Modified Anarchy

©2023 Elder Road Books
Originally drafted in 1985
Never published

YES, I DO CONSIDER MYSELF a prisoner. Even though I’m not currently in jail. They told me I’d be watched. One slip and they would put me away forever.

Soon after I started publishing letters, they summoned me to Washington where I refused to register as the representative of a foreign government. What government? Do they think I like the communists better than the capitalists? That I’d rather live in a monarchy? That the alternate universe I created for a work of fiction is real? They’re all the same—intolerable.

So, they said, “Then what political party are you?” That is as ridiculous a question as what government I represent. What difference is there between the parties? Who even put in the constitution that there was a two-party system? I read the document, but didn’t find that in it.

As John Adams, the second president of the United States, said: “There is nothing which I dread so much as a division of the republic into two great parties, each arranged under its leader, and concerting measures in opposition to each other. This, in my humble apprehension, is to be dreaded as the greatest political evil under our Constitution.”

So, if I have to make a statement, it’s this: I’m a modified anarchist. As Wesley said, “All law is oppressive. The lack of law is a law in and of itself.” (The Book of Wesley, CCX, 209-210)

I just reached the point where the amount of oppression in our country exceeded what I could tolerate. One day I rebelled. The less law the better! Limit laws to things that allow people to live together and get rid of everything else. Stop trying to legislate morality. And that, in my opinion, eliminates the need for congress.

Mind you, congress is not the only lawmaker. I’ve had it with Fifth Avenue advertising agencies, as well. They are the ones who pass judgment on what I wear, what and where I eat, what kind of car I drive, and what I wipe my butt with.

Now get this: Somebody in a plush office on the 37th floor is spending his time analyzing how I choose toilet paper. It’s downright invasion of privacy. What business is it of theirs how I choose toilet paper?

So, I decided I was tired of being used by these bastards to line their pockets with silver. Now when I go to a store or shop for anything, I buy nothing for which I can sing the jingle. I don’t see the USA in a Chevrolet. I don’t eat food by Libby’s Libby’s Libby’s. If I can choose between something I’ve never heard of before and a brand advertised on television, I choose the one I never heard of. (I tried to update this, but the classic jingle has been replaced by the sonic identity—usually not more than five notes.)

When politicians started plastering the median of our boulevard with yard signs splashing their names in large letters, I put up my own sign. It simply said, “Vote for someone else!” If, on your ballot, you recognize the name from a yard sign, vote for someone else. Why vote for a litterbug?

One of the worst things ever invented was the credit card bill. It was bad enough to get a statement of all the stupid ways I wasted money in the past month; but they have gone one better. They send a whole envelope full of other advertisements of the stupid things I might have missed when I was in the store. And the amount of the advertisements is always right around the same as the amount due on the bill. That’s so you can never pay off the debt.

For a long time, I just dumped them all in a paper bag and threw them in the incinerator. Then, of course, they banned outside burning, and we had to pay for someone to come around once or twice a week and cart away all this trash we get in the mail. So, I decided that anything they sent me, I’d send back. They kindly included a postage-paid envelope for my check. I just staple all the advertisements that come, order blanks and all, to the check, write “no thank you” on them, and send them back.

I have even decided to write notes to the blank faces that receive my payment envelopes chock full of all the garbage they send me. I let them know the date of receipt of the bill and the date of payment as proof that I am not ‘over 30 days.’ I tell them when to send the next bill for fastest payment. I let them know what I think of the things they have sent me. And now I have begun enclosing order blanks for my books so they can order and pay me. (Of course, in 2023, no one gets a paper credit card bill. They simply have to wade through advertisements for anything they’ve already bought on Facebook or in email.