So...it's the middle of September,
always a shitty time full of bad memories. This is the part where I
would normally tell you folks to wake up and start questioning your
government. How many of you remember that there was a third building
falling into its own footprint, that was never struck by an airplane
of any kind?
But enough about that. 9/11 was twelve
years ago. If you're too stupid to even start questioning the
official story, based solely on the plausibility of it alone, you're
far too stupid to be listening to anything I'd have to say about
it...so I'm going to just move on past the whole 9/11 thing and talk
about something else.
This afternoon, I was looking at the
news feed of a friend from Baltimore, and she was discussing how even
if we anarchists don't necessarily agree with Rand Paul, he's still a
"gateway drug" to the ecstasy of freedom. His message may
be from the viewpoint of being the latest in a long line of GOP
heroes of the moment, but his message isn't necessarily about him.
Sounds strange, right?
Here's my viewpoint on the whole deal.
15 years ago, I'm sitting on my grandma's porch. Mailman shows up,
and we get the newsletter of our congressional rep...none other than
TX-14's Dr. Ron Paul, three-time presidential candidate and
long-serving member of the House of Representatives.
It was kinda funny, most people think
of "democrats" as being lazy welfare whores who sit around
smoking blunts, sipping 40oz bottles of gut-rot, and sport-breeding
for the extra food stamps. Nothing could be further from the truth
with our family, even though my family has historically been
hard-core democrat voters. No, it wasn't because my family had been
needing an increase in welfare. It was because my father, who had
worked for the same construction contractor as a rig welder for 19
years, did not receive a pay raise throughout the entire 12 years of
Reagan/Bush I...even though inflation was still kicking everyone's
ass.
I was always told that a democrat
looked out for the working man, and the republican looked out for the
business man. Seemed legit, from my limited knowledge of politics,
since we kicked financial ass during the Clinton years. Yes, my
father worked all the time and was known to miss birthdays and little
league games just the same as he did during republican
administrations, but we had a shitload of more income flowing in.
Having seen this first-hand, without recognizing the real issues at
play there, I was convinced that the Democratic party was the way to
be for anyone who wished to work for a living.
So there I am, 19 years old, and I'm
sitting on grandma's porch. I see this newsletter in the mail as I'm
looking through the mail, and I see that Dr. Paul is a republican. I
knew his name before this, but I had no idea as to his ideology. The
only reason I opened it was because I was bored out of my mind and
wanted something to do while I sat on the porch having a cigarette.
The words I read were mind-blowing. It
made so much sense to me. Keep in mind, this was back in the day
before everyone had the internet at the house...it was back in the
late 1990s. No matter how much people want to hype the "Clinton's
economy did well because of the internet going public" bullshit,
it just wasn't true. I was one of the first kids in my school to
have access to the internet at home, back when it required a
$15/month fee to AmericaOnLine and a long-distance call to their
phone server bank via telephone modem. A two-minute YouTube video
took half an hour to load. The best you could hope for, if you got
online, was checking a few of the major national newspapers, the
stock exchange, or buying airline tickets. The era of broadband and
mass information simply wasn't available at home.
Still, I went to the library in my time
off and learned as much as I could about this "Ron Paul"
guy, because everyone seemed to speak so highly of him...except his
colleagues in the house, who referred to him as "Dr. No".
Clinton's new "crime bill" was fresh in my mind, as it
delayed me getting the pistol my father bought for my 16th birthday
due to the waiting period and background check my father had to go
through to purchase it...but Dr. Paul, instead of talking about how a
waiting period was infringing upon our rights, was talking about how
the BATFE needed to be abolished altogether. Freshly kicked out of
the Corps over a juvie arrest revolving around some fake LSD, I liked
what I was reading about Dr. Paul wanting to do away with the DEA.
More than anything, I remember having an actual legit on-the-books
job as soon as I became old enough to get one...and getting fucked in
the wallet every payday by the IRS, which was yet another federal
agency Dr. Paul wanted to get rid of.
The whole thing was
eventually pushed onto the back burner over the next few years.
Things like a full-time job, several stints in college, a marriage,
and copious amounts of partying with my friends took the place of
being interested in politics. My general outlook on politics was
"shit is fucked up, the super-rich are screwing us all, cops
are thugs with badges, and there ain't a lot that's going to change
it".
Fast-forward to January of 2003. I'm
married, living in a home without cable television. The internet
still isn't close to being what it is now (although the Lycos chat
room had been created, leading to the meeting of me and my ex-wife,
hence the reason I'm married and living in Sterling IL at this time),
and I'm working at a Walmart warehouse in Spring Valley IL...DC 6092,
VALLEY PROUD!!! The warehouse is an hour and a half commute, one
way, but they were paying. Me and a coworker rode together and split
gas to cut down on expenses. I usually got over to his house about
ten minutes before we left, and his television was almost exclusively
tuned to CNN. It was during this time that I watched the lead-up to
the invasion of Iraq happen right before my eyes.
I was scared. Not for me, but for so
many people I knew back home. I enlisted when I was still in high
school, but got bounced out after 14 days. My 4-year hitch would
have been up a month and a half after 9/11, likely planting my ass
right in the middle of Afghanistan. A lot of the people I grew up
with were in that boat, and a lot of them would go on to be veterans
of Afghanistan, Iraq, or both.
Thankfully, I didn't know any of the
thousands of American war dead from my generation or the generation
to follow it...but a lot of people I know knew a few of them. One of
my father's friends lost a son in Iraq to a roadside bomb. His best
friend from childhood promptly enlisted to "finish the mission"
or fulfill whatever duty he felt he had to his friend, and was
himself permanently disfigured and disabled by an IED not long after
he arrived there.
In '04, I started back to school,
pursuing a degree in Graphic Communications. I had the fortunate
experience of attending a college-level government class during a
presidential election being held in the midst of two simultaneous
major foreign wars. The US had not held such an election since WWII,
so it was somewhat of a historic event...and while that campaign is
ramping up into its final days, I'm in class learning more about the
background of the US constitution. We're learning more about the
constitutional mandate that congress declare any war we fight, and
also about how it hasn't happened since we declared war upon Hungary,
Bulgaria, and Romania in the summer of 1942.
Over winter break, I picked up a job
working at a friend's 8 Liner parlor (quasi-legal video game casino)
during the midnight-8am shift and was a full-time student during the
day. I scored a pair of huge tips over the process of a single week,
combined them with my weekly pay, and managed to build a very nice
computer setup. During '05, having broadband at the house was no
longer a "rich man's game". If there's one thing in this
world that causes a man to research something carefully, it's the
fear of being wrong on the internet! Get something wrong on your
homework, or during a discussion at the local bar, and someone might
either politely correct you or just tell you that you don't know what
you're talking about. Get a simple date wrong in a forum discussing
politics, and all hell breaks loose! It was roughly around the time
of building that computer that I also pretty much stopped watching
television. My computer was on the desk next to the TV stand, and I
spent more time looking for obscure 1990s alt-rock music while diving
even deeper into current and historical political events.
For the spring semester of '06, I moved
in with a friend in Crosby. He had just finished his Masters
already, but his now-wife and I had both transferred to UH. We
worked at the same CNC machine shop (me as a machinist, he as a
programmer), had the same lust for horsepower, and both now had
contempt for television. We didn't keep one in the house. I spent a
lot of my time away from work either chasing women or drinking beer
at the local watering holes, but still spent a considerable amount of
time digging around about politics on the web. Well, honestly, it
was a mixture of politics, porn, and hitting up MySpace to pick up
chicks...but you get the picture. I was in college, what can I say?
The next fall, I'm dealing with all
manner of bullshit in my personal life. One morning, when I've got a
test in my Art History II class, my car won't start. I borrowed the
roomie's bike, and the last thing he says when I call to ask if I can
borrow it is "Don't crash my bike." Naturally, as I'm
making my way down I-10, I end up sliding that Suzuki down the
interstate after a minivan pulls out in front of me. I spent the
next two weeks camping out at my dad's house healing up. Getting up
to eat, shit, or answer the door makes the scabs split open. I
wasn't doing a whole lot of anything except discussing (read:
ARGUING) politics on the internet, because it was either that or
Judge Judy reruns. It's the middle of the day, in the middle of the
school year. Most "normal" people are either at work or
school. I'm arguing politics on the internets.
It was around this time that I became
familiar with people whose names are now readily recognized by people
within "this thing of ours", mostly via a now-defunct web
forum known as "BureauCrash". The Iraq war was now burning
in everyones' minds...but God help you, if you even think about
speaking out about it. Even start to dream about questioning any of
it, and you're in some serious shit. You're gonna be in a world of
shit when you wake up. You're now a godless heathen hippie scumbag
communist piece of shit liberal America-hater who supports Al Qaeda,
testicular cancer, drunk driving, and Satan.
It was also around this time that I
started reading a lot of Lew Rockwell. I became acquainted with the
writings of people like Norman Grigg (who, up until about a year ago,
I was convinced was a black man due to the fact that his disdain for
police was thought to be matched by only me and Ice Cube), Eric
Peters, Fred Reed, and so many others. On the sidebar was a lot of
links to the works of people like Larken Rose, who I imagined to be
someone totally different than the red-headed normal
next-door-neighbor type that I now see in his YouTube videos. A
major fixture of LewRockwell.com, of course, would be the work of the
man he used to work for...none other than my district's congressional
representative, one Dr. Ron Paul.
In '07, I had moved back home to
Angleton. I eventually moved into a shack on the river with a woman
I was in a relationship with. I spent about six months being almost
completely disconnected from the outside world, not knowing that
broadband access available there. After the relationship fell apart,
I was at the bar 1/4 up the road...and found out that the cable
company started servicing the area with broadband about a year prior.
My days consisted of going to work, grabbing a sixer and a burger
basket from the bar, and getting online to check the days' events and
other random goings-on. I discovered info sites like cryptome.org.
I knew about the guns/ammo shortage of '09 about six months before
everyone else, and happily laughed at all those who laughed at me
when I told them to buy bricks of .22LR while they could still find
them.
During the spring of '09, I moved back
to my father's house. He and four of my senior-citizen relatives
lived in Angleton, and I was usually the go-to guy when they needed
help because I was the single guy that didn't have softball practice,
karate lessons, PTA meetings, or whatever it is that people with
families and kids are supposed to do. Me and dad got along great,
especially after he got healed back up from his health issues.
Grandma and her siblings didn't get any younger, so I stuck around.
I had my job to go to every morning, but other than that, didn't have
a care in the world except for the occasional call to change a light
bulb, repair a cabinet hinge, or pick up a random prescription.
It was around this time that I had
embraced the AR15 rifle, Facebook, and the concept of anarchy as
being the logical conclusion to an acceptance of libertarianism and
the Non-Aggression Principle. It was also very near the time I got
pulled over by a local cop on the way home from work for drinking a
bottle of water, and recognized that the questions she was asking me
weren't just for "my own safety" and "for emergency
purposes". Even though she was too stupid to properly read the
expiration date on the temp insurance card I'd recently received for
the Jeep I'd bought the week before, and kept asking me all manner of
questions about shit not pertaining to the traffic stop that were
surely bound for the nearest Fusion Center, it was the one and only
time I'd ever been pulled over by the police and not asked if I had
any firearms in the vehicle. This actually saddened me, because I
was actively anticipating it...and had every intention of basking in
the glory that would have been the look on her face when I responded
with "Yeah, bitch, there's an AR15 and three loaded mags in the
back seat!".
My cousin, who had recently joined the
local police academy, was often butting heads with me over the
concept of American police practices around this time. He was (and
presumably still is, I wouldn't know because we stopped talking years
ago) of the impression that the average person is too fucking stupid
to live life properly...and should be robbed at threat of violence
via taxation in order to pay a special class of people wearing
state-issued costumes, so that these costumed individuals with guns
may extract extortion monies and/or kidnap and/or kill people over
victimless crimes.
Ironically, he became a police officer
under a strange set of circumstances. For starters, he had to get
past the fact that he had ingested (in his words) "copious
amounts of cocaine" in his younger years, making him an admitted
felon seeking employment in a profession whose top priorities include
arresting and imprisoning people who are doing the same things he
once did. He likens the total destruction of lives and families via
felony conviction and imprisonment by the state to a swat on the ass
by a father looking out for his children.
Even more ironic is
the fact that after all the bullshit I've come to see in my lifetime
regarding those who look to the state for their paychecks, it was a
conversation with a blood relative who represents everything I hate
in this world that finally pushed me over the edge of minarchism to
being a total anarchist. I simply ran out of excuses for the idea
that we actually need men with guns to rule our lives.
What's really warped is that one of the
last conversations I had with this man was in the parking lot of my
former job, when he pulled up wearing his Police Academy uniform (the
one my grandmother says made him look like a boyscout, still laughing
at that!) in a car equipped with a radar detector and illegal window
tint. At the time, I was a manager at an auto accessories outlet,
selling window tint and radar detectors. While strictly adhering to
the laws regarding window tint, we didn't agree with the notion of
being restricted by law to using only the lightest-available window
films on front door windows in the name of "highway safety"
when that same law made a specific exemption for police cars that by
definition were used by those whose jobs consisted mainly of driving
up and down this state's highways. It's common knowledge that a
radar detector is used only for one purpose, and that purpose is to
detect police using radar guns. There is no reason whatsoever to
have a radar detector, except to avoid being caught breaking the
legal speed limit.
It was his girlfriend's car, but I
noticed the illegal tint before he ever stopped, because I
anticipated quoting a price on a strip and re-tint of those two
roll-up windows...it's something I'd done a thousand times before,
because the cops like to pull people over for illegal tint. Instead
of pulling into a parking spot, he pulls around to the install area.
I'm on the passenger side. He rolls down the window, and I'm about
to start rattling off prices before I even recognize that it's him.
I see him, ask him if he knows he's "ridin' dirty" with the
windows, and he starts laughing right about the time I see the radar
detector in the windshield. I ask him, in obvious sarcasm, why a
future cop would ever be worried about being caught breaking the
law...half of the sarcasm going to the notion of law enforcement
supposedly being upstanding to the point where they don't break the
law, the other half going to the fact that cops have "professional
courtesy" and don't get tickets.
He laughs and tells me he doesn't have
a badge yet. I look up, see the letters "F. R. E. E." on
the side of Dr. Ron Paul's office in Clute TX, about 75 yards to my
southwest across the street, turn around around and walk my happy ass
back inside.
Dr. Ron Paul didn't tell me "hey,
you should become an anarchist!". Dr. Ron Paul just put me on a
path to figure it out for myself...