Stick The Fucking Flag Up Your Goddamn Ass.
Here I am, once again, sitting at the computer desk, staring at the computer screen, with my fingers anxiously hovering over the keyboard. Pondering what to type in the beloved online journal. It's too early for this... 2:03 in the afternoon? That's inhumane. Well, I want to chew my bubblegum with you, and I want to walk you home school, and I want to carry your books to every class, and I want to fuck you up the ass. This might be satire... Damn... I just heard word that Propagandhi's album is going through the finishing touches... GAHH! I'll be right back... I have to clean my keyboard... Ok, I'm back. That was quite the mess, and yes, I did just ruin your lives in everyway. Am I quite entertained at the moment, by reading Propagandhi's "How To Clean Everything" cover book. It quite hilarious... Good ol' Christoph... I'm also wasting my life by writing in this thing... I have nothing good to say. It's Wednesday for fuck's sake. Nothing ever happens on Wednesdays... Except for ska shows at Mavericks, which I am quite sick of by the way. So I will now write down a Propagandhi song. It goes like this: My father told me "Son, it's futile to resist. You can topple the idealogy, but not the armies they enlist." I qustioned the intentions of the boy scouts chanting "WAR!" "Well, that's the sound of freedom son", he said (Free to say no more)... But wait a minute "dad", did you actually say "freedom"? Cause if you're dumb enough to vote, you're fucking dumb enough to believe him. Cause if this country, is so goddammn free, then I can burn your fucking flag where ever I damn well please. (and then I'm gonna stick it up your fucking ass!) I carried their anthem, convinced it was mine. Rhymeless, unreasoned conjecture kept me in line. but then I stook back and wondered what the fuck they had done to me. Made accomplice to all that I'd promised I would never be. Invitation to honour. Invitation to war. Bette Midler now assumed a sainthood. Romanticize murder for morale. Tie a tellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree and, "Gee, Wally, that's swell!" Fuck The Troops.. (insert corny butt relevant/poignant catch phrase here)... Haha, done. This is what extreme amounts of broedom can do to people... I think I'm done...
Where we stand. Propagandhi, as a group of individuals, share very basic commitment to cirtues that reflect fundamental aspects of anarchist thought. However, as a direct result of the fact that we are a group of distinct, free-thinking individuals, Propagandhi does not represent any singular, narrow subculture of "leftist" thought. Our individual aspirations/expectations, perceptions and/or cynicisms, regarding the fensability and durability of a practical application of anarchist theory, have been demonstrated, through internal discussion(s), to contrast widely. That's because anarchy ain't dogma. Anarchy ain't homogenity, Propagandhi ain't neither. We are, however, good kissers.
Where we stand. Propagandhi, as a group of individuals, share very basic commitment to cirtues that reflect fundamental aspects of anarchist thought. However, as a direct result of the fact that we are a group of distinct, free-thinking individuals, Propagandhi does not represent any singular, narrow subculture of "leftist" thought. Our individual aspirations/expectations, perceptions and/or cynicisms, regarding the fensability and durability of a practical application of anarchist theory, have been demonstrated, through internal discussion(s), to contrast widely. That's because anarchy ain't dogma. Anarchy ain't homogenity, Propagandhi ain't neither. We are, however, good kissers.