The Only Thing More Powerful than Hate Is Love
Sometimes you can forget the point of it all.
It’s easy when the horrors have become commonplace to become so beaten down and disheartened by the fight that you can lose sight of why you’re doing it.
The repeated brutality and the relentless sorrows and the never-ending crises can squeeze out and suffocate your imagination, gradually rendering you unable to see a future worth walking into anymore.
And then suddenly, when you least expect it, there it is.
Suddenly, you find those long-dried-up reservoirs of hope bursting open once more.
Caught up in the throes of a stirring rhythm that you cannot resist, you find your way back.
For thirteen minutes on a football field in San Francisco, from thousands of miles away, we could see it again.
This America: diverse, creative, joyful, colorful, unified.
This America, where fear is banished, where fierce embraces find each of us, where no one is left outside.
This is it.
This is what we’re fighting like hell for.
This is why giving up isn’t an option.
And this is why centering something other than Love is the only way we lose.
Bad Bunny reminded us that in this war for the nation we’re still renovating, it is not might, or force, or eye-for-an-eye violence that will cause us to prevail; it will be our refusal to become as miserable and hateful as those we oppose.
He, a man faced for months with the undeserved scorn of tens of millions of strangers, the target of the worst poison human beings are capable of, chose not to stand upon the largest platform and fly some bitter, middle finger contempt.
He simply showed his humanity and reminded us of our own.
He refused to allow his enemies to defeat him by becoming them.
Love wins.
Words can easily feel like hollow platitudes, like empty cliches, until they aren’t.
Until they are the truest truth there is in this life.
Until we can feel them in the marrow of our bones.
Until those words towering above a beleagured multitude that has been starved of Love.
That love is what those grim-faced, joyless exclusionists are afraid of, what they are working so tirelessly to eliminate.
That’s why this was more than just entertainment, more than songs and set pieces, more than pop music and sentiment.
We cannot lose sight of who we are.
Our compassion is what makes us different.
We do wield those open, bleeding hearts they ridicule us for.
We are a people who believe that the open hand is greater than the clenched fist.
Now, I’m not so naive to believe that a 13-minute show is magic: that violent mobs of masked men are going to suddenly disappear from our streets, that the cruel and calloused hearts all around us are going to soften, that the people so addled by racism that they needed an alternative to this celebration of our commonalities are going to be moved to alter their allegiance to a monster.
In fact, witnessing such a bold and beautiful declaration of diverse coexistence will likely make those threatened by such things double down in their attacks, but that doesn’t matter.
But what I do know is that for thirteen minutes, it all became clear again.
For thirteen minutes, we could see the future.
We have had our attentions redirected, our spirits lifted, and our strength returned.
We have been reminded of the place that we might still be if we refuse to stop doing the hard work; if we continue to make sure that everyone has a place here, that everyone finds welcome, that everyone gets a chance to dance.
Over the span of thirteen minutes, Bad Bunny gave his detractors lessons in empathy, diversity, unity, and geography.
He gave the rest of us the eyes to see what we may have forgotten.
He, Love, and America won.
Monday Tiedrich
last night, so many colicky cultists completely lost their shit over Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show that America came this close to depleting the National Strategic Reserve of Binkies.
but before we get into that, let me ask you a question: why does Bobby Brainworms Jr. speak as if he were a malfunctioning beef jerky cyborg who learned the English language five minutes ago?
Fox News: “it’s Super Bowl Sunday today. it’s a snacking holiday in the US. you are— as the CEO of MAHA, uh, what would you have as a Super Bowl snack?”
Bobby Brainworms Jr.: “you know, I am on a carnivore diet so I just eat meat and ferments. and I’m very happy with that so I’m probably going to have a yogurt.”
that’s right, Bobby used ‘ferments’ as a noun — as one does when one is a fucking crackpot.
go ahead, make fun of Brainworms’ speech habits all you want — but yogurt is, in fact, an important part of Bobby’s five food groups: ferments, whale head, dead bear cub, raw sewage, and heroin.
but just imagine that Obama had been asked, back when he was president, what he was going to chow down on during the Sports Bowl — and that had answered ‘yogurt.’
the entire wingnut outrage-industrial complex would have lost their fucking minds, and screamed their heads off about ‘out-of-touch elites.’ Republicans bearing pitchforks and torches would have swarmed the White House and burned it to the fucking ground.
while we’re on the subject of chaos, we should probably check in on Turning Point USA to see how the prep work for their alternative halftime show is going.
“UPDATE: Due to licensing restrictions, we are unable to stream The All-American Halftime Show on X. Head on over to our YouTube channel tonight around 8PM ET to watch the full show.”
holy shit, what? because of ‘licensing restrictions,’ TPUSA’s dumb-ass event couldn’t be shown on Elon’s Nazi Bar and Child Porn Emporium?
you fucking eejits. you had literal months to get your act together, and you forgot to get permission to stream it? way to respect the hallowed memory of misshapen garden gnome Charlie Kirk, you incompetent shitwits.
even if no one on not-twitter could stream it, at least the excitement within the venue was palpable.
I’m sorry, was Turning Point broadcasting from inside a strip club?
so why all the MAGA hatred for Bad Bunny? what crimes against humanity had he committed that were so egregious, Turning Point had no choice but to offer their own counter-programming?
this: he’s Latino, and he sings in Spanish!
oh my god, the horror — the horror.
also, anyone who tuned into the Super Bowl halftime show had to endure this unspeakably subversive commie-pinko message.
‘the only thing more powerful than hate is love’? what the hell?
look, Bad Bunny — if that even is your real name — MAGA hasn’t spent the last ten years hard at work transforming American into a failed fascist pesthole, only to have you fuck it all up by telling everybody there’s something better than hate.
by the way, this year’s Nobel Prize in Taking One For The Team definitely should go to Juliet Jeske, the host of Decoding Fox News podcast. she selflessly watched the entire Turning Point show, so we wouldn’t have to. she then edited it down into a two-minute highlight reel and added a commentary track. you can see it here.
The Turning Point USA Half Time show broken down into two minutes – the highs, the lows, the poor audio production and overuse of pyrotechnics. A 55-year-old man dancing around in shorts. It was everything and nothing all at once.
— Decoding Fox News (@decodingfoxnews.bsky.social) February 8, 2026 at 11:45 PM
headlining the TPUSA show was super-tasteful style icon Formerly A Kid Rock.
tell me, has Not Anywhere Close To Being A Kid Rock ever been to Epstein Island? it’s a legit question to ask, because he sure writes lyrics as if he has.
The track, “Cool, Daddy Cool” was released in 2001 and was featured in the children’s movie “Osmosis Jones” that same year. It includes the line, “Young ladies, young ladies, I like ’em underage/ See, some say that’s statutory/ But I say it’s mandatory.”
wait, a song that rhymes ‘statutory’ with ‘mandatory’ was featured on the soundtrack of a children’s movie? what numbskull greenlit that idea?
here’s a fun thing that Definitely Not A Kid said about the Olsen Twins when they were 14 years old.
“Why is every guy in America waiting on these chicks to turn 18?” he said during the appearance. “If there’s grass on the field, play ball.”
‘grass on the field’ — get it? get it?
fun true fact: Don’t Mistake Him For A Kid is also the author of a song called ‘Balls in Your Mouth.’ you’ll never guess what it’s about.
Republican family values!
is there anything more pathetically hilarious in this world than MAGA trying to cope?because nothing says ‘we’re not easily-triggered snowflakes’ more than having to create your own safe space so you don’t have to watch someone singing in Spanish.
look at these total fucking losers, playing the world’s saddest round of Things That Never Happened The Most™.
it’s estimated that 127 million people watched the Bad Bunny halftime show, and 5 million watched Turning Point’s shit-show. I’m not sure on what planet that constitutes a ‘massive victory for TPUSA’ — but you do you, MAGA.
also, I’m pretty sure that everyone who tuned in to Kid Rock caterwauling about his love for pedophilia already supports ICE.
hey, you know who wasn’t watching the Turning Point show? Dear Leader, that’s who. check out what was on the big screen at the Motel-a-Lago Super Bowl party: Bad Fucking Bunny. what the hell, Donny? you’re the MAGA King. you’re supposed to be leading by example.
look who was with Donny at his Florida golf motel last night: the Kompromat Kid himself, Lindsey Graham.
I wonder what Old Linz’s favorite Kid Rock song is.
BREAKING NEWS: 79-Year-Old Narcoleptic Fart Factory Wishes Those Damned Kids Would Turn Down That Infernal Racket.
shut the fuck up, Piggy.
doesn’t Sundowning Grandpa Befuddlepants sound like the angriest out-of-touch old white guy in the world? how dare the NFL force him to watch something that doesn’t conform to his extremely cramped and hateful worldview.
‘nobody understands a word this guy is saying’ — nobody except for the world’s 635 million Spanish speakers. ‘the dancing is disgusting’ — hey Donny, is this you, jacking off two invisible giraffes?
and why won’t Bad Bunny sing about how great the stock market is doing? why won’t Bad Bunny do anything about the NFL’s kickoff rule? THANK YOU FOR YOUR ATTENTION TO THIS MATTER, BAD BUNNY.
and so today’s hero of the day is, quite obviously, Bad Bunny himself — because anyone who can get this many dumbfucks to shit themselves raw over a sportsball entertainment show is okay in my book.
this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:
practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.
to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.
we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.
For Those Of You Who Haven’t Seen It
This is what’s causing Magat heads to explode.
Good.
The More You Know
For those who don’t contain a vast knowledge of Green Day lore like myself, I don’t think it is hitting just how much of a “fuck you” the NFL is giving DJT/The White House.
This is a band that is:
Made entirely of openly bisexual/queer men.
Made entirely of men who are vocal about being raised by single mothers on welfare.
One of their members was adopted and raised by a Black woman and has said he “understands how his mother could hate ‘the white man’ and love him with her whole soul.”
Were the first band to say, “No Trump, No KKK, No Fascist/MAGA U.S.A.” on live television without ANY warning.
Literally released a song last year called, “The American Dream Is Killing Me”
Only hires ALL FEMALE bands to open for them to address inequality in the music industry.
OPENLY tells trump supporters they are not welcome at their concerts.
Anyway, Enjoy Feb. 8th Magats! You’re gonna hate it.
[Source]
It’s Not A Time Shift
Psychologists say time itself began to feel different after 2000. Then it shifted again after 2020. Not because the world suddenly moved faster, but because the human brain stopped recording life in the same way.
Before 2000, life had a natural rhythm.
Seasons felt unique. Years felt separate. Childhood felt long for a reason.
Your brain was truly present.
After 2000, something quietly changed. Not the clock. The brain.
Internet. Email. Smartphones. Endless scrolling.
Constant stimulation flatted our sense of memory.
Researchers from Stanford and UCLA discovered that when the brain is overloaded, it struggles to form deep memories, and fewer memories make time feel shorter.
Your brain silently concludes that nothing important happened.
So entire years begin to blur together.
Ping. Scroll. Switch. Refresh.
Every interruption breaks mental continuity. Your brain can no longer build long timelines. Days feel chaotic. Years feel missing.
The pandemic didn’t just disrupt routines. It reshaped how we experience time. Stress. Fear. Uncertainty. Isolation. Monotony. All at once.
Under constant stress, the prefrontal cortex stops planning. The hippocampus stops storing memories. The nervous system shifts into survival mode. The result? Days blue, weeks disappear, and years merge into one.
People everywhere report the same feeling: 2020 feels like yesterday. Everything since then feels like a single long year. I feel years older than I should. You are not imagining it.
Time slows down when life is full of novelty: new places, new faces, new challenges. After 2020? Less travel, less change, less variation. No novelty means fewer memories. Fewer memories mean less sense of time.
Stress doesn’t just blue the past. It also compresses the future. Studies show stress makes people feel older, lose long-term vision, believe time itself is running out. The brain becomes trapped in the present moment.
Time feels faster when the rain is overwhelmed, stressed, under-stimulated, fragmented, and disconnected. Time itself never changed. Our ability to experience it did.
We now live in a world of information overload, low novelty, high stress, and constant distraction. The perfect formula for life to feel unreal.
That’s why the 2000s flew by. The 2010s faced away. And the 2020s feel like a blur.
Here is the hopeful truth: you can expand time again. The brain slows time when it experiences novelty, presence, deep focus, emotion, adventure, and meaning.
-
- Psychologists suggest simple changes:
- Do fewer things with deeper focus.
- Turn off constant notifications.
- Seek real and new experiences.
- Change your surroundings.
- Create clear memory moments.
- Reduce ongoing stress.
An intentional life feels longer.
Time never actually sped up. The world didn’t suddenly distort. Our brains simply stopped fulling living. And to feel time gain, we must relearn how to truly live again.
[From an Instagram post I failed to properly document.]
Sunday Tiedrich
everything fucking sucks right now, so let’s just take a moment to savor JD Vance getting the shit booed out of him at the Winter Olympics opening ceremony in Italy.
announcer: “there’s the vice president, JD Vance and his wife Usha— oops, those are not— uh, those are a lot of boos for him.”
we all saw this coming. imagine being so universally loathed that the International Olympic Committee has to beg everyone not to heckle you.
The International Olympic Committee was forced to ask fans not to boo the U.S. delegation led by Vice President JD Vance and Secretary of State Marco Rubio during Friday’s opening ceremony for the Milano Cortina Winter Games.
is it any wonder that Mr. Heartbeat Away gets booed everywhere he goes? he pretty much goes out of his way to be as unpleasant as possible. look at the embarrassing spectacle Couchfuck creates as he leaves the Milan Prefecture after meeting with Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni.
forty — forty! — armored vehicles completely clog the narrow streets of Milan, bringing everyday life to a standstill.
it takes an entire four and a half minutes for every one of JD’s vehicles to clear the building and clownfuck their way into local traffic.
Vance treats the streets of Milan the same way he treats a couch. he’s just going to ram it in there — and if anyone doesn’t like it, that’s just too damned bad.
it’s all so unnecessary — because watch what happens once all that bullshit runs its course: out comes Lauren Ware, the wife of US Ambassador Tillman Fertitta — on foot. no pomp, no circumstance, and no dumbfuck motorcade.
one person with a small security team — as happens when you’re not such a ginormous piece of shit that everyone can’t wait to heckle you.
because Lauren Ware doesn’t make a point of being an asshole, she can wander wherever she wants — while JD Vance can’t even walk through Union Station in Washington DC without people screaming ‘GO FUCK A COUCH’ at him. remember this, from last August?
“oh look, it’s Couchfucker. you gonna fuck a couch, buddy? GO FUCK A COUCH, JD VANCE, GO FUCK A COUCH!”
JD’s motorcade was so disruptive that he almost fucked up the American figure skating team’s chances of competing.
MILAN — The start of the women’s short program at the Olympic figure skating team event was drawing close Friday afternoon, but American star Alysa Liu couldn’t get to the Milano Skating Arena. She and her coach and choreographer were stuck on an official Olympic bus, blocked from the arena parking lot by the motorcade of Vice President JD Vance, who attended the team event. “We almost didn’t make it,” Liu’s coach, Phillip DiGuglielmo, later said.
ace job, you dumb-ass.
imagine training for years to compete in the Olympics — and almost missing your one shot at glory because some furniture-fucking asshole is on an ego trip.
could someone please remind JD that his job is to stand over there and wave a flag and clap for our Olympians, and not be the constant chaotic center of attention?
for fuck’s sake, he even brought his own food with him. who does that?
A cargo plane transported food from the United States for the delegation, while two other planes brought armored vehicles to be used during official movements.
come on — Couchfuck is in Milan — one of Europe’s greatest cultural centers. shouldn’t he be taking advance of the experience? I sure as shit would. what’s the issue, JD — are there no doughnut shops in Milan?
let’s find out. because I’m a responsible journalist and everything, I googled ‘doughnut shops in Milan’ — and guess what:
so what was JD’s problem? how hard would it have been for him to learn enough of the native language to say ‘how long have you been selling doughnuts? HA HA! that’s great’?
look, JD — I’ve done all the hard work for you, via Google Translate.
‘da quanto tempo vendi ciambelle? AH AH, fantastico.’
you’re welcome, bro. it’s called being a responsible journalist.
thanks to Donny and his henchmen, the whole world hates us now. we’re the playground bullies of the planet, kidnapping a leader here, threatening to invade there, and just plain tariffing everywhere.
or, like Couchfuck McGee in Milan, we’re just creating ego-driven chaos for chaos’ sake — because fuck you, that’s why. none of these shitwits are big on consent.
it’s all so fucking embarrassing.
President Donald Trump’s team offered to unfreeze federal funding for the paused Gateway tunnel project if Democrats in Congress agree to rename Penn Station and Washington Dulles International Airport after him, according to someone with direct knowledge of the negotiations.
only weak and fragile fuckwits need this kind of constant affirmation.
if Donny is that horny to have his name on something, might I suggest the Donald J. Trump Federal Correctional Institution?
let’s guess who could be its very first inmate.
and now for your heroes of the day: the voters of Louisiana’s 60th district, where Democrats flipped a State House seat in a deeply red state.
Louisiana Democrat Chasity Verret Martinez defeated her Republican opponent by double digits in the special election Saturday night for a state House seat in a district President Trump won by 13 points in 2024.
Martinez won 62% of the vote compared to 38% for her Republican opponent, Brad Daigle, according to unofficial results from the Louisiana Secretary of State.
in 2024, Donny won this district by 13 points. just fifteen months later, Democrat Chasity Martinez’s crushed her Republican opponent by double digits — a 37-point swing from red to blue.
in special election after special election, Democrats keep prevailing by significant margins. that’s how fucking radioactive Donny and his fascist policies have become.
there’s a blue wave a-comin’.
this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:
practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.
to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.
we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.
Vintage Audio Pr0n
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THIS!
As A Tech Nerd I Never Thought I’d Say This, But…
Especially Since 2016…
7 Proofs You Have Already Died In Another Timeline
Makes about as much sense as any other explanation for existence.
That’s Why He Loves The Poorly Educated
Valid Point
Released 42 Years Ago Today
Alan Parsons Project: Ammonia Avenue (1984)
I don’t think this was the first CD I ever bought, but it might very well have been. Surprisingly, I don’t remember where or when I got my first CD player either—other than it was sometime after I got my tax refund in the spring of 1986. I do remember I used to cue up Pipeline on my brand new Yamaha system back in the day and absolutely crank it.
New Acquisition
After stumbling across that Erasure video the other day, I realized that I didn’t have this in my collection—or even in iTunes. I’ve corrected that.
I remember buying this back in ’92 when it came out. At the time I was an ABBA purist at heart and absolutely hated it. But after seeing that video the other day, I realized that over the past thirty years I’ve…mellowed. Now the only thing that disappoints me about this is that this isn’t a full-length album; it’s just an EP, barely clocking in at a bit over 17 minutes total..
Begging Off Another Family Function
Today was the local “memorial service” for Ben’s uncle from Albuquerque who unexpectedly passed a few months ago. Held at the family homestead in Scottsdale, it was to be an informal affair (no priest, and no formal eulogies unlike when his grandfather passed last year). Ben left early today to pick up food and set up things, and I was going to join him later this morning.
I headed out with every intention of attending. I stopped at Window Coffee to pick up my morning beverage (something that surprisingly I can swallow successfully in small sips) to nurse while I was at the gathering. As I was leaving I got a text from Ben asking me to bring the salad he’d forgotten that was in the refrigerator. I texted back and said I was already on my way but I’d be happy to go back and get it—since I’d also gone off without my watch and felt naked without it.
As I was heading home, he called and told me not to bother. “There’s more food here than we’ll ever eat.” I still needed to get my watch, so I continued home.
Once there, I was [figuratively] attacked by our increasingly-codependent doggos and kept thinking about the “more food here than we’ll ever eat” comment and I grew increasingly despondent. I mean, there was going to be no memorial service and by all accounts it was another family gathering where eating and drinking was front and center where people break off into their little groups and I find myself sitting alone in a corner. After I brought in the mail and grabbed my watch before leaving again, I was confronted with two pairs of big brown eyes all but begging me to stay home, I called Ben. I knew he would be disappointed, but I told him I wasn’t coming—for those exact reasons. Since Christmas Eve dinner had been such a disaster for me, he said he understood completely and didn’t want me feeling uncomfortable in that situation.
[It’s not like I haven’t tried eating; yesterday at lunch I forced a bit of pork burrito down before pureeing the remainder, but I was still regurgitating bits of pork this morning so it obviously didn’t go anywhere. Where it had been hiding out for the last eighteen hours is anyone’s guess. I suggested another swallow study to my therapist last week so we can actually see where this shit is getting stuck and that might facilitate a different approach to the therapy.]
Now you’ll excuse me while I take the contents of my lunchtime mini charcuterie board and throw it in the blender….
Ready
365 Days Of UNF: February 7th
4 Dimensional Chess
Bill and Hillary Clinton just walked into the Epstein fight saying “put us on live TV” and James Comer’s first instinct was to kill the cameras. They are not asking for special treatment, they are using their very real political brilliance to demand transparency in a case where Congress passed the Epstein Files Transparency Act requiring full unredacted release while the trump administration still dragged its feet and slow walked compliance. By planting their flag on “public or nothing,” they flip the script and force Republicans to explain why secrecy suddenly matters more than sunlight.
That stance is not just moral high ground, it is a trap. The more the Clintons insist on testifying in public, the more obvious it becomes that the real panic is on the right, where trump’s orbit brushes up against names and records that have never fully seen daylight. By embracing an open hearing, they are effectively daring Comer and his allies to keep shielding a system that still has trump era fingerprints all over what remains hidden.
This is how you turn years of right wing Clinton obsession inside out. If Republicans refuse public testimony, they look like they are protecting trump and the remnants of his Justice Department rather than pursuing the truth. If they cave and allow it, they risk an on camera reckoning that ties the unreleased files, the stalled transparency law, and trump’s own connections into one long, unedited narrative that does not break their way.
[source]
Rizz Boldly
Be A Good Human
Life’s Tough
We’ve All Been There
Vomiting It All Up
Released 16 Years Ago Today
Sade: Soldier Of Love (2010)
Tiedrich Thursday
imagine you’re a war correspondent for a major American newspaper. you’ve been assigned to cover the war in Ukraine. conditions totally fucking suck. there’s no heat, electricity or running water.
but you’re not bothered by any of that shit. you love your job — because it’s enthralling. there’s nothing else like it in the world.
now imagine you’re in the middle of doing all that, when out of the clear blue, you get an email telling you that your job’s gone fuckity-bye.
if you’re Washington Post reporter Lizzie Johnson, you don’t have to imagine — because that’s exactly what just happened.
“I was just laid off by The Washington Post in the middle of a warzone. I have no words. I’m devastated.”
oh, lovely. how the fuck is Lizzie Johnson supposed to find her way home? what the hell?
and it wasn’t just Johnson who got told her job had been sent to a big farm upstate, where it will have lots of room to run around. over three hundred of her Post colleagues got shitcanned yesterday morning.
here’s just some of the carnage: metro DC news, cut way back. the sports section, gone. book and theater reviews, gone. podcasts, gone.
but perhaps most egregiously, they’re cutting their foreign bureaus. if you want to know what’s happening in places like Kyiv or the Middle East, don’t look at the Post. it’s no longer their responsibility.
how the fuck can you even call yourself a major newspaper if you’re not covering what’s going on in the world? this is the Washington Fucking Post we’re talking about, not the Podunk Pennysaver.
here’s how devastating the cuts were: Peter Finn, WaPo’s International Editor, demanded he be fired on the spot, rather than take any part in this fuckery.
Peter Finn, the section’s editor, requested that he be laid off rather than be involved in planning the cuts once he learned about their scope, according to two people with knowledge of his decision.
the Washington Post’s corporate overlords claim they had no choice but to make these cuts, because the paper lost over one hundred million dollars last year. but these same overlords want to make one thing perfectly clear: these mass firings are actually good news.
do you want to know the real reason the Post is doing this? it’s because they love you — the reader — so much!
I shit you not. check out this dollop of industrial-strength bullshit-speak.
“The Washington Post is taking a number of difficult but decisive actions today for our future, in what amounts to a significant restructuring across the company,” the Post said in a statement. “These steps are designed to strengthen our footing and sharpen our focus on delivering the distinctive journalism that sets The Post apart and, most importantly, engages our customers.”
oh, I see. the Post is gutting its staff and reducing its coverage in order to make it all better. sure, now that you’ve explained it, that makes perfect sense to me.
there are really only two words that come to mind when faced with this level of piss-on-your-head-and-tell-you-it’s-raining corporate-ese. the first one rhymes with fuck, and the second with you.
let’s lay the blame for this atrocity exactly where it belongs: at the feet of Jeff Bezos, the Donny-snuggling gazillionaire who laughs like some fucked-up cartoon villain.
it was Bezos’ own disastrous decisions that led to the Post bleeding money.
first, a week before the 2024 election, Bezos phoned up the editor of the Post and told him not to run their planned endorsement of Kamala Harris. Bezos didn’t want to make Donny mad, just in case he happened to win. hundreds of thousands of angry Post subscribers canceled their subscriptions in response.
then, in February 2025, Bezos announced the Post was no longer going to tolerate ‘left of center views’ on their editorial page. instead, they were going to focus on ‘personal liberties and free markets.’ once again, hundreds of thousands of subscribers canceled their subscriptions.
why would Bezos deliberately antagonize his readership? because doesn’t give a shit. he’d rather curry favor with his new despot snugglebunny, Donny Convict.
Jeffrey Beez is not a newspaper guy. he doesn’t bleed black ink, as the saying used to go. he’s a business honcho. the Post is a just line item on a spreadsheet.
listen to your Uncle Bernie Sanders.
“If Jeff Bezos could afford to spend $75 million on the Melania movie & $500 million for a yacht to sail off to his $55 million wedding to give his wife a $5 million ring, please don’t tell me he needed to fire one-third of the Washington Post staff. Democracy dies in oligarchy.”
democracy dies up Jeff Bezos’ ass.
let’s be clear here. Bezos spends his money like a drunken sailor. he flushed $75 million down the shitter on that bogus ‘documentary’ about Dear Leader’s Slovenian rent-a-wife — and didn’t think twice about how much it cost. sixty million got pissed away on a wedding for his personal flotation device.
Jeff Bezos’ current net worth is TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE BILLION DOLLARS. think about this: Bezos could give every person on the planet a billion dollars each, and have $253 billion left over. that’s still more money than he could possibly spend in his lifetime.
the hundred mil that the Post lost is a rounding error to someone with that much moolah.
if he wanted to, he could personally fund the Post and give it away for free — and not even notice the money missing from his bank account.
fuck it, Bezos could sell the Post to someone who would care about putting out a quality product — but he won’t. he’d rather destroy it. owning some hallowed institution and clownfucking into irrelevance is the hip new thing. all the cool oligarchs are doing it.
I swear, these morbidly wealthy shit-kazoos are so easy to hate. and they wonder why people walk around wearing Eat The Rich t-shirts.
heroes, that’s what we’re in desperate need of right now.
no one ever went to bed with fascism and came up smelling like roses. no one ever said ‘gee, I’m so glad the Washington Post partnered with Nazis.’
fascist regimes come, and fascist regimes go. when this current nightmare finally runs its course, no one is going to say ‘wasn’t it awesome how Jeff Bezos slobbered all over Dear Leader’s ass?’
the people we’re going to look back on with admiration are the ones who stood up said ‘take your Nazi bullshit and stick it where the sun don’t shine.’
which bring us to today’s hero of the day: Jordan Perry, the manager of the Lake Theater & Cafe in Lake Oswego, Oregon.
Perry booked the Melania ‘documentary’ into his theater (as a bit of a joke, he explained in a blog post) — and he advertised it with a marquee that read ‘to defeat your enemy, you must know them. Melania starts Friday.’
apparently this caused heads to explode all over the Amazon corporate offices, and they angrily pulled the film from Perry’s theater.
undaunted, Perry changed his marquee to ‘Amazon called. our marquee made them mad. all Melania shows canceled. show your support at Whole Foods instead :(’
in a world of Jeff Bezoses, be someone who antagonizes the shit out of Jeff Bezos.
meanwhile, if any of you know of any war-correspondent jobs that are available right now, you’d really be doing Lizzie Johnson a solid.
this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:
practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.
to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.
we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.
















































































































