i suppose i'm an anarchist. idealogically anyway. many think anarchism is a bit naive. well, "just 'cause we were naive, it don't mean we were wrong." practically, i suppose i'm more of a socialist. NOT a marxist, mind you. But yeah, i think that as long as government exists it has certain obligations towards those it considers its subjects. not that i'm subject to much at all, but if i need surgery why can't i get it? I'm susceptible to strep throat, and every couple years i have to pay a few hundred bucks for some asshole with cold hands to confirm it for me just so i can have a note saying they can sell me penicillin. SELL me my health. Sell me my life. yes, strep throat, like any infection left untreated, can cause DEATH. Your throat swells up until you're unable to drink any water or eat anything and if the infection doesn't spread to your lungs first, you'll die of malnutrition. My back molars are broken because my wisdom teeth are coming in under them. I am in a LOT of pain a lot of the time. what can i do about it? little more than bitch and moan, ultimately. no dentist will work on my mouth without insurance which, of course, i can not afford.
some will say that i chose to live my life the way i do, menial jobs and the like. i coulda stayed in the army and had all this shit fixed for free. I could have gotten some suck-ass corporate job, one with benefits, but would i enjoy my life as much as i do? would i have even lived long enough for my wisdom teeth to come in? why must security and enjoyment in life be mutually exclusive?
well, they don't have to be, but this country is run by greedy motherfuckers. truth. corporations control the governing bodies, cause they got the MONEY they need to get re-elected. And what is a corporation's driving goal? MONEY. So much so, in fact, that they are required by LAW to put the interests of their shareholders above all else. And what do the shareholders want? more money. it all comes down to that, ultimately. who's got it, who needs it, how do we get more of it?
now i call myself an idealogical anarchist, as opposed to a practical anarchist because i'm simply not as idealistic as i used to be. The big trick of this Capitalist Republic is keeping the masses just happy enough, just distracted enough that they don't riot. When a riot DOES occur, the major media outlets provide next to NO coverage, for much the same reasons the politicians don't want to help. the corporations provide the advertising MONEY they need to stay in business.
jesus, so many problems would be solved if people didn't have to worry about where the next paycheck was coming from.
I'm coming to realize i've bitten off more than i can chew with this. this posting has little direction, and the points it is trying to make are vague and played out, sorta. just like the modern anarchy movement, i suppose. I will have to revisit this topic in smaller doses, when i've had more thoughtful deliberation behind it. Small bites...
yeah. Capitalism is a bummer. True freedom has NEVER existed in this country, and you're a fool if you think otherwise. Give me penicillin or give me - wait wait wait... Fuck the penicillin, i could really use a burrito.
Give me a burrito, or give me death.
If it wasn't for C. i'd be going to bed hungry most nights.
here's a poem about the machine ruining your life.
____________________________________________________________________________
You Brought Me Here, Now Take Me Home
1.
Behind sealed doors, the leaders of men
discuss the future
of paranoia.
Armed guards dissuade the interruption of
the meeting in
progress.
Progressively blinding eyes and teeth turn to distraction,
sleight hands and misdirected runaroundphonetagyou're
it
or
This is Not
"It."
The bird flu will. kill. you. all.
Mutant virii across the planet are
attacking humanity;
Emergency level is raised half a hue,
not quite enough for orange...
more of a
goldenrod.
The Earth itself has turned against us.
2.
This place is a sing-along we can't remember all the words of;
we're humming the parts we can't recall when the microphone is
put in our face, so we holler an approximation of
syllables at the top of our lungs and hope
everyone's too drunk to notice.
3.
No one will ever be able to tell this was the last line written;
a pause
to find momentum,
afterthought symbols to pretend a level of
continuity, coherence,
relevance.
But we are all afterthoughts,
sixth-day refugees from the Garden,
walking sacks of dirt and clay roaming the wastelands of Nod.
We edit, revise, rewrite
our paths with the knowledge
that one day our journey will end.
Look to the stars for comfort and guidance.
Cast wishes and prayers into the wind like sagebrush releasing spores,
seeds of joy and
sorrow.
But what good is Bliss if Happy is alone?
And what good is Sadness if Misery tries to bring everyone
along for the ride?
4.
Waves of varying frequencies are constantly beamed
through our bodies from a vast grid of satellites;
T.V.s, microwaves, computers,
lightbulbs.
Flourescent orbs are cooking us only slightly slower than
our hungry star.
I'd prefer
to be marinated and roasted
over an open fire,
my tender flesh
effortlessly peeled from my bones.
5.
Pay Attention!
Pay attention to the clowns smearing their makeup and
whispering to themselves behind the curtain, hunchbacked
under useless words and
tongues of molasses, brains of jelly, hearts of glass,
and other assorted cliches that true bewilderment requires.
Meanwhile,
the death dealers call to the masses, peddling their wares
like carnival barkers with the gleam of coin in their eyes.
They've got fear, they've got impulse, they've got
a special on schizophrenia, buy one get one half-off.
Buy ten and they'll throw in a free handgrenade.
(I've got mine.)
"This
is what you paid for, now
come get your dollar's worth!
This
is what Appetite calls for!
Hur-ry, hur-ry, hur-ry!
Step right up, step right up!
Who would want to be the last to die?"
Not
I
.
_____________________________________________________________________________
it's true, you know. they've been controlling you with a combination of fear and distraction since you were born. welcome to the New World Order. NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM. it's right there on the back of your dollar.
it's ok though. you can keep sleeping if you want. hell, i can't blame you for it. this shit's kinda scary.
xFx
