It takes a special kind of amoral nature and stupidity to think this up, and parade around calling it kunst, with that detachment from decency that let’s one use the subject of a murderous micro-sect who were the wholly owned flunkies of the KGB as part of one’s attention-seeking behavior:
Today they'd probably form a rock group rather than a political one, and Andreas Baader, Ulrike Meinhof and Gudrun Ensslin would play death metal rather than live it till their deaths. On the stage of Hamburg's Thalia Theater, the RAF veterans have reformed as an OAP band. One standing on a tripod, the other on a dolly, the two erstwhile rivals Gundrun and Ulrike wobble towards each other. Physically disintegrating but ideologically in tact, the RAF setptuageneriennes pose with their Andy, who can no longer close his biker jacket round his belly of affluence, Bond girls and their manchild with the golden Colt, fighting more over him than for a new world order. From the bitch fight with poisoned love, a menage sentimentaleBehold: gentle, lucid, humane, and solidaristic EUtopia. The idea that those happy go lucky terrorists wanting to be in nothing more than a band if they were running around today is undermined by the fact that they weren’t a band THEN. In fact if they were “Active” today, they’d be Jihad-and-kill-the-system-symps like Richard Reed, David Hicks, John Walker Lindh, Adam Yahiye Gadahn (a.k.a. Adam Perlman) and the “European Citizens” in Gitmo.
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