As a ten-year old, trying to be cool like my twelve-year old sister, I spent one day in September of 1980 rummaging through her album collection—something I would do through my twenties. She had excellent taste in music back then. My very first encounter with rock and roll—aside from hearing Chuck Berry, Elvis, Little Richard, Fats Domino and Jerry Lee Lewis in my Dad’s car—was pulling out a record from some band called Van Halen.
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It is not until the second half of Izabella Scott and Skye Arundhati Thomas’s short book that they reveal the meaning of their titular Pleasure Gardens. The first half of their text, subtitled Blackouts and the Logic of Crisis in Kashmir and illustrated with photographs by Kashmiri artists Nawal Ali, Ufaq Fatima and Zainab, is […]
The hundreds of millions of taxpayer dollars used to build this new stadium will benefit everyone in our city, as long as they own the stadium and the billion-dollar sports team playing inside.
The stadium will be a community space enjoyed by all who can afford a $175 ticket and a steady supply of $37 Dasanis. It will be surrounded by luxurious new apartments (that I own), brand-new stores (that I own), and dozens of new locally owned restaurants that I’ll evict after six months to make room for a Wetzel’s Pretzels (that I own and enjoy).
We’re all going to benefit from the new jobs. We’ll need security guards to break up drunken brawls between sunburned stepdads, custodians to wipe up the puke off those stepdads’ inconsiderate stepsons, and plenty of whatever job deals with both of those groups barreling off the freeway in their Chevy Panzers.
I know I could pay for the stadium myself, but the community needs me to be frugal so I can fund other necessary developments like another country club for underprivileged CEOs.
Israelis blame Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu for dragging them into endless war — and are at a loss for how to carve a way out.
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