Welcome to Wall Street

Welcome to Wall Street

Welcome to Wall Street

For far too long Wall Street has been occupied by hostile forces.

For about 220 years, in fact.

In March, 1792, twenty-four of New York City’s leading merchants met secretly at Corre’s Hotel to discuss ways to bring order to the securities business and to wrest it from their competitors, the auctioneers. Two months later, on May 17, 1792, these merchants signed a document named the Buttonwood Agreement, named after their traditional meeting place, a buttonwood tree. The agreement called for the signers to trade securities only among themselves, to set trading fees, and not to participate in other auctions of securities. These twenty-four men had founded what was to become the New York Stock Exchange. The Exchange would later be located at 11 Wall Street.

Born and bred to exclusivity, raised in full view of the public, and propped up by a taxation system that relies on an affluent bourgeoisie that the system itself seeks to extinguish, it’s no wonder that when the American People exercised their Constitutionally protected freedom of assembly on sidewalks that they’d paid for and built, The System struck back.

Having its servants (I thought they were Public Servants? Silly me) net and then mace a group of peaceful women protestors:

Conducting eldritch legal seances to resurrect long-dead statutes for all the world as if their own identical suits and Goldman Sachs haircuts weren’t the ne plus ultra in depersonalization and the very basis for this:

Anonymous

Anonymous has no comment at this time

Sooner or later, New York City will run out of cops, or perhaps the budget burden will become so steep that Billionaire Bloomberg will petition the President to bring in Erik Prince and his Band of Bloodthirsty Bros.

Some are already writing the eulogy for #OccupyWallStreet, somewhat prematurely. But all voodoo devotees know you have to write it down before you draw the pentagram and cast the spell to make it come true.

Editors at Adbusters, a Vancouver-based magazine (mission: “topple existing power structures”) wanted to see if they could spark demonstrations just by posting the idea using social media. It created a Twitter topic with the hashtag #OccupyWallStreet, asking people to come to New York’s Financial District to join what they said would be tens of thousands in a “leaderless resistance movement” objecting to banks, capitalism and other perceived evils. Egypt’s Tahrir Square was cited as precedent.

The protests last week were a bust, but perhaps the young protesters learned a lesson: Just because it’s on social media doesn’t make it true.

The article goes on to say that the reports of violence were completely overstated. Scroll up on this post. Or, if you prefer, scroll down.

Yes, Noam Chomsky is a tiresome windbag, but every now and again he’s just…right. Like now (alternate G+ link in case Cusack’s retweet has still crashed the website):

Anyone with eyes open knows that the gangsterism of Wall Street — financial institutions generally — has caused severe damage to the people of the United States (and the world). And should also know that it has been doing so increasingly for over 30 years, as their power in the economy has radically increased, and with it their political power. That has set in motion a vicious cycle that has concentrated immense wealth, and with it political power, in a tiny sector of the population, a fraction of 1%, while the rest increasingly become what is sometimes called “a precariat” — seeking to survive in a precarious existence. They also carry out these ugly activities with almost complete impunity — not only too big to fail, but also “too big to jail.”

The courageous and honorable protests underway in Wall Street should serve to bring this calamity to public attention, and to lead to dedicated efforts to overcome it and set the society on a more healthy course.

And now, if you still aren’t sufficiently riled, I suggest you put this on repeat, then follow these instructions to create your own shield of relative invulnerability. And if that doesn’t work, get a haircut, a briefcase, and a blue suit, and enjoy the sight of the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave on its knees to you.

https://twitter.com/#!/AnonymousIRC/statuses/118147559352045568

For the visual learners among us, here are some instructions from those total slackers and hippies at MIT:

Cheers!

In related news, the Vancouver Philospher’s Cafe this Monday is on whether or not violence is a valid form of expression.

Is violence an appropriate medium of expression?

Our city recently witnessed a display of violence as an expression of disappointment over a lost hockey game. We also have seen societies unleashing collective violence to (presumably) contain further violence. So let’s talk about the morality of violence.

As always, I am hopeful our engagement would reflect the fundamental creed of our Café: any idea worthy of conception, is worthy of reflection, of examination, of analysis, of critique (and of even being laughed at, poked at or mocked provided of course if we can manage to do it respectfully or as deliciously as the late George Carlin would do.)

Many thanks. See you TOMORROW at the CAFÉ AMICI.

Comment of the Day: Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, Don’t Worry Anymore

I can’t really add anything to this; it is a perfect comment, from a hero who prefers not to use his real name, for obvious reasons. This man has my total respect, and I’m very, very glad that Canada hasn’t had such a nefarious policy as Don’t Ask Don’t Tell:

I spent twenty years in the military and every day I feared being found out. Yet, every time I had the opportunity to get out, I did not until I completed enough time to retire. It sounds like bullshit, I know, but I really felt the need and desire to serve our country. My civilian gay friends always kidded me about being in the service (trust me in my case anyways being at sea was no sexual picnic – think 2 months without leaving your office and co-workers). They chided me as well for being in an environment that didn’t want me. But I truly felt the need to stay and serve as a good example for others. I survived at least three investigations that I knew of along as a couple of security clearance checks, including one for top secret clearance.

I like to think that I survived because I was a good trooper, a patriot. But I also survived because I was surrounded by officers and non-coms who believed in me. One day when I was a junior petty officer on Governors Island, my boss, a lieutenant commander pulled me aside and said, Look, you are probably gay, but my advice to you is this: don’t eat where you sh*t. We both laughed, but I took his point to heart. In or out of the military, gay or straight, you don’t fool around at work, period, and I carried this with me until the end of my career.

I had numerous gay friends throughout my military career. I wish I had been able to connect with others to commiserate, but the fear of being seen with any of those guys… I couldn’t get over it. And now, on the eve of the end of DADT, I don’t know what became of so many of those guys. Several are dead, dying from AIDS in 80s and 90. The others, I hope they are like me tonight, thinking of the groundwork we laid all those years.

Right now, a friend of mine in the Army is celebrating his engagement to his partner of many years – a partner who had to keep his relationship secret while my friend was in Afghanistan and Iraq on multiple tours. This day is a great victory for them and for all of us who love our country and want to serve in its defense.

RIP Jack Layton

Jack Layton's immortal words are right there in orange and white

Jack Layton's immortal words are right there in orange and white

RIP, Jack: one of the greats is gone. You would have been an awesome Prime Minister, and you put that kitten-whoring robot who’s serving as Fuhrer in fear of his political life!

I know what I’ll be drinking tomorrow: The Layton: orange crush and jack!

Before he left, Jack Layton wrote Canada a letter, and never was there better proof that the man held his country foremost in his thoughts and close to his heart. Here it is:

Jack Layton's Letter to Canada

Jack Layton's Letter to Canada

Jack Layton's Letter 2

Jack Layton's Letter 2

Artist Stuart Thursby has translated some of Jack’s words into the powerful art you see at the top of this post, as well as others you can download from his site (he continues to update the site with new works). (via Tris Hussey)

And here, because not everything in memory of a man like that can be somber, are the song stylings of Jack “Party for Sale or Rent” Layton. And if you despair of human nature, look at the comments on the YouTube page: that man’s power of nobility is such that it even inspired YouTubers to behave with grace.

Via Bonnie Nish of Pandora’s Collective

Jack Layton's Words. Don't forget them.

Jack Layton's Words. Don't forget them.

Vanity UnFair!

Julian Assange is no Time Lord, cancels subscription

Julian Assange is no Time Lord, cancels subscription

THIS! Means! WAR!

Oh sure, it starts out as an amusing, cleverly-written quiz on VanityFair.com, but the next thing you know it’s fucking SLANDER!

Rootin' Tootin' Newtie!

Rootin' Tootin' Newtie!

Congratulations! You are Newt Gingrich: Despite strangely strong public affection for dinosaurs and space exploration and shocking contempt for the women you routinely divorce, you actually made it big in politics—15 years ago.

This is, like, SO not fair. I’m not even gay-married!

Riot Dog will see your Caturday and raise you

Hell.

Riot Dog will take a bite out of the IMF

Riot Dog will take a bite out of the IMF

Did you even know that the Greeks have a kind of tradition of riot dogs? How awesome is that? On the other hand, a necessary precondition for a tradition of riot dogs is a tradition of riotry, which is not so awesome when it extends decades in each direction with no end in sight until both sides run out of money for ammunition.

via YourAnonNews and proof that Riot Dog is my spirit animal. He’s as as fluid of iteration as any “official member” of Anonymous, his yellow coat and floppy ears own his V for Vendetta mask and vastly more prevalent among the canine population than masks of any sort, really, which would look sort of silly; ubiquity confers effective immortality; you’ve gotta admit, that’s pretty intelligent for someone who isn’t even a border collie. Now all you cat people? Can just curl into a fetal ball and wait for someone to open a can for you, like always. Play them off, Keyboard Cat.