In The Absence Of A Clear And Obvious Angle To Attack Bushnell’s Protest, Most Likely Due To His Status

In the absence of a clear and obvious angle to attack Bushnell’s protest, most likely due to his status as a serviceman that would make outright insulting him or suppressing the news itself scandalous, discussions on Western shores have now taken on the familiar framing of mental illness. In Time Magazine’s write-up of Bushnell’s death, the article finishes with a link to the suicide hotline, and asks readers to contact mental health providers if they are experiencing a “crisis.” Mark Joseph Stern, a writer at Slate, seemingly unasked, also wrote on Twitter/X:

“I strongly oppose valorizing any form of suicide as a noble, principled, or legitimate form of political protest. People suffering mental illness deserve empathy and respect, but it is wildly irresponsible to praise them for using a political justification to take their own life.”

Conviction does not exist to the American. To be willing to die in a selfless act for what they believe in only exists for those outside America's sphere of influence. Many will recall reporting on those who self-immolated in protest in Iran and in Russia for instance where this sort of approach, unwilling to engage with the root of its cause, would not even be entertained, let alone written and published with sincerity. The Arab Spring began with a self-immolation. The self-immolation of Buddhist monks in protest of South Vietnam’s persecution became defining images of the war and its corruption. Within America’s walls however, there is a belief, unspoken and ingrained from birth, that democracy allows for everyone’s voices to be heard and that its representatives are inherently inclined to respond to the people and their widespread wishes.

Desperation at inaction or complicity in terror and atrocity need not apply. Everyone incensed by their government to such an extent must simply have something wrong with them. To be able to go about one’s day knowing that children are screaming from the hunger that is eating their insides and that pregnant women are eating bread made from animal feed, and that the United States is supporting Israel’s creation of this famine, is apparently the real sign of well-adjustment.

Seamus Malekafzali, “The Words Burned Through His Throat: The Sacrifice of Aaron Bushnell,” February 26, 2024.

More Posts from Sparklylanddetective and Others

2 years ago

Imagine:

Being part of The Croods and Guy liking you.

Imagine:
Imagine:

Guy is honestly one of the cutest animated guys ever. How could I not make an imagine about him?

(Y/N) juggled the shell that Guy gave him with some rocks. He heard someone sneaking up behind him.

"Don't." He heard someone breath out.

"Wow. You're really good." Guy chuckled, getting into pace with him.

"Thanks." He replied, letting the rocks drop. Guy glanced at Belt.

"How'd you learn to juggle?"

"Juggle?"

"Yeah. It's what you were doing. Tossing things." Guy explained hurriedly. (Y/N) hummed, giving him the shell back.

"Keep it. You seem to like it." Guy smiled. (Y/N) glanced at him.

"You're cute, you know. Eep called you a boar." (Y/N) told him, smiling at the memory.

"Yeah, she was really scary." Guy mumbled.

"I'm guessing as the oldest you're the most laidback?" Guy looked at him. (Y/N) shrugged.

"I'm not like Thunk who's scared of everything or Eep who's curious.. Sandy is a wild animal." (Y/N) chuckled.

"I guess I'm laidback."

"I like it. It's cute like you." Guy said, nervously.

"Was that a.. 'joke'?" (Y/N) asked. Guy shook his head.

"A compliment."

"What's that?" (Y/N) tilted his head.

"When you say something nice.. About someone. I was trying to flirt with you but..." Guy sighed.

"Flirt? What's that?" Guy squeaked as Eep poked her head between them.

"It's um... When you like someone so you try to uh, get them to like you back." Guy's voice got higher towards the end of his sentence. Eep blinked and stepped away. (Y/N) chuckled.

"I like you too, Guy."

Gifs aren't mine.

if you're raised with an angry man in your house,

there will always be an angry man in your house.

you will find him even when he is not there.

If You're Raised With An Angry Man In Your House,

Imagine:

Being part of The Croods and Guy liking you.

Imagine:
Imagine:

Guy is honestly one of the cutest animated guys ever. How could I not make an imagine about him?

(Y/N) juggled the shell that Guy gave him with some rocks. He heard someone sneaking up behind him.

"Don't." He heard someone breath out.

"Wow. You're really good." Guy chuckled, getting into pace with him.

"Thanks." He replied, letting the rocks drop. Guy glanced at Belt.

"How'd you learn to juggle?"

"Juggle?"

"Yeah. It's what you were doing. Tossing things." Guy explained hurriedly. (Y/N) hummed, giving him the shell back.

"Keep it. You seem to like it." Guy smiled. (Y/N) glanced at him.

"You're cute, you know. Eep called you a boar." (Y/N) told him, smiling at the memory.

"Yeah, she was really scary." Guy mumbled.

"I'm guessing as the oldest you're the most laidback?" Guy looked at him. (Y/N) shrugged.

"I'm not like Thunk who's scared of everything or Eep who's curious.. Sandy is a wild animal." (Y/N) chuckled.

"I guess I'm laidback."

"I like it. It's cute like you." Guy said, nervously.

"Was that a.. 'joke'?" (Y/N) asked. Guy shook his head.

"A compliment."

"What's that?" (Y/N) tilted his head.

"When you say something nice.. About someone. I was trying to flirt with you but..." Guy sighed.

"Flirt? What's that?" Guy squeaked as Eep poked her head between them.

"It's um... When you like someone so you try to uh, get them to like you back." Guy's voice got higher towards the end of his sentence. Eep blinked and stepped away. (Y/N) chuckled.

"I like you too, Guy."

Gifs aren't mine.

My 14 year old brother just took a drink of hot chocolate and hissed like he'd knocked back a shot of vodka then set it down and went "ah... that's the good stuff."

11 months ago

SATORU’S PRINCESS - TWITTER LINKS

SATORU’S PRINCESS - TWITTER LINKS

He loves your cherry titties

Watching his cum drip from your pussy

Fingering his cuffed up baby doll

You’re too small for him

Wishing him sweet dreams before bed

Wanting him to do you bareback

Teasing his sweet princess

Reaching your belly from inside

Playing skateboard on your ass

He’s got your thighs shaking

Fucking you in his dorm room (let’s hope Suguru won’t hear)

Too much cum

Taking care of his school girl

Letting Suguru join in while he fucks you

SATORU’S PRINCESS - TWITTER LINKS

Swore up and down I’d never do this but it’s too high achool Satoru coded not to… also, we’re assuming he’s 18 u guys chill

2 years ago

I'm not a tamer, but I fucking love brats. They act coy and shit, but I know the game. The prank you pulled, the comment you made, the way you suck your teeth. You want to piss me off. I know it's all bait, but the best part is I literally have no self control. You want me to claw your ass to pieces, bruise you, use your holes like the slut you know you are. I'll give you everything you want and more, Doll. Please, please give me a reason to fuck you up. Roll your eyes. Ignore me. I've been itching to get at you, I honestly might just give it to you anyway. Look at me wrong. Blink too hard. I promise, you'll be full of me before you even know what you did.

1 month ago

“Some years ago, I was stuck on a crosstown bus in New York City during rush hour. Traffic was barely moving. The bus was filled with cold, tired people who were deeply irritated—with one another; with the rainy, sleety weather; with the world itself. Two men barked at each other about a shove that might or might not have been intentional. A pregnant woman got on, and nobody offered her a seat. Rage was in the air; no mercy would be found here.

But as the bus approached Seventh Avenue, the driver got on the intercom. “Folks,” he said, “I know you’ve had a rough day and you’re frustrated. I can’t do anything about the weather or traffic, but here’s what I can do. As each one of you gets off the bus, I will reach out my hand to you. As you walk by, drop your troubles into the palm of my hand, okay? Don’t take your problems home to your families tonight—just leave ‘em with me. My route goes right by the Hudson River, and when I drive by there later, I’ll open the window and throw your troubles in the water. Sound good?”

It was as if a spell had lifted. Everyone burst out laughing. Faces gleamed with surprised delight. People who’d been pretending for the past hour not to notice each other’s existence were suddenly grinning at each other like, is this guy serious?

Oh, he was serious.

At the next stop—just as promised—the driver reached out his hand, palm up, and waited. One by one, all the exiting commuters placed their hand just above his and mimed the gesture of dropping something into his palm. Some people laughed as they did this, some teared up—but everyone did it. The driver repeated the same lovely ritual at the next stop, too. And the next. All the way to the river.

We live in a hard world, my friends. Sometimes it’s extra difficult to be a human being. Sometimes you have a bad day. Sometimes you have a bad day that lasts for several years. You struggle and fail. You lose jobs, money, friends, faith, and love. You witness horrible events unfolding in the news, and you become fearful and withdrawn. There are times when everything seems cloaked in darkness. You long for the light but don’t know where to find it.

But what if you are the light? What if you’re the very agent of illumination that a dark situation begs for?

That’s what this bus driver taught me—that anyone can be the light, at any moment. This guy wasn’t some big power player. He wasn’t a spiritual leader. He wasn’t some media-savvy “influencer.” He was a bus driver—one of society’s most invisible workers. But he possessed real power, and he used it beautifully for our benefit.

When life feels especially grim, or when I feel particularly powerless in the face of the world’s troubles, I think of this man and ask myself, What can I do, right now, to be the light? Of course, I can’t personally end all wars, or solve global warming, or transform vexing people into entirely different creatures. I definitely can’t control traffic. But I do have some influence on everyone I brush up against, even if we never speak or learn each other’s name. How we behave matters because within human society everything is contagious—sadness and anger, yes, but also patience and generosity. Which means we all have more influence than we realize.

No matter who you are, or where you are, or how mundane or tough your situation may seem, I believe you can illuminate your world. In fact, I believe this is the only way the world will ever be illuminated—one bright act of grace at a time, all the way to the river.“

–Elizabeth Gilbert

Finally Getting To Ride Cowboy! Izuku’s Cock For The First Time, Bouncing Desperately In His Lap While

finally getting to ride cowboy! izuku’s cock for the first time, bouncing desperately in his lap while he sits back and watches. the shit-eating grin on his face, those boyish dimples, his sun-kissed skin scattered with freckles… god he’s a sight to see, a sinful one that might have you coming undone without much resistance. he’s filling you up so nicely, worn hands smoothing over your hips as you worked out your thighs for all they were worth. the burn was worth it, getting to hear him praise you with that honey-suckle sweet southern drawl, breathy and wrecked. even though he was smug, he was clearly feeling it too. his chest was heaving, an angelic blush warmed his cheeks.

his emerald eyes seemed to flicker between the bounce of your breasts and the wanton expression plastered on your face. damn, you were pretty. you were taking him like a champ, even when his hips started to buck up to meet yours. your ride felt more like you were trying to last on the back of a bronco, or maybe a bull, your palms slapping down on izu’s chest to steady yourself.

“that’s it sweetness, lookin’ like a pro up there,” he hummed through a clenched jaw, sending a slap to your ass that echoed through the empty hayloft.

“that feel good? you like ridin’ my cock?,” he cooed, and when you didn’t answer he continued, “yeah you do. my little buckle bunny, hm? you’re missin’ somethin’.”

he eased you to a slow grind, tipping his large cowboy hat from his head and placing it upon your own. Warmth settled in your gut, and you were far too debauched to think properly, but you still managed to tip it towards him as he would when he greeted someone.

“Atta’ girl. Go on, show me how you want it.”

fruit bats: @neon-gothicc @bakubunny @bookcluberror @kunigamisgirl @dizazter-dragoon @jazzafayesworld @cherriluvs35 @dreamcastgirl99 @pastelbakugou @ladybirdk @i-literally-cant-with-this @darkstarlight82 @maddietries

I fear it is 🫡 watched it with my mom as a kid and you'll randomly catch me quoting it !

I love unserious cartoons from the 2000s. Ever watch Randy Cunningham 9th grade ninja? Idk if that's more 2000s or 2010s but it's so fun

hello

Hello hello! How are you today? :)


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sparklylanddetective - You Don't Know How Much I Miss You.
You Don't Know How Much I Miss You.

21, minors DNI Thinking about all of my favorite people

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