Adventures in Tinfoilland: Episode 1. “The Secret Relationship Between Rappers and Jews”.

Adventures in Tinfoil Land, Philosophical Ramblings

People will come up with the most egregious shit if they drink the wrong kind of kool aid, and have too much time on their hands. I’m not here to point fingers or ridicule, just generally interested in the pitfalls of the human mind, the vocal super-minority, the grand ideologies that we as humans adapt to cope. My goal is to analize and dissect those narratives, to find the plot holes and to dive deep into their implications. Lastly, at least in my opinion, there is usually a psychological need, a grain of truth, a degree of vulnerability and hope to every narrative. That is what this series is about.

The first spin is part of a Black Supremacist narrative that revolves around black popular culture being an opressive institution dominated by “the man” (almost always Jews). The hottest of all takes comes from self-declared activist Deric Muhammad:

In the late eighties, so-called “gangsta rap” took the nation by storm when a young Black entrepreneur named Eric Wright a.k.a. “Eazy E” assembled some of the finest talent to be found in the Los Angeles/Compton area to form the legendary collective N.W.A. The group captured an untapped market selling millions of albums with no commercial radio play. These record sales did wonders to fill the coffers of Ruthless Records, which was owned by Wright who took on a partner by the name of Jerry Heller. Heller was a veteran music executive who once represented artists like Marvin Gaye. The group’s most creative geniuses, Ice Cube and Dr. Dre, eventually left the group citing unfair compensation. Accusations flew that Eazy conspired with Heller to rob the other members of royalties that were rightfully theirs.

From my limited knowledge that is how it went down, but then again there is little to no evidence, only conflicting statements. Of course, This is just the introduction to the topic. It sadly ends with the following quote:

Heller happens to be Jewish.

Which is pretty much the entire text in a nutshell. After all this went down, Ice Cube wrote the disstrack “No Vaseline”, which famously featured this line:

Used to be a homie now you act like you don’t know me [directed at MC Ren]. It’s a case of divide and conquer ‘Cause you let a Jew [Heller] break up my crew

The diss sparked a lot of controversy, famously Heller even called in the Jewish Defense League, which called Ice Cube out on his “anti-semitic” lyrics. Whether they really are anti-semitic is entirely up for debate. I for my part thought it was unnecessary to call him out on his Jewishness, since it didn’t seem to be relevant at all. The relation I see is that of a rich, well-connected executive profitting off of poor, black urban kids. Cube responded to JDL allegations, interestingly enough, saying: “I respect Jewish people because they’re unified. I wish black people were as unified.” And I can’t help but think that he’s got a point there. There was (is?) no equivalent to the JDL for the Afro-American community. There was no powerful lobby. Even after the sixties, there simply wasn’t. Ice Cube calling for unity is something that resonated with lots of people, and is, for him, the positive aspect in his admittedly violent, graphic, angry poetry. So far, so bad. This is the point where the theory devolves into a pretty deep rabbit hole. Deric Muhammad:

There is only one solution to this problem. I recently heard that many accuse rappers Kanye West, Jay-Z and others of being members of the “Illuminati”, or secret society. It, personally, sounds bizarre to me. However, in my humble opinion, they need to start something similar. Artists need to convene a private meeting of some sorts to determine the best way to chart a course that frees hip-hop artists from such inordinate control. We must learn how to settle differences among ourselves so that our personal disagreements don’t leave Black-owned companies, like Roc-a-fella Records, in the hands of the “clean-up men.” The enormous influence of a collective group of hip-hop artists backed by the Black community could hold enough weight to make these crooked executives bend to its collective will. The only solution to this problem is UNITY, organization, fearlessness, selflessness and the desire to free the art form and its culture from the control of outside forces.

Here is a man proposing for black artists to unite under the guise of a “Illuminati” like conspiracy to deflect the alleged Jewish conspiracy. Not only does this undermine all the points he (might have) made, it just leaves a bad aftertaste, especially after reading line after line about this or that exec. being Jewish (I spared you the quotes, half the text is essentially name-calling). Though in subsumation I have to say this is still one of the tamest conspiracy theories I’ve come along recently. Some of it is even somewhat historically true. Muhammad is strongest when he conjures up black history:

Some of our greatest icons, such as Sammy Davis Jr., Billie Holiday, “Little” Richard (and the list goes on) lived rich, yet died broke while Jewish managers, accountants, attorneys, business advisors and others fed their families for years off of their largess. Few entertainers in the history of Black America have been able to say that their assets and true net worth were as prominent as their talent and popularity. Sadly, hip-hop is no different. And while hip-hop has produced a handful of millionaires, they are like a teardrop in the Pacific Ocean when compared to the many rappers who, like most Black people, are living “show-to-show” and “check-to-check.”

The text has some pretty vile anti-semitic rhetoric, feeds the everlasting Stereotype of the greedy Jew, and is generally just an opinion piece dressed up as fact. Sources are never cited.

What this piece does reveal however, completely unintentionally, is that vocal minority groups like the Nation of Islam or the 5% Nation do have pretty significant impact in African-American (popular) culture. Almost regularly a rap artist will come out with an anti-semitic tweet or diss and voice his anger, frustration, pain. A 2017 article in “The Observer” focussed on Lupe Fiasco, who said the following in the single “N.E.R.D.”:

“Artists getting robbed for their publishing / By dirty Jewish execs who think that it’s alms from the covenant.”

Of course the ADL jumped on it, and Twitter wars followed. The fallout was that Lupe ended up naming names: Lyor Cohen, Craig Kallman, two execs who both fucked him over at various points in his career. The article itself was written by a Jewish member of staff, who gripes with the issue of anti-semitisms’ collateral damage: What about all the Jews who aren’t extremely wealthy record execs? Why denounce them, too? And at the same time struggles with the structural history, the material reality of Jewish execs exploiting black artists throughout history. It’s a worthwhile read for anyone interested in the ambivalence of the topic: https://observer.com/2017/02/music-industry-history-dividing-blacks-and-jews/

The sad thing about this dilemma is that while racial accusations are thrown around everywhere, the real culprit isn’t even named. Poor artists are exploited by rich execs, everywhere around the world, irregardless of ethnicity. The superstructure that allows exploitation is capitalism. The increasingly desperate, cartel-like situation in American media: Film, Music.. Seems to either be ignored or ascribed to racialist conspiratorial notions: “Hollywood is Jewish!” The invisible damage that these narratives are doing is that they divert the focus from these obviously structural issues (of which systemic racism, no doubt, is also one) and shift the blame to an easily identifiable (i.e.: Jewish) yet somehow ominous cabal, in order to craft a narrative that is easier to spread and exploit.

Greetings from the Rabbit Hole. Yours sincerely,

endsjustifythememes

A few things worth doing on the Internet

Uncategorized

1) Read the comment sections of print newspapers. Those people try really hard. Often far more interesting than the actual articles.

2) Read the comment sections of right-wing Cartoons and web series. Or Infowars. A beautiful plunge into the abyss of the human psyche. Rarely will you get access to legitimately shizoid, incredibly personal ramblings and (sexual) power fantasies like that.

3) Watch movies that were never properly released on YouTube, especially horror and monster ones.

4) Attempt to summon a Succubus. Sadly, you end up summoning an Imp instead, who genuinely cannot stop his incessant snickering.

5) Look up animal videos, but not cats nor dogs nor other lovely critters, only weird species allowed. Begin cultivating your own insect farm

6) Write letters to establishment politicians asking them whether you can join the next sex magick cocaine party on their private island.

Gone fishin’

Philosophical Ramblings

I know a great deal of older men that like to go fishing. They often don’t really catch anything, and really don’t care about catching the big ones, or bringing anything home. There is a whole array of motivations one might come up with. You could say it’s just a bunch of men trying to get away from their wives. Or stressed out workers escaping the city life to find peace in nature. Or repressed patriarchs who need an excuse to spend some quality time and talk real with their friends. While these might all simultaneously be true to some extent, I don’t think that’s the reason. I think it’s much easier. They just love fishing, and everything involved: Long periods of silence, the sound of the water, sitting in chairs occasionally sipping on a drink, the patience involved, the skill in throwing out a rod, the crafting and experimenting with various baits and so forth. It’s the whole experience. It sounds silly to say people go fishing just to have silence, or to sit in uncomfortable plastic chairs, but it’s all part of it. It shapes the experience. The activity itself is the point, there is no end goal besides it.

In life it is as with fishing: You just throw out the bait and sit back. You’re not here for the fish, but to fish. Having the shiniest bait or the best technique may be helpful, but it doesn’t guarantee anything will bite. The waters are chaotic, and so are the laws of attraction. Both between humans and between us and anything else. Things unfold at spectacular pace, chain reactions, causal chains, yet barely visible for fisherman looking into what seems like clear, still waters. Often we only grasp in retrospect what really happened with us and the world. As things unfold utterly irrespective of us in ways we cannot understand, we just have to flow along and notice when something bites.

On Meat

Essay, Philosophical Ramblings

Our relationship with meat and animal death has profoundly changed just in the last 50 years. Both the animal and the meat are the Other now, strangers to us, nameless, voiceless, faceless. Consider this: The phrase “human meat” is one that instantly brings up revulsion. It is almost tautological. For humans, we exclusively talk about flesh. Human meat is only a phrase a cannibal would use, or a Comedian. Meat is for eating exclusively, and human are not be eaten by anyone. Not other humans certainly, but also not predators. In the 21st century almost no human being feels like prey anymore.  We no longer even think of ourselves as animals, nor as prey, nor as part of any other food chain. We consume everything. We’ve built our own chain, we produceand reproduce it. There is no wildlife that is threatening city-dewlling humans, infact it is us who have succesfully colonized the wildlife into the cities, as we constalty grow and incorporate every bit of unclaimed territory with houses, roads, malls, chain restaurants, parking spaces etc.: Foxes roaming around Berlin, Raccoons living off of trash. Safe for the ocasional poisonous spider and snake, or a roaming mountain lion, animals have been essentially neutered in their status as predators. The few animals that do pose a significant threat to humans are not predators in any way, they’re Mosquitos, TseTse Flies, infected bites from Rats and Dogs, Tapeworms and foodborne parasites. Wild cats are only relevant insofar as they kill lifestock, hogs only as they damage farms. Big game hunters taking down tigers in India that threaten villages seems like a vignette in history, a long past, at least for us in the first world, with industrialized meat production and neatly plastic encased, perfectly unnatural chicken breats. The supermarket has done a brilliant psychological trick: The animals flesh is so far removed from anything resembling nature, it doesn’t remind us at all of the animals death. While in some butcheries you might find something resembling a carcass, or at least a head, a whole leg, a heart, an entire chicken then perhaps you’ll be reminded of what you’re actually taking home, in the supermarket it’s merely one product among thousands. One might find a goat head lying in the display of a halal butchery unpleasant, even distateful, because it reminds us that with our purchase we are the authors of the death, the slaughtering. I for my part think it’s good to be remembered. In the supermarket, removed from its body, the chicken breasts has lost all of its worth and its dignity. It is so worthless, in fact, that people, even this very author, occasionally buy meat and end up throwing it away unused. It’s not about eating meat, it never was. It’s about buying meat. Whether you eat it or not is absolutely irrelevant. Your purchase is what fuels the industry, is what keeps breeding and slaughtering going.

My grandpa used to buy pigs heads on sale to turn a Mark and make use of the whole animal. He turned his head at wasting food, both in a good and a bad way. There was probably no part of an animals that wasn’t food to him. On the other hand, he went so far as to scrape off mold in order not to throw anything away. Not all food habits of old are good and healthy, but some really should come back. When small scale animal husbandry was still commonplace in Europe farmers would have quite the intimate relationship with their animals. One czech refugee in Germany told me that an acquaintance of hers was crushed having to leave his animals behind, others she had heart off were driven to suicide. Slaughter was not something distant, but something that was witnessed actively or passively by everyone. People were conscious, many probably even sad, when an animal was killed. For those people, at least I reckon, it would’ve been unthinkable to throw away any meat, same for feathers, furs, or anything really, left by the animal that they often lived with.

There is a light that goes out every time you get a prepackaged chicken breast. It really does matter. The chicken in the factory does not have a name. It doesn’t even get looked at, noticed. It doesn’t exist as an individual, as an animal, as a being even, it’s a small-scale meat production unit in an automated genocide machinery fulfilling it’s growth quota, providing health reports, being measured in any and every way and suffering inconceivably in a purgatory of constant death and rebirth. There’s a reason they’re kept behind doors, often cut off even from cities and villages, not because of PETA photographers, but because of the incredible stench of misery and death, because we cannot both actively think about industrial scale meat production and tolerating it in good will. We have to absolutely be in denial every time we shop. Otherwise we’d be pathological, we’d be the sadist, because our actions are directly enabling all of this suffering for entirely selfish reasons. We have to think of the animal neither as predator, nor as livestock, but only in three categories.

First, the animal in the global zoo. Wildlife, especially threatened wildlife, only exists because we take active measurements to preserve them. That is a good thing, but it speaks volumes about the state of our world: Everything belongs to us, every inch, iota, every animal, every plant. There is no wildlife. Poachers are driven off, land is measured, lines are drawn in the sand, animals are micropchipped and tracked, their mating practices and their stock monitored, they’re protected by invisible walls, natural reserves, Naturschutzgebiet, laws put in place. It’s not their land. They’re tolerated, observed, shown off. In short, they’re part of the global zoo. It is only on our behalf that they may even exist. Of course were it not for those laws and efforts, I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that they’d be erased in the blink of an eye, or like our friends the fox and the raccoon, driven to live among humans, no longer wildlife but pests. That is what we call them.

Second, the animal as a pet. While that might be a stretch, people in the past sometimes used to do both: hold animals as pets yet still eat them when they get old. If not the farmers themselves, then their wives or kids. Surely that wasn’t mostly the case, but there is no doubt that most small scale farmers did feel some affection towards their animals. For us today the thought of eating a pet is not just horrible, it’s utterly absurd. Not only do we not have any food insecurity in the “first world”, but we think of animals as family members now. The family dog does not consist of meat, he consists of flesh. He is the opposite of a pest, he is appreciated and loved. The fact that buying pets, especially specifically bred ones, is still an entirely selfish act fueling a huge industry that also creates suffering is something that rarely comes to mind when people consider a pet. Similiar as to eating meat, we do know for a fact that helping an animal from the shelter is the more moral thing to do, but thanks to the pet store or professional breeders our purchase is entirely removed of any suffering that might have gone on, nevermind the thousands of snake babies that had to die so some oil prince could buy a boa with a very unique pattern.

Third, the animal as meat. In the industrial, packaged form meat is no longer considered in any way to be an animal. It’s ludacris from someone not to be able to tell apart a Chicken and a Pig, but telling the difference between cut chicken breast and cut pork loin, beef or pork mince, readily-pulled crab meat and surimi, halibut or tilapia filet, is a whole different ordeal. The point is that meat is just a product as any other, like a chocolate bar, a piece of bread, a beer. There is no apparent suffering nor identity attached to it. Often we are not even told where the animals live, or in what conditions. It is of course in best interest to have the consumer think as little as possible. Meat is no longer the flesh of a living being, it’s a commodity as any other. With every tiny progression, a semblance of resemblance is torn away. First, the animal is sold readily plucked, organs removed. Next, it is sold not in its original form, but seperated into ready parts, pre-cut. Then, it is stripped of everything undesirable: bones, veins, fat, tissue. We arrive at the chicken breast, a mere blob, a hideous disfigurement, a mass of proteins and fat, anything but an animal. And of course, it won’t stop there. Supermarkets now readily provide you with pre-cut, pre-spiced, pre-cooked, pre-packaged chicken breats strips (TM) so you don’t even have to engage the actual raw meat. It’s not merely to take time away from consumers with a busy schedule, it is to take the animal out of the meat.

We are human, and we are made of flesh and bones. We pump blood, and we bleed when we hurt ourselves. The factory farmed animal is no longer made out of flesh. Its purpose, its parents and its inheritors are the meat industry. They’re not born, they’re calculated, allocated, their consciousness is a temporary byproduct of their body, not the other way around. And their body is the meat factory, the pretri dish. A million Kaspar Hauser starved not just of free movement, reproductive freedom, humane conditions, but even from experience itself, of the sun and the stars, of wind, of the seasons, of real engagement of conflict, of any form of development, besides producing meat. Their only experience being that of constant torture at the hands of their parents., the producers that have both given and simultaneously taken their lives. Though I try to do my best with my consumption, lately I’ve been disgusting with myself for eating, preparing, shopping meat. I suppose that is a good thing, because outrage is the only sane answer. They’re trying to take that away from us, and we should cherish it.