People are trying to patent your genomes. They’re working fast and hard and through the night to splice fish genes with tomatoes, spider glands to goats, to work hard thinking up ways to make financial transactions travel faster than light, the human hair is a fat farting coil next to the atoms now split just to make a few shaves of a farthing count towards the bottom line, the ever expanding profit margin and growth that expands as some device of Russian Symbolists, the Belys, the Sologubs, the ever expanding sphere that runs out in all directions – the earth, the cataclysm of detonation, an ever-growth of perpetual motion machines seen only in side shows of old Preakness and dusty wunderkunstkammers across from rotting old Andrassy or Lubyanka.
We live in the time of the doers. What is it that they do? Who knows…. The same veil that was placed over the world after Carthage fell, after Constantinople burned, after the huns hordes charged to the gates of Europe, after Luther launched his Talibanesque theses against Mother Church, that veil of Mohammad and Monotheism has again been dropped, we are in the time of the Harkonnen and House Atreides a strange mixture as Lynch had projected of archaic garb and wondrous inventions. Dune spice is our own addiction too. We all want to travel without moving whether it is our jets or cars or lawn mowers. Yet, among this world of miracle technology, a growing ancient regime is taking hold, a rotting dynasty of highly structured behaviors, ritual friendships, advanced degree programs and certifications and permits for every action or activity. We are building a wedding cake – we fool you, we rule you, we shoot you, we eat for you – we toss aside the Stations of the Cross as idolatry in the face of pure science and reason then build our rational novy cast system, one that does not layer, but exists in complex sets of dependencies and non-liner arrangements. We repeat that Nazis will come to the land wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross rather than Carrying Honey Boo Boo and dripping with Cheese Whiz . We have mistaken diversity for equality and technology for liberation, our temporary comfort for achievement. Our stations in life are settled early on. The letters of reference, the formalities, the rituals grow about us. And we barely take the time to see that world, so caught up in sports, gender politics, and aimless attainment of honorifics developed as a spider’s web by the doers.
The doers have taken to living apart from us in ways that make them invisible. We do not see them, but we may meet one of their private drivers. We do not live next to them, but a contractor friend once worked on a house so grand and empty but never met the owners. The doers no longer need whips and foremen, but have data-driven objectives and nano-technology. Their floors are heated, cars start themselves, they are global nomads sleeping in trendy pod hotels and swimming in infinity pools built into caves. The Doers are unaccountable but are obsessed by metrics and holding others accountable. They measure all but themselves We measure, since measuring has itself become a product, thinking about thinking an industry, and we all need to graduate from Leadership Academies (not to be confused with the Dream Academy), if only to make $8 an hour as part of Homeland Security or McDonalds. We are tricked into believing we all are doers, but we are not. Those who run and chase that dragon of the Pan American dream, Pax Plastica or whatever we are told will lead to a comfortable life, are not doers. The doers live in another world, subscribe to a rationality that few of us who are closer to the mechanics of the natural world (cold water flat, long walk to work, wet damp feet and the pangs of hunger and bloating of bad food. The doers know nothing of these. They are the star/wo/men prophesied by Bowie.This month the doers are going to send us off the Fiscal Cliff™. It doesn’t really matter. This Cliff is but another distraction. The real cliff is the quiet take-overs of corporate rules, the slow progress of our nation building its own network of Lubiankyas. The doers are inventing new micro-computers. They are building lofts. They are reshaping the coastline to protect their massive “beach houses” and investing in strip mines.
They are shaping your children according to algorithms. They are Taylorizing childbirth. Removing first the need for man in procreation, then women for gestation, the vagina is something of a antique manner or ejecting a babe apart from a tender slit in the stomach that is quickly stitched with Crazy Glue.And in the time of the Doers, What is To Be Done? This author finds h/i/m/er/t/self/ves asking that Leninesque question again and again and not finding Collectivization, Storming, and The New Man as the answer. The TSA workers may strike. The Fast Food Nation may have to wait longer as the fries are cooked by scabs. The fine on a banks such as HSBC already passed on as a cost of doing business. The rules apply more and more for the commoners, those masses that span today from aging Beatnicks to young Millennials and so many others who still think they are exempt from being sold to The Man, consider that only if they can get this promotion, that contract, this Lotto jackpot, they too can be a Doer, and they can’t hate a Doer because one day, they will be a Doer too.
So it is, another rant chalks up in more questions than answers. Another chance to analysis is wasted in exchange for anger and allegations, hints and subtle jokes, ass humor and tit jokes. There is a great deal of smart people out there. They are patenting your molecules. They are splicing together mice and machines. They are working around the clock to place you, to define your life style, to understand your credit behaviors, to know you better than you do, to be to you as God was once to Man. A Doer.