Maybe the Trotskyists are right on one thing - the working class need to own newspapers cause the billionaires can't even do that right.
Wyden don't get on a private airplane.
A lot of people are beaten down and exhausted.
Being a tankie and pro-China stan paying off in 2026
It’s one of those moves where you gotta wonder if playing by higher standards is worth it.
The nazis have been in full force. It’s horrific.
Is it important to be informed? Yes. But everyone needs to keep their guard up. I saw an instagram reel saying that Epstein, believed himself to be superior to other races because he was jewish (instead of because he was a zionist, and had a psycho-sexual need to justify his pedophilia on supremacy and domination grounds). Other social media posts have made comments like "the schizos were right!" This is how you end up with multiple satanic panics against free child care in your state.
Knowing every intricate detail of the files is not gonna do anything if these people are still in power. The first priority is to abolish the system that allows rich people to own private property and, by some sick twisted extension, the ability to own children.
Bill Gates, and Elon Musk being in this release screams limited hangout.
I’ve taken a significant amount of psychic damage this month. Between a really fast start of the semester, the Venezuelan attack, ongoing genocide, murdered anti-ICE protesters, and now the Jeffrey Epstein files. I sympathize with H.P Lovecraft’s protagonists and going insane.
I’d like to see you deal with the responsibility of leading your country and protecting its citizens while a loaded gun is aimed at your entire population, if you don’t comply. Especially after the world has witnessed a genocide and done absolutely nothing. Keyboard revolutionary.
My fellow… my fellow, uh… beings. Americans. Americans! Yes.
Thank you… thank you for the tremendous outpouring of… of chairs. There are so many chairs here tonight. And your faces—they glow like microwaved peaches in July. That’s the spirit. That’s… America.
They said I wouldn’t make it past the caucuses. They said I wouldn’t make it past the breakfast buffet at the Super 8 in Scranton. But I did. I did, and I found a waffle that looked like Franklin D. Roosevelt. I took that as a sign. Or a snack. The syrup was confusing.
Anyway.
We’re gathered on this glorious evening—not morning, no, the moon’s not yet done with us—to dream. To dream of highways that turn into rivers, of eagles that pay student loans, of… of vending machines that dispense justice, and maybe… maybe… onion rings.
America is a… is a casserole of contradictions. A democracy baked at 350 degrees until the top layer forms a crust of optimism. Underneath—beans. Lots of ’em. And I say, we stir it. Stir the beans of freedom. Stir ’em good. Don’t just let ‘em sit there.
When I was a boy, my grandfather told me… well, he didn’t talk much, mostly just whittled things that looked like regret. But still, you could hear the silence. It said: “Plant potatoes. And never trust a duck with opinions.”
Now—now listen, I’ve been to the mountaintop. It was actually a landfill, but there was a man there juggling batteries and telling fortunes in Morse code. He told me the American people are tired of normal. They want strange. They want… ergonomic policy. They want healthcare that tastes like peppermint and a tax code that hums lullabies.
My platform? Simple: We legalize naps. Mandatory poetry in the Senate. Nationalize kindness. Every citizen gets a dog or a duck. You choose. But choose wisely.
What was I saying?
Oh yes—this nation… this brilliant, chaotic quilt of parking lots and ideals, we will rise. We will rise like a balloon full of civic responsibility and helium-flavored liberty. We’ll float. Float until the stars notice and nod.
In conclusion… or beginning… we ride at dawn. Or dusk. I forget which one has pancakes.
Thank you. God bless. And remember: the future is just yesterday wearing sunglasses.
Prompt
Please give me these scenes of horror, cut between interstitials of the working class building a utopia.