Music is the Highest Revelation

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/12/25/music-is-the-highest-revelation/

Crime Fiction and the Commodification of Life

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/12/18/crime-fiction-and-the-commodification-of-life/

Of Thee I Sing

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/12/11/of-thee-i-sing/

University Cuts are About Priorities, Not Education

 https://vtdigger.org/2020/12/03/ron-jacobs-uvms-proposed-cuts-are-about-priorities-not-education/

Biographies of a Revolutionary Moment

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/12/04/biographies-of-a-revolutionary-moment/

We Know Joe

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/12/01/we-know-joe/

The Lies of Faith and Youth's Search for Meaning

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/11/27/the-lies-of-faith-and-youths-search-for-meaning/

The Chemist and the Conman vs. the DEA

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/11/20/the-chemist-and-the-conman-vs-the-dea/

Fascism, Trumpism, and the Future

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/11/12/fascism-trumpism-and-the-future/

The Election and the Empire

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/11/06/the-election-and-the-empire/

Ginsberg’s America: an American Poet Describes an Uncertain Nation

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/10/30/ginsbergs-america-an-american-poet-describes-an-uncertain-nation/

The Ugly Memory of the US War on Southeast Asia

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/10/23/the-ugly-memory-of-the-us-war-on-southeast-asia/

Based in Empire

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/10/16/based-in-empire/

Those "Commie Folksingers" and the FBI

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/10/09/those-commie-folksingers-and-the-fbi/

Not a Woman Judge, But a Lady Judge

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/10/06/not-a-woman-judge-but-a-lady-judge/

The Third World War Illustrated

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/10/02/the-third-world-war-illustrated/

Black Poetry and the Abolitionist Movement

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/09/25/black-poetry-and-the-abolitionist-movement/

Nature and the Meaning of Truth

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/09/16/nature-and-the-meaning-of-truth/

Time Flies....

             I turned 65 on September 13^th.  When I was younger, I was led to believe that sixty-five was the year a working person could retire from their day job and collect a pension.  That is no longer the case if it ever was.  I am still working half-time to supplement my social security payments.  Be that as it may.  Sixty-five still seems to me to be one of those numerical markers of a human life.  Hence this reflection.

            I obviously don’t remember my birth.  That memory is left to my father and mother (rest her soul).  Indeed, the first memory of a birthday that is fairly complete took place on the evening of September 13, 1965.  That was the day I turned ten.  Our family lived in Peshawar, Pakistan at the time.  My father was assigned to an outfit of the United States Air Force there.  His job and the base itself had some role in monitoring communications and activities in the Soviet Union and the People’s Republic of China.  It was one more outpost in the Cold War.  For us kids who lived there, it was just another place to live; a somewhat exotic one, but still just another place we were taken to by our fathers in the US military.

            The location is important to my story because what I am about to describe would not have happened to me and my family if we weren’t in Pakistan at the time.  Over the course of the summer in 1965, a battle of words and troop movements had erupted into a war between India and Pakistan.  The reason for the war (if there is ever a reason for war) was the disputed national entity of Kashmir.  I remain fuzzy on the details even now, but suffice it to say both India and Pakistan wished to claim it as their own.  Many Kashmiris preferred independence—a position nominally taken by the Pakistani government and still opposed by the rulers in Delhi.  For most of the summer, the war between the two nations had not affected Peshawar very much and had not affected the USAF installation at all.  However, when we began class at the base elementary school that fall, it was clear the adults were concerned about much more than our curriculum.  My father finally shared some of that concern with me and my older sister one day.  In short, he told us that there might be air raids on the local Pakistani military bases by the Indian air force.  This meant that things would not be normal for a little while. 

            On September 12^th, 1965 a couple of my siblings and I were playing in the yard when an air raid siren began to howl.  My six-year-old brother began to cry.  Mom came outside and comforted him while we gathered up our toys.  She told us it was just a practice run, but that we should come inside anyway.  Then, the all clear siren sounded.  The next day was my birthday.  I celebrated with my friends at school and in the evening we had my favorite dinner and cake.  I opened presents and went to bed.  At the time, I shared a room with my three younger brothers.  They quickly fell asleep while I read a book using my flashlight for light.  I dozed off around 9 PM.  It was a little after ten that I awoke, startled by a succession of loud noises that started with a whistling sound and ended with an explosion that rattled the windows in our room.  I got down from the top bunk and ran into my parents’ room.  Both of them were awake.  They instructed me to gather my brothers and sisters in the hallway.  Within seconds all of us were there.  My father told us not to worry.  My mother held my youngest sister in her arms and we began to pray.  Thirty or forty minutes later, the all clear signal sounded.  The next day GIs painted the windows of every building on the base black.  Other GIs dug air raid shelters in our backyards.  We spent the next five nights in those shelters while planes bombed military and civilian areas not more than five and ten miles from the base.  The ground shook with each explosion and the air filled with tracers from anti-aircraft guns and other weaponry.  All of the women and children on base were evacuated to a US military base in Turkey on September 19^th.  We did not return to Peshawar until mid-December 1965.

            The next few birthdays were not marked by any such events.  However, a few days before my sixteenth birthday in 1971, prisoners at Attica State Prison in New York took over part of the prison.  I was living in Frankfurt am Main in the Bundesrepublik Deutschland.  By then, my politics were decidedly leftist and my cultural pursuits were definitely counter. My dad and I argued often about the war in Vietnam, the racism of US society and the nature of freedom.  These debates usually began at the dinner table and carried on into the night.  My mother would occasionally ban politics from the dinner table.  Naturally, I followed the reportage about the prison takeover with great interest.  A friend of mine who was a member of the Black Panthers (and the first person to discuss theoretical Marxism with me) told me he feared the worst.  My dad’s parents were visiting.  While I was in class on September 13, 1971, the radio reported that Rockefeller had sent hundreds of cops into Attica with their guns blazing.  The death toll was around forty.  I was both angry and sorrowful.  All those people murdered for no reason but power and pride.  When we sat down to dinner, I was in no mood to hear my father try to justify the attack.  Consequently, the conversation quickly escalated.  Then, out of respect for my grandparents, we both changed the subject.  The debate continued days later after my grandparents returned to the States.

            As the years went on, other notable events occurred around my birthday.  The fascist coup in Chile was one such event.  I was in New York City then and went to numerous protests regarding the coup and US involvement in it.  I cheered to myself when the Weather Underground blew a hole in the offices of one of the coup’s corporate sponsors—IT&T.  I heard Phil Ochs sing at a rally in Union Square.

            I was also in New York City on my birthday in 2001.  Two days earlier, the Twin Towers had been destroyed when airplanes were intentionally crashed into them.  I was staying with a friend in Chelsea.  While the city attempted to make sense of what had happened and families of the victims dealt with their loss, it seemed like Rudy Giuliani’s face glared from television sets in every window of ever shop, tavern and restaurant.  New Yorkers talked to each other and the only vehicles in the streets were in the service of the police and the military.  My friend and I enjoyed each other’s company for a couple more days.  I was trying to get back to Vermont, but there was no public transportation running.  I woke up on my birthday and called Penn Station one more time.  Amtrak was running a few trains.  We said our lingering goodbyes and I headed up Eighth Avenue.  I arrived at Penn Station and waited about thirty minutes to get into the building.  Heavily armed military personnel were checking everyone’s identification and searching each individual’s luggage and selves.  After going through the security gauntlet, I hurried to the Amtrak window and was able to purchase a ticket to Vermont.  There was one more security check to board the train.  Then we headed out of town.  Back to Vermont and into a new, more authoritarian future of war, perennial economic distress, a virtual panopticon to augment greater repression and more.

            As I turn sixty-five, I both wonder and fear for what the future holds.  A president with greater fascist leanings than any president since Nixon sits in the White House.  He exacerbates a pandemic as it cuts a deadly path across the nation with his intentionally ignorant attacks on science and rationality.  His white supremacist allies and backers encourage law enforcement in its most reprehensible acts of repression and the president himself calls for retribution against those who protest his fascist tendencies.  The future of this withering republic is at stake.  I wonder how the world will look on my next birthday.  To be more precise, I fear how the world will look on my next birthday. 

            I do hope I’ve figured out another (legal) way to supplement my Social Security check by then.

           

A CALL TO PROTEST

PLEASE SHARE!!!!!

Our original intention with this call was to get the signatures of academics, political activists, organizers and others known to various elements of the US public.  However, given the urgency of the moment, it seems best just to put it out there in the hope that it will inspire people in the United States to begin organizing among their friends and acquaintances to protest any potential Trumpist theft of the upcoming US election.  So, please read this, share it far and wide, and get a group together to protest if/when the need arises.—Peter Bohmer and Ron Jacobs

 

This is a call to the people of the United States who believe in fair elections, wish  to preserve what remains of our democratic process and want  to join the struggle for a nation where democracy and justice come before profits.

It is becoming clearer with each passing day that the Trump administration and its supporters in Congress, the government bureaucracy and certain state capitals do not intend to let all eligible voters in the US vote in the November presidential elections.  They are tampering with the mail, lying about mail-in ballots, practicing various types of voter suppression, and generally laying the foundation for a rejection of any outcome that does not give Donald Trump a popular and electoral victory.

Understanding the high stakes involved, it is time for those in the US  to act.   It is imperative we protest in the streets if Trump attempts to steal the 2020 election and stay in power. The 2000 election stolen by George Bush showed the limitations of a purely legal strategy which the Democrats unsuccessfully used.

 

Therefore:

If Donald Trump rejects the results of the November 3, 2020 election in any manner, and/or if he refuses to leave the White House--we call on people around the nation to gather at their local Federal Building, their parks and town squares, their campus greens and auditoriums, their churches and their schools and protest until Donald Trump and his administration leaves.  We also call for a simultaneous protest and occupation of the National Mall in Washington, DC.

We should also begin now to prepare for a General Strike in case this violation of democracy occurs. In a general strike, workers go on strike and stop all production and distribution and then produce for general distribution, essential goods and services.

This General Srike should begin the day it is clear that Trump and his supporters illegally attempt to stay in power and continue until Trump accepts his defeat. For a general strike to be successful and effective, it will require a lot of organizing, beginning now.

A general strike and mass protests in the streets could be very powerful  and even more important, effective, to end Trumpism.

This is not an endorsement of any candidate.  It is a plea to salvage what remains of the democratic process.  We understand removing the Trump administration is not a panacea.  However, it is a step back from the fascist trajectory the Trump administration has been following the past four years.  Indeed, we support calls to continue and step up protests for economic, social and racial justice after the election no matter who wins.

Paul L. Atwood, Veterans for Peace, Mass Peace Action and UMass Boston

Ron Jacobs, writer and library worker, Vermont

Peter Bohmer, Faculty Emeriti Evergreen State College

Brian Tokar, Lecturer, University of Vermont

Marc Estrin, writer, editor and publisher at Fomite Press

 

From Perry Lane to the Southern Sea: Novelist Robert Stone

 This review was published on the new subscriber-only part of the Counterpunch website.  Right now, that section is free to all--subscribers and non-subscribers.  I encourage you to take a look at this section of Counterpunch (and the rest of the site).  It's pretty cheap to join the subscriber only section.  Thanks.  Read on......

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/09/10/novelist-robert-stone-from-perry-lane-to-the-southern-sea/

Clean out police departments

 https://vtdigger.org/2020/09/06/ron-jacobs-clean-out-police-departments/

I Had a Knife and a Record, Too

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/09/02/i-had-a-knife-and-a-record-too/

Life in the Ultra Resistance: A Tale of the Catholic Left

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/08/28/life-in-the-ultra-resistance-a-tale-of-the-catholic-left/

The Beatles are No More, Long Live the Beatles

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/08/21/the-beatles-are-no-more-long-live-the-beatles/

It's a Sick Country

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/08/14/its-a-sick-country/

A Review of My Book Truck Fump

Truck Fump: A Review

Exorcism at Boston’s Old West Church, All Hallows Eve 1971

 https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/08/07/exorcism-at-bostons-old-west-church-all-hallows-eve-1971/

Hunting With the Father

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/07/31/hunting-with-the-father/

Trump's Stormtroopers

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/07/22/trumpfen-sturmabteilung-trumps-stormtroopers/

Is a Feminist City Potentially a Humane City?

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/07/20/is-a-feminist-city-potentially-a-humane-city/

Strike! Fifty Years and Counting

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/07/10/strike-fifty-years-and-counting/

Don’t forget about the pit festering in Burlington’s downtown

https://vtdigger.org/2020/07/08/ron-jacobs-dont-forget-about-the-pit-festering-in-burlingtons-downtown/

Kidnapping Kids: As American as the Fourth of July

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/07/06/kidnapping-kids-as-american-as-the-fourth-of-july/

Cops and a Coverup

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/06/26/cops-and-a-coverup/

The Israeli Defense Force is a Misnomer

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/06/19/the-israeli-defense-forces-is-a-misnomer/

Podcast Conversation on It's the Empire, Stupid

https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuc3ByZWFrZXIuY29tL3Nob3cvMTg4ODQzOS9lcGlzb2Rlcy9mZWVk/episode/aHR0cHM6Ly9hcGkuc3ByZWFrZXIuY29tL2VwaXNvZGUvMzAzMDk1NDE?hl=en&ved=2ahUKEwju_cX_uIbqAhUSSDABHTWLBf4QieUEegQIChAE&ep=6

Fighting for Our Future, Fighting Back Against Austerity

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/06/12/fighting-for-our-future-fighting-back-against-austerity-2/

Trumpism: A Fascist Chronicle now a Paperback

 https://drive.google.com/file/d/1U9RTT3MDctTxFvbOvIn2kvWwZZ-osuSG/view?usp=sharing

Generals Are Not the People's Friend

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/06/05/generals-are-not-the-peoples-ally/

In Defense of Antifa

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/06/02/in-defense-of-antifa/

The Second Longest War in the United States

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/06/01/the-second-longest-war-in-the-united-states/

The Odyssey of Elias Demetracopoulos

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/05/29/the-odyssey-of-elias-demetracopoulos/

Road Trippin'

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/05/22/road-trippin/

Workingman’s Blues (COVID 19 Version)

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/05/15/workingmans-blues-covid-19-version/

Burt Cohen's Keep Democracy Alive Podcast---Mayday 1971

http://keepingdemocracyalive.com/i-may-day-71-ii-silver-lining-of-pandemic/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+BurtCohen+%28Keeping+Democracy+Alive+with+Burt+Cohen%29

Jackson State Murders 1970

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/05/08/jackson-state-shootings-1970/

It's Still Too Early to Re-open

https://vtdigger.org/2020/05/01/ron-jacobs-its-still-too-early-to-reopen/

Running Wild in the Streets? Mayday 1971

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/04/29/wild-in-the-streets-mayday-1971/

Pandemic and Protest

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/04/20/pandemic-and-protest/

The Sixties in the City of the Fallen Angels

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/04/17/the-sixties-in-the-city-of-the-fallen-angels/

Women of Their Revolution

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/04/10/women-of-their-revolution/

Remembering John Prine

In 1972 I bought John Prine's first album at the Post Exchange in Frankfurt am Main, Germany. I played the album over and over again. I played three of the songs even more than the rest--Illegal Smile, Sam Stone, and Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You into Heaven Anymore.  Those three reflected my particular take on the world at the time.  Sardonic humor, hatred of the US war machine and a determination not to end up like Sam Stone with a hole in my arm where all the money goes because I had to fight and kill in Vietnam. I graduated from high school the following year and went off to college.  I remember playing Bette Midler’s version of Prine’s “Hello in There” for a guy in my dorm.  At first he made fun of it and then he borrowed the record.  The song about lonely old people reminded him of his grandparents, he said.  I recorded the Prine record for that city boy from the Bronx and he thanked me profusely.

In 1974 I was living in Maryland at my parents and working as a short order cook in the town they lived in.  John Prine was one of the musicians playing at a folk festival in Wolf Trap, VA.  Some friends of mine from high school asked me if I wanted to go.  They had a car.  I didn’t drive.  The three of us went to the festival along with the younger sister of one of them and her friend.  We also had a case of beer and I had some weed.  The main concerts didn’t begin until early evening, but the rest of the day was filled up with workshops put on by some of the artists playing at the festival.  John Prine was one of them.  Both of my friends were pretty good guitarists and we all like John Prine’s music, even though he only had the one album out then.  So we took our beer and headed to his workshop.  We were the only people there at the beginning.   My friends took out their guitars and started playing with John.  A song or two later, we all cracked a can of beer and began drinking.  It turned into quite a workshop.  Prine was friendly, easygoing and thirsty.

As the years went by, Prine recorded numerous albums and I bought most of them. I saw him play at the Philly Folk Fest, a club in DC, and at a couple other festivals in the 1970s and 1980s.  Two of his biggest fans must include one of my younger brothers and a former brother-in-law.  His songs can be haunting, humorous, harrowing and happy—sometimes all at once. I hate to see him go.

Seattle-Anti-Capitalist Hotbed

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/04/03/seattle-anti-capitalist-hotbed/

Going After Maduro

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/03/30/going-after-maduro/

My Novels and More: FREE E-BOOKS From Fomite Press

KEEP YOUR DISTANCE

        Six feet should do it.

              Now’s the time for reading.

FOMITE OFFERS ALL ITS E-BOOKS FREE Click here to browse our Smashwords library.

• Register for Smashwords account
• Choose your book
• Click on “Buy with coupon” button (the price will go to zero) 
• Check out

The book will be delivered to your Smashwords account library. Click on “e-book delivery”, and choose your format.

ENDS MAY 31, 2020

Politics, Pandemics and Trumpism

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/03/27/politics-pandemics-and-trumpism/

Manifesting Radical Feminism

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/03/20/manifesting-radical-feminism/

Marching with the Maoists

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/03/13/marching-with-the-maoists/

Checking in From Bernie World

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/03/04/checking-in-from-bernie-world/

Bloomberg's Billionaire BS

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/02/28/bloombergs-billionaire-bs/

The Young Lords: Luchadores Para La Gente

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/02/21/the-young-lords-luchadores-para-la-gente/

The Lies of Industry and the Liars Who Sell Them

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/02/14/the-lies-of-industry-and-the-liars-who-sell-them/

I Want to Be a Paperback Writer

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/02/07/i-want-to-be-a-paperback-writer/

The Swamp That Trump Built

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/01/29/the-swamp-that-trump-built/

A Cesspool of Constitutional Nonsense-Impeachment in the Senate

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/01/23/a-cesspool-of-constitutional-nonsense-impeachment-in-the-senate/

Abusing America’s Children—Free Market Policy

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/01/17/abusing-americas-children-free-market-policy/

Iranian Opposition 1970s to 2020

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/01/14/iranian-opposition-1970s-to-2020-2/

Fracking and the Metaphysics of Indian-Hating

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/01/10/fracking-and-the-metaphysics-of-indian-hating/

Just Get the Hell Out

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/01/08/just-get-the-hell-out/

2020 Hindsight

https://www.counterpunch.org/2020/01/03/2020-hindsight-2/