Posts Tagged ‘history’

FEATURE EXCLUSIVE: 1450 Days (And 48 Years) After The End

Saturday, April 23rd, 2022

As you have heard me say on this blog too many times already to count, DEVO holds a continuously relevant presence in our society whether you want it to or not. And while the majority of the world still sees them as just some harmless, kooky one-hit-wonder from the 80s, their philosophy runs much deeper and darker than wiggly lines and bright colors suggest, and it dates back to the seediest early seventies basements of Kent, Ohio, places where new wave sheen would never dare to shine. DEVO were in the trenches, residents of Ground Zero, witnesses to de-evolution in action.

It just so happens that their second ever public musical communication of their de-evolutionary theory happened 48 years ago today. (Can you believe it’ll be 50 years since their first show next year?) As a partial live recording of the concert surfaced last year, current de-evolutionary scholars have a better idea than ever of what that early gestational period was like before Akron catalyzed DEVO’s big break, overshadowing Kent’s undeniable birth of the band.

One such scholar, my good friend and collaborator Max Devo (AKA Zhir Vengersky) has summed up the events in a brilliant little essay he wished to have me expose to the world. I was more than willing to handle the job. I’ll stop my spiel now and turn the microphone to him.

Read on below:

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Indeterminate Reconstruction

Friday, March 4th, 2022

I mentioned in my previous full length log how strange it is to have to watch historical events unfold from a screen while your own life marches on as usual. It’s hard to say anything about Russia’s war on Ukraine that I feel hasn’t been said before, even though it’s only been a few weeks. Don’t the headlines speak for themselves? Each one is another reminder that most humans don’t know how to view others as human. The Russian government pushes absurd propaganda while its people cry for a ceasefire, and the West seems obsessed with intervention that would only make the violence worse. It’s frustrating to see.

But the problem with worrying about things that you aren’t able to directly affect is that it traps you in your head. Allowing the world to whomp you into submission in that way keeps you from doing the things that do matter when they come along. So, in the meantime, I’ve been trying to keep a spring in my step.

Music in particular always helps me keep on my toes. Get the right combination of rocket riffs, vocal squelches, pounding metronome, and low-low-end and you’ve got one happy Sophia. Currently on repeat is a spinoff group of spaced-out surf rockers Man Or Astro-Man?, Servotron. I was blown away to find a CD of theirs in the wild last weekend (thanks, AY&P) and it only reminded me of how much they satisfy my ears. Servotron were four humanoid robots who used hyper-charged twanged-out synth punk to espouse their philosophy that humankind should be exterminated due to its “inefficiency.” It’s hilarious. It’s also dangerously catchy. And all this talk about AI picture generators and “the Metaverse,” the furthered blurring of the lines between man and machine, only validates me listening to them, I guess.

Absurd lyrics about making humans huff carbon dioxide aside, they’ve got a point about the human condition. Humans are extremely fickle and confusing creatures; I know from just being one. That side of mankind has been on full display in the news recently. For example, some people have been “protesting” Russia’s cruelty by emptying out bottles of vodka they don’t realize isn’t actually Russian. I would assume it took a lot of time and effort to make the contents of those bottles, but I guess it doesn’t matter if you associate that product with dirty commies. They were probably munching on some “freedom fries” as they did so. That’s what America called French fries—which are Belgian—after France disapproved of America’s invasion of Iraq back in the 2000s. It’s funny that we were talking about the similar “liberty cabbage” phenomenon of the World War I era in history class just a few weeks ago. We’ve gone back to calling it sauerkraut, but we still haven’t learned from it. What’s next? Another Red Scare?

But neither a robot uprising or nuclear bombs are going to keep humans from human-ing. Mass destruction, discrimination, and loss of life seem like very inefficient things to indulge in. Maybe, with enough work and cooperation from us carbon based lifeforms, we can up our efficiency game by being better to each other. We can only learn from our mistakes if we try. Let’s start by taking away all the arbitrary barriers that separate us—silly things like nationality and ethnicity. Maybe then we won’t invade other countries for personal gain because those barriers will have lost their socially constructed meanings. Remember: we’re all in this together.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kQ-lMJxwnk

09/11/2021

Saturday, September 11th, 2021

Since I could first cognitively think, September 11 has been a day of lecture. Every year on that day, my teachers would take a special few minutes at the beginning of every class period to reflect on and explain their personal 9/11 experiences to us. It was an attempt at contextualization for our young, burgeoning minds who never got to live in a world without taking your shoes off at the airport or the Department of Homeland Security.

It sometimes feels unreal that, as much as I may relate to the adult role models who surround me, they knew waters that I will never swim in and no one ever can again. The pool is remodeled, and all those changes can’t be undone, and all I can do is read the recounts, look at the old photos, and try to understand the facts.

I never intend to speak for my entire generation’s perspective, though. As much as my generation gets classified as a homogenous cluster of activists and freethinkers, I know first hand how blatantly ignorant and close minded some people my age can be. Sadly, looking at the world through the clearest lenses I have, it’s quite safe to say that most of them will retain their false pride for the rest of their lives. While some love to argue otherwise, cruelty and selfishness know no generational restriction. Just look at the response that was unleashed twenty years ago, when not blindly saluting the flag in the name of Middle Eastern slaughter was “un-American.” I wonder why Muslim hate crimes in America have yet to reach pre-9/11 levels after they skyrocketed in 2001. Humans here aren’t as nice as the propaganda makes them out to be.

With American flags waving in the wind right beside Trump 2020 signs, it seems like barely anyone has learned from the jingoism, the violence, the hatred. But was learning ever the point? The wildfire continues to rage, and people continue to suffer in cruel ways supported by deep roots. The fostering of close-mindedness and suppression of critical thought that billowed up like clouds of debris smoke resulted in a terror that was homegrown, not some tricky bogeyman from abroad. It is a terror that has culminated in the destruction of lives and the obliteration of common sense, and there’s just no going back.

You can decline the supersize Freedom Fries offer with your Happy Meal, sure. But when Big Daddy has force fed you blind submission to the powers that be your entire life, isn’t succumbing just so much easier?

Poor News Report

Saturday, August 21st, 2021

It’s 2021, and the boys are back in town—the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan boys, that is. Almost twenty years after the American military sent the Taliban’s government went into exile, they’re back in power after America’s (truly weak sauce) withdrawal. You would think that twenty years of occupation would have produced some hurdles for the Taliban to climb, but their regain of what they had lost was sickeningly swift.

It’s the miserable end of a miserable war that has been going on since before I was born, one that, looking at the plain hard facts, ultimately proved useless for the greater good. The money has been spent, the death toll is still staggering, the weapons suppliers are doing exceptionally well, and the innocent people of Afghanistan, humans like you or me, are back to being incessantly victimized by an excruciatingly oppressive and fundamentalist state. Got enough of rose-tinted late 90s-early 2000s nostalgia? Try going back 500 years, when women weren’t permitted autonomous thought and simple forms of recreation were considered a front against the man upstairs. Heaven on earth, truly.

But is that really that different from the country I reside in? You can rejoice in the streets about how a man in a blue tie is in office, but that isn’t stopping the men in red ties, the conservatives, our own Taliban, from trying to exert their own archaic control over the populous. Bills proposing the restriction of voting rights, abortion, and gender expression continue to pop up like kernels of butter-drenched popcorn at the movie theater, granted that movie theater hasn’t closed down because of a local spike in COVID-19 cases.

The COVID problem is also an important matter here, as leagues of religious fundamentalists claim that wearing a mask for the safety of others in the middle of a worldwide pandemic is some ungodly offense. Vaccines, too, are seen as satanic, as they’ll apparently rape your body with either a tracking chip or reptile DNA, depending on which science disbeliever you ask. All this when hospitalization rates of those who abide by these reckless behaviors are spiking from their selfishness. We’re going back once again, back to when leeches and snake oils were used as cure-alls. Mind, these are the same people who also want to restrict the bodily autonomy of women and other innocent people in the name of the lord, just like those Taliban boys over there.

And did we all just forget about when the so-called patriots who believe all of this tried to pull their own takeover at the Capitol building last January? I witnessed the attempt at insurrection on live television, and I can remember it like yesterday. Unsatisfied by Biden as the country’s choice of president but fully aware that his election win was genuine, I had innocently turned on the news hoping to simply observe his presidency be validated, because seeing democracy actually happen successfully is pretty satisfying in today’s perpetually corrupt hellworld. I was aware that the moment was one that would be placed in the history books after months of incessant “Stop The Steal” squabble calling for another four years of Trumpolini (like the country hadn’t been decimated enough by the first four). I also expected counterprotests at the scene by those delusional goons indoctrinated into his suicide cult of personality, because you can’t help but do so after four years of fringe conspiracy insanity becoming mainstream political discussion.

What I ended up seeing was a nation’s people mobilized against itself, their brains rotted by lies and conspiracy, exerting violence in the name of tyranny, the decimation of what remnants of democracy we still claim to cling to. The halls of the Capitol became the stomping grounds for a horde of neurotic rednecks, a deranged militia free to roam in defilement of something once considered worthy of protection. All sanity and sense of what should be was forcibly ejected out the window. The patients had taken over the asylum.

It still unsettles me to think about; I never would have expected for the world’s forces of de-evolution, those dangerous delusions, to catalyze such an attack, to go that far off the deep end. People died that day. Many others feared death or worse. It was a nail in a coffin.

But we’re America. We’re united. We believe in freedom—freedom to treat others like dirt because they’re different than you. It could never happen here, could it?

Flash Flood

Sunday, June 13th, 2021

The five hour drive was worth it. Kent was a success!

From exploring the town Wednesday night to touring the campus the next morning, my time in Kent was a fascinating and eye opening experience. I was not sure what to expect, as judging a location’s current condition when most of your knowledge comes from its history can be difficult. Yet I was overall extremely satisfied while I was there.

Twelve beaming floors of library at Kent State.

My primary gripe: leaving so early. We stayed just one night, and a large part of me wanted to do nothing but continue wandering the campus in the burning heat, taking in the brutalish buildings and towering trees, fantasizing about undergraduate life. Chances to escape from my usual surroundings are often scarce and always short lived, making every drive home something to dread. Too often these excursions seem to zip by in a flash in retrospect, which is what I guess results from savoring something so much that you let go of some of the uptightness you’ve grown accustomed to and start living in the moment…not that’s a necessarily bad thing.

This temporary change of scenery extremely refreshing for my psyche, but it was also enlightening to spend time in a place that holds both historical significance and increasing relevancy, especially since learning of the massacre that occurred on campus in 1970 left a large impact on me. It was a genuinely sobering experience to walk where four young innocents had their futures obliterated decades ago, the same grounds where modern youths currently prepare for their own postcollegiate lives to unfold. Seeing markers for where protesting students were shot and the sectioned off areas in the nearby parking lot showing where the four were killed seemed unreal in the moment, and my emotions only began to really hit home after leaving. I was able to leave that campus with feelings of actual hope of an actual future. Allison, Jeffrey, Sandra, and William suffered a very different experience than what I would envision for myself or anyone else.

A memorial for the four slain students by the parking lot where they were murdered. The lot is still in use.

The abuse of illegitimate authority that resulted in the May 4 massacre remains the same today, albeit in more refined form. At Kent State, the memorials and informational placards are the most blatant reminder of why the good fight is still worth fighting, though the somewhat seedy wooded areas on the outskirts of the town that we got lost in upon our initial arrival also seem to serve that purpose. I remember reading that, during that period of turmoil and pain, Kent State’s liberal students considered the campus an “oasis” from the surrounding deep red territory. Living in an area where I am constantly bombarded by Trump 2020 signs alongside various less explicit methods of bigotry, I can’t help but feel for them. If only life was just and everything was easy.

Despite this, the chances of me joining their ranks as a “Golden Flash” have only become more likely since my visit. Kent State genuinely felt like a place I could worm my way into and find plenty nourishment. Brand new things and brand new places often have an atmosphere of impenetrability and intimidation, as they are associated with breaking out of one’s comfort zone and embracing a new world. But I didn’t feel as much like a fish out of water in Kent. Actually, my visit felt more like I was entering a comfort zone of sorts. It was a comfort zone formed by both the assertion of myself as an independent person and constant reminders of history and the experiences of others. But isn’t that a fundamental—albeit complicated and looming—aspect of the human experience?

My Side Of The Story…Again

Tuesday, May 4th, 2021

Today marks the fifty first commemoration of the 1970 massacre at Kent State, where four students were murdered by the National Guard at a peaceful anti-war protest.

I had first learned of the massacre in a book about the 1970s that I had rented from a library as a middle schooler. It shocked me, as did reading of other protests and more subterranean movements of rebellion that came into fruition in reaction to the Vietnam War, and I never forgot about it thanks to the ever-striking image of a young teenager kneeling over the body of Jeffrey Miller. Down the line, I would become more familiar with the event after learning that one of my greatest role models, Jerry Casale of the musical group DEVO, was present at the protest and was forever altered by it; he had been acquaintances with two of the students killed that day. [Last year, coinciding with the event’s fiftieth commemoration, I wrote on my Instagram about the great influence that Jerry’s story had on me; it is a much better read than this post.] It was only then that I became exposed to the true horror of May 4th’s aftermath—misinformation campaigns brainwashed the majority of America into believing that the students were to blame for their deaths while Kent locals flashed each other four finger signs—”at least we got four of them.”

Not much has changed in terms of illegitimate authority silencing the voice of reason and filling the masses with pro-complacency propaganda. To this day, some still consider the protesting students to blame for not being armed, even though it would have been even easier for those in power and the public at large to demonize those students had they been given the ability to fight back, and who knows how many more would have died that day had both sides been exchanging gunfire. (Ah, the irony: the oppressed can only rise above via force, yet that force gets them an even worse beating from their oppressors, who have the power to use the same tactics scot-free.) Even more people continuously bend over backwards to excuse the abuse of power and proliferation of idiocy that has become the status quo. Popularizing and normalizing alternatives remains difficult; not many have the guts to nip the hand that slaps. Some brave souls do, even if mainstream acceptance seems out of reach. Jerry Casale himself, who obviously has much more authority on this subject than I do, has been outspoken against injustice in all forms through his work; see this essential article from last year’s commemoration. Many more also worked to promote the truth about Kent State, such as Alan Canfora, who was shot on that day and passed earlier this year. Others across the planet who were not there, including myself, cling to a similar fire of urgency, militancy, and passion, having never fallen prey to the mainstream’s program.

Not many, but some.

It’s a bit surreal observing the commemoration this year, as I have plans to visit Kent State this summer as a prospective student. Having been aware of the university’s history for a while now, I always wanted to step foot on campus to at least pay my respects; simultaneously, I do find the university appealing as a place of higher learning to attend. I’ll admit, it would be pretty neat to help keep the memory of Kent State alive from Ground Zero.

But no matter where I attend college, I still plan on continuing the legacy of those brave individuals who came before me, even if I know it won’t be easy.

My deepest respects to all of those who keep raising awareness of Kent State and all who continue to fight the good fight.

One Step Closer To One Step Closer To Becoming A Cyborg

Tuesday, April 13th, 2021

I was recently able to schedule an appointment for the first of my two COVID-19 vaccinations.

It’s a somewhat strange feeling knowing that the day will be soon upon me, and I perceive my relative youth as a large factor. Since vaccine distribution began with the elderly, I’ve gotten used to hearing news that the older adults in my life have received their jabs. Having the opportunity bestowed upon me, someone with relatively less life experience, feels odd, despite that there are many ways that I just do not feel young. I find myself in a liminal state: not quite old, not quite new.

Emotions like this fuel my disdain of generational divides. I have never understood why one would restrict themselves to consuming solely products of their own generation, nor why the media would stereotype generations and pit them against each other in endless, mindless cultural catfights. But what draws more attention than a conflict that doesn’t actually exist or is warped out of proportion?

I experience positive and negative echos of the past daily: I listen to songs released years before I was born on the regular; I read news stories that call to mind history class discussions about the extinction of Jim Crow laws and lynchings—oh really? If someone hopes to stand a chance in today’s world, no matter their age, they have to know their history. Learning from the past is the only way to make actual progress; repeat your mistakes, and that’s one more dollar in the GoFundMe campaign funding complete societal downfall.

Speaking of history: after we’ve all got our shots, will the rest of the twenties be as roaring as they were one hundred years ago? I’d say they’re already pretty roaring—with absurdity and obscenity, that is. It’s pretty absurd that back in the day vaccines were viewed as miracles and now they’re viewed as microchips. Being in good health—mentally and physically—just ain’t cool anymore, it seems.

Well, I don’t care about being “cool.” I care about having common sense.

Inoculation, here I come!