The Irishman and the Ambassador from Potemkin

Per Bruce Jackson: “In this wonderfully revealing 6-minute interview, the Russian ambassador to Ireland lies, lies, does a bit of slip & slide, and then lies some more. Irish news presenter David McCaullagh calls him on every single one. Now if there were only a brilliant hacker who could slip this into the Fox news feed while Tucker Carlson is doing his nightly Putin-suck….”

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Defund, Abolish, What?

The people who call for defunding the police, and the smaller number who want to abolish the police, have a particular focus: they are interested in the cops who patrol the streets on foot or in cars, the cops who direct traffic, the cops who answer calls about domestic violence and robberies or assaults in progress, and the cops who deal with threatening or erratic behavior in public places. And they are also interested in the special forces, the SWAT teams, that invade homes, often without warrants, looking for illegal drugs or other contraband. Focusing this way makes perfect sense; these are the cops who too often escalate the violence they are supposed to control; these are the cops who kill innocent people. But there is a great deal of police activity that is missing here.

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Chill

Outside our thick locked door, the air grows cold.
Fall plays songs of loss. For an encore, cold.

Cascade of tangerine and neon pink –
The dying sun departs in splendor. Cold

nights for the too-long married. The furnace
breaks. More than metaphor – the air grows cold.

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Ill Fares the Land

  In my dreams, I was constantly losing my brother in the midst of World War III. In despair, I didn’t want to go on, but I’d go on. I’d see him then as he was as a kid of four or five. His sweetness got him killed. Whereas I, even at my worst and most lost, always had an instinct for reality. I’d felt from an early age appointed or called by something. But reality was a minefield, starting with my own somatic experience (failure to be held). Something, some threat in the biological or social world, was always poised to interrupt where I was meant to go (K’s theory early in our friendship about Spinoza, Proust, imperial time, and death, and years later when he told me about what Grace Lee said about James Boggs, how she’d never met a person who could sleep so soundly, the kind of sleep that comes from being a Black man born in Alabama who lives and breathes a revolutionary humanity).

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Epiphany, and the Flight into Egypt

 

While quietly crossing the threshold from a most difficult year into a (hopefully) better year, I lit a simple fire in an old tire rim, and with Orion twinkling in the darkness above, I contemplated the religious icon that accompanies these words.

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The Last Irving

The café had four octogenarian Irvings. Two have passed; one is infirm. The fourth, now 92, sat on a bench outside the Cheese Board. We spoke of every day being a blessing, of every hour.

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The “Forever War”

President Biden’s decision to withdraw from Afghanistan has provoked a flood of commentaries on our “forever war.” This obviously isn’t the war in Afghanistan, which lasted a long time but not forever. Indeed, Fred Smoler has made a strong case that Biden ended it too soon, given the consequences of defeat for Afghan women. I would be inclined to agree; my political sympathies lie that way. But I suspect that the war failed disastrously long ago, and Trump’s agreement with the Taliban, a virtual surrender, effectively ended it.

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Hormones

I (Lust)

Shut up kiss me hold me tight

C was from Montreal and she was married to a pretty famous UFC fighter who was training at a big gym in San Jose for an important fight in Vegas. We met on a kink app used mainly by radical queers (or at least queers who like weird sex) and vampiric married couples at the very end of their rope, looking to stave off the apocalypse of the bourgeoisie, or at least to eroticize it.

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Ransoms & Ripeness

Fr. Frechette has been writing regular updates from Haiti since the earthquake on August 14th. What follows are his two latest missives, starting with his most recent, which is marked by an undeniable urgency. His earlier update has an up ending that should give readers a genuine lift since Fr. Frechette’s good faith is the opposite of beamishness. His invocations of viridians in that first note made your editor think of Lorca’s Gypsy Ballad:

Green, how I want you green
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.

Maybe “Romance Sonámbulo” isn’t quite apt for a priest, but Fr. Frechette is large (and Lorca’s mountains and sea seem right for Haiti). Fr. Frechette may not be forever young but he is surely unwithered.

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Left of the Left: Sam Dolgoff’s Life and Times

What follows here—after this introduction—are excerpts from Left of the Left, Anatole Dolgoff’s memoir of his father, Sam, who was a large figure on the margins of American life in the last century. Dolgoff embodied an ideal once celebrated on the American left. He was…

a worker-intellectual—someone who toils with his hands all his life and meanwhile develops his mind and deepens his knowledge and contributes mightily to progress and decency in the society around him.

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Presente: The Eternal Alina Sanchez

Per the Emergency Committee of Rojava: “This month has been a difficult one for the people of Rojava, as well for Kurdish and Yezidi communities in Turkey and Iraq. Taking advantage of the world’s focus on Afghanistan, Turkey has escalated its attacks against communities struggling for autonomy throughout Kurdistan. But these communities are not simply victims, they are resisting every step of the way and we are standing with them!” To find out how can you act in solidarity with the Rojava, please visit the Emergency Committee’s website here.

What follows is a tribute to Dr. Alina Sanchez — a Argentinean doctor and  internationalist who went to Rojava in 2011 in search of a truly free society. Committed to the Kurds’ fight against ISIS and Erdogan’s Turkey, she died in an accident there in 2018.  It seems right to summon up her life as First upholds the legacy of Sam Dolgoff. There’s a pretty direct ideological link between these two freedom-lovers. Rojava’s Kurds have been inspired by the work of Murray Bookchin — a close comrade of Dolgoff’s (though they had a falling out). Along with blueprints (and disputes) about the workings of a humane society, Dolgoff and Dr. Sanchez shared a soulful worldliness.

The following film tribute starts off in medias res, but you’ll find your footing quickly if you stick with it. (Click on “Read More” below to see it bigger.)

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