first paragraph of a book I'm writing

It means "Put this thread at the top of the forum index".

Or, "Look at this!"

It's a phenomenon of internet forum culture rather than libcom culture.

Never seen this before but:

"Bring Up My Post"

Ta for that Picket. Not sure about 'bump'ing - seems a bit vulgar!

While you're there, why have you changed your user name?

The Bosses vs. The Fobblies

He drove away with enthusiastic confidence, knowing he had done his job well. The agency bosses would be proud. At least it seemed as such thus far. Stopped at a red light on his way home, something remarkable began to happen. Waves of dark, brownish water began to flood the streets. Pouring in from all directions, it would engulf whole roads, stores and buildings. It would pour inside the man’s car faster than he could think about escaping. He tasted it. Hmm. He thought to himself:

It… it tastes like shit. My god… it is shit!

Can’t... breathe… I’m swallowing… shit.

Then all of a sudden he wakes. It was just a dream. He looks at the school just as his target steps inside the building.

“Oh no… damn! I missed that bastard! The bosses are going to be pissed.”

“Oh no… (He looks down), I spilled my coffee! That’s probably what woke me up.”

Starbucks coffee that is, with the cup in one hand. He shook his head in disappointment and then drove off back to headquarters. Normally, when a mission is done and successful, agents can go straight to their home. But when they fail, they have to report back to the people above them for a little bit of explaining.

By the time he reached the headquarters’ building, and traveled several flights via elevator to the conference room, three old men with boring gray suits sat around a long table with their faces glued to a large screen. The game was on and just before the kickoff.

[television]
"Arise ye workers from your slumbers
Arise ye prisoners of want
For reason in revolt now thunders
And at last ends the age of cant.
Away with all your superstitions
Servile masses arise, arise…”[television]

Old Man #1: “Arise ye workers… from your slumbers. What?!? What blasphemy!”

Old Man #2: “I don’t get it. What slumber?”

The third old man shook his head.

“It looks like our boy didn’t get the job done. Now we have this little runt trying to spread his verbal disease everywhere.”

Old Man #2: “But I don’t see why this little guy is our concern. And plus, it’s just a school.”

Old Man #3: “Just a school??? This is more important than just a school. Our competitors at the other side of the globe can discipline their students quite well. They can force em to keep their heads down all the time if they wanted to. If we allow these little animals to continue to carry on like that, it’s going to embarrass us on the world stage. And plus, eventually, it may become bad for business. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?"

Old Man #1: “Yeah, for sure. But where’s Bruce?”

Bruce: "Ahem, right here." (walking in from behind).

Old Man #3: “You look and smell like shit.”

Bruce: “Um, its Starbucks, sir.”

Old Man #2: “Well, look at what you did (pointing at the screen). You let that happen. What the heck is the matter with ya? Why didn’t you take him out?”

Bruce: “…”

He reached as hard as he could for an excuse but couldn’t find one. He knew that whatever he could have told them, they wouldn’t buy it.

Bruce: “Ahhhh…”

Old Man #3: “Ahhhhhhiiitt doesn’t matter. What matters is what happens from now on. And I think I have a plan that will take care of this kid and his friends.”

Bruce (interruptedly): “What do they call themselves?”

Old Man #1: “I think they refer to themselves as the Future Workers of the World. They sometimes call themselves the Fobblies.”

Old Man #2: “The Fobblies? What the heck are those?”

Old Man #3 (interruptedly): It doesn’t matter! Bruce, you may have to stay out of this for a while. I have something else in mind, someone else who can handle this developing situation.”

He pulls out a tiny note pad and scribbles a few words on the top page. Then he shows it exclusively to the two other old men. Bruce squinted his eyes, trying to make out what he could but couldn’t make any sense of it. He was too far. The two old men nodded in approval.

Old Man #3: “Then that’s that. Bruce, do you mind stepping out for a while and closing the door on your way out. I have to make an important call.”

Bruce does as he is told. As he walks outside the conference room, shutting the door on his way out, the third old man pulls the corded phone closer to his chest and hits several numbers with his fingers. It rings. The three old men sat contently, waiting as the phone rang until somebody picked up.

Voice from phone: “Hello?”

Old Man #3: “Yeah, hello! Is there a fellow named Antonio Mussolini? I would like to speak to him.”

Mussolini: “Yes, you are speaking to him right now. How may I help you?”

Who's gonna do the next part? Plasmatelly?

Gimme a few hours, it's wine o clock.. ( but thanks for the thought! )

Julie stood in front of the Headmaster's curiously large desk. Her hands folded behind her back as she stared down at the Head, who, flanked by his two deputies had the appearance of a man temporarily deprived of good cognac. Behind them, a framed potrait of John Travolta. And on the desk lay a small xylophone and a microphone. "That figures" thought Julie.
"Julie... Where do we start?" his tone familiar, that of someone about to break into song. "Julie, I'm a simple man. I show enthusiasm for things that make sense; I like a well sung national anthem as much as the next man.. for gods sake Julie..this fish thing, it's gone too far this time! Damn it, I've been patient, you know I have... I even tried them. First time in my life I didn't ask for salami.. And on a god damn $12 pizza! And now this! You've embarrassed the whole school and made yourselves out to be a bunch of fish loving reds!"
Julie's shoulders sank a little as she mumbled "sir, I've said this a hundred times, it's anarchy not anchovy."

I had an idea for a story since around Halloween time. I forgot about it, now I remember it again. Its not supposed to be scary, mostly comedy, maybe drama, or mixture of everything. It basically goes like this: dead working class folks emerge in the form of ghosts, haunting the workplaces and communities of the present. And they communicate to living working class people the horrors of past experience under capitalism, and their struggles. They sometime hint at the necessity for revolution and the need to organise on a class basis, and warn them what would eventually happen if they don't (i.e. barbarism). On the flip side, leading members of the bourgeoisie are likewise visited by dead members of the same class, providing their share of advisement (on how to manage the class struggle). The story will be marked by brief appearances of very famous and significant figures on both sides from beginning to end. E.g. workers may come across the ghosts of Marx and Bakunin. I can imagine the most possible setting being a medium-sized town in order to give it a narrow focus. What do ya think?

I can see it as a story that emphasizes history, particularly history-from-below, or working class people's history.

Special Treatment

It was raining heavily, so rather having than the student body waiting outside before reporting to their first block classes, they were jam packed into the school's cafeteria. It was noisy, as students of all sizes in soaked-wet coats of all kinds, backpacks on their backs, and with their umbrellas in their hands, chattered among themselves. It was your typical, diverse, urban-based high school (largely low-income). Security at all entrances provided entering students with routine pat downs and bag checks.

Julie came in at his usual time. As Julie stepped in through the entrance door, he was pushed against the wall, nose touching the concrete. The security guard spoke loudly into his ears:

"Look, listen up now, we know who you are kid. Because you threatened this school, we're gonna have to give you special attention."

"Hhhuuh???"

"Now get over here", he pulled Julie towards the other security guard who grabbed his back pack and emptied it out entirely, an unusual practice, while he scanned him with metal detectors. "We have to make sure you don't blow shit up."

"Blow what???"

The other security guard spoke, "he's clean."

"Okay, your good. Now get the fuck out of here!" He pushes Julie away towards the direction of the cafe. He announces aloud, "Everybody listen up! That kid (pointing at Julie) is a menace to our wonderfully harmonious little community. Keep an eye on him."

As Julie turned away and walked towards the cafeteria, he could hear them laughing it up in the background. He didn't know what much to think of it. Were they joking? Whether or not they were, things weren't going to be the same around here.

FIVE MINUTES LATER

"There's the new kid", says one security guard to the other, "let him in."

Antonio asks, "um, you gonna check me?"

"Are you kidding, a rich bastard like you, get the fuck in there."

No check. That's not usually part of the routine. Oh well. Antonio heard them muttering in the background as he reached for the cafeteria door.

"I assume that kid must be rich, if he could get the principal to instruct us to give him no check. He must be worthy of something"

As soon as Antonio stepped in the cafeteria, he stood for a while, scanning the general body of students before him from left to right, absorbing the atmosphere. He thought to himself:

It was organized. The blacks crowded by the left side of the room windowsills. The bilinguals (Latinos) on the right. Asians occupied the middle left. Whites on the middle right. Different subgroups in between here and there. Gays and lesbians in their corner. It looks like liberal multiculturalism has done the dirty work. There's a lot of tension here. The situation is ripe. Now its time to reap the benefits.

I am going through this post and thinking of it’s theme and trying to understand what is this post about. At last I can have found something from this post which feels pretty good.