"The issue today is the same as it has been throughout all history, whether man shall be allowed to govern himself or be ruled by a small elite." ~ Thomas Jefferson
Assassin Swag Sold Here
With the recent photo of Prince Harry sporting a swastika has come the all-too-predictable round of righteous indignation from the insensitivity police. The House of Windsor is rocked yet again by regrettably common behavior within the ranks. The anti-defamation industry impatiently reminds the perpetually boorish goyim that it's not nice to glorify Nazis. The scourge of the nattering culture nannies, postmodernism and its adjunctive, nihilistic urge to glorify the monstrous, once again rears. Nobody seems to mind the elder Prince William's costume was that of a lion, an ostensible reference to Richard I, Third Crusader and potential sacker of Jerusalem. Some warmongers provoke hysteria, others just history, apparently. The whole Harry mess inspired recent commentaries on brutal dictator kitsch, which in turn inspired this author to note a gaping hole in the market.
Merchandise bearing the likenesses of public sector mass murders indeed proliferates. The champions of murderous collectivists have a variety of luminaria in which to swathe themselves: Get Fidel and Che here, Stalin and Lenin here. Score Trotsky tchotchkes here. Mao is still hot--and made in the U.S.A.! (It is an unsolved riddle, how the fiery-eyed anti-capitalists reconcile the crass mass marketing of their hoary icons.)
For those who prefer in their mass murder swag a timelier dimension, there are options. Osama has a t-shirt, though efforts to locate a web-based outlet proved fruitless. Apparently, disaffected jihadists don't yet pack enough demographic wallop to warrant an e-tail presence. Unaffected American conservative posers do, however. Quasi-small government hero Ronald Reagan is represented, complete with red baiting snark. George W. Bush juvenilia can be found nearly everywhere. The jug-eared Boy King leers obtusely from thousands of web sites. Bluewise even. Much of the anti-Bush regalia sports the likeness of the smirking chimp, defying the age-old marketing rule of thumb: never feature the competition. The market serves both misguided ideologues and bitter ironists quite well. Or so it would seem.
The iconic, rock star status of 20th Century Uberstatists is unbalanced by corresponding objectification of those who would spare us from them. In short, there is a dismaying lack of political assassin paraphernalia. The murderers of mere civilians reign supreme in silk-screen. Clearly the anti-statist malcontent demographic is underserved.
Has anyone ever seen a John Wilkes Booth book bag, or similar trinket of popular accoutrement? Alas, a Google search for items bearing the likeness of the intrepid states-rights advocate produces naught. Lincoln devotees praise the proto-Neocon as a freedom fighter, conveniently disregarding his tyrannical instincts, just as they do their own. Surely the cult of conspiracy surrounding Booth, the radical thespian, deserves in return a postmodern cult of personality. Our current crop of dissenting dramatists should be so motivated as Mr. Booth. Get with it, Mr. Robbins!
Where are the Gavrilo Princip coffee mugs? How about some love for the Young Bosnian, triggerman of the 'Great War ' who delivered the Balkans from the irredentist Hapsburg heir and Austro-Hungarian imperialist, Archduke Ferdinand? His royal dispatching of the Archduke presaged the slaughter of Nicholas II and family four years later. The baleful stare of the idealistic provocateur and conspiratorial aspect lent by the alleged complicity of the Black Hand seem ripe for exploitation by some enterprising young hipster.
Whither the Leon Czolgosz hoodies? It seems the assailant of William McKinley, figurehead of America's foray into 'New Imperialism', should particularly resonate in these times. Let our modern day imperialists and their global ambitions heed the warning of the young anarchist. Ultimately, however, poor Leon's desperate act stemmed more from his collectivist ambitions, rather than any high-minded, anti-imperialist ideals. Czolgosz found himself serenaded by such anti-corporate luminaries as Emma Goldman. She was accused of abetting the deed. Put her on a mouse pad. Let the blatant irony of mass produced leftist outerwear live on with a new line of Czolgosz togs. I propose adding an inscription under his inscrutable visage: 'Property of American Steel and Wire Company', in honor of poor Leon's chafing under the corporate yoke.
Forget the Fuhrer, ironists. That is, as they say, so 20th Century. Buy Oswald. Sell Hitler. Collect Corday. Toss Mao and the tired Marxists. For sheer cheekiness, get a Sirhan, twice. Carl Weiss divined a new Fuhrer in Huey P. Long. Get a Weiss and a Booth. A double shot of Southern justice. Mix and match. Mercader and Moore. It is high time to offset the imbalance of exalted Statist iconography with some crude mass exploitation of the world's forgotten political assassins. Let the nabobs natter. Postmodern posterity demands it.
Note to busybodies, fedgov spooks, and DHS lackeys: I sincerely regret the necessity of adding this disclaimer to ease your overheated, terrorcrat-addled minds. I in no way endorse murder for any reason. Resume surveilling innocent citizens in the name of your prostituted notion of safety and freedom.