Anarchists: The Same, Old Hippie Shit

Could be that I'm naive. I'm willing to admit it if, indeed, I am. But I don't think I am. Not this time anyway.

Wasn't there a day when anarchy meant a lack of central control? Lack of government? And--more importantly--a violent upheaval of the existing organizational structures in order to achieve a perfect (utopian) society? Yeh, that's what I thought it used to mean. It don't mean that any more, I tell you.

The self-declared anarchists that walk the streets today are nothing more than too-cool, punk-rock hippies playing themselves off as lovers of anarchy. Their literature is about feeding and sheltering the homeless. Their pamphlets ALWAYS talk about Nicaragua and the injustices put upon the people by totalitarian governments. They scream about the oppression facing fellow human beings worldwide. You know what you sound like, you anarchistic windbags? FUCKING HIPPIES. Fucking hippies fighting for the rights of the impoverished. Pioneering housing for all. YOU'RE NOTHING BETTER THAN REHASHED HIPPIE GARBAGE.

Seventy years ago, they had the right idea. Bombings, sniping, murders, riots. An effort for TRUE anarchy. But today, we're stuck with the money kids, the squatters who can afford not to squat, and two dozen other variations of shitbags wearing that fucking Anarchy "A" on their leathers jackets, all worrying about equality for mankind and feeding the homeless.

"You like the Sex Pistols? I Iike the Sex Pistols! Wanna be anarchists?"

"Gee, maybe next week. I've got an interview for college tomorrow."

I see them everywhere, from the garden-variety teenager in the mall, to the dirty poet in the coffee house. What do they have in common? (Goatees, generally, but that's something else.) They all dress alike. Anarchists? YOU ALL LOOK THE SAME! You dress in torn clothes, dirty t-shirts and Doc Martens, with nose rings of course. You've got a very TRIBAL tattoo that means Eat Me in some dead Native American tongue. You don't seem to drink much, don't ever seem to loosen up from your idealist stance. And--don't forget--you're all either vegetarians, or you don't eat beef. You know what I eat? WHATEVER I CAN AFFORD THAT DAY, FUCKER. Sometimes it's plain spaghetti, sometimes it's take-out Chinese with enough beef to clog 10 colons. Christ, you're all so PREDICTABLY ALIKE. And HOMOGENEITY has got to be the furthest thing from anarchy that I can fathom.

Worse yet, you're so fucking smug and self-righteous. I figure that anyone BOLD enough to declare themselves in favor of Anarchy should be willing to take the heat. You should be willing (and intelligent enough) to listen to contrary opinions, and then decide for yourself if you agree. And if you don't agree, THEN DON'T AGREE. One magazine I found with the Anarchy "A" in the title declares that "We encourage you to take the initiative to express yourself, but don't bother to send us any racist, sexist or otherwise hateful material." THEN HOW THE FUCK CAN I EXPRESS MYSELF? Do you want poetry about the stars in the sky? Stories about my cat? Prose describing my empathy for the oppressed? Anecdotes of how I tried to educate 20 children in the Peace Corp? ALL IN THE NAME OF ANARCHY?? I can't write about that shit. I am able to write about very few things: working all the time but still being broke, surviving hard nights of drinking in spite of myself, and rejecting ideas AFTER LISTENING TO THEM WITH AN OPEN MIND.

Anarchy? You want anarchy? Go LIVE in Nicaragua. Or, better yet, go to Bosnia and try to house the homeless over there. See how much good your thorough knowledge of Ginsberg and Creeley does you? You're all full of shit. You're all just a bunch of hipster fucks who fancy yourselves fringe. And as soon as you get out of school, or as soon as the SCENE dries up and it's no longer fashionable to be you, then you'll dye that hair back to brown, hit the Gap for a pair of Khakis, get that job, and pay your own rent. Just like the rest of us working shits.

Fuck you.