I regret to inform you that I am currently experiencing the full force of late-stage capitalism’s indifference.
It is freezing outside. I mean “start-questioning-your-life-choices-and-bargaining-with-unseen-forces-it’s-14-degrees-outside” levels of cold. The problem? We ran out of LNG. Why? Because my dad, in his infinite wisdom, forgot to pay for the refill.
Oh, I bet HE’S nice and WARM at work. Probably sitting in some cushy, climate-controlled office, sipping imported coffee, completely unbothered. And what’s he doing with all that comfort and stability? Helping workers unionize for better pay? Fighting for the proletariat? NO. He’s designing fucking robots to replace human labor so that corporations can outsource to other countries and pay workers even less while raking in record profits.
Dis. Gus. TING.
So here I am, a proud and defiant anarcho-communist, essentially camping inside my own home. The revolution has been postponed because I am currently living like a Victorian street urchin.
Survival Tactics I Have Deployed:
• Oven on 450°F, door open – This is now my personal hearth of resistance. I sit before it, wrapped in blankets, absorbing its capitalist-provided heat like some kind of post-apocalyptic warlord.
• Layering like a medieval peasant – I am currently wearing every article of clothing I own like I am about to cross the Siberian tundra, but in reality, I am just trying to not die while scrolling Tumblr.
• Blanket fort construction – If you think I didn’t immediately fashion a barricade of fabric and despair, you don’t know me. My kitchen now resembles a makeshift commune, but the only mutual aid I’m receiving is from the electric oven and my own body heat.
Philosophical Considerations in This Trying Time:
• The State Will Not Save You.
• Private utilities are a scam.
• I am paying for my father’s sins.
• This is basically anarchist training camp.
• If I do not survive, tell Vicki I love them (but not enough to join CPUSA).
If I freeze to death, let history remember me as a martyr of utility company negligence. If I survive, I will radicalize harder than ever. Until then, I will continue staring into the abyss of my open oven, contemplating existence.
