The American Pig and the Art of Klippothic Intersectionality — Part I.
By: Rob Strong
Tags: Acab, Anarchism, Socialism, Direct Action, Housing Crisis

The American Pig and the Art of Klippothic Intersectionality

The night before Thanksgiving, the Pigs dragged women and children out of their beds in the formerly abandoned homes my comrades had sheltered them in, the houses my comrades helped them upkeep beautifully, with lovely gardens, some of the soil of which I helped them till. Some of these people were of the first wave of unhoused families our comrades housed at the CalTrans owned neighborhood of unused houses in El Sereno, once planned for demolition for a new railway, a project years since abandoned. Feeling guilty that I didn’t go and physically stand against the Pigs and protect those families the other night, I drove over this morning, to see who was left. No one. Instead of doing what I really wanted to do, I put on my badge that shows that I, too, am a public service worker, employed by the county, paid by the public, just like them. I asked them where the families were, so that we might try to assist them. They didn’t know, and they didn’t care. They just gave me the front desk number to CHP in Sacramento. I asked them if they ever considered disobeying orders they found unethical and even wicked. They shrugged and said they weren’t allowed to express personal opinions, only to follow orders. I told them that must be why cops drink so much. I looked at the two Hispanic cops, a man and a woman, both athletic suburbanites who probably live somewhere in Santa Clarita in a gated McMansion neighborhood where everything smells like a freshly opened can of tennis balls, sterile, and rubber. I view these Latinx cops with even more derision than I feel towards white cops, more like the derision I feel towards the class traitor street gangs who shake down hard working elderly street vendors for gang-taxes. Middle class bourgeois kids going straight from high school to the police force is to be expected. When your ancestors were indigenous to this land, and you’re dragging other such indigenous people out of their houses at night, houses with no owners, you are of the type that would have shown Spanish conquistators around towned, helped them butcher your cousins if they’d give you some of that fancy armor. Come se dice Uncle Tom, foo?

Santa Clarita cops living in sterile mcmansions only go into nature within the militarized exoskeletons of speed boats and atv’s. Nature, a thing to be conquered. These are men uncomfortable in nature, uncomfortable in their own skin, uncomfortable in anything besides their uniform or their nylon Underarmour and Costco shirts (and big ass Oakley sunglasses). These are men who went straight from high school football bullies into a job that allows them to do that with impunity on the tax payer dime. They are nothing outside of their uniforms but vacant-eyed non-individuals, killing off duty hours in hours in their suburban homes with action movies, beer, and shitty jock rock. These are the guys who pound beers driving to and from the gym, knowing all they have to do is flash that badge to get a pass. I won’t say who or when, but one time I was riding in a van with one of these cops, on a family-related event I was coerced into attending. He had to stop into a 711 to pour vodka into his Big Gulp to stop the shakes. He had a van load of children. I made him pour it out. He wasn’t used to being told what to do. He complied. We had lots of talks thereafter. He showed me his human side. Then he went back into his shell and succumbed to alcoholism. I’m more of a socialist than an anarchist. I think societies need an accountable, tax-funded police force if for anything else, to keep the rich from crushing us with their own militias. But the line between those militias and the police force in America, military as well, has completely disappeared. The Blue Lives Matter flag might as well be a swaztika. In some countries, guys in the military and police join peoples’ mobilizations towards justice. The military and police in America are unreformable, given the blue code of silence and compliance. They are not servants of the public. They are hungry souls of the non-living, inhabiting steroid and alcohol bloated bodies, waiting for their day to retire, waiting for their day to die, probably with the television on. Because silence is a howling void for those who have never developed a soul.