Peaceful Protests Result of Brainwashed Hippies?

Since the mid to late 1960′s we have seen a push for “peaceful protests” by all means. Almost Everyone has jumped on the bandwagon since MLK was semi-successful gaining some of his goals further giving African Americans, their inherently due rights. What this short article wishes to completely not focus on is race, or any political issues for that matter. It will look at class and tactics classes may use to further their own interests.

What I have often wondered, and am sure I am not the only person who has posited this same idea is; did this push for peaceful movements arise because it really works, or was it just a way the bourgeoisie could protect their interests and limit liabilities in times of upheaval and rebellion. The controlling class in the USA knows from time to time there will be uprisings from unhappy workers not making enough to carve out a decent living.

If these protesters are molded and brainwashed into always having peaceful protests during these hard times, the bourgeoisie will inevitably have less costs incurred from busted buildings, broken windows, looted shops. Furthermore their “protectors,” the police, are less apt to be harmed. Lastly if the protesters are violent, and managed to get past these protectors, or convince the protectors to change sides, they would be violently held accountable. These are three outcomes that were directly confronted in the tumultuous 1960′s and the ruling class most likely brainstormed about back then.

They knew like minded groups that would be against them would be leftist groups such as what we are seeing with the current Occupy movement, which has maintained peace. These groups would generally demand some level of equality for the masses. The opposite argument is that the 1% that controls the majority of the worlds wealth see themselves as the so-called “economic engine” which drives everyone’s minimum wages up.  Reagan called this “trickle down economics,” I would prefer to call it, “conglomerate and control” economics.

Why “conglomerate and control” you may ask. Here is a simple example in which I think anyone can easily understand, and that I have personally seen in my lifetime. When I was a little boy, the shopping complex down the street had a small local grocery store, a shoe repair store, an independent video rental store, a small pet store, and nail solon. What resides there now? A 99cents Only store and a liquor store. All these shops started disappearing in the early 90s when box stores started to dominate. So now instead of many independent stores having owners making middle class incomes, we have conglomerated all these stores into one big local Walmart where people get paid minimum wage. Is this trickle down method working? I don’t think so, not by a long shot.

People want back a simpler America where they can work their way up a ladder and make a decent living for themselves. No more and no less. Has the ruling class, the bourgeoisie brainwashed us into being submissive slaves who do peaceful sit-ins? I can’t answer that. Will violence once again erupt into our society after people become more and more despondent? I can’t answer that either. Are peaceful protests versus violent uprisings more effective? These are all questions left open for debate. Perhaps a violent uprising in The United States of America is closer than we realize.

A Girl Named Apathy

Her perfect face

Her perfect body

She: sweet kind self

Slowly drains, as you realize

As

The makeup washes off

Reveals the beast beneath

But not in a quick, powerful

Phili storm but

A slow bay mist

Deteriorates the Revlon

Revealing reality

Reminds me of the inverse dichotomy:

When one start a class anew (or job)

The girl next to you is average

By the end of the second week

She is beautiful

The mist acts like a slow motion

Sand blasting machine

Chunks of face, skin, leg, arm

Fling off, and away

She morphs into something

You didn’t sign up for

What served as the sand?

The attitude?

The arguments?

Who knows, who cares

Got Your Fig and Olive Right Here

After five years I finally came into a bit of money, and shocked by this forgotten feeling, I had absolutely no idea what I should do with it. So, not being particularly interested in much of anything, I chose to do something nice for my long suffering gal and took her out to a fancy dinner.

Something as seemingly simple as this proved to be a bit of a problem right from the start, as I had little idea of a good place to eat. To be fair, I eat out at restaurants somewhat often, but  usually in the $15-$20 range. This had to be different. Valet parking, endangered animals on the menu different. Well that was the benchmark I set anyways, and after doing little research it dawned on me: why not go to where the prez just ate? The, um… oh right, the “Fig and Olive!” I’d heard nothing about this place (other than it’s “trendy” but what the hell isn’t nowadays) so I fired up the modem and hopped on the World Wide Web with the best intentions of setting up a night to remember.

First off, it’s a chain. Well maybe not a chain chain, per se. but the kind of place that opens up in New York, London, Tokyo and Los Angeles and that’s it. Shit. Ok, the food looks decent… olives, figs, pasta, grilled meats. Cheese. Standard fare, a little expensive but what the hell. I decided to make the plunge and clicked the “open table” icon to see what was available, settled on 7:15 and was ready to find out what the hype was all about. Throwing caution to the wind, as I’m sure I won’t get paid for another five years, I made the commitment. My girl and I were going to rub elbows with L.A.’s finest.

We got to the restaurant just in time for our reservations. A polite Mexican took eight bucks and the keys to the Volvo and in hindsight, that’s where the night should have ended. As we walked through the door, we were greeted by a wave of noise. To my horror I observed that the tables were about 9 inches off the floor, and the bar was clogged with Persians. The noise was unbearable. Making our way to the hostess stand, I wasn’t surprised to note that she was really annoyed that we were here. She checked our name off the list and then an equally put-out girl walked us to our table.

Winding through the cackling, perfume-drenched crowd I saw a light up ahead. What’s this? Could there be actual tables? Is there a restaurant component that I had overlooked? Was I once more far too quick to judge? Sure enough, we passed into another room, and I spied some regulation height tables. OK, this could go…fuck. FUCK. Really? Yep, there were tables all right, but we get to sit against the far wall, cafeteria style. My momentary feeling of relief gone as quickly as it came.

Now, for those of you that may not know what I’m talking about, let me savvy you to what “cafeteria style” dining means. This is where a bench runs along the wall, small tables are lined up in front, and on the other side are free standing chairs. The idea is to create a socially interactive environment and start chatting with whomever you get stuck next to.  It’s cramped, uncomfortable, and for a misanthrope like myself, is the worst possible situation to eat in. Sure as shit, we get shoehorned next to another couple (struggling actors, yay) and being a gentleman, I take the hard wooden chair and the splendid view of a concrete wall. So I have my back to the restaurant, and I don’t feel comfortable talking because I don’t need strangers up in my business. This was gearing up to be a great dinner.

The waitress comes over and starts spouting the specials, the one that sticks out is the Julep. Whiskey sounds like the right cure for what’s ailing me, so I go for it. She explains that it’s an experimental drink and she would love feedback on it. Agreed. She points out some food choices and goes off on her way, returning shortly with the julep which looks like pond water with a splash of bourbon presumably in there somewhere. I take a sip and the flavor is ok, but the fig seeds, mint leaves and walnut chunks give it the pond water texture I may have assumed from the initial observation. So, I decide to give her my criticism: this isn’t much of a julep. I point out the unpleasantness of all the debris in the drink to which she replies: “well that’s our spin on the classic julep. We crumble walnuts into it.” I see my date start to get uncomfortable, so I leave it at that.

Perhaps against my better judgment, we take some of the waitress’s recommendations and place our order. Just some assorted small plates. After all, we can always order more, right? Wrong. “The chef requests you place your entire order at once. I can bring out some marinated olives for you if you’d like.” Sure, but I think we’re ready to order the whole shebang…

The food was tasty, but unremarkable. The whole place smacks of gimmicks (no one’s tapped into the Mediterranean market yet, so kudos) and the crowd is insufferable. I can recommend the scallops, which were perfectly cooked, and the crostini assortment was fine (not sure how one would fuck up toast and cheese). There was plenty more on the menu, but I don’t believe I’ll be going back any time soon. When the bill came, I was pleased to see that my handful of trash and bourbon came to $15. All in all, the total for dinner was about what I expected; best $200 I’ve ever spent.

Fig and Olive, welcome to the ranks of Nobu, Bazaar and every other money-faking overly hyped Hollywood eatery. Looking forward to the “for lease” sign in the window six months from now. If you want to try a good restaurant that successfully pulls off what Fig and Olive was attempting, save a bunch of money and go to Cobras and Matadors. It’s BYOB (with a reasonable corkage fee, but you can bring beer and presumably cocktail fixins’ as well) and infinitely better. Just go early, because around 7pm the cafeteria seating will take its toll, and the space is much smaller than F&O so consider yourself warned.

On a final note, apologies to my girl for my incessant complaining about everything. I wish I didn’t feel contempt, disappointment and disgust almost every time I find myself in a public setting. Perhaps next time we’ll go to the Beanery, where for the amount spent at Fig and Olive five of us were able to eat and drink in the comfort of a booth for nearly six hours straight.

Annoyed

I wish ppl would just
Say it
Know it
Own it
In univ one may learn
The west is
Individualistic
Whilst
The east is
collectivistic;
Our cult chures, tht is

Vultures

I always wished I would hear
Through the bar cheers and
Sprts clb hootz
“Packers won!”
“Kings won!” etc
Someone  clarifying
Real alley tea (In this case Ancient Age whiskey)
Individualisticism equals selfish
Collectivism equals mutual care
Fuck this cunt countries

GVNMT
And fuck all you
Greedy assholes who want
GUCCI GUCCI FENDI FENDI PRADA PRADA

There are better lifestyles
“out there”
But we:
Bmb them