Every measure of mental ill health imaginable shows a society in freefall, not only making its citizens sicker but denying them the help to get better. That is unless your stated aim is to get back to work as quickly as possible. For soon there will be a Department of Work and Pensions employment advisor at your therapy centre, your GP, damn it probably your local supermarket if the Tories get their way. For what worth does anyone have if not to contribute to the job market ? …
The self has become a commodity, with simplified ideas from Cognitive Behavioural Therapies (CBT) used to inject into people the idea that they can and should be able to excise certain traits, emotions and behaviours for maximum marketability, be that on their CV or via Instagram hits. This responsibilisation and the pressure to display a positive mental attitude and upward trajectory creates casualties, for not all of us can succeed as measured according to neoliberal ideals.
~ article by Jay Watts, Novara Media
Tackling the Mental Health Crisis Means Defeating Neoliberalism Once and For All
”Implied consent” for organ donation is a problematic and in my opinion a very dangerous suggestion, especially when it comes from NHS privatiser-in-chief Jeremy Hunt.
In a privatised and market-driven health service, human organs become a valuable ”commodity”, with harvesting and sale to the highest bidder a far from impossible scenario in the not so distant future.
It is a well-documented fact that Israel already routinely strips vital body-parts – especially corneas apparently – from the corpses of young Palestinians killed by its security forces before returning their bodies to their families. These organs are then sold on the thriving international market for such ”goods” .
Asset-stripping and exploitation is thus continued even after death.
In any case, I hereby refuse Mr Rockefeller or any other satanic fucker the use of my ticker for their 6th heart transplant…..
I’m not a gynaecologist, but I know a Hunt when I see one
When superior people hear of the Way
they follow it with devotion
When average people hear of the Way
they wonder if it exists
When inferior people hear of the Way
they laugh out loud
If they didn’t laugh
it wouldn’t be the Way
Hence these sayings arose
the brightest path seems dark
the path leading forward seems backward
the smoothest path seems rough
the highest virtue low
the whitest white pitch-black
the greatest virtue wanting
the staunchest virtue timid
the truest truth uncertain
the perfect square without corners
the perfect tool without uses
the perfect sound hushed
the perfect image without form
For the Tao is hidden and nameless
but because it’s the Tao
it knows how to start and how to finish
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Pity the nation whose people are sheep,
and whose shepherds mislead them.
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars, whose sages are silenced,
and whose bigots haunt the airwaves.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice,
except to praise conquerors and acclaim the bully as hero
and aims to rule the world with force and by torture.
Pity the nation that knows no other language but its own
and no other culture but its own.
Pity the nation whose breath is money
and sleeps the sleep of the too well fed.
Pity the nation — oh, pity the people who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away.
My country, tears of thee, sweet land of liberty.
~ article by Natasha Vargas-Cooper (edited)
Thanks to the exhibition-friendly canons of social media, the scions of excess are back and flaunting it, baby—and it’s an entirely underwhelming display. These aren’t the out-of-sight rich but their twenty-something children, ‘funemployed’ trust-funders flouting their parents’ wealth-whispers code of silence. With acres of unproductive time on their hands, bored rich kids are using their gold-plated i-Phones to post images of their baubles of privilege, their chemical stimulants of preference, and their outlandish bar tabs on Instagram, the photo-sharing service of the moment…
“They have more money than you do and this is what they do,” goes the tagline of Rich Kids of Instagram (#RKOI for short.)
Around about the dozenth selfie featuring a buff and/or emaciated scion nestled into a private jet with a bottle of Cristal and a $10,000 clip of cash (“Always make sure to tip your pilot and co-pilot 10k. #rulesofflyingprivate”), you can’t help but wonder, “Is that all there is ?”…
Why should we look ? The pay-offs for the non-rich civilian viewer are oddly perfunctory. After all of the social mythologies we’ve lovingly constructed to envelop the delusions of the 1 percent, this is the lurid end-of-the-rainbow pay-off they’ve decided to lord over the rest of us—a fistful of watches, car interiors, and European spa photos…
FULL ARTICLE : https://thebaffler.com/salvos/acquisitive-self-minus-self
by Margaret Atwood
Sunset, now that we’re finally in it
is not what we thought.
Did you expect this violet black
soft edge to outer space, fragile as blown ash
and shuddering like oil, or the reddish
orange that flows into
your lungs and through your fingers?
The waves smooth mouthpink light
over your eyes, fold after fold.
This is the sun you breathe in,
pale blue. Did you
expect it to be this warm?
One more goodbye,
sentimental as they all are.
The far west recedes from us
like a mauve postcard of itself
and dissolves into the sea.
Now there’s a moon,
an irony. We walk
north towards no home,
joined at the hand.
I’ll love you forever,
I can’t stop time.
This is you on my skin somewhere
in the form of sand
Photograph : Peel Castle. Isle of Man