So the new trend in North America is to refer to your location not by the “colonialist name” – like, Ohio, or Vancouver – but by the “indigenous.” So to all you people living in North America, you are actually living on “Turtle Island.”

I’ve met two real life Cherokees. One was this gal, mid twenties. She looked “white” to me. She had been raised on a reservation in North Carolina. I expressed my surprise when she told me this, and she explained that … well, you get the picture. Nothing she said came from Cherokees on the Rez. Every word out of her mouth came straight from her white, probably Jewish, professors at UNC. Of course she had majored in Grievance Studies. I doubt it ever crossed her mind that the only reason she knew how to read, and owned an automobile, is because the White Man settled Turtle Island. I’m also guessing she jumped at the first chance to get off the Rez, as living in a trailer with a drunk, abusive father probably sucks.

The other Cherokee I met was a welder. He looked Cherokee, he actually had red skin. He dressed like a cowboy, with the hat and boots. A bunch of us went out to a bar, got good and drunk, and sang karaoke. He sang a Johnny Cash song. I’m 100% absolutely certain he voted for Donald Trump, and probably believed in QAnon too.

So Banyen Books & Sound – the name alone is so fucking hipster – when they give their location, it’s whatever “indigenous” thing. I love to hate on Derrick Jensen, and he deserves it because he is such a whiny little bitch, but I do actually find some of his stuff interesting, and he is a good storyteller, he can be funny at time, and he has a soothing voice.

But really, just look at those people. Physiognomy Is Real.

I am fairly certain that some ancient Greek philosopher whom I’ve never read said something about beautiful people having beautiful souls and ugly people having ugly souls. Beauty is correlated with intelligence; smart people tend to be better looking than ugly people – despite what Hollywood would have you believe.

I also just sort of assume that ugly people hate God, or Nature, for making them ugly, and that twists their souls into knots.

Not all of them, of course. Some just own it. I walked into a garage sale with a couple of 40 something MILFs down south once, and some very unattractive woman started flirting with me. She was a bit overweight, had an ugly face, and terrible skin. But she had a winning personality. She knew what she looked like and just owned it, I guess. In fact, I still remember it a decade later because she was just so charismatic and had a wicked sense of humor.

So I’ve been reading Keith Preston at a lot recently, since he posted an article of mine a few weeks ago. I assume that he and I have similar personalities, and he’s from Appalachia I think. If I had maybe ten more IQ points, and spent my youth reading extremely tedious and boring books on anarchist theory, instead of, you know, partying and balling chicks, well, there but for the grace of God go I.

So some other anarchist accused him of “working with fascists” – I think they mean me – and I discovered the website of C4SS, the Center For A Stateless Society, A Left Market Anarchist Think Tank & Media Center.

Let’s see what we are dealing with. “Review: Ayn Rand, Homosexuality, and Human Liberation.”

Good god, every word makes me cringe.

Fundraiser: Anna’s Rescue Fund. Help a C4SS contributor.

Anna Morgenstern is a trans woman and C4SS contributor whose mother has fallen on extremely hard times. She has a medical debt of $21,000 and has no way of paying it without outside assistance. And Anna herself needs funds for healthcare and paying off debt.

You know – if “trans women are women” – why is it you are telling us this person is a “trans woman” in the very first part of the very first sentence? Why didn’t it say, “Anna Morgenstern is a C4SS contributor …?”

I mean, we know why. I just want to point it out, though. We are dealing with a religious cult and Trans are a form of clergy. This is hardly a new phenomenon, it is as old as time. The Fomenkoists once did an interesting interpretation of a medieval painting. The men are on one side, wearing tights, showing their balls. The women are on the other side, and the priest – implied to be a castrati – is with the women, not the men. You know, the Indians berdache, blah blah.

Back in the 90’s I went to this hippie festival type thing, it was basically a low rent kind of Burning Man. It had started in the 60’s and was still going on, basically, the type of people that used to follow the Grateful Dead, and it had a kind of rebirth in the 90’s due to that kind of trend of “neo-psychedelia.”

So back in the 90’s, my days – which were AWESOME and way, way better than these days. I feel so sorry for the kids these days. America died on 9/11, but the decade before that was awesome.

We had real women, the kind with bobs and vegana. They all looked like Edie Brickell, Drew Barrymore, Liz Phair, and Hope Sandoval from Mazzy Star. Or Tori Amos, the unbelievably hot redhead who would play piano in a school girl skirt while flashing her legs. The gals would wear those babydoll dresses and take MDMA at raves when they weren’t skinny dipping in lakes in the woods on camping trips.

It was honestly heaven on earth. America used to be so great.

Oh so at the hippie festival, some hippie lady was giving a kind of speech, around the campfire, about the “feminine spirit” and the “masculine spirit” coming together for some sort of, you know, pagan hippie dippie bullshit. I’m thinking, get to the part where you flash your tits, but she kept being interrupted by a “Faierie” saying, “it’s not just man and woman, what about man and man! Or woman and woman!” And the hippie lady is like, yeah ok but I mean the feminine whatever, and the “Faierie” – an extremely obnoxious asshole with the whole gay lisp and everything – just would not shut up.

The point is, we had gays back then too, and even obnoxious ones, but nothing like today. It was all over TV – every TV show was one gay joke and “gay roommate” gimmick after another – but that was TV shows, about people in New York City, not real life.

There were even dudes in dresses at this hippie festival thing, but again, it just didn’t matter. It wasn’t a “political issue” and they had not discovered Intersectional Oppression Olympics yet. Everyone used the term “political correctness” but only to introduce a joke that would be, well, politically incorrect. So you would say, “I don’t mean to be politically incorrect or anything, but insert racist joke here.” No one got mad, unless you, you know, interrupted them when they were telling a racist joke.

You have to remember too, we didn’t have Internet Porn in those days, so we were the porn. We did not have “Pick Up Artists” either, because it was all just natural. I guess you could say it was a “hook up culture.” Like at the hippie festival, when it got dark, and all the hippies were in a big drum circle around the fire, and the whole crowd was doing “Oooom, Ooom,” this hippie chick came up to me, put her tiki torch up so she could see my face, and said, “yeah you know the drums always make me horny so I’m looking for, you know, a guy who might, you know.”

See, it was easy. The gals would pick you up. Everything was normal, and natural, not forced. You didn’t have to have “game” you just had to be up for it.

The next morning, at high noon … ok so it was Silent Time from sun up to high noon, at which time a hippie wandered around giving Hippie Communion – a frisbee full of blotter acid, he was just giving it out for free – then at High Noon everyone starts I don’t know, yodeling or something, and doing the “Ooom, Ooom” chants.

And of course everyone was skinny dipping in the river. It was kind of awesome, really.

Jobs were pretty easy to come by, because the Soviet Union had fallen, the Cold War was over, and America had taken over the world. My first apartment, I paid $150 a month, my roommate paid the other half. Yes, $300 a month. Not a great apartment, and not a particularly good part of town, but you know, it was $300. And we had, like, ten different girlfriends who would visit us, because we had our own place, and yes, we basically took turns with each one of them. It was all just easy and natural. The 90’s, man. You poor kids don’t know how bad you have it now.

Yes, we did listen to Nirvana. But, you know … ok some Alt Right kid, who claimed to be a “fascist,” was saying, yeah Gen-X sucked, because Kurt Cobain was the voice of Gen X, and he sucked. And I was like, dude, if you were at a party back then, and you said, “Kurt Cobain is truly the voice of Generation X,” people would have, like, hidden the bong and assumed you were a narc or something.

Nobody gave two shits when Courtney killed Kurt, and none of us even knew he had, like, political opinions or whatever. We just thought Bleach had some good jams, that’s all. I did have hair like Eddie Vedder, and I could sing like him too, so of course was in a “band” – a couple, really. We were never good, but good enough to get groupies, which was the point of course.

Oh, wait, I was talking about the Anarchist Stateless Society thing.

As Charles W. Johnson mentioned in his essay, Towards a Dialectical Anarchism:

Oh, jesus h. christ, does anyone even care? I was talking about skinny dipping with long haired 90’s neo-hippie chicks. Isn’t that far more interesting that anarcho-blah blah whatever?

Historical Materialism: A Brief Overview and Left-Libertarian Reinterpretation. One of the most famous theories forwarded by Karl Marx is that of historical materialism—although Marx himself apparently never used that exact term in his work [1]. To put it succinctly, Merriam-Webster defines historical materialism as “the Marxist theory of history and society that holds that ideas and social institutions develop only as the superstructure of a material economic base” [2]. And for about a century after Marx, this has been the defining basis of historical and social analysis for many of those on the radical left. However, as David McNally accounts, in his look back at the work of Edward Palmer Thomas, historical materialism has fallen somewhat out of fashion; “in the name of rejecting ‘economism’ and ‘class reductionism’, large numbers of intellectuals have come to believe the idea that society pivots principally around the ‘discourses’ which organise the way we see the world and act within it”

Fucking shoot me now. Don’t people, like, live anymore?

OK, so check out the video Bright Green Lies, with Derrick Jensen, Lierre Keith, Max Wilbert, at the ” Banyen Books & Sound” on Occupied Indigenous Land.

Look at them. Look at their faces. Their souls are as ugly as their faces. The true environmental crisis is the fact these evolutionary dead ends survived childhood. Down with modern medicine. My grandmother birthed 13 children, only 11 made it to adulthood. That’s how it is supposed to be. I’m sounding like Bronze Age Pervert here, aren’t I? I don’t know, I’ve never read a single thing by him just because the name sounds stupid. The Bronze Age sucked, everyone was a slave. The 90’s, though? The 90’s rocked.

I guess it wasn’t all good, you could see the degeneration happening even then. Like when Metallica sold out. Kill ‘Em All was a great album. They were tight. But then they sold out, and the guy from Alice In Chains (greatest band name ever, Rooster is the best song ever) trolled them by wearing a T-Shirt that said “Friends Don’t Let Friends Get Friends Haircuts” which is … a bunch of obscure 90’s references that none of you kids would get anyway, so whatever.

Do they even have metal anymore? The last good metal I discovered was Ghost – the riff from Cirice is truly great stuff.

So anyway, the gals dressed really feminine. Dresses were popular again, lots of Laura Ashley type stuff – how WHITE is that, by the way? The whole thing was “natural” – natural long hair, one piece dresses, always showing a lot of leg. Gals wanted you to flirt with them.

Yes, even back then, they were always trying to ruin it. Once I was on campus, and there was graffiti everywhere that said “All Men Are Potential Rapists” and “Rapist On Campus.” I asked one gal what was going on, she said there would be a “Take Back The Night” rally because one third of gals on campus had been raped. I was like, what the hell? Did someone call the cops? And she was like, no, it’s the frat boys, like, date rape.

Well one of our friends, this gal Leslie, she went to the Take Back The Night rally and it really upset her. I think they were doing it on purpose, trying to recruit the gals to be man hating lesbians. Not, like, “bi-sensual.” Like, “no dick lesbians.” But you know, none of the gals were really interested. I mean, everyone loved the Indigo Girls, but that was about it.

Also, you know, nothing is really new. We had both transgenders and transracials, like Rachel Dolezal. I mean, it was a patriotic joke. They would say, “Where else but America can a poor black boy grow up to be a rich white woman?”

You know, Michael Jackson.

The Enragés: The Pursuit of Abolition with Nathan Goodman. For the seventh installment of The Enragés, host Joel Williamson met with Nathan Goodman to discuss their article titled Abolition: An Economist’s Perspective. This article is a contribution to an upcoming C4SS anthology called Total Abolition: Police, Prisons, Borders, Empire.

OK, I am down with Smashing the Empire. I hate the Empire. But what is this “no borders” business? Can I just walk into your house? No? Well, there’s a border. So clearly there is something else involved here.

What about the police? I mean, what happens when a black thug beats you up and robs you? Whether you like it or not, that happens all the time. That is why we have police, and prisons. I’d actually prefer it if instead of prison, they just get deported – on the other side of a border. Exile was a traditional punishment for serious crimes. Why not exile criminals to Liberia, that is what it’s there for. Then we wouldn’t have so many prisons.

The leftists just lie, constantly, all the time, about every single subject. They always say, most people are in prison for non-violent drug offenses. That is a bald faced lie. Nobody goes to prison for weed – no one. They are lying. People are in prison because they committed serious, violent felonies, like murder, battery, assault, rape.

So, yeah, exile instead of prison. I agree.

“Counter-economics?” You know, it would actually be good if we had some real anarchists that weren’t actually just Social Justice Warriors with an aversion to concision. Let’s hear it. I’m all up for whatever comes after capitalism. End the Fed. OK, so what now? I don’t understand what they are complaining about. If you don’t like fiat money, guess what? You can always buy and trade gold coins. You can transact with Bitcoin. What are you complaining about? You have more options than ever before, in the history of mankind. You do realize that people still barter, too, don’t you?

I can actually remember the very day it turned, when culture changed from the 80’s to the 90’s. The last 80’s movie was actually the first 90’s movie, Heathers. Like Clockwork Orange, it doesn’t age because they made up their own slang, like “fuck me gently with a chainsaw, Heather!”

The song was Channel Z by the B-52s.

I don't know---I feel like something's happening
Something good is happening!
I feel love has got to come on, and I want it
Something big and lovely

I want the world to change for me! Gotta get away
Away from Z---Living on the edge of Z

I don’t know, for me, that song was, like, forward looking, like a New Wave of New Wave. It somehow pointed the way to the cultural future of the 90’s.

Where's my umbrella?
Gonna shoot that static down the drain
Gonna put that static out of my brain
Gonna put up my antennae. FREE!

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave.

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.”

— Hunter S. Thompson, Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas