In every era there exists a contingent of men who exemplify, either in whole or in part, freedom and the total unabashed expression of the human spirit. The early 1700s had pirates; the latter part of that century had American colonists; the 1960s and ‘70s had rock and rollers; and, whether you like it or not, the 2010s and early 2020s had frat-adjacent YouTube phenoms like Nelk and Danny Mullen.
Most men—the real ones, anyway—have this spirit living within them. We would like nothing more than to rape and pillage our way through Life, going a bit mad in the process, reveling in the gold and glory of complete independence, no one and nothing to tell us what to do but our own innermost desires.
But most of us can’t be pirates—there’s simply no money in it.
So what to do? How to remedy that awful itch which cannot be scratched, that thirst which cannot be quenched but by the occasional trip via longship to the southlands with you and a hundred Viking berserkers?
The answer is quite simple: stop listening to those who tell you you can’t.
I’m not saying you should go out and blow up your nearest government building (though if you really feel the need, be my guest). What I’m saying is: a little rebellion goes a long way.
Hemingway wrote that modern life is a “mechanical oppression” and that “liquor is the only mechanical relief.” Well, that’s certainly part of it, but (God rest his soul) he was missing the bigger picture. Excessive consumption of liquor is just one of the many things They tell you not to do. Because it’s dangerous! The Atomic Bomb is dangerous. If a little booze is a threat to our perfect little modern world, then you can call me Public Enemy Numero Uno.
When some ninny tells you something is dangerous or illegal, nine times out of ten they’ve never even tried it. They’ve never tried anything. They don’t know what it feels like to ride at a breakneck pace down the highway of Life—because they’re too scared.
Well—I’m not afraid of a little danger. Are you?
Armchair Outlaw is a place where the dangerous thrives. We cultivate it, grow it carefully and passionately like high-quality hemp and tobacco. And then we roll it up in a joint and smoke it, getting high off the fumes and letting the secondhand waft into the safe, tidy homes of the frightened populace.
Depression-era politician Huey Long’s political slogan was: “Every man a king.” He didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Kings are a bunch of jerks. We have a different slogan: “Every man an outlaw.”