, but on this one I have to extend forward to the new millennium to make my pitch. So hear me out, will ya.
******
Desperately seeking…
an idea. I will keep this short and sweet. I have to admit to failure, abject failure, utter failure, despairing failure, and twelve other forms of it, in my efforts to keep up a steady drumbeat of commentaries about the old days at North Adamsville High (many of which, mercifully, have been relegated to the recycle bin, trash barrel, deep freeze space or other designated welcoming cyberspace disposal site). Failure, do you hear me? Why? I foolishly, again, again meaning here when one of my projects does not turn out right that is the characterization they deserve, believed that my commentaries would act as a catalyst and draw 1964 classmates, and other former students at North Adamsville, out. Hell, even an off-hand straggler from fiendish cross-town arch rival Adamsville would be given a hero’s welcome.
What I was really thinking though was, maybe, some long lost comrades of the schoolboy night like hang-around guys in front of Harry’s Variety (where the white-tee-shirt, blue-jeaned, engineer-booted, cigarette-smoking, unfiltered of course, sneering, soda-swilling, Coke, natch, pinball wizards held forth daily and nightly, and let me cadge a few odd games when they had more important business, more important girl business, to attend to). Maybe they could tell, finally tell, the secret swaying of the hips that got them all those extra games, and the girls. Or the gang around Doc’s Drugstore ( a place where all the neighborhood boys, all the sixteen year old boys, and maybe some girls too, all the plaid-shirted, black-chino-ed, “cool”, max daddies came of drinking age, for medicinal purposes of course). They could tell of magic elixirs from rums and raw whiskey, and confess, yes, confess that that whisky taste was nasty. Or, even holy of holies, Salducci’s Pizza Parlor up the Downs when Frankie, Francis Xavier Riley, was king of night (and a few days too) and I was his lord chamberlain. Maybe tell of some pizza dough secrets, or how to snag a girl with just the right jukebox combination. But no, no one came forth to spew their whitewashed stories almost a half a century later. Probably, on some of the stuff, some of the kiddish schoolboy night stuff, they don’t realize the statue of limitations ran out, and ran out long ago. But that’s not my problem.
At some point I figured out that this was not to be the case and I resolved to push on anyway at the whim of whatever demons were driving me on. Fierce demon, raider red bleeding demons, to speak out of gone-by days. I was going along fine until I realized and the readers, or at least a few readers, tipped me to this hard fact of literary life. I was recycling the same basic story just in little different guises. You know teen alienation, teen angst, teen love, teen hate, and teen lost themes. And girlless-ness, or too many girl-ness, or wanna have such. Same, ditto, Xerox. Praise be king trash barrel of the dark, dark just before the dawn night. And quick click fingers.
Now, frankly, I have run out of ideas. A recent re-reading of some of my commentaries has rubbed my face in that hard fact. Two themes, one mentioned above, in various guises have emerged; no, have jumped from the page at me, from the work- the 'tragic' effects of my growing up poor in the land of plenty in the 1950s be-bop working class night and that usual teenage longing for companionship and romance. Gee, those ideas have never been the subject of literary efforts before, right?
Okay, okay nobody asked me to volunteer to be the unpaid, self-appointed voice of the Class of 1964 and so I have only myself to blame. I swear I will get into a twelve-step program for the nostalgically-challenged just the minute I get out of the rehab program for political junkies. But in the meantime-help, or else. And what might that or else threat mean? I am desperate enough to steal someone else's thunder from the general North Adamsville High Message Board that I have been peppering with my ravings. Do you really want to hear me on the subject of Squaw Rock or other seamy, steamy tales of the seashore night? And name names. Or, how nasty so of our teachers were? Ditto on the names. Yawn. Or the kinky, perverted, long-suppressed dark side of the North Adamsville High School Band and what they did with those seemingly innocent instruments? Or ........go into back into that dreaded Recycle Bin? Think about it. Send an idea-quick.
***
P.S. Someone has suggested a comparison or contrast between Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis along the lines of the Rolling Stones/Beatles (Class of 1964-Stones or Beatles) or Brenda Lee/Patsy Cline (Battle of The Sexes-Round 235) commentaries that I had done earlier this year. This does not count as a new idea for me because I have already written a commentary for another blog that I belong to reviewing Jerry Lee Lewis's 2006 documentary- Last Man Standing.
Of course, Jerry Lee was better than Elvis-that's a no-brainer. But it is an idea that will find its way into these pages soon. Meanwhile how about some North Adamsville idea? I am ready to start writing about President John Adams, his wife Abigail, his son John Quincy, his grandson, Charles Francis, his great grandson, Henry and unto the nth generation if nothing better comes along. And believe me I have all the dirt on those guys and their dolls. You have been forewarned.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
*From The Marxist Archives- Leon Trotsky's Struggle Against The "Family Of The Left" Concept
Click on the title to link to a "Leon Trotsky Internet Archive" 1935 article,"On The Seventh Congress Of the Comintern (Communist International).
Markin comment:
As I mentioned some time back in a commentary on the need to study the Trotsky-Stalin controversy as part of our communist and anti-imperialist education, we of the American ostensibly communist anti-war left are in desperate need of learning the lessons of previous communist work against imperialism. (See "On The Front Lines Of The Struggle Against The Afghan War...”, dated December 6, 2009.) That learning, of necessity, requires a look back at some of the historic struggles within the communist movement, primarily for our purposes today the struggle between Trotsky and Stalin in the aftermath of Lenin's death and the isolation of the Russian revolution in the early 1920s. The Trotsky polemic here is one of the early examples of his fight against the capitulation of the the increasingly Stalinized Soviet state and Communist International apparatuses that were "trimming their sails" on the questions of correct political strategy of alliances with other classes, and the proper communist attitude toward the non-working class parties of the opponent capitalist states. Read on.
Markin comment:
As I mentioned some time back in a commentary on the need to study the Trotsky-Stalin controversy as part of our communist and anti-imperialist education, we of the American ostensibly communist anti-war left are in desperate need of learning the lessons of previous communist work against imperialism. (See "On The Front Lines Of The Struggle Against The Afghan War...”, dated December 6, 2009.) That learning, of necessity, requires a look back at some of the historic struggles within the communist movement, primarily for our purposes today the struggle between Trotsky and Stalin in the aftermath of Lenin's death and the isolation of the Russian revolution in the early 1920s. The Trotsky polemic here is one of the early examples of his fight against the capitulation of the the increasingly Stalinized Soviet state and Communist International apparatuses that were "trimming their sails" on the questions of correct political strategy of alliances with other classes, and the proper communist attitude toward the non-working class parties of the opponent capitalist states. Read on.
*From The Marxist Archives- Leon Trotsky's Struggle Against The "Family Of The Left" Concept
Click on the title to link to a "Leon Trotsky Internet Archive" 1934 article, "Two Articles On Centrism".
Markin comment:
As I mentioned some time back in a commentary on the need to study the Trotsky-Stalin controversy as part of our communist and anti-imperialist education, we of the American ostensibly communist anti-war left are in desperate need of learning the lessons of previous communist work against imperialism. (See "On The Front Lines Of The Struggle Against The Afghan War...”, dated December 6, 2009.) That learning, of necessity, requires a look back at some of the historic struggles within the communist movement, primarily for our purposes today the struggle between Trotsky and Stalin in the aftermath of Lenin's death and the isolation of the Russian revolution in the early 1920s. The Trotsky polemic here is one of the early examples of his fight against the capitulation of theincreasingly Stalinized Soviet state and Communist International apparatuses that were "trimming their sails" on the questions of correct political strategy of alliances with other classes. and the proper communist attitude toward the non-working class parties of the opponent capitalist states. Read on.
Markin comment:
As I mentioned some time back in a commentary on the need to study the Trotsky-Stalin controversy as part of our communist and anti-imperialist education, we of the American ostensibly communist anti-war left are in desperate need of learning the lessons of previous communist work against imperialism. (See "On The Front Lines Of The Struggle Against The Afghan War...”, dated December 6, 2009.) That learning, of necessity, requires a look back at some of the historic struggles within the communist movement, primarily for our purposes today the struggle between Trotsky and Stalin in the aftermath of Lenin's death and the isolation of the Russian revolution in the early 1920s. The Trotsky polemic here is one of the early examples of his fight against the capitulation of theincreasingly Stalinized Soviet state and Communist International apparatuses that were "trimming their sails" on the questions of correct political strategy of alliances with other classes. and the proper communist attitude toward the non-working class parties of the opponent capitalist states. Read on.
*From The Marxist Archives- Leon Trotsky's Struggle Against The "Family Of The Left" Concept
Click on the title to link to a "Leon Trotsky Internet Archive" 1935 article,"Centrism Alchemy Or Marxism?".
Markin comment:
As I mentioned some time back in a commentary on the need to study the Trotsky-Stalin controversy as part of our communist and anti-imperialist education, we of the American ostensibly communist anti-war left are in desperate need of learning the lessons of previous communist work against imperialism. (See "On The Front Lines Of The Struggle Against The Afghan War...”, dated December 6, 2009.) That learning, of necessity, requires a look back at some of the historic struggles within the communist movement, primarily for our purposes today the struggle between Trotsky and Stalin in the aftermath of Lenin's death and the isolation of the Russian revolution in the early 1920s. The Trotsky polemic here is one of the early examples of his fight against the capitulation of the the increasingly Stalinized Soviet state and Communist International apparatuses that were "trimming their sails" on the questions of correct political strategy of alliances with other classes. and the proper communist attitude toward the non-working class parties of the opponent capitalist imperial states. Read on.
Markin comment:
As I mentioned some time back in a commentary on the need to study the Trotsky-Stalin controversy as part of our communist and anti-imperialist education, we of the American ostensibly communist anti-war left are in desperate need of learning the lessons of previous communist work against imperialism. (See "On The Front Lines Of The Struggle Against The Afghan War...”, dated December 6, 2009.) That learning, of necessity, requires a look back at some of the historic struggles within the communist movement, primarily for our purposes today the struggle between Trotsky and Stalin in the aftermath of Lenin's death and the isolation of the Russian revolution in the early 1920s. The Trotsky polemic here is one of the early examples of his fight against the capitulation of the the increasingly Stalinized Soviet state and Communist International apparatuses that were "trimming their sails" on the questions of correct political strategy of alliances with other classes. and the proper communist attitude toward the non-working class parties of the opponent capitalist imperial states. Read on.
Monday, February 15, 2010
*The 54th Massachusetts in South Carolina In The Civil War- The Mighty March Into Charleston
Click On Title To Link To A "Wikipedia" Entry For The Massachusetts 54th Regiment- A Black Regiment Led By Robert Gould Shaw Before Fort Wagner In South Carolina In The American Civil War.
Markin comment:
After the Confederate defeat this regiment went through the streets of Charleston, South Carolina, in many ways the heart of the Confederacy, singing "John Brown's Body". Sometimes the efforts of humankind and the historic moment meet in just the right way, and that one surely was one.
Markin comment:
After the Confederate defeat this regiment went through the streets of Charleston, South Carolina, in many ways the heart of the Confederacy, singing "John Brown's Body". Sometimes the efforts of humankind and the historic moment meet in just the right way, and that one surely was one.
*Song To While Away The Class Struggle By- Bob Dylan's "Masters Of War"
Click on the title to link a "YouTube" film clip of Bob Dylan performing "Masters Of War".
February Is Black History Month
In this series, presented under the headline “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here.
Masters Of War
Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks
You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly
Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain
You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud
You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins
How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do
Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul
And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead
Copyright ©1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
February Is Black History Month
In this series, presented under the headline “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here.
Masters Of War
Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks
You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly
Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain
You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud
You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins
How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do
Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul
And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead
Copyright ©1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
*Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By-Bob Dylan's "Oxford Town"
Click on the title to link a "YouTube" film clip of Bob Dylan performing "Oxford Town".
February Is Black History Month
In this series, presented under the headline “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here.
Oxford Town
Oxford Town, Oxford Town
Ev'rybody's got their heads bowed down
The sun don't shine above the ground
Ain't a-goin' down to Oxford Town
He went down to Oxford Town
Guns and clubs followed him down
All because his face was brown
Better get away from Oxford Town
Oxford Town around the bend
He come in to the door, he couldn't get in
All because of the color of his skin
What do you think about that, my frien'?
Me and my gal, my gal's son
We got met with a tear gas bomb
I don't even know why we come
Goin' back where we come from
Oxford Town in the afternoon
Ev'rybody singin' a sorrowful tune
Two men died 'neath the Mississippi moon
Somebody better investigate soon
Oxford Town, Oxford Town
Ev'rybody's got their heads bowed down
The sun don't shine above the ground
Ain't a-goin' down to Oxford Town
Copyright ©1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
February Is Black History Month
In this series, presented under the headline “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”, I will post some songs that I think will help us get through the “dog days” of the struggle for our communist future. I do not vouch for the political thrust of the songs; for the most part they are done by pacifists, social democrats, hell, even just plain old ordinary democrats. And, occasionally, a communist, although hard communist musicians have historically been scarce on the ground. Thus, here we have a regular "popular front" on the music scene. While this would not be acceptable for our political prospects, it will suffice for our purposes here.
Oxford Town
Oxford Town, Oxford Town
Ev'rybody's got their heads bowed down
The sun don't shine above the ground
Ain't a-goin' down to Oxford Town
He went down to Oxford Town
Guns and clubs followed him down
All because his face was brown
Better get away from Oxford Town
Oxford Town around the bend
He come in to the door, he couldn't get in
All because of the color of his skin
What do you think about that, my frien'?
Me and my gal, my gal's son
We got met with a tear gas bomb
I don't even know why we come
Goin' back where we come from
Oxford Town in the afternoon
Ev'rybody singin' a sorrowful tune
Two men died 'neath the Mississippi moon
Somebody better investigate soon
Oxford Town, Oxford Town
Ev'rybody's got their heads bowed down
The sun don't shine above the ground
Ain't a-goin' down to Oxford Town
Copyright ©1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
Saturday, February 13, 2010
*From "The Rag Blog"-So Long American Dream- A Guest Book Review
Click on the headline to link to a "The Rag Blog" book review, "The New Class Society"
Thursday, February 11, 2010
*Are You Now, Or Have You Ever In The Past Knowingly Been A.......Bolshevik?
Click on the title to link to an "American Left History" blog entry "*Barack Obama Ain't No Bolshevik, He Ain't Even A Menshevik", dated January 31, 2010.
Markin comment:
The English political writer and satirist, George Orwell, who in the final analysis was more than willing to “outsource” the struggle for our communist future to the democratic imperialists like dear old Mother England, nevertheless once wrote a key essay on the need for precision and clarity in political language. "Politics and the English language". For that essay, and of course his early heroic soldiering in a POUM militia in the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s, every labor militant today should take as required reading, and act on it. (Advice this writer tries to adhere to, although not always successfully, as some of the entries in this space attest to). What brings Orwell’s essay to mind is the recent flare-up between American President Democrat Barack Obama and his erstwhile adversaries in the Congressional Republican Caucus. The specific charge that Obama was defending himself against was some benighted predilection for “bolshevism”, highlighted by his dogged determination to get some form of national health coverage (watered down, of course). For my commentary on this mini-flare-up see my entry “*Barack Obama Ain’t No Bolshevik, He Ain’t Even a Menshevik”, dated January 31, 2009.
What this all brings to mind is the need for some precision in our political language, especially in these days of debased political rhetoric and the rise of “shorthand” English through the dramatic increase in Internet use as a way to communicate to both attract attention and to “dumb down” political discourse. Of course, other than as a foil for my above-mentioned earlier commentary American President Barack Obama is not now, and has never been, a Bolshevik. Moreover, even a marginally politically aware person should know that the American ruling class circles are not in the habit of turning over the reins of their imperial state to Bolsheviks, knowing or unknowing ones. Certainly the Republican know that, the only question is why the tern “Bolshevik” would come up in mainstream American political discourse in the year 2010. And I confess, that is a mystery to me, as well. They are on much more “solid ground”, if they want to muddy the waters, with whether Barack Obama is actually, as required by the U.S. Constitution, a citizen.
This catch phrase “Bolshevik” , has a long pedigree, although it has been a long time since I have heard it used seriously back in the 1960s when, at the height of the Cold War with the Soviet Union, it had a semblance of reasonable usage in political discourse. Or, even earlier, in the aftermath of the Russian revolution when the American government was rounding up every known radical that it could get its hands on. Better still for our side, in the 1930s when militant trade unionists were on the picket lines to get better contracts or to get their unions the expression, “We have to talk Bolshevik” to the bosses would come up. And so on.
Let me finish up with this little anecdote from my youthful past. When I was in high school, in the 10th grade I believe, during the heart of the Cold War in the 1960s I took a European History course from old Mr. Kelly. Now in those days Mr. Kelly was the well known and beloved, I think, head football coach for the school team and a veteran of World War I. Like I said, he was old. He was moreover one of those old-school type teachers prevalent then who latched onto a teaching job through political influence and got to teach History because there was no “heavy lifting” to it. I, of course, devoured history by the gallons.
One day when I was called upon by Mr. Kelly to give an answer I did so but in an off-hand, rather surly way, which was my style, my statement of individuality if you will, in those days. Old school Mr. Kelly took umbrage and the long and short of it was that I had to stay after school for him. When I showed up and we “talked” suddenly the old man stunned me with this remark. “What are you, some kind of Bolshevik? I defiantly answered no. And truthfully as well. In those days I was nothing but a folk music and blues-loving, card carrying young member of the Americans for Democratic Action (ADA), an anti-communist, liberal organization trying to push the New Deal back onto center stage in American political life. So you see the point, I hope. I was no Bolshevik then. Obama is no Bolshevik now. And old Orwell is right, get the language of political discourse back on track, at all costs.
Markin comment:
The English political writer and satirist, George Orwell, who in the final analysis was more than willing to “outsource” the struggle for our communist future to the democratic imperialists like dear old Mother England, nevertheless once wrote a key essay on the need for precision and clarity in political language. "Politics and the English language". For that essay, and of course his early heroic soldiering in a POUM militia in the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s, every labor militant today should take as required reading, and act on it. (Advice this writer tries to adhere to, although not always successfully, as some of the entries in this space attest to). What brings Orwell’s essay to mind is the recent flare-up between American President Democrat Barack Obama and his erstwhile adversaries in the Congressional Republican Caucus. The specific charge that Obama was defending himself against was some benighted predilection for “bolshevism”, highlighted by his dogged determination to get some form of national health coverage (watered down, of course). For my commentary on this mini-flare-up see my entry “*Barack Obama Ain’t No Bolshevik, He Ain’t Even a Menshevik”, dated January 31, 2009.
What this all brings to mind is the need for some precision in our political language, especially in these days of debased political rhetoric and the rise of “shorthand” English through the dramatic increase in Internet use as a way to communicate to both attract attention and to “dumb down” political discourse. Of course, other than as a foil for my above-mentioned earlier commentary American President Barack Obama is not now, and has never been, a Bolshevik. Moreover, even a marginally politically aware person should know that the American ruling class circles are not in the habit of turning over the reins of their imperial state to Bolsheviks, knowing or unknowing ones. Certainly the Republican know that, the only question is why the tern “Bolshevik” would come up in mainstream American political discourse in the year 2010. And I confess, that is a mystery to me, as well. They are on much more “solid ground”, if they want to muddy the waters, with whether Barack Obama is actually, as required by the U.S. Constitution, a citizen.
This catch phrase “Bolshevik” , has a long pedigree, although it has been a long time since I have heard it used seriously back in the 1960s when, at the height of the Cold War with the Soviet Union, it had a semblance of reasonable usage in political discourse. Or, even earlier, in the aftermath of the Russian revolution when the American government was rounding up every known radical that it could get its hands on. Better still for our side, in the 1930s when militant trade unionists were on the picket lines to get better contracts or to get their unions the expression, “We have to talk Bolshevik” to the bosses would come up. And so on.
Let me finish up with this little anecdote from my youthful past. When I was in high school, in the 10th grade I believe, during the heart of the Cold War in the 1960s I took a European History course from old Mr. Kelly. Now in those days Mr. Kelly was the well known and beloved, I think, head football coach for the school team and a veteran of World War I. Like I said, he was old. He was moreover one of those old-school type teachers prevalent then who latched onto a teaching job through political influence and got to teach History because there was no “heavy lifting” to it. I, of course, devoured history by the gallons.
One day when I was called upon by Mr. Kelly to give an answer I did so but in an off-hand, rather surly way, which was my style, my statement of individuality if you will, in those days. Old school Mr. Kelly took umbrage and the long and short of it was that I had to stay after school for him. When I showed up and we “talked” suddenly the old man stunned me with this remark. “What are you, some kind of Bolshevik? I defiantly answered no. And truthfully as well. In those days I was nothing but a folk music and blues-loving, card carrying young member of the Americans for Democratic Action (ADA), an anti-communist, liberal organization trying to push the New Deal back onto center stage in American political life. So you see the point, I hope. I was no Bolshevik then. Obama is no Bolshevik now. And old Orwell is right, get the language of political discourse back on track, at all costs.
*From The Pen Of George Orwell- "Politics And The English Language"
Click on the title to link to a "Wikipedia" entry for George Orwell's well put "Politics And The English Language".
Markin comment:
Although we turned out to be political opponents of each other (if posthumously on his part) his essay "Politics and the English language" has always been a useful tool that I have tried to follow in my writing. Unfortunately, I have honored those six rules of wisdom more in the breech than the observance on too many occasions. Oh, well.
Markin comment:
Although we turned out to be political opponents of each other (if posthumously on his part) his essay "Politics and the English language" has always been a useful tool that I have tried to follow in my writing. Unfortunately, I have honored those six rules of wisdom more in the breech than the observance on too many occasions. Oh, well.
*From The Pages Of The "Revolutionary History" Journal- The Back Issue Index
Click on the headline to link to the journal "Revolutionary History" Website for an index of their online back issues.
Markin comment:
Whatever the current muddled politics of the editorial staff of this journal and whatever the tendency of the articles presented to apologize for backsliders,, reformists and the lot, like Andreas Nin and the POUM in the Spanish Civil War, this is a valuable source of neglected history, our history. A revolution, or two, will straighten out the politics.
Markin comment:
Whatever the current muddled politics of the editorial staff of this journal and whatever the tendency of the articles presented to apologize for backsliders,, reformists and the lot, like Andreas Nin and the POUM in the Spanish Civil War, this is a valuable source of neglected history, our history. A revolution, or two, will straighten out the politics.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
*Films to While Away The Class Struggle By- The Halls Of Injustice 101- “Chicago 10”
Click on the title to link to a "YouTube" film clip of the movie trailer for"Chicago 10".
Recently I have begun to post entries under the headline- “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”-that will include progressive and labor-oriented songs that might be of general interest to the radical public. I have decided to do the same for some films that may perk that same interest under the title in this entry’s headline. In the future I expect to do the same for books under a similar heading.-Markin
DVD Review
Chicago 10, animated and film footage, starring the Chicago 8 plus defense lawyers, government lawyers, presiding Judge Julius Hoffman, assorted rogue cops, and "youth nation", circa 1968, 2006
Okay, I have spilled plenty of ink over the past couple of years trying to look at some of the events in the key political year for my generation, 1968, and draw some conclusions, lessons if you will, from that period. And as fate would have it I am eminently qualified to do so here on this particular film, in an odd sort of way. The events of that decisive year are brought into focus by the central subject of this film, the debacle of the Democratic Party Convention in Chicago in August of that year. I know this one well.
And why am I a good witness to those events as portrayed here? In a certain sense I was on the other side of the barricades. Then. As I have explained elsewhere in more detail in 1968 I was knee-deep, no waist-deep, in the main task that I had set for my political life at the time, beating one Richard Milhous Nixon, without question the major political villain of my youth. Starting out that year totally devoted to the Robert Kennedy campaign (and actually earlier as I was part of the movement that tried to draft him to run for president in 1967), after his assassination in June I dusted off my pants and went to work for the campaign of one Hubert Horatio Humphrey. Therefore I was inside the “big tent” of the Democratic Party at that time and no one can accuse me of anything but the mildest bemused sympathy (on the Vietnam war question, if not the solution) with the doings outside the "tent".
Fast forward. Now, however, as this film footage of the events around the convention site amply demonstrates, and as the graphically captured brutal actions by the rogue Chicago police and other officials amply reveal this was a sickening display of governmental hubris (on all levels), and authority run amok. The verdict on those governmental actions at the time? No, not, as a rational person might expect, a skewering of police and their superiors but the bringing of charges against the leaders of the demonstrators, those who were maimed, gassed and otherwise abused by governmental actions.
And the harassment did not end there. Obviously the government thought it had a slam-dunk case to put before a Chicago jury with a cast of characters like Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin and Bobby Seale, who to be kind, in those days, if you were respectable citizen you would not want living next door to you, particularly in Chicago. In the end, as has occurred on more than one occasion, the charges against the “conspirators” were, mostly, overturned. But there is a lesson to be learned about the price of such actions, those charges were not overturned before many financial and political resources were brought to bear for the defense. This is hardly an argument against such actions, but rather to point out that when you go after the “monster” you best be prepared for the blowback.
This film works on two tracks as it tries, I think, to reach a younger audience not familiar with the events that the rest of us have permanently etched in our brains. The producers have used the eminently respectable one of the actual film footage interspersed with the more experimental one of using animation to do the heavy duty work of portraying the antics on both sides, in the circus-war, oops, inside Judge Julius Hoffman’s courtroom. I believe that the jury is still out (no pun intended) on the effectiveness of that medium to bring out the drama of the events portrayed. Perhaps for a younger audience not familiar with the events this is an adequate teaching tool. However, the segueing between, let us say, defendant Yippie Abbie Hoffman in animation ridiculing his having the same last name as the judge presiding over the trial and then flipping to a "real time" pep talk to the gathered Yippie tribes was disconcerting, at least to this viewer. Still, all in all, any time that we get to look back at events which formed a decisive part of our youth we should grab it with both hands. And hope today’s youth now have it permanently etched in their brains as well.
Recently I have begun to post entries under the headline- “Songs To While Away The Class Struggle By”-that will include progressive and labor-oriented songs that might be of general interest to the radical public. I have decided to do the same for some films that may perk that same interest under the title in this entry’s headline. In the future I expect to do the same for books under a similar heading.-Markin
DVD Review
Chicago 10, animated and film footage, starring the Chicago 8 plus defense lawyers, government lawyers, presiding Judge Julius Hoffman, assorted rogue cops, and "youth nation", circa 1968, 2006
Okay, I have spilled plenty of ink over the past couple of years trying to look at some of the events in the key political year for my generation, 1968, and draw some conclusions, lessons if you will, from that period. And as fate would have it I am eminently qualified to do so here on this particular film, in an odd sort of way. The events of that decisive year are brought into focus by the central subject of this film, the debacle of the Democratic Party Convention in Chicago in August of that year. I know this one well.
And why am I a good witness to those events as portrayed here? In a certain sense I was on the other side of the barricades. Then. As I have explained elsewhere in more detail in 1968 I was knee-deep, no waist-deep, in the main task that I had set for my political life at the time, beating one Richard Milhous Nixon, without question the major political villain of my youth. Starting out that year totally devoted to the Robert Kennedy campaign (and actually earlier as I was part of the movement that tried to draft him to run for president in 1967), after his assassination in June I dusted off my pants and went to work for the campaign of one Hubert Horatio Humphrey. Therefore I was inside the “big tent” of the Democratic Party at that time and no one can accuse me of anything but the mildest bemused sympathy (on the Vietnam war question, if not the solution) with the doings outside the "tent".
Fast forward. Now, however, as this film footage of the events around the convention site amply demonstrates, and as the graphically captured brutal actions by the rogue Chicago police and other officials amply reveal this was a sickening display of governmental hubris (on all levels), and authority run amok. The verdict on those governmental actions at the time? No, not, as a rational person might expect, a skewering of police and their superiors but the bringing of charges against the leaders of the demonstrators, those who were maimed, gassed and otherwise abused by governmental actions.
And the harassment did not end there. Obviously the government thought it had a slam-dunk case to put before a Chicago jury with a cast of characters like Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin and Bobby Seale, who to be kind, in those days, if you were respectable citizen you would not want living next door to you, particularly in Chicago. In the end, as has occurred on more than one occasion, the charges against the “conspirators” were, mostly, overturned. But there is a lesson to be learned about the price of such actions, those charges were not overturned before many financial and political resources were brought to bear for the defense. This is hardly an argument against such actions, but rather to point out that when you go after the “monster” you best be prepared for the blowback.
This film works on two tracks as it tries, I think, to reach a younger audience not familiar with the events that the rest of us have permanently etched in our brains. The producers have used the eminently respectable one of the actual film footage interspersed with the more experimental one of using animation to do the heavy duty work of portraying the antics on both sides, in the circus-war, oops, inside Judge Julius Hoffman’s courtroom. I believe that the jury is still out (no pun intended) on the effectiveness of that medium to bring out the drama of the events portrayed. Perhaps for a younger audience not familiar with the events this is an adequate teaching tool. However, the segueing between, let us say, defendant Yippie Abbie Hoffman in animation ridiculing his having the same last name as the judge presiding over the trial and then flipping to a "real time" pep talk to the gathered Yippie tribes was disconcerting, at least to this viewer. Still, all in all, any time that we get to look back at events which formed a decisive part of our youth we should grab it with both hands. And hope today’s youth now have it permanently etched in their brains as well.
From The "Rag Blog"- On The Opening Of The G.I. Coffeehouse At Fort Hood In 2008
Click on the title to link to a "The Rag Blog" entry for the of the "Under The Hood" Coffeehouse at Fort Hood at Killen, Texas in 2008.
Markin comment:
Note the picture of a smoking Jane Fonda in this blog entry. We were kinda fonda Jane in those days. And that ain't no lie.
Markin comment:
Note the picture of a smoking Jane Fonda in this blog entry. We were kinda fonda Jane in those days. And that ain't no lie.
*The Latest From The "Citizen-Soldier" Website
Click on the title to link to the "Citizen Soldier" G.I.-supportive Website linked here in the interest of helping G.I.'s find information to help them in their lives and struggles.
*The Latest From The Freedom Road Socialist Organization
Click on the headline to link to the "Freedom Road Socialist Organization" Website.
Markin comment:
I am not that familiar with this organization, although there appears to be some residual Maoist thought hanging over it. More later, as I learn more.
Markin comment:
I am not that familiar with this organization, although there appears to be some residual Maoist thought hanging over it. More later, as I learn more.
*The Latest From Socialist Alternative
Click on the headline to link to the "Socialist Alternative" Website.
*The Latest From The Pages Of The Journal-"Against The Current"- "The Road From Copenhagen"
Click on the headline to link to the journal "Against The Current" Website to read the named article.
Markin comment;
This is the theoretical and issue discussion journal of the "Solidarity-U.S."- organization.
Markin comment;
This is the theoretical and issue discussion journal of the "Solidarity-U.S."- organization.
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