Why don't we all strap bombs to our chests and ride our bikes to the next G-7 picnic?
It seems easier with every clock tick.
But whose will would that represent?
Mine? Yours? The rank-and-file's?
Or better yet: the Government's?
But I don't want to catalyze or synthesize the second Final Solution.
I don't want to be the Steve Smith of the Revolution.
Do you see the analogy?
We're the Oilers. The World Bank- the Flames!
And just 2 minutes remain in the 7th game of the best of 7 series!
Yeah, Jesus saves! Gretzky scores! The workers slave.
The rich get more. One wrong move and we risk the cup.
So play The Man, not the puck.
Why don't we plant a mechanic virus and erase the memory of the machines that maintain this capitalist dynasty?
And yes, I recognize the irony that the very system I oppose affords me the luxury of biting the hand that feeds.
But that's exactly why priviledged fucks like me should feel obliged to whine
and kick and scream- until everyone has everything they need.
