This is some real shit. We gotta enjoy things. Hating everything is a recipe for self defeat.
this post was submitted on 20 Mar 2026
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Flippanarchy
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There's an annoying amount of people that believe that having fun and being joyful is not allowed when bad things are happening in the world.
They seem to know that bad things are always happening though...
In the dark times, should the stars also go out?
Thanks I needed to hear this
bloom is necessary for the worlds blossoming, duh
Let’s dance while the world burns! I’ll get the fiddle.
No everything has to be serious at all times and we cannot find any humor in the absurdity of hell world.
The last time I smiled was on November 15th, 2011.
I wear an unwashed battlevest at all times, cannot grow hair, and do not bathe because that would violate the non-aggression pact with my skin microbiome.
Every day I liberate and consume 35 buns from the Jack in the Box dumpster. I eat them randomly throughout the day because set mealtimes are a weapon of the state. Any extra I use to cultivate a custom strain of Penicillin in the event that the bacteria violates the NAP first.
I do not sleep on a bed, that would be putting myself above furniture and I will not participate in the creation of a hierarchy. There is a maple tree that allows me to rest my head on its lowest branch in exchange for my labor in chasing off the woodpecker. I do not actually chase away the woodpecker, I bribe it with bugs from the dumpster. The bugs started it by biting me when I was finding bread.
In the evenings I barter for a can of PBR. I only open it if I cannot find a police officer to throw it at.
Food Not Bombs banned me when I glassed another volunteer for asking if I would give them one of my buns. I did not stab them for wanting the bun, I stabbed them for using the word "give" which would imply a charitable relationship rather than mutual assistance. I will not be forced into a hierarchy. I let them keep the bottle as a token of goodwill.
I will not allow plumbing in my house because plumbing is a weapon of the state. Every shit I take is taken on the flag of a state that should not exist. I dispose of my shit flags by lighting them on fire and throwing them at their respective embassies. I am running out of embassies.
My house is an assemblage of tents recovered from Occupy Wall Street in the middle of Liberty Park. I am still occupying wall street. They forgot to check the sewers.
I have a single friend in this world and it is a liver fluke named Emma that I met after ingesting spoiled pottage on 9/11 while protesting outside the Pentagon security checkpoint (I am outraged that a plane crash received more media coverage than my four year long protest. I did enjoy the vibes).
I have neither income nor debt. I refuse to touch money because it is issued by the state.
The IRS has a grudge against me because the trust fund my grandfather left me has never paid taxes. This was his attempt to force me into a hierarchy. I will not touch the trust because money is a weapon of the state.
I own 97 Mossberg shotguns that I have liberated from police cruisers. I left every shell behind because lead is bad for the environment. I have a single shotshell loaded with steel turkey shot that I bartered from a hunter for half of a Natural American Spirit cigarette.
My PhDs in Computer Science and 19th century Russian philosophy sit on my desk in my home to remind me of the hierarchical nature of education. My desk is the frame from my medical diploma. I leave it on the ground because sitting on a chair would force the chair below me in a hierarchy.
My chair is a Herman Miller Aeron that I liberated from Twitter headquarters when everyone was focusing on Elon Musk's sink. The chair agreed that coming with me would be mutually beneficial. The chair and I have been seeking consensus on a mutually beneficial seating arrangement for two years.
During the latest BLM protests I firebombed a Nikes outlet in the middle of a peaceful candlelit vigil.
William F Buckley and I wrote hatemail to one another for 47 years until my final letter gave him an aneurysm. My letters were hand delivered on bricks I liberated from Home Depot.
The only water I drink is from puddles.
The Wachowskis and I dropped estrogen together during a Soros-funded summer camp for aspiring crisis actors and they went on to write The Matrix about our time together.
The best way to test whether an electrical wire is live is to drool on it and shrimp salad is racist. Uncle Ted taught me his preferred mixing ratio for smokeless powder but also told me that black powder is more fun.
Every time a business owner files a restraining order against me, I carve a mark into the wall.
I am running out of walls.
When Amerikkka finally collapses I will be able to retire.
I am very smart and people like being around me.
If you found this as a copy pasta somewhere then I need to know where. If you birthed this copy pasta from your own mind then I love you.
The original "dirty ushanka" copypasta came from hexbear user Fidel Castro.
https://hexbear.net/post/222575
No, everything has to be serious at all times and we cannot find any humor in the absurdity of hell world. The last time I smiled was on August 19th, 1991. I wear a dirty ushanka at all times, do not shave, and only take cold sponge baths because hot running water is bourgeoisie decadence.
Every day at exactly noon I have the same meal of an expired Maoist MRE I store in a pit covered in old issues of a revolutionary newspaper. I sleep in a bed made of flags from every failed revolution so that they are never forgotten. In the evenings I stare at a picture of vodka by candlelight, but I do not allow myself to drink because there is nothing to celebrate. Every local org has banned me after I attempted to split it by assassinating the leadership.
There is no plumbing in my house I shit in a brass bucket with a picture of Gonzalo and Deng french kissing in the bottom of it. My house is actually an overturned T34 in an abandoned junkyard in Wisconsin.
I have a single friend in this world and it is a tapeworm named Bordiga that I met after ingesting spoiled borscht on 9/11 in the ruins of building 7 (I blew it up after finding that a nominally leftist NGO inside of it wasn’t sufficiently anti-imperialist, the attacks on the world trade center were a perfect revolutionary moment for me to enact direct praxis against liberalism). My sole source of income is various MLM schemes in the former soviet bloc that have been running for so long no one remembers who I am, they just keep sending money.
I have not paid taxes since McGovern lost the Democratic nomination for president and my faith in electoralism died more brutally than my childhood dog after it got into an entire jar of tylenol.
I own 29 fully automatic rusted kalashnikovs and three crates of ammunition entirely incompatible with them or any other firearms I own. My double PHD in marxist economics and 18th century Swiss philosophy (required to understand Engels) sits over the fireplace of my home, my fireplace is a salvaged drum from a 1950s washing machine that was recalled for locking children inside of it. I chose that washing machine model on purpose because I am anti-natalist.
During the latest BLM protests I firebombed a Nikes outlet in the middle of a peaceful candlelit vigil. William F Buckley and I wrote hatemail to one another for 47 years until my final letter gave him an aneurysm. The only water I drink is from puddles. George Lucas and I dropped acid together during an MKULTRA southern baptist summer camp and he went on to write the movie Willow about our time together.
The best way to test whether an electrical wire is live is to drool on it and shrimp salad is racist. You can make an IED out of potassium and the instructions are online thanks to Timothy McVey, who was actually a committed antifascist communist slandered by the deep state as part of operation condor.
Every time a liberal files a restraining order against me, I carve a mark into the wall. I am running out of walls. When Amerika finally collapses I will be ready to lead the revolution. I am very smart and people like being around me.
spoiler an anarchist version was specifically requested
Oh, you got that finding joy money?
You gotta find joy either way
Camus got u np