Cool Zone Media, Dino Wars, Dinah Wors, Dinah Wars. Hello and welcome to Cool Zone Media book Club, the only book club where you don't have to do the reading because I do it for you. I'm your host, Margaret Kiljoy. And this, as you might have guessed by the title and the introduction, is another Dino Wars episode. Because it's been exciting, you all have reacted positively to Dinah Wars.
I mean, you know, we did get these podcasts from thirty years in the future, and obviously it would be immoral of us to not play you all of the podcasts that we heard from thirty years in the future. Anyway, here's that. Hello and welcome to Cool Zone twenty fifty five, How to Survive the Dino Wars. I'm your host, Margaret Kiljoy.
And this week, well, dear listener, I have been stretching these missives from Mixed Bunny Face Murder as long as I could because I've been hoping against hope that Moore would arrive. It's a strange thing to be writing my parts of these episodes. Safish from the other side of
the Iron Curtain. We've had a rare actual winter this year in Helsinki, and I've mostly been based out of a friend's family lakeside cabin in an undisclosed location near one of the largest dinosaur breeding facilities in the world. I've been working on a series about that, which will
be running soon. I've also, I have to admit, been feeling introspective myself while presenting to you these missives from Mixed Bunny Face Murder when they talk about the old person that they met, who'd just barely been born in the twentieth century. Well, I spent my entire childhood in the twentieth century being old rules. I'm proud that I've made it, but it just brings into stark relief all the thousands of people I've known who didn't make it. I want so badly for Mixed Murder to make it
out of the iron curtain. I see so much of myself in them, and I think about all the ill advised adventures I've survived. I thought I was too old to shake my fist at the heavens and shout it's not fair. But here I am leaning on a cane in the frozen forest, looking up at the beautiful skies. I tell myself that were I younger, I would be on the front lines with them, but it feels like a cop out. It isn't one, as my producers remind
me constantly, but it feels like one. I need to do what I am best at, not what my ego insists I ought to do, and what I'm best at, apparently is podcasting at putting together and presenting stories. A thousand years ago, I interviewed the science fiction author Ursula le Gwynn when she was my age and I was mixed Murder's age. I asked her about the role of the fiction writer and social struggle, and she said something
that will stay with me forever. I paraphrase here because I don't have my notes in front of me, but she said she was happiest when people let her alone to do what she was good at, to contribute in her own way. But that also didn't get her off the hook for doing the grunt work. For her, the grunt work meant marching in peace marches, and it meant
stuffing envelopes for planned parenthood. No matter what, I'm not off the hook for showing up to be useful when it's raw numbers that we need, when grunt work needs doing. But I'm not a soldier, not anymore. I'm a cheerleader, an old trans bitch with pom poms. And it's not fair that mixed murder is in more physical danger than I am, because realistically, I've only got a couple decades left in me in the best of cases. But that's the way with war. It's not fair, it's not right.
It's never been right that the young people are doing the dying. When I was younger, I didn't understand Ursula le Gwin's pacifism. I'm still not a pacifist. I'm about as support our troops as it can get in this world wide revolution. But I understand on a gut level how looking at this century of slaughter leaves you feeling terrified, even hollow. Those who make half a revolution dig their own graves. Though, or to throw another cliche at you, the only way out is through. We are so close,
my friends, my comrades. In particular, I can say on air finally, that there's a call for internationalist fighters to gather at Camp Rex in southern France. The beacons are lit, dear friends. I'll be there at Camp Rex myself, though I've been told I'm not allowed to self indulgently ride into war and death, but I am more liability than asset. There are millions of people trapped in Catalonia, and they're doing an incredible job of holding on, and hopefully they
won't need to hold on much longer. So if you want to break the iron curtain, make for Campres join the new Darruti column. If we can break the Iberian phalanx once and for all, something beautiful will blossom on the peninsula. I will say, as much as I long for a bit of glory, that dangerous thing, I'm quite enjoying my time on this frozen lake. My friends here still don't understand that I'm still vegan and don't want
to eat the fish they catch. But I have spent hours lately on the ice with them, not talking much. None of us talk much, just looking at the trees. My hosts, my friends live in the ring of Vishnu that surrounds the breeding facility for about thirty miles in each direction. Living here is a beautiful way to contribute to the war effort. A crew of old Finnish women cysts and trans moved into these old cabins by these old lakes, just to keep an eye on the roads
and the skies. They call themselves the Friends of the Bear, some reference to something in Finnish animism I don't understand quite well enough yet to talk about more. I almost feel like I belong here as much as I've ever felt like I belong anywhere. We heat the cabins with wood, most of them get around. It's got that most of my friends get around by skis, But frankly, I'm not so fit as the seventy year old fins around me, and most days for work I head off by sleigh
into the dino facility. But that's a future episode. For now, we've got one more story from Mixed bunny Face Murder. I hope, as much as I've hoped for anything, that this isn't the last we'll hear from them. I hope one day they'll be my age, and I'll be dead and happy, and maybe fifty years from now people will be able to be pacifists again. Maybe Nazi zombies will sound as fictitious to the people of twenty one oh five as they would have sounded to me in two
thousand and five. But if you want to help make nazis just a fiction. Again. If you want to ride courageously into war against half tree squid monsters, if you want to sit atop an ankloosaurus and guard the cities and towns we freed in this wide and beautiful world, then you need to attend classes put on by our most generous sponsor, Dino Cadence. That's right, Dino Cadence, the world's premiere chain of dinosaur riding academies. Tuition is free,
but spots are limited, so apply today. And I guess we have other sponsors too. This podcast is brought to you by tooth So White Dino dental Paste. Did you know the dental problems are the number one cause of disease among carnivorous dinosaurs. With tooth so White Dino dental paste, you can keep your dinopals of razor sharp teeth glistening
and ready to chomp on the heads of fascists. The use of dino dental paste does not mean that you do not need to take your dinosaurs for regular dental checkups. Do not attempt to brush the teeth of any carnivorous dinosaur you have not properly bonded with the Council for Preventing the Consumption of Dinosaur Riters by Dinosaurs would like to remind you that even fully bonded dinosaurs, if hungry or irritated, they may not want their deep brush. This
podcast is brought to you by Gary. That's right, a guy named Gary. He gave us a lot of money and said, write me an ad about how this podcast was brought to you by a guy named Gary. You might think that this is a secret code to tell some unit of pleasiosaur writers to attack some fascist held
port somewhere. What actually it really is that a guy named Gary walked into our headquarters in Portland, Oregon with a briefcase full of cash and said, I've been listening to the Cool Zone media for more than thirty years, and I live a very simple life, so I don't have many expenses.
And I just think it would be cool to hear my name on Aaron. Thank you, Gary, and we're back, and without further ado, here is the rest of that message, smuggled to us by our correspondent mix bunny Face Murder. It takes a bit of a toll.
On your mental health when half your family dies in a drone strike. And I was never going to forgive the people who did it. If I was rewriting my history to sound heroic, I would have at this point thrown myself into the movement. I would have dedicated myself to the destruction of the government that destroyed my family. Instead, I'm being honest, I dedicated myself to well, the destruction of me. That's not how I perceived it at the time.
At the time, I was basically like, well, I'm going to die soon, so I might as well have fun. I wasn't the only person to come out of World War Three with a hedonistic lust for life and death, and the punk revival spread across the world. If I get out of this alive, then one day I'm going to write a nice, cozy history of ninth wave punk and how it tied into the liberation movements and philosophical tendencies that led to the uprisings of the late twenty forties.
If nothing else, I'm sure you remember when that band No Thames Like Now went on that Arson Spury across Belfast. Ninth wave punk wasn't all positive. Right wing shit came out of that culture too, like fucking New varg Army. They got theirs, though they jumped a bunch of trans men in Paris, and that was the last thing they
ever did before they died. Though they started that whole eco fash now movement that sadly outlived them, and many of the officers and nationalist armies cut their teeth burning down social centers as a result of their music and culture. I wasn't in a band or killing Nazis or doing anything meaningful during most of the twenty forties, though I was doing horse drugs and fucking strangers. I even had an okay time. Horse drugs can be fun, Strangers can
be fun. I moved to Baltimore. I got a job at a collectively owned cafe for a while until I decided I didn't want to go to meetings, and we all me included, voted to fire me. I moved into a squat and fell's point with some folks. It was fine. I'm not ashamed. It's not what I'd tell younger me to do. It was during this time that I started going by mixed bunny face murder. But if this is the last thing I ever write, I'm not going to focus on those sort of lost years. I'm going to
focus on. When I found myself, I'm going to focus on well, dinosaurs. March thirteenth, twenty forty nine, I was twenty years old. With the rest of the world, I saw Trike for the first time. The first modern triceratops ex Vivo Genesis was thrust upon the world, and I fell in love. When I saw Trike and Pale that assassin, I knew this is the future of force. I'd been a bit of a dino kid, to put it mildly, but like half of the rest of everyone, I started
reading everything I could about dinosaurs. At that point, I've got a tattoo Trike on my belly with three horns for stab and written over it in black letter font To jump ahead a bit, when that first anti fascist dino unit, the Iron Dino Front, came out of Germany, I got their three horns logo tattooed on my thigh too. Anyhow, Yeah, I was obsessed, and once I had something to focus on, I started living a little better too. Who says obsession is bad for your mental health, Well, I guess a
lot of people say that. I even got my old job back at that cafe for a while and started putting together community events talking about de extinction and its relationship with the Collectivist Left. What really changed my life, though, is when all my interests came together at once. I walked into work one morning and there was a flyer taped to the glass. Dino Cadence, the world's first collectively run burlesque sex show dinosaur circus, was coming into town
and they were looking for people to join them. I wish I could say I handled leaving my job that second time responsibly, but I didn't. I hope my former collective mates forgive me. I had a hard time understanding that with freedom comes responsibility, and I left people in a lurch. But yeah, I ran away and joined the circus. I joined Dino Cadence. I fell in love with everyone there.
I fell in love with Donna the MC when she did pirouettes around the floor between a fantastic menagerie of tooth claw, feather and scales, singing and shouting in her five octave range. I fell in love with Hurley the Dino Keeper, a surly they them who liked dinosaurs far more than they liked people, who would physically attack anyone who suggested mistreating the animals. I fell in love with Arlo and Spike, the exotic dancers, and I fell in
love with Grubby the merch girl. What I did didn't do, though, was well be very good at my new job. It turns out there's way more involved in burlesque and live sex shows than just being hot. I like to think I'm hot, but I'm not a performer, not really. After a few mediocre to disastrous shows around the mid Atlantic, I realized I was much better at writing than I
was publicly fucking. Mostly, I wrote over and over again about how committed we were to dino rights, how the animals were not involved in the sex parts of the show in any way, and how we were simply doing what we knew how to do, to try to offer levity in dark times and teach about the care of dinosaurs. I started writing little dirty story zines to sell at the shows, and I started writing little dinocare zines. I was only with Dino Cadence for about six months, but
I traveled around half the world in that time. I met some of the best musicians and performers in the world, and I also met some of the world's best dino keepers and revolutionaries. People would join and people would leave as suited them. And after about six months, while I was in Lagos, I fell in love yet again with a Pan Africanist organizer. I dropped off the dinocadence circuit. But what I didn't drop off of was these goods and services. No, what I also fell in love with
was these goods and services. Jesus might be the last ad transition I ever write, and I did not nail it, so it goes. This podcast is brought to you by pancakes in a literal sense. Well, I Margaret was editing this podcast for my cabin in that undisclosed location in Finland. Someone I care about made me pancakes with blueberries baked into them and cherry jam on top, and it gave
me enough energy to finish. This podcast is not brought to you by fresh caught fish, much to my host displeasure, because old habits die hard and I'm still vegan, so I don't know. Maybe mix money face iterate some fish, and therefore this podcast is brought to you by fish. But I'm guessing this podcast is brought to you more by Hardtack hard Tack. It's easy to make. It never goes bad. And you can chip your teeth on it.
If you're not careful, try Hardtack Today. This podcast is brought to you by the Council for the Reintegration of X Fascists into Polite Society. The Council for Reintegration of X Fascist into Polite Society would like to remind you that our goal is not the eradication of fascists, but instead the eradication of fascism. This will involve eradicating a lot of fascists by necessity, but that is simply a means to an end. Every ex fascist is one less
enemy for us to fight. Remember when you make people pick sides, you have to let them be able to pick your own sign and we're back. During my time in Dinocadance, I met some of the cool Zone media folks, becoming especially close to Mia and Molly. No offense to Margaret, who I assume is the one who is going to be stuck voicing these episodes, or at least compiling them
and adding the ads or whatever. So in the Council in Lagos meant to talk about the ethical limitations of ex vivo genesis, I was the they them on the ground with writing experience, in a pretty deep understanding of dinosaurs. They tapped me as a correspondent, and I will say that I've finally found what I was put on this earth to do, travel around the world, talking to and sleeping with anti fascists, and then writing about the experience.
If I'm writing this whole thing to kind of try to cement my place in history, I will say that at the Council of Lagos, I was there as a journalist, but during my reporting, after the first day, I was the first one to call what they were working on, the no Monster's rule, and that Phrasings stuck. That's my contribution to history. It's minor, but I'm proud of it. In the great, big, eternal etching of history, I left my little scratch. I hope my life isn't over. I
wish I didn't hope that. I wish I had the courage or foolhardy resolution of the people around me with spears and stegosauruses, who seem to chase after death, who want their only legacy to be the freedom of those who survive them. Sometimes I even manage it. My resolution comes and goes in waves, and right now it's receded a bit. I think back on my life and frankly, it just hasn't been long enough, even though it's already
been longer than many people's. There are no guarantees, but I've gotten to see an awful lot of the world, and maybe I've helped in my way. After the Council of Lagos, well, you can track my work on this very network, to the Pan Africanist conference in Cairo, to the fall of Saint Petersburg, all kinds of places. And here I am in Catalonia, trying desperately to keep Catalonia Catalonia instead of Spain, or if the rest of Portugal
falls like it might Iberia. I think Ercho would have been proud of me, probably no matter what I did. But here I am full circle, fighting a losing war against fascists in Catalonia, just like the anarchists did one hundred and sixteen years ago. Everything goes in circles. We lost in nineteen thirty nine, but we didn't lose so completely that we haven't had another go of it. Maybe we'll lose in twenty fifty five to two, but honestly, I don't think we will. I think things are different
this time. I think the anarcho syndicalus lost in Spain in nineteen thirty nine because too much of the world ignored their s struggle, because there weren't enough internationalists, because the world was trying to fight fascism one country at a time. Now now we're everywhere, and it's not just the anarcho syndicalist alone against the world. It's truly a popular front. It's people who not only don't agree on the nitty gritty details of what a better world could
look like, but people who don't agree on really broad strokes. Yep, those people were working together. We're fighting together because a horde of fascists, nationalists and undead are threatening to drown the world. I think we'll win because we have to, because there are enough of us, because we're good at what we do, and because we've got fucking dinosaurs. At the Council of Lagos, people talked extensively about how fascists struggle to wield dinosaurs in the war, in agriculture, really,
just anywhere they struggle, they struggle with dinosaurs. They can't seem to detain them. T Rexes turn on Nazi handlers every time Nazis try to handle them. Why, Because dinosaurs are not domesticated animals. They are not pets. They are stronger than us and more toothsome than us, and they know it. They do what they want to do, and they don't respond to intimidation or fear. They're not mammals. We're going to win because the dinosaurs are with us.
The dinosaurs are our friends, and together we'll build a new world in the scorched ruins of this one. We didn't stop climate change, but we'll adapt and we'll ride triceratops into a bold future of mutual AIDS solidarity and what's that old slogan? A free association of cooperative autonomous groups working together for the purpose of mutual aid And if you're listening and you're one of my old coworkers from Baltimore, sorry I know, called no showed and join
the circus. That wasn't me being my best self. Well that's what we've got from mixed bunny face murder. I hope, against hope that we'll hear more from them, but satellite imagery of the region isn't promising. Still, dear listener, if you join me at Camp Rex, we will see what we can do about breaking the Iberian phalanx and tearing down the Iron curtain and letting Catalonia be Catalonia, and see if Mixed Bunny Face Murder can write their punk rock analysis of the twenty forties and fall in love
another fifteen or fifty times. In the meantime, we'll be back next week, probably with my report about all the latest innovations and de extinction. Lots of cute baby dinos and megafauna coming to you next week on cool Zone twenty fifty five, How to Survive the Dino Wars. It could Happen here as a production of cool Zone Media. For more podcasts from cool Zone Media, visit our website Coolzonemedia dot com or check us out on the iHeartRadio app,
Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can find sources where it Could Happen here, updated monthly at Coolzonmedia dot com slash sources. Thanks for listening