By keeping the work that is necessary for human wellbeing, by expanding the work that is necessary for human happiness, and by abolishing the work that serves neither purpose, we would be making the most strategic move of all: protecting the vitality of the planet.
Dick Johnson is Dead was always going to be reviewed well because, yeah, it’s great. Death, well-handled, is a powerful subject. But the film is made more poignant by the state of the world, and more specifically by the failure of rich nations to protect their elderly. It is fitting that one of the stand-out films of 2020 was a documentary about the anticipation of grief.
The new curriculum may perhaps disturb the historical amnesia that is a condition for the possibility of settler colonialism, but it doesn’t go far enough to truly unsettle it. Achieving that is a different task altogether: it requires prying history from the realm of the discursive and putting it back firmly in the realm of the material.
It is difficult to talk about the blast without mentioning the fires, the floods, and the homes without electricity, food or water. The streets choked on teargas, the students beaten by soldiers, the protestors shot in the eyes or killed in front of their children. It is difficult to say anything without mentioning the economic crisis: the Lebanese Lira, plummeting and plummeting, and now in the ground, worth less than nothing.
My vagina disappoints me, I say to myself once a month or so. One doctor looks at my vagina and says, ‘yes, well, that’s the sort of vagina you got on the public health in 1972.’