oh my god i think i’m cuba, or possibly tanzania. the realization hits me bluntly: oh my god they’ve colonized me. castro: be virgin sound. nyerere: a screenless life. oh my god, they are extracting all my precious raw materials. suharto, batista: i am become the south. so now the old dialectic has been resurrected, in my subconscience, between traditional and neo-colonialism in impressive synthesis. so the forced partic-p-tion in the sewer of commerce is unrepresented taxation, and the insidious beckoning of product and promise is a goddman imf loan. henry ford plays cortes in the last of the great twentieth-century auhtoritarianisms. stalinism and fascism make way for the great dictatorship of the corporation. oh my god we’ve been convinced that the stranglehold of corporations can somehow safely coexist with our notions of partic-p-tion. the unions: the elgin marbes. the billboards: victoria embankment. emilio zapata was not the hand that changed the channel but the hand that switched off the whole godd-mn tv.