I'm on my way out the door to the modern American version of the street market: the flea market. A place where you can engage in free trade and find good products; many that were made before manufacturers discovered flimsy, plastic substitutes for wood, glass, and metal. There is a bit of an outlaw feel to the whole thing. You can haggle over a price instead of simply accepting the price that the barcode scanner demands. You can suggest a trade, or pay with your silver or gold coins. You can stumble upon treasures never imagined to exist if you dig through the boxes that no one else wants to take the time to explore. You can meet vendors who can't fit into the mainstream job market (for whatever reason) and who are more interesting for their differences.
If there is a flea market in your area (and I am sure there is) give it a try, if you haven't already. In its own way, it is a little bit of anarchy in the best sense.
Those who want you to doubt that anarchy (self-ownership and individual responsibility) is the best, most moral, and ethical way to live among others are asking you to accept that theft, aggression, superstition, and slavery are better.
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