Slouched down in a vintage low-rider, you cruise the city. You’ve got a job to do, but that can wait. This is your world, you know it inside out, and everything and every place can be open to you.

Consensus makes my skin crawl. This feeling likely results from my having attended too many direct action spokes-council meetings where consensus means lowest common denominator agreement, an agreement later ignored in the name of “diversity of tactics.”