ANNOUNCING A NEW ZINE
hot boys crying collective
hot boys crying is: a monthly zine with a different theme
hot boys crying is: coming this May 25th
hot boys crying is: accepting submissions (due by May 22nd)
this months theme is GRIMDARK. grim, dark, and the excess of both, wherever it might be found.
Submissions may be in any format or tone, from serious to satirical, as long as they follow the month’s theme. Art, comics, writing, & more are all welcomed.
final product will be .pdf format
the hot boys crying collective does not promise to use every submission, but we promise not to alter or edit any submission without permission
For questions, comments, concerns, submissions, hit us up at firstname.lastname@example.org or /Ask
this is still happening! submit ur hot boyz crying and be part of a cool thing
The recommended file size is 8.5x14 inches, 300 DPI, but you can just have a canvas that size and place an image smaller on it if you’d like
ALSO, THE DEADLINE HAS BEEN EXTENDED! Everyone has until late on May 22nd to submit!!
i’m def submitting [some unused, previously-drawn stuff—no time for new drawingss jbghjb] to this
Black Panther Party (BPP) Confrontation with Eugene Police Department. In 1969, there were two major confrontations. The first was centered around three BPP members and two Eugene Police officers. It started when two EP tried to enter a Panther member’s house (Oliver Patterson) without a warrant. They were yelling insults and threatening to force their way in. BPP members Howard and Tommy Anderson met them. The BPP members were armed and ready to defend their rights as Americans. The BPP Captain asked the EP to produce a warrant and he would instruct the Panther inside to come out and surrender. The EP could not produce such a warrant. They had never experienced armed Black men defending their rights under the United States constitution. The EP ran to their car in shock and embarrassment.
The same day a warrant for Howard and Tommy Anderson was issued for assault on police with deadly weapons and interfering with the Eugene Police. All members of the BPP Eugene Chapter were called and showed up at BPP Headquarters. The BPP Eugene Chapter decided to not give up the Anderson brothers without a fight to the death. All members were ready to die. The EP was ready to kill all members that were willing to fight and die. Things had come to the major task of armed struggle. The Headquarters was very fortified and the Panthers had enough weapons to engage the EP in a relatively short firefight. The BPP had armed White support outside the Headquarters ready to die by sniping EP from strategic positions. There were other students from the U of O outside protesting this major conflict. The man that stopped this conflict was Ken Morrow who was a highly respected attorney in Eugene. He walked up to the door of the BPP Headquarters and said he was an attorney and could help. He called a judge and asked if he could bring the BPP members down to City Hall to be arraigned and bail set. The judge agreed to set bail at $10,000 per Panther. The money was raised within ten minutes.
Thereafter, Ken Morrow and Howard and Tommy Anderson went to City Hall, were arraigned, posted bail and were back at Headquarters within one hour. Ken Morrow had a good relationship with the Eugene Chapter of the BPP, despite pressure from anti-Panther members of the Eugene community.
The Eugene Police continued to harass and arrest Panthers for various reasons. Some police thought the Panthers should be stopped. Most of these incidents were not political but criminal.
By 1970, the show was over for the Eugene Chapter. The Captain moved to Oakland and became close to Huey Newton (Minister of Defense). Other members moved to other cities to work with other chapters. Some stayed as students of the U of O.
The purpose of this article is to record the legacy of the Eugene, Oregon Chapter of the Black Panther Party and to document its impact on this small college community. The writer trusts that this legacy is still being talked about in both academic and non-academic circles and that all former Eugene Chapter members continue to look back at this history with pride.
eugene, oregon a complete shitshow in every single way? the more things change…
— fatsamurai (via lilitudracul)
thank you. i needed this; i have had the worst time with this painting
8 x 10”
charcoal and oil on board
for Travis Louie’s ZOMBIES show at the Last Rites Gallery.
‘Song Of Imaginary Beings’ by IAMX
Her mother said if she couldn’t love
The physical way a woman should
Then where else could she go?
Where the sisters and the fathers can’t save her soul?
Send them in, see them on
If she can’t find a lover she’ll fashion one
Like the burnt-out poets in the hinterland
Here is photo documentation of what I wore for the IAMX show I went to with Eliza and station. Everything but the pants here is borrowed from Eliza.
420 treat your friends like mannequins err day
Outside the venue for the IAMX show, either station or I got mistaken for Chris Corner by someone who had apparently never seen Chris Corner before.
we walked past the ticket line and someone peeped “omg is that them” as we passed and its like ahahhaha yes definitely IAMX is three blonde goth teens with bad posture, you nailed it
i got dressed the FUCK up for the IAMX show and it was 100% worth it. i went with station and kurt and aside from an unfortunate incident where a dude got so excited about IAMX that he literally took a shit, it was pretty much the best thing i’ve ever seen.
photos of the whole Bleached Earth Kickmurder Squad are probably going to show up at some point.
I just had someone respond to my text telling them they had the wrong number with “maybe.”
Who does that?
“It’s as safe as Dawn dishwashing liquid.” That’s what Jamie Griffin says the BP man told her about the smelly, rainbow-streaked gunk coating the floor of the “floating hotel” where Griffin was feeding hundreds of cleanup workers during the BP oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. Apparently, the workers were tracking the gunk inside on their boots. Griffin, as chief cook and maid, was trying to clean it. But even boiling water didn’t work.
“The BP representative said, ‘Jamie, just mop it like you’d mop any other dirty floor,’” Griffin recalls in her Louisiana drawl.
It was the opening weeks of what everyone, echoing President Barack Obama, was calling “the worst environmental disaster in American history.” At 9:45 p.m. local time on April 20, 2010, a fiery explosion on the Deepwater Horizon oil rig had killed 11 workers and injured 17. One mile underwater, the Macondo well had blown apart, unleashing a gusher of oil into the gulf. At risk were fishing areas that supplied one third of the seafood consumed in the U.S., beaches from Texas to Florida that drew billions of dollars’ worth of tourism to local economies, and Obama’s chances of reelection. Republicans were blaming him for mishandling the disaster, his poll numbers were falling, even his 11-year-old daughter was demanding, “Daddy, did you plug the hole yet?”
Griffin did as she was told: “I tried Pine-Sol, bleach, I even tried Dawn on those floors.” As she scrubbed, the mix of cleanser and gunk occasionally splashed onto her arms and face.
Within days, the 32-year-old single mother was coughing up blood and suffering constant headaches. She lost her voice. “My throat felt like I’d swallowed razor blades,” she says.
Then things got much worse.
Like hundreds, possibly thousands, of workers on the cleanup, Griffin soon fell ill with a cluster of excruciating, bizarre, grotesque ailments. By July, unstoppable muscle spasms were twisting her hands into immovable claws. In August, she began losing her short-term memory. After cooking professionally for 10 years, she couldn’t remember the recipe for vegetable soup; one morning, she got in the car to go to work, only to discover she hadn’t put on pants. The right side, but only the right side, of her body “started acting crazy. It felt like the nerves were coming out of my skin. It was so painful. My right leg swelled—my ankle would get as wide as my calf—and my skin got incredibly itchy.”
“These are the same symptoms experienced by soldiers who returned from the Persian Gulf War with Gulf War syndrome,” says Dr. Michael Robichaux, a Louisiana physician and former state senator, who treated Griffin and 113 other patients with similar complaints. As a general practitioner, Robichaux says he had “never seen this grouping of symptoms together: skin problems, neurological impairments, plus pulmonary problems.” Only months later, after Kaye H. Kilburn, a former professor of medicine at the University of Southern California and one of the nation’s leading environmental health experts, came to Louisiana and tested 14 of Robichaux’s patients did the two physicians make the connection with Gulf War syndrome, the malady that afflicted an estimated 250,000 veterans of that war with a mysterious combination of fatigue, skin inflammation, and cognitive problems.
Meanwhile, the well kept hemorrhaging oil. The world watched with bated breath as BP failed in one attempt after another to stop the leak. An agonizing 87 days passed before the well was finally plugged on July 15. By then, 210 million gallons of Louisiana sweet crude had escaped into the Gulf of Mexico, according to government estimates, making the BP disaster the largest accidental oil leak in world history.
Yet three years later, the BP disaster has been largely forgotten, both overseas and in the U.S. Popular anger has cooled. The media have moved on. Today, only the business press offers serious coverage of what the Financial Times calls “the trial of the century”—the trial now under way in New Orleans, where BP faces tens of billions of dollars in potential penalties for the disaster. As for Obama, the same president who early in the BP crisis blasted the “scandalously close relationship” between oil companies and government regulators two years later ran for reelection boasting about how much new oil and gas development his administration had approved.