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(en) Czech, afed: Michal Kacha - anarchist, editor and publisher Michal Kacha (1874-1940) [machine translation]

Date Mon, 8 Jan 2018 09:06:48 +0200

On January 6, we commemorate the anniversary of the birth of the anarchist, editor and publisher Michal Kacha (1874-1940). This time with his feuilleur and during January another pocket booklet with lyrics about him. ---- Was there a war ... and will it? ---- The war is over. The Daily Journal reader is postponing the magazine with the grim face of a giant who has been spoiled by the enjoyment of the last tray he has so much enjoyed. It will not be good for a long time to read amongst such equally valuable species by reading the logs of a "strategy" that he is prepared to crush thousands of Russians or Japanese in his teeth (he comes to sympathy). ---- Before the decisive battle he had already struggled with his kind of skirmishes, no such stupidity - spoiling his mood and surprise, not just a rising bastard, often a member of the party who, at anti-militaristic meetings, could ease the cries of "Away with the Army!" And then - Well, he went home and fought.

The level of wonderfully elastic and the compromise of always prone "goodies".

And the mournful mule swears, in the mockery of human passive dreamers, huge sums, robbing schools, absorbing the blood and brains of the crowd. Eternally equally hungry, but in massacre more sophisticated, using talented inventors who reward the eternal feedman of this monster and the eternal representative of violence - stand.

There was peace. The Drastic comic worked when a representative of the dragon power of the United States mediated peace. The journals wrote: The honest effort ... and the animal still feeling prey. The journals have written: Japanese grandeur ... and he has not yet had a grown-up ... The journals have written: Witte's diplomacy ... and that - the wrongdoing.

The masters entertained at the green table, and many people buried themselves in the pits, and later on it would be possible to read from the cavities of the eyeworms that terrible and astonished: Why? In the fallen fields the human flesh will tremble, and the blood of the blood will be joined to the sore chest. And strange granaries will be filled with what chokes and hunts in the queues and hunger. The old fairytale does not die, and it has a terrible grace in its point.

Stock exchanges will continue to prescribe the necessary supplies for a worker who has a grouse of parasites on the grouse. More expensive food. Um, the belt is pulling off. It must be saved when the master wants it. And those intelligent gentlemen know that it is necessary to revolutionize energy, and that does not originate in hunger. And you do not want hunger and ... just dare! And a good gentleman with a round belly swims morale, and a comrade in a decent pose shows a ballot. Uf, man saved. The morale has won, and a ballot passes Egyptian pots. Surplus goods at the nakedness of manufacturers. It is necessary to impose a neighbor's tariffs. Diplomatic plot. The logs furiously write: The land in danger! And the eternal debtor of monetary kings - the state - graciously acts as a kata. And a man stuffed with morality is going to kill. It's because they want those who overturn the meaning of life. Good bullshit pray for victory ... And pop blesses the crowd going to the slaughterhouse - - - Like the hell-eaters left and like the criminals are coming. A splendid bunch of bodies in the trenches, the death of a stiff grimace, a convulsively biting species in a second - proclaim civilization.

The journal writes, cynically feeding the reader with blood. Workers in arsenals? Well, they're working to make bullets, bombs, and other small things rush into a comrade who might be a competitor. Sentimental patrons are lying, and - they are those who are not allowed to die.

And journals defending the interests of the proletariat? They take blood from the battlefield for their readers from the other hand from the happier journals of the warlords. The deal is a deal. And there is a new idea about good carpaces with a red cockard and the future state - where freedom, equality, fraternity will be written on every gallows ...

What I'm writing is a flashy song with a chorus: "We will hold, we will hold!" ...

Work , People's Quadruple, Year. 1, No. 19, Prague-Žižkov, 28 September 1905, pp. 2-3

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