HELL IS OTHER AGE GROUPS I have endless respect for millenials. No one has more respect for millenials than me. My own son is a millenial. When I see someone riding a unicycle or drinking from a mason jar on the pavement, do I swerve to hit them? No. Of course I do not. I […]

HELL IS OTHER AGE GROUPS

I have endless respect for millenials. No one has more respect for millenials than me. My own son is a millenial. When I see someone riding a unicycle or drinking from a mason jar on the pavement, do I swerve to hit them? No. Of course I do not. I would never swerve. Ever. Do I respect their way of life? No, but they deserve a begrudging tolerance and that is what I provide.

But I have a question: why is it that millenials are so unwilling to work a proper job, like I had? Why don’t they work down a mine, or up a chimney, or as a senior executive for grandad’s firm? That last one is just an example – we’re not hiring currently.

Why, instead, do they go for these easy, soft-boy careers, like ten shifts in a call centre, telling families they’re in arrears with their health insurance? Why is it they don’t call their superiors ‘sir’ or take on a mortgage occasionally? Why is it they roll their eyes when you can’t get Internet Explorer to work? Why is it they go away to Plymouth University to study Molecular Biology and never ring back home? Why is it that my bad children hate me?

Simon Klimpt

Are you okay, Simon? Are you sure you want me to publish this? – Ed

SHOVE WILL TEAR US APART

“Why are we letting the state get away with all this?” I thought, “The state needs a shove”.

So I left my job as a ministerial aid to the Home Secretary and engaged in a programme of systematic physical jostling of authority. I went up to policemen and gave them a hard shove. This would really give the powers-that-be a headache, and a sore bottom! I shoved a copper at a Pride march, I shoved a copper while he gave evidence in the witness stand, and I shoved a copper in a police station toilets, doing permanent damage to a toilet paper dispenser.

Usually they tipped over backwards onto their blue scum bums with a dull thud, got up unharmed a few seconds later, and continued in their ‘police duty’ (lol w/e jk), but the effect of my agitation was palpable. I was giving the state a bloody nose (not literally) and knocking it on its arse (actually literally).

After a minor shoving spree inside a Heron Foods, I was detained, charged and arrested, but later released without charge (thanks Mum). After my arrest I decided on a new approach. It wasn’t possible for me to agitate from behind bars and the momentum of my new grassroots movement should not be halted.

So now I shove lollipop people, milkpeople, postpeople and any other low-level public authority figure in order to aggravate and dismantle the overall infrastructure of the state from every angle. If the railways were nationalised, I’d start pushing railworkers too. Plus, I can probably push more people over every day and there’s less chance of getting in trouble.

Guard your glutes – the People’s Shove cannot be stopped.

Carlos Rudd

FURRIES FOR JUSTICE

As our world drags its carcass forward, we have pockets of time between genocides to reflect on our shortcomings and improve our society for the less fortunate.

For instance, once we knew that feelings were located in the brain, it was easy for us to understand that people with missing limbs almost certainly had the same inner life as everyone else (and why we feel so socially alienated from someone once their head is detached from their body). From this newfound empathy, the disabled community gained the right to vote, compete in the Olympics and take pride of place in our clandestine subterranean ceremonies.

It is not unreasonable to suggest that our society may end up making new discoveries in the future. I daresay there is one just around the corner: furries.

Furries are a subculture centred around fictional anthropomorphic animal characteristics and commonly dress themselves up in full body ‘fursuits’. They are the newest and most disenfranchised mass crying out to be heard, erased so much from the narrative of contemporary discrimination because they don’t even receive the levels of targeted harassment necessary to bring their plight onto the world stage.

Or maybe they do, but it is under-reported to the point where there are no available statistics. Not that I’m endorsing a rise in furryphobia, but they do need to be statistically proven to be appropriately oppressed before we can begin the fight.

Until such a time, I will be shouting from the rooftops so that they can be heard. Not that I want to be seen as talking over the furry community myself, more than shouting on their behalf what I believe they’d be shouting if their voice wasn’t muffled by a foam-insulated depiction of a smiling teenage wolf.

Tracy Denholm

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