Frank

Some nerds were doing that thing where 40k fans are like "OH NO SEXZ IS HERESY!" when it's pretty definitively not and is basically one of the only things in 40k that isn't heretical (as long as you're not doing evil slannesh shit) and it got me thinking about repression of sex under "in bad country regimes".

And a whoooooooooooooooooooooooooole fucking thing in 1984 was how liberating and humanizing it was that the author's grungy middle aged self-insert was boning a 19 year old member of the Junior Anti-Sex League, and, like... America has several thousand different Junior Anti-Sex League and I'm not sure if the USSR ever had any? Like, yeah, maybe they did, but under capitalism Americans have literally convinced themselves they'll go to hell if they see a tiddy and the English famously just hate joy. So what the fuck was Orwell trying to critique with his "Junior Anti-Sex League" in spoooooky Stalinist England?

Commies have always done this kind of thing, but it's long been a core of Anarchist thought - Small affinity groups, ad hoc organizing, mutual aid networks within the decaying corpse of the state.

I'm not talking about nihilistic ecofash crap like "Desert" or whatever, but rather how to work in these small, nimble, and responsive groups and organizations. I think that as global warming rips nation states apart and capitalism continues to fuck everything this kind of organizing is going to be very important. There may not be an industrial proletariat to organize by mid century if global warming puts enough pressure on the world to cause widespread logistical and economic collapse.

I think that's likely enough to merit serious consideration, including working out what communist organizing would look like, and how it would work, in a post free-trade, post-international just in time logistics world.

There's that old story where an old man is walking down the beach after a storm. The storm has washed up thousands of starfish who are stranded now. The man sees a little girl throwing starfish back in to the ocean. He says "Why are you bothering, you can't save all of them." and without looking up the girl says "I can save this one" and hucks another starfish in to the surf. The man thinks about that for a second and then joins the girl in hurling starfish.

As global warming continues to worsen, as the neoliberal state continues to auto-cannibalize, all these disasters are going to add up. Things that are destroyed won't be repaired. There will be knock-on effects as the collapse of infrastructure in one region accelerates the collapse in surrounding regions. Flexible, relatively small scale organizing groups doing on the ground relief, repairs, or even outright replacing infrastructure will likely be vital for the survival of many communities.

A lot of us are already involved in projects like this in one way or another. Pooling theory, personal experiences, and other resources to apply our dialectical magic to the problem can only make us stronger.

Everyone else in Aman: Feanor what the fuck?

I think these guys are members of a Flemish Dyers Guild or something.

Was browsing through Bsky and came across this, which is THE BEST THING. The attention to detail in the war gear is so gooooooood.

Craigslist. Was looking at tools today and people are selling 40 year old Craftsman tools for 40$ that have more steel in one tool than America's entire 2023 national steel production output. When I need gear for the grind I buy ugly rusty decades old made out of iron and spite stuff off sketchy websites.

I've always entertained the idea that Balrogs were less monstrous in form and more like the children of Illuvatar in form, albeit very terrifying. Here's a little musing I wronte;

The Balrogs have in most regards the shape of men or elves, but far more terrible. Their stature is measured by their intent – At rest they are of a height with the children of illuvatar, at war they would scratch the roof of a tall man’s hall, and this stature may change from moment to moment as suits their needs.

Always they are in shadow. The sun never falls on their faces nor can it be seen behind them. Yet, whichever way one observes them, their shadow reaches out, longer and darker than it ought to be, to fall just short of one’s feet, threateningly close. Nor, though, are they ever fully in darkness, for in darkness a dim rim of red flame can be seen about and within them. So dim it would not cast a shadow, yet you cannot mistake them on a dark night. This fire is in them and in all that they make or possess, and in wrath it will flare greatly, but never brightly – A wreath of reddish heat which never rises to the white or yellow of good honest fire nor approaches the last rays of a setting sun. There’s is a dim, shadowy fire,

Of there gear it is thus; They wear no bright colors. All clothe and metal is dim and desaturated and the dull red gleam of their flame is in it. Their war gear is all of darkened iron, polished and engraved, set with enamels and gems which do not shine. It is their culture to have etched on their plate their deeds, and the names of great warriors they have slain, and exultation of Morgoth who lead them to power. They delight in shaping their wargear to mock the creatures of Illuvatar, such that one’s helmet might resemble a grotesque eagle fanged and scaled, while another’s pauldron might have the shape of screaming men. They are some of the greatest of the servants of Morgoth and their war-gear reflects their stature, being of the finest and most intricate make. In shadow and fire wrapped one might think their skin to be of plate and faceted iron, so closely fit and finely made was their armor.

For arms, they bore two weapons that marked their authority and office. First – A burning sword, in dim red fire wreathed, as long as a tall elf but very light for it’s size. These swords they wielded with two hands when it suited them, or one if they were in wrath. The power of their blows was enormous and the craft of the swords was such that little could turn their edge or threaten to break them, and so they could be wielded as implements of siege if desired. Certainly, the shields of elves and men had little hope of holding them at bay. These swords were made only for the Balrogs, for few could bear them and in the presence of any servant of the Dark Lord none else would dare.

But the true symbol of their station was the burning lash. Each Balrog’s whip was forged to fit their hand. All, however, were of black iron, finely forged, and it was in these whips that their fire burned most strongly. The whip is an instrument of torment and dominion, and so the firey whips of the Balrogs were the symbol of their tyranny above all other signs and symbols which they bore. These whips they used very cruelly in battle and in council, and countless orcs and slaves of Morgoth bore the burnt brand of iron chains on their backs or faces.

When the Balrogs went to war at the head of Melkor’s army they carried a great wreath of smoke and shadow around them, flickering with the dull embers of a burnt out fire. This was the sight most dreaded by scouts of the Eldar and Edain, for a dimming and a shadow among the orc camps meant only this; The Balrogs were at arms, and they were unafraid to be known.

Again, not a lawyer, I know fuck all about International law, but it sure does look like boobytrapping random people's electronics is a fucking crime.

Whataboutism

Starting today and every following monday I will be updating the Hexbear Style Guide with important and culturally relevant new Gamer Words.

Today's word is "Zzlav", which will be replacing "Ruzzian" and all related words going forward. The style guide will reflect that "Zzlav" should always be preceded by an appropriate adjective. Words like "perfidious", " grasping", "deceitful", or " cunning" are suggested but a full list will be appended to this document.

Until next week fellow democrats!

Heard about it from a Lakota artist I follow. Figure this one is worth keeping an eye on.