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67 Comments
- thelastknowngod, on 01/11/2009, -0/+56The winners going to have the stuff mailed to them?
wow - eliot2000, on 01/11/2009, -0/+33Not sure how I'd feel opening the UPS box when it arrives.
- inactive, on 01/10/2009, -2/+33Maybe that Harvard education will finally pay off :/
- KnivesForRobots, on 01/11/2009, -5/+34Ship of Fools
by Ted Kaczynski
Once upon a time, the captain and the mates of a ship grew so vain of their seamanship, so full of hubris and so impressed with themselves, that they went mad. They turned the ship north and sailed until they met with icebergs and dangerous floes, and they kept sailing north into more and more perilous waters, solely in order to give themselves opportunities to perform ever-more-brilliant feats of seamanship.
As the ship reached higher and higher latitudes, the passengers and crew became increasingly uncomfortable. They began quarreling among themselves and complaining of the conditions under which they lived.
“Shiver me timbers,” said an able seaman, “if this ain’t the worst voyage I’ve ever been on. The deck is slick with ice; when I’m on lookout the wind cuts through me jacket like a knife; every time I reef the foresail I blamed-near freeze me fingers; and all I get for it is a miserable five shillings a month!”
“You think you have it bad!” said a lady passenger. “I can’t sleep at night for the cold. Ladies on this ship don’t get as many blankets as the men. It isn’t fair!”
A Mexican sailor chimed in: “¡Chingado! I’m only getting half the wages of the Anglo seamen. We need plenty of food to keep us warm in this climate, and I’m not getting my share; the Anglos get more. And the worst of it is that the mates always give me orders in English instead of Spanish.”
“I have more reason to complain than anybody,” said an American Indian sailor. “If the palefaces hadn’t robbed me of my ancestral lands, I wouldn’t even be on this ship, here among the icebergs and arctic winds. I would just be paddling a canoe on a nice, placid lake. I deserve compensation. At the very least, the captain should let me run a crap game so that I can make some money.”
The bosun spoke up: “Yesterday the first mate called me a ‘fruit’ just because I suck *****. I have a right to suck ***** without being called names for it!”
It’s not only humans who are mistreated on this ship,” interjected an animal-lover among the passengers, her voice quivering with indignation. “Why, last week I saw the second mate kick the ship’s dog twice!”
One of the passengers was a college professor. Wringing his hands he exclaimed, “All this is just awful! It’s immoral! It’s racism, sexism, speciesism, homophobia, and exploitation of the working class! It’s discrimination! We must have social justice: Equal wages for the Mexican sailor, higher wages for all sailors, compensation for the Indian, equal blankets for the ladies, a guaranteed right to suck *****, and no more kicking the dog!”
“Yes, yes!” shouted the passengers. “Aye-aye!” shouted the crew. “It’s discrimination! We have to demand our rights!” The cabin boy cleared his throat.
“Ahem. You all have good reasons to complain. But it seems to me that what we really have to do is get this ship turned around and headed back south, because if we keep going north we’re sure to be wrecked sooner or later, and then your wages, your blankets, and your right to suck ***** won’t do you any good, because we’ll all drown.”
But no one paid any attention to him, because he was only the cabin boy.
The captain and the mates, from their station on the poop deck, had been watching and listening.
Now they smiled and winked at one another, and at a gesture from the captain the third mate came down from the poop deck, sauntered over to where the passengers and crew were gathered, and shouldered his way in amongst them. He put a very serious expression on his face and spoke thusly:
“We officers have to admit that some really inexcusable things have been happening on this ship. We hadn’t realized how bad the situation was until we heard your complaints. We are men of good will and want to do right by you. But – well – the captain is rather conservative and set in his ways, and may have to be prodded a bit before he’ll make any substantial changes. My personal opinion is that if you protest vigorously – but always peacefully and without violating any of the ship’s rules – you would shake the captain out of his inertia and force him to address the problems of which you so justly complain.”
Having said this, the third mate headed back toward the poop deck. As he went, the passengers and crew called after him, “Moderate! Reformer! Goody-liberal! Captain’s stooge!” But they nevertheless did as he said. They gathered in a body before the poop deck, shouted insults at the officers, and demanded their rights: “I want higher wages and better working conditions,” cried the able seaman.
“Equal blankets for women,” cried the lady passenger. “I want to receive my orders in Spanish,” cried the Mexican sailor. “I want the right to run a crap game,” cried the Indian sailor. “I don’t want to be called a fruit,” cried the bosun. “No more kicking the dog,” cried the animal lover. “Revolution now,” cried the professor.
The captain and the mates huddled together and conferred for several minutes, winking, nodding and smiling at one another all the while. Then the captain stepped to the front of the poop deck and, with a great show of benevolence, announced that the able seaman’s wages would be raised to six shillings a month; the Mexican sailor’s wages would be raised to two-thirds the wages of an Anglo seaman, and the order to reef the foresail would be given in Spanish; lady passengers would receive one more blanket; the Indian sailor would be allowed to run a crap game on Saturday nights; the bosun wouldn’t be called a fruit as long as he kept his cocksucking strictly private; and the dog wouldn’t be kicked unless he did something really naughty, such as stealing food from the galley.
The passengers and crew celebrated these concessions as a great victory, but the next morning, they were again feeling dissatisfied.
“Six shillings a month is a pittance, and I still freeze me fingers when I reef the foresail,” grumbled the able seaman. “I’m still not getting the same wages as the Anglos, or enough food for this climate,” said the Mexican sailor. “We women still don’t have enough blankets to keep us warm,” said the lady passenger. The other crewmen and passengers voiced similar complaints, and the professor egged them on.
When they were done, the cabin boy spoke up – louder this time so that the others could not easily ignore him: “It’s really terrible that the dog gets kicked for stealing a bit of bread from the galley, and that women don’t have equal blankets, and that the able seaman gets his fingers frozen; and I don’t see why the bosun shouldn’t suck ***** if he wants to. But look how thick the icebergs are now, and how the wind blows harder and harder! We’ve got to turn this ship back toward the south, because if we keep going north we’ll be wrecked and drowned.”
“Oh yes,” said the bosun, “It’s just so awful that we keep heading north. But why should I have to keep cocksucking in the closet? Why should I be called a fruit? Ain’t I as good as everyone else?”
“Sailing north is terrible,” said the lady passenger. “But don’t you see? That’s exactly why women need more blankets to keep them warm. I demand equal blankets for women now!”
“It’s quite true,” said the professor, “that sailing to the north imposes great hardships on all of us. But changing course toward the south would be unrealistic. You can’t turn back the clock. We must find a mature way of dealing with the situation.”
“Look,” said the cabin boy, “If we let those four madmen up on the poop deck have their way, we’ll all be drowned. If we ever get the ship out of danger, then we can worry about working conditions, blankets for women, and the right to suck *****. But first we’ve got to get this vessel turned around. If a few of us get together, make a plan, and show some courage, we can save ourselves. It wouldn’t take many of us – six or eight would do. We could charge the poop, chuck those lunatics overboard, and turn the ship to the south.”
The professor elevated his nose and said sternly, “I don’t believe in violence. It’s immoral.”
“It’s unethical ever to use violence,” said the bosun.
“I’m terrified of violence,” said the lady passenger.
The captain and the mates had been watching and listening all the while. At a signal from the captain, the third mate stepped down to the main deck. He went about among the passengers and crew, telling them that there were still many problems on the ship.
“We have made much progress,” he said, “But much remains to be done. Working conditions for the able seaman are still hard, the Mexican still isn’t getting the same wages as the Anglos, the women still don’t have quite as many blankets as the men, the Indian’s Saturday-night crap game is a paltry compensation for his lost lands, it’s unfair to the bosun that he has to keep his cocksucking in the closet, and the dog still gets kicked at times.
“I think the captain needs to be prodded again. It would help if you all would put on another protest – as long as it remains nonviolent.”
As the third mate walked back toward the stern, the passengers and the crew shouted insults after him, but they nevertheless did what he said and gathered in front of the poop deck for another protest. They ranted and raved and brandished their fists, and they even threw a rotten egg at the captain (which he skillfully dodged).
After hearing their complaints, the captain and the mates huddled for a conference, during which they winked and grinned broadly at one another. Then the captain stepped to the front of the poop deck and announced that the able seaman would be given gloves to keep his fingers warm, the Mexican sailor would receive wages equal to three-fourths the wages of an Anglo seaman, the women would receive yet another blanket, the Indian sailor could run a crap game on Saturday and Sunday nights, the bosun would be allowed to suck ***** publicly after dark, and no one could kick the dog without special permission from the captain.
The passengers and crew were ecstatic over this great revolutionary victory, but by the next morning they were again feeling dissatisfied and began grumbling about the same old hardships.
The cabin boy this time was getting angry.
“You damn fools!” he shouted. “Don’t you see what the captain and the mates are doing? They’re keeping you occupied with your trivial grievances about blankets and wages and the dog being kicked so that you won’t think about what is really wrong with this ship —- that it’s getting farther and farther to the north and we’re all going to be drowned. If just a few of you would come to your senses, get together, and charge the poop deck, we could turn this ship around and save ourselves.
But all you do is whine about petty little issues like working conditions and crap games and the right to suck *****.”
The passengers and the crew were incensed.
“Petty!!” cried the Mexican, “Do you think it’s reasonable that I get only three-fourths the wages of an Anglo sailor? Is that petty?
“How can you call my grievance trivial? shouted the bosun. “Don’t you know how humiliating it is to be called a fruit?”
“Kicking the dog is not a ‘petty little issue!’” screamed the animal-lover.
“It’s heartless, cruel, and brutal!”
“Alright then,” answered the cabin boy. “These issues are not petty and trivial. Kicking the dog is cruel and brutal and it is humiliating to be called a fruit. But in comparison to our real problem – in comparison to the fact that the ship is still heading north – your grievances are petty and trivial, because if we don’t get this ship turned around soon, we’re all going to drown.”
“Fascist!” said the professor.
“Counterrevolutionary!” said the lady passenger. And all of the passengers and crew chimed in one after another, calling the cabin boy a fascist and a counterrevolutionary.
They pushed him away and went back to grumbling about wages, and about blankets for women, and about the right to suck *****, and about how the dog was treated. The ship kept sailing north, and after a while it was crushed between two icebergs and everyone drowned. - PhoenixFlames, on 01/10/2009, -3/+29I am sure it will be an explosive auction!
- doublefelix, on 01/10/2009, -2/+24How much for a signed copy of the Anarchist Cookbook?
- dh22, on 01/11/2009, -0/+16anyone read his manifesto? Industrial Society and its Future? some pretty good/valid arguments..though they don't justify what he did..
- complacentpanda, on 01/10/2009, -0/+16I've read one of his stories. I'm sure there will be interest among the academic and research communities in purchasing his writings and possessions. Perhaps it will lead to an understanding of his psychological state.
INteresting stuff, nonetheless. - KingGorilla, on 01/11/2009, -0/+13I get the feeling that this story wasn't about sailing at all
- inactive, on 01/11/2009, -1/+14i want his sunglasses and his hoodie. if he has a mustache comb, i'll take that too. i need a new look..
- SeaweedWater, on 01/11/2009, -0/+12I wonder how much his mason jar full of urine will go for..
- louiebaur, on 01/10/2009, -1/+11Never really thought of ole Ted as Theodore.
- KnivesForRobots, on 01/11/2009, -0/+10You're exactly the problem.
- everyunitone, on 01/11/2009, -1/+8from: http://crimethinc.com/texts/atoz/unabomber.php
The Unabomber:
A Hero For Our Time
Pop quiz: what is it called when one of the finest minds of a generation picks a few individuals who are personally involved in the destruction of the environment (a timber-industry lobbyist) or of the attention span and reasoning ability of tens of thousands of Americans (an advertising executive), and kills or maims them in the pursuit of finding a voice for his concerns about social issues . . . concerns that otherwise would be heard by very few? Clearly, it is murder.
And what is it called when a nation of overweight barbers and underpaid clerks, of lazy unemployed middle class intellectuals and talk-show-educated housewives, of cowardly fast-food-chin managers and racist sorority girls, conspires to execute this murderer in the name of protecting the glorious status quo from his obviously deranged "mad bombings"?
The death penalty. And rightly applied, too, in defense of the right of forest clear-cutters and professional liars to continue bending our world to their vision without the danger of being molested by those who prefer redwood forests to Quik-Marts and sonnets to detergent slogans.
Seriously, and rhetoric aside, what is the difference between the two situations? In one case, a single person evaluates his situation and decides upon a course of action he feels is right. In the other case, millions of people, who are not very used to making up their minds by themselves, feel strong enough all together to strike out blindly against an individual who does not remain within their boundaries of acceptable behavior.
Now, our gentle and moderate reader would no doubt like to object that it is not fear of the free-standing individual that prompts the outcry against this terrorist, but moral indignation—for he has taken "innocent" life in his quest to have his ideas heard, and that is wrong in every situation.
But this nation of petty imbeciles is not regularly outraged about the taking of innocent life: as long as it fits within the parameters of the status quo, they don't care at all.
How many more people than the Unabomber have tobacco companies maimed and killed, by using advertising to addict them at a very young and uninformed age to an extremely harmful drug? How about the companies that advertise and sell cheap liquor in impoverished neighborhoods filled with alcoholics? How many citizens of third world nations have suffered and died at the hands of governments supported by such corporations as Pepsi Co., or even by the U.S. government itself? And how much animal life is destroyed thoughtlessly every year, every day in death camp factory farms... or in ecological destruction brought about by such companies as Exxon (our reader will remember the Valdez) or McDonalds (one of the better known destroyers of the rainforest)? No one is particularly concerned about these abuses of "innocent" life.
And indeed, it is harder to be, for they are institutionalized within the social and economic system... "normal." Besides, it is hard to figure out who exactly is responsible for them, for they are the results of the workings of complicated bureaucracies.
On the other hand, when one individual attempts to make his criticism of these destructive systems heard by the only really effective means, it is easy to pick him out and string him up. And our hypocritical outrage about his wrongdoings compared those of our own social institutions shows that it is his ability to act upon his own conclusions that truly shocks and frightens us most of all.
Our fear of the Unabomber as a freely acting individual shows in the attempts our media has made to demonize him. Details of his life, such as his academic achievements and his ability to live a Thoreauan self-sufficient existence, that would normally occasion praise, are now used to demonstrate that he is a maladjusted freak. Random and unimportant details of his life, similar to details of any of our lives, such as failed love affairs and childhood illnesses, are used to explain his "insane behavior." In speaking thus, the press suggests that there is no question at all that his actions were the result of insanity, pulling away in terror from the very thought that he might be just as rational as they. Newspapers print the most arbitrary and disconnected excerpts of his manifesto that they can combine, and they describe the manifesto as being random and disconnected—they even describe it as "ramblings" with a straight face, despite the well-known short attention span of today's media.
But it is not necessary that we accept the media's typical over-simplification of the case. The Unabomber's manifesto has, as a result of his efforts, been published and widely distributed. We can all read it for ourselves, not just in disconnected excerpts, but in its entirety, and decide for ourselves what we think of his ideas.
Do not be frightened by the Unabomber's willingness to stand out from the crowds and take whatever actions he believes are necessary to achieve his goals. In a civilization so stricken with mindless submission to social norms and irrational rules his example should be refreshing rather than horrifying; for his worst crimes are no worse than ours, in being citizens of this nation... and his greatest deeds as a dedicated and intelligent individual far outshine those of most of our heroes, who are for the most part basketball players and cookie-cutter pop musicians anyway.
At least, given the chance as we are, we should read his manifesto and come to our own conclusions, rather than allowing the press and popular opinion/paranoia to decide for us. - inactive, on 01/11/2009, -1/+8From what I hear, it's a real blowout!
- everyunitone, on 01/11/2009, -1/+8Thanks for that, it is a very apt parable for our times.
- inactive, on 01/11/2009, -2/+8Unless the winner live in a shed in the woods with no address.
- russ3, on 01/11/2009, -0/+6Don't be a whiny bitch, always be suspicious of the leadership, and don't argue about "smaller" issues like gays and animal rights when our basic survival is still in question.
- Stark2, on 01/11/2009, -0/+6I was expecting someone to wake up, whistle for a cab and when it came near...
- Skab, on 01/11/2009, -2/+8it's funny because he made bombs.
- KnivesForRobots, on 01/11/2009, -0/+5FREEDOM CLUB!!!
- WilliamDavis, on 01/11/2009, -0/+5He may have had some points, but he was chiefly concerned with himself.
Sociopaths can have plenty of valid arguments. Plenty of people are out there making those same arguments without killing innocents. - ElementalSCP, on 01/11/2009, -0/+5The license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror.
- inactive, on 01/11/2009, -2/+6I like it but his solution is really really *****.
- Hegemony, on 01/12/2009, -0/+4I want to participate in this auction. Something small would be fine. Talk about a conversation starter.
"Hey, what are you doing"
"Oh, nothing. Just drinking coffee out of the Unibomber's coffee mug" - grungegbunny, on 01/11/2009, -1/+5Under the fineprint: People who actually bid on his things will be placed under secret government watch lists.
- ACiDGRiM, on 01/12/2009, -0/+4It was about sucking *****.
- JedicodeWarrior, on 01/11/2009, -0/+3Oooh, Oooh ... I claim his hair care products!
- JamesBondQ, on 01/11/2009, -0/+3auctioned-off, online.
- inactive, on 01/11/2009, -1/+4Uh that's great - but who would buy this *****?
- Arramol, on 01/11/2009, -0/+3And that sometimes you have to use violence to prevent disaster. Not hard to imagine which role he saw himself in.
- SPThom, on 01/11/2009, -0/+3I disagree. I think there are plenty of guys who will buy this kinda crap for some sort of brag factor.
- DjBlic, on 01/11/2009, -0/+3Anyone have link to the listings?
- galeninjapan, on 01/11/2009, -0/+3How is this ironic?
- AmazingSteve, on 01/11/2009, -0/+3They should let him out to deal with Bush, Cheney, and crooked CEO's everywhere.
- uncoolcentral, on 01/12/2009, -0/+3I might be able to afford one of his toothpicks or his hair brush (though it doesn't look like he had one.) But the big money items will be the hoodie and the CHIPs sunglasses from that infamous police sketch.
- thetedster180, on 01/11/2009, -0/+3ya not so much man. sorry
- Enlightenment, on 01/11/2009, -0/+3Partial List:
- Old Math Books.
- Fuse Cord.
- Pads of Paper and Pens.
- Old Shack on land in middle of no where.
- Postage.
- Empty Boxes.
- Explosives. - 9bpm9, on 01/11/2009, -0/+2Why don't we know him by 3 names like every other person who does something like this?
- novenator, on 01/12/2009, -0/+2His Montana shack might go for $50
- SweetChinMusic, on 01/11/2009, -1/+3Nope.
- DismantleRepair, on 01/12/2009, -0/+2It'll be a blast!
- nebkiwi, on 01/11/2009, -0/+2You win.
- OwdenBowden, on 01/13/2009, -0/+2Have to be honest - I don't think I would open the package after it arrived in the mail.
- inactive, on 01/11/2009, -2/+4I got dibs on the C4
- inactive, on 01/11/2009, -0/+2Or one could just run down to the local junk store.
- inactive, on 01/11/2009, -0/+2One could go to Walmart to get the stuff cheaper.
- cathpah, on 01/11/2009, -2/+4Dibs on his aviators....he sure was one fashionable domestic terrorist!
- Skab, on 01/11/2009, -0/+2if anything that I could say that this ship was rare, but a thought ARG forget it, HEAVE HO to bell air!
- inactive, on 01/12/2009, -0/+2or the much popular "Harry Potter and the Balance of Earth"?
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