Monday, March 10, 2008

NOTICE: While making this entry the writer ingested a significant amount of the prescription sleep aid "Ambien". It kicks in about midway through the piece and thus, compromises most of the content. Ah well.

"The Only Dope Worth Shooting is Richard Nixon"


Earlier this week I drank too much coffee and went to see the new Brett Morgan film "Chicago 10".



The movie hearkens back to a time when people gave a shit that their fellow Americans and innocent foreigners were being butchered by the thousands. Yes it was a time when the masses actually did something about the pieces of shit in office who finger fuck themselves to the illusion of their own suit and tie courage during wartime. Imagine that.

Watching Bobby Seale, Jerry Rubin, Abbie Hoffman, and others stand up to shitbags like Mayor Daly and LBJ made me nostalgic. Yes, I was nostalgic even though I wasn't alive at the time.



The year; 1968, the place, Chicago, the time, a point in American history when people weren't afraid to take a baton to the face or come together by the thousands outside the white house to yell "fuck you" at the commander in chief. An environment that, despite its unbridled chaos, seems to make a lot more sense than our generation's placid reactions to the disgusting murder parades of 2008.

"Chicago 10" uses rotoscope style animation along with celebrity voice overs, and archival footage to tell the story of the Chicago 10 (commonly reffered to as the Chicago 7 by racists and the ill informed) and their conspiracy trial in the wake of the shit show that was the DNC in 1968. It's hard to tell what was more of an embrassing clusterfuck... the police beatings in Lincoln Park, or the disaster that was the conspiracy trial. Let's chock em both up to the fact that our justice system is a living breathing fuck monster that must be destroyed and defecated upon.



After leaving the theater I felt like I should be kicking an overzealous cop in teeth or doing something else that stereotypical crust punks claim to do, but in the end, nothing. I mean what do you want me to do? Go hang out with grannies against the war next Sunday? That would be nice, getting honked at by dickheads from the suburbs who show us off to their intollerant marrow sucking children like freaks in a carnival. Or perhaps we could gather in some bookstore and recite Bushisms and figure the best way possible to isolate the rest of the world from our cause. Then we could laugh about how we've already got it covered and sip organic teas that make us feel the urge to support Pepsi Co. owned Whole Foods more than we already do.

Which is why I'm so damn frustrated. The idiots I've always lived around can turn a city upside down and have half the police force swarming in with riot gear ready to shoot unarmed teenage students. They can tear shit up and make the whole country pay attention to how fucking pissed we are... but only when their favorite baseball team wins a fucking game.



And when some war mongering pig gets in office, wages unjust wars, and steals your civil liberties what then? Beer? TV? A nice quiet night in? At least get fucking drunk and cry a little. Show me something.

Or do what we all know you will; "take your $2000 uptown and drink it down your dumb ass." and don't come crying to me when your phone is tapped, your dad is being water boarded, and your best friend got blown to shit by an IED.




Cause thats life for everyone else too, fucker.

Good movie. Go see it. Yeah.

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