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Listening to Jasper

It rained again, or actually I think it was the same rain, rain that never stops. So I stayed home, doors and windows shut tight, buckets catching the drips. 

Hadn't planned on listening, but I was in bed eating the last of my five vanilla frosting sandwiches, wondering what to have for dessert, when I remembered — on the pirate station, it was time for Jasper's weekly radio show, Anarchy on the Air.

I'd never listened to Jasper on the radio, but I've sure heard him on the Avenue, so I clicked it on, hoping only that his show wouldn't be too big an embarrassment to the philosophy of freedom.

What I heard was spellbinding — a long work of excellent political poetry, deep and strong, softly stating a case for people over profits, against a backdrop of quiet but poignant music. But this couldn't be Jasper — the voice was too calm, the words too intelligent and thoughtful, too wisely considered.

When it finished, Jasper came on, and I'd know that annoying voice anywhere. He told listeners it had been a pre-recorded piece of poetry by someone else whose name I couldn't catch. Then Jasper said, "Welcome to Anarchy on the Air," and I listened to his incoherent drivel, which had nothing to do with freedom. "We need to try to make the police more a part of our community," he said, and that's when I turned it off. I'd rather hear the baby crying, or whatever's on KGO.

It's possible, I suppose, that he had an intelligent point behind that weird remark. Maybe it made sense in some context I was too impatient to allow. Seems doubtful, though, very doubtful.

It's still raining. It'll be raining until we're all swept away in the floods, but I'm not going to worry any more about an informant running the anarchy show on Free Radio Berkeley. No, man, when someone goes on the air and says, "We need to try to make the police more a part of our community," anyone who's not a fool has to know they're listening to an informant, not an anarchist.

From Pathetic Life #19
Wednesday, Dec. 13, 1995

This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting things, so parental guidance is advised.

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