Just over a decade ago endless ‘zines and books appeared, all rhapsodically giving the finger to the capitalist nightmare, disengaging from laboring for the Man, and encouraging all to take advantage of the excesses of consumerist Amerika.
Take it easy, smoke dope, bang drums, dive for food, and do it all on your own time. It’s your right, after all, to be a professional loafer.
Have people forgotten about this slacker ideal? Why do so many protest or complain, or write letters in order to get themselves hooked up once again in another dehumanizing gig? Why isn’t there more joy at the sight of society’s implosion? We could understand why thousands gathered to replicate Woodstock on city streets. After all, the weather was good. But why stick around for the cold concrete and city shit? Why not hobo a train out to the mountains or waterfronts, where there’s a view and a lot of beauty? Why do these occupiers want to get strapped down by the nightmare?
Up here in Washington State, it seems the Border Patrol has intimidated enough seasonal (foreign) workers that crops are not being harvested and apple trees are not being picked. It seems that only the prison system has workers happy enough to get out from barred doors. and into the open air, and pick those damn trees. One can of course make the point that the prison system is the corporate machine’s perfect source for literal slave labor.
Get out to the beauty. Plant some kale. They’ll grow in cold weather.
See that dude with sunglasses picking the apples?
And somebody spoke and I went into a dream….
… I’d love to turn you on…