Monday, August 14, 2017

Dear Queer Folk: Don't Join the Army

This is an open letter to my community, to all the beautiful, brilliant and brave fags, dykes, trannies and assorted fellow travelers who make up the queer movement, in particular, my brothers and sisters and sothers and bristers in the trans community. But, as always, it's an open discussion with anyone open minded enough to handle my bitching.

For those of you who don't already know, my name is Nick Reid better known by my anarcho-genderfuck nom de guerre, Comrade Hermit. I'm a twenty-nine year old transfluid bull-dyke with a blog and something to say about pretty much everything. This week I feel compelled to address the recent calls by our so called president, Donald Trump, and the Regime-Who-Couldn't-Shoot-Straight to ban trans people from serving in the armed forces. Identifying as both a trans person and a card carrying anti-imperialist, this has inspired some conflicting emotions for this bearded queen which accounts for my somewhat delayed response.

On the one hand, I find the idea that someones genitals, let alone their gender identity, could somehow compromise their ability to murder brown people to be almost laughably absurd. Just take a look at that dandy drag-king, Lindsey Graham. She racks up a higher body count on her Blackberry before brunch than Sylvester Stallone in all four Rambo movies. We're clearly more than capable, especially after all the fucking shit the straight world puts us through. To quote genderfuck anti-villain Jame Gumb- You don't know what pain is.

On the other hand, after reading Trump's barely literate tweets, part of me wanted to say good fucking riddance with a breathy sigh of relief. As noted above, with all the fucking shit this morally derelict empire puts us through, what with all the police beatings, lengthy sentences in solitary and bathroom apartheid, why the fuck would any self respecting tranny be caught dead in one of those gaudy uniforms.

The answer is uglier than camouflage, hell, it is camouflage. It's assimilation, the ugliest word in the English dictionary. Just like the Buffalo Soldiers and Navajo Wind Talkers before them, many trans kids are convinced that they can find acceptance in the straight world if they kill like a breeder. Too many trans kids are also poor, homeless and shit out of options. They're perfect prey for the chicken hawks in the armed forces, who would like nothing better than to reduce my beautiful people into pink sawdust by running them through that pitiless wood-chipper known as the war machine. And now Trump wants to put an end to this Faustian ritual?

I'll say it once again; Good fucking riddance. We can do better than to serve in your straight fucking wars in your straight fucking armies. We can do better than to assimilate into your fucked up world. Our world's better and it needs the kind of selfless service that too many queer people are wasting on the blood soaked misadventures of this dying empire. Trans people get bashed and murdered nearly every single week, often mutilated and cut to bits by psychopathic hetero-fascist closet cases. Twenty-two were killed in 2016 alone. Less than eight months into 2017 and we're already at sixteen and counting. Do the police care? Fuck no. Most of those murders are unsolved and will likely remain so. The only time the pigs give us the time of day is when they're beating and raping us with their truncheons for engaging in the victimless sex work that too many of us are forced into by circumstance or for simply looking the part.

If the Orlando Massacre at Pulse proved anything it's that queer people need to get armed, get organized and get fierce. We need to take a note from Huey P. Newton's book and set up Black Panther style paramilitary militias to protect our communities from fag-bashers, regardless of whether they carry a cross, a swastika, a crescent or a badge. We need to take care of our own or no one else will. We can't afford to waste our manpower (or womanpower) on killing other poor people for bigots like Trump. No Arab ever called me faggot. We need every last fag, dyke, tranny and fellow traveler we can get to keep our safe spaces truly safe.

Forget the fucking army, queerest motherfuckers, our war is right here at home in the heart of darkness called Trump's Amerikkka. Lock and load, queeny bitches, let's burn this motherfucker down!



Peace, Love and Empathy- CH



Soundtrack: Songs that influenced this post.

* The American Ruse By The MC5
* Goodbye Horses By Q Lazzarus
* Children Of The Revolution By T. Rex
* The Cutter By Echo & The Bunnymen
* Buffalo Soldier By Bob Marley
* Your Pretty Face Is Going To Hell By The Stooges
* Get Your Gun By Marilyn Manson
* John Wayne Was A Nazi By MDC
* I Like Fucking By Bikini Kill
* Street Fighting Man By The Rolling Stones

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Sometimes The Bad Guys Lose

                                   "Sometimes the bad guys go right on top
                                     Sometimes the good guys lose
                                     We try not to lose our hearts, not to lose our minds"

                                                     -Ohm, Yo La Tengo


Those lyrics have been bouncing around my skull like a .22 hollow point over the last 30-40 days and not just because it's a great fucking song by a great fucking band (seriously, listen to their...everything). Yes, dearest motherfuckers, this last month has been kind of a punch in the tits for yours truly. What else is new? Right. Well, for starters my best friend, the first best friend I've had since my sojourn into the hermetic land of agoraphobia and my only reliable trans friend, up and moved back to fucking England. He'll be fine, a tough, twin-fisted, limey son of a bitch; Jimmy Boy, as only I can get away with calling him, taught me how to be a bull-dyke before coming out as a trans-man. He'll land on his feet back in jolly old England and be smoking fags and picking up slags in no time flat. I'm the one who's a fucking mess without him.

As if that's not enough to push a depressive cunt like me back over that proverbial edge, I've also been forced to watch in horror as Venezuela's Bolivarian Revolution (which, once upon a time gave a sexually confused teenage communist hope for democracy) choke on its last breath. And the worst part is its Nicolas Maduro, the man Hugo Chavez entrusted with the revolution on his death bed, who has his hands around the peoples throat. There hasn't been a worse case counter-revolutionary betrayal since Stalin poisoned Lenin and shipped his widow off to Siberia.

After years of being trolled by American sponsored terrorism and sabotage, Maduro gave in last week, liquidating the constitution that his mentor risked (and quite possibly gave) his life to protect. The only thing that reeks worse than Comrade Maduro's betrayal is the so called opposition who wants to take his place; a crooked cartel of crypto-fascists and Yanqui doodle quislings who would like nothing better than to fill the largest soccer stadiums of Caracas with the staccato symphony of the firing squads. Long story short, the Venezuelan people who inspired me to give democracy a second chance are now caught between a rock and hard-ass with a porno stash and there's little I can do but watch and wait for the other shoe to drop.

This month I've lost both a friend and a revolution. So, yeah, call me self-absorbed, but I'm kinda bummed. The one thing that keeps my fat tranny ass going at times like these (aside from Trader Joe's, Rick & Morty and Benzodiazepines, of coarse) is that old stand by Karma, which is essentially Newton's Second Law applied to social studies. What comes up must come down and for me this summers one silver lining is that two despicable old twats named Jeff Sessions and John McCain are finally coming down like a valley girl on prom night.

After spending the better part of a century punishing poor people for the high-crime of existing, Jeff Sessions' hideous career as a hype man for the Prison Industrial Complex has climaxed in his roll as Donald Trump's new favorite whipping boy. I've never loved that stupid orange bastard more than I do watching him kick old Sess' like a hillbilly with a hound-dog. The only thing funnier is watching all those 'socially conscious' liberals run to the Grand Wizard's defense just because he's the latest target of a shithead he helped get elected. As I write this post, Sessions has yet to be fired but I for one hope he doesn't. I hope he never does. Spending the next three to seven years as a petulant man-child's punching bag is exactly the kind of hell Jeff Sessions so richly deserves. Somebody should buy him a gimp suit.

Then there's John McCain. Our hero. I'm sure I'll get a mountain of shit for this but the only thing that brings a devilish smile to my face faster than watching Sessions piss on himself with his tail between his legs is the fact that god is finally finishing the job Charlie started with a brain tumor the size of a Jersey Shore jawbreaker in that craven war-junkie's skull. And why not? McCain has devoted his entire life to mass murder; From carpet bombing Vietnamese villages to sending his fellow vets to die in vain in quagmire after bloody fucking quagmire. All so he can keep his creepy wife in face-lifts and brand name pharmaceuticals with fat checks from Raytheon and Boeing. This is the bastard who's never seen a war that didn't get him rock hard. This is the bastard who's never seen a hole in the dessert he wouldn't fuck. This is the bastard who takes selfies with head-chopping lunatics in Syria and goosestepping neo-Nazis in Ukraine. And this is the gutless fucking bastard who talks about a Third World War with Putin the way I talk about Selena Gomez's vagina. And I'm supposed to feel bad for this twisted old twat? Fuck That shit.

Call me a cunt, dearest motherfuckers. I'll own the title. But every time I hear some dickless little Eichmann on the Hill blubber about how they don't make 'em like John McCain anymore, I start giggling to myself like a sinister little school-girl and I can't stop. I only wish brain cancer was a sexually transmittable disease so Lindsey Graham could catch it too. God knows, if there's a heaven, those two fucking ghouls aren't going. Thank Christ for cancer.

The point of this torrent of vitriolic spew? Its easy to feel like all the bad things happen to all the best people (Jimmy-Boy, Chavez, Bowie etc.) in this miserable fucking world. But we're all human. We're all born to die and built for the grave and it's the seemingly omnipotent megalomaniacs like Sessions and McCain who learn this lesson the hard way. Sometimes the bad guys lose and sometimes that fact is the one thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. In the end we all get what's coming to us, for better or worse. In the case of Jeff Sessions and John McCain, I'll relish in the latter even if this pettiness earns me the same fate. I'll gladly go to hell as long as I can take those two bastards with me.

Buck up, dearest motherfuckers, the dog days are over for us. For Jeff and John they've just began.



Peace, Love and Karma- CH



Soundtrack: Song's that influenced this post.

* Ohm By Yo La Tengo
* Man By Neko Case
* Don't Dream It's Over By Crowded House
* Head Like A Hole By Nine Inch Nails
* Coming Down By The Dum Dum Girls
* Frankenstein By New York Dolls
* Psycho Killer By Talking Heads
* The Killing Moon By Echo & The Bunnymen
* Is It Really So Strange By The Smiths
* Last Dance By The Raveonettes
* Dog Days Are Over By Florence + The Machine
* Little Eyes By Yo La Tengo