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1127 dead, 260 million dying

1127 dead, 260 million dying

7 deaths in Cambodia, 35 in Texas, 112 in Dhaka last year as well as 262 in Pakistan. Its so easy to just say 'dead' or 'killed', but should we examine in the context of deaths via 'sweatshop debauchery', what it really entails? Most likely not. Why else would the papers avoid doing it? But we can try...

Stuck in an oven of smoke, confusion and fear, that accumulates until you realize there is little hope and the level of pain is permeating an undeserved reality of how close you are to death. Hearing friends and co-workers echoing your own screams and coughs in the dark, hopeless. Pain, fear, regret followed by more pains, fears and regrets until your body can no longer sustain itself enough to produce the stinging sensations of alarm and bodily damage. Somewhere between the pain and the end you no longer appear or feel human.

I can't apologize for bringing these tragic details to bare. This understanding has been long over due to be told. Papers marginalize the deaths and use them in titles for attention. But actually sit and imagine the pains and horrors the death stats reference. I dare you.

What is the true origin of the embroidery/sweatshop tragedy? For the recent, soon to be dead and still 'living' workers. I could go into some long spiel, taking up the entirety of this amateur editorial, slowly listing with evidence and crap the companies and CEO's that contribute to the complex, but shit, fuck that, I just googled it. Cut and paste:Adidas

Calvin Klein

Adidas

Calvin Klein

American Eagle

Ann Taylor

Bugle Boy

Disney

Gap

Hollister

Guess?

Puma

JC Penny

Kmart

Levi

Nike

Pier 1 Imports

Ralph Lauren

Sears

Tommy Hilfiger

Old Navy

Coke

Nestle

Gymboree

Macy’s

Mattel

Target

Wal-Mart

Kohl’s

Phillips-Van Heusen

Liz Caliborne Abercrombie and Fitch

Hanes

Reebok

Where does the cultivation of these companies begin? About 9 to 5, Mon- Friday and by appointment Saturday. We all do it. Swaying the coffee, one handed, back and forth, feeling the eb and flow of the road and suspension, channeling whats left of the awakening morning's focus on avoiding a spill of precious caffiene. Racing the clock, weaving and dodging through for a better spot in traffic and in life. Throw a cigarette in for the truly needy. Its a special time. The final remnants of freedom, where every minute is a chance to regain consciousness and prepare the sacred temple that is (ENTER YOUR NAME HERE) for the following 8 to 10 hours of automated misery life has assigned to us.

All for the weekly check that would seem like compensation if you had time to spend it on desireables or time at all. The real reward, as Pavlovian conditioning would have it, is the too-fucking-short of a weekend the capitalism Empire dangles infront of our noses at the beginning of the work week. Is it coincedance that the weekend is where the real consumerism happens? Was this the grand plan? A clever scheme to make us think that we're off the clock but like honey bees, we swarm to feed the queen for the better of the hive, on some kind of cnidarian collective that we mistake for freedom. Do that 'till you're 60 and wonder where your life went.

Yes, it could be worse. You could be on the production end of that life-long disney trip. You could be Mr. and Mrs. "inspected by #088332", casting toxic dyes for a happy meal toy, sowing wallets that'll hold $100's you'll never have, IKEA towels, Nike Jordan's , L'OREAL vermillion eye shadow, the American flag and the dream itself. No wonder the blue has gotten darker (justice) and the red now represents blood that isn't ours, well atleast 80% of it (Taiwan, Korea). The white? Freedom. Freedom to buy and pay for the right to do so and to say things like

"back in my private equity days, we went to China to buy a factory there, employed about 20,000 people, and they were almost all young women between the ages of about 18 and 22 or 23. They were saving for potentially becoming married, and they worked in these huge factories, they made various small appliances, and as we were walking through this facility, seeing them work, the number of hours they worked per day, the pittance they earned, living in dormitories with little bathrooms at the end with maybe ten rooms. And the rooms, they had 12 girls per room, three bunk beds on top of each other. You've seen them.

Audience member: Oh, yeah.

Romney: And around this factory was a fence, a huge fence with barbed wire, and guard towers. And we said, "Gosh, I can't believe that you, you know, you keep these girls in." They said, "No, no, no—this is to keep other people from coming in."

-while running for president.

The dust didn't even settle yet from the collapse in Bangladesh and they re-opened for the workers, eager to make 30-nothing a month. Risking their lives for poverty. That is a worker consumerism can count on. No need for the promise of high to moderate luxury, heslth, set schedules or the weekends to pretend to have them . Just good ol'-natural hunger, and give just enough to keep it that way. What use to be a territorial fight for the hunter gatherer has now evolved to caste system cannibalism. They found a way to fix the only game mother nature was suppose to run, but like boxing and soccer, most people know and are too happy with the results to care.

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BostonWood

We’ve reached it. The threshold of time when it is acceptable to be sick and tired of hearing about “it”. Whatever “it” may be, and will be again. This time “it” refers to the fading Boston Marathon. The question now is what can be learned from “it”.

I, you, anybody can come into anywhere and just start spraying. Should this freedom to bare arms be allowed? Is life worth the scrutiny of every breath and thought? Is the option for absolute clarity to turn in all arms and carry a nation wide 6-year hunt for the sure to remain 50-70,000 weapons still in the desperate embrace of the bible thumping white man and the occasional well trained minority pet? Undoubtedly developing into a long awaited, Nixon style- civil war? No fucking way. If we (we the neo-union) succeeded, our nation would evolve into internationally infamous pussies with no chance of ever toppling our own government when the need presented itself, submitting to absolute control.

Perhaps that is what this is, except from the wrong country, to the wrong people and by the wrong ‘too much tv’ watching punks. If we do get the right punks, they’ll use water balloons and strategic, political pranks on select members of the media and state and federal government. Possibly some clown regime, brought about by the governments apparent inability to defend its people against snot nosed, undergrads of a second rate plan B to Ivy league universities of whom fulfill the terrorist profiles of Schwarzenager, Willis, Cruise and other forms of American Jesus.

And where the hell are these heroes, the protagonist of reality tv, documentaries and film? Come to blast our enemies with full, unrelenting blood-lust and one-liners. Did the television lie to us? Is it more like “Saving Private Ryan” than “Commando” or God help us ”Jersey Shore”? Just good company for popcorn and soda pop with no applicable moral signature.

Our EMT’s, men and women in blue, on site, previously men and women of the armed forces, still tanned from the fierce dessert sun found themselves retaking the stage. A shame to ask more of them but they still give. Cameras again getting all the drama.

But where is our villain in this story? Give the people what they want, Mass Peade. Young “Durka-Durka-stanians”, good little foreigners wearing army boots and hats, punching bags, collecting welfare and not understanding why their heiretical inability to communicate through facial expression prevents American relationships from establishing the fact that they’re stone-cold-fuck-nuts and in need of social lessons on the proper use of facebook, twitter, instagram, texting, x-box live and an ever advancing and inadaptable sense of sarcasm, to even come close to understanding American life, commercials or a stop sign for that matter, Especially in Boston.

Maybe then, instead of a synthetic, national hatred of religious masturbation and boner-ism, they’d just become alcoholics or moderate junkies like the rest of New England. Point in fact, #1 did not drink. Never trust a guy who doesn’t drink, for this is a man who does not trust himself. Whether a choice brought about by Islam or other, the fact remains strong, however not an exemption of guilt on the part of those who do drink. Merely a quantifiable, measure of ones trust in themselves. What a person does with that trust is up to them.

And the one thing you can trust, after that gratuitous rape of beautiful Hollywood reality is that it’ll take a lot more explosions, computer generated eye-candy, fast-paste car chases, slow-motion, surround sound, 3-d, 68 frames per second coldless stares into the camera to keep my attention. Regrettably so. They were so close to reaching the point where it was just too much non-sense to take seriously. Now they’ve a new limit to reach…reality. A reality with marathons that nobody wins, where facebook bests the F.B.I., 19 year olds control the world and a generous Niel Diamond sings “Sweet Caroline” as the credits role.

#Bostonwood found