I know it’s hard to believe this, and some of you may think I’m making this up, but Puerto Ricans are as American as you and I are (except that they don’t have meaningful representation in Congress, but I’m not going to pretend that you care about that, anyway).
I need you to look at these pictures, and understand how massively devastated Puerto Rico is right now (for example: imagine how you’d feel if the power was out in the entire state of Hawaii, or the entire city of – hey, I’ll let you pick any city in America that isn’t New York or Los Angeles).
Remember how we came together as a nation after Katrina, and we all chipped in to help the Gulf Coast recover? Remember how furious we were at George W. Bush’s incompetence and indifference to the suffering in the Superdome? Remember how we all mobilized to help our fellow Americans, because that’s what we do?
Well, we need to do that right now, White America. I know they mostly speak a different language and that they don’t have white skin like we do, but they aren’t just our fellow humans (which should be enough, but I know it isn’t because I know you, White America). The people who are suffering in Puerto Rico right now are our fellow American Citizens.
Look at all of these states that have a smaller population than Puerto Rico:
Imagine that any one of those states (or more, if you want to do the math) were destroyed by a natural disaster. They have no power. They have no clean water. They have no cell or internet service. It’s hot as hell and they have no air conditioning.
Try your best, White America, to imagine it, and reach into your heart to find the same empathy and concern and resolve to help the people of Puerto Rico, because our shitty “president” is too busy having a tantrum about athletes protesting police brutality (when he isn’t praising a Turkish dictator whose bodyguards keep beating up our fellow citizens) to do anything about it.
Thanks for listening, White America. We have a lot more to talk about.
the DM: Okay, at the end of the hallway is a stone door with no visible locks, latches, or opening mechanisms. Carved into the stone is an inscription that reads, “What is the sound of silence?”
the bard, instantly: ♪ Hello darkness my old friend ♪
DM: …………………Oh my god. I forgot-
bard: ♪ I’ve come to talk with you again ♪
DM: No, that’s not the answer-
bard: ♪ Because a vision softly creeping ♪
DM: Here, I’ve got my notes, let me change the riddle-
bard: ♪ Left its seeds while I was sleeping ♪
DM: Please-
bard, emphatically now: ♪ AND THE VISION THAT WAS PLANTED IN MY BRAIN ♪
DM: IT’S NOT-
bard: ♪ STILL REMAINS ♪
DM: I’M BEGGING-
bard: ♪ WITHIN THE SOUND ♪
DM: PLEASE-
bard: ♪ OF SILENCE ♪
DM, with a visibly broken spirit: …Yeah, okay. The door swings open.
At a Buckeye, Arizona park, police officer David Grossman observed 14-year-old Connor Leibel moving his hands rigidly in front of his face, sniffing a piece of yarn, and making other unfamiliar movements. The officer thought the boy was intoxicated, held him on the ground, and handcuffed him. Leibel was simply self-stimulating, “stimming,” a very common behavior among autistic people. On the just-released body cam video, you can hear Leibel trying to calm himself by saying “I’m O.K., I’m O.K.“ even as he sustains cuts and bruises from being pinned to the ground. Over at the New York Times, BB pal Steve Silberman, author of the absolutely essential book Neurotribes: The Legacy of Autism and the Future of Neurodiversity, writes about why this kind of horrible thing happens, how it could have been much worse, and what can be done to prevent it: