So you think you’re pretty hard and insouciantly radical, ay? So you thought writing epic poems to the passion of crack-fuelled wildcat strikes on sheaves of Derrida’s skin, with a pen carved from a bullet and with ink of bankers’ blood and absinthe, was pretty out-there? So you thought you could impress us as you snorted glass fibres while listening to Merzbow with dynamite strapped to your ass and a brick on the accelerator as the Body Shop warehouse gates loomed towards you? Then you are as reformist as a union bureaucrat’s beige underpants, because as compared to the po(li/e)tical apocalytechnics of Slavoj Žižek and Ben Watson’s Lenino-TrotskyismTOTHEX-TREME!!! Your ‘poetic terrorism’ is as a hamster’s belch to a magnetar. Read the rest of this entry »

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