As your typical American liberal college student, there are many things I like. Not only do I enjoy pulling a knitted beanie over my unkempt mane before heading out to the quad with my acoustic guitar and a hackey sack, but I also like Islamic extremism. I mean, isn't it time somebody stood up to our corrupt government and told Dick Cheney, "No, you can't just steal our oil"?
“I could sit here and sing songs to you all day, or I could actually help eliminate these capitalist pigs surrounding us.”My dad always put a lot of pressure on me to go to law school, but the fact is, why should I become just another cog in the machinery of death and oppression? Besides repealing prohibition and landing men on the moon, name one good thing our so-called "democracy" has done…. And according to this dude on MySpace, the moon landing never even happened! Not only that, but did you know that the 9/11 attacks were actually carried out by Israeli agents working for the CIA? Check it out for yourself; it's on the same MySpace page. And that is a lot more credible than the lackeys of big industry broadcasting on Fox News or CNN.
We are dealing with some pretty messed-up stuff here. Sometimes not even my pirated Jack Johnson will clear my head of the consumerist, materialistic culture that is constantly bombarding me with their capitalistic propaganda. Just like Nazi Germany, our government is convincing people that is good and everything else is bad.
But I stand proud in my Ben Davis slacks and Che Guevara t-shirt that I wear when I know a lot of people will be looking at me. I might sip a Red Bull as I contemplate the atrocities our government commits on a regular basis: killing all those Indians, nuking Japan, polluting the environment with industrial waste…but I can no longer stand passively by and let those Indians continue to be given blankets contaminated with smallpox. If they die out, who will host the peyote ceremonies?
So the time has come for me to take the only ethical act left available to me: I am studying the Koran, moving to Pakistan, getting trained at a terrorist camp, and hopefully wasting plenty of imperialist scum. Only, I have to wait for my dry cleaning to come back. There is now way I am catching a plane to Pakistan without my Phish t-shirt and a sack of some crucial buds. When I get off the plane, I want my soon-to-be-terrorist friends to know what I'm about. I want them to know that we are brothers under the skin. I want them to like me. Then, we will chill for a bit and sample some of the local cuisine while I give them burned copies of Phish's Big Cypress show. I will put on "Moma Dance." Then we'll get down to business. And in the evening, I'll find the village psychiatrist and maybe talk a little bit about my total dickwad of a dad.