There is no way to understand what is going on.
No theory of connecting these new media dots that will fit.
That will make it all make sense.
That will create a new model for dead paradigms.
It is alive.
It is thriving.
It is how you put your ear to the ground.
Do you hear the sound?
Powerful winds are flowing.
Through all the data systems we know.
There is a fearless revolution growing.
It asks you to know more.
To consume less.
To invest in our collective futures.
To be conscious.
Hi there, I’m David Simon. You worship me. I know. You and your wife sat on your couch and watched all five seasons of The Wire in a few weeks. I know you were addicted. I could see your tongues drooling till 2 a.m. as you realized how brilliant I am. And you know how I saw that? You know how I know that? Because I am God. That’s with a capital G mate. God. And so are you, I think. Maybe you are. I’m still pondering that one.
What I did with The Wire has never been done before. I know that too. I know it’s the most under-rated (and possibly the best) T.V. drama in the history of the medium. You think I don’t know. For Pete’s sake man, I’m David Simon. I know what happened to the newspapers. I know the police beat I worked at the Baltimore Sun all those years ago. I know the crime rate. The know the names of all the cops on my beat. The knew the right judge to call. I know how backwards the educational system and how corrupt the police were and still are. I know that because I saw it. I put my feet on the ground. My ear to the ground as well. I made the calls. I did the following up that you won’t see right now on blogs or on television. I lived by the journalistic code so many speak about as if it also has a secret handshake. I was not perfect. I made mistakes but I cared. I always saw my story through.
And that’s where The Wire came from. It is an extension of everything I saw. Everything I experienced as a police reporter. I saw everything you want to know on those media outlets you look at and ask why? Why does it not work? I saw why. Why do the newspapers not sell? Why do bloggers think they can do my job? Why did the housing bubble burst? Why is there so much corporate greed? It is all connected my friend. Everything. From every last drop of honest sweat to every last drop of crooked blood that is released on the streets of Baltimore, to the Hills of Hollywood.
These stories are told and retold. Same town, different year, different name, same situation. Where there is money to be made it will be made. Where there is a product to sell it will be sold. Where ethics are to be upheld they will be broken and manipulated. Where careers are to be built they will thrive and then die. I tell you this because you are questioning the history and future of my beloved first career. Well, after having many years to question this myself, I am telling you not to worry. There are no Gods. There are no angels. There are just people trying to survive. Some stick to their guns. Some give it all away and ask for redemption. Some live in both worlds.
I knew for years I was leaving The Sun. I knew for years people were going to be axed. We knew the Internet was going to change things, but we did not know to what extent. You have to remember that the majority of us were English majors. We have a general phobia of technology. I’m still trying to figure out how to do email from my my smart phone. Half of the old crew from The Sun still don’t do email. Maybe it is a generational thing. Who knows. But with that said, let me leave you with this and let you put your tongues back in your mouth and finish the show.
I predict, there will be a new generation of new media journalists that will continue to carry the cross for folks like me. That is why I made The Wire. They will understand all of these new smart phones and tablets and social media gizmos. They will be the children of 9/11. They will not take no for an answer. They will demand the truth because they will be tired of eating and breathing lies. They might not be fed by the same corporate machine that put most of my pithy wordsmith mates in their cushy, lifetime careers. They will build new empires. And these empires will not be built with ink on paper. They will live in server rooms through cloud computing. Facts will be checked and the truth will always prevail. Maybe not as much sweat will drop, but the blood will still flow. That much I know.
Blood sweat and tears
For too many years.
They took us from our land.
Sold us lies with a smile and a hand.
For hundreds of years we dreamed of this.
Etched and painted white faces.
Passed our stories down to our children.
We could have never prepared
For the pain and suffering the future held.
Forced into sand boxes in far off lands.
The trail was far too long for any man.
So they gave us alchohol to forget.
Now we drink too much with no hopes of employment.
We try to pass our culture down to our youth.
But they leave as soon as they can, to seek their truth.
Living a life of ghostly memories knowing
That their ancestors once lived proud and free.
This land was ours before any white man was to see.
As they make dream-catchers to find themselves.
As they sweat out their poisons from their tumor cells.
They have taken our culture and ate it like vultures.
Regurgitated it back to whomever would eat it.
We saw this coming but we did not approve it.
There was no stopping the white man in the end.
Now they take tours of our holy places and think of our spirits.
They see our burial mounds and think of our magic.
Tears still flow from the trail we were forced to veer.
We watch now as they destroy the world, how tragic.
The job of a dictator isn’t that easy.
So I write this to help you understand.
I have to be tough and kick skulls and slap hands
As my people ask for their universal rights.
I throw them dollars while taking pills.
But there is no food or water left to borrow or steal.
Four decades later what do I see.
Lots of delusional youth looking up at me.
Poisoned by their psychedelic pop.
Not knowing that I’m all they’ve got.
I hear this nonsense of a war going on
I see adoring fans in my beloved land.
Like so many dictators before me.
I will leave this world as I see.
No amount of reality may you tell
And I will go to paradise as well.
Surrounded by all I have created here.
For an eternity this ground will swell.
For all the oil milked and shipped away.
For all the blood spilt here today.
Round man stuffed holding his iPad to read.
Reading his made in China RSS feed.
Sits next to wife reading the paper.
Her face covered, no eyes to see.
Woman says, it says here China is winning.
Man says, not if I have anything to do with it.
Woman says, they will be number one soon.
She speaks out loud the simple math to gloom.
Eleven from twenty seven.
Eleven from twenty seven.
Why is this so hard for me to imagine.
Is it 13?
No deeeeear …… it is not.
Man mumbles while checking his stocks.
Both sitting and waiting for the doc.
You know the price of steak is too high.
I’m going to have to get me a good paying job.
There is no way we can keep eating like hogs.
China is winning it is easy to see.
Man catches imports from China like fleas.
Woman can’t do simple math to realize our demise.
She is worried because she will still be alive.
America is losing because of people like these.
So content to sit and be pleased.
Indian warriors locked in history.
Their stories updated by everyone.
Displayed on flat screens.
Read by office workers.
Their only war to keep their jobs.
Exchanging status updates.
Farming digital lands.
So many tribes died for this.
Their people murdered and starved.
So real land can be possessed.
Savages sitting in cages.
We all are.
One worker reads these stories.
Is moved to type these words.
Remembers the people who died for this.
Sees his reflection in the monitor.
No longer recognizes himself.
A parking garage outside the window.
A dining hall across the street.
One price for all one can eat.
The war continues far away.
Natives forced to give up land.
Savages sitting in cages.
We all are.
Speechless.
Dictator’s topless
Caught with their pants down.
Legs torn open and laid bare.
No walls to protect the glare
Of a million man march
To tear down tyranny.
To seek a free democracy.
Wars are fought over atrocities
Disguising our hopes with fallacies.
Finding no weapons of mass destruction.
No war can replace a dictator.
No foreign armies are ever seen as liberators.
The people will rise up and retrieve
The human dignity they wish to breathe.
Time and time again.
We will continue to learn this lesson.
War is as useless as can be
To the sea of people screaming to be free.
Civil disobedience has its own distinct cadence.
Beating the drum of humanity.
Destroying all walls and barricades.
Freedom is exaggerated and abused
As many cling to their Bibles and Guns
China’s economy continues its cruise
Selling the seas of cash funds.
Beating Captain America.
For the U.S. has nothing to teach China.
No moral high ground to seek.
No words of wisdom to preach.
Because its middle class is shrinking.
Because it borrows without blinking.
Because it can not take care of its own.
As China pulls millions out of the poverty zone.
The Red Scare has begun anew.
Media pundits slinging hate fueled.
What will happen when China wants its money?
Our country and military will crumble.
No gas to go into our SUVs and drones.
No new technology will be created or owned.
For America has robbed Peter to pay Paul.
Giving China its soul, while buying all.
Little manufacturing done on American soil.
With plenty of money to buy others oil.
Harvard graduates going back to their homes
To make careers wherever they roam.
Intellectualism spoon fed to other countries, no longer inbred.
Citizens yelling about wanting their country back
Should realize that it was sold long ago, not attacked.
Each day they buy at Wal-Mart China is fed.
