The messaging really ought to be the truth, which is:
*We can't afford to not take care of sick people anymore.
*We can't afford to not house the houseless anymore.
*We can't afford a population crushed by debt.
*We can't afford our carceral state.
*America can't afford cruelty.
Our obsession with ignorant cruelty is not only morally empty, it's *expensive.*
The cost of student debt and medical debt, of houselessness, of incarceration as a growth industry, the loss of life, is expensive.
It's VERY expensive.
America can't afford cruelty anymore.
We are quite aware that there are people who would rather die themselves than see sick people they deem undeserving receive care, but that sort of cruel selfishness is the sort of luxury item only afforded to late-stage Roman emperors, and we can't afford that nonsense anymore.
The Love Party came west in 1787, to make their fortune in the new-formed Northwest Territory.
The “Love Party,” so named after Isaac Love. A bachelor smith and former corporal in the Colonial army, he quickly proved the most capable among them, and a natural leader besides.
The group, setting out from Raleigh, targeting Cincinnati, was made up of a loose and unaffiliated kit of families and fortune hunters, without head or government, but when the guide they hired took ill early in their trip, they found themselves in early danger of failure.
I'm this weird guy who thinks that if you remove a massive unjust crushing burden from the shoulders of millions and millions of people, there will also be a lot of joy, so who give a fuck what selfish self-defeating assholes think.
We're aware that there are those who would rather people suffering under a terrible needless construct that is wearing away at almost every aspect of our national fabric, than see one person get a single dollar they personally feel that person didn't deserve.
And fuck them.
We are going to have to solve our problems without the permission or approval of people who want those problems to exist, and their bullshit selfish reasons for wanting the problems to exist do not constitute a valid argument for having problems exist.
The answer of course is to work together to find a compromise between "simply believing the virus is real" and "allowing yourself to become so completely mindfucked by far-right propaganda you fight the people trying to save your life until you're too close to death to speak."
FOX News and the rest of the American fascist propaganda machine, far-right billionaires, and the entire Republican Party have conspired to use every sort of bigotry as a vector to convince 10s of millions of Americans to enter a completely alternate reality.
Is the problem.
What will snap them out of it?
Not even dying.
Literally not even dying of the lie they've believed will convince them they're wrong.
Certainly no atrocity against others will do it. No level of vulgarity will manage it.
When Bailey Ligneclaire’s bored—like now, between the rush hours—she passes the time counting the fights she’s been in.
*…and the first fight came when you were only ten, up against a teenager whose name you didn’t even know, a local, one of your regular bullies, he had a knife but you beat him anyway, bare-handed…*
Bailey’s small, almost waifish, but if you watch her walk you see how she carries herself, and you understand that the simple black outfit, and the complicated braids arranged helmetlike around her sleek head, are part of a calculated martial air.
Father Julius has learned that the most important thing about the flickering man is, don’t reach for him—that makes him flicker right out.
There’s no doubt anymore that something is happening; Father Julius has made himself sure on that count. Whether it’s real or just something in his mind, it’s repeating itself.
He’s tried timing the flickering man’s appearances but there’s no rhythm to it; this fellow, it seems, is no man of routine.