“Our government has kept us in a perpetual state of fear—kept us in a continuous stampede of patriotic fervor—with the cry of grave national emergency. Always there has been some terrible evil ... to gobble us up if we did not blindly rally behind it by furnishing (to it our unstinting obedience and) the exorbitant funds it demands.”
—General Douglas MacArthur
“Only puny secrets need protection. Big discoveries are protected by public incredulity.”
We know that children’s films can be tools for introducing the unpleasant realities of the adult world. Witness Chicken Run, a claymation film from the creators of Wallace and Gromit, in which the World War Two story of the Jews’ imprisonment, forced labor, and then systematic destruction is told through a parallel tale of chickens’ forced imprisonment, mandatory egg laying, and then systematic destruction when the egg farm converts to a chicken pot-pie factory. It is all right there, right down to the propagandistic American hero, whose heroics are in fact very chicken-hawkish, much the way the reality of Nazi Germany’s defeat was thanks more to the Russians than the good ole U.S. of A. So if children’s cinema can be used to explain harsh political realities from a past that the children are currently unaware of but which still retains currency in living cultural memory, how far-fetched is it to imagine that a film could describe harsh political realities while they were happening, so as to soothe the psychic feathers of children as they are experiencing them? Especially if those children are, in fact, the necessary voters and taxpayers your system is going to need to sustain the fictional fantasy by which you run global politics.
the perennial childhood question, “Are monsters real?” parents and patriots everywhere are finding it harder and harder to back away from the obvious:
Of course monsters are real, we just didn’t know how to tell you.
To any child born in 1988 or beyond, the lunatic madness of George Bush Senior (the never-ending Gulf War) followed by the fabulous violence of the Clinton era (Waco, Oklahoma City, Columbine, Unabomber), there is now painted an ever clearer picture of a post-Trade Center World that is not only inhabited by, but in fact controlled by: monsters. Now that Curious George Jr. (the President for Dummies!) has concluded his reign over our body politic thanks to the unsuspicious help of another burning Bush in the O.J. State during the 2000 elections, Disney’s 2002 animated film, Monsters, Inc. really may be the simplest way to explain the complexity of September 11th to your small children. As Mike Wazowski says near the film’s conclusion, “You know, it only works if you have every piece.”
After explaining to your children that Disney’s corporate mission is “to create the mythology of the future,” try to get them to see the ways in which cartoons are the new reality TV: how shows like The Simpsons and King of the Hill, on at prime time instead of Saturday morning, are, like editorial cartoons, the only places where American psychological and sociological behavior are portrayed honestly. These shows deflect any criticism by arriving in the innocent medium of what is, after all, only a cartoon. This technique fulfills Karl Jasper’s comment on the inevitability of dressing “truth itself in propaganda just so it will reach people’s ears” while simultaneously adding “cartoonist” to Mark Twain’s list of people (currently only “dead men”) who are allowed to tell the truth, his stated reason for posthumously publishing his widely ignored War Prayer. Next, help your little ones to understand that all Disney/Pixar films are serious metaphysical and/or geopolitical treatises designed to shape their thinking, to help them enjoy their assimilation into the superior Western culture that produces such films. If they press you further, explain how many military squadrons Walt Disney himself designed the logos for, and how Disneyland opened in 1955, right around the time that childhood itself disappeared. Just as the 1882 church spires represented tombstones announcing the death of God for Nietzsche, the opening of Disneyland as simultaneous altar and maus-oleum to childhood is nothing if not a shrine to the fact of American culture’s complete loss of innocence. If the kiddies still don’t get it, explain to them how odd it was that Mr. President urged Americans everywhere, by Friday of the week of 9/11, to resume life as normal and—heck, why not—take the family to Disneyworld. But Daddy, I thought only Superbowl MVPs got to say that on national TV? No, son, presidents can too if they happen to consistently get their highest ratings from the news channel that is coincidentally owned by Disney. It doesn’t hurt too, son, if the CEO of Disney has former and/or current investments in the world’s largest private equity firm, as detailed in Iron Triangle. Quid pro quo. Daddy, is the world really this complicated? No son, it’s quite simple: you just need to follow the smell of money. It leaves a trail more permanent than the breadcrumbs Hansel and Gretel left for the birds to eat.
Try to get them to see the significance of Walt Disney’s personal willingness to sell out his employees during the Red Scare, and how that put the entertainment giant at the top of the government’s favorite left coast companies to do business with, and this will help prepare them for what’s next. It may seem like you’re laying a heavy on them, but try to do all this in the somber yet hilarious mode of The Onion’s attempt to explain the current situation to small children—meaning that if you can explain it to a child then, quite possibly, you can explain it to yourself. Remind them of their sacred duty that George Orwell articulated so well—that seeing what’s right in front of you is a full-time job, and that in times of universal deceit, speaking the truth is a revolutionary act.
Then, of course, pop the video in and have the kids actually watch the movie for the umpteenth time, but this time you should control the remote. Before you push play, load ‘em up with popcorn, Coke, Sourpatch Kids, and whatever other petroleum and silicone-based comestible they clamor for, because they’ll need to stay awake a long time afterwards, when you keep them up late with back issues of Foreign Affairs, a Koran, a Bible, various OPEC treaties, and a rash of political satire, all of which you’ll need to enlighten them on the movie they just saw.
To begin with, the film Monsters, Inc. is, very obviously, a highly symbolic fairy tale. Now fairy tales of course, have rules, and they usually follow them strictly. The classic explanation for their structure is Bruno Bettelheim’s Uses of Enchantment, but Monsters, Inc. kicks it up a notch. Here is Bettelheim’s understanding:
This is how the fairy tale depicts the world: figures are ferocity incarnate or unselfish benevolence. An animal is either all-devouring or all-helpful. Every figure is essentially one-dimensional, enabling the child to comprehend its actions and reactions easily. Through simple and direct images the fairy story helps the child sort out his complex and ambivalent feelings, so that these begin to fall each one into a separate place, rather than being all one big muddle.
But you’ll notice that in Monsters, Inc., this all-good or all-evil one-dimensionality does not obtain for any of the characters. Each character is, in fact, a two-dimensional or split character, and by the film’s conclusion each character reveals himself to be the exact opposite of what we originally perceived. Sulley is not a ferocious monster; he’s a big teddy bear. Wazowski is not a goofy but loveable side-kick; he’s the cunning helper who figures it all out. Waternoose is not the benevolent father-figure; he’s a ruthless dictator. Randall is not the Sebulba-like competition for Sulley’s production numbers battle; he’s the oily schemer who’s in league with the devil. Roz is not the whiny-voiced dictator of time-sheets and paperwork, she’s the undercover agent investigating the company for the CDA. Only Celia is who she seems to be: happy, charming and clueless—like most of us in the audience.
Now in a normal fairy tale, this level of complexity would be confusing to a child. But Monsters, Inc. is not a normal fairy tale; it is a coded cartoon treatise for a very scary political reality that is equally schizophrenic in its dual and conflicting nature, which is why the political reality requires its own interpretation and understanding before the screamingly obvious parallels to Monsters, Inc. can even be seen.
In Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman opens his treatise by speculating that between Orwell’s and Huxley’s vision of future totalitarianism, it was Huxley who got it right—that totalitarian control would come not from without, but from within—that a technologized version of bread and circuses would pacify the masses into numbness, at which point the controlling oligarchy could manipulate them at will. Well, Postman was writing in 1985, a year after 1984 was slated for prophetic fulfillment. With the benefit of hindsight, it seems that both Huxley and Orwell got it right—there is no better environment for external totalitarian control than a populace already lulled to sleep by paternal government, amazingly entertaining technology, and the constant necessity of keeping up with your joneses, fixing your gutters, and paying the secretly illegal private property tax. Most American sheeple are too busy watching TV, mowing their lawn, or surfing the Interwebs to really care about who’s in office or why, one reason why the Internet, despite being hailed as the best hope for interactive democracy, has caused a remarkable decrease in voter turnout and constituent apathy, while simultaneously boasting that 70% of its traffic is in pornography.
Into this world we now welcome our new leader, Henry J. Waternoose, the CEO of Monsters, Inc. He takes his name clearly from the political realities that both Huxley and Orwell describe. In Huxley’s world, everything is dated AF instead of AD, because After Ford is that era after the interchangeable part assembly line, in which humans are reduced to cogs in a machine. Ford, famous for his line, “History is bunk” perhaps unwittingly created what Charlie Chaplin called Modern Times, (though Adolf Holl dates it to 1188 when humans first asked the unheard of question, “What time is it?”) wherein one’s value is measured by one’s efficiency in serving the machine, precisely the world that our heroes, Sulley and Wazowski, are subject to as they race to compete for highest volume of “scream” at the relentless corporation. The first link is here, in that Henry is the first name shared by both Henry Ford and Henry Waternoose. Waternoose’s last name is a reference to the big brother of George Orwell’s 1984, a year which Jacob Levich postdates to October 7, 2001 because it was then that Dubya declared perpetual war in the name of perpetual peace.
In 1984, the president of Oceania (water) is a dictator (noose), who supposedly “loves” his subjects while ruthlessly disposing of those who don’t conform to his vicious definition of truth as a constantly moving target. That Waternoose represents the leader of the worst of Huxley’s and Orwell’s visions come true, and that he represents George Bush, Jr. all at once is evident in a number of ways. The most obvious is that Bush goes by the name of Dubya, or “W” which is Waternoose’s chief initial. The second is that Bush is himself the leader of the new Oceania, as evidenced by Samuel Huntington’s 1993 “Clash of Civilizations“ article in Foreign Affairs. In that piece, similar to George Kennan’s famous “X” article of 1947, Huntington lays out an argument that, with the gift of hindsight, reads less like analysis, and more like a blueprint for the new world order, a phrase that was first used by Hitler before it was used by George Bush Senior in his address to a joint session of Congress on September 11, 1990, exactly 11 years to the day before the Rockefeller-created and owned World Trade Centers fell down and killed 2664 people (a number that approximates with startling proximity the 2402 dead at Pearl Harbor, close enough to the pre-agreed number of 3000 that would be required to move the masses to “support the war”). In that piece, Huntington claims that the Cold War division of the planet into first, second, and third worlds is no longer relevant; the new divisions are those of “cultural entities, of regions, ethnic groups, nationalities, and religious groups.”
In this mélange of category confusion we see clearly why Americans are short-circuited into thinking that the terms Arab, Moslem, and Terrorist are synonymous with each other. It’s because we’re encouraged to do so by almost all major media, even as (and especially as) they tell us just the opposite. Huntington says it himself pretty blatantly in his sixth paragraph: “Arabs, Chinese and Westerners, however, are not part of any broader cultural entity.” These three distinct civilizations will comprise the future world balance, and it goes without saying that Huntington’s terms are directly synonymous with Orwell’s trinity of Eurasia (Arabs), Eastasia (Chinese), and Oceania (Westerners). The third piece of evidence linking Bush to Waternoose ran through the newspapers for months in 2001. In an AP story of November 20, 2001, Bush was quoted as follows: “The noose is beginning to narrow.” On December 3rd of that same year, Rear Admiral John Stufflebeem made explicit the connection between Bush and Waternoose when he said, “The noose is tightening, but the situation is still fluid.” If the administration uses the words noose and fluid in a single sentence, then really, how much more obvious could it be that Bush is Waternoose?
Finally, there’s Deputy Defense Secretary Paul Wolfowitz who is quoted, in a December 11, 2001 story titled, “Pentagon: Bin Laden Hunt May Be Long” that, despite his view that the Taliban threat as a sponsor of global terrorism has been eliminated, the military campaign in Afghanistan is far from over. He said “running down people at sea” could become an additional element of the campaign, a claim proven true a month later with Stufflebeem himself setting the precedent for why American naval ships will soon be boarding and searching a yacht near you. Finally, for ongoing watery metaphors, you were aware of course that the US Terrorism Database is a convenient acronym called TIDE, and that the fictional operation that allegedly hunted down and killed alleged 9/11 mastermind on April 30, 2011 was called Operation Neptune Spear? And, of course, all this helps us to understand why Bush is represented as a crab in the film, and we’re glad you thought of that. The crab is the symbol for the astrological sign of cancer, which refers to those born between June 22nd and July 22nd. As you probably already know, George Bush Jr. was born on July 6, 1946.
Yes, Virginia, the collective unconscious is much stranger than fiction, but keep reading—it gets worse. Why is Waternoose’s middle initial J? That’s like asking what the J stands for in the J. Crew, J. Peterman, or J. Jill catalogs—I mean, J. Christ, do you need everything explained? Waternoose, like Uncle Sam, has a massive messiah complex. Like Big Brother, Waternoose is a dictator, sure, but he loves you! Or as Bush himself said right after the 11th, “I’m a loving man, but I have a job to do!” In other words, as the film’s tagline puts it, “We scare because we care.” You see the exact same explanation of reality to the the adult audience of Pacific Rim: “To Fight Monsters We Created Monsters.” You see the exact same explanation in Jeremy Scahill’s documentary, Dirty Wars, and this is a paraphrase: To Fight Terrorism (Taliban, Al-Qaeda, etc.) We Invented Terrorism (Taliban, Al-Qaeda, etc.) Well, despite what Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men wants you to believe, you can handle the truth.
Henry J. Waternoose has five eyes because there are now only five media corporations that allow you to perceive reality, and with which you spend an average twelve hours a day engaging: 1) Comcast/NBC Universal, 2) 21st Century Fox/News Corp, 3) The Walt Disney Company (which owns Pixar, the creators of Monsters, Inc.), 4.) Viacom/CBS Corporation, and 5) Time-Warner. (Sony is technically the sixth member of the “big six” media conglomerates, but is now so small as to be virtually non-existent). Thus, in addition to being the state, Waternoose is the corporate media conglomerate writ large, the multi-tentacled all-seeing eye(s) that do your perceiving for you, disallowing you to perceive anything outside their omniscient gaze. The historical collusion between the state and the corporation is, of course, simply code for "Mammon" in the final analysis, and is why you should choose God over Mammon on any given weekday. Finally, if you’re wondering why Waternoose looks exactly like then-Disney boardmember Stanley P. Gold, I think that was just some mischievous cartoonist using the Disney annual report as visual inspiration.
Our heroes Sulley and Wazowski live in Monstropolis, a clever play on Megalopolis, the coin termed by geographer Jean Gottman to describe the giant urban area stretching from Boston to Washington, D.C. This area, of course, is precisely the geographic confines for the take-off and landing points of all four jets on September 11th. To make the connection even more explicit, the loudspeaker at the start of the business day (say, 8:48 AM) announces, “Eastern seaboard coming online!”
Wazowski, who seems like a giant but goofy green M&M, is in fact more closely related to that other one-eyed symbolic monster, the almighty dollar—it is he who is constantly pushing on Sulley to work harder, do more, win the prize, go for the gold. If the names mean anything—Sulley is code for the Irish who run the NYCPD/FDNY and Wazowski is code for the Israeli cartel (most likely Mossad, but named in the film after the Polish Jews who died in greatest number in the Holocaust) who together pulled off the heist from the bombproof bunker on the 23rd floor of #7 World Trade Center (the third building to fall that day from the impact of two planes in two entirely separate locations, and the basis for reverse-engineering and thus understanding the whole lie)—then these are just cinematic Easter eggs for the historically alert.
In other words, like the matrix, Monstropolis is remarkably similar and dissimilar to the world in which we actually find ourselves. It is a metaphor that allows us to see, albeit briefly, just how bad things have actually become for our country, our culture, and by extension, our species. Thus the monster teams that scare people are all separate groups under one unified corporation, similar to the compartmentalized knowledge cells of the military structure, the corporate fiefdoms such as McDonalds (or any other corporate franchise), the international banker’s banking-monetary-policy-and-gold-pricing cartel based in Basel, Switzerland, and these are all, oddly, equally identical to terrorist cells—each group acts independently of the other, and yet each takes its marching orders from on high, in which only a very select elite few know (or get to know) the big picture.
Thus the new binary world in which the viewer has no choice but to either be a default Jew, a default Arab, or a default Slave. Thus the scarers are almost always all men. Thus the bullshit news coverage of the child let loose in Monsters Inc: “I tried to run but it picked me up with its mind powers.” “It blasted me with its laser vision.” “It’s true, I saw it!” “We can neither confirm nor deny the presence of a human child.” In the film, the children are the Jews, who have become so used to terrorism as a way of life that Waternoose says of them, “Kids these days, they just don’t scare like they used to…” which explains why Arabs have turned to scaring the rest of the world instead of just focusing on Israel. Thus the CDA, or Child Detection Agency, a combination of the CIA (Central Intelligence Agency) and the CDC (Center for Disease Control), in which innocence is equated to treachery and disease, and any contact with children results in immediate quarantine and disinfection.
Thus the energy that runs the world, “Scream,” an advertising-by-fear method that would make Machievelli proud while making Edvard munch his own toes off. The scream extractor, symbolic of our built and tested but largely unused nuclear arsenal, is the great white death that awaits any and all who resist this mad world of unilaterally assured destruction. That scream represents oil is made evident when Wazowski tries to get Sulley to go to work in his sports car, but Sulley negates the offer with the comment, “You know, the energy crisis.” “Scream” is energy is oil, just as surely as the war on terrorism is a war for an oil pipeline to Turkmenistan, a fact that has come to the surface even more clearly now that we can read between the lines of CNN’s coverage on former FBI investigator John O’Neill’s interesting revelations and the slightly unsettling fact that CNN failed to mention that O’Neill himself died in the World Trade Center on September 11th.
Randall Boggs, the film’s arch-nemesis is a chameleon; he is not a shape-shifter. He maintains the same shape because he is always the same; he changes colors constantly because he flies under a different flag, nationality, or ethnicity depending on our need. First he is Manuel Noriega, then he is Muammar Qaddafi, then he is Saddam Hussein, finally he is Osama Bin Laden before morphing into a Syrian dictator. Like Bin Laden, he is secretly in league with Waternoose and like Bin Laden, he has the capability of disappearing at just the right time. In no case does he die when vanquished—he simply becomes a black hole into which the major media throw their best guesses and dumbest pundits, until, like the foreign policy doors that we keep re-opening, he is put back together in a new color scheme for our latest geopolitical effort. Despite mounting criticism and public embarrassment, the Bush administration was never obligated to actually hire ABC’s John Miller to locate Bin Laden again, since clearly all the spy satellite technology of our trillion dollar defense budget hasn’t been able to do so amidst the complex network of caves that were built and paid for from 1979 onward by, um, us, which is perhaps why the major media started spelling his name USAma Bin Laden around the time of his disappearance. (Most likely, Usama was the real man while Osama was the legal fiction known as “the incarnate” by White House insiders that Seal Team 6 “killed” within 48 hours of Adolf Hitler's death date, which is why he got the same Time magazine cover treatment.) And as every right-wing newshound knows, the real Usama Bin Laden was of course already dead for ten years prior to the televisual death of his legally fictitious alter-ego for the massaging of the American psyche. And you thought this was a left-wing conspiracy theory, didn’t you?
Ultimately, Monsters, Inc. is about America’s need to continually create and contain foreign policy monsters to sustain our insanely great way of life as the world’s only superpower. You and your regional, ethnic, religious, or national group shouldn’t take it personally; it’s simply a ruthless but necessary requirement for global capitalism. America loves you, but please understand, we have a job to do. And as they say, “Hey, it’s only business.” That, of course, is why it’s properly understood as Moslems, Inc. Because the Moslem monsters that are paraded across our editorial pages and talk shows are not real people, they are demonic cartoons serving the purpose of an administration so cynically beyond the brotherhood of man, so frighteningly removed from the sermon on the mount, so absolutely incapable of acting like anything other than scared little boys in a make-believe game of cowboys and Indians (um, scratch that; we already eliminated the red man, nearly succeeded with the black man, and are now hell bent for death after the brown man), that their chief and primary goal is not to capture their “bad guy”—lest he too turn out to be a cartoon—no, their biggest concern is to get you and I to believe that this is not a cartoon we’re watching, but a reality TV marathon. Remember, Bush could have chosen a path just as powerful but far less paranoid, and far less childish.
Thus the 2001 anthrax
scare media event, which even CNN admits comes from homegrown spores from Fort Dix, ultimately proved to have nothing to do with Moslems, Arabs, or terrorists, despite being inextricably linked in the public mind to just that. Thus the never-ending series of heightened alerts, the “new normalcy” of the National Emergency Entertainment State (Be Afraid! Have Fun!) in which you are required to be professionally schizophrenic by going about business as usual while nevertheless being mindful that the building you’re in may fall at any minute. Meanwhile, pretend to smile for the surveillance cameras flowering like toxic mushrooms all across the land, and try to keep saying sincerely to your increasingly paranoid neighbors, “I’m thankful for these heightened security measures” while more freedoms are taken from you in the name of defending them.
And to be sure, “innocent” people really have died—but remember, this is the first “war” of the twenty-first century, and as such fulfills Marshall McLuhan’s dictum that there is no longer any distinction between civilian and soldier. And while it’s no comfort to those who lost loved ones, compare our 3,000 dead to how many died in World War II, Vietnam, or Korea. This is a war with far fewer casualties than any war before it—and if you think that the Gulf War disproves this, remember that in many ways this is simply a continuation of the Gulf War under another name. As Waternoose says, “I’ll kidnap 1000 children before I let this company die.” Or as a senior member of the chain of command at Pearl Harbor finally admitted in the 1970’s, “3,000 people was a small price to pay for unity.” Prior to that event, Americans did not support entering the war. Afterwards, no one was against it. Sound familiar? If you think Bush didn’t want to start this “war on terrorism” long before September 11th, then whatever you do, don’t read his campaign speech to Citadel cadets delivered in September of 1999.
Monsters, Inc. is a cartoon instead of a realpolitik film because, like the Japanese in World War II, these monsters don’t actually pose us a real threat beyond their initial and entirely preventable attack. What matters is that they really do scare us, and in doing so we get the benefit of perceiving a real threat, we get the psychic energy and economic boost of our collective “scream”—the selfsame existential nausea visualized by Edvard Munch, Pink Floyd’s The Wall, and of course the litany of Scream movies satirizing why horror movies are no longer scary—because as film scholar Quentin Tarantino proved with Pulp Fiction, the only possible response to sustained horror is the psychic release valve of humor to maintain the viewer’s sanity: you end up laughing at the most horrifying parts, and then feel guilty that you did so. That film-watching produces a psychological effect similar to those perceptions created in the unwitting participants in Stanley Milgram’s “Obedience to Authority” experiment is something future researchers might consider. These cartoon Moslem monsters unite us in our lack of a common good by giving us a common enemy. They serve our purposes for a cheaper gallon of gas (your secret Christmas bonus, and the only reason to smile at all this past holiday season). They provide us with a global market for our sacred consumer commodities, 70% of our entire economy, the best of which are consumed in their use, which is why they’re so God-be-damned profitable: military hardware, oil, medicine, telecommunications. Just try to guess how many of these industries the Bush family and the Bin Laden families are active shareholders in, through the world’s largest private equity firm. No really, guess. Good guess! Don’t even ask why their headquarters are five blocks away on the same street as the White House. If the terrorists had actually been aiming at the politically symbolic infrastructure of the Bush administration’s chief interests, they’d have flown all four jets into the U.N. Building, not an under-construction section of the Pentagon, an almost evacuated twin towers that fell in perfect demolition-style straight downward, and certainly not in a field near Pittsburgh (the reality of which is identical to the fate of AA Flight 587 and TWA Flight 800—which is that you will never know the truth, and the truth will never set you free).
The trick now successfully played before you, oh confused and rightfully bewildered citizen, is the creation of a world so paranoid, so fearful, and so uncertain as to what is real and what is illusion, so like a supermarket tabloid (or better yet, a tabloid that gets hit with anthrax, which itself may be a publicity stunt or even a bold marketing move by the makers of Cipro and Auschwitz), so like a Coen brothers movie (“What is real and what is myth is beside the point in the topsy-turvy world…”), so like the world described by Ryan Holiday in Trust Me, I’m Lying, and so like Larry Beinhart’s American Hero (“no attempt has been made to distinguish between actual events and simulated events, for the sake of realism”) that any systematic attempt to distinguish fact from fiction, prop from propaganda, or random reality from political necessity comes, in the end, to resemble nothing so much as the babbling rant of paranoid lunatics—no matter how accurate, truthful, or well substantiated those assessments may be. As the late Michael Crichton said, “The greatest challenge facing mankind is the challenge of distinguishing reality from fantasy, truth from propaganda.” Like the Men In Black, you really may be better informed by reading the headlines in the checkout line than by studying any official newspaper of record. “Terror Inc.” was, incidentally, the phrase used by Newsweek in its interview with April Ray in January 2002.
For it is only when you are able to understand the operating principle of this tabloid planet that you are allowed in on the biggest conspiracy of all, which is, unfortunately, just this:
There is no conspiracy.
Further reading on the dehumanizing power of the post-modern war machine, American foreign policy, and imperialism under the guise of global capitalism:
After years of being told by his American colleagues to “Love it or leave it!”—Snodgrass finally left it. He now resides in a nuclear-free zone off the grid of electronic culture and off his rocker, according to his former friends.