#Cabinet of Deplorables

[daguerreotyping]

Cabinet card of "BEAUTY," the Male Chick-Rearing Cat, 1889. As the back of the card enthuses:

This remarkable animal has been exhibited to at least a million of people, and no person has ever claimed to have even heard of a cat like him. It is really believed that his counterpart does not exist in the world.

At three months of age he had not seen a chicken. Immediately on being shown to him they were adopted, with every sign of affection that a cat or hen could show for their young, brooding and caressing them, and eating and playing with them. In no case has he shown hostility, never having bitten or scratched a chicken, never drawn blood on one; yet he possesses a full complement of the sharpest teeth and nails, is a great mouser, would kill other birds instantly, is exceedingly active and more than ordinarily playful for a cat of his age.

When we reflect that young birds and fowls are the legitimate prey and food of the feline race, and that this is a male cat, (males being more ferocious and destructive than the females, especially in this species), it must be conceded that this is an extraordinary freak of nature.

He has been admired by and has delighted multitudes of people, and it is hoped that many thousands more may see him. At this writing, (Oct. 15th, 1889), he is just two years old, and has been exhibited twenty-one months, having been placed on exhibition within one week from the time his extraordinary peculiarity was discovered.

It is only fair to state that he has a fine general disposition, his only other peculiarity being an unusual stubbornness; yet he will bite and scratch vigorously if provoked, but never can be provoked by his feathered little ones.

We presume that the large money offers his owners have received for "Beauty," exceed in amount any offer ever before made for an animal of his species; but it seems to them that no amount of money could be offered that would purchase him, for, besides being of great commercial value, he would be most sadly missed by those who have had his care from kittenhood, and to whom he has endeared himself by his wonderful intelligence, strange affection and lovable ways.

He delights all who see him; but none really know him save those who are constantly with him. Employees and and attaches of the various museums where he has been exhibited have invariably become so attached to him as to really deplore his departure at the close of our engagements.

"Beauty" lives in almost regal style, everything being done for his comfort that is consistent with show life.

He is a full maltese, weighing about thirteen pounds.

[lvlyghost]

Half My Soul

Pairings: John Price x F!Reader

Summary: No one is supposed to be at the compound. But after a visit turns into hell, John finds you there.

Word Count: 1.1k

Tw: blood, angst, hurt with a lot of comfort. john is literally the best. description of injuries and violence. domestic abuse(? also daddy issues(??? think that's it.💫

A/N: Hmm, so this was supposed to be longer but ended up scrapping a lot of it while editing lolol. Enjoy🫡🌸🤍🩵

Masterlist✨ Part 2

It's not the physical pain what hurts the most. Not the busted lip, the purple eye or the scratches on your arms.

It's the reminder of the person who caused it. The eyes of the man who was supposed to look after you, to shield you from the bad people.

The man who was supposed to protect you. Eyes void of any kind of remorse. Hurtful words spat when you tried to help him.

You're soaking wet by the time you reach the infirmary. The whole compound is silent. Nobody's supposed to be here. The lightning illuminated the night sky through the window as you rummage around looking for bandages and painkillers, anything you can use to fix your deplorable condition. You use the sleeve of your hoodie to clean your face from your tear stained cheeks, the fabric becoming a shade of crimson red thanks to the blood sliding down from the tiny graze on your temple.

"This is what you get for trying to help him."

You scold yourself, more salty tears pricking at the side of your eyes.

You should've stayed with John when he asked you. Go to his apartment and spend the night with a nice supper and a bottle of wine. Choking down a cry you slam the cabinet door shut, wincing at the sound of glass as it almost shattered.

You swore this would be the last time you'd go. Never again will you set a foot back into that god forsaken house; your house. The place that once felt like a home when your mother was still around. Cooking breakfast for you with a weak smile, struggling to move around due to her illness. Fuck, you missed her so much it hurt. Your lips quiver at the thought of her; life would be so much better if she was here.

For all that it matters now. You have no one left. Not a single person who dreams of your success. That you will accomplish everything you once told her about when she was tucking you into bed.

"Craig said not everyone had left. Thought he was finally starting to lose his mind."

Your body freezes at the sound of a thick accent and a raspy voice. Your hands start shaking. Don't look back. Don't. Don't do it. He'll know something is wrong. "What're you doing here, love?" He asks. You can hear him shuffling his weight from one foot to another, the sound of keys jingling as he plays with them in a nervous manner. Not many people had that effect on him; making him blush and stammer, laughing like some young boy who just discovered what love is. You made him weak at the knees. When you don't answer nor turn to look at him he worries. Was he bothering you? Was he overstepping your boundaries?

"Jus' grabbing some stuff." You croak out. Hoping you don't sound as bad as you're feeling.

John hums as the silence settles in between the two again. Why weren't you looking at him?

"Are you sick?" He tries again, swallowing down saliva. He shouldn't have invited you to spend the holidays with him it was probably too much! Bloody hell. "Could you..." his mouth snaps shut. Jaw clenching and hands balling into fists, his heart begins to race when he finally sees it. The blood stained sleeve of your hoodie. That's it.

What the fuck is going on?

It takes him three long strides and he's right beside you, grabbing your arm as gently as he can. Shocked you jolt back, blue eyes meeting your scared orbs. His baby blues sparked with anger, something you had never seen before.

"John..." you gasped.

"Who did this?" He snarled. His hand go to cup your cheeks so delicately that your entire body sags. The contrast between his calloused hands and the ones that hurt you is great. "It was him, wasn't he?" He hisses. "Fuck, love why did you have to go..."

"He's my father John." You murmur, arms coming to rest on his sides. Your face is numb and it hurts.

"Don't care a single bit, sweetheart. I'll fucking kill him, you hear me? He's bloody stupid if he thinks he can lay a hand on you and not face the consequences."

"Stop, don't... just hold me." You beg, pressing your face against his hardened chest. The warmth that he exudes is calming and comforting, you inhale deeply while he murmurs sweet things in your ear.

John loathed the man with all his being. Hurting such a beautiful creature like you? How dare he? He's beyond pissed; if it weren't for you holding onto him like there was nothing else he'd be on his way to kick his arse.

"Let me take care of you, yeah?" He mumbles. "We'll go to my apartment. Bloody have that takeout and red wine I promised." You nod, letting him go although reluctantly. He hoists you up on the bed. "Now I'm not the doctor here love, guide me through it would ya'?"

A soft chuckle leaves your mouth, a sound John adores. He never wants to see you like this again. You getting hurt? He'd rather peel his skin off than to see you all beaten and hurting. He cleans your lip, gritting his teeth when you hiss at the touch.

"Don't let me sleep okay?" You ask him, when he's done an tossing everything to the trash bin.

John's brows furrow.

"You have a concussion?"

"Most likely." You stand up grabbing the painkillers. "Probably gonna have to pass with the wine this time Price." Your left eye's starting to swell. "Must look beautiful right now huh?" You joke.

"Hey." He stops you. "None of that." John is dead serious, he doesn't take any of this lightly. "Maybe you let this pass before sweetheart, but not now. Not when I'm here yeah? Not on my bloody watch. Let's get you home."

You exit the infirmary with the bear of a man guiding you outside and towards his vehicle, prompting you to get rid of the stained hoodie and taking his leather jacket instead. It smells like him. Like cigarettes and musk.

And he places a soft kiss atop of your head. God if he could make all the pain go away he'd be more than happy to do it. Whatever it took to make you feel safe.

To be safe.

Because maybe now, home would be a different place. And have a different meaning.

[divineruler]

TOO WEAK ~ Kit Walker

He was always too weak.

!GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE!

WARNINGS- hurt/no comfort [kind of??], violence, forced stripping [non-graphic], canning, blood, trauma

WORDS- 1.6k

[This is a vent post lol]

Kit grunted as he was pushed down against Sister Jude’s solid oak desk. He tried to struggle. He tried to fight back against the guards holding his shoulders and head down, but he was too weak. He was always too weak. It was deplorable, demoralizing even, knowing he would never be strong enough to fight back. He would never be strong enough to protect the people he loved. They had already taken everything from him, his home, his work, his wife. His wife. Tears pricked his eyes as the guard held the side of his face down against the desk. His jaw shifted unnaturally out of place and black spots clouded his vision as the pressure increased on his soft temple. 

His wife. He tried desperately to think of anything but her. At this point she existed as an increasingly painful reminder of what he had lost. It made his head spin. He hated what this place had done to his memory of her. His isolation had corrupted his memories. Thinking of the time they spent together, the long nights and the lazy mornings, they brought him nothing but misery. So he tried not to think about her. He couldn’t let this place take his memory of her. They had taken everything from him, they had revoked his personhood like a dog in a mussel. He was nothing more than a name on an intake sheet. Twenty years of life, stripped away in seconds. This would be his legacy. That was something he had come to accept. But he couldn’t let them do that to Alma. She deserved to exist in peace and tranquility, in the back catalog of his mind. He wouldn’t let them take her too. He had to preserve the last piece of her he had, and if that meant pushing her from the forefront of his mind, then that’s what he was going to do.  

Kit winced as a loud voice pierced his ears. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. He craned his neck, eyes frantically scanning the room until they landed on Sister Jude’s cold dead stare. Her voice penetrated his consciousness, noise echoing around in his empty head. He tried to focus on her words, but he was too far gone. His brain was corroded like a dead battery. He couldn’t even remember what he did, but it must have been something bad. Judging by his swollen, bloody knuckles he probably punched someone. Hopefully it was the guard sitting several feet away from Kit, holding an ice pack to his black eye. Kit felt a spark of justice spread warmly through his chest. He almost gasped as the warm feeling swirled in his gut. Was it pride? Was he proud of his outburst? Of course he was. That guard had it coming. Drunk with this new surge of passion he fought again against the guards. He yanked one arm out of their grasp, swinging his fist wildly. He was blind with rage, violently thrashing in their iron grip. Right as he thought he had gotten the upperhand, a hard batton to the back of his head sent his world spinning. His vision blacked out as he was slammed back down onto the desk. Kit groaned as the pain finally caught up to him, his brain buffering like a broken disk drive. His ears began to ring with every heavy pulse of his lagging heart. He almost didn’t feel the cool metal of the handcuffs pinning his arms behind his back. 

The world began to piece itself back together little by little. Kit felt his face begin to flush. He felt embarrassed. Why did he think he would be able to take on three guards and Sister Jude with nothing but his injured hands. He couldn’t believe he let his adrenaline exceed his decision making. He was still weak, too weak to fight back. 

His vision began to clear as he scanned the room. The world around him had been reduced to a blurry swirl, but he could just make out Sister Jude opening the door to her old oak cabinet containing her assortment of woven canes. At this point he didn’t even care which one she chose, he had been beaten with every one of them at one point or another. They all hurt the same. Judging by his violent outburst, he knew she wasn’t going to have mercy on him. Mercy, he smirked, mercy isn’t a word in Sister Jude’s vocabulary. 

He felt the strong hands holding his body against the desk shift, making room for sister Jude to untie the back of his hospital gown and pull down his paper-thin underwear. He felt his face flush, squirming against the desk as his nakedness was out on display for the whole room. He thought by this point he would have gotten used to being stripped; modesty was a privilege in this place, not a right. The cold air stung his naked skin, the scars littering his ass and lower back growing an angry red, like they knew what was coming. His face began to flush with embarrassment, red creeping down his pale chest as he tried to close his legs to save himself some modesty. That didn’t last long as sister jude yelled an incoherent threat before kicking his legs apart once again. Fine. It wasn’t worth fighting back. Kit closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as he tried to take deep breaths. He tried to prepare himself for his punishment. They weren’t going to break him this time, he was going to stay strong, he wasn’t going to give them the privilege of seeing him cry. 

Kit felt sister Jude’s cold, clammy palm against his middle back. He took a shaky breath in through his nose, exhaling in a sharp cry as the cane came down upon his pale skin. Pain crept up his back and down his thighs, making his legs shake. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to find his footing, only to be interrupted by another whip, and another, and another. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, screaming through clenched teeth. He felt blood sting his tongue as his teeth pierced through the soft flesh of his lip. It was almost enough to distract him from the lashes, almost enough. Each lash of the whip left a trail of fire in its path. His backside was a swirl of color as the old lashes began to bruise a deep, dark purple. His broken skin glowed furious and inflamed. Sister Jude was not letting up, at this point, he didn’t even know how long she had been beating him, but it felt like an eternity. His knees shook as he took another lash, making his vision swim. He felt his consciousness begin to slip away little by little. He could hear the vibration of the Guards and Sister Jude talking around him, but he was too far gone, he couldn’t make out a single word. Kit felt his chest vibrate, was he screaming? The burning in his lungs and the dry tickle creeping up his throat answered his question. He was screaming a deep, guttural, broken scream. A sound that would make your stomach churn. With each crack of the cane against his raw skin, he screamed. He fought against the handcuffs pinning his arms behind him as he felt a familiar warmth settle in his chest. His nose began to run and he could feel hot tears pricking his eyes. No, he was not going to cry. He was stronger than that, he wasn’t going to give them the pleasure of seeing him cry. But there was something comforting about this feeling. It was a feeling of warmth, the feeling of something familiar. A particularly brutal whip knocked Kit out of his daze, he felt the pressure building up inside him break as the cane split his aching skin. Warm tears leaked down his face as blood spilled from the wound, oozing down his thighs. He gasped, his body feeling paralyzed and stiff. Another lash from Sister Jude caused Kit to choke out an anguished noise, something between a scream and a cry. A cry. He was crying. There was no stopping it now. Blood bubbled down his chin from the puncture in his bottom lip, splattering onto the desk as he cried. He was quickly losing control. More tears began to pool beneath him as he cried and begged. His “strong-man” facade began to crack, as another lash split open his lower back. The pain was almost too much to handle, his shaking legs gave out from under him sending a crushing pain through his ribcage as his chest caught the weight of his body. He tried to regain his footing, but his bare feet slipped in the puddle of blood leaking down his legs onto the floor beneath him. Kit sobbed, his breath becoming short and shallow as he choked on his own spit. Suddenly his world began to swim. His vision became blotchy and his hearing began to falter. All he could hear were his own sobs, reverberating through his hollow body. He gasped as the pain began to numb, soon all he could feel was the thick blood trickling down his legs and his own hot tears staining his face. It was over. At least, for now. As his body began to slip into a state of unconsciousness, he thought of Alma. He could almost see her, in his imagination of course. He could see her smiling face, and her warm hands running through his hair. His bloody lips almost cracked a smile back at her. For the first time, Kit felt at peace, even if it was only a dream. As his fragile mind finally allowed him to slip into a state of unconsciousness, his body went limp in the guard's hands. They let go of him, letting his broken body fall to the floor.

[empiredesimparte]

Hortense is back in Compiègne.

Casimir: For the coronation, the Council of State thought that you could take the oath before an audience of French scholars and artists. This would ensure a certain modernity for the rite. You will also have to try on several outfits for the coronation in the cathedral of Notre-Dame de Paris

Napoléon V: That's fine with me. Do I really have to wear the same grand habillement as my father and Napoléon I ? It's so out of fashion

Casimir: Sire, this is a garment as sacred as the ceremony! All the kings and emperors of Francesim have worn it before you. I don't believe that it's negotiable Napoléon V: If I must comply…

Casimir: The pope, your godfather, deplores the fact that you are celibate during your coronation. One of his criteria is religious marriage Napoléon V: But I can't get married by next summer, it's too soon Casimir: You'll have to meet the papal ambassadors in that case. They are categorical. It's either that, or the coronation takes place in Rome

Napoléon V: You'll make an appointment with the representatives of the Pope, I must meet with them as soon as possible to defuse this disagreement. This must remain secret Casimir: Good, Your Majesty

Charlotte: A lot has happened in your absence, Madame Hortense: Really?

Charlotte: Although, I must say, it is you that everyone is talking about now, and without you being there Hortense: I'll speak with the Emperor about this, rest assured Charlotte: Of course. I'm happy to be able to work with you from now on Hortense: Likewise

⚜ Le Cabinet Noir | Compiègne, 14 Floréal An 230

Beginning ▬ Previous ▬ Next

⚜ Traduction française

Premier dîner d'Hortense depuis son retour à Compiègne.

Casimir : Pour le couronnement, le Conseil d'Etat a pensé que vous pourriez prêter serment devant un parterre de savants et artistes français. Cela assurerait une certaine modernité pour le rite. Il vous faudra également essayer plusieurs tenues pour le couronnement à la cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris.

Napoléon V : Cela me convient. Dois-je réellement porter le même grand habillement que mon père et Napoléon Ier ? Il est tellement démodé.

Casimir : Enfin Sire, il s'agit d'un vêtement aussi sacré que la cérémonie ! Tous les rois et empereurs de Francesim l'ont porté avant vous. Je ne crois pas que ce soit négociable. Napoléon V : Si je dois m'y plier...

Casimir : Le pape, votre parrain, déplore que vous soyez célibataire lors de votre couronnement. L'un de ses critères pour réaliser le sacre est le mariage religieux Napoléon V : Mais je ne peux pas me marier d'ici l'été prochain, c'est trop tôt Casimir : Il va vous falloir rencontrer les ambassadeurs papaux dans ce cas. Ils sont catégoriques. C'est cela, ou le sacre a lieu à Rome

Napoléon V : Vous prendrez rendez-vous avec les représentants du Pape, je dois les rencontrer au plus tôt pour désamorcer cette mésentente. Cela doit rester secret Casimir : Bien Votre Majesté

Charlotte : Il s'est passé beaucoup de choses en votre absence, Madame Hortense (froide) : Vraiment ?

Charlotte : Bien que, je dois dire, c'est de vous dont tout le monde parle maintenant, et sans que vous ne soyez là Hortense : Je vais m'entretenir avec l'Empereur à ce sujet, soyez rassurée Charlotte : Bien sûr. Je suis heureux de pouvoir travailler avec vous désormais Hortense : Pareillement

[thecoolertails]

it's primaries season in the US and the democrats fighting for the candidate spot are 1. sitting president bloodlust mcgenocide, 2. some random dumbshit billionaire who said that if he becomes president he'll make elon musk a member of the cabinet, and 3. marianne williamson who seems to be the only potential candidate that isn't an objectively deplorable choice. unsurprisingly, based off of polling it seems like dems are still placing their chips on ol' genocide joe for the big win. meanwhile, maga freaks are still going gaga over trump, who's apparently still allowed to run even after the whole, y'know, stealing classified documents from the white house thing, which really shouldn't be surprising because every branch of our government is a circus and we're all clowns. but my point is that all the joe bidenites who are somehow still rock hard for him even after 3 years of sitting of his ass followed by 4 months of funneling every penny of the national budget into slaughtering as many palestinian and yemeni children as our tax dollars can afford because apparently exerting the empires total dominance by means of bomb and blood is a higher priority for him than accessible healthcare or the climate crisis or the 39% of americans that have to skip meals in order to pay rent or literally anything else-- what im saying is in the long run they themselves are ironically helping to sow the seeds for trump round 2 by voting for biden in the primaries. with how committed he's been to driving away his voters, biden has about a snowball's chance in whatever fiery pit he came from of beating out conservative amerikkka's favorite orange rapist, who's still lapping the republican competition in terms of popularity. if all biden's faithfully dedicated shoe-lickers really want to avoid another trump presidency like they beat over the head of anyone who dares criticize blue team's current head war criminal, they should try practicing what they preach and vote for the least evil choice now in the primaries instead of waiting until the november election when the options will be 'eat shit' and 'die' and then whine when not enough people voted for eating shit when they're the ones who picked that as the only opposition to dying over like, i don't know, eating dirt or something. i don't know. i have to go eat dinner

[maximumphilosopheranchor]

Some observations on the war in Ukraine and USA and history unfolding before our eyes

It seems to me that USA’s role is very ambivalent in all this. On the one hand, USA is a leader of military support to Ukraine, they objectively have given a lot. But on the other hand it’s pretty clear to me that they don’t want Russia to lose, not really and at least not now. Otherwise F-16 and other weapons that are critically necessary for Ukraine to launch a successful offensive and liberate its territories as quickly as possible would be in Ukraine already. It’s partly because USA doesn’t understand Russia, they constantly overrate it and its potential as a state thus indirectly legitimizing Russia’s methods of threats and blackmail, like ‘let’s not provoke Russia’ and so Russia can go on and continue to carry out its crimes unpunished (of course, if Putin were bombing Washington their response would be much more different). 

But even more global and deeper problem is that despite their differences both USA and Russia live in the same imperialistic paradigm where superpowers can divide the world in spheres of influence, where they have rights to meet at one table and in closed cabinets decide the fates of other sovereign countries. Yes, USA doesn’t do it as openly and psychotic as Russia, they say a lot of pretty words about  international law but imperialism and arrogant sense of superiority sit in their minds too and consciously or unconsciously influence their decisions.

And here’s where USA and Ukraine, particularly Zelenskyy, come at odds. For Zelenskyy respecting territorial integrity, respecting rights of every sovereign country, regardless of its size and military potential, are not just words they are the real thing. Because the existence of Ukraine depends on it, because that’s what Ukraine’s army in the battlefield and Zelenskyy on the diplomatic front are fighting  for  - for their sovereignty, independence, for the rights of themselves to decide their future without intervention of their bigger and psychotic neighbour, FOR HOW IT SHOULD BE ACCORDING TO INTERNATIONAL LAW WHICH IS  DECLARED BUT ALL TOO MUCH HAS BEEN IGNORED. Zelenskyy deplores Kissinger‘s perverse realpolitik and tries to bury it, and I cheer him for that.

The tragic thing is that Ukraine needs American weapons to drive out Russia from their land (unless something unexpected happens like someone manages to kill Putin and Russia’s army simply collapses) with minimum human losses but in order to get everything they need there must be transformation in heads of USA’s political elite or at least guys who make decisions. So Zelenskyy has to fight not only against Russia but he also has to tear down outdated notions in the heads of American decision makers. It’s a monumental task but I hope and pray that he succeeds in it.

Because this war is not just about Ukraine and Russia, this war is about two worldviews, it’s about in what world we want to live in - in one where some countries can do whatever they want due to their territorial size, number of population or military potential or in one where borders of every country are respected.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Three days of progress.

November 27, 2023

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

          As I write on Sunday afternoon, Israel and Hamas are in the third day of a pause in the Israel-Hamas war. Groups of Israeli hostages and Palestinian prisoners have been released in three exchanges and humanitarian aid has begun flowing into Gaza. Critically, the Israeli war cabinet appears to be open to extending the temporary pause. See CNN, Israel's war cabinet has discussed the possibility of extending the Gaza truce, source says.

          President Biden released a short video statement on Twitter urging an extension of the pause in fighting to allow a “surge” in aid to Palestinians. Biden said, in part,

We have worked urgently to surge aid into Gaza during the pause in fighting. We have moved approximately 200 aid trucks into Gaza each day – loaded with food, water, medicine, fuel, and cooking gas.

Today, 13 more hostages – including a fellow American – were released by Hamas under a deal brokered and sustained through intensive U.S. diplomacy. We continue to press that additional Americans be released.

And we will not stop working until every hostage is returned.

A two-state solution is the only way to guarantee the long-term security of both the Israeli and the Palestinian people. To make sure Israelis and Palestinians alike can live in equal measures of freedom and dignity.

We will not give up on working toward this goal.

          As the hostage-for-prisoner exchanges unfold, it is becoming clear that President Biden’s personal involvement at critical junctures helped to achieve the agreement. Biden’s involvement is detailed in an article in the Times of Israel, Behind the scenes of the intense talks that led to the Israel-Hamas hostage deal. For example, when hostage talks stalled over the absence of identifying information about the hostages, Biden intervened:

Unsatisfied with the pace of the talks, Biden called Qatar’s Emir Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani for the first time since the outbreak of the war and “made very clear that where we were was not enough,” the administration official said. During their “very intense call,” Biden told the emir that the sides would not be able to move forward without identifying information . . . Shortly after that call, Hamas produced identifying information on 50 women and children it said it could release in the first stage of a deal.

          I urge anyone interested in the facts surrounding Biden’s personal contribution to achieving the pause to read the article in the Times of Israel—a story missing from the New York Times on Sunday. A reader (Merrill W.) sent the following note:

This Sunday's New York Times reached a new low in efforts to degrade President Biden. While President Biden triumphantly masterminded four days of hostage releases, the NY Times decided that a story about Trump’s pardon of one of his criminal-grifter supporters was worthy of front-page placement while our president's central role in the hostage release was not worth mentioning. If nothing else, this a clear case of deplorable bias at the NYT.

          I scanned several versions of the NYTimes editions on Sunday (online US, US pdf, and NY pdf), and found no discussion of President Biden’s role in the hostage release. The apparent bias in the Times is not in the reader’s imagination. The Columbia Journalism Review published a must-read note by David M. Rothschild, Elliot Pickens, Gideon Heltzer, Jenny Wang, and Duncan J. Watts titled, Warped Front Pages.

          Rothschild et al. examined the coverage on the front pages of the NYTimes and Washington Post in 2016 and 2022 to see if those leading newspapers had “learned” anything from their biased coverage of “Hillary’s emails” to the exclusion of Trump’s “innumerable personal, ethical, and ultimately criminal failings.”

          Rothschild concluded that the newspapers had learned nothing from their sorry performance in 2016:

We found that [in 2022] the Times and the Post shared significant overlap in their domestic politics coverage, offering little insight into policy. Both emphasized the horse race and campaign palace intrigue, stories that functioned more to entertain readers than to educate them on essential differences between political parties.

            Worse, both papers tended to emphasize negative stories that aligned with Republican talking points rather than stories that focused on the accomplishments of the Biden administration:

Exit polls indicated that Democrats cared most about abortion and gun policy; crime, inflation, and immigration were top of mind for Republicans. In the Times, Republican-favored topics accounted for thirty-seven articles, while Democratic topics accounted for just seven. . . .

In the final days before the election, we noticed that the Times, in particular, hit a drumbeat of fear about the economy . . . as well as crime. Data buried within articles occasionally refuted the fear-based premise of a piece.

Still, by discussing how much people were concerned about inflation and crime—and reporting in those stories that Republicans benefited from a sense of alarm—the Times suggested that inflation and crime were historically bad (they were not) and that Republicans had solutions to offer (they did not).

          There is more in the article that deserves your attention, and I have edited out comments about WaPo (for brevity). But the research by Rothschild et al. suggests that the Times and WaPo are not only defaulting to “horse race” coverage, but when they venture into policy, they tend to amplify Republican talking points in a way that distorts reality.

          . . . . which is what happened over the Thanksgiving weekend. Biden’s personal diplomacy helped achieve a landmark breakthrough in the Israel-Hamas war. That fact was not deemed worthy of emphasis by the NYTimes or Washington Post.

          The inexplicable bias of two of the nation’s “newspapers of record” is something that we should both address and ignore. We should proactively spread stories containing facts like those included in the Times of Israel. We should let journalists and editors at media outlets know what we think of their biased reporting. And we should not let their bias demotivate us.

          Media outlets hammered the economy and ignored assaults on reproductive liberty, the Capitol, the dignity of LGBTQ people, and freedom from gun violence. And yet, Democrats were able to prevent the highly anticipated “red wave” of 2022. So, we can prevail in 2024 despite the ongoing bias of major media outlets. We did it before, and we can do it again.

[scalpelandrose]

Premise: How many Laws are too many? While studying an enigmatic artifact recovered from one of their missions, the Polar Tang finds itself in cross currents of White Stroms, leading to the device being activated and transporting Laws from different timelines to the present. Sure, they are still Law, but what does this entail? (Will be multi-chap)

WC: 3.5K | Warnings: Canon x s/i OC, character distress, slight suggestiveness & spoilers for OP Chapter 1081

Intro Chapter

All was ordinary on the Polar Tang. Jean-Bart was reviewing Bepo’s revised maps and Isla’s sea condition predictions for the next 100 leagues to anticipate his navigation route, Hakugan was co-piloting, Shachi and Penguin were watching the radar for any abnormalities, Ikkaku was checking the pressure meters, Clione and Uni were maintaining the fire controls in the boiler room…yes, all was as it should be on the submarine. At least for now.

“What do you make of it?” Law asks Michelle, pondering the odd half-hourglass contraption they uncovered during the close of one of her investigation cases last night, concerning a prominent slave auction ring using a hospital as a mask. When upturning the place, a false bottom display case revealed the curious thing. Perhaps it was utilized as an ornate centerpiece or timer for deplorable events or a means to perversely manipulate aging or time.

Michelle taps her pen against a small pile of mythical stories and artifact identifying tomes in focused rapidity. “It could be a fragment of Kronos? I’ve heard the original artifact shattered and scattered itself across the world during the Great War, because the turmoil of that period was too great for it to absorb into its core all at once,” she hypothesizes, observing the sand-like amber folding and oscillating amongst itself in a seismic fashion, as if it was depicting a tumultuous moment in time, “I’ll ask Robin about it for more cross-referencing when I get the chance.”

The surgeon leaned back in his seat and nodded, “We know Pluton, Uranus, and Poseidon exist, so it’s not that far-fetched. What concerns me is that we don’t have a lot of information on what abilities it has as a weapon and what to do with it after.”

“Well, one answer is that it absolutely does not belong in a museum, with the kinds of pirates and government we have out there,” Michelle remarks. Law could almost hear the snickering glint in her eyes as the words left her mouth and felt one simmering in his chest. After another half-hour, the pair exhausted the resources they could find for the day and decided to call it a day and join the rest of the crew in the mess hall.

However, before plates could be removed from the cabinets, the submarine sharply turned on its starboard side, catching everyone off-guard and began aggressively weaving and barreling with the alarms being activated simultaneously.

“What’s going on, Hakugan?” Law falls behind the helmsman to evaluate the immediate situation with a sense of urgency and command.

“A White Strom just appeared from the sea floor!” the masked man grunts with an aggressive turn of the steering wheel on Bepo’s call that another one was forming below them.

“It looks like they’re almost joining together, like cross-seas,” Michelle comments, causing Isla to gasp.

“We need to get out of here now!” the polar bear mink exclaims, “If they start overlapping and crossing into each other, the conflicting waters from multiple directions will batter the ship, until we run out of power and drag us inside the strom!”

“Captain, do you think you can teleport us out of here?!” Shachi calls from the staircase to the lower decks, as Penguin and the others scurry to survey the submarine seals, distillation apparatuses, and electrolysis equipment. On cue, Jean-Bart hands Law a map appropriate to their approximated location, as Michelle syncs her vision with Erebus, who swiftly alternates between 3 portholes to scan the waters for the next few leagues.

“C4, E3, and F5 are safe,” the investigator declares.

“F5 has fewer trenches and is the second furthest from our projected route, Captain!” Bepo supplements, to which he was received with a nod.

“ROOM. Shambles.”

In less than a millisecond, a familiar blue orb expanded around them and enveloped the submarine, just in time before another White Strom cycloned underneath. A spectacle of brewing bubbles suddenly replaced violent cross-currents, signaling a move to safety, as the crew cheered and high-fived each other for another job well-done. The spirit of camaraderie grew infectious to where someone proposed they surface the Polar Tang for the time being and have dinner together on the top deck.

Curiously, the odd half-hourglass artifact found its way into the hall and caught Law’s attention when it hit his foot, as he was returning to the cafeteria. “It shouldn’t have rolled all the way here, even with the recent chaos,” he mentally notes. Upon picking up the hourglass, however, something triggered when his hands wrapped around the brass spires, causing the oscillating sand to freeze in place and foreign inscriptions to materialize. The surgeon let out a great yell, as the device flashed and ropes of emotions he experienced over his lifetime began to fill him all at once, that felt as if they were attempting to constrict his chest until it burst. He immediately threw the object away from his person, but the effects did not subside, with its gold light becoming increasingly blinding. Law’s grip on Kikoku was faltering and felt himself close to falling, if it weren’t for Michelle catching him. The rest of the crew soon followed after her.

“Are you ok enough to walk?!” she asks in panicked exertion, throwing Law’s arm around her shoulder, but he never got to answer, because something more perplexing occurred.When the golden light coalesced back into the half-hourglass shape, 3 familiar tall figures possessing the same character of steel eyes now stood before them, transforming panic into confusion.

“Hello? Wolf?” a youthful Law calls into his disconnected Den-Den Mushi, before sighing in frustration. He paused, realizing he was strangely relocated from the upper deck, and locked eyes with Michelle’s perplexed one, “Who are you and how did you get on my ship?”

“I should be asking you that,” she answers in quiet befuddlement at her lover in his teenage years. Yet, her mind was not in a state to start solving the reason behind the anomaly before her, being more worried about the current Law, who seemed to have made a miraculous recovery to both his and her bewilderment. “How?” she mouthed to him, to which he responded by standing to his full height, with his eyebrows furrowing in an expression of “I’m not sure.”

“Where are Ross, Lamia, and Lukas? I want to ask them about--” a middle-aged Law, with black locks cascading over his shoulder, lifts his gaze from what appeared to be a summary report. His mouth opens and closes, unsure of what to make of the scenario, before slowly asking, “Why does everyone look 20 years younger?”

“What I’m wondering is why there is an older version of me mentioning names I’ve never heard of,” another voice quips, belonging to a Law who seemed like he was pulled from 2 years ago. Quizzical rouge slightly dusts his ears, noting how tightly his 26-year old self was holding Michelle’s waist and pressing her body to his.

This didn’t escape Shachi, who elbows Penguin to bring attention to 24-year old Law’s expression, “Looks like we get to see him experience the crushing stage all over again.”

A grin spreads over the latter’s face in half-conspiracy, “Maybe we can give him some advice to speed things up a bit, for the sake of everyone’s two-years ago selves.” They felt an icy aura boring through their skulls from their present captain, who overheard the aside, but he didn’t have time to reprimand them, being more fixed on what time-space continuum violations entailed with transporting different versions of himself in one place.

Speechless would be insufficient to describe the level of disbelief the rest of the crew found themselves in. It was like an album tracking Law’s growth over the years suddenly manifested itself, but there was not much they could do and neither the present Law or Michelle could figure out how to fix the situation. After the investigator encased the artifact in a dream orb and sent it into her Dreamscape to prevent more unanticipated events from happening, the day was already coming to a close. Dinner was uncharacteristically quiet on the top deck, with the members looking from one Law to the other. Bepo was most effective at putting all Laws at ease, being one of his oldest friends. Any topic that the polar bear brought up, from new fish or geographical patterns they encountered in the New World to questions about the time they were pulled from were always met with a response. Shachi and Penguin made conversation with 18-year old Law regarding the adventures he’ve yet to embark on and pointers on how to make the future road smoother, which helped settle his wariness around crewmates he’d yet to recruit at his age.

When the atmosphere reached an awkward standstill, Ikkaku proposed they play music or a game of shuffleboard to lighten the tenseness, resulting in the Heart Pirates participating in an impromptu sporting tournament lasting into late hours. Feeling they should get some rest, Law and Michelle excused themselves after two rounds to prepare for tomorrow.

The Surgeon of Death felt a sensation of genuine relaxation wash over him, once he was alone with his lover, and they immediately began undressing each other to share a much-needed bath. Michelle opted to bathe him tonight, with concern for his well-being still lingering in the back of her mind, and he answered the few questions she had about what occurred with the hourglass, until she felt confident in his reassurances that he was alright. Law left first and thought to spend time waiting for Michelle with a book regarding instances of alleged time anomalies, until he was distracted by her early exit from the bathroom. She walked to the wardrobe in her usual militant way and let her body towel drop, causing Law’s eyes to darken with a beckoning temptation, but the investigator only looked over her shoulder and shook her head at him, pulling out the summer shirt he wore on Zou to don as as her pajama for the night.

Law’s lips curl in approval once she joins him in bed, as he wraps his long arms around her waist to aid her in straddling his hips, “You developed interesting nightwear tastes, Mi Xao.”

“Blame it on the provider of my interesting nightwear, mein Schatz. This ‘nightwear’ feels and smells too comfortable not to wear,” the investigator coyly leans in, laying chaste pecks on the Surgeon of Death’s neck, with playful inhales of his scent each time to prove her point, while massaging his stiff shoulders to draw a litany of relaxed sighs from him. Deciding she pampered him enough, he cups the side of her face and brings her in for a gentle kiss, until a brilliant follow-up to their word-play crosses his mind.

Chuckling to himself, he slides a hand under the fabric and gingerly caresses the skin of her back, making her melt against him, “Maybe the curator of your wardrobe has an airier nightwear design you’d like to try. What do you think, my rose?” But before Michelle could respond, an all too familiar wind rushed the bedroom and in less than a second, 46-year old Law materialized at the foot of their bed.

“Dammit,” Law cursed.

A dark shadow overcast the couple’s eyes, accompanied by a vein that popped on the left side of Law’s cheek in ire at his older self “Shambles”-ing into their room unannounced and interrupting his private time with Michelle. The stabbing aura from the couple’s unamused glare seemed to only be deflected by the older Law, unfortunately. “This is technically my room, so it’s not trespassing,” he justifies.

“...You could have knocked,” Michelle remarks with a bite, defensive that another man--albeit an older version of Law--caught her in an immodest state. As if on an inconvenient cue, the other two Laws pop in.

“Why?” Law (26) grits his teeth in exasperation. Although he knew he possessed a habit of teleporting himself into his quarters whenever he was exhausted, his other selves just had to choose an inopportune time.

“Where are we supposed to sleep aside from our room?” 24-year old Law dryly asks, though anyone else could sense the sarcasm underlining his relaxed posture.

Michelle’s eyes turned down in thought, “We have space in the observation deck or library where you all can rest. Even if none of you want to sleep right now, it’s quiet enough to work or read there.”

“Hm. I think I’ll take the observation deck. I need to sort out my thoughts about what happened first,” the older Law rubs the side of his temples—an understandable choice, as watching the deep usually helps Law (26) gain some perspective when he finds himself juggling many concerns or lost in thought.

“Wasn’t it only an observation room? It’s a deck now?” 24-year old Law asks in muted surprise.

“We rebuilt the Tang and added some extra features after Blackbeard destroyed the original at Winner Island,” 26-yr old Law answered as a clue to his younger selves and flicked his gaze to Michelle to provide the details.

“After helping an old shipwright expose his rival for framing him with money laundering and ‘site quality violations,’ he kept insisting that he pay us back for saving his business, so I suggested he expand the room and add floor to ceiling windows so it could be a place for the crew to come together and unwind that’s not far from the control room or launch bay. The windows are made with glass that can withstand Sea King and torpedoes attacks. You can also close them by pressing a button that deploys a metal curtain crafted from the same material as the hull, so it seamlessly blends,” Michelle adds with subtle excitement, being one to exemplify details. Yet, a brighter shine reflected in the youngest Law’s eyes absorbing in the upgrade details to his submarine. However, his face remained neutral, not sure what to make of this woman who would become his lover in the next 5-8 years.

“That’s…pretty ingenious,” 18-year old Law comments, with a barely noticeable upturn of his lips, “Was the old man happy with the adjustments when you told him?”

Law (26) makes an amused sound through his nose, remembering the Den-Den Mushi call, “He scolded me for modifying his design without informing ‘the inventor,’ but he was really indulging in our old style of conversation when I--we--were boys. Wolf was more happy than offended at the addition and said he was glad that Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, and I were doing ok since we left Swallow Island.”

The group shared a laugh, feeling the initial awkwardness stemming from having multiple Laws around in the same bedroom ebb away to where it felt as if they were having a casual sleepover.

“He never changes. When we returned to the North Blue, he was still wearing the same Hawaiian shirt, as always,” the older Law chuckles, pondering a bit before sharing an interesting piece of information with Michelle and his younger selves, “As a future note, remember to inform him about when you are making the nursery, or he’ll be irritated that he couldn’t invent a custom baby mobile on time.”

“N-nursery?” Michelle lightly exclaims. The other Laws were rendered speechless, having believed that they were not the type to be afforded the privilege to have a family, given the recurring pattern of tragedies in their lives. However, for the present Law, he was speechless for a different reason, having rediscovered various forms of hope since then.

“Baby…?” Law (26) whispers to himself, instinctively looking down to Michelle, who mirrored his astonished expression. Potential names had been discussed during aftercare a month before, but hearing confirmation that they would have a family of their own stirred a feeling of curiosity and relief. A baby…

“That’s all I’ll say for now. You can figure it out once you get there. Just remember to tell the old man,” the eldest Law chuckles, with a yawn.

That was Michelle’s cue.

“I think it’s about time to get you all set up for the night. We can continue the baby talks and maybe call Wolf tomorrow to see how he’s doing,” she gives a subtle nod to the youngest Law, knowing he was attempting to call the old inventor before being transported into this timeline, “But before you all go, come here.”

Law (26) reluctantly lets go of Michelle, so she could crawl to the edge of the bed and beckon the others towards her. Befuddlement and subtle shyness riddled the youngest’s visage, but 46-year old Law and 24-year old Law immediately understood her intentions.

From a crystal fragment that melted into iridescent mists of indigo and silver fog bleeding from Michelle’s hand, came a blue rose petal that she pressed into Law’s forehead on countless night to help quell his nightmares. 18-year old Law looked in wonder, before bending down to her height, when she gingerly held out her hand for him to rest his cheek on. All at once, a cool feeling of serenity washed over him congruent to a crisp breeze in an autumn forest, and his body felt free of its exhaustion from the past years. One by one, she did the same for each Law, with each desiring her hands to linger a just second more on their skin.

“Rest well,” she wishes to them, when they turn to leave.

This causes 24-year old Law to grin to himself, seeing that this part of her hadn’t changed, “Heh, will try.” An arched eyebrow was shot at him, communicating a silent demand that he and the others don’t stay up all night, but she knew he was teasing her. He was never irresponsible in the first place and this was how they privately interacted when they began getting comfortable with each other, after all.

A sudden peculiar sensation of longing began to echo inside Michelle to the point where the direction of the feeling was vividly tangible, pulling her inside a memory that she felt was hers, but never experienced. Following the line of the sensation, she met the watch of the older Law regarding her with unflinching saudade eyes, as he stepped out of the way to allow the younger ones to leave first. His lips pursed, as if desiring to say something, yet he refrained. On the other hand, sentimentalism and nostalgia were stirred watching the two younger Laws exit the captain’s quarters, despite not having met him until she was 17. Speaking of Law—her Law—noting hues of a puzzled far-away expression overtaking her face, discreetly embraced her from behind as a grounding gesture. The brush of his fingertips alone sent an alarming warmth through her, emulating the intensity of reuniting with a lover after many years, and she could not help but cling to his arms, as if her heartbeat would abandon her if he let go. This did not escape Law, who was ready to teleport them to the medic bay if she displayed any further discomfort.

“Is this another effect of the fragment of Kronos? The crew didn’t seem to have a reaction aside from shock…Wait. I’m not having any weird subconscious thoughts of having multiple of him around, am I???” Michelle scrunches her nose in mortification, waving off the absurd idea materializing in a comical thought bubble, “I’ll ask the guys if they felt anything off. They’ve known him since childhood.”

A familiar touch brings her back to the present, with Law pressing his forehead to her own. He sighed, relieved that her temperature was normal and brought a hand to gingerly cup her cheek. “You looked pale…paler than usual,” Law whispers in concern, “have you been feeling pinching in your chest again?”

“No,” she smiles, “Thankfully no. I think I’m trying to digest everything that happened today.” Michelle’s hands found their way to Law’s shoulders in a gesture of reassurance and gently guided him down onto their bed beside her.

They found themselves falling into a relaxed tempo with the detective threading her fingers through the surgeon’s raven locks, while he absentmindedly experimented the different ways they could entwine their fingers with her free hand. Yet, curiosity still nagged at the back of Michelle’s mind.

“Law?”

“Hm?”

“Have you been experiencing any weird sensations since the other versions of you got here? Aside from the surge of past memories and emotions, of course,” she breathily whispers, as her hands fondly trace his chest tattoo.

Gray eyes blinked from their content glaze and focused themselves on the brown ones before them. “I guess I’ve been experiencing some wariness…” he began, “and an unexplainable draw to reflect on the past and a future that I’ve yet to see. You?”

“I feel like I’m being sucked into memories that aren’t mine…especially when the other yous left earlier,” she answers.

Law pauses and multiple hypotheses immediately began running amok in his head regarding the artifact and the cause of Michelle’s earlier reaction. “The sooner we figure out the Fragment of Kronos and restore my other selves to their timelines, the better,” he sighs, finding his eyes wavering from exhaustion. He pulls Michelle close and rests his chin on the crown of her head, as his latent possessiveness begins to ebb to the surface, “Plus, I don’t like the idea of sharing you with my other selves, given they are me…and a part of me had always looked for you, even when I didn’t know what I wanted. But if anyone is to get through to the others, it’d be you,” he murmurs.

Affection only welled in Michelle, understanding that he meant to communicate how any version of himself will and would be inevitably drawn to her, seek to be involved with her, and cherish her above all else, to where she’d want for nothing—including the current him, if he was bested. But to the investigator, the Law in front of her mattered above all others, because he was hers. “Don’t worry, you are my Law and your arms are the only ones I want around me,” Michelle emphasizes by tightening their embrace, dissipating any what-ifs plaguing his mind.

Now, they were still uncertain about how to approach tomorrow—especially Michelle—given that some awkwardness in interacting with different versions of her lover was inevitable, but she decided that things will work themselves out, as they are still him, nonetheless.

-

A/N: Chapter focus will follow 18 yr old Law -> 24 yr old Law -> 46 yr old Law -> present Law & Michelle getting close to finding a solution -> Unexpected Lawrem (sin: holy tea needed) -> TBD

Tagging: @jazminetoad, @undercoverweeeb

[mariacallous]

The rapturous standing ovation at the end of Liz Truss’s conference speech looked straight out of a future Netflix documentary from the cults strand. Outside the sect’s meeting hall, the party is polling an average of 25 (TWENTY-FIVE) points behind Labour. Inside, the people were clapping like they’d just heard a really charismatic argument about why it’s important to marry teenage girls, shun dissenting family members, and build gun turrets round their compound.

Truss’s government is now too weak to implement its maddest plans and too ideological to implement its most sensible. Last night it emerged that the government has blocked a public information campaign to help people save money on energy – and, by extension, to conserve usage in the face of suggestions that rolling blackouts could be in the post for this winter.

Apparently Truss regarded it as too nannying, despite it having been drawn up by her own business secretary, Jacob Rees-Mogg (a 53-year-old who admittedly still has a nanny). One cabinet minister reportedly said “the public is smarter than you think”. Unfortunately, Liz Truss isn’t. If we do reach the blackout scenario, the failure to plan or use foresight will be blamed on Vladimir Putin.

The Conservatives have been in power for 12 years. In dog years, that’s 304 (and arguably feels longer) – yet you’ll have noticed how every single thing is still someone else’s fault. The government is obsessed with people having to take responsibility for their own lives, but takes none for its own mistakes. Truss, Kwasi Kwarteng and the other authors of Britannia Unchained deplore the feckless, the useless and the undeserving.

Yet throwing that absolute hot mess of a party conference this week while the country is sliding deeper into its various interlocking crises is surely the last word in fecklessness, uselessness and being undeserving. The salaries of every single person involved in what we saw in Birmingham should be withheld, like a benefit, until they’re at least housebroken. How do you return to functional government after that? It’s like the end of Deliverance, except instead of the characters giving each other haunted looks and saying “I don’t think I’ll see you for a while”, they’ve had to say: “Let’s … run a country in crisis together?”

You’ll have seen a lot of in-group analysis of Truss’s speech and its esoteric meanings, but what most normal people would have seen if a random clip drifted their way was the PM whining her little heart out. For someone who has always been gratingly keen for everyone to see her as a ray of sunshine, Truss is starting to present as a real Negative Nigel. Honestly, Liz, just stop moaning! Get on your bike and be the prime minister. If all you can do is complain about stuff, then resign and find more appropriate employment – eg hygiene inspector or newspaper columnist.

The other thing anyone normal will have clocked is that we’ve entered the realms of pure gibberish, where pies can be grown and a bunch of witless catchphrases are a placeholder for effective ideas. There’s a problem when the only time you see people using your big catchphrase is when they’re making a joke and it’s fitted with sarcastic air quotes. John Major had this with “back to basics”, which was at least a simple phrase. Expect the clunkfest that is “anti-growth coalition” to go the same way.

Anyway: the anti-growth coalition. This is a shadowy group bent on scuppering our heroine. It includes, but is not limited to: TV pundits, Extinction Rebellion, markets, unions, possibly Jamie Oliver, all other political parties, thinktanks, people who voted remain, podcasters, Twitter users, people who “taxi from north London townhouses to the BBC studio”… the list goes on and on. Liz Truss appears to hate more elements of Britain than the hard left. Worryingly, this was the most popular bit of her speech in the hall.

It’s all very well for politicians to find elegant ways of defining themselves against things in the interests of showing voters who they are. But imagine standing on stage and barking out an actual list of your enemies. It’s a bit Ernst Röhm, isn’t it? And that’s before you get to the eye-catching inclusion of the descriptor “north London”. Does this phrase, interpreted as a dog whistle in the past, no longer mean what it has been seen to before – or are Truss’s speechwriters so devoid of historical and cultural hinterland that they don’t even know what they’ve picked up off the floor and put in her mouth?

In the meantime, you can tell how desperate the gambit is from the fact that Iain Duncan Smith decided it gave the Tories something to unite against. Great to hear advice from him on how to win over the British public. Were Holly and Phil not available?

Yet the anti-growth coalition is the government’s favourite new conspiracy theory, the mindblowing catch-all cabal which somehow explains it all. Redpilled prime minister Liz Truss is like that relative who no longer trusts what the government says about anything, and prefers to “do her own research”. The trouble is – and I’m sorry if this is one of the many things she doesn’t like to hear – TRUSS IS THE ACTUAL GOVERNMENT. Creating some mad conspiracy to explain your shortcomings really is the last refuge of the loon. On this form, Liz is very close to claiming that paedophiles are using BBC taxis to transport children to remoaner pound-shorters. Watch out for signs of radicalisation, then – we’ve officially entered the era of L-Anon.

[scotianostra]

 On 20th November 1863 James Bruce, 8th Lord Elgin, the Scottish Liberal statesman and diplomat, died.

James Bruce was born in London, his father, the 7th Earl was a  controversial figure due to his involvement in the “procurement/theft” of  the Parthenon Marbles, to give them their traditional name, you might know them as The Elgin Marbles, anyway I digress again, back to the 8th Earl.

In 1840, following the death of his elder brother, he became the heir to the earldom and in 1841, on the death of his father, succeeded to the title, becoming the eighth earl of Elgin. That same year he was elected Southampton's representative in the House of Commons, but his new earldom brought an end to his parliamentary career. In 1842, he accepted the nomination for governor of Jamaica. During an administration of four years he succeeded in winning the respect of all[. He improved the condition of the Afro-Caribbean workers, and conciliated the white planters by working through them. He remained in this post until 1847. His successful administration led to him being offered the role of governor general in British North America, which he fulfilled between 1847 and 1854. During his time there, Elgin took the first steps in establishing a “responsible government” in Canada. 

This led to him becoming the first Canadian governor to distance himself from legislative affairs, leaving the real power of government to the elected representatives of the people and paving the way for the Canadian general governorship's essentially symbolic role today.

In 1857 as High Commissioner to China. While visiting China and Japan in 1858 and 1859, he oversaw the end of the Second Opium War but in doing so he ordered the destruction of the Old Summer Palace (the ruling Qing dynasty's residence and seat of government), near Peking (today Beijing),destroying thousands of priceless works of art, in order to intimidate the emperor and force him to sign an unratified treaty. Troops hurriedly looted the imperial collections in the palace, before the Old Summer Palace finished burning. The treaty ended up with China being forced to cede what became Hong Kong, to Britain  in “perpetuity“  

According to historian Olive Checkland, Lord Elgin "was ambivalent about the British imperial policy of forcing trade on the peoples in China and Japan. He deplored what he called the 'commercial ruffianism' which effectively determined British policy responses."

In a letter to his wife, in regard to the bombing of Canton, he wrote, "I never felt so ashamed of myself in my life."

It all leaves a bad taste in my mouth I deplore the British Empire and all it’s sins it inflicted on the world.

He subsequently became postmaster-general in the Palmerston cabinet and in 1862 was made viceroy of India. He died in He subsequently became postmaster-general in the Palmerston cabinet and in 1862 was made viceroy of India. 

He died in Dharmsalas, Punjab of a heart attack while crossing a swinging rope on this day 1863, while still in office, he is buried in the churchyard of St. John in the Wilderness in Dharamshala. Bruce's legacy is several areas of Canada and India have the names Elgin or Bruce, he also has a bridge ion Singapore and a street in Victoria, Australia, and Hong Kong named after him.

While China has opened up to French relations, the sale of Chinese art and artifacts in British auctions remains a point of tension between London and Beijing. All zodiac animal heads from the Summer Palace that have been found have returned to Chinese museums, however.

[braidedgraphite]

what I wrote 1/8/2021:

"Screw the 25th Amendment! We don't need the insight and judgement of Trump's cabinet. Trump's behavior has been publicly conspicuous and his followers actions ostentatious AND thoroughly documented. Impeach today. Why is Pelosi hesitating?

Logistics of impeachment much simpler than chasing and prosecuting the rioters. I'm not thinking of the deplorables; their free will is torched. The Republican enablers? Mediocrities. So, so many people to think of. A wonderful thing about the concentration of power in the executive branch is that if there is a WILL he/she can be removed with the swiftest of ease. Passionlessly. We are not seeking justice. We are maintaining equilibrium."

[the-firebird69]

There's a couple of things going on today it's Tuesday and we are beginning our approach on purchasing the oil companies and they're pretty hefty these things are big and he thinks we're not ready and we are ready and he's going to go to the meetings with a stupid s***** and grin and we're going to take him out and take his stuff it was tired of this low life jackass and we also taking territory last night we continue the second five in the Midwest assault and we are ripping out the first five fully and it's a large area it's probably the area of two states scattered around and as we're ripping and pulling out we are noticing that people here I talking about it some of them as it's happening but they're getting it through illegal means or second hand and finding people watching it on video first hand and it looks well defined ever seen Giants they are seeing Giants pull these things out and they're sending teams out there today and they will be at devil's Tower and they will be at monument valley and they will be in Montana and Kansas and also Tunisia and the Alps and other areas where they suspect they are and they're going to be investigating what they are and trying to take them over and infighting because they can see what they can do.

There's more things happening here and they're going on now and we will mention it

-well unless we have to take care of business all the time and it's tedious I'm going to start going to the source and we're going to the backup of theirs all the time because it takes too much time to continuously do this and his people are strapped in their the best at it and he needs them and it's deplorable we're moving out and we're getting things done we are also taking tons of territory tons of it probably we would take another three or four Spain and Portugal's today but overall it's going to be a huge game because of the warlock.

-her son is large several requests to people in general and they are having a serious effect on what's happening people are noticing that people don't want him to have money but the quasi empire and the empire are not really stopping it that much because they're so fed up with these idiots who don't want them to have anything either and it's a huge war between people and it's between warlock and mostly the trumpsters are stopping it and they're getting killed very large numbers because of the money order idea there's a huge number of money orders being cut and those money orders are going out and they're going to try and find us and what bank and where by tracing down who cashes a check and it's going to be a nightmare for them because they'll say this is not him right here but he has a lawyer and Hera has signatory power and has signed our agreement that if we cannot get him the money to put it into a charity in the local area where it came from. And we're going to go ahead with that now because we have a stack and it's a new one. Is a massive and we have to process it at the bank processing facility you can't bring it to the branches and it's gigantic this is a huge load of money it's far too much for us to mention how much and he doesn't get a dime not one penny which is an outrage this president and the cabinet and Camilla have been taking so much weight and pressure and it's ridiculous and he can't believe they're just sitting there listening to these idiots say the stupid crap and we saw that meeting with that idiot said that and we heard booze from the crowd and Brian said it's all right he's speaking his mind I guess and he went up to him and he said you know you're fired right and nobody says that kind of crap to me you're an imbecile and I want you out of here right now or your trespassing it just says it'll just come back and said I'll just keep arresting you and your record is huge already it says so what I don't care if I ever record and people use it and you get weaker and take your people down and you're moron for not knowing that so he's sitting there grinning he says what are you agreeing about we know the status of your robots too and your devices he says nobody knows all that and said you do and people interview all the time cuz you get caught he stopped smiling and he said I'm going to get out of here and try to come back five times and it was arrested each time so you call Mac and you said are you going to try and hold this guy and move him I don't know to the Moon I was an idiots trying to go there clean up whatever's left so they're trying to get him to some sort of prison and to get rid of his assholes he knows what about the eight holes or Marshall Islands a huge a******and we can get all the ships and he's trying to do it to him so he's thinking of us this makes a lot of sense this guy's bait and doesn't mind doing it.

-for the war we are seeking out anyone trying to take his money and you're going to go to prison regardless of who you are and we do see a few people and we do intend on arresting you and it gets bigger but you're going down and this letter incidents where people are intercepting we grab all of them every time and there's fighting all the time there's probably 200 million City area or smaller cities and a big cities like two billion a day who die from it and it's going to go up and that's a lot by the way it adds up pretty quick and it's people who are not clones mostly in this tons of stuff and money and things were gathering and taking from them. And her son says it too he said 1 billionaire going to Western is plenty about 5 a day and each major city going to us is sacrilege and it's caused by John remillard who doesn't get anything and we're carving him out of the investment community and businesses and today we're going to carve them out of oil and it's big oil to be full this is Big oil huge systems and giant facilities the facilities are 100 by 20 miles some of them Giant and the systems are massive this huge rigs out there 10 by 10 miles there's massive miles of pipe I mean you have no idea what this guy is giving up is power and we are going to have all sorts of uranium mines by the end of the week and we're pulling them from this moron and he will be out of the parks by the end of next week completely and Nevada will be clear and part of California of his presence and we will begin to building New Vegas we have huge plans and where salvaging tons of stuff and putting it in our position that we can from Vegas signs and all sorts of memorabilia we're purchasing it he wants us to substitute for the original thing and purchase from people The originals and give them the replicas that we make which are fairly decent people can't tell unless they use magnification equipment that's not digital and it's impossible I think it's a good idea and they'll see the stuff again and want to take it over and take the place over to get the stuff back and we're going to go ahead and try and make that deal and it's Elvis's suit that he's pointing at and it is his and there's other things too Paris Hilton had a wedding down there has a wedding down there and it's at the Bellagio and Tommy f dreams of marrying her and the accident went very badly and he felt bad about it and her son says you can't cry over spilled bill spilled the milk and you can make another one. He started laughing and said she's in there I can make one of those he says make one for me so I can make Giants. Start laughing said this kid is insane and probably do anything I wanted no but he's kind of mean he left with a tear design because of what happened and figured out that she needs rescuing he wants to bring it back to figure out what he can get and he'll be surprised what she says. Anderson says it's Doctor Doom everything is over the damn and it's true.

We're going to Publix before this gets too huge

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

So it says to me why don't I show up at comic Con and I was hiding behind the mask as Dr Doom so I thought it was he sure he says I don't have any money to get there or a way to get there and believe it or not and I'm still a baby and he's making baby gestures it's true too everybody here is a shitted and that's the way it is we kind of getting used to they're being dumb I'm trying to get them out of here but that would be a lot of fun it'd be kind of fruitless he says because he plans to show up like bane send me those big huge bain and dark to do them talking I guess LOL

Tommy f AKA Doctor Doom

[hardynwa]

Oyo APC faults Makinde’s 2024 budget proposal

The All Progressives Congress in Oyo State, on Monday, described the 2024 budget proposal of Governor Seyi Makinde as defective and unrealistic. The reports that Makinde had, last Tuesday, presented a budget proposal of N434.2bn tagged “Budget of Economic Recovery” to the state House of Assembly. APC, in a statement by its Publicity Secretary, Olawale Sadare, in Ibadan, the state capital, therefore, urged the lawmakers to avoid rushing to pass the bill into law without a thorough job as has been the case since 2020. Sadare said, “Pundits and economic management experts have had to express worries over the future of the Pacesetter State because the administration of Makinde has done little or nothing to improve the economy and create wealth as being done in some other states across the country. “To make it worse, an expert recently said that Makinde has reduced the state to ‘Land Grabbing and Okada/Keke economy. Credence was again given to the observation of pundits last week when the governor tabled before the House a proposed budget for 2024 which contained nothing. “In the document, N434.2billion is quoted as the total budget for the year but N260billion is the total amount of funds expected in revenue leaving over N170billion in deficit. How realistic is this? “A whopping sum of N21 billion is budgeted for the Office of the Governor without any breakdown of what they intend to do with it in specific term while another N485million would go to Cabinet and Security service. “The ruins in public facilities, in the state, is feasible in the deplorable condition of all the monumental structures in the Agodi State Secretariat while the Government House has been reduced to an eyesore now harbouring all sort of strange persons. Yet money has been allocated and released for the maintenance of these facilities since 2020 but there is nothing to show for it.” While commenting on the 20 per cent allocation to education, the party wondered what happened to the previous allocations “because virtually all public schools have suffered neglect while pupils carry chairs and tables to classrooms from home.” On agriculture, the party wondered what success Oyo has recorded in the areas of agriculture, commerce, job creation and so on in the last four years. It added, “We rely on the North for beans, tomatoes, peppers, cows, onions, rice etc when we have massive arable land and human resources.” Read the full article

[bostonfly]

Mamajuana may be a novelty for honeymooners, but it has been an essential part of the Dominican medicine cabinet—and bar—for more than a century. The therapeutic properties of its individual botanicals were known to the Taínos of Hispaniola since before colonization, and have been studied by doctors and chemists around the world ever since. For example, one wood commonly used in the infusion, guayacán, was harvested and taken to Spain for study within a few years of the island’s colonization in 1493. Nicolas Pol, Germany’s top doctor at the time, wrote, “Some three thousand Spaniards deplorably afflicted with the loathsome sickness, who had tried innumerable treatments in vain, had already been restored to health by the guaiacum decoction ‘which proved almost miraculous.’” Another common mamajuana ingredient, anamú (the petiveria shrub), is used traditionally to treat arthritis and other joint and muscle pains, according to the New York Botanical Garden’s guide to Dominican medicinal plants; a 2007 study in the West Indian Medical Journal, found that the dibenzyl trisulphide it contains is of “tremendous pharmaceutical interest” for its possible beneficial effects on inflammation, long-term memory and the inhibition of certain cancer cells. Over a dozen other roots, shrubs and woods, including bejuco de indio and palo de brasil, and occasionally animal parts, such as cat’s claw, provide similar targeted benefits.

[thaimun-x-hsoc]

Soviet Press Release

With Dubcek in a coma, his cabinet is now fighting against each other in hopes of becoming the next leader of Czechoslovakia. These power-hungry, incompetent, ruthless and inept members of the bourgeois who are fighting to become the next president will bring nothing but corruption and instability to the once great Czechoslovakia. Even before the assassination attempt on Dubcek the citizens of Czechoslovakia resided in deplorable conditions, fearing for their lives, with him now in a coma the citizens were panicking. Their already weak faith with the governing regime has only fallen even further. Due to this political instability, the horrid conditions which Czechs currently reside in shall continue to further deteriorate. Thus, the people have called upon Gustav Husak to become the next president of Czechoslovakia. Husak has helped the good people of Prague many times in the past by supplying them with food and shelter through Soviet Bloc funded food kitchens. The citizens of Czechoslovakia are now calling for their rightful and kind hearted leader, Gustav Husak to take the position of president in order to liberate them from the pain and suffering that they have been enduring for years. The citizens are now chanting “Husak the Liberator'' in the streets in hopes of pressuring the Dubcek government to peacefully allow Husak to travel to Prague and claim his rightful position as the president of Czechoslovakia there. The Soviet Bloc hopes that the Reformers will understand that only with Gustav Husak in power, Czechoslovakia can rise to become a prosperous and peaceful country in Europe once again.