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The Evil of
Capitalism is Everywhere

By Punkerslut

From Jovita Idar Anarchist Image Library
Image: From Jovita Idar Anarchist Image Library

Start Date: October 15, 2009
Finish Date: October 15, 2009

"It is whether the Congress is going to act to stop a carnage which continues for one reason, and one reason only, and that is because the people of this country don't realize what is involved, and they can't see the blood on the food that they eat, and on the things that they buy, and on the services they get."
          --W. Willard Wirtz, U.S. Secretary of Labor
          "Safety on the Job," New Republic, 1968

     Everything in society is tainted by Statist Capitalism. Everything has that profit margin, that private ownership, that ambition, that directive, that so-called "free market" and those so-called "free-acting individuals."

     The bread that is baked, is made with flour that comes from an overseas slave plantation. It is sold in bagging made in a Mexican sweatshop. The lights in the bakery were put together by a traditional American union, but the glass was made in a Vietnamese factory. The mercury in energy-efficient light bulbs is produced in Chinese manufacturing plants, where employees are daily contaminated and poisoned by their working conditions.

     The rug at the front of the store was imported from Canada from craft makers. But they wove it with fibers made grown by African slaves. And the dye they used on it was made in a Korean factory, where the underpaid women are made sterile from the chemicals they handle.

     So, when you go and grab that loaf of bread from the baker, don't forget what you're eating. It's the product of oppression. Your body finally digests that food, turns it into readily-usable nutrients, and diffuses it through your blood. Then, your cells carry those bits of oppression, violence, rape, and murder to your organs, your skin, your eyes, your tongue.

From Jovita Idar Anarchist Image Library
Image: From Jovita Idar Anarchist Image Library

     What determines how you taste was made in sweatshop. What determines how you see was produced by slaves under the whip. The muscles that carry you from here to there were built by hate and oppression.

     And at the top of your skin, you can almost see the rage, the anger, and the defiance boiling through -- steam pouring out of suddenly appearing holes, small flames flickering beneath the mountain -- and that's when you wake up, and start acting...

     ...because if you don't feel that way, then maybe you're not examining your life. Then maybe you're not paying attention to what's going on. You're not really sensing the social environment the way that the world does. Your reality, your experiences, all that you have before you die and disappear forever -- all of it is disconnected from the larger, human experience. It is an abstract, artificial fiction, outside of humanity, outside of civilization. But this is if you deny it! If you understand the fact, and act accordingly, then you have a chance at creating change -- and maybe actually living!

     The problem has never been humanity, nor civilization; it has always been systems where only a few control the majority. A control that is effected by government or property, by governors or employers.

     No sweatshop could live without military and police intervention. And no tyranny could sustain itself without the funds of some privileged class. Government and Capitalism. These are the two enemies of all that is valuable and good in humanity.

"Because, tonight I'm cryin' about the crackhouse that got torn down, in the center of town.
And tonight I'm laughin' about the army recruiting station, lying vacant.

"Here's to the rubble. A brick through every window.
A casket buried 6 feet deep for everybody's heroes.
Here's to our lives being meaningless, and how beautiful it is because freedom doesn't have a purpose.

"This one's for, every arsonist that got locked down,
before they burnt the cities down.
I'll miss seeing the sky scrapers on fire!
This one's for, every friend that got taken off the streets,
so the upper class could sleep, so the upper class could sleep.
I'll miss the spray paint and slashed tires.

          --Johnny Hobo and the Freight Trains, 2005
          "Harmony Parking Lot" song, from "Love Songs for the Apocalypse" album


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