Anarchy

With bleary, itchy-eyes, on the tube to White City this morning, I sat opposite a weasely young man with a beard, dark glasses and a beeny hat. He had two prominent badges on his grungy coat lapel: one had the symbol for anarchy on it, the other was a yellow badge with a smile; the "secret" code for Aciiiid in the very early 90s. His head lolled about to the rhythm of the tube and after a while, my blood started to boil.

Quite why he annoyed me so much, I've no idea. He was plainly off his face on something, which is neither here nor there, although too much cannabis will invariably lead to some form of psychosis, which will, very rapidly, effect those around you. Maybe I simply find the whole concept of anarchy a little bit tedious. Maybe it's because I know this man will also bore his friends to death with endless conspiracy theories about why we're all f***ed in this world, whilst simultaneously making no effort to work out what he could do to help the struggling planet. I'm sure, when he's not too far gone, he also plays the guitar. Badly. 

I suppose I feel we all need to take a bit of responsibility in life and it's all too easy to get stoned, find philosophical arguments for full-scale anarchy, and allow life to simply pass us by. I've talked before about the cul-de-sac of atheism. An atheist doesn't have the option of thinking he's in the departure lounge for the real thing. He believes firmly that this is it and strives to make this life count. My heaven is my legacy; what I leave behind to enrich the lives of the next set of people who are lucky enough to live on this beautiful planet. 

Looking at people on the tube - young people in relative good health, who seem intent on drifting their way through life - makes me cross... Particularly when they try to justify this with too-cool-for-school half-baked philosophy. 

And the moral of this post? Burn your anarchy flags and keep a lid on the pot!