Tim Barrus Blog
Posts tagged with tim-barrus-on-format
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Tim Barrus New York Times
Take notes. Great piece. I appreciate the research, because it points out the lack of research. But. It goes to law, and I appreciate that, too. What I’m looking at these days is not based in gender issues. It’s based in violence. I was teaching a group of adolescents with…
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
Take notes. This article is frenetic. That is not a criticism. Publishing is frenetic. The Leapfrogging Around Effect, from this and that, trading office space, is reflecting a publishing story where publishing insiders hop and skip around publication to publication. Job to job. Money is important, but it’s rude so…
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THISISARTTHISISARTTHISISARTTHISISARTTHISISART
ART – TIM BARRUS
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Tim Barrus and the New York Times
Take notes. I get a lot of Reader Flack from readers that strenuously resent: “Why do you always have to deal with dead kids. It’s depressing us. Poor us.” I write about children I know. Having been in Special Education, I write about what I know. Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Multiple…
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Blue Ridge
The rich get richer. The poor get floods.
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Tim Barrus: Journalists Elected Trump
Take notes. Harris is on the path to winning the presidency. It will be close. Mainly, it’s a battle cry. Journalists are bitter over the fact that they are not on anyone’s radar. Journalists are a problem. They think that anyone who they want to focus on has no agency…
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The Internet IS a Pornography
Take Notes. When the Internet was still a baby, many people were excited that art itself could be expressed on the Internet, and virtually bring new art to everyone. The reason the Internet became the Internet was because the Sears and Roebuck Catalogue, capitalism, and all the usual suspects like…
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Eat Me
I threw out color. I’m autistic. Red was a problem. Whatever dye they use makes me explode with hives, and you will swear, you feel like bees are attacking you. I do not know about dyes. All I know is I cannot wear red anything. I do not know why…
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She Can Defeat Him
I was not going to vote. And I always vote. But, not this time. Nevertheless, if Kamala runs, I’m running with her. I’m voting because I want to see those two angry old eyes finally, Blink. I am not too good at enduring the MAGA onslaught. Another four years of…
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Viable Gender Care Puts American Hair Aflame
Tim Barrus This all started at the New York Times. Then, it moved to FB. God help me. The piece we are all talking about is that gender change with kids is a pornography. This would be somewhat personal but why am I thinking that children living at the marginalized…
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MAY WE ALL LIVE IN INTERESTING TIMES
Let us imbue all rapists with respect. Let us imbue the rapist with Bibles. Let us imbue criminals with cash. We could dump it out of airplanes flying over Palm Beach. Let us give serial rapists a parade. Flags. Flags. Let us bow down and prostrate ourselves into submission by…
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Dirt Bike Town is a Road Trip on Steroids
What are the constructs of a culture that lend validity to authoritarian rule. What is memory.
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
Writing is a hustle. Not everyone gatekeeps. Walking onto the Ted stage, confident as the sun, smiling. Get thin. Get rich. Get a trophy wife. Trophy kids. Trophy house. Trophy car. Trophy pool. Trophy food (take pictures). Trophy job. Trophy office. Could someone please write my Ted Talk. Hustle Ted.…
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Tim Barrus: Trouble at the Lakehouse
And low heartbeats of sleep. I can taste their dreams. Rolls right. Bites the roof. Bewildering. White fogspit spans and stands for any arch embattled. This tame world is Castle Sordid. And I am the wild oddity they point at he’s autistic and you know, low IQ, no one understands…
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He Jests at Scars But Never Had One
It took him a long time of agony and fear to say “Good morning,” And yet his eyes flashed just at the same time I was telling him it was nice to see him, and in this social setting he flinched a lot. Then, his eyes kept their slow cosmic…
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
I hear they go naked under the robes. It’s fun to poke them because it robs them of their ritualized validity. Satire is protected speech. Since this is not the New York Times, I can say that they have no authority and even less moral authority. Make me pay this…
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
I exist. You do not exist because you have no particular importance. I exist. I am a persom. You are a Homo sapien. One of many. Garden variety humanism. An ordinary communist. I ghost people every day. I get ghosted every day. Ghosts are the last men standing, they have…
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Tim Barrus, New York Times
The term – health insurance company – means a big brick wall, taller (just) than publishing tall, it’s not going to pay although you will receive. Stratospheric bills for the insurance itself, and co-pays times twenty. There are many reasons why this paradigm does not work. It’s called greed. The…
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Tim Barrus, The Places Where We Used to Live
I used to sleep in a grey sleeping bag with cowboys on the flannel inside of the sleeping bag with my pistols and plastic soldiers and one guy had a sword. I still wish I had a sword. The bad kids didn’t live down the dirt road. We were the…
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Tim Barrus: A Sea of Red
The idea that something called the Vagina Police can be empowered to require women to have examinations (this means men) is a game-changer. The National Sex Police will be looking for churches (how hard can it be) where women always outnumber men. Get on the bus. The vagina archives will…
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Tim Barrus: Why AreYou Here
People in the New York Times go into a rage over my being a communist. They dive down deep into the rabbit hole because they have taken the bait. The next 42 sentences will all be about why communism was bad and it failed. Kinda like me. Their last sizzle…
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Tim Barrus: I Only Said Be Yourself. And so you did. You had been seduced by seduction, and I was okay with it.
You are not the fly on the wall. Whenever I write any of this nonsense – any text whatsoever – is a defeat of photography and I am the hypocrite who says, Never Explain. By comparison. Or amusing by virtue. To put a camera in faces who know who you…