There’s No Meaning to Any of It: the Rise of the Gangster-Capitalist 1

This short series will examine the rising nihilism of American culture- alongside the rise of president Donald Trump, his crew and his misguided defenders. There’s so much madness to consider, it’s hard to know where to start.
-Song I listened to while writing this piece: ‘This Patch of Sky’ by White shores. 

”American Love- like coke in green glass Bottles… They don’t make it anymore.”
Alan Moore, Watchmen 

Introduction: The Comedian Never dies

Before the Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) plunges to his death, he can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, ”it’s a joke,” he croaks as the assassin faces him, ”it’s all a joke.”
Finally there’s the awareness of impending void: ”mother forgive me.” A spatter of blood falls down from his battered face. It trickles down on his signature yellow smiley badge stuck to the lapel of his robe. The joke never ends when the superhuman assassin slams the Comedian’s face against the kitchen table for good measure, afterwards lifting him up and throwing through a glass window. The button follows the descending comedian. It’s still smiling when it hits the pavement right next to the comedian’s corpse.

The Comedian’s infamous badge found by Batman from the current Doomsday Clock series. 

The comedian has always been one of my favorite characters of Alan Moore’s comic book and Zack Snyder’s much maligned comic book adaptation- which I consider personally as being severely underrated. On all accounts the character is a miserable human being: a murderer, a rapist and a war criminal to boot- not to mention that he’s the illusive Grassy Knoll shooter as well as having covered up the Watergate conspiracy for tricky Dick. But there’s more to his character than the horrors he’s afflicted; there’s the notion that he comprehends the madness of this world, the cosmic joke that is being played on all of us.
Like Sisyphus he’s just rolling with the punches, smiling as he does so. Unlike his fellow superhero compatriots he’s long lost any shred of idealism. Now he’s part of the system, a mercenary for the government. Back in the good old days he was just like the rest of them; just another bleeding heart who wanted to make a difference. This was before the human animal created the capacity to destroy all life on earth, before there was a superhuman deity serving America which frightened those pesky Ruskies. Back in the days when good and evil were simple concepts. You do good and you punch evil in the face- that’s what superheroes are supposed to do. But somewhere along the line, after witnessed so much ugliness within the system and human nature, he lost his way- or become enlightened in the worst possible manner.

Sisyphus’ daily struggle. The only struggle that makes sense to him. 

First he was fighting crime, now he’s committing them- but it’s approved by the state so therefore it’s legal. Before the Vietnam war, there was The War to End All Wars, well that didn’t last long did it? If you secretly taped the conversations within the oval office you’d hear the callous manner in which they dealt with the loss of human life, the senseless manner in which they continued the war. In this universe, one of the most putrid examples of the presidency would remain in office for a fifth term- it’s hinted that he would be replaced by a buffoonish actor turned president, a man representing America’s final descent into Corporate-cosmology, named Ronald Reagan.
Don’t you see? It’s a joke, it’s all a joke. Once you realize this, being the Comedian is the only thing that makes sense…

The Comedian in Incendiary comic book form- from Before Watchmen: Comedian issue 5 by Brian Azzarello and J.G. Jones.

This understanding that none of it really matters, that the human animal is just locked in their own particular illusions- fostered by either group identity, religion or some misguided pursuit of happiness- is something that I can, in my own limited education and life-experience, understand, perhaps, in a strange way identify with. I don’t mean to imply that I see the world for what it is, because like everyone else, I have my own personal biases and live through my own divested illusions. But sometimes you can’t help but feel like the only sane person as the world invests their intellect and time into all these meaningless things. All of it will fade away like the rest of us. You see people get outraged about the smallest and dumbest things and you’d just want to slap them on the head, hoping to wake them up, to remind them: ”we’re all in this hopeless void together. Why can’t we just play around with each other and move on!”
Same as how I, as with many others, adored the character of Rust Cohle in True Detective season 1- someone who dares to face the ugly truth, reveling in the darkness instead of hiding in the manufactured light like so many others. Everyone had of us probably had those thoughts and I’m sure that even those who dismiss them, occasionally have this little pang of uncertainty, telling them: perhaps there is no meaning to any of this. Perhaps when the lights go out, they stay out.
But something keeps dragging me into the light….
There’s something there, something truthful too. It’s not all dark out there. I can feel this. Perhaps I’m just telling myself this to sleep better- but I don’t see no reason to fight this, especially when things are going so much better with me.

Rust Cohle (Matthew McConaughey) staring right inside your soul in True Detective Season one.

Unlike the Comedian, I do have a moral center and I can’t smile at the savagery of the human animal, it makes me uncomfortable, depending on my courage I will either look away or do something about it. Even though politics can seriously depress me, I keep myself invested in current events. I have faith in democratic institutions, I believe in strengthening them against the gangsters who want to abuse them for their own profit. There will always be equality in this world, wherever you go, it cannot be avoid. But with the right hearts and minds we can create a compassionate regime that is able to help and prosper the lives of our poorest and least privileged countrymen. I am passionate about exposing human rights violations of governmental institutions, in the power of journalism to speak the truth about ever increasing authoritarianism. I’ve fallen in love for about three years now and planning to stay that way.

My favorite quote of the series. 

But it’s hard to not be cynical nowadays. As a liberal, I’m disheartened by the particular nefarious brand of progressive-liberalism of today where anyone who questions certain core believes and practices are shunned or insidiously misrepresented. I’ve found myself quite at home with renegade intellectuals, closer to conservatism at times but at least they are speaking out at this aggressive and hateful strand of liberal-progressivism. At the same time, my greatest worry goes to the ever increasing hold of Authoritarian disinformation, whether it comes from Russia, Turkey, China, America, wherever. I’m worried about the loss of objective truth in journalism, about the way we accept the obvious villains of democracy, letting them go about their business as they continue to infringe on our human rights.
And sometimes it just seems so hopeless, like a painful joke. I want to laugh at it, like the Comedian but it’s not as funny for me. Perhaps in time it will be.
In one of my favorite scenes of Watchmen, the naive Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson) asks The Comedian after witnessing him beating down several violent protesters: ”what happened to the American dream?”
The comedian answers: ”what happened to the American Dream? It came true. You’re looking at it.”
I don’t believe in the American dream. But I believe in fighting for it.

***

Our Disease 16

     The Disease

There had been a big debate between the nations most popular political commentator. The first was a right-wing pundit by the name of Sean Reilly. The second was a politically moderate- or someone who merely upholds ‘sane’ positions as she would refer to it- by the name of Anna Snyder, who also happened to be Harry mother’s.
It had been filmed the previous night, the mother and son were watching it, each eating a bucket full of buttery popcorn. Popular consensus- though this naturally depended on which media you were watching- said that she had annihilated Reilly’s every argument.
”The question is who can we trust? The businessman or the politician,” said Reilly behind the right side of the debate table, ”and all it depends individually off course. But I would argue, that a country is a business, American is a corporation and it needs a good CEO. That’s what the president should be, a good CEO. A traditional politician thinks in nations and peoples but that’s not how the world works. There was a time when we needed politicians, but that time has long ended. There’s a new vision of America. A politician will sell you dreams, a business will teach you how the world really works.”
”The world works that way because we gave them the freedom to do this. This freedom needs to end.”
”That’s left-wing extremism!” balled Reilly ”you want to go back a regulated market, where government forces pick-pocket hard working Americans or ‘job creators’, so they can continuing financing a corrupt system. It’s my money. Why should I give those people my money I worked so hard for!”
”Now let’s settle down,” said the moderator who sat in the middle of the table.
”I’m not asking for a socialist-utopia,” said Anna, sipping from her glass of water, I’m asking for a regulated market, because this supposed invisible hand, you and your disciples are all so keen about, has a tendency to fill the pockets of the rich. It’s not just you. This is not your country. This is our country. We made you and you made us.”
”I made myself.”
”Your daddy and mommy did help you didn’t they?”
Sean looked at her furiously, then sighed, ”This is the modern world. We can’t go back anymore. Reagan started something beautiful. And we have to finish it.
”Look at the world your disciples have created. Look at this century of deregulation. This Americana penned by Ayn Rand, inspiring the Trumps of this world, the winners and loser mentality. It’s a rigged system, it’s rigged because this is what you always wanted. It lapses toward authoritarianism when it’s necessary. There’s the denial about what we are doing to this planet of ours. Our place on this world, our continued dominance precipitated the sixth-extinction. So many beautiful animals had to pay the price for our wants and needs. We didn’t treat our fellow humans any better. Just look at the epidemic of unemployment caused by automation and yet still, even with little cost to themselves, they fight over universal income. The job creators who refused to give the people health-insurance. The robots of this world get better care than the poor.”
Sean sighed, he knew he’d lost, and he seemed tired, ”’It’s always the same. We are the dumb ones. The left are the smart ones. If you had been in charge the world wouldn’t look much better.
”Like the left has always been the rational party. Like you were going to make the world a better place…”
”Again, I’m not a left-winger, just because I uphold certain left-wing positions just as I uphold right-wing positions. We just have a different definition or to be frank, you are just polemicizing this debate because that’s how you’ve always won. Not by reason, but by playing on your base. I don’t do that. I win and lose so many fans of mine because sometimes I turn to the right and sometimes to the left. I don’t compromise my reason but that’s my business; the academic, scholarly, journalistic fashion. You are in the pundit business, things have to be one side. Things have to be in two. You don’t give a crap about reason…”
Sean’s face turned red as he started mumbling, trying to find the words. Harry and mother were laughing loudly. She was sitting in a big lazy chair, her son lay on a comfortable couch.
”Can you believe the Breitbart poll has him winning by over eighty percents?” said Harry, who then shoved popcorn in his mouth, ”the gullibility of these people is hilarious.”
”Yes,” said Anna, who couldn’t see the humor in this, her smile decreasing, ”it doesn’t matter what I say to them. They got to them, they got them for good. For a century they’ve been told not to trust us. To distrusts journalists, historians and human rights workers. They indoctrinate in schools and churches. We will never reach them again…”
”Fuck em” said Harry, who didn’t pick up the hint of melancholy in his mother’s voice, ”it’s tiresome debating these people. If they can’t accept certain fundamental truths what hope is there? Eventually you just gotta spread the good word, no matter who it offends.”
”Well Harry, that’s where I came from. Those are my people.”
”You’re better than them.”
Anna didn’t say anything, but after a while, she got up and left the room. When Harry realized she was gone, he called out for her.
”I’m on the balcony.”
Harry got up, went to the balcony. They were on the top floor of a high-rise apartment, in a reasonably affluent neighborhood in New York. She was staring out into the starry night. The sounds of movement below, faint voices. Harry stood next to her, gentle brushed her shoulder.
”Mom, you okay?”
”I’m okay, just the futility of what I do gets to sometimes.”
”Oh mom, you’re just making a living. You’re not supposed to change the world.”
”You tell yourself that, it’s just a business. But you get to a point where you think, that maybe you can make a difference. Things have to mean something.”
”I’m not much of a believer mom. The age of true believers have long gone.”
”I don’t want you to become like them, Harry. I want you to be better than them.”
”I believe in the good things mom, I just don’t believe this world is one of them. It’s too much history. Every moral experiment, ends with people doing what’s good for themselves. Man is a selfish animal, there’s nothing else to it.”
Anna kept looking into the starry sky, she singled out one star, imagined going down with it. We all fade into stardust.
”This world is stacked with good people but something is holding them back. There’s a sickness, a disease. It’s been spreading for so long now. The people that spread them, these mind-viruses don’t even know it. It takes so long to break the chain of history and so many new monsters are build in that momentum. There’s so many bugs in our system. The bugs are everywhere.”
”Mom, did you take your medication?”
Anna didn’t say anything for a while, she felt herself slipping into a dark place. A voice inside asked for her to snap out of it: you are with your son. He’s leaving tomorrow. Make it a nice time.
”Let’s finish watching the debate,” said Anna, turning around and hugging her son. ”You’re such a good boy you know that?”
”Oh mom. If I am, it’s your fault. I would be nothing without you.”
She held him, a bit longer than usual. It worried Harry, but when she stopped and kissed his cheek and smiled at him, she seemed like was normal again.

Twenty years later. Harry was on his computer, scrolling through pictures of his mother. There was an old one, where she stood next to the father he never knew. The one from his wedding, when she had been quite inebriated. There were many more. One in particular, probably one of the last pictures ever made for her, she looked so happy, on the beach looking into the blue sky of Hawaii. He never realized how beautiful she really was.
Her words came back to her, how ashamed he was. The decapitated boy kept appearing in his mind. Even though it was not his fault, he still blamed himself. It was his initial input that put his death into motion. It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t his plan, if it wasn’t for him, the boy might still have been alive.
Stone came back from the shower, a towel was covering his middle. He entered his room, saw his ‘friend’ scrolling through the pictures.
”She was a helluva woman,” said Stone who stood next to him now as Harry kept scrolling ”she could have been a game-changer, ”she was the most fearful enemies of people like me. Most people might had the wits but they didn’t have what she had. A fearlessness, this uncompromising nature.”
Harry refused a speak a word to him, he mindlessly scrolled to another. Stone noticed it but pretended he didn’t.
”Boy she hated me. She saw right me, that beautiful woman.”
Silence. Stone sighed, ”look you don’t need to worry. None of this will come back to you. The boy wasn’t from around here. Nobody, nobody that can cause any problems anyway, will look for him. You’re safe.”
Again silence. Stone continued: ”perhaps the show should have been PG-rated. Perhaps I went a little too Jihad on the kid, but I hope you can understand that I was merely helping her. It was the only way. It would have taken too long. You’re already in a fragile state. Who knows what could happen if they keep messing your head for another two weeks. It’s in your genes pall. You’re a smart guy, but like you’re mother, your prone to some extreme neuroticism.”
Still no word. Stone felt like punching him, ”I couldn’t do this without something from you Harry. I don’t need your money, but I wanted something. I wanted your innocence and you paid your debt. In time you will thank me. Don’t get any crazy ideas about reporting this, they won’t listen to you, you know that.”
Harry kept scrolling through pictures, he came across one with him and Sheryl in Amsterdam. Stone sighed, didn’t know what to say.
”Well, I’m gonna be away for a while. They really need me. I’ve been here longer than I was supposed to anyway. I’m not sure when I see you again. I will leave a number you can if they keep bothering you. Just say that you are a friend of me. These guys are good, the best. I will leave you some stuff that will keep you from sleep or will knock you down in a good sleep, whatever you prefer tonight. The next time we will see each other, everything will be back to normal” Stone patted Harry on the shoulder, ”don’t you worry about that.”
Stone headed out the door when he finally heard Harry’s voice: ”If you ever come here again Stone. I will kill you,” Stone turned around, faced Harry who was staring back at him, ”I don’t care what happens to me. But if you ever come to my house again I will fucking kill you.”
Stone looked into his eyes, he couldn’t be sure if he could do it or not.
”You’re show is on tomorrow right? I will be listening don’t you worry. I never miss a show.” Stone blinked and left the room.

In his dreams, he was in the playground again. Crispin was sitting on a swing, wearing a red raincoat. When he saw Harry walking toward him, he quickly jumped off.
”I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
”Why not?”
”They say you won’t listen anyway,” Crispin shivered in the cold rain.
”I’m listening now.”
”Nobody listens. Everybody’s always in their own world. You were supposed to be better than that.”
”I’m trying…”
”It doesn’t matter. You can’t do it. Maybe you never will.”
”You don’t believe in me.”
”You don’t believe in yourself.”
Harry was wiping his wet face. The rain just kept pouring. There was an explosion in thesky. A lighting bolt.
”Is it my fault? Is the death of the kid my fault?”
”Why do you ask me? You won’t listen anyway. You made up my mind.”
”Just tell me.”
”You never forgive yourself, that’s your problem. You keep putting it all on you. You’re just like your mother…”
”Is she here? Can I talk to her?”
”I told you, you won’t listen anyway. I have to go before I get into trouble.”
”Please, I’m all alone out there. I don’t want to go back.”
”We are all waiting. We will always be waiting for you. But we can’t push it too far. The work is up to you…”
Crispin turned to and ran away, Harry was about to run after him, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He had a feeling who it was and he began to tremble.  When he turned around to see if it was him, he woke up.

***

Our Disease 12

The Impeccably Dressed Man in the Woods

Harry was frantically pacing back and forth in his living-room, smoking a joint at the same time. Stone watching with amusement, said smiling ”it’s not paranoia if they are really out to get you.”
”Go fuck yourself Stone. This might not have happened if it weren’t for you.”
”What the fuck did I do?”
Harry stopped at his track, pointed at Stone with the joint in his hand and yelled, ”cos you led them to me!”
”I led them to you?”
”You are the incarnate of the fucked-up political system! Your the demon of Americana. It’s really you they want to destroy!”
Stone laughed, grabbed the joint from Harry’s hand and took a big hit.
”It’s just a bunch of e-mails…”
”And a letter in my car!”
”Oooooh!” Stone said, smiling, waving his hands around in mock-fright.
”I had this dream last night.
”What was it about?”
”I’m not sure but when I woke up I didn’t feel the same anymore. It was if I returned from a different world, the existence of which we are not supposed to know.
”It was just a fucking dream.”
”What if they’ve gotten into my head? Transferred these beams through their e-mails? What if I dream and never wake up?”
”There’s no such world. There’s only this one. Don’t be dreaming about others.”
”I can’t help it!”
”Relax will ya! You think they didn’t try this shit with me? I’ve had them trying to screw around in there,” Stone tapped his the side of his head, ”trying to screw things up around there. They pull this shit on me every year, but I let nothing get to me. They never really find the juicy stuff and everything else they find is gonna be useless because I am not ashamed of who I am. Neither should you. Just open up to me Harry, what is it you’re so afraid of?”
”I just want them to leave me alone,” said Harry pacing the room again.
”They won’t leave you alone unless you they are finished with you or you make them.”
”How do I do that?”
”At times like these, it’s best not to run away from yourself. The best thing you can do now is look at yourself in the mirror and see who you really are. If you can do that, there’s nothing they can do to you.”
”I don’t like looking at myself in the mirror.”
”Well there’s your problem right here. There’s something you’re ashamed about. Something you are possibly guilty about. Just come out with it Harry, what is it you fear? What is that thing that won’t leave you alone.”
”I don’t know. But the thought of this certain thing, if its just one, scares the shit out of me.”
”You know,” Stone said getting up, walking towards him, moving in front of him, blocking his pace as he hands him the joint, ”your mother was the same way wasn’t she? She feared things that weren’t really there.”
Harry leaped at Stone, grabbing his shoulders and pushing against the wall. Stone was shocked at first but laughed wildly, ”what the fuck are you doing you silly boy?”
”Don’t mention my mother again, you got that? I told you before. I don’t want to talk about my mother,” Harry said as smoke billowed out his mouth, as the joint still clung to his mouth.
Stone looked in his eyes deeply, as if seeing how far he could go. He then grabbed the joint from his mouth, taking a deep drag.
”Well I guess we have the nerve right there. The thing that haunts you. It was right around her death when things went sour didn’t it? It started the decline of your marriage. It was the start of your alienation from the remainders of your family and friends until you are all alone, in your little podcast booth…”
Harry squeezed his cheeks, pushing them closed. ”I haven’t got much sleep Stone. I’m in a volatile state of mind and you’ve been feeding me liqueur and drugs for the last few days. I’m liable to do anything.”
Stone’s arms leaped from below, pushing Harry’s hands away and before Harry could react, Stone had already punched him in the stomach, hard enough so that Harry’s breath escaped him. Harry went on his knees, clinging on his stomach, gasping for air. Stone stood over him, calmly smoking the joint.
”You went a little too far there Harry. I’ve got my limits too. Come on…” Stone pat his shoulder, ”come sit down with uncle Stone.”
Stone led Harry on the couch and as Harry was regaining his pace of breath, Stone handed him the joint.
”You’re right, maybe they are trying to get to me by getting to you. Though I don’t understand why they think this would work. They tried getting through my ex-wife and that didn’t work and shit, I think I might even loved. But don’t worry Harry, you’re going to be alright. If you can’t look at yourself in the mirror, we simply have to scare them away. Lucky for you, uncle Stone’s got a lot of resources. I can make some calls, we’ll get to the bottom of this. We might not get the guy, but as long as he gets the message that you aren’t somebody to be fucked with, that’s important.”
”How will you transfer the message?”
”You let me worry about that. But don’t worry, you’ll get first class tickets to the show.”
”You handled these guys before? You made these guys stop harassing your clients?”
”Once these guys know that they fucked with someone who knows and worked for the most powerful people in the world, many of them still owing a substantial debt to him, they will leave you alone.”
Harry sighed. It felt wrong getting help from Stone, but it felt like the only way. He just wanted life to be back to normal.
”I don’t want to go sleep today.”
”Don’t worry,” said Stone, fidgeting in his inside suit pocket, ”I’ve got just the thing for that.”

That night, Stone fell asleep on the couch, his escort Tara having fallen asleep on his chest. Harry hadn’t notice this as he was sitting next to them, in the midst of an amphetamine fueled rant: ”….I just to believe in guardian angels you know? I just to believe there was always someone or something protecting you from harm. Like, you could never get to too dark of a place because this force would stop you before you went too far. I felt like this for most of my life. I believed in cos my grandmother told me this story once, when she was lost in the woods, I think somewhere in Arkansas, hiking. She was walking around for half a day and she couldn’t find a way out. Eventually she encountered an impeccably dressed man, like a three-piece suit, something you wouldn’t normally see there, not to mention it was hot and he didn’t look like he was not even breaking a sweet. She gasped and asked him for directions and he told her she had to go this way and that way. She remembered that he spoke in a beautiful English accent. Something she always loved. She asked him if he was English, he said he was. He told her he had to be going and wished her good luck…”
Harry noticed then that Stone and Tara had already fallen asleep. Harry continued on anyway, ”when she started to leave, to the direction he had pointed to, she looked back one last time and he was gone. Boom. There was nowhere he could have turned to. Maybe there was, but at the time there seemed no way. His directions were correct, she found her way home…”
Harry sighed, ”I used to believe there was something protecting me, I believed this until my late thirties, when I was still married and happy. But then things just got worse and worse. And when you think things can’t get any worse, it can. Maybe it’s something I did that made the angels leave. I don’t know. I would do anything for them to come back to me…”
He thought about Sheryl, how her smiled seemed so precious now. Maybe she was the angel he disappointed. The only person that stopped from going the deep-end. It seemed like everything went downhill when she left. His mother would lose her mind right around that time. He would lose the creative drive to write something interesting and his ambition for it seized as well. If he could get her back, he could repair his broken life.
Harry reached into his pocket, grabbed his phone, turned to Sheryl’s number and fondled the call button.
”There’s no use, there’s no fucking use” mumbled Harry to himself when suddenly his phone started to ring.
It said: Anonymous. Harry stared at it. The scream from his dream last night back to him. He could clear it clearly in his mind though he didn’t know where it came from. He dropped his phone on the floor in fright, looked down at it as it kept ringing. Harry closed his eyes, waited until the ringing stopped. He could hear his heart pounding away.
Then it stopped. He looked down at his phone, grabbed it. Suddenly the sound of a text message, Harry dropped it again in fright. He took a deep breath before he grabbed his phone. The message was as terrifying as he had suspected: YOU’RE RIGHT. THERE’S NO FUCKING USE.

Art by Charles Bukowski

***