Hello, Muddah

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Dear Mom and Dad,

My hand is feeling better. I think the finger is going to stay on. I want to try out for the 7th grade football team when school starts, and the doctor says I should get most of the movement back. But I don't think I'm going to go to bomb-making class for a while.

The weather's been nice at Camp Anarchy this week. We've done some neat stuff. I'm learning a lot, but sometimes I think the three-hour lectures are too long, especially the one about the miths of capitolist economics. And my hand cramps up in the mannifesto writing workshops. 10 thousand words is a lot. And my ankle got sore when we practiced chaining ourselves to a tree for a WHOLE AFTERNOON.

Mom, Dad, I'm not trying to complain, but sometimes I wonder about our counselers. The other day, me and Billy and Tommy and Matty and some other guys told them we were going to skip tree spiking class and play some basketball. Counseler Noam congratulated us on being good anarchists, and then told us to go to our cabin and take a nap.

And, Dad, get this! When we played a game of baseball, one of the counselers said it didn't matter which base we ran to first. He said, (wait, he made me write it down) that the game was a object lesson in flouting the hidebound rigidity and abject formalism of capitolist sports.

Frankie got caught with a Teen People magazine inside his copy of Anarchy: Class Warfare Through the Generations. It was pretty funny. He had to write "Jennifer Love Hewitt is a capitalist swine" on the blackboard 3,400 times. He thinks he'll be done by Saturday. Jason got caught playing Quake III when we were supposed to be learning how to spam corporate websites. His punishment was to give a speech to some blueberry pickers down the road. They didn't understand him, mostly because they don't speak English. Counseler Che is giving him Spanish lessons now.

Next week's the field trip. I can't wait. We're going to pass out pamphlets at the Anarchists R Us Convention. Before that, though, we get to go to Kinko's and make a bunch of copies. Mom, you know how I love making copies. Counselor Xhing says that if we do a good job we get to go libberate some animals at the zoo. He said we should run real fast when we open the tiger cage.

Counseler Durruti came into our cabin at 3 o'clock in the morning last week and put our camoflage suits on. We ran across a big field and Joey got to pour sand in the gas tank of this big yellow bulldozer. It was awesome.

Mom, it's time to send another care package. I'm out of spray paint, rope, chains, plastique, gasoline, bottles and rags. And you know that poster of Emma Goldman in my room? Can you send that too? Oh, and send some Ding Dongs, mom, Please?

Love and soliderity,


—Eric Snider

Minister of Re-education

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