Twenty years have passed since America was attacked on September 11th, 2001. The occasion demands we reflect on who we have become: a terrified nation hellbent on self-destruction
This is another sad, beautiful, sobering gut-punch of an essay. Thank you, Jared.
"The transfer of trillions of dollars to the military-industrial complex at the expense of our own programs and well-being has left America a struggling, anxious, suffering nation of struggling, anxious, suffering people. The war has come home."
I don't do needlepoint, but if I had such skills I'd stitch this on a pillow and send it to my stepdad, who drilled so much jingoistic Ayn Rand Objectivism into my brain that it has taken most of my entire life to remove the tumors. Your work is just the medicine I've needed and I appreciate you.
What a day that was. I was at my first real job, a children's museum outside of Chicago, and we pulled an old television out of storage to watch the events of the day unfold. I tended to parents who were crying in the exhibits, wondering out loud what kind of world they'd brought their children into. American flags popped up everywhere -- on yards, on cars, on houses. Concerns that Chicago might be next felt very real. Fresh off of a college relationship with a guy from Wheaton whose parents were members of the John Birch Society (and gave me a copy of "The Dogma of Hell" with the bonus chapter of "How to Avoid Hell"), I'd been around my fair share of religious fanaticism and American exceptionalism, so I knew where we were headed. And here we are, 20 years later, in a hellscape where the former president has all but announced his intentions to run in 2024, with plans to travel to GA and IA for rallies, while GWB makes garbage paintings for display at SMU, Dallas.
All to say, my optimism is waning that the United States will ever have the spatial awareness to forge a path forward. But on a brighter note, excited for the paperback release next week and the new content!
This is another sad, beautiful, sobering gut-punch of an essay. Thank you, Jared.
"The transfer of trillions of dollars to the military-industrial complex at the expense of our own programs and well-being has left America a struggling, anxious, suffering nation of struggling, anxious, suffering people. The war has come home."
I don't do needlepoint, but if I had such skills I'd stitch this on a pillow and send it to my stepdad, who drilled so much jingoistic Ayn Rand Objectivism into my brain that it has taken most of my entire life to remove the tumors. Your work is just the medicine I've needed and I appreciate you.
What a day that was. I was at my first real job, a children's museum outside of Chicago, and we pulled an old television out of storage to watch the events of the day unfold. I tended to parents who were crying in the exhibits, wondering out loud what kind of world they'd brought their children into. American flags popped up everywhere -- on yards, on cars, on houses. Concerns that Chicago might be next felt very real. Fresh off of a college relationship with a guy from Wheaton whose parents were members of the John Birch Society (and gave me a copy of "The Dogma of Hell" with the bonus chapter of "How to Avoid Hell"), I'd been around my fair share of religious fanaticism and American exceptionalism, so I knew where we were headed. And here we are, 20 years later, in a hellscape where the former president has all but announced his intentions to run in 2024, with plans to travel to GA and IA for rallies, while GWB makes garbage paintings for display at SMU, Dallas.
All to say, my optimism is waning that the United States will ever have the spatial awareness to forge a path forward. But on a brighter note, excited for the paperback release next week and the new content!
p.s. if anyone wants a copy of "The Dogma of Hell," hit me up. Postage is on me.