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Textile Mills

I was explaining my politics to a peer. He had told me that the desire for meaning was important to him, that it was something he realized he needed to have. He wanted to be a convert to some sort of faith or belief, perhaps even a secular one like Dawkin’s, and from there engage his politics. Without this he felt his life would be empty. I said that all I thought life needed was booze and fucking — with the implied understanding that in between people would be allowed to pursue their other interests — and that all the politics necessary for this consisted of was seizing the means of production. My interlocutor furrowed his face into a quizzical look and half sneered, then said “yea that was fine in the time there were textile mills. But there are no textiles mills anymore!” I replied by asking where his shirt had come from.

Categories: Anecdotes.

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