Here is a list (from Think Progress) of some protests going on throughout the country against the fascist Trump’s illegal & immoral executive order banning refugees & migrants from the nations of Syria, Iran, Sudan, Yemen, Iraq, Libya, and Somalia, all nations the US has bombed, invaded, or sanctioned. Do what you can: if marching or protesting is not your thing, write or create art, or call your congressperson, spread information through your social media or blog, volunteer to help refugees, or donate to a reputable charity helping refugees, like the UN Refugee agency (https://donate.unhcr.org/us-en/redirect/). Do what you can.
January 29, 4–6 p.m.
Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta Airport
January 29, 4–5 p.m.
Court House Lawn
January 29, 1–3 p.m.
Canton, New York
January 29, 12 p.m. — 1:30 p.m.
Park St. and Main St.
Chapel Hill, North Carolina
January 29, 12 p.m. — 2 p.m.
Peace and Justice Plaza
January 28, happening now
O’Hare International Airport
January 28, 5–7 p.m.
Denver International Airport
January 29, 3 p.m.
Hamtramck City Hall
January 29, 4–6 p.m.
DTW- Macnamara Termial- Intl Arrivals
January 28, 7 p.m.
IAH Terminal E
January 29, 1–4 p.m.
January 29, 11:30 a.m. -12:30 p.m.
Sen. Mitch McConnell’s office
January 28, happening now
Minneapolis–Saint Paul International Airport
January 31, 4:30–6 p.m.
Minneapolis Federal Building
Newark, New Jersey
January 28, happening now
Newark Liberty International Airport
January 28, 5–8 p.m.
LAX, Tom Bradley International Terminal
January 29, 1–4 p.m.
LAX, Tom Bradley International Terminal
January 29, 3–4:30 p.m.
Sen. Bob Corker’s office
The Democratic Party & many mainstream (especially white upper middle class) liberals will roll over like a dog for Trump & the GOP in hopes of getting some legislative & policy table scraps. This whole “civil war” narrative for the Democratic Party, this whole Clinton/Schumer corporate elites vs. populist working class allies Sanders/Warren/Ellison is just that: a narrative meant to divert effort & energy away from the protests, art, writing, civil disobedience, grass roots & communal organizing & self-governance that is the ONLY real antidote to the sort of incipient fascism/nationalist populism being embraced by the ruling & media elites.
DO NOT BUY INTO IT.
Ignore the Democratic Party “get out the vote” shaming & its mirror image “third party” utopianisms, ignore the “we need to reach out to the white working classes” bullshit: organize, speak out & act out in any way you can. The system is broken, it does not deserve to be put back together. We must create a new one from the ideas & imaginations within ourselves. We must abandon the party system entirely. We must eventually even abandon the discursive & self-justifying system of nationalism. There is no hope for the US. There is only hope if we create, together, Post-US narratives & systems.
it is a rag
it ain’t my bag
to salute this piece of cloth
in the eyes of those
to be “liberated”
in its name
is just a rag
a blood one at that
used to mop up the
trail of tears
and 500 years
red as the blood that stains the great plains
white as the skin of the conquerors
blue as the blood of those who profited
and who profit still
on the tyranny
The following essay was written by a good friend of mine, an anonymous patient on the Medical Marijuana Registry
As many people know, states around the US are allowing the use of marijuana to treat chronic pain or otherwise incapacitating illnesses and disabilities (with the exception of Colorado, Oregon, Washington, and Alaska who have simply legalized marijuana altogether.) This, however, is not a piece about the legalization of marijuana, though I do support that for various reasons. This piece is about what is like to be a patient on a medical marijuana registry.
When I was first diagnosed with an auto-immune disorder, I was devastated. I remember going to the pharmacy to pick up my new life-style-in-a-bottle. And, man, was it a big bottle. It was the length of my forearm, and it had “refill as needed” written on the side. I sat in my car and I cried. I was not looking forward to shoving 9 of these down my throat every day (3 morning, noon, and night.) On top of that, I had steroids, pain killers, and a host of other scheduled drugs. I had cases of pill packs with labels so I didn’t forgot to take what and when and I was taking up to 17 pills per seating. I got really good at just swallowing a handful of them with a big gulp of water. Hooray for new talents right? I was on so many pills my birth control stopped working, leading to an accidental pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage (as one of the drugs killed basically anything trying to live inside of me. Sort of thankfully, I was in no shape to carry a child. Let alone care for one and raise it. I could barely get out of bed at this point.)
Eventually, I had to stop taking the original medication, and thus began the Pharmaceutical Gauntlet of “what won’t I have a reaction to?” I went on immunosupressors (6MP’s and 5ASA’s) and I also did a stint of chemotherapy treatments to try and quash my ever-raging immune system. I was allergic or had a reaction to all of it. Every 6 weeks the chemo made me stop breathing. For those that have never experienced chemotherapy drips, you have to start slow and over the course of the 4 or so hours they speed up the drip. For me, they could not speed the drip because I would stop breathing every time. I have a permanent bruise on my arm where a nurse who wanted to go home ripped the IV out of my arm because my treatment was “taking too long.” (I filed a complaint against her and showed my specialist, but who knows who else she treated so poorly.) I had to have a family member or friend sit with me, and take time out of their lives to watch me struggle to breathe every month. It was not a good experience. Eventually I stopped going.
I tried anti-nausea medications that have, for the most part, left me infertile.
During this time, the Medical Marijuana Registry was created, and I asked my doctor if this was something I could have. I never smoked in high school (really, I waited until I graduated because I didn’t want to hurt my chances at school etc…) But during my chemotherapy treatments it really helped with the pain and nausea. (My disorders also give me constant nausea, which is what the anti-nausea meds were for.)
I was informed that, according to laws, I had to try other drugs that were specific to my symptoms, and they had to not work for me, or cause me harm for me to be allowed to move to the next step. Which was Marinol (the synthetic version of Delta-9 THC, which is the most active chemical in marijuana.)
After (many) more trips to the Emergency Department at the local hospital I was finally allowed to try Marinol. Which also doesn’t work. I haven’t met anyone that said it does what it is supposed to. That’s not to say it doesn’t work for some; if it works for you, that’s great and I’m glad you found something that gives you relief.
After all of this, I was allowed to apply for my patient license, and be put on the registry. Now, while I understand that marijuana is considered a controlled substance by the federal government, I can’t say I agree with listing the names of patients on an easily accessible list. I am not very worried about the federal government coming down on the sick and infirmed, but I worry for our safety and privacy. I worry about housing and employment discrimination. Also, in my state, the registry is run by the Department of Public Safety. This has bothered me from the beginning. I feel that this contributes to the negative stereotypes that marijuana and/or marijuana patients are somehow endangering the public. More so than say, alcohol? Or tobacco? There have been literally no deaths attributed to the use of marijuana. In my research I found one secondary death, and this was someone who died because they believed their abilities were more than what they were (they could not, in fact, fly). Direct deaths are things like, cirrhosis of the liver or lung cancer, directly caused by the ingested chemical.
Anyway, the application process goes like this:
1. Get really sick
2. Take a bunch of medicines that make you ill to prove that you can’t take an insurance backed medication, because choosing your own health care plan with your trusted physician is a big no-no for some reason.
3. Download, print, complete, and mail all of the parts of the application (for someone with a condition, simply going to the store to get lunch can be a drain, so running all over town to obtain the things you need is that much more of a burden). These things include:
A meeting with your “trusted physician with which you have a relationship”
Getting to the office
Taking time out of your day, maybe you work, maybe you are just exhausted (I do not blame the doctor’s they are just doing what they are supposed to)
Get the papers notarized (luckily where I live medical papers are freely notarized, I am not sure about other states)
Take passport style photos (when I first signed up you had to mail in actual DVD’s but now you can send them .jpgs which is extremely handy)
Pay a fee for both your caregiver and yourself
Mail everything out, certified
(PS almost all of these steps cost something, which puts more pressure on those who are ill and can’t work.)
4. Hopefully get your cards (I did.)
5. Whether you grow or use a dispensary (in my state there are only a few) you have to go to the dispensary and get your clones (plants) or have a consultation. Here the appointments are a month or more out, since there are only a few. This means if you run out of medicine you can’t just go to the place and get more, you have to wait it out; wait out your pain, your nausea, your lack of appetite, your lack of sleep.
6. Get your medicine. Finally, you can feel like a halfway decent human being for the first time in months. The strains at the dispensaries are bred to help with specific ailments. It isn’t just “getting high” and loafing around the house. A recent state poll showed most people use it before bed, or before meals (which, if you have nausea or a dampened appetite makes a lot of sense.)
As a patient, I have to guard myself against discrimination. I had one doctor that wouldn’t even prescribe me the marinol because he felt that the pharmacists treated his patients too poorly after filling that prescription (To be clear, I have a bunch of doctors. I didn’t doctor-hop until I found one that would give me drugs, I just asked my GP how they felt and the basically said “fuck those pharmacists”).
I am sure I am forgetting something, but I hope this gives people a little insight into what it is like to be someone with a chronic (and at times debilitating illness.) Living with it daily, and all we ask is for some respite without being judged or harassed.
In America all too often to identify oneself is to indemnify oneself against the wrongs and crimes done by our ilk in the past. White America has convinced itself that whiteness brings with it a sort of dignity and wealth that is inherent, or at least self-evident, and this fact overrides the grievances and pain and struggle of other groups, specifically black people. No white, when it comes right down to it, will deny the privilege that comes with white skin but White America has a resentment towards those who would even suggest that privilege is unearned or built upon a foundation of violence and theft. We live in a nation built on the backs and with the blood of black slaves, on the land of Native peoples, improved with the labor of exploited and abused workers and immigrant laborers and the profits glide upwards into the pockets of those whose only hardship in life was having to decide which elite institutions one would be associated with. What began and continued as exploitation of black bodies continued into the exploitation of all bodies that had the misfortune of being born outside of the circle of inherited wealth and property. The white body politic has understood for a long time that the circle must be relaxed here and there in order to bring more people into the white “inheritance”: certain immigrants, certain economic groups, even certain people of color as long as the toed the line and gave up on justice for all and any sense of being wronged as a group. We arm ourselves against the “others” and we turn our homes into unassailable castles where there is no law and no respect for anything but our possessions and our sense of self-importance. We expected to be “protected” from…god knows what. Those who have the least to fear, fear the most, while those who have the most to lose, lose it all and are laughed at and spit upon while they lose it all. Every black body is a weapon aimed at our pure, white heart. Only an all powerful, unaccountable blue wall can save us from the fear of losing our place at the top of the pile.
As Steinbeck saw all too clearly, the American Dream (the dream of whiteness/wealth/power inherited and “earned”) is and has always been a lottery whose main purpose is to provide the illusion of meritocracy, of social mobility, of economic self-determination. Decades of government action on behalf of those who already had a centuries long head start, a welfare state for those who had all the welfare they could ever need, a bait and switch that gave the trappings of an illusory and always lily-tinted middle class to some in exchange for obscene and ever expanding wealth for the very very few who had always resided at the top. And when black or brown or female or gay or poor bodies dared speak up and question this moral foundation for the nation, dared to ask for their fair share of what they had built with their blood, sweat, toil and tears, when these wretched folk dared to make a peep the great white house on the hill, that home of the great beacon onto a dark world, would convulse with rage and self-indulgent fury. How dare those people imply we have not earned all of this largesse? How dare those people question our right to all that our forefathers gave to us, no questions asked? How dare those niggers and sluts and faggots and bums and illegals suggest that this system is anything but the most fair, the most amazing system ever created? All this self-importance, all this self-delusion, just so we can say “at least I am better than those people”, while clinging like barnacles to a luxury liner that steams ever more resolutely forwards, first class passengers popping champagne bottles and laughing at our pitiful pretensions all the way.
We sold our souls for whiteness; we sold our sense of decency, our sense of outrage, our sense of right and wrong, justice, intelligence, fair play, and brotherhood. And for what? For a chance to say that we are better because of what we own, where we live, and what we look like? We have made ourselves dunces, fools who can only nod their heads when their betters tell us who to hate and who to glorify. We vote against our own interest and the interests of our brothers and sisters and friends and family just so we can say we voted for the winners instead of “those people”. Whiteness has given us a culture of consumption and greed that eats us from the inside out like some sort of galling medieval blight. We are lepers whose only balm is the material we grasp at with fingers bloodied and broken in the fight for precious lucur and capital. Our wealth resides in things and our worth is derived from what objects we use and what people we choose to abuse in order to obtain them.
And the lies we have to tell in order to maintain this fragile facade! Decades, centuries of history distorted, edited, misplaced, erased, shoved like so much garbage down the memory hole. Every day has been remade into a relentless march forward towards this moment, this time, these purchases, these jobs, these trinkets and prizes and fixtures. In order to justify our empty consumption and greed we had to remake history into one grand and meaningless disney-fied ticker-tape parade, with white banners flying and patriotic odes sung with ever increasingly shrillness and desperation. We wanted whiteness, now we need it. We need it because what else is there? To reject our privilege, to even question it, is to look ourselves in the mirror and acknowledge all the crime and filth and dirty deeds done to our brothers and sisters. To reject whiteness is to reject the idea of America as a blameless, beautiful, god-blessed nation with nothing ahead of it but destiny and nothing behind it but laudatory deeds. But you can only deny truth and history and justice for so long before those you have stood upon, trampled over, begin to try and force you to confront reality. If we do not choose to look into ourselves we will be torn apart and forced to contemplate a shattered wreck of a body and spirit that never even gave itself a chance at decency or transcendence. The cost of whiteness is our humanity and that is a price that none of us can afford to pay.
Just voted in Illinois! Voted Scott Summers of the Green Party for Governor of Illinois, voted against the “Victims Rights” state constitutional Amendment, voted yes for the “Voting Protection” state constitutional Amendment. Reluctantly voted for Dick Durbin for Senate and AGAINST my idiot Representative Randy Hultgren and FOR Dennis Anderson his Democratic opponent. I know that the GOP is making it harder to vote in many states and localities but it is worth it to try and vote. Make a nuisance of yourself! Be THAT person who demands to be heard! Go out and vote your conscience!