John Kendall Hawkins

John Kendall Hawkins is an American ex-pat freelancer based in Australia.  He is a former reporter for The New Bedford Standard-Times.

Biopic? Shirley, You Jest

Democracy Chasers in a Badly Injured Nation

Legalize Equal Rights: A Singalong for Kids

Band of Brothers, Tangled Up in Blue

Turd Blossom Surfaces Again

The Coming Purge of Doppelgängers and the Palast Revolution

All Night Jazz All The Time

In Search of the Chosŏn People of Lost Korea

The Asian Pivot

The Gods of Small Things

Global Cockfights, Viruses, and the Monsters Within

We Are Movie Cameras, Lucidly Dreaming

All the Presidents’ Miens

To Be or Not to Be, That’s the Goddamn Question

Eco’s Logos and Our Willing Ears

Have You Hugged Your Copper Today?

Woody’s Wicked Levity and Wicked-er Gravity

Slavoj Žižek’s Virulent Polemic Against Covid-19, and Stuff!

An Age of Intoxication: Pick Your Poison

Corona, Corona

The Incident on King Street Remembered a Quarter of a Millennium Later

Boas’s Constructors: The Project to Remove the Stranglehold on ‘Culture’

Science and the Turf Wars of Consciousness

Just Two Kings Talking

50th Anniversary of Abbie Hoffman’s Intro to STB

The Tribute Poems of AZ and KSM

Soviet Hippies: The Grass is Greener on the Other Side

Steal This Whistle

False Profits and Anti-Christs™

The Fall or Dive of Sydney Gottlieb and Company

The Terror Report You Weren’t Meant to See

1619: The Mighty Whitey Arrives

Blowing the Whistle on the Iraq War

Treason as a Lifestyle: I’ll Drink to That

Flying Leaps, 30 Years Later

Consciousness: Just Two Guys Talking

With 2020 Hindsight, the Buffoonery Ahead

Journey to the Unknown Interior of (You)

Assange: Enema of the State

Edward Snowden, You Legend!

Towards a More Mature Democracy

Draining the Swamp, From the Beginning of Time

Slouching Toward “Bethlehem”

Changing Light Bulbs in the Cosmos with Charles Simic

Epstein-Barr Syndrome: Juris-prurience

The Chicago 8 Trial, Revisited

Toni Morrison: Beloved or Belovéd?

The Sixties Victory Lap in an Empty Arena

The Sixties: De-tripping, Yeah

All You Need is Hate