Dear revolutionaries, communists (and not): I am writing an open letter to understand. For years you have (at least, so you said) "organized the revolution" or at least "prepared the revolt". You wrote rivers of ink on how the end of the system was imminent (Tizio, Caio and even Sempronio had foreseen it, to keep silent about Luisa) and you had to be ready.
Well. The end of the system has come. Capitalism is firm, pleading for aid, otherwise it will not be able to rise again. Their words, huh. The industrialists are exhausted. The middle class is simply annihilated. People buy only the bare minimum. Millions of people are starving, and even in the American dream temple millions of Americans a day sign up for unemployment lists. There were the first looting of the supermarkets. Governments are discredited, the army is busy doing other things, and the first outbreaks of infection occur in the American fleet.The only country that has managed to stop the epidemic (and the numbers of a communist regime, as it is known, they are absolute truth) is a communist country.
Can we know what you're still waiting for? There are all the conditions you have always expected, plus some that you have not dreamed of even in your wettest dreams. You have (your words) prepared for years. Of course, I have always been a little skeptical about a preparation based on punk concerts, drugs, alcohol and little personal hygiene. But I'm probably too bourgeoise myself: I'm sure you're a sharp, razor-sharp revolution machine.
Can you know what the hell are you doing? Do you beat the limp? Are you camouflaging yourself pending the assault? If so, you are really good: you have camouflaged the revolution like never before. Your ability to take governments down in secret is admirable. A brilliant strategy.
It almost seems that you are all at home, terrified by the traffic wardens who make you a fine (the Tsar of Russia, indeed, only had the Okrana, but he was lacking in urban policemen), and instead underneath, in secret, you are subverting the system . Conte doesn't know, but he was executed last week.
Or you are a club of historical re-enactment: there are some who dress as Celts, others dress as Romans, and you dress as Bolsheviks. You have never told us, but you are just a nice club of big cocks that, between a party and a concert, between a beer and a cane, has fun dressing themed. Who dresses in Che Guevara, who from Marx, there is a lot of pussy and a lot of dancing. And you make the little train.
It is not possible to explain in any other way the absence of revolutions in recent months. It's like (forgive me the sexist comparison) if you were naked, next to a sumptuous double bed, than those with the canopy. On the bed there is, excited and willing (and willing, never be) that begs you to start. What are you doing? “Sorry, but I can't, I left my health shirt at home. I risk a cold ").
Isn't the disappointment on the poor girl's face understandable? But let's abandon the sheep metaphors, and ask ourselves: what's next? And after? А после?
Here, now that you have lost all credibility as a historical reenactment club, you must ask yourself what you can do next . I mean: insurrectional anarchists, revolutionary communists, who believes you the most? You will also have discreet parties, but you don't live on foreplay alone. So what to do?
I see for you a future of Feng Shui. It suits you. The simple act of placing a bedside table requires reflections on the universe, cosmic energies, yin and yang. It will be a little step to include also the criticism of the system and the historical materialism, for you so accustomed to
Pippon speeches about big systems.
The revolution was only the beginning. Feng Shui is the future. Proletarians from all over the world, remove that mirror from the wall, the social classes want it east of the sofa. Hasta IKEA cuisine always. Materialism, empiriocriticism and SKOFFALA shelves to be mounted comfortably at home: hard Allen key, without fear.
Be careful of you, hangers: a few more months, and you will all be hanging.
LOL. What a shitty figure, guys. Che.Figura.Di.Merda.