Perhaps the fates had finally turned against humanity. What other explanation existed for a mercury retrograde coming right after the most batshit election the American people had ever suffered?
Articles by Dr. Bones
The Army Corps of Engineers announced it will look for an alternate route for the Dakota Access Pipeline to cross under Lake Oahe in North Dakota, not that it’s stopping anything.
Jaws hit the floor yesterday in the case of Michael Slager, better known as the cop who shot an unarmed man named Walter Scott, when a jury of 11 whites and one black person said it looked like they were heading for a mistrial.
Donald Trump hasn’t even taken the presidency and he’s done more for the Left than Noam Chomsky has in 10 years.
Voting day was crowned by a pleasant sun and I went outside with a cold beer in my hands to soak up the energy. This was it, the final day, a whole series worth of articles and research coming down to this.
Finally, the big day was upon us. You could feel it in handshakes, nervous laughs, and the increase in political t-shirts and hats everyone seemed to be wearing.
We are living in a horror movie, a grotesque carnival of human depravity and indifference towards suffering. Torture, blood, guts, everything seems slashed with macabre tones as I nervously sprinkle rue water on my front steps to keep away evil.
Social issues are the great gears of Capitalism’s engines, the pressure valve that can move just enough to ensure that the really important issues never get noticed.
It’s evening time in North Dakota and a young Anarchist from out of state sits beside a bonfire. He looks at the comrades around him, primarily indigenous peoples, and breathes deeply the clean air of the plains.
Does anybody else remember the primaries? I covered how this bullshit was so fixed North Korea even started to blush yet the talking heads and literally tons of news outlets can’t be bothered to do any digging.
Football is perhaps the most American sport ever devised. Born from the angst-encrusted days of post-WW2, it caught on quickly with the thoroughly prussianized populace. The entire game is a big metaphor for our own military success
The once well-meaning liberals are becoming the New Neo-Cons, closing ranks around a candidate for presidency that grotesquely distorts the values they once held so dear.
This most recent debate, billed as a rematch between an iguanadon from the mid-Jurassic and a property-pimp from New York has revealed itself to be anything but.
Amid the gallons of rain, rolling blackouts, and hurricane-force winds that recently swept Florida coastline I laid eyes on a Time magazine article that was so idiotic, so clearly drenched in Pro-State Propaganda..
Lost in the Land of the White Ape: Trump Came to Florida and I Survived (Gonzo and Conjure ’16) Part 2
My plan was not a dry retelling of the rally but one of substance, so I was content with leaving the other newsies to rot in their bubble of safety. I had questions that needed answers. Who were these people?
In a country with a youth unemployment rate of 23.50% some unknown proletarians brought home the terror and degradation they face on a daily basis to one of the most despised creatures ever to crawl out of the cesspool that is the “celebrity scene.”
Lost in the Land of the White Ape: Trump Came to Florida and I Survived (Gonzo and Conjure ’16) Part 1
The city of Melbourne, like many small Florida cities, does not rate high on the radar of Florida destinations. It does not have any theme parks to play in, does not have a Civil War history to exploit, and quietly pretends it is not currently attached to a state that specializes in unadulterated madness.
You ever heard a Florida thunderstorm deep within the state’s interior? Far away from the tourists and the oceans and the calm breeze that hints of tropical weather and carefree days?
Broken, bloodied, my stomach churned to pieces. I stumble to awaken, one eye open gathering at fragments of memories. What had happened? My phone is filled with late night calls to any writers I could think of and though the conversations are forgotten their urgent message snaps back to the forefront of my mind
There are bad ideas and then REALLY fucking bad ideas. Take for instance my recent habit of chasing whiskey with beer. I’ve fucked up, gotten lost, and even blew off quality time with the family to discuss reincarnation with my town’s homeless population.
The ongoing electoral contest between Trump and Hillary meant very little to the man being escorted off the bus. No questions posed by that pieces of plywood masquerading as a journalists were bouncing in his brain as the police officer walked down the aisle and asked him for his ID.
Revolutionaries and Anarchists will need to think deeply on the implications of so wide a surveillance network and perhaps a more primitive “back to basics” approach is in order to evade the snares and snags of Johnny Law.
I laugh in the face of death, make horrible crude jokes, and just generally find some measure of joy in situations where others might cry or wail. I’m the kind of guy that finds shit like this hilarious:
Good ole’ Hillary, she never lets me down. I had wondered when the next shoe was going to drop in the latest act of our grand collective puppet show.
As the United States totters ever closer towards total collapse and WW3 looms on the horizon, one question burns with increasing intensity in the minds of Anarchists everywhere: what can I do to help destroy things?