Now Politics: the Political Opinions of Thomas Sarebbenonnato

A Friend of the People Opposing Elites; Social and Political Commentary of Thomas Sarebbenonnato; Publishing and Contributing Editor, Jay V. Ruvolo [Copyright (c) Jay Ruvolo 2018]

Archive for June 8th, 2019

POLICE BULLETS; ANOTHER KIND OF POLEMIC PUBLISHED BY THE EDITORS OF “The Polemicist, a Journal of Political Ideas”; or, An Exposition by an Expositor Sitting Alone at his Computer [short fiction]

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What if we, the editors of the Political Journal, The Polemicist, were to present the following as fiction, perhaps what some might call flash fiction, for whatever reason or reasons you may consider; fiction being no less a bearer of truth than non-fiction, right? No? You disagree? I have imagined such being more than a possibility, you disagreeing, our hypocrite readers, our brothers, so much like ourselves. We really are not above it all, are we? We could ask viably.

Nonetheless, let’s say that the bullet points below could be just that, a fiction; again, no less a bearer of truth or some part of what we used to call capital ‘T’ Truth, than if it were presented as non-fiction, expository non-fiction, the kind you’d read in journals like ours, or in any kind of political magazine, perhaps even some daily newspaper’s op-ed section, an editorial, maybe, no?

If we have decided that the following is fiction, allow us to present what would be said by this fictional piece, in imitation of non-fictional argumentative expository prose; that is, something that would be written to present a position, take up an argument, perhaps offer critique, maybe even some form of satire, a rhetorical strategy meant to express the need for some social change?

Yes, fictively expressing what would seem like non-fiction, that being the what if of it  . . . yes, let us also present this  along with a preface, herein exhibited . . . and prefatory in placement only because it would likely have been written after the fact of what had been written . . . ; yes, you, the reader though, should decide if what has been presented here is fiction or non-fiction, and thus decide it it is indeed what it purports to be, a bearer of truth or truths or some part of what we once had faith in, again, the uppercaseTruth–although this bearing of truth is only one thing you need to decide; the other thing is just how many layers of fiction there are here, and whether one conclusion as opposed to another conclusion changes any other conclusions you need to or will incidentally make.

But then what are the limits of this fiction, of fiction in general. This is akin to deciding what the limits of knowledge are, what the limits of knowing might be, perhaps deciding just how knowledge is possible. After having decided these questions, one after the other ensuing, then raising yet other questions as to the veracity of the notion of Truth (upper case necessary) and whether fiction is a valid bearer of what we once called capital ‘T’ Truth, or whether that capitalization is warranted—and you could ask, Does something like a capital ‘T’ Truth even exist; or is it just a matter of something designed by and for old-fashioned metaphysical thinking, itself a fiction? A dimension no longer apprehended because it never had tactility? What then should we say about our guiding metaphysics, or how a grossly base empirically determined anti-metaphysics has subsumed what we once believed with certainty, that metaphysics was not bullshit, was not akin to discussions of how many sprites could fit on the head of a pin?-

You would then read the bullet inserts, as they appear—but what if these prefatory remarks were not read, written, available from any commentary? Questions beget questions; answers differ greatly from responses, answering something other than offering something in return for what has been asked; an answer is a swearing of an oath of a kind . . . however, moreover, nevertheless, I do suspect that you might not follow me, whether out of prejudice or bigotry, or some other narrow-minded-ness, perhaps a grossly overbearing, overarching, con-tempo-centric prejudices that tell you to reject any notion of Truth, as it would also inform you to reject anything that has been thought more than  five years ago.

Yet, I do understand the question, Does Truth exist? This is the question . . . ?

And so, What if it does? Can fiction be a valid form of epistemology used to determine Truth or how close to the Truth we have come? Of course you should suspect that my answer—that our answer would be, Yes! Truth is a compass heading. Truth is a transcendental reality. We could venture into further discussions that appear like the following . . .

What if the following bullets were handwritten on a page revealed in a spiral notebook found on a seat across from where I, the Editor-in-chief of this journal of political ideas (The Polemicist) was sitting aboard a Manhattan bound D Train one early weekday afternoon this past March, while pouring down rain made visibility short. It would then be herein published in its entirety without emendation, as you will see this exemplified; or so it would be said in an attempt to fictionalize the non-fiction, if it is in fact non-fiction, which I leave up to you. What of determining the fiction within a fiction within a fiction . . . ?

Now is it true that some might want to categorize the following as fiction because fiction gives space to the writer and to the readers that a presentation as non-fiction does not; could the fictionality of the presentation, the fictional frame change the perspective, leave you more open and less inclined to respond reflexively, less inclined to reject ad hoc, less likely to disbelieve; becoming thus more receptive to the probability of what is said because it would not be taken as the mind-fuck you would be more likely to take it as if you were to receive this as non-fiction? Or at least the presentation of non-fiction, thus a polemical report that would contradict your received ideas and the dogmas you live by?

You would be unable to reject the truths presented as fictions, at least in the way you would be able or would likely to do if it were a matter of polemic and not fiction; although today, so many fictions from narrow minds are presented as non-fiction, disseminated as facts, facts and nothing but facts–but this is for another essay; this has been addressed in other essays herein published in our journal.

The above assertion concerning fictions presented as true have permeated our news, another effect on our society from having nothing but marketing, marketing, marketing everywhere for everything instead of an organic marketplace of people, of needs, of wants, of ideas. I am not going to raise the specter of the eighteenth century authors who blurred the boundaries between fact and fiction? Is that what they were doing? Or was it that they blurred the boundary between true story and made-up story, thus fiction and non-fiction enjoyed or suffered an overlap . . . we even said things like true history, in as much as history was story, of course, if we just examine the French for story, l’histoire. What then should we say? What then could we say?

You might ask if fiction/non-fiction is a duality or dichotomy, as I like to say every now and then, entertaining as a genuine form of inquiry whether the generic boundaries between fiction and non-fiction that we have accepted as conventions of our writing, or telling when what is being told is other than in writing, are indeed plastic or fossilized, rigid, in an unbending, unyielding way, or malleable, open, at least in a capillary way.

The author of the piece would remain anonymous. There would have been no name on the spiral notebook found by our editor. The Polemicist has published this way before, whether the piece was actually found or not. Yes, actuality has some bearing on what we are talking about. The French, when they refer to ev eryday journalism, stories reported in the news, the call them les actuelles. You do see what I am showing, don’t you?

I am not herein going to venture a discussion of the life or the death of the Author or an author. I have always believed that theories of writer and author have been mixed up, confused, inverted? Authorship, for instance, is the first and the last in authority over a text, but not over the interpretability of the text. Nor does author intention or desire become either the first or the last “word” in interpretation. I do, though, have a preference fornothing outside the text.” An author is what someone is whether they are published or not; a writer is what one becomes after having been published; this is the social role, not the role of identity in the Self as is author. These I believe are true to the nature of each, and in contradiction to how our society defines them. But then most thinking in America today comes straight out of the asshole.

You do need to determine where this text begins and ends, and that should not be as difficult as some of you might want to make it; and if you determine one or another place, the response should be accompanied by the appropriate conditional phrasing, or should I say, clausing?

Herein now, the fiction, itself a word from the Latin for a thing made, as I was alluding too and then overtly saying above . . . as is all news, things made, to the extent that information is accumulated, acquired, yes, information put into a form, which is what IN formation actually is, what the process does . . . there is a lens? a projection? a frame, cropping, yes? Editing, no? Off course, reports are written, thus made in the image of the maker himself or herself made in the image of . . . you get it, don’t you?

Let it begin, already . . .

One

  • How is the Patriot Act not an invitation for Police to act more authoritarian in manner, thus in the matter of their results?
  • How is it that we have not seen the correlation between the Patriot Act and the increase in the exertion of Power?
  • How is it that we focus solely on race as a determination of how Power gets exerted?

Two

  • How is it that no one I talk to about being a non-White Caucasian understands a thing I say concerning this identity?
  • How is it no one talks about the rhetorical strategy behind shifting from Black to African American while simultaneously flipping, for example, Irish-American, Italian-American, Catholic, Jewish, Protestant et cetera into the monolith of White?

 

Three

  • How do we not see that too many times short tiny cops have no other recourse but to shoot, being unable to impose physical weight and force to subdue?
  • How do we not understand that size here matters more than we have been accustomed to imagine, are allowed to see; unless serious hand-to-hand combat becomes part of a recurring training?

 

Four

  • How did we not understand that automatic pistols in the hands of the Police would result in more bullets fired and more people shot and killed with no change in policy, protocols or attitudes?
  • How is it that we forgot Mencken’s message a hundred years ago about the Police truncheon?
  • How is it no one has done the comparative studies concerning police with revolvers and police with 9mm automatic pistols?
  • How is it we miss how easy it is easy to empty the clip of a 9mm automatic pistol?
  • How is it we do not understand that it was and is impossible to fire previously issued revolvers in the same manner as 9mms are today?

 

Five  

  • How is it that we do not hear about unarmed white men shot by the police when their numbers exceed the number of unarmed black men shot (although the percentage of the African American population who are shot while unarmed is greater)?
  • How is it we imagine that if everyone woke up black tomorrow unarmed black men would no longer be shot and killed by the police?
  • How is it that we consider the variable of race in the equation of black men being shot, but miss the opportunity to consider class as a variable in the equation of police shooting white men?
  • What is it that you imagine happening between the Police and the People if everyone woke up White tomorrow?

 

Six

  • How was it that my Dad spent twenty years on the job in Brooklyn New York and the thing he was the proudest of was never having to fire his weapon?
  • How is it that some can take that as only a matter of luck?
  • How is it that others understand my father’s experience as just one example, perhaps, of how to serve the People?
  • How is it that he achieved what he did having had occasions to remove his revolver out of its holster?
  • How was it that he was able to resolve incidents without having to shoot and kill?
  • How is it that I am so certain that my father’s experience was not all and only about luck?
  • How is it we lost the value of foot patrol? How is it that you think this is a non-sequitur.non-sequitur.
  • How was it my father achieved what he had while walking the Fulton Street Brooklyn beat?

Answer these questions, soberly, rationally, truthfully and articulately, and we might begin to get somewhere we have imagined we want to be as as a society of the People, by the People and for the People.

You do recollect what I have said about Anonymous in relation to ascribed authorship, don’t you? These bullet points are the product of an author who has remained anonymous, as we say for any writing of whom the author is unknown; and not exactly in line with what Ms. Woolf has said about anonymity in writing, that the history of Women’s lit is the history of Anonymous, or was it that she said, the history of anonymous in writing is the history of women’s writing?

The Editors of The Polemicist leave these final responses to you for the moment; they will provide answers to each of these herein presented, and they will update and republish the revised version of this piece.

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Written by jvr

June 8, 2019 at 4:03 pm

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