Old Fucking Punk @lwriemen@librem.one

Capitalism doesn't give you nice things.

Capitalism lets you rent increasingly mediocre things.

As a worker-owned cooperative and independent bookstore, we often get approached about how we started, what our internal operations look like, and how we “do things.” Some questions are easier to answer than others (and we’re usually happy to share what we’ve learned throughout the years), but a big piece of context that isn’t always obvious is that trust is at the core of how we operate. Our collective is a small but mighty team, and everyone brings their own flavor and skillsets to the table. Since our hiring process is rigorous and infrequent, we’ve all worked together for years, and we’ve shared with each other our own introductions to anarchism and how we engaged with Firestorm before working here.

This past year, in an effort to carve out collective time outside of the store, we started monthly brunches. This means we take turns hosting, and brunch topics are pre-determined—we discuss timely articles, podcasts, and zines, and process current events together. We also talk about other media we’ve consumed and inevitably veer off-course, because these brunches are technically off the clock (unless they accidentally become a meeting). Brunches are a space for us to share dreams, anxieties, things we’re excited about, and how Firestorm can respond to certain political moments.

In July, our collective took a field trip to Chicago for Socialism Conference 2025 and we attended a session on anti-colonial resistance featuring geographer Linda Quiquivix (author of "Palestine 1492: A Report Back"), Mohamed Abdou (author of "Islam and Anarchism"), and Ashanti Alston (co-author of "Black Anarchist Futures" and keynote speaker at Another Carolina Anarchist Bookfair 2024). The conversation was a highlight for us, and a few months ago we started reading "Palestine 1492" together, which is a beautiful and accessible title that we can’t recommend enough.

Read our full reflection at https://firestorm.coop/news/another-brunch-is-possible.html

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗙𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝘆 𝟮𝟬𝟯𝟬 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝗿𝗮.

𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗮 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗰 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗶𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗽𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘁𝘆.

https://drdavidwhitehouse.substack.com/p/the-rise-and-fall-of-financial-inclusion

This is a family awash with estates and with more homes than the average stick could be shaken at. ­Occasionally some broadcaster will run a documentary also underlining the massive unearned wealth the King and his heir pull in from their assorted properties and so-called Duchies. Don't forget the £132 million we toss their way to cover “essential costs”. It doesn’t include security for which we pay separately.

Royal farce is a reminder of a ridiculous institution

https://www.thenational.scot/news/25725427.royal-festive-farce-reminder-ridiculous-institution/

MTV died. All the cool, unique artists like off “120 minutes” are now fighting the blandest algorithms imaginable.

We wanted a place to watch weird stuff you can’t see on mainstream channels. So….

Fedi MTV goes live in ONE HOUR.

https://tv.theindiebeat.fm/

#FediMTV #TIBtv #music #nowPlaying #FediTips

It was a Tuesday in 1981 when the San Francisco police kicked in the door.

Inside the small apartment, they expected to find a hardened criminal. They expected a drug kingpin. They expected resistance.

Instead, they found a 57-year-old waitress in an apron.

The air in the apartment smelled sweet, thick with chocolate and something earthier. On the kitchen counter, cooling on wire racks, were 54 dozen brownies.

The police officers began bagging the evidence. They confiscated nearly 18 pounds of marijuana. They handcuffed the woman, whose name was Mary Jane Rathbun.

She didn't look scared. She didn't look guilty.

She looked at the officers, smoothed her apron, and reportedly said, "I thought you guys were coming."

She was booked into the county jail. The headlines wrote themselves. A grandmother running a pot bakery. It seemed like a joke to the legal system, a quirky local news story about an older woman behaving badly.

But Mary wasn't baking for fun. And she certainly wasn't baking for profit.

To understand why Mary risked her freedom, you have to understand the silence of the early 1980s.

San Francisco was gripping the edge of a cliff. A mysterious illness was sweeping through the city, specifically targeting young men. Later, the world would know it as AIDS. But in those early days, it was just a death sentence that no one wanted to talk about.

Families were disowning their sons. Landlords were evicting tenants. Even doctors and nurses, paralyzed by the fear of the unknown, would sometimes leave food trays outside hospital doors, afraid to breathe the same air as their patients.

Men in their twenties were wasting away in sterile rooms, dying alone.

Mary knew what it felt like to lose a child.

Years earlier, in 1974, her daughter Peggy had been killed in a car accident. Peggy was only 22. The loss had hollowed Mary out, leaving a space in her heart that nothing seemed to fill.

When the judge sentenced Mary for that first arrest, he ordered her to perform 500 hours of community service. He likely thought the manual labor would teach her a lesson.

He sent her to the Shanti Project and San Francisco General Hospital.

It was a mistake that would change American history.

Mary walked into the AIDS wards when others were walking out. She didn't wear a hazmat suit. She didn't hold her breath. She saw rows of young men who looked like ghosts—skeletal, in pain, and terrified.

She saw "her kids."

She began mopping floors and changing sheets. But soon, she noticed something the doctors were missing. The harsh medications the men were taking caused violent nausea. They couldn't eat. They were starving to death as much as they were dying of the virus.

Mary knew a secret about the brownies she had been arrested for.

She knew they settled the stomach. She knew they brought back the appetite. She knew they could help a dying man sleep for a few hours without pain.

So, she made a choice.

She went back to her kitchen. She fired up the oven. She started mixing batter, not to sell, but to save.

Every morning, Mary would bake. She lived on a fixed income, surviving on Social Security checks that barely covered her rent. Yet, she spent nearly every dime on flour, sugar, and butter.

The most expensive ingredient—the cannabis—was donated. Local growers heard what she was doing. They began dropping off pounds of product at her door, free of charge.

She packed the brownies into a basket and took the bus to the hospital.

She walked room to room. She sat by the bedsides of men who hadn't seen their own mothers in years. She held their hands. She told them jokes. And she gave them brownies.

"Here, baby," she would say. "Eat this. It'll help."

And it did.

Nurses watched in amazement as patients who hadn't eaten in days began to ask for food. The constant retching stopped. The mood on the ward shifted from despair to a quiet sort of comfort.

Mary Jane Rathbun became "Brownie Mary."

For over a decade, this was her life. She baked roughly 600 brownies a day. She went through 50 pounds of flour a week. She became the mother to a generation of lost boys.

She washed their pajamas. She attended their funerals. She held them while they took their last breaths.

She did this while the government declared a "War on Drugs."

By the early 1990s, the political climate was hostile. Politicians were competing to see who could be "tougher" on crime. Mandatory minimum sentences were locking people away for decades.

In 1992, at the age of 70, Mary was arrested again.

This time, the stakes were lethal. She was charged with felonies. The district attorney looked at her rap sheet and saw a repeat offender. He threatened to send her to prison.

One prosecutor famously whispered to a colleague that he was going to "kick this old lady's ass."

They underestimated who they were dealing with.

They thought they were prosecuting a drug dealer. In reality, they were attacking the most beloved woman in San Francisco.

When the news broke that Brownie Mary was facing prison, the city erupted.

It wasn't just the activists who were angry. It was the doctors. It was the nurses. It was the parents who had watched Mary care for their dying sons when the government did nothing.

Mary turned her trial into a pulpit.

She arrived at court not as a defendant, but as a grandmother standing her ground. The media swarmed her. Reporters asked if she was afraid of prison. They asked if she would stop baking if they let her go.

Mary looked into the cameras, her voice gravelly and firm.

"If the narcs think I'm gonna stop baking brownies for my kids with AIDS," she said, "they can go fuck themselves in Macy's window."

The quote ran in newspapers across the country.

The court didn't stand a chance.

Testimony poured in. Doctors from San Francisco General Hospital wrote letters explaining that Mary’s brownies were medically necessary. Patients testified that she was an angel of mercy.

The charges were dropped.

Mary walked out of the courthouse a free woman. But she didn't go home to rest. She realized that her personal victory wasn't enough. As long as the law was broken, her "kids" were still in danger.

She needed to change the law.

August 25 was declared "Brownie Mary Day" by the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. It was a nice gesture, but Mary wanted policy, not plaques.

She teamed up with fellow activist Dennis Peron. Together, they opened the San Francisco Cannabis Buyers Club—the first public dispensary in the United States. It was a safe haven where patients could get their medicine without fear of arrest.

But Mary wanted more. She wanted the state of California to acknowledge the truth.

She campaigned for Proposition 215. She traveled the state, despite her failing health. She spoke in her simple, direct way. She didn't talk about liberties or economics. She talked about compassion. She talked about pain.

She forced voters to look at the issue through the eyes of a grandmother.

In 1996, Proposition 215 passed. California became the first state to legalize medical marijuana.

It was a domino effect. Because one woman refused to let her "kids" suffer, the public perception of cannabis shifted. The Economist later noted that Mary was single-handedly responsible for changing the national conversation.

She never got rich.

She had always joked that if legalization ever happened, she would sell her recipe to Betty Crocker and buy a Victorian house for her patients to live in.

She never sold the recipe. She never bought the house.

Mary Jane Rathbun died in 1999, at the age of 77. She passed away in a nursing home, poor in money but rich in legacy.

Today, over 30 states have legalized medical marijuana. Millions of people use it to manage pain, seizures, and nausea.

Most of them have never heard of Mary.

They don't know that their legal prescription exists because a waitress in San Francisco decided that the law was wrong and her heart was right.

They don't know about the 600 brownies a day.

They don't know about the thousands of hospital visits.

Mary didn't set out to be a hero. She told the Chicago Tribune years before she died, "I didn't go into this thinking I would be a hero."

She was just a mother who had lost her daughter, trying to help boys who had lost their way.

She proved that authority doesn't always equal morality.

She proved that sometimes, the most patriotic thing a citizen can do is break a bad law.

Every August, a few people in San Francisco still celebrate Brownie Mary Day. But her true memorial isn't a date on a calendar.

It is found in every oncology ward where a patient finds relief. It is found in every dispensary door that opens without fear.

It is found in the simple, quiet courage of anyone who sees suffering and refuses to look away.

Mary taught us that you don't need a law degree to change the world. You don't need millions of dollars. You don't need political office.

Sometimes, all you need is a mixing bowl, an oven, and enough love to tell the world to get out of your way.

Sources: New York Times Obituary (1999), "Brownie Mary" Rathbun. San Francisco Chronicle Archives (1992, 1996). History.com, "The History of Medical Marijuana."

New breach: WIRED magazine had 2.3M records allegedly breached from parent company Condé Nast and published online this week. Data included email and display name, some records contained additional personal data. 81% were already in @haveibeenpwned. More: https://haveibeenpwned.com/Breach/WIRED

RE: https://mastodon.social/@Impertinenzija/115792855956470413

Read this, machine translated if needed, this explains why genAI is fascist.

#noAI #LLM #LLMs #AI

@atoponce It's just amazing (and really disappointing) that so many people so quickly gave up thinking (critical or otherwise) the moment LLM slop generators hit the market.

Smart people went all in on outsourcing their brain cells to... this.

But now, LLMs offer a beautiful new promise: your brilliant notions can proceed full speed without any pesky underlings at all!

You can just •build the app• or •launch the campaign• or whatever, and nobody will tell you annoying things like “that won’t work” or “that timeline is unrealistic” or “that will create even larger problems” or “people will die.” The chat LLM is there to say YES to your hitherto-unacknowledged brilliance!

6/

I agree with @nikitonsky , and I think this is at root of much of the managerial mania for LLMs.

Having their terrible ideas go unchecked by underlings with expertise is basically crack cocaine for bad org leadership.

1/ https://mastodon.online/@nikitonsky/115792431499413784

What a year, huh! Here's what you might've missed amongst all the other horrors. https://www.dailykos.com/story/2025/12/26/2359573/-Cartoon-Incredible-global-news-2025

You know the drill (today and tomorrow only) these titles are just $5! No code required.
Please do not combine any coupon codes with this great deal—or we'll cancel your order!
Shop at pmpress.org.

Trump supporters hail US strikes in Nigeria as ‘amazing Christmas present’ - https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/dec/26/trump-supporters-nigeria-airstrikes yes, killing people with high-tech weapons is surely what #jesus would have wanted...

Every “rewards” program is a surveillance program.

Get this junk on clearance. https://patreon.com/BrianMcFadden

RE: https://cyberplace.social/@GossiTheDog/115786817774728155

Someone dropped an exploit script for a new Mongo vulnerability that leaks memory for unauthenticated attackers.

(Image description: Shodan report for query product:"MongoDB", showing 214,153 hits, with breakdown by country, org, port, etc.)

#ElectricGuitar players - I’m building a #guitar. What’s the most belligerent, passive, high-gain, bridge #humbucker?

This is a feature of capitalism. https://www.inquirer.com/consumer/businesses-closing-philadelphia-region-2025-20251226.html