Summer of Epstein | The Nation
In the summer of 1977, I was a young illustrator living in the East Village in New York. I would move a lot in the city and wherever I went, work, go out together, go to movies, dinner is all you heard about: the madman who pulled people parked in their cars. Foreigners in cafes would see daily news on a table and speak. Jimmy Breslin. There was also a horrible breakdown. And the Yankees were on the way to the World Series, with a television cover of the games showing photos of the Bronx Burning in the night. All of this looked like a single wet, hot, static and ugly thing. But something we have all shared. In 1999, Spike Lee made a film entitled The Summer of Sam.
This is the week that it has become, for me, the summer of Epstein. The Congress has closed, the Supreme Court is, although officially in recess, in a faster rate of cancellation than the Congress. Likewise the media. The United States is attacked in any imaginable ways. They build concentration camps. We finance a genocide in Gaza. We end up with a damaged and disturbed Trump, making a new spectacular tabloid head every hour, each more absurd than the previous one, while the economy flows, the earth burns, and the AI is preparing to destroy everything that does not. Enter the “Epstein”. This dead monster suddenly dates back over the years to reimburse Trump in full. And Trump, for once, cannot dodge the balls. As with Sam’s son.
And we sit down and talk, in the heat. Until, perhaps, time breaks.
In addition, under the image of Friday, please add the assistance link for this young man.
Turkish funds
