Why? Just fucking why?

Comrade X hates Doctor Pepper. Comrade X hates Kiss. But what Comrade X hates the most is MIDGETS! Look, it's a phobia, alright? It's not like I'm being racist -- midgets aren't a race! And I'm not prejudiced -- I don't think that we're inherently BETTER than midgets, I'm just SHIT FUCKING SCARED of them! I don't know why -- who ever knows why they have a phobia? It's just that they're so small and stuff, and I'm pretty sure that they're kind of hateful (I mean, seriously, wouldn't YOU be, if you were a midget?), and my REAL fear is that I won't see one coming and he'll pull a shiv and stick me and steal my money. Yes, I FEAR MIDGETS! Now, combine that fear with my hatred of both Kiss and Doctor Pepper and what do you get?

FUCKING MINI-KISS! SCARING THE SHIT OUT OF ME WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY INFLAMING MY HATRED!

Now look, before I get flamed by the Midget Anti-Defamation League or the Friends of Dwarfs Society (and yes, I do realize that there's a difference between the two), I have to say that this is a LEGITIMATE MENTAL CONDITION, one of many that your beloved Comrade X carries around with him every day like a midget on his back, weighing him down and stabbing him in the neck and generally causing misery. It's called (believe it or not) Lollypopguildophobia, or, more scientifically, achondroplasiaphobia. Yes, I have achondrowhateverthefuckophobia.

Fucking midgets.

But hey, according to phobia-fear-release.com, a super-highly-advanced-ultimate-scientific website:

"Midgets are dwarf people who have a sort of deformed stature and they look unusual and at times even frightening.

Thus, when they stand before you, they make you feel awkward and at times uncomfortable – this is what this phobia all about is.

Symptoms
The other name of midget phobia is Lollypopguildophobia and it is accompanied by several symptoms such as dizziness, nausea, feeling of sickness, vigorous palpitation of the heart, a fear that you may become mad or lose control, a sort of inability to utter words or think clearly.

Other symptoms are; occasional shaking, mouth becoming dry, lack of breath, a full blown anxiety attack and extreme perspiration.

Do not ever think that you are the only one having this phobia. There are lots of unspoken sufferers who know that they are afraid of the dwarfs but they do not want to confess their condition"

So there you go. The word of SCIENTISTS. EXPERTS. And I agree with all the faulty findings and terrible grammar, except that I here confess my condition, because I no longer want to be a silent sufferer. I am tired of my extreme perspiration and fear that I might become mad when I think of midgets! Oh thank god, I feel so much better. Thanks for listening, Comrades.

P.S. I saw Mini-Kiss play at a local venue. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I stayed for about a half a song. Yeesh.

For One 4 all and all for one

Way to go California Pizza Kitchen! Just rub it in,go ahead. Poor lonely society going out and buying a pizza FOR ONE and then microwaving (!) it and then tasting-eth of the cardboard. Is this what it's come to? Where are our villages? Where are our tribes? Where is the pizza delivery guy? Couldn't they come up with something like, "You won't always be you" ?

Even the cheese has three other friends.

Today's Sermon: Sex. VI. ix. (b)

O, my bretheren and sisteren, LO! we see the HIDEOUS and MOST ABHORRENT images of SEXUAL CONGRESS in even the most LOWLY and HUMBLE of man's productions! Witness here, a simple energy drink, nothing more than water with certain unrecognizable CHEMICAL COMPOUNDS, utterly inefficacious and certainly unrecognizable, designed to give to the SINFUL body a feeling the Good Lord did not intend it to have, STIMULATED and TITILLATED beyond what is MOST RIGHTEOUSLY MODEST, and wrapped here in the FALSE and HEATHENISH packaging of SEXUAL S(T)IMULATION! Lo, my bretheren and sisteren, BEWARE such products! Buyeth not of the products shaped for EASY INSERTION into the HOLY PORTALS OF THE LORD into which no thing, no matter of what material, should be inserted, for indeed as we readeth in the Great Book, "Let he who sticketh the falsely-shaped delectation of UNNATURAL materials into his MOST PRIVATE AREAS be cast down into the dirt and trampled, yea, even unto the millionth part of his atomic structure, until he is one with the dirt from whence he sprang, and let him be UTTERLY HOPELESS of redemption" (Homophob. 1. 2.)!

YEA, I say unto thee, my bretheren and sisteren, STICKETH NOT the bottles of the IRREVOCABLY DAMNED into thy soft places, for thou shalt know a communion with the Devil that, though it beeth pleasurable in the short run, shalt take thee far from the Lord, yea, verily, straight unto ETERNAL DAMNATION, and thou shalt know no BLISSFUL CONGRESS with the HOLY FIELDS OF THE LORD for which thou shouldst yearneth! There is no "passion in every bottle," and it be BLASPHEMOUS to take the Lord's child's own Passion in vain, for he did suffer for our sins, as it is written, "And yea verily they didst offer Him lightly carbonated beverages, which He partooketh of not, and they didst stabbeth Him in the ribs, screaming, 'Mene, Mene, Tekel Upharsi' as they didst jibber and jabber at His suffering, awaiting Him to 'get smart' and experienceth 'the passion in every bottle' as He did hang on the cross, wondering at His own abandonment, trusting in HIS FAITH IN THE LORD, though He Himself didst experience a moment of doubt, wanting to taste of the Waters of Taurine and Phenomentocolonithol, thinking Himself CAST OUT of the in-crowd, yea, the crowd of those who verily didst jeer, wondering at His own rejection of their MOST UNHOLY Waters of Neurogasm. And yea, verily, they were damned, and prosperethed not, and didst go back to Nike with heads held low in SHAME" (Cok. Col. Prod. 6,123,342.a).

And so I say unto thee, my bretheren and sisteren, DRINKETH NOT of the Neurogasm, lest ye be taken wholly unawares by the PERFIDIOUS SPIRIT OF RIDICULOUS CAPITALISM and buyeth of the products which NOURISHETH NOT and produceth nothing whatsoever except profit for the UNRIGHTEOUS BOURGEOIS SINNERS of Satan. Amen.

Today's Sermon: Sex. VI. ix.

Yea, my bretheren and sisteren, today I want to speak to you of that MOST EEEEEEEEVIL of vices, that most UNHOLY and FOUL of HUMAN URGES, that which must be RESISTED like SATAN HIMSELF, yea, my bretheren and sisteren, I speak to you of The Beast with Two Backs, the Creature With Three Mouths, the Curse That Keeps on Cursing, yea, in a word, I speak to you this day of SEX-U-AL CON-GRESS!

O RESIST IT, my bretheren and sisteren! Resist it, I say! For it is in the CLUTCH of FOUL DESIRES and under the DEVILISH SWAY of FILTHY LUSTS that we err and wander from the path of TRUE RIGHTEOUSNESS, that we lose our way and endanger our IMMORTAL SOULS, that CLEANLINESS and MORAL PROBITY are ABANDONED and LOST FOREVER, Amen! Amen, bretheren and sisteren! As it sayeth in the Holy Book of Jamesbrown, "O, Lawdy, can I get a witness?" (Sex. Mach. 22.7). Say it with me, say it loud enough to scare away THE DEVIL himself, say NO to this most horrible of human activities, this most stenchful of vices, this cesspool of degradation and lubrificatory slipperiness! O heed not its call! O touch not its enticements! For, as it is written, "Let those who fall prey to the foul desires of HUMAN LUST, let them forever swelter in the heat of their enseamed sheets, forever to writhe in intertwined gruntings, honeyed and stewed in their own unseemly juices, under the WATCHFUL and VENGEFUL eye of the Lord himself, forever to their everlasting shame" (Neo. Ham. IV. iv. 205-6), Amen!

And let me say unto thee, my bretheren: knoweth not of woman, toucheth not of her meretricious temptations, keep thy hands and feet away from the windows of her heated parts, and listen not to her honeyed words, lest ye be like the pawnbroker who fell from grace with God: "And on that day he did accepteth of the merchandise, did giveth of the ticket, and his interlocutor did depart. And he did go into the city and lodge in a house of ill-repute. And when the Lord did finally look on him and say, 'How much for that TV?', he spaketh not, for the Lord had asked for what he could not give, for his merchandise had been lost, as he had traded it away in licentious fervor" (Wha. Fu. 777.7). LO! Heed this warning! BEWARE the tender flesh of the SHE-HARLOT who tempteth thee with her UNHOLY and FOUL wares! For, it is most wisely written, "He who doth toucheth of the wares of the harlot, let his member shrivelleth and blacken like the rotted walnut, and let his manhood droppeth to the ground even as the dead bird, unheedful of the ceasing of his being, doth droppeth from the sky, never to be reborn" (Dum. Guid. to. Sex. 144).

And let me say unto thee, my sisteren: knoweth not of man, toucheth not of his unholy member, resist his foul lusts and dogged pursuits, falleth not for his flashy cars, his money-wad, his tight and Godless pants, and let not his pimp hand toucheth thee in order that it may be strong, but let it weaken in its inactivity and let it seek its own pleasures, for then, as it is written, "His hand will surely wither like the fruit on the vine in the sultry heat of midday, and his progeny dry in his sac like the Red Sea as Moses did part it in his wrath, and lo, like an Egyptian, he shall bake in the heat of his own lust till crocodiles doth feast on his hardness and gnaweth his balls" (Playb. Mar. 1969). Yea, my sisteren! Be not like the harlot of old, who, as it sayeth in the Book of Lohan, "When she did tire of feeding her lusts on parasites and Pharisees, did insert THE DEVIL himself into her womanhood, finding no other thing to satisfy her unquenchable lust, and from that day it did burn like the PITS OF FIERY HELL, until she dischargeth of the very URINE OF THE DEVIL from her most tender bits, which did harden like shellac on them and make them unpassable like the road to Gomorrah after the HOLY and RIGHTEOUS fires of God did turn it to glass" (Hollyw. Slut. 17.1).

And so, my bretheren and sisteren, I say unto thee: SEXETH NOT thyselves, or each unto another, but lead lives of CHASTE and HOLY RIGHTEOUSNESS, and thou shalt not be cast into the VERY FLESHPOTS OF SATAN along with other FOUL ADULTERERS and LICENTIOUS MEN with pencil-thin mustaches and bathrobes of silk, carrying unguents and oils that do SEAR the flesh and DESSICATE the soul, forever and ever, AMEN.

Today's Sermon: Char. 6. i.

Yea, My Bretheren and Sisteren, today's sermon concerns AN EVIL exposed by our beloved Comrade Y, an evil SO HEINOUS, SO VILE, that it threatens to destroy yea the very MORAL FIBER of this, our beloved United States of Bourgeois Oppression! Let me remind you now of those most foul, most repugnant words first brought to THE HOLY LIGHT OF VENGEFUL JUSTICE by said Comrade:

"We all go to the bathroom. Every day. In the morning. After morning coffee. Especially after morning coffee. Talk about getting things going! At work. After dinner. Whew, that curry was hot! Bottom line, we spend a lot of time going. It's one of life's essentials. Charmin® wants to help turn this simple need into a more enjoyable routine. The relief. The calm. The clean. The comfort. After all, there's nothing healthy about holding things in.

Fact is, we all go. Those who go with Charmin really enjoy the go."

O LORD ABOVE, preserve us from the EEEEEVIL that men do! These words, my bretheren and sisteren, must be parsed, for the sake of our IMMORTAL SOULS: for, as it is written in the Book of the Lord, "Let he who hath the urge deliver his goods; yet let the wicked man moveth not, and sitteth in contemplation of his unrighteous blockage" (Toil. 36.4). For yea, this world doth tempt us, doth tempt us daily with its PURPOSEFUL attempts to turn the FOUL EXCRESCENCE, the unholy PRODUCT OF OUR SINFUL NATURES, into humor, into copy, into PROFIT! For yea, my Comrades, let it be known that this will not be tolerated, as it says in the Book of Mao, "The world is yours as well as ours, but in the last analysis, it is yours" (Quot. Ch. Mao p. 543). And so, let us TAKE that world and reshape it in our image, and DO AWAY WITH the UNHOLY and WHOLLY GROTESQUE use of UNSPEAKABLE BODILY FUNCTIONS as entertainment!

Consider, my Comrades, what it says in the Book of Jobs: "He who downloadeth the 'find a clean public bathroom app,' let his property be destroyed and his fields burned and the burned fields sown with salt and his iPad crushed without mercy, for it is better to utterly destroyeth one MORON than to let two IDIOTS take his place" (Jobs 334.vii.a-b). YEA MY COMRADES, this be truth! And let it also be noted of the above text, that THE FLAMING RING OF FIRE that results from food of UNUTTERABLE HOTNESS burneth the fundament like the very FLAMES OF HELL, and let those who eatheth of such food suffer, and do not be moved by pity for them, as this UNHOLY ADVERTISEMENT would have you do. For it is written in the parable of the lonely sailor, "Yea, I did stop a bunghole with my finger and the ship sanketh not; yet was I still laid low by the explosion of my own unholy desire to tasteth of the spiced flesh of heathen countries" (Sail. Ass. 26.vi.). And let us take the FOUR MALEFICENT PROMISES of the EEEEVIL Charmin to task:

1. The relief. Nay, for it is written, "Let there be no relief for he who boasteth of his own execratory pleasures, for he will surely rotteth in the very DEPTHS OF HELL."

2. The calm. Nay again, for it is written in right about the same place, "There shall be no calm for those in distress, for their distress is the voucher of turpitude, for they have violated MY COMMANDS by rousting their fellows for a jolly good time in the public stalls."

3. The clean. Nay, for cleanliness is next to godliness, and NOWHERE is it written that he who wipeth with the foul PAPER PULP OF SATAN shall not be in noways clean, for ever and never, Amen.

4. The comfort. Again NAY, for he who chooseth the Charmin over the Cottonelle shall suffer the HEMORRHOIDS OF THE DAMNED, for it is written in text bold and plain, "Nay, for he who chooseth the Charmin over the Cottonelle shall suffer the HEMORRHOIDS OF THE DAMNED" (Blog. 6.20).

And so we plainly see, O My Bretheren and Sisteren, that this most foul and ungodly apparition is truly the work of THE DEVIL HIMSELF, and designed to lead thee STRAIGHT TO HELL if thou engageth in the distempered and diseased PLEASURES OF THE ASS holding in thy hand the two-ply LIES OF SATAN while enjoying the FALSE RELIEF, CALM, CLEAN, AND COMFORT that comprises this most bourgeois distraction from the real job of revolutionary change, for, my friends, if we are truly engaged in the deceitful pleasures of the toilet, how will we ever find time to rise up against the VERY SAME OPPRESSIVE MACHINATIONS that have stranded us, lost like the traveler in the parable who "heldeth in his hand but three cubits of paper, not enough to cleanse himself but too much to wasteth, in the vast salt plain of Gomorrah after its fall, unavailing himself of the 'clean restroom' app, and toiling in vain to removeth the cling-ons of UNHOLY STICKINESS, the very rudiments of Satan's HOLD ON MANKIND" (Shit. 6.6.vi).

YEA, MY BRETHEREN AND SISTEREN! Useth not the Charmin! Resisteth the temptation to sin! Care not about discussing in public the effects of caffeine on the gastrointestinal tract! For indeed, we all go, yet some go to the Fields of the Lord, while others strain fruitlessly on the very Toilet of Satan.

Which shall YOU be, O My Comrades?

ENJOY THE GO

I know, I know, for some reason we are obsessed with toilet paper here at IBS.
We can't help it.

But just PLEASE, PLEASE watch the Charmin(g) video and see if you can fucking stand it!

http://www.charmin.com/en_US/enjoy-the-go/index.php

with transcript below,

"We all go to the bathroom. Every day. In the morning. After morning coffee. Especially after morning coffee. Talk about getting things going! At work. After dinner. Whew, that curry was hot! Bottom line, we spend a lot of time going. It's one of life's essentials. Charmin® wants to help turn this simple need into a more enjoyable routine. The relief. The calm. The clean. The comfort. After all, there's nothing healthy about holding things in.

Fact is, we all go. Those who go with Charmin really enjoy the go."

Really? Enjoy the go ? WTHEFUCKING?

This reeks of pooping fetishism, mental illness, psychosis, cultural implosion, personal explosion, and the rise and fall of Rome. That is the most disgusting thing I've ever heard. The nerve of them . Are they the Lady Gaga of toilet paper? Who is writing their copy, G.G. Allen?

Look what else is on the web site:

1. Upromise (remember that Sallie Mae credit card that we slaughtered a while back?).Well, it's connected to Charmin toilet paper coupons,because owing $100,000 gives us all diarrhea.
2. You can download a sit or squat app. WHAT IS THAT?
3. The web site lists "fun extras". What are fun toilet paper extras? I was too nauseous to look.

After you stop vomiting , I'll tell you a little story. I mustered my post apocalyptic Kaiser Permante Hospital stay strength --a story which will be told one day long, long in the future with many, many chapters--and went to Vons in search of outrage.

The most baffling award went to "On the Go" teeny tiny roll of travel pack Charmin toilet paper. It was a minuscule roll without the holder part. And why would we need this? Because we live in India, or Canada where they don't have toilet paper? And if this is the case, then wouldn't we need to bring eighteen cases of double 24 ply?

Oh, I forgot to tell you the little story. It involves a pretentious asshole asking for whale meat in the seafood department. I'll tell you after my nap.

I'm facebooking Charmin. I suggest you do too.

Today's Sermon: Marx, Grund. D. i.

As we read in the Grundrisse,

"It is not, then, simply the exchange of objectified labor for labor -- which appears, from this standpoint, as two different aspects, as use values in different forms, the one objective, the other subjective -- which constitutes capital and hence wage labor, but rather, the exchange of objectified labor as living value, as self-sufficient value, for living labor as its use value, as use value not for a specific, particular use of composition, but as use value for value."

And so LO! we see here, my bretheren and sisteren, the HIGH and MIGHTY importance placed by the lowly upon the HIGHEST form of capital, of objectified labor, yea, not in its form as value but as use value FOR value, for, as it is written, "Let he who is lowly selleth his soul for bread; but let he who is mighty selleth his soul for something else" (Crap. 21.12), for we see, o my fellow laborers, that it is not our LABOR that is of value, nay, but VALUE which comes to constitute our labor, for it is written, "Let he who toileth in the field be paid one drachma per day, but let he who toileth in the very bowels of the capitalist enterprise itself be paid two drachmas per day, which is more than one but less than three" (Lab. 23.6), for YEA there came upon that man toiling in the field that day a great storm so that he could not leave his hut, he could not toil in his field, he could not gather a bushel to pay the taxman, as it sayeth in the book, "Let him pay the taxman the taxman's due, but let the taxman be ready to refund his write-offs" (Tax code civ. Sec 6. Par 4.), and so he was cast into the EVERLASTING FLAMES of debt, forever ridden with pox, boils, and bad credit, and YEA HIS USE VALUE DID DECREASE like fruit which falls from the too-heavy bough to drop rotten and unsalable on the dessicated ground, the dust of which does cover the sandals of the workers in the field alike with the great men of the city, though those men can get their sandals cleaned pretty cheaply, actually, FOR LABOR'S VALUE IS NOW LOST AS VALUE ITSELF, and can be retained by the laborer not, and can be garnered nowhere, lest it be in the Fields of the Lord of the Factory, yea, even as he toileth with his truss, attempting to suck in his ample girth, just as the man in the desert said to the lonely traveler, "Lo, thy way be rough and hard, and your feet will split upon the flinty stones of the desert, but yet thou hast one great thing with which ye travel: the blessing of the Almighty 401(k)" (Ret. Scam. 40.1[k]).

AND YEA that man did eventually RISE UP and STONE his fellow employees, for they would not partake of the fruits of freedom, and so they were abolished in the midst of their unhousel'd, unannell'd sins, full-blown upon them like the fly upon the corpse, the corpse of their great desires, as they lay in their own filth, unaware of the BLESSING laid upon them that day that they should not labor any more in the House of the Capitalist, but should labor FREE AND FULL OF USE VALUE in the fields of the Lord, Amen. And though they be dead, yet they have in them much use, and shall not heed the words of that great BOOK OF LIES, which sayeth, "He who perisheth shall not die, for his use shall live eternally in the output of his production" (Big Fat Lies. 1.1), for they shall know this LIE for what it is, and shall be granted instead for evermore the TRUE BLESSED UNION of labor and laborer, of creator and created, as it is said, "For the moneychangers were all out of cash as HE did kick their tables to the ground in fury, storming the mighty cash boxes and demanding refunds for what faulty products whatsoever" (What. 5.2).

And so, Comrades, thus do I conclude my sermon, and hope that its USE and VALUE and high meaning have not been lost on ears deaf to the cry for freedom, ears full of the noise of iPods, ears bleeding from the sores of wickedness and foolhardiness. The ears, I say, of CAPITALISTS!

Get Well Soon?

Like most sane people I hate balloons. And I hate Mylar balloons, but most importantly I hate Mylar "Get Well Soon" balloons. People get sick and other people feel frightened and awkward and don't know what to say, so, although they are well meaning, they buy you a Get Well Soon card and a Get Well Soon Balloon with a Get Well Soon ribbon "fancifully" cascading down.

A word to the wise- don't. Stop right there. Just don't.

Besides the fact that they are indescribably ugly, the real crime is that there they are constantly floating and swaying above, mocking you!

They say, "Oohhh look at me , I'm all happy and colorful and full of lighty floatyness , while there YOU are, welded like a freight car to your hospital bed, pale,suffering, and dying of salmonella poisoning" !!!!!!!!

Some one buy me a blow dart, please? I so wish I had a blow dart.

The IBS Advice Column II

And the latest (the letters are coming faster than we can answer them, and they are not always easy to answer, either -- just look at the following):

"Dear Irritables,

Why am I so ugly?"

Dear Anonymous (why can't people sign their letters?):

You are ugly because, well, because you're ugly. How do we know? Perhaps your mother drank Mad Dog 20-20 while pregnant with you; perhaps she smoked meth; perhaps she smoked meth AND drank Mad Dog 20-20; perhaps she fell down a flight of stairs. Perhaps YOU fell down a flight of stairs. Could be anything. Our advice? Stop asking why and start doing something about it. Really, the world has enough eyesores.

Hope that helps. We are not trying to be mean-spirited, Anonymous, it's just that, well, you really ARE atrociously ugly. That picture you sent gave us a panic attack.

The IBS Advice Column

Yes, Comrades X and Y have decided to begin answering all the mail we have been receiving from Comrades all over the world asking for advice in these difficult yet revolutionary times. We know that life is a confusing mixture of cooptational temptations and capitalist pressures and revolutionary fervor and ideological adherence, and it is difficult to keep such fervor at the boiling point, or to keep our ideology intact and inviolate and our will strong. So, in the hopes that the Revolution will be well-served by this action, we offer this first submission to the IBS Advice Column:

"Dear Irritables ,

I am sexually attracted to my car. Should I tell it?

- 'My Blue Baby' in Bedford Hills, NY"

Dear Blue Baby,

Are you insane? Don't you know how to play hard to get?

Remain completely detached, but wear your finest hot pants. If he is "just not that into you", then he is gay.

If he is interested we suggest you get a dolly and check the under carriage for any signs of STD's before you enter upon the relationship. Anyway, cars are notoriously unfaithful and have a tendency to hemorrhage money. Have you tried the subway?

More Hypocrisy From the Pacific Northwest

Okay, my Comrades, first read the following, then come back for Comrade X's rather late take on this incident (if it's more than an hour old, it's stale news):

http://www.koinlocal6.com/mostpopular/story/Cafe-Owners-Support-Anarchists-Deplore-Police/PxSFB2UbW0GzW-yLknbXWQ.cspx

Now, first off, the whole premise of an anarchist co-managed but privately-owned coffee shop makes no sense politically, and second, anarchism (if that's even a word) isn't even a viable political philosophy. Now, anarchy has numerous definitions, but I'll let Wikipedia (I'm feeling lazy tonight and anarchy, in the minds of TRUE revolutionaries, is a joke, anyway, and not really worth investigating) define it:

• "No rulership or enforced authority."
• "Absence of government; a state of lawlessness due to the absence or inefficiency of the supreme power; political disorder."
• "A social state in which there is no governing person or group of people, but each individual has absolute liberty (without the implication of disorder)."
• "Absence or non-recognition of authority and order in any given sphere."
• "Acting without waiting for instructions or official permission... The root of anarchism is the single impulse to do it yourself: everything else follows from this."

Okay, let's take this point-by-point to show why the Red and Black coffee shop is truly a ridiculous haven for idiots, asswipes, and filthy hippie scum:

1. An establishment that is owned by one set of individuals who have power over a "collective management" is still rulership and enforced authority. For instance: I doubt they let any employee just take money out of the cash register whenever they need it. A business can't run without someone watching over the funds. They have accountants. That's capitalism, people.

2. The Red and Black is not in a state of lawlessness. They abide by the health codes of the city. They belong to the Chamber of Commerce (probably). They pay taxes. They don't let their employees fire guns and shit in the coffee makers. They don't let their customers do it, either. This isn't some Rousseauvian pre-civil society State of Nature. It's a bunch of idiots trying to run a business (and doing it poorly, by my estimation).

3. See #1. Plus, "liberty" seems to be reserved for the patrons of the Red and Black exclusively, and not for those the "management" deems unworthy to be on the premises (though not unworthy enough to spend money on the premises, apparently).

4. See #1. Again.

5. Well, this might be true -- the service there is TERRIBLE to non-existent.

BUT BUT BUT: and here is Comrade X's main complaint: THEY STILL TOOK HIS MONEY BEFORE THEY ASKED HIM TO LEAVE (and, by the way, they didn't have a meeting to see what the "collective management" thought about this -- the owner did it individually. How anarchist is THAT?). Now, if that isn't the essence of capitalism right there, I don't know what is -- money before principles. Always always always. They aren't anarchist -- they're fucking business people with a particular gimmick that they hope will bring in a demographic otherwise untapped by other coffee establishments (which, by the way, are a dime a fucking dozen here in the Pacific Northwest). Consider: the Red and Black, following their anarchist beliefs, decide one day not to serve ANYONE, just because they're in a bad mood. How long would this place last? Or: they decide not to keep the posted hours. How long would they last? Or: they decide ONLY to serve 2% and no soy milk with a big sign over the condiment area saying "Fuck the Lactose Intolerant!" How long would they last? A business runs on its customer base; if you can't provide what they want, you have no customers, and you go out of business. They know this. And they act accordingly. (And why do they know this? Because they're CAPITALISTS who went to business school!) What they actually provide is the ILLUSION of some kind of anarchist freedom and lack of adherence to authority and rules.

Anarchy is stupid. Period. And only an idiot would uphold it as a political philosophy (which it isn't).

Now, don't get me wrong, Comrade X is very ambivalent in his views of the police (especially the police here), but he is NOT torn in his views on hypocrisy and stupidity and hippies and "anarchist collective coffee shops" and similar bullshit. You want a fucking revolution? Buy guns, not shade-grown free-trade Arabica! You want to make a political statement? Overthrow the government and perhaps, just perhaps, DON'T BE A PART OF THE CAPITALIST ENTERPRISE BY OPENING A FUCKING STORE, and certainly don't get your panties in a wad because a cop is buying coffee from you because you, you know, SELL COFFEE. AND DON'T SELL IT TO HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE, YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITES!

Anarchists can kiss my ass. Fucking hippie dipshit know-nothing fuckwads. They're the first to go to the wall when the real Revolution starts, I can promise you that. All the rope huarache sandals and balloon pants and ponchos and tie-dye and patchouli incense in the world won't save you now, motherfuckers!

Sweet dreams, parasites.

Introducing Guest Blogger Comrade J.

Corporate Smells

By Guest Blogger J

I worked in a company for 10 years that was run by a fungus-nailed man-boy and his extremely self-conscious hippy wife. We never received Christmas bonuses because the company had no profit, but one year he bought the company a popcorn cart, barbershop quartet style - the kind you see in Movie Theater lobbies. It had 2 handles like a wheelbarrow and after its inaugural use remained in the tiny conference room abandoned and dusty.

Fungus Nails would put a whole raw onion into a glass bowl of water, pop it into the microwave oven and cook it for 20 minutes. He claimed that he was making Onion Soup. The humid cloud of onion vapor smelled exactly like B.O. Followed up immediately by a co-worker who was crotchety old Korean-war Vet. He would warm up his leftover half of yesterday’s Tuna Sandwich. This created a poisonous fish stink. The resulting suffocation lasted until we either got used to it or left the office in disgust.

I spent my time immersed in work and was grateful to have a job. One of the most dreadful parts about my job was the bathroom that was not in the office, but down the hallway. It was a dark cold 4-stall job that left one depressed and shivering. I had many horrible experiences in there due to my inflamed colon but consoled myself by writing letters that I never printed out.

Dear Ladies (who moisturize their giant asses before coming to work),

Can you please not moisturize your asses? Wait until after work. 
 Sitting down by accident on the toilet seat you just left all greasy just ruined my whole day. 
I slid, then realized, then gagged. 
I usually don't sit down because I use a variation on "chair pose" but today I overslept and was tired. 
 So now I am unhappy and nauseous AND tired.

Thank you, 
Your co-worker

One (shockingly) profitable year we went to Outback Steakhouse for our annual Christmas Party. December in a northern New York suburb means snowstorms and on the day of the party the forecast was for a giant nor’easter. Praying to the Lord God for a party cancellation did not work. The chipper hostess led us past a wood paneled bar into a back room reserved for parties. Sadly half set up, the dirty carpet; scratched tables with gunk on them were hastily covered with paper tablecloths. I can only describe the smell of the room as rancid with a touch of ammonia. Having assigned seats meant I was stuck with a crowd of people who were jumping out of their seats in anticipation of the appetizers. They were shocked that I had never tasted a blooming onion. “You dip it in ranch dressing!” someone screamed at me. “Wait until you taste the deep fried cauliflower and mozzarella sticks!!!!!” I had become despondent at this point but had to pretend I was enjoying myself. Hours later after slabs of previously frozen steaks were eaten, the embarrassing presents were opened we were allowed to leave for our Christmas vacation. The memory of this party still makes me weep and I still feel like committing suicide 5 years later.

Really?

So who is the cruel one here? Who put their business in first? The obesity-inducing "Homemade Ice Cream and Pie Kitchen" or the anxiety-producing "LA Weight Loss"? Either way, SOMEONE is going to feel bad. Or, is it that they are both owned by the same people, and the one complements the other: the pie store makes more people feel fat and thus they head for the weight loss place, and the weight loss place is supposed to make more people feel depressed about their weight, so they head to the pie place to drown their sorrows in banana cream. This, my Comrades, is the essence of capitalism: the need to feel bad ALL THE TIME about yourself and your state in life so that you'll do STUPID SHIT like eating ice cream and pie excessively or dieting excessively (excess is the heart of capitalism!) or bouncing back and forth between the two. Whatever. This shit keeps retards like Oprah in business and makes them rich, pretending to care about other people and their capitalism-induced problems. Comrade X can fake that shit, too. Perhaps HE should get his own talk show:

Quit Yer Whinin'! with Comrade X

X: Hello and welcome to another installment of "Quit Yer Whinin'"! Please welcome today's guests, Patty Sue and Merlene.
(Cue applause)
Patty Sue: Thank you, Comrade X. It's good to ...
X: So, Patty Sue, you are a member of LA Weight Loss, yes?
PS: Yes.
X: And how much weight did you lose?
PS: Well, I was born a fat baby, and grew to be a fat child, and all my life people have seen me as fat, and I even saw me as fat, which made me depressed, so I went to LA Weight Loss and ...
X: Audience?
(Cue audience)
Audience: QUIT! YER! WHININ'!
(Applause and shouts)
PS: But I feel good about what I'm doing now and I lost weight and ...
X: That's right, Patty Sue, no one gives a shit about your stupid weight issues and your solipsistic obsessiveness about it. So shut it!
PS: But I don't HAVE issues anymore, that's what I'm trying to tell ...
X: Yes you do.
PS: No I don't.
X: Yes you do.
PS: No, I ...
X: ANYWAY, next we have Merlene. Welcome, Merlene.
M: Hello.
X: So, you like pie and ice cream? And you gorge on this stuff?
M: Well, I like pie, but I don't ...
X: And you never exercise?
M: I never said that.
X: And that's why you're a fucking fattie?
M: I'm not fat, what are you ...
X: Audience?
Audience: QUIT! YER! WHININ'!
(Applause and shouts)
M: But I'm not whining. I'm perfectly happy with who I am.
X: Yeah? Well, you shouldn't be.
(Cue audience)
Audience: Oooooooooohhhhhhh!!!!
M: Why?
X: Cause you SUCK!
M: What the ... ?
X: Well, that's all we have time for this week, friends! Tune in tomorrow when we tell more losers to:
X and audience together: QUIT! YER! WHININ'!

Fade to black.

Comrade X has no idea why he's suddenly so mean-spirited. He seems to want to make everyone feel bad about themselves all the time. Like capitalism! HOLY FUCK! I'M LIKE CAPITALISM!? GodDAMN! Comrade X just became the thing he HATES! Aaaargh!!! Ah, well, I should just:

QUIT! MY! WHININ'!

Ubwaysay-I have Gypsy blood. I speak Romani.

Do I have a ticket, he asks

(No) Ummm.. yeah, let me find it. I stumble and gulp.

"Oh, I can't find it." ( Fuck! ) I'm such a bad liar and there is a German Shepherd sniffing my crotch. I hate dogs. And monkeys. No, I like monkeys. Why is this guy such a bitch?! FUCK !

"I think I lost it" (dig in purse)

"Hay, she's got the old song and dance over here", he calls to his buddy cop with the other five German Shepherds, each pacing and snarling in their khaki gay transit cop vests designed by Heidi klum.

Let's see your ID.

I don't ha...

There it is, right there under your Visa card.

Oh.Shit.

Yup, You're going down, he said.

The smarmy ass.

Oh 956.00 fine ? NO PROBLEMO CHIEF. I'm growing cash in my back yard. That's why I am taking the subway in LA!

Anyway, FUCK THEM. I NEVER PAY FOR THE SUBWAY.

Ever since I was a wee tyke I've been jumping the turn styles.

In 5th grade I made my own bus pass out of construction paper and wrote "Fuck you" on some hand drawn lines.

I think of it as a little protest ...but for what , I am not sure.

Do you think I'm a revolutionary now? So what if I wear Prada while supporting the cause?

Surely Someone Must Have Known ...

Really, sometimes it is just too easy. Comrade X here takes a cheap shot, he knows, as this example of capitalist product advertising failure is, prima facie, idiotic. I mean, it's not even SUBTLE! You don't even have to LOOK for the stupidity here. Which of course makes Comrade X wonder: when a foreign product is marketed in this, a primarily English-speaking, country, do they get native English speakers to come in and make sure there's nothing weird or offensive or grammatically bizarre about the product name translation? If they don't, well, then they should, though the mistake is honest (so to speak -- capitalism must NEVER be forgiven for ANYTHING, remember!), but if they do, then what kind of moron looks at this and says, "Yep, that there's just fine." Perhaps good help really IS hard to find. Comrade X imagines the scenario (assuming the person they got to check the translation is not a flaming racist/nationalist and desirous of making any and all people of other races or nationalities look completely insane):

Executive A of Grace Corporation: "So, we would like you to look at this packaging and tell us if there is anything we should be concerned about."
Translator: "Sure thing, no problemo, chief."
Executive A: "Please do not call me 'chief.' It is most inappropriate."
Translator: "You're the boss, sport."
(Exasperated looks all around the boardroom table.)
Executive B (Attempting to gloss over the preceding embarrassing incident): "So, do you see anything that you wish to call to our attention?"
Translator: "Hmm, now, let me see. Whattaya got here? Okay, there's a, like, chicken on it, that seems okay, but it might get you some flak from the animal rights people."
Executive C (Worried): "Excuse me, my English is perhaps not so good: who are these 'animal rights people'?"
Translator: "Oh, you know, in my country, we got these people runnin' around yellin' about animal this and animal that and demanding that nobody do nothin' with no animals. They, like, hate that whales get shot an' shit."
Executive A: "Perhaps I misunderstand you: they worry that whales, how do you say it?, shit when they are shot?"
Translator: "What?"
Executive A (Looking at an electronic dictionary): "As I understand you, you are saying that whales defecate upon being wounded or killed, and these 'animal rights people' are for some reason upset by this what would appear to be unstoppable biological reaction?"
Translator (Laughing): "What? Naw, chief, they worry that whales get, like, SHOT and shit. You know, like eaten and whatnot by whoever the fuck would eat that shit."
Executive B: "Whales?"
Translator: "What? No, the whales don't worry. What the fuck?"
Executive B: "No, the people, the people who eat the whales: they worry?"
Translator: "What? You're not SUPPOSED to EAT the fuckin' whales, dude! That's like, illegal or something."
Executive C (Nervous): "Perhaps we should go on to the rest of the packaging contents?"
Translator: "What? Yeah, sure. The chicken, that's prolly no big deal anyway. EVERYONE hates chickens. So lessee: you got your company name, that's fine. Might want it bigger, though."
Executive A: "Bigger?"
Translator: "Sure, champ, company names should be BIG, you know, catch the attention, like! All the company names in America are fuckin' HUGE-ASS!"
Executive A (Checking electronic dictionary): "Huge ... "
Translator: "But like I said, it's prolly cool. I like that little crown you got on it, too. Should be bigger, though."
Executive B: "What about the product name."
Translator: "The name?"
Executive C: "Yes, please, the name!"
Translator: "Well, lessee: you got a soup mix here, yeah?"
Executive A: "Yes."
Translator: "Well, what do you want your customers to know about it?"
Executive C: "Oh, they should know the flavor. Nothing else really maters, does it?"
(Executives A and B shake their heads in agreement.)
Translator: "Okay, so you just want 'em to know the flavor. A'ight. So, what's this soup taste like?"
Executive C: "What does it taste like?"
Translator: "Yeah, like, what's the flavor?"
Executive A: "Cock."
Translator: "Cock."
Executives B and C: "Yes, yes, cock."
Translator: "So what yer tellin' me is that this stuff makes a soup that tastes like cock."
Executive A: "That is right."
Translator: "And you WANT it to taste like cock?"
Executive B: "Of course we do!"
Translator: "So what yer sayin' is when you mix this shit with water or whatever, you get a soup that tastes like cock and you want it to taste like cock and when people eat it they're gonna think they're eating cock?"
Executive A: "Exactly!"
Translator: "Huh. Well, then boss, I'd say your packaging is pretty much doin' its thing! Right on, gold star. Now, what else you got for me to look at?"
Executive A: "Well, we have this product. We call it 'Disease-ridden vagina-taste bubble gum' ..."

CASH IS NOT A VEGETABLE

Gardens of CASH--no, not for you, for them. Eventually. After they monopolize education.

http://www.refresheverything.com/woollyschoolgardens

Lets discuss:

1. How do we feel about PEPSI COLA and other such ruinous companies owning the IDEA of healthy eating in our schools. Even if they give us organic soil and those big cool felt wall pocket garden thingys.

2. Accepting money from monsters.

3. Obesity in children.

4. Soda vending machines in schools.

5. Mega Companies pretending to be moral by weaseling themselves in under the radar.

6. Making pacts with the devil.

7. BP's commercials pre -world ocean disaster.

8. How much we love the George Saunders.

9. Carne Asada tacos from Yucca's.

Weedbay

I'll tell you what I just realized.

Everyone is high on weed!

Yeah, yeah, Its a plant . It expands your mind. It helps old ladies sleep better,and something about their eyeballs. It helps skinny girls gain weight, and Mexican drug lords gain economic freedom. It's all peachy keen and earthy isn't it?

BUT GOD DAMMIT... NO WONDER EVERYONE IS SO STUPID.

It's all coming together for me now. An entire state is finally EXPLAINED.

Weed is legal. At least that's what all my kids and my kids friends parents, and my kids teachers, and the fucking crossing guard, kept saying.For some reason it didn't really dawn on me until today when the Fed ex guy stared at me like I was a bag of cheese doodles.

He wonder aloud "Yo, how you gonna get this big package up the stairs by yourself?" Right there in the quivering sunlight, it struck me like a ton of bricks,

OH MY GOD, THEY ARE ALL STONED OUT OF THEIR MINDS.

1.For years and years I could NOT figure out where my mail was .Why the mailman could not decipher a simple series of 5 numbers was a mystery, until now!

I always thought they just shoved my letters and packages in the dumpster behind the post office and lit them on fire because they were lazy. STONED.

2. The style here. Oy vey. Are you really still getting fake boobs?People are walking around stuck in circa 1999 PCP TIME TAR.

3. Where does all the states money keep disappearing to? All tied up in "Bubble Gum Kush"!

FAIL.

4. All those inexplicable events of the past explained! I once asked for Iced-T and the waitress asked me, "What do I do? Put a t-bag in Ice water ?" Slightly high, perhaps?--SINCE BIRTH?

5. The frozen food aisle suddenly makes sense ! OF COURSE !

I know-duh-it's old news. I don't know why it took me so long.

Ach. If I fall asleep will I become a big bud pod like in Invasion of the body snatchers?