"From July 11th 2019 pretty much days after Epstein was arrested I starting putting up the map videos."

We're in a real moment now.

Between the gov't shutdown, Dems abdication while still clinging to decorum while everything burns or freezes on ICE, complete and total loathing of the party and its leaders, there is a serious opportunity for a socialist uprising.

It'll be up to us, in NYC and around the country (and to a larger extent in this financially strangulated world, the rest of the globe) to mobilize mass demonstrations and rallies in support of socialist agendas.

Mamdani has done a particularly fine job articulating the basic tenets of socialism and the importance of a movement behind it. People are living it and know it intuitively. But like with so much else because of a feckless, totally bought corporate media haven't had their own lives under capitalism explained back to them. Again, he's done a fine job elucidating this.

High profile political campaigns open up space for people to talk about real stuff, instead of being re-channeled into the usual social media slop and 24/7 entertainment Burgerland stupidity.

Something feels in the air.

Talked to somebody who was there and she said it was an spontaneous response that was angry.

Rather a typical political rally supporters at which supporters just boo the capacity crowd there of 13,000 people knew very distinctly that the Governor held the power to sign off on Mamdani's platform to do so.

In that sense things in NYC are proceeding in a way not seen in a very long time. In other words the argument Occupy Wall St was making in 2011, that the 1% own the country and its elections, seems now to be becoming even more mainstream in the philosophy of the proles.

It's easy to be cynical now, and there's things to be concerned in this campaign. It's not gonna be perfect. But man, you really do feel like something is afoot around these parts.

I think there's huge upside in this election. Beyond the powerful symbolism of a Socialist being elected in the Financial Capitol of the World the potential of the success of real material transformation in people's lives can and will reverberate around the world.

People ain't playing anymore.

TAX THE RICH: Kathy Hochul HECKLED At Fiery Zohran Rally

https://x.com/nycDSA/status/1978144314526957945

Pulled up to a state park this past weekend and balked at the admission price.

“This is insane. What are our taxes for?”

I hear ya, man.

“You know, this is why we need a socialist revolution. It’s way overdue in many ways.”

Ya goddamn right about that.

2nd conversation (spurred by a rant):

Walking down city street wondering aloud if favorite Middle Eastern restaurant would still be there…

“I’m not sure if that’s it; looks like a different name now (note: it was the same). You can never tell anymore with all this capitalist destruction in our lives!”

Woman behind me:

“Exactly; that’s true.”

Folks, speak up loudly and often in public. Comrades need to know that each other exists.

We’re getting somewhere…

It was not this, however, so much as their materialism, that shocked me. It is true, these beautifully gowned, beautiful women prattled sweet little ideals and dear little moralities: but in spite of their prattle the dominant key of the life they lived was materialistic. And they were so sentimentally selfish! They assisted in all kinds of sweet little charities, and informed one of the fact, while all the time the food they ate and the beautiful clothes they wore were bought out of dividends stained with the blood of child labor, and sweated labor, and of prostitution itself. When I mentioned such facts, expecting in my innocence that these sisters of Judy O'Grady would at once strip off their blood-dyed silks and jewels, they became excited and angry, and read me preachments about the lack of thrift, the drink, and the innate depravity that caused all the misery in society's cellar. When I mentioned that I couldn't quite see that it was the lack of thrift, the intem-perance, and the depravity of a half-starved child of six that made it work twelve hours every night in a Southern cotton mill, these sisters of Judy O'Grady attacked my private life and called me an "agita-tor" —as though that, forsooth, settled the argument.

Nor did I fare better with the masters themselves. I had expected to find men who were clean, noble, and alive, whose ideals were clean, noble, and alive. I went about amongst the men who sat in the high places—the preachers, the politicians, the business men, the professors, and the editors. I ate meat with them, drank wine with them, auto-mobiled with them, and studied them. It is true, I found many that were clean and noble; but with rare exceptions, they were not alive. I do verily believe I could count the exceptions on the fingers of my two hands. Where they were not alive with rottenness, quick with unclean life, they were merely the unburied dead —clean and noble, like well-preserved mummies, but not alive. In this connection I may especially mention the professors I met, the men who live up to that decadent university ideal, "the passionless pursuit of passionless intelligence." I met men who invoked the name of the Prince of Peace in their diatribes against war, and who put rifles in the hands of Pinkertons with which to shoot down strikers in their own factories. I met men incoherent with indignation at the brutality of prize-fighting, and who, at the same time, were parties to the adulteration of food that killed each year more babies than even red-handed Herod had killed.

I talked in hotels and clubs and homes and Pullmans and steamer-chairs with captains of industry, and marvelled at how little travelled they were in the realm of intellect. On the other hand, I discovered tbat their intellect, in the business sense, was abnormally developed. Also, I discovered that their morality, where business was concerned, was nil.

This delicate, aristocratic-featured gentleman, was a dummy director and a tool of corporations that secretly robbed widows and orphans. This gentleman, who collected fine editions and was an especial patron of literature, paid blackmail to a heavy-jowled, black. browed boss of a municipal machine. This editor who nublichar patent medicine advertisements and did not dare print the truth in his paper about said patent medicines for fear of losing the advertising. Called me a scoundrelly demagogue because I told him that his political economy was antiquated and that his biology was contemporaneous with Pliny.

This senator was the tool and the slave, the little puppet of a gross, uneducated machine boss; so was this governor and this supreme court judge; and all three rode on railroad passes. This man, talking soberly and earnestly about the beauties of idealism and the goodness of God, had just betrayed his comrades in a business deal. This man, a pillar of the church and heavy contributor to foreign missions, worked his shop girls ten hours a day on a starvation wage and thereby directly encouraged prostitution. This man, who endowed chairs in universities, perjured himself in courts of law over a matter of dollars and cents. And this railroad magnate broke his word as a gentleman and a Christian when he granted a secret rebate to one of two captains of industry locked together in a struggle to the death.

It was the same everywhere, crime and betrayal, betrayal and crime—men who were alive, but who were neither clean nor noble, men who were clean and noble but who were not alive. Then there was a great, hopeless mass, neither noble nor alive, but merely clean.

It did not sin positively nor deliberately; but it did sin passively and ignorantly by acquiescing in the current immorality and profiting by it. Had it been noble and alive it would not have been ignorant, and it would have refused to share in the profits of betrayal and crime. I discovered that I did not like to live on the parlor floor of society.

Intellectually I was bored. Morally and spiritually I was sickened. I remembered my intellectuals and idealists, my unfrocked preachers, broken professors, and clean-minded, class-conscious working men. I remembered my days and nights of sunshine and starshine, where life was all a wild sweet wonder, a spiritual paradise of unselfish adventure and ethical romance. And I saw before me, ever blazing and burning, the Holy Grail.

So I went back to the working-class, in which I had been born and where I belonged. I care no longer to climb. The imposing edifice of society above my head, holds no delights for me. It is the foundation of the edifice that interests me. There I am content to labor, crowbar in hand, shoulder to shoulder, with intellectuals, idealists, and class conscious working men, getting a solid pry now and again, and setting the whole edifice rocking. Someday, when we get a few more hands and crowbars to work, we topple it over, along with all its rotten life and unburied dead, its monstrous selfishness and sodden materialism. Then we’ll cleanse the cellar and build a new habitation for mankind, in which there will be no parlor floor, in which all the rooms will be bright and airy, and where the air that is breathed will be clean, noble, and alive.

Zohran’s massive success in connecting with NYers is especially melting the brains of the worst kinds of capitalists.

Hellgate:

I was expecting a crowd outside of the Gristedes on 40th Street and Second Avenue, because I had gotten an email telling me that John Catsimatidis, the tycoon who owns the chain, would be leading 100 supermarket and bodega employees in a "dramatic, worker-led press conference and protest rally" late Monday morning. Instead, I found a few news cameras pointed at Catsimatidis himself, who was checking his watch and promising that he'd be joined by United Bodegas of America spokesperson Fernando Mateo "any minute!" Catsimatidis held the conference in protest of Democratic candidate for mayor Zohran Mamdani's proposed pilot program for five City-run grocery stores. Behind him, five uniformed workers from the Midtown Gristedes lined up dutifully, but didn't say much.

"I've been in the supermarket business for 54 years," Catsimatidis said when he took the podium. He went on a real tear, on topics that ranged from helping run Bill Clinton's campaign in New York City to casting doubt on the validity of Mamdani's election. "It's not the same Democratic Party we know," he said. "The socialists have taken over the Democratic Party." Catsimatidis opined that, because the common-sense Democrats had too much common sense to come out and vote in the 102-degree heat last week, he's "not sure how much of an accurate vote it is." (More New Yorkers voted in the 2025 Democratic mayoral primary than in 2021.)

My kid just excitedly showed this to me. He’s learning real history at home, not American Exceptionalism propaganda that he gets in school.

“Where Is the Grand Canyon?” children’s book, part of the WhoHQ series of Who? What? Where?

Some of these books in that series are fairly open to presenting radical history. We’ve also got the Che, Nikola Tesla, The Underground Railroad books.

“ Real world scenarios have proven that it's not money that makes most people show up to court, it's their need to vindicate themselves and fight and win their trial. (And things like text messaging people to remind them of court dates are highly effective).

But...

Keeping someone in a dangerous jail before their trial allows police, without evidence, and prosecutors, without a case, to find people guilty, and pad their careers enough to climb the career ladder.

And do nearly NO work.

How?

Most suicides, murders, sexual abuse occurs the very first weeks in jail. You've heard stories of Rikers. It's dangerous. People die. And on the outside, your family suffers. Rent's due. Job's calling. Car's taken. Child needs u. Bills piling.

This gives a prosecutor leverage...

The career ladder climbing prosecutor just has to tell you to take a plea deal. Just admit you did it, even if you didn't and you'll be out of here. Some will even come with photos of your kids, telling you you'll miss them growing up.

There's more...“

“In the mad Black person, all the violences of modernity converge to produce death. That is what we witnessed on the New York subway. Add to that homelessness, and the mad Black person without property is the perfect anthesis of this violent brutal capitalist society — they must be made to disappear by all means necessary, even if by white non-police deputization, as Frank Wilderson has called it. Wilderson argues that the existence of Black people is put permanently in question when compared to others whose existence goes without saying. He writes, ‘In such a paradigm White people are, ipso facto, deputized in the face of Black people, whether they know it (consciously) or not.’ The message seems to be, ‘kill them fuckers!’ Indeed, any white deputy can kill them fuckers. White protection is the order of the day because whiteness owns everything. In ‘The Souls of White Folk,’ it is W.E.B. Du Bois who says, ‘Then always, somehow, some way, silently but clearly, I am given to understand that whiteness is the ownership of the earth forever and ever, Amen!’”

It’s so fucked up on soooo many levels I’m getting dizzy.

The result of a festering toxic stew of: centuries of institutional racism (literally the cornerstone of the imperialism and capitalism that made America rich), the sanctification of authority, hatred of the poor/homeless/mental ill (the counterpart of HeMan individualist Bootstrapism), RW hate machine media ridicule of the poor and criminalization of skin color/purposeful Neoliberal ignoring of the problem, cultural Copaganda/worship of the military, a learned cultural helplessness/turning away from what’s wrong/lack of examining ones conscience, still no universal healthcare (during a fucking pandemic!!) and paltry, dysfunctional mental health care, cost of living obscenely out of control, people alienated by the social media trap which further silos and depresses us, etc.

Pure unadulterated FASCISM, in every way.

That motherfucker better be prosecuted to the fullest degree of “the law,” along with the two other accomplices. Which is a joke in and of itself.

Did he get a little Happy Meal with the KKKops afterward?

Jordan Neely had to testify as a kid at the trial for when his mother was choked to death at 30 yrs old. Can you imagine his life?

If anybody knows of a vigil or rally for this poor, wretched soul please post.

I fucking hate this country with a blinding rage.

https://twitter.com/marxist777/status/1653872190977179650

Keeps coming up, no matter how many different ways I change the title, or content, or photo…