Mr Roy G Guzmán, whose tweet appears below, describes himself as “a marginalised writer,” and an “artist and influencer,” thereby signalling to lower beings both his suffering and his modesty. He’s also, it seems, a tad sensitive:

Note the gratuitous use of white woman. Perhaps that tells us something about Mr Guzmán’s poetic soul. A sample of Mr Guzmán’s creative output, titled Queerodactyl, is reproduced in full below. But before we venture further, you may wish to grip the arms of your chair:

“Everyone deserves 8 hours of sleep,” say Georgia Tech’s branch of the Young Democratic Socialists of America.

Apparently, the students are struggling to reconcile their academic obligations with the need for rest, expectations of free time – eight hours of it each day – and their own socialist activism. And perhaps the students have a point. Socialism is tiring, what with the protests and psychodrama, and the relentless, almost daily, issuing of demands. In this case, our fatigued intellectuals “reject the hostile culture and severe working conditions that pervade Georgia Tech,” and a curriculum that is, they say, “far more difficult and demanding than is necessary.” “All professors,” we’re told, should “implement stress-reducing policies,” including allowing more absences from class without consequence, dropping quizzes and assignments, and generally making lessons “more forgiving.”

The Young Socialists also insist that the university hire more counsellors and psychiatrists, with fees for psychiatric appointments being “eliminated.” “We need more relief from the… emotional burdens of higher education,” say these warriors of tomorrow.

When I became an anarchist, I was 18, depressed, anxious, and ready to save the world. I moved in with other anarchists and worked at a vegetarian co-op cafe. I protested against student tuition, prison privatisation, and pipeline extensions. I had lawyer’s numbers sharpied on my ankle and I assisted friends who were pepper-sprayed at demos. I tabled zines, lived with my “chosen family,” and performed slam poems about the end of the world. 

In the pages of Quillette, Conor Barnes, a woke apostate, recounts his time among sad radicals: 

Radical communities select for particular personality types… They attract hurt people, looking for an explanation for the pain they’ve endured… However, radical communities also attract people looking for an excuse to be violent illegalists. And the surplus of vulnerable people attracts sadists and abusers ready to exploit them. The only gate-keeping that goes on in radical communities is that of language and passion—if you can rail against capitalism in woke language, you’re in…

Abusers thrive in radical communities because radical norms are fragile and exploitable. A culture of freewheeling drug and alcohol use creates situations predators are waiting to exploit. A cultural fetishization of violence provides cover for violent and unstable people. The practice of public “call-outs” is used for power-plays far more often than for constructive feedback… Having somebody yell at me that if I didn’t admit to being a white supremacist her friends might beat me up, and that I should pay her for her emotional labour, was too much for my ideology to spin.

You can imagine my surprise.

Update, via the comments: 

Lower voting age to six to tackle bias against young, says academic. 

It’s a Guardian headline, since you ask. 

The head of politics at Cambridge University has called for children as young as six to be given the vote in an attempt to tackle the age bias in modern democracy. Prof David Runciman said the ageing population meant young people were now “massively outnumbered,” creating a democratic crisis and an inbuilt bias against governments that plan for the future.

Children and teenagers are of course renowned for their conscientious forethought.

In the latest episode of his podcast, Talking Politics, he said lowering the voting age to 16 was not radical enough to address the problem. He said: “I would lower the voting age to six, not 16. And I’m serious about that. I would want people who vote to be able to read, so I would exclude reception [age-children].”

Ah, a voice of moderation.

“What’s the worst that could happen? At least it would be exciting.”

Professor Runciman has, we’re told, pondered other options, such as giving extra weight to votes cast by the adolescent – in effect, allowing them to vote twice or one-and-some-fraction – but has dismissed these suggestions as, and I quote, “insane.” Given the professor’s desire to enlist an army of the credulous and hormonal, allegedly to save the world from the elderly and middle-aged, readers may be raising eyebrows as to his motives. And indeed, an alternative explanation does in fact present itself:  

Runciman suggested the Brexit vote might not have happened with a radically lower voting age.

And,

“If 16- or 17-year-olds voted in the 2017 general election, there is a chance that Jeremy Corbyn would now be prime minister.”

And then, quite suddenly, all became clear. Well, when we’ve done fretting about the catastrophic unfairness of primary-school children being unable to vote in general elections, perhaps we might turn our attention to the number of leftist educators who wish to exploit the unworldliness of your children in order to further their own socialist preferences.

The Wizard of Oz is a grotesque predictor of Trump’s America.

It says so here, in the Guardian. Specifically,

Oz is first wondrous and revelatory, then sinister and suspect, a good trip that goes wrong… It’s this lurking inner wrongness, the darkness at its edges and the emptiness at its core, that speaks to me now. 

The author of the above is Bidisha, a mono-named entity who may be familiar to long-term readers, and who describes herself, unironically, as a “non-white angry political female.” One who seems determined to find yet another staple of Christmas both ghastly and problematic:

It’s impossible to watch the newly crowned ‘most influential film ever’ without seeing the parallels to the sickly US of today.

Oh, ye doubters. Madame Bidisha has her reasons.

We can read the catastrophic effects of climate change into the tornado that sets the narrative off,

I didn’t say they would be convincing.

see the opioid crisis in the characters’ drugged sleep in Oz’s Powell and Pressburger-esque poppy field, and empathise with the mangy Lion, rusty Tin Man and under-stuffed Scarecrow’s search for organ donors and reliable medical support in an Oz without a solid welfare state.

If you think our Guardian columnist is perhaps overreaching a tad, I feel I should point out nothing that follows is likely to disabuse you.