The Cross the Left Must Bear
Don Hall Don Hall Don Hall Don Hall

The Cross the Left Must Bear

Suddenly the Glue Stick kid started screaming “CHESS CHESS CHESTER CHESS! It’s all about fucking chess but what about ME! WHAT. ABOUT. MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!” and he rapidly swallowed three pawns off of one of the closer games and choked himself until the school nurse could get him to vomit them up.

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Notes from the Post-it Wall | Post-Election 2020 Edition
David Himmel, Post-It Wall Notes David Himmel David Himmel, Post-It Wall Notes David Himmel

Notes from the Post-it Wall | Post-Election 2020 Edition

The Republican Party gained more ground locally, and even some nationally. The courts are full of conservative judges who have every opportunity to legislate from the bench. The fight rages on, and progress is still a little behind. We must be more tortoise and less hare. Mitch McConnell not only looks like a tortoise, he’s been playing the slow and stead game for a long time, which is why he’s winning.

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Grappling with Postmodernism in a Post-Trump America
Don Hall Don Hall Don Hall Don Hall

Grappling with Postmodernism in a Post-Trump America

A couple of rules of thumb I’ve learned to follow in the past four or five years:

  • If I read it on social media, best to assume it’s bullshit.

  • If the belief is not backed up by data, it’s bullshit.

  • If a politician says it without supporting evidence, it’s bullshit.

  • If it’s full of ‘buzzwords’ (intersectionality, freedom of religion, freedom of speech, TERF, fragility), it’s bullshit.

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100% Within My Rights
MT Cozzola MT Cozzola MT Cozzola MT Cozzola

100% Within My Rights

Until this moment, I have not really appreciated the magnitude of the problem of misdirection. Big lies are easier to spot and avoid. Mitch has not repeated Trump’s extreme lie that the election was “stolen.” He has only said Trump is “100 percent within his rights to look to allegations of irregularities and weigh his legal options.” True enough. I mean, we’re all 100 percent within those rights at all times, aren’t we?

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Love in the Time of Pandemic
Elizabeth Harper, Poetry Elizabeth Harper Elizabeth Harper, Poetry Elizabeth Harper

Love in the Time of Pandemic

I want to inhale you, smell your hair, rub my cheek against yours, hold you close and dance in the moonlight

I want to talk to you, tell you everything: the important stuff, the trivial stuff, the mind-blowing stuff, the boring stuff

I want to hold your hand, sit in silence, sip from the same glass, eat from the same plate, sleep in the same bed

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Now Is the Time to Be Gracious and Get to Work Being Honest with Ourselves
Don Hall Don Hall Don Hall Don Hall

Now Is the Time to Be Gracious and Get to Work Being Honest with Ourselves

At this phase, Trump ain’t going quietly. Lots of lawsuits. Recounts. Tantrums. Conspiracy theories. We now get to witness the full madness of our King George, a meltdown so massive it would be good to take serious note of how badly we can get things wrong in our democracy. One fact we need to acknowledge before our nipples get hard and we go running in the streets naked, flogging MAGA hat wearers with our engorged cocks:

If it hadn’t been for a pandemic, he would’ve won.

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Microsoft Teams is the Devil’s Tool
David Himmel, Fiction David Himmel David Himmel, Fiction David Himmel

Microsoft Teams is the Devil’s Tool

“This is no way to pray. This is no way to send our loved one off to the Great Beyond. To Heaven? I don’t know. I’m not sure anymore. I’m not even sure I was ever so sure at all.”

Typical Fr. Harrington. Always starting his sermons with a sense of existential dread and confusion. Topped off with a sprinkle of self-doubt. He’s the Woody Allen of Catholicism. He even had a questionable relationship with an ingénue at his old parish in Portland, Maine. That’s how he ended up here. In my church.

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The World is a Fucking Torture Chamber
Elizabeth Harper, Poetry Elizabeth Harper Elizabeth Harper, Poetry Elizabeth Harper

The World is a Fucking Torture Chamber

The world is a fucking torture chamber,
endless videos of shlock horror porn,
or, actually, it's more subtle than that,
endless cubicles of particleboard,
computer screens, perfunctory greetings.
I see people and I want to sodomize, rape them,
kill them in their sleep, or wake them up,
just to see the surprise and terror on their stupid faces
and to puncture their flesh to see the contortions of pain.

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