The Breaking Time

Holding up a funhouse mirror: An interview with Vermin Supreme

One of the many fan-made posters for Vermin Supreme.

This is the second of two very different interviews I did while covering the Democratic National Convention in Charlotte that I felt were worth highlighting in their entirety. The first was with blogger and activist Imani Gandy.

Longtime prankster Vermin Supreme has been running for a variety of offices — some of them non-fictional — since the 1980s. Wearing a boot on his head and promising a free pony for all Americans (along with zombie power and mandatory tooth-brushing) if elected, his 2012 run for the Presidency came to greater prominence when he glitter-bombed fundamentalist Randall Terry during the New Hampshire primary and showed up for numerous protests throughout the year. I talked to Vermin Supreme while he was preparing for his own "victory rally" in Charlotte.

So why are you running for President? 

Because I want to make America a better place, but still even.

But still even?

Still even better.

How?

Ponies, the secret ingredient, of course.

Ah, and why the boot on the head?

When I get in a different environment it serves different purposes. When I'm actively campaigning for the Presidency, after the primary, it's become somewhat of a trademark. Different people read different symbolism into it, “we're gonna boot 'em out” or the jack-booted thugs or a boot on the face, the Orwell reference.

But ultimately it's just something I started putting on my head in a rather absurdist, surrealist tradition. The people liked it and responded to it. Out in the streets, in the police environment, it's a disarmament technique. I'm disarming, through my charms, to officers who might otherwise see me as a threat if I was without the boot. If I was a normal-looking wild guy talking shit over the megaphone, I think I'd be perceived differently than with the boot.

It sort of signifies the jesterishness, the commitment to this absurdist aesthetic, it's a shorthand. Sometimes I've worn a clown nose in the past to telegraph that. It draws curiosity. I get into a lot of conversations, meet potential voters. Of course it draws the media, I've been saying as part of my media critique that the boot is a pile of shit and the media are the flies buzzing around it.

On Talk Like a Pirate Day, rant like Black Sam Bellamy

The Jolly Roger, used by Capt. Sam Bellamy

It's Talk Like a Pirate Day, where people worldwide are encouraged to imitate a bundle of behaviors and accompanying accent popularized by English actor Robert Newton (thanks for that bit of info, Josh Ellis).

Meanwhile, it's worth remembering how pirates (according to the romanticized accounts we have, mind), actually talked:

"I am sorry they won't let you have your sloop again, for I scorn to do any one a mischief, when it is not to my advantage; damn the sloop, we must sink her, and she might be of use to you. Though you are a sneaking puppy, and so are all those who will submit to be governed by laws which rich men have made for their own security; for the cowardly whelps have not the courage otherwise to defend what they get by knavery; but damn ye altogether: damn them for a pack of crafty rascals, and you, who serve them, for a parcel of hen-hearted numbskulls. They vilify us, the scoundrels do, when there is only this difference, they rob the poor under the cover of law, forsooth, and we plunder the rich under the protection of our own courage. Had you not better make then one of us, than sneak after these villains for employment?"

That's Captain "Black Sam" Bellamy, quoted by Daniel Defoe, ranting at the captain of one of his prizes. A brilliant raider, he was one of the originators of the Jolly Roger, capturing slave ships and assembling his own fleet. Also, given that he was elected to his spot by a gang of fierce raiders assembled from all corners of the globe, Bellamy had to be pretty damn cunning.

Say what you will about piracy, the man had dash:

"I am a free prince, and I have as much authority to make war on the whole world as he who has a hundred sail of ships at sea and an army of 100,000 men in the field; and this my conscience tells me! But there is no arguing with such snivelling puppies, who allow superiors to kick them about deck at pleasure."

The Breaking Time on the (internet) radio

On Aug. 19, Epiphany Ayla Paris was kind enough to invite me on her online show, The Space Between, for an in-depth interview about the Breaking Time.

It ended up a great conversation that hit a huge variety of topics, from the political system and "There is no They" to generational optimism and public reaction to tragedy. I ramble plenty (as I do when I get on a tear), but I think it's some interesting ground and she kept the questions sharp.

The whole interview is below. Thoughts and comments welcome.

Gongs and drums: Political manipulation in seven acts

McKinley/Roosevelt campaign poster, 1900

"Gongs and drums, banners and flags, are means whereby the ears and eyes of the host may be focused on one particular point."

-Sun Tzu

1912 short film from the Woodrow Wilson campaign attacking the Taft administration. According to PBS, "it is the earliest known example of a political party or candidate using the medium of motion picture to communicate with voters." Via The Daily Dish.

1930s film produced by the U.S. government advertising the achievements of the New Deal.

Kennedy campaign theme song, 1960.

"Nixon Now," theme song from his 1972 campaign

Reagan's famous "Morning in America" ad, 1984

Bush/Cheney "Wolves" ad, 2004

When etiquette gets harsh: "she texted. We kicked her out."

Also hilarious.

I've talked about phone breaks on here before, as a way culture is accommodating the intrusion of new social devices while still preserving the basic taboos of etiquette.

While there's wiggle room in personal social situations, essential to that incorporation is the idea that some areas, theaters in particular, remain entirely off-limits to cell usage. 

Apparently, the Alamo Drafthouse agrees. Not only did they expel a patron for repeatedly texting during a movie, they proceeded to put up her ranting voicemail in front of all their R-rated shows as a head-on-the-gate style reminder to the rest of their patrons.

Politeness, like any more, relies on breach: even if some people don't like it, social consequence compels them to abide by it most of the time. It's interesting to see the new media variety of public ridicule — boasting publicly about throwing the patron out, and spreading it via YouTube — meet the enforcement of old-school etiquette. This kind of "this far, and no further" act is just as much a part of incorporating technology into the social landscape as phone breaks.

Fragmented plurality: An interview with Gabriella Coleman

Gabriella Coleman moves between a lot of different worlds. She's an assistant professor on media, culture and communication at NYU, a writer on digital culture, and an anthropologist by training. Her work, specifically on the (in)famous collection of hacktivists known as Anonymous, combines an admirable skill for tackling new trends while bringing the best traits of an academic background to bear, better placing the cutting edge in a larger context.

In this interview, she discusses the multifaceted beast that is Anonymous, and how digital culture and political activism collide.

How did you first become interested in Anonymous and hacktivism?

I've been working on computer hackers and software informally since 1998, more seriously since about 2001.

How I started to work on Anonymous was really accidental. I started to do research on free software, and during that time period people would raise the question of Scientology quite a bit. It always intrigued me, but I sort of didn't know what to do with it. People had mentioned that they would protest the church or were on some BBS critical of the church . Then I went to the University of Alberta for a year as a post-doc, and there's the largest Scientology archives in the world. Now I understood why they protest the Church of Scientology, it's kind of a perfect nemesis.

When Anonymous in 2008 began to protest the Church of Scientology, I followed them there, because it was in that lineage of geek and hacker protest against the Church of Scientology.

You originally come from an anthropological training and background, how do you think that helps you undersand the evolution of digital culture?

I think it helps quite a bit. While there's technical forms of organization and power — those with technical knowledge often have more authority — when you have a grouping like Anonymous that is really premised on this anti-leader, anti-celebrity ethic, certain cultural and behavioral norms are the ways in which you can find consistent order. If you don't have an eye towards that, you might miss some of those dynamics at play.

Driven by norms instead of leaders; it almost sounds like a tribe

No, not really. In academia we're also driven by norms, and certain types of ethics and so it's kind of implicit in so-called modern forms of life that are not tribal, we just choose not to think about those elements in modern society because there's such a commitment to individualism that we tend to not focus in on them, but they exist. They exist in the workplace, they exist in religious organizations, they exist in unions, they exist in many places.

I don't like the language of "tribal" because it makes it seem like it's lower on the totem pole, and makes it seem like so-called modern society doesn't have some of those elements as well.

In your perception, what's the biggest misconception the general public has about Anonymous?

The biggest misconception is that they're kind of angst-ridden pre-teens who are socially isolated who are working out their anger, born through their isolation, through forms of juvenile politics.

Stranger Than Fiction: superheroes in Seattle

 

I chose the main title of this post for a reason. There are some events you can simply, absolutely, not make up. For example, Seattle is currently plagued/beset/graced by its own superhero movement. Via an interesting article from Seattle PI:

Vigilante justice has come to Seattle, and the caped crusaders drive a Kia.

Seattle police say a group of self-described superheroes have been patrolling the streets at night trying to save people from crime. They call themselves the Rain City Superhero Movement and say they're part of a nationwide movement of real-life crime fighters.

The national website -- cited in a police bulletin sent to Seattle officers Wednesday -- states "a Real Life Superhero is whoever chooses to embody the values presented in super heroic comic books, not only by donning a mask/costume, but also performing good deeds for the communitarian place whom he inhabits."

Police say the "costume-wearing complainants" are lucky they haven't been hurt.

In one instance, police say a caped crusader dressed in black was nearly shot when he came running out of a dark park. In another case, a witness on Capitol Hill saw the crusaders wearing ski masks in a car parked at a Shell station and thought they were going to rob the place.

Police got the license plate and found those masked characters drove a Kia Fate registered to one of the character's godmothers, department staff said. She told police her godson goes around doing good deeds.

It gets even better, as the superhero "movement" (blame my poli-sci background, but they've got to get a little bigger before they've earned the title) seems to combine laudable things like a desire to do good in one's area and forge your own identity with a large dose of delusional batshit and old-fashioned subcultural sniping:

Investigators identified nine people dressed in costume going around Seattle after dark. A police source said the characters go by Thorn, Buster Doe, Green Reaper, Gemini, No Name, Catastrophe, Thunder 88, Penelope and Phoenix Jones the Guardian of Seattle.

But don't listen to Captain Ozone or Knight Owl, police were told. They're apparently not part of the group.

Yeah, fuck those posers.

Police say another incident with the self-proclaimed superheroes came about 3 a.m. Nov. 4 at Sixth Avenue and South King Street in the International District.

Police responded to a harassment complaint and found Phoenix the Guardian of Seattle dressed in a "black colored Batman costume and a black ski mask," department spokesman Jeff Kappel said.

He was standing with four other men and one woman, all in costume with their faces covered by ski masks and bandanas. They were dealing a man making threatening statements and swinging a golf club.

Police took the golf club as evidence. The "costume-wearing complainants" refused to press charges because they didn't want to identify themselves to officers, Kappel said. So the suspect walked.

Wow. Hell of a dipshit move there.

Honestly, I'm surprised this didn't happen before. Superheroes have been a cultural concept for the better part of a century and, after awhile, people in search of something truly different start to do really strange and/or awesome things based on those concepts. Naturally, this tends to result in some insanity along with innovation and costume-bedecked violence is certainly nothing new in society. It's hard not to see that in the superhero statement that ends the article: "You can inspire people to believe they can CREATE themselves a symbol and embody it --- and it's not a lie." There is something there, at least in the ideal.

The problem, however, is the execution. Inherent in the superhero mythos is the "super" part of the equation. Even if the superhero movement's people are, as Phoenix Jones (the Guardian of Seattle!) claims, all MMA and ex-military badasses, they're not Bruce Wayne. Or Superman. Or Black Canary. No one is. This ain't the damn comics and even those who walk out of a serious fight on the winning side tend to be pretty badly injured.

As it is now, it doesn't seem like Seattle's costumed crime-fighters can keep one golf-club wielding maniac from walking. One street gang set, who lack costumes, ballistic cups or aliases but often have a willingness to use guns and numbers, would probably finish them pretty easily. Alternatively the police (also big on guns and numbers, for a reason) could just arrest them if they become too much of a nuisance. A Kia will not outrun a patrol car.

Prediction: if this continues, it's only a matter of time before one of these superheroes ends up in the hospital, jail or the morgue. Or they could become more practical, dial back the costumes, find a money source, seek strength in numbers and just become a regular old gang. If you think I'm kidding, look at the origins of urban neighborhood gangs or the Tongs. It's a surprisingly slippery slope from vigilante community protectors to straight-out organized crime.

Look at it this way, though: for decades numerous comic writers have wondered what would happen if superheroes existed in the real world. They may just get their answer.

The future is LOLspeak :-D!

It started simply, as most things do. The language was creaking: too slow, too specific and too long. Something else was needed, to turn the old bitch into a faster, sleeker creature bred for a new era.

The people should have known that something had changed when the president-elect's official victory proclamation screamed PWNED! in giant font. The doyens of proper language fumed about cultural degradation. But the purpose of language, after all, is to communicate, and everyone got the message loud and clear. The people (constantly enraged/cheering/aroused in their politics) craved color far more than the grey statesman tones of yesteryear.

Not too long after, "nom" landed in the dictionary as a proper verb (to nom, nommed, I nom your cake and you'll like it), pushing any number of older, longer charactered occupants aside into the abyss.

New generations, used to dubbing everything in their extended, networked circles "awesome" as a matter of tribal loyalty, needed new degrees of enthusiasm. OMFGroxxor! conveyed something more, and the recipient could be proud that they had received a superior compliment. The habits acquired in youth endured in strange ways, as the vulgar becomes normal, then refined. Slang is proper the second enough rich people speak it.

English was not pioneering anything in this area, of course. The Japanese had gotten there first.

Nor was it confined to the Anglo-tongues. A polyglot world needed something more. Logos had blazed the way, and few realized what omens lay in pictures of third world guerillas wearing shirts emblazoned with the Nike swoosh, cuddling next to their firearms. Not just the corporations, either, as by the end of the 20th century their direct enemies had turned the hammer and sickle into a global brand.

Then came the emoticons, sliding serpents into a longtime gap in the language. Simple words, in the hands of all but the skilled, could not convey a wink or a sarcastic tone. Yet one needed no skill, or even English, to comprehend :-) or the thousand pictograms it spawned. <3, too, was universal, and with every passing day, the demands of a million conversations further refined the symbols' use, adding nuances like a calligrapher's brushstrokes until they reflected all shades of emotion and intent.

It made sense, really, for a world with 7,000 living languages to stumble into a script with characters that encoded meaning instead of sound. The days were gone when horizons were so narrow that longer description in speech and the written word was a necessity. An ever-expanding common pool of images needed only basic references, as comprehensible in Nigeria as Chicago.

The high script still endured for refined literature or parsing deep ambiguities. But it was no longer the common word. The language that emerged a century later was coarser, boisterous and more vibrant. Perfect for a future wedded to the brutal invective and explosive enthusiasm of constant communication.

The linguistic storm crows were right: the language had degraded into a thousand pieces. But the guardians' ancestors had been right too, when they railed about the infection of foreign sound nuggets like thug, rendezvous and beef. Pure languages, like pure cultures, are ever a myth. Human tongues love to break things. But even more, they love to roll them around — for the flavor — and put them back together. They will do so until the sun goes black.

Srsly. ;-)