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feminism-lesbianart · 5 years ago

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バトラー『アセンブリ』オンライン読書会

■ テキスト：ジュディス・バトラー著、佐藤嘉幸、清水知子訳『アセンブリ―行為遂行性・複数性・政治―』 (青土社, 2018) http://www.seidosha.co.jp/book/index.php?id=3126 Judith Butler, Notes Toward a Performative Theory of Assembly (Harvard UP, 2015) https://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674983984

■ 日程：2020年11月23日月曜日から、月曜日と金曜日、全7回*

午後7時30分～9時30分 (日本標準時)

*2020年11月23日 (月), 27日 (金), 30日 (月), 12月4日 (金), 7日 (月), 11日 (金), 14日 (月)

■ 開催方法：Zoomミーティングを使います。

追記：資料の共有や読書会参加者同士の交流を目的としてSlack (https://slack.com/) を使用します。Slackには登録せず／参加せず、Zoomでの読書会のみ参加することも可能です。 (2020/11/17)

■ 参加費：無料

■ 申込み方法： - こちらのページから名前とメールアドレス、参加予定日 (複数選択できます) を登録してください。名前は「名」(First Name) の欄が必須項目になっています。 Zoomに参加するときの名前、またはご自身が呼ばれたい名前を入れてください。この登録フォームで主催者 (janis) だけでなくZoom社に情報が送られます。https://us02web.zoom.us/meeting/register/tZYlceGupz0uGNEBZPvgq162V6CL7U8Psb4Z - 自動でZoom社から参加リンクが送られます。各回20人くらいまで。(2020/11/30変更登録者数が多くなってきたので手動承認に切り替えました。) - 性別・性自認・性指向・国籍・学歴・障害の有無など不問。 - 分からないこと、不安な点があれば janis までメールをください。 [email protected]

■ 進め方：この読書会では、2015年に発行されたJudith Butler の Notes Toward a Performative Theory of Assemblyという本を1回1章ペース、計7回で読みます。日本語翻訳は、2018年に『アセンブリ―行為遂行性・複数性・政治―』というタイトルで佐藤嘉幸と清水知子の共訳が青土社から出ています。テキストは図書館等で借りるなどしてご自身で用意してください。

毎回最初の30分程度は内容を確認し、できるだけ何が書かれているのかを理解した上で、残りの時間で気がついたところや考えたこと、疑問に思ったことを音声と文字チャットを使用して共有します。

参加前に読み終わってなくてもかまいませんが、どの言語版でもいいので、できる範囲で少しでも予習してくると楽しいですよ。

ディスカッションは日本語（音声と文字チャット）の予定です。カメラは全員オフです。入室時は参加者のマイクをオフにします。進行は音声で、参加は文字チャットのみでもできます。

参加者の方には、各回ごとに文字チャットで自己紹介＋αをお願いします（おなまえと参加理由、加えて感想や質問があればそのときに）。

■ 企画意図 (2020/11/24追記)：

2018年夏以降、日本語圏のTwitter上で加速したトランス排除的なフェミニズ��言説は、2020年11月までに相当広範に普及してしまっています。わたしは、こうした状況への抵抗の足がかりとして、日々の騒乱から少し離れて、尊厳が脅かされない場で、すでにあるトランスやクィアのフェミニストたちの言葉を、他の人たちとともに読むことに政治的な意義があると考えています。

FLAでも2020年2-3月は米国のトランス・ポリティクスについての本を、また8月には英語圏の反トランス・フェミニズム批判の本を読みました。近年のグローバルなトランス排除的な言説の急激な増加は、とくに1990年代以降カトリック教会や右派が国境を越えて展開してきた反「ジェンダー・イデオロギー」運動とつながっているので、10月にはその現状をまとめて伝える報告会も開きました。

ところで、集会にしろ、デモにしろ、こういった催しにしろ、集まりの目的はあり、それに多くの参加者は賛同して集まります。企画者は必ず目的を表明します。FLAのような小さなグループでやるときは、そうした言葉を伝えること、インターネット上に痕跡が残ることの意義もあるでしょう。

けれども、先日の反「ジェンダー」運動についての報告会のときに60人ほどの申込者の方たちが書かれた理由からわたしが読み取ったのは、テーマそのものや内容についての関心からだけでその人たちが申し込んできていないということでした。(おそらくこの2年ほど日本語圏インターネット上で増悪しているトランス差別の影響が大きいですがそのことに限らず) いまのこの現状において何らかの切迫した事情、この報告会に時間を割くだけの事情があり、あるいはこういう機会にある集まりに参加すること自体の意味がその人にあったと考えた方が、納得がいくように思えたのです。

何か人が集うときは、その中身は当然大事だし、企画意図も大事です。企画者が誰なのかも、その空間がどういう風に運営されるのかも大事です。無視していいわけがない。けれども、人が集まること自体の意味が、そこに集まることを躊躇するときにも、それが可能ではないときにすら、やはりあるように思います。

それで、そうしたことがテーマになっている『アセンブリ』の読書会を、2020年11月にすることにしました。

今回はこの「企画意図」の部分が事前に書けず、そのために限定的にしか広報ができませんでした。第1回 (2020/11/23) はすでに終了していますが、11月24日現在まだ申込みは可能です。

■ スケジュール：

11/23 (月) 序論 Introduction

11/27 (金) 第一章　ジェンダー・ポリティクスと現れの権利 1. Gender Politics and the Right to Appear

11/30 (月) 第二章　連携する諸身体��街頭（ストリート）の政治 2. Bodies in Alliance and the Politics of the Street

12/4 (金) 第三章　不安定（プレカリアス）な生と共生の倫理 3. Precarious Life and the Ethics of Cohabitation

12/7 (月) 第四章　身体の可傷性、連帯の政治 4. Bodily Vulnerability, Coalitional Politics

12/11 (金) 第五章　「私たち人民」――集会（アセンブリ）の自由に関する諸考察 5. “We the People”—Thoughts on Freedom of Assembly

12/14 (月) 第六章　悪い生の中で良い生を送ることは可能か 6. Can One Lead a Good Life in a Bad Life?

最終更新日：2020年11月30日　手動承認に切り替え (残席わずか)、 11月24日　企画意図を追記、11月17日 Slack使用予定を追記

#study group #judith butler #notes towards a performative theory of assembly #アセンブリ #zoom meetings #queer theory #2020 #online events

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the-littlest-goblin · 4 years ago

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ooooooooh for fic prompts, could i request: essek interacting with Frumpkin, specifically playing with him (so as to impress Caleb and earn his favor a bit), but our favorite hot boi most likely did not have pets growing up and is at a bit of a loss with what to do. (bonus: Caleb sees this and thinks it's incredibly endearing)

I think you got everything you wanted. ft. my personal 'here’s how Frumpkin can still win’ headcanon.

----

This was not how familiars were supposed to work.

Essek may not have summoned one before (he’d never really understood the use of an assistant with no opposable thumbs), but he had read enough about the spell to know that this was not how familiars were supposed to behave.

Maybe that was because Frumpkin didn’t technically count as a familiar anymore.

No one knew exactly what had happened, or why. Essek and Caleb had exchanged a number of theories on the matter, but so far the best explanation still went to Beau’s conclusion: “weird fey shit.”

After Aeor and the Somnovem, when they had all finally gotten a chance to breathe again, Caleb had done some sort of ritual to more permanently banish his familiar. Essek hadn’t gotten the full context at the time, but it had something to do with symbolic closure and moving on. The cat was already gone from the Material Plane at that point, but Caleb had wanted to remove the temptation to summon him again, and so devised a sort of reversal of the Find Familiar spell.

However, upon performing the anti-summoning ritual, the cat had appeared in the ritual circle as if Caleb had cast the spell as usual. Only instead of going to his master’s side, Frumpkin had sauntered away from Caleb with a swish of his tail and gone to sit directly at Essek’s feet.

“Hmm,” Caleb had muttered, the hint of a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. “It looks like he has made a choice.”

Ever since, Caleb had been unable to banish Frumpkin, or communicate with him, or give him orders. He had seemingly lost his magical connection to, and mastery over, the cat—Frumpkin was no longer his familiar, as had been the intention. It was just that Frumpkin apparently liked the Material Plane better than the Feywild, and so refused to leave. And since Caleb had let him go, he chose a new wizard to keep him company. For the next several days they had spent recuperating and planning their next moves, Frumpkin stuck with Essek, never straying from his side for long.

But, crucially, he did not become Essek’s familiar, a lesson they had learned quickly enough. Essek didn’t even have Find Familiar in his spellbook. He couldn’t banish Frumpkin, he couldn’t communicate telepathically with him, and he certainly couldn’t give him orders.

So, Essek just had a pet cat now, one which happened to be fey in nature. Stranger things had happened—much, much stranger—so for Essek’s part, it had seemed easiest to just accept this development in stride. At times, he was even grateful for the cat’s presence.

But right now, he was very much not. At least familiars were obedient.

Essek winced against the sound of shattering glass—a sound which was becoming somewhat routine since taking up residence in these new, temporary lodgings with Frumpkin as his roommate.

Essek closed his eyes and took one deep breath before looking up from his notes to survey the damage. His gaze met Frumpkin’s round, amber eyes across the room, looking impossibly innocent where he sat primly on one of the tables which Essek had set up to house his research. His tail swished back and forth where it hung over the edge, acting like a flashing signal to point Essek’s attention down towards the starburst of broken glass glittering directly beneath him.

Mercifully, the beaker which Frumpkin had marked for termination had been holding a harmless and easily replaceable solvent, rather than any of the more valuable or dangerous liquids Essek had lying around in his provisional lab. His fingers curled protectively around the precious vial of liquid dunamis sitting next to him.

“Why?” He let the single syllable of the word stretch out into a long, bone-deep groan lasting several seconds. The question was aimed both at Frumpkin and at himself, and covered a variety of curiosities he had about the situation. Why did Frumpkin feel such a persistent desire to destroy Essek’s belongings? Why had he chosen to adhere himself to Essek in the first place, when he seemed to hold a deep disdain for everything Essek owned or did? Why was Essek incapable of learning the very simple lesson of locking the door to this makeshift lab? Why had he promised Caleb that he would take care of Frumpkin while the Mighty Nein dealt with the Assembly, instead of throwing the mangy beast out onto the streets of Port Dumali as soon as they had arrived at the safe house?

None of these were questions to which Essek was about to get any answers, so he tried another one.

“What do you want from me?”

Frumpkin blinked.

“You are still a fey being. You don’t need food or water, and as far as I understand, providing those two things are the pillars of caring for a pet. So, what else could you possibly need that requires my attention?”

Frumpkin flicked his ears.

Caleb had given Essek a brief overview of what to expect in terms of cat-care, but either he had chosen to leave out a lot of unsavory details, or decoupling from their arcane connection had put Frumpkin through a drastic personality change, because Essek had received no instructions about how to handle the kind of stalemate in which he currently found himself.

“You have my sincerest apologies, but unlike your previous master, I cannot read your thoughts, and your current methods of communication are lacking in clarity.”

Frumpkin’s tail began swishing faster. He broke eye contact with Essek to gaze intently at the row of jars lining the next table over. These were full of various concoctions, including some potentially dangerous acids, the results of Essek’s increasing boredom as he stayed hunkered down in his safe house day after day. He only ever went out for the duration of a Disguise Self to buy food or other necessary supplies; he was too noticeable to amble around the city for leisure, on the slim but ever-present risk that word of a strange drow in Port Dumali would reach the ears of Ikithon or his servants. Essek was under strict instructions to stay as hidden as possible until he got the all-clear from the Mighty Nein. With only the materials to continue his most basic experiments with dunamis, he was growing bored out of his mind.

Essek heaved another deep sigh before reluctantly abandoning his notes and gliding over to where Frumpkin had stationed himself. With a short wave of his hands, the spill vanished and the broken shards of glass floated gently into the trash bin. Then, Essek unceremoniously lifted the cat into his arms before he had the chance to wreak any more havoc, and deposited him outside the door.

Distraction removed, Essek made to turn around and return to his research, this time intending to lock the door to prevent further feline interruptions. But before he could do so, he made the mistake of looking into Frumpkin’s eyes again. The cat’s pupils gleamed, impossibly wide and round, and his tail was still swishing back and forth in an incomprehensible pattern, like some sort of code. A mixture of affection and guilt welled up in Essek, rooting to the spot.

Godsdammit, but he had promised Caleb he was going to take care of his cat, and that meant not ignoring Frumpkin when he was clearly trying to tell him something. Because even if Caleb no longer wanted a familiar to travel around with him, he still loved this damned cat, and also Essek was trying to be less callous and heartless in general.

He thought back to Caleb’s instructions with a fair bit of desperation, searching for some hint of what would make Frumpkin happy. All he came up with was a faint recollection, something about enjoying being scratched behind the ears.

“Is that all you want? Is that what you interrupted me for?” Fighting not to roll his eyes, Essek reached down for a pet.

As soon as he got close enough, Frumpkin lunged.

“Gah!” Essek snatched his hand back, nursing the sting of pain from Frumpkin’s bite. There was no blood; the little demons’s fangs hadn’t managed to break the skin. It could barely count as an injury, but the shock of betrayal hurt more than the scratch.

“What in the Nine Hells was that for?” Essek glared at Frumpkin, then noticed just in time that the cat was poised to strike again. This time, he only had to turn slightly to keep his hands out of harm's way, but Frumpkin wasn’t aiming for the exposed skin. There was a loose thread dangling from the hem of Essek’s sleeve, apparently caught by the previous attack. Frumpkin was intent on it. He flung himself at the thread, grabbing at it with his clumsy paws. It slipped through his grip, and he lunged again without hesitation.

Experimentally, Essek lifted his arm so the thread dangled higher off the ground. Frumpkin took the challenge to heart, leaping to grab it in his teeth before it slipped out of his grasp again, and he landed on the floor in defeat. Essek moved his arm over to one side, and Frumpkin followed with enthusiasm, this time managing to get the thread around one claw. The split second of resistance was enough to tear it from Essek’s sleeve. Frumpkin rolled over onto his back, victorious, batting his prize around in euphoric glee.

A grin spread across Essek’s face as he watched this display of simple delight.

“I suppose you were just bored, too. Was that it?”

Frumpkin responded by biting the string with a vengeance.

An idea began forming in the corner of his mind as he watched Frumpkin playing. Absentmindedly, Essek twisted his fingers and summoned a trace thread of dunamis into his hand, shaping and stretching it into a longer and longer cord of greyish, glowing energy, which he then dangled tantalizingly over Frumpkin’s head. The boring, non-magical string was immediately forgotten and discarded as Frumpkin caught sight of the dunamis toy. His whole body wiggling in excitement, he lunged at the cord again and again, pulling a genuine laugh out of Essek as he bobbed and weaved the magic around, dancing it out of Frumpkin’s grasp. He needed a break from his lab anyway, and this was shockingly entertaining.

---

“Well? How are they?” Just a hint of nerves colored Caleb’s voice, as it did every time they checked in on Essek. The fear that this time, the scry would reveal him not safe and sound on the Coast, far from the Trent’s reach, but somewhere cold and dark and threatening.

The faint glow faded from Jester’s eyes as the spell ended. Looking up at Caleb with a smile, she said, “You’re not going to believe this Caleb, it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

Caleb grinned back at her.

#critrole #critical role #my writing #fic prompts #the pedant in me needs to point out that Essek would definitely be wearing his anti-scrying necklace but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Anonymous

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studywithtownes · 4 years ago

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Hi! Can you recommend some books related to political science, international relations that are worth reading? Also some related to the near east? :) I am very interested in them and I would like to read a lot so that I can figure out more easily what I would like to do in the future. Thank you!!

hello anon! first and foremost, I am SO sorry this took so long! I’d love to share some of my favorite books on the subject. I’m going to toss in a few books on political theory that I especially enjoy since that’s my specialty.

International relations

Germs, Guns, and Steel by Jared Diamond (the first book I was ever assigned at UCLA!)

The Tragedy of Power Politics by John J. Mearsheimer

The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for Human Future at the New Frontier of Power by Shoshana Zuboff

Challenging Beijing’s Mandate of Heaven: Taiwan’s Sunflower Movement and Hong Kong’s Umbrella Movement by Ming-Sho Ho.

Political theory

The Leviathan’s Conscience: Hobbesian Human Nature and Moral Judgement, an article by John Branstetter

Mere Civility: Disagreement and the Limits of Tolerance by Teresa M. Bejan

Notes Toward a Performative Theory of Assembly by Judith Butler

Ancient Near East

When Women Ruled the World: Six Queens of Egypt by Kara Cooney (I am partial to any literature by Professor Cooney because she runs my department)

The Bible Unearthed by Israel Finkelstein and Neil Asher Silberman

A History of the Ancient Near East by Marc Van de Mieroop (a textbook, yes, but also SUCH a good read!)

Archaeology

The Stones Cry Out by Randall Price (my first ‘out of class’ archaeology book, found in a local thrift store)

1177 B.C.: The Year Civilization Collapsed by Eric H. Cline

Fingerprints of the Gods by Graham Hancock

#studyblr #answered anon #uniblr #book recs!#study #books #political theory #archaeology #ancient near east #international relations #foreign affairs #ucla

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ripping-out-epilogues · 4 years ago

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For whoever "we" are, we are also those who were never chosen, who emerge on this earth without everyone's consent, and who belong, from the start, to a wider population and a sustainable earth.

Judith Butler (Notes Toward a Performative Theory of Assembly)

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benjimirthursby · 4 years ago

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FFXIV Write 2021, Prompt #2, “Aberrant”

The Book of Thursby: Scions of Numenor -

"The Weakest Link, The Harkening Walls."

FFXIV Write 2021, Prompt #2, “Aberrant”

"If in the absence of any plausible alternative explanation, the most evident solution will prove the correct one.”

- Dossimir’s Posit of Likelihood

The meeting had ended with a palpable tension which was unusual unto itself. Mounting losses and strategies inexplicably frustrated, had all created a sense of urgency within the Free Companies. Outwardly the leadership remained professional and confidant. Never the less there was an edge to Benjimir’s implicit ultimatum to Bondermir. “Fix this.” he had said to Bondermir. A tinge of anger was unmistakable. Perhaps not with Bondermir but maybe a helplessness Benjimir himself felt toward being unable to guide the companies into having the upperhand. Osimira’s forte was the technocraft and engineering challenges encountered. In her annex within the Tondera Hall workshop, she had become the purveyor of crazy solutions to impossible challenges. Determining the cause of breaches in operational security was new however. A technical failure, in design or construction was simple. This was qualitative however, not quantitative. A breach was a material fact in her mind. Not a matter of people, trust, and so forth. Therefore she resolved to review all within her domain for an unforeseen oversight or error. As Osimira settled into her room of workbenches and chalkboards she set her mind to what works she had engaged with since arriving in Eorzea. She quickly focused on projects which involved any effort involving parties outside of the Free Companies. For the moment she refused to consider a breach to be likely from within the Thursby or Scions companies. Tapping notes and dossiers she remained ensconced in the workshop for several days. Soon she was reminded of a report from the Fleet arm, summing repeated aberrant performance of the Linkpearls connecting water and air borne ships of the company fleet. “Surely not.” Osimira thought. The very principles of their functions and creation would make breaching their transmissions virtually impossible. Additionally, the links, or comstones as they were often called within the company were crafted within it’s staff. “But not wholly so.” Osimira realized. “Not any longer.” Her thought process continued. The components were increasingly sourced from a vendor in Ul’Dah. The cabinets holding the base stations, tone pushers, and relay boxes came from other local crafters. Local Lalafels assembled the final devices, a Hyur owned the contract to produce them, and beyond that little was known of external points of contact. “Not an antiseptic process.” She considered. The technical and theoretical manner in which the links could have been compromised was not clear, but that was not important. Under the current circumstance the risk that it could be done was enough to require validating it hadn’t or couldn’t be.

The report logged ships, including the late Andustar under Captain Vaunter’s command, dates, and the aberrant performance observed. Most of the details were summed as audio quality issues, cross-chat across links, latent “interference” which in theory couldn’t occur. Similar issues and worse had been logged about the White Fleet upwell years prior as the Red Moon progressed through its destruction. Shards embedded in the hulls of several ships, and others since acquired lead Osimira to spend considerable time reaching the shards, culminating in a unnerving demonstration to Benjimir as others nearly a year prior.

For the next week Osimira arrayed examples of Linkpearls from across the fleet in her workshop. On several chalkboards she began mapping possible correlations between comms traffic and subsequent encounters with Garlean gunships. Breaking down by those incidents with plausible connections by those vessels with Linkpearls produced in Eorzea, the charts began to craft an increasingly clear picture. Feeling she had the root of the breeches, she summoned Benjimir and Bondermir to brief them.

“How it is possible is a theory at this point. Except it is unlikely to be within the means of the set makers. There must be another that is enabling the sets to share what is said on the links.” Osimira said to Benjimir and Bondermir. “Yet.” She added thoughtfully, her next mystery being set before her, officially or not. “That his is occurring is more important than how for now.” Benjimir said, eyes fixed on the chart sketched out on the board before him by Osimira. Lines connected boxes, laying out the chain of communications and long curved lines from an incident back to box above a list of company vessels using the Linkpearl sets built on contract in Eorzea. “We can recall the sets, stretch our remaining comstones in their place……” Bondermir began to say but Benjimir was already shaking his head. “No.” Benjimir said, turning to his brother and Osimira. “Leave the sets in place, continue to order more. But do issue our own gear directly to the commanders. Our enemy has taken its time reeling us in like fish, we will let me continue to play with his rod while we change what is on the hook.” Bondermir looked grim. “The Linkpearls? Alright, that connects the results with the breach. But how they were compromised remains an open question.” he said. Benjimir nodded. “Aye, I leave that to you to “fix.” he responded. “Miegs, my compliments and thanks. Continue your work into how this was done. Bondi, set a meeting with Commodore Chu’nyt, Capatains Vaunter, Funderwhite, Hedges and Maxwell.” Benjimir said and took his leave of Osimira. Osimira returned to her work on the Linkpearl sets. Finishing her notes as she listened to signals traffic from the Linkpearl sets on a small speaker, her writing was interrupted as she became aware of traffic. The signals were from an old Linkpearl set brought to Eorzea with them more than six years ago, it had been logged due to incident reports from near to Dalumnd’s fall. She flipped her page of notes over and began to note the cypher traffic. A few moments later in the now guarded “Tondera Watch” room the duty watch deciphered the notes. On read the results Osimira thanked the officers and walked back to her workshop.

She paused briefly outside of her workshop. “That should not be possible.” She thought. “Yet.”

*******

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

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You Set My Heart Ablaze (Pt. 23/25)

Warnings: Mentions of sexual harrassment in this chapter.

_________________

Tissaia sighed and straightened the cuffs of her shirt whilst she waited for the teachers and children to fill the school hall. It was finally the last week of term and she had news for the school. It was good news, or at least she thought so. She hoped the rest of the faculty would agree. Philippa Eilhart had emailed her this morning to confirm the results of the investigation into Stregobor and his supporters. It was now up to her to inform the rest of the school. She had hoped that Philippa would be the one to share the news but Tissaia had been left deliver it by herself, although perhaps that wasn’t a such a bad thing after all. Philippa could be quite controlling and Tissaia liked things to be done her own way. She was still bitter about the way Philippa had handled the allegations against Jaskier and Triss.

It had taken too much of Tissaia’s time to convince Philippa that a light slap on the wrist and stern words would be enough, especially with the news that Mr Marx and Mr Degerlund would be allowed to return to the school in the Autumn term. Philippa in particular had wanted Jaskier to be added to the list of suspended teachers. She’d been more lenient towards Triss but Tissaia had had compiled a folder of all the good Jaskier had done for the school and his fights for equality, especially for the LGBT community. Luckily that was a soft spot for Philippa and she’d been talked down.

She closed her eyes as the air filled with the hustle and bustle of assembly. It was always too loud until she started to speak but she never felt right to demand silence until it was time to begin. Eventually the last class filtered in, Jaskier’s class. The teacher gave her a sheepish smile and found his seat at the old school piano.

“Good morning!” She called loudly to gather everyone’s attention. The students drawled back her greeting slowly and then settled down, silence finally falling over the room. “Today is the last assembly of the school year, which I’m sure you are all pleased about.”

There was an excited murmur of agreement from both staff and students.

“Now I know you’re all excited about the holidays but I expect everyone to try their best for the last couple of days. I’m sure if you’re lucky your teachers will have some fun classes lined up, but there’s still no excuse to misbehave.” She reminded everyone sharply. “Before we get to the singing. I have a couple of announcements that I would like to say first.” She glanced at Jaskier who furrowed his brow but nodded.

“Firstly, I know there has been speculation regarding Mr Ban-Ard’s departure earlier in the school year.”

Another round of chatter from the school hall.

“I can confirm that Mr Ban-Ard will not be joining us again in September. I’m sure you will all wish him the best for the future but unfortunately, the headmaster will not be back to say his own goodbyes.”

Tissaia didn’t wish Stregobor the best for the future but it was better for the children to be shielded from the truth of the matter. Some of the older students would guess but the younger ones could live in ignorant bliss. She took a moment to survey the hall. The teachers seemed relieved by the news and the older year groups were chattering excitably as they swapped theories and ideas. Tissaia smiled at her students.

“I have been asked to take his place as permanent headmistress.” She laughed. “However, as honoured as I am to have been offered the role, I miss being able to take more time teaching my students. So I will be back to my usual role by September. I am sure you will give a very warm welcome to whoever replaces me.

Secondly, Mr Marx and Mr Degerlund, as I am sure you all know have also been absent since March, will be returning in September. I’d like to thank Mr Fidháil and Mr Ermion for their dedication and hard work these last few months. It’s been wonderful to have you on the staff.”

The two teachers smiled serenely and nodded back at her. She would be sad to see them go. Mousesack in particular had become a good friend to her in the short time they’d known each other. She hadn’t warmed up to Filavandral quite as much but she knew that Francesca would miss him, they’d been thick as thieves the entire time he’d been at the school.

“And now, Mr Pankratz, if you will?” She smiled at the year two teacher who’d been brushing dust off the keys at either end of the piano.

He grinned. “I thought you’d never ask, Ms de Vries.”

He placed fingers on keys and all the students scrambled to find the right page in the scruffy song books that were shared between two or three people.

Soon enough assembly drew to a close, Jaskier playing everyone out with a jazzy version of one the choral pieces they’d sang. The last assembly of the year was finished and hopefully the last one Tissaia would have to lead for a long time. Maybe when she was older she would revisit the idea of promotion but for now she was happy with her art class.

The keys of the piano thunked as the last student left the hall and Jaskier scurried over to her.

“Ms de Vries!” He called, pulling his music satchel over his shoulder, the sheets of paper stuffed haphazardly into their slots.

Tissaia crossed her hands in front of her and waited for the young teacher to catch up. “Mr Pankratz?”

He tugged at the strap of his satchel and tossed his fringe from his eyes. “Hi, yes. Umm. Quick question?”

Tissaia rolled her eyes. “Spit it out, Jaskier.”

He smiled nervously and shuffled awkwardly on the balls of his feet. “Yes, good. You see I never actually got an answer to my question a few weeks ago? And with summer coming up…”

He trailed off and chewed at his lower lip. Tissaia sighed. He seemed so much younger than her, when did she begin to feel so old?

“Triss said you’d moved on, Jaskier.” She frowned at the bundle of anxious energy in front of her.

Jaskier laughed brightly, too brightly. Tissaia narrowed her eyes at the younger teacher. He had been happier recently, in fact after a rather sullen March and April, he’d almost completely turned around at the beginning of May. She’s assumed Triss’s explanation of him moving on had been correct but now she wasn’t too sure. He was too invested in summer, in being able to resume his friendship with Geralt and his colleagues. It wasn’t just because he wanted to hang out with Triss and Eskel, or Yen and Istredd.

It was Geralt.

It had always been Geralt.

“Of course I’ve moved on!” Jaskier insisted, speaking so quickly it was a miracle that he wasn’t tripping up over his words.. “It was just a crush, and Melitele knows how fast I get through crushes.”

“Philippa would say that nothing changes during the summer.” Tissaia noted, watching the light fall from Jaskier’s eyes. “But I would suggest that there is no reason not to be friends with your friend’s friend.”

Jaskier beamed brighter than the sun. “Oh that is excellent news!”

“And…” She continued with a smirk. “If you were to get to know the aforementioned friend over summer and sparks were to fly, then that is hardly any concern of the school.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to say something but Tissaia cut him off.

“Hypothetically speaking of course.”

He nodded. “Oh, of course. Right. Yes. Hypothetical, and hypothetically speaking I would be forever grateful for your support, Tissaia.”

She laughed. “Now get a move on. Those year twos won’t teach themselves. Are they ready for the end of year concert tonight?”

Jaskier nodded and preened like a peacock. “Naturally, they do have the best musician as their form tutor.”

“Run along, Mr Pankratz.” Tissaia said firmly.

He nodded again and pulled his satchel back up his shoulder before hurrying out of the school hall.

She sighed and shook her head as she watched him go with a smile. He was a chaotic mess at times but she really rather fond of him. He did brighten up the whole school with his charm and his music and his infectious enthusiasm.

It seemed even her stone cold heart wasn’t entirely immune to the charms of Jaskier Pankratz.

______________

The end of term concert was probably one of Tissaia’s least favourite events of the year. The kids were enthusiastic of course but most of them sorely lacked any musical talent. Her poor ear drums suffered every year. The school’s main music teacher, Ms Metz, would be leading the entire school in a short set of songs and then each year group would perform their own act. Some of the year groups performed poetry readings, some short skits, and some preferred music. It mostly depended on the teachers in charge of the year group. The year twos for example had performed a short song with actions whilst Jaskier played guitar every year since he’d joined the school.

The children were all chattering loudly in the dining hall where they were gathered. The parents, those who wanted to join the festivities, were crammed into the school hall, waiting for the show to start. The rowdiness was giving her a headache, as it always did, but unfortunately this year she could not hide out in her classroom until it was time for her year group.

Yet another reason to not become the headmistress of Dol Blathanna School.

She clapped her hands. “Settle down!” She called over the noise.

The chattering continued. She sighed and cleared her throat.

“QUIET!” She yelled with as much dignity as she could manage.

The school hall fell silent, finally.

“Now, I know the older students have probably heard this a half a dozen times before, but please listen carefully.” She let her words settle over the hundreds of pairs of eager eyes watching her. “It may not feel like it now, but I promise you that the noise from this room does carry to the main hall so please try and keep it down whilst the other year groups are performing. You’ve all worked incredibly hard on your acts so I expect you to respect each other and be quiet when it is not your turn to perform. You did well in rehearsals and I know you can do even better tonight for your parents and guardians.”

There was an excitable murmur from her audience and she gave them what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Year ones, twos and threes, you will be going home after all three year groups have performed at the first short interval. Please do not leave the premises without your form tutors knowing. This is for your own safety. Year fours, I know this will be the first time your year group has stayed for the whole evening. It will seem long but please remember to stay quiet and respect the other acts.”

There was a slight groan from the year fours. It was always hardest on that year group. They were used to a much shorter evening and they were normally overtired by the end of the night.

“Listen to your teachers and be kind to each other, but, most importantly.” She smiled widely at the students. “Enjoy yourselves. This should be a fun evening and a chance to show off to your parents and guardians. Now on with the show!”

She turned away from the students and let the smile fall from her face with a tired sigh. To the gods she couldn’t wait until the school had a full-time head teacher again.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned round to see Triss beaming at her.

“You did well, Tissaia.” Triss said softly.

“Thank you, Triss.” Tissaia answered in a low whisper so the children wouldn’t hear. “I can’t say I’ll be sorry to let all of this go.”

Triss shrugged. “It suits you. I understand why you didn’t take the promotion but the role suits you.”

Tissaia sighed. “Maybe in a few years time I’ll reconsider. Philippa was disappointed when I didn’t take it.”

Triss laughed and Tissaia couldn’t help but smile. Triss had always had an infectious laugh. It wasn’t necessarily the most traditionally beautiful of laughs, she had a tendency to snort, but it was so joyful that it always made those around her smile and join in with the laughter.

“Thank you.” She repeated and gripped her friends arm. She wasn’t much of a hugger but she knew that Triss would understand.

“Anytime, Tissaia.”

Tissaia tugged at her sleeves and brushed down her skirt. It was show time.

__________________

Tissaia’s ears were ringing from all the singing. The year threes had just finished their performance and now it was time for the younger groups to meet up with their adults and go home. This would allow more space for some of the parents from the older year groups to filter into the hall as the younger ones left. It probably wasn’t the most efficient way of running their end of year concert but it was tradition. She had considered changing it this year, taking the whole day off classes, instead of just the afternoon. Typically they had a whole school rehearsal in the afternoon but could have been swapped to the morning and the concert could have taken place in the afternoon instead of after school.

It was too late now.

And she wasn’t one to mess with school tradition.

The younger children were now squealing excitably as they tried to find their adults. She caught Filavandrel’s eyes from across the room. He looked as exhausted as she felt. She often wondered why the man had become a primary school teacher. He didn’t particularly seem to enjoy the company of younger children, much like Yennefer, but he had been a life saver this term whilst Mr Marx was away so she didn’t like to question it too much.

She glanced around to where Jaskier was flailing his arms about and chattering excitably with his class. She shook her head fondly. He was almost the opposite of Filavandrel. The young teacher was too much like his children at times. She drifted closer so she could listen in to his conversation with his class. She was impressed by the confidence with which he now signed for Dara. At the beginning of the term he could barely sign and talk at the same time, he had a habit of sticking his tongue out whilst he concentrated and his words often trailed off as he focused on his hands.

Now he signed almost without thinking. She’d caught him doing it in the staffroom a couple of times before he realised and had to sit on his hands.

“Honestly, I know I say this every year, but I think you guys are my best class yet!” He grinned, his eyes were almost twinkling with excitement. Jaskier was probably on an adrenaline high just like his kids. “I am so proud of every single one of you. You were brilliant out there! Yes Marilka, even you. Stop looking so grumpy. I promised no one even noticed you trip… except me of course.”

Tissaia smirked as he fumbled over his mistake.

“You know what. I’m going to bring you all cake tomorrow! Just don’t tell your parents.” He winked and the whole class giggled. “Now, I remember there were no nuts for you Kayleigh, Iskra you can’t have gluten right?”

One of the dark haired girls nodded with a wide smile.

“Any other allergies? No? Well I’ll check with Ms Merigold just to make sure.” He licked his lips and tossed his fringe from his eyes. “Now! Who can see their adults?”

The kids all yelled loudly. Jaskier winced and covered his ears. “Inside voices!” He laughed with a wide wave of his arms.

Tissaia noticed Geralt and Yennefer approach before Jaskier did and she shuffled slightly closer, not wanting to miss this particular interaction.

“DAD!” Ciri screamed.

“Ah, Geralt!” Jaskier blushed, but Tissaia supposed that could have been blamed on the heat of the room.

“Mr Pankratz.” Geralt smirked as he wrapped his arms around Ciri’s shoulders. The young girl had launched herself at her father like an arrow leaving a bowstring.

“Buttercup.” Yennefer raised an eyebrow at him but Tissaia could see the smile her young friend was hiding.

“Mum!” Ciri extracted herself from her father’s arms and clung to Yennefer instead.

“Hello, Princess.” Yennefer cooed. “Did Geralt do this?” She pulled at the intricate braid that fell down Ciri’s back.

“Yup!” Ciri grinned. “We practiced with Roach at the weekend but Dad said I couldn’t have flowers tonight.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier chided with an affectionate smile. “No flowers? Shame on you.”

Geralt glowered at Ciri’s teacher but Tissaia smirked at the matching blushes the pair of them now shared.

“Maybe next time.” Geralt grumbled.

“Mr Pankratz?” Another parent interrupted the discussion so Geralt and Yennefer guided Ciri towards the exit.

Tissaia didn’t miss the way Jaskier’s eyes lingered on Geralt even whilst talking to Mistle’s mother, and Geralt looked back at Jaskier more than once. Tissaia saw Yennefer roll her eyes and say something in Geralt’s ear before pulling away from Ciri and gracefully gliding across the room towards Istredd.

Tissaia tilted her head as she watched her two oldest friends talk. They were standing closer than she would have expected, more than once Istredd’s finger brushed against Yennefer’s wrists.

She scoffed. Yennefer had kept that quiet. She would have to ask her about it when they next all went to dinner or the pub. She’d heard from Jaskier’s outburst in her office that the pair were seeing each other again but that was three weeks ago and Tissaia had, perhaps wrongfully, assumed they would have split up by now. Yennefer had an unfortunate habit of pushing those who cared for her away. When things got too serious she would lash out to protect her own heart, and especially given her long history with Istredd, Tissaia was surprised to see that things appeared to be working out alright.

After about ten minutes or so most of the younger children had either left or joined their parents to watch older siblings so it was time to start again.

She sighed as she stepped back up onto the stage.

Would this evening ever end?

_____

#the witcher #geraskier #tissaia de vries #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #Yennefer of Vengerberg #modern au #yennefer/istredd #wolfie's witcher writing

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sunlitgame · 7 months ago

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Notes Toward a Performative Theory of Assembly, by Judith Butler

#Notes Toward a Performative Theory of Assembly #judith butler #politics #mp #usa

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sputnikodin · 4 years ago

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judith butler, notes toward a performative theory of assembly

#my readings

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niqhtlord01 · 6 years ago

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“The Gamer”

SCP-6767, also known as “The Gamer” or “Markiplier”, has been an unusual subject for the foundation.

The foundation became aware of SCP-6767 shortly after the creation of the online video sharing service known as “Youtube”. SCP-6767 identified itself as “markiplier” and ran a channel on youtube which included playing video games, both recent and vintage, and giving commentary as well as humorous reactions.

At first the foundation did not consider SCP-6767 to be an SCP but an average human, but as the years began passing by this line of thinking became more difficult to maintain as SCP-6767 began rapidly growing a sizable following of loyal followers that followed his every word.

Concerns quickly began rising as whenever SCP-6767 would ask their followers to support a cause the overflow of support was of such staggering vastness that it shattered records leading several members in the foundation to believe SCP-6767 had some sort of mind controlling ability. The board began wondering what would happen if SCP-6767 asked their followers, now some 24 million people around the globe, to perform more nefarious acts such as robbing banks or overthrowing a country’s government.

As SCP-6767 began emerging as a leading figure for Youtube and was receiving considerable sponsorship the foundation decided it was time to act. In the dead of night a strike team was sent to apprehend SCP-6767. The team easily swarmed the current residence of SCP-6767 and were able to sedate the SCP before they awoke. The team then bagged and tagged SCP-6767 and returned with him to the foundation.

SCP-6767 was believed to lack any supernatural strength and was placed inside a class D containment cell. The following day SCP-6767 began recovering and began reacting to their new surroundings with surprising calmness and believed this to be some sort of joke. When questioned by foundation staff SCP-6767 would only remark how humorous the situation was and that they needed to get home for a charity event he was hosting.

Things did not escalate until shortly before reaching the 24hr mark of the containment of SCP-6767. SCP-6767 began to act increasingly frustrated and aggravated as they continued to state that they needed to get home for a charity stream and that people were counting on him. There were no clocks present in the cell and yet somehow SCP-6767 was still able to know the exact time. Foundation staff were sent in to calm the subject down and continue questioning and it was at exactly 24 hours after the initial team had obtained SCP-6767 that things went out of hand.

As foundation researchers along with a pair of security personnel entered SCP-6767′s cell SCP-6767 rushed the three of them. SCP-6767 was quickly able to grab the level 2 key card from the researcher as well as a baton from one of the security personnel before escaping into the hallway. SCP-6767 then used the newly acquired key card and sealed the three personnel inside the cell and began making their way to the exit.

At this time it is still unknown how SCP-6767 knew where the exit was located in the facility as they were fully sedated when they were brought in, but upon observing the footage of the event it appears as if SCP-6767 was following some sort of predetermined way points only they could see and that were leading them.

Additional security personnel were sent to secure SCP-6767 and as if sensing the additional threats SCP-6767 quickly hid inside a nearby office and locked themselves in. Several security personnel assembled outside the door and attempted to force the door open. Two of the guards smash into the door together and open it shortly followed by the rest of the guards.

Shortly after they storm in the room only one security personnel stumbles back into the hallway as the sounds of intense screams can be heard from inside the room.

It appears that SCP-6767 had found the room which held SCP-330 and SCP-1499 and again somehow was able to understand the significance of them. SCP-6767 positioned the table holding 330 to be just in front of the door into the office so as soon as the guards stormed in they knocked over the table causing them all to instantly die. Before the remaining guard could react SCP-6767 rushed them and put SCP-1499 on them sending them to another dimension before continuing towards the exit. Despite several more attempts by security personnel authorized to kill on sight, SCP-6767 was still able to either bypass, defeat, or neutralize everything in their path. Higher level staff were beginning to consider the self destruct option for the base as SCP-6767 neared ever closer to the exit when the strangest thing happened. SCP-6767 entered a cafeteria and began rummaging through all the contents present in the room as if searching for something when they noticed a researcher cowering in the corner. This level 2 researcher had not been able to reach a secure room when the lock down was initiated and had been hiding in the cafeteria. SCP-6767 approached the researcher when they spied something on the ground and stopped. They reached down and picked up a gameboy classic which with a copy of the original red version of Pokemon. The device was owned by the researcher who had been playing it during her lunch break. SCP-6767 commented how they loved the game and that it was a classic to the female researcher who was still frozen in fear and could only nod. SCP-6767 asked if they could take a turn playing it to which the researcher agreed, SCP-6767 then calmly sat down at a cafeteria table and began playing it, fully entranced by the game. During this time the researcher worked up the courage to sit at the same table and begin asking SCP-6767 several questions. “How are you able to know where the exit is?” “Oh, that’s easy. I got a nav point directing me to the exit. Personally I’d like it turned off for more realism but sometimes you just don’t care and roll with it.” “How did you know what the SCP’s you found could do?” “You didn’t see the info screen that popped up next to them when you look at them?” “Why are you not afraid of the armed guards?” “Please lady, I’ve beaten dark souls. Some goons with guns are hardly scary.” Her final question was with regards to why SCP-6767 enjoyed gaming so much to which they replied that gaming has immense power that the world is only now coming to realize. Power to help not only individuals going through tough times but also bring people together for a common goal. He explained he was in a rush to get home because he had a charity stream he was hosting that he could not miss. It was at this point the researcher made a deal with SCP-6767. In exchange for returning to their cell, the foundation would provide SCP-6767 with any game or gaming system they required along with recording equipment and near flawless internet speed. SCP-6767 paused and then agreed to the deal. They then stood up and returned to their original cell and released the previously trapped staff. Final Analysis: It is well believed that SCP-6767 has some form of heightened cognitive abilities that far surpass the average human. Additionally, it is frustratingly obvious that SCP-6767 is fully capable of leaving the facility at anytime they choose and only remain so long as they are provided with games to play. Security Personnel: When handling SCP-6767 all security staff are required to keep at least one copy of a game on their person. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT attempt to contain SCP-6767 via force if they should enter into an enraged state. SCP-6767 will consider you a hostile threat and deal with you appropriately. In such an event security personnel are ordered to present SCP-6767 with their game copy and calmly ask them to return to their cell. In the event staff do not have a game to offer staff is instructed to step out of the way of SCP-6767. SCP-6767 will not attack those it does not register as a threat and will ignore you as it makes its way to the exit of the facility. Supernatural analysis: It appears that there is some force, either generated by SCP-6767 itself or by some other unknown entity, that creates situations for SCP-6767 to navigate seemingly impossible circumstances. After being locked in a room for 24 hours without a new game SCP-6767 became enraged and began their escape. Despite the door to the cell being three inches of reinforced steel, the hinges of the cell door suddenly began loosening as SCP-6767 continually rammed the door until the door fell off completely. When a d class test subject was instructed to attempt to stab SCP-6767 while they were playing a indie game, SCP-106 appeared out of thin air and grabbed hold of the test subject and then vanished with them. Some have considered that the other SCP’s are somehow drawn to protect SCP-6767 against their free will, but when SCP-6767 is asked to navigate around other SCP’s the other SCP’s show no signs of loyalty to SCP-6767 and will actively attempt to murder him. The current theory is that the protection around SCP-6767 only activates when placed in unfair and unwinnable situations. When there is even the smallest chance of SCP-6767 being able to complete a task without help this protection remains off, no matter how small the chance is. (Note from writer: I wrote this because I am a fan of Markiplier and get a kick out of him when he’s playing games and the effort he puts in to use his fame to help other people. I work in the gaming industry myself to a degree and it always brings a smile to my face seeing gamers smile and react happily to games. Also, I can’t help but laugh when he’s running for his life during SCP games XD I don’t know Mariplier personally and just made this as a fan tribute to the man. If he doesn’t approve of how I depicted him and wants this post taken down I will respect his wishes and remove the post entirely.)

#SCP Foundation #markiplier #youtube #video games

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thecomicsnexus · 6 years ago

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Watchmaker

WATCHMEN #4 DECEMBER 1986 BY ALAN MOORE, DAVE GIBBONS AND JOHN HIGGINS

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

On Mars, Dr. Manhattan drops the photograph of himself and Janey Slater on the Martian soil and revisits various turning points in his life.

In August 7th of 1945, a sixteen-year-old Jon Osterman is in the middle of assembling a watch when his father, a watch-maker, shows him the news of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. Confronted with the undeniable facts of the theory of relativity, the elder Osterman declares his profession outdated and throws his son's watch-making parts out the windows, urging Jon to instead pursue a career studying nuclear physics. Jon does so in which he attended Princeton University in 1948, and graduating with a Ph.D in atomic physics in 1958.

By 1959, Jon is employed at Gila Flats in Arizona, where experiments are being performed concerning the 'intrinsic fields' of physical objects. He meets Professor Milton Glass, his colleague Wally Weaver, and his love interest Janey Slater. During a trip to New Jersey, Jon and Janey visit an amusement park. There, Janey's watchbrand breaks and is accidentally stepped on by a fat man. Jon decide to fix the watch and finally consummate his relationship with Janey.

One month later, on August, shortly after his thirtieth birthday, Jon plans to give Janey the repaired watch, only to discover he has left it in his lab coat which is inside the intrinsic field experiment test chamber. When retrieving his coat inside the chamber, he is accidentally lock in. Once Professor Glass and the others found Jon, they are shocked and horrified. Glass tells John that the chamber's door has locked automatically and the generators have already began warming up to begin an experiment: removing the intrinsic field from cell block fifteen. Jon is locked in and the door cannot be open or override the countdown. Jon could only accept death and examines the watch he has put back together while his colleagues - except Janey, who cannot bear to see the last moment and flees the room - watch in horror as the countdown reaches zero. Jon is disintegrated in a flash of light.

A month later, a series of strange events occur at Gila Flats involving the apparitions of a disembodied human circulatory nervous system, a circulatory, and a muscled skeleton which last for seconds. The residents believed the facility to be haunted until on November 22nd, Jon returns as a tall, hairless, naked, blue-skinned man with incredible abilities. Jon return to his life with Janey, but remains somewhat emotionless and distant among his peers.

A year later, on February 1960, the American government recruited Jon as their military asset and touted him before the public as "Dr. Manhattan," the first super-hero. He is also provided with a costume which he grudgingly accepts, though he refuses to accept the icon design which is provided for him (this being a stylized orbital model of the atom). Instead, Jon chooses as his emblem a representation of a hydrogen atom, whose simplicity he declares to be something that kindles his respect; accordingly, he painlessly burns the mark into his forehead. Despite being considered America's greatest weapon, Jon wasn't able to prevent certain disasters such as the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, even though he is aware it is going to happen as he meets the President.

By 1966, during the first and only meeting of the Crimebusters, Jon fell in love with the then sixteen-year-old Silk Spectre, Laurie Juspeczyk, and bitterly ending his marriage with Janey. By 1970, Jon's true name is revealed to the public as his father had passed away in 1969 and there is no reason to conceal it.

In 1971, Jon was requested by President Richard Nixon in intervening in the Vietnam War alongside the Comedian. Within two months, the United States had won the war and forever tipping the balance of the Cold War in the West's favor. In 1975, Nixon proposed a new constitutional amendment that would allow the President to have an extended term in office. Amidst all this, Adrian Veidt publicly reveal his identity as Ozymandias and announcing his retirement from costumed heroics. Veidt invited Jon and Laurie to visit his Antarctic retreat Karnak. During a conversation between Veidt and Jon, the world have radically changed since the last fifteen years from quantum physics to transportation all thanks to Jon.

During the Police Strike of 1977, Jon and Laurie handled the riots in Washington, D.C. in which the former dispelled the rioters by teleporting them back to their homes. This caused two people to suffered heart attacks. Following the riots, the U.S. government passed an emergency bill (the Keene Act) proposed by Senator Keene which made vigilantism illegal and exempting registered adventurers such as Jon and the Comedian. Laurie and Dan Dreiberg retired their identities of Silk Spectre and Nite Owl, while Rorschach remains active in which he respond his feelings towards compulsory retirement by leaving a note on the dead body of a multiple rapist outside police headquarters. In 1985, Jon recalls walking in New York with Laurie and buying a Time magazine commemorating Hiroshima Week, and finally the events that lead him to leave for Mars.

Jon construct a giant, glass structure that rises from the soil while wondering if events had gone differently if he didn't become Dr. Manhattan. He then stands on the balcony of his structure to watch a meteorite shower.

DR. MANHATTAN: SUPER-POWERS AND SUPERPOWERS

In his book Doctor Manhattan, Super Powers and the Superpowers, Professor Milton Glass, the director of Gila Flats and sponsor of Dr. Manhattan, discuss his misgivings of Dr. Manhattan. Prof. Glass dispel the myth that he was the one who came up with the popular phrase "The superman exists and he's American" that described Manhattan in his public appearance by the American media. He instead said the chilling quote "God exist and he's American."

Glass states that the god-like Manhattan proved valuable as a pawn for the United States, in which his powers would allow him in defending the country from Soviet retaliation with ease and arguably forcing the Soviets to never risk a full-scale global conflict. Despite Manhattan's presence which have curbed Soviet adventurism, this does not spell global peace but only to exacerbate the Cold War.

To understand the mindset of the Soviet Union, Glass looks to the Russians' contributions in the Second World War and conclude that the Soviets would do anything to protect their nation from threats such as Manhattan no matter what the cost. This is supported by the sharp increase of Soviet and American nuclear stockpiles since the advent of Manhattan and making the possibility of Mutually Assured Destruction. Unfortunately, the Nixon administration does not share Prof. Glass' concerns and have become intoxicated with having a superhuman being to continually promote American interests unopposed.

Aside from affecting the international sense, Manhattan had also changed the domestic sense in which he contributed advanced technology such as electric cars and clean, economical airships. Thus, human culture have contort itself to accommodate Manhattan. Glass conclude that "We are all of us living in the shadow of Manhattan."

REVIEW

Some things work in Watchmen, that shouldn’t. One of those cases is this issue. It looks like a big departure from the murder mystery of the first issue, but all the story elements introduced here are essential to understand “the plan”.

This is also one of the chapters of Watchmen you will remember.

The script for this comic is filled with little gems, and paired with the art it takes into a different level. It is hard to tell how much Moore or Gibbons is in the art. Moore’s scripts are too detailed, but every now and then, Gibbons would improvise over the less detailed panels. Details may be Moore’s script, but the vision and everything we remember, comes from Gibbons.

This issue also explains why history on this Earth is so different than ours. This would be later explored in Tom Strong (by Alan Moore and Chris Sprouse), where the existence of a super-hero changes history (in that case it’s a more classic super-hero).

To be continued...

#alan moore #dave gibbons #john higgins #watchmen #dc comics #comics #review #1986 #modern age #doctor manhattan #vertigo comics

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dustedmagazine · 6 years ago

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The Residents — Not Available: pREServed Edition (Cherry Red)

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It’s strange, elusive and problematic on multiple levels, and yet, somehow, it works. However available it was originally supposed to be, the Residents Not Available has now been given the pREServed edition treatment. Much ink and speculation have been lavished, sometimes wasted, on the origins of this most enigmatic of Residents albums. Typical of the pREServed editions, the liner notes provide many of these details in an off-hand and humorously glib stream of half-reminiscence, obfuscation and mythological rehashing befitting the now-legendary status of the group and of the album as a document of the Residents’ so-called “theory of obscurity.” Very briefly and certainly oversimply, it stated that the music, recorded in 1974 following Meet the Residents, was not meant to be released until the group had forgotten about it, thereby ensuring artistic integrity, as great art is birthed by obscurity. Meanwhile, the Eskimo album was experiencing delays, and some speculate that Not Available was released as a stopgap. Whatever the truth may be, what was supposed to be the second Residents album has taken on a life of its own as a defining point of the group’s early maturity.

If there is a plot, it is as circuitous but weirdly palpable as the album is almost but not quite disjointed. One of the points of fascination in the liners involves reference to a possible love triangle in the Residents’ personal lives, of interest only as it seems to relate directly to Not Available’s “program.” For those unfamiliar, five rather hazy characters (a young girl, the Catbird, the Porcupine, the Enigmatic Foe and uncle Remus) and a chorus engage in dialogue and commentary simultaneously more simplistic but just as abstractly poignant as anything on Carla Bley and Paul Haines’ Escalator Over the Hill. The problem with dismissing the libretto — and in a way, Not Available prefigures so many of the Residents’ future dramatic concerns — as a bit of humor or obscure whimsy is that its subject matter quirkily plumbs the depths of human experience. As the Enigmatic Foe nearly remonstrates enigmatically but firmly in the second part: “There’s causes that haven’t been given a principle. Need I say more?” Toward the same movement’s end, Uncle Remus orates in a Southern drawl, “The achin’ and the breakin’ are the makin’ of the soul,” to which the chorus replies, “… for who is left is just a few, can two be more than three?” Each character is given a distinct voice and method of delivery. The Porcupine whines and ultimately weeps its lines in a way that is both over the top and disturbing, while there is something oddly comforting about Uncle Remus’ pronouncements and sleezy in the Catbird’s raspy falsetto. The music, blending orchestral textures, improv bordering on “new thing” freedom and primitive electronics, is assembled with obvious care. Judging by the splices, it’s disjointed metrics are a consideration rather than constituting lapses in judgement. We are given what sounds like a vinyl transfer, and if that isn’t the case, the original mix is certainly used instead of the rather larger-than-life CD incarnations. All this is for the better, as instrumental and dynamic relationships are more in scale as the music plunges, herky-jerks and syrups its simple but complex way forward.

For those who grew up on the album, the plentiful bonus material will be the real draw. The concert and rehearsal tracks alone, filling out the first disc, present the Residents’ musical trajectory distilled. Compare 1982 rehearsal for “Ship’s a-goin’ Down” with its 1986 performance counterpart to hear the infiltration of samples over those four critical years. Both takes are slow, almost dreamy, compared to the more urgent album rendering, and on the 1986 version, what sounds like the late and deeply missed Snakefinger’s gorgeous and harmonically evasive guitarwork underpins the sampled counterpoint. The 2014 performance of the “Morning Glories” section refines effect as koto and guitar that sounds remarkably Snakefingeresque bolster the Porcupine’s text, though it’s not sobbed but crooned, in more recent Residents fashion. As the text summarizes, “The open and the broken have begun to blend again.”

The second disc isn’t so much an alternate version of the album as a deconstruction with alternate titles. “Ron De-Voo” kicks things off by exposing the bass line, trumpet, clarinet and saxophone work in a way that hints at the potential for a best-of-all-possible-worlds remix, while “Theme from X (with Roman Overtones)” accentuates the thundering piano and bass in a way that demonstrates just how sensitive the group was to detail. Other tracks elucidate what might have been, such as the double-tracked “young girl” or the sexually charged alternate text to the “morning Glories” section, intoned amidst glittery percussion. There’s also evidence that the harp, saved for the final drone of the epilogue, was much more integral to the music’s construction, especially the first part.

The reassessment afforded by these fragments present a vision in flux, a vision demonstrating that whatever its foibles, humorous bits and zaniness, the album was a statement into which time and care were invested. In a way, 1976’s Third Reich and Roll was a more fitting followup to Meet the Residents as it inhabited the world of parodic humor cultivated on the group’s infamous debut. Not Available would have constituted a move away from that kind of parody, maybe one for which the group itself was not quite prepared. It’s a bold move away from the subversive humor of the earliest material, humor that would never be entirely absent from the band’s aesthetic but rechanneled through weightier matters from Eskimo and the Mole trilogy onward. This set, the most thorough excavation of Not Available we’re likely to hear, effectively opens the window on process and product, illuminating both.

#residents #not available #preserved edition #cherry red #marc medwin #albumreview #dusted magazine

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diloph · 6 years ago

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Pardon me, but it seemed from some of your posts on KOTM that you didn't like Mark Russell that much. I know he was a cliche everyman type, but what exactly made him any worse than others in these movies?

I apologise if this isn’t my most coherent answer. I’m a little bit stressed at the moment, trying to finish the next chapter of IIID and create relevant, if poorly assembled memes before the Invader Zim movie is released.

To be honest, some of it is a bit tongue-in cheek. Making fun of the most visible character in the film, considering that he hates Godzilla with a burning passion, is just a little bit of fun. It’s like how I refer to Rick Stanton with disdain sheerly because he’s somewhat based on Rick Sanchez, who I don’t dislike either.

The film isn’t about Mark: King of the Fathers anyway, so if I completely despised him, I could just zone out during his scenes, or skip them when the DVD comes out.

But… some of it wasn’t so jokey. He’s still an okayish protagonist, I’ve got nothing against the actor himself and his acting is fine. Still, Mark was loud, abrasive and hated Godzilla; you know, things that grate on my nerves when it comes to a 2+ hour Godzilla movie and that made the character… trying.

We’ve had them before, but Godzilla was generally more villainous and obviously, we feel sympathy and camaraderie with him as the title character and we are here to see him do cool things. Having a human protagonist who hates our cool monster protagonist makes sense in universe, but ultimately, it’s not what we’re here for. We can tune that out.

As for what makes me dislike Mark… for starters, he’s kind of a prick. I once saw somebody describe him as the type of guy who thinks that if he speaks loudly enough, shouts enough, he’ll get his way. I can’t say I blame them, in that first meeting with MONARCH, he’s downright hostile.

He’s also, for whatever reason, the guy that everybody turns to in the crisis. He might have a background in bioacoustics like his ex-wife and animal behaviour besides, but apparently nobody else at MONARCH is capable of doing things without the express instructions or approval of everyman Indiana Jones. Military procedures, common sense, the desperate plan to revive Godzilla; everybody seems to defer to him really quickly.

It took me out of the movie. I understand that he’s meant to be our relatable protagonist, but it’s a little bit jarring and it happens multiple times. Mark is either issuing instructions or is along where he shouldn’t be, given control of a situation where by all rights he shouldn’t have any other than spur of the moment hero stuff.

It’s like he believes that nobody has any common sense and frustratingly, a couple of times the narrative agrees with him or at least proves his actions right. For example, when Colonel Foster tries to brief MONARCH on the actions of Jonah and the terrorists, he shoots down her theory and proceeds to go on a rant as to why we should Destroy All Monsters.

He’s right, as Jonah wants to free King Ghidorah, but he has this frustrating “protagonist only” habit of noticing threads that other characters really should (nobody seems to notice that the Titans are attacking capital cities or at least very densely populated areas until he points it out), then speaks about it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Which when MONARCH is meant to be staffed with scientists of multiple disciplines veers back into the incredulous. I can suspend disbelief when it comes to giant monsters, I don’t excuse people not seeing what’s in front of them.

And as for the moments where he really shouldn’t be issuing instructions, take a look at when Rodan is freed by Emma Russell. Serizawa instantly defers to him (I think that Mark might have been his senior before he left MONARCH and BOY do I want to talk about that plan later on) to cook up a plan instead of… himself (Director of MONARCH, or at least I assume so) or again, Foster, who controls the planes and men he wants to send at the giant pterodactyl that just shrugged off a molten lava flow.

Given his characterisation as an angry, driven father who is desperately looking out for his family after being bereaved by monsters and is butting heads with the scientists at MONARCH, I think it was an attempt by Legendary to recreate Joe Brody. Bryan Cranston’s character in the previous film was killed off too early and was featured in a lot of the trailers, giving a wonderful performance. When he died to be replaced by his son, Ford, it caused a backlash as a result.

Mark being that angry, snarky character definitely shares some similarities. But while Joe was a crusader for the truth and more than a little bit obsessive, he was trying to pierce the veil as to why his wife died, without realising that it drove his son away from him. He was trying to reveal this great coverup to the world and spent the rest of his life doing so with such conviction that he appeared crazy.

Mark… doesn’t have this driving force. He lives in a post-San Francisco universe. Monsters Exist and everybody knows it.

Now, that’s not to say he doesn’t have reasons for acting as he did. He lost his son and has driven a wedge in between his family via his drinking problem (but let’s face it, compared to unleashing the Titans by starting off with Space Dragon Satan, he’s taken it comparatively well) but he acts as if he’s the only person who has ever lost something to Godzilla and the rest of the monsters.

Even when that happens to characters in the film, Mark still acts like that and it doesn’t make him look like the grim, determined hero, it just makes him look like an obnoxious dick. It isn’t his way of coping with the trauma of loss, he just… does it.

Part of me does get why he’s annoyed and angry with MONARCH’s attitude towards the Titans. He’s correct that they’ve been keeping secrets, dangerous ones at that, but equally the kaiju are living things. They’re dangerous and unpredictable, yes, but MONARCH have been taking precautions; killswitches are present in even the supposedly benevolent Titan’s chambers like Mothra and as far as they know, all of the Titans bar Godzilla are dormant and those that aren’t are kept in check by him. Had the Ghidorah Crisis never arose, we may never have seen any other Titans for the rest of human history.

But he treats everybody around him like an idiot with little to no prompting. Mark is brought on as a consultant and he then proceeds to dominate the scene, either through his decisions in universe or the part written for him out of it. He gets the last word, the last say on a plan or a witty remark or whatever.

And some of that costs lives. Actually, no, a LOT of it costs lives.

So, to start off, when the operation in Antarctica goes tits up, Mark grabs a handgun and goes into Outpost 32 by himself (though what he and the central nervous system of MONARCH were doing on the ground and not supervising from the Argo remains to be seen, but I digress). He stops Jonah and the terrorists on the walkway… screwing up Foster’s attempt to take down Jonah, forcing her to snipe his henchman in order to save Mark’s life.

This leads to King Ghidorah waking up. Not going to extend him a great deal of blame for this one, as with a sniper present, Emma or Madison would have been forced (or “forced” in the former’s case) to retrieve the detonator and the Six-Eyed, Six-Horned, Flying-Golden-People-Eater would have gotten loose regardless. Hell, I spotted clues that he was gearing up to wake up without Emma Russell’s help.

In a narrative sense, its his character that also sets up Vivienne Graham’s death. If he hadn’t been stuck in the tangle of wires and metal aboard the Osprey, she would never have needed to stay behind to help and subsequently got singled out by King Ghidorah.

I’d definitely agree that this is more of a personal thing on my part, as I’d wanted to see more of Vivienne’s character thanks to her actress’, Sally Hawkins’ work in The Shape Of Water and that in the previous film. But in a way, he is still sort of responsible for her being written out and replaced with the vastly less interesting replacement characters of Rick and Mor- erm, Sam.

That said, I know that Ghidorah is 100% to blame in universe. He killed her because he was a bastard and I wanted to him to be a bastard, so the monkey’s paw curled a finger there, so that’s egg on my face. It certainly did wonders for establishing him as a monstrous villain who we love to hate.

I’m not wholly unsympathetic to Mark. Like I said before, the pain of loss over the 2014 attacks hurt him badly and the film doesn’t shy away from this. Mark’s descent into alcoholism is noted by both himself and his family as a rough time for all involved, part of the reason he left MONARCH in the first place. Having his daughter and ex-wife seemingly kidnapped by dangerous ecoterrorists who plan to unleash giant monsters to mass-cull humanity also wears his patience thin, as you might expect it.

But he keeps this… horrible attitude throughout the movie. The world is literally going to shit, another monster is about to be unleashed and he asks if MONARCH have had enough common sense to evacuate the town of Isla Del Mara and if Rodan has had a cutesy name all picked out from mythology for him ahead of time.

Fuck me, if I was Serizawa, having just lost my protégé and quite a few well-meaning soldiers who were trying to rescue somebody who turned out to be a massive ecoterrorist nutjob, I would have floored him. There is a time and a place for snarky comments and it is not after at least twenty people you worked with are dead and BILLIONS MORE MAY FOLLOW.

But now, one of the points that really got me disliking Mark Russell follows here. The scenes that start at Isla Del Mara and the luring of Rodan to King Ghidorah, all the way up until the detonation of the Oxygen Destroyer.

Rodan emerges from the volcano and asides from spreading his wings and roaring, doesn’t do much. He spots the incoming Argo and its entourage and narrows his eyes. Uh oh! Surely, at this point, the dastardly destruction god would leap from his perch in an attempt to chase this challenger from his territory?

Um… no. No, actually, he stays put.

Now, I get that Rodan might not have stayed that way for very long. From the ensuing chase scene, I can gather that the Monsterverse’s version of Rodan is a bit of a dick, but he still didn’t start the fight.

Instead, what happens is that Serizawa asks Mark what they should do and Mark comes up with the plan to get Rodan to fight King Ghidorah in the hopes that one will kill the other and that would at least solve one of their problems.

Sound in theory, yes, but it is not sound in execution. At all.

So, that little town that Mark kicked up quite a fuss about? As you might have noticed, it’s lying between Rodan and the Argo and is part of the reason that the big ol’ bird should be lured away, to complete the evacuation.

Mark’s brilliant plan has the jets surrounding the Argo to blast Rodan and 180 the superplane in order to get him to chase… without factoring in THE TOWN BETWEEN THEM AT ALL.

I get King Ghidorah was closing in. I get that Rodan is a wild, unpredictable animal who could go off the chain at any moment. But there was absolutely no time to get the ARGO to move a little ways around the island before beginning the attack? At worst, Rodan would make a dive for them anyway, but that’s what the jets are sent in to distract him are for. To grab his attention and then lure him to the Argo, which would then take him to Tricephalopathic Terror Town anyway.

As a result, Rodan utterly OBLITERATES Isla Del Mara simply by passing over it and so many of the people they were trying to evacuate die a horribly pointless death. It never once passes his mind (or let’s not beat him down solely) or that of anybody aboard the Argo that a creature with wings that size that can fly would generate an unbelievable amount of force simply by flapping once to create lift? He’s also dripping lava, so even if the hurricane level winds that follow him weren’t an issue, having something with that amount of residual molten rock passing overhead doesn’t seem like a healthy thing to expose Isla Del Mara to.

Further dislike ensues when one of the miraculously surviving Ospreys issues a mayday during the Rodan/Ghidorah fight and the cargo doors are jammed. Mark the Hero leaps up with gritted teeth and desire to get things done, asking the way to the hangar. After all, he’s had miraculous problem solving abilities so far, why not?

“Which way to the hangar?” he asks.

Sam, a character who I’m even less fond of, stands up and offers to show him the way. Fairly brave, considering that the Argo is rattling like a leaf in a thunderstorm as two daikaiju battle nearby. I found the character annoying and sort of… pointless, but I admire that bit of bravery.

“Anybody else?” Mark asks, making a face.

Dude. The man just offered to help you and people need that help. Get off your high horse, swallow your pride and just go without comment. God knows how many people your stupid plan just got killed.

The two run to the hangar and a crewman explains the door is jammed. Mark decides to drop a hanging Osprey onto the doors to get them off… without suggesting it to the crewman. He just fucking goes for the buttons, expecting his usual “my plan will work” attitude to succeed.

At last, one of Mark’s harebrained schemes is met with reasonable resistance for the first time and the crewman attempts to wrestle him off, before Mark Is Proven Right Again. But even suggesting it, getting a refusal and then doing it is more heroic than just going for the damn buttons like a lunatic.

He would have looked damn stupid if the weight of the Osprey wasn’t enough to open the doors and it instead just blocked them. The falling aircraft also almost hits the airborne one with its civilian payload as it also wasn’t warned, so again, he took an unnecessary risk that came off lucky because he couldn’t find the time to say “I have an idea”.

To round out the trifecta of what makes me dislike Mark in these scenes is what happens when the rest of the scene plays out:

Gravity Beams spew from Ghidorah’s mouth and blast Rodan into the ocean, defeated. Not satisfied with just this victory, the Golden Demise locks his terrible gaze on the Argo and with a sickening, gleeful cackle, closes in on the plane and its freshly arrived civilians.

All are stunned into a horrified silence. Even Mark, who has been having Unreasonable Protagonist Luck up until this point, bricks it.

“Oh, God.” he pleads.

God answers and he erupts from the ocean.

With a deafening roar, the mighty form of Godzilla slams into King Ghidorah with the force of a collapsing mountain. His dynamic, mid-air leap is enough to drag the foul hydra into the depths of the ocean and Godzilla proceeds to hold him there.

Ghidorah attempts to resurface and fly away, or at least lash out at the Argo in spite, but there Godzilla is again, yanking the head back underwater, biting and rolling like some mountainous crocodile, pinning the alien dragon under his weight.

Unbeknownst to our hero (Godzilla, obviously), the military has deployed the terrible Oxygen Destroyer in an attempt to Destroy All Monsters, giving only a cursory warning to the Argo to get out of there and fast. Mark makes his way onto the bridge and is informed of the decision.

“But he… he just saved us!” says Mark.

No, wait, he didn’t say that. Hold on…

“They… they didn’t even let us get clear?” says Mark.

Uh, no, sorry, trying again.

“Well, it’s not the worst idea.” he says.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK. YOU.

I get that you’re mad with Godzilla. I get that as the title character with a long history, we root for the kaiju more than anybody else. I get that he took your son from you, but twice… TWICE NOW, he has saved you and the people around you with PERFECTLY TIMED ENTRANCES. Even if it was just a coincidence, I’d be at least slightly more forgiving of the lion that killed my brother by accident if it jumped in front of a tiger that was slaughtering people left and right before it leapt at me.

Twice.

There’s not even a hesitant “oh, but he did help us”. Not even a shocked disbelief that the military has a weapon that they think will kill not just one, but two (because I’m willing to bet he thought Rodan was dead) Titans, much less them firing it without warning right on top of their position. Just a “well, fuck ‘em” shrug.

Godzilla nearly dies, Ghidorah seizes control of the Titans and sets about starting the apocalypse. Finally, Serizawa says what I’ve been thinking for quite a while and says “Well, it looks like you got your wish, Mark.” with a mixture of anger, sadness and disgust.

I could go on; the Titans are rampaging and Mark goes to leave Castle Bravo to strike out on his own and rescue Madison, despite the fact that he knows that Emma will probably try to keep her safe in whatever secure hidey hole she and the Kaiju Cultists have holed up in. In the novel, he’s outright going to steal one (also his first instinct when confronted by an alpha wolf in the novel, is to blow it away with a sidearm, before realising that’s absolutely callous and horrible and tries submissive behaviour tactics instead. So hey, Movie Mark is a slightly better person than Book Mark).

Mark suggests the nuke plan and goes down with Serizawa, Chen and Rick Sanch- Stanton. Everything goes sideways and he doesn’t even fucking blink when Serizawa decides that somebody’s gotta do it manually.

Back aboard the Argo? How does he break the news to Sam, the only member of the MONARCH team that wasn’t there? Shoving Serizawa’s notebook into his chest, saying that they better not screw this up and not even fucking pausing to tell him what happened.

Mark’s self-centred attitude keeps coming back and it gets people killed. My second time viewing this film, during the two confrontation scenes with Godzilla, I wasn’t getting the “There is a massive threat in my territory!” vibe from the King of the Monsters, I was getting a “Who the hell is this asshole and why does he hate me so much?” feeling from Our Glorious Boy.

It’s a recurring theme too. Mark experiences loss, but he feels as if his loss is the only one that matters. Both he and Emma do this to Madison and it makes me mad that in trying to cope with their own loss, they shunned the one remaining child they had left. By the time they realise that, the world is literally about to end and they’re still bickering at one another.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m very vocally critical of Mark and Emma’s treatment of Madison. Both she and Mark decide to put their own ways of coping with their son’s death (constructing a device to allow for the orchestration of mass human death and convincing oneself that it’s the correct course of action/drinking booze) above Madison’s own well being.

When the chips are down, of course, they care for her and ultimately risk their lives to save her, but… congratulations for the bare minimum parenting, guys? Physically, they want her out of harm, but mentally she should either fall into line with Emma’s thinking or be there for Mark.

Godzilla and Mothra feel more like her bloody parents in this film (Godzilla saving her life when she was facing down the literal fucking devil and Mothra’s gentle interaction at the temple and reviving her from death when she appeared to have died in the novel) than the other Russells do. Both fill the archetypes of “Father” (tough, stern, but ultimately your protector) and “Mother” (gentle, nurturing and wonderful) better than the people do.

…yeah, alright, that one is a stretch, but I had that idea a while ago and I wanted to put it to paper.

In short, I’m mad at Sad Mad Dad because his character shoves the waaaaaaaay more interesting, compelling and sympathetic characters of Serizawa, Graham and his own daughter (and the actual goddamned non-monster hero of the movie), Madison out of the way of main character-ness, just so we can have somebody who is about as pleasant to interact with as a cactus.

King of the Monsters is a film that has a lot of sacrifice in it, good and bad. Emma wants to sacrifice most of humanity to save the planet. Serizawa sacrifices himself to save Godzilla and thus, the planet. Mothra sacrifices her own life to save Godzilla from King Ghidorah and so does Emma, to save her family and as redemption for her sins.

Even Madison was also ready to at least risk her own life to distract the Titans and King Ghidorah if it would even slightly disrupt his efforts to conquer the planet. She goes against terrorists, her own mother and a demonic, nigh-omnipotent being of malicious intent and faces him down with a defiant roar of her own when it looks like the end.

But Mark doesn’t sacrifice. He wants his daughter back, but he never takes a hit. Other people die for him, as a result of him and he doesn’t even recognise it. The world is at stake and he keeps his focus on his own desires, ignorant to the people around him because only his loss matters.

He might not be the genocidal monster in the film that Emma was, that Jonah and of course, Ghidorah certainly were. But he has a very narrow and dispassionate world-view and outside of certain cartoons with comedic circumstances, I don’t care much for that at all.

TL;DR: Madison should have been the central protagonist, because I like her more.

#Godzilla #Godzilla: King of the Monsters #Mark Russell

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