textfiles/magazines/ATI/ati-39.txt

    "Look over there, up in the sky!"
    "It's a bird!"
    "It's a plane!"
 
No! It's..
 
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Issue #39... July 18, 1989
    Special "Old Glory" Issue!
 
 
 Activist Times, Inc.. a voice for the
people in an age of silence..
 
Write to us:  Activist Times, Inc.
              P.O. Box 2501
              Bloomfield, NJ 07003
 
Call us:  512-262-9519, box #1300
 
Howdy folks. Welcome one again to ATI.  We've got a lot of great stuff in
store for you, and first up - an article by ATI's originator, Prime Anarchist.
Take it away!
 
    ABBIE HOFFMAN WAS NOT FAMOUS --by Prime Anarchist
 
     You're sitting in a bar with your idol, and a bunch of your college
buddies. Your idol is paying more attention to the Chcago Bears game on big
screen than your somewhat forced political discussions.  He just got done
lecturing to hundreds of you for two hours-- the last thing he wants to talk
about is politics.  But now and then, you can get an opinoin out of him for
your school newspaper.
     Talk turns toward his Chicago Eight days, "Steal This Book", "Urine
Test", stuff like that, and a pissed-off Abbie Hoffman says, "That's it.
"I'm out of here.  I know when I'm too welcome."
     Your idol has left you like a miserable little child who wasn't
allowed two more cookies, but you're quick to understand and respect that.
You'd give your right arm to have half the celebration Abbie's got, but
you'd gladly donate your left nut to be able to "dis" that fame with half
as much grace as he does.  Maybe you hope you'll get busted for cocaine so
you too can go underground.  Maybe you hope you can organize a non-event
that the press will wish they had known about.  Maybe you'd like to write the
next ultimate book that upsets Walden Books.
     Abbie's death should mean nothing to you--however, his life should have
had great impact.  The things he has said should be ignored-- we need to heed
what he's done instead.  Somewhere around the fab-50's when nothing much
mattered, Abbie Hoffman got his first taste of fame when he became a yo-yo
champ.  Even the inventors wished they could have a few moments with the guy
to see some of his made-up tricks in slow motion.  I don't think he ever
gave out any of his own secrets.  Not then; still 30 years later he remained
reluctant to "tell all".  But ask the guy a question or two, and you sure
got a wealth of info.
     That first taste of fame must have stunk in his mouth something rotten,
'cause it wasn't long before he spit it out and didn't want a thing to do
with it.  No one knows when he became an A) agitator, B) activist C) radical
or D) make up your own word.  He claims it started before he was born.
But just when an event looked like it would make him a little too famous,
it was time to go cook up another event.     The people watching with awe when m
or the anarchy caused when Louis Guiffrida got thirty calls a minute telling
him he was a racist son of a bitch didn't seem to bother Abbie.  In fact,
I think it pleased him.  But the minute we began chatting about "there goes
that yoyo again" or "let's interview the yipster", it was time to go hide.
Abbie Hoffman didn't hate the pressmen; he loathed them.  ("Loathe" was for
lack of a better word, by the way.  I don't think there's a word bitter
enough.)  Plain and simple, Abbie did not like fame.
     During the 60's, when everything seemed to matter, Abbie could've easily
been a powerful attorney, great sportscaster, inspiring history professor,
or the best damned bum anyone ever met.  Guess which one this genius-level
character picked?
     Abbie joined the drug culture, as everyone knows.  We are fortunate he
had a high tolerance for drugs, because he was obssesive about everything
he got into. While we were all tuning out and turning on, he was participating
too.  But he was also stirring up.  Hey, someone had to do it.  No one
woulda known, that a little argument with a mayor could make headlines
thoughout the nation.  Good thing Abbie knew a lot of great attorneys,
because the Chicago Eight was about to be plucked right out of the streets
just as randomly as the hispanics that'll get sent to concentration camps if
Operation Night Camp is needed.
     In Abbie's obituaries after his death, there'd been a lot of mention of
a Chicago Seven.  Who was this group?  I never heard of them.  I only know
of a Chicago Eight.  I think it is a gross misinformation blitz to leave
out Bobbie Seale who made it thru more than half the trial as a teammate.
I also think it sets us up as "racism continuers" to leave out the only man
of color burned in that trial.
     Abbie handled his fame well;stomached it as best he could,and drove on--
stirring up every event he could organize.  The 60's were a busy time for
Abbie, but the 70's just might go down as the time when he reached his
underground peak.  Everyone knows about the Yipsters, but only fans, and
hard working undergrounders remember the Youth International Party Line.
YIPL was an underground newspaper that never saw a "regular" publishing
schedule, but always came as a refreshing piece of mail.  You sent a dollar
to some suite in NYC, and kept getting these pamphlets on how to make free
fone calls, how to keep using the same stamp for hundreds of letters among
friends, and generally how to beat the system at its own game.  Few knew
that Abbie was one of the strongest ghost publishers of YIPL magazine, but a
lot of freaks started subscribing to his new form of interactive press.
People would write in and fone in tricks on how to use #14 washers as dimes,
how to turn your utility meter upside-down so it'd flow backwards for a week,
how to set up your apartment with hotel sofas and loveseats.  A phreak/
hacker/freaker/enthusiast (you pick the name) who sent something in could
count on YIPL to help him out if he ran aground.  Abbie was quick to start
campaigns to get lots of people out of jail.  Like I said,he coulda been a
potent lawyer if he wanted to play that way.   YIPL became TAP (short for
Technincal Assistance Party) and got a lot more electronically oriented, but
still kept some of its political bent.  But it just wasn't quite as activist.
Chesire Catalyst and the gang tried and tried to get the campaigns going to
help bail Abbie out when he got yanked for his DeLoreanesque cocaine set up.
 No dice.  Abbie had to go so far underground, even the underground couldn't
always get a hold of him.  TAP went on about its merry way into the 80's and
eventually disbanded.  After all, the apathetic 80's were just around the
corner.
     Abbie began pulling in large amounts for showing up at colleges.  Most
of it went to causes.  He had trouble finding liberal students that would
hear him out.  The college students seemed too concerned with resumes,
internships, co-ops and things to worry about Central American problems,
or worn-out old protests of nuclear submarines.  But as apathetic as these
students were, they seemed to love having him.
     A year ago last September, he was inviting students to a well-planned
leftist convention at Rutgers.  He had no idea, the following February, 600
would show up ready to vote, and more than 500 more wanted to come "be-in".
Was the 60's starting all over again?  Or was the same 70's (1770) revolution
just hitting another upstroke?  Abbie joined Ginsberg, Little Steven VanZant,
Amy Carter, and other celebrated speakers inspiring tomorrow's youthdown at
the New Jersey college, but towards the end, he got mad at someone or somthing
and took off.
     His leaving agitated people just as much as his speeches.  I think he
might've meant it.  Whatever he did, it worked.  There are a lot of 20ish
people out there ready to come out of the woodwork whenever the next abortion/
marijuana/gay rights/no nukes/etc rally gets underway.  I wish I could be
there doing more than watching it, but that's my job.  You do yours, OK?
And do it 100% if you can.
     When Abbie left the Rutgers convention, he went right home to battle the
Philadelphia Utility company about their unsafe power plant proposal.
Again, he shouldn've been able to count on those 1000 or so people to come
dribble down there, and help organize, but no dice.  Only a few followed
through. But along with a group called Del-Aware, Abbie started a fight that
still continues.  Philly has yet to break ground, just billyclub heads.
     Abbie's actions throughout the 20th century sets us with a groundwork
for social engineering, political dissent, student activisim, outside
agitation, as well as participation with a messed up country that STILL
happens to be the most free nation we know about.  A lot of the negative
shrot-range things he's started off have led to some very positive
restructuring possibilities. "Steal
This Book" not only shows you how to get something free, or sneak around; it
teaches you to be creative, and gets you started making the future yours.
"Steal This Urine Test" not only teaches you how to drink olive oil so last
night's joint won't show up, or how to pour battery acid from a rubber
--screwing up millions of dollars worth of technology, but it shows you how
to make decisions for yourself, and how to go about protesting violations
of your privacy.  Any one of his books could be titled "A Patriot's Guide
to Keeping America Free".
     Whether posthumous books are due is up in the air.  No one knows how
aggressive/generous his brother-in-law or his girlfriend plan on getting
with his written work.  Brother Jack HAS been reprinting "Steal This Book"
and a few other out-of-prints though, so if you missed any of them, now's as
good a time as any to put "Square Dancing" or "Soon To Be" on your must-read
list.
     Abbie wrote on everything.  Matchbook covers, napkins, address books,
dollar bills, tables, whatever was put in front of him.  What he wrote
on mostly, though, was politics.  TAP/YIPL might be gone, but many writers
across the land have been so inspired by that style, we've seen a renaissance
of "underground" rags/fact sheets/fanzines (again, pick your own name for
'em.)  A good place to start looking for the Hoffmanesque writing style would
be Realtiy Hackers magazine which comes out monthly, 2600 magazine which
comes out 4 times a year, ATI which comes out whenever, Phrack which comes
out only in "software" copy every two months or so.
     Addresses can't be give here, naturally, but if you're aggressive enough
,you'll find your way around.
     If you want fame, pattern yourself after someone like Johnny Bench or
Geraldo Revera.  But if you want to accomplish things in life, the ones to
watch are the Geroge Bushes, the Tom Clancys and the Abbie Hoffmans.
     People liked to steal his driver's license, and his address book.  Kind
of a perverted way to get a memento/souvenir/token.  Kind of a great way to
piss someone off.  The weekdays of the '80s were such a struggle for Abbie
to rewrite his phone numbers from memory, he began making copies to hand out
to anyone who looked like they might want one that deperately.  Your second
,third...fortieth copy of your driver's license don't come cheap.  I wonder
if Abbie still has an outstanding tab at Bucks County's MVD.
     Phil Donahue type people started bugging the hell out of him around
87-88.  It got so bad, he finally had to put up a "leave me alone, Phil.
I don't want to be on your show" message on his machine.  Warner Brothers,
Tri-Star, etc. hounded him constantly the last few years to star in an
autobiographical movie.  He flat out refused.
     Abbie's last few years in a Philadelphia crash-pad-styled chicked-coop
were as quiet as he wanted to make them.  He said they were very comfortable;
he was content.  From this "headquarters" came the necessary magazine
articles, telephone interviews, event planning, and lecture scheduling.
     When we invade a Honduras, bomb a Tripoli or stockade a gulf, you could
count on Abbie and his buddies to get those fones through the government
tan-boxes and give you an idea what's really going on.  Sometimes he'd only
tellyou a little, but he seemed to know everything.  He didn't want to tell
ALL, because he didn't want to be your only source.  That meant fame.
You know how he felt about that.
     He told you about Iranscam back in '82, told you about Carter getting
used on the hostage situation way back in '80.  To say he was your "80's Deep
Throat" was the journalistic understatement of the century.  He gave good
background.  But he said, "don't quote me", and he meant it.  And you
didn't mess.
     Abbie Hoffman died quietly.  The press didn't know until four hours later
that something was "news" in New Hope.  That meant there was no one there
to ask, "how's it feel to be dying" and "do you have any last words for
my microcassette recorder here", and "if you could do it again, what would
you change?"  He wouldn't want to tell you anyways.
     Don't send condolences in the usual way, steal a book.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
             Random Notes from Ground Zero...
 
PAGO PAGO, SAMOA:  Vice President Dan Quayle, addressing Samoans who greeted
him when he arrived in Pago Pago (which he pronounced Pogo Pogo): "You all
look like happy campers to me.  Happy campers you are, happy campers you
have been, and as far as I'm concerned, happy campers you will always be".
 
(Source: The Progressive magazine)
 
 
I was reading a book called "AIDS: The Women" recently. It has several stories
about women who have AIDS, or work as a professional or volunteer providing
care to AIDS patients, or women who have a loved one with AIDS, etc.  One of
the stories was written by a woman in Atlanta who wrote about her dealings
as a self-proclaimed "prostitutes' rights advocate". While her efforts to
try to get prostitutes to wear condoms are indeed commendable, I object to
the term "prostitutes' rights".  What rights do they deserve?  In my opinion,
no more than those guaranteed by the Constitution. They certainly deserve no
special rights as a profession. Also, I would have to wonder about a woman
who seems to lend support to an practice which exploits women and their
sexuality.  Instead of a "prostitutes' rights advocate, I'd much rather see
someone trying to get them out of an exploitative and downright abusive life.
 
I also had the dubious pleasure of watching women participating in a "prosti-
tute's convention in San Francisco being interviewed recently on "A Current
Affair" (a TV show known for it's yellow journalistic style).  These women
were actually ones who chose prostitution as a profession, and were not street
hookers. But I found them to be just as objectionable. I sat and listened to
these women say things like, "When I became a prostitute I learned a lot about
my sexuality", and another one rambled on about how much she loved her "job"
(incidentally, she was married) and about how she enjoyed pleasing her clients'
fetishes.
 
Ok. Enough. Let's have some morality here. I'm sick of hearing about "prosti-
tutes' rights advocates" and conventions for prostitutes.  I'm sick of ANY
attempts to legitimize this "profession", including those legal brothels in
Nevada and Amsterdam. I'll say this once, and I'm sure I'll say it again:
Women who sell their bodies for money or any other gain are selling out
womankind as a whole. They're throwing the rest of the female gender back
into the Dark Ages. I'm all for a more liberal society, but the practice of
prostitution and attempts to legitimize it are absolutely ridiculous. Let's
focus on relationships and the family and not meanigless exchanges of
intercourse and money.
 
Ok, off the soap box... for now!
 
 
Another funny thing I saw on TV lately was an incident involving a contest
Kraft was running in a few southern states. They put game pieces in their
cheese wrappers, and the first prize in the contest was a brand new van. Due
to a printing error, almost every game piece printed was an instant winner for
the van. So everyone in that area that bought a package of Kraft slices
got an intant winner for a van. Kraft called the contest off due to the error.
There was a small amount of public outcry, including a woman who decided to
sue Kraft for the van. "The purpose of a contest is to generate sales. They
got thier sales, I want my van", said the woman.  Ridiculous. I usually don't
side with the big fat-cat capitalists (in fact, I NEVER do!), but in this case
I have to. I mean, come on. Kraft may have generated some extra sales from
the contest, but they would have had to sell a helluva lot of slices to pay
for probably hundreds of thousands of vans.  Lady, drop your dumb lawsuit.
 
 
Here's something that I was apalled to hear: In nearby Jersey City, NJ, there
are over 71 dump sites of a substance called chromium, which is far more
dangerous and carcinogenic than dioxin, the chemical that was responsible
for the serious adverse health effects in Love Canal. Jersey City is a very
densely populated urban area. This means that the residents are literally
living on top of and breathing in this chemical.  The EPA has been slow to
respond to this situation, and their answer to the situation so far is to move
about half of the chromium in these various dump sites to a "temporary"
storage site right by the Hackensack River in Jersey City. People who have
seen the site have said that the chemical is not contained properly and is
in pools on the ground. Since this site is right next to the river, the
chromium may be leaking into the ground water.....
 
Folks, I'm not going to let that one slide. Look for more in later issues on
Jersey City's chromium problem.
 
(Source: WBAI News 99.5 FM, New York)
 
 
Speaking of WBAI-FM, they are going to have a show about computer hackers
on Tuesday, July 25th at 7:30 PM. If you're in the NY area, listen to it!
There will also be a call-in where you can participate.
 
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 
Well, I'm going to continue this in ATI40. Look for it in about 2 days or so.
 
We still have lots more stuff to report, and little space left, so we'll cya
in a bit!
 
Take care, and keep the fire burning. Especially if you're burning a flag. ;)
 
Ciao!