The Post-Partisan Emporium

  The Consent Factory CJ Hopkins So, Matt Taibbi is going after the Consent Factory. No, not my blog. The actual Consent Factory. The unimaginably powerful, mostly decentralized, global-capitalist propaganda apparatus that manufactures what passes for “reality” in our increasingly totalitarian age. Or he is going after the U.S. division of it, anyway. Needless to say, I’m pretty excited. Why am I so excited, you ask? Haven’t I been hopping up and down and bouncing off the walls of my enclosure hooting and screeching about how the so-called “Twitter Files” are a  “limited hangout”  and hurling verbal feces at all and sundry involved like an agitated baboon? Well, yes, in fact, I have. And I intend to keep on doing that. But here’s what I’m excited about. Pay close attention to the job description in  Matt’s recent help-wanted ad for freelancers : “[W]e’re trying to map a new wing of the U.S. government’s propaganda apparatus that popped into view thanks to the Twitter...

  Make perverts pathetic again Society celebrates the hideous, the deviant and the compulsively transgressive. The result? Fat Satan aka Sam Smith, and other -- far more horrifying-- things Jenny Holland Trigger warning: this post features some seriously gross men being totally disgusting, and a very messed up young lady. Don’t read if you have just eaten or if you are in a despairing mood. When I was in kindergarten in the early 1980’s, at a public school in very blue-collar Brooklyn, there was a boy in my class who caused problems for us little girls. He was simpering and voyeuristic, he would follow us into the girls bathroom and try to peek at us while we were peeing, going so far as trying to stick his head under the toilet stall door. I remember him as having permanently wet, slobbery lips, which were fixed in a creepy grimace that tried to win us over, as if to say “don’t run away girls, I’m just like you.”  But it failed: he could not hide his trespasses on our boundar...