The Beekeeper

The lack of a programmatic political endgame is the strength of #occupywallstreet,  not — as every journalist, and even some protesters, believe — its weakness. The moment #occupywallstreet becomes a “movement,” with a set of rules, the moment it becomes exclusive, it will give birth to a hierarchy, and the moment that hierarchy exists, everything else will end.

#occupywallstreet does not lack or need “demands.” Its existence says certain things: we are invested, we are engaged, we care, we’re upset, we’re worried, we empathize, we want to be involved, we believe, we have faith, we think the world can change for the better and we think we can become agents of some of that change.

Mourn Properly

I’m a bit busy mourning my uncle, my mother-in-law and my friend, all dead in the last 18 months, to worry about a billionaire who spent his life stamping out a series of shiny money-toilets that credulous boobs use as currency and mistake for creativity.

My uncle painted pictures that were physical devotions of his love and faith. My mother-in-law gave birth to and raised my wife. My friend was a fireman who saved people’s lives. But sure, make maudlin electronic gestures for a man you never knew, swell the river of crocodile tears coursing through Twitter and G+ and Facebook until it’s broad enough for Sobek to slither out of its depths and sun himself on its banks.