Moby: “America, What the Fuck is Wrong With You?”

america, why are you so afraid of evidence?

you smoke cigarettes, naively believing they won’t kill you. you eat garbage, believing it won’t make you sick and obese. and now you’ve elected donald trump.

‘christians’ and family-values voters have en masse helped elect a twice divorced man who openly brags about infidelity and committing sexual assault. 30% of latinos have helped elect a man who has routinely maligned latinos and called mexicans ‘rapists’. 45% of women have helped elect a man who brags about ‘grabbing women by the pussy’ and has called women ‘pigs’ & ‘slobs’. business-minded middle america has en masse helped elect a man who has led roughly half of his businesses to bankruptcy and lost close to a billion dollars in 1995 alone. and blue collar middle america has en masse helped elect a trust-fund baby who has, over-time, inherited over $600,000,000.00 from his father.

and in the process you’ve denied the presidency to an experienced and erudite woman whose only shortcoming is being on the receiving end of a 30 year right-wing smear campaign. as a life long progressive i’m supposed to be diplomatic and understanding, but america, what the fuck is wrong with you? but then i ask myself, very sadly, why am i surprised? this is the same america that eats at burger king and is baffled as to why it ends up obese and cancerous and dying. this is the same america who thinks that granting health care to 20,000,000 people is somehow treasonous.

and this is the america who has now elected a dim-witted, racist, misogynist. a dim-witted, racist, misogynist who has ruined businesses and has no policy proposals other than ‘build a wall’. i guess there will be some cold, bitter schadenfreude in spending the next 4 years watching middle america wake up to the fact that donald trump is an incompetent con-man.

the rust belt jobs won’t come back. the wall won’t get built. and hillary won’t get locked up.

donald trump will be impeached, or end his presidency with single digit approval ratings. and hopefully, somehow, america will finally wake up the fact that republicans are, simply, terrible. reagan and bush sr. and the republicans ruined the economy, bill clinton and the democrats fixed it. george w. bush and the republicans ruined the economy all over again, obama and the democrats fixed it. in some baffling, habitual masochism americans keep going back to what’s bad for them, whether it’s food or political parties.

and the climate will suffer. the inner cities will suffer. children will suffer. animals will suffer. gun deaths will continue to skyrocket. we will suffer. all because americans live in this delusional, upside down world wherein they’re unwilling to look at evidence.

but here are the facts: junk food makes you fat and kills you. cigarettes give you cancer. and donald trump is a racist and a misogynist who has ruined countless businesses and will be the worst president our country has ever, ever seen.

-moby

An Open Letter to Employers with Ridiculous Requirements

April 11, 2013 by  

Dear Wayward Employer,

I’m writing you this letter because I was perusing your website and saw a job that looked awesome. I read through the description and everything about the job was me. Then I read the “requirements and qualifications” and found myself flabbergasted and appalled. I’ve done everything you describe in the responsibilities, but some of your requirements are…umm, how can I say this? Ridiculous? Kobe bullshit? And this is why you’re single.

I have five years of experience in this stuff, so I can talk ish and back it up. My problem? You’re asking candidates to have a Master’s and industry certifications, but you’re paying 35k. In the words of the graceful Sweet Brown…

degree inflation

I love — well, loved — your company and all, but this ain’t what my student loans are here for. This ain’t what my job search is here for. I’m supposed to be progressing professionally and financially. I don’t send money to my Capital One 360 (RIP ING) account so that I can take a job doing what I do well for less than I’ve ever done it. And I damn sure ain’t going back to school to get an extra degree just so you can pay me in monopoly money. F*ck. That.

Aight, so I just clicked another job on your site for giggles. An entry level customer service job to be specific. This sh*t is pitiful.

You’re requiring a Bachelor’s, experience with six technologies and a past life as a dragon. THIS IS AN ENTRY LEVEL CUSTOMER SERVICE JOB! If I was a college senior, I’d be tight right now. Tuition for telephones? Terrible. Just five years ago, this same job only required a high school diploma, a positive outlook, and a nice personality. But this mess you’re talking…

You’re lucky I’m at my computer.

You should read up on degree inflation and understand how much a part of the problem you are. Then again, you probably know this already and are ready to say “It’s a buyer’s market for employers thanks to the recession.”

Yes, we’re still coming out of a recession, but this foolishness you’re on will come back to bite you in the ass when things pick up. The person you get to take that 35k job will be gone with the wind as soon as the job market rebounds. Then you’ll spend the money you thought you saved trying to recruit and train his or her replacement. You’ll take a bigger loss than Ross… and I clearly don’t mean weight.

If and when I come back to your site, I’m sure I’ll see another ridiculous job posting. Maybe you’ll only be hiring janitors from ivy league schools, or secretaries with MBAs and five years of experience…for 30K. Eat 30K rocks.

Wayward employer, may you get stuck in a cabin in the woods with the ghost of recessions past. May you be slapped repeatedly by Dikembe Mutumbo, or covered in a thousand dirty diapers. I rebuke you, your insulting salary, and your ridiculous “requirements.”

Without Regards,

slim jackson

 

SingleBlackMale.org

LETTER FROM A FREEDMAN TO HIS OLD MASTER

[Written just as he dictated it.]

Dayton, Ohio, August 7, 1865.

To my old Master, Colonel P. H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee.

Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin’s to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the[266] folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, “Them colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.

As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor’s visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams’s Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq.,[267] Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.

In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.

Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.

From your old servant,
Jourdon Anderson.

 

Source: The Freedmen’s Book by L. Maria Child

Press nine to say eff u…

Dear Sir:

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavoured to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three ‘nanoseconds’ must have elapsed between his presenting the cheque and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honour it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my Social Security cheque, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years.

You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become.

From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan payments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware that it is an offence under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope.

Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me,there is no alternative.

Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.

In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press buttons as follows:

  1. To make an appointment to see me.
  2. To query a missing payment.
  3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
  4. To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
  5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
  6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
  7. To leave a message on my computer (a password to access my computer is required. A password will be communicated to you at a later date to the Authorized Contact.)
  8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
  9. To make a general complaint or inquiry, the contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service.

While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement and may I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous, New Year.

Your Humble Client

Editor’s note: This letter was allegedly sent to the bank who’s policies were being questioned. The bank manager was apparently so amused by the woman’s tenacity and cleverness that he submitted it to the New York Times who published it! Really? Regardless of the authenticity of it’s publication in the New York Times, which has not yet been substantiated, for our purposes it works just fine. Thanks to the woman who took the time to write her brilliant and I’m sure, futile letter.