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Circular Economy PowderFinger

Hey, I've written a whole lot of words about images.

Here's some sound.  Neil Young's "Powderfinger", performed by Cowboy Junkies, seemed to describe red state hillbilly moonshiners.  But the words and expressions hauntingly tell the story of Africa's Tech Sector, accused of "e-waste crimes" by NGOs, shredding companies, regulators, some manufacturers, and many European journalists.






Who sent the white boats of "Project Eden" and UK Environmental Agency in their white boat up the Odaw River?

The quoted accuser [Anane] was a ridiculous clown-liar. He was promoted by Basel Action Network to increase their charitable funding, then by Interpol to get funding for their "Project Eden". Kevin McElvaney and Jacopo Ottaviana and others filmed Anane's claims, that Agbogbloshie was a lush fishing village in 2002 (13 years before #ewasterepublic quote), and 500 sea container of worthless e-waste containers are dumped there each month.  At the largest e-waste dump in the world, where tens of thousands of orphans die, of cancer, after an average of 2 years burning the computers there.  UNEP needed not read their own data, as they had Kevin McElvaney photos to show.

Pencil in ear ridiculous.

Rub broken mirror glass against a dubstep electric guitar here.  Zero sea containers. It was the same city dump in 2002.  It's in the center of Accra, not a remote fishing village. In the only sense Agbogbloshie was remote, "Sodom and Gomorrah" was never remotely true.  Photojournalists literally added gas to the flames.



But it wasn't and it ain't.

Like the narrarator in Neil Young's Powderfinger bayou song, Joe Benson was completely unequipped for the barrage from the #whitesaviorcomplex #charitableindustrialcomples #circulareconomy #plannedobsolescence interests coming to bear the on black tech sector.

In a blaze of do-gooder photojournalist blitzkrieg, absent any cross-cultural training or baseline data, the whites (journalists, enforcement agents, environmental NGOs, big shred, planned obsolescence OEMs) needed only acquiesce in a gang-bang of nodding heads.  No Africans, unless they nodded, were asked any questions.

Who knows what deal Joe Benson cut to get out of his 5 year sentence. We have his innocence documented, we have recantations by the accusers, we have 100 pages of prosecutor claims without a single habeus corpus  -  If export is a crime, then they need prove no crime, only prove export occurred, as if no innocent export could occur. "common knowledge" was cited to prove the probability of Joe Benson's crime.


Clean Hands Teaser from Clean_Hands on Vimeo.

I like African importers.  I like white environmentalists, too. But I dislike what Jim Puckett described to me as "collateral damage", because it's friendly fire without apology.  It's excused as racist prosecution because "we were all racist about geeks back then".

Environmentalists shot geeks of color in the face.  He didn't have a gun - or e-waste- in his hand after all.  Like crooked cops, they think that they didn't do it on purpose means they can hide Joe Benson's body.

Look out mama, there's a white boat comin' up the river.



Neil Young Lyrics

Play "Powderfinger"
on Amazon Music
"Powderfinger"

Look out, Mama,
there's a white boat
comin' up the river
With a big red beacon,
and a flag,
and a man on the rail
I think you'd better call John,
'Cause it don't
look like they're here
to deliver the mail
And it's less than a mile away
I hope they didn't come to stay
It's got numbers on the side
and a gun
And it's makin' big waves.

Daddy's gone,
my brother's out hunting
in the mountains
Big John's been drinking
since the river took Emmy-Lou
So the powers that be
left me here
to do the thinkin'
And I just turned twenty-two
I was wonderin' what to do
And the closer they got,
The more those feelings grew.

Daddy's rifle in my hand
felt reassurin'
He told me,
Red means run, son,
numbers add up to nothin'
But when the first shot
hit the docks I saw it comin'
Raised my rifle to my eye
Never stopped to wonder why.
Then I saw black,
And my face splashed in the sky.

Shelter me from the powder
and the finger
Cover me with the thought
that pulled the trigger
Think of me
as one you'd never figured
Would fade away so young
With so much left undone
Remember me to my love,
I know I'll miss her.

Oh and the Russian mass followers are back.  Time for another Putin Scarecrow




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