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War of the Chalk GolemsWar of the Chalk Golems
Nicolas rode his bike to the playground behind the school and saw Edward making the preparations, though for what he had no idea. He locked his bike onto the school's bike rack and made his way over to Edward.
"Look, let's just forget about this. It's a Saturday. We can go to the mall for a bit if you want, though not for long. I've got to cut my grass." Nicolas was lying, but even cutting the grass was fascinating compared to being with Edward.
"No, you really do have to see this," Edward said.
"See what? I was told there was a wager of five bucks, but I don't even know what we're betting on."
Edward smiled and made a sweeping motion with his hand across the schoolyard pavement.
"Take a look."
Nicolas looked across the schoolyard, illustrated with dozens of crudely drawn chalk characters and vessels. There was a large dragon with a body of green and yellow chalk fo
Themes of Chomsky as Seen in Comic BooksRyan McGrail
Themes of Chomsky as Seen in Comic Books
The storylines in the graphic novels "JSA: Black Reign," and "JLA: The Nail" contain many parallels to Chomsky's teachings in "Media Control." In "JSA: Black Reign," The supervillain turned anti-hero Black Adam recruits a team of disillusioned superheroes who realize the number one rule of the superhero community, though shalt not kill, is meant to be broken. Black Adam and his team of superheroes gone rogue invade Adam's native country of Kandaq (an obvious stand-in for Iraq) and murder the Suddein Hussein-like dictator and his army. When the Justice Society of America gets wind of Black Adam's actions, they go on a field trip to Kandaq to take down Adam and their former teammates. "JLA: The Nail" takes read
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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