Nuttin' But Dolla' Dolla' Bills, Yo!

This country...



...is fucked. FUCKED.

We haven't started eating the hearts of freshly slain babies yet, but you can bet that if that were available for a price, assholes would be lining up to pay.

News flash: corporate America is fucking us all in the ass with a multi-trillion dollar dildo, all day and all night. What greatly increases the coital pleasure of the bloated, sub-human piles of rancid blubber who man the financial helm of this country, aside from breaking the necks of turkeys while they fuck them in their cloacas, is that we pay them to fuck us. That's right: our tax dollars ensure that they get to fuck us anytime they please.

This isn't all about shopping at the Supermall for Christmas presents; if you do that, you've probably buggered a couple of dying turkeys yourself. No, what it's really about is WE'RE SCREWED! The US government is transparently in league with these cretins as they auction off national debt and undermine social security so that sympathetic CEOs can maintain the status quo and also make company financed trips to southeast asia so they can rape children. If you haven't guessed it, the CEOs are also...

...wait for it...

...our government officials! Remember Dick Cheney and Halliburton? Now, it would, of course, be downright un-Amurrican to suggest that these financial liaisons are, um, conflicts of interest, because, you know, our country is a seamless union between financial institutions and...


Sorry! Sorry: I was just busy choking on the giant Cock of Doom that has been wielded so effectively against us by the powers that be that we can hardly help but take it from time to time.

So the government takes money from us as taxes, puts some aside into a special account, Social Security, which will later be bankrupted and bled dry to pay off corporate rape vacations, while the rest goes to fund all sorts of useful social services like a non-functional health care system, private security firms that mysteriously take over during disasters (like Blackwater during hurricane Katrina), agricultural subsidies for corn grown using fossil fuels to create ethanol in order to provide an alternative to fossil fuels to put in our American-made flex-fuel SUV's, police forces that are increasingly violent towards the citizens they purport to protect and, of course, the military!

The military: the great symbol of American freedom and independence. Muskets won our freedom from England, so tactical nuclear warheads and satellite-mounted lasers will maintain it, right? Well yeah, so no matter the supposed crisis in our financial system, the defense budget must grow. Could that be because the brass of every company from Lockheed Martin to Coca Cola (because you can bet the military food service has a Coke contract like any other God-fearing food service provider) need the money to take their yearly golf vacation to Dubai where they water the greens with crude oil and the blood of the next seven generations of children born to the world?

Well, let's be real for a minute. The whole thing is a scheme to funnel money into the military, which, being untouchable in terms of their financial needs, is the perfect money laundering venue. It subsequently funnels it to sympathetic industries. Agriculture, weapons R&D, logistics, construction: you name it, there's a place for it on the Good Old Boy's List of Special Pals. Wall Street, the mortgage bubble-pop crisis: mere ruses designed to give the Federal Reserve more control over us financially by increasing our collective debt (via lending to the Federal Government), destabilizing our personal finances and putting us out of work. Hmmm, third world in a first world country, anyone? Endocolonization: this term was coined in the 1980's by a man named Paul Virilio, who called it like it is and described the pattern of power consolidation and financial bloodletting that is occurring...now. And has been, increasingly, over the last 50 years. Think of Eisenhower's ironic speech about the Military Industrial Complex.

BONG! BONG! BONG! That's the death knell being sounded for freedom in this country. We know from places like Sudan that the endpoint is roving marauders in a post-apocalyptic wasteland eating babies and raping everything in sight, so how long before we get there?

We fail. We really do. We are riding on a bloated corpse on a swiftly diminishing sea of oil. When there's no more to burn, we cease to exist as a nation. I can only think of one thing that might help. It's this antiquated word, truly an archaic usage: community. City-dwelling worshippers of Moloch might quaver at the implications: closeness, cooperation, communication on a human level; these things are pure Ipecac to them. But really, what else do we have when we are slowly being reduced to chattel by a system that wants us poor and dead and fucked, not necessarily in that order? We grow our own food and wait for the apocalyptic collapse of society as we know it. Next up: Mad Max!


Sponsor Me

Most of my posts are about climbing. Why not one more, albeit a short one? When people describe climbing as a progression, they often mean that as an activity, it has "moved forward". What does this mean? Well, a number of things are relevant for examination. The technology that accompanies climbing has progressed: ropes are now made of nylon instead of hemp; protection often takes the form of mechanical as opposed to passive; helmets weigh less than 3 pounds; clothing is now made of synthetics instead of wool. Climbing has progressed as in, it is more widely accepted as an activity. The caveat of this, however, is: the concept of technical grades in climbing has 'progressed'. Why else would climbing find the mainstream if not for gradation of difficulty? We are a culture of faster, further, longer and harder. More accurately, we are a metaculture because we would rather observe and conceptualize those aspects of our activities. Climbing has fallen prey to this analytical rubric for decades. This is why I say, echoing others who have said it before:

Any progression in climbing is dead as a fucking doornail.

Why is a doornail dead? I have no idea. But I just saw news that Jaws II in Rumney, NH had been sent for the third time and that it was temperature dependent. Reading this blurb evoked, for once, not a sense of jealousy, in that I will never be able to rock climb at that level of difficulty, but rather a sense of loss, in that the ideal surrounding one of my favorite pastimes is...junk. Fucking junk. Of course, one could attempt to claim exemption from this nonsense, but: most climbers I know personally suffer from some level of participation is this muckish drat of egotism and self-righteous bullshit surrounding climbing. This includes myself, whom I have gotten to know somewhat over the years.


So my point, of course, convoluted as it may seem, is that climbing needs to


...It's that simple: Shut the fucking fuck up. What I mean, of course, is that the more something so personal continues to be bastardized as a quantifiable and therefore 'progressive' sport, the more often a huge load of bullshit is going to be riding shotgun. Apologies to all the clothing and shoe companies who now rely on sensationalism to sell their products.

Since this is my weBLOG, I'd like to admit some dirty secrets about my own relationship to climbing. Then, I will hopefully shut up about climbing in order to have a more functional blog, perhaps about something else.

Climbing was at one point the most important thing in my life.

I am still incredibly egotistical and elitist about climbing in part because of the excessive gradation involved in rock climbing.

I look down on climbers who make stupid mistakes because I once made the same mistakes.

I hate indoor climbing. Wait. No. I hate the indoor climbing industry.

Difficulty and its pursuit have trumped adventure and in some sense, experience vis a vis my involvement in climbing. Also, my fingers are borderline arthritic and without intervention will certainly be so in 5-10 years.

Climbing is personal meditation. Progression is void.


Absolutely Classic

This week, though rife with the petty annoyances that seem to dominate my waking hours these days, has ended in a weekend of rock climbing. Amazingly, I visited a sport climbing area in the Seattle vicinity to which I had never previously been. Imagine my astonishment as the stunning vista of World Wall II unfolded in all its glory before me, nary a half mile from the trail I've hiked so many a time to its somewhat bigger brother, World Wall I. This quiet nook, all but deserted, proffered up a somewhat perplexing riddle: why, after so many years of climbing at Little Si, had I never visited this steep, appealing swath of stone? Why had I only gleaned vague snippets of information and somewhat laconic responses about the wall from those who had?

Allow me to lift the veil from an amazing local climbing secret:

World Wall II is made of high quality LIMESTONE!

Yes! That's right! A limestone crag mere furlongs from the shattered metamorphic stone we're all accustomed to. I may be no geologist, but you can trust me on this one: It HAS to be limestone! How else can almost EVERY CLIMB have ALL OF THOSE POCKETS?

They look a lot like this:

...except that the rock isn't granite. And please ignore the image name because the pockets at World Wall II were obviously formed by forces of nature back in the 1990's. Some even have three or four 'compartments'; that's one for each finger! Nicely rounded edges, amazingly comfortably incut holds where you'd expect mere dimpled nothings--this rock was truly manufactured (by extreme pressure, heat and a long period of erosion, of course) for climbing.

I'll leave it at that. If pockets aren't your thing, it looks like there are maybe four or five routes there that don't feature improbable lines of them. I think I may have tried one of them.