#worker revolt

[animentality]

[perrysoup]

We are in a post-scarcity world, the only issue is the logistics.

We could be devoting time and effort to making sure everyone is house, everyone is feed, everyone can have water, everyone can live a basic happy life.

Instead we fill trenches with young people to stupid to know they are pawns, or to weak to fight back, or to indoctrinated to care.

We left people suffer the elements while we have empty homes.

We let people starve while we throw away food.

We let people die of thirst while water is sold for 5$ a bottle.

These are all the things I was told socialism would bring, and yet here, right now, Under the fascist capitalist regimes around the world, we let it happen.

“Oh but what about X country or Y country”

According to the UN, there are 195 countries.

I don’t give a shit about .5% or 1% or 10%, the fact is the VAST majority put wealth of the elite above our lives.

We mean nothing to them.

We are disposable.

They have forgotten the factories that we used to burn down.

They have forgotten the executives we dragged through the street.

They have forgotten what we have the potential to do.

It’s time we remind them.

[fathersonholygore]

A Microcosm of Marxist Revolution in Daniel Bandeira's PROPERTY

Property (2024)Directed & Written by Daniel BandeiraStarring Malu Galli, Carlos Amorim, Anderson Cleber, Zuleika Ferreira, Ângelo Fàbio, Sandro Guerra, Roberta Lúcia, Amara Rita Magalhães, & Marcílio Moraes. Drama / Thriller ★★★★1/2 (out of ★★★★★) DISCLAIMER:The following essay containsBIG SPOILERS! Daniel Bandeira’s Property takes on the shape of a home invasion thriller while developing…

[deimosatellite]

hey btw anyone who likes demons by dostoevsky needs to go read in dubious battle by john steinbeck like rn required reading

[miku-bookclub]

johnny silverhand not supporting the moxxes and saying not to risk your neck for whores is really the epitome of him being a hypocrite anti-capitalist

[seehowsupplethespineis]

I drew some delicious glowy Tron guys because I love that movie so much. The original one has such good designs but most people have only seen the new one. Got kinda obsessed and made little backstories for each of these guys.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Because Finns predominated on the far left of the labour movement, their shared cultural and political ties could mitigate the antagonisms between rival organizations and leaders. The relationship between the OBU [One Big Union] and the IWW [Industrial Workers of the World] was not always antagonistic largely because the Finns predominated in both organizations. The IWW’s General Executive Board (GEB) kept track of the spread of organizations referring to themselves as the “One Big Union” throughout the world and reported their success in the various Wobbly papers. Space was also set aside in the IWW organ, the One Big Union Monthly, to list “the most important resolutions [of the meetings in Calgary], as a matter of record, and to allow of comparison with our own movement and similar movements in other countries.” It was suggested that the resolutions, in their entirety, would meet with a good response in the United States and provide an example of the success that industrial unionism could have.

Still, the GEB also advanced some criticisms of the OBU. The program of the Canadian One Big Union, it argued, was “sufficiently like the IWW program to make us forget the small differences.” A core principle of the IWW remained its resistance to political action. The Canadian (and Australian) adoption of political activism was seen as a characteristic of their newborn status. The GEB believed that over time this political focus would be abandoned, as it had been in the United States, “to save [their] life as an industrial organization.” Until that day, the OBU in Canada and Australia, having “both declared for industrial unions by means of which to take over the means of production and distribution,” could be regarded as allies.

Wobblies viewed Bolshevism as a great popular uprising against the upper class of the Old World. They looked to the continuing fight in Russia, as well as events in Germany and Eastern Europe, as inspirations for the fight in North America. They argued, however, that the Bolshevik revolution was still a political revolution and the culmination of political socialism. The method by which power had been obtained in Russia – the capture of the government and the replacement of tsarist officials with socialists – still fell within “the institutions we call ‘the state.’” The GEB argued that although the Bolsheviks and the IWW used the same expressions – “the abolition of classes,” “the abolition of capitalism,” “the socialization of the means of production,” “the establishment of the socialist republic” – they did not actually use them to mean the same things.

Even the Soviets, the central pillars of the new system in Russia, were viewed as “hasty” and, as a result, unable to properly take over the means of production. The growing tendency of the ruling party to resort to cooperative movements and direct state control was, the IWW argued, the root of the problems in Russia. “In short,” the GEB argued, “the Bolshevik revolution in Russia has not resulted in Industrial Democracy, but in a makeshift or temporary arrangement without stability, without any pretense of a final solution.”

The Bolshevik revolution did serve as an opportunity for the IWW to argue that

economic reconstruction of society cannot be accomplished by a government trying to order things with a high hand through laws and regulations, but has to be an organic outgrowth from the bottom, through the industrial organization of the workers at the place of work.

“Bolshevism,” it contended, “is the fire that clears off the old vegetation, ‘the brush.’ To plow, sow, reap among the charred stumps will be the immense task they will bequeath to us, the industrial organizers, the builders of the One Big Union.” Understandably, supporters of the Bolsheviks in the United States viewed the IWW as essentially revolutionary, yet “starting at the wrong end.” Their position was that the “revolutionary proletariat must first seize the power of the state.” The IWW countered by arguing that it would rather see “a gradual transition than a ‘revolutionary’ shock.” The IWW evidently believed that “as industrial evolution progresses the parliamentary state will become more and more inadequate for handling the problems of society.” The apparatus established by the IWW would assume control of these functions. Other left organizations in the United States, oriented more to the achievement of the dictatorship of the proletariat, advanced very different analyses.

Contradicting its prewar policy, most postwar intellectuals of the IWW viewed the “shocks of revolution” as

undesirable, because they cause bloodshed and suffering. On the other hand, we do not consider it advisable to destroy social organs, before we have the new organ ready which is to take its place. We think it is about time that men disabuse their minds of the idea that violence is absolutely necessary or desirable for social change.

Public consent, these Wobblies argued, would be the necessary precondition of radical change – and not vanguard-orchestrated mass action “à la Bolshevik.” Socialists and workers, it was argued, need only look to Canada and Australia and to the fifteen unions the IWW had organized “over the last 12 years” to see success. In addition, where were the revolutionists to come from? Did any plans exist concerning how the revolution would progress and what the next step would be for power to be obtained? “Social changes are not made,” the GEB argued, “in the wink of an eye, like changing your shirt.”"

- Michel S. Beaulieu, Labour at the Lakehead: Ethnicity, Socialism, and Politics, 1900-35. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2011. p. 77-78.

[sparkleplatypuswriter]

Listen, will I watch all of S4 For All Mankind? Yes. Will it completely gut me and leave me incapable of interacting with the previous three seasons and my blorbos? Possibly.

[wineslacker]

How can Biden, facing Trump in the Fall, afford to alienated his own administration and the progressive side of his own party?

#Biden

[breadharmskoi]

just listened to damon daunno if it’s true and jesus fuck

like yes OBC if it’s true lyrics are GOOD, GREAT even - i would not trade the worker’s chorus with hermes’s narration (as played by sir andre de shields himself) for anything

but the way the older version spends TWO VERSES of orpheus just lamenting his grief of losing eurydice.  how VISCERAL the lyrics are, body parts to love, and how there’s no more music for him anymore because eurydice is gone!!

and i get why it changed, but...could we not have had it all T-T

[gibbyrockeater]

there's 2 types of posts on tumblr...

This is so cool I like it

This is the worst piece of burning liquid shit ever posted to this platform never use the internet again and rethink your choices

[cadburycreampie]

It’s far too annoying to have to see the same idiots who drone on about how “everything was better in the 50’s” get so upset over the 15 minute cities/walkable neighborhoods thing. Like that is exactly what the 50’s lifestyle was, there would be little locally owned grocery stores and butcher shops that your grandma would just go out on a walk to and get most of the household goods from. Walkable areas means kids playing outside safely, without parents having to constantly supervise bc there’s so many roads and potentially dangerous drivers. It’s not even as radical as i hoped it would be, the plans for Edmonton still had A Lot of road access for cars but it’s designed to give you more options for transportation!!

[chaosmenu]

my dad is sympathetic to a workers revolution. okay hes based just this once

[shotmrmiller]

(secret lovers but simon will not be kept a secret.)

you hadn't liked him from the get go. amongst the regulars that frequent the place you work at serving drinks, had been him; a burly, massive figure that commanded attention even though his clothes were nondescript and blended into the shadows created by the sickly, flickering lights overhead. his broad shoulders were squared, imposing, the fabric of his faded jeans stretched taut over his knees, tapering down to his scuffed sneakers.

him appearing a menace isn't what made him stand out. it doesn't even make him special, to be honest. one too many rowdy oafs call this hole in the wall a haven, seeking solace at the bottom of a thick glass.

it's the very air around him. it's heavy, muted, as if absorbing sound and movement. that one time you had the displeasure of personally handing him an beer, it'd felt suffocating, pressed down on you, made it hard to breathe. the stillness had been almost palpable, the usual hum of the bar nought but a distant buzz, even the clank of the chilled glass on the table had seemed muffled.

you'd felt the drink slosh over the rim in your haste to get away, retreat, escape. he hadn't even glanced your way and you'd been overwhelmed.

fucking hell.

and that's not the worst of it. the way he looks at people is unsettling. his beady eyes glint with a manic, rabid hunger, fixated on any bare legs that come into his field of view, as if he sees nothing but prey. that turns the discomfort that pricks at your skin into disgust.

revolting bull of a man is a pervert to boot.

(sometimes he comes in with others, 3 much more approachable, charismatic men that pop that personal bubble of oppressive silence he brings with him with their boisterous laughter and lively chatter. they're good folk except for when they want to act like your eyes are on your chest.)

so it's a true shame you spent weeks snarking about how foul he is when he's one of the best lays you've ever had in your life. (and continues to be.)

it's all discreet, of course. you can't be caught having a thing with the man you'd cursed up, down and sideways because he wouldn't stop staring at the tits you let him come on that same week.

you wouldn't even know how to explain how all of this started. that'd he'd been a surprised you and strong armed a belligerent drunk off the property for you a while back? that he'd happened to be around when your car got a flat, pulled out a jack from the bed of his truck and told you to sit your 'pretty arse' inside while he changed it? or that after the nth night of him being the very last patron, you realized he'd only leave after you were done with restocking and ready to close up shop?

you kept it all of it on the down low. pretended you couldn't feel his eyes on you, boring holes into the side of your head while at work then garble out his name through the fingers you're drooling over after work.

and it stayed that way for a while. he never stayed longer than you let him (not like that meant anything, he barely let you out the bed to pick up the door dash before he sat you on the countertop and lapped at your sore cunt until you came.)

he rarely used his phone so there was no worry about sudden texts while you had friends around.

it seemed a fine thing at the time. but then he started sitting at the bar top instead of his usual corner haunt, occasionally calling you over with a curl of his fingers (the ones he had you lick clean last night.) he stopped being a total lech, keeping his eyes glued onto you and you only, being so blatant about it that your co-workers offered to walk you to your car later.

embarrassing. you'd meant to give him a talk about laying off the intensity of his stare but it slipped your mind when he slipped into you from behind while fisting your hair.

when your boss is the one that gives you the stranger danger talk, even though you have said strangers love bites mottling the junction of your shoulder, you decide that enough is enough. so after your shift, you ask to speak with him.

only to have him snort in your face.

"don't think so."

before you get to say anything else, he's sitting you on the hood of his truck, legs hooked over his shoulders, eye level with your bare pussy because he'd stuffed your knickers into his pocket before work.

the first glide of his tongue between your folds is deliberately slow, tip catching the bundle of nerves at the top. your palm stings from digging your nails into it.

the second sends a shiver licking up your spine, his hands dimpling the soft of your thighs to keep you from squirming.

"look at me."

your body reacts instinctively at the low, grating tone of his voice and you're peering down at him before your mind can even catch up.

he nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "best get used to 'avin' me 'round." this was no conversation.

the tips of his fingers grazing over your wet heat, gently prodding the entrance. when he sinks them in, scissoring, thrusting, you realize he's not going to let you come.

this isn't a reward. this is about to be your punishment.

slick glistens on his knuckles under the streetlight as he undoes the zipper of his jeans, the sound of the metal teeth deafening in your prickling ears.

simon puts his hand close to your mouth like he's done in the bedroom, and you spit on it, like you've done in the bedroom.

the searing (but oh so good) burn is both familiar and not when you take him to the root, a shuddering breath escaping your quivering lips at the sensation of him filling you until the seams feel like they're becoming undone.

he lowers his head to nose your sweat-slick temple, large hands flat by your sides. his breaths warm your throat as he speaks.

"i won't be your dirty little secret, pet."

a hand creeps up to the nape of your neck, claiming a fistful of hair. simon pulls a sibilant hiss from you when he tugs hard enough to ache.

ouch.

"can't shove me in a closet and pocket the key." he rolls his hips once, twice before widening his stance.

oh.

oh no.

"now be good and let me take what's mine."

there'd been no arguing with him before he fucked you in earnest, and certainly not after when he takes you home, spend dripping onto his seat on the way there, where he makes you ride him on the driveway, only letting you go inside once he felt he got his message across.

(message understood.)

the next morning you wake to sore thighs, a throbbing pussy, a dry mouth and a text from your boss.

i've got cameras outside the place, by the way. go home next time.

at least you didn't get fired 🥴

[sayruq]

In midtown Manhattan on March 4, Google’s managing director for Israel, Barak Regev, was addressing a conference promoting the Israeli tech industry when a member of the audience stood up in protest. “I am a Google Cloud software engineer, and I refuse to build technology that powers genocide, apartheid, or surveillance,” shouted the protester, wearing an orange t-shirt emblazoned with a white Google logo. “No tech for apartheid!” The Google worker, a 23-year-old software engineer named Eddie Hatfield, was booed by the audience and quickly bundled out of the room, a video of the event shows. After a pause, Regev addressed the act of protest. “One of the privileges of working in a company which represents democratic values is giving space for different opinions,” he told the crowd. Three days later, Google fired Hatfield. Hatfield is part of a growing movement inside Google that is calling on the company to drop Project Nimbus, a $1.2 billion contract with Israel, jointly held with Amazon. The protest group, called No Tech for Apartheid, now has around 40 Google employees closely involved in organizing, according to members, who say there are hundreds more workers sympathetic to their goals.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"It May Be War, But Housewives Are Riled Over Flooding of Street," Windsor Star. August 1, 1942. Page 3, 5 & 10. ---- THERE'S water, water everywhere on Central avenue, near Tecumseh-road and the residents of the wartime house in the muddy flooded area are threatening to refuse to pay their rent until something is done to take the water away. Picture at top left shows neighborhood children splashing over the original roadway. The mud will be tracked into houses and round into new carpets, housewives say. At top right, a car is shown moving at moderate speed through a puddle. The spray covers the sidewalks and lawns, ruins clothes and automobile finishes, as well as all the neighborhood tempers. Below, company has called at one of the houses and the occupants of the car are having a hard time trying to find a place to bring their car to dock.

Housewives Are Militant ---- Men on Central Avenue Also Fighting Mad About Flood --- Occupants of Wartime Housing homes on Central avenue, near Tecumseh road, are ready to do battle over muddy water which has an in the street for two weeks Some are refusing to pay their rent until the muddy flood is taken away, House wives are militant over mud-tracked rugs. Some attribute sore throats to the flood, and a few of those inclined to take the situation less seriously have spoken of building landing docks. WATER AND MUD A reporter and photographer of The Windsor Star plowed through the yellow-brown sea of Central avenue 13 hours after the heavy rain had stopped yesterday. In some places the sidewalk is buried under mud throw up by swashbuckling auto automobiles. In me places the water is almost a foot deep All boulevards are mires. Mud has been splashed half-way up the front walk of the trim little homes out there. Housewives stand in doorways with a gleam in their eyes that bodes no good for someone each time a car cleaves the water. There are sewers on Central Avenue. But the sewers are placed at each end of the block, and the roadway has sagged in the centre, so that the sewers gleam as freshly as when installed, while only a few feet away, children splash, sail boats, and distraught parents scream at them to get out of the mud and into a tub immediately. There are threats on the smouldering battlefront of Central avenue sea today. They're the threats of a legion of women who are fed up with having to clean house every day with a mop: the threats of young women who no longer dare walk down the sidewalk that are covered by mud, for fear of finding their white summer clothes spotted with brown by passing cars; there are threats from men whose cars need rewashing each time they leave home; there are threats from those who want to entertain company and are ashamed of their neighborhood: there are threats from distraught mothers who blame the condition of the streets for sore throat. WOMEN INDIGNANT Several of the women are going to swing into action today. They said their rents are due now, but that no. one is going to get a penny until the street is fixed and their homes become "decent places to live in, instead of pigpens." "My little girl has bronchitis," said the occupant of one house. "She's three years old, and when she goes out to play she gets in all that filth. There is mud everywhere. I don't think we should stand for it." "It's a mess" complained a second. "My husband went down to the board of health and they told him they couldn't do anything about it. I'll tell anyone that wartime housing is certainly far from healthy. Why I had company here, and I was so ashamed. They got stuck in the mud. We're not going to pay our rent until this street is fixed. My husband cut a downhill drain for part of the street, but that doesn't help much. Everyone gets splashed with mud. It gets tracked into the house. I'm just sick about it." "It's a disgrace," said a third. "All my children have had infected throats since then floors came, and I blame that water out there for it. It's terrible. It isn't healthy. I had a boy guest visiting here from Pleasant Ridge. He comes from a fine home. They have a maid. Every time he went outside, he came in covered with that filth from head to foot, and I had to put him in the tub. It's been this way for two weeks. I'm not going to buy a carpet until that street is fixed. I'm polishing floors all day long." MOTORIST ANGERED "I've got a good mind to send some- one the bill for washing my car," said an irate motorist, who had just met another ca. in midstream. "Every time I go through here, the car is coated with muck from bumper to bumper. If any windows are open, it's even worse."

"It's awful," said a fifth. "I came here last March from the West, and I couldn't even get out of the taxi. I ruined my shoes. They should have decent drains here. I can't keep my rug cleaned. It's always full of mud. I can't even let my children come in their own home the front way, they get so messy from just walking on the sidewalk. The Wartime Housing people say it's up to the city to fix, and the city passed the buck to the Wartime Housing. Let me tell you, it's going to be just too bad for the city if I get sick as a result of this. I'd be ashamed for my friends out West to see the way we have to live. I have to pay my rent tomorrow, and I don't think I will, until this is fixed. There's no road. There's not even a side-walk. It's all mud. Mud everywhere!" Said a sixth: "You might as well be living on the battlefront. They say that the men in factories are the men behind the men behind the guns. I agree with them. We live in mud too. What's the use of trying to look clean and dainty when all you have to do is to step outside your house when a car passes and get drenched in that awful smelly stuff."

And a seventh: "Cars are getting stalled in that goo all the time. We aren't even sure of our deliveries any more. We women out here are tired of talking. It's about time we had some action. If the city won't take the action, and the Wartime Housing won't take the action, then we women will!"