Ever notice how only a certain mentality becomes a cop, or a professional soldier in these times? I've known several who did both. They might be compared to decadent Rome's stoics were it not for their total lack of understanding or moral courage. They are gun fanatics, the law-and-order freaks and they have trouble getting girls. They are the most dangerous and irredeemable reactionaries. They are the System's hired hoods, the System's Pigs, and though the reactionary streak in them may at times cause them to sympathize with some of our program, they'll sell you out in a minute in the name of printed law.
It is comparatively well-known that the suicide rate among professional groups is highest among police. To be blunt they are neurotic, cowardly, self-righteous bullies and any comparison between them and the SS is enough to gag any real National Socialist, for these Pigs are not in the least bit idealistic or devoted to any cause whatsoever, save enforcing the printed law as it is handed down by tyrannical judges and sold-out politicians. What else, how else can we regard them except as a major facet of the Enemy? Conservatism and Pig-ism are the same: both enemies of revolution.
Devoid of real ethics and motivation, only two things keep the Pigs in power in this land: the mood and atmosphere set by the superabundance of the "Uncle Toms" I mentioned before and the continued existence of the economy. Despite any 21 st century line of electronic surveillance systems, the Pigs COULD NOT FUNCTION minus their finks, their informants. And were it not for the government's continued ability to pay them their wages - handed over by sheepish herds of taxpaying consumers - they'd quickly get out and take jobs better suited to them, like pumping gas or some other honest labor. We can start to defeat them now, individually, simply by being SUPERIOR . Step one is to stop imagining that they have eyes in the backs of their heads or that they are allseeing in any way. They are NOT as long as we stay away from stupid conspiracies and other compromising situations... and even more stupid TALK! Step two is to learn their silly little routine games which they play on every suspect and to know how to rebuff these at the time they are attempted. THAT is 90% of any encounter with the police. Third is to discipline ourselves to STAND FIRM against them even in the face of total personal disaster so that we ourselves and the revolution as a whole will not be further weakened or discredited.
Their power will gradually be overturned and destroyed through the increased lack of faith and interest on the part of the public as well as our own rock-solid opposition. Offensive tactics against them are entirely unwarranted and unnecessary now and for long into the future. Once under serious attack by them, of course, consider yourself a marked individual and proceed to kill as many of them as you can.

Ever notice how only a certain mentality becomes a cop, or a professional soldier in these times? I've known several who did both. They might be compared to decadent Rome's stoics were it not for their total lack of understanding or moral courage. They are gun fanatics, the law-and-order freaks and they have trouble getting girls. They are the most dangerous and irredeemable reactionaries. They are the System's hired hoods, the System's Pigs, and though the reactionary streak in them may at times cause them to sympathize with some of our program, they'll sell you out in a minute in the name of printed law. It is comparatively well-known that the suicide rate among professional groups is highest among police. To be blunt they are neurotic, cowardly, self-righteous bullies and any comparison between them and the SS is enough to gag any real National Socialist, for these Pigs are not in the least bit idealistic or devoted to any cause whatsoever, save enforcing the printed law as it is handed down by tyrannical judges and sold-out politicians. What else, how else can we regard them except as a major facet of the Enemy? Conservatism and Pig-ism are the same: both enemies of revolution. Devoid of real ethics and motivation, only two things keep the Pigs in power in this land: the mood and atmosphere set by the superabundance of the "Uncle Toms" I mentioned before and the continued existence of the economy. Despite any 21 st century line of electronic surveillance systems, the Pigs COULD NOT FUNCTION minus their finks, their informants. And were it not for the government's continued ability to pay them their wages - handed over by sheepish herds of taxpaying consumers -they'd quickly get out and take jobs better suited to them, like pumping gas or some other honest labor.
We can start to defeat them now, individually, simply by being SUPERIOR. Step one is to stop imagining that they have eyes in the backs of their heads or that they are all-seeing in any way. They are NOT as long as we stay away from stupid conspiracies and other compromising situations... and even more stupid TALK! Step two is to learn their silly little routine games which they play on every suspect and to know how to rebuff these at the time they are attempted. THAT is 90% of any encounter with the police. Third is to discipline ourselves to STAND FIRM against them even in the face of total personal disaster so that we ourselves and the revolution as a whole will not be further weakened or discredited.
Their power will gradually be overturned and destroyed through the increased lack of faith and interest on the part of the public as well as our own rock-solid opposition. Offensive tactics against them are entirely unwarranted and unnecessary now and for long into the future. Once under serious attack by them, of course, consider yourself a marked individual and proceed to kill as many of them as you can.

Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Kill the pig! Bash him in!

Pig power in America was infuriating, but pig power in the communist framework was awesome and unaccountable. No protection by outbursts in the press and electronic media—the Reds owned it. No shelter under the benevolent protection of a historic constitution—the Marxists held the book and they tore out the pages that sheltered you. No counterweight from religious and church organizations—they were invisible and silent.

With the added psychological deterrent of litigation, my clashes with the pigs declined somewhat in frequency. They focused primarily on isolating me from others. Their efforts to perpetuate a discontinuity in our unity has been the pigs’ only effective weapon against me. And they’ve admitted in a thousand ways that their greatest fear is ending up with many other prisoners on their hands who think and act as I do. Their isolating me was long a tactic that I could not devise an effective countermeasure against, that is, until after 2001, when I was first exposed to revolutionary theory and have since come to understand the role of ideology. Without a unifying ideology, there can be no unity of struggle. Ideology was something I’d never had, and thus something I could not share. The prisoners who’d united in struggle with me had done so because of me. Not because of a shared principle. Therefore, when I was no longer around, they lost the initiative to struggle on.

I still endure repression at the hands of the pigs, as do my peers. I still take a principled stand against this repression. But above all else, I am working on bringing my peers into a principled ideological and political consciousness that will give them discipline and a cause to struggle for, while simultaneously imparting to them the correct methods of mass based struggle. The pigs’ response continues to be to isolate me. Their violence has proven futile. Even in this most totalitarian of environments, innovation and relentless commitment to an ideal has proven, to my satisfaction, that the oppressive institutions are not invulnerable. Fear is our greatest hindrance. Fear and half measures. They can isolate me, but they cannot isolate an ideal.

Kill the pig. Cut her throat. Spill her blood.

It was all so very businesslike that one watched it fascinated. It was porkmaking by machinery, porkmaking by applied mathematics. And yet somehow the most matter-of-fact person could not help thinking of the hogs; they were so innocent, they came so very trustingly; and they were so very human in their protests — and so perfectly within their rights! They had done nothing to deserve it; and it was adding insult to injury, as the thing was done here, swinging them up in this cold-blooded, impersonal way, without a pretense of apology, without the homage of a tear. Now and then a visitor wept, to be sure; but this slaughtering machine ran on, visitors or no visitors. It was like some horrible crime committed in a dungeon, all unseen and unheeded, buried out of sight and of memory. One could not stand and watch very long without becoming philosophical, without beginning to deal in symbols and similes, and to hear the hog squeal of the universe. Was it permitted to believe that there was nowhere upon the earth, or above the earth, a heaven for hogs, where they were requited for all this suffering? Each one of these hogs was a separate creature. Some were white hogs, some were black; some were brown, some were spotted; some were old, some young; some were long and lean, some were monstrous. And each of them had an individuality of his own, a will of his own, a hope and a heart’s desire; each was full of self-confidence, of self-importance, and a sense of dignity. And trusting and strong in faith he had gone about his business, the while a black shadow hung over him and a horrid Fate waited in his pathway. Now suddenly it had swooped upon him, and had seized him by the leg. Relentless, remorseless, it was; all his protests, his screams, were nothing to it — it did its cruel will with him, as if his wishes, his feelings, had simply no existence at all; it cut his throat and watched him gasp out his life. And now was one to believe that there was nowhere a god of hogs, to

His mind was crowded with memories; memories of the knowledge that had come to them when they closed in on the struggling pig, knowledge that they had outwitted a living thing, imposed their will upon it, taken away its life like a long satisfying drink.

When we use the term pig, for example, we are referring to the people who systematically violate the peoples' constitutional rights- whether they be monopoly capitalists or police. The term is now being adopted by radicals, hippies, and minority peoples. Even the workers, when the pigs supported strike-breakers like they did as Union Oil where 100 local police came in a cracked strikers' heads, began to call them by their true name.

These psyched-up Reds - and especially the agitated Blacks - can't be expected to lie dormant forever and you can only hit what you can see. One of the cornerstones of our strategy is to make ourselves the most unattractive target for these peripheral rowdies. We'd rather see the System take it on the chin instead. In deciding who your enemy really is you must take into account that an opponent is only dangerous to you if he holds some kind of power over you. Groups like the PLP (Progressive Labor Party), etc., can't affect us in the slightest unless we provide them with an opening. The Big Brother System is another matter. THERE IS THE ENEMY!! It is our worst enemy in the entire world!
If a bunch of Black Nationalists rob a Brinks truck, if they kill some System Pigs, WHO CARES? Money is the lifeblood of the System so let the Blacks, or anyone else who cares to, open up a damned artery! Any Pig killed by a Black or Communist Revolutionary is one Pig you may be sure will not come after YOU one night with a nice, neat Federal warrant. It is a dirty, rotten shame that it has to be left up to the likes of Blacks and bowlegged Jewish agitators to hit the Pig System but, damn it, SOMEBODY'S GOT TO DO IT! So wish 'em lots o' luck because this is serious, deadly business and twenty years of bitter experience has shown us that all the piety and all the law and order bullshit of the past has gotten us NOWHERE!

What made me maddest was the media treatment of the BPP, which gave the impression that the Party was racist and violent. And it worked. The pigs would burst into a Panther office, shoot first, and ask questions later. The press always reported that the police had “uncovered” a large arsenal of weapons. Later, when the “arsenal” turned out to be a few legally registered rifles and shotguns, the press never printed a word. The same thing goes on today.

They had chains which they fastened about the leg of the nearest hog, and the other end of the chain they hooked into one of the rings upon the wheel. So, as the wheel turned, a hog was suddenly jerked off his feet and borne aloft. At the same instant the ear was assailed by a most terrifying shriek; the visitors started in alarm, the women turned pale and shrank back. The shriek was followed by another, louder and yet more agonizing — for once started upon that journey, the hog never came back; at the top of the wheel he was shunted off upon a trolley and went sailing down the room. And meantime another was swung up, and then another, and another, until there was a double line of them, each dangling by a foot and kicking in frenzy — and squealing. The uproar was appalling, perilous to the ear-drums; one feared there was too much sound for the room to hold — that the walls must give way or the ceiling crack. There were high squeals and low squeals, grunts, and wails of agony; there would come a momentary lull, and then a fresh outburst, louder than ever, surging up to a deafening climax. It was too much for some of the visitors — the men would look at each other, laughing nervously, and the women would stand with hands clenched, and the blood rushing to their faces, and the tears starting in their eyes. Meantime, heedless of all these things, the men upon the floor were going about their work. Neither squeals of hogs nor tears of visitors made any difference to them; one by one they hooked up the hogs, and one by one with a swift stroke they slit their throats. There was a long line of hogs, with squeals and life-blood ebbing away together; until at last each started again, and vanished with a splash into a huge vat of boiling water. It was all so very businesslike that one watched it fascinated. It was pork-making by machinery, pork-making by applied mathematics. And yet somehow the most matter-of-fact person could not help thinking of the hogs; they were so innoce

Give me a mace and I'll drive the pumpkin down 's throat.