- My name is Johannes, and I have a condition.
I am human.
I first realized that when I fell on my face
on a concrete slab on a beach in Italy.
I was four, and it was clear to me,
beaches cannot be trusted,
I hated Italy, and dreams can be broken.
The human is a narrative being.
We construct emotional machines, so-called stories,
to communicate, to share the world in which we live
and make it collectively experienceable.
And we are pretty good at doing that.
Since the primordial soup mendelized into primate brains,
we have either been fleeing from big cats
or telling others about our escapes from the clutches
of big cats.
Sitting around a campfire,
interpreting and breaking down the world,
charging it with meaning,
regardless of whether the tales hold up to a Wikipedia check
or not.
The human is also a political being,
although many members of my species don't like that idea.
Get used to it.
You can't avoid being political.
The moment you choose to buy a sugar free Red Bull
at Walmart, you commit a political act.
Same is true when you drag a royalty-free hip-hop version
of Pachelbel's Canon in D into your shopping basket
at pond5.com.
Politics is the practice of distribution of power
and resources within a given community,
as well as the interrelationship between communities.
Period.
We project a certain story onto the world.
The story differs if you are leftist, a progressive,
or conservative.
But be assured, most people I know who call themselves
anarchists are just stupid libertarians.
We communicate our views by using narrative
and conceptual shortcuts.
Abbreviated terms like 'freedom' or 'privacy,' and so on.
These shortcuts are important.
If someone had called 'global warming' something different,
let's say 'atmosphere cancer,'
we wouldn't have problems explaining why it's a bad thing.
I always wanted to create a glossary
of all-important terms, because, Jesus fucking McChrist,
they are always used and abused in comment sections
on the World Wide Web.
I wanted to give some of these Golden Calves of Discourse
a second look, to explain, re-evaluate,
and maybe even sacrifice them.
I teamed up with my good friend Ishan Raval,
who definitely matches me in my political nerdiness.
I mean, look, we both have hands on our chins
in our Google profile pics.
- [Man] Wahooo!
Pompous little fucks we are.
And because I know a lot of creative performers
who would do pretty much anything for almost nothing,
I decided to make this film.
How much longer do I have to hold this shit?
It's heavy.
You can put it in your resume!
Come on, a little bit longer.
-And we use my car.
You're the head of transportation fleet, okay?
So, well, never forget:
You don't hate Italy, you hate capitalism.
What a big word.
So big.
Capitalism.
One of the biggest words I know.
And I know a lot of words.
There's market, too, (tone beeping)
but that one sounds a bit too mystical
Oh, I think that's Brian Ewok!
Good to have a comfy seat
at my favorite hipster coffee shop
and wine bar, enjoying free wifi from a network
whose password is Helvetica.
I'm just minding my own business
when I get spotted by Madame Juju,
the friendly hipster coffee shop and wine bar owner
who does sweat yoga.
Hello, how can I help you?
A double eggnog frappuccino with tofu-breaded halibut?
There's a sticker
for the Green Party candidate behind the bar.
Oh, I love the Greens!
So friendly, so caring, so cuddly!
Marx once called the State
a committee for managing the common affairs
of the whole bourgeoisie.
Thank the non-existing God for it,
because where management is possible,
so also is mismanagement,
and some parts of the bourgeoisie,
especially those who do sweat yoga
and keep their hearts wholesome, might be persuaded
to use that committee against their interests.
Basically, there are people
who own the means of production,
let's say fancy coffee machines or servers
or farms or server farms.
That's the bourgeoisie.
And then there are people who don't own
the means of production or capital,
so they have to sell their work: the workers.
That's all the baristas and sandwich artists
and RyanAir check-in personnel.
But even if the bourgeoisie, which includes Madame Juju,
might not be united in its political allegiances,
they play the same purpose.
It isn't her fault.
It isn't my fault!
In all corners and cortices of her brain,
she might just regard this as her job,
an innocent livelihood and even a community service.
Oh absolutely!
People love me!
I am the Maggie Gyllenhaal of saffron-based cale frosting!
All of that it might be.
But capitalism is bigger than any of our lives and wills.
It produces net effects some capitalists don't realize.
Madame Juju's heart may not be driven by profit,