Everyone in the commune was responsible for collectively cooking dinner and lunch.
Not exact matches
Jo Freeman spent much of the 1960s living with her activist peers on
communes — including a stint as part of a women's liberation collective
in which
everyone had equal say and stature.
You wouldn't be fixing cars or be a lawyer, detist or work
in a grocery unless it was so you could provide food for yourself and
everyone else you lived with
in that
commune.
Today the young left cherish their local chapters,
communes, or particular factions,
in which
everyone has a voice and criticism is valued, like early Lenin's love for the soviets and Robespierre's exaltation of the local societies of French towns and cities.
Stop me if you've heard this one before: a gruff CIA agent who suffers from PTSD and sees re-animated corpses at random moments is ordered to travel to the UK and hire Stanley Kubrick to film a fake moon landing that the American government can use
in case the Apollo 11 mission turns out to be a tragic failure, only the agent (who is played by Ron Perlman, by the way) ends up giving a suitcase full of cash to a failed band manager and his perpetually stoned friend who looks a little bit like Stanley Kubrick, and those two idiots get robbed by the local mafia thugs right before Agent Ron Perlman realizes his mistake and threatens to kill
everyone involved — and THEN the idiotic band manager (who is played by Rupert Grint, by the way) proposes that they all head off to film the fake moon landing with the help of a artistic hippie
commune run by an egotistical dolt who can't understand why he can't put giant jellyfish on the moon.
Whether you like
communing with nature or relaxing
in luxury, there's a way for
everyone to see the park.