An aging punker’s epiphany in the parking lot behind the Adam and Eve store in Piqua

Yea, though I walk in the banal attire of the Chickenshit Conformist; I will countenance no Bullshit, for I am the most cynical fox in the henhouse.


 

These and other famous last words thunder throughout the epochs of history. I still share Biafra’s contempt, but I’ve learned to apply it more critically. Speech is only truly free when it comes without the obligation to listen.

And last, though hardly least, one must know the truth in the assertion that every revolutionary becomes a reactionary the day after the revolution succeeds.

Urban America is on the precipice of every square mile being exactly like Flint, Michigan. Much of it is already there. These are the new Warsaw Ghettos, where they mean to keep you. In perpetuity.

Every new cause is a call to arms; to the streets and to Twitter, where combat is sanitized and conducted only within the set of rules established by your minders. You are all tools doing the bidding of the Ghetto Masters. And you are all fool enough to keep going back for more.

Forty some years ago we were the white punks on dope. Today you’re all just a bunch of big white dopes, marching under banners that you believe will insulate you from the long arm of the Inquisitors of the Church of the Sacred Woke.. The look upon your faces when they come for you will be priceless.