Your Debts Young man, Your Debts and be FREE

"I'm sorry sir, but you can't say that."

Wait a minute. Part of the fucking program, as I understood it, when I agreed to show up to this bitch and pony show was that you were going to shut the fuck up and let me speak. What you said was:

Pay your debt young man, pay your debt and all will be forgiven. Forgiven?

Now you're telling me that none of it was true. Now you say that freedom is a fantasy and that none of us is ever truly forgiven for anything, ever. That someone always remembers. That someone always asks the question, someone always thinks there is one more remembrance necessary, one more debt to pay.

Pay your debts they said and you will again live free, but there are no such things as freedom or debts. Freedom costs everything. We describe ourselves as free. Freedom costs everything and everything costs something.

Mistakes cost you little bits of your life. One small lesion at a time we are scarred by the relentless burning sands of our days and our nights. We are carved and forged and moulded into the people that we are and the people that we love. We are the monuments of a humanity and human potential that future generations will remember or wish they could forget.

We are either the last free generation or we are the first. I was promised freedom. From my youngest days I was promised that what's right was right and that what was bullshit got shoveled.

Instead what I get is a fucking mule driven mile of Pure-D-Bullshit. The real bullshit, not that watered down manufactured bullshit.

It often these days starts with:

" Good afternoon, uh, sir, do you know why I pulled you over today?"

The answer in my head is always, "Cuz I'm young and I'm black and my hat's real low? Do I look like a mind reader sir? I don't know."

If I'm lucky you are just doing your civic duty and keeping our city streets safe. If I am unlucky, well -
The sky has just become the limit hasn't it?

"Did you know that the registration on your car was out?"

Yes and it's remained that way because, fuck you. If I can't settle that "responsibility" I'll just carry on without it and cause way less trouble than the average Joe Citizen. I get it though, it's a debt to be paid for the "privilege" of driving these weather ravaged streets. Streets you designed to be easily driven. I am not all that inclined to be tied to your city streets any more. Keep your registrations and your warnings and your fines and lies. And your excuses to police my actions and my goings and comings.

I go where I please and I come when she does.

" That's good sir, Do you have your ID?"

"Uh, well I bailed out of the house real quick on my way ... I had to (Beat the Beer Clock) swing by my sisters (the weed mans house) and pick something up. That's why I am in my paja-"

"Do you realize that your registration is out? Have you been drinking tonight?"

"Yes, I mean no. Yes I know that my, but I though, I thought -"

Yes, yes as a matter of course, I do keep my ID on me at all times because I know, I know that I can be mistaken in so many ways. I could be hauled downtown right now under suspicion of something involving a black male fitting my description. I keep the legal entity known as DAVIN KIMBLE in my pocket at all times when in public. If I for one moment realize that I can't identify myself immediately as the legal entity DAVIN KIMBLE, I panic just a little bit. Really. I always keep an ID and a mutha fuckin' alibi.

"Do you wanna step out of the vehicle sir?"

No. I always feel like I'm giving up something of an advantage when I step beyond the safety of my vehicle. As long as I am in my vehicle and my hands firmly grip the wheel I can't be beaten and shot to death.

But I got my ID10T's a long time ago. I sat courtside at a prison execution that I had signed off on. Dude was an ass. He was making business hard. No, things aren't always black and white but thats why you have to have rules. He broke them. We never gave a fuck that he didn't bother to learn them first.

So, yeah. I got your Ideal. We'll trade the debtors prison for perpetual debt from the moment you can physically tap into a completely manufactured system. We are just fucking debt gerbils running on the money generating machine. But still broke for all your efforts.

There is a great fucking siphon down the line eating your soul. It's waiting for you with cyber links and hashtags. It's demanding you activate, vote, crunch, dance, decide, deliver, change, breathe, pay attention, sing, point, laugh at kittens and above all else, hate Mondays, revere Hump Day and Friday, bemoan the end of Sunday and generally find a reason to humbly complain about the fact that you have every day. Do it with a positive attitude, seek your higher potential, breathe, meditate, sing a song, dance like no one is watching and remember that as long as you still draw a breath there is always a chance.

Hey!

I said, "shut the fuck up and answer my questions."

"Ask them properly."

Why then is there always?

There is always some undereducated punk ass copper. Pushing his badge and gun around. Fuck his weight. With a gat that size he doesn't have to run. It's we who have to be deft of foot. Jumping from juniper bush to juniper bush, hopping fence to fence, through yards, and alley's. Isn't it us who run?

I say fuck that copper. With his badge and gun. Waking us from our sleep with his demands for obedience and recompence.

I say fuck that copper with his deviance and his disregard for those he's sworn to serve and protect. Murder and neglect.

Plying us with his compliance weapons. Trying to make us afraid. Trying to stir our spirits with his fear tactics and jack boot thuggery. Fuck the copper I say and piss on his suppression, shit right down the barrel of his fear stick. We are supposed to sit idle and afraid while they murder our children in the streets. Fuck those coppers I say. Fuck 'em good.

American Gestapo!
American Gestapo!
That's all they are.
American Gestapo!
American Gestapo!

Police Force.
Police State!

We know that we must protect ourselves and so we demand and fight for our right to PACK A PIECE! Even those of us who are all about peace feel the need to pack a piece and be sure everyone in the house learns it's proper operating procedure. Our neighborhoods are becoming armed camps. Not against the threat of roving gangs of young derelict rapists bent on anarchy but instead, from the very government sworn in to represent our best interests. They think that their higher interest is in our best interest. So we pack a piece because we have to fear the Pirates and the Po-Po's. What kinda freedom is that? What kind of justice locks up a gardener because he chooses to grow an herb?

What kind of Justice locks up a man defending his garden? What kind of society forces a man to defend a garden in the first fucking place?

Because the only guns in my house, devil, are Airsoft and BB. Because as much as you might like it you will never again see me within your institutional walls. I like pussy walls better. You will never see me in your dining halls, I like dance halls better. You will never again see my bitter face, my Refuse to bow, bend or break face.

You will never find me again haunting your cold halls and back alley's waiting for my next moment to take your advantage away. Because you have make it so that I will never again find myself willing to dip so low as to draw your hated attention.

That means, "FUCK YOU".

Do what's right by us dear country.
Do what's right by us dear Lord that this country prey's to, and on.
Do what's right by us you Rulers of This OUR HOMELAND!

And I swear by all that is in me I will let you pass.

But if you continue to fuck us ...

$#$$%%@^&@&*@*#(&#%!!!!!!!!!!@**%$%$%$*($U)!!!!!!^^%&$*$*$*

I will goddamned ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn
Your ass.

Bruddah Preach.