Gun Violence and Institutionalized Bigotry – by J. G. Oblivious

Irony.

May I even use that word when speaking of such an event? It seems disrespectful and wicked to use such a word to describe such a tragedy.

It’s been hours since the mosques were attacked in a commonwealth country; by a racist ethno-nationalist terrorist praising supremacy for his kind and claiming a higher station than his fellow man; all while claiming to be protecting his country from the brown people he was murdering. He claiming that they are coming to his country and doing terrorism; shooting up and invading churches…

Reminiscing on generations past; one is drawn to a picture of the native savages of the Americas in the 1500s. The reports from European conquerors as they were read back home noting Godless savages that were handsome and would make good slaves. On one hand; we have the ebb and flow of immigration of white settlers to colonies around the world. Colonists praising their rapes and massacres as noble victories over barbaric Godless tribal people. Decrying the others wherever encountered and spreading the good word. It speaks nothing of burning ancient Mayan scrolls; losing forever thousands of years of recorded history from before a time more ancient than the Christs and the Pharoahs and the Sphynx. This was a problem for the Church; physical proof proving the world was older than their worldview and power structure and accumulated wealth allows for. No mind is paid to the rich cultural histories that existed obscured from the public consciousness. This holy war has been going on a lot longer than the countries involved have existed.

Hate breeds hate breeds hate breeds hate.

On the other hand, we have powerful global organizations like the Catholic Church doing many more evil things than only the child-raping and supporting Nazism. They controlled and financed the Jesuits that burned the history of other cultures. Raping and destroying and erasing people forever. The same thing Daesh tried in the cradle.

This hatred toward others is not part of any religion.

Letting hate flourish ensures that this stuff will happen forever or until our species destroy ourselves. The video of the attack was troubling; but it’s important for people to know what these things look like. A wake up call for gun control? Maybe. Probably not, though.

The irony of all of the ramblings above is simply this: As a resident of Australia, his ancestors were probably sent there unwillingly because their homeland didn’t want them anymore. They took refuge in a place that was available to them and established Australia as a prison for the undesirables to serve out their sentences. They were forced from their homeland and built a conquerors society on Aboriginal lands. The very same lands that this lunatic now believes himself defending from those whom his delusions cause him to believe are some sort of new age Moorish conquerors.

Some of the victims of this mass-shooting were immigrants from homelands which they fled in terror to escape persecution and violence. For the first time in their lives they probably felt safe; while still healing from the post-traumatic-stress of growing up in a war-zone and then making the arduous journey of an immigrant to a safe place where they can go outside without dodging gunshots and bombs.

This shooter is from a country in which a mass shooting happened and they locked down the gun laws. As an adjunct; some news outlets reported earlier this morning that he loves the sassy cheeto. That being said; as I search right now for a news article supporting that statement… I cannot find one.

How many of these nuts jobs do you think sit around for decades amassing ammunition stockpiles; masturbating to Guns-N-Ammo magazine with Alex Jones in the background just waiting for their opportunity to crack?

This is f***ing mental, people. 

No idea how to solve this. No suggestions. I have no idea. My gut for a long time has been that the proliferation of arms during the cold war ensured that we will forever live in a world in which there are more fresh-bullets than people. Probably not more bullets than ants. Definitely more bullets than people, though.

Perhaps when the insects take over after we destroy ourselves; the leftover bullets and casings will be re-purposed for some sort of abundant revolutionary building material that transforms their society and spawns a religion praising the shiny-object-bearers who crafted their new world.

*Sets down legally purchased marijuana*

Know what happens now, though?

In real-time, the United States has to watch how a country is SUPPOSED to respond to a mass-shooting.

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Canada, Inc. Part 5 – SNC-Lavalin

See PART 2 first.

This whole media circus concerning the SNC-Lavalin affair is a calculated effort to occlude from the average citizen the intricately interwoven nature of Canada’s Petro-Military-Tech companies at every level of our government. This is not a new thing. This is not a Liberal or a Conservative issue. This is not a bipartisan quibble. This is a brief glimpse behind the curtain at the wizardry of the shadow oligarchy that is really in charge.

The Military Industrial Complex is the reason we have smartphones. It is the reason we have Facebook. It is the reason we have Snapchat. It is the reason the Patriot Act and every subsequent similar piece of legislation was hushed and rushed through. We now have a generation of voting adults that have no memory of what it was like to be free and to not be at war.

There are no national borders. We are many atoms in one synchronous organism hanging on to antiquated notions of separateness.

The things we do and allow to happen in Canada; things like selling arms to oppressive regimes; affect the overall balance of the Universe. There is all kinds of evidence of the social blow-back from using petro-imperial-corporate-bomb-orgy diplomacy.

There are children coming of age in Iraq that have known nothing but war. All of the reasons we went to war there; all of the cruel awful history of Saddam; the gassing; the ethnic cleansing; all of it; irrelevant ancient history to this newly 15-18 year old Iraqi man.

Her only experience in this world being an occupation by a well organized and technologically advanced international organization of occupiers whom have never provided any reason for being there that is even remotely fathomable to the masses let alone this young Iraqi or Afghan.

We are the enemy to some of them. The same kind of evil-vile-warmongering-political-terrorist-monsters that we blew up their countries searching for.

They are the blowback.

SOME RELEVANT LINKS BELOW REGARDING SNC-LAVALIN
AND THE CANADIAN MILITARY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX

“In 2015, the RCMP charged SNC-Lavalin, along with its international division, with corruption and fraud in relation with their business dealings in Libya. The RCMP said officials at the company attempted to bribe several public officials in the country, including dictator Moammar Gadhafi, as well as other businesses in Libya. RCMP officials said SNC-Lavalin also lied to Libyan companies to defraud them of nearly $130 million.”

Source: (Charges against SNC-Lavalin explained — and how the PMO allegedly got involved)

Links and News Articles:

  1. Canadian Company Manufactures Bullets for War in Iraq
  2. Canada’s Halliburton? SNC-Lavalin war profiteering in Iraq, Afghanistan
  3. Timeline: Here’s how the SNC-Lavalin controversy has unfolded
  4. What’s at stake for RCMP, prosecutors in the SNC-Lavalin case
  5. SNC-Lavalin awarded oilfield contract in Iraq
  6. SNC-Lavalin in the Middle East
  7. SNC-Lavalin awarded West Qurna phase 2 oil field contract in Iraq
  8. General Dynamics to Acquire Ammunition Producer SNC Technologies Inc.
  9. SNC-Lavalin sells defence unit to General Dynamics
  10. Bullets over Bay Street Shouldn’t selling munitions to an occupying force be a war crime?
  11. SNC-Lavalin Group Inc. History

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Fear and Loathing at Stephen’s House – Part 4: Selling Out Our Natural Resources

Who owns our natural resources?

Does our country own them?

Do the individual provinces own them?

Do our citizens own them?

Do the corporations who buy or lease the land on which they are found own them?

If you’re not sure of the answer – which scenario seems to be most appropriate?

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Lets use oil as our first example.

Canada produces 3.6 Million barrels of oil per day (or 1.314 billion barrels per year). This equates to about 37 barrels of oil per year per Canadian citizen.

By contrast, the United States produces around 9.4 Million barrels of oil per day (or 3.431 billion barrels per year). We did the math, and in the United States, this comes to around 11 barrels of oil per year per American citizen.

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Why do these numbers matter? They matter, because I believe that our country (and all that it contains) belong to all of us.

Why does American gasoline cost less than gasoline purchased in Canada?

Sure… ‘world markets’.

In what world is selling out our country in the form of pissing away our natural resources a good idea? By allowing multinational oil companies to enjoy the profits while Canadian citizens endure the high-cost of heating oil, gasoline, and diesel – we’re allowing our economy and Harper’s oligarchy to prolong our dependence on fossil fuels and curb any advancement toward the greener technologies that we all need.

When new technologies reach the consuming public – the cost of those goods goes down as they are more widely adopted. Personal computers are a prime example – as they became more widely available, the tech improved and the cost went down. The same thing will happen with green technology. We could operate on micro-grids. We could all run self-sustaining households. But large corporations (with the aid of oligarchies around the world) prevent that from happening.

Stephen Harper sold out our country. Supported by the omnipresent public-service oligarchy operating in the shadows; the good things that the Harper administration has done for this country will never outweigh the bad things that his arrogant system of governance has done to destroy our nation.

Our nation; and in essence our world; needs leaders that tell the truth. We need leaders that answer questions; instead of dodging them. We need leaders that are more concerned with engineering a blueprint for the next century than continuing to play partisan politics in the arena of public opinion to cement a legacy of manufactured sound-bites for future generations to suckle on.

RESOURCES

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PART 5

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Oblivious in Dubai: Part 15

Salazar brings a serving tray to our room with twelve bottles of Budweiser atop it. A tip, a handshake, and he was gone. He did request, though, that we not let anyone see the beer.

My comrade had paid for the hotel and the beer; but I had to leave shortly to catch my plane.

We get into the beers then start talking about life and the state of the World’s affairs; talking about how we each just left an active war zone in which we were doing otherwise ‘normal’ jobs.

I don’t remember much after that.

“Nothing is true; everything is permitted.” – Assassin’s Creed maxim and primary guideline.

I recall the conversation being honest and eye opening; but I shall not reveal the nature of that discussion here.

The world is an interesting place. As long as you’re polite; most of the time you’ll be alright. Somehow I made it to the airport; though I don’t remember much of the trip.

Following along sequentially; the things I recall are still-images. Images flash of the stained-wood walls of the lobby; a snapshot of my Comrade carrying one of my bags to the taxi; a parting hug; and then of regaining coherence at the check-in line at the airport.

Familiar Canadian Comrades were also waiting to check in. Beverages were had once we traversed through this exceptionally large line. To Frankfurt and then to Montreal before we’d part ways.

Most of the rest of my journey is a blur until shortly before landing in Germany at six o’clock in the morning. The time of day is largely irrelevant while travelling over 30 hours in one shot; it just affects what’s found on the menus of the places you stop to eat. The blur, after analyzing my previous behavior and looking for patterns; was probably filled with tasting the beers of the world until I passed out and pissed myself on the plane.

At least I thought I’d pissed myself.  I’d not pissed myself before; so there was no reason to believe my bladder would cave for no reason.

Perhaps it was the cabin pressure?

I found a can of beer on the floor that had spilled all over my pants; alongside it a couple of empty Coors cans… and a full one. Sweet, I’ve got another beer.  I crack the beer and drink the Gravol; the plane should be landing soon.

When in Deutschland; eat what the Germans eat.

Sausage, beer, and a few tabs of Gravol.

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Part 16
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Oblivious in Dubai: Part 13

Five days later…

I board in Halifax; connect in Toronto; and land after sunset in Dubai.

I work my way through the fantastical arrivals process at the Dubai International Airport. Deplane; head down the escalator; stand on conveyor belt after conveyor belt as old ladies pass by in electric golf carts chaperoned by portly airport employees. Fleeting eye-based interactions with those passing me on the parallel track heading in the opposite direction.

Ads… ads… so many ads.

Posters and billboards and signs, oh my. Miles of rubber track; broken into hundred meter sections; separated by ceramic tile-work. Step off of one belt – click, click, click, click, click – step on to the next. The wheels of my carry-on bag strike the grout between the tiles in an almost musical fashion. The soothing pattern I notice may only be soothing as a result of my exhaustion and jet-lag.

The beer included on the trans-Atlantic flight probably contributed to my acknowledgement of this beautiful, rhythmic pattern.

Ascend an escalator to customs; passport stamped; proceed to baggage.

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Waiting for our bags to hit the pick-up conveyor; I browse the duty-free liquor store. So much sauce; so much bank; so much confiscation if I tried to take it on base.

Not that I had any desire to; I wanted to take it back to Canada with me – but I was heading in the opposite direction.

Make a mental note to stop here on my next flight home.

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Grab my bags then work my way through the hoards of people leaving the airport. We funnel into an underground taxi-queue; shuffling past the booths of car-rental companies.

While standing in line, I see a dwarf who appears to be from India or Bangladesh. A few feet away are a young child of three or four and his father. The boy is sitting in the basket of the luggage cart while laughing hysterically and pointing at the vertically challenged man who did him no harm.

The father laughs along with the child; making no effort to stop the unwarranted abuse.

The lack of politically correct behavior disturbed me.

I get into my cab; hand the driver the business card from the hotel I was at only a week before; and we depart. He calls his dispatcher for directions.

We arrive and I greet the doorman. Salazar comes outside and raises both arms. “Salazar!” I yell.

Salazar smiles and waves me over as he approaches me. We shake hands; each asking how the other is; and he shows me to my room.

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Enter Oblivious in Dubai Part One or move on to Oblivious In Dubai Part Fourteen

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Oblivious in Dubai: Part 12

Sitting at the gate; evening sun shining through the glass window overlooking the tarmac; awaiting my final flight home.

Overpriced shops abound. I noticed some pashmina scarves hanging on a display rack; $18 a piece. Just a few short days ago I bought ten of these very same scarves from an Afghan man at the Bazaar for twenty American dollars; a few hundred miles from the goats that the fibre was sourced from. I chuckle and shake my head at international commerce.

Sitting in my seat; awaiting the call to board; I meet two white American couples. One couple with two adopted Chinese daughters around three years old.

The two wives and one of the husbands amuse the children. I ask the second man if he wants to see some pictures.

I start off with photos that I’d taken of my life on the base; my tent, my room, my friends.

Then I show him a video, filmed from a Humvee, of an IED exploding between two vehicles in a convoy.

He gasps; visibly shaken.

That’s what we ask our guys to walk into.” I say.

I show him another video; filmed by terrorists. This video is of a masked man firing a mortar while shouting the takbir. He drops a dud into the mortar tube and blows himself up by accident.

I laugh and tell the man, “It’s funny to watch those bastards fuck up.”
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We board; take off; and make our way home in the middle of the night.

A kind friend; whom I’ve known for many years; picks me up at the airport and takes me back to her house so that I can surprise my family the next day.

We smoke some grass and I start going through my bags. I give her and her room mate first grab at the pashminas.

They retire to bed; I crash on the couch without much hesitation.
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I wake up the next morning and it’s a beautiful day. Both my friends are at work; so I take a long shower then step outside for a cigarette. Barefoot I sit on the stoop; passionately puffing my Marlboro and letting the fresh grass work it’s way between my toes and under my feet.

I never knew one could miss grass so much.

I’m amazed at the cars racing past. They’re not going all that fast; but I was used to a 15 km/h speed limit. Speed is relative.

Later that day, my friend picks me up and we head into the community to pick up her room mate from the eye doctors office she worked at. As I wait in the car; I get a hankering for caffeine, so I head to the Tim Hortons on the other side of the parking lot.

Much to my synergistic amazement, surprise and joy; a friend I’d grown up with worked at the coffee shop. A friend that I had no idea lived in the area (two hours from where we grew up) and whom I had no idea worked at any coffee shop, let alone this one.

We were both visibly startled but it was the good kind of startled. The kind of startled that one experiences when one of the first people they encounter upon return from a war is an old childhood friend.

I order my sandwich, bagel and coffee; and she takes her break so we can sit out back of the coffee shop and talk.

Very full circle.

Meanwhile; my two other friends were searching the parking lot for me. The plan was to drive me two hours to our home town to surprise my family. I happened upon another old friend and got caught up in old times.

It’s chance encounters like this that make me believe in some sort of divine invisible hand directing some of what we experience. How was it that this old friend happened to work in the same shopping plaza as a completely unrelated old friend; in a city lying two hours from our home town? How was it that she happened to have the morning shift that day? How was it that I chose to go to that coffee shop instead of the many we’d passed on the way to where we were; or the many we’d pass on our journey home? Too many coincidences to be anything but divinely inspired.

If it was coincidence; how many times do we casually enter the radius of someone we once knew and have no idea? 

Part Thirteen

Welcome to my mind.

There are writings on here from several writers who enjoy the freedom of publishing their work under a pen name. Feel free to send your own sample (if you feel it compares to the content on this page) to info@nukesofknowledge.com. Please limit initial submissions to <500 words.

Make sure to like us on Facebook as well.

If this is your first time here, I would recommend starting with some of my Short Stories before diving too deep into my Political ramblings. Four out of five of those stories are true and will give new readers an idea of the type of person you’re dealing with. People are just people; anywhere you go. The differences between us are very small and trivial; generally we all seem to struggle with the same type of shit on a social level. Humans are resilient and they adapt. Humans adapt to their environment.

Generally speaking; the differences between people break down to language, diet, and mythology. Whether economic ideology or religious rhetoric; it’s all hypothetical brain-storm type stuff that I’m going to classify as “mythology”. Diet is largely based on ones local environment. Finally – we have language; which is also pre-determined based on where one happens to be born.

All of these things are just interesting ideas that one or a few of us came up with at some point during our 200,000 year evolution. One-at-a-time nuggets of societal evolution.

Each of those things are cultural; and cultures should be shared. We shouldn’t kill each other over silly cultural and tribal differences. There’s no need for violence in 2014. The level of globalized interconnection and shared media present in our world should be enough for us to see how human everyone else is.

The point I’m trying to make is that if you take the extremism out of a fifteen year old bible thumper from the belt; and the extremism out of a fifteen year old mujahid; you’ve got two average, male, teenage brains thinking about tonight’s game or about the girl they like.

Take ten people from each of the habitable continents and put them on the same roller coaster. They’re going to have a great time together.

We’re all riding on the same cosmic roller coaster through the universe. Our species has spilled a lot of blood over this marble we all live on. From far enough away, we’re indistinguishable from ants. If you’ve ever watched a video of an ant colony; you most certainly will have noticed how well ants get along.

There are exceptions to this of course; there have been wars between ant colonies; intercontinental invasions; and competing factions fighting for control of limited resources.

I guess ants get along when they have to; but completely destroy a competing tribe for control of property and resources when they deem it in their best interests.

Perhaps ants are a lot like us.

Sincerely,

JG Oblivious
NoK Contributing Editor

P.S. Enjoy the page.