Abolish EVERYTHING
By Anarchist Prisoner Sean Swain
When I saw the parole board in August 2021, I had served 30 years in prison for what was provably an act of self defense, a noncrime. The lead fuckweasel on the parole board asked me about the circumstances of those events, and I shared with him my sincere remorse that the man who broke into my home had died, and had died as a result of the wounds I inflicted.
With a dismissive wave, that fuckweasel said, “We don’t really care about that. You’ve done enough time for that…,” and he began to bullet-point snippets from statements of mine that he said “concern” the parole board. Chief among those was my campaign slogan when I ran for governor in 2014.
In my gubernatorial campaign, I had said, “Turn your ballot into a bullet and blast it through the brainpan of the body politic.” So, in a very disingenuous reinvention of that slogan, the lead fuckweasel, with a straight face, said that the parole board understood that statement as a threat on the life of the governor, Mike DeWine. It was such a veiled threat, it seems, that no one interpreted the slogan that way except… well… the parole board.
Not to get too deep into the weeds on legal analysis here, but what I said in 2014 wasn’t a threat. The U.S. Supreme Court has long ago parsed out what constitutes threats from protected speech, what can be punished from what can’t, and while I fully understand that parole board fuckweasels never had a civics class because Ohio spends more money on prisons than on their sucky schools, you’ll never convince me that any one of those fascists thought that I wanted people to cram chunks of paper into pistols and try to fire them at Mike DeWine– as if the act of eliminating one fuckweasel would accomplish anything anyway. The absence of Mike DeWine would just be a job opening for Jon Husted, another fuckweasel of the highest order.
The point, of course, is that the parole board’s targeting of my political speech was illegal and they knew it… and they didn’t care.
The implicit message thy sent was pretty clear: Shut up. While they intend for me to die in prison, not for any crime but because I have an ideology better than their tired and unimaginative drivel, they want me to do it silently, my chin tucked against my chest, my mouth closed, waiting out years or decades buried inside the super-duper-max until I finally sputter out.
They can fuck off. Twice on Sundays.
I’m running for president.
Abolish EVERYTHING. Swain 2024.
This just might be my year. The two doddering, incoherent windbags running against me can’t get more than 35% of their own supporters to feel enthusiastic about them. One, his greatest accomplishment is nappy time; the other promises to usher in a new Reich.
Really, both of those bozos are more dangerous to DUHmocracy than I am, and I’m *trying* to trash it.
My campaign was launched on Instagram, @mongoosedistro and now consolidated, @realswainiac1969.
I’m promising to abolish the United States and bring about total an complete decolonization. I’m enforcing strict immigration restrictions back to 1492, loading hundreds of millions of crazy white people with bibles and guns onto cruise ships, hoping they port someplace that will take them.
Canada, maybe? I don’t know.
I expect my term in office to take about ninety days and then we’ll dance naked around a bonfire where the White House used to be. But this isn’t the end of it. It’s just the beginning. Don’t forget that when the U.S. goes up in smoke over night, so does trillions of dollars in debts owed to other nations. So, those countries, relying on payment of U.S. debt– or, at least, payment on the interest on those loans – will also be radically destabilized.
We’re talking an end to the global system of crapital.
While my prior campaigns were strictly political theater, we’re now facing a very new reality where even the mindless zombies shambling to the polls would prefer to scrap the whole stinking system and take the consequences, rather than vote for either of the rich, old bastard sock-puppets with corporate parties’ hands shoved up their geriatric asses. Given what DUHmocracy offers, the general consensus is that we need a national dumpster fire.
I’ll bring the gas. You bring the matches.
I’ve got two strategies for getting elected. Neither of them involve actually getting voters to vote for me. Fuck votes? Who needs votes to get elected?
My first strategy is TRIAL BY COMBAT. I challenge Biden and Trump to get in the ring– a no holds barred; no pinfall; submission only; tables, ladders and chairs cage-match on live television, globally simulcast. Winner take all. To make this more fair, I’ll make this a four-on-one handicap match, with Trump and Biden AND their running mates against me, all alone. The last one standing wins the oval office.
There’s precedent for this. Some famous dead guy once pulled a sword out of a rock to win office. Another famous dead guy killed a giant with a stone from a slingshot. So, given this history, and given the questionability of the vote count, I’m invoking trial by combat.
This makes far more sense than voting. And it’s more entertaining. I’ll wake up Sleepy Joe just long enough to put him back to sleep. I’ll superplex that lumbering orange badger from the top turnbuckle. If his running mate is Marjorie Taylor Green, I’ll zap her with a Jewish space laser.
They’ll tap. I’ll win. Swivelization will end.
So, for this strategy, we need a social media campaign to shame the Hierarchs into getting in the ring, and then I’ll take it from there. I’ll soon be down to my ideal fighting weight.
My second strategy, if the Hierarch cowards won’t get in the ring, is to inspire support from the folks who really matter in any U.S. election: Russian trolls. We need Russian hackers, Boris an Natasha, to see that I’m their guy; that installing me will bring down the U.S. once and for all. They can work their magic on those Venezuelan voting machines and then I’ll work my own magic, dropping the government like a building demolition, right in its own footprint. If we can elevate my campaign’s social media profile, Boris and Natasha can simply alter the vote count and give me 99% of the vote.
Say goodbye to the United States government, to the crapitalist order, to the reign of nation states everywhere. By spring, if it all goes as planned, we’ll all be hunter gatherers, crushing grain on the shoulder of some forgotten superhighway, lighting tribal fires with dead constitutions, the planet having a moment to breathe and heal.
It’s appropriate, I think, that all of this begins from prison– the symbolic epicenter for silence, marginalization, and disempowerment, the Hierarchs’ greatest weapon for political, racial, and class intimidation and oppression. Appropriate, I think that from this prison we carry out the demolition of the larger cultural prison holding all of us captive.
Our collective liberation could be right around the corner. We just have to highjack one election.
Abolish EVERYTHING. Swain 2024.
Remember, remember,
The Fifth of November…