Author | Lightnews

bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 2d

A little joy for everyone's Friday.

@zohrankmamdani.bsky.social @workingfamilies.org

Zohran Kwame Mamdani @zohrankmamdani.bsky.social · 2d

I visited Grand Street Senior Housing on the Lower East Side today and tried a little Bomba y Plena…

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Indivisible ❌👑 @indivisible.org · 2d

As health insurance premiums are set to double for millions of Americans and 42 million working families face losing the benefits that keep them fed, the No Kings Alliance is organizing to provide mutual aid and care for our communities.

Please join us this weekend: www.mobilize.us/nokings/c/no...

Mutual Aid

No Kings Alliance - Mutual Aid Table of Contents Find a Local Mutual Aid Group Do’s and Dont’s of Mutual Aid Common Items in Need Starting Your Own Project Create a donation drive for a local mutual ...

docs.google.com

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bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 2d

For those in #Boston: a neighborhood guide to free and reduced-price food resources.

Courtesy of @universalhub.com.

#snap #shutdown

www.universalhub.com

bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 4d

Overheard (an accurate evaluation of our misty afternoon):

"It's giving chicken noodle."

#Boston #Fall

bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 4d

John Proctor is the Villain is SO GOOD.

I'd add Jacqueline Lawton's The Inferior Sex to your list!

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bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 4d

"Mitosis is..."

#writersblock #sabrinatheteenagewitch

bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 5d

Incredible World Series game.

Very detrimental to writing coherent Latin sentences for the midterm and/or going to bed.

#worldseries #extrainnings

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50501: The People’s Movement ❌👑 @50501movement.bsky.social · 7d

It cannot be stressed enough how important mutual aid networks are about to become. These will be tantamount to replacing the cut benefits in the coming weeks. Reach out within your communities. Build connections, talk to people. Ask how you can help each other. When we build solidarity, we win!

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Robert Reich @rbreich.bsky.social · 8d

Early voting in the NYC mayoral election begins TODAY.

If you're a New Yorker, I urge you to vote for Zohran Mamdani — the only candidate who will stand up to the oligarchy and fight for working people.

Listen to his inspiring words from primary night.

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bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 9d

Very excited that @workingfamilies.org has come to Massachusetts! Officially joined up and fired up!

#workingfamiliesparty #governmentforeveryone

yellow background with pictures of candidates and text: Massachusetts working families party *2025 launch*

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bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 9d

It's always time for Auden, but this one hits home even more than usual.

Gita Ralleigh @gitaralleigh.bsky.social · 10d

Today’s #poemsontheunderground
@poemsonthetube.bsky.social

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50501: The People’s Movement ❌👑 @50501movement.bsky.social · 10d

#BoycottSpotify

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Clara Jeffery @clarajeffery.bsky.social · 10d

this is like the inflatable frogs of comments threads.

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bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 10d

Thank you, Senator Merkley.

#nokings #resist

thehill.com/homenews/sen...

thehill.com

bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 13d

A wonderful celebration of #nokings by Gary Shteyngart:

"What is happening to us is as serious as a guillotine. We must harness our best creative, humorous and frivolous selves in order to keep it from falling."

(gift article!)
www.nytimes.com/2025/10/20/o...

Opinion | The Rise of the Inflatable Chicken Resistance

www.nytimes.com

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50501: The People’s Movement ❌👑 @50501movement.bsky.social · 13d

Incredible artwork by @4nikkolas.bsky.social.

Original artwork that mimics the famous raising of the flag on Iwo Jima, with the marines replaced by protesters in inflatable animal costumes. The Statue of Liberty and a city landscape are in the background.

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bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 14d

Next steps to harness the momentum. #nokings #resist

Indivisible ❌👑 @indivisible.org · 14d

Our pro-democracy movement is surging. Now it’s up to each of us to channel this incredible energy into the organizing power it will take to win.

Join us on Tuesday for a mass call of movement leaders and activists to discuss what’s next: www.mobilize.us/nokings/even... #NoKings

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Mike "looking for research fellowship" Caulfield @mikecaulfield.bsky.social · 14d

Telling moment: I was walking back from the rally, but a couple miles from it, carrying nothing but my gigantic American flag. An eight year old on his bike sees me with it and yells "No Kings!!" with absolute conviction.

My friends, they have lost the flag.

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bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 14d

Proud of my home state! #Shoreline #nokings

Alisa LB @alisalb.bsky.social · 14d

Shoreline, Washington
#NoKings

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bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 15d

I was there and it was wonderful. Now let's keep working on ongoing, systemic resistance and mutual aid on a daily basis in our communities.

#nokings #resist

Phil Lewis @phillewis.bsky.social · 15d

MSNBC captured the crowd from the Boston "No Kings" rally:

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Kinda Angry Female US Air Force Officer (Ret) @aimhighflygirl.bsky.social · 15d

💥💥Official White House, Cabinet and Administration BlueSky Accounts💥💥

They’re even spying on us here and BlueSky is letting them by verifying their accounts & giving them blue check marks.

I refuse to let them stalk/monitor me here so I blocked all of them on this list.

bsky.app/profile/did:...

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bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · 18d

NO KINGS Boston - this Saturday, 12-3! Join me!

www.mobilize.us/nokings/even...

NO KINGS Boston · No Kings

# BOSTON SAYS NO KINGS! ### “We’re wicked pissed. Wicked loud. Wicked united.” ## Join us Saturday, October 18, as we take to the Parade Grounds of Boston Common! We’re standing together against th...

www.mobilize.us

Reposted by bardsong139

Robert Reich @rbreich.bsky.social · 18d

Any one of us could be in the next apartment building that ICE raids in the middle of the night.

Any one of us could be on the next boat that Trump bombs on a whim.

Any one of us could be detained for hours despite being a U.S. citizen.

Authoritarianism hurts all of us.

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bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · Oct 3

"Mutability had turned the seasons and translated hope to memory once again."

Trying to remember that ordinary time holds joys too. And ready to celebrate, again, in February.

#redsox #baseball #ephemerality

Drew Starr @thedrewstarr.bsky.social · Oct 3

I post Bart Giamatti's "Green Fields of the Mind" at the end of every sox season. The first 2 and last 2 paragraphs get harder to read every year.

The Green Fields of the Mind
From A Great and Glorious Game: Baseball Writings of A. Bartlett Giamatti
by A. Bartlett Giamatti, et al
"The Green Fields of the Mind "
It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops. Today, October 2, a Sunday of rain and broken branches and leaf-clogged drains and slick streets, it stopped, and summer was gone.

Somehow, the summer seemed to slip by faster this time. Maybe it wasn't this summer, but all the summers that, in this my fortieth summer, slipped by so fast. There comes a time when every summer will have something of autumn about it. Whatever the reason, it seemed to me that I was investing more and more in baseball, making the game do more of the work that keeps time fat and slow and lazy. I was counting on the game's deep patterns, three strikes, three outs, three times three innings, and its deepest impulse, to go out and back, to leave and to return home, to set the order of the day and to organize the daylight. I wrote a few things this last summer, this summer that did not last, nothing grand but some things, and yet that work was just camouflage. The real activity was done with the radio--not the all-seeing, all-falsifying television--and was the playing of the game in the only place it will last, the enclosed green field of the mind. There, in that warm, bright place, what the old poet called Mutability does not so quickly come.

But out here, on Sunday, October 2, where it rains all day, Dame Mutability never loses. She was in the crowd at Fenway yesterday, a gray day full of bluster and contradiction, when the Red Sox came up in the last of the ninth trailing Baltimore 8-5, while the Yankees, rain-delayed against Detroit, only needing to win one or have Boston lose one to win it all, sat in New York washing down cold cuts with beer and watching the Boston game. Boston had won two, the Yankees had lost two, and suddenly it seemed as if the whole season might go to the last day, or beyond, except here was Boston losing 8-5, while New York sat in its family room and put its feet up. Lynn, both ankles hurting now as they had in July, hits a single down the right-field line. The crowd stirs. It is on its feet. Hobson, third baseman, former Bear Bryant quarterback, strong, quiet, over 100 RBIs, goes for three breaking balls and is out. The goddess smiles and encourages her agent, a canny journeyman named Nelson Briles

Now comes a pinch hitter, Bernie Carbo, onetime Rookie of the Year, erratic, quick, a shade too handsome, so laid-back he is always, in his soul, stretched out in the tall grass, one arm under his head, watching the clouds and laughing; now he looks over some low stuff unworthy of him and then, uncoiling, sends one out, straight on a rising line, over the center-field wall, no cheap Fenway shot, but all of it, the physics as elegant as the arc the ball describes.

New England is on its feet, roaring. The summer will not pass. Roaring, they recall the evening, late and cold, in 1975, the sixth game of the World Series, perhaps the greatest baseball game played in the last fifty years, when Carbo, loose and easy, had uncoiled to tie the game that Fisk would win. It is 8-7, one out, and school will never start, rain will never come, sun will warm the back of your neck forever. Now Bailey, picked up from the National League recently, big arms, heavy gut, experienced, new to the league

and the club; he fouls off two and then, checking, tentative, a big man off balance, he pops a soft liner to the first baseman. It is suddenly darker and later, and the announcer doing the game coast to coast, a New Yorker who works for a New York television station, sounds relieved. His little world, well-lit, hot-combed, split-second-timed, had no capacity to absorb this much gritty, grainy, contrary reality.

Cox swings a bat, stretches his long arms, bends his back, the rookie from Pawtucket who broke in two weeks earlier with a record six straight hits, the kid drafted ahead of Fred Lynn, rangy, smooth, cool. The count runs two and two, Briles is cagey, nothing too good, and Cox swings, the ball beginning toward the mound and then, in a jaunty, wayward dance, skipping past Briles, feinting to the right, skimming the last of the grass, finding the dirt, moving now like some small, purposeful marine creature negotiating the green deep, easily avoiding the jagged rock of second base, traveling steady and straight now out into the dark, silent recesses of center field.

The aisles are jammed, the place is on its feet, the wrappers, the programs, the Coke cups and peanut shells, the doctrines of an afternoon; the anxieties, the things that have to be done tomorrow, the regrets about yesterday, the accumulation of a summer: all forgotten, while hope, the anchor, bites and takes hold where a moment before it seemed we would be swept out with the tide. Rice is up. Rice whom Aaron had said was the only one he'd seen with the ability to break his records. Rice the best clutch hitter on the club, with the best slugging percentage in the league. Rice, so quick and strong he once checked his swing halfway through and snapped the bat in two. Rice the Hammer of God sent to scourge the Yankees, the sound was overwhelming, fathers pounded their sons on the back, cars pulled off the road, households froze, New England

exulted in its blessedness, and roared its thanks for all good things, for Rice and for a summer stretching halfway through October. Briles threw, Rice swung, and it was over. One pitch, a fly to center, and it stopped. Summer died in New England and like rain sliding off a roof, the crowd slipped out of Fenway, quickly, with only a steady murmur of concern for the drive ahead remaining of the roar. Mutability had turned the seasons and translated hope to memory once again. And, once again, she had used baseball, our best invention to stay change, to bring change on.

That is why it breaks my heart, that game--not because in New York they could win because Boston lost; in that, there is a rough justice, and a reminder to the Yankees of how slight and fragile are the circumstances that exalt one group of human beings over another. It breaks my heart because it was meant to, because it was meant to foster in me again the illusion that there was something abiding, some pattern and some impulse that could come together to make a reality that would resist the corrosion; and because, after it had fostered again that most hungered-for illusion, the game was meant to stop, and betray precisely what it promised.

Of course, there are those who learn after the first few times. They grow out of sports. And there are others who were born with the wisdom to know that nothing lasts. These are the truly tough among us, the ones who can live without illusion, or without even the hope of illusion. I am not that grown-up or up-to-date. I am a simpler creature, tied to more primitive patterns and cycles. I need to think something lasts forever, and it might as well be that state of being that is a game; it might as well be that, in a green field, in the sun.

bardsong139 @bardsong139.bsky.social · Oct 2

That's just rude!