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Take notes. What I see is a media that is conveniently ignoring one big thing. The American people did this. They want this. They are this. The talking heads were wrong. Optimism is another lie. Hope is not available. It never has been. The Lower Middle Class gets its name from Let's Give Them The Bone Of Hope. We are the poor. It was not about the color of her suits. It was not about abortion, it was not about electing a rapist, it was not about Afghanistan. It was not a gender war. It was not about American universities or inflation. It was not about the mythic individual or exceptionalism. It was not about crime or convictions. It was not about foreign policy. It was not about drinking bleach. It was not about kids in cages. No one mentions the dynamics of revenge. It was about revenge. If my poor neighbors here in the Appalachian mountains can get it, what is wrong with the white cultural grand poobahs who cannot bring themselves to articulate that they know very little about how the lower class lives. Hurricane Helene wiped us out. It's been roughly a month, but I haven't seen a single person from any kind of authority whatsoever. Guess who got their electric back on first. We had to watch as their rich lights flicked on. We did everything ourselves. We removed the dead trees so an ambulance could get through. We were the ones who found our own water. We were left behind again. The elite can barely look at us. It was about revenge. In 2228, it will be about revenge. -- Tim Barrus

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Take notes. Adolf Hitler was elected, too. I have been screaming for years that it is us and we are it. Take a good look into the mirror, America. Unless you can get away with putting Republican children in cages, you're toast. There will be more whining and weeping. Too little, too late. Your government is done. NATO is done. Ukraine is done. Now, it's going after birth control. The it who never wears a condom is telling us to go drink bleach. This is exactly who Americans are. Backward. Mean. Frightened. Bitter. Unskilled. Uneducated. Poor. Sick. Filled with hate and revenge. Our institutions failed us again and again. Where are the people who also took an oath to protect and defend the constitution. What have they done. They voted for it. In my heart, I know that it's not human. It's an it. Americans love pornography. They can't get enough of it. It is a pornography. In fact, life itself is a pornography. It is not a homo sapiens sapiens. It has reduced us to being accessories to a pornography that has no basic understanding of how the world works. It's not just America. It's humanity. Again. We are him. We thrive on abomination, contempt, revulsion, malice, scorn, bile, and venom. We are not good people. We are the animals we pretend we are not. We are deluded. We merit what it has to throw at us. Putin will be allowed to employ thermonuclear holocaust. I do not want to hear the Putin speech in the White House. The Nazis have won. There is only one option. Run.

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Take notes. Trump wants to burn the constitution. He will write the new constitution. He already has. What I want to know is where are the tens of thousands of other people who have sworn to protect the constitution. Trump took this oath to protect. And so did every member of the military. I want to know why they do nothing. How can you take that oath and do nothing. America did not protect it. You gave it all way to a rapist psychopath. The right is filled with deep hatreds, and let's be real, how much does it to take manipulate Americans. Americans believe what they are told to believe. I proved that. All by myself. To think we should burn the constitution. It's the only piece of paper that protects us (from people like Trump, and the people who voted for him). They do not merit inclusion in society. We should overtly and with our own revenge, herd them. Do not draw blood because it's way too convenient. Marginalize traitors so fundamentally, they can't claw back. They are all a threat to the constitution. Every last one of them. We need to throw them all into the deep freeze of overt poverty, refuse to house them, refuse to feed them, refuse to work or sweat for your Republican masters, refuse them medical care, wish them babies and babies and babies. Target them with a resistance. Heap shame on them every minute of every day. Let him hear us every day of life left. Shame. What comes around, comes around. Adopt their tactics. Americans get what they so richly deserve.

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Take notes. I had to make a judgement call. I got my family out of North America. My decision was based in what the New York Times take is. In all the talk about vibes, the publication has one, too. It's dark. It's fearful. It's nervous. If it wasn't, something would be very wrong. Pollsters are beginning to look like stunned deer in headlights. One question dominates journalism. How Bad Is It Going To Be. What I hear in the voices of these conversations is a reckoning with defeat. Is there anyone at the New York Times who thinks he won't go after journalists. Journalists often feel immune to what to what is happening around them as they are there to cover it. A calm before the storm. No one has ever talked about a dynamic that is inherently stalking Trump. There is a psychotic link between suicide and homicide. It is not uncivil to say that because it is simply fact whether it is polite society or not. Trump is not stable. I have always seen him as being suicidal. Homicidal ideation is as toxic as suicidal ideation. He dreams of executions, and no one is pushing back because we cannot bring ourselves to believe it. Believe it. Ideation can swing like a pendulum back and forth. Them or me. Them or me. There is no us. There is no Other. There is no there there. The internal and the external is a contest between pitbulls in a cage. One of those caged dogs will win. And then both dogs will die. America is not immune. Trump is a junkyard dog. Let's fight. We remain transfixed.

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Take notes. This article is frenetic. That is not a criticism. Publishing is frenetic. The Leapfrogging Around Effect, from this and that, trading office space, is reflecting a publishing story where publishing insiders hop and skip around publication to publication. Job to job. Money is important, but it's rude so we (both journalists and readers) don't mention it. The 19th Century is alive and well. Editors who become agents. Agents who become editors. English majors from Brown who become publishers as soon as Daddy buys the building. Sex and the City is over. The ladies who lunch are dead. Publishing has gone to ugly dogs. I loathe sending my work to New York. I am much more inclined to go with a smaller publisher. One who might have accidentally read the book. That is heresy. The Beast was not a gentleman, and I am not a gentleman, either. The edge is gone. A pop culture burp. Take something new and render it as a sarcasm. After reading the Beast, I would try to throw my laptop across the room. The Beast was hip. Busy. Mean. Mean. Mean. But mean wears your teeth down when you try to chew. The Beast became like all the other beasts. And that is not sarcasm. The industry is one big flat screen. A FAX machine spits out your writer's tour schedule of events. It is not a dialogue. I do not tend to be kindly to a machine that orders me around and takes me to places that are inappropriate. The Beast is not a player. Coles and Sherwood are Plan B. So is the Daily Beast.

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TIM BARRUS ART

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Take notes. People demand to know if Shawn is gay. These are the people who will make him pay for it. His fan base is mainly composed of fifteen-year-old girls. There's a lot of anecdotals attached to Shawn. I hear a lot of: No One Cares If He's Gay. That is not true. Those young girls care a lot. The problem is that Shawn is writing about intimacy. And so are they. It's a double-edged sword. Everybody wants to be a Normal. Let's be very clear here. There are rules and acuterment to being a heterosexual. The red truck would be one. Teenage boys see Shawn as a threat. They stand in the background grimly. They tolerate him but barely. They think he's gay and just isn't willing to pay the price for it. All of this translates to clicks and hits. The paparazzi are all over Shawn because those editors know clicks, hits, and give us the dirt. I know these guys. Identity is a witch. They are waiting for the pictures of Shawn with another guy. In fact, they're drooling for it. The media vampires will take him in and spit him out. They will take his career and drown it. It's lucrative. Shawn is not the problem. Being eye candy is always a problem. They are pouring him into the great big box of fun things to stereotype him because he's unavailable. Sexuality is just another whipping post. The term, Mental Health, is code for gay. This is all stuff Shawn has talked about. Here's the bottom line. People would like to make love to Shawn Mendes. To be a fantasy has never been a calling.

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Year of the Hyena a novel by tim barrus

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Take notes. All flights (to anywhere) on November 6 are filling fast. I have already got my family out. The trick is to know when to get out of Dodge. The American people simply do not believe Trump will do what he has pledged to do. The threat to execute people he doesn't like seems to be, to most Americans, overkill. He wants you to be afraid, and we are. What will we be in 2028. If we are left standing at all. We are worried about 2025. 2028 seems so far off we refuse to examine the possibilities. Exactly how does he trash the US Constitution. How do you trash something you have vowed to protect. Do you burn it. Or do you rip it up. Question: Where are the other voices who have sworn to protect the Constitution. Why can't those voices do what they have vowed to do -- protect the Constitution. From Trump. What would that mean. Civil war. When the Confederacy was defeated in 1865, Jefferson Davis was captured, arrested for complicity in Lincoln's assassination, accused of treason, and imprisoned at Fort Monroe. Trump and Davis share analogies. A commitment to enforced institutional racism. We never really ended slavery. We just call it other names. Black prisoners working for the man (suits) do not represent an antithesis to slavery. That is slavery. Selective punishment, revenge, and it placates white people who are threatened every other minute. We have never settled the War Between the States. Fort Monroe is a museum. Bit it could still contain one old man.

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https://www.nytimes.com/2024/10/28/opinion/kamala-harris-dignity.html#permid=137174224

Take notes. Dignity in the face of screaming rage. By someone who has been burned before. This was very well written. I could never get into the whole nonviolent affect that speaks to us of calm. Calm is a problem. Anita Hill is pointing to a bigger issue. Her focus is rational and restrained. Sexism and racism are not compatible with human rights. If I were Anita Hill, I would be putting out feelers as to what flight she can pop into before Trump gets on the train toward his first day executions. It sounds downright dizzy, but we have all looked into the heart of Donald Trump and finding only an old man's venom.

The US prison system would volunteer to put on shows with hangings and beheadings. Do not think they won't. All you have to do is ask them. Small children will be required to watch, too, so they can begin indoctrination. I'm not going willingly when the big bad men from Ice arrive and batter the door down. There is risk in this scenario for them, too. Some of us don't get pushed around. Torture. Televised. Entire cities torched. The noose will be slipped on tight. Margaret Atwood had it right. What they really hate is sex. Once again, sex becomes a political act. Doing dignity does the same thing. It projects the whole idea of the word no. This is the hopeful view. My own is grounded in knowing who these people really are, and what their bottom line is among the wealthy who will win this culture war. Dignity is a great thing. But it will not stop Donald Trump.

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Take notes. The despair is real. The hate is real. And the revenge that drives the beast is real as well. We don't talk about jealousy too much. This is a Culture World War. You will be told that it's more complex than that, and it is. But not to the threatened species that is homo sapiens. They recognize complexity, and they emerge rattled. Knowing how things work, is work. Politics is television. They are one and the same. Throw in some dancing, an orchestra, and french fries. It's Your Dog And Pony Show. I want to know why Americans talk the talk, but there is no way we are going to walk that walk. What are the institutionalists going to do. When the Politik twists toward blue. Who do you think the Gestapo is looking for.

They are looking for you. Here's how it works. Elon gives Trump the names and the data. Anyone critical gets a visit in the middle of the bad spy night. If you think that the lower class (I am lower class) wants to punish the class that has always had their boot pressed up against our throats, that is because they always have their boot shoved up against out throats, and this is their punishment. It's a little bit about a lot of things. Cross cultural warzones. It's still punishment. What else do they have. American indifference and American compliance. Trump knows where you live. DOJ gets the order, and ICE gets a green light. Your children get a barracks and tin foil. You know where you are marching to. And you never said a word.

Like no. — Tim Barrus

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Take notes. Last Church Standing could be a book title. I live in the Blue Ridge. Our little towns all have a kinda strange housing market where $250,000 buys you one bedroom. I lived in a church once in Michigan. My bedroom was the balcony. It was a great place to write. How does architecture play romance with the light of soaring. I'm autistic and could spend an entire day just watching the sun move from window to window in more of a caress than spilling. When is worship worship. We danced in there. We made music (loud). We had a drawing class where (it was rumored) artist models had no clothes. Gasp. Every male for twenty miles signed up for that art class. Art is a den of depravity. "We thought we were getting a beautiful woman to model" I was told. "What we got was you. Can we bring our cameras." I am now a little sorry I said no. The church was haunted. Or. What was it that started playing the organ at four in the morning. That organ was worth more than the church. The building was a big bad box of fun things. We played dress up and put on shows. My favorite was the light show. With flashlights. We made huge fish fries for the entire community. Solemnity is not quite my vibe. Solemnity is a looking down because we are not worthy of seeing the angry face of god. Fiddledeedee. I don't look down. I look up. Soaring.

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