The day began as it usually did, with me jerking off to MILF porn on my computer, a computer that's the result of the fascist military state I live under. But the porn was good, and after about six minutes, I was ready to take on The Man and all of his bullshit schemes.
Walking down the street, I noticed a pig car parked about a block up from my apartment. Since I'm a very important anti-authoritarian, the pig was probably waiting for me so he could fuck with me spreading anarchism to the masses. Well, I'm too smart to fall for that shit. I took an alternate street, crouched down a bit, and went in the opposite direction. This totally confused the pig, because he didn't follow me. But he would be back to hassle me. That's what pigs do to us radicals.
I went into a bodega to buy some juice, juice that's probably squeezed in some juice sweatshop somewhere by 12-year-old girls. But I was thirsty, and those girls would have to stage their own rebellion. I can't free everyone. On my way to the cashier, I stopped at the magazine rack to look at some barely legal porn mags. The women were hot, and I thought how I would convert them to anarchism if I could only get to know them. The cashier, some old fucker with thick glasses, told me to either buy the mag or put it down, that he didn't want me openly reading porn in his store.
"Fuck you, asshole!" I said, totally cutting the wannabe nazi down right there. "I don't have to follow your rules. Kiss my ass."
The old guy pulled out a baseball bat and told me to leave. That's what capitalism does -- threaten working people with violence. What a shitty system. Anyway, I put the porn mag back, placed the juice on the counter and tried to pay for it. The old pig raised the bat and repeated that he wanted me to leave. What can you do when a capitalist is determined to kill you? Unless you've got a black bloc behind you, you're fucked. And besides, being an important anarchist, I didn't want to get injured over some juice. So I left. But that old fuck will get his soon. Just ask those Starbucks fascists in Seattle.
I decided to buy juice at the local mega-mart. It was a corporate pig outlet, but until I help to overthrow capitalism, I had no choice but to buy juice there. And Ramen noodles. And frozen pizza. You get the idea. So I walk to the pig place and soon I see about 12 people carrying signs out front. They were on strike against the store, something about better wages or health care or some shit. I wasn't really sure. But whatever they were demanding, they were in my way. I began walking past their picket line when one of the protesters called me a scab. Clearly, this jerk didn't know who I was in the movement. Stupid fuck. I stopped and said, "Listen, man, nobody tells me where I can or cannot go. I'm free to do what I want." The guy tried to tell me about honoring a picket line, but it was more of that lefty zombie Castro-worship bullshit that should have died in the 60s.
"Look, Hugo Chavez," I responded, completely throwing the prick for a loop, "I don't recognize your authority. To me, your little Marxist gulag group is illegitimate. Picket lines are authoritarian." All those commie stooges just froze and stared at me. I nailed them. They had no come back at all. I smiled, and went in to get my juice. And maybe some threesome porn, if they had any.