1. Hi, EFF!



    The Radical Politics of The Prisoner

    Paul Charnetzki

    The 1960s British produced television series The Prisoner was a radical subversion of the spy genre. It’s hero, No. 6, trumpets radical individualism rather than loyalty to the State. “The Village”, in which the show is set, critiques social institutions as being about a sick desire for power, and the suppression of the individual.

    First, some background. Beginning in 1967 and running through 1968, the 17 episode show was designed for a limited run. Originally Patrick McGoohan, the show’s star and producer, had wanted to produce only 7 episodes. Following the standards of the time, CBS asked for 36 episodes. McGoohan only agreed to go as high as 17.

    McGoohan had previously appeared in a spy show called Danger Man. Starting in 1960 and ending in 1968, the show was an international success, making McGoohan famous. However, McGoohan announced to his producers that he was quitting Danger Man- and pitched them the idea of The Prisoner.

    The Prisoner opens with a montage of McGoohan resigning from his spy agency. When he returns home, his flat fills with a mysterious colorless gas and he falls to the ground unconscious. He awakes in an exact replica of his old apartment, but instead of London outside of his window, there is a bizarre town called The Village (the show was shot in Portmeirion, a Welsh tourist village).

    After showing the title, it then cuts to another sequence. Dialogue between No. 6 and No. 2, the head of The Village, plays over McGoohan running through the surreal landscape of The Village, attempting to escape. As he flees, he’s pursued by Rover, a hovering white ball, the control of which is overseen from No. 2’s command center. The words are as follows:

    Number 6: Where am I?

    Number 2: In the Village.

    Number 6: What do you want?

    Number 2: We want information.

    Number 6: Whose side are you on?

    Number 2: That would be telling. We want information… information… information.

    Number 6: You won’t get it.

    Number 2: By hook or by crook, we will.

    Number 6: Who are you?

    Number 2: The new Number 2.

    Number 6: Who is Number 1?

    Number 2: You are Number 6.

    Number 6: I am not a number, I am a free man.

    (Mocking Laughter From Number 2)

    Thusly, The Prisoner establishes it’s story: No. 6 must keep his secret while attempting to escape.

    In The Prisoner, The Village is an allegory for modern society. The most important quality of The Village is that it is inescapable: located on an island, attempts at escape are always halted by Rover, who descends on No. 6 multiple times throughout the show, dragging him back to his confinement.

    In each episode, we are introduced to various institutions and traditions of The Village. The Village is, in theory, a democracy- No. 2 is elected once every year by all citizens of The Village. It has a “Labor Service” to help people find productive work in the community. There are also many community activities such as artistic craft fairs. There’s a newspaper, television programs, and a public address system that booms in to every corner of the village, mostly with inane, cheerfully delivered weather reports.

    In the second episode of the show, Free For All, we’re introduced to the “democratic” political system of The Village. No. 6 awakes in the morning to a visit from No. 2, who pitches him the idea of running for office against him. Looking out from a balcony at an adoring crowd chanting No. 2’s name and carrying massive No. 2 campaign signs, No. 6 mocks this “democratic” process:

    No. 6: Looks like a unanimuous majority.

    No. 2: That’s what worries me! It’ll be bad for morale. Some of these people don’t seem to value free elections.

    Hoping to learn more about The Village and perhaps organize a revolution, No. 6 agrees to run for office. What follows is an absurd, rapid fire sequence of No. 6 embarking on his “campaign”. Almost instantly, half the crowd produces No. 6 signs and begins chanting his name. Ambushed by a crowd of adoring citizens who love him as much as they loved No. 2 moments earlier, he barely escapes. Later, he’s hunted down by a couple of reporters, who ask him a series of questions, and repeat back his answers as something completely different, writing them down. Moments later, No. 6 sees an issue of the local newspaper with a long article on his campaign that has clearly been written beforehand.

    In the newspaper, No. 6 is cast as the rebel, his answer of “No Comment” is ignored in favor of a line about “Fighting for freedom”. As he later delivers a defiant speech, No. 2, standing beside him, deadpans encouragement of his rebellious message. His defiance has been anticipated and accounted for: it will serve the purpose of creating a false opposition to No. 2’s authority, in order to reinforce it. Later, he is brainwashed to love The Village and wins the election. Shaking off the brainwashing he attempts to lead an escape, but is violently beaten and removed from office.

    While the “democracy” of The Village is obviously a farce, it implies that our democracies may be a farce as well. The Village’s political system is preordained to produce a result that will mantain the status quo. Political opposition is tolerated to lend legitimacy to the regime, but if it becomes dangerous, it must be discredited. If that also fails, the system turns to violence to mantain its authority.

    A year before the airing of The Prisoner, Martin Luther King had been assassinated. A wave of anti-war sentiment on college campuses and in the streets had been ignored by the authorities, who often responded violently to demonstrations. The Prisoner brilliantly expresses the growing idea of the time that the political system was essentially broken and undemocratic.

    The Village isn’t just a critique of the Free World, however. Communist regimes claimed to be democratic, and the totalitarian methods of those running The Village often evoke Stalin and Mao more than anything else. In the episode “A Change Of Mind”, No. 6 is subjected to “rehabilitation” and a process of self criticism: meant by the writers to evoke tactics employed by Stalin and Mao to deal with political dissidents in addition to McCarthyism (White). The newspaper, printed well beforehand carrying the official truth seems much more like Pravda than The New York Times. No. 6 himself is certainly no friend of communists, having presumably fought them all his life.

    In the finale, several rebels are put on trial, including No. 6. A robed, masked committee oversees the trial. Each committee member has a different labeled placard sitting in front of them, such as: Education, Recreation, Young People, Activists, Anarchists, Entertainment, Identification. Every possible element of society is presumably covered by one masked figure or another. The “committee” accounts for the whole of society, not just what may be obvious government functions. One the one hand, this could be a critique of totalitarian societies like the USSR, where everything is managed by the Communist Party. On the other hand, perhaps “Entertainment” and “Recreation” are also methods of social control in the West. Even Activists and Anarchists are listed: are they a true opposition, or are they as orchestrated and ordained to fail as No. 6’s political campaign? The Prisoner doesn’t give us any easy answers.

    Throughout the show, No. 6 repeatedly asks who runs The Village. No. 2 confides in him that he doesn’t actually know, and that in his view it doesn’t matter: the purpose of The Village is to collect information, and where it goes from there is irrelevant to him. I think it’s irrelevant to the writers as well. Though many viewers probably thought a major mystery of the show was whether The Village is being run by the West or the East, they missed the shows subversive point: that the purpose of the State is always the same: control. There is only a difference in methods.

    Fighting against The Village is No. 6, who is described by No. 2 as, “…particularly militant, and individualistic.” While James Bond gladly embraced the designation 007, No. 6 declares in a notable rant:

    I will not make any deals with you. I’ve resigned. I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own. I resign.

    Just like the masters of The Village, we never learn the reasons for his resignation: but it’s clearly a matter of principle. In the context of a realistic spy narrative, it wouldn’t seem particularly important why a man resigned, unless he had some critical knowledge. But on this show, it’s all about the principle of the thing. The resignation loses any moorings in reality and becomes a symbol of his desire to be independent from society.

    The 14th episode of the series, Living In Harmony, was considered too controversial to air in the United States during the shows initial run. There is some dispute as to why- ranging from the episode being perceived as too anti-war, drug use, or the violence of the shootout, which apparently violated US TV censorship instituted after the assassination of Kennedy and MLK (Fairclough). Whatever the case, it neatly encapsulated the shows individualistic politics.

    The episode is an allegory for the rest of the series. Set in the Old West, No. 6 is a sheriff who turns in his badge in a sequence that imitates the usual opening montage of the show. He ends up in a town called Harmony, and ends up stirring up a mob of intolerant villagers. The Judge, who runs the town, allows the mob to kill an innocent man rather than No. 6 to satisfy their blood lust. Later threatening another innocent life, he tries to coerce No. 6 to work for him, as he’s obviously a skilled gunfighter. He refuses, going down fighting. It’s then revealed that the entire thing was faked, and that Harmony is a set built on the same island as The Village.

    The message is simple: the only valid response to an unjust system is to first try and avoid it, and if that’s impossible, to fight against it. Violence is a last resort and only justified to protect yourself or innocent life, and blindly obeying authority is always too high of a price to pay.

    In conclusion, amid the chaos of the 1960s, The Prisoner broadcasted a radical message: be a conscientious individual, don’t trust authority, and mantain your independence at all costs. The Village, representing society and government, is depicted as relentlessly oppressive and destructive. But if you stick to your principles and keep your wits about you, you might score a victory just as No. 6 and his fellow rebels do in the final episode. When the Village’s No. 1 is finally revealed, it turns out to look just like No. 6. Was No. 6 running the village all along? Perhaps in the struggle to be free individuals, our greatest enemies are ourselves.


    Markstein, George. “The Prisoner.” The Prisoner. Prod. Patrick McGoohan. 1967-1968. Television.

    White, Matthew; Jaffer Ali (1988). The Official Prisoner Companion. London: Sidgwick & Jackson. (pg. 90, 91)

    Fairclough, Robert, ed. The Prisoner: The Original Scripts. vol. 2. foreword by Roger Parkes. Reynolds & Hearn.




    Paul Charnetzki

    Art Analysis


    Cab Station, Rue Bonaparte, Childe Hassam, 1887 (higher resolution)

    Childe Hassam was an American Impressionist painter who lived from 1859 to 1935. He studied in Paris and was influenced by the French impressionists. I chose this painting because it pairs a realistic sense of perspective with very vivid colors. It’s also a really nice composition, reflecting classic Western ideas such as the rule of thirds. The painting led me to think about how one would achieve some approximation of this look, which would be very difficult but I think possible. It reminded me a bit of the class example of a street scene in London with the RED Camera, which employed deep focus and had a similar color palette that really popped.

    Perspective and Composition

    In the painting we seem to be slightly raised above street level. In a film, I could easily see this as the beginning of a big crane shot as in the opening of Touch of Evil. Following the rule of thirds, the street flows away from us just to right of center, drawing our attention first. The carriages, wall, and trees on the left and the buildings and people walking on the right create a sort of tunnel for our eye, ending in the building at the end of the street. This pulls us into the scene, and this technique is obviously used in films as well, such as Inception:

    Especially with the carriages and trees, there’s a bit of hypnotic repetition, each horse and carriage could be identical clones. The same goes with the people wearing dark blue / black with their umbrellas, and the men in light brown on the right. The most individualized figures are the two people with the cart in the foreground. But he’s no comic book hero either, blending into the landscape much like everyone else.

    Just as in the still from Inception, the depth of field of the paintings “lens” is very deep, with both the man in front and the building behind him “in focus” (though obviously blurred and impressionistic). To achieve this look would require massive amounts of light flooding into a small aperture. Obviously in Inception they employed CGI, saving themselves a lot of trouble with lights as well as bending reality. Of course, films like Citizen Kane employ this technique without any CGI trickery.

    Color and Light

    This painting has the feeling of being flooded with light. In order to achieve this look in a film, you would literally flood everything with huge lights. The light is also diffused. To do this with cinema, one could use several techniques. A fog filter or something similar on the lens would move you towards this look, as in my Directing Exercise:

    One could also have massive fog machines or pick a really foggy place on the coast, or both, which would help.

    The color of the sky and the umbrellas sell the idea of a rainy, foggy day, injecting a bit of realistic justification for the impressionism of the piece. I think combined with the realistic perspective of the piece, this is what I like about the painting. I can imagine myself actually being on the street and seeing things this way, though obviously I can’t actually. In film terms, the set designer wetted down the streets, and the costumes were chosen as something people would wear on a rainy day, including the prop umbrellas.

    The main colors in this painting are a creamy light brown, which we see in the street, buildings, wall, and the three men on the left of the painting. The most variety of colors is on the posters on the wall, which in another painting would be easily lost, but here they really pop out. Even though Hassam is only using a few parts of the color wheel throughout most of the piece, the range and gradation within each color is really impressive and quite beautiful. The color palette reminded me of Barry Lyndon and other period films:

    Throughout this shot are very nice shades of brown and green. John Alcott used different film stocks throughout the film in order to get the looks he wanted, and collaborated well with the set designers and costume people in order to work with the look of each stock. Controlling these elements allowed him to imitate the color choices of painters to create “painterly” images. This has become a look we identify with period films that take place before photography.

    That being said, one of the most impressionistic films I’ve seen is set in the modern day. It’s Amelie. Interestingly, Cab Station, Rue Bonaparte merges the soft look if impressionism with realistic perspective, just like in films.

    The background strongly resembles an impressionist painting, though obviously Amelie herself is sharp and realistic in the foreground. The people and the street itself are diffused, first of all from being out of focus, and secondly from some kind of fogging effect.

    Amelie uses a lot of digital post production in order to achieve its style, so I can’t be sure what digital techniques may have been used here. However, this shot could be done in camera, though maybe not as well. A lens filter could soften things as well as give the image its greenish tint, maybe with a green light to make that pop further, especially in the background. Using a thick fog to diffuse the out of focus people behind her, while using enough light to insure the colors show up well, would give us the look of the people in the background.

    It also reminds me of Technicolor, which also has saturated colors and soft focus:

    To conclude: it’s an excellent painting with a lot to say about cinematography. It’s a place I want to inhabit, with its nice range of colors, soft focus, deep perspective, and high angle. It’s something I’m very interested in imitating, perhaps even with my Canon 7D, if possible. Thanks to my time at Flashpoint, I can at least brainstorm some of the techniques to achieve this image: deep (but soft!) focus, lots of light, and controlling costume design, location, and framing in order to enhance the effect.






                  Subprime Robodemopriest ChANNEling37’s optics automatically compensated for the deaths of another 3 billion. He looked out through the viewport of the command ship at the battle, if you could call it that. An enemy Deathship, its hull resplendent with shifting, colorful loglo spitting mockery in the old tongue, emerged from the blinding light cone of what used to be HEAVEN6. The loglo read:

                  EAT SHIT AND DIE

                  Another habitat eviscerated by the weapons of the Genocide battleship that had slipped through the perimeter. It was humiliating, losing like this to a bunch of fucking teenagers. Of course, the very concept of a defense perimeter covering an area the size of the Sol system was a political fiction, a now not so white lie for the voters, nothing more. Not only were their ships faster, but by going dark they could easily evade Demtheo censors. They’d already killed 30 billion Demtheo citizens, a significant portion of ChANNEling37’s voting pool, though he had actually gained more probability in the senate, since most of his political base lived on the surface of Earth, which had so far been spared. He’d known his repeated support of the environmental lobby would pay off one day. The Genocide heretics were more interested in the orbital habitats, the true industrial and economic base of the Demtheo.

                  Defensive forces were finally closing in. The warships HOPE, PEACE, and UNITY were approaching judgement. They had enough firepower to easily cripple the enemy craft, but they would have to survive the longer range enemy guns in order to have their chance. ChaNNEling37 prayed to the LORD, and felt a rush of emotion fill him as millions, and then billions joined him on the nets, their energy surging forward. He could feel LORD Itself changing, altering with the new emotions and circumstances. A new Word came forth, a Word of war. Grim resolve filled the Demtheo. He could feel the neural nets of the warship crews burning hot.

                  20 seconds to enemy firing range.

                  In the consensus, the LORD Itself manifested. Its face came first, circling and expanding out of the stars like a dream, and from it extended a body, strong and dark and beautiful. Three arms emerged, each with a mighty hand, infinitely strong, cradling each ship. It sang a poem of rage, telling of lost brothers and sisters and dead children, and horrible vengeance.

                  Into the fire.     

                  The Genocide ship rippled and bucked with the release of ordnance. The nukes were easily visible, leaving a long trail of atomic exhaust behind them. Far deadlier were the almost invisible singularity missiles, hiding in the light cones of the strategically exploding nukes. Ripples of white fire reached out from the Genocide towards the HOPE, PEACE, and UNITY, eventually obscuring view of them completely. ChaNNEling37 actually squinted, some primordial extinct of his programmers manifesting in his robotic body. When he could see clearly again, there was nothing left of the HOPE, PEACE, or UNITY except for the anguished final transmissions of their doomed crews. The LORD recoiled, its hands holding its weeping, angelic face. Then it disappeared.

                  His eyes flicked to the Genocide ship.

                  YOUR GOD IS DEAD

                  ChaNNEling37 clenched his waldos and turned to a crewman.

                  “Connect me to Public Safety,” he ordered.

                  “As you wish, Senator.”

                  The view of the battle was replaced by a view of Public Safety HQ, the meeting center where the leading Demopriests sat in grim conference. One of them, named Piere, turned towards the screen. ChanNEling37 could see the hopelessness in his eyes.

                  “We’re done, Senator. By the time the rest of the fleet reaches the enemy, He’ll have destroyed our industrial base completely. Earth and our remaining citizenry will be completely defenseless. We have no choice but total surrender.”

                  “To be playthings of the Egotists? We won’t stand for it. We have the Demierge.”

                  “Are you mad? There’s no telling what that thing could do,” said Piere, shaking his head. “It’s too dangerous, Senator. I won’t allow it.”

                  ChanNEling37’s robotic eyes emoted.

                  “This is not your decision, Priest. The feeds tell me my constituents feel quite differently.”

                  Piere clenched his teeth.

                  “I’ll settle for nothing less then a full plebiscite.”

                  “Then you will have it.”

                  ChanEling37 lowered his head, reshifting his processing power. He reached out in to the neural matrix of his voters, which now constituted 53% of the Demtheo. They’d seen billions killed, their mighty ships evaporated, their very god struck down. Their cerebral cortexes burned hot with hatred. The vote was clear, and almost unanimous. Release the Demierge. He showed Piere the result.

                  “So be it,” said Piere, “may god have mercy on our souls…”

                  And so they released it. The first thing it did was eat Planet Earth.

                  YOU’RE SHITTING ME!

  5. Oh, Chicago … Not sure I’ll miss you

  7. curbstompqueen:



    Muslim women send message to Femen: Counter-protest launched against ‘Topless Jihad Day’.

    Muslim women have launched a campaign to send a message to “sextremist” collective Femen. “Muslimah Pride Day” was organised in response to Femen’s self-declared “Topless Jihad Day”, a day of topless protests around the world to support Tunisian Femen activist Amina Tyler.

    The organisers of the counter-protest urged Muslim women to speak out for themselves and assert their diverse identities:

    “This event is open to ALL muslim women, Hijaabi’s Nikaabis and women who choose not to wear it. Muslimah pride is about connecting with your Muslim identity and reclaiming our collective voice. Most importantly it is about diversity and showing that muslim women are not just one homogenous group. We come in all shapes and sizes, all races and cultural backgrounds. Whether we choose to wear hijaabs or not is nobodies business but ours. So please get clicking, get creative, get loud and proud.”

    Using the hashtag #MuslimahPride, netizens criticised Femen’s campaign and said it reinforced stereotypes about Muslim women. 

    Mimicking Femen’s tactic of posting topless photos to social networks, “Muslimah Pride Day” participants shared photos of themselves expressing their opposition to “Topless Jihad Day”:

    “So we won’t be needing any of that, ‘White-non-Muslim-women-saving-Muslim-women-from-Muslim-men’ CRAP!”


    amazing. absolutely perfect. 

    (via jewist)

  8. Here’s a guy that’s on the hustle! Download dat shit, I say!

  12. I used to always go by “Rambozo the Clown” as a teenager.

    (Source: youtube.com)




    At the end of the Prisoner, the titular No. 6, after being tortured by No. 2s (the endlessly changing manager of the village) and after making many attempts to escape, is finally…

    Lowered in to a subterranean cave (societies unconscious, full of plumbing and steam), told he is the New No. 1, leader of the village, and given the opportunity to speak.

    He attempts to deliver his speech of Liberty, that he is an individual, and he will not be controlled.

    Around him, at a round United Nations table, are dozens of the white hooded representatives of social bodies: EDUCATION, TELEVISION, MILITARY, ETC.

    They pound their hands on the table and say as one: “I! I! I! I”

    One imagines Obama has a similar experience. Though every American president has been imagined by opponents as a dictator, the truth is he’s completely surrounded by the soft, comfortable reign of Individualistic terror. Everywhere he goes, surrounded by a coterie of paid fools and lobbyists, to flatter, feed him, wipe his mouth, and then hand him a pen and a document. We haven’t progressed since Louis XIV at all: the deluge hit a high tide line and now the Purity of Ideology is turned purely against us- to crush us, not liberate us as before.

    Everyone in America imagines him/herself to be a feudal king, or prince or princess, on a glorious quest.

    They want entitlements- but not so much as to reveal that the post-scarcity economy is here already.

    They want war and violence- safely nearby (Chicago’s southside, for example) and on the television.

    So Obama is a Product in every sense: first of his environment, his surroundings, the heavy weight of his backstory, and then finally packaged and presented to you as a Product.

    Which is the only Obama we really know: the Product. And probably the only he knows at this point.

    He gazes in to the waters and sees nothing but his own reflection, and the few flecks, distortions, and ripples within he calls Republicans.

    Are you also a Product? A product of your environment, sure. A distributed Product? Maybe, maybe not. Celebrities are. This article is. Guess I kinda am one here. What kind of Product Self do you want to distribute? Be careful, oftentimes a product release will lead to criticism from people.

    People love product: President Obama:

    People don’t always love product: Anarchist Guy.

    It’s a cage, isn’t it? That I even call myself an anarchist. A label hardly anyone even understands, they just see a guy throwing a bomb. Thanks, Banksy. I like your work, but shit. Nowadays people think I’m a terrorist. They call FBI snitch lines. God knows what’s gone on. Am I under surveillance? You might ask yourself one terrified night. Now the answer is of course: yes, always. Recently for me, it was: am I under physical surveillance? I saw them- I swear. Couple cars outside, some plainclothes on the train back in Chicago. Do you believe me? Probably not.

    So now, I can’t be anything else, because I’ve seen what comes of this alienation. That’s something Radicals don’t tell you when they talk you in to these ideas, of fighting the system, fighting the power, beating city hall. That it’ll hurt. But, the other side of that is that you’ll learn a lot.

    If you study it, you’ll never lose an argument. Ever. And that’s a big danger, people hate that. They think what they have in their head makes sense and can’t be toppled- but you’ll find yourself able to blow their house of cards apart in seconds, sending it fluttering in to the air, and you’ll laugh as you watch them try and butterfly net it all back in to their tiny little mind. They usually do, and start ignoring you if you talk about it again. But- that means that I know we’ll win. They repress it, and that proves they’re wrong about it, and they’re under control. That they actually want freedom- even though they don’t say so. They just don’t know how to get there. The truth is we can’t all get there right now. Not today, not tomorrow, but one day, we will all stand on Free Ground. I know it!

    Fact is, I can never be a robotic member of society. If you are, you will read this and understand nothing. It will seem to you to be the cliched ramblings of a spoiled rich kid rebel. Well, that’s all it is: to you. Because you’re mentally fucked. Permanently, probably.

    The Prisoner, continuing to speak and ignoring societies pounding “I” is allowed to enter a spacecraft.

    As it launches, the bureaucrats panic, screaming, and flee. Inside the machine is a spacecraft, set for another world.

    No. 1’s first reaction is glee, until inside the ship he encounters himself.

    The space age dream died there, in that colorful sixties fantasy. We hate ourselves too much to go to space. Fact is at the end of the day we don’t hate ourselves: Society (an idea we created to protect ourSelves) has somehow become a twisted thing independent of our Selves (another thing we invented) and hates and tortures us so much, that we’ve become twisted: we’ve become animals.

    It’s all the violence there’s been: 80,000 years of death and fucking destruction. Still ongoing. We do everything to ward it off: the violent thoughts, the violent actions, towards ourselves and others.

    The mall is full of the distractions and semitotic blockers, physicalized in products: Gucci, Prada, Anthropologie, and on and on.

    The television is full of seductive fantasies so that you don’t have to think, or speak, or act: you can let others do it for you, and sit there, relaxed and content.

    “Rape”, however, remains a word. Just one not often said on TV, or put on handbags. But it is enacted out there, as we all know. A powerful virus, rooted in many mines, that one: “rape.” Killing. Submission. Power. Envisioned, fantasized about, and then enacted.

    So as it is now, the radical is a mental guerilla: constantly encircled by opposing spaces (corporate buildings, prisons, streets, skate parks, etc) and employing powerful psychomagics (urban counterculture, design, parkour, bikes and motorcycles, alternative lifestyles) to resist it’s evil grip.

    Brothers and sisters, I direct you to detonate your head: commit the revolution of the mind, and let the explosion spread beyond the limits of your skull and ripple out in to the world surrounding you.

    Smash the control images

    Burn the books

    Kill the priests

    Kill kill kill!


    One envisions an anarchist society as a nuclear explosion in ultra slow motion, starting from a detonation point Zero. They’ve gone off before: Paris. Spain.

    Anarchist vilence is so vilent it isn’t violence at all: but simply annihilation of our entire corrupted and diseased language and culture.

    Take this sentence a n d b l o w I t a p a r t!

    t a k e t h I s s




    o a p

    Anarchist vilence is nuclear: and each fragment blown out of the rotten, dead societal core is beautiful. I’m talking about whatever is still flying after the cleansing wave of the love bomb: what remains good in you, good in your lover, your mother, will fly in the beautiful heat across the land and out in to space.

    We’ll ride on small worldlets: pocket planets with different qualities.

    Each free, each distinct.

    Each orbiting around one another in beautiful constellations, joining, merging, and perhaps even occasionally crashing.

    One may be full of militant, psychedelic Samoans.

    Another, Buddhists.

    Another, a Catholic Church.

    Who knows? Anarchism touches all, and there is no context that is not, can not, and will not be a context for Anarchism to operate.

    First disrupting, bending, and warping the structures: and then ultimately in making them stronger, or if they are truly worthless, burning them to ashes.

    Turn your head in to a love bomb.

    Get together with some other people.

    And we’ll build ourselves a big, linked in, collective mental love bomb that will sweep over everything.

    That’s the Grant Morrison plan. That’s my plan too, because I read The Invisibles and he brainwashed me.

    One day, it’ll go off!

    Such is the word of God.