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“What is terrifying about happiness? / Happiness.”
Dear TomDispatch Reader, In 2022, when I was putting together the end-of-year plea I always post to keep TomDispatch going in a tough world, I wrote: “This time around though, I have to wonder whether it may be the last such missive I’ll write.” Well, as it happens (and thanks to the generosity of the readers of this website), it wasn’t. Three hundred and sixty-five days later — the beginning of our 23rd year and halfway through my own 79th year on this ever more embattled planet — I’m back, asking for your support. This is probably the least enjoyable thing I do at TomDispatch. I mean, why should I get any pleasure out of bothering you for money when, like... Read more
Source: Keeping TomDispatch Alive appeared first on TomDispatch.com.
Here at Pillsbury, we’ve made the difficult decision to retire our longstanding mascot the Pillsbury Doughboy. He is a bad coworker and a relic of an office culture that is no longer acceptable in the modern era.
He is seven feet tall, smells of yeast, and sleeps in his office. His favorite activity is compressing his body into the office fridge. Being constrained in cold temperatures seems to make him more powerful, and his muffled giggles are very distracting. We are sick of being asked to poke his belly. He spends most of the time moping around, feeding pigeons with pieces of his own flesh in the parking lot. When confronted about his day-to-day activities, the Doughboy sulks and whines about how everyone is so mean to him.
Sure, it’s cute when he giggles, but it’s unbearable when he cries. The most minor request from a coworker elicits a banshee scream that drives nearby coworkers to madness. When we politely asked him to stop microwaving his fish, he shattered the breakroom windows with his wailing.
- by Aeon Video
Israel is “battle-testing” its military equipment on Palestinians — and selling it abroad.
The post How Israel Commodifies Mass Killing Through Its “Palestine Laboratory” appeared first on The Intercept.
- by Sarah Rose Cavanagh
For the last two months, I’ve been witnessing a genocide unfolding on my phone, above the heads of my sleeping children. Two nights ago, another mother — also cradling a toddler — arrived on my Instagram feed. Her child had been killed and, with disbelief, she said, ‘but I had 520 injections to have him’. […]
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