Anarchy for you is a means to avoid (actual) criticism, which is to say, reflection. Anarchy is therefore a form of #postmodern #ironic living. A means to ignore that horrible stranger you see in the mirror every morning. A means to ignore your existence as a battery for the system you are supposed to hate, and yet are quietly and secretly terrified of losing. Yours is an ideological battered spouse syndrome. Get back in the kitchen.
A “consistent” political anarchist is not an anarchist at all, but a Randian/Marxian/Obaman who utilizes “edgier” language (you should sport some dreadlocks/a mohawk while you’re at it). In practice they use “anti-state” rhetoric to divert from the dildos that are their political ideology and ideological constructs.
Cut through the ridiculous anti-spanking models of “parenting” and the drones droning on about drones. Look beyond the dissonant ideals of “communes” and “freedom” and the ambiguous dictatorship of the polycentric, and you will realize you are gazing upon authoritarians with severe identity issues. That is to say, fucking freaks.
A stance against hierarchy and coercion resolves itself to a stance against existence, and there is no better place to start than with yourself. Voluntary society? The gazelle doesn’t volunteer it’s throat into the lioness’s maw. My Little Free Market Pony asserts theirs as a Jetson’s world, but seems more interested in pot and hookers and fucking solar panels. Do you actually believe your organs vote to participate, that your body is a democratic collective? GTFO.
You the “anarchist” may be a limp-wristed and self-sabotaging fuck, but your brain still possesses a Will to Power. Your brain recognizes the language against “coercion” leads to suicide, and works to stop that line of thought. This explains why you cannot argue for statelessness and voluntary cuckoldry without unloading barrages of unrelated ideas and vaguely-associated nonsense about spanking and holocausts and gold bars and whatever the fuck.
You project outward to keep from reflecting inward. You are miserable because you are free. You are an anarchist because modern society amounts to anarchy with a crotch-grabbing traffic constable. You “hate” the state because you don’t know yourself. You don’t know yourself because you were free to create your own identity, and the building material you have today consists of pussified critiques of great men, critical theories of past social constructs made within the rotting corpse of one.
Voluntary/agorist/liberty values amount to a distraction from your own emptiness. An identity game to play with similar faggots on the interwebz. Are you a goldblack or a redblack? Maybe blueblack? What about a minarcho-primtivist-social-communist-anarchist?
Maybe you need to eat a gun. Voluntarily.