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Title: CrimethInc. Manifesto Part 72-A Author: CrimethInc. Date: September 11, 2000 Language: en Topics: CrimethInc., manifesto, Harbinger Source: Retrieved on 6th November 2020 from https://crimethinc.com/2000/09/11/crimethinc-manifesto-part-72-a
Crimethink can be reached from the subway station only by means of a
daring double somersault. It is only a multiple orgasm away from the
checkout counter of the grocery store, and a mere lobbed brick distant
from the witness bench of the courtroom, but it is much harder to access
from the closed playpens of your homes, schools, workplaces, and punk
rock clubs—only a mystical revelation or masterless revolution will
suffice. Crimethink riots rather than diets, so as to love itself body
and soul.
Crimethink cannot be captured by the cameras of the photojournalists.
Crimethink dies on its feet before it lives on its knees, but it’s more
likely to be found on the run in between… just like you, perhaps.
Crimethink is the burning bush in the desert of industrial society,
which can still be found between the thighs of the most mercilessly free
and beautiful. Crimethink is revenge for that fucking flag they put on
the moon.[1]
Crimethink doesn’t speak, it acts, and only speaks when speaking is
acting. Crimethink stakes out its dominion where the body is the jagged
edge of the world, stopping proudly short of the abyss of abstraction.
Crimethink says to you: I put a spell on you, because you’re mine.
For the market manages the managers, hierarchy bosses the bosses,
capitalism owns the owners, but a crimethinker is truly a human being,
free and wild.
One must be enough of a crimethinker to adopt a crimethoughtful stance
towards one’s own crimethink. Crimethink is not CrimethInc.—it is,
rather, the spirit of playful destruction that saves CrimethInc. from
itself.
CrimethInc. throws up contradictions around itself like fences, to
protect itself from ideology, from stiffening—yet still sends out a call
to revolt that will be heard in every corner of the Occupied Territories
by this year’s end. [2]
Listen hard to silence, and you’ll hear thunder deep inside.
CrimethInc. is the hip gnosis of a new youth rebellion that goes beyond
both youth and rebellion. CrimethInc. is a Non-Prophet Organization: it
is full of love, but if it comes down to pledging allegiance, it will be
nadaist rather than dadaist, or -ist at all, for that matter.
CrimethInc. is beautiful: it’s ugly… in a world where every old pretty
thing has been copyrighted by the greeting card companies, the calling
card companies, and the credit card companies, it is a foray into the
unknown, to seek new veins of joy before we all suffocate like yeast in
our own excrement.
CrimethInc. is the cure for the cancers with which they propose to cure
cancer. CrimethInc. sweeps through the streets with fire and banners,
and steals through the classroom in xeroxes and whispers. CrimethInc.
pilots the rudderless ships of the Movement movement, coded into the
paths of those nomads who trade bondage for vagabondage; CrimethInc.
smashes tourism and all other despicable formulas for running in place.
CrimethInc. is the Last Loosening: it is here by order of those out of
order, so that nothing may ever be in order, or made to order, again. O
ye rabble without a cause, CrimethInc. is the ticket out of here you’ve
been waiting for—if you’re willing to cash it in yourself, that is.
CrimethInc. is very much more what you do than what we do.
CrimethInc. is constantly in effect at lockdown face-offs on city
blocks, in banks that are being robbed, on airplanes passing over the
Brazilian desert at sunrise. It maintains office hours in squats under
riot squad siege occupied by boys and girls who have escaped the suburbs
to fall in love. Take the last night train from La Plata to Buenos
Aires, and if the doors are open so you can sit on the steps of the
train listening to the young passengers beating out a samba rhythm on
the seats and singing along behind you as the Argentinean night speeds
past, you might realize there is a letter or a novel you need to
write—and at that moment, you’ll enter an outpost.
CrimethInc. is present wherever anything or anyone is on fire.
CrimethInc.’s field of operations extends as far as there is
crimethought, and beyond, into some places where it is impending or
unnecessary: it speeds through Arctic waters in the wake of comets
fallen and swallowed up by the cold, into mythical Russian cities ringed
by vast rivers at the end of winter—the crack of thawing ice bellowing
into the night, arriving at the magnetic poles[3] where compasses spin,
and moving on to the bottom of the ocean where the waterlogged corpses
of whales lie.
Obviously, gentlemen, if you fear for the morality of your wives, the
education of your children, the peace of mind of your investors, the
submissiveness of your mistresses and house pets, the solidity of your
armchairs and privatized prisons and factory farms, the manner in which
your whorehouses are licensed and the security of the State… then you
are right. But what can you do? You are rotten, and the fire has been
lit.
But as for you would-be revolutionaries, radicals wedded to a license
without limits, girls and boys who love without leave, we urge you:
More rigor in your recklessness!
More ambition in your hedonism![4]
When you’re young,
and it feels like you’re invincible,
it’s because you are.
From this moment forth,
no one shall ever die.
Crimethink is the first stirrings of a new world, smuggled across every
border in the heads and hearts of a dissident nation of millions, thrown
through plate glass windows on notes tied to bricks. It is everything
that evades control—the stolen sick-day at the seashore, the shared meal
free when the manager is away, the city street liberated for an hour
during a demonstration… the proud look in her eyes when she walks into
the principal’s office holding her girlfriend’s hand.
CrimethInc. is the underground railroad from this world to the next. Hop
on.
[1] …and you know why they put it there? Because there’s no oxygen, so
we can’t burn it.
[2] Don’t believe us? Well, you’ve heard it, haven’t you?
[3] It’s important to point out here that the magnetic poles are not
actually fixed—they wander across the surface of the earth. That is, in
fact, exactly the kind of voyage sanctioned and undertaken by
CrimethInc. operatives: invisible, detectable only by effects registered
thousands of miles away, yet of global implication…
[4] …and vice versa, vice being the key word.