#Europe election campaign

[galerymod]

When the Nazis wanted to sell their fatherland and relativise it, or how stupid do you have to be to vote for such traitors to the fatherland!

My favourite phrase is: not everything was bad about the French Revolution, for example the guillotine.

Maximilien de Robespierre more or less

Of course, this is only satire, but it is interesting to see that if they were in the world they would like to live in, they would have been executed by themselves precisely for this.

mod

AfD employee suspected of spying for China: "What AfD voters get is treason"

"AfD is a collection of anti-patriots"

German Interior Minister Faeser speaks of "attack from within on European democracy"

What an irony!

[kluonora]

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THE RIGHT AND ALT RIGHT LOST THE ELECTIONS IN SPAIN LET'S FUCKIN GOOOOOO

[worldspotlightnews]

Trump and Le Pen backed these Dutch farmers -- now they've sprung an election shock | CNN

CNN  —  A farmers’ protest party in the Netherlands has caused a shock after winning provincial elections this week just four years after their founding. Could their rise have wider implications? The Farmer-Citizen Movement or BoerburgerBeweging (BBB) grew out of mass demonstrations against the Dutch government’s environmental policies, protests that saw farmers using their tractors to block…

[creativitytoexplore]

Inside the House GOP effort to keep weapons flowing to Ukraine | CNN Politics

Inside the House GOP effort to keep weapons flowing to Ukraine | CNN Politics

Washington CNN  —  After House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy suggested last week that Republicans might pull back funding for Ukraine next year if they take the majority, the GOP leader has worked behind the scenes to reassure national security leaders in his conference that he wasn’t planning to abandon Ukraine aid and was just calling for greater oversight of any federal dollars, sources told…

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Paul Blest at More Perfect Union:

Thousands of workers at a Volkswagen plant in Chattanooga, Tennessee have voted to join the United Auto Workers, defying an all-out union-busting effort from the state’s political leaders and marking a key victory for the United Auto Workers in their renewed effort to organize the South and non-union plants.

Unofficial results tallied Friday showed that after three days of voting, more than two-thirds of workers voted to join the UAW. The win in Chattanooga is the first successful attempt to organize a non-union automaker in decades and comes after multiple failed attempts to organize the plant, including in 2014 and 2019. More than 4,300 workers were eligible to vote this week.  “I can't explain it. It's not like the first times,” Renee Berry, who has worked at the Chattanooga plant for 14 years and through two prior facility-wide votes, told us in the lead-up to the election. “The first few times was hell…now it's like we can roll our shoulders back, because we got it.”  Volkswagen is the world’s largest auto company by revenue, and until today, every one of its plants around the globe has been unionized except for one.

"This is going to be in history books down the road. This is huge—forever huge,” Robert Soderstrom, a worker at the plant, told More Perfect Union. “People recognize for the first time in a long time, on a mass scale, that there's got to be some changes. And some of the power and stuff that's gone to the corporate world needs to come back to us little guys.” The victory in Tennessee continues a winning streak for the UAW, which negotiated record contracts at the Detroit Three of Ford, GM, and Stellantis last year following a lengthy “stand-up” strike. After passing the contracts, UAW President Shawn Fain announced a $40 million effort to organize non-union U.S. plants, largely based in right-to-work states like Tennessee and owned by auto companies based in Europe, Japan, and South Korea, as well as EV manufacturers like Tesla and Rivian. 

Since launching that new effort, more than 10,000 autoworkers around the country have signed union cards, according to the UAW. Earlier this month, workers at a Mercedes plant in Vance, Alabama became the second group to file for an election, which will be held from May 13 to 17. Alabama Gov. Kay Ivey and the state Chamber of Commerce have forcefully opposed the unionization effort, claiming it would hurt Alabama autoworkers—who, even before the pandemic, were making less than they did in 2002 when adjusted for inflation. The same dynamic has played out in Tennessee. Gov. Bill Lee, who denounced the last unsuccessful union campaign in 2019, said it would be a “mistake” for workers at the Chattanooga plant to unionize and boasted about the state’s “right-to-work” law. 

🚨🚨 BREAKING:🚨🚨 Workers at the Volkswagen (VW) plant in Chattanooga have voted yes to join the United Auto Workers (UAW) after 2 failed attempts in 2014 and 2019. #UAW #VWChattanooga #1u

[sidmjkgc]

In less than a week in Italy we had:

the Pope saying "there's too much faggotry in the seminary"

the Prime Minister announcing herself as "I'm that bitch Meloni"

a right wing party saying to vote for Berlusconi, who died a year ago

the leader of the racist party saying "more Italy, less Europe" and complaining about the new bottle caps

the main candidate of said racist party saying to vote with "an X like Decima Mas" a literal fascist naval flotilla

Feel free to add more or update, there's still another week of election campaign.

[akajustmerry]

couldn’t find anything about the murdochs suppressing press freedom would you mind sharing links please

ooooooft okay. i do forget that not everyone is aware of these things. but!! if you wanna know why dominant news media in the global north sucks / wanna be more aware of media influence on politics / wanna appreciate succession more - here is a 'fuck the murdochs' reading list

a recent article on the current court case between Fox News (founded by Rupert Murdoch) and Dominion Voting Systems. Dominion is claiming defamation after Fox News pushed the lie the 2020 election was stolen from Trump, which led to the Jan 6 riots.

Opinion piece by former Aus PM Malcolm Turnball on why he's leading a campaign requesting a Royal Commission into Murdoch's monopoly over Australia's press and Murdoch's unjust influence on Australian politics

here is a podcast breaking down how Lachlan Murdoch (irl Kendall) is suing an independent paper here in Aus for connecting the Jan 6 insurrection to fearmongering of Murdoch press in the States. like, he is literally suing journalists for accurate reporting. that *is* suppressing freedom of the press by definition.

The Murdochs: Empire of Influence (2022). 6 part documentary featuring historians, journalists, ex-employees etc. covers everything there is to know about the family's role in press and politics from world war 1 up to 2022.

Book: Breaking News: Sex, Lies and the Murdoch Succession by veteran anti-Murdoch journalist Paul Barry. The book is from 2013, but is a thoroughly accessible analysis of on the family's rise

Vanity Fair also recently published this hugeeeeee investigation: Inside Rupert Murdoch's Succession Drama

The official Succession podcast is free and discusses the show's influences pretty openly. it doesn't go super in-depth (probably because they don't want to be sued) but it makes mention and discussion of real events and people that influence the show.

just for good measure: here is a list of every news outlet and publisher and media outlet the Murdoch family own across the US, UK, Europe and Asia. handy for when you do your own research, which you should so you're not reading from *their* sources. The whole reason you have trouble finding this kind of information on them is because they suppress it, or make it hard to find.

like... i know a lot of people don't know this, but Succession is a political satire and is about a very specific group of people who are actively shaping the world for the worst so they can become rich and never live with the consequences. the majority of Jesse Armstrong's work is about how internal dynamics between people in powerful institutions literally shape society. if you don't understand that's what Succession is then you're actually missing a huge part of it. so i hope you, and anyone else who needs it, take a gander at these resources because you won't only understand Succession more, but the state of your local politics and media too.

[alwida10]

Ugh. I hate getting political, so have some bullet points.

- Putin laments the fact that the Soviet Union has vanished. One of his major goals is to re-establish it. This has been said openly.

- the Soviet Union included regions young people from today know only as autonomous countries, including Armenia, Aserbaidschan, Estland, Georgia, Kasachstan, Kirgisien, Lettland, Litauen, Moldawien, Tadschikistan, Turkmenien/Turkmenistan, Ukraine, Usbekistan, Belarus. (Countries in bold are the countries I remember evidence of Russia has tampered with. Might be more, since my memory sucks.)

- to ensure the comeback of the Soviet Union, Putin (Russia) uses war tactics to destabilize, control and manipulate the countries to make it more likely to re-unite with Russia. Remember how Belarus’s elections have been tampered with and the bloody crushing of the protests? Moldavia has been calling for help regarding the Russian troops in their country. If you haven’t heard about Ukraine, this post isn’t for you.

- if you are able to read Russian, it’s easy to find the war plan Russia has developed to ensure this goal, including the annexation of Ukraine, Moldavia up to attacks on Poland and east-Germany.

- the biggest problem for Russia to reach this goal is the NATO, and that mostly because the USA had the NATO’s back.

- as long as the nato stands together it’s almost impossible for Putin to reach his goal.

- “devide and conquer”

-by now it’s well documented that Russian involvement led to Trump’s victory.

- the same people, who organized Trump’s campaign, later campaigned for the pro-Brexit side.

- Trump (being right wing) wanted the US to leave the NATO. Brexit has weakened the cohesion in the EU.

- the right wing parties have been growing in Europe. Italy and Netherland have already elected right wing parties as their leadership. The right wing party in Germany is most likely the second strongest party in the eu elections right now. (Yes, the modern day Nazis. Yes, Nazis.)

- right wing parties are more likely to say “what do I care about my neighbors getting bombed? I’m caring about MY people.” They support getting big (hence powerful) positions such as the NATO getting divided into smaller, easier to beat fractions. Poland does not stand a chance against Russia on its own. The NATO does.

- both Iran (because of the conflict in the Middle East) and China (because of their intend to annex Taiwan) love and support Putin’s tactic to divide and weaken the NATO. The USA are madly powerful, but not even they are able to take on three nuclear powers at the same time.

——

k, why am I talking about this?

-> if you come across anti-Biden, anti-EU, anti-democrat, pro-segregation posts or opinions you NEED to ask yourself if this might be political manipulation to weaken your country. It had been the young voters who put Trump out of office. It’s the young voters Russia and other manipulative powers have on their radar now. YOU are the target to reach their goals.

-> yes, this includes pro-Palestine messaging if it leads into a “don’t vote for Biden” narrative.

[redmyeyes]

Fellow Travelers Timeline

(as comprehensive as i can make it. corrections/additions welcome)

1919-20 (?) - Hawk is born

based on tennis trophy which shows year 1936, and hawk's statement that he and kenny were on the tennis team in 11th grade (16/17 years old).

also date on the paperweight (1937) that hawk says kenny picked out on their senior trip. spring or fall though? if spring (usual for a senior trip, just before graduation), it would mean hawk graduated HS in 1937, b. 1919. (thanks, @lestatscunt!)

June 6, 1930 - Tim is born, on Staten Island, NY

birthdate/place shown on army application in ep 5

Gemini, with moon in Libra

>>> With a Gemini Sun Libra Moon, emotional equilibrium is hard for you to maintain in a world of constant flux and tension. Since you are not responsible for the woes and upsets of those around you, you should not feel so duty-bound to assuage their wounds or mediate every conflict that happens to come your way.

>>> your natural diplomacy, extraordinary perception and insight can all be applied creatively in such fields as politics, social work, and the mass media.

>>> your extreme open-mindedness would probably enable you to almost any life-style. You have a universal quality about you that transcends culture, religion, ideology, or any other barrier that divides mankind.

Fall 1937 - Spring 1941 - Hawk attends "Penn", presumably the University of Pennsylvania. (assuming hawk b. 1919)

(this is very very long, the rest is under the cut)

December 7, 1941 - bombing of Pearl Harbor, US enters WWII

??? - Hawk joins the army (along with Kenny), and is sent to Europe.

January 9 – August 15, 1945 - Battle of Luzon, where Kenny dies.

September 2, 1945 - Japan surrenders, US exits WWII

February, 1949 - Hawk starts working at the State Department

Hawk says in 1x04 (Dec 1953) that he's been working at the State Dept for "four years and ten months".

"I came out of the war with four assets: degree from Penn, a hero's war record, no particular political ideology, and a passing acquaintance with three languages. Throw in a talent for prevaricating and a taste for travel and fine clothes, you have the makings of a competent, mid-level Foreign Service bureaucrat."

Fall 1948 - Spring 1952 - Tim attends Fordham University, graduating with a degree in political science and history.

1951 - Hawk starts work for the Bureau of Congressional Relations

Tim mentions Hawk's been working there for two years during their meeting on the bench.

1952 - Tim works "the New York campaign" (presumably for Eisenhower).

1952/3? - Tim interns for three months at the Star, in the mailroom.

November 4, 1952 - Election Night, Eisenhower (R) wins the presidency. Tim/Hawk first meet and are instantly smitten. (ep 1)

February 16, 1953 to March 10, 1954 - McCarthy Hearings, part 1.

The first consisted of a series of hearings conducted by McCarthy, as the subcommittee’s chairman, throughout 1953 and early 1954 in which McCarthy alleged Communist influence within the press and the federal government, including the State Department, the U.S. Army, and the Government Printing Office.

March 5, 1953 - Stalin dies.

Late March, 1953 - Hawk/Tim second meeting

After Hawk meets Tim at the park bench, he attends a hearing where Marcus says Cohn has brought David Schine on, and then later at their lunch Senator Smith says, "McCarthy is sending Cohn and his sidekick to Europe..." This article, dated April 19, says that Cohn and Schine have been in Europe for two weeks.

Hawk mentions that it's near the end of the month, police need to make their quotas.

April 27, 1953 - Executive Order 10450 signed. Hawk goes to Tim's apartment and tells him about Kenny. (ep 1)

June 6, 1953 - Tim's 23rd birthday (Hawk 'misses' it because they weren't talking for 4 weeks. belated celebration in ep 3.)

June 15, 1953 (?) - date of the newspaper Tim is reading just before he goes to visit Hawk in ep 2, where Hawk makes him write the letter to Mary. I'm choosing to believe this is a mistake on the show's part, because this would mean that Hawk has already missed Tim's birthday.

June 19, 1953 - Julius and Ethel Rosenberg's execution. Hawk comforts Lucy about this at the end of ep 2. So, likely Hawk and Tim had their big fight very shortly before Tim's birthday, and weren't talking from end of May - end of June.

End of June, 1953 - at the end of ep 2, Tim says it's been 4 months since his last confession, making his last (proper) confession the end of Feb or beginning of March. (ie, before he meets Hawk again).

End of June or beginning of July, 1953 - weekend trip to Rehoboth Beach (ep 3)

November 1953 - G. David Schine drafted into the army (ep 3)

Christmas 1953 (ep 4)

March 16 to June 17, 1954 - Army-McCarthy Hearings (part 2) (ep 5)

The second phase involved the subcommittee's investigation of McCarthy’s attacks on the U.S. Army. Known as the “Army-McCarthy hearings,” they were broadcast on national television and they contributed to McCarthy’s declining national popularity. Five months later, on December 2, 1954, the Senate censured McCarthy.

June 6, 1954 - Tim's 24th birthday

June, 1954? - Tim/Hawk break up, Hawk proposes to Lucy (ep 5)

I believe this happens at the tail-end of the Army-McCarthy hearings, so before June 17th.

Fall, 1954 - Sen. Smith's funeral

based solely on fall foliage in this screenshot:

Late Nov / Early Dec, 1954 - Tim enlists in the army

based on army application: birthdate 6/6/30, age: 24 years, 6 months

Late Nov / Early Dec, 1954 - Hawk/Tim last meeting in the tower

based on the radio program Tim is listening to, which says, "Chief Counsel Roy Cohn has resigned from the committee. And Senator McCarthy, his approval ratings plummeting, faces censure or even expulsion from the Senate."

Tim leaves for Fort Dix, for training, but is later stationed at Fort Polk, in Vernon Parish, LA. (thanks, @jesterlesbian!)

December 2, 1954 - the Senate censures McCarthy.

Summer or Fall 1956? - Tim's letter (that lucy burns) (ep 6)

Flashbacks, for context:

"Since he's giving up his apartment, Hawk insists on having a lair in the woods." // "I'm surprised that he finally agreed."

Lucy lets contractor go. // "Give me a baby."

Hawk is reading the Bristol Daily Courier, a paper located in Bristol, PA, a town in Bucks County, outside Philadelphia. I can't find any info on the one headline I can read though ("Heath Carlson breaks arws deadlock, locals proud"), so can't date this properly.

Lucy cleaning out Hawk's apartment, finds paperweight, sees Tim drop off letter.

"I went into the Army to get away from you. I thought time and distance would help. But it hasn't." If Tim sends the letter in summer 1956, it's been a year and a half since he enlisted.

Biggest question here: did lucy ask for a baby before or after she read Tim's letter??? the flashbacks don't answer this definitively.

October, 1956? - Lucy becomes pregnant with Jackson (see note under April 1957)

October 23 – November 4, 1956 - Hungarian Revolution of 1956

October 23, 1956 - April 30, 1957 - Hungarian Refugee Crisis

November 8, 1956 - Operation Safe Haven commences

President Eisenhower declared that 5,000 Hungarians would be awarded visa numbers remaining under the 1953 Refugee Relief Act

Spring 1957? - Tim sends telegram. It looks like 05-??-???? to me, which doesn't really make sense if McCarthy died on May 2nd, but it's hard to make out. or maybe telegrams used the date format dd-mm-yyyy.

April 1957? - Tim/Hawk first meeting, Lucy at least 5 (or 6? or 7?) months pregnant

You should feel your baby's first movements, called "quickening," between weeks 16 and 25 of your pregnancy. If this is your first pregnancy, you may not feel your baby move until closer to 25 weeks. 

25 weeks ~= 6 months, and it still seems novel to her, so let's say she's approx. 6 months pregnant here.

May 2, 1957 - Joe McCarthy dies.

May 6, 1957 - McCarthy's funeral. Tim's first visit to Hawk's apartment (ep 8)

June 6, 1957 - Tim turns 27.

June or July, 1957 - Jackson born (based on dates above)

1958? - Kimberly is born. (estimated bc she looks the same age or older than Jackson, so assuming she's a year younger at most.)

August, 1965 - President Johnson signs a law making it a federal crime to destroy or mutilate [draft] cards. 

October 15, 1965 -David Miller publicly burns his draft card, becoming the first person to be prosecuted under that law and a symbol of the growing movement against the war.

May 17, 1968 - the Catonsville Nine took 378 draft files from the draft board office in Catonsville, Maryland and burned them in the parking lot. (inspo for Tim & co. thanks @brokendrums!)

November 1968 - ep 6. Hawk is 48-9, Tim is 38, Jackson is 11.

based on this newspaper screenshot when Hawk is talking to Marcus on the phone about Tim

November 1968 - May 1970 (earliest) - Tim in prison. (he says in ep 7 he was in prison for a year and a half. this assumes he went to prison right away, but it could have been several months later if he was awaiting trial/sentencing.)

1970? - After prison, Tim moves to San Francisco and gets his counseling degree.

Mid-late 1970s - Tim earns his C-SWCM qualifications, requiring:

A Bachelor’s degree in social work from a graduate program accredited by the Council on Social Work Education

Documentation of at least three (3) years and 4,500 hours of paid, supervised, post-BSW professional experience in an organization or agency that provides case management services

Current state BSW-level license or an ASWB BSW-level exam passing score.

nb. because Tim already had his bachelors (from Fordham, majoring in history), I could see him entering a much-accelerated BSW program, transfering a lot of credits from his previous degree. That would give him maybe 2 more years of university, plus the required 3 years of post-BSW work = 5 years minimum before he earns that business card.

February 4, 1977 - Fleetwood Mac's album Rumours is released, including the 1970s Tim/Hawk anthem, Go Your Own Way

October, 1978 - Jackson dies

November 27, 1978 - Harvey Milk assassinated

May 20-22, 1979 - Tim on Fire Island (ep 7). Hawk is 59 or 60, Tim is 48, about to turn 49.

May 22, 1979 - Harvey Milk's (posthumous) 49th birthday (celebrated in ep 7)

1986 - ep 8

how long was Hawk in San Francisco? Timelines for the events below may be fudged in the show, bc I doubt he was there for 5 months.

March, 1986 - Roy Cohn's 60 Minutes interview, which the gang watches in ep 4.

April 15, 1986 - US bombs Libya. in the first episode you can hear reference to this on the radio, before Hawk leaves for San Francisco. (thanks @aliceinhorrorland93!)

July 27, 1986 - In California, Gov. George Deukmejian vetoes a bill that would have defined AIDS as a physical handicap calling for entitlement to protection under the state's civil rights laws.

August 2, 1986 - Roy Cohn dies (ep 8)

Late 1986? - the fundraising gala that Tim crashes, shortly after Cohn's death.

September 1986 - The State Legislature has passed another bill [in addition to the one vetoed on July 27]. Mr. Deukmejian, a Republican running for re-election, has indicated that he will probably veto the bill. (nb, this is likely the bill that Tim & co want to pressure the governor to sign).

October 11, 1987 - AIDS memorial quilt first displayed (ep 8)

--

this was a collaborative effort! many thanks to @ishipallthings for many of these details, as well as @startagainbuttercup , @alorchik, @itsalinh and others in the FT discord!

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 6: Athena, Goddess Of Wisdom]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Here at the midway point in our journey—like Dante stumbling upon the gates of the Inferno—would it be the right moment to review what’s at stake? Let’s begin.

It’s the end of August. The delegates of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago officially vote to name Aemond the party’s presidential candidate. His ascension is aided by 10,000 antiwar demonstrators who flood into the city and threaten to set it ablaze if Hubert Humphrey is chosen instead. At the end—in his death rattle—Humphrey begs to be Aemond’s running mate, one last humiliation he cannot resist. Humphrey is denied. Eugene McCarthy, dignity intact, boards a commercial flight to his home state of Minnesota without looking back.

Aemond selects U.S. Ambassador to France, Sargent Shriver, to be his vice president. Shriver is a Kennedy by marriage—his wife, JFK’s younger sister Eunice, just founded the Special Olympics—and has previously headed the Office of Economic Opportunity, the Peace Corps, and the Chicago Board of Education. He also served as the architect of the president’s “War on Poverty” before distancing himself from the imploding Johnson administration. Shriver is not a concession to fence-sitting moderates or Southern Dixiecrats, but an embodiment of Aemond’s commitment to unapologetic progressivism. Richard Nixon spends the weekend campaigning in his native California, a gold vein of votes like the mines settlers rushed to in 1848. George Wallace announces that he will run as an Independent. Racists everywhere rejoice.

Phase III of the Tet Offensive is underway in Vietnam; 700 American soldiers have been killed this month alone. Riots break out in military prisons where the U.S. Army is keeping their deserters. The North Vietnamese refuse to allow Pope Paul VI to visit Hanoi on a peace mission. President Johnson calls both Aemond and Nixon to personally inform them of this latest evidence of the communists’ unwillingness to negotiate in good faith. Daeron and John McCain remain in Hỏa Lò Prison. The draft swallows men like the titan Cronus devoured his own children.

In Eastern Europe, the Russians are crushing pro-democracy protests in the largest military operation since World War II as half a million troops roll into Czechoslovakia. In Caswell County, North Carolina, the last remaining segregated school district in the nation is ordered by a federal judge to integrate after years of stalling. On the Fangataufa Atoll in the South Pacific, France becomes the fifth nation to successfully explode a hydrogen bomb. In Mexico City, 300,000 students gather to protest the authoritarian regime of President Diaz Ordaz. In Guatemala, American ambassador John Gordon Mein is murdered by a Marxist guerilla organization called the Rebel Armed Forces. In Columbus, Ohio, nine guards are held hostage during a prison riot; after 30 hours, they’re rescued by a SWAT team.

The latest issue of Life magazine brings worldwide attention to catastrophic industrial pollution in the Great Lakes. The first successful multiorgan transplant is carried out at Houston Methodist Hospital. The Beatles release Hey Jude, the best-selling single of 1968 in the U.S., U.K., Australia, and Canada. NASA’s Apollo lunar landing program plans to launch a crewed shuttle next year, just in time to fulfill John F. Kennedy’s 1962 promise to put a man on the moon “before the end of the decade.” If this is successful, the United States will win the Space Race and prove the superiority of capitalism. If it fails, the martyred astronauts will join all the other ghosts of this apocalyptic age, an epoch born under bad stars.

The night sky glows with the ancient debris of the Aurigid meteor shower. From down here on Earth, Jupiter is a radiant white gleam, visible with the naked eye and admired since humans were making cave paintings and Stonehenge. But Io is a mystery. With a telescope, she becomes a dust mote entrapped by Jupiter’s gravity; to the casual observer, she doesn’t exist at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

What was it like, that very first time? It’s strange to remember. You’re both different people now.

It’s May, 1966. You and Aemond are engaged, due to be married in three short weeks, and if you get pregnant then it’s no harm, no foul. In reality, it will end up taking you over a year to conceive, but no one knows that yet; you are living in the liminal space between what you imagine your life will be and the cold blade of the truth. Aemond has brought you to Asteria for the weekend, an increasingly common occurrence. The Targaryens—minus one, that holdout prodigal son, always glowering from behind swigs of rum and clouds of smoke—have already begun to treat you like a member of the family. The flock of Alopekis yap excitedly and lick your shins. Eudoxia learns your favorite snacks so she can have them ready when you arrive.

One night Aemond takes your hand and leads you to Helaena’s garden, darkness turned to twilight in the artificial luminance of the main house. You can hear distant voices, chatter and laughter, and the Beatles’ Rubber Soul spinning on the record player in the living room like a black hole, gravity that not even light can escape when it is wrenched over the event horizon.

You’re giggling as Aemond pulls you along, faster and faster, weaving through pathways lined with roses and sunflowers and butterfly bushes. Your high heels sink into soft, fertile earth; the air in your lungs is cool and infinite. “Where are we going?”

And Aemond grins back at you as he replies: “To Olympus.”

In the circle of hedges guarded by thirteen gods of stone, Aemond unzips your modest pink sundress and slips your heels off your feet, kneeling like he’s proposing to you again. When you are bare and secretless, he draws you down onto the grass and opens you, claims you, fills you to the brim as the crystalline water of the fountain patters and Zeus hurls his lightning bolts, an eternal storm, unending war. It’s intense in a way it never was with your first boyfriend, a sweet polite boy who talked about feminist theory and followed his enlightened conscience all the way to Vietnam. This isn’t just a pleasant way to pass a Friday night, something to look forward to between differential equations textbooks and calculus proofs. With Aemond it’s a ritual; it’s something so overpowering it almost scares you.

“Aphrodite,” Aemond murmurs against your throat, and when you try to get on top he stops you, pins you to the ground, thrusts hard and deep, and you try not to moan too loudly as you surrender, his weight on you like a prophesy. This is how he wants you. This is where you belong.

Has someone ever stitched you to their side, pushing the needle through your skin again and again as the fabric latticework takes shape, until their blood spills into your veins and your antibodies can no longer tell the difference? He makes you think you’ve forgotten who you were before. He makes you want to believe in things the world taught you were myths.

But that was over two years ago. Now Aemond is not your spellbinding almost-stranger of a fiancé—shrouded in just the right amount of mystery—but your husband, the father of your dead child, the presidential candidate. You miss when he was a mirage. You miss what it felt like to get high on the idea of him, each taste a hit, each touch a rush of toxins to the bloodstream.

Seven weeks after your emergency c-section, you are healing. Your belly no longer aches, your bleeding stops, you can rejoin the living in this last gasp of summer. Ludwika takes you shopping and you pick out new swimsuits; you’ve gone up a size since the baby, and it shows no signs of vanishing. In the fitting room, Ludwika chain-smokes Camel cigarettes and claps when you show her each outfit, ordering you to spin around, telling you that there’s nothing like Oleg Cassini back in Poland. You plan to buy three swimsuits. Ludwika insists you get five. She pays with Otto’s American Express.

That afternoon at home in your blue bedroom, you get changed to join the rest of the family down by the pool, your first swim since Ari was born. You choose Ludwika’s favorite: a dreamy turquoise two-piece with flowing transparent fabric that drapes your midsection. You can still see the dark vertical line of where the doctors stitched you closed. Now you and Aemond match; he got his scar on the floor of the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach, you earned yours at Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan. There are gold chains on your wrist and looped around your neck. Warm sunlight and ocean wind pours in through the open windows.

Aemond appears in the doorway and you turn to show him, proud of how you’ve pulled yourself together, how this past year hasn’t put you in an asylum. His right eye catches on your scar and stays there for a long time. Then at last he says: “You don’t have something else to wear?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Labor Day, and Asteria has been descended upon by guests invited to celebrate Aemond’s nomination. The dining room table is overflowing with champagne, Agiorgitiko wine, platters of mini spanakopitas, lamb gyros, pita bread with hummus and tzatziki, feta cheese and cured meats, grilled octopus, baklava, and kourabiethes. Eudoxia is rushing around sweeping up crumbs and shooing tipsy visitors away from antique vases shipped here from Greece. Aemond’s celebrity endorsers include Sammy Davis Jr., Sonny and Cher, Andy Williams, Bobby Darin, Warren Beatty, Shirley MacLaine, Claudine Longet, and a number of politicians; but the most notable attendee is President Lyndon Baines Johnson, shadowed by Secret Service agents. He won’t be making any surprise appearances on the campaign trail for Aemond—in the present political climate, he would be more of a liability than an asset—but he has travelled to Long Beach Island tonight to offer his well-wishes. From the record player thrums Jimi Hendrix’s All Along The Watchtower.

When you finish getting ready and arrive downstairs, you spot Aegon: slouching in a velvet chair over a century old, hair shagging in his eyes, sipping something out of a chipped mug he clasps with both hands, flirting with a bubbly early-twenties campaign staffer. Aegon smiles and waves when he sees you. You wave back. And you think: When did he become the person I look for when I walk into a room?

Now Aemond is beside you in a blue suit—beaming, confident, his glass eye in place, a hand resting on your waist—and Aegon isn’t smiling anymore. He takes a gulp of what is almost certainly straight rum from his mug and returns his attention to the campaign staffer, his lady of the hour. You picture him undressing her on his shag carpet and feel disorienting, violent envy like a bullet.

Viserys is already fast asleep upstairs, but the rest of the family is out en masse to charm the invitees and pose for photographs. Alicent, Helaena, and Mimi—trying very hard to act sober, blinking too often—are chit-chatting with the other political wives. Otto is complaining about something to Criston; Criston is pretending to listen as he stares at Alicent. Ludwika is smoking her Camels and talking to several young journalists who are ogling her, enraptured. Fosco and Sargent Shriver are entertaining a group of guests with a boisterous, lighthearted debate on the merits of Italian versus French cuisine, though they agree that both are superior to Greek. The nannies have brought the eight children to be paraded around before bedtime. All Cosmo wants to do is clutch your hand and “help” you navigate around the living room, warning you not to step on the small, weaving Alopekis. When Mimi attempts to steal her youngest son away, he ignores her, and as she begins to make a scene you rebuke her with a harsh glare. Mimi retreats meekly. She has never argued with you, not once in over two years. You speak for Aemond, and Aemond is a god.

As the children are herded off to their beds by the nannies, Bobby Kennedy—presently serving as a New York senator despite residing primarily on his family’s compound in Massachusetts—approaches to congratulate Aemond. His wife Ethel is a tiny, nasally, scrappy but not terribly bright woman, five months pregnant with her eleventh child, and you have to get away from her like a hand pulled from a hot stove.

“You know, I was considering running,” Bobby says to Aemond, chuckling, good-natured. “But when I saw you get in the race, I thought better of it! Maybe I’ll give it a go in ’76, huh?”

“Hey, kid, what a tough year you’ve had,” Ethel tells you, patting your forearm. You can’t tear your eyes from her small belly. She has ten living children already. I couldn’t keep one. What kind of sense does that make? “We’re real sorry for your trouble, aren’t we, Bobby?”

Now he is nodding somberly. “We are. We sure are. We’ve been praying for you both.”

Aemond is thanking them, sounding touched but entirely collected. You manage some hurried response and then excuse yourself. Your hands are shaking as you cross the room, not really seeing it. You walk right into Lady Bird Johnson. She takes pity on you; she seems to perceive how rattled you are. “Oh Lyndon, look, it’s just who we were hoping to speak to! The next first lady of the United States. And how beautiful you are, just radiant. How do you keep your hair so perfect? That glamorous updo. You never have a single strand out of place.” Lady Bird lays a palm tenderly on your bare shoulder. She has an unusual, angular face, but a wise sort of compassion that only comes from suffering. Her husband is an unrepentant serial cheater. “I’ll make you a list of everything you need to know about the White House. All the quirks of the property, and the hidden gems too!”

“You’re so kind. We’ll see what happens in November…”

“Good evening, ma’am,” President Johnson says, smiling warmly. He’s an ugly man, but there’s something hypnotic that lives inside him and shines through his eyes like the blaze of a lighthouse. He pulls you in through the dark, through the storm; he promises you answers to questions you haven’t thought of yet. LBJ is 6’4 and known for bullying his political adversaries with the so-called “Johnson Treatment”; he leans in and makes rapid-fire demands until they forget he’s not allowed to hit them. “I have to tell you frankly, I don’t envy anyone who inherits that den of rattlesnakes in Washington D.C.”

“Lyndon, don’t frighten her,” Lady Bird scolds fondly.

“Everyone thinks they know what to do about Vietnam,” LBJ plods onwards. “But it’s a damned if you do, damned if you don’t clusterfuck. If you keep fighting, they call you a murderer. But if you pull the troops out and South Vietnam falls to the communists, every single man lost was for nothing, and you think the families will stand for that? Their kid in a body bag, or his legs blown off, or his brain scrambled? There’s no easy answer. It’s a goddamn bitch of a quagmire.”

Lady Bird offers you a sympathetic smirk. Sorry about all this unpleasantness, she means. When he gets himself worked up, I can’t stop him. But you find yourself feeling sorry for President Johnson. It will be difficult for him to learn how to fade into disgraced obscurity after once being so omnipotent, so beloved. Reinvention hurts like hell: fevers raging, bones mending, healing flesh that itches so ferociously you want to claw it off.

LBJ gives Lady Bird a look, quick but meaningful. She acquiesces. This has happened a thousand times before. “It was so nice talking to you, dear,” she tells you, then crosses the living room to pay her respects to Alicent.

The president steps closer, looming, towering. The Johnson Treatment?? you think, but no; he isn’t trying to intimidate you. He’s just curious.

“Do you know what Aemond’s plan is for ‘Nam?” LBJ asks, eyes urgent, voice low. “I’m sure he has one. He’s sworn to end the draft as soon as he gets into office, but how is he going to make sure the South Vietnamese can fend off the North themselves? We’re trying to train the bastards, but if we left they’d fold in months. It would be the first war the U.S. ever lost. Does he understand that?”

“He doesn’t really discuss it with me.” That’s true; you know his policies, but only because they are a constant subject of conversation within the family, something you all breathe like oxygen.

“We can’t let Nixon win,” LBJ continues. “It’s mass suicide to leave the country in his hands. The man can’t hold his liquor anymore, getting robbed by Kennedy in ’60 broke something in him. He gets sloshed and shoves his aids around, makes up conspiracies in his head. He’s a paranoid little prick. He’ll surveille the American people. He’ll launch a nuke at Moscow.”

You honestly don’t know what he expects you to say. “I’ll pass the message along to Aemond.”

“People love you, Mrs. Targaryen.” LBJ watching you closely. “Believe it or not, they used to love me too. But I still remember how to play the game. You’re the only reason Aemond is leading the polls in Florida. You can get him other states too. Jack needed Jackie. Aemond needs you. And you’ve had tragedies, and that’s a damn shame. But don’t you miss an opportunity. You take every disappointment, every fucked up cruelty of life and find a way to make it work for you. You pin it to your chest like a goddamn medal. Every single scar makes you look more mortal to those people going to the ballot box in November. You want them to be able to see themselves in you. It helps the mansions and the millions go down smoother.”

“President Johnson!” Aegon says as he saunters over, huge mocking grin. He thumps a closed fist against the Texan’s broad chest; the Secret Service agents standing ten feet away observe this sternly. “How thoughtful of you to be here, taking time out of your busy schedule, squeezing us in between war crimes.”

“The mayor of Trenton,” LBJ jabs.

“The butcher of Saigon.”

Now the president is no longer amused. “You’ve never accomplished anything in your whole damn life, son. Your obituary will be the size of a postage stamp. I’m looking forward to reading it someday soon.” He leaves, rejoining Lady Bird at the opposite end of the room.

You frown at Aegon, disapproving. You’re dressed in a sparkling, royal blue gown that Aemond chose. “That was unnecessary.”

Aegon is wearing an ill-fitting green shirt—half the buttons undone—khaki pants, and tan moccasins. “I just did you a favor.”

“What happened to your new girlfriend? Shouldn’t she be getting railed in your basement right now? Did she have a prior commitment? Did she have a spelling test to study for? Those can be tricky, such complex words. Juvenile. Inappropriate. Infidelity.”

“You know what he brags about?” Aegon says, meaning LBJ. “That he’s fucked more women by accident than John F. Kennedy ever did on purpose.”

“That sounds…logistically challenging.”

“He’s a lech. He’s a freak. He tells everyone on Capitol Hill how big his cock is. He takes it out and swings it around during meetings.”

“And that’s all far less than admirable, but he’s not going to do something like that around me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s not an idiot,” you say impatiently. “He was perfectly civil. And I was getting interesting advice.”

Aegon rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry I crashed your cute little pep talk with Lyndon Johnson, the most hated man on the planet.”

“I guess you can’t stop Aemond from touching me, so you have to terrorize LBJ instead.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Aegon hisses, and his venom stuns you. And now you’re both trapped: you loosed the arrow, he proved you hit the mark. He’s flushing a deep, mortified red. Your guts are twisting with remorse.

“Aegon, wait, I didn’t mean—”

He whirls and storms off, shoving his way through the crowd. People glare at him as they clutch their glasses and plates, sighing in that What else do you expect from the worthless son? sort of way. You’re still gaping blankly at the place where Aegon stood when Aemond finds you, snakes a hand around the back of your neck, and whispers through the painstakingly-arranged wisps of hair that fall around your ear: “Follow me.”

It’s not a question. It’s a command. You trail him through the living room, into the foyer, and through the front door, not knowing what he wants. Outside the moon is a sliver; the light from the main house makes the stars hard to see. “Aemond, you’ll never believe the conversation I just had with LBJ. He really unloaded, I think the stress is driving him insane. I have to tell you what he said about—”

“Later.” And this is jarring; Aemond doesn’t put anything before strategy. He grabs your hand as he turns into Helaena’s garden, and only then do you understand what he wants. Instinctively, your legs lock up and your feet stop moving. Aemond tugs you onward. He wants it to be like the very first time. He intends to start over with you, the dawning of a new age in the dead of night.

Hidden in the circle of hedges, he takes your face roughly in his hands and kisses you, drinks you down like a vampire, consumes you like wildfire. But your skull echoes with panic. I don’t want him touching me. I don’t want another child with him. “Aemond…”

He doesn’t hear you, or acts like he doesn’t, or mistakes it for a murmur of desire, or chooses to believe it is. He has you down on the grass under the vengeful gaze of Zeus, the fountain splashing, the sounds of the house a low foreign drone. He yanks off your panties, but he doesn’t want you naked like he always did before. He pushes the hem of your shimmering cobalt gown up to your hips and unbuckles his trousers. And you realize as he’s touching you, as he’s easing himself into you: He doesn’t want to have to look at my scar.

You can’t ignore him, you can’t pretend it’s not happening. He’s too big for that. It’s a biting fullness that demands to be felt. So you kiss him back, and knot your fingers in his short hair like you used to, and try to remember the things you always said to him before. And when Aemond is too absorbed to notice, you look away from him, from the statue of Zeus, and peer up into the stone face of Athena instead: the goddess who never married and who knows the answer to every question.

“I love you,” Aemond says when it’s over, marveling at the slopes of your face in the dim ethereal light. “Everything will be right again soon. Everything will be perfect.”

You conjure up a smile and nod like you believe him.

“What did LBJ say?”

“Can I tell you later tonight? After the party, maybe? I just need a few minutes.”

“Of course.” And now Aemond pretends to be patient. He buckles his belt and returns to the main house, his blood coursing with the possibilities only you can make real, his skin damp with your sweat.

For a while—ten minutes, twenty minutes—you lie there on the cool grass wondering what it was like for all those mortals and nymphs, being pinned down by Zeus and then having Hera try to kill them afterwards, raising ill-fated reviled bastards they couldn’t help but love. What is heaven if the realm of the immortals is so cruel? Why does the god of justice seem so immune to it?

When at last you rise and walk back towards the house, you find Mimi at the edge of the garden. She’s on her knees and retching into a rose bush; she’s cut her face on the thorns, but she hasn’t noticed yet. She’s groaning; she seems lost.

You reach for her, gripping her bony shoulders. “Mimi, here, let’s get you upstairs…”

“No,” she blubbers, tears streaming down her scratched cheeks. “Just go away. Leave me.”

“Mimi—”

“No!” she roars, a mournful hemorrhage as she slaps your hands until you release her.

“You don’t have to be this way,” you tell her, distraught. “You can give up drinking. We’ll help you, me and Fosco and Ludwika. You can start over. You can be healthy and present again, you can live a real life.”

Mimi stares up at you, her grey eyes glassy and bloodshot but with a vicious, piercing honesty. “My husband hates me. My kids don’t know I exist. What the hell do I have to be sober for?”

You weren’t expecting this. You don’t know what to say. “We can help make the world better.”

“The world would be better without me in it.”

Then Mimi curls up on the grass under the rose bush, and stays there until you return with Fosco to drag her upstairs to her empty bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon, you’re lying on a lounge chair by the pool. Tomorrow the family will leave Asteria and embark upon a vigorous campaign schedule that will continue, with very few breaks, until Election Day on Tuesday, November 5th. The children are splashing and shrieking in the pool with Fosco, but you aren’t looking at them. You’re staring across the sun-drenched emerald lawn at the Atlantic Ocean. You’re envisioning all the bones and splinters of sunken ships that must litter the silt of the abyss; you’re thinking that it’s a graveyard with no headstones, no memory. Your swimsuit is a red one-piece. Your eyes are shielded by large black Ray Bans aviator sunglasses. Your gaze flicks up to the cloudless blue sky, where all the stars and planets are invisible.

Jupiter has nearly a hundred moons; the largest four were discovered by Galileo in 1610. Europa is a smooth white cosmic marble with a crust of ice, beautiful, immaculate. Ganymede, the largest moon in our solar system and the only satellite with its own magnetic field, is rumored to have a vast underground saltwater ocean that may contain life. Callisto is dark and indomitable, riddled with impact craters; because of her dynamic atmosphere and location beyond Jupiter’s radiation belts, she is considered the best location for possible future crewed missions to the Jovian system. But Io is a wasteland. She has no water and no oxygen. Her only children are 400 active volcanoes, sulfur plumes and lava flows, mountains of silicate rock higher than Mount Everest, cataclysmic earthquakes as her crust slips around on a mantle of magma. Her daily radiation levels are 36 times the lethal limit for humans. If Hades had a home in our corner of the galaxy, it would be Io. She glows ruby and gold with barren apocalyptic fury. You can feel yourself turning poisonous like she is. You can feel your skin splitting open as the lava spills out.

Aegon trots out of the house—red swim trunks, cheap red plastic sunglasses, no shirt, a beach towel slung around his neck, flip flops—and kicks your chair. “Get up. We’re going sailing.”

“I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

“Great, because I’m not asking you to talk. I’m telling you to get in my boat.”

You don’t reply. You don’t think you can without your voice cracking. Aegon crouches down beside your chair and pushes your sunglasses up into your Brigitte Bardot-inspired hair so he can see your face. Your eyes are pink, wet, desperately sad. Deep troubled grooves appear in his forehead as he studies you. Gently, wordlessly, he pats your cheek twice and lowers your sunglasses back over your eyes. Then he stands up again and offers you his hand.

“Let’s go,” Aegon says, softly this time. You take his hand and follow him down to the boathouse.

Five vessels are currently kept there. Aegon’s sailboat is a 25-foot Wianno Senior sloop, just roomy enough for a few passengers. He’s had it since long before you married into the Targaryen family. It is white with hand-painted gold accents; the name Sunfyre adorns the stern. He unmoors the boat, pushes it out into the open water, and raises the sails.

You glide eastbound over the glittering crests of waves, slowly at first, then faster as the sails catch the wind. Aegon has one hand on the rudder, the other grasping the ropes. And the farther you get from shore, the smaller Asteria seems, and the Targaryen family, and the presidential election, and the United States itself. Now all that exists is this boat: you, Aegon, the squawking gulls, the school of mackerel, the ocean. The sun beats down; the breeze rips strands of your hair free. The battery-powered record player is blasting White Room by Cream. When you are far enough from land that no journalists would be able to get a photo, Aegon takes two joints and his Zippo out of the pocket of his swim trunks. He puts both joints between his lips, lights them, and passes you one. Then he stretches out beside you on the deck, gazing up at the September sky.

You ask as your muscles unravel and your thoughts turn light and easy to share: “Why did you bring me out here?”

“So you can drown yourself,” Aegon says, and you both laugh. “Nah. I used to go sailing all the time when I was a teenager. It always made me feel better. It was the only place where I could really be alone.”

You consider the math. “Wow. You haven’t been a teenager since before I was in kindergarten.”

“It’s weird to think about. You don’t seem that young.”

“Thanks, I guess. You don’t seem that old.”

“Maybe we’re meeting in the middle.” He inhales deeply and then exhales in a rush of smoke. “What do you think, should I get an earring?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It might shock Otto so bad it kills him.”

“I’ll get two.” And then Aegon says: “It’s not cool for you to mock me.”

You are dismayed; you didn’t mean to hurt him. “I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. You were mocking me. You mocked me about the receipt under my ashtray, and then you mocked me again last night. I’m up for a lot of things, but I can’t handle that. Okay?”

“Okay.” You turn your head so you can see him: shaggy blonde hair, stubble, perpetual sunburn, the softness of his belly and his chest, flesh you long to vanish into like rain through parched earth. “Aegon?”

He looks over at you. “Io?”

“I don’t want Aemond to touch me either.”

He’s surprised; not by what you feel, but because you’ve said it aloud, a treason like Prometheus giving mankind the gift of fire. “What are we gonna do about it?”

If you were the goddess of wisdom, maybe you’d know.

[lady-raziel]

I'm angry. I'm really, really furious right now. I am absolutely livid that when the stakes are so high-- not just for Americans at risk from project 2025, not just for people in Europe being threatened by Russia, not just for people in Palestine, but for pretty much widespread global stability-- that the elites of the Democratic party would dare, would have the fucking gall to let Joe Biden run for a second term in the first place, and then when the magnitude of their own hubris is revealed, would not correct the mistake. And even worse, now, after what we've seen over the past two weeks-- that many of them, including some of the most progressive, would look out upon the people who they claim to be champions of, the diverse and varied America who will suffer at the hands of the conservatives' agenda--and they would EVER dare to say that YOU are wrong to point out the truth before your own eyes.

After the NATO press conference, where Biden absolutely had to prove he was not on the decline, and resoundingly failed to do so, I was appalled to go on Twitter (I'm still not calling it X, sorry) and see favored Democratic insiders claiming that the performance I had just seen was GOOD. That I should be PROUD of this. That I should WANT to vote for this.

How dare you. How dare you say that I should be proud, should wholeheartedly endorse the candidate at the head of a party who, time and time again over the past 30+ years, has only ever chosen to raise up its own aging elites, and occasionally younger people if they met the right demographics to portray the image of the "diverse party of the people."

No. It became evident a long time ago that you only ever cared about yourselves and consolidating your own power. Time and time again you have destroyed the chances of any candidate that strays beyond what you consider the bounds of acceptability for yourselves. There were good candidates in 2004-- and instead, the Democrats gave us John Kerry and handed the Republicans another four years of Bush. Hillary Clinton first ran for president in 2008-- had Barack Obama not been so compelling, had the idea of having the first African American president been so appealing, would you have allowed him to stand a chance? In 2016 you again and again ignored what the average person had to say, ignored concerns that had been brewing for decades that your commitment to "diversity" only mattered if it could be wielded against conservatives and used to prop yourselves up, and destroyed Bernie Sanders' campaign in service of an elite no one wanted.

The seeds of Donald Trump had been brewing for a long time, and instead of doing something about it then, you rested on your laurels and held on to your power instead of raising new people up to move the mission forward. And now, when the situation is MORE CRITICAL than it has EVER been-- still you refuse to listen. Still you refuse to change. Biden literally said in that press conference they aren't listening to polls anymore--is there ANYTHING that will get you to see that you are fucking this up???

So no, Biden campaign surrogates on my Twitter feed, DNC donation-prompt texts, endless barrage of emails one after another-- I see no reason to my proud of this. For many of us, this election as well as the last one was ALWAYS a strategic calculation to prevent worse things, empower local-level candidates, and allow a party structure to exist in some form in hopes of change. This was ALWAYS a dispassionate choice made with the full knowledge of complex situations in order to play the long game.

How dare you say I too should wholeheartedly believe the emperor is dressed in robes of splendor when he and the rest of you have lain bare for the longest time, while those of us trying to keep things from getting worse have to convince the rightfully angry people who still care to ignore the nakedness of who you are--to prevent people cloaked in blood from taking the reins. Shame on all of you, honestly. I wish I could say that this might be a learning moment for the Democratic elite, but I have little hope, and I expect to hear you pontificate on end regarding how "young people just don't understand the political process and that's why we lost" as we all go down together.

Fuck you.

[worldspotlightnews]

French workers may have to retire at 64 and many are in uproar. Here's why | CNN

Paris CNN  —  Impromptu protests broke out in Paris and across several French cities Thursday evening following a move by the government to force through reforms of the pension system that will push up the retirement age from 62 to 64. While the proposed reforms of France’s cherished pensions system were already controversial, it was the manner in which the bill was approved – sidestepping a…

[reportwire]

Asia must not become arena for 'big power contest,' says China's Xi as APEC summit gets underway | CNN

Asia must not become arena for ‘big power contest,’ says China’s Xi as APEC summit gets underway | CNN

Bangkok, Thailand CNN  —  Chinese leader Xi Jinping has stressed the need to reject confrontation in Asia, warning against the risk of cold war tensions, as leaders gather for the last of three world summits hosted in the region this month. Xi began the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) leaders’ summit in Bangkok by staking out his wish for China to be viewed as a driver of regional…

[creativitytoexplore]

Far-right leader Giorgia Meloni named as Italy's first female prime minister | CNN

Far-right leader Giorgia Meloni named as Italy’s first female prime minister | CNN

CNN  —  Populist firebrand Giorgia Meloni has been named as Italy’s first female prime minister, becoming the country’s most far-right leader since Benito Mussolini. She received the mandate to form a government from Italy’s President Sergio Mattarella on Friday afternoon after two days of official consultations, and is set to be sworn in at 10 a.m. local time (4 a.m. ET) on Saturday. Last…

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at Think Big Picture:

For years, critics of Vladimir Putin have been warning that the Russians have taken over parts of the Republican Party. They raised the alarm as Republicans defended the Russian leader, parroted clear Kremlin talking points, and became mules for disinformation campaigns. In recent weeks, that criticism has shifted to include not just Republicans who have left the party, including former representatives Liz Cheney and Adam Kinzinger, but current GOP members. Recently, two powerful Republican chairs of the House Intelligence Committee and the House Foreign Affairs Committee warned openly about how Russian propaganda has seeped into their party and even made its way into speeches on the House floor. Other members are now even openly questioning whether some of their fellow officials have been compromised and are being extorted. Rep. Tim Burchett (R-TN) suggested in a recent interview that the Russian spies may possess compromising tapes of some of his colleagues. It’s unclear where he’s getting his information or how accurate it is.

And then there’s this: According to a report by Politico, a number of European politicians were recently paid by Moscow to interfere in the upcoming EU elections by Russians pretending to be a “media” outlet called “Voice of Europe.” The Kremlin-backed operation used money to influence officials to take pro-Russian stances. Authorities have conducted some money seizures and launched an investigation into which members of the European Parliament may have accepted cash bribes. This in turn raises an important question for our own politics: Are the Russians doing the same with U.S. politicians, directly or indirectly? This piece walks through the three types of compromise—disinformation, extortion, and bribery—to give a sense of what we know and what we don’t really know, and, importantly, where we should be on our guard. As this summary will show, from the 2016 election till now, there’s enough Russian smoke now to assume there is a fire, one that compromises not only the integrity of our own system of elections, but the safety and security of the free world. Duped.

Over the past year, we have witnessed two distinct kinds of Russian propaganda in action. Both use our own elected officials and intelligence processes to amplify and even weaponize disinformation. The first kind originates online through Russian-backed internet channels. Information operatives begin spreading false rumors, for example about Ukraine, that then get repeated within right-wing silos before reaching willing purveyors of it within the halls of Congress. A chief culprit in Congress is Georgia’s Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene. Among the Russian-originated false narratives she has uplifted is the patently false claim that Ukraine is waging a war against Christianity while Russia is protecting it. On Steve Bannon’s War Room podcast, Greene even claimed, without evidence, that Ukraine is “executing priests.”

Where would Greene have gotten this wild, concocted notion? We don’t have to look far. Russian talking points have included this gaslighting narrative for some time. The twist, of course, is that, according to the International Religious Freedom or Belief Alliance, it is the Russian army that has been torturing and executing priests and other religious figures, including 30 Ukrainian clergy killed and 26 held captive by Russian forces. The Russians have also targeted Baptists, whom they see as U.S. propagandists, according to an in-depth Time magazine piece on the violence and death directed toward evangelicals. The Congressional propaganda mouthpieces for Russia aren’t limited to the U.S. House. Over in the Senate, Ohio Senator J.D. Vance was also recently accused of spreading Kremlin-backed disinformation about Ukraine, this time over spurious allegations that Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy siphoned U.S. aid to purchase himself two luxury yachts.

[...]

The accusation that Russians are presently extorting and blackmailing U.S. politicians into supporting Russia’s agenda has some broad appeal. It would help explain some mysteries, including why people like Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-SC) suddenly is no longer as supportive of Ukraine as before and constantly kisses the ring of Donald Trump these days—after presciently saying in 2016 that the GOP would destroy itself if it nominated him. 

The problem has been that these accusations aren’t supported by much evidence. That means that political extortion by the Russians is either not a very prevalent practice, or it’s so effective that no one dares expose it. Either way, we’re left without much to go on. The Russian word kompromat came into common parlance around the time that Buzzfeed published a salacious story about another intelligence report back in early 2017. In that instance, the author, a former British intelligence officer named Christopher Steele, was concerned Russia had compromising data on the soon-to-be president, Donald Trump.

That report never wound up being substantiated, and its sources and funding came into question as well. But intelligence agencies are in general agreement that obtaining kompromat is standard practice by Russia, and someone like Trump could have been an easy mark considering the company that he kept (e.g. Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell) and the projects he was involved with (e.g. the Miss Universe contest). Lately, the notion of kompromat emerged once again, this time not from Democratic-paid outfits but from within the GOP itself. Rep. Tim Burchett (R-TN) is one of the more “colorful” characters within the GOP, primarily known lately for being one of the eight members who voted to oust former Speaker Kevin McCarthy and even for getting into public jostling and shouting matches with McCarthy.

The Republican Party (or at least its pro-MAGA faction) is compromised by Russian kompromat.

[calabria-mediterranea]

A high-profile Italian author has accused Rai of censorship after his antifascist monologue was abruptly stopped from being aired, in what he called the “definitive demonstration” of alleged attempts by Giorgia Meloni’s government to wield its power over the state broadcaster.

Antonio Scurati was due to read the monologue marking the 25 April national holiday, which celebrates Italy’s liberation from fascism, on the Rai 3 talkshow Chesarà on Saturday night.

But as he prepared to travel to Rome, he received a note from Rai telling him his appearance had been cancelled “for editorial reasons”.

Scurati is well known in Italy for his books about the dictator Benito Mussolini and the fascist period. The cancellation of his monologue provoked fierce reaction from Rai journalists, fellow authors and opposition leaders.

His speech referenced Giacomo Matteotti, a political opponent of Mussolini who was murdered by fascist hitmen in 1924, and other massacres of the regime. It also contained a paragraph criticising Italy’s “post-fascist” leaders for not “repudiating their neofascist past”.

“Undoubtedly, this is what infuriated them,” Scurati told the Guardian. “And also because of what I represent and maintain in my books … [that] there is a continuity between the fascism of Mussolini and the populist nationalists in Europe.”

The Rai director Paolo Corsini denied that the monologue had been censored, telling the Italian media that an investigation “of an economic and contractual nature” was under way, while implying that the speech was cancelled because of the “higher than expected” fee sought by Scurati.

Scurati said his fee had been agreed and the contract signed before the monologue was due to be broadcast. “The fee was perfectly in line with those paid to authors … It was the same as in the past, when there were no issues.”

In solidarity, Serena Bortone, who presents Chesarà, read out the monologue on the show. It has also been published in full by several Italian newspapers and websites.

Meloni, whose Brothers of Italy party has neofascist origins, came to power in October 2022 with a coalition including the far-right League and the late Silvio Berlusconi’s Forza Italia.

During the election campaign, Meloni said the rightwing parties had “handed fascism over to history for decades now”. However, Scurati claimed in his monologue that when forced to address fascism at historical anniversaries, Meloni has “obstinately stuck to the ideological line of her neofascist culture of origin”, for example by blaming the Mussolini regime’s persecution of the Jews and other massacres on Nazi Germany alone.

Meloni responded by publishing the speech on her Facebook page, while attacking Scurati and accusing the left of “shouting at the regime”.

“Rai responded by simply refusing to pay €1,800 (the monthly salary of many employees) for a minute of monologue,” she said. “I don’t know what the truth is, but I will happily publish the text of the monologue (which I hope I don’t have to pay for) for two reasons: 1) Those who have always been ostracised and censored by the public service will never ask for anyone to be censored. Not even those who think their propaganda against the government should be paid for with citizens’ money. 2) Because Italians can freely judge its content.”

Since coming to power, the Meloni government has been accused of increasingly exerting its power over Rai while edging out managers or TV hosts with leftwing views. The European Commission was last week urged to investigate the government’s alleged attempts to turn the broadcaster into a “megaphone” for the ruling parties before the European elections.

Meloni’s administration has also been accused of trying to influence other areas of the press and targeting journalists with legal action who criticise the government. A Brothers of Italy politician recently proposed toughening penalties for defamation, including jail terms of two to three years.

Elly Schlein, the leader of the centre-left Democratic party, said: “The Scurati case is serious; Rai is the megaphone for the government.” Carlo Calenda, the leader of the centrist Azione party, said: “Silencing a writer for saying unpleasant things about the government is simply unacceptable.”

Scurati said he has received solidarity from many authors and journalists who were otherwise afraid to speak out against the government.

“This episode is the definitive demonstration, as it has finally aroused the revolt of other writers, intellectuals and journalists who until now kept quiet,” he said. “This government launches violent personal attacks against you for speaking out, in my case [that] I asked for too much money.”

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