Memes and the Greek Far Right

Do not misunderstand me. I will be talking about nazis. I do not use the term "far right" out of embarrassment. I only use it to refer to a group that includes but is not limited to the obvious, unevolved skinhead.
In greece there is a rather wide spectrum of douchebags. By douchebags I mean right wing scumfucks. Let us find out more about them and their recent weird relationship to internet memes.

I will start randomly and move in no particular order. First there is LAOS (Laikos Orthodoxos Synagermos which can be loosely translated as Popular Orthodox Alarm and yes it is as stupid as it sounds). They are a populist fascist party. They do not present themselves as full blown nazis mainly because that would not serve their purpose but rest assured they are about as fascist as you can get without shaving your head and tattooing a huge swastika on it. Recently, I read this article in one of the greek blogs I enjoy. It showed this:

It is a sticker on a non-descript surface by the youth branch of the party. It features Success Kid with its shirt in a different colour to match the party's. I wont bother translating the shit they say because it is fascist propaganda but notice the "muslim mob" at the back. That should convince everyone what they are about. I will not comment yet. There is more.

Next there is Nea Dimokratia (New Democracy), a neoliberal conservative party with a much longer history than the rest of the scumfucks presented here. However, I am semi-cheating here. The fuckwit I will be presenting has only recently moved to this party from the one mentioned above. Rest assured though he is a fascist piece of shit just like the rest of them. He also proves that the two parties, even though presented differently, cater to the same idiots. Without further ado:

Yah! It is Islamic Rage Boy. As you can imagine he says and believes shitty things about immigrants and I wont soil this place with it. Total fucking shitstain. I will not comment yet. But here are some close ups of him:

And another one:

And yet another one:

These are not momentary derps by the way. That's how he looks (and thinks) all the time.

And then there are my favourites. Chrysi Avgi or Golden Dawn. They are about as nazi as can fit in a shitbag. And then a little more. They are thick, ugly, unevolved and pretty much fucking evil. They deserve to die horribly in a fire and hopefully they will. But hark! Do I hear the sound of fucking nazis being dumb as shit? Why yes! Yes I do. First, people mistakenly thought that this meme was an actual member of this neonazi party:

Which is understandable because they actually look like this. No, they really do. OK fine, here you go:

See? I told you. Nazis are idiots and they look it.
And then this happens:

Ring a bell? I swear to fuck. They are not even trying to avoid ridicule. That's another nazi in the nazi party by the way. Notice the detail behind him. It is a nazi grenade, may it be live and explode in his face.

So now it is time to comment. There is an underlying theme here and it is not conservative stupidity. That is self-evident. I mean look at them. Do I have to try and prove that they are morons? They are also pretty obviously ugly but not in an aesthetic way. More in an unevolved kind of way. The same way that most of us would find pond scum unattractive.

No. The underlying theme here is that these people are as absurd and idiotic and detachedly funny as some of the most successful memes on the internet. This is so true that nobody is actually trying to do this to them. They are doing it all by themselves. Accidentally. They cannot hide the stupid.

The Wine God

Join the Bacchanal

Prozac People

I'm sick and tired of you. Yeah, you. The one that feels the need to maintain equal distances from everything. The one that is absolutely certain they are the voice of reason. All of you. I'm tired of your smug superiority and the obvious conviction that you are somehow more educated, more knowledgeable than me, than us.

No, I don't care that I sound fanatical to you. Why would I, since you so obviously confuse fanaticism with passion/pathos. I care a little that you call me stupid, or ignorant, but not because I value your opinion, no. I care because it is frustrating to be called that by idiots.

I can't, in good conscience, suffer you anymore. Your opinion is no longer a valid one. It is not informed and as such is not important. I know that if it were up to you, the world would be a flatness with no end in sight. You would playfully joke about political correctness while meticulously upholding it, all the while using it as a mantle for your various inequities.

I know that if I let you have your way, there would be no ups or downs. If we let you have your way, we would have to suffer not only you but the endless violences of our daily lives. It would be miseries all the way down and you would make us feel guilty about the way we felt, thought, talked and acted. Really, I know that if you could, you would probably medicate us.

So, I suppose this is my very roundabout way of saying, fuck you rationalists. You can suck my hairy irrational ass.

Leviathan

What Is To Be Undone

The hate and the violence in my heart, you put it there. All I am doing is trying to get rid of it. Every stone, every hit, every smashing thing, every barricade on fire carries a little hate with it. A tiny bit of violence that you gave me without asking me if I wanted it. So now you're getting it back.

And one day, when it has all left me. I will realise that I have no more hatred to give. No more violence to return to you. I'll probably cry.

Ignorance and Fear

This is a 1918 german anti-anarchism propaganda poster. It reads: Misery and destruction follow anarchy.

Death to Art Critics

Fuck Roger Ebert. Yes, fuck him. Fuck film critics in general. Some people hate artists because they're pretentious or arrogant. I don't, they're just fools. But art critics. Oh. They are the parasite that feeds off the fool. And everyone else. They survive by trying to convince people that their opinion weighs more than anyone else's. And while they try to convince everyone else they also convince themselves. So they slowly adopt the appearance of a judge, condemning or praising a piece of creation based on their own, oft ill-informed, subjective criteria.
I fucking hate art critics. And most of all film critics. They have even developed their own dialect which they try to make more and more exclusive so that people will feel more and more stupid for not being privy to their secrets. In essence, it is yet another glorified boys' club.
Not to mention they diss films I like and praise some of the dullest, most uninspired shite that was ever shat into creation. So yeah. Fuck them.

Chasseurs de Skins

These young men refused the brand of victimisation through the technique of cracking nazi skulls. And here I am, unable to stop thinking how hot they look.

Post-Revolution Blues

I think I'm suffering from a light case of burn-out. Yesterday I practically pushed myself beyond my limits. I woke up at 7:30 in the morning, had a small and quick breakfast that was going to be my only meal for the next 12 hours. I traveled in a train packed with early commuters to the centre of Athens to meet with the people from my union. There we joined in solidarity with another union to block the entrance to a huge coffee shop that has been using and abusing its employees. That was an amusing way to wake up and start your day. After that we handed out a call for more people to join our union and joined another three unions to form a bloc that then marched all the way to the central square of Athens. I held the banner too.

I was hot, thirsty, possibly sunburnt already and a bit tired. I spent some time with the people I've met in the union and when shit started getting kicked, and they decided to leave, I stayed and watched and participated depending on the tides of battle I suppose. I inhaled cubic arseloads of teargas and various asphyxiants and thank fuck I was wearing a mask otherwise I may have been deadified by now. I came face to face with plenty a pig in all shapes and colours and I walked tens of kilometers.

We built and lit barricades, flung rocks, insults and other debris at cops and tried to protect ourselves and other people, some of whom didn't even want us there. That's the shittiest thing of all. To be treated like an unwanted servant. Fuck you lady. I didn't come here for you, I came here for me. I'm alive and you're still dead. Underneath the mask I'm smiling.

I met a lot of people, I like most of them and I was genuinely happy. I only had water and cigarettes, I was definitely sunburnt and dehydrated by the end of it, very dirty and tired but I was fucking happy. The explosions didn't scare me or the fire. That's not to say I wasn't scared. This was happiness resulting from fears being faced and defeated.

Today, I'm healing. Apparently the government will be changing but that won't change my life. Or the life of most other people. It'll still be "same shit, different asshole". And I'm kind of down today. I feel like a wild animal that has been caged for all its life, has tasted freedom for a day and then has been shoved back in its cage. I still have to find a shitty job to pay my shitty rent. But yesterday. O yesterday I lit fires.

Society of the Spectacle

In contrast to the logic of false consciousness, which cannot truly know itself, the search for critical truth about the spectacle must also be a true critique. It must struggle in practice among the irreconcilable enemies of the spectacle, and admit that it is nothing without them. By rushing into sordid reformist compromises or pseudorevolutionary collective actions, those driven by an abstract desire for immediate effectiveness are in reality obeying the ruling laws of thought, adopting a perspective that can see nothing but the latest news. In this way delirium reappears in the camp that claims to be opposing it. A critique seeking to go beyond the spectacle must know how to wait.

Guy Debord

The slogan ‘Revolution or Death!’ is no longer the lyrical expression of consciousness in revolt: rather, it is the last word of the scientific thought of our century. It applies to the perils facing the species as to the inability of individuals who belong. In a society where it is well known that the suicide rate is on the increase, the experts had to admit, reluctantly, that during May 1968 in France it fell to almost nil. That spring also vouchsafed us a clear sky, and it did so effortlessly, because few cars were burnt and the shortage of petrol prevented the others from polluting the air.

And Not a Single Fuck Was Given That Day

Words Don't Work

They don't, do they? Not always. Just when it's most important that they do work, they fail. Consider the use of words in arguments. From personal experience and from what others have communicated to me over the years words are never enough to shift someone's worldview. And how could they? We grow up in complex systems which give rise to well rooted, ingrained ideas. You think a well thought out, well researched and well presented argument is enough to change that? Fuck no! That would be reasonable.

Look at the world around you, it's full of ideas that shouldn't exist. Control, hierarchy, oppression, prejudice, domination, authority. But these ideas exist and it looks like no amount of argument is going to change that. So if words aren't any good, what's left? Actions I hear you cry in my head, and can you please stop it?

Actions affect the tangible world and everything in it. But what happens if what you want to eradicate an idea? Not make it vanish, because that would deny people choice. Not matter how idiotic an idea may seem you have to be able to choose not to follow it to make the result worth anything at all. What good is it to not be a racist if there's only one race or not be a sexist if there's only one gender? Crude examples I know but the reasoning behind them is sound. But what happens if you want to reveal the shittiness in an idea? To make it clear for everyone to see and to make it a horrible choice. Surely that would be enough to make an idea wither and die, right?

To cut a long story short, I want to know how we can kill ideas. Words don't seem to work and actions have an equally long history, if not longer, of not working. So consider this a call for developing an armoury for fighting ideas. We need it.

Death Wears Bunny Slippers

This is a legitimate patch in the US army given to missileers (that is one funny word). And oh, the cynicism, you could cut it with a knife. Fuckheads.

All Your Base Are Belong To Us

Tonight. I stole a little bit from the world and made it mine. I now have a new limb.

I saw myself smile like I have never smiled before. And I was beautiful. Tonight I ruled the city.

I thought I would be anxious and stressed but I have never been calmer.

Tonight I found one of my lost pieces. And it was good.

A simple formula for how to fuck the police

1) The police are everywhere present because they are everywhere disguised.
2) If the police function to manage disorder and are present everywhere, then so too is disorder.
3) In order to expose the police when they are disguised, disorder can be maximized. Those who respond attempting to put things back in their place are the police.
4) When the police are in the open, but disorder is disguised, disorder has the upper hand.
5) In order to implicate myself as a force in opposition to the police, I side with disorder, and I elaborate the political techniques of scamming, fraud, theft, property destruction, violence, laziness, and anonymity.

taken from "Enemies we know", the Institute for experimental freedom, www.politicsisnotabanana.com

Tinku

Tinku is a punching festival. People shed their grievances along with their blood. Their pagan souls flutter as their fists fly into each others faces in the hope that they will die and have a good crop year. And who are we to judge them? At least they do it with their fists instead of their remotes.