A Chicken in every Pol Pot

Infernal Dialectic of Ongoing Struggle

 

 

MAO

Spoke Mao Zedong to Kim Jong Il:
We languish here in deep Red hell.
Let us confer and analyze
What factors revolutionize
The contradictions still.

Replied Lil’ Kim: The running dogs
Beguiled by class and capital
Have overdrawn and overspent.
They bank on debt, and make lament
And flounder in their fogs . . .

The Fearless Leader (now a shade)
Responded thus: Just give them time.
Our doctrines spread, their God is dead
Their sons shall sing ‘The East is Red’
Our party’s got it made.

Lil KimIll Kim displayed a wicked grin:
Our rocket-launches make them fear
They scold and cluck, and then they duck
While Hillary tries to pass the buck

I think we still could win . . .

Kim chee does stink—but tastes so good;
do have some more, oh comrade Mao.
Fermented cabbage goes so well
With Hennessy and blondes (in hell)
and Juche’s in da hood!

The Chairman thought and sipped some fire
in communistic reverie, and feeling very clever, he
replied to Ill: This place we’ll fill
with dead reactionaries still,
fifth columns to inspire.

Now let the thousand flowers bloom
And let one thousand thoughts contend—
Remember Ho? Remember ‘Nam?
We triumphed over Uncle Sam.
He’s limping toward his doom.

A wizened ghost now drifted inUncle Ho
Because his name had been proclaimed
A wispy beard (as yet unseared)
Revealed the mastermind once feared:
Old Uncle Ho Chi Minh !

Ho Ho—old friend! Draw near, draw near!
Spoke Mao: In solidarity
We hail your work upon the earth
You showed them what a war is worth
You’re always welcome here.

Ill Kim and I were wondering
How best to make the forward leap—
Conspiring how to kill their cow
And smoke their duck and drain their sow
While they are buying bling.

Ho Chi, old warrior, why the frown?
Upon your wisdom now we wait.
The forces Red you bravely led
You staked your claim until they bled
And brought their nation down.

Old uncle Ho, the sage revered,
Did smolder with his cigarette.
Viet Cong thought is hard to grasp;
It slithers like a jungle asp . . .
Ho paused and stroked his beard.

You speak without the people’s light!
I criticize in strongest terms
Your revolutionary thought.
We need to ask our friend Pol Pot
How best to steer this fight.St. Pol of Kampuchea

Such gradual change, a halfway measure
stalls the Bourgeoisie’s demise.
Our true Khmer Rouge was not a stooge
Of Kapital. His fame was huge
For plundering their treasure.

True, he had to purge his nation;
Such is revolution, gents . . .
The traitor classes see the masses,
Through reactionary glasses.
Death or re-education!

We ought to sow his rural seed
For pure agrarian reform.
The bodies in the rice can rot
To fertilize the harvest plot—
The people’s mouths to feed.

When Pol Pot heard his tactics lauded
he flew in to join the jabber.
Take a tip from Kampuchea!
Listen well, and I will teach ya!
Kim and Mao applauded.

City folk are useless eaters
glasses-wearing foes and cheaters!
let them slave, and always save
their corpses for the fertile grave
Until they love their leaders.

Prepared to ramble on for hours
(The way Fidel so loves to do).
Pol Pot’s harangue now fired the gang
Like rockets falling on Da Nang
Emitting sparks in showers.

Hell is known for lack of stasis—
Sudden throes of quaking fire;
Fitful flares from from Satan’s lairs
And constant similar affairs
The population faces . . .

Thus Saint Pol Pot, still naming names
Along with Mao and Kim-Jong Il
While Ho Chi screamed, and then blasphemed
Were swept en masse and unredeemedCommies
Into the surging flames.

Yet still they plotted in the blaze
With dialectic deviousness.
Philosophizing, strategizing
Stinking sulfur brimstone rising;
Ghosts in the yellow haze . . .

 

 END 

MORE GLORIOUS DIALECTIC HISTORICAL PROCESS  HERE red-star-hammer-sickle

Raise the Red Scarf

https://i2.wp.com/whstherebellion.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/red-scarf-girl-memoir-cultural-jili-jiang.jpgI am reading Ji-Li Jiang’s Red Scarf Girl to my daughter. I recommend this book about Mao’s Cultural Revolution, which took place in the mid-60’s. It is amazing to reflect that while Westerners were adulating pop stars, enjoying the hedonistic fruits of relative prosperity, and celebrating youth counterculture, on the other side of our globe Red mobs were punishing rank-and-file Chinese citizens for thought-crimes and counter-revolutionary values. The novel is autobiographical, and for that reason very striking. It is written for 11-14 year-olds but it is relevant for any age. The author recalls events starting at age 12 as she finished primary school. One senses how quickly Marxist mob justice was unleashed on the people of China. There are many parallels with life today in the US and Canada, although things are not yet as drastic as in the novel. One sees how education and municipal government were used as organs of a repressive and fanatical state to persecute and harass citizens and how people developed coping strategies to survive. This book used to be part of Middle School curriculum where I live. I am not sure if it is still. It is one of those books that makes me want to buy a case of a hundred copies and distribute it to friends. It is very enlightening to read it along with the viewing of To Live, filmed in 1994 and directed by Zhang Yimou. The film (watch it HERE) covers some of the same ground as Jiang’s book and will give younger readers visual images in a historical context. It is a favorite film of mine. All the actors are excellent, especially the children. It is massively tragic so be prepared to hold back your tears in several scenes.

Back to the book: an odd detail is the author’s few references to allah within the novel. It turns out the family, who seem very Chinese and live in Shanghai, had Mohammedan ancestors, although the protagonist certainly is not attached to that religion. I was curious about this and emailed the author, telling her how much my children were interested in and affected by this novel. A few days later I received a very warm email message from the author! If you have children who are curious about political history or if you are simply interested in understanding the Chinese Cultural Revolution of 1966, read this book.

Burning the Paper Tigers

A Chicken in every Pol Pot:
Infernal Dialectic of Ongoing Struggle

 

 

MAO

Spoke Mao Zedong to Kim Jong Il:
We languish here in deep Red hell.
Let us confer and analyze
What factors revolutionize
The contradictions still.

Replied Lil’ Kim: The running dogs
Beguiled by class and capital
Have overdrawn and overspent.
They bank on debt, and make lament
And flounder in their fogs . . .

The Fearless Leader (now a shade)
Responded thus: Just give them time.
Our doctrines spread, their God is dead
Their sons shall sing ‘The East is Red’
Our party’s got it made.

Lil KimIll Kim displayed a wicked grin:
Our rocket-launches make them fear
They scold and cluck, and then they duck
While Hillary tries to pass the buck

I think we still could win . . .

Kim chee does stink—but tastes so good;
do have some more, oh comrade Mao.
Fermented cabbage goes so well
With Hennessy and blondes (in hell)
and Juche’s in da hood!

The Chairman thought and sipped some fire
in communistic reverie, and feeling very clever, he
replied to Ill: This place we’ll fill
with dead reactionaries still,
fifth columns to inspire.

Now let the thousand flowers bloom
And let one thousand thoughts contend—
Remember Ho? Remember ‘Nam?
We triumphed over Uncle Sam.
He’s limping toward his doom.

A wizened ghost now drifted inUncle Ho
Because his name had been proclaimed
A wispy beard (as yet unseared)
Revealed the mastermind once feared:
Old Uncle Ho Chi Minh !

Ho Ho—old friend! Draw near, draw near!
Spoke Mao: In solidarity
We hail your work upon the earth
You showed them what a war is worth
You’re always welcome here.

Ill Kim and I were wondering
How best to make the forward leap—
Conspiring how to kill their cow
And smoke their duck and drain their sow
While they are buying bling.

Ho Chi, old warrior, why the frown?
Upon your wisdom now we wait.
The forces Red you bravely led
You staked your claim until they bled
And brought their nation down.

Old uncle Ho, the sage revered,
Did smolder with his cigarette.
Viet Cong thought is hard to grasp;
It slithers like a jungle asp . . .
Ho paused and stroked his beard.

You speak without the people’s light!
I criticize in strongest terms
Your revolutionary thought.
We need to ask our friend Pol Pot
How best to steer this fight.St. Pol of Kampuchea

Such gradual change, a halfway measure
stalls the Bourgeoisie’s demise.
Our true Khmer Rouge was not a stooge
Of Kapital. His fame was huge
For plundering their treasure.

True, he had to purge his nation;
Such is revolution, gents . . .
The traitor classes see the masses,
Through reactionary glasses.
Death or re-education!

We ought to sow his rural seed
For pure agrarian reform.
The bodies in the rice can rot
To fertilize the harvest plot—
The people’s mouths to feed.

When Pol Pot heard his tactics lauded
he flew in to join the jabber.
Take a tip from Kampuchea!
Listen well, and I will teach ya!
Kim and Mao applauded.

City folk are useless eaters
glasses-wearing foes and cheaters!
let them slave, and always save
their corpses for the fertile grave
Until they love their leaders.

Prepared to ramble on for hours
(The way Fidel so loves to do).
Pol Pot’s harangue now fired the gang
Like rockets falling on Da Nang
Emitting sparks in showers.

Hell is known for lack of stasis—
Sudden throes of quaking fire;
Fitful flares from from Satan’s lairs
And constant similar affairs
The population faces . . .

Thus Saint Pol Pot, still naming names
Along with Mao and Kim-Jong Il
While Ho Chi screamed, and then blasphemed
Were swept en masse and unredeemedCommies
Into the surging flames.

Yet still they plotted in the blaze
With dialectic deviousness.
Philosophizing, strategizing
Stinking sulfur brimstone rising;
Ghosts in the yellow haze . . .

 

 END 

MORE GLORIOUS DIALECTIC HISTORICAL PROCESS  HERE red-star-hammer-sickle

Burning the Paper Tigers

A Chicken in every Pol Pot:
Infernal Dialectic of Ongoing Struggle

 

 

MAO

Spoke Mao Zedong to Kim Jong Il:
“We languish here in deep Red hell.
Let us confer and analyze
What factors revolutionize
The contradictions still.”

Replied Lil’ Kim: “The running dogs
Beguiled by class and capital
Have overdrawn and overspent.
They bank on debt, and make lament
And flounder in their fogs…”

The Fearless Leader (now a shade)
Responded thus: “Just give them time.
Our doctrines spread, their God is dead
Their sons shall sing ‘The East is Red’
Our party’s got it made.”

Lil KimIll Kim displayed a wicked grin:
“Our rocket-launches make them fear
They scold and cluck, and then they duck
While Hillary tries to pass the buck
I think we still could win…”

“Kim chee does stink –but tastes so good;
do have some more, oh comrade Mao.
Fermented cabbage goes so well
With Hennessey and blondes (in hell)
and Juche’s in da hood!”

The Chairman thought and sipped some fire
in communistic reverie, and feeling very clever, he
replied to Ill: “This place we’ll fill
with dead reactionaries still –
fifth columns to inspire.

Now let the thousand flowers bloom
And let one thousand thoughts contend –
Remember Ho? Remember ‘Nam?
We triumphed over Uncle Sam –
He’s limping toward his doom.”

A wizened ghost now drifted inUncle Ho
Because his name had been proclaimed
A wispy beard (as yet unseared)
Revealed the mastermind once feared:
Old Uncle Ho Chi Minh !

“Ho Ho – old friend! Draw near! Draw near,”
Spoke Mao: “In solidarity
We hail your work upon the earth
You showed them what a war is worth
You’re always welcome here.”

“Ill Kim and I were wondering
How best to make the forward leap –
conspiring how to kill their cow
and smoke their duck and drain their sow
while they are buying bling.

Ho Chi, old warrior, why the frown?
Upon your wisdom now we wait.
The forces red you bravely led
You staked your claim until they bled
And brought their nation down.”

Old uncle Ho, the sage revered,
did smolder with his cigarette.
Viet Cong thought is hard to grasp;
It slithers like a jungle asp…
Ho paused and stroked his beard.

“You speak without the people’s light!
I criticize in strongest terms
Your revolutionary thought.
We need to ask our friend Pol Pot
How best to steer this fight.St. Pol of Kampuchea

Such gradual change, a halfway measure
stalls the Bourgeoisie’s demise.
Our true Khmer Rouge was not a stooge
of Kapital. His fame was huge
for plundering their treasure.

True, he had to purge his nation
such is revolution, gents…
The traitor classes see the masses,
through reactionary  glasses.
Death or re-education!

We ought to sow his rural seed
for pure agrarian reform.
The bodies in the rice can rot
to fertilize the harvest plot –
the people’s mouths to feed.”

When Pol Pot heard his tactics lauded
he flew in to join the jabber.
“Take a tip from Kampuchea!
Listen well and I will teach ya!”
Kim and Mao applauded.

“City folk are useless eaters
glasses-wearing foes and cheaters!
let them slave – and always save
their corpses for the fertile grave
Until they love their leaders.

From the barrel power grows –
(I don’t mean kim chee barrel, boys – )
Now learn my way. We’ll have our say
Their weakened states will wither away.”
The Red dictator rose

Prepared to ramble on for hours
(the way Fidel so loves to do)
Pol Pot’s harangue now fired the gang
like rockets falling on Da Nang
emitting sparks in showers.

Hell is known for lack of stasis –
Sudden throes of quaking fire;
fitful flares from from Satan’s lairs
and constant similar affairs
the population faces…

Thus Saint Pol Pot, still naming names
along with Mao and Kim-Jong Il
while Ho Chi screamed, and then blasphemed
were swept en masse and unredeemedCommies
into the surging flames.

Yet still they plotted in the blaze
with dialectic deviousness.
Philosophizing, strategizing
stinking sulfur brimstone rising;
ghosts in the yellow haze…

 END 

MORE GLORIOUS DIALECTIC HISTORICAL PROCESS  HERE red-star-hammer-sickle