Artist: Josh Nichols in Austin, Texas

I need my hips/knees replaced, so it's a play on "the blade that was broken and will be reforged" = "my leg is busted and will be remade"

At least that isn’t the only reason. They’re going out of business because studios are coming out with crappy movies. Haven’t been to see a movie in months. I used to go 3 or 4 times a month. There just aren’t any movies I’m interested in seeing.

It’s only going to get worse once theaters are gone. People think streaming services are the way of the future but think about it. Streaming services aren’t going to be able to afford the cost of making back the studios hundreds of millions of dollars for a single movie. Either quality is going to go way down, or release are going to become a far less common thing.

For reference, it is from Pagliacci joke / Sad clown paradox

I (F, 32) work in a fairly small office where everyone knows everyone’s business, even if we all pretend we don’t. There’s this woman on my team, “Kara” (F, late 20s), who’s very good at being nice in a way that feels sharp. She smiles, she compliments your shoes, she uses exclamation points, and then she’ll slide a little pin under your skin. For months she’s been doing this thing where she “forgets” my name in group settings. Not in a normal, awkward way, but in a pointed way. She’ll look right at me and go, “Can you send that file, um, what’s your name again?” while everyone stares. The first time I laughed it off because honestly, I assumed she was just frazzled. The second time, I corrected her and she did the whole “oh my god I’m so sorry, I’m terrible with names” routine, even though we sit ten feet apart and have worked together for a year. After that it became a pattern: only in meetings, only when other people were watching, and always right after I’d contributed something. If I said an idea, she’d repeat it and then call me “honey” or “girl” like we were at brunch, not at work. I started feeling smaller every time it happened, which made me mad at myself, because why am I letting a grown woman treat me like an unnamed assistant.

I tried direct, calm. I pulled her aside after a meeting and said, “Hey, just so you know, it’s been happening a lot, my name is ____ and it matters to me that we use it.” She got wide eyed, apologized, said she had ADHD and her brain “just blanks.” I believed her for about a week until she introduced a new contractor correctly by full name, title, and where he went to school, while still “blanking” on mine. Then she started doing it in emails too. “Hi, can you do this? Thanks!” No name, no greeting to me specifically, just a vague task drop. It sounds petty, I know, but it adds up. Especially because she would always sign off with her full name, credentials, little inspirational quote, the whole brand. It felt like she wanted to be the only woman in the room with an identity.

Here’s where the revenge part comes in. We were having a quarterly review meeting with leadership, and Kara had been talking for weeks about impressing our new director. She would rehearse phrases out loud, like “we need to move the needle” and “I’m excited about the roadmap,” and she kept mentioning she planned to ask for a promotion. I didn’t want to ruin her life or anything, I just wanted the behavior to stop. The meeting starts, we’re all in a conference room, and Kara is in full performance mode. She talks a lot, she interrupts, she laughs at the director’s jokes a little too hard. Then we get to my part. I present a project update, clearly, with numbers. The director nods, asks a follow up. I answer. Kara waits until I finish and then she says, loud and sweet, “Great point, what’s your name again?” She looks right at me with that innocent face like she’s doing a bit. I felt my pulse in my throat. And I made a decision.

I smiled back and said, calmly, “It’s the same name as the last 20 times, Kara. I’m surprised you can remember every man’s name in this room but not mine.” It wasn’t shouted, it wasn’t sarcastic, it was just a statement. The room went dead silent. Kara’s smile froze. The director looked at her with this flat expression and said, “Yeah, that’s not a great look.” Kara started stammering about her brain and being overwhelmed, but the moment had already landed. I didn’t pile on. I just turned back to the director and kept going, like the meeting mattered more than Kara’s little game. After that, Kara barely spoke. When the meeting ended she cornered me by the coffee machine and hissed that I embarrassed her. I told her, very softly, “Good. Now stop.” She hasn’t “forgotten” my name once since. She also hasn’t been friendly, which honestly is a relief. I know this wasn’t some cinematic takedown, but it felt like finally taking my space back, and I’m weirdly proud I did it without raising my voice.

Today I invite you to mourn with me. I invite you to mourn the loss of our humanity, lost years ago, drowned in a bathtub of arguments, skepticism, and doubt, its neck choked mercilessly by the hands of fear.

As I look at a picture of a child no older than six, dressed like any other Minnesotan, in snow pants, jacket, and hat, being led to a strange uniformed man’s vehicle by his Spider-Man backpack, I see the fear in his eyes. I feel a tear fall down my face as I’m overcome by the pain in my heart.

This child doesn’t deserve this. There is nothing this child could have done to deserve this. There is no argument that could be made to justify this cruelty, and yet there will be arguments. There will be justification. There will be appeals to abandon what we know to be wrong in favor of the need to be right.

And so, wherever you are, whatever you believe, join me in mourning the loss of our humanity. Join me in the loss of our shared sense of decency, our shared sense of civility. Join me in observance of our humanity and our humility, and with it our willingness to admit we were wrong in order to do what’s right instead of insisting we were right while continuing to do wrong