Dr. James Hooks
@jameshooks.bsky.social
Alum of every app you hate. Including that one.
Dog dad. Birds fan. Robot in disguise.
The Bay + the Den. Views my own.
jameshooks.com
tiltheday.com
Dog dad. Birds fan. Robot in disguise.
The Bay + the Den. Views my own.
jameshooks.com
tiltheday.com
Pinned
Kingsley. 18 years old. A gentlemanly collection of sweaters for a very gentlemanly pup.
Reposted by Dr. James Hooks
Can someone please respond to Stephen Miller with this message from Frank Sinatra?
December 26, 2025 at 8:04 PM
Can someone please respond to Stephen Miller with this message from Frank Sinatra?
Merry Christmas 🎄
December 25, 2025 at 4:09 PM
Merry Christmas 🎄
Reposted by Dr. James Hooks
Bari Weiss lied in her memo. She said segment didn't report administration's legal justification (it does in the very first sentence) and didn't say how many detainees had been charged with crimes as opposed to just those who were convicted (it does). www.muellershewrote.com/p/watch-the-...
WATCH: The 60 Minutes CECOT Segment
I was sent the CECOT segment anonymously in a group chat.
www.muellershewrote.com
December 23, 2025 at 12:22 AM
Bari Weiss lied in her memo. She said segment didn't report administration's legal justification (it does in the very first sentence) and didn't say how many detainees had been charged with crimes as opposed to just those who were convicted (it does). www.muellershewrote.com/p/watch-the-...
Regretful of much, neglectful of nothing.
On the wings of goodbye.
I’ve learned to say farewell with greater certainty.
medium.com
December 22, 2025 at 3:52 AM
Regretful of much, neglectful of nothing.
LAUNCH! 🚀 #Transformers: Count On Me — A Punch/Counterpunch story with art by Carlos Trigo. Available for free at tiltheday.com!
December 9, 2025 at 4:05 PM
LAUNCH! 🚀 #Transformers: Count On Me — A Punch/Counterpunch story with art by Carlos Trigo. Available for free at tiltheday.com!
We are not meant to be writing new Laconia Orders in 2025. And yet we are. Only this time, the ink is American.
The Gospel of No Survivors
In September 1942, in the dark waters west of Africa, a German submarine halted its hunt. Moments earlier it had torpedoed the Laconia — a…
medium.com
December 6, 2025 at 6:37 PM
We are not meant to be writing new Laconia Orders in 2025. And yet we are. Only this time, the ink is American.
“Mistake.”
You grow around that name like a tree grown around barbed wire. From a distance, it still looks like a tree. Up close, you see the metal embedded in the grain, rust and sap sharing the same wound.
Love, you are that tree.
And the world keeps asking why you bleed when the wind blows.
You grow around that name like a tree grown around barbed wire. From a distance, it still looks like a tree. Up close, you see the metal embedded in the grain, rust and sap sharing the same wound.
Love, you are that tree.
And the world keeps asking why you bleed when the wind blows.
The Work of Coming Back to Yourself
You learn it in pieces, the way a body learns pain.
medium.com
November 26, 2025 at 12:07 AM
“Mistake.”
You grow around that name like a tree grown around barbed wire. From a distance, it still looks like a tree. Up close, you see the metal embedded in the grain, rust and sap sharing the same wound.
Love, you are that tree.
And the world keeps asking why you bleed when the wind blows.
You grow around that name like a tree grown around barbed wire. From a distance, it still looks like a tree. Up close, you see the metal embedded in the grain, rust and sap sharing the same wound.
Love, you are that tree.
And the world keeps asking why you bleed when the wind blows.
Last night I had a dream.
I was writing letters. One for the people who have loved me without understanding me. One for the people who understood me and loved me anyway. And one—God help me—for the people who will swear they loved me most after the damage is done.
Then, I went for a walk…
I was writing letters. One for the people who have loved me without understanding me. One for the people who understood me and loved me anyway. And one—God help me—for the people who will swear they loved me most after the damage is done.
Then, I went for a walk…
If I Turn Around, Just Sky
Last night I had a dream.
medium.com
November 16, 2025 at 4:36 PM
Last night I had a dream.
I was writing letters. One for the people who have loved me without understanding me. One for the people who understood me and loved me anyway. And one—God help me—for the people who will swear they loved me most after the damage is done.
Then, I went for a walk…
I was writing letters. One for the people who have loved me without understanding me. One for the people who understood me and loved me anyway. And one—God help me—for the people who will swear they loved me most after the damage is done.
Then, I went for a walk…
Bobby Drake should really consider changing his superhero name
October 18, 2025 at 2:43 AM
Bobby Drake should really consider changing his superhero name
What they’ve done to San Francisco:
September 30, 2025 at 11:49 PM
What they’ve done to San Francisco:
If peace is a house, then false forgiveness is drywall hung over a load-bearing lie. Real peace must be weight-bearing: it must hold the past and the future at once.
Peace is Not Forgiveness
Peace is Not Forgiveness [Foundation] Naming the False Peace They called it peace when they left his body swinging, when the crowd took home a piece of his shirt as a relic. They called it peace when ...
medium.com
September 27, 2025 at 6:49 PM
If peace is a house, then false forgiveness is drywall hung over a load-bearing lie. Real peace must be weight-bearing: it must hold the past and the future at once.
Reposted by Dr. James Hooks
In a moment like this, when tensions are high, part of the job of the president is to remind us of the ties that bind us together.
September 20, 2025 at 3:20 PM
In a moment like this, when tensions are high, part of the job of the president is to remind us of the ties that bind us together.
Hello. Goodbye.
untitled
The plane lands as if it knows. Metal shrieks. Tires bite. The body jolts forward against the belt. Arrival is always a kind of violence.
medium.com
September 1, 2025 at 12:31 PM
Hello. Goodbye.
Acceptance, I’ve learned, is not a single act but a practice. It is the decision, each morning, to sit with the ache and not demand it vanish. It is allowing myself to laugh again without guilt. It is returning to the ocean and knowing the tide will carry both my grief and my joy. Both belong.
The Long Drive
I found a piece of myself at the beach. It was not something I had lost, but something that had been waiting — patient as tide, eternal as sky. Growing up by the ocean meant learning to measure time…
medium.com
August 17, 2025 at 11:40 PM
Acceptance, I’ve learned, is not a single act but a practice. It is the decision, each morning, to sit with the ache and not demand it vanish. It is allowing myself to laugh again without guilt. It is returning to the ocean and knowing the tide will carry both my grief and my joy. Both belong.
Greed is the air we breathe, a currency of hunger coded into the genome of the American myth. Somewhere between the gated community and the mass grave, we learned to mistake consumption for character and inheritance for love.
Ashes, Greed, and the Ghost of Lies
We live in a country that no longer whispers about its greed; it shouts it through dividend declarations and war machines. It moans through boardroom ceilings and screams beneath stock tickers. It is…
medium.com
July 30, 2025 at 11:47 AM
Greed is the air we breathe, a currency of hunger coded into the genome of the American myth. Somewhere between the gated community and the mass grave, we learned to mistake consumption for character and inheritance for love.
The light didn’t follow me down.
It never does, when the truth is what you’re chasing.
It never does, when the truth is what you’re chasing.
The Cellar Beneath the Chapel
There is a house that doesn’t creak.
Not when the wind howls.
Not when the bones beneath it shift.
medium.com
July 25, 2025 at 2:47 AM
The light didn’t follow me down.
It never does, when the truth is what you’re chasing.
It never does, when the truth is what you’re chasing.
We lost a brother.
Brother from Another
Not just any man, not just any actor. We lost our brother. From the living room, from the Thursday night laughs, from the pages of our childhoods folded between homework and hope. Malcolm-Jamal…
medium.com
July 22, 2025 at 3:49 AM
We lost a brother.
My Fantastic Four.
July 21, 2025 at 6:12 AM
My Fantastic Four.
Put an adjective before X-Men, then come up with a roster.
*The Blasphemous X-Men*
Scarlet Witch
Moon Knight
Doctor Manhattan
Spawn
Optimus Prime
Elmo
Tilda Swinton
A hermit crab in a glass shell
*The Blasphemous X-Men*
Scarlet Witch
Moon Knight
Doctor Manhattan
Spawn
Optimus Prime
Elmo
Tilda Swinton
A hermit crab in a glass shell
Put an adjective before X-Men, then come up with a roster.
*Vindictive X-Men*
Shinobi Shaw
Havok
Archangel
Madelyne Pryor
Sabretooth
Callisto
Whirlwind
*Vindictive X-Men*
Shinobi Shaw
Havok
Archangel
Madelyne Pryor
Sabretooth
Callisto
Whirlwind
Put an adjective before X-Men, then come up with a roster.
The Covert X-Men
Psylocke (Kwannon)
Fantomex
Frenzy
Forge
Sage
Warpath
Shadowcat
Wolverine
The Covert X-Men
Psylocke (Kwannon)
Fantomex
Frenzy
Forge
Sage
Warpath
Shadowcat
Wolverine
July 16, 2025 at 3:14 AM
Put an adjective before X-Men, then come up with a roster.
*The Blasphemous X-Men*
Scarlet Witch
Moon Knight
Doctor Manhattan
Spawn
Optimus Prime
Elmo
Tilda Swinton
A hermit crab in a glass shell
*The Blasphemous X-Men*
Scarlet Witch
Moon Knight
Doctor Manhattan
Spawn
Optimus Prime
Elmo
Tilda Swinton
A hermit crab in a glass shell
#Superman. The original outsider. Not born here. Not quite one of us. He could pass, yes, but only by hiding his whole self.
He’s not a fantasy of invulnerability; he’s a love letter to the marginalized. A myth of belonging written by those who knew what it meant to be cast out.
He’s not a fantasy of invulnerability; he’s a love letter to the marginalized. A myth of belonging written by those who knew what it meant to be cast out.
Lessons of Love from the Man of Steel
I learned to read on a red cape.
medium.com
July 13, 2025 at 2:30 AM
#Superman. The original outsider. Not born here. Not quite one of us. He could pass, yes, but only by hiding his whole self.
He’s not a fantasy of invulnerability; he’s a love letter to the marginalized. A myth of belonging written by those who knew what it meant to be cast out.
He’s not a fantasy of invulnerability; he’s a love letter to the marginalized. A myth of belonging written by those who knew what it meant to be cast out.
This is a country that claims to be built on the principle that all are created equal, endowed with certain unalienable rights. In practice, we’ve created a system where life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are available only to those who can afford the pursuit’s map; a $200 AI-powered map.
The Missing Floor
In 1933, America was broken. A nation bent over its own undoing; fractured by greed, undone by its excess, and left breathless by the Great Depression. The economy had collapsed violently, like an…
medium.com
July 11, 2025 at 4:50 AM
This is a country that claims to be built on the principle that all are created equal, endowed with certain unalienable rights. In practice, we’ve created a system where life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are available only to those who can afford the pursuit’s map; a $200 AI-powered map.