Boycott Nabisco

I had planned to photograph the “mega-picket” happening this morning at Nabisco. The parent company, Mondelez-Nabisco, is outsourcing jobs to Mexico. Despite billions in profits during  2020 (when people stayed home and ate cookies), the company is demanding workers consent to a standard 12-hour workday (no overtime pay), no holidays, restricted health insurance, and an end of pensions. You probably read about it in the Guardian. But yesterday’s wonderful outing to the dahlia fields led to a migraine, so instead of the picket line, you get the good news.

It started raining last night. Thus ended the worst drought in the 127 years white people have been keeping track of rainfall on the stolen indigenous land that became Portland, Oregon. It rained an inch and a quarter, and Sue and I left the windows open in her house so we could smell the rain and fall asleep (oh bliss, oh rapture) to the sound of rain. Somehow the dogwood tree in her back garden managed to bear fruit despite the long dry summer, and the leaves that had curled from heat stress are absorbing every drop of rain they can.

But seriously, boycott Nabisco. No Oreos, Chips Ahoy, Wheat Thins, Triscuits, or Belvita. Just say no.

Update: The strike is over. The workers lost. I'm still going to boycott their products.