My hometown’s main industry is war profiteering. Amazingly, this is from a war it lost. I recently wrote a blog on the Olivia Hussey lawsuit and her and Charleston are profiteers from a sectarian conflict their side lost. Romeo & Juliet is, arguably, the most done civil war reenactment and the Confederacy was literally a rebellion under a star-crossed flag. Olivia Hussey’s claim to fame is a piss-ass fourteenth century dick-size contest between inbred narcissists that was loosely adapted to literature twice before the ulimate bard of bards got hold of it. Olivia Hussey and Charleston are forever endebted to ancient piss-ass dick-size contests between inbred narcissists.
When Olivia Hussey, not long ago, came out with her autobiography, I was surprised she named it “The Girl on the Balcony” since I figured she would not define her life by her most famous media hit. I typically assume people are much more than what they’re known for. I also thought, it was a lame title. If I was most famous for playing Juliet, I’d have gone with “Life After I Faked My Own Death” However, that species of humor requires a humility a $500 million lawsuit would suggest she lacks. Charleston takes itself far too seriously, as well. And honestly, the most misery and woe you’ll get in a first-world country is Charleston, South Carolina. The point is that both keep playing their biggest hit to milk it for all it is worth.
The education system produces subliterate proletarians for poverty-wage menial labor that grind them out 16 hours per day for. I went to the College of Charleston and it had a massive homelessness and food insecurity crisis beneath an animal house of affluent alcoholic cokeheads. What makes poverty more tragic is when it is juxtaposed against wealth not being shared with them and that is the tragedy of Charleston. What makes it even sadder is when they feign sorrow for historic injustice while shamelessly participating in current injustice in an exact analogy and to the descendants of the first injustice.
They’re sorry as fuck for slavery, they’ll assure you, and minimum wage Black people doing domestic work is nothing like slavery. They’ll assure you of that, too. In the miles of hinterlands radiating out from the city are the strip malls, trailer parks, parking lots, and gas stations that are the same as you’d find in Tacoma, Washington or Trenton, New Jersey. Where the malnourished, subliterate, direct or indirect employees of the hospitality industry forge their meager existences. It is not much of a life out there. Stalked every few minutes by the seemingly omnipresent CPD and NCPD which is everywhere and whose charge is to brush the crazies, the hobos, and the otherwise garish and gnarly from the purview of our valued guests, the tourists.
And while it may seem reasonable to employ that as a short-term solution since, as a relatively lucid and clean member of the middle-class I get grossed out myself by bothersome interactions with those kinds; it is a much more terrible long-term solution to people who need a better education system, higher wages, better housing, and everything else the system is too cheap to provide. The dark poetry is that, in a sense, Charleston won the Civil War. They make money on the backs of barely paid impoverished racial minorities which was, really, what the Confederacy was going for. It’s like my or Taylor Swift’s molestation of Romeo and Juliet and not the original. Having snatched victory from the jaws fo defeat, they can make out and make sweet Italian love within earshot of the destitute peasants who work their land.