That’s all. That’s it for today.
A frequent refrain in the last several months has been that people are just too selfish, stupid, mired in their phones and consumed by their avocado toasts to get up and protest in the streets like “everyone” did back in the day.
(The person posting such things, I assume, is doing so from inside the belly of an antifa action, as surely no one would urge mobilization and be immobile, that has never happened.)
So it’s useful to see stories about protests that did take place, to know that people are fighting back in whatever ways they can. What’s happening was never met with silence, no matter what anyone says.
Can’t stop the signal, motherfuckers.
There are worldwide candlelight vigils against the camps on July 12, mark your calendars, bitches, and get in the streets with us. I’ll be at the Chicago event and/or helping organize one in my own neighborhood.
Call your reps. Tell them to close the camps. Even if they’re Democrats, even if they already want to. Make this their issue. Make it yours.
In the hellhole that is the internet, Swear Trek and Spock’s Dick remain a bright spot:
— Swear Trek (@swear_trek) October 26, 2017
For all you young’uns who didn’t experience the glory of Web 1.0, this is basically what it was like all the time, along with some cats.
There’s a new PBS kids’ show (look, we avoid constant harping for toys by refusing to watch anything with commercials, let me have the Wild Kratts, okay?) that focuses on Native Alaskans:
While everyone loves a good mystery, what makes this podcast (and TV series) truly groundbreaking is that all the indigenous characters are voiced by indigenous actors, and Alaska Native voices are featured across the production, including in story development and creative direction. The theme song, which is featured in the PBS KIDS series and podcast, is sung by members of the Yupik Alaska Native band Pamyua, with music from Gwich’in fiddler Brennan Firth.
Kick has been obsessed since the first preview and is demanding information and books and maps of Alaska ever since.
Timmy, 8 months old, and Hanson, a senior at East Valley High School, were both competing for the first time – an experience that wouldn’t be possible if Hanson hadn’t spearheaded the effort to create a class at her high school last year that taught such skills.
“I pushed the school board for a long time to start it,” Hanson said. “Once people started to learn about it and what you can do, it caused interest.”
The class, called Livestock Production and Development, is the first and only of its kind in the school. It teaches students about livestock practices like making food, clothes and other products, in addition to showing livestock in competitions.
Come for the livestock talk, stay for the pics of Timmy’s slammin’ outfit.
I spent Saturday at the tamest possible version of the St. Patrick’s Day festivities: the kids’ room at a local “heritage” festival.
Where people were drunk-yelling along with the Dropkick Murphys at 1 p.m. and a dude spilled an entire beer on his 6-ish-year-old’s head while in a wee babby mosh pit during “Michael Finnegan.” I can’t blame him. That’s an absolute banger, all 47 verses.
5:36PM — “A highly intoxicated white male wearing a large styrofoam sombrero” is lying down in the middle of Grand and State.
Never change, my weak-livered brothers. Never change.
The junior-high punks might have called her corny, but like most hobbies people mock you for in adolescence, it’s now one of her greatest assets. The flute is earning her Shade Room–blessed viral fame, especially after one particularly notable moment from a performance at the University of Iowa’s homecoming. As she tells it, that video was born out of a direct challenge to her ability to play the flute — or to perform at all. During sound check, a professor threatened to report her to campus police unless she showed permits. “The privilege that you have to have to walk up to young women, brown women, black women, and yell, ‘Do you have a permit to be here?’ While we’re clearly onstage with microphones singing and dancing,” says Lizzo, shaking off phantom pangs of annoyance. She was so fired up that night, she told the audience the story, then ripped into a flute reworking of “Big Shot,” from Kendrick Lamar’s Black Panther soundtrack, while she and her two dancers, dubbed the Big GRRRLS, hit the shoot with more ferocious joy than BlocBoy JB ever had, even though he invented the dance. She ended by lobbing her trademark “Bitch!”
“That ‘Bitch!’ was from the bottom of my heart,” Lizzo tells me. “That was for anybody who tries to stop my shine and tries to challenge my existence. Don’t challenge my motherfucking right to be here, bitch.”
There are some probably-not-strictly-SFW images at the link, and they are awesome.
I think about this kind of thing a lot:
The President can have dinner with anyone in the world, can go anywhere, can get anyone on the phone, has access to movies before they come out and instead sits alone in his bathrobe every night and live tweets Tucker Carlson while begging for praise. https://t.co/UBxzB5VeAs
— Dan Pfeiffer (@danpfeiffer) January 23, 2019
Like if I was president — and I’m keeping the Diet Coke button on the desk, that’s all I’m keeping from the Trump years, that’s genius — I would just call up Harrison Ford every once in a while and have him talk about carpentry with me. I’d ask NASA to send over some pictures of aliens or whatever that are not ready for public view. I would eat homemade soup all the time and and Mexican food.
I’d invite Kendrick Lamar over to watch YouTube videos of kittens. He wouldn’t have to come but I’m the president, he’d kind of want to, right?
There’s all this useless shit you can do to make what is a pretty nasty job kind of fun a lot of the time. I mean aside from siccing the FBI on my enemies and casually ordering building inspections on my ex-neighbors and the other vindictive shit I’d do for amusement, you can watch whatever movies you want, and fly people places, and I’m pretty sure the Kennedy sex tunnels are still in operation.
I’d have Robert Redford recite all his lines from Spy Game while we drink scotch. What would YOU do?
Love to all of you today.
The Obama administration set rules that sought to make school lunches more healthful with exclusively whole-grain pastas and breads, and with nonfat white milk and less salt. It was reacting to an epidemic of obesity in the United States as well as evidence that excessive salt intake is linked to high blood pressure and other health concerns, and that whole grains are more healthful than refined grains.
In 2017, the Trump administration announced it was temporarily easing those rules, and the Agriculture Department is moving to make those changes permanent. It said it would publish on Wednesday a final rule on school nutrition in the Federal Register — the government’s official journal of agency rules and proposed rules.
(I mean, of course I understand how it happened: Big business propaganda filtered through right-wing news sources. Same way everything disparate becomes part of Fuck You Culture, really.)
You know, it is hard enough to feed kids. I’m very lucky in that Kick is omnivorous, loves broccoli and carrots and will eat apples with the skin on them, thinks nothing of eating red peppers as a snack, eats beets for chrissakes. I know people whose kids will only eat four foods, three of them variations on grilled cheese. My little brother once refused to eat any food that wasn’t white, for some reason, and I used to babysit a family whose kids reacted to food touching each other like a nuclear attack.
It’s hard enough to get them to eat anything, much less anything healthy, and this kind of thing doesn’t help. How exactly does it threaten our national manhood or whatever for kids to have some fuckin asparagus once in a while?
Kick has approximately 20 pairs of gloves.
They’re the cheap kind, that stretch, so she can wear them year after year, and they come in cotton candy colors and I cannot make a pair that match on school mornings for the life of me. She has all these pairs because she loses them, or I lose them, or her father loses them, tosses them on the table at a restaurant or into a grocery cart when she pulls them off and one gets lost down the side of the car seat.
She’s a kid, it’s normal, but she has a bunch of them so it’s fine.
There are kids who don’t have any. Maybe one of those kids is yours. Maybe one of those kids was you.
First Draft is about $275 away from its goal of raising $750 for the St. Hyacinth Food Pantry to cover the cost of Christmas gifts — toys, gift cards, mittens — for kids this year. In 2016 we helped raise enough money to feed 300 families, and this year 500 families have signed up for the holiday gift drive, way more than the pantry thought they’d have.
Van closed. Thank you all for being here and I’m sorry the interface was so glitchy.
The next-door neighbors put pumpkins out, and a particularly noisy squirrel went to town on them shortly before Halloween. Ada likes to sit on the stairs watching him and muttering darkly about what she’ll do once she finally escapes her unjust captivity:
You got what you wanted now.
He’ll overturn Roe.
He’ll side with businesses against unions. With wealth against powerlessness.
He’ll help politicians cut your goddamn sacred motherfucking TAXES.
Who cares if he’s a rapist?
WHO CARES IF HE’S A GODDAMN RAPIST, right?
Who cares how many women he hurt?
Who cares enough to even FIND OUT how many women he hurt?
You got what you wanted. You got what you wanted so why even bother.
You got what YOU wanted. You screamers outside the clinics. You affluenza-riddled tourists to the idea of America, policing the grocery carts of food-stamp recipients, angrily yelling MAGA at undocumented children. You got YOUR wish.
You selfish bastards. You support this man? You think he’s an imperfect tool of a perfect God? You think all of this is worth it for you to get your heart’s desire?
What even is that desire? To outlaw abortion? You’re outlawing abortion, fine. You’re not ENDING abortion. Only ending poverty and desperation and an enduring habit of treating women like dogs will end abortion. You’re just outlawing it.
Is that desire to save the unborn babies? You’re not doing that. Women will have abortions at the rate they always have. You will just not have to know about them. You will have an easier time pretending everything is fine. You will be more readily able to close your eyes.
Is that worth a few rapes? To keep YOUR precious conscience clear?
You’re willing to overlook a few rapes, ample and extensive evidence that this guy is an unsuitable, partisan douchebag, for … your moral comfort? So that you can say you were a part of making abortion illegal? So you can … like what do you get out of that? So you can fatten your bank account? Do you even hear yourselves?
Jesus God, do you hear anybody? There wasn’t even a criminal investigation. This was a job interview, for probably the highest job there is, and all anyone asked you to do was NOT PUT A PROBABLE RAPIST in that job.
“Don’t rush to judgment.” We’re not the ones demanding a vote before the elections.
“Innocent until proven guilty.” This isn’t a court of law.
“Anyone can be accused of anything!” She swore under penalty of perjury and you won’t support a call for witnesses to either confirm OR refute her testimony.
“It’s ruining his life.” It’s our court, we have a say in who sits there. We don’t have to hire anybody we don’t like.
I saw a friend get rape-splained on her own goddamn Facebook after she posted about her assault. You like being one of the people who does that? You like those people, hang out with them, want to be on their side? You’re out here screaming about due process, about abstractions, to people who’ve been assaulted. Physically assaulted, not just asked questions in a hearing room. You’re out here screaming about abstractions in the face of their reality. You want to be with those people?
FINE. You go do that then, and as for me and mine we will serve the Lord.
We have served the Lord before.
The Court upheld internment, and slavery, and forbidding women the vote. It turned a blind eye to the abuses of the war on terror. The Court has been ruled by monsters before, and may again, and is now. And there have always been those, since the beginning of time, who opposed it. Who worked to change it.
They lost and lost and lost, far more than they won, and they sharpened their teeth and died hard for it, and they will again. We will, again, while you celebrate with your rapist clown and his enablers. The world is always ending, and we are always beginning it again, and nowhere have I ever seen any contract says it isn’t supposed to hurt.
That’s the difference, between you and me. I’m not in this for peace.
One of the things that we do best as a network is ― you know, we don’t have pundits. We don’t have talking heads. We just hear from the American people. And that was 27 years ago, but I do remember when we took calls then, and when we took calls after 9/11, the emotion just came pouring out. You had so many people ― they just had to speak. People wanted to be heard.
And we’re the one network that allows people to have a voice and share it with people around the country. You’re always going to get the emotion. But this one was a little bit different just because of the intensity of the calls that we were receiving.
It takes a lot to eat all that ugliness every single day and not spit it back out.