US and THEM or Mykel's Post MRR Column 23

YOU'RE STILL WRONG

POST MRR COLUMNS

POST MRR COUMN 23

Mykel Divides the World

by Mykel Board

At one extreme, a person might step into a social identity and BE it. Another might step into the same one and surprise you because they struggle against it or play it down in light of their unique biography. --Michael Agar

Ah, finally, he's here... visiting from Morocco... my pal El Habib. We met in Agadir, a city on the North African coast. He's coming to New York. In Agadir, he took me all over the place... cooked for me... great guy. All he gets in return is my couch.

When he told me he was visiting in July, it hit.

“Uh...” I profoundly start my email. “That's Ramadan. Isn't it going to be tough for you to hang out and not eat? In New York... in America... everything goes around eating and drinking... all day... every day. Ramadan? Most Americans think Ramadan is a city in India.”

He sends me back one of those laughing “stickers” that facebook uses to disgust readers.

“I'm tired of Moroccan culture,” he says. “I'm tired of Islam. I'm sick and tired of the whole thing. Let's eat!”

“What about drinking? Are you gonna drink alcohol?” I ask.

“Mykel, I'm gonna get drunk with you!” He says.

There is no facebook sticker with a grin wide enough to react. I love drinking with Muslims as much as I like eating ham with Jews... and that's a lot.

The plane was due at 3:30. I figure it'll take an hour to get through immigration. They won't know he isn't celebrating Ramadan. Then, if he comes by subway, that'd be another hour. He should have rung my doorbell around 5:30... It's coming on seven... no sign of him.

BEEP BEEP... the doorbell!

I buzz him in... take the elevator downstairs to meet him.

He's there... in the lobby... with someone else... two someone elses... each with a huge backpack... and instruments... a large conga drum... animal skin, Senegalese style, a guitar, and bags... half a dozen of 'em... two as big as my stove. They're all staying here... in my tiny apartment. We squeeze into the elevator and I reach around to push the button.

My apartment is now so crowded I have walk ON suitcases to get from the couch to the bathroom. The drummer sets up the drum in the only 2 square foot open space. It's the table for their stay.

“Hey guys,” I say. “I want the perfect photo. Mykel and 3 Arabs eating pork together. You up for it?”

They look at each other. I wonder if I went too far. [ASIDE: Actually, I NEVER wonder if I go too far.]

“Mykel,” he says, “I guess you forgot. We're not Arabs. We're Amazighs. You might call us Berbers. We were in Africa BEFORE the Arabs... before the Muslims. We're the Indians of Morocco.”

“Okay, Chief,” I say. “Let's you and me drink the peace pipe and eat some pork belly. And what happened to the word Berbers?”

“We don't really like it,” says El Habib. “It comes from Latin. From the Romans... You know Barbarians. Anyone not Roman was a Barbarian.”

“I see,” I tell him. “It's like Goyim.”

He doesn't get it.

One of the guys... the guitar player... speaks up.

“I donno, Mykel,” he says. “I am a Berber, but my name is Mohammed. Don't you think I should change it? How far will I get in America with a name like Mohammed?”

“You should call yourself Osama,” I tell him.

He elbows me in the chest.

He gets it.

We have plans to meet later that night at Bar 13 where El Habib will read poems of The Beats that he's translated into Arabic. He'll also read some poems he's written directly in English.

FLASH TO THE CLUB: We're at the door. Ready to go in and Rock the Casbah to Allen Ginsberg with guitar and drum backing.

The doorman, a huge black doorman-looking guy, sits on a stool outside the bar. We approach... Me in arm boots and black jeans. The Berbers in shorts, with Moroccan equivalents of yarmulkes.

“Ok, fellas,” says the doorman. “I need to see your IDs.”

They stop... freeze. The color drains from their faces. They look at each other... then at me.

Habib whispers to me, “Is he speaking Amazigh?”

“Somehow I doubt it,” I tell him. “Most doormen come from the Bronx, not the Sahara. Just show him your ID.”

I reach for my wallet. The three of them are somewhat panicked, conversing in Berber.

“Is this the American way?” asks the guitar player.

“This is America,” I tell him. “Everything is ID, ID, ID.”

“It must have a different meaning in English,” he says, shaking his head. “Aidee in Berber... er... Amazigh... means penis.”

I share this information with the doorman. He laughs.

“He's right,” he tells the guitar player. “Everything in America is Aidee, Aidee, Aidee.”

Inside the bar, Habib greets the hostess.. a short Semitic-looking woman who hugs him on arrival.

“This is Sarah, I met her at the Kerouac school,” Habib tells me. “We've stayed in touch ever since. She runs these poetry things here.”

Sarah turns to me, gives me a big hug... like I'm a family member.

“I'm guessing you're a poet too,” she says to me.

“I'm not exactly a poet,” I say, “but a lot of people consider me some kind of artist.”

“Poet. Artist. It doesn't matter,” she says... exuding such a love of life... of enjoying every second... I nearly cum. “Any friend of Habib's is a friend of mine.”

Then she hugs me again. I cum.

FLASH TO TIMES SQUARE: There is a big black guy... Not very black... more bank clerk black than club bouncer black. He wears khaki pants, a gray t-shirt, black moccasins with no socks. In his left hand is a piece of thick white paper... oaktag. He holds it high. On it... written in thick marker... is:

JEWS FINANCED BLACK SLAVERY... GOOGLE IT!

At first I'm pissed off... then confused... wondering if FINANCED means something different in Negro than it means in English.

I know the history. Some Portuguese and a lot of Dutch-- through the Dutch East India Company-- funded most of the slave trade in the West. Some major backers of the D.E.I.C. were Jewish. That's who lent money to the corporation at the time.

BUT, the D.E.I.C. controlled the tea trade, the salt trade, the furniture trade. They were a TRADING company, for G-d's sake! Why not say THE DUTCH funded the slave trade? Or The Dutch East India Company funded the slave trade? My ancestors in Kiev had nothing to do with it.

FLASH TO AUSTIN TEXAS: I gotta take a piss. BEERLAND is living up to its name. Shiner Bock... almost makes up for G.W.B. Shiner's a great beer, but it does what beer does and I need to get rid of mine before the next round.

I stagger over to this very Texas-looking (blond, large and jiggly on top) girl. Brushing against her prominent-though-covered nipples I slur, “Air da mess oom?”

“Excuse me?” she says, stepping back a bit.

“Men's room?” I say forcing my mouth into proper linguistic position. “This is an emergency.”

She laughs. “This is Austin,” she says. “We don't do men's rooms.”

A trickle begins its decent down my leg.

FLASH TO THE NEWS: Austin has become the first city in America to legislate gender-free bathrooms. When you gotta go... you find a stall and go. That's it. No penis-bound division. Just go... just restrooms... just toilet... stand... sit... or hover... no one checks the danglies.

FLASH TO THE THEORETICAL: You probably get it by now. I'm writing about the way we divide up the world: us and them... Jews and goyim... Romans and Barbarians... gays and straights... men and women... trannies and cis-men. This division does not only come from our view of the world... it CREATES our view of the world.

Some Saudis and a couple of their buddies fly 747s into the World Trade Center. KAPLOW! Suddenly, they become ISLAMIC attackers. Not Saudis. How come?

Israel with several American Jewish volunteers kill thousands of Palestinians in Gaza. The attack was an ISRAELI attack, not a JEWISH attack. How come?

Homosexuals try to show scientific evidence they “are born that way.” What way? Every time a new sex or gender group defines itself, another letter gets added to the LBGTQ alphabet soup, expanding US, but not changing the whole view of US vs THEM.

I'm a Jew, a writer, a punk-rocker, a social libertarian, a contrarian, a pansexual, a short old bald guy with a bad hair transplant. No, that's wrong. I'm NOT a (fill in the blank). I DO (fill in the blank). I write. I shit. I fuck when I can, jerk off otherwise. I fast on Yom Kippur and don't eat bread on Passover.

I want to suggest a wee change to the paradigm... I mean a WE change. It's about how WE divide the world. It's about how WE see US and THEM. It's about how there is only US. THEM is a myth... an artificial arbitrary result of picking a few characteristics and using those to draw a line between US and THEM. It's about identity politics... where the politics should be about erasing identity.

Humanity is a hodgepodge of individual characteristics, tastes, genders, religions, skin colors. There is only US.

White Pride, Black Pride, Islamism, Jewish Nationhood... they're all dangerous divisions that come from dividing up the world in into US and THEM. Take down those MEN and WOMEN signs from the toilet world. Learn that THE JEWS (White People, Africans, Germans, The Arabs) didn't do anything-- good or bad. PEOPLE did things. And that's all the dividing we need.

ENDNOTES: [You can contact me by email at god@mykelboard.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available by subscribing to the MYKEL'S READERS Yahoo group readmboard-subscribe@yahoogroups.com]

-->Free means you don't pay dept: 11-year old Margaleet Katzenblickstein in Weston MA applied for a permit to hold a rally against the police murders of unarmed colored people. The police of that town said she needed to pay a hundred dollars (a couple hundred according to other reports) for the police presence at the demonstration.

Amazingly enough, the town declined the police request for cash and allowed her to hold the demonstration without charge... though I wouldn't want to be little Margaleet walking through the city on her own on a dark night. Look at what happened (6th arrest!) to the NY good citizen who filmed the police murder of Eric Garner.

-->Compassion trumps religion dept: This is the way it should be! Harman Singh, a Sikh student in Auckland New Zealand took off his turban (something forbidden by Sikh law) to aid a 5-year old who had been hit by a car. He tucked the turban under the child's head to help him ease the pain. That's the kind of US I've been talking about in this column.

-->Productive dept: Representative Steve La Tourette announced his retirement from congress by saying, “I'll go back and find something productive to do with my life... as opposed to the last eighteen years.”

Three days after that announcement, he joined a lobbying firm based in Washington DC.

-->It was on Fox News so it must be true dept: Thanks to D Keith Dobson Jr. for this Fox News Denver report: A Chinese man successfully sued his wife over “an extremely ugly baby girl.”

Jian Feng filed the lawsuit after his wife gave birth to the girl. Why did he win? Apparently Feng’s wife underwent more than $100,000 in cosmetic surgery before they met and never told him. He said she tricked him into thinking she was beautiful.

Feng sued on the grounds of false pretenses and a judge agreed with him. The judge also ordered Feng’s wife to pay him $120,000.

Since Fox News reported this, Snopes has investigated and found it to be complete fiction.

Fox, reporting fictional News? Who wudda thunk it?

My question: When will the viewers of FOX NEWS sue for being made stupid-- on the grounds of false pretenses?

-->Keeping the Pressure on Dept: I want to thank reader George Metesky for suggesting a continuing Bring Back Mykel effort directed at Maximum Rock'n'Roll for their firing me as their contribution to the world of censorship. Send your comments to mrr@maximumrocknroll.com (or post on their facebook page) with the subject line: BRING BACK MYKEL! Let me know how they answer.

-->And: I'm still on a massive clean-up/divest kick. I'm giving away DVDs, cassettes, VHS videos, CDs, posters, and a few 7-inch singles. Just pay separate shipping and handling. Details at: MykelsGiveaway

-end

Eureka? You're Boring! (Column Meant for Street Carnage)

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(MRR 343) Mykel Board explains the difference between BEING and DOING

If you want to read more about Mykel's adventures in Albania, The US South-- or life in General-- check out Mykel's Diary For a look at the weird, the scary and the funny in real life, check out Mykel's Article's and Propositions.     

You're Wrong
An Irregular Column
Column for MRR 343
December 2011

by Mykel Board

aka  Mykel explains the difference between doing and being

“A person's sexuality is so much more than one word “gay.” No one refers to anyone as just “hetero” because that doesn't say anything. Sexual identity is broader than a label.” --Gus Van Sant

Los Gallos me dan dinero. Las mujeres me lo quitan. “The cocks give me money. The women take it away.” It's written... white on brown... on the front of my hat... a baseball-style hat I bought in Mexico-- made in China... of course.

The hat is on my head. My head is on my neck. My neck is on my body, the ass of which is on a United Airlines seat. The seat is fastened to the inside of a Boing 737.

I write this in the air... over the hills of Kentucky, where, like in Mexico, you can go to cockfights if you want. I'm thinking about my own cock, which hasn't earned me money in over 35 years, but has cost me plenty-- not only from the women. I'm headed toward the detestable Phoenix. Then, the much better Tucson. Then, the heavenly Agua Prieta, Mexico.

I'm leaving behind hellish New York with its TV cameras on every street, ID checks in tall buildings, bag checks in the subway, and a new law that criminalizes attendance at a dog or cockfight.

You don't have to actually DO anything to violate the law. You just have to BE there. That's illegal.

Flash to scene one: Chickens... beaks clipped... five dozen squeezed together in an area smaller than my apartment. Wing-to-wing, feather-to-feather, unable to move, to stretch, to do anything other than lay eggs. When they can't do that anymore, WHAM! grab a leg, lay 'em down, ffffft, off comes the head. Do they die instantly? Oh no. The expression running around like a chicken with its head cut off didn't come from nowhere. They live, those suckers... heads twitching in a floor pile... bodies not dead... kicking... in unimaginable pain... until enough blood drips to the concrete floor to send them to hen heaven.

Not one second of painless life while alive. Even a horrible death must be a relief for them.

Flash to scene two: A concrete ring in a small enclosed stadium. Two trained cocks face off. They stare at each other like professional boxers. Eye to eye, heads bobbing like human boxers. A flutter of wings. Attack! One bird settles, digging its claws into the back or the other. Half flight, the bottom bird shakes off the top one, backs away. A thin trickle colors its feathers.

They face off... dive... half fly... flutter... each intent on defeating the other. It's cold and brave. These birds have balls.

I've seen them trained, these birds. I've seen the love and care their owners have for them. I've seen the tears shed at each death. Who lives better? The cocks or the chickens? Who dies better? Which is illegal?

Yeah, Cockfights... or dogfights... or bullfights... shouldn't be illegal. Cockfights are more humane and less painful than the day-to-day lives of America's billions of chickens. Dogfights? Hah! Those dogs live better than any of America's billions of cattle. Dogfights are illegal because people don't have pet cows. Cows aren't cute.

I've written enough making fun of vegetarians, but at least they have the integrity that most supporters of this law don't have. For vegetarians, cruelty hidden is the same as cruelty for sport. You gotta admire that.

That's all an aside... a tangent. What I really wanna write about is BEING vs DOING. I want to write about laws that criminalize EXISTENCE, in a place... at a time... like the NY law against BEING at an animal fight. You don't have to DO anything... just BE there, and it's illegal.

Right now, I'm on my way to the most notorious place that criminalizes BEING: Arizona. Uh oh! Mexican without a license. BEING born in another country is against the law. The idea that a person (rather than an action) is ILLEGAL should be repugnant to all those of non-genocidal persuasion.

America is famous for crimes without victims. Drug laws (possession) and porn laws (possession) are the most obvious. Can you tell me who is hurt if you POSSESS an internet file or a syringe of heroin? MAYBE you are hurt, but it's your choice. In any case, it's gonna hurt a lot less than getting butt-fucked by a murderous cellmate.

HAVING is a kind of BEING. The object you have is simply BEING owned by you. The means of getting it should, perhaps, be prohibited. But HAVING? It's as innocent as breathing.

I can't imagine a valid law prohibiting possession of ANYTHING. Stolen goods? Stealing already is against the law. Fair enough. Possession? No!

Your neighbor's head in a hatbox? Murder already is against the law. Your neighbor is just as dead with her head in your apartment as she is with her head in the dumpster outside.

Even having $36 billion, like the mayor of New York, shouldn't be illegal... though it should be controlled through taxes. The bankers who stole money from customers, who DID something by tricking-- or extorting-- people into giving them money, the DOING should be punished, not the HAVING. (Though, nobody HAS $36 billion dollars without DOING something bad to a whole lot of people.)

If it were legal to say it, I'd say Dick Cheny should be hung by the balls for setting up the torture in Guantanamo. (It probably is illegal to say that, so I won't.) But these are ACTIONS, not states of BEING or HAVING. He WAS vice-president... BFD. It's what he DID.

EEEEEE! SCREECH TO A STOP, Er. Er.. Er.. SWITCH GEARS

Sometimes people confuse BEING with DOING. Take “gay”... please! Of course homosex is a victimless act. It is no longer (in the US) a crime, and it shouldn't be. There's plenty of DOING that, like being, shouldn't be illegal. Most, in fact. But it's important to distinguish the two.

No one IS gay. It's not something you can BE? What does it mean to BE gay? Attracted to the “same” sex? Hah, every one is-- in one way or another. Having sexual contact with the “same” sex? Are all prisoners “gay?”

The idea that gay is BEING rather than DOING is part of a big problem. BEING gay is such a trap for a shitload of people. Guys begin to be attracted to other guys. They suddenly think “oh, I like the way he looks. I must BE gay.” Then suddenly their world changes.

Someone in Real Jock, the “gay health and fitness website,” asks, why do gay men like the same kind of music as 14 year old girls? The letters section of MRR fills with people explaining how “Emo” has become code for “gay.”

What does music have to do with the organs that enter your anus?

Glad you asked.

The answer, of course, should be NOTHING! It's only a connection if you think gay IS something... BEING something. Johnny who, though his crush on Aiden, thinks he IS gay, will suddenly become his own image of gaydom. He'll dress gay, like gay music, go to gay bars, a whole slew of things that match the image of what he thinks he IS. Instead of just DOING Aiden, and BEING whatever he wants, Johnny has to BE gay. That's a trap. Johnny has given up his right to choose, because of what he thinks he IS.

Part of why I respect trannie boys and girls so much is that they refuse to BE. As much as society puts pressure on people (especially guys) to BE gay or straight, there's that much more pressure put on people to BE a man or a woman. Who can resist such pressure?

Everything is divided. Even the fuckin' bathrooms, for God's sake. MEN/WOMEN... choose one. BE one. Transsexuals refuse. They refuse to BE. Or rather they CHOOSE to BE. Screw your biology.

It takes more balls for a boy to put on a dress than it does for one cock to face another in a concrete ring. And girls? Them too!

Ok, I have a twat. That doesn't mean I AM a girl. If I want, I can just be a boy with a cunt. You gotta love that!

I know one-- a boy with a cunt. S/he lives with a guy in a “homo relationship.” “She” calls herself “he” and goes to gay bars and, as far as I know, gets popped in the poopshaft. (I only wish I could find out first hand.) S/He's a god(dess). The perfect person... immensely strong... refusing to be trapped by biology.

Instead of the poor homo saying, “I can't help it. It's biology. That's just the way I AM.” You've got someone saying, “Fuck biology! I AM who I want to BE.”

If there's a master race, it's transsexuals.

Almost. Sometimes the badguys are just too smart. I never watch television, but occasionally I see a newspaper. I read something about Cher's trans-son, Chaz Bono. And what? He's going to be on TV, selling soap in Dancing With The Stars. Ah America, if they don't make it illegal, they make it a commodity.

ENDNOTES: [email subscribers (god@mykelboard.com) or blog viewers (mykelsblog.blogspot.com/) will get live links and a chance to post comments on the column]

-->They can sabotage too dept: Harpers Magazine reports that a British intelligence group has announced that its operatives had sabotaged the launch of Inspire. That's an English-language magazine published by Al Qaeda supporters. How did they sabotage it? They inserted cupcake recipes into an article on bomb-making.

-->How to get free healthcare in America dept: The Gaston Gazette reports that James Richard Verone walked into a bank and handed the teller a note demanding one dollar-- and medical attention. Verone worked for Coca-Cola for seventeen years as a deliveryman before being fired. He is unable to handle work because of his poor health and he has no health insurance. The Gazette reports that Verone chose to rob the bank to so he'd be sent to jail. He felt that was the only way he could get free healthcare to treat his poor physical condition.

-->Drink this! dept: The Progressive reports that the federal government is warning residents in Pavilion Wyoming not to drink the water. It is not only polluted, but also potentially explosive. The EPA issued a warning that said people should not drink their water and should use fans and ventilation when showering or washing clothes to avoid the risk of an explosion.

-->Whose picture is that next to the GREEDY entry dept: NJ Governor Chris Christie called public school teachers "greedy" for their $50,000 salaries and benefits. He forgot to mention, however, that his own salary is $175,000 with free healthcare. He does not call for cuts to THAT salary.

-->Food for thought dept: This from my pal Kyle, finally out of the clink... and on Facebook): “If you get 20 years in prison for fantasizing about kids, and jacking off in your home to kiddy porn... and you get 20 years for going out and kidnapping and raping a little girl... well what's the molester gonna do?”

-->Which is more important dept: After the earthquake and radioactive tragedies in Japan, CNBC commentator Larry Kudlow reported "The human toll here looks to be much worse than the economic one, and we can be grateful for that"

-->Presidential Material Dept: Presidential candidate Michele Bachmann wished Elvis Presley a happy birthday-- on the 34^th anniversary of his death. She made the remark during a campaign stop at a restaurant in South Carolina. Given the location, I expect a lot of patrons would have been aware of the error. Another interesting fact, because of the name, Bachmann, a lot of NY Jews think Michele is one of us. G-d forbid!

-->Store this letter in the closet dept: I got this form letter (asking for money of course) from the what used to be called The Gay Task Force. It's an advocacy group for all the mainstream stuff like homos in the military or gay marriage. But it seems that people are ashamed to receive mail with GAY in the return address. So the group changed its name to THE TASK FORCE. Whew! Now I don't have to be embarrassed in front of my mailman.

-end-