ziq

Reply to comment by /u/Freux in [POLICY] Acceptable usernames by /u/Freux

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ziq wrote (edited )

He does support Bernie Sanders, he's a liberal. It's not a joke at all.

Sanders has used his position in the US gov to support both Israeli and Saudi imperialism/genocide, including voting to support the 2014 bombing of the Gaza Strip that killed countless women and children.

https://www.counterpunch.org/2014/07/24/why-did-bernie-sanders-get-gaza-so-wrong/

https://www.reddit.com/r/SandersForPresident/comments/3z54vz/why_did_bernie_sanders_vote_to_support_israel/

also the person this whole thread is about actually claims their username is in jest (unlike u/berniesanders). I think it's a shitty joke and they should change the name, but haven't seen any indication they're actually a nationalist.

Reply to comment by /u/Freux in [POLICY] Acceptable usernames by /u/Freux

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ziq wrote (edited )

Yeah. White anarchists don't have the problems people in the global south have because they're protected by their powerful white-supremacist states that are busy cannibalizing everyone in the global South. Colonizers really shouldn't be lecturing the colonized about anything.

Being able to establish an anarchist society is kind of a privilege in of itself because it means you're in a position to dictate the course of global society i.e. your culture is already powerful enough that you can say "okay rest of the world, we're done with states and capital now, time to declare anarchy. Don't invade us tho, because it's time for global peace now that we've bombarded everyone else into submission and taken all the world's resources for ourselves, k?"

Reply to comment by /u/ziq in [POLICY] Acceptable usernames by /u/Freux

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ziq wrote (edited )

To be clear, I'm not a nationalist in any way shape or form, but I understand why people surrounded by white sharks would feel compelled to create borders to keep the sharks at bay.

White anarchists are hypocrites for attacking Global South people for not being pure enough while they lay back and enjoy all the spoils that came from centuries of colonialism.

I've seen way too many white anarchists dogpile on poc that have no choice but to establish a state to protect themselves from bloodthirsty colonialists that will pounce on any 'stateless' land (like is happening with the Kurds right now).

Reply to comment by /u/Freux in [POLICY] Acceptable usernames by /u/Freux

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ziq wrote

The reason the phrase 'white supremacy' is used and the word 'racism' isn't used in the content policy is because of people like this that insist poc being rude to white people is 'racist'.

A lot of the r/anarchism mods on reddit pull that shit, even using it to ban poc for being rude to them, so when I wrote the content policy here, I was very careful with the wording so that brocialists wouldn't be able to use our policies to support their shitty agendas.

With nationalism, there are again a lot of white anarchists that attack black people who are struggling to overcome centuries of colonialism and gain independence from global powers by establishing an independent nation state. I'd personally trust one of these 'black nationalists' over a white anarchist 9 times out of 10.

Reply to comment by /u/Freux in [POLICY] Acceptable usernames by /u/Freux

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ziq wrote (edited )

I think leninists/stalinists are more frustrating to us than a lot of other capitalist ideologues because they appropriate our words (the same way ancaps do) and use them towards their authoritarian, nationalist, imperialist and genocidal ends. State-capitalists have basically destroyed the word 'communism' forever; the same way certain free-market capitalists destroyed 'libertarian' and are chipping away at 'anarchism'. But their politics are no worse than any other liberal's, it's just more annoying to us because by posing as radicals, they do damage to our movements by associating us with tyrannical capitalists.

But I don't think people should be banned from here for being a free market capitalist or a state capitalist, even the ones trolling radicals by appropriating our terminology, because then the site would be closed to 99.9999 percent of the population.

As long as tankies are not using raddle to promote their beloved dictator idols and making excuses for the enslaving and murdering of 'kulaks' (peasants), anarchists, and LGBTQ people, I don't think the admins should get involved.

The entire userbase of f/shoplifting likely adhere to pro-capitalist ideologies that have enslaved, displaced and slaughtered generations of people, and every non-reptile animal species on the planet is about to go extinct because of both state (China, USSR) and free-market (USA, Europe) capitalism... But banning everyone from that forum for liking capitalism, and closing the doors to 99.99999% of humanity wouldn't affect anything. We'd still be in the midst of the most rapid mass-extinction event in history. We'd still be fucked.

Reply to Anyone on here ever write short stories? by /u/ravengrace

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ziq wrote (edited )

yea but not for a few years. I wrote this one when I was 16 (I'm 35 now). CW: cringy edge

The Man With Sugar on His Shoes

I woke up on the side of a wet, muddy road. It must have been around 7:00am. It was pretty foggy, and my head hurt like hell, but I had enough sense not to step in front of the speeding sugar truck that flashed before my eyes. It was spinning out of control and the driver was desperately trying to save his skin. Hand on horn, he slammed on the breaks, but found that the sheet of ice beneath his vehicle just got more slippery. He was a big guy, as old as sixty. A thick black beard with little grey patches covered his red face. Just before he hit the Jack Daniels billboard, he let out a loud, girlish scream. Like he had seen a big hairy spider. The truck went up in flames. I can still remember the smell of the roasting sugar. Thick syrup ran down the road and made my shoes sticky.

My shoes. I liked to think about the poverty stricken brown kids working in a factory somewhere in South America. Little kids too broke to eat twice a day, sitting there, putting together my shoes. It made me feel special. This pair was my favourite. And now they were covered in fucking sludge. Goddammit.

I was wearing a brand new blue Armani suit. It looked like it'd been sent through a shredder ten times, and then got dipped in dog shit. The authorities arrived to put out the fire. I scraped some of the black syrup off the road with my little finger and spread it on my wonderful shining bleached teeth. I like sweet things.

I had been sleeping in a bed of nettles, in a small ditch. Half my face was red and swollen from the stings. I picked some of the weeds out of my hair, and looked up at the strip club across the road. Judging from my terrible hangover, I must have had a lot of fun in there the night before.

Thumb in the air, I set out on the sticky road, catching a glimpse of the authorities pulling the burnt corpse of the sugar truck driver out of his vehicle. They pulled too hard and his crispy head went flying, landing at my feet. I stepped over it, ignoring the urge to kick it back to the boys in blue. The old truck driver actually looked better without his grimy beard.

It took a while for someone to stop, probably due to my scruffy dress and fucked up face, but a guy eventually pulled over. The car door swung open, and I walked right into it. I composed myself and got into the filthy car.

“Hell! Did you get mugged or something, boy?” His stereotype hick accent went well with his dirty old pickup truck. I closed my eyes. “Did they get all your money, boy?” I reached into my right trouser pocket for my wallet, but found nothing but my sweaty wet testicles. I never wore underwear. My left pocket was still intact, but all I found were some mutilated jelly babies stuck to my back-up gold card. “So where you trying to get to, anyhow?” I closed my eyes again, and didn’t open them until we got to the city.

“Well, this is as far as I go. Hope everything turns out good for you, young fella.” I didn’t appreciate seeing the hick's sick excuse for a smile as I opened my eyes. His tiny, triangular yellow teeth hauled some vomit out of my gut as I climbed out of the pickup. “Ever hear of a dentist?” I muttered under my breath as I climbed out of his disgusting vehicle. I sat on a nearby bench. A little old white haired woman passing by threw me a coin. I told her to go fuck herself and nibbled on a green jelly baby.

Across the street, in front of an office building of some sort, a group of desk jockeys were holding banners. ‘No more layoffs!’ and ‘We’re not leaving!’ and ‘Burn the pink slips!’ The desperation on their faces was hilarious. Nothing makes me laugh harder than an entitled peasant on a picket line.

There’s a funny thing about depression. When people around me are depressed, feeling downtrodden and shit on by society, for some reason, I get an intense high. I feel so contempt with the world and my impressive position in it. The looks on these sad losers faces made me feel I could do anything. I've taken shits on toilets that cost more than their houses. Eaten meals that cost more than their pathetic annual salaries.

It started to rain. The determined workers frowns got even bigger, and I started to smile. I hadn’t smiled for so long, and now, this big bright smile was blooming. One of the peasants started to cry. “You can’t do this to me! I’ve got a family to support! It’s not fair!” Tears were running down his stressed little face faster than the rain was dropping. Thunder sounded. Some of the others broke down and wept. My face was lit with joy. You might think it's strange, but other people’s misery always seemed to feed me. I was a starved orphan at a buffet. My face glowing like a lamp. Lightning. More thunder. Hail. I was drenched. A few cars drove by. Little glum faces crouched over their steering wheels, under the protection of their wet windshields. Their sad little lives would be absolutely meaningless if they lost the honour of serving me and mine. The atmosphere filled with the glorious squeaking of windshield wipers. Water from the road splashed the sad little group of unemployed. Some of them had abandoned their banners and gone home, others banged on the office building’s door and wept. I hadn’t felt so good for ages. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop smiling. I was high, high on other people’s misery. I was invincible. What a breathtaking dream! Nothing could break my spirit! I stood up, threw my arms in the air and broke out in song. “I’m singing in the rain! I’m singing in the rain! What a wonderful feeling!”