masses, leisure has to be sold to them in a way they understand. Yes, in the past people had families, communities. There was a sense of living together. Through this they developed a shared understanding of the world, developed different cultures. Now not all of these cultures are in empathy with the profit system, and therefore they have to be replaced by another, stronger, richer culture, or at least assimilated into it. Families and communities have to be broken up further, have to be taken to where the work is, have to be denied at all costs meaningful interaction with each other. They have to live in, as our American friends call them, subdivisions. They have to be economically and physically subdivided . . .
I smiled and cut in, — And the old culture replaced by advertisers and marketeers telling people what to enjoy. Easy when they have no other ponts of reference, e.g. other people in the same economic and social circumstances. So through the media you have people in different economic and social circumstances telling them what to consume. The key is the increasing of choice through the process of subdivision you alluded to. The increasing experiencing of leisure and sport indirectly, has encouraged a decrease in real participation, which is direct communion. Therefore you have the replacement of one or two really decent experiences with loads and loads of crap things.
— Yes. But what you're doing is merely illustrating my point.
— Or you mine. Perhaps sport has colonised capitalism rather than the other way around. The rampant self-promotion of busi nessmen in the eighties is an example. They refer to themselves as main players and their vocabulary is a sporting one; whole new ball games, level playing fields, moving goalposts, and all that.
Dawson looked a bit shirty. — Yes Roy, but we have colonised sport and plundered its language . . .
— But perhaps the superiority of that terminology illustrates that sport and the sporting instinct are sovereign and that capitalism is just a branch of sport, a warped, inferior branch of sport, sport with money . . .
— In which case, then, it disproves your contention that the pursuit of profit, the only truth, cannot be self-actualising, if the accumulation of that wealth has sporting elements.
— No, it proves it. Capitalism has had to graft on sporting culture, the culture of games, in order to make the pursuit of money seem a worthwhile endeavour in itself.
— Look, Dawson began, exasperated, — you obviously don't understand the process of debate. Anyway, it's time to water the plants.
He snapped his fingers and began rubbing at his groin through his flannel trousers. The three girls took up position in front of him, squatting over some of the plant pots.
Unzipping his flies and removing a stumpy, semi-erect penis from his trousers and pants, Dawson masturbated himself hard as the girls discharged hot, steamy urine into the soil of the robust plants. He came powerfully, looking like a man going into cardiac seizure, gasping like
like
like somebody else. Just somebody else.
I REMEMBER the party we had in the lounge bar of the Ferry Boat public house, a couple of days before we set off for London on our way to Johannesburg. They booked the top bar. Everyone was there. We were allowed in; me, Kim, and Gerald with our lemonade, Tony was allowed beer. It was brilliant. Mum serenaded John with 'Big Spender'.
The minute you walked in the joint,
I could tell ye were a man of distinction,
A real big spender.
Good lookin, so refined,
Suppose you'd like to know what's goin on in ma mind.
So let me get right to the point do-do,
I don't pop my cork for every man I see.
Hey big spender,
Hey big spender,
Spend a li-ril time with me.
do-do-do-do-do
— Still got the voice, Vet, Uncle Jackie said.
So would ye like tae have fun, fun, fun,
How's about a few laughs, laughs, laughs,
Let me show you a good time,
I could show you a good time . . .
I sat in the
I smiled and cut in, — And the old culture replaced by advertisers and marketeers telling people what to enjoy. Easy when they have no other ponts of reference, e.g. other people in the same economic and social circumstances. So through the media you have people in different economic and social circumstances telling them what to consume. The key is the increasing of choice through the process of subdivision you alluded to. The increasing experiencing of leisure and sport indirectly, has encouraged a decrease in real participation, which is direct communion. Therefore you have the replacement of one or two really decent experiences with loads and loads of crap things.
— Yes. But what you're doing is merely illustrating my point.
— Or you mine. Perhaps sport has colonised capitalism rather than the other way around. The rampant self-promotion of busi nessmen in the eighties is an example. They refer to themselves as main players and their vocabulary is a sporting one; whole new ball games, level playing fields, moving goalposts, and all that.
Dawson looked a bit shirty. — Yes Roy, but we have colonised sport and plundered its language . . .
— But perhaps the superiority of that terminology illustrates that sport and the sporting instinct are sovereign and that capitalism is just a branch of sport, a warped, inferior branch of sport, sport with money . . .
— In which case, then, it disproves your contention that the pursuit of profit, the only truth, cannot be self-actualising, if the accumulation of that wealth has sporting elements.
— No, it proves it. Capitalism has had to graft on sporting culture, the culture of games, in order to make the pursuit of money seem a worthwhile endeavour in itself.
— Look, Dawson began, exasperated, — you obviously don't understand the process of debate. Anyway, it's time to water the plants.
He snapped his fingers and began rubbing at his groin through his flannel trousers. The three girls took up position in front of him, squatting over some of the plant pots.
Unzipping his flies and removing a stumpy, semi-erect penis from his trousers and pants, Dawson masturbated himself hard as the girls discharged hot, steamy urine into the soil of the robust plants. He came powerfully, looking like a man going into cardiac seizure, gasping like
like
like somebody else. Just somebody else.
I REMEMBER the party we had in the lounge bar of the Ferry Boat public house, a couple of days before we set off for London on our way to Johannesburg. They booked the top bar. Everyone was there. We were allowed in; me, Kim, and Gerald with our lemonade, Tony was allowed beer. It was brilliant. Mum serenaded John with 'Big Spender'.
The minute you walked in the joint,
I could tell ye were a man of distinction,
A real big spender.
Good lookin, so refined,
Suppose you'd like to know what's goin on in ma mind.
So let me get right to the point do-do,
I don't pop my cork for every man I see.
Hey big spender,
Hey big spender,
Spend a li-ril time with me.
do-do-do-do-do
— Still got the voice, Vet, Uncle Jackie said.
So would ye like tae have fun, fun, fun,
How's about a few laughs, laughs, laughs,
Let me show you a good time,
I could show you a good time . . .
I sat in the
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