Showing posts with label PATRIARCHY. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PATRIARCHY. Show all posts

Wednesday, 27 March 2019

Patriarchy Rocks!











Fr. Jules:
I don't wanna hear about no motherf***in' ifs
All I wanna hear from your ass is, 

'You ain't got no problem, Jules. 

I'm on the motherf***er.

Go back in there, chill them n*ggas out and wait for The Calvary which should be coming directly.'
God:
You ain't got no problem, Jules. 

I'm on the motherf***er. 

Go back in there, chill them n*ggas out and wait for The Wolf, who should be coming directly.


 Fr. Jules:
...you sendin' The Wolf..?

God :
You Happy now, Muthafucka?

Fr. Jules :
Sheeeeeeyit, Negro!
 

That's all You Had to Say...! 

Sunday, 17 February 2019

Aaron

Aaron is the name of The Patriarch who gets everything wrong.

God made him a Priest





It's True, the Hittite army has 16,000 troops camped outside Kadesh. 
What's less clear is why. 


Prince Rameses
The Hittites are trying to cross the border. 
Obviously. What else would they be doing? 


Anticipating an invasion by us, according to our information. 


They think we are... 
preparing an attack, 
which we are not. 

What I don't want to do, 
and won't do, is sit here... 
And wait until we're fighting Hittite armies outside the palace walls. 
Come.


What do the entrails say? 

They don't "say" anything. 
They imply. 
And that's open to interpretation. 

So, interpret them. 
We'll win or we won't in a preemptive attack? 
It's a yes or a no. 

And it's not clear. 
But something else is. 
In the battle, a leader will be saved, and his saviuor will someday lead. 


Then the entrails should also say that we will abandon reason, and be guided by omens. 

Great Sekhmet, Pharaoh drinks in your name, and prays for victory over the Hittites at Kadesh. 

Your first order of business when the time comes, you retire her. 

I will. I don't know why my father hasn't. 

But, just in case - 
If you see me in any real danger out there, ride the other way. 
I'm serious. 


When I look at you, I still see the two boys who grew up together, close as brothers. 

If, for any reason you ever forget that... 
Let these remind you. 
Long enough to be effective from horseback, 
not so long that you trip over them.

This is his. 
You've got mine. 

That's right. That's how I want it. 


You have each other's, to keep each other safe. 
Promise me you'll do that... always. 

 






Treat me like a fool...

Elvis' Dead Twin Brother was Aaron Presley.

Vernon and Gladys named their surviving son Elvis Aron Presley, so that their son would always remember the duties and responsibility placed upon him to live TWO Lives for the Second Soul he was born into This World.

The King has TWO SOULS - See Richard II

The King took up residence in Memphis, building his Palace upon a Land of Grace.



[The Palace of GRACE]
 


The Elder:
Whoops.
 
The Elder: 
You've landed on my chair!
 
Our Lady: 
Sorry.
 
The Elder :
You've broke my chair!
 
Our Lady : 
Well, if you will leave chairs around the place.
 
The Elder : 
This is my front room!

 
Our Lady : 
Where's your kitchen? 
I just need to get some eggs 
to check the protein alignments in the goo.
 
(Graham points, and the doorbell rings.)

Our Lady :
 
Oh! Is that your intruder alert or mine?
 
Orion : 
It's the doorbell.

Our Lady : 
Oh yeah. Sorry.

(Graham opens the front door.)

The Elder : 
No.

(And shuts it again.)

Orion : 
Who was it?

GRAHAM:
 
Wrong number.

(Doorbell.)

Our Lady:
 Intruder alert again?

The Elder:
 
It's a doorbell.

Orion :
 
I'll go tell 'em to go away.

The Elder :
 
No, Ryan. Oh.

The Damesel:
 
Is everything all right?

The Elder :
 
Not really, Yaz, no.

(Ryan opens the front door, then comes into the front room, followed by an older man.)

The Damsel :
 
Ryan, you okay?
 
Orion: 
This is Yaz and The Doctor.
 
AARON,
The Patriarch Who Gets Everything Wrong : 
Hi.

Orion: 
This is me Dad.

Our Lady + The Damsel : 
Oh.
 
AARON: 
Graham.
 
Our Lady : 
Hi, Ryan's Dad.
 
AARON,
The Patriarch Who Gets Everything Wrong : 
Aaron.

(He holds out his hand.)

Our Lady : 
You weren't at Grace's funeral.

AARON,

The Patriarch Who Gets Everything Wrong :
No.

Our Lady : 
Ryan waited for you. 
You let him down.
(Long pause.)

AARON,

The Patriarch Who Gets Everything Wrong :
I was thinking maybe we could grab a coffee.

Orion: 

Er, yeah, right. Er, sure. 
Er, is it all right if we er...? 
We're just gonna go... 
(to Graham) Is that okay if er...?

The Damsel: 

If you're needing somewhere to go, 
café around the corner's open.

Orion : 
Yeah. Yeah, good shout, good shout. 
I'll just get me coat.
The Elder:
Aaron, can I have a word?

(Graham and Aaron follow Ryan out of the room.)
 

Our Lady : 
Ryan's Dad.

The Damsel: 

It's complicated.

Our Lady :
 

Yeah. Dads are, so I've heard.
(In the hallway.)

The Elder : 
So, why are you here?

AARON :
 
New Year's Day. 
Turning over a new leaf.

The Elder :
 
Right, well, er, be gentle. 
He's been through a lot.
 
AARON : 
I know.

The Elder :
 
No, You Don't.
 You have no idea.

AARON: 
I just want me and him to be family again.

The Elder : 
Family isn't just about DNA, Aaron, or a name. 
It's about what you do. 

And you haven't done enough.

Orion : 
We off, then? 
See you later, Gramps.

AARON:
 
Gramps?

GRAHAM:
 
See you later, Son.



[Café]

(Aaron is trying to sell a Matsoki microwave to the owner, and Ryan is fed up.)

AARON: 
But this one's a combination. 
Microwave and full oven. 
Both functions are the best quality you can get. 
I swear, this is the best you can have.

MAN: 

Sorry, not for me, mate.

(Aaron and his box return to the table.)

Orion: 

This is a new thing you're doing?

AARON: 

Only so long a man can work offshore.

RYAN: Given up being on the rigs?

AARON: 

Let's just say I've been examining my life choices lately. I'm not sure if this is the answer.

Orion: 

Get them online, can't you?

AARON: 

Yeah. Yes. Yes, except for this one. It's actually really good. 
A mate of mine makes it. 
I helped him with some of the specs. It's the best working oven you can get. 
But I make it sound like a con, so maybe I'm not cut out for that. 
Maybe it's back to engineering. 

We'll see. 

So, how you been doing?
 
RYAN: 
Seriously? 
That's where you start?
 
AARON: 
What?
 
Orion : 
That's all you got? 
How do you think I'm doing?
 
AARON: 
I know it's been hard for both of us.
 
Orion: 
Okay, stop. I don't care how it's been for you. This ain't about us commiserating with each other. This is about you making things right.
 
AARON: 
This how you talk to your dad?
 
Orion : 
I don't know cos he ain't been around. 
So don't come walking back in demanding respect, cos that ain't where we are.
 
AARON: 
What do you need me to say, hmm? Because I want to say it.
 
RYAN: 
Okay. You say, 
Ryan,  I'm sorry. 

I've messed up. 
I haven't been good enough. 
I've let you down a lot. 

And I know that's made life hard for you. 
And if it meant that over the years, you ever felt lonely or abandoned or didn't know where to turn or who to talk to or how to be. 
Then I'm sorry. Cos... 

'Cos you mustn't ever think that you didn't deserve my love.
 
AARON: 
You didn't ever think that..? 

Yeah. Why wouldn't you? 

Okay, listen. Here's what you find out when you get older. 

There are things you've done in your life to others, the decisions you've made maybe when things were difficult, and you get it wrong. 

But by the time you realise you got it wrong, it's too late. 

You can't fix it because the damage is done. 
And so you run cos you're too ashamed to make it right. 
That's what I did.
 
RYAN: 
No. You hid when I needed you. First Mum, then Nan.
 
AARON: 
I'm not hiding any more.



[Graham's home]

(Ryan and Aaron are back, with the microwave.)
RYAN: Hello? It's us.
AARON: I need to use the... you know.
RYAN: Dad, you know you can say toilet, you know.



[Graham's home]

(Graham returns with a jar of Sainsbury' peanut butter.)
 
GRAHAM: 
Where'd they go?
 
AARON: 
Did they take the cabinet?
 
GRAHAM: 
They've gone without me.




[Graham's home]


(Graham carries in a plastic storage box, not a Really Useful one, I have to say.)

GRAHAM: 
Since you're here.
 
AARON: 
What's this?

GRAHAM: 
Have a look.
 
(Child's paintings, toys.)
 
GRAHAM: 
When my mum died, my dad got rid of all her things super quick. 
He couldn't bear to have it in the house. 
She's gone now and that's the end of it, that's what he said. 

Funny old bloke, my dad. 
Course, now I realise that was his way of dealing with it. 

When your mum died, I had to go through all her stuff.
 
AARON: 
But this is all mine.

GRAHAM: 
Yeah, I know. She kept it all. 
She once said to me, if anyone ever asks about me after I'm gone, you tell them I was lucky. 

Tell them 
I gave someone life, 
and I watched 'em grow, and I was proud.

Why didn't you come, Aaron? 
Not for your mum or for Ryan, but for yourself.

AARON: 
I don't know. Maybe I thought if I wasn't there, she wasn't gone. I wish I was better at life, Graham.

GRAHAM: 
Well, there's still time.


[TARDIS]

Our Lady : 
Oh, huge heat signal, and a non-terrestrial form moving away from it fast. 
I'm on its tail. 
Sorry, The TARDIS isn't designed for these short hops.

(A jolt makes a certain cardboard box slide across the floor.)

Our Lady : 
A microwave? 
Who brought a microwave with them?
 
AARON: 
It's actually an oven and a microwave.

Our Lady : 
Nice.

AARON: 
What is this place?

RYAN: 
This is where I've been since Nan died. 
Travelling the universe with these guys.

YASMIN: 
Even if we track this Dalek thing, how do we stop it?

Our Lady :
 I'm still working on that.

MITCH: The Custodians managed it. If we take the same approach as those drawings.

LIN: 
Those documents aren't reliable, Mitch.

MITCH: 
Except all the rumours have proved to be true. It's shown here.

RYAN: 
Short version. 
Alien psychopath, in its own tank, trying to bring loads more to Earth. 
I guess this is how they attacked it last time.
 
AARON: 
What's it made of?

Our Lady : 
Remnants of its original shell, patched up with all sorts of spare parts. Mainly metal.

AARON: 
We can use my oven.
 
RYAN:
 It's not going to fit in there.

AARON: 
That's not what I meant. Help me break it up.

(An alarm sounds.)

Our Lady : 
That Dalek's moving fast but where's it going?

AARON: 
Ryan, help me get the element out.

RYAN: 
Why?

AARON: 
It's metal.

Our Lady : 
Oh, you're good, Ryan's Dad. 
You're almost making up for your parenting deficit. 

Sunday, 27 October 2013

Brand: The Attacks Begin


Brand is sleeping with Princess Diana's Sister.


I felt an immense affinity with comedian and would-be revolutionary vanguardist Russell Brand as I watched his BBC Newsnight interview with dismissive interlocutor Jeremy Paxman. In a highly public forum, Brand ran the frustrating gauntlet of explaining the very basic tenets of radical politics to a defender of the status quo. It’s a maddening position to occupy — as Brand’s intensifying eyes and harried stares at Paxman evidenced — and it’s a position all too familiar for those of us who have ever identified with anarchism or a radical politics that refuses a predefined program.
Like Brand, I don’t vote (I’m British, but even if I were American, I wouldn’t). Like Brand, I will not give my mandate to this festering quagmire of a corporate political system (any more than living in it already demands, that is). A thorough anti-voting argument is beyond the remit of these paragraphs; suffice to say there are other ways and hows to enact politics. And, like Brand, I refuse to say what I propose instead when badgered by staunch defenders of capitalism. Brand patiently explained to his pompous interviewer that, no, we can’t offer you a pragmatic alternative program — we’re too entrenched in the ideology of the current one. We have to live, act, think differently, dissentfully, for new politics to emerge. I’m simplifying, of course. But the point is, I’ve learned to leave conversations when the “what do you propose instead?” question is posed to me qua anti-capitalist. If you had a blood-sucking monster on your face, I wouldn’t ask you what I should put there instead. I’d vanquish the blood-sucking monster. And it seems Brand is committed to do the same.
I have no interest in a detailed discourse on the comedian’s radical politics as expounded in his editorial essay this week in British left-leaning news magazine the New Statesman. He’s not a theorist, he’s a well-intentioned, wildly famous performer with a “fuck this” attitude and some really nice thoughts; he’s self-aware and self-deprecating. He’d probably even be there on the barricades pushing off riot cops. And that means something to me and a number of my comrades (yes, comrades; deal with it). But, no, I’m not jumping wholeheartedly on this Brand-wagon. The reasons are two-fold:
Firstly, if we want to challenge an inherently hierarchical political framework, we probably don’t want to start by jumping on the (likely purple velvet) coattails of a mega-celeb with fountains of charisma and something all too messianic in his swagger. “No gods, No masters,” after all. Brand is navigating the well-worn conflict facing those with a public platform in the current epoch (myself among them): We have to be willing to obliterate our own elevated platforms, our own spaces of celebrity; this grotesque politico-socio-economic situation that vagariously elevates a few voices and silences many millions is what Brand is posturing against. Would he be willing to destroy himself — as celebrity, as leader, as “Russell Brand”? I think he’d struggle, but I don’t really know the guy.
But beyond this — the general furor and excitement around famous-person Russell Brand saying not-dumb political things on TV should give us pause for thought. If we’re so damn excited to hear these ideas in (in their slightly haphazard form) from a boisterous celebrity, then clearly we have some idolatry and “Great Man” hangups to address (lest we reinstate a monarchy with Brand as sovereign, Kanye as chief advisor). Everything Brand has said, I’ve heard before, especially since Occupy’s 2011 heyday; the radical suggestion that, yes, “Shit is fucked up, and bullshit,” was not first uttered by Brand and should not be more exciting nor appealing by virtue of emerging from his cheeky smile. As has often been pointed out, there is a constant conflict at play when radical or militant ideas or images enter the popular imaginary under capitalism (I’ve noted the example here before of a riot scene in a Jay-Z/Kanye music video): At the same time radical ideas might spread and resonate across mainstream and pop media platforms (and thus provide the potential for rupture), these ideas and images are recuperated immediately into capital. Brand calls for revolution, and online media traffic bounces, magazines sell, bloggers like me respond, advertisers smile, Brand’s popularity/notoriety surges, the rich, as ever, get richer.
Secondly, and more immediately worthy of attention given current Brand fever: His framing of women is nothing short of the most archetypal misogyny. I’m not asking Brand to be perfect, but I am asking that we temper celebrations of him according to his very pronounced flaws. Writer Musa Okwonga, responding to Brand and possibly coining the term “Brandwagon” was swift to elevate feminist concerns, too often ignored in the excitement around a celebrity appearing to have good politics. Okwonga noted:
… what the writer Sarah Ditum has identified as [Brand's] “lazy sexism,” evident both in his celebrated MSNBC appearance and in the opening line of his New Statesman guest editorial. Right there, beneath a sub-heading which states that “before the world, we need to change the way we think,” Brand writes that “When I was asked to edit an issue of the New Statesman I said yes because it was a beautiful woman asking me.”
See, here’s the thing. I and others will run the risk of sounding like killjoys for pointing this out, but if you’re advocating a revolution of the way that things are being done, then it’s best not to risk alienating your feminist allies with a piece of flippant objectification in your opening sentence. It’s just not a good look.
Brand, admirably, is not proposing a program. But Okwonga is right: In our excitement for even a hint of revolutionary fervor ostensibly permeating mainstream debate, we’ve enabled misogyny and Great Man narratives to go unchecked. This is troubling ground to build if we want to fight from it. And, of course, it’s not only through this week’s Brand hagiographies that “lazy sexism” has been troublingly permitted in the name of radical politics — it’s pervasive. Take, for well-worn example, the ongoing yet baffling difficulty many supporters of WikiLeaks and pro-transparency projects seem to have with any criticism of Julian Assange; the willingness with which thousands of Assange acolytes outright rejected sexual assault claims against him. To avoid another maelstrom myself, I simply posit: It is at least logically possible for a man to both be a sexist creepbag and espouse some good political ideas and projects. I don’t mean to draw any strict equivalences between Brand and Assange. I could list a whole host of examples: Recall the viral spread of the “Stand with Rand” sentiment, when Sen. Rand Paul mounted an epic filibuster of John Brennan’s nomination to CIA director. I too stood with Rand’s critique of the Obama administration’s unchecked executive power when it comes to drone kill lists. But I don’t stand in any solidarity with the racist Kentucky Republican.
But the point of rethinking new political and social spaces together — as was felt profoundly by many of us engaged in Occupy’s headiest, fiercest days — was that we don’t need to align with, elevate, celebrate (nor indeed wholly reject or detest) any one person. Yes, we will continue to struggle against vanguardism and sexism and so many co-constitutive problems within ourselves and each other. We will fail and fail better and fail. We will struggle to know and reconstitute what “we” even really means. And I take Russell Brand at his word that he wants to fight too. This is no referendum on the comedian or his intentions. But this is no time to forgo feminism in the celebration of that which we truly don’t need — another god, or another master.