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leftists on the internet learned the word ecofascism and immediately started applying it to any form of enviromentalism that might slightly inconvenience them

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I reached out to Zerzan by email with 4 long questions to help prepare for a different conversation with an anti-industrialist, plus the suggestion that I could post our Q&A text interview around a few places to help clarify his political theory and promote my critique of primitivism. But he offered to voice chat instead, which was a pleasant surprise.

So I’ll post the video and transcribe our conversation here. I edited the text slightly for clarity’s sake, just to remove filler words and put anything I forgot to say in, but I ran the updated version past Zerzan and he’s happy his answers still suit the questions asked.

Video Link

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i have done something horrific and i need to share it here.

biden/trump fic, sfw

also in ao3. info and fic under the break

My Love, Mine All Mine by amohomines on ao3.

disclaimer: this fic involves drug use. i know this is a crackfic, but i treat this seriously as someone who actively and has struggled with addiction for years. i am not making fun of drug users, but it only felt right to include. i at least tried to write it realistically (to my experience) and respectfully.

without further ado, here’s the fic:

“As long as you carry your own bag.” The phantom of a smile haunted Don’s mind. He knew the conversation Joe was talking about. They crossed paths at an underground club Don frequented. Sitting across a small table, they shared a martini and chatted between sips. Joe recently went on vacation and was telling Don all about it.

“The grass was beautifully green, and the wind was just right. Great place for golfing, you know. You should have seen it.” Don watched the way his hands fiddled with the toothpick at the rim of the glass. The same toothpick he just had between his lips, pulling off the firm olive imposed on it.

“My golf buddies don’t really like to leave town. They say the golf course at home is the best that’s ever been. Can’t really golf by myself, can I?” Don tried to chuckle with that TV smile he kept on, but he had a hard time masking around Joe. They may not talk much, but he always felt vulnerable. His guard was let down, and he knew Joe could read his mind just then. He confirmed it with his next words, words that would be branded to his mind so that he could never see Joe again without thinking about them.

“I don’t mind golfing with you, Donnie.” Joe stood and wrapped his messenger bag around his shoulder. “Just carry your own bag, how’s that?” As Joe stood, he paused just to torture Don with a warm stare. A half smile, a slow fluttering of the eyes, and a wave goodbye later, Don was left at the loneliest table in Washington D.C.. He called his chauffeur and left that club wishing he had drank enough to pass out.

Don was back behind the podium, giving his best smile to the cameras. He didn’t think his smile had faltered, but his heart had definitely skipped a few beats. He gained his composure as the ache in his chest died down. “… as long as you carry your own bag.” He watched Joe’s lips curl around the words. He knew what he was doing to Don. Joe had left him with so little to cherish, and what little he had tortured him in every second of this debate. He was stuck between leaving the debate and going off the grid, and closing the space between the podiums.

-

Joe knew what he was doing to Don. He didn’t want to hurt him, but the indifference between them would kill Joe before his longing ever would. Cold silence was freezing his heart to a stop. He needed something to get him by.

Joe ordered a single drink for them to share on purpose. He purposely let his fingertips linger around the orange stain where Don’s mouth embraced the toothpick that garnished the drink. He purposely scooted in close so that their knees touched, and he purposely didn’t move to get space. He knew, but it was the choice between a small choke and being suffocated to the point of dying. He wanted more.

”I don’t mind golfing with you, Donnie.” He loved to call him that — the secret little nickname that Joe used for him. “Just carry your own bag, how’s that?” Joe reluctantly packed up, though he never wanted to leave. Nothing could make him want to leave. He knew that if he stayed, he couldn’t control himself, especially not with being tipsy, and he couldn’t risk being caught with Don. But oh, how he wanted to get rid of the divider between them: the cameras watching; the societal expectation; the politics; the podiums; and of course, the table dividing them now. Joe had one option, and that was to remove himself from Don’s proximity, though he’d kick himself for it as long as he lived.

Joe got home and drank and drank. He tasted that martini in every sip, drink, chug. It was a good martini, but it was a shared martini: one that both Joe and Don’s lips greeted. He smelled Don’s cologne over the scorching Patrón. He drank anything that could burn Don out of his mind, but he stuck.

He wasn’t proud of it. He knew he would regret it. But he also knew that nothing else could possibly give him the relief he so desperately needed. He reached into the secret compartment under his nightstand and painfully drew out the pipe. Nobody would know. He just needed one hit, and he would be done.

Don would not make it into his dreams that night, because he would not sleep. He would be momentarily wiped from Joe’s memory, and oh, how tranquil those few moments were. But still, Don was left miles away, tasting the same martini and hearing the same voice pierce through him. He was left with no relief.

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Canada’s extraction of Africa

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This is the best thing I've ever heard.

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@vraggoee HOLY SHIT SHUT THE FUCK UP

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Palestinian resistance heroes walk up to an Israeli tank in Gaza to hand-deliver a care package 🔻

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I love when militant groups do this type of photo. It looks so fucking cool.

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hmm

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Patriot Front handing out pamphlets and candy to children is probably the most disgusting thing I've seen these guys do.

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white americans when you tell them that the idea of climate change as an impending disaster is a reductive first world perspective because it’s a tangible reality for many in the global south already:

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he holds hostages

Liberals only care about civility. That's it. Nothing more.

They think that being impolite when going against genocide is worse than the genocide itself.

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