haha mood go brrr


Disappointed and Appalled: An Open Letter to the New York Times

Good day, 

This won’t make it to anyone except an unmonitored email generating standard responses or the journalism student interning for less than minimum wage, but hey, what the hell?

I wanted to provide feedback to the New York Times, as a relatively long time reader of several years. I abhor NYT’s coining of the recent political cooperation between Russia, China, and Iran as “the new axis.” I know you did that because scaring people into reading makes you money. Its shock value surpasses the daily basic click-bait bombarding your readers, thus winning today’s battle in viewership. 

While I maintain you have the right to make money, you do not have the right to assist in building the scaffolding of a new war – worldwide or other. Americans do not want another war, and do not need another war. Likely, you took some money on the side from an interested lobbying group to print that out. Or perhaps an NYT executive rubbed shoulders with LD, L3 Harris, or other profiteers of death and destruction this weekend at the golf course and they caught you at a time where NYT needed to pad the bottom line.  

Either way, your rhetoric in this instance is immoral. What our people want and need are basic human rights and a redistribution of wealth. After decades at war, our middle class has been demolished, our relationship with the world community dissolves, and our planet smolders both literally and figuratively. Until your competitors go back to printing Roe v. Wade, you won’t go back to covering the loss of human rights because you feed on fresh dissent, not on moral principle. You won’t talk about wealth disparity until you need to save face either. 

Still, I plead, at least do not so flippantly toss around the concept of world war 3 as if hundreds of thousands of civilians as collateral and thousands of America’s poor as soldiers don’t stand to lose their lives because of it. 

Their deaths are on your hands now. 


Tri Cyclic

I did nothing
but watch
as the young
of my generation,
the gifted
and beautiful,
trapped themselves
in the same 
dead ends 
we hated the old
for wasting their
lives on.

I’m sorry. 


I would have rather walked. Despite the early spring chill, I longed for a refreshing hike.

I parked, feeling the tires’ dread an inch from a small grit burn. They needn’t have gone through this existential horror except that I had so many quarters to rid myself of. 

Standing at the roadside, the long–necked animal swallowed my change. It ate eagerly, one by one, and in turn showed all that I was an honest person with no proclivity for petty crime. 

I waited for the meter to down the last coin with a metallic gulp. After it squawked happily, I climbed back behind the wheel and drove home so I could take the walk I desired instead.