Days late and dollars short.

When did antagonism and self-expression become one and the same? When did the generalizing and exclusion of an entire group become our primary method of recognizing a kindred spirit? When did venom and hatred, even when we’re the ones vomiting it out into the world, solve anything?

I am not an activist. I do not associate with any unions, -isms, or causes if I can help it. Maybe I am a misanthrope. Maybe I am naturally averse to groups or organizations. But really, I believe that what I truly dislike are the cultures that inevitably spread like gangrene to encompass these things. I dislike the self-conscious posturing, the inability to co-exist with those who disagree with you on certain key issues, and the ingenuous calls for positive change only while others are watching, or at least listening. I dislike the elevation of the concept of “tolerance” to a meaningless and comic level, as if passionate disagreement and respect for our fellow man (or woman) are mutually exclusive. I dislike the way all these elements work together just to form another “us” (or, when I am on the other side of things, another “you”) with which we can then exclude “them”.

The most common complaint I’ve heard about the Iron Rail, despite the dear (and filthy) place it holds in my heart, is the “clubhouse” feel of it, an air about the place that makes people feel unwelcome who are not of this subculture or that subculture. And while I would like to think that these are just isolated incidents from people who become nervous in proximity to those of us with different clothes or hairstyles, when we set out to purposefully offend (or rather, “challenge”) I can’t help but think they’re probably right. If we take out an ad that depicts violence against cops, aren’t we taking a certain stance on the police (and I’m not assigning blame, as I didn’t say anything and even voted my approval when the ad I’m referring to was being discussed, and we were rushed on the issue to begin with)? If we force people to leave our store or one of our events because we think they’re “pigs” (wishful thinking, in my opinion, to make us feel important as some nexus of the revolution that “big brother” has deemed worth his notice) what does that say? What does it accomplish? Assume they are cops, all we’ve done is reinforce their preconceptions and give them reason to cause us grief when previously we weren’t worth much of their time. Consider if they’re not, and all we’ve done is mistreat a stranger. If a cop wants to participate, I say let them. If they mean us harm, they will visit it upon us regardless.

Which brings me to a similar idea, a hatred of religion (can priests become cops? Man, we’d really hate them.) Offending a Christian is consistently an easy way to get a laugh, and I’ll admit to having told my fair share of altar boy jokes (and pope jokes, and priest jokes, and transsexual nun jokes, and Jew jokes, and an endless parade of sodomy jokes, and… fuck, I’m a pretty terrible person, aren’t I?), but I will forgive myself on the basis of, if anything, scale. If we purposefully put out imagery that intends, or if not intends, then clearly expresses an attitude we know is likely to offend, aren’t we ironically “preaching to the choir”? We can pat ourselves on the back when our like-minded Jesus haters come together under our banner, and equally celebrate that any of those god freaks will likely be put off by our display, the theological equivalent to “niggers not welcome”. Is radical thought meant to only educate and challenge those most likely to have come to its doorstep of their own volition, without our solicitations? If I believe in god (and I do, despite being the world’s worst and most adamantly non-practicing Catholic) am I unwelcome? If I wear a uniform am I not worth engaging?

I think it is inevitable that people of one ideology will be placed into conflict with certain opposing institutions, groups, and philosophies. But instead of generic soundbites, rendering us merely the anarchist counterparts to Ann Coulter, why not focus that rage born from a realization of the way the world should be onto what we are really angry with. Which is another discussion entirely, and a time-consuming one, much more involved and difficult than shaking our fist at what we believe to be an empty sky.

It should go without saying, the but the preceding was the diatribe of myself, and no others bear the responsibility for its content. Any and all feedback or complaints should be directed to Leonella, my secretary and assistant, limber mistress of horrifying acts of what, for anyone less emotionally distant, would be considered love.

-James, beloved curmudgeon, eremite, and some would say, prophet.