Look, maybe I don’t dress like it anymore, or go to shows often (or ever), but that doesn’t mean I’m not punk anymore. I’m still more punk than you’ll ever be.
The truth is, it doesn’t matter if you’ve lost touch with almost every friend you made in the scene after a swift and brutal exiling. Same shit happened to me. But if you’re too punk for punk then whatever.
I’ve learned that punk isn’t just a mohawk, or studded jacket, or Skrewdriver’s earlier stuff — it’s something much more. It’s about what you feel inside, revolting against the powers that be, and Driver’s later stuff.
As soon as I joined the force I knew I had found my new punk crew. A bunch of guys, in the van/squad car, hanging out. The camaraderie, the fights, the cheap fast food. Someone steps to us up? We fuck them up. Hell, off the record, sometimes the dudes I roll with now kill people.
That’s what punk is all about.
Punk used to be about rebellion. Now it’s full of PC pussy cry babies who are worse with rules than the priest at my new church. Father David is fucking chill.
See, when I grew up, it used to be no rules. That’s what punk was about. There was no snitching. There was no crying foul. There was no disrespecting the legends. And if you broke any of those rules, we ran you the fuck out of the scene.
So take it from me: Punk isn’t just a costume, or culture, or even a way of life. It’s a thing that I get to say I am and fuck you if you disagree. Nobody can take that away from me. Not you, not the kids at this DIY show I’m about to go break up, not nobody.