216 lines
13 KiB
Plaintext
216 lines
13 KiB
Plaintext
ABBIE HOFFMAN
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WAS NOT FAMOUS!
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--by Prime Anarchist
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"Marc-o, THIS is Abbie, um... you can REACH the
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people you want at their INITIALS. The name of
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their organization is in WASHington DC. Umm...
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Sara Beckah is the executive DIRECTOR and a friend
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o' mine. Also in Texasss in the homeTOWN where STOCKwell
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lives. Now, they're GONNNna be a little PHREEQ-Y tomorrow..."
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[click]
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[dialtone]
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You're sitting in a bar with your idol, and a bunch of your college
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buddies. Your idol is paying more attention to the Chicago Bears game on big
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screen than your somewhat forced political discussions. He just got done
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lecturing to hundreds of you for two hours - the last thing he wants to talk
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about is politics. But now and then, you can get an opinion out of him for
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your school newspaper.
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Talk turns toward his Chicago Eight days, "Steal This Book", "Urine
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Test", stuff like that, and a pissed-off Abbie Hoffman says, "That's it.
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"I'm out of here. I know when I'm too welcome."
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Your idol has left you like a miserable little child who wasn't
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allowed two more cookies, but you're quick to understand and respect that.
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You'd give your right arm to have half the celebration Abbie's got, but
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you'd gladly donate your left nut to be able to "dis" that fame with half
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as much grace as he does. Maybe you hope you'll get busted for cocaine so
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you too can go underground. Maybe you hope you can organize a non-event
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that the press will wish they had known about. Maybe you'd like to write
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the next ultimate manifesto that upsets Walden Books.
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Abbie's death should mean nothing to you - however, his life should have
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had great impact. The things he has said should be ignored - we need to heed
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what he's done instead. Somewhere around the fab-50's when nothing much
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mattered, Abbie Hoffman got his first taste of fame when he became a yo-yo
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champ. Even the inventors wished they could have a few moments with the
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guy to see some of his made-up tricks in slow motion. I don't think he ever
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gave out any of his own secrets. Not then; still 30 years later he remained
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reluctant to "tell all." But ask the guy a question or two, and you sure
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got a wealth of info.
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That first taste of fame must have stunk in his mouth something rotten,
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'cause it wasn't long before he spit it out and didn't want a thing to do
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with it. No one knows when he became an
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A) agitator,
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B) activist
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C) radical
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or D) make up your own word.
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He claims it started before he was born.
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But just when an event looked like it would make him a little too famous,
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it was time to go cook up another event. The people watching with awe when
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he mentioned "Iran Contra" or the anarchy caused when Louis Guiffrida got
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thirty calls-a-minute telling him he was a racist son of a bitch didn't
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seem to bother Abbie. In fact, I think it pleased him. But the minute
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we began chatting about "there goes that yoyo again" or "let's interview
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the yipster," it was time to go hide. Abbie Hoffman didn't hate the
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pressmen; he loathed them. ("Loathe" was for lack of a better word,
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by the way. I don't think there's a word bitter enough.)
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Plain and simple, Abbie did not like fame.
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During the 60's, when everything seemed to matter, Abbie could've
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easily been a powerful attorney, great sportscaster, inspiring history
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professor, or the best damned bum anyone ever met. Guess which one
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this genius-level character picked?
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Abbie joined the drug culture, as everyone knows. We are
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fortunate he had a high tolerance for drugs, because he was obssesive
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about everything he got into. While we were all tuning out and turning
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on, he was participating too. But he was also stirring up. Hey,
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someone had to do it. No one woulda known, that a little argument with
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a mayor could make headlines thoughout the nation. Good thing
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Abbie knew a lot of great attorneys, because the Chicago Eight
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was about to be plucked right out of the streets just as randomly
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as the hispanics that'll get sent to concentration camps if
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Operation Night Camp is needed.
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In Abbie's obituaries after his death, there'd been a lot of
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mention of a Chicago Seven. Who was this group? I never heard of them.
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I only know of a Chicago 8! I think it is a gross misinformation blitz
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to leave out Bobbie Seale who made it thru more than half the trial as
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a teammate. I also think it sets us up as "racism continuers" to leave
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out the only man of color burned in that trial.
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Abbie handled his fame well; stomached it as best he could, and
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drove on - stirring up every event he could organize. The 60's were
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a busy time for him, but the 70's just might go down as the time when
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he reached his underground peak. Everyone knows about the Yipsters,
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but only fans, and hard working undergrounders remember the Youth
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International Party Line. YIPL was an underground newspaper that
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never saw a "regular" publishing schedule, but always came as a
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refreshing piece of mail. You sent a dollar to some suite in NYC,
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and kept getting these pamphlets on how to make free fone calls,
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how to keep using the same stamp for hundreds of letters among
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friends, and generally how to beat the system at its own game.
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Few knew that Abbie was one of the strongest ghost publishers
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of YIPL magazine, but a lot of freaks started subscribing to
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his new form of interactive press. People would write in and
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fone in tricks on how to use #14 washers as dimes, how to turn
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your utility meter upside-down so it'd flow backwards for a week,
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how to set up your apartment with hotel sofas and loveseats. A
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phreak/hacker/freaker/enthusiast (you pick the name) who sent
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something in could count on YIPL to help him out if he ran aground.
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Abbie was quick to start campaigns to get lots of people out of jail.
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Like I said, he coulda been a potent lawyer if he wanted to play that
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way. YIPL became TAP (short for Technincal Assistance Party) and got
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a lot more electronically oriented, but still kept some of its political
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bent. But it just wasn't quite as activist. Chesire Catalyst and the
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gang tried and tried to get the campaigns going to help bail Abbie out
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when he got yanked for his DeLoreanesque cocaine set up.
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No dice. Abbie had to go so far underground, even the underground
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couldn't always get a hold of him. TAP went on about its merry way
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into the 80's and eventually disbanded. After all, the apathetic 80's
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were just around the corner.
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Abbie began pulling in large amounts for showing up at colleges.
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Most of it went to causes. He had the occasional trouble finding liberal
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students that would hear him out. The college students seemed too
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concerned with resumes, internships, co-ops and things to worry about
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Central American problems, or worn-out old protests of nuclear submarines.
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But as apathetic as these students were, they seemed to love having him.
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A year ago last September, he was inviting students to a well-planned
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leftist convention at Rutgers.
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He had no.................................................
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idea, the following February, 600 would show up ready to vote,
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and more than 500 more wanted to come "be-in." Was the 60's starting
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all over again? Or was the same 70's (1770) revolution just hitting
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another upstroke? Abbie joined Ginsberg, Little Steven VanZant, Amy
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Carter, and other celebrated speakers inspiring tomorrow's youth down
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at the New Jersey college, but towards the end, he got mad at someone
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or somthing and took off.
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His leaving agitated people just as much as his speeches. I think
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he might've meant it. Whatever he did, it worked. There are a lot of
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20ish people out there ready to come out of the woodwork whenever the
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next abortion/marijuana/gay rights/no nukes/etc rally gets underway.
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I wish I could be there doing more than watching it, but that's my job.
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You do yours, OK? And do it 100% if you can.
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When Abbie left the Rutgers convention, he went right home to battle
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the Philadelphia Utility company about their unsafe power plant proposal.
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Again, he should'a been able to count on those 1000 or so people to come
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dribble down there, and help organize, but no dice. Only a few followed
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through. But along with a group called Del-Aware, Abbie started a fight
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that still continues. Philly has yet to break ground, just billyclub heads.
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Abbie's actions throughout the 20th century sets us with a groundwork
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for social engineering, political dissent, student activisim, outside
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agitation, as well as participation with a messed up country that STILL
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happens to be the most free nation we know about. A lot of the negative
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short-range things he's started off have led to some awfully positive
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restructuring possibilities. "Steal This Book" not only shows you how to
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get something free, or sneak around; it teaches you to be creative, and
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gets you started making the future yours. "Steal This Urine Test" not
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only teaches you how to drink olive oil so last night's joint won't show up,
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or how to pour battery acid from a rubber - screwing up millions of
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dollars worth of technology, but it shows you how to make decisions
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for yourself, and how to go about protesting violations of your privacy.
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Any one of his books could be titled "A Patriot's Guide to Keeping
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America Free."
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Whether posthumous books are due is up in the air. No one knows
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how aggressive/generous his brother-in-law or his girlfriend plan on getting
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with his written work. Brother Jack HAS been reprinting "Steal This Book"
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and a few other out-of-prints though, so if you missed any of them, now's
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as good a time as any to put "Square Dancing" or "Soon To Be" on your
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must-read list.
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Abbie wrote on everything. Matchbook covers, napkins, address books,
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dollar bills, tables, whatever was put in front of him. What he wrote
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on mostly, though, was politics. TAP/YIPL might be gone, but many writers
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across the land have been so inspired by that style, we've seen an "underground"
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rag/fact sheet/fanzine (again, pick your own name for 'em) renaissance. A good
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place to start looking for the Hoffmanesque writing style would be Reality
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Hackers magazine which comes out monthly, 2600 magazine which comes out 4
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times a year, ATI which comes out whenever, Phrack which comes out only in
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"software" copy every two months or so.
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Addresses can't be given here, naturally, but if you're savvy enough,
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I'm sure you can find your way around.
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If you want fame, pattern yourself after someone like Johnny Bench or
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Geraldo Revera. But if you want to accomplish things in life, the ones to
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watch are the Geroge Bushes, the Tom Clancys and the Abbie Hoffmans.
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People liked to steal his driver's license, and his address book. Kind
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of a perverted way to get a memento/souvenir/token. Kind of a great way to
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piss someone off. The weekdays of the '80s were such a struggle for Abbie
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to rewrite his phone numbers from memory, he began making copies to hand out
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to anyone who looked like they might want one that desperately. Your second,
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third...fortieth copy of your driver's license don't come cheap. I wonder if
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Abbie still has an outstanding tab at Bucks County Motor Vehicle?
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Phil Donahue type people started bugging the hell out of him around
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87-88. It got so bad, he finally had to put a "leave me alone, Phil. I don't
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wannabe on your show" message on his phonemate. Warner Brothers, Tri-Star,
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etc. hounded him constantly the last few years to play himself in an
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autobiographical movie which he always flat out refused. He offered to "play
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someone else" though...
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Abbie's last few years in a Philadelphia crash-pad-styled chicked-coop
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were as quiet as he wanted to make them. He said they were very comfortable;
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he was content. From this "headquarters" came the necessary magazine
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articles, telephone interviews, event planning, and lecture scheduling.
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When we invade a Honduras, bomb a Tripoli or destroy a gulf, you could
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count on Abbie and his buddies to get those fones through the government
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tan-boxes and give you an idea what's really going on. Sometimes he'd only
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tell you a little, but he seemed to know everything. He didn't want to tell
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ALL, because he didn't want to be your only source. That meant fame. And
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you know how he felt about that.
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He told you about Iranscam back in '82, told you about Carter getting
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used on the hostage situation way back in '80. To say he was your "1980's
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Deep Throat" was the journalistic understatement of the century. He gave great
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background. But he said, "don't quote me", and he meant it. And you didn't mess.
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Abbie Hoffman died quietly. The press didn't know until four hours later
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that something was "news" in New Hope. He even missed the Sunday New York
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Times deadline. On purpose? That meant there was no one on hand to shove a
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microphone in his face and ask "how's it feel to be dying" or "do you have
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any last words for my microcassette recorder here", or even "if you could
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do it again, what would you change?" He wouldn't want to tell you anyways.
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Don't send condolences in the usual way, steal a book.
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See this article in its context where it was reprinted from at:
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http://www.freespeech.org/kokopeli/abbie.html |