Today’s the day. The day you help save the internet from being ruined.
(Long story short: The FCC is about to make a critical decision as to whether or not internet service providers have to treat all traffic equally. If they choose wrong, then the internet where anyone can start a website for any reason at all, the internet that’s been so momentous, funny, weird, and surprising—that internet could cease to exist. Here’s your chance to preserve a beautiful thing.)
Sometimes police brutality happens without anyone outside the community knowing about it; it’s on the back page of a newspaper, if it makes the newspaper (if the town has a newspaper; increasingly few do). Sometimes, as in the case of Ferguson, it snowballs into something bigger. And when that happens, somehow the nation riles itself up in a paroxysm of outrage for a week or maybe a month, deepening already fathomless left wing/right wing divide, until finally everybody just collectively shrugs and shakes their heads and says, “Terrible thing, terrible thing, nothing can be done, way of the world” and gets on with the mundane daily business of life.
When’s the last time you heard or saw something about Ferguson in the news?
We’re already moving on.
From a great piece on white privilege by Matt Zoller Seitz.
in a way that could offer some help to journalists in danger around the world — you can make a donation in his memory to the Committee to Protect Journalists so the organization can continue to work on their behalf.
Our heads hang in shame when we hear about rapes. Why can’t we prevent this? When a daughter steps out, parents demand to know where she’s going. But when a son returns home, does anyone dare ask where he is coming from? He might have been with the wrong people, doing wrong things. After all, a person raping is someone’s son. Why don’t parents apply the same yardstick of good behaviour for their sons as for their daughters?
But to enjoy our bodies and the sensations they give us when they are working. We need almost nothing at all to find our happiness: only a few hours, a stretch of road, perhaps a friend, or even better a competitor. We hide in our spindled chests an unusually large and heaving heart—and in our heads a warbled tune, a song, as we move on down the road. Do you know the feeling I know? When your legs have disappeared, and there is only your heart, your lungs, and your eyes skimming disembodied through the air? We are Aristotle’s featherless bipeds, we runners. Though we have no wings, we have taught ourselves to fly.
One of the best pieces of truly inspirational writing I’ve ever come across. I love this essay so very much. It’s a 5-minute read - take your time, do it twice. This is the real deal.
One of my favorite excerpts:
People are the best and worst thing that will happen to you. Some will help you go further, faster. Others will pull you down to their level and help you lose. Most are OK. Many are average. Some are excellent.A few people will change your life forever. Find them.
You don’t need a lot of friends or people around you. You need amazing people who do for you as you do for them.
It’s simple really, a lot of average friends will leave you feeling alone when you need to feel surrounded by people who care.
Read the full thing here.
One of the best, with a gem of a goodbye column: Blink and It’s Gone.
When I returned to New York in 2001 as a writer for The Washington Post, I was told of a miracle. Take a look at Williamsburg — gentrification saved that joint.
I shook my head.
That place was “saved” long before the tattooed many and their hedge fund successors washed ashore. Contentious, cacophonous, Italian, Puerto Rican, Polish and Jewish homeowners and tenants organized and stood their ground and saved Williamsburg.
"They came to America shortly after I was born. At first, my dad worked construction and my mom did cleaning jobs. Now he owns a newsstand, and she owns a boutique. They are my idols."
#HONY is the best.