waldopaper

Last Motorcycle Ride

Posted in Rants, Stupid-heads by waldopaper on November 19, 2011

They were disbursed… the order came to cut them down…”  –World Turned Upside Down

I learned what it meant to be “middle class” when I got busted on my last motorcycle ride about five years ago.

Yeah, I fucked up.  Speeding and drunk.  All my fault and all that… but that’s not the point.  Other than never fuck up, here is what else I learned from that experience: It begins with bail after you have been cuffed and stuffed.

I had to go to drunk school and attend about three “classes” a week that cost about $40 a pop.  12 of those.  Plus a monthly piss-test for 3 months… I think those were about $30…and other stuff.  None of my fellow “students” nor the “teacher” could deny it was all about the money.  No doubt about who the upper class were… they were not there.

They simply wrote a check for about $10k to their lawyer up front to make it go away.  Depending on how badly they fucked up. they would have to rinse and repeat frequently.  And you could see who the lower class was in the courtroom.  They would file in with orange suits and shackles on.  Mostly black by about 60%.  They judge asks for money.  They aint got it coz deyz in de jail-howse.  “See ya in 30…90 days… whatever,” say de judge… an back dey goes to de jail.

The rest of us sat in a room and looked at each other and listened to shit about alcohol and dope and fucking without a rubber.  I’m sorry- but that’s what it was.  Nobody bothered to pretend very hard that it had much to do with justice or rehabilitation or anything like that.  You could DO that, if you wanted to show a “positive attitude” and get the hell out of “the system” (and yes, the operators called it “the system.”).  Those without a “positive attitude” got the full treatment.

They end up on Antabuse, puking their guts up, wearing special ankle-bracelets and looking forward to spot-surprise inspections/ visits from their probation officer…and paying for it.  So you best keep a “positive attitude” because that’s what the “middle class” does.  We could get up the bread to stay the fuck out of jail, but we did not have the cake to feed the lawyers (who- by the way- make the best “representatives”).  Marx called us “the bourgeoisie.”

We do not control the system, nor are we overly-victimized by it.  All we do is pay for it, and now we are running out of ways to pay.  The “middle class” never really existed anyway.  Most of us are “working class” because we have to fuck with “money,” and if you have enough of that you don’t have to fuck with it.  Now, you could say the lawyers are the bourgeoisie, but most of them are working-shlumps just like everybody else who is not locked up or poor.

And everybody but the terminally clueless knows that most of the locked-up are poor.  I saw some soccer-mom hustled through the clink when I was there, busted for shoplifting.  We recognized each other, “middle class.”  She was equally as humiliated caught for pinching baubles as I was for being drunk and stupid.  And of course I have never been drunk or stupid since.  Anyway, the deal is: now we have some kind of paradigm-shift brewing.

They say the “conservatives who are making out with “the system” want to keep it just the way it is, and the “progressives” (remember “liberals?”) want to change it.  It’s a stroke of somebody’s genius to call #OWS “obamavilles” and “obamavillans,” but it’s all bullshit.  Winter is coming.  Food is going to get scarce in the dark and cold.  Now we could light some fires and cook some food or we can die in the dark like a bunch of stupid-heads.

It really IS that fucking simple.  I find young #occupation people, look deep into their eyes, and say as calmly and convincingly as I can, “…what we need to do now… is avoid famine… and war.”  I get the crazy-old-man look.  I don’t care.  I am serious as a fucking heart attack and I KNOW what a fucking heart attack IS.  Listen the fuck up kids.  Famine.  and War.  Avoiding them: the essence of Slipcraft.

Hope someday you laugh at fading memory of a crazy old man.  Hope you grin  healthy long old teeth,  pat your full belly look around you and say, “…and there never was a famine… there never was a war.  Crazy old man.”  But I hear them… war and famine.  Smell them.  Never seen them. Knew people who had.   Walked through the debris.  Tracks are unmistakable, and testify to great size and power.  Once you recognize the signs, you change.

That is what makes us crazy. We are not crazy.

Paradox.

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One Response

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  1. Earthy-crunchy « COALITION OF THE OBVIOUS said, on November 19, 2011 at 7:31 pm

    […] you could skip the Earthy-crunchy and just read about my Last Motorcycle Ride […]


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