Scissor Dance: Vulgar Marxism #4, Nonsense On Stilts

That which has no existence cannot be destroyed — that which cannot be destroyed cannot require anything to preserve it from destruction. Natural rights is simple nonsense: natural and imprescriptible rights, rhetorical nonsense — nonsense upon stilts. But this rhetorical nonsense ends in the old strain of mischievous nonsense for immediately a list of these pretended natural rights is given, and those are so expressed as to present to view legal rights. And of these rights, whatever they are, there is not, it seems, any one of which any government can, upon any occasion whatever, abrogate the smallest particle.

Whenever you are about to be oppressed, you have a right to resist oppression: whenever you conceive yourself to be oppressed, conceive yourself to have a right to make resistance, and act accordingly. In proportion as a law of any kind—any act of power, supreme or subordinate, legislative, administrative, or judicial, is unpleasant to a man, especially if, in consideration of such its unpleasantness, his opinion is, that such act of power ought not to have been exercised, he of course looks upon it as oppression: as often as anything of this sort happens to a man—as often as anything happens to a man to inflame his passions,—this article, for fear his passions should not be sufficiently inflamed of themselves, sets itself to work to blow the flame, and urges him to resistance. Submit not to any decree or other act of power, of the justice of which you are not yourself perfectly convinced. If a constable call upon you to serve in the militia, shoot the constable and not the enemy;—if the commander of a press-gang trouble you, push him into the sea—if a bailiff, throw him out of the window. If a judge sentence you to be imprisoned or put to death, have a dagger ready, and take a stroke first at the judge.

The day has been, I grieve to say in many places it is not yet past, in which the greater part of the species, under the denomination of slaves, have been treated by the law exactly upon the same footing as, in England for example, the inferior races of animals are still. The day may come when the rest of the animal creation may acquire those rights which never could have been withholden from them but by the hand of tyranny. The French have already discovered that the blackness of the skin is no reason why a human being should be abandoned without redress to the caprice of a tormentor. It may one day come to be recognized that the number of legs, the villosity of the skin, or the termination of the os sacrum are reasons equally insufficient for abandoning a sensitive being to the same fate. What else is it that should trace the insuperable line? Is it the faculty of reason, or perhaps the faculty of discourse? But a full-grown horse or dog is beyond comparison a more rational, as well as a more conversable animal, than an infant of a day or a week or even a month, old. But suppose they were otherwise, what would it avail? The question is not Can they reason?, nor Can they talk?, but Can they suffer?

Jeremy Bentham, A Critical Examination of the Declaration of Rights

A scissor dance is a collage cut and pasted the old fashioned way, with scissors, glue, and a stack of old magazines.

Scissor Dance: Offerings / All That Glisters

And thou shalt sanctify the breast of the wave offering, and the shoulder of the heave offering, which is waved, and which is heaved up

Book of Exodus

A scissor dance is a collage cut and pasted the old fashioned way, with scissors, glue, and a stack of old magazines.

Thought Balloon: Extinction Burst

*Kinda tryin’ on thinking of Trump as, to use a term from Skinnerian behaviorism, the human embodiment of an “extinction burst”-by-proxy, on the part of his followers. Trouble is, if I look at it that way, it’s not the only collective extinction burst currently hells-a-poppening in the body politic. And social media is the global e pluribus unum of Skinner boxes.

Scissor Dance: She Who Dwells

She Who Dwells. 2003

And if you call me brother now
Forgive me, but I must inquire
“Just according to whose plan?”
When it all comes down to dust
I will kill you if I must
I will help you if I can
When it all comes down to dust
I will help you if I must
I’ll kill you if I can
And mercy, mercy on our uniform
Man of peace, man of war
The peacock spreads his deadly fan

Leonard Cohen, Story of Isaac

A scissor dance is a collage cut and pasted the old fashioned way, with scissors, glue, and a stack of old magazines.

33 5442 / UNKNOWN 425 BODIES

Arlington

Gettysburg

Don’t forget to remember. All the dead with no names; the dead in war without markers or even graves; the erased.

Sunday Selfie: Orthogonal Whisper

Satan, Lucifer, the Devil subsists in the orthogonal component of god; more simply, Satan is the shadow of god. God is the abyss Satan gazes long into… God is a superposition of oblivion.

no need to wonder “What’s after?”

After, after, after–and now

The scribble is mine, the printed words are not. I picked up a poetry pamphlet by the door of a coffee house printed with pseudo-gnomic stanzas of which the above is one. The abyss always echos Nietzsche, Nietzsche, Nietzsche…

Fresh Scissor Dance: Rebuttal

Done today.

A scissor dance is a collage cut and pasted the old fashioned way, with scissors, glue, and a stack of old magazines. 

Sunday (not a) Selfie: Extreme Walden

I bought grandson Ollie a new BMX bike, and we took it to the Louisville Extreme Park so he could try it out. I lounge about with a book when we go to the park, in this case, my 66 year old paperback edition of Thoreau’s Walden, which I bought at a used bookstore 48 years ago, when I was 20. It is not made of Temu. I’ve been reading a bio of Thoreau, and PBS recently aired a Ken Burns series on poor Henry David; I’ve viddied an episode or two, but I’ve grown tired of Burn’s docu-shtick, and have been driven back to reread Walden its own self. Touching grass in the form of old brown pages amidst a concrete graffiti gallery. Ollie snapped the pic.

I have travelled a good deal in Concord.

Thoreau, Walden

Museum of Joy: New Mother Nature

Wood carving by Joe Autry, in progress.

No sugar tonight

‘Cause it’s the new Mother Nature taking over

Happy Mother’s Day

Random Photo: Pareidolia

A photo a day keeps the Doctor in play.

What do you see? I see an owl.