Stop Me Before I Vote Again

SMBIVA's own dear comrade, Uncle Al Moray Shutzmien, the generalissimo of all well-patterned iron filings, recently buried this link inside one of his devilishly sincere auto-buffets. I thought it deserved a fuller broader more prominent venue.

The dateline appears to be April 1, 2009. If you think I'm aiding in a hoax here... well... so be it!

"Today the anarchist space in my city got a package in the mail from Mexico. It came with a flat, cardboardesque peanut butter cookie and a letter stating that the cookie was made from the stolen remains of Leon Trotsky.

It came with the following letter, translated from Spanish, reproduced here exactly as it was written:

To whom it may concern,

The cookies that you have in their hands contain in them the current remainders of Leon Trotsky, Bureaucracy Grandfather Toad. They were taken in 20 of March 2009 -- almost the anniversary of the suppression of the rebelion of Krondstadt -- by a robbery launched on its museum in the City of Mexico, D.F.

For some, these remainders are sacred. They are the physical remainders of a revolutionary martyr who incorporate the idea of a proletarian fight of the masses toward a forumlaic triumph and historic determined. For other, these remainders are profane. They are the remainders of a murderer, burocrat, and usurper of authentic rebellion. The two perspectives, nevertheless, they share the museum as a standard of value, the only question being whether Trotsky deserves display.

Everything that enter to museums are frozen and without life, transformed to dead objects that raise up and against us. To get, to bake, and to consume Trotsky as cookie, we are acting with history on our terms. We give life to the lifeless along with the fights and tensions incorporated inside. We are Gods. If Trotsky, however, was correct about history, then the fact that his remainders are now dessert was written in the fabric of the October Revolucion, and we are the only messengers.

The holy communion has served as a spiritual nourishment for the expresion of obedience to the God consumed. Alternative, the consumption of the flesh of an enemy has been seen like the method of absorbing the force of an adversary. In the two interpretations, nevertheless, the final resting place is in shit. We do not want to venerate this God or to absorb its power. To consume these cookies is not to free us of the legacy of Trotsky, but to affirm our superiority over the dead things that to dominate us. When the dead enslave us by acting as the historic artifacts of ideology, we would prefer that they are appropriated by the hostile forces of our imagination and become in desserts.

We are keeping a few cookies with us. Whoever that assaults the next museum, whoever that throw the next bullet to history, whoever rekindles the rebellions that give us life -- we will send them one. Good luck."