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Album: Miscellaneous (1994)
Artists: Propaghandi

  1. A People's History Of The World
  2. Albright Monument, Bagdhad
  3. Anchorless
  4. And We Thought That Nation-States Were A Bad Idea
  5. Anti-Manifesto
  6. Apparently, I'm A "P.C. Fascist" (Because I Care About Both Human And Non-Human Animals)
  7. Back To The Motor League
  8. Bullshit Politicians
  9. Death Of Manolete *
  10. Ego Fum Papa (I Am The Pope)
  11. Fuck The Border
  12. Gifts
  13. Hate, Myth, Muscle, Etiquette
  14. Head, Chest Or Foot?
  15. I Was A Pre-Teen McCarthyist
  16. Ladies' Nite In Loserville
  17. Less Talk, More Rock
  18. March Of The Crabs
  19. Mate Ka Moris Ukun Rasik An
  20. Middle Finger Response
  21. Nailing Descartes To The Wall/(Liquid) Meat Is Still Murder
  22. Natural Disasters
  23. New Homes For Idle Hands
  24. Ordinary People Do Fucked-up Things When Fucked-up Things Become Ordinary
  25. Pigs Will Pay
  26. Public Dis-Service Announcement From Shell
  27. Purina Hall Of Fame
  28. Refusing To Be A Man
  29. Resisting Tyrannical Government
  30. Rio De San Atlanta, Manitoba
  31. Showdown (G.E./P.)
  32. Ska Sucks
  33. Stick The Fucking Flag Up Your Goddamn Ass, You Sonofabitch
  34. The Only Good Fascist Is A Very Dead Fascist
  35. The State Lottery
  36. Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Ashes
  37. With Friends Like These, Who The Fuck Needs Cointelpro?


Propaghandi
Miscellaneous
The State Lottery
Does it seem strange to you? The confetti. The balloons. The mile-wide grins and the victory dance to welcome in the heir to a state of (utter and complete) disrepair? Because it sure seems strange to me: they're acting like they won the fucking lottery! I mean, shouldn't they feel terror at the task that lies ahead: to feed and house the people that this system's left for dead. And could I have hit the nail much harder on the head? It's profits before lives. They are motivated by greed. First they taught us to depend on their nation-states to mend our tired minds, our broken bones, our bleeding limbs. But now they've sold off all the splints and contracted out the tourniquets and if we jump through hoops then we might just survive. Is this what we deserve? To scrub the palace floors? To fight amongst ourselves? As we scramble for the crumbs they spit out, frothing at the mouth about the scapegoats that they've chosen for us. With every racist pointed finger I can hear the goose-steps getting closer. They no longer represent us so is it not our obligation to confront this tyranny?
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