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?