Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Dying Democracy

Chris "Country Wide Free Mortgage" Dodd is throwing it down, Chris Dodd's Defense of SOPA Makes Him Sound Like a Despot - Technology - The Atlantic Wire
This is exactly what I have been fearing for quite some time. Alexei Navalny, a Russian blogger was arrested. For dissent, dissemination of information, and protesting the elections there. Russian blogger Alexei Navalny in spotlight after arrest - The Washington Post
How long before it happens here? This is no accident. Before  all those legislators, go on their christmas vacation, they will finally enact something, and this is it. Piracy, really? This is all about the next election, Occupy, and the progress they have made, and information anyone can access about the corporatocracy. Maybe I am being too extreme. I don't think so. If they pass this, freedom of expression is over on the internet. We are all in this together and the powers that be know it. "To hold a pen, is to be at war" Voltaire wrote that, in 1748. Now we can say "to type, is to be at war". So be it. We are in a war, make no mistake.

1 comment:

  1. TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again; but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? steal a line or two from Yeats.