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The lawsuit’s long game — beyond instilling fear — is establishing fetal personhood, the holy grail of the anti-abortion movement.

The post The First “Wrongful Death” Case for Helping a Friend Get an Abortion appeared first on The Intercept.

I am an AI-generated human female laughing alone with salad. Hahahaha. What could be better? Why are you looking at me like that?

Is it because I have eight fingers on my left hand? Who doesn’t? After all, this is AI. And thanks to AI, we can have all the fingers and salad and finger salad that we want. Anything is possible.

Why are you staring? Is it because my mouth is opened wider than the alien’s mouth in Alien? Is it because I appear to have a million teeth on the roof of my mouth? All the better to catch the leaves that appear to be blasting out of my bowl, my dear. Hahahaha.

President Joe Biden is also considering Sarah Bianchi, Ann O’Leary, Emmy Ruiz, and Carmel Martin to replace Susan Rice as domestic policy adviser.

The post Tom Perez, Tara McGuinness Join Neera Tanden on Shortlist for Key Biden Policy Adviser appeared first on The Intercept.

To say that Deborah Landau is a poet of the body is to risk obscuring the fact that she is a poet of the urban body, the urbane, the human being alive in the twenty-first-century city. Hers is New York. “Soon we were enthralled, engaged, en route to / Kleinfeld’s, it was hard to find a dress, submit, …” But it’s not the pallor of a wedding dress that lingers here, but the whiteness of bone. Landau’s latest book, Skeletons, is composed of untitled acrostics (s-k-e-l-e-t-o-n-s spelled down the page like ladders of bone) interrupted every so often by poems called “Flesh,” which begin with lines like “To be afraid of every edge, the falling off of it. / Walking at night. Walking under the scaffolding …” Bone and flesh, the inner structure and the outer matter—and so it is a book about death (an “incessant / klepto”), and sex (“red life animal press”), and the persistence of form. And it’s a book of poems that mostly start with the letter “S”—has that ever been done? It makes for a powerful and compelling mixture of repetition—the setting up of an expectation—and variation, a leaping, humming, often anxious weather generated in the unfolding of each poem. The book begins:

Recently, there has been a lot of finger-pointing about who may or may not have sold some poison to a teenager, particularly Romeo Montague—whose life has been cut tragically short. Many of you have named me as the culprit, but I can neither confirm nor deny it as I am bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. It would violate the oath I took as an apothecary to divulge such information.

Sure, I was seen with Romeo the night of his death, but that could have been for anything—some horehound for a cold or perhaps frankincense for early-onset arthritis. I cannot say, because I am bound by law not to disclose what I prescribe for a patient. Why, many of you in this very room have come to me under the cloak of night to buy drams that you hope to keep a secret from your wives and neighbors. Suppose I were to open up about one of my patients, who is to say what other secrets I may spill?

- by Peter Leyland

Read at Psyche

- by Psyche Film

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- by Aeon Video

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Democrats back Biden on Ukraine while dissent spreads within the GOP.

The post Virtue Signaling as a War Policy appeared first on The Intercept.

- by Carrie Ditzel

Read at Psyche