Thanks to Rob Power for pointing out this petite annonce. I imagine Craigslist content cycles rapidly, so I’ll quote it in full for posterity.
I was the WASPy guy who hopped off my bike to drag your cement trash can off the trolley tracks* on Market Street. You were the slightly unwashed twenty-something fresh off BART knocking over stuff.
Did you feel your neck flush with carnal heat as I gazed at your lithe, patchouli-scented body? You were a vision of politicized perpetual motion as you passionatly smashed that capitalist-pig-dog Chronicle vending machine. You felt my gaze, you little marxist minx, you chirping songbird of leftist lust. I am certain you did, for your words betrayed you. As I dragged the Chronicle machine back onto the sidewalk, you cried “are you some kind of f@%king nazi?!”. Your masked comrades heard a pointed insult, sure to bring me to my knees and force tearful confessions of genocidal ambition. I heard a plea for intimacy.
We continued our dance as a crowd of picture-taking voyeurs gathered. I would clumsily two-step a newspaper machine out of the public street travelled by thousands of good people on their way to daycare, the hospital, and jobs that feed and educate their children. You would scream “pig!”, “cop!” and “f@%king nazi!” and waltz it right back into traffic with graceful purpose. Your self-righteous feet seemed to step on air, not the dirty asphalt laid over Mother Earth by a society of bourgeois globalist exploiters.
Alas, our tango of Direct Action was cut short because I had to get to the office and put in an honest days work so I’m able to keep a roof over the head of my wife and unborn child.
I hope smashing all that shit and pissing off sympathetic commuters and demonstrators actually accomplished your goal of educating the masses on the evils of war. Or were you really just lashing out with senseless violence in a pitiful attempt to fill a void in your soul left by years of bad choices and time spent in the company of mooching losers?
Connect with me if you want to talk about it over coffee. At a legistlatively-mandated-organic coffee shop in Berkeley, if you wish. Or maybe at Starbucks in the Pleasant Hill Mall after you get off work at the Fashion Bug.
*track no doubt built on the underpaid backs of un-empowered migrant workers to transport captains of greed to the Financial District.