HeyJaredPop Off in the Pocket
Investigating the machinery of control and the people who refuse it.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 4
- Latest publication
- Sep 28, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 11, 2026
Latest issues
The Tech-Right is Drinking Loudoun County Iced Teas, and You’re Laughing? (opens the original)
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A couple weeks ago, some tech-rightists in DC posted on Twitter that they were going to host a party out of one of their rowhomes with a simple theme: we love data centers.Perhaps out of Twitter’s love of loving and hating things ironically, perhaps not, that post blew the fuck up. Within days, the Partiful they were managing invitations through had literally thousands of people on the waitlist.They had to move into an actual event space (the DC crypto bar PubKey) and even secured some sponsors
Limerence for Liminality in Los Angeles (opens the original)
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Neon lights lazily cast a sheen of red on my face from fifteen feet up on a grimy wall while I stare at two people who I’d just watched introduce one another to each other about 10 minutes prior. They constantly readjust every couple of seconds. The upholstered bench they’re sitting on is stylish but so uncomfortable that it makes my own ass chafe just looking at it from ten feet away. In the midst of their adjustment, I catch them still cracking smiles at one another. I’d just tried to speak to
We are All Terrorists and So Can You (opens the original)
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There is no need to exaggerate, as the facts are bad enough.On July 20, 2026, the US State Department released a 100 page screed titled ‘Cuba: The Capital of 21st Century Communism”. It is - to put it lightly - the ramblings from a John Birch Society chapter secretary’s Wattpad.(If you want to really speedrun this essay and get right to where I make my main argument, control F these words: “the government knows it can’t really touch the people it most”.)<div class="subscriptio
Sailing Up Shit River without a Paddle (opens the original)
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I am sitting on my porch, dripping like rain.Cigar smoke is sitting next to and above me. The humidity is a weighted blanket to both of us, so there is no way for the smoke to climb any higher any faster.I sit and listen to the cars amble by as they radiate an extra ten degrees Fahrenheit in my direction.I take a mighty swig of Red Stripe and as it cools and dehydrates me, I picture what I could be doing instead: splashing on the shores of the Potomac River. I desperately crave to do that. But I
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