Long Story; Short Pier.

God, hes left as on aur oun.

Fulfillment.

Mechsploitation.

Ink in the stomach.

Glycon.

The Waste Land.

Showgirls.

In much the same way bricks don't.

Let Charles Mudede walk you through a Reddit post about the shuttering of a cinephile palace and how it’s just like what happened at Boeing, and it’s a cliché, I know, to say we don’t make stuff anymore, just money, but nowadays we don’t even do that; we can’t even be bothered to make up the numbers that make the right-colored bar climb in the right direction on a PowerPoint slide. We just make the money stand still in a pool somewhere long enough for a grifter to nip in and slip off with it, and what do you call your act? —The Capitalists!

  Textile help

Three guineas.

Jesus Macht Frei.

Blob.

Gilded Age.

Floor 796.

Email | Bluesky | Mastodon | RSS

the Great Work

City of Roses

Chapter Twenty-Nine: “Mass”

Archive | Comradery | Patreon

  • Scenes from the always-emerging class struggle
  • Which side are you on, folks? Which side are you on?
textpattern