Fireworks thud, thud, thud off in the distance. Shot from a tube, as they sound in Shandong,
in Wudi, during Chinese New Year, from the sad Tycoon Hotel, empty, between the
old town and the new. It’s the second
day of National rest. We’re wary about
mounting any road trip just now.
Timed. One hour of
meditation. Trying to concentrate on the
air blowing out of my nostrils. Back
in. Imagining the pathway down that I’ve
never seen. Trying not to think about
the cramp in my left leg that makes good posture impossible. And trying to savor the glisten when the full
view of morning returns and my eyes adjust to everything. “Tomorrow Never Knows” is now audible
throughout the house and I’m sponging away at last evening’s dishes.
“The worst system, except for all the others.” My, my, Churchill’s quip is being tested back
home today. Our Federal government has
shut down. Thoughts turn elemental. Do
House Republicans teach their kids to “play fair”? When their kid is called out at first, and he
throws down his hat and he walks off the field, don’t they sit junior down and
tell him something about not being a sore looser? These are basic civilizational verities,
aren’t they? It’s good manners. If the Supreme Court upholds the health care
law, then for Christ’s sake, enough already, get on with legislating some other
part of your agenda.
We’ve got to hope that if nothing else, immaturity will be
called out for what it is. Unfortunately
corrections take so long in our legislative process. Mark me, some majority percentage of
constituents is going to tell them they’ve had it after this. But they have the right; we ensure them the
right, to play out their own destructive sand-kicking, hat throwing, locker
room hijacking, before any change can be made. May demographics expedite the inevitable for these destructive spoil-sports.
How dare you toy with so many people’s
livelihood that way?
I read where a Chinese tourist starring at the yellow tape
barring the entrance to the Statue of Liberty or the Lincoln Memorial or Yosemite
National Forest said: “this would never happen in China.” We
don’t know what would ever happen in China.
China’s old but its’ governance is quite young. Power has only changed hands peacefully,
sustainably, twice since the founding of the People’s Republic, sixty-four
years and one day ago. Will we live to see a Neo Maoist Party? A Neo, Neo Confucian Party? There will assuredly be much sand-kicking along
the way.
Neo Maoist voices blossomed in the social-sphere during the
remarkable Bo Xilai trial and were met with weed killer by the Propaganda
Ministry. In a fascinating analysis of
contemporary social media in China, Chris Marquis and Zoe Yang, analyze the
overall distribution of opinion about Mao in contemporary Chinese social
media. http://www.civilchina.org/2013/09/neo-maoism-china/
“The government vows to inherit Mao’s political legacy while
indulging all kinds of anti-Maoism expression; in today’s China, one is more
likely to get in trouble with the censors for being more pro-Mao than anti-Mao.”
Neo Maoists have a remarkable vantage from which to apply
pressure. People feel impoverished, disenfranchised,
disillusioned and Mao embodied an articulation of empowerment. Everyone in China is taught that Mao’s
strategic agenda is what allowed the nation to navigate a path, against all
odds, to modern dignity. The fundamental
analysis and tactical recommendation, learned by all, remains eerily applicable.
I once wrote a screenplay about an earthquake so powerful
that it woke Chairman Mao back up again. He strode across Tiananmen and confronted the, then, contemporary
leadership. Eventually there is a Lushan
moment reenacted where Mao had originally confronted Peng De Huai and defied
the leadership to not support him, threatening to return to the countryside and
start the revolution all over again. The
leadership of 1959 caved. In my 2000
script the leadership call his bluff and, enraged, he sets out to find some
contemporary JingGangShan in which to carry through with his threat. Till this day, every Chinese student learns
about the tactics of Maoism and the efficacy of包围城市.[1] All of the remarkable growth and relative
wealth, notwithstanding, the countryside with tidal migrations of hundreds of
millions of souls, in and out of the cities during holidays like this, ensures
brittle, dry tinder.
I’d like to see a Chinese Steven Colbert embody a
contemporary Neo Maoist role. A
courageous group of local comedians needs to shan zhai Comedy Central. “I
am the Motherland (and so can you!)“ “When
you disparage minorities the Party helped to liberate, people that’s racist.
Come on guys.” Perhaps his arch rival
is a Neo, Neo Confucian. A Jiang Qing (the
pundit, not the Chairman’s wife) with billowing sleeves and a droopy
mustache. Mock crosstalk/Crossfire sparing
over precisely how a real patriot conducts
one’s self. It would last all of eight
seconds in the CCTV cutting room.
But then again . . . Perhaps it is humor that pries open the
door to public reconciliation of these matters.
Mere humor would never have won civil rights nor secured gay marriage
legislation. But it was an essential
lubricant. And it was a consistent harbinger. This is a brittle continental engine. Behind closed doors they’re two-for-two on
transferring power without incident.
Social air thickens with vermillion dust, gritty blues. Brave mechanics needed. Lubricants smeared deftly. Fearless funnymen. Irony so the daunting ascent continues, a
hill is surmounted and most people agree to leave the baggage at the last, sad motel
and drive some place new.
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