chris floyd

Chris Floyd is “re-orienting,” leaving blogspace, which is both a personal and public blow.  He has been a shard of glass refracting light in our increasingly dismal, pant-hooping world.  Everything he ever wrote was a diamond bullet in your brain, without violence or bloodshed.  Mere words.  A simple act of compassion.  I hope we could say that about ourselves, but allow my doubt.  

He leaves a burning sword.  


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  1. banger

    How many years can you watch this stuff closely and remain sane? I can’t. I’m done as well. I follow news and go to the usual places for a bit of the truth but we’re in a post-truth, post-moral age of deception within deception and it’s just too complicated for me. The Republic is dead and the Empire lives and there is no movement at all that seriously opposes it, not in this country at any rate.

    All we have now are people who can stomach keeping a record and who can do so without having their heart broken time after time. Floyd wrote movingly about the victims of the Empire he was deeply involved you could feel it in what he wrote–I’m surprised he lasted this long.

    The problems we face are not political but cultural and “solutions” to our problems cannot come in the political arena. The power-elite are firmly in charge and there is no opening for anything else. It’s time to give up–this space, for example is largely empty and there is little dialogue just a little running in place until it fades away.

  2. Compound F

    you remain indispensable to those of us also running on fumes.

  3. TMC

    for as long as ek or I are able to sit upright, can type and can pay the bill. Coherence is not relevant.

    We all need a break from the tubz and politics. I took an entire year in 2008.

    Right now I’m in need of a break from my RL work. I’ll be doing that shortly.

    Meanwhile, everybody needs to find some fun, take a walk in the sunshine or the rain (miserable here today, ugh!).

  4. Edger

       Tomorrow is here. The game is over. The crisis has passed — and the patient is dead. Whatever dream you had about what America is, it isn’t that anymore. It’s gone. And not just in some abstract sense, some metaphorical or mythological sense, but down in the nitty-gritty, in the concrete realities of institutional structures and legal frameworks, of policy and process, even down to the physical nature of the landscape and the way that people live.

       The Republic you wanted — and at one time might have had the power to take back — is finished. You no longer have the power to keep it; it’s not there. It was kidnapped in December 2000, raped by the primed and ready exploiters of 9/11, whored by the war pimps of the 2003 aggression, gut-knifed by the corrupters of the 2004 vote, and raped again by its “rescuers” after the 2006 election. Beaten, abused, diseased and abandoned, it finally died. We are living in its grave.


       It is, by any measure, a remarkable achievement, one of the greatest political feats ever. Despite Bush’s standing as one of the most despised presidents in American history, despite a Congress in control of the opposition party, despite a solid majority opposed to his policies and his war, despite an Administration riddled with scandal and crime, despite the glaring rot in the nation’s infrastructure and the callous abandonment of one of the nation’s major cities to natural disaster and crony greed — despite all of this, and much more that would have brought down or mortally wounded any government in a democratic country, the Bush Administration is now in a far stronger position than it was a year ago.

       How can this be? The answer is simple: the United States is no longer a democratic country, or even a degraded semblance of one.


       Yet the belief persists that if there are not tanks in the streets or leather-jacketed commissars breaking down doors, then Americans are still living in a free country. I wrote about this situation almost six years ago — six years ago:

           It won’t come with jackboots and book burnings, with mass rallies and fevered harangues. It won’t come with “black helicopters” or tanks on the street. It won’t come like a storm – but like a break in the weather, that sudden change of season you might feel when the wind shifts on an October evening: everything is the same, but everything has changed. Something has gone, departed from the world, and a new reality has taken its place.

           As in Rome, all the old forms will still be there: legislatures, elections, campaigns – plenty of bread and circuses for the folks. But the “consent of the governed” will no longer apply; actual control of the state will have passed to a small group of nobles who rule largely for the benefit of their wealthy peers and corporate patrons.

           To be sure, there will be factional conflicts among this elite, and a degree of free debate will be permitted, within limits; but no one outside the privileged circle will be allowed to govern or influence state policy. Dissidents will be marginalized – usually by “the people” themselves. Deprived of historical knowledge by an impoverished educational system designed to produce complacent consumers, not thoughtful citizens, and left ignorant of current events by a media devoted solely to profit, many will internalize the force-fed values of the ruling elite, and act accordingly. There will be little need for overt methods of control.

    Post-Mortem America: Bush’s Year of Triumph and the Hard Way Ahead (.PDF)

    Chris Floyd, Empire Burlesque

    You poisoned my sweet water.

    You cut down my green trees.

    The food you fed my children

    Was the cause of their disease.

    My world is slowly fallin’ down

    And the airs not good to breathe.

    And those of us who care enough,

    We have to do something…….


    Oh…….oh What you gonna do about me?

    Oh…….oh What you gonna do about me?

    Your newspapers,

    They just put you on.

    They never tell you

    The whole story.

    They just put your

    Young ideas down.

    I was wonderin’ could this be the end

    Of your pride and glory?


    I work in your factory.

    I study in your schools.

    I fill your penitentiaries.

    And your military too!

    And I feel the future trembling,

    As the word is passed around.

    “If you stand up for what you do believe,

    Be prepared to be shot down.”


    And I feel like a stranger

    In the land where I was born

    And I live like an outlaw.

    An’ I’m always on the run……..

    And I’m always getting busted

    And I got to take a stand……..

    I believe the revolution

    Must be mighty close at hand……..


    I smoke marijuana

    But I cant get behind your wars.

    And most of what I do believe

    Is against most of your laws

    I’m a fugitive from injustice

    But I’m goin’ to be free.

    Cause your rules and regulations

    They don’t do the thing for me


    And I feel like a stranger

    In the land where I was born

    And I live just like an outlaw.

    An’ I’m always on the run.

  5. Compound F

    it’s a real death-match, and many people (most?) are on their side.  I’ve mostly  been withholding my views on the most recent mass extinction event, because the scope and rapidity is so mind-blowing; but “it’s here and it’s queer! (“queer” in the “anomalous” sense).”  Making it to 2050 is a legitimate concern these days.

  6. Compound F

    I don’t know whether to describe his words as healing or scarring, but some neurons are never coming back, and not in the way that the lolzers talk about a sarah palin interview.  I don’t know how many times he pushed me back in my chair in moral horror, but he contributed mightily to my ongoing and apparently interminable sense of perturbation and revulsion.  He’s a gifted man.  He wasn’t alone in that ability or regard, but definitely unique.

  7. banger

    The song brings back the feelings many of us had that just did not last. Later everything was about cocaine, disco and real estate.

  8. banger

    The latest public killings do indicate the source–isolation, autism which are all characteristics of our general mood. The fact the killer dressed up for the job of holding a mirror to ourselves is telling.

    CF, you’re one of the most interesting bloggers I’ve come across yet in my pointless and senseless career on the INET starting somewhere when Windows 3.1  came onto the scene. In case someone re-arranges my chemistry into relative randomness I just thought I’d tell you that.

  9. Compound F

    It leaves a big hole in their instinctive hearts.  It happens to be a tactic in the animal kingdom for compelling obedience, e.g., among horses.  When Harlow wrote his book, “The Nature of Love,” the cover pictured a pullulating snakepit, not unlike Congress, but in this case of actual snakes engaged in a mosh pit of touchiness.  That image was just to tweak people’s thinking about togetherness.  (What he did to the reinforcement theorists in words was frankly taboo to them.)

    Thanks for your kind words.  The feeling is mutual.  I have been grateful to you, DD, et al. God, or whoever, forbid that such an architectural marvel as your brain cells be re-arranged.  This is where I approach unity with Chris Floyd.

    This is a pretty decent blog that attracts some interesting people.  Enough users can smack down here with reason without the conformity and gangland slayings seen elsewhere. I was slightly insulted when Pluto, whom I also like, called DD, “a nursery,” however interesting, or something along those lines.  I’m not saying she was wrong; maybe DD is precisely a nursery.  I suppose I was offended at her idea of what a nursery is meant to do, as her sense of ontogeny struck me as absolutely divorced from biology.  

    As the potato-washing macaques of Japan showed, it’s always the young at heart that provide for cultural change.

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