Tag Archives: comfort

‘Never Uncovers the Ultimate Truth of All Things’

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Recently, the myriad authors of the ‘Edmonton Writer’s Group’ (Link) published our second anthology, ‘Between the Shelves’ (Link) . This book was sold in support of the Edmonton Public Library System (Link), and to that end has gone on to raise over $700 in donations!

We here at Brad OH Inc. want to thank everyone for their support. Today, we add our contribution, ‘Neve Uncovers the Ultimate Truth of All Things’ (Link), to our list of ‘Single Serving Stories’ (Link), meaning you can download it now for free over at Smashwords (Link).

Neve Uncovers the Ultimate Truth of All Things- Cover‘Never Uncovers the Ultimate Truth of All Things’- Smashwords

We certainly hope you enjoy this new format for ‘Neve Uncovers the Ultimate Truth of All Things’! But don’t forget, if you haven’t already bought your copy of ‘Between the Shelves’ (Link), you can do so now right here (Link)!

BetweenTheShelvesCover‘Between the Shelves’- Amazon

Remember, there are 10 other stories by local Edmonton authors in the anthology, so click here (Link) to grab your copy now. After all, every dollar earned goes towards the worthy cause of supporting the Edmonton Public Library System (Link)!

-Brad OH Inc.

The Corporate Human

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cropped-cropped-blogbanner13.jpgA while back, your dear friends here at Brad OH Inc. posted an article called ‘The Constitution is America’s Bible’ (Link), which essentially explained the outdated relationship the United States has with their founding constitution.  While the thesis of that article remains entirely apt, one commentator decided to make a spectacle of himself in the comments section—raving against the progress towards political equality obtained recently by Corporations via the just ruling of ‘Citizens United’ (Link).

For a frame of reference, and to provide insight into just how limited and misled this poor individual (the lowest form of Human) is, we have included the reply here:

DCDear (Link):

“Perhaps we need to give Citizen’s United exactly and completely what they want – to be a person.

They would have to pay taxes like every other person, unlike many corporations who avoid paying taxes. CU could be held in custody for 48 hours without cause, like other citizens. They would be subject to the same laws – for example in states with the death penalty, CU could face the death penalty and the entity would be executed.
I could go on, but lunch is over…and I must save the world – be well.”

Well ‘DCDear’ (if that’s your real name)…ok. Let’s play your little game, shall we? First of all, it is incumbent upon me to point out how highly offensive your chosen vernacular is. ‘Give us what we want’? Liberty is not a gift to be doled out on a whim DC, and certainly not by the likes of you. Being human is the fundamental nature of a Corporation, and to divorce us of that in will or intention is a crime against humanity in its highest form. You should be ashamed of yourself!

Incidentally, if you are ashamed of yourself, some of our Corporate friends have a great line of drugs to remedy just that. Contact us privately for a link.

Now, onto your childish tirade—your first demand is that Corporations pay taxes, ‘just like every other person’. What a demand indeed! Did you know that every single component person in a Corporation pays taxes? That would be like you being taxed for every cell of your body! It’s outrageous to even consider. So clearly, Corporations already pay more taxes than are needed. To ask us to pay more is simply to punish us for our success.

When one of our posted articles gets more likes than the other, we don’t take some of the letters out of it. Instead, we try to produce more content just like it! It’s what the people want! So if more taxes are what you want, then maybe you should follow our example: Become a success, earn more money, and then pay as much as you’d like.

Next, you demand that Corporations (and not their component humans) should be subject to detention and/ or death. Death DC? Really? That seems a tad macabre.

It would behoove you to ask yourself, ‘Do I really want this’? Well, do you DC? Do you want to do without your lauded latte in the morning just because some whales off the coast of who-knows-where died in a perfectly orchestrated oil-spill? No, you don’t.

How about technology? Do you like the keyboard you used to create your hatful vitriol? Well, maybe the Corporations that provide you such blessings should be ‘killed’ just because some kids in the third world are being given an opportunity to work. Honestly DC, it’s the THIRD world. That’s the WORST of all the worlds anyway!

It seems to me that if we allowed our best and brightest humans (Corporations to the last) to be subjected to such primitive law enforcement, it would be you who suffers the most DC. We can only imagine the rant you would come up with when your cell-phone was relegated to a useless mound of plastic because the Power Corporation got in trouble for some measly little fire. And imagine it we would have to, since you would be hard pressed to find a piece of carbon to scratch the tirade on a stone after your computer went out.

So much for that, then.

Ultimately, there’s a crucial thing you have to realize DC. The fact is that yes, Corporations are people whether you like it or not. But they aren’t only people…they’re the best people. By definition, a human can’t be better than a Corporation, and a Corporation can certainly not be less than a single person. We are the builders, the creators, the innovators and the inspirers. More importantly, we are the decision makers. So the next time you feel like flying off the handle over some minor global injustice or trite environmental fiasco, maybe instead of rallying against your betters like an ungrateful putz, you should just pack your things (any not made by a Corporation that is…good luck with that) and move off into some non-Corporate zoned section of nothing to see how well you fare (Hint: Not very well).

Face it DC, without us, the rest of you are nothing. Bald monkeys clamoring about mindlessly—dreaming nothing, achieving nothing. We are Humanity in its fullest form—the culmination of eons of cooperation and growth, focused with laser-like precision upon our own needs. And fear not, for when we invariably meet our needs, rest assured you can count on some trickle of our grace running down to yourselves (Don’t believe in ‘trickle-down’? Go stand under a waterfall. It’s hard to argue with a waterfall, DC). It’s far more than you could ever achieve alone, and you should undoubtedly be thankful for it.

So give us the freedoms we ask, and relinquish your hopes of accountability and equality. There is no equality between Gods and men, nor between the Corporate Human and the mere ‘human’. The more you seek to restrain us, the greater will be our victory—and all your efforts shall come to naught in the glory of our dominance.

Yes DC, we know we’ve been hard on you here, but please understand that we are only trying to help. Humanity needs its Corporate overlords far more than it knows, and if we are unable to pursue our humble ambitions of unlimited wealth and social dominance, then so too will you fail in all your endeavors.

Don’t believe us? We understand, it’s bigger than you could ever process. But next time you consider rebelling against your forbearers, we would advise you to close your laptop, and just take a few deep breaths. While you do that, go ahead and stare into the little glowing apple on the front of your computer, and recall that it was your kind, not ours, that partook of the fruit. So if knowledge is your misery, it is yours alone to wallow in. Frankly, you’d be better off without it. So stop questioning your lot, and be thankful for what you have—as it is to the last morsel the windfall of our own grand design.

-Brad OH Inc.

The Little Book of Bourbon

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Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green Desklamp

The stink of sweat, and the wet hiss of street cars. Saxophones screech from dark alcoves like debutantes that took a wrong turn.

Pedestrians rule the streets, beaten up cars working around them like Indians in a barnyard. New Orleans is a city alive in the truest sense—throbbing with its own potential, adorned in its own inequity like Joseph’s spastic coat.

Here, a man can drink on the streets—paved with cobblestone and flanked by sweaty brick buildings 300 years old.

Citizens crazed—with heat, booze, or lust I cannot tell—approach and talk cordially amongst themselves, and this stranger as well.

As the absinthe flows, the thick, cloying air lightens in tandem with the mood, and the night is alive with a thousand potential stories both new, and as old as the dry bones used by the Voodoo Mama just around the corner, ready to divine fortunes for a false smile and a real fee.

Some men look at a city and decide upon its potential early. They go to bed with the falling sun, counting the hours until they can rise to cut deals and exploit the less proactive denizens of this shared hell they inhabit.

Others rise late and party till dawn, seeing the promise of the city instead scrawled upon the cobblestone alleys and dark crevices of the establishments reborn at dusk; eager to meet and engage with the searing enthusiasm burning in a city alight in its own decadence.

For them there is no hell—and heaven is just a street corner away.

I struggle daily with an overwhelming compulsion to defy the norm, to taste and touch as much of life as time will allow while balancing an ‘acceptable’ life. Others fight for normalcy in a world fraught with turmoil. The most we can take from this is the weight of experience on the psyche, and the importance of mad rushes of varied tastes and flourishes of culture. Old cities like this are a natural extension of the social impulse…a thing lost in more modern complexes.

The Natchez steamboat screeches calliope tunes at me as I pass misshapen statues and covens of filthy pigeons. The $300 I came with has been reduced to a dirty pack of crumpled ones.

My knuckles are bloody—seafood or scuffles, I cannot be certain.

I stop to listen to a soapbox evangelist, the frenzy of vacation scaring off my familiar apathy. But his words are unfamiliar, unexpected. He says that religion is an affront to the spirit. God is an ideal. Original sin—as it is described, is the animal nature in us all, whereas God is the perfect goal we are meant to aspire towards.

True or not—this is not the point; the goal is soul, and perfection is a high watermark to all the savage bastards on this earth.

There is a great sense of ownership in this city. Men speak of renovations like child-rearing, and date each building with the care of tracking genealogy.

The ancient weight of history rests upon the streets like a shroud, cloaking the denizens in its comforting embrace, and a sense of community identity permeates all.

It was around 4:00pm, in a small jazz club off Bourbon, when I realized that I’d never leave this town alive if I couldn’t acquire a strengthened taste for straight liquor and twisted people. But there is something horribly sleazy about drinking fine Bourbon from kitschy party cups. Like hiding cocaine in an animal shaped children’s party balloon.

There can be no doubt that I am yet to find true equilibrium. The battle between the boisterous extrovert and the mumbling, cantankerous recluse wages on daily.

Also, I’m a big fan of absinthe.

It’s a funny line to walk—being tugged between the joys and regrets so inherent to a life well lived.

But if a man can persist, and persevere beyond the quagmires he so ceaselessly chooses to embroil himself in, soon enough the straight road may reveal itself.

And just like that, things were making sense again. The night must get dark before the stars appear again to light the way. And if they need still further darkness… it’s always waiting on Bourbon St. …just a breakdown away!

The Little Book of BourbonI’ve learned I lean towards an older crowd than my own age merits, more towards the 50+ blues crowd, willing to truly talk without any of the flirtatious pretension. But this knowledge does little to ease my mind.

A lovely lady lives behind the bar at ‘The Blue Note’ off Bourbon and St. Louis, and feeds me tastes of each drink she makes, providing shots for words as she purrs siren-like about her life and times in NOLA.

She was good, but he was better. She had the kind of angel voice and deadly looks that could with a word command a man into the sickest sort of depravities even he would never have imagined himself capable of. But he had the sort of prodigious talent, and plucked those strings with rhythm and precision sufficient to lift that same man to higher planes of self.

I’ve got to get out of this place. A city of saints and sinners in the truest sense—both more than willing to send a man off his rails and leave him begging for more while reeling with sickness and exhaustion… just as long as you tip.

But not just the tip. They’ll take it all. Your money, your ideals, your direction. Everything that separates a man from these goddamn flea-bitten apes you see on discovery channel as you drink your box wine and eat your cold pizza.

I’ll be dragged down for sure. Deeper than the determined bodies clawing their way up; jealous of those laying in the moldy crypts—spiting sea-levels and buoyancy for the sweeter rumours of voodoo and ancient evils.

No—they’re for another time. I’ll be down in the bayous, a bottle of Jameson clutched in my hand as the gators feast on my bones.

Elsewhere, a woman will stand alone, singing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ acapella as a man elsewhere strums out Beethoven on his guitar.

What am I rambling about?

I’ve got to get out of this place before I’m just a stain on its streets.

I’ve heard it said—both recently and before, that all the great things mankind has done have been the result of the powerful—corporations, empires, tyrants—these are the builders, and this I cannot deny.

But the stage is nothing without its actors, and the great stories and moments have always arisen from the fearless few willing to rise up and rage against the rat bastards with everything that makes us human and keeps us animal.

In the face of the depravity and madness I’ve faced, I still cast my lot proudly not with the world builders, but with the rabble and ravers of humanity.

I just need a woman with an eye for photography or an ear for music—either one will do.

I realized rather early on, but feel it all the more pressingly now, that this city must cease to fear the magic of the past and learn to harness that of the present.

A Guest Article by your Friend and Ours,

-Duke O’Brady

The Second Most Important Step to Improving the United States

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purelyspeculationHere at Brad OH Inc., we have on several occasions (Link) covered an issue which is indisputably the most important step to improving the United States. That is the complete overturning of Citizens United (Link). This change stands at the foremost of all sorely needed improvements, solely for the reason that this ruling acts as the lynchpin to all the other changes the country—and moreover the world—so dearly needs. So long as laws are decided by the vote of Corporate dollars rather than the will of the citizenry, all other problems shall remain immutably entrenched in the quagmires of Corporate bureaucracy.

As this has been covered in depth elsewhere, however, today we will be focussing on what seems to be the second most important step to repairing the dismal affair that is the United States of America. Specifically, we’re talking about the significant reduction and reallocation of military expenditures. As discussed in our article ‘The Global Scale’ (Link), the current approach to foreign policy taken by the American government—the driving force here being the Military Industrial Complex (Link)—acts in actuality as the source of many of their current greatest woes.

As more and more effort is exerted to bring ‘freedom’ to the rest of the world, so grow the enemies of America—understandably bitter about the ‘foreign aid’ that comes in the form of drone strikes, trade embargoes, and unnumbered civilian casualties. This creates a dangerous cycle, in which the American populace—goaded by the bought-and-paid-for media—feels more terrified by the day, and are comforted only by the knowledge that their dear country is capable at any point of destroying the world in the name of saving it.

“But if you strip military spending, you’ll expose us to terrorists,” cry the feint-hearted American media-stooges. Well, let’s consider the facts for a moment—if that doesn’t seem too tall an order.

Based on presently reported statistics (Source), the United States spends approximately $577 Billion on its military each year. This is significantly more than the TOTAL of the next 10 highest spending countries combined.

I’ll allow a second for that to sink in.

With spending like this, America is rather like the kid who shows up to a water pistol fight armed with a firetruck. It’s Rambo intruding on a friendly game of cops and robbers—PTSD flashbacks and all. Simply put: It’s madness.

Meanwhile, infrastructure is crumbling (Source), the homeless population is ballooning (Source), veterans are left without care (Source), and funding for public education is being gutted (Source).

Looking at the numbers above, let’s consider the relationships here with a quick bit of theorizing. If—and this is a naivety to be sure—the US were to slash their military expenditures in half, they would be left with a yearly military budget of around $288.5 Billion. Now, while only half of what is deemed currently necessary, this would still leave the US with a military budget higher than the combined budgets of the next 3 highest spenders. That doesn’t seem like an especially dangerous situation to be in, especially considering that half of the top ten spenders are allies of America.

Further to this consideration, we’ve seen through manifold examples in the past, and as an ongoing theme of the present (Link), that military escalation is a losing game. Investment in war tends primarily to breed more war—with the only safety-net being found in mutual destruction.

If however, this budget change was made, America would remain far and away the greatest military power the world has ever known, and yet would have a sudden windfall of $288.5 Billion to spend on social services like Veteran Affairs, Welfare Programs, Education, Healthcare, Infrastructure, (real) Foreign Aid, Home Care Services, Senior Care, and so much more.

With such a change, America could begin to be the utopian saviour it so desperately wants to be, rather than the school-yard bully who beats on people until they praise him. By setting an example for the world of the sort of peaceful and genuine neighbour they could be, they would likely reduce their enemies greatly, improve many foreign relationships, and, if funds were allocated appropriately, perhaps solve global terrorism at its root, rather than merely spreading the fire.

The end-goal here should not be hard to see—by addressing this ridiculous budgeting fiasco, the US could be the beacon of hope it has always claimed to be, rather than just another blind threat uttered in the darkness of irrational fear.

-Brad OH Inc.

I Found God in the Drums of ‘Boléro’

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Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green Desklamp

This article is inspired by the classical piece ‘Boléro’ (Link), by Maurice Ravel (1875-1937) (Link). If you aren’t familiar with that piece, it should be considered required listening for the article to follow. You can find it here (Link).

I listened to this piece recently, and found an unexpected intensity within its plodding rhythm. I hadn’t put the song on for any specific reason, yet early in, I understood the depth of the moment I was having.

It should also be noted, perhaps, that I was at the time firmly entrenched in my (11th?) reading of J.R.R. Tolkien’s ‘The Silmarillion’ (Link), a book to which I ascribe particular inspiration. So you should probably read that, too.

Nonetheless, my revelation started with the first beat of that oh-so-familiar snare-drum. Described as an ‘ostinato’, the pulsing rhythm of this opening drum continues throughout the entire song, remaining constant as everything else is thrown into chaos.

It struck me immediately as terribly spiritual, although it took me a while to articulate exactly why that was.

You see, in ‘The Silmarillion’, the one God, Eru Illúvatar, conceives of creation as music—performed by his angels, the Ainur. The Ainur sing his tune, but among them is the spirit Melkor, who sews discord into the song, and causes turmoil. Some of the Ainur join in Melkor’s discord, while Eru adds new themes to the music to counterbalance Melkor’s efforts.

In the end, when all music stops, Illúvatar offers the Ainur an opportunity to see what they have done, and creates the world and all existence to reflect the reality of his divine tune. Unto the Ainur he says, “Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will show them forth, that ye may see what ye have done. And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.” (Pg. 17)

Since childhood, this story always struck me as one of the most apt and inspiring metaphorical representations of the divine will. And so, as I listened to the ever-increasing notes of ‘Boléro’ rising above and competing with the persistent drum-beat in the background, this was the idea that settled in my mind.

The Silmarillion goes on to tell of the events of Middle-Earth being a representation of the Music of the Ainur, and assures us that although great evil does occur, its power is limited, and in the end all things turn to the greater good. This requires a lot of faith, but it’s something I’ve held onto since first reading it as a young elementary school boy—hoping that it would prove true in our world as it does in this fantastical place.

Throughout the duration of ‘Boléro’, the snare drums maintain their eternal beat in perfect rhythm. Meanwhile, horns and woodwinds, strings and symbols are taken up against the drums. They increase endlessly throughout the song, rising to an incredible cacophony and very nearly drowning out the snare drums which are their source.

At times, the listener can barely hear the drums, but when the music changes, or when there is a brief silence in the din, they are ever to be found beneath the turmoil, just as they were before. Patient, persistent, eternal.

Taking this in, I couldn’t help but feel I heard God in those snare drums. The music rising against it was like the duelling theme of Melkor—want and greed and malice and destruction. These are present still in our world, and will often threaten to overwhelm the senses of those unguarded ears who know not how to find the consistency of Grace beneath.

Much like the confusion of the composition at hand, it’s easy to get lost in this world. These days, perhaps more than ever, the myriad distractions and temptations we meet each day are easily sufficient to overwhelm the senses and deafen us to reason and decency. It takes a concerted effort and a determined will for us to focus on what is right and just, when so much around us seems so dark and hopeless.

But of late, I have seen greater evidence of Grace and beauty in this world than I have long held possible. It’s buried no doubt, often times nearly beyond reach. And all the while the daily racket of industry, and want, and loneliness and grief compete for our ear, turning us away from the true rhythm of the world and focussing us only on ourselves.

But to miss the rhythm is to miss the point entirely.

For no matter how dismal the world can be, there is light to be found, and beneath the din there is the rhythm of Grace for any with the will to listen for it. Immutable and constant, it plods along as it always has, unaffected and undeterred by all the competing noise, and when the racket of distraction dies down, its beauty sounds out all the clearer.

I know it isn’t easy. The clamour of discontent can be deafening, and it is often all too easy to fall into this discord and march along with the madness rather than keep to course. But this is folly, for no matter how distant it may seem, for every evil there is goodness still. Where there is hate, there is also love. Where there is terror, there may also be found mercy. For the loneliness of a consumerist society there remains the comfort of the family home. There is friendship, and loyalty, and faith, and hope, and honour…for every conceivable darkness, there is a light which can still set things right.

The drums of decency pound on, and when the din of darkness rises too high for the ears to readily perceive them, all the more must we focus our hearts and minds to that eternal rhythm, and trust that all will unfold according to that divine beat.

-Brad OH Inc.

The Real Magic of ‘The Gathering’

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The Gentleman Juggalo LogoAmong the greatest experiences of my life, many have come at the infamous and maligned ‘Gathering of the Juggalos’ (Link), which I have had the privilege of attending three times so far (2002, 2010, and 2012).

The Gathering of the Juggalos (GOTJ) is the annual festival held by the Insane Clown Posse (Link) and their record label, Psychopathic records. It features all the artists of the Psychopathic label, as well as hundreds of other bands. But music is not the only draw for potential GOTJ attendees—wrestling shows, talent competitions, auctions, merchandise booths, autograph tents, band seminars and carnival attractions represent only a small fraction of the entertainment to be had at one of these strange and wonderful events, which historically range from 3-5 days, and tend to occur at the most isolated campgrounds to be found in the American Midwest.

The event has become something of an internet phenomenon of late, with countless articles (Link) being written each year by media interlopers hoping to drop in for one day and capture the essence in a way that can be packaged and explained to the world at large.

As yet, few have come close to accomplishing this goal—at least in its truest sense. Given, these articles have been successful in whipping up the group-think frenzy which the internet makes so common-place, placating the masses with pictures of exposed breasts, faces deranged with excitement, and other unusual sites suitable to inspire the condemnation and ridicule of those who have never experienced the true magic of the GOTJ.

And that journalistic failure is unlikely to be corrected anytime soon. Because the truth is, the Gathering isn’t something that can rightly be comprehended by the curious voyeur, and photographs or video taken at The Gathering capture its essence with no greater efficiency than they would that of a mountain vista or a roaring crowd. That is to say, not at all.

The Gathering isn’t meant to be read about (and the irony of this typed statement is not missed by the author), it’s meant to be experienced. And while I make no claim that an open-minded visitor would be unable to have an incredible time there so long as they were willing to cast aside their biases and take it in with a fresh and open mind, the Gathering of the Juggalos—as implied by the title—is truly meant for the Juggalos alone.

This isn’t to say that there’s any hostility to a well-intended outsider—quite the contrary in fact—but the true magic of this strange event is not in the entertainment scheduled, or the sights to see, but rather in the nuance of the people, and the incredible, tribal culture in which to revel.

At its heart, each GOTJ is nothing more than a campground laid out into sections, with myriad sources of entertainment interspersed among the wooded confines of whatever campground it presently occupies. But within this spread of humanity, an amazing cultural phenomenon can be observed—if one knows where to look.

Really, each Gathering can be viewed almost as a series of tiny villages—microcosms of various aspects of the Juggalo world living in harmony under the greater whole. A quick walk through the grounds, and a trained eye can pick them all out. There are the more old-school Juggalos—with their painted faces, dreadlocks, and Milenko jerseys. Across from them are the ‘Techalos’—juggalos who are primarily inspired by the works of Tech N9ne (Link)—all with their hair waxed into sharp spikes, and white contacts in their eyes. In another direction you might find a group of new generation Juggalos, decked out in more of a ‘scene’ style, and sporting the latest ‘Hot Topic’ shirts of their favourite artists. There are the wrestling kids, the drug crowd, and plenty of Juggalos motivated by the commonly held and generally apt rule that at the GOTJ, there is plenty of ‘love’ to go around.

Despite the differences however, the Juggalos of GOTJ are united under a common identity—that of the former misfit who has learned through adversity and inspiration in equal measure to appreciate the world for their own take on it, rather than forcing it (and themselves) into the pre-defined moulds prescribed by an often uncaring society.

Meeting any of these strangers is no difficult task, and it will soon become evident why so many Juggalos consider the Gathering to be a homecoming. Everyone you talk to is friendly, and all are overwhelmed with a sense of resplendent joy simply for having the privilege to be there. Talk to someone, and they will inevitably invite you to hang out at their campground—leading you through strange twists and turns to their own little tribe among the masses. Personally, I’ve never travelled to the Gathering with anyone beside myself, but I’ve never for a moment felt alone at one. This is the hidden pearl of the GOTJ that inexperienced reporters so often miss out on—as the name implies, it’s really about the people.

So the question becomes—if the GOTJ is such a friendly and welcoming place, a place of open minds and hearts, where does the pervasive feeling of fear and loathing so often associated with the event come from? With no corporate sponsorship or police presence, the Gathering represents a true sense of freedom—a utopian getaway where attendees can truly do as they want and be what they please. As such, it’s only natural that a quick glance around the grounds will reveal an incredible variety of predilections, vices, and lifestyles on offer. It’s a true smorgasbord of people—from every possible walk of life.

You’ll see drunks and druggies, sex and nudity. You’ll hear every curse known to man, as well as every imaginable profession of affection. People will stroll through the grounds naked, filthy, and not giving a damn. You will see madness you’ve never dreamed of—after all, when left to our own devices, us people (and this is by no means limited strictly to Juggalos) are a wild, sordid bunch, capable of great and terrible things.

Of course, the most common reaction to this for internet tourists is abject disgust. People love to look at this free and arguably utopian society and stand in hateful judgement of all they see. They’ll call names, and criticize choices. They’ll eagerly cast aspersions at an entire group of people for not fitting into their own insular worldview. But what does this really say about the person judging? If they find themselves in a place where they have the ability to be anything at all, and end up only being angry, judgemental prudes, then truly what has been revealed is not about the majority of Juggalos in attendance, but rather what rests deep within themselves.

If you can be anything at all—don’t settle for merely being hateful. This isn’t the high goal held for humanity, and it isn’t the intention of the Gathering. Like Yoda’s cave, what you find at the Gathering is more often than not only what you bring with you. That’s the magic that few beyond the Juggalos can ever fully comprehend, and that’s why the Gathering will and must always be, above all else, the true home to those strange, unwieldly, open, caring, earnest, and unusually strange men and women who proudly call themselves Juggalos.

-Brad OH Inc.

On Human Nature

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Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green Desklamp

Among the most common battle cries of the reactionary and ill-informed political pundits these days is the infernal chant of- ‘it isn’t natural’. More often than not, it’s used as an attack on anything which fails to fit within the narrow confines of that particular person’s worldview, and is therefore considered unacceptable for anyone else to exhibit. It’s an ignorant and xenophobic reaction at its very best—but that’s likely giving it too much credit.

To speak of ‘normal’ when it comes to humans is an interesting notion. What can possibly be described as a ‘natural’ way for humans to act? Or the better question perhaps—what could possibly be unnatural?

Humans are unique, it must be said. We’re the only species known to use complex language—which does much to inform our ability to reflect on and consider our material world. More important still, we are the only living things we know of which are fully and fundamentally aware of our own mortality, a phenomenon argued by psychologist Ernest Becker to contribute to our psyche the drive of ‘mortality salience’, which binds our behaviours under the drive of what he refers to as ‘Terror Management Theory’ (Link).

These facets, combined with our incredible cerebral capacity, allow us to invent tools, define and solve problems, and create meaning in ways no other animal even comes close to achieving. Yet the fact remains that at the heart of this argument, our animal nature must be acknowledged. Most everything we do would seem foreign if exhibited in any other animal. Monkeys wearing hats? Unnatural! But…it may be natural to a person. At any rate, no one is going to make a political stance out of calling hats—or most any other clothing for that matter—unnatural.

If we’re being practical about the idea, the easiest approach to take would be to look back at our evolutionary roots, and conclude that anything beyond running around naked, scavenging whatever the greater hunters of the world leave behind, would be unnatural. But these ‘unnatural’ abilities we have are precisely what have gotten us here. Without clothing, tools, the harnessing of fire, and other such ‘unnatural’ acts, we would likely have been left far behind. The fire of reason that burns within us and allows us to defy our animal nature is the very key to our surpassing it.

So where might the line be drawn? Is clothing unnatural? If not, then why should we call kinky bondage clothing unnatural? Why is monogamy ‘natural’ (likely not the standard of early humans, and almost, to my knowledge, never in apes), but homosexuality unnatural?

Usually, the terms are meant more aptly to describe what is natural or accepted to the speaker in a pragmatic sense, rather than any true and intellectual consideration of what might be natural to human-beings as a whole. What one culture embraces as undeniable truth, another sees as lunacy. But in a worldview where exposed breasts are an unforgivable sin, yet veiled faces are a heinous affront, there is little room for rational discourse.

Ultimately, we may need to accept that the terms are nothing more than reactionary vitriol, unfitting of any discussion outside of ridiculous GOP debates. After all, with so much behavioural variance in an animal so far removed from true ‘nature’, there is truly no line to be drawn. Either everything we do is unnatural, and we are an aberration in the face of the natural world, or else nothing is. In the case of the latter, nothing at all could be considered unnatural. Just as it is the nature of the ape to draw ants from the hill with a blade of grass, so it would be within the bounds of our nature to clothe ourselves, and set fires, and split atoms, and alter DNA.

The human brain, at any rate, is a natural thing. So too then must be the products of that brain. So rather than waging our personal wars to define human nature, let us rather celebrate its quirky, unassailable depth. After all, we are the exceptions to a very broad rule, and our ability to seemingly defy nature is the very thing which has carried us out of the dark savannahs. It has led us from cowering at the sight of lightening to harnessing it, and taken us from the stony caves of our ancestors to the lauded cathedrals of our true worth.

So let us worry less about what is natural, and work rather to celebrate the diverse and divine nature that is common to us all.

-Brad OH Inc.

‘My Brother Cain’

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Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Green Desklamp

Today we have another song/ poem from the intellectual property vaults of Brad OH Inc. For your enjoyment, we present the lost ‘Basic Human Indecency’ song: ‘My Brother Cain’.

The disillusioned knight

You find the world has changed

But if anything’s unnatural

You know everything is

But about that boat

I just know it sailed

I can’t tell you when

Still caught up in that tale

And I could never consider

How I’d turn that table

What I would have changed

If I’d known I was able

He had a magic wand

That slowly seared his voice

And it just kept showing up

Like any other choice

So now some smile back

You know it’s not the rule

But I never rolled my eyes

That was me looking up to you

My Brother Cain

Remember me?

You’re shadows and history

But do you remember me?

Still I could never consider

How I’d turn that table

What I would have changed

If I’d known I was Abel…

-Brad OH Inc.

It’s Time to Pull the Trigger on the Environment

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cropped-cropped-blogbanner13.jpgHere at Brad OH Inc., we’ve noticed a disconcerting trend. Whenever we try to dispose of our industrial waste materials in the river located conveniently near our window, people seem to whine. They complain when we burn refuse plastics, and they mumble when we empty our oil into the gutter.

Yes, these days people seem inescapably obsessed with this thing we call the ‘Environment’. Groups ranging from PETA (Link), to Greenpeace (Link)…even such nosey groups as the EPA (Link) are fixated on the protection and promotion of these ridiculous clumps of trees and irritating windstorms to the exclusion of their own fellow, wonderful humans.

Whether it’s annoying and dangerous animals, or the unforgiving confines of the natural world, these folks are having a great big love party over the dirty, disgusting outdoors.

What these people seem to miss—or intentionally ignore—is that the environment they love so dearly is the fundamental and inalienable enemy of mankind. What is human history after all, if not the story of our endless fight against the savage inhospitality of nature?

From the very first time mankind discovered fire, we have been turning the tides against the cold, and the darkness, and the bestial threats abounding in the natural world around us.

But that wasn’t enough. Oh no, nature is a fearsome foe. We needed shelters, clothing, and protective equipment. Through the years, our tenacity has bent the maleficent will of nature to our own noble purposes. We’ve increased the wield of crops, we’ve farmed formerly inhospitable lands, and most importantly, we’ve continued to increase our profit-shares despite nature’s adamant lack of cooperation. If that isn’t survival in the face of adversity, you tell me what is!

And yet, here we are. After eons of combat, and countless lives sacrificed to freezing rains and sudden earthquakes and villainous bears—we almost have nature beaten!

The ice-caps are melting. The ozone is crumbling. Countless wicked species are disappearing from the surface of our planet—clearing the way for more charming little humans.

Remember innocently reaching for a flower once as a child, holding onto the illusion that nature could be beautiful, only to be viciously attacked by some flying menace called a bee?

Well don’t worry, we’ve nearly got the stripy bastards (Source) in check.

Yes, no matter the obstacle nature has thrown in our way over the years, we’ve managed to persevere. After all, humanity is a tenacious species, and our greatest feature is our ability to adapt: to rise to new challenges, find new ways of solving problems, and even better ways to monetize them. It’s our history, it’s our heritage, hell—it’s our whole identity.

So the next time you hear some green jacketed hippy talking about saving the environment, why not ask them why they aren’t standing butt-naked on the savannah, jumping up and down trying to reach the low-hanging fruit?

If they give any other reason than the fact that people are better than that primitive malarkey, they are lying—or they’ve mismanaged their finances, and cannot afford one of our very cost-effective fruit-knockers.

Take it from us ladies and gentlemen—human history is the overcoming of natural struggles, and none are more finely equipped to do this than your modern day Corporation. The destruction of the environment is not a tragedy to be lamented, but the fruition of many millennia’s of effort! And don’t worry, we won’t stop there. Every ending is a new opportunity after all, and with these changes will come exciting new solutions.

Affordable gas-masks in your choice of colour? You bet! Nutrient bars to supply your needs? Damn Skippy! Scenic views of natural coastlines abounding with the wonder of God’s creation? We’ve got a 6-DVD set!

So cry not for the past, but revel rather in the present. It’s time to pull the plug on our old nemesis ‘Nature’, and start to build a better, more profitable world for everyone*!

*’Everyone’ does not necessarily include all people (Corporate or otherwise), peoples in all places, all places with people, non-people that identify as people, people that identify as non-people or anyone not directly associated with the Brad OH Inc. shareholders

-Brad OH Inc.

On American Exceptionalism

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purelyspeculationIn our recent article on ‘On Combatting Jihad’ (Link), we explained that if the ‘Western World’ was to successfully combat the tides of Jihad, their best breakwater would be not in armaments, but in exceptional and inspiring ideas. Well don’t take it from us—this sentiment was recently echoed by President Obama himself (Source).

But the main problem with this goal is that by a great majority, it is already deemed accomplished.

You hear it all the time: America is exceptional. Hell, it’s so ubiquitous as to merit its own definition on Wikipedia (Link). It’s right at the head of the article: “American exceptionalism is the theory that the United States is inherently different from other nations.”

Well, this at least may be true.

As the first ‘new nation’, it has long been assumed that America represented an opportunity to redefine what a country could be: Both within its borders, and as a beacon to the world without.

Again, it can hardly be argued that this opportunity has long been afforded to, and occasionally even seized by America. But the problem here is the built in assumption of positive affect. ‘America is exceptional’ is virtually always taken to mean ‘America is Great’, or ‘America is better’. It’s repeated ad nauseum, and finally taken to be axiomatic fact—that is to say, it’s taken as true by its very nature, and no longer are facts needed to support the notion.

There is nothing inherently exceptional about America. Not in the happy-go-lucky, ‘liberty, freedom ra ra ra’ way it’s so often portrayed to be at least. Of course, the key word there is ‘inherently’. Certainly, America has the potential to be exceptional. They are no different in that respect from any other country in the world. But to be exceptional, one must act in an exceptional way–that is, to take actions and make decisions which are above and beyond the standard. This, America is failing to do, and has been for a long time.

We’ve discussed in several articles, most notably ‘The Global Scale’ (Link) how American Imperialism has a devastating impact on the world at large. Politics driven by the greedy impulses of corporations have shifted this potentially great nation into something far more dark and sinister than was ever envisioned.

Yet it remains common rhetoric to use ‘American Exceptionalism’ as the justification for poor decisions. The assumption is that anything America does is exceptional by definition–because America is exceptional. This is misled, and serves only to justify the continuing trend of poor–and potentially disastrous–decisions.

Here, we see the axiom of American Exceptionalism become tautological, and thus it not only loses its meaning, but becomes a means of bolstering against any positive change. As global politics continue to heat up, and the dream of a future resplendent with peace and prosperity grows ever dimmer, exceptionalism is used as a pacifier, and the placated citizens are endlessly assured that not only are they alright (Link)…but even more damning, that they are, simply, right.

But it is not enough for a nation to claim it’s exceptional because it was founded on the principles of liberty and freedom, as this only allows it to rest on its withering laurels. Rather, one must accept that the country is in decline, and actively work to re-establish that once proud tradition.

America claims to be exceptional, yet falls ever short of being so. What would it take to live up to these claims? There are myriad areas to improve for sure. Rather than the strong focus on overwhelming might, or the ongoing bludgeoning of American Exceptionalism, perhaps it could be shown through greater commitments to issues such as education, infrastructure, debt relief, third world aid, equal rights, etc. If these priorities are seized upon internally, and a greater effort established at promoting them worldwide, then America could again be the beacon of hope it so desperately wishes to be. For these are the hallmarks of a truly great nation, which no flag, slogan, or axiomatic battle-call can ever replace.

-Brad OH Inc.