The Cost of Capricious Capitalism

"IT WAS the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way -- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only" - Charles Dickens


I suppose to borrow from such a literary juggernaut I must provide some substantial and justified reasoning to avoid committing some sort of heresy. I assure you, I will try, not only to uphold Dickens' honour, but also to challenge all of ours.

Earlier this week I was spending some time in Naples, while there I saw how the other half, nay the other 1%, of the population lives. I had the privilege of staying with an acquaintance of a family member, who happens to own a multinational corporation. I must admit, I was a part of it, the life of the rich and famous that is. I felt as though I was a cynosure, having imbibed all the wealth, fame and false pretense that threatened suffocation. I stood beside a 1.25 million dollar car. I sat in a chair that costs as much or more than many people's houses. I ate like a King, like le Roi du Soleil himself. And I enjoyed it. I mean come on, who wouldn't? Isn't that what we all want?

After I had left, and spent a few days in the detox that is reality. Then I thought back and recounted to myself what I had witnessed on my brief sojourn; Facades with marvelous Parthenon evoking columns, Venetian gondolas and a Spanish mansion befitting only the greatest of cartel Dons. As I descended from the Athenian hill I felt as though I was descending through Dante's circles, seeing those undeserving unlucky persons, who appeared befit to Cantos 7 or 8, subjugated to the oppressive Neo-liberalism seeping from the hillside vistas. I had seen Don Croce, but where was Turi Guiliano?

To me it was scary, everywhere you look in this country, and around the world, the dichotomy exists. Soon there will be sides made, combatants engaged and even shots fired. Dickens tells the story. There was "blood like wine in the streets" when les jaques had had enough. The time will come, who knows when, the proletariat is powerful, if he would, or could, only realize it. Blood need not run again, but change must.

Революция, Революция, Революция!
Revolución, Revolución, Revolución!
La Révolution, la Révolution, la Révolution!

Revolution, Revolution, Revolution!

"Beneath the rule of men entirely great, the pen is mightier even than the sword."

-Zeitgeist