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If only I would learn to think before I Speak..

I was invited and I took the offer, having inhaled toxic fumes on Wednesday plus getting a little drunk the fucking sunglasses was forgotten about there was no intent from a simple mistake.. Though others would have it there was. Friday the cold was creeping upon myself, it was new years eve I had plans. Instead I spent the night in pain with little or no sleep:

New Years Day I somehow managed to get to the local shop, thank fuck it was open. Back home I made some lemon and ginger, added a double whiskey and this has been much my Saturday, with a good dose of feeling sorry for myself and paranoia.

I managed to sleep and sweat it out, if this had been 39 Elmore Road there would have been just one room and going crazy in such a place is not good.. I hope to sleep tonight (Saturday) all of this brings forward some deep paranoia, thank fuck the door is locked..

Another Bad Night.

It was (Saturday/Sunday) the cold seems to be slowing down. From the 17th November there has not been a full nights sleep, I was dealing with that fact. This cold has taken myself back, I was living in a flat on Harcourt Road. I was told morning glory seeds could get you high, having eaten a vast amount the next week was rough. Being sick and little or no sleep. Seems they cover them to stop you eating them and it makes you very sick.

Today, Sunday I have spent in bed drifting in an out of sleep, the cough is back and I feel it could be to do with having inhaled toxic fumes on Wednesday I have become very unwell.


I think it’s just been another bad night
I think it’s just been another bad night
I think it’s just been another bad night
I think it’s just been another bad night

I’m not an actor
I cannot hide away
Whatever I want to say
I let it out
Maybe I’m wrong
The games you play
Go on too long

I think it’s just been another bad night
I think it’s just been another bad night

I put my foot in it
I said the wrong thing
I opened my mouth
I let the rubbish flow out

I wish that sometimes
I wouldn’t talk so blind
And I always guess
The hard rules of life

(Public Image Ltd)


Cold Turkey.

I was never sure why I began Glue Sniffing (though I did enjoy it) but by the age of 17 I was doing my first Cold Turkey and at the age of 18 I was on smack, it only become a problem when I busted me back and was laid off my first and only job of employment. What I find quite shocking is I have fucked my body over in the last few years.. shit food, too much drinking and though I have felt unwell, nothing like this cold. I have no doubt been doing Cold Turkey and once more I slept much of Sunday and thought that I’d have another bad night. I slept through to 5am and I needed to go out get some food.

I set off at 9am it took me to 10.30 to get where I needed to be, once back home feeling happy I had dealt with the paranoia and feeling rough. I once more fell into sleep for Monday afternoon, food has been a issue and Tuesday I woke feeling very weak, I made myself a little to eat and have just spent the day drinking and drinking and drinking watter.

Having done this Cold Turkey, like fuck will I return to the former self abuse, it has been a rough path over the last few days, in fact last few years and I need to take the opportunity this cold has given. Though I ponder what made me get involved with such dark satanic matters last Wednesday, I seem to have this urge to self destruct and must learn to stop seeking or taking the opportunity.

I have learned to slow back down over the last week, even more. If anyone gets this cold, do not see it as a negative, enjoy the pain it might seem crass to say that but fuck I know when I do stop feeling rough, and of course a little sorry for myself, I will have come out of it a better person.


Tuesday was fine for much of the day, I began to freak around 5pm, a friend was due. They spent till 9 o’Clock telling me to goto A&E, by 10 I was there. I have not been well for some years, so when at 1am I was told I had pneumonia.. Good news as we now know, I got back home and just broke down in tears. I had little or no sleep. My head is going a little bang. I now need to get a care plan into action.

If I had kept to my plan, I would have no doubt been dead, sounds crass but I owe a back thanks for being forced to goto hospital, and like wise for the very wonderful service care and love, now I have to find a GP to take me on. I’ll keep you updated, christ sometimes the NHS is just far too wonderful.

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The future was so bright..

It has been a year of the spectacular and the marvelous, a time where you are taken back. Skies without planes, streets with people in the middle of the road. Mother Earth has given some quite awesome moments, watching a sun set over Sheffield from the roof of Stanley Tools.

It began with Woollen Signs, then the demolition of William Brothers, in between G.Barnsley and sons. Of course not a murmur of thanks from the Urban Exploration (community) but you move on. A landlord just being an utter scumbag, the Police along with everyone else sat in grand judgment.

History and reputation is an hard one to rid yourself from, it is a ghost of crass mistakes that haunts myself. I should learn to think before I speak, and perhaps not speak. Now thats a thought.

So, onwards, I have the opportunity here to just hide and fall from being an omnipresent eccentric to being just a local one. On my doorstep is all I need other than forgiveness from some people. But one is certain if I can find the self will to move on from being a dysfunctional attention seeker then matters might improve.

I had no utopian dream, it was not going to be a long road I was walking, from 39 Elmore Road, how much I deluded myself it was not the location, it was nothing more than a slum. It has served its purpose, made me move on from where I was when the G8 Circus came to town. I, like everyone else, like the spectacle of the fools and it will be an hard one to resist the temptation of the Liberal Democrat Circus when it comes to Sheffield in March. Likewise I must think when these words are put before you are invited sometimes an invitation has hidden consequence.

Much the same as 39 Elmore Road, but I had driven myself down that fucking Cul De Sac, you can not judge others for their fear. As an anarchist I need to learn that forgiveness plays a part. 2010 was a year of the spectacular and the marvelous, a time where you are taken back and I shall not forget those halcyon bucolic days without planes, the joy of seeing figures walking in the middle of the road like a Lowrie painting and the moments in between.

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The so called revolution is just a utopian dream.

I would have been 20 in 1985.. Four Years before I had been kicked out of care into a flat at 77 Oxford Street. I had no skills, I could not cook or manage the basics in life and was addicted to glue and cider. Little wonder then by 1982 I was on a section at Middlewood Hospital, flat number two would have been Ironside Road it was here I watched Live Aid.

There has not been a Television in my life for fours years, the whole of the time at Ellmore Road: There was 2 in this house. To be frank I might get rid, as I find myself looking at the TV pages and sinking into the bullshit.

I need to kick all addictions, and the insidious self needs to be kicked, It was good to sit there and remind myself of 1985 and all that, 25 years on it got myself thinking what has changed? We have 13 years of New Labour, hardly a fucking murmur from the left just a faint act of resistance

When the middle class feel their social status is under attack we see Millbank. Lets remind ourselves those giving to Live Aid and attending were, in majority, the middle class.. it is called easing empire guilt. Need we remind people of South Africa the fact Queen played Sun City (today we have apartheid in Palestine). Of course we all shed a tear at the film shown, during Live Aid, the one using emotive music (Drive by The Cars)..

It was nothing but propaganda, the only real change is a revolution, unlike 1985 I view the prospect of an uprising and social change as very distant (a utopian dream). In the midst of the current protest it has only been asked a couple of times. So we desire to rid ourselves of the Con-Dem coalition. Fair point, you could not disagree with, but lets not forgive or forget the 13 years of New Labour, hardly a fucking murmur from the left/anarchists just a faint act of resistance, they’re as insidious as capitalism itself.

In that regard, I have changed none more so than in the last four years. I do not see the same change in the Left/Anarchist community. If we desire real change then we need to make the insidious middle class history, Live Aid changed nothing for the working class of the world. If you watched When Harvey met Bob, and the documentary following it, you will have see how fucking insidious the middle class are, Bob Geldolf is just a true representation of the problem we face as the working class.

From apartheid in Palestine (in occupation from 1945) to the blatant class war from this Con-Dem government, to the ongoing suffering in Haiti, neither can we forget 6 years on from the Circus of the G8 in Sheffield. In March 2011 Sheffield will face much the same when the Liberal Democrats hold their conference in this city.

No doubt there will the left/anarchist dysfunctional attention seekers on the streets, one thing I have learned over the last 25 years, and in the last four years.. the so called revolution is just a utopian dream.

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Not quite the plan..

I wanted to do some urban exploration, had a few thoughts in mind. However, the insidious police presence put play to that plan. It could be paranoia but each time I got near a building a police car drove past. Then there was the black four by four that just seemed to be everywhere I was walking, and I was in no mood for the other trespass.

So I had a walk along part of The Supertram route from Hyde Park into Sheffield, took some images, then a walk back home, up Blake Street. Fuck, the Blake was open. Just three pints my mind was saying, it was busy full of the Walkley bohemians, I stood looking over Sheffield.

It was not any intention to get so drunk, hello you’re Mozaz with that insidious look, who the fuck he was I might never know. I just drank up and left, checking he was not following. I got back home and to bed, I woke at three still drunk, but was back to sleep by four and I feel a little rough, but the thought not quite the plan keeps coming back, as I feel sorry for myself.

I so wanted to creep about some derelict space, but it was a good day and who knows the insidious police presence might have done myself a favour and I did think I was busted as I left The Supertram route, and just why is there always cars in Paradise Sq, and someone who was so fucking obvious in their dislike towards myself? It did not ruin my day just makes me think I need to stop being so fucking insidious myself..

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You’re a RACIST.

It is Friday 24 12 2010 I go back to thinking about the last year, at this time 3.30pm I had, along with a friend, crept round The Old Sheffield Post Office.

It was Friday 25/12/2009, had a quite a cool day and was uploading images. I was living in the slum of 39 Elmore Road, by 8pm I was in bed drunk and asleep – the only way to deal with living there.

Today I have not felt the need to escape, I have been thinking back on 2010 it has had some quite fucked up times, from getting drunk with Don Letts, then in the same location at a  gig with Steve Mason.

In the year’s drunken moments I have acted like the twits around myself, (not big or clever) listened to the bullshit of how it was all their efforts, it has been a year of conflict and disagreement.

RACIST fools coming up to myself issuing comments in the denial of the fact they’re fucking racist.

A year of paranoia due to my own bullshit/actions and reading back on this blog. I keep waiting for the knock at the back door telling me to go back to Elmore Road, meantime 25/12/2010 looms….


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Been out at 7am:

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Simon & Garfunkel:

Some years back, when the bus run on Christmas Day in Sheffield, I found myself living at High Green.  I had a Sony Walkman and the bus ride was passed living to the greatest hits of  Simon & Garfunkel (very punk) I had a copy of Dead Kennedys and some Conflict.

This year a friend gave me a tenner for Christmass, I got some spare cash and went to Record Collecter knowing the box set was going for 12 pounds. It has been on the player from Tuesday.

Their music seems to fit this time of year and this frozen weather, Some years back I had a copy of Paul Simon’s Graceland I spent a Christmass with a 35 year old girlfriend, her 2 sons in a flat above a shop on Dykes Hall Road.

Tuesday I also bought a copy of Neil Young’s greatest hits, he got me through the darkness of Dundas Road, here is a short story I wrote at the time about the Dark Times of Dundas Road.

This year I shall not wake to a silent world in a small room that was a slum flat, but a three bed house and by 8am I shall be out about creeping in and out of some urban dereliction, not to ease any boredom, but for the joy of doing so.

It has become a custom to have beans on toast, this began at 99 Binstead Grove, 13 weeks of no power with just a gas cooker and no heating so all I had was a bed and a gas cooker, radio four and The Dead Kennedys, I spent December 25th lost in Wharncliffe Woods coming home to Beans and toast, shame not to keep a tradition going.

One is getting my head round having this freedom, this space, and looking forward to being on my own for the next 7 days. Laughing at the crass over consumption.

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Captain Beefheart..


On Friday, we bade farewell to Don Van Vliet. As Captain Beefheart, he blazed a trail through ’60s and ’70s music to establish himself one of the era’s – in fact, any era’s – most adventurous artists. An originator and avant-garde hero, the 12 albums he released between 1967 and 1982 remain utterly unique. Here are 13 of his finest moments on screen. It was Saturday I learned of his death.. Let the dust settel and the bullshit flow, but he was a legend in the league of Sun Ra whom I miss, I just hope they have hooked up and making music..

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Critical Thoughts on going beyond The Student Struggle

So the Lib Dem conference coming to Sheffield City Hall from March 11-13 – the first time Sheffield has hosted a conference by a national political party.

Thugs meeting thugs… It’s time for me to duck out.

It’s interesting. I personally feel that non-violent civil resistance is one of the most effective forms of protest. Don’t get me wrong, by that I don’t mean well behaved civilians walking along the well planned routes decided by the police and being watched over by the still plotting and scheming state as they march past…(read my first critique here)

There has much been written on The Recent events from The Fight For Parliament (A Personal Recap of the 9th Dec)

How do we engage with this rage against the machine?

13 years of New Labour and not a mummer and when social privilege and status is under attack we see a new mass movement and the state using Kettle tactics that risk Hillsborough-style tragedy says a doctor we need to look at new ways foreword here are some further thoughts, if all that is on offer is the same old protest when the Lib Dem conference comes to Sheffield City Hall from March 11-13 then as was done under 13 years of New Labour the people being let down and yes fucked over by the lack of critical thinking/looking towards new forms of taking action then you will once more fail to engage with The Working Class.

So what has been taken from students to make them so angry?

Hope, that’s what. Hope, and the fragile bubble of social aspiration that sustained us through decades of mounting inequality; hope and the belief that if we worked hard and did as we were told and bought the right things, some of us at least would get the good jobs and safe places to live that we’d been promised. – Laurie Penny, New Statesman

A single image from a day of movement marks out competing visions of hope. A boot through a Millbank window fed the dreams of resistance that many in the Left have been craving since talk of austerity started. The same boot posed a question that plays out in the university occupations that preceded it and have since blossomed in its wake: what is it exactly that we are hoping for?

The question of how students have inspired people to act, engage and organize to combat the Government’s austerity plans is an important one.

It is one that also potentially contrasts with some of the views of students themselves. For let’s be clear – it is not necessarily (or even principally) the University or its defence that mobilizes people’s desires and dreams outside the student movement. Defending the ‘right to education’ may be what sparked student revolts, but those of us who are not students have been drawn in because we want, more than anything, to resist and fight.

And to resist and fight you need to know that resistance is possible, that you will not be alone, and that you can win. For the most part the resistance so far to the regime of austerity has been rote and uninspiring – a betrayed strike here, a sacked workforce there.
Minor victories and thousands of words spoken of an inevitable uprising, of an insurgency against the restructuring. The boot through the window took us beyond the rhetoric and yearnings. It showed rage and the will to fight.

It showed cops overwhelmed and underprepared, Tory offices ransacked and the beautiful excess of an insurrectionary moment. It inspired because it was truly magical, and people saw for themselves that battles could be waged, people would fight, and winning was possible. But beyond this what support is there for the ‘right to education’? For this was the starting point for the riot and the thread that binds the demonstrations, the walkouts and the occupations. Cutting the Education Maintenance Allowance, shedding whole university departments and countless staff, and raising fees.

The restructuring is an attack on ‘education’ as it exists in the University; a wholesale revision of who can access what.

It is perhaps taken for granted that ‘we’ all support the right to education, and that we are all united in our defence of the University. But what if we are not?

What if it is our rage and not our hopes that are united? What if we are together only for the fight, but not the victory?

Laurie Penny nails the motivation behind the riot – hope. Or rather, the restructuring of hope and its coming scarcity. A restructuring and scarcity because hope is not something eternal or ephemeral. Hope is a material thing, produced and distributed through social channels and institutions. Institutions like the University.

What do we mean by a socially produced hope? Different societies produce different kinds of hopes. In fact, every single society produces different kinds of hopes. Hope is a mobilizing and organizing force that structures the direction and possibilities of our lives.

As memory shapes our understanding of the past and how we understand what we are now, hope shapes our understanding of the future – what there will be, what there could be, who and how we will become something more than we are today.

Both hope and memory give form and purpose to our actions; they give our lives meaning.

There are competing versions of hope in a given society, but there is also a hegemonic form to hope. For us, living in a becoming-neoliberal world, that hegemonic form is aspiration. Not aspiration in the sense to aspire to greatness in some heroic Greek sense, or something romantic and colourful.

No, for us aspiration has a particular hue and tint – it means social mobility. It means a better job, more money, more things and a higher rung on the career ladder. Hope is individual in our world, never collective – the hope of entrepreneurs dreaming of making it big. Not just climbing the ladder but also winning out over all others. We hope for social mobility. Which is exactly how Penny frames it, as do most of the placards on the streets. Hope, the dominant form of hope, is to do better than your parents.

Hope is not evenly distributed – what hopes there are and who has access to them depend on where you are located (be you poor, or black, disabled, a women, young, living in the regions, etc). Neoliberal hope – aspiration – is increasingly restricted to an ever-smaller circle of people: those people doing well through the current crisis; those people above the buffer of the ‘squeezed middle’. For the rest, there’s the lottery.

(To be clear, there have been ‘no hopers’ for quite some time – an underclass living a kind of social death of meaningless, pointless lives, hidden away behind ASBOS on estates But this is to become the norm for many, many more people).

This in turn leads to a scarcity of hope and an increasing number of people subject to a social death – a life defined as without future and therefore without meaning. A life trapped with nowhere to go. This generates a crisis of hope that can manifest in a number of ways.

The most obvious is resentment against those seem to still have hope. It is also visible in the desperate attempts to salvage some hope – through the memories of privileges of nationality, race and gender (such as mobilized by the BNP).

The current crisis marks a turn from a mixed economy of hope – where neoliberal policies and subjectivities press up against older forms of entitlement and ideals of fairness and social mobility.

We are living through the birth pangs of a truly neoliberal age where meaning, hope and the future itself are scarce and out of reach for most of us.

It is here, at the juncture of a new social order and the collapse of the remaining entitlements of the welfare state, that the restructuring of hope comes to be generally seen as a crisis of hope. We are entering an age of scarcity of the future.

It’s clear that the students are revolting against the loss of this hope and future. Social mobility (as such actually exists) is under attack. The ‘squeezed middle’ and their children will become, like the existing underclass, a footnote to the bigger and brighter stories of the well-to-do professionals.

The student revolt speaks to us all as the first open revolt against the expansion of social death and the collapse of the more general circulation of aspiration.

So the loss of entitlement is real, and the revolt is too. But we should stop here and ask if that is the end of the tale told by the boot. Did that kid kicking in the window really just want to be better off than his parents? Did he really want to keep the University as it stands?
Let’s go back to the idea behind neoliberal aspiration – social mobility. Social mobility means getting ahead, doing better than your parents and your peers: it means that while you move other people have to stand still.

Social mobility requires both winners and losers. Hope – or aspiration – confirms the unequal world in which we live. And education – that formal process of differentiation, where some end up with degrees and contacts and others jobs without a future – is essential to the creation and maintenance of that inequity. It reinforces the role of the University in unequally distributing meaning, possibilities, wages and other forms of social wealth.

Put this way, the right to education means the freedom to be unequal. The right to education works to underpin the myth of meritocracy – the myth that it’s through hard work and ability and not connections, class and privilege, that people get to where they are.

The right to an education means that if you perform well in standardized tests (helped by being well off, going to the right school and having a stable family life) then you deserve to go to University and cement your place up near the top of the social hierarchy (as long as you make it into a relatively decent university, though how many ‘bad’ ones will remain after the cuts is an open question). The betrayal of the right to education – by either there not being enough jobs for graduates (as is the case for a third of existing graduates), or by the rising costs of ‘earning’ a degree, putting it out of reach for all but the very wealthy – is the betrayal of the right to not being working class.

Looking at it this way, through the broken glass.

We can see that the riot went beyond mere aspiration. Just as the university occupations have gone beyond the simple question of the ‘right to education’. The joy to be found in revolt overflows the boundaries of a pedestrian desire to get ahead.

But here both we (both we who are students and we who are not) find ourselves in a double bind.

We need to defend mobility in the world as it stands – its defence is the defence of actual existing lives and the real possibility to have a meaningful social existence. And we need to defend the funding of education as it stands. To resist paying more for education is to defend the social gains made by previous generations and to defend the social wage.

And defending it is exactly what many students (and many of their supporters) are doing. But in merely defending it we are in fact defending the most sacred of neoliberal freedoms – the freedom to be unequal. Defending this freedom means defending the University as a filtering device set up to segregate us into educated and not; those with access to a ‘professional career’ and those who do not. Those with meaningful lives and those without.

So we must go beyond mere defence.

The riot is as much about dreams that have yet to become possible as they are over the loss of existing entitlements. There are hopes that lie dormant or hidden that speak of different ways of being; of different kinds of dreams and futures. The crisis of hope and the coming scarcity of the future for many people is a betrayal that makes possible a different kind of hope – a hope against hope, violently against aspiration and cold conformity.

The student revolts then are the fracture in the facade.

Students sense that not only are their lives changing, but that the myth of mobility that has underpinned the University in recent years is coming undone.

These protests are the first protests in Britain to contest the changing meaning of hope, and the austerity of dreams that is the coming neoliberal future.

But to be honest and faithful to the riot and the promise of a different kind of hope, an act of betrayal is needed. A betrayal of the University and education as it stands. For here we come full circle.
For if the protests and occupations speak only of the importance of education, and the necessity to defend the University, people will quickly fall away.

People can see clearly what the University is now.

The window is broken. We can see clearly that the University is a machine that creates social death. Eventually the inspiration of the initial fight and victory will fade, and the content of the revolt will have to stand on its own. If the content of that struggle is only to restore that machine, to defend the freedom to be unequal, failure is all we can hope for.

But if the struggle calls into question the very existence of such a machine, and reopens the question of learning as opposed to education – to self-development, the exploration of interest and inclination, and to allow for the navigation of curiosity and desire; in short, learning as a way of creating new possibilities and meaning – then the window may stay broken for a long time to come.

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Thugs meeting thugs… It’s time for me to duck out.

It’s interesting. I personally feel that non-violent civil resistance is one of the most effective forms of protest. Don’t get me wrong, by that I don’t mean well behaved civilians walking along the well planned routes decided by the police and being watched over by the still plotting and scheming state as they march past…

For some years I have not gone to or attended demos in London, I’ve felt such frustration and anger when faced with a snarling, ignorant police officer, calling me names, swearing at me while I’ve stood, calmly and politely asking to leave the area before the violence kicks off. I’m not interested in fighting police. I’m not interested in getting pulverised when caught between them and the very brave, but very ignorant and reactionary, protesters who may want to fight. Thugs meeting thugs… It’s time for me to duck out.

When the G8 come to Sheffield I was in a very desperate circumstance, being a part of the dysfunctional attention seekers was, I thought, a means to an end and looking back at what happened it was just another play for today. We all had our set roles, aims and objectives from the protesters to the Police. When the Liberal Democrats come to Sheffield in April it will be much the same.

The students and young people at these protests, I personally feel, have every right to fight if they so wish. The government does what it likes and the police tend to do as they like – it is deeply unjust to proclaim that these young people, who are having what they know of their futures torn up and trampled on, are wrong to resist that. However, even though it may be an animalistic and instinctive right of any human being to fight back and defend through violence, further study and thought about how to stand against the government may provide an alternative, and most probably optimal, outcome.

The state are all too ready for what Paul Scriven calls thugs, we could debate for an age who have been the real thugs on the student protests, a section 14 was imposed in Sheffield, The Police in their riot vans, batons at the ready, lined the route of the protesters. Much the same when the circus comes to town in April.

The protesters, or should that be dysfunctional attention seekers, will no doubt be protesting. Once more, as with the G8, the real impact of holding such a conference in Sheffield will be on the people of Sheffield and Paul Scriven says it is of benefit for the people of Sheffield. Need I remind him that people not involved in the G8 Protest were followed, stopped and searched, due to fact they knew people involved, or had alternative viewpoints but nothing to do with the protest itself. Once more the lives of working class people will bare the impact of such a conference coming to Sheffield.

The middle class and the Police will no doubt play their part in the play for today, then we will have the same old crass headlines, along with commendation As a long standing Anarchist, I need to make it very clear that I have no time for Middle Class protestors and the Police, both are a part of the state, the problem not the solution. Neither is a full scale riot a solution or meaningless protest where the dysfunctional attention seekers shout their slogans and sell papers to each other. The circus might be coming to Sheffield but I see nothing to get overjoyed about, we need to seek alternative ways of expressing our discontent at the injustice of Capitalism and all what it stands for, agreed.

There is nothing I hold in common with the protesters or the current government and you will find this be the fact for millions of working class people. Of course we either take now or stay the same, once more you will not even find myself involved with the dysfunctional attention seekers, the greatest key is to understand that they have a heart. Do not reinforce their self trickery; violence towards them reinforces that what they are doing is just and right! By smacking you when you are calm, it hurts them. If an entire crowd is calm but calculated and organised, the police aims will be revealed.

In the end it will eat itself from the inside out.

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