[Follow these links to catch up with the #10 stupid thing, #9 stupid thing, #8 stupid thing, and #7 stupid thing I survived growing up in Texas.] What is it about the word “Anarchy” that appeals so thoroughly to thirteen and fourteen year old boys? My oldest son has recently dubbed his group of online gaming friends “the hands of anarchy.” When I asked him why they came up with that moniker he replied, “We run around and stab orphans and cause general chaos. We bring down governments.”
Okay, a bit of explanation might be useful here. I didn’t raise a psychotic ravager of all things decent. I write about such characters, but that’s altogether different. Mostly my son plays Minecraft on a server with very well established rules for managing player interactions. And for some Freudian reason he has started referring to hostile mobs or other players as “orphans” (possibly because he was one before we adopted him). So when he says he’s gonna beat me with his orphan stick, it’s not really as maladjusted as it sounds…I swear.
Knowing good and well that my son is about as far from an anarchist as one can be, I asked a poignant follow up question: “So, are you saying you would be okay with other players raiding your base and taking all your loot?”
My son stares at me.
“You’re saying you don’t think there should be any rules on the server?”
My son stares at me and then says, “We take advantage of suckers by selling stuff and then stabbing them later.”
I nod and stroke the stubble on my face like the sage redneck granola that I am before replying, “So you’re an unethical and opportunistic capitalist in the North American vein?”
My son stares at me.
“You convince others that you’re an anarchist while you rely on rules to keep others in check so that you can break the rules to your advantage. You’re not against the law like a true anarchist. You’re above the law like an American capitalist swine.”
“Yeah, I guess.” My son walks away with shoulders slumped as if I’ve just deflated his lifelong dream. In reality I’ve just saved him from getting expelled from school for espousing anti-establishment ideology…or perhaps from landing in jail by the time he’s twenty-four. (Yes, my parenting is that powerful.)
During my eighth grade year, me and my buddies fancied ourselves as anarchists. This culminated in us procuring a print copy of The Anarchist Cookbook which of course we kept at school so we could easily pass it around. To this day, I still have no idea if someone we knew decided to call in a bomb threat for the purpose of getting us busted, or if it was random coincidence. But a bomb threat was indeed called in. As fate would have it, on the morning of the supposed bomb threat the cookbook rested in my locker.
With puckered cheeks and nearly soiled armor, and despite being under classroom lockdown, I managed to convince my eighth grade English teacher that I needed an urgent trip to the bathroom. (I was a teacher’s pet.) Once in the hall, I ran directly to my locker and pantsed the cookbook moments before the bomb sniffing dogs reached my section of lockers. Expulsion diverted.
After that brush with disaster, me and my buddies all sorta decided we didn’t have as many anarchistic tendencies as we had thought. Sure we still snuck Taco Bell tacos into movie theaters and listened to Nine Inch Nails. But mostly, we settled for selling things to suckers like loyal, junior capitalists.
At the Desk This Week
Airplane down! This week I got to put my protags through the wringer a bit. I also revealed a bit of a twist that I hadn’t planned. It works perfectly though, and actually helps to tidy up some plot points I had been a bit concerned about. When things like this happen, I like to imagine that my subconscious had them planned all along. Once I figured out the reality of the plot line, it made obvious sense. So my subconscious had to have been in on it, right? Sometimes I think I get caught up in the details of executing each scene and caught up in the technical bits of writing a bit too much to see the obvious evolution of the plot. With a little distance, it becomes obvious. But writers miss this type of thing all the time. I know you’ve read a book where you just knew something in particular was about to happen…but then the author missed the opportunity altogether. I almost missed an opportunity like this.
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