…on Disobedience…

From p 163 or Stanley Milgram’s Obedience to Authority.

“The sequence starts with inner doubt, tension that is at first a private experience but which invariably comes to assume an external form, as the subject informs the experimenter of his apprehension or draws his attention to the victim’s suffering. The subject expects, at some level, that the experimenter will make the same inference from these facts as he has: that one should not proceed with the shocks. When the experimenter fails to do this, communication shades into dissent, as the subject attempts to persuade authority to alter the course of his action. Just as the shock series consist of a step-by-step increase in severity, so the voicing of dissent allows for a graduated movement toward a break with the experimenter. The initial expression of disagreement, however tentatively phrased, provides a higher plateau from which to launch the next point of disagreement. Ideally, the dissenting subject would like he experimenter to release the subject, to alter the course of the experiment, and thus eliminate the need to break with authority. Failing this, consent is transformed into a threat that the subject will refuse to carry out the authority’s orders. Finally, the subject, having exhausted all other means, finds that he must get at the very root of his relationship with the experimenter in order to stop shocking the victim: he disobeys. Inner doubt, externalization of doubt, dissent, threat disobedience: it is a difficult path, which only a minority of subjects are able to pursue to its conclusion. Yet is is not a negative conclusion, but has the character of an affirmative act, a deliberate bucking of the tide. It is compliance that carries the passive connotation. The act of disobedience requires a mobilization of inner resources, and their transformation beyond inner preoccupation, beyond merely polite verbal exchange, into a domain for action. But the psychic cost is considerable.”

….my Butchered at Birth tee-shirt….

I’ve officially gone mad, I’m writing posts about old tee shirts 😉

Well, commenter pugsfugly mentioned Cannibal Corpse in my Metal By the Numbers post. Now, this is a band I’ve got some history with. No, I wasn’t a former singer growler or anything like that. At this point in my life, I don’t listen to them that often. I guess I’ve, well, matured isn’t the right word for it, no one who knows me in real life calls me mature. But I will say I love Alex Webster’s side project Blotted Science.

So, back to it….

“Butchered at Birth” was the first death metal CD I ever bought. I was still a youngin at this point. In fact, a few weeks before I tried to buy a Playboy or Hustler at Waldenbooks and the cashier, a 20 something guy with a scruffy beard laughed and said, “Wait till your 18, studmuffin.” The cute college girl in the register next to him condescendingly rolled her eyes. Well, this CD was, let’s just say a little more intense than a wank mag. It showed two zombies cutting the fetus from a dead woman. And there was that Parental Advisory label. Yeah, I was nervous they weren’t gonna let me buy it. As luck would have it, I went through the register of a gruff and grisly looking guy. He didn’t even flinch when I handed him the CD. He took my cash without making eye contact. Maybe he was some free thinking, libertarian artist type who opposed censorship. Or, maybe just too hung over to give a shit. Anyways, the CD was mine….

A few weeks later, I was at an alternative record store with my dad. Not just an alternative record store, but THE alternative record store in my tiny bass ackwards home town. There was a “Butchered at Birth” tee shirt hanging on the wall. I asked my dad if he’d get it for me. He’s kinda absent minded and I don’t think he even looked at it. We went to the register and got the shirt. My parents were divorced since I was a little kid. So “dear ol” Dad walked back with me to my Mom’s house. Notice I said walked, he never learned how to drive and she’d always bring that up in her long winded tirades against him.

I ran up to my room and threw the shirt on. I walked down the stairs, when my mom saw the shirt, her facial expression looked like this. She was speechless, and when your dealing with a second wave feminist, that’s a good thing 😉 The next person to see it was my uncle. He’s a true character. I don’t think he could be described in a single blog post and unless you’ve had the misfortune of being to any of the rust belt areas of the East Coast, you probably couldn’t imagine such a creature existing outside of an HP Lovecraft story. Alright, maybe I’m exaggerating, but only a little. The short description would be someone fatter, older and more racist than “tough guy” manosphere blogger Matt Forney. Infact, unlike Matt, my uncle hasn’t been outside of his hometown for more than a week–imagine if Forney was too dumb to turn on a computer, then you might get an inkling of the great guy that is my Uncle. He squealed upon seeing the shirt and said, “You’re not gonna turn out like that Dahmer fellow…”

I laughed and said, “Just wait and see…”

haha, fast forward a couple years…

At this point I’m a regular at death metal shows. And that shirt is my favorite to wear at said shows. So, I’m in the audience when Cannibal Corpse hits the stage. And a rowdy pit breaks loose. And, I’m not the type to think things through, and I jump up on stage. And I jump into the crowd. And the crowd pushes me back onto the stage. And my wallet, keys and butterfly knife spill out of my pockets onto the stage. Remember, now, what I said before about not thinking things through. I glance a security guy catching a glimpse of the knife and I go into a quick panic. And I grab all my stuff and throw it into my pockets. And cover my pockets with my hands. And jump into the crowd head first. And they don’t do a good job of catching me. Boom, skull hits hard concrete. I’m conscious, it could be worse–sorta like what aviators used to say, any landing you walk away from is a good landing. I’m feeling woozy, seeing multiple images. I feel a warm liquid oozing from my nose. Figuring I must have a massive nosebleed I race to the restroom. I’m shocked when I look in a mirror and don’t see any blood. I notice a clear liquid upon closer inspection and it must be some kind of sinus fluid. I quickly wipe away with my beloved Cannibal Corpse tee and move on with life…

Then I was riding my bike. I crashed into a sign post. My eyebrow got the brunt of it. Classic Hockey Player wound. Blood was gushing everywhere. Strangely enough it didn’t hurt. When I got home, my mom flipped and demanded we go to the emergency room. Here I am, caked in blood. As I’m walking in, the lady at the security desk looks at my shirt, “Cannibal Corpse, I heard of those guys.” Took the doctor a whole 30 seconds to stitch up my wound. Ironically, I met the Cannibal Corpse bassist, Alex Webster at a show and told him about this. Looking back it’s kind of funny to be covered in real blood while wearing a death metal shirt. I probably made these guys look like posuers….

And then there was the summer I discovered beer. Yup, the shirt got painted with puke more then a few times. I’d tell ya some stories, but my memory of those summer nights are a bit hazy…

A few years later, my beloved shirt was now in tatters. I had “moved onto bigger and better things” as they say. My sister called me up and asked if she could have the shirt. She was going through her gutter punk phase and I guess that fit the bill for high fashion. I told her I was kinda attached as it was my first death metal shirt. She was like, “I’ll give ya $5 for it.” I told her that it probably wasn’t sanitary. I’d puked on it, bleed in it and probably even pissed all over myself when really drunk. I’ve never really understood my sister’s logic-she then offered me $10 for it. A few months later in one of my rare visit’s to my hometown, I found $10 worth of Kennedy coins, a $2 bill and some Susan B. Anthony’s along with other random change on my desk…

…I doubt I’ll ever have a son, but if I do…

I’ll tell him about male disposability from his earliest days…

I’ll tell him there are corrupt, hateful people who are trying to extract more from him then what is his fair share…..

They’ll tell him to man up, they’ll tell him he’s not a real man, they’ll tell him he’s a misogynist, they’ll tell him he’s unpatriotic, they’ll tell him he’s not a team player….

He’ll hear it from women, both his age and older. He’ll hear it from other men, perhaps they are the one’s that aren’t real men. He’ll hear it from television, the movies, the government and society at large….

I’ll tell him his most valuable commodities are his time, his ideas, his effort, his friendship, his loyalty….

There will be a few worthy of his time and effort but many who will use him as expendable and cheap….

I’ll tell him that I don’t think he should become a soldier or a cop. Why should he use his sharp eyes and swift hands to kill for a corrupt government? Why should he shed his blood for a society that doesn’t see him as a human being but as an object whose value is directly related to his utility….

I’ll tell him that employers are greedy, they’ll squeeze as much as they can and leave an empty husk of a man as they “outsource” the job to another country for half the pay. He will have to earn a livelyhood somehow, but he doesn’t have to work 70 hour weeks to have value as a human being. He might choose to work 70 hour weeks but hopefully this is short lived. Maybe he’ll use that for seed money for his start-up. Maybe he’ll have some saving and decide to leave the rat race. Maybe he’ll travel the world or write a book.

I haven’t even scratched the surface here….

But most of all, I’ll tell him to think for himself with the realization that he will forge his own path. He may look me straight in the eyes with burning rage and tell me I’m an idiot who is wrong about everything. So be it….

–yeah, that Barbarosaaa vid really got me thinking….

…interesting MGTOW video….

This one is over an hour long but worth it if you have the time…

I don’t know that I’d agree point by point but he raises some very good ideas about “guarding your utility.” At this point, it’s not about “us,” it’s about the young boys growing up and if any of us have sons, it’s about them….

…metal by the numbers…

So, I’m a huge metal fan….

Lately, I’ve been listening to new stuff by old bands-that is the newest albums from Anthrax and Testament. I also got into the Ronnie James Dio era of Sabbath not too long ago. I got to see Heaven and Hell a few years back and it blew me away….

Unfortunately, there’s been this trend I’ve noticed the past couple of years. Allot of newer bands seem like an amalgamation of other bands. Now, I know at this point that Static X is not a new band, and heck I don’t even know if they are around anymore, but I do remember when I first heard ’em, I was like, “shit, this is a Prong cover band.”

Well, after years of listening to metal, it seemed more and more bands were rehashing some kind of formula–hehe, some kind of ….monsters….

anyways, Comedian Brain Poshen agrees….

….benevolent sexism has come to an end….

….well, I’ve gotten into many arguments with feminist’s about Selective Service and the draft….

When I’ve mentioned that I think it is an unfair obligation that I was required by law to sign up for Selective service, they’d mention that it was “benevolent sexism” keeping women out of combat roles in the military. Now that has come to an end. So, now that women have the freedom to murder little kids and be shills for the oil companies um, “defend their country” isn’t it time that men no longer have the obligation to be canon fodder um, the obligation to go to war for a cause they may not believe in?

It’s time to end Selective Service…

…you might be a creepy male feminist extraordinaire ™ if….

You go on and on about how womyn are teh oppressed ™ class and evillle men are the oppressors. All while you watch hours upon hours of hardcore porn and say that it is for, ahem, research…

You take part of things men’s rights activist’s and others of the wrong side of the gender debate say and quote them out of context. You then urge your commenters to ridicule not what they actually said but a parody and if anyone ever questions your motives, you mention that there is a flashing sarcasm button for, ahem, plausible deniability…

You brag about how you cuckholded another man. Then when someone brings up the fact that it’s messed up that another man is raising your child, you basically say that a real man wouldn’t care about paternity, only a small dicked misogynist would…

You make fun of shy men with poor social skills and try to hide your bullying by putting a ™ symbol behind it. ….and if anyone calls me out as a hypocrite for my use of the ™ symbol, let me just say, I am “appropriating it” to water it down and ruin it…

You brag about how you are a high status professor who bangs students on his desk and almost killed an ex in a drug fueled rage. Then go on to tell men of low socio-economic status to “man-up.”

sharp commenters, I’m sure you all have a few to add, go at it in the comments section…