The UnaBummer…

For years now I, the intrepid Matt Walker, have been fighting the good fight and churning the soft butter- as they say. But one thing evades me. It- or rather- he has become my shadow; casting darkness over my life and the people I love while being able to transform to any shape like a dog, or a moose, or even a supple goldfish. Yes, folks this darkness I refer to is the Unabomber.


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Theodore John Kacynski or as I like to call him, “Ted,” was born on May 22nd, 1942. He was birthed by Pollacks, which is also the name of my polka/punk band (, and grew up in a sordid situation. His Pollack parents enlisted him in autistic school because he had such poor social habits (he skipped a few grades, thus was smaller and dweebier than the other kids in his year inherently amounting in bullying).

Ted was eventually put through a stress study that allowed researchers to basically get some pent up anger out on Ted. The subjects were asked to write out their beliefs while researchers sat behind a one-way mirror, while attornies (?) would go in and berate the subjects about his/her beliefs. Researchers would watch as subjects got mad (?). This was “instrumental in Kacynski’s future actions.”


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Sorry I put so many “(?)s” in there, it’s just the reason I’m frustrated with this guy. Because folks, in college, I used to be one of those test subjects for different things; they would pay me for my time and I would buy mixtapes and record players. In my experience being a “guinea pig” I endured a lot: eyelids ripped off, lipstick on my asshole, ingesting hot coals and this stress study was a cake walk.

A cake walk? YES, why don’t you ever listen to me, I have interesting things to say.

So I get called in, Ted’s walking out of the room all crying and real amateur shit, and I call him out by telling him he’s got a short fuse; whatever. I sit down in the chair; it’s a bright fluorescent room. They were trying to up the “stress”- I wasn’t buying it. They ask me to write down my beliefs and hand it to them when I’m finished. So I write down my beliefs, about how Reagan will eventually be President and knock down some sort of wall that gets constructed due to something called the iron curtain, which was born from something called the Cold War and about how I believe beliefs are like assholes, and they take the paper away and read it. I couldn’t help but think about how on point my second sight was that day.

The guy reads it and starts to try to ‘break’ me. This little dweeb couldn’t intimidate a toddler! I sat and listened, “why would Gorbachev build a wall in his own country?” Other things like, “Iron curtain? How would THAT work!” and “maybe you’re the asshole!”: a bunch of real amateur shit. I’ve eaten hot coals, remember.

So they slap a hundred bucks in my hand and send me on my way and guess who didn’t feel the need to send bomb packages to people? If you were paying attention, this guy! A shadow over my life, Ted is.

A little shout-out to Ted here: Ted, grow a pair, will ya? You’re blocking my Sun.


– Matt Walker

Twitter: @mattwindwalker