The John Birch Society (JBS) is an American political advocacy group that supports anti-communism, limited government, and a constitutional republic. It has been described as radical right, and from its earliest days has faced much ridicule and derision from mainstream and leftist opposition. However, it's obvious that we failed to heed the advice Welch offered in this video, and now we are paying dividends to those forces he rightfully opposed.
Established in Indianapolis, Indiana, on December 9, 1958, by a group of 12 led by Robert Welch, Jr., a retired candy manufacturer from Belmont, Massachusetts. Welch named the new organization after John Birch, an American Baptist missionary and United States military intelligence officer who had been shot by communist forces in China in August 1945, shortly after the conclusion of World War II. Welch claimed that Birch was an unknown but dedicated anti-communist, and the first American casualty of the Cold War.
Welch developed an elaborate organizational infrastructure in 1958 that enabled him to keep a very tight rein on the chapters. After an early rise in membership and influence, opposing efforts by people like conservative William F. Buckley, Jr. and The National Review led the JBS to be identified as a fringe element of the conservative movement, mostly in fear of the radicalization of the American right. It should be noted that oil industrialist Fred C. Koch, founder of Koch Industries, and father of the infamous brothers Charles and David Koch still operating today, was one of the Society's founding members.
When delivering his brief remarks about each honoree, President Obama thanked musician Bob Dylan for opening up his world. "I remember in college listening to Bob Dylan and my world opening up because he captured something thatabout this country that was so vital," Obama said. The president also noted that he's "a really big fan."
Bob Dylan started out singing other people’s songs. But, as he says, “There came a point where I had to write what I wanted to say, because what I wanted to say, nobody else was writing.” So born in Hibbing, Minnesotaa town, he says, where “you couldn’t be a rebelit was too cold”(laughter)Bob moved to New York at age 19. By the time he was 23, Bob’s voice, with its weight, its unique, gravelly power was redefining not just what music sounded like, but the message it carried and how it made people feel. Today, everybody from Bruce Springsteen to U2 owes Bob a debt of gratitude. There is not a bigger giant in the history of American music. All these years later, he’s still chasing that sound, still searching for a little bit of truth. And I have to say that I am a really big fan.
Oddities of 2012, where beast and fowl and fish behave in strange events, severe weather, uncertain noises heard locally around the globe, the sun controlling earth...
WASHINGTON, DCDATELINE OCTOBER 27, 2003. Forging an identity in these uncertain times is not an easy task for someone who has prided himself on his independence, first and foremost, from most of the reckoning powers pursuing his support or demise, whichever comes first. As a result of this hesitancy, the Scenewash Project has little to promote but is simply a slowly developing critical work-in-progress concerned foremost with identifying in fresh terms the strategic forces now influencing the corrosive state of American politics, its public policies, both foreign and domestic, and in postulating, after careful consideration of the formidable body of evidence, a compelling worldview better suited to these uncertain times which try humanity's collective soul, contaminate our air, corrupt our speech, implode our habits, regale our future, and break our very wills to contribute to a sane and friendly but progressive and fearless community.
We have considered this task a worthy occupation to the end of our lives, if need be, because we believe that the original promises of these United States of America still beckon, and that the American political experiment, despite its follies and excesses which certainly require checking, is superior to any the world has yet seen. We will not prepare for a collapse of the West, just because a few malingering malcontents clamour for world revolution, whether it be from a Marxist, Maoist, or an Islamist perspective, but shall fight these perspectives while calling for a more focussed revitalization of America's own backyard.
Now more clearly understood as a rather ordinary attempt to peel back the layers of a conflicted mental landscape where art and politics beat each other up while few are they the wiser, we will express ourselves in terms of the past and the present, and will not appeal to an uncertain future which fatalists of every tradition, especially those of religion, of politics, and of science, pay homage to and usually broker every prejudice and every pride in vainglorious attempts to thrust the spirit of humanity onto the flaming pyres of god, gold, state, and imperialist superstition.
These dialecticians who worship the binary while faithlessly praising the unitary, operate on misguided principles which presume dialectics is an inclusive exercise of expression rather than the polarizing noise only well-entrenched and sometimes well-meaning fools and their followers, unquestionably trapped in status and nuance, can embrace.
Originally conceived as a wrecking ball to schoolboy aspirations, this site has no choice but to erupt from the silent passages of time and truth by urging a return to those same aspirations, reflecting a growing inversion of the individual artistic urge and its involuntary suppression by the forces of a co-opting culture. This culture is a mythology in which the artist, the politician, the ordinary citizen and varied patrons are forced by necessities of survival to conspire with lessons and insults to separate the vigorous mind from the expansive spirit with shop-worn tautologies and fantasy, eschewing the everyday, the mundane, the merely indifferent, rendering as obsolete the witnesses of this takeover.
A fading youth spent in ceaseless searching, knocking, seeking, and digging only to discover little of lasting value is one whose only inspiration translates an energy dedicated to the enumeration of differences between zero and nothing, self and the other, in recovering value and anti-value based not on a system of indulgences, individually or collectively wrapped, but on an absolute proof that language is mere alphabet dirt and slogans are only wordsuck. Languages run amuck become dangerous constructs perhaps of better service when fashioned into ploughshares of silence than into callous weapons of feathering alienation and mass confusion. Unless followed by actions appropriate to productive language, language has become nothing more than a functionary of aesthetics, and its practitioner, a co-opted pretender.
To that end, we offer few strategies or discernable guideposts to the currently self-enchanted. We have no use for those satisfied warriors of the establishment, those who wear the stripes of our enemies, smile the crooked smile, and walk the crooked mile beautifully camouflaged behind the mysteries of selfishness. We shall show how they also have no use for us. With a multitude of theories calling for bombs and abortion, no one is safe in this calculating world. Of course, wethe radical centrists refuse to be pigeonholed, not by the haranguing extremists nor by the denizens and addicts of apathy. If we are a hybrid breed of political creature, so be it.
We, however, boast of a singular aim. To articulate a well-considered argument describing what we believe to be the only hope for America and the world, and that hope, in a phrase, is progressive centrism. The center is nearly always dismissed by the polarizing POWERS OF ENTRENCHMENT as mushy or wishy washy, unable to make up its minds. We however, believe that it is these polarizing powers of the Left and the Right, who fight false wars on false battlegrounds, who make well-choreographed concessions in lucrative soundbytes and photo op activities merely for appearances sake who have truly betrayed this country, and this planet.
In the United States with its two party system, the aggragate lobbies and special interests attest plainly to this phenomenon of hypocrisy which disrepects and excludes (while still clamouring for its vote) the progressive centrist. These dialecticians who worship the binary while faithlessly praising the unitary, operate on misguided principles which presume dialectics is an inclusive exercise of expression rather than the polarizing noise only well-entrenched and sometimes well-meaning fools and their followers, unquestionably trapped in status and nuance, can embrace.
The byword is moderation in all things but truth. Extremism is killing us all. Polarization is the sword that fertilizes the fields of plenty with the blood of innocence, and rots the crops of destiny. Our manifesto is not the place for specific criticism, but the Scenewash Project web site will by the best laid plans of mice and men, embrace this dialectical mission.The Left and the Right must be reeled in.
The greed of the right and the stupidity of the left have rendered the vast majority of us useless, oppressed by the perfumed stench of their theories and their actions. The salt of the earth purifies and preserves. Where do we begin this purification process? Who will be our leaders? Is it possible that a renewed sensibility can arise from the falsifying political landscape now pulled taut like a rubber band by the existing powers that be? We don't know, but we insist on trying.
We are reminded of this metaphor. Jesus of Nazareth was walking along the road to anywhere. The mother of two of his disciples who were brothers, rushed up and voiced her desire that he grant her wish that one of them sit on their master's left hand (wing) and the other to sit on his right. The Nazarene's reply was simple and to the point: "You don't know what you are talking about. He went on to describe that the rulers of the heathen exhibit hierarchies of the strong who oppress the little ones, but it must not be so among them, the chosen. I add a footnote. Among the common folk there is a general consensus that politics is the mother of all harlots. Thus, I derive my notion of the "progressive centrist" as originating with this tale.
There must be a better way to fix what ails us than rupturing the rubber band while trying to maintain the status quo or sending the globe into unfathomable chaos as many on the far left and far right would advocate, each according to their own specific madness.
In another of the synoptics, the story is retold without the mother's presence, but it is the brothers themselves who approach their teacher with this request for special position and honors. The remainder of the incident is identical to the other.
It is clear. The Left and the Right each boast a portion of the TRUTH, which can be likened to a rubber band that has no beginning and no end. The progressive centrist inhabits the area within the circle created by the band itself, open and free space loosely formed and with equal access to the truth which lies along the circumference of the band. Both parties in the extreme meanwhile haplessly mark battle lines shouting war cries and stretch the band of truth as far as they can by pulling it deep and taut into their own camps, tightening and oppressing the more central and observable truths and those populations which dwell inside the once freely-circulating circle.
Once the tightened rubber band has been pulled to its extreme limit and has been popped, truth no longer exists in its most perfect sense with no beginning and no end, of equal benefit to all, but becomes the ultimate weapon of deception, far worse than the chartable deceptions of the band-tightening oppositional parties in their constrained tugs of war. Surely we can recognize the political landscape in this metaphor.
There must be a better way to fix what ails us than rupturing the rubber band while trying to maintain the status quo or sending the globe into unfathomable chaos as many on the far left and far right would advocate, each according to their own specific madness. So while we recall that the life and works of Thomas Paine are a good place to begin analyzing the difference between zero and nothing, the left and the right, extremism and moderation, life and death, we acknowledge that we do not live in his time, and therefore, must invent new methods to render equality, peace and plenty equitably upon the earth.
What say ye?
So, there is much work ahead of us, and we promise only this:
To experiment with the strident advances of web technology and design, deploying each to an oddball degree, while avoiding the genuflection of a generic stylism which furnishes the cynic with a strategic mouthful of pleasure while leaving us sad and purposeless. We will commit to compiling a point and counterpoint latticework mapping the existing political schematic as we find it. We shall then parse, and emerge with what we consider to be the radical centrist position along this latticework.
To furnish enough raw material to keep us busy through the thick years of our recorded visitation. To live the literary life along the bold, new terms of hypertextual reality, scratching out both an artistic body of visual work to match the music in our heads, keeping our eyes on our own pages and thus working to defeat the demons of boredom that envy and indifference can frequently induce and inadequately generalize while keeping free from the entanglements of frenzy the world mandates with its emphasis on competition and so-called originality. To work the gravitational pull of our own simple orbit, one field of inertia at a time...
NOT MUCH TO REPORT this side of more music, more music, more music. Some Maximum Rock & Roll cuts from the late 1980s "Not So Quiet on the Western Front". Some decent music, some decent politics. The radicalized Far Left's wail against Ronald Reagan however seems pale today, as we wade into the heated pool of history.
Dissatisfaction with the limited opportunities afforded today's youth in a corporate culture hell bent on exporting American jobs across the globe in the hunt for cheaper labor is one thing, but the vicious anti-Americanism we now see everywhere was just coming of age in the 1980s, and shows itself in all its thunder in the hardcore punk bands making the underground music circuit click and hiss. Separating the wheat from the chaff in this cozy corner of rock music's sniveling subculture can be difficult, but is a task worth the effort.
Once Radio Scenewash has been fully realized, we shall be able toundertake a closer look into the politics of these bands and their music. Stay tuned.
Since no one has staked a commercial claim on the air in my lungs, and noting the work of the butterfly on Julius Caesar’s last gasp, I hereby claim ownership of the oxygen on this planet, plant my invisible flag, and extend my grasp to the perennial rays of the sun.
I have been a registered as an Independent most of my adult life. Let me state for the record in case someone is having trouble comprehending my criticism that American democracy and capitalism are the best things going in this sad vicious world. In fact, let me be clear: I believe American capitalism to be the purest form of communism ever practiced on the world stage. But if the runaway thieveries and market consolidations by these castle-building moguls (from rock stars to athletes to talking head bean counters) of every dominant stripe are not reeled in, the regis of European-style socialism will continue to look better and better to those minions who can't muster a say or a stake in the present system. After all, to have a system based on the apotheosis of grandiose winners, there must be lots of penny ante losers. In the pages of his recent bookThe Crisis of Global Capitalismnoted Wall Street Wunderkind George Soros has clearly seen the writing on the wall, and this book was released just BEFORE the recent Enron, WorldCom, Global Crossing, and similar scandals hit the fan.
The antics of the hard to crispy LEFT and the hard to steely RIGHT continue to amaze me. Neither side speaks anything close to the whole truth, and neither brigade recognizes the grains of truth the opposing army brings to the battlefield. I heard recently, a pundit from the crowd of usual suspects remark on the "mushy middle" which decides this nation's national elections. This insulting characterization of the "cautious, thinking independent" is typical of the demagogues on both boilerplated shanks of the political spectrum.
My involvement with the 1992 Ross Perot presidential campaign did little to convince me that third parties for their own sake are the answer. In Perot's DC office operating in full bloom was politics as usual. At some point as it became evident that Perot was not going to win but was too embattled with conspiracy theories aimed at his family, all but an annointed handful were "locked out" of the offices, literally. Meetings were held to determine why, but the core players suddenly would have nothing to do with the grass roots folks.
Now that California has possibly supplanted Florida as the laughingstock of American politics, there is once again increasing chatter fearful of the possible emergence of a viable third party and equal player on the American political landscape. Some even sense a growing taste for the broader appeal of the parlimentarian system many other nations prefer in their own experiments with democracy But any political groupies who value their own voice should distance themselves from this misplaced anti-Americanism that flows eagerly off the tongues of many safely sheltered within the elite classes with all their pretty ribbons and bows, posturing leathers and torn cotton tees.
With this nation and much of the West now in the hair-trigger scopes of religious and anti-religious fanatics alike, blood-thirsty agitators and aspiring titans who would like nothing better than to disrupt, conquer, and rule this country with an iron fist unlike anything this nation has ever seen, including the eighteenth century Redcoats, these idealist lefties need to refine and clarify their stances, and thereby earn its mantle as the outcast prophet crying in the wilderness.
The RIGHT needs to reread and practice the light revealed in its own holy books, the US Constitution and the Bible of their forefathers. The radical middle needs to get its individual heads out of its collective ass, stand up for what it believes, or else indeed be considered "mushy" and unworthy of its gift of superior but understated intelligence. Blaming today on yesterday won't get us very far tomorrow.
Okay, here's a gamer. Since no one has staked a commercial claim on the air in my lungs, and noting the work of the butterfly on Julius Caesar's last gasp, I hereby claim ownership of the oxygen on this planet, plant my invisible flag, and extend my grasp to the perennial rays of the sun. Therefore, ALL HUMANITY, must now pay tribute to my nifty little corner on the market, validated by this capitalist system I embrace with muted reservations. Any refusal to do so will result in charges of conspiracy to commit unrepentant communist acts and/or criminal intent to steal and utilize for purposes beyond the scope of fair use those raw materials and products associated with human breathing and sight, the sustenance of all life, not to mention those vital rays of redemption all subsequent intellectual composition requires.
Unless one is properly licensed to use these rather valuable properties of oxygen and sunlight, its is forbidden to engage in any activity which requires them. In short, I own you, you silly humans, rich or poor, cute or ugly, beast or priest. Pay up my darlings, or forever be branded as thieves and liars, subject to the whims of MY judicial system.
Great minds think alike...You know the phrase. It's always said in public with a snark, and for some unstated reason until now I've never had occasion to find the remark the least bit flattering or of any appeal, nor have I taken the time to assess why. But, in fact, I take a bristling exception to that rather vulgar juvenile expression. Great minds do not think alike.
Great minds sense and tend to original edicts reconfiguring the inconclusive sift of the expanding findings of likeness, resolution, and sustainability in order to create a more perfect union, or tomorrow. Groundbreakers of a certain musical note wrestle with all-consuming effort the compelling and often repugnant, systemic breakdown of nature itself. The evidence, empirical if not already carved in stone, is overwhelming and as unpredictable as verbalizing the exact time of one's death at the exact time of one's birth, even though we have seen that death is more certain than birth over the course of unexplainable life.
Great minds set the pace that lesser minds only attempt to follow. I suggest to you instead consider once and for all that is the proverbial hoi polloi who tend to think alike. True, they tend to overstate this homogeneity with generalities, but then they live in the province of generalities. Great minds live in the province of specificity. And no, I do not consider myself a great mind, but I will never stop pursuing the ghost of that earliest potential now lost to the persistent struggle for identity among friends, foes, and displaced, delinquent, deplorable but all too desperate counterrevolutionaries of the soul. You may quote me if you can. Even though that last remark is just another sad revolting cliché in this old book of life...
Make it your own, because angels with great minds earnest for necessity live among us...
O SAY CAN YOU SEE, by the dawn's early light, and have you ever stopped to take measure of Black Republicans in Congress and other places that have known to represent the power of the people? It's time to get acquainted with one such person, in particular.
Inspired with strong family values, Jennifer Carroll, 51, was born in Trinidad and moved to New York City with her great aunt and uncle when she was 8, just as desegregation was taking hold. On television, she saw reports about civil rights and Martin Luther King's assassination.
Two years after graduating from Uniondale High School in New York state, she enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1979. After serving as an Aviation Machinist Mate (Jet Mechanic), she was selected for Enlisted Commissioning Program, becoming an Aviation Maintenance Officer in 1985. She retired from the Navy in 1999 as a Lieutenant Commander. In 1981, she received an Associate of Arts degree from Leeward Community College. She followed this in 1985 with a Bachelor of Arts in political science from the University of New Mexico. She moved to Florida in 1986. She received a Master of Business Administration degree from unaccredited online diploma mill Kensington University in 1995, and then earned another Master of Business Administration degree online from St. Leo University in 2008
Carroll thus became the first black woman to be a major party candidate for lieutenant governor in Florida's history, and the first black woman on any statewide Republican ticket.
"That was the first time I experienced the conversation regarding race," she said. It wasn't until she graduated from high school and enlisted in the Navy in 1979 as a jet mechanic that she experienced racism firsthand, she said.
"When it really started was when I was appointed as the supervisor in charge of white males," Carroll said. "They felt they should have been in charge rather than me."
She made two unsuccessful bids for the United States House of Representatives in 2000 and in 2002. Following her defeat in the 2000 election, she was appointed as Director of the Florida Department of Veterans Affairs serving in that post until July, 2002. She has been elected successively to the Florida House since winning a special election in April 2003, when she became the first African-American female Republican ever elected to the Florida Legislature.
On September 2, 2010, after winning the Republican primary, Rick Scott named Carroll his running mate in the 2010 Florida gubernatorial election. Carroll thus became the first black woman to be a major party candidate for lieutenant governor in Florida's history, and the first black woman on any statewide Republican ticket.
HAVE YOU EVER WANTED more? I mean lots more, MORE of this, MORE of that. Have you ever heard the phrase "All property is theft!" and wanted to extend your fist into the private property of that public mouth from which you heard those ridiculously poetic words just shouted? Where is more? Evermore. Who is less? Nonetheless. Is the universe chaotic? Psychotic? Programmable nonsense. Or is this wild wobbly marble of unintended consequences the ultimate parade of unscrutinized order? Existential Baby, shake, rattle and roll, always a suspect, never a friend...
Until the mid 1800's society was surging. Since then it is the State that has surged. The last hundred years has been the time of domination of every possible thing by the State. Now we will enter the time of regretting the politicization of everything when the bill finally comes due.
The concept of the State was always a lie, which is why so many fail to understand why good ideas always seem to go wrong with government. It starts with "helping" a guy down on his luck and turns him into a perpetual demander of other people's money enforceable through the State. A thimble of "help" followed by a trainload of corruption engineered by a true criminal class of professional politicians.
All forms of government is bent to revert to its true nature sooner or later. It just took ours a little longer than most, but thanks to legal plunder and distracted citizens we have arrived. Now we will rue the day we ever trusted government to be "good". Over the next decade or so many will pay with their lives for this.
When the Western state finally crumbles, what happens next? You be the judge. Or, uh, is that somebody else's job?
Let us be frank when we ask ourselves just what on God's Green Acre we think of when we think of the state? How are the so-called Peoples' Councils that Marxists clang and clamor for any different than City Hall and the Orange Cap Patrol that either bring a snarl or a smile to our random faces now?
I watched with glee
While your kings and queens
Fought for ten decades
For the Gods they made
I shouted out,
Who killed the Kennedys?
When after all
It was you and me. Jagger/Richards
When does a peaceful conservative or a merry prankster stop trying to prop up an essential but failing institution or state? Especially one being pummeled not only by its immediate enemies but by the very writing on the wall? What does a conscientious conservative or pansy pied piper do next when the thunder and the lightening and the rain has turned to blood, fire and thuggery on both the plains and the mountains, in the cities and the rivers?
When the once cringing sound of "all private property is theft" no longer seems absurd, perhaps we can finally re-emerge as rugged individualists who realize the world is exceedingly too complex for any one nation to simplify, but it is fair and simple enough for the many to restore (for all the smart reasons) given the grace and timeliness of knowledge, so as to simply enjoy it within the complexities of our own simple lives...
It was in the calm and peace of his house in Hastings that Desai was able to analyse what he felt about Marx. Tall and narrow, the house commands a panoramic view of the English Channel which Desai has quickly learnt to love. He delights in waking up to a view of the sea and, for the first six months, kept photographing its changing moods.
"It changes one's view of life," he enthuses. "It is fascinating, uplifting, a joyous thing." He bought the house in Hastings because he "wanted somewhere to put my 10,000 books". Every Thursday evening, Desai makes the one hour 40 minute pilgrimage from London Bridge to Hastings, and returns on Monday. "It is here in Hastings I do all my cooking, all my writing, all my thinking," he says. "This is a marvellous place. It is now my main home."
The shift to Hastings also represents his own spiritual, emotional and political journey. His reassessment of Marxism began 20 years ago. In his youth, he, like many others, had assumed that capitalism would be vanquished, sooner rather than later, by socialism.
Yes, Martha Manwaring. Life is short, but every once in a while one may discover that the hard-boiled social philosophers accustomed to the occupational depths of conflict crave the simple joys, too. This Marxist clown, with all due respect, has grown to realize what we petty capitalists here at the Scenewash Project were brash enough to quip while whingeing among a few card-carrying Marxists brought together by the Internet of the day some fifteen years ago.
It was I, wrote Gabriel, who said, "Frankly lads, in my estimation, Capitalism is the purest form of Communism ever practiced!"
Expectingly, I and thee watched their eyes roll then! But fear not!
For now we have the global debt crisis and Gentleman George Soros cascading along the scars and scabs of Kierkegaard Boulevard to prove it!