I don’t feel CorpusTech trying to go through and intoxicate me. I feel the whisper of clothes as the sweaty Buzzies and partiers push around me. I hear the pulse of the music. I see laser points like stars on the ceiling and streaks of cars flying down Third Avenue. And for once, I can stand the sound of my own thoughts.
Every day is a chance for God to fill us with mercy, give us wisdom and encourage parents to mutilate their newborn son’s penis (Exodus 12:43–49). But before He can decide the fate of mankind, He must deal with a far more important task: picking the winner of sports games.
Humanity is not conditional on politics; humanity is in the details. It is hard to hate someone whom you imagine to be as complex as you are.
Mohamed Hafez paced around his cluttered studio at 909 Whalley Ave. as he discussed his native Syria. “I am an architect, so I know how buildings fall apart,” he told me.
The U.S. Army Corps’s decision to deny ETP an easement for the construction of DAPL through the Standing Rock reservation, while a highly significant victory for the Native American community, does not mark the end of the controversy.
Derby is a sport, a test of strategic skill and strength, nothing more. It has its own culture, but defies those who have never stepped inside Roller Magic to define its players. Derby breaks down the boxes women conform to, of athletic girl or high-heeled weakling, aggressive or motherly, strong or petite. For derby girls, an “or” is a limit. Perhaps, its players consider derby feminist because the sport refuses to impose any limitations on women — their image, their dreams, or their ability to knock each other down and sell cupcakes to fundraise.