#Springfield Camera Club

[spidybaby]

Party killer

Summary: A girls' night gone wrong while your boyfriend is away.

Warnings: cursing, harassment and SA. ⚠️⚠️⚠️

A/N: This was requested, but I accidentally deleted the request, but I hope Anon, who requested it notice this is them request. 😭❤️ also this has some sensitive topics because anon asked me to add them. Please don't ignore the warnings. If you're sensible to this kind of topics skip this ❤️

"I love the collection. This is going to be huge, mi amor, " you say, applying your primer.

You're getting ready for a girls' night with your friends. On the other side of the FaceTime, Pedro was getting ready to go to bed. Having to work early with Springfield for his new collection.

"I'm so excited, I can't believe that my own collection is ready."

"I know, mi amor. I'm so happy for you."

Pedro explains how tomorrow he has to shoot a video for the colab also sharing what's the idea for the video.

His parents were with him, the shoot for the colab was taking place in London.

Why did they choose London? You had that same question, but you just keep it to yourself.

"Mami says she misses you." He says smiling.

"And I miss her too, miss her today. Our novela is going so well, and she's gone. Who am I supposed to talk to about it?"

He laughs, the camera is directed to his parents.

"Mija, you and I need to have a chat, I need updates of what's happening to Monserrat." Rosy says.

You chat a little with her and Fernando, asking them about the trip, about the collection.

"Hey, y/n. Are you going with Fer to this party?" Pedro's father asks you.

You knew Fer was going to a party because he invited you, since his brother was not in town Pedro named him your caregiver.

"No, sir. Fer is going to a friend birthday party and my friends and I are going to a club."

"Be careful, mija," Rosy says. "I'll text Fer. If you need a ride back home, call him. Also, take a cab no your car."

You laugh at how cute and protective they're with you. Always worrying about you being safe and comfortable.

"Yes, call your brother Pedro, and make sure he has the volume up."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. We're taking a cab with my friends and leaving together. But If you want I can text Pedro when I'm home."

"You do that, preciosa." Pedro yells from somewhere in the room.

You talk with Rosy about the novela while you do your makeup, finishing the call saying goodbye and promising you'll call Fer if you need anything.

Your friends arrived at your house, you called an Uber and while you wait for it you make sure you have everything.

"Y/n, someone's calling you." María, your friend, says.

You answer the call, noticing it was from Fer.

"Hola Fernandito."

"Hola, cuñada favorita."

"I'm the only one." You laugh. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, mami called me and told me you're on your way to the club. I just want you to know that if you want me to pick you and your friends up, I can."

"Thank you, Fercito." you say. "I'll have it in mind. Please enjoy your party."

Your friends announce that the Uber is outside, you grab everything and walk outside, locking the door.

"My uber's is here, I'll text you if I need anything. And remember I'm here if you need anything, if you can't drive because you're drunk or if you need a place to stay because you lost your keys." You joke with him.

"That only happened once." He laughs.

Once at a party, Fernando did a few more shots than he's used to, and ended up calling you to pick him up because he didn't want his mother to find out about the house keys being missing.

"Anyways, I'm here if you need me. Enjoy."

You say a quick bye before hanging up.

The Uber was quick, thankfully for you and your girls the night begins.

You all have a drink since you're not the biggest beer fan. But that quickly turns into two and then three.

"Let's go dance, I love this Quevedo song," you say, grabbing your friends by the wrist, taking them to the dance floor.

The song makes you remember Pedro. This is a song he sings while driving with you.

After good hours of dancing and screaming the songs, you ask your friends if they want more drinks.

"Okay, another round for everybody. I'll go to the bar, go to the table, okay?" You say loudly for them to hear you over the music.

You go straight to the bartender. Asking for all the drinks.

"Do you have a tab?" He asks you.

"No need for that man, add it to mine." A tall blonde guy says, handing his card to the bartender.

"Oh no, please." You say taking the card from the bartender. "Thank you, but I can pay for my own drinks." You say, returning the card and turning you back yo him. "You have my card there, table 8"

The guy taps your shoulder, making you turn again.

"My name is Zack." He says, getting closer. "What's your name, pretty girl?."

You back up a little, feeling the bar stopping you from backing up more.

"I have a boyfriend." You say trying to get him away.

"Ufff, not a smart guy, leaving you alone here"

"He's in the bathroom. Please back off."

"Then let's be quick. We can use the upstairs bathroom. I'm a vip."

"No, thank you. Back off." You say, pushing him hard but not enough, moving him only a few centimeters. "Get away from me."

You moved quickly, trying to get back to the table with your friends.

"Hey, not that quickly, don't play hard to get, you're not that pretty to do that." He grabs you hard by the arm.

"Dude, let go off me, I'm not interested."

You tried to get away from his hold. Only for him to press his hand harder on your skin.

"You want this, c'mon."

You can feel his other arm traveling down your waist and squeezing your ass. You pushed him with your free hand and tried to free your arm, only hurting you in the process.

"Let go off me." You pull your arm, bumping into another guy that notices what's happening. He helps you.

"Dude let go off her."

"She's my girlfriend, don't worry, mind your fucking business."

"Doesn't matter, she's asking you to let go so let fucking go off her."

This guy pushes the blonde away from you, making him release the hold.

You run to the bathroom, scared of him following you. The bar bathroom was a solo one.

You can feel the panic raise by the minute, and he air is getting less and less.

You pat your skirt pockets, feeling your phone in one. You grab it, and as you're about to call your boyfriend, you remember he's not in town.

He's in another country, hours from where you're. And you're only going to worry him and his parents.

So you called the only person you can think of. Hoping he was still awake and not deadly sleeping in his bed since it was almost four am.

"Cuñadita, are you still at the party?" He asks, the noise from his party can be heard.

You tried to answer, but the sob that's trying to get out is not letting you.

"Y/n?" He says worry. "Estas bien?" (Are you okay?)

"Fer," you say, sobbing.

"Mierda," you hear him saying. "Estas bien? Que pasa? Muñeca, necesito que respires y me digas que pasa." (Oh shit, are you okay? What's going on? Doll, I need you to breathe and tell me what's going on)

"Some guy." You say sobbing harder. "He touched me." You tried to explain more, but the crying is making it harder for you.

"Hijo de puta. En donde estas? Iré por ti ahora mismo. Send me your location. " (Son of a bitch, where are you? I'll come get you right now)

You send him your location, not being able to speak.

"Estas en un lugar seguro?" He asks you. (Are you in a safe place?)

"El baño." You say. (The bathroom)

"Don't hang up. I'm rushing to get you."

You keep crying, afraid of going out by yourself.

"Can you come inside? I don't want to go out alone." You cry into the phone.

"It's okay, muñeca" he says, his heart breaking with the sound of your cries. "I'm almost there. Nobody is going to hurt you."

"Thank-" you try to say, sobbing interrupting you. "Thank you."

Fer is talking with you. Trying to calm you down.

"Okay, y/n. I'm here, I'm haging up but I'm here."

"Okay. Hurry, please."

He hangs up and runs inside of the club.

When he locates the bathroom and runs to it.

"Y/n?" He knocks loud. "Are you there?"

You get up from the floor. Quickly opening the door.

"Muñeca" he says, looking at you. "Ven aquí"

He enters the bathroom and close the door.

"Ya estoy aquí, tranquila." He caresses you back, trying to calm you down. "Nadie te va a hacer nada. Estoy aquí." (I'm here, don't worry. Nobody's is going to hurt you. I'm here)

"Vamonos, me quiero ir." (Let's get out of here. I want to go)

He grabs some toilet paper to dry your tears.

You smile at him and hug him again.

He took your hand and opened the door.

"Fer," you hold him harder to catch his attention. "My friends, I can't leave them."

He nodded. "Vamos por ellas."

You walk in front of him, hand in hand, you get to where your table.

Nataly, was the only one at the table. She was texting careless.

"Nat" you call.

"Baby, where were you?" She says, hugging you. "Hola Fer." She waves to him.

"Nat, we have to go"

"What? Y/n, don't be like this. We're having fun."

"Nat," you call harshly. "Some dude assaulted me. I just want to go home, please." You say this to her ear, not wanting to yell it.

She looks at you with shook, then looks at Fernando. He nods his head.

"Bien, nos vamos," She says, serious. "Lemme get the girls, I see you outside in five. Fer, can you take us home? I can call a cab if you can't, that's okay"

"No, I can take all of you. It's okay." He nods at her. "My car is the black one on the other side of the road. We'll see you there, okay? Take your time."

Nat nodded and went to the dance floor, where all the other girls were.

"Vamos, muñeca." He says once you grab your bag.

As you both walk outside you feel someone grabbing you hard and pulling you back.

"You really like to play hard to get." The blonde guy says. "Don't be a bitch, come with me."

He tries to pull you to him, but Fernando is quickly

"Ey Cabron, te alejas de ella," he pushes this dude away. "Vete al auto." He says, giving you the car keys. "De este cabron me encargo yo." (Hey asshole, get away from her. Go to the car, I'll deal with his asshole)

"Fer, no." You grab his arm. "Let's just go, please."

But the blonde dude has other plans.

"Your girlfriend is a whore" he yells getting closer. "She was flirting with me, offering herself like a bitch she is."

That's all it took for Fernando to punch him.

"No te atrevas," he yells. "I don't know if you weren't taught how to respect women, but I'm going to show you right fucking now."

The blonde dude tries to get up, but another punch from Fernando has him back on the floor.

"Hey dude," one of the friends from this guy says, getting closer to Fernando and stopping him from punching the guy for a third time. "Listen, your girl was the one throwing herself at him"

"I wasn't doing anything. I told him to leave me alone." You yell at him. "Why can't you and your friend get that."

"Listen, dude," Fernando says, pushing lightly the friend by his shoulders. "I don't give a fuck, she asked him to leave her alone."

"She's just a whore" The blonde one yells from the floor.

"ES MI CUÑADA, CABRON." Fernando yells back, about to punch him again, but the friend stopped him once again. "Te voy a encontrar cabron, estas muerto." He says, then turn around to you. (She's my sister in law, asshole. I'm going to find you, you're dead) He grabs your hand, walking outside the club. "Mi carro es el de enfrente." He took the keys from your hands.

You walked a few steps to the car. He opens the door for you and helps you with the seat belt. "I'm going back for your friends, lock the doors."

You do as you're told.

A few minutes later, he walks with María almost in his arms. Perla and Nat hand in hand while crossing the street.

"Ay, I had so much fun." Perla says. "María kissed a french dude."

"Buenisimo." María says, Fernando laughs at her. "Y/n, you saw me?"

"Yes," you answer.

"Okay, everyone ready?" Fer asks. "Nat, to your house?"

She answered with a small yes.

"Oh, can we get Taco Bell?" Perla ask.

"We sure can." Fer answer.

But sadly for Perla, Taco Bell was closed.

The drive to Nat's house was silent.

Fer has his hand ok yours the whole time.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" Nat asks you. "Please, stay here."

"I'm not but I'll be fine." You answer. "I just want to go home and be alone."

She nods and hugs you, understanding that you want to be alone. "I'll call you later."

Fernando walks back into the car. "María is ready for you to help her shower, and I warmed some Mac and cheese for Perla."

"Thank you, Fer." Nat says. "Please take care of her."

You say your goodbyes and the drive being. "Can you drop me home? I just want a shower and to sleep."

"What?" He turns his head to you. "No way I'm leaving you alone. We're going to Pedro's house. You can stay in his room."

"I just want to sleep and pretend nothing happened." You cry.

"Muñeca," he didn't know what to say. He wanted to go back to the club and beat the shit of that guy.

Once you arrive at your boyfriend's house, you both walk in silence.

"Venga, let's go upstairs." He takes your hand leading the way upstairs.

When you enter the room, he guides you to the bed. "Stay here, I'll be back."

You check your phone for the first time since the bathroom. You text Pedro that you're home like your promised.

"I'm back." Fer announced himself. "Mom did the laundry before leaving. She washed your pijama."

You took the clothes from him, smiling a little.

You left the pijama there because Pedro insisted on your leaving a change for every occasion, so you could stay the night and didn't have yo go home.

Fer notice the way you're so out of the blue. It's like he can read your mind.

"It wasn't your fault. You said no, and he didn't like that so he took advantage of you."

Your eyes water again. "But, I could've pushed him harder or even done something else."

"No, muñeca." He takes you into his arms. "It's not on you, this is not your fault. Dudes like him say whatever they can to blame the girls, but it's not your fault."

"I just wanted my drink." You were a crying mess at this point. "I didn't throw myself at him. I promise."

"Oh, preciosa, I know that." He swayed the two of you slowly. "I believe you. It's not your fault. I promise it's not."

He let you cry the blame you're feeling into his shoulder. He feels like crying, too. You are the most pure person he ever known.

"I'll get you some water." He says once he noticed you calmed down. "Are you hungry? Do you want me to cook something for you?"

You shake your head no.

"Okay, there's clean towels in the bathroom. I'll get you some water while you shower. And if you need me I'll be in my room."

"Thank you."

"Dont thank me." He says as he leaves the room, closing the door on his way out.

You shower and make sure to scrub extra hard all your body.

You changed inside the bathroom, mentally thanking Pedro, for giving you the idea of keeping some of your clothes at his house.

Once you're done, you go straight to bed. It was passed five a.m.

Hugging your boyfriend's pillow, smelling his scent, you fall asleep quickly.

A few hours later, you wake up by the noise of the gate getting open.

You grab your phone to check the time, noticing it was almost noon.

You get out of bed and went straight to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

You borrow Pedro's slippers, making you way to Fer's room. You knock on the door but no answer.

As you walked back to your boyfriend's room you run into him.

"Preciosa, hi" he says hugging you. "When you texted you were home I didn't think you were here."

You hug him tightly, hiding you face into his neck.

"Te extrañé mucho" he says kissing you shoulder.

But then he notice the way you're shaking, how your breathing is irregular.

"Mi amor, what's going on?"

You only shake your head, not being able to speak.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here."

"No, it's not." You cry harder.

He lift, you hug his body with your legs, not wanting to fall.

He walk into his room. Closing the door with his foot.

"Tranquila, mi amor." He swayed you both. "I'm here, don't cry."

He let you calm down. Once you're breathing normally he puts you down and makes you sit at his bed.

"Tell me what's going on, please." He begged.

You tell him everything. How this dude approached you and the way he touched you. How other guy had to help you in order for you to free yourself.

"I swear to God, hijo de puta." He says angrily. "Ferran knows the owner. I'm finding that dude and killing him.

You stayed silent. Is like a bad movie replaying on your head. The "what if" making you regret not going with Fer to the party where he was.

"Look at me." Pedro says, noticing this. "You know it's not your fault, right?"

"I don't know."

"No." He grabs you face. "It's not. The only one to blame is that disgusting hijo de puta, who took advantage of you."

"But"

"No buts, y/n."

He hugs you again. Not wanting to let go.

"I'm hungry." You say after a good silent time.

"Let's go get something to eat, mi amor." He kiss you. "What do you want?" He kiss your cheek" "I'll get you anything, mi princesa." He kiss your other cheek. "Even that matcha ice cream you love" he kiss your nose.

You laugh at every kiss, feeling the tickles.

"I'm feeling some burger King."

"Whatever the princess wants, it's what she gets." He grabs your hand and takes you downstairs.

"Pedro, wait." You say, noticing you're still in pijamas. "I have to change."

"We're going to the drive-thru, no worries."

After a quick trip to burger King and the grocery store for your matcha ice cream. You're back at his house.

"Pon el helado en la heladera, así cuando lo sirvas esta menos líquido." He says getting out of the car. (Put the ice cream on the freezer, so when you eat it it's not that liquid)

Fer was in the kitchen, drinking some water.

"Hey, we got you a burger. Hope you're feeling like eating one."

"Fuck yes, I need food asap." He laughs.

"Look who's up." Pedro laughs as he enters the kitchen. "I'll go get the drinks. Don't start without me."

You hug Fernando from behind. "Gracias, Fer." You say. "I don't know what I would do without you."

He turns around, hugging you back. "To me, you're like my little sister. Don't thank me, I promised to protect you, and I will punch as many dudes as I need to in order for you to be safe."

Kissing his cheek and hugging him tightly. He returns the kiss.

"Oigan, yo quiero un abrazo." Pedro breaks the silence. "Vengan acá." (Hey I want a hug too, come here)

You stretch out your arm for him to place himself.

"Okay, thats enough" Fer says. You separate laughing.

"Let's eat, the food it's getting cold."

You take the food out of the bag, giving each boy his burger.

You all joke and laugh with stories from Fernando. Laughing at the videos of his friend getting the cake all over his face.

When you're done. You suggest watching a movie.

"I'll serve the ice cream, Fer adds some whipped cream, and you, mi amor, go pick a movie for us to watch."

You nod, kissing him before going to the living room.

"Fer, gracias por lo que hiciste." (Thank you for what you did)

"Joder, tio. Don't thank me, you know you would do the same for my girlfriend. Plus, y/n is like family. If I had to get my knuckles bloody for her I will."

"Es que eres el mejor hermano." (You're the best brother ever)

Pedro hugs Fer, messing with his hair.

"No es como que tengas otro, capullo." (It's not like you had another one, idiot)

They hurry with the ice cream when you yell that you found a movie.

Sitting on each side of you, Pedro's arm rested on your shoulders, hugging you.

He was thankful for his brother. Knowing that no matter where he's at, you have Fernando there for you.

[misstictart]

What would Claryce's introduction episode be like? ♥

I still need to polish it (you'll notice some differences compared to what I wrote to you in DMs last year), as I'm not sure whether there would be enough content for this to be a full episode or if it would be some side B plot during a regular episode (perhaps one focusing on the Mafia, Homer, or Bart), but here are the main scenes you'd see!

High-angle shot of a small car driving by the city's big sign—you have a wide view of Springfield until the camera slowly pans closer to the car to then stop as it parks near the Kwik-E Mart. The driver steps out of the car; she seems tired but somewhat relieved to finally have reached her destination. She takes a quick look around her, breathes in and out, and mutters, "Long time no see, Springfield," with a smile, seemingly confident. "From now on, I've got my life under control!" .....Cue Homer accidentally driving into her car, and she panics (not for her car, but for the driver!). Fortunately, it's not too bad (either for Homer or her poor, already weary-looking car), and Claryce would kindly tell Homer that there's no need to share insurance info, to which he'd answer that he's glad that she's not mad! He's got no insurance! (Oh dear...)

She'd then ask if he knew a place where she could do a phone call, and instead of suggesting the shop in which they clearly are standing next to, he'd bring her to Moe's. Once there, she'd use the phone to, she says, "tell my uncle I just arrived.". The guys would try to (not so discreetly) eavesdrop on the call, but the most they'd get is that her uncle seems to be a busy man and is asking her to "kill time" until he'd be able to see her at a certain "club.". Well. Since she's at the bar, she might as well drink and chat with the locals! While Moe would at first clumsily try to flirt with her (without much success), Lenny, Carl, and Homer would ask her where she comes from and what brings her to Springfield. You'd learn that her name is Claryce, that she used to live in Springfield as a kid before moving to Texas, and now that her freelancing translation job was taking off, that she wanted to start her life anew back in Springfield, where she had fond memories. During the conversation, Claryce borrows the local journal, where she learns the Springfield Elementary School is looking for a librarian. She takes note of it and, eventually, leaves the bar to meet with her uncle. "Her uncle sounds like a nice guy!" Lenny would say.

Cut to Claryce opening a door to meet with... the Mob? Did she go to the wrong club? ...No! After a moment of awkward silence in the room, Fat Tony widely smiles and welcomes her with open arms to give her a warm embrace. "Aaah, my lovely niece. Welcome back to Springfield, Chiara!". This, alongside Claryce visibly very happy to see Louie and Legs again, would show you that she's part of the D'Amico family. Yet, you could notice she feels a bit tense around the other members of the Mob... The conversation quickly shifts to her moving, and Tony invites her to go upstairs to discover her new flat. It turns out Fat Tony is not only her uncle but also her landlord!

Eventually Claryce finishes moving all her belongings from her car to her flat (with the help of Louie and Legs), and she's finally left on her own to rest on her bed... That's it; she was finally starting to feel the taste of freedom and independence! While she clearly has a mishap as she hears some occasional gun shots below (probably the police messing with the Mafia, or some other gang related issue) - she still feels somewhat hopeful. Tomorrow, she thinks, she'd get herself some noise-cancelling headphones and call the school to schedule a job interview!

Cut to the actual job interview; Skinner would call her "Miss Whitman," and would mention her CV shows nothing from age 10 to 18—the most you'd get is Claryce awkwardly admitting she was home-schooled. But the interview turns to her favor when Skinner then sees on her resume that she recently got a French literature and language master's diploma in Sorbonne (Paris). This would add a nice member to the team, Skinner would think—plus she only needed a part-time job and could also work as a private French tutor (given the parents would be willing to pay for the extra classes). Not too many expenses for the school, plus someone who does read books—she's hired, and she starts the next day! You'd then see a few scenes of her first week at work, where she'd struggle with the few resources she has (a quite outdated and slow computer, a library from which dozens of books have been missing for years, etc.) as well as struggling with a few students (including a scene where Bart would prank her—hey, a new face! Let's test her limits). This is where you'd see her shushing catchphrase for the first time! Things would go relatively well, yet she'd be very nervous and have trouble getting along with the other teachers at first, but she'd soon gain some respect by showing she can (really) speak French, unlike the casual French teachers the school has... A conversation from which she gains the nickname "French frog" (although she doesn't take it too badly: a nickname is a form of appreciation, right?) She'd also get to meet the superintendent and would try to impress him by making some clever literature references, only for Gary to tell her to get back to work (too frustrated by the fact he didn't catch any of her references). By the end of the week, you'd see she would get along with Liz and Edna the most—the latter of whom would be amused yet have some pity for a gal who's visibly too optimistic for her sake...

More shenanigans would occur—maybe with Homer, Bart, or the Mafia—but I like to think the episode would end with Claryce returning home to find her uncle warning her that he would have a "complicated" meeting soon. "With, like, shootings?" she'd awkwardly ask as her uncle would simply nod. Oh well. Her rent is cheap, and her uncle is quite forgiving with her as it comes to payment delays, so she'll have this. Once she's back in her flat, she'd put on the noise-cancelling headphones she bought in the meantime and sit in front of her PC to focus on her freelancing work. Cue some Queen music playing in the background (Spread Your Wings) as you'd see bullet shots flying across the windows as Claryce peacefully works on her projects.

[dankusner]

State senator sent ex-intern late-night messages, money for strip club, jurors hear

EMIL JONES III TRIAL

‘I want to see u,’ says 2 a.m. text

State Sen. Emil Jones III leaves the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse in Chicago following a session in his ongoing trial on Thursday.

Prosecutors in the bribery trial of state Sen. Emil Jones III presented evidence Friday showing Jones took a former intern to an expensive steak dinner, gave him money for a strip club and sent late-night texts asking to get together, all shortly before pushing for him to be hired by an executive for a red-light camera company.

“I want to see u,” Jones texted Christopher Katz at about 2 a.m. on July 7, 2019, according to one string of messages shown to the jury.

Katz, then 23, had partied with Jones earlier in the night and twice asked the senator to send him cash, which evidence showed he did.

Katz also invited Jones to the strip club, Sky11 in Harvey, but Jones did not agree to go.

Hours later, shortly after 5 a.m., Jones sent Katz another message, saying, “Yo Wyo,” or “What you on?”

“Sleep,” Katz replied.

“Naw u up?” Jones asked.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Prashant Kolluri asked Katz if he found it “surprising or curious” that his much older former boss was seeking to party with him.

Katz said he didn’t at the time.

“I figured … maybe once or twice we could maybe get outside the workplace and maybe hang out,” Katz said.

Within days of that episode, Jones, a Chicago Democrat, sat down for dinner at Steak 48 with SafeSpeed LLC co-founder Omar Maani, who wanted Jones’ help with red-light camera legislation pending in Springfield.

In addition to asking Maani to raise $5,000 for his campaign, Jones pushed for a part-time job for Katz with SafeSpeed — something that seemed far more important to him than the money.

“The main thing is, take care of my intern,” Jones told Maani, who was secretly recording the meeting for the FBI. “That’s it.”

Maani wound up paying Katz a total of $1,800 over a six-week period even though he didn’t do any work.

In his direct examination Friday, Kolluri asked Katz: Did you ever ask Jones or Maani why you were being paid week after week when you weren’t doing any work?

“Well, I assumed that work would come — eventually,” Katz said.

Jones, 46, whose father, Emil Jones Jr., led the state Senate for years before orchestrating to have his son replace him in 2009, is charged with bribery, use of an interstate facility to solicit bribery and lying to federal agents.

The most serious charge carries up to 10 years in prison, while the others have a five-year maximum term.

If convicted, Jones would be forced to resign under Illinois law and would almost certainly forfeit any future pension.

The trial, which began with jury selection on Monday, is expected to wrap up next week.

Katz, who was the prosecution’s second witness, told the jury Friday he met Jones about 10 years ago through his mother.

He started working as a summer intern at Jones’ district office in Roseland in 2014, and had a similar position in 2018 when he was between schools.

The next year, Katz testified, he was looking for work because he was about to start school at the Illinois Institute of Technology.

Katz says he checked in with Jones but there was no job available with his office at the time.

It was around that time that the text messages shown by prosecutors started.

On July 7, 2019, Jones sent Katz a message saying, “Sup u going to the after party?”

Katz replied that he “may have other plans,” then asked:

“U think u can slide me a lil sum thru cash app?”

Katz testified the request for money “was more like me asking for a little bit of change for me for later on.”

“At the time I was a little low on funds and he had given me jobs in the past,” Katz told the jury.

“I figured that it would be I guess wise from my point of view to ask him.”

He said he didn’t remember how much money the senator sent. The texts show he wrote, “Thanks Senator!”

Jones then responded: “U Welcome. I want to hang out with u.”

Meanwhile, Jones met with Maani and floated the idea of hiring Katz.

Maani testified earlier this week that it caught him “off guard a little bit” and that Jones was the one who came up with the $15-an-hour figure.

But he promised to make the hire, saying he’d keep it quiet to avoid raising any alarms with SafeSpeed.

As part of an FBI ruse, Maani later told Jones that he actually didn’t have a position for Katz, but would pay him for 20 hours a week anyway.

“I just wanted to make sure that he’s the type of kid that when he gets a check and he’s not doing anything right away that he’s not gonna be spooked by that,” Maani told Jones on a phone call that August.

“He’s not gonna be weird and stuff, you know, he gets it.”

“Yeah, but make sure we find him some work,” Jones replied.

When Maani asked again if Katz could be trusted, Jones replied, “Oh yeah. Definite. Definite.”

Later, Katz and Jones joked over text message about going to Steak 48 on Maani’s dime.

“LMAO Omar trying to make sure I don’t file my red light camera bill anymore. He thinks steak 48 will do it,” Jones wrote in one exchange.

Katz responded: “lol I see.”

During cross-examination, Jones’ attorney Robert Earles did not address the texts at all, instead taking Katz through his resume and qualifications as a member of the National Honor Society and aspiring architect who was paying his way through school.

Earles also hammered home repeatedly that Katz believed he was being hired for a legitimate job at a reasonable hourly rate, and the fact that he was not assigned any work did not seem unusual to him at the time.

Late in the day, prosecutors called FBI agent Kelly Shanahan, one of the lead agents on the case who gave the greatest detail yet on how investigators got onto Maani in the first place.

Shanahan said the investigation into Maani began in 2017 and was part of a broader probe of bribery and corruption in the south suburbs.

While looking into bribes paid to a municipal official to obtain a liquor license, the FBI intercepted Maani on wiretap calls, talking to SafeSpeed sales consultants about red-light cameras and benefits and other types of contributions being made, she said.

The FBI began tapping Maani’s cellphone in the summer of 2017 and listened to his calls for about two months, which included calls with then-state Sen. Martin Sandoval and numerous other public officials, she said.

On Jan. 29, 2018, Shanahan and an IRS agent approached Maani at his Burr Ridge home to try to get him to cooperate.

“He potentially had the ability to sit down and meet with individuals and record conversations,” things the FBI couldn’t do, Shanahan said.

At the time they had secured four search warrants, including for Maani’s home, his cellphone, SafeSpeed’s offices in Chicago and Casa de Montecristo, a cigar bar in Countryside where Maani often met with officials, she said.

A couple of hours later, Maani called the FBI and asked for a meeting, arriving at the FBI office in Orland Park without an attorney.

“He said that he didn’t want an attorney, that he didn’t trust anybody,” Shanahan said.

Maani said he’d cooperate undercover, and wound up doing so for the next 18 months, she said.

Jones came into the picture relatively late in the investigation, after Sandoval was recorded discussing Jones and his legislation proposing a statewide study of red-light cameras.

The FBI then instructed Maani to go to Sandoval and ask for an introduction to Jones.

Asked to estimate how many people Maani cooperated against in total, Shanahan thought for a moment before replying, “several dozen.”

Burr Ridge businessman Omar Maani told a federal jury yesterday that he started bribing public officials when he was still in his 20s, making money hand-over-fist as a real estate developer and co-founder of lucrative red light camera company SafeSpeed LLC. Maani’s stark portrayal of old-school Chicago graft — and his admitted role in it — came during his cross-examination in the bribery trial of state Sen. Emil Jones III, who is charged with soliciting $5,000 from Maani as well as a part-time job for his legislative intern in exchange for Jones’ help in Springfield with legislation important to SafeSpeed.

It’s one of many cases made by Maani, who began cooperating with the FBI after being confronted in January 2018 and spent nearly two years undercover, wearing wires and hidden video recorders as he held court with elected officials at steakhouses, pancake restaurants and a suburban cigar lounge where Maani had a hidden interest.

‘You tell me a number’:

Ex-red-light camera company exec takes stand in bribery trial of state Sen. Emil Jones III

Democratic State Sen. Emil Jones III was digging into a big filet at his favorite downtown steak joint in July 2019 when his dinner companion, a red-light camera company executive, brought up Jones’ upcoming fundraiser at Sox Park.

“How much money you want me to come up with?” SafeSpeed LLC co-founder Omar Maani asked over the soft steakhouse din. “You tell me a number.”

Jones initially demurred, telling Maani no one had ever asked him that before.

But Maani explained he was different, that he always wanted to meet expectations.

“You’re already meeting expectations, Omar,” Jones said, cutting into his steak while a hidden camera sat somewhere on the table across from him.

“You’re a good guy. I like you all’s company a lot.”

Then Jones dropped the number: “If you can raise me five grand, that’d be good.”

“Done,” Maani replied quickly.

That conversation, which Maani secretly recorded for the FBI, was the focal point of a long first day of trial for Jones, the son of former Senate President Emil Jones Jr. Jones III is accused of agreeing to accept bribes from Maani in exchange for his help tamping down anti-red-light camera legislation in Springfield.

Maani, the star prosecution witness, testified for the first time in a federal courtroom Wednesday that his company routinely sought to influence elected officials with campaign cash, dinners and cigars to secure more business.

“We would cut deals with legislators for financial support,” said Maani, who admitted to his own wrongdoing after being confronted in January 2018 and was given a deferred prosecution agreement in exchange for his cooperation.

“We would write checks for them from different companies to conceal it from the public….We were concerned the media would write there was some sort of collusion.”

In some of the recordings played so far, however, Maani was adamant that he was acting without his company’s knowledge.

In addition to the meeting between Jones and Maani at Steak 48, prosecutors played a lengthy recording of another dinner weeks earlier, where then-State Sen. Martin Sandoval, the powerful and corrupt head of the Senate Transportation Committee, introduced Maani to Jones.

Sandoval, who also was unaware Maani was working undercover, told him in no uncertain terms that he and Jones had learned their “craft” from Jones’ powerful father.

In some ways, he said, they had the same “daddy.”

“(Jones Jr.) knew how to leverage people,” Sandoval said in his trademark gruff tone at the June 2019 dinner at Gibsons Bar & Steakhouse in Oak Brook.

“You know how many people paid attention to him? … So I say we were both brought up by the same daddy. We both have learned the craft the same way.”

Jones burst out laughing, saying to Sandoval: “You REALLY learned the craft.”

Sandoval, who pleaded guilty to taking bribes to be SafeSpeed’s “protector” in the Senate, died of COVID-19 complications in December 2020 while he was cooperating with the government.

Jones’ father led the state Senate for years before orchestrating to have his son replace him in 2009.

Jones III, 46, is charged with bribery, use of an interstate facility to solicit bribery and lying to federal agents.

The most serious charge carries up to 10 years in prison, while the others have a five-year maximum term.

In addition to the $5,000 fundraiser promised by Maani, Jones also is accused of pushing Maani to hire his legislative intern for a $15-an-hour part-time job at SafeSpeed.

And he later lied to the FBI about his contacts with Maani and his knowledge of his intern’s salary, the charges allege.

Jones’ trial is the first of a sitting politician at the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse since then-Ald. Patrick Daley Thompson was convicted in 2021 on counts of tax fraud and lying to banking regulators.

The last sitting state legislator to face trial was Derrick Smith, a then-state representative who was convicted of bribery nearly a decade ago.

If convicted, Jones would be forced to resign under Illinois law and would almost certainly forfeit any future pension.

In his opening statement to the jury Wednesday morning, Assistant U.S. Attorney Prashant Kolluri said Jones “knew exactly what he was doing” when he agreed to keep evidence of the relationship with Maani out of public view.

“This was politics for profit,” Kolluri said.

“The crime here is that the defendant put his power as an Illinois senator up for sale and then lied about what he had done.”

Jones, meanwhile, has maintained his innocence.

His lawyers have indicated they intend to argue that his actions were business as usual and that the government is trying to stretch political give-and-take into bribery.

Jones’ defense attorney Joshua Adams said in his opening remarks that the case was one more instance in Maani’s long history of “serial bribery” around the Chicago area, and he reminded the jury that Maani had agreed to cooperate with the government to avoid consequences for other charges against him.

“In exchange for wearing a recording device and following the FBI’s orders, he doesn’t have to spend one day in jail, one night in a federal prison,” Adams said.

“He gets to walk away from all of this.”

Adams also called Maani a practiced liar who is only testifying “because he has to” to secure his end of the deal.

“If he doesn’t, the consequences are dire,” Adams said.

“But make no mistake, Omar Maani is a criminal.”

Maani, 44, took the witness stand for the first time Wednesday dressed in a black sport coat over a dark T-shirt.

He testified in a loud, deep voice, at times leaning directly into the microphone with his voice booming in the courtroom.

Maani, who never graduated from college, testified he was still in his 20s when he started his own real estate development company, Presidio Capital LLC, as well as co-founded SafeSpeed with current CEO Nikki Zollar.

As SafeSpeed’s point person to handle legislative affairs, Maani said he was hyper-sensitive to what was going on in Springfield, where Sandoval, as chairman of the Transportation Committee and key player with the Illinois Department of Transportation, became instrumental to their success.

With a photo of Sandoval displayed in the courtroom, Assistant U.S. Attorney Tiffany Ardam asked Maani on direct examination when he started giving Sandoval bribes.

“Probably not long after we met,” Maani said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Why?

“For bribery — for his assistance and legislative initiative in helping us with bills that were adverse to us and making sure that they would stay in his committee,” Maani testified.

He testified that Sandoval was given cash, cigars and cigar labels and taken out to dinners all the time.

After 2018, it was at the direction of the FBI.

But plenty of it was before his cooperation, he said.

Who gave Sandoval the bribes? Ardam asked.

“Myself and my company,” Maani said.

Which company?

“SafeSpeed.”

No one else at SafeSpeed has been charged in the investigation, and the company and Zollar have repeatedly denied any wrongdoing, describing Maani, who left in 2020, as a rogue actor.

On Wednesday, SafeSpeed released a statement regarding Maani’s ongoing testimony:

“We are deeply offended to see that Omar Maani, despite admitting to criminal acts, is now refusing to accept responsibility for his own criminal conduct, and he is making false claims about SafeSpeed.”

“We are committed to upholding the highest standards of integrity and professionalism, and we are committed to ensuring the public knows the truth,” the statement read.

Meanwhile, Maani testified that he first became aware of Jones in 2016 and sought to build a relationship after Jones filed a series of bills seeking to have a statewide study done on the efficacy of red light cameras — something the company vehemently opposed.

“We refer to it as a prelude to a ban,” Maani testified.

“We are concerned that a statewide study would justify further bills that would lead to a ban or partial ban on the cameras… In the worst-case scenario it could put us out of business.”

Early one morning in January 2018, agents with the FBI and IRS knocked on Maani’s door armed with search warrants for his home, businesses and phone.

With his wife and then 2-year-old daughter sleeping upstairs, Maani quickly agreed to cooperate with the investigation before even consulting with a lawyer, he told the jury.

“The government comes in there and tells you they have search warrants, I’m going to do everything to protect them,” Maani testified, referring to his wife and daughter.

“It kind of ended with that. Period.”

He testified that in March 2019, he and Sandoval were eating at a Mexican restaurant on West 59th Street when he asked the senator to set up a meeting with Jones.

A month later, Jones came to SafeSpeed’s Chicago offices for a conversation with Maani, Zollar, and other company executives and lobbyists — a meeting Maani recorded with a hidden wire.

During the meeting, lobbyist Mike Noonan, who is partners in the Roosevelt Group with clout-heavy Democratic operative Victor Reyes, asked Jones for a “solid commitment from your side that this is not going to bleed into changing the program outside the city of Chicago.”

“I can’t give you that commitment any other better way that I have over the years,” Jones replied.

But Jones later said: “I’m very confident in SafeSpeed. We talked before, Nikki. Um and a few years back about 20 mayors had an intervention with me. I think you all probably put that on,” prompting others in the room to erupt in laughter.

“I’m not going to go after you guys.”

Maani testified that Jones was noncommittal to helping them at the meeting, so he later asked Sandoval to set up the more private dinner at Gibsons where they could talk.

The video of that meeting, which took place in daylight on an outdoor patio, appeared to be shot from a camera that was stationary on the table.

When Jones walked in, Sandoval exclaimed, “My man Emil!” and shook his hand.

Just off screen, Maani said, “Having some drinks on a beautiful day.”

When Jones said he’d stick to lemonade, Sandoval let out a moan.

“Aw man, c’mon!”

About an hour into the dinner, Maani explained that he and Sandoval had known each other for 10 years and were “about as close as people can get.”

Both Maani and Sandoval told Jones that the name of the game was cutting out the middleman — particularly lobbyists — and dealing directly with each other to keep it cleaner and more discreet.

“So from my perspective, I would say ‘our’ perspective but when I come here, I always come here by myself, you know?” Maani said on the recording.

“I’m not coming here as a representative of SafeSpeed. I’m coming here just as an owner and I didn’t tell them that, you know, we’re meeting.”

Sandoval later backed up Maani on that point, telling Jones that when he wants something from the company, “I don’t go to Zollar” or to Victor Reyes.

“I just go to Omar,” he said.

“Omar deals with all the electives.”

Sandoval also said Maani had interests in a suburban cigar bar and contacts all over the place and could find “creative” ways to give Jones money, such as hosting cocktail functions where funding sources don’t have to be disclosed.

“A lot of creative ways,” Maani agreed.

“Anything you need, anything you want, let me know.”

Near the end of the recording, Sandoval and Maani recounted how giving straight-up campaign contributions backfired for them on a deal for red-light cameras to be put at a busy intersection on the border of Oak Brook and Oakbrook Terrace, which was brought to light in an expose by the Tribune in 2017.

Sandoval complained in the conversation that Oak Brook had even hired “rabble-rouser” attorney Tony Peraica to look into the matter and that the contributions were so easily traced.

In addition to talk about politics and business, the conversations played for the jury so far have included a lot of typical male steakhouse banter, peppered at times with expletives and talk of the weather, traffic and the tenderness of Japanese-style Wagyu beef.

There were also several humorous moments, including when Jones recounted the “intervention” of suburban mayors who chastised him for opposing red-light cameras.

The episode was led by then-Crestwood Mayor Lou Presta, who would later be convicted of being in SafeSpeed’s pocket.

Sandoval told the group he attended seminary school with Presta’s brother, where they both were studying for “the priesthood.”

“I was a year away from being ordained,” Sandoval said as his companions started to chuckle.

“I could have baptized you. You would’ve been able to go to confession with me!”

“They did say politicians and clergymen, priests, they’re all crooked,” Jones shot back as the laughter at the table grew louder.

Sandoval replied, “You never hold back. Not even on Jesus, man!”

EMIL JONES III BRIBERY TRIAL

Jury hears about Jones’ corrupt former colleague

State Sen. Emil Jones III may be the one who’s on trial for bribery, but the jury deciding his fate heard plenty Monday about one of Jones’ former colleagues: deceased state Sen. Martin Sandoval.

Sandoval, the once-powerful head of the Senate Transportation Committee, took tens of thousands of dollars in cash over a two-year period from a red-light camera company executive who was secretly cooperating with the FBI, according to testimony.

He was wined and dined at steakhouses and plied with cigars, the jury heard.

And he had pleaded guilty and was cooperating with the government when he died suddenly of COVID-19 complications in December 2020.

Among those who attended Sandoval’s funeral was FBI Special Agent Kelly Shanahan, one of the case agents in the investigation and a handler for Omar Maani, the SafeSpeed LLC executive and co-founder whose work as an FBI mole helped bring down not only Sandoval but nearly a dozen other elected officials and political operatives.

Shanahan acknowledged she attended the services with two agents from the IRS — and that they had not been invited.

Asked by Assistant U.S. Attorney Prashant Kolluri why she went, Shanahan said, “His family lost a loved one, and I just wanted to pay my respects.”

Shanahan said it wasn’t a surveillance operation of any kind.

In fact, Sandoval’s wife and daughters approached her and were appreciative, she said.

On cross-examination, however, Jones’ attorney Victor Henderson attempted to use Kelly’s presence at the funeral as evidence that Jones was merely collateral damage in an investigation that was largely focused on Sandoval’s corruption.

Unlike Sandoval, who took cash-stuffed envelopes from Maani in exchange for agreeing to be SafeSpeed’s “protector” in the Senate, Jones is accused of soliciting a $5,000 donation that he never actually received, as well as a part-time job for a former intern, Henderson pointed out in his questioning of Kelly.

The FBI never attempted to have Maani hand Jones any cash, Henderson noted.

And Jones didn’t even have so much as a cocktail at the dinners Maani put on at places such as Gibsons in Oak Brook and Steak 48 in downtown Chicago, opting instead to stick with lemonade.

“Did Sen. Jones get any cigars?” Henderson asked Shanahan at one point.

“No,” she said.

“Any tickets to events? Any flights to faraway, fancy places?”

“No he did not,” Shanahan confirmed.

“He got a steak and he got a lemonade right?” Henderson shot back. Shanahan paused for a moment before replying, “I believe that’s what he had.”

Jones, 46, whose father, Emil Jones Jr., led the state Senate for years before orchestrating to have his son replace him in 2009, is charged with bribery, use of an interstate facility to solicit bribery and lying to federal agents.

The most serious charge carries up to 10 years in prison, while the others have a five-year maximum term.

According to the charges, Jones agreed to accept $5,000 in campaign funding from Maani in exchange for Jones’ help with legislation in Springfield.

Jones also asked Maani to give his former office intern a part-time job, which led to $1,800 being paid to the intern in exchange for no work. the charges alleged.

Jones is the first sitting member of the state General Assembly to face trial at the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse in nearly a decade.

If convicted, Jones would be forced to resign under Illinois law and would almost certainly forfeit any future pension.

The trial, which began last week, is nearing an end.

Prosecutors said they plan to rest Tuesday, and Jones’ lawyers have not revealed whether Jones will testify on his own behalf.

If he doesn’t, the defense case will take less than half a day, and U.S. District Judge Andrea Wood said closing arguments could come as soon as Wednesday.

Near the end of the day Monday, another FBI special agent on the case, Timothy O’Brien, began testifying about interviews of Jones he participated in, including one on Sept. 24, 2019, the same day the investigation went public with a series of search warrants executed at Sandoval’s offices and other locations around the suburbs.

Jones is accused of lying in that interview and a subsequent one about his interactions with Maani.

O’Brien testified he and another agent went to Jones’ house to interview him and were greeted by a man who said he was a cousin, who told them the senator was not home.

“A short time later the same individual approached our car and told us he wasn’t being truthful with us,” O’Brien testified. Sen. Jones was indeed at home “and he wanted to speak with us.”

The roughly 40-minute interview took place in Jones’ living room and was recorded without Jones’ knowledge, which O’Brien said was done in an effort to “facilitate an honest and truthful conversation” with the senator.

“How are you all doing?” Jones asked as the agents were let in and a dog barked in the background, according to a portion of the recording played for the jury Monday.

“Good, good, good. How are you?” O’Brien responded.

“Well the FBI is at my door so …” Jones said with a laugh.

O’Brien then told Jones they had “a few things to go over with you related to your relationship with Martin Sandoval,” explaining they knew Jones had filed bills asking for studies of the red-light camera industry and that Sandoval “was against those.”

The judge recessed the trial for the day at that point.

Shanahan, who began her testimony Friday, told the jury Maani began cooperating in January 2018 after she and an IRS agent approached him at his Burr Ridge home armed with four search warrants, including for Maani’s home, his cellphone, SafeSpeed’s offices in Chicago and Casa de Montecristo, a cigar bar in Countryside where Maani often met with officials.

Maani went undercover for the next 18 months, she said.

Jones came into the picture relatively late in the investigation, after Sandoval was recorded discussing Jones and his legislation proposing a statewide study of red-light cameras.

The FBI then instructed Maani to go to Sandoval and ask for an introduction to Jones, Shanahan testified.

On cross-examination Monday, Henderson asked Shanahan how much money did Maani give in total to Sandoval?

She estimated it was “close to around $75,000.”

Among those payments was $10,000 in cash that Maani gave to Sandoval at their June 2019 dinner at Gibsons, after Jones had left.

Henderson asked Shanahan repeatedly why the FBI didn’t have Maani try to give money to Jones as well.

“I don’t think there was a basis to do that … it was a first introduction,” Shanahan said.

“They didn’t know each other.”

Henderson also pointed out in his questioning that the FBI had Maani’s phone wiretapped and reviewed dozens upon dozens of phone calls and text messages between Maani, Sandoval and Jones, but there was no evidence of a demand from Jones for the money Maani had promised.

“You didn’t find one text message (from Jones) that said ‘where’s the $5,000, did you?”

“No,” Shanahan replied.

Henderson also generated some chuckles in the courtroom when he tried to make a point that Jones didn’t appear to be hiding anything at the recorded dinners, which took place in crowded steakhouses and showed Jones laughing and, at times, talking loudly.

Gesturing toward Jones seated at the defense table, Henderson said, “the senator is kind of a big laugher, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know. He laughed,” Shanahan replied.

“He’s a pretty decent sized guy. … Did it appear to you that he was trying to hide at Gibsons?” Henderson asked.

EMIL JONES III TRIAL

Legislator takes stand in his own defense

State Sen. Emil Jones III stood Tuesday in a gray suit and paced, taking a sip of water, tapping on a table, even stifling a loud, seemingly nervous yawn.

But Jones, the son of former Senate President Emil Jones Jr., wasn’t preparing for some big speech in Springfield.

Instead, he was about to take a federal witness stand in Chicago in his own bribery trial, rolling the dice before a jury that could make him the first sitting state legislator to be convicted of corruption in nearly a decade.

With several relatives looking on, including his stepmother and brother, Jones, a South Side Democrat, strode to the stand in U.S. District Judge Andrea Wood’s 21st floor courtroom and introduced himself to the jury in a loud, deep voice, telling them his namesake father, who spent nearly 40 years in the General Assembly before retiring in 2008, inspired him to go into politics.

“Ever since I was a child, I always wanted to be a state senator like my father and I decided to run,” Jones told the jury, leaving out that his father orchestrated a time-honored Illinois political maneuver to make it happen, retiring abruptly after winning the primary and pitching his son as his replacement to favorable Democratic committeemen.

Jones told the jury he’s run unopposed ever since winning that first election.

Asked by his attorney, Victor Henderson, if he still had to raise money, Jones said, “I never had an election. I never had an opponent to run against. So … no.”

But he still had a fund, Friends of Emil Jones, “to raise funds for my campaign if I ever had one,” Jones said.

Jones is charged with bribery, use of an interstate facility to solicit bribery and lying to federal agents.

The most serious charge carries up to 10 years in prison, while the others have a five-year maximum term.

According to the charges, Jones agreed to accept $5,000 in campaign funding from a red-light camera company executive, Omar Maani, in exchange for Jones’ help with legislation in Springfield.

Jones also asked Maani to give his former office intern a part-time job, which led to $1,800 being paid to the intern in exchange for no work, the charges alleged.

Jones is the first sitting member of the state General Assembly to face trial at the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse since then-state Rep. Derrick Smith was found guilty of bribery nearly a decade ago.

If convicted, Jones would be forced to resign under Illinois law and would almost certainly forfeit any future pension.

Unlike Smith, who did not testify, Jones is staking his political future and perhaps his freedom on whether the jury believes him.

Jones took the stand late in the day, and Henderson had only scratched the surface of the evidence before the judge recessed the trial for the day.

He’s expected to get into the heart of the case when he returns to the stand Wednesday, including what promises to be a tough cross-examination by prosecutors.

His decision to testify in his own defense is risky, particularly for a sitting elected official facing high-stakes public corruption charges.

If found guilty, prosecutors could use his own words against him to try to enhance his sentence by arguing he perjured himself on the stand.

But Jones is the only one who can put a different spin on statements he made on undercover recordings at the heart of the case.

Jones is also expected to try to lay a significant amount of blame at the feet of his former colleague, then-state Sen. Martin Sandoval, who was caught up in the same overall probe.

His turn on the stand added some late-inning drama to what has so far been a fairly quick and straightforward trial.

Prosecutors rested their case Tuesday after calling a total of five witnesses over five days of testimony.

Meanwhile, the defense had called one brief witness before the judge brought the jury back out and asked Henderson: Does the defense have any remaining witnesses?

“We do your honor. State Sen. Emil Jones III,” Henderson said, as several jurors snapped to attention.

Over the next 40 minutes, Henderson took Jones through his school and work history, which included jobs with the secretary of state and Department of Commerce and Economic Opportunity before he was elected to the Senate.

Jones provided the jury a sort of nuts-and-bolts description of how the state legislature operates and how bills move through committees to the floor for a vote.

He testified about his work on committees, including the Transportation Committee, which was helmed by Sandoval until September 2019, when the FBI raided Sandoval’s offices and the investigation became publicly known.

Jones described then-Senate President John Cullerton as “the boss” of their chamber, who could decide who worked on which committees and which bills got called for a vote.

He also invoked the name of another powerful Democrat recently convicted of corruption charges, when Henderson asked, who headed the House in 2019.

“It was Michael J. Madigan at the time,” Jones said.

“He was the speaker of the House.”

Jones also talked about the myriad special interests in Springfield.

“They all have lobbyists that they hire to come to Springfield to try to persuade you to see things their way,” he said.

“It’s a numbers game. … You literally have to count your votes.”

That was no different when it came to red-light camera companies, Jones said, which hired lobbyists to “protect their interest — meaning protecting any type of legislation that might harm their companies so they would lose revenue.”

So they made a lot of revenue? Henderson asked.

“Millions and millions of dollars,” Jones replied.

“I’ve seen reports where some of these cameras at one particular intersection could make $50,000 a day in terms of violations.”

Jones said the mayors of towns across the suburbs used red-light cameras to boost revenue and “balance their budgets.”

Meanwhile, constituents were paying up, he said.

Henderson said that being a state senator is described as a part-time job, but in the Chicago area, with the diversity of constituents and never-ending issues, it often seemed like more than that.

Often, Henderson said, he’d be headed out to dinner with stakeholders at the end of the day, whether it was in Springfield or Chicago.

“And you like to eat?” Henderson asked.

Jones sighed and glanced at his physique.

“Unfortunately,” he said to chuckles in the courtroom.

Earlier Tuesday, the jury heard Jones as he told FBI agents who knocked on his door in September 2019 that he never felt “comfortable” talking to his longtime colleague, Sandoval, particularly about a red-light camera company executive who wanted to be his “friend.”

“Because he’s an intimidating guy, you know?” Jones said about Sandoval on the morning of Sept. 24, 2019, the day the FBI raided Sandoval’s offices in Springfield along with more than a dozen other locations.

“And you hear rumors about him … that he’s just shady.”

In the recorded interview, which was played for the jury Tuesday, the agents pointed out Jones’ claimed trepidation about Sandoval didn’t stop him from sitting down for a steak dinner with Sandoval and Maani, co-founder of SafeSpeed LLC, to talk about how he could compensate Jones in exchange for his help on legislation in Springfield.

Didn’t Jones ask Maani specifically to raise $5,000 for his campaign?

Didn’t he ask Maani to hire his former intern?

And didn’t he offer to “protect” SafeSpeed from state Rep. David McSweeney, a staunch opponent to red-light cameras?

When Jones seemed to downplay what he’d said, the agents, Timothy O’Brien and Nijika Rustagi, laid their cards on the table:

They had video of the entire thing.

“I don’t think it was as soft as that,” O’Brien warned Jones near the end of the 40-minute interview.

“I think it was a little more direct. I certainly have the video with me where (you) said: ‘I’ll make sure I’ll take care of you guys with McSweeney …’ I’d be happy to play the video for you if you want.”

Jones was also warned by Rustagi that everything he said could be used in the federal grand jury and that if he lied he could be charged.

When Rustagi asked if Jones wanted to change any of his answers based on that, Jones declined.

Then he joked:

“After watching Trump for the last two years, I understand.”

O’Brien testified Tuesday that when the interview concluded, he and his partner seized Jones’ cellphone pursuant to a search warrant and made a digital copy at the FBI offices.

Later that day, O’Brien went back to Jones’ South Side home to return the phone.

Jones answered the door, O’Brien testified, and as he took back the phone, he said “something to the effect that he was chewed out by his dad and by his attorney for speaking to me.”

Five months later, Jones came in for another interview at the IRS offices across from Dirksen U.S. Courthouse, O’Brien said.

This time, he had a lawyer participating by phone, and the purpose was for Jones to come clean and begin cooperating with the investigation, O’Brien testified.

Unlike in his previous interview, O’Brien said this time Jones was asked if he made any agreements with Maani, “He acknowledged that he requested a job for (his intern) as well as a campaign contribution in exchange for changing the legislation.”

According to O’Brien, Jones admitted that he and Maani had specifically come up with the $5,000 figure at their July 2019 dinner, and that he knew the intern, Christopher Katz, was being paid even though Maani was not giving him work.

O’Brien said the interview moved on to “additional information” Jones may have “related to other topics for investigations we had or potential investigations.”

Jones was shown photos, made identifications “and provided information about those individuals and others,” he said.

Their next interview with Jones was in August 2021, when Jones had new attorneys, O’Brien testified. Jones continued to provide information unrelated to the facts of the SafeSpeed case, he said, though Jones was never considered to be “actively” cooperating.

Jones was charged a little over a year later via a criminal information, which typically indicates the defendant has an agreement with the U.S. attorney’s office to plead guilty.

Instead, Jones took the case to trial.

EMIL JONES III TRIAL

Jones blasts FBI mole, ex-colleague

Legislator calls red-light camera executive ‘used car salesman,’ Sandoval a ‘bully’ as testimony continues

State Sen. Emil Jones III told a federal jury Wednesday that a red-light camera company executive who was wining and dining him in the summer of 2019 reminded him of “a used car salesman” and that he never asked him directly for any money, only possible support for a fundraiser.

Testifying in his own defense in his bribery trial, Jones also had critical words for his now-deceased colleague, former state Sen. Martin Sandoval, describing the once-powerful head of the Senate Transportation Committee as “kind of a bully.”

As a sitting elected official, Jones is taking a considerable risk by testifying, exposing himself to potential allegations of perjury that could lead to an enhanced sentence if he’s convicted.

But Jones is the only one who can put a different spin on statements he made on undercover recordings made by SafeSpeed LLC co-founder Omar Maani, who was working as an FBI mole.

It’s also an opportunity for Jones to try to lay a significant amount of blame at the feet of Sandoval, who pleaded guilty in the same sweeping red-light camera probe and was cooperating with investigators at the time of his death from COVID-19 complications in December 2020.

In the undercover videos shown to the jury, Sandoval introduced Maani to Jones over a steak dinner and told him Maani wanted to be his “friend.”

In a later dinner, Maani talked with Jones alone about raising $5,000 for the senator’s campaign and hiring Jones’ onetime intern, Christopher Katz, for a $15-an-hour part-time job at SafeSpeed.

Over about five hours of direct examination beginning Tuesday, Jones has been poised and calm on the stand, testifying in a deep clear voice despite suffering from a bit of congestion.

He told relatives during a break he’d taken cold medicine and was on lozenges to help his throat.

U.S. District Judge Andrea Wood recessed the trial for the day with Jones still on direct examination.

He’s expected to wrap up his testimony Thursday, including what promises to be a lengthy cross-examination.

Jones testified repeatedly Wednesday that he was “cautious” about Maani, who was introduced to him through Sandoval in 2019 and was trying to keep Jones from going forward with a bill to require a statewide study of red-light cameras.

Jones said the $5,000 figure he suggested to Maani was merely for his campaign fund, which was largely used to support community events and would all be reported on his D2 campaign financing reports.

At one point, Jones’ attorney, Victor Henderson, asked, “so was that five grand for your pockets?”

“No, I didn’t say give me five grand, I said if you can raise me five grand,” Jones testified.

Jones says he was “used to dealing with all different types of personalities” but was wary of Maani’s pushiness.

“He reminded me of a used car salesman,” Jones said.

“Had an answer for everything. He talked a lot. He repeated himself over and over again.”

Jones was also asked about a text he sent to his former intern poking fun at Maani for thinking a steak dinner would convince him to alter his bill.

He told the jury he thought Maani “was just trying to buy me off.”

“If you felt like he was trying to buy you off, why have dinner with him again?” Henderson asked.

“I was trying to get my bill passed, and Sandoval told me I need to engage with these folks,” Jones said.

“Not the first time I’ve dealt with someone like Omar in my career. A lot of times lobbyists and other folks say inappropriate things, but you still have to engage with them to get your work done. I knew Omar was no different. I knew I wasn’t going to do anything illegal.”

Jones also offered the jury an explanation for a series of late-night texts to his former intern around the same time he was trying to get Maani to hire the then-23-year-old.

In one, sent after 2 a.m. when Katz was at a strip club, Jones, who was 41 at the time, told Katz, “I want to see U,” according to copies of the communications shown to the jury.

Jones testified he’d known Katz for years and they had a social relationship.

“We’re friends, associates,” he said.

“Me and Chris share a passion for cooking. I love to cook.”

The day the texts were sent, Jones said, he and Katz had crossed paths at an all-day, Fourth of July weekend event known as the

“Chosen Few” picnic.

“It’s dance music all day,” Jones said.

You can dance? Henderson asked.

Jones smiled slightly: “I can do a little somethin’.”

Jones, 46, is charged with bribery, use of an interstate facility to solicit bribery and lying to federal agents.

The most serious charge carries up to 10 years in prison, while the others have a five-year maximum term.

Jones is the first sitting member of the state General Assembly to face trial at the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse since then-state Rep. Derrick Smith was found guilty of bribery nearly a decade ago.

If convicted, Jones would be forced to resign under Illinois law and would almost certainly forfeit any future pension.

The trial, which began with jury selection April 7, had been slated to last only about a week but has moved slower than expected.

Wood said after the jury was sent home that she hoped to have closing arguments either Friday or Monday, depending on Easter weekend schedules.

Meanwhile, much of Jones’ testimony Wednesday focused on his efforts in the Senate to pass a bill mandating a statewide study of red-light cameras, which he said he first proposed in 2016 after receiving blowback from constituents in Chicago.

Jones told the jury that each time he filed a bill, it was relegated to subcommittee by Sandoval, who let them die without a vote.

Jones said it was part of Sandoval’s well-known, controlling style.

“Sen. Sandoval ran his committee way different,” Jones said. “We had no discussion, we had no witness testimony … the only bills we would vote on were the ones he agreed on.”

Asked to elaborate on why Sandoval was so “intimidating,” Jones said:

“When you would ask him a question he would give short answers. He was kind of a bully in a way, if you brought a concern to him he would always speak around giving you a direct answer.”

Jones said despite Sandoval being a bully, he had a mostly “cordial” relationship with him.

Jones said around February 2019, after he had filed yet another bill for a study of red-light cameras, then-Senate President John Cullerton told him he was going to “sit down and tell Marty to work with you on the bill.”

Jones testified Sandoval told him he would have SafeSpeed’s lobbyists with the Roosevelt Group, headed by Democratic operative and Sandoval ally Victor Reyes, “sit down with you.”

On April 29, 2019, Jones met at SafeSpeed’s offices on North Wacker Drive with Maani, SafeSpeed CEO Nikki Zollar, and a handful of other executives and lobbyists.

“I saw the operations … they had about 100 employees but the main thing I noticed is that they had a lot of college students working for them as reviewers, reviewing recordings of red-light camera violations,” he said.

After the spring session ended that year, Sandoval set up a meeting with him, Jones and Maani at Gibsons Steakhouse in Oak Brook, which was also secretly recorded by Maani. During that dinner, Sandoval told his companions a humorous anecdote about how he spent years in seminary studying for the priesthood, prompting Jones to exclaim “they did say politicians and clergymen, priests, they’re all crooked!”

Asked about that comment Wednesday, Jones said he was just trying to joke at Sandoval’s expense.

“I had learned at that meeting that Sen. Sandoval had once upon a time wanted to be a priest and it was shocking to me,” Jones said.

“I’m Catholic, and he doesn’t seem like a suitable priest to me.”

Jones testified he was careful at the dinner, ordering a “steak and potato … and a lemonade” instead of alcohol like Maani and Sandoval.

The jury has heard testimony that at the direction of the FBI, Maani gave Sandoval an envelope with $10,000 in cash after Jones left.

“Did you know that Omar was giving money to Sandoval under the table?” Henderson said.

“Absolutely not, no,” Jones testified.

Henderson took Jones through portions of the recording transcripts line by line, asking what he meant with his various responses.

When Maani asked about “creative ways” to make donations, for example, Jones said he “didn’t know what he was talking about … because I only know one way to accept donations.

The proper way, where you write me a check and I report it on my D2s.”

Jones said other responses — such as “yeah, yeah” or “I feel you” — were his way of blowing off Maani “because I just felt something weird about him.”

He also added new detail about a “mayoral intervention” that took place in 2018 at the invitation of Lou Presta, the then-mayor of Crestwood and a key ally of SafeSpeed’s.

Jones was captured on video telling Maani and Sandoval that as many as 20 mayors from surrounding suburbs took part, and that he’d never forget it.

“They had me come out to Crestwood, this Italian restaurant, in this back room,” he said.

“Some mayors were not even from my district. … They were all expressing concern about the study and the harm it would do to revenue for their communities.”

Presta later pleaded guilty to taking cash from Maani and served time in prison.

Toward the end of the day, Jones testified about the day FBI agents showed up on his doorstep in Roseland on Sept. 24, 2019.

“I was getting ready to catch a flight to attend an educational conference in Los Angeles,” he said.

When his cousin told him the FBI was there, “I said ‘Oh no let them in I need to talk to them,” according to Jones’ account.

Jones said he sat on his living room sofa still in his pajamas for the 40-minute interview, alone with the agents except for his dog and two cats.

“They said that they were investigating Marty Sandoval and SafeSpeed and they’d like to ask me a few questions,” Jones said.

“I was feeling nervous. … Never met an FBI agent before so yeah, I was nervous.”

But Jones denied telling the agents any lies that day.

In fact, Henderson had him go through the transcript of the interview, which was recorded without Jones’ knowledge, pointing out each instance where Jones’ answers were consistent with things either caught on the undercover wires or with Jones’ previous testimony in court.

Asked why he chose to speak to the agents without asking for a lawyer, Jones said:

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I had nothing to hide so … um. There was no reason not to meet with them.”

Four months later, Jones said, the feds sent a letter to his attorney “warning that they wanted to charge me, and it was kind of shocking.”

“My lawyer said judging it on where they want to meet you at, they want you to be a cooperating witness,” Jones testified.

The jury has heard testimony that Jones met with investigators and provided some assistance on other cases but never actively cooperated.

Mistrial declared after jury deadlocks

Trial’s conclusion comes after nearly 3 weeks of testimony

State Sen. Emil Jones III talks to reporters after his bribery trial ended in a mistrial on Thursday at the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse.

After deliberating for nearly as many hours as they heard evidence, jurors in the corruption trial of state Sen. Emil Jones III on Thursday could not reach a unanimous decision, leaving the case to end in a mistrial after nearly three weeks of testimony and arguments.

The trial’s conclusion without a verdict came after jurors for two days signaled that they were struggling to come to an agreement while weighing three counts against Jones, who was charged with agreeing to take bribes from an executive of a red-light camera company in exchange for Jones’ protection in Springfield against legislation that would hurt the company’s bottom line.

Flanked by his attorneys as he left the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse, Jones, 46, thanked the judge, jurors, his attorneys and prosecutors.

The son of former Senate President Emil Jones Jr., he was the first sitting member of the state General Assembly to have a jury trial at the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse since then-state Rep. Derrick Smith was found guilty of bribery nearly a decade ago.

“I look forward to another fight,” Jones said.

U.S. District Judge Andrea Wood declared the mistrial after the jury at least twice reported they could not reach a verdict.

She polled them individually in the afternoon Thursday to hear about their progress, with Jones listening on intently.

Afterward, she reported that nearly all of them suggested that no further progress could be made.

“Considering all of the elements and the concern that there could be a prejudicial impact of continuing forced deliberations at this point … I think it’s appropriate at this point to declare a mistrial,” Wood said.

Jurors had considered counts of bribery, use of an interstate facility to solicit bribery, and lying to federal agents.

Asked whether the government planned to retry Jones, Assistant U.S. Attorney Prashant Kolluri said he “wouldn’t be able to say right now.”

The most serious count faced by Jones carries a potential prison term of up to 10 years.

The parties agreed to a next court date in June.

After the trial ended, Emil Jones Jr. said he believes in his son’s innocence, though carefully declined to weigh in on whether the government should drop the case.

“They couldn’t win this time. I can’t think of what they should do. I know what they should do, but I won’t even say it,” he told the Tribune.

The jury of seven women and five men deliberated for about 24 hours over four days.

While deciding whether to ask the jury to continue reviewing the case, Wood noted that in all, jurors heard only a handful more hours of actual case evidence during the trial.

She said she was particularly concerned that ordering further deliberations could induce jurors to surrender “their honestly held beliefs.”

“Which is, of course, not what they should be doing,” she said.

Reached by phone Thursday evening, Jones’ attorney Victor Henderson said he was reluctant to say much because the charges remain pending.

However, he said, he believed the outcome showed that “it’s uncontested (Jones) never received a bribe.”

Asked whether he expected prosecutors to take another swing, Henderson said he was “not sure what they’re going to do.”

The trial was the second related to alleged public corruption to end in a mistrial in Chicago’s federal court in six months.

Last year, jurors could not agree in the case of former AT&T Illinois boss Paul La Schiazza, who was accused of bribing then-House Speaker Michael Madigan.

The mistrial came nearly six years after FBI agents confronted Jones at his Roseland neighborhood home as part of a sweeping investigation into bribery schemes involving red-light cameras, liquor licenses and other graft across the west and southwest suburbs.

At the heart of the probe was Omar Maani, co-founder of SafeSpeed LLC who agreed to work undercover for federal investigators after being confronted with evidence he was paying off officials in Oak Lawn in exchange for political support to add SafeSpeed cameras at additional intersections.

Maani, who was granted a deferred prosecution agreement by the U.S. attorney’s office for his extensive cooperation, was the star witness at Jones’ trial, testifying for the first time in public about his prolific turn as an FBI mole.

That cooperation also has netted the convictions of former Crestwood Mayor Louis Presta, ex-Oakbrook Terrace Mayor Anthony Ragucci, and Jeffrey Tobolski, the former mayor of McCook and Cook County commissioner.

According to the charges, Jones agreed to accept $5,000 in campaign funding from Maani in exchange for Jones agreeing not to file a bill calling for a statewide study of red-light cameras, which SafeSpeed considered potentially damaging to its bottom line.

Jones also offered to “protect” the company from his friend, then-state Rep. David McSweeney, who had filed bills of his own calling for an all-out ban of red-light cameras, according to prosecutors.

The charges allege Jones also asked Maani to give his former office intern a part-time job, which led to $1,800 being paid to the intern in exchange for no work.

At the heart of the case are a series of undercover videos made by Maani as he sat down at steakhouses in Oak Brook and Chicago with Jones as well as then-state Sen. Martin Sandoval, the powerful and corrupt head of the Senate Transportation Committee who was taking cash payments from Maani in exchange for being SafeSpeed’s protector in the General Assembly.

One video, from a meeting between Jones and Maani in July 2019 at Steak 48 on North Dearborn Street, showed Jones digging into his favorite Wagyu filet as Maani brought up Jones’ upcoming fundraiser at Sox Park.

“How much money you want me to come up with?” Maani asked.

“You tell me a number.”

Jones initially demurred, telling Maani no one had ever asked him that before. But Maani explained he was different, that he always wanted to meet expectations.

“You’re already meeting expectations, Omar,” Jones said, cutting into his steak while a hidden camera sat somewhere on the table across from him. “You’re a good guy. I like you all’s company a lot.”

Then Jones dropped the number: “If you can raise me five grand, that’d be good.”

“Done,” Maani replied quickly.

Maani repeatedly stressed that he needed to keep their relationship a secret and that any donations would have to be hidden so the source would not be publicly known.

“Especially in this day and age, keep it quiet. Is that cool?” he said.

“Yeah that’s fine,” Jones replied.

“We’re gonna know each other for a very long time, building our relationship and I will be there for you every time,” Maani said.

Maani testified earlier this month that Jones’ request during that dinner to hire his former intern, Christopher Katz, caught him “off guard a little bit.”

As part of an FBI ruse, Maani later told Jones that he actually didn’t have a position for the intern but would pay him for 20 hours a week anyway.

“I just wanted to make sure that he’s the type of kid that when he gets a check and he’s not doing anything right away that he’s not gonna be spooked by that,” Maani told Jones on a phone call that August.

“He’s not gonna be weird and stuff, you know, he gets it.”

“Yeah, but make sure we find him some work,” Jones replied. When Maani asked again if Katz could be trusted, Jones replied,

“Oh yeah. Definite. Definite.”

During that same dinner, Maani also explained to Jones the $5,000 would be no problem to raise.

“The only thing with me … is I don’t want it to look funky you know that our company is cutting you a check or I’m personally cutting you a check and then somebody asks some questions,” he said.

“So if there is a creative way you could do it, I’m up for any suggestion. … We have reporting requirements and everything. … It would be from me to you. I wouldn’t include my company on this ’cause they’re goofy, you know. Nikki and them.”

Jones then asked Maani, what can I do for you?

“So last time you had a study that encompassed the whole state,” Maani said. “And then you amended it and then it just encompassed the city of Chicago. I would ask if you would do that.”

After Jones agreed, Maani reassured him: “I’ll take care of the intern. I’ll take care of everything. but if you could just do that, that would be phenomenal.”

“I got you,” Jones replied.

“And I’ll protect you all from McSweeney.”

Jones took the risky move to testify in his own defense, telling the jury that Maani reminded him of “a used car salesman” and that he never asked him directly for any money, only possible support for a fundraiser.

Jones also had critical words for his now-deceased colleague Sandoval, describing him as “kind of a bully.”

Jones also offered the jury an explanation for a series of late-night texts to Katz around the same time he was trying to get Maani to hire the then-23-year-old.

In one, sent after 2 a.m. when Katz was at a strip club, Jones, who was 41 at the time, told Katz, “I want to see U,” according to copies of the communications shown to the jury.

Jones testified he’d known Katz for years and they had a social relationship.

“We’re friends, associates,” he said. “Me and Chris share a passion for cooking. I love to cook.”

The day the texts were sent, Jones said, he and Katz had crossed paths at an all-day, Fourth of July weekend event known as the

“Chosen Few” picnic.

“It’s dance music all day,” Jones said.

You can dance? Henderson asked.

Jones smiled slightly: “I can do a little somethin’.”

In a wide-ranging cross-examination, Jones revealed more about his ultimately aborted cooperation with the feds, which began after he was confronted at his home by two FBI agents on Sept. 24, 2019, the day investigators executed as series of search warrants at Sandoval’s offices and other locations.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Tiffany Ardam asked Jones about his claim that the feds showed him only “snippets” of evidence in his meetings with agents that took things out of context.

She noted that Jones knew better than anyone what was said at the dinners with Maani.

“You were at all of these meetings, weren’t you?” Ardam said at one point. “You know everything that was said.”

Jones replied he couldn’t remember everything.

Ardam also confirmed with Jones that the government told him before they discussed anything that he had a right to remain silent and that if he was going to cooperate, he had to be honest.

And you told them you made a deal? Ardam asked again.

Jones took a deep breath and enunciated very slowly:

“No I did not.”

[xgolfacton]

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[bllsbailey]

Pure Gold: JD Vance Blasts Dem/Media Hypocrisy Over Rhetoric

Since Sunday's second assassination attempt on former President Donald Trump at the Trump International Golf Club in West Palm Beach, Florida, Democrats and the legacy media have been on overdrive in their efforts to blame Trump himself for the incident. One way or another, they must find a way to hang the threat of violence against Trump around his own neck, even if that means twisting logic into an unrecognizable pretzel and dispending with any effort at consistency. 

Trump's running mate, Sen. JD Vance (R-OH), had his hands full Sunday (prior to the attempt), making the rounds on the Sunday shows and going toe-to-toe with the likes of Dana Bash and her partisan fervor. 

Monday evening, Vance took to X and, in the way that only Vance could, eloquently and pointedly laid bare the hypocrisy and utter, well, as my colleague Ward Clark might describe it, bovine excrement emitting from Dems and the media in response to the second attempt in two months to assassinate a former (and possible future) president.

Yesterday, Donald J. Trump nearly lost his life. An armed gunman waited for him in the bushes. He brought a go-pro camera to record it. A secret service agent spotted the barrel of a gun through a fence and shot at the gunman. The gunman fled. He was caught. And now we slowly learn about him and his motive.

President Trump is my running mate, and my friend, but he is more importantly a father and grandfather to people who love him very much. I want him to have many more years with his family. (And selfishly, I'd like many more with my own.)

I admire the president for calling for peace and calm. The rhetoric is out of control. It nearly got Steve Scalise and many others killed a few years ago. It nearly got Donald Trump killed twice. But I want to say something about yesterday's news, and how it illuminates the difference between vigorous debate and violent rhetoric.

Here is what we know so far: Kamala Harris has said that "Democracy is on the line" in her race against President Trump. The gunman agreed, and used the exact same phrase. He had a Kamala Harris bumper sticker on his truck. He was obsessed with Ukraine's "fight for Democracy" and absorbed many unhinged views about the Russia-Ukraine war. HIs name is Ryan Routh, and he donated 19 times to Democrat causes and zero to Republican ones.

How do you think the Democrats and their media allies would respond if a 19-time Republican donor tried to kill a Democratic official? It's a question that answers itself. For years, Kamala Harris's campaign surrogates have said things like "Trump has to be eliminated." And how have their media allies responded to the second assassination attempt on Donald Trump in as many months?

NBC News called the attempted assassination a "golf club incident." The LA Times told us "Trump Targeted at Golf Club." The USA Today's top of the fold headline is "Hope in America," and they published a preposterous letter to the editor arguing that Trump "brings these assassination attempts on himself." CNN's Dana Bash--who just yesterday bizarrely accused me of inciting a bomb threat--said today that Harris campaign rhetoric didn't motivate Routh even though he echoed their rhetoric explicitly.

PBS's weekend show perfectly illustrates the double standard of Kamala Harris's media friends. After spending 30 seconds on the second assassination attempt on President Trump, they then focused on the real danger: me and President Trump, who are, according to them, personally responsible for bomb threats against Springfield. Of course, I repeatedly condemend those threats. And reports today suggest they came from a foreign country, not--as the media suggested--a deranged Trump fan.

The double standard is breathtaking. Donald Trump and I are, by their account, directly responsible for bomb threats from foreign countries.  Why? Because we had the audacity to repeat what residents told us about the problems in their town. Meanwhile, Harris allies call for Trump to be eliminated as the media publishes arguments that he deserved to be shot.

This seems like a double standard. But at a deep level, it is entirely consistent.

Consider Springfield. Citizens are telling us that there are problems. These include the undeniable truths of higher car accidents, unaffordable housing, evictions of residents, overcrowded hospitals, overstressed schools, and rising rates of disease. They also include the infamous pet stories--which, again, multiple people have spoken about (either on video or to me or my staff).

Kamala Harris's first strategy was to ignore these people and their concerns. Yes, she had prevented the deportation of millions of illegal aliens, and some of them made their way to Springfield. But it was a small town with no voice. Some of the local leadership even loved the cheap labor. So the suffering of thousands of American citizens went ignored.

Their next move with these stories is censorship. In Springfield, a psychopath (or a foreign government) calls in a bomb threat, so they blame that on President Trump (and me). The threat of violence is disgraceful of course, yet the media seems to relish it. They cover a bomb threat, but not the rise in murders. They cover the threat, but not the HIV uptick. They cover the threat, not the schools overwhelmed with new kids who don't speak English. They cover the threat, not rising insurance rates or the car accidents that caused them. They cover the threat, not the failures of Kamala Harris's leadership.

The purpose is not to turn down the rhetoric. If anything, covering the bomb threats gives whoever makes them exactly what he wants: attention. The purpose is distraction and shame. How dare you talk about the problems of Haitian migration in Springfield? You're endangering people, simply by discussing the problems of Kamala Harris's policies. It's a form of moral blackmail, designed not to make anyone safe but to shut everyone up.

Springfield is the most recent, but hardly the most egregious example. There was the Hunter Biden laptop story, censored by BigTech. And who can forget that anyone who didn't support Kamala Harris's Ukraine policy was drenched in the blood of Ukrainian children. That last one appears to have had some effect on Routh--the most recent would-be assassin. The message is always the same: don't you dare express an opinion on the public affairs of your nation. The message is: shut up.

This is the difference between debate--even aggressive debate--and censorship. It is one thing to attack Kamala Harris for "destroying the country" and quite another to say that President Trump should be "eliminated." It is one thing to criticize overheated rhetoric, and another to say that a former president has invited an assassination on himself. It is one thing to say that Donald J. Trump's arguments about the election of 2020 are wrong; it is another thing to attempt to remove him from the ballot over it.

It is one thing to say that pets are not, in fact being eaten, and another thing to say that anyone who disagrees is trying to murder people. Dissent, even vigorous dissent, is a great tradition of the United States. Censorship is not.

For the next 7 weeks of this campaign, I will vigorously defend your right to speak your mind. I believe you have every right to criticize me and Donald J. Trump, even if you say terrible or untrue things about us. But when I ask you to "tone down the rhetoric" it's not about being nice--our citizens have every right to be mean, even if I don't like it--or empty platitudes.

Instead, I'm asking all of us to reject censorship. Reject the idea that you can control what other people think and say. Embrace persuasion of your fellow citizens over silencing them--either through the powers of Big Tech or through moral blackmail.

I think this will make our public debate much better. But there's something else. Reject censorship and you reject political violence. Embrace censorship, and you will inevitably embrace violence on its behalf.

The reason is simple. The logic of censorship leads directly to one place, for there is only one way to permanently silence a human being: put a bullet in his brain.

Vance nails it. "The logic of censorship leads directly to one place" — and that's a dark, awful place. The Dems and their media parrots are so very fond of saying, "Democracy is on the ballot" in the upcoming election. I disagree. Freedom is. 

Bring on October 1 and the vice presidential debate. 

[kamreadsandrecs]

I am not the sort of woman who cries alone in a theater while watching a children’s movie. Watching the first and long-awaited film adaptation of Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. at a London theater in June, my tears fell automatically, as if my eyes were sweating. I actually wondered if I was having an allergic reaction to the upholstery.

Judy Blume’s best-selling 1970 book for young readers follows the sixth-grade year of Margaret Simon, a white, middle-class girl whose parents have just moved her from Manhattan to the New Jersey suburbs. Margaret is on the cusp of puberty, anxiously anticipating her menarche (a word I learned from that other famous chronicler of adolescence, Muriel Spark) and nascent breasts, and overwhelmed by her family’s translocation. Her father and beloved grandmother are Jewish while her mother was raised Christian, and Margaret has been tasked with choosing her own religion when she grows up. After Margaret’s parents inform her of the move she starts talking to God, requesting support, and investigating the proffered avenues of faith.  

The movie is an immaculate period piece, with feathered haircuts, high-waisted jeans, and opening credits in a thick yellow Seventies font. In interviews Blume has said that the director-writer Kelly Fremon Craig’s adaptation surpasses her book. The novel is in the first person, every moment and character filtered through the assessments of its eleven-year-old protagonist, but I marveled at how the film, despite its faithfulness to the plot, appealed to my adult sensibility. Though Margaret’s experience remains central, the distance imposed by the camera’s lens adds a rich layer of dramatic irony to the story. In one scene Margaret and a friend decide to purchase sanitary pads from their local pharmacy. As they approach the checkout counter, the older woman cashier is replaced by a desultory young man. The girls balk but continue and place the pastel boxes of Teenage Softies on the conveyor belt. Instead of reaching for it, the cashier activates the belt and all three characters stare alternately at each other and at the pads as the belt inches forward, creaking. Finally, unable to bear the excruciating awkwardness, Margaret throws a box of mints on top of the Teenage Softies. It is pitch-perfect. Where the book delivers scenes like this straight, as earnest and believable representations of pubescent mortification, the film brings them a wise and warm humor. At many points I laughed through my tears. It is a poignant, accurate portrait of what many consider “ordinary” adolescence.

My tears intensified later in the film when Margaret attends a birthday party with her entire class, and the children play spin-the-bottle, followed by “two minutes in the closet.” Unlike many movies with young characters, the actors in Are You There? actually look their age. They are giddy at the prospect of a coed party but naive when it comes to these classic games of sexual experimentation. Anxiety, Margaret’s emotional high note throughout the scene, is played for laughs. Near the end of the game, she is paired with the middle-school lothario Philip Leroy for a round in the closet. Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man” starts playing as she stands. After a few pecks, the scene cuts to church bells ringing as Margaret accompanies a friend to Christmas services. I swabbed my face with a tissue covertly so the woman seated near me wouldn’t notice.

*

I was a fanatical reader as a child, more in the spirit of Jim Carroll in The Basketball Diaries than Tracy Flick, which is to say that I brought to reading the same rapacious appetite I later exhibited for heroin. I gobbled books indiscriminately, everything from Greek myths to The Baby-Sitters Club to Valley of the Dolls, but reread only a few. These I returned to with the devotion of B. F. Skinner’s rats, nosing the levers of their narratives to release the pleasure they promised. There was no book I read more often than Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. It was almost twenty years old when I encountered it, but still more candid about bodily changes and the feelings they prompted than any other children’s book I had read. I was eight, nine, and ten years old during the years I returned to it and, like many pre-teens, obsessed with my imminent development. The book was part manual, part mirror. Margaret is mortified to change into a bathing suit under the gaze of her friend, self-conscious about her flat chest, and keenly aware of her peers’ anxieties, too. Blume named many feelings that I recognized and prescribed some that I anticipated. Sometimes the distinction between these blurred.

Like Margaret, I had parents who weren’t like those of my peers; I knew of no other Puerto Rican sea captains or feminist psychotherapists in our town, and no one else I knew had been raised vegetarian. My mother was a Buddhist who took her bodhisattva vows when I was in middle school, and my father sometimes brought me and my brother to the local Unitarian congregation, although no religious observance was required of us. I, too, was a spiritually seeking child with a doting grandmother who would have liked to convert me. Margaret has her adoring Jewish Grandma (played to the nines by Kathy Bates), who lives in Manhattan and specializes in caftans and guilt-trips, while I had my tiny, Bronx-bred Abuela, an ardent fan of Julio Iglesias and Rosie Perez who took me to Catholic Mass and to see the Rockettes at Christmastime.

The rituals of Mass appealed to me, and as a secretive child I loved the idea of confession, but I didn’t sense God in those churches. My parents had both grown up in Jersey, but they raised us in coastal Massachusetts. My church was steepled with pine trees, my holy basin the kettle-hole pond that I swam in all summer. In Catholic church everything felt heavy and slow, but in the water my changing body became weightless. Sometimes I would gulp an enormous breath and dive below the surface, where my vision blurred, and scream into the water.

My parents had answered all my questions about puberty and sex when I first asked, around the age of seven or eight, free of shame or euphemism. Confiding in them about my feelings when the changes arrived, however, felt impossible. Not because I didn’t trust them, but because despite their reassurances there seemed a significant likelihood that I was the only child who felt what I felt. There was tremendous comfort in Margaret, who kept me company in many of my anxieties and promised that I would mature alongside my peers, and might even greet my first period with elation.

But there were feelings that the book did not name. At ten and eleven I had a burgeoning sense of the erotic, an almost scientific anatomical curiosity, and a healthy dose of existential dread. I encountered reference points for these feelings in the adult novels I consumed, by Pat Conroy, Stephen King, and Susan Isaacs, which I found on my parents’ shelves and in the public library. Later, I found even better examples by queer women novelists like Jeanette Winterson. But I never read about them in any children’s book (I was late to Blume’s more sexually frank young adult novels, Forever… and Tiger Eyes). I wasn’t even sure I could find the words for my feelings. I already understood instinctively that the act of naming made experience material. So I spoke of these feelings to no one and suspected that they made me an outlier, precocious in ways that my peers would consider perverse. “Oh please God,” Margaret prays, “I just want to be normal.”

*

Judy Blume Forever, a biographical documentary released this year by Amazon Studios, paints Blume in a deservedly heroic light. In talking-head interviews, luminaries like the actress Molly Ringwald and a host of contemporary authors of young adult fiction arrive at a consensus that Blume’s frank and humane depictions of her young characters changed innumerable lives, as well as the field of children’s literature. We see some of the copious fan mail that Blume has been receiving from young readers for the last fifty years. “Dear Judy,” one writes, “I would like to know, if you know, if I’m a normal fifth grader.”

It had never occurred to me to write to her, or any author, but as Blume acknowledges in the documentary, it is sometimes easier to confide in a stranger than in one’s parents. In letters and interviews her readers passionately express their gratitude to her for naming their unspoken feelings and experiences. One little girl maintained such an avid correspondence with the author that Blume eventually attended her high school graduation. For some she was their primary source of education about sexual development, from bodily changes to erotic desire, and for many more she was the sole proof that these topics need not be treated with shame.

Are You There God? now seems tame next to contemporary young adult novels, but it was on the vanguard at the time of its publication for its candid exploration of menstruation and Margaret’s earnest attempts to choose her own religion. Like many other Blume titles, it has been frequently cited on lists of banned books over the past fifty years. Amid the rising conservatism of the Reagan era, Blume became a target for people looking to expunge any mention of sexuality or sexual anatomy from children’s literature. She was berated on television by Pat Buchanan, who accused her of being obsessed with children’s masturbation on the basis of a handful of sentences in Deenie, a novel about a teenager with scoliosis. Phyllis Schlafly released a pamphlet: “How to Rid Your Schools and Libraries of Judy Blume Books.” Blume has said that her own children’s elementary school refused to carry Are You There God? due to its discussion of menstruation. As conservatism rises again, in much the same mold, censorship has resumed. This past spring a school system in Florida banned Forever…, Blume’s 1975 novel that follows two high school seniors in a committed relationship as they navigate the decision to have sexual intercourse.

One of the ways that Blume has said Craig’s film improves upon the novel is by including a storyline for Barbara Simon, Margaret’s mother, a painter and school art teacher who uses the occasion of their move to transition into stay-at-home parenting. She joins the PTA and attempts to take a more active role in Margaret’s life, to mixed results. Margaret clearly doesn’t need her mother’s full attention, and Barbara’s creative instincts are wasted on PTA committee projects. By the film’s end, she returns to teaching. This subplot subtly adds a feminist dimension to Margaret’s story that reflects the politics of the time better than the book.

Like Barbara, played by Rachel McAdams, my mother was beautiful and creative. Though an attentive parent, she had no time for the PTA. She would never have cut out a thousand felt stars to glue on the gymnasium ceiling, as Barbara reluctantly does in the film, but she did sing me protest songs by Holly Near and Joan Baez as lullabies and teach me how to use the contents of her toolbox. This education was fundamental to the person I have become, but it couldn’t stanch the tide of contrary messaging from teen magazines and, most influentially, my peers that arrived as I approached puberty. My sex education was no better than the PTA-sponsored educational film Margaret’s class watches—What Every Girl Should Know, which consists almost entirely of a diagram illustrating menstruation. I assume the title must be a wink from Blume, cribbed from Margaret Sanger’s 1916 text that defied obscenity laws by candidly describing sex, reproduction, and sexually transmitted infections.

I might have been capable of drawing an accurate diagram of the female reproductive system, but my upbringing had made me a kind of Pollyanna as well: innocent of the rituals of compulsory heterosexuality and vulnerable to indoctrination by more knowledgeable girls. During slumber parties my peers taught me that we wanted to wear bras, to shave off our body hair as soon as it arrived, and to be desired by men and boys. The closest thing the novel has to a villain is Nancy Wheeler, Margaret’s first friend in New Jersey, in the film a blond pixie with a Stepford-style mom who dominates their friend group with fascistic control. I remember rereading, mystified, the scene in which Nancy teaches her friends an arm-pumping exercise accompanied by the chant we must, we must, we must increase our bust. Inspired by Margaret, I stole my mother’s (disappointingly practical) bras and stuffed them with socks to see what I’d look like when I got older.

There is a supporting character in Are You There God?, Laura Danker, who has developed early. She is the tallest student in their class and the only one with breasts. Nancy leads her flat-chested cohort in mean-spirited gossip, claiming that Laura “goes behind the A&P” with older boys and wears sweaters to show off her figure. “But do you think she looks that way on purpose?” Margaret asks Nancy in the novel. Blume’s implicit acknowledgment of the cognitive dissonance at the heart of all such bullying is mostly absent from the film—one of its weaknesses, it struck me, in contrast to the book. While in the film the audience observes Laura’s humiliations, in the book Margaret herself does. During the birthday party she notes that Laura looks “gorgeous.” In a detail the film leaves out, Laura accompanies Philip Leroy into the closet before Margaret. When they emerge, Laura’s face is red, and Margaret finds that odd “for a girl who goes behind the A&P with boys.”

Laura Danker is Catholic, and one of the book’s dramatic ironies is that she is meant to be seen as actually quite chaste. Every time I read the novel, my heart surged for Laura, who does not deserve the treatment she gets. But I didn’t linger over her character because I never imagined that I would share her fate, nor that it would be so much worse, and more complex, than Blume described. By the time I was eleven and in fifth grade, if there had been an exercise meant to retract my developing bust, I would have diligently performed it. My experience after developing early was more closely reflected in Blume’s later novel Blubber (1974), which takes bullying as its central topic.In the halls of my middle school, I was subject to crude gestures, lewd comments, leering stares, and, on a few occasions, unwanted groping. When I found myself alone in closets with boys, refusing their hands did not feel like an option. I came to understand what made Laura Danker blush with shame.

Unlike Laura, I was not Catholic and had no one to confess to. I knew that chastity was essential to being seen as a victim of this treatment and that I did not have such a defense. I alone was responsible for my humiliation. Having a head full of feminism didn’t help (until years later). It only increased my shame, because in addition to being a slut I was also a bad feminist. So I feigned indifference to the harassment and neither confided in nor complained to anyone. The best way to survive the nightmare caused by my body was to dissociate from it, so I did. I developed an eating disorder.

Detachment isn’t an a la carte option, however. One doesn’t get to stay connected to some parts of oneself but not others. In my experience, it’s a wholesale divestment from embodied consciousness. By cutting off contact with my body and my emotions, I also severed the line that connected me to God.

*

If only I’d had Curtis Sittenfeld’s Prep back then, or Sara Zarr’s Story of a Girl, both of which movingly depict teen sexual harassment from the point of view of the victims. Twenty years later, young adult fiction more broadly began to deal with the thornier challenges that adolescents face. I learned the phrase “slut-shaming” in my thirties, but in 1992 there was no name for what was happening to me. There was no Internet with which to seek out others who shared my struggle, no TikTok to teach me terminology. There was only the word slut and the way it marked my body as a kind of public property.

Just as I’d feared that my feelings were exceptional, so I feared my body’s eruption, as though I was the only girl alive who suffered this particular curse. Later, I wrote a book about my adolescence in which I followed the trailheads of my experience to their historical origins. I needed to understand what had happened to me, and how it fit into a larger schema of human history—how words had been weaponized against women, used as prods to control their bodies, to punish the unruly ones, the outliers—to clear away for good the suspicion that I was just making a big deal out of something ordinary.

The film and the novel both illustrate that puberty is difficult even for the Margarets of the world: white, middle-class, cisgender, heterosexually inclined girls with loving parents. But the film is also a fantasy, a best-case scenario, eliding the many also ordinary brutalities of adolescence. There is no hint of sexual pressure, let alone assault. All the parents are attentive and safe. There are no poor characters. A number of Black actors are cast in roles not described as such in the book, but the film does nothing to acknowledge the racism that such characters would have experienced in suburban New Jersey in 1970.

Blume was a white, middle-class mother in suburban New Jersey when she wrote Are You There God?, and I don’t fault her for not addressing all of these complex realities; given how radical the book’s content already was, it probably wouldn’t have gotten published if she had. As Jason Reynolds says in the documentary, “I don’t think Judy Blume wrote her books to be timeless.” But the film would not have lost its humor or sweetness if there had been some chips in its cozy façade. Perhaps mine is also a misplaced wish that I could alter my own past, go back and warn myself that deviating from a rigid definition of “ordinary” renders a child more vulnerable to worse fates than embarrassment, and that fitting the mold offers no immunity from them.

It turns out that one doesn’t know what kind of woman one is until one discovers what kind of girl one was. In the years that followed my agonized early adolescence, I found language for who I was and slowly arrived at an awareness of the injustice of my treatment. In junior high I battled my classmates and teachers in health class conversations about gay liberation, racism, and abortion rights. I was not an outcast, but I was still an outlier, and still lonely. By the time I got to high school I had discovered Ani DiFranco and Bikini Kill, and kissed a few girls. I started shaving my head instead of my legs and littered my hometown with zines. In hindsight, it makes perfect sense that I dropped out after freshman year to pursue my own writing. At fifteen I was already tired of fighting, of feigning indifference.

I never shed a tear over those years, not while living them nor while reliving them in writing. So here it was, finally, in the dark theater: my grief. I grieved for that girl, that ten-year-old with the scabbed knees and dirty nails who memorized the contours of a familiar story in the hope it might predict her own.



[kammartinez]

I am not the sort of woman who cries alone in a theater while watching a children’s movie. Watching the first and long-awaited film adaptation of Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. at a London theater in June, my tears fell automatically, as if my eyes were sweating. I actually wondered if I was having an allergic reaction to the upholstery.

Judy Blume’s best-selling 1970 book for young readers follows the sixth-grade year of Margaret Simon, a white, middle-class girl whose parents have just moved her from Manhattan to the New Jersey suburbs. Margaret is on the cusp of puberty, anxiously anticipating her menarche (a word I learned from that other famous chronicler of adolescence, Muriel Spark) and nascent breasts, and overwhelmed by her family’s translocation. Her father and beloved grandmother are Jewish while her mother was raised Christian, and Margaret has been tasked with choosing her own religion when she grows up. After Margaret’s parents inform her of the move she starts talking to God, requesting support, and investigating the proffered avenues of faith.  

The movie is an immaculate period piece, with feathered haircuts, high-waisted jeans, and opening credits in a thick yellow Seventies font. In interviews Blume has said that the director-writer Kelly Fremon Craig’s adaptation surpasses her book. The novel is in the first person, every moment and character filtered through the assessments of its eleven-year-old protagonist, but I marveled at how the film, despite its faithfulness to the plot, appealed to my adult sensibility. Though Margaret’s experience remains central, the distance imposed by the camera’s lens adds a rich layer of dramatic irony to the story. In one scene Margaret and a friend decide to purchase sanitary pads from their local pharmacy. As they approach the checkout counter, the older woman cashier is replaced by a desultory young man. The girls balk but continue and place the pastel boxes of Teenage Softies on the conveyor belt. Instead of reaching for it, the cashier activates the belt and all three characters stare alternately at each other and at the pads as the belt inches forward, creaking. Finally, unable to bear the excruciating awkwardness, Margaret throws a box of mints on top of the Teenage Softies. It is pitch-perfect. Where the book delivers scenes like this straight, as earnest and believable representations of pubescent mortification, the film brings them a wise and warm humor. At many points I laughed through my tears. It is a poignant, accurate portrait of what many consider “ordinary” adolescence.

My tears intensified later in the film when Margaret attends a birthday party with her entire class, and the children play spin-the-bottle, followed by “two minutes in the closet.” Unlike many movies with young characters, the actors in Are You There? actually look their age. They are giddy at the prospect of a coed party but naive when it comes to these classic games of sexual experimentation. Anxiety, Margaret’s emotional high note throughout the scene, is played for laughs. Near the end of the game, she is paired with the middle-school lothario Philip Leroy for a round in the closet. Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man” starts playing as she stands. After a few pecks, the scene cuts to church bells ringing as Margaret accompanies a friend to Christmas services. I swabbed my face with a tissue covertly so the woman seated near me wouldn’t notice.

*

I was a fanatical reader as a child, more in the spirit of Jim Carroll in The Basketball Diaries than Tracy Flick, which is to say that I brought to reading the same rapacious appetite I later exhibited for heroin. I gobbled books indiscriminately, everything from Greek myths to The Baby-Sitters Club to Valley of the Dolls, but reread only a few. These I returned to with the devotion of B. F. Skinner’s rats, nosing the levers of their narratives to release the pleasure they promised. There was no book I read more often than Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. It was almost twenty years old when I encountered it, but still more candid about bodily changes and the feelings they prompted than any other children’s book I had read. I was eight, nine, and ten years old during the years I returned to it and, like many pre-teens, obsessed with my imminent development. The book was part manual, part mirror. Margaret is mortified to change into a bathing suit under the gaze of her friend, self-conscious about her flat chest, and keenly aware of her peers’ anxieties, too. Blume named many feelings that I recognized and prescribed some that I anticipated. Sometimes the distinction between these blurred.

Like Margaret, I had parents who weren’t like those of my peers; I knew of no other Puerto Rican sea captains or feminist psychotherapists in our town, and no one else I knew had been raised vegetarian. My mother was a Buddhist who took her bodhisattva vows when I was in middle school, and my father sometimes brought me and my brother to the local Unitarian congregation, although no religious observance was required of us. I, too, was a spiritually seeking child with a doting grandmother who would have liked to convert me. Margaret has her adoring Jewish Grandma (played to the nines by Kathy Bates), who lives in Manhattan and specializes in caftans and guilt-trips, while I had my tiny, Bronx-bred Abuela, an ardent fan of Julio Iglesias and Rosie Perez who took me to Catholic Mass and to see the Rockettes at Christmastime.

The rituals of Mass appealed to me, and as a secretive child I loved the idea of confession, but I didn’t sense God in those churches. My parents had both grown up in Jersey, but they raised us in coastal Massachusetts. My church was steepled with pine trees, my holy basin the kettle-hole pond that I swam in all summer. In Catholic church everything felt heavy and slow, but in the water my changing body became weightless. Sometimes I would gulp an enormous breath and dive below the surface, where my vision blurred, and scream into the water.

My parents had answered all my questions about puberty and sex when I first asked, around the age of seven or eight, free of shame or euphemism. Confiding in them about my feelings when the changes arrived, however, felt impossible. Not because I didn’t trust them, but because despite their reassurances there seemed a significant likelihood that I was the only child who felt what I felt. There was tremendous comfort in Margaret, who kept me company in many of my anxieties and promised that I would mature alongside my peers, and might even greet my first period with elation.

But there were feelings that the book did not name. At ten and eleven I had a burgeoning sense of the erotic, an almost scientific anatomical curiosity, and a healthy dose of existential dread. I encountered reference points for these feelings in the adult novels I consumed, by Pat Conroy, Stephen King, and Susan Isaacs, which I found on my parents’ shelves and in the public library. Later, I found even better examples by queer women novelists like Jeanette Winterson. But I never read about them in any children’s book (I was late to Blume’s more sexually frank young adult novels, Forever… and Tiger Eyes). I wasn’t even sure I could find the words for my feelings. I already understood instinctively that the act of naming made experience material. So I spoke of these feelings to no one and suspected that they made me an outlier, precocious in ways that my peers would consider perverse. “Oh please God,” Margaret prays, “I just want to be normal.”

*

Judy Blume Forever, a biographical documentary released this year by Amazon Studios, paints Blume in a deservedly heroic light. In talking-head interviews, luminaries like the actress Molly Ringwald and a host of contemporary authors of young adult fiction arrive at a consensus that Blume’s frank and humane depictions of her young characters changed innumerable lives, as well as the field of children’s literature. We see some of the copious fan mail that Blume has been receiving from young readers for the last fifty years. “Dear Judy,” one writes, “I would like to know, if you know, if I’m a normal fifth grader.”

It had never occurred to me to write to her, or any author, but as Blume acknowledges in the documentary, it is sometimes easier to confide in a stranger than in one’s parents. In letters and interviews her readers passionately express their gratitude to her for naming their unspoken feelings and experiences. One little girl maintained such an avid correspondence with the author that Blume eventually attended her high school graduation. For some she was their primary source of education about sexual development, from bodily changes to erotic desire, and for many more she was the sole proof that these topics need not be treated with shame.

Are You There God? now seems tame next to contemporary young adult novels, but it was on the vanguard at the time of its publication for its candid exploration of menstruation and Margaret’s earnest attempts to choose her own religion. Like many other Blume titles, it has been frequently cited on lists of banned books over the past fifty years. Amid the rising conservatism of the Reagan era, Blume became a target for people looking to expunge any mention of sexuality or sexual anatomy from children’s literature. She was berated on television by Pat Buchanan, who accused her of being obsessed with children’s masturbation on the basis of a handful of sentences in Deenie, a novel about a teenager with scoliosis. Phyllis Schlafly released a pamphlet: “How to Rid Your Schools and Libraries of Judy Blume Books.” Blume has said that her own children’s elementary school refused to carry Are You There God? due to its discussion of menstruation. As conservatism rises again, in much the same mold, censorship has resumed. This past spring a school system in Florida banned Forever…, Blume’s 1975 novel that follows two high school seniors in a committed relationship as they navigate the decision to have sexual intercourse.

One of the ways that Blume has said Craig’s film improves upon the novel is by including a storyline for Barbara Simon, Margaret’s mother, a painter and school art teacher who uses the occasion of their move to transition into stay-at-home parenting. She joins the PTA and attempts to take a more active role in Margaret’s life, to mixed results. Margaret clearly doesn’t need her mother’s full attention, and Barbara’s creative instincts are wasted on PTA committee projects. By the film’s end, she returns to teaching. This subplot subtly adds a feminist dimension to Margaret’s story that reflects the politics of the time better than the book.

Like Barbara, played by Rachel McAdams, my mother was beautiful and creative. Though an attentive parent, she had no time for the PTA. She would never have cut out a thousand felt stars to glue on the gymnasium ceiling, as Barbara reluctantly does in the film, but she did sing me protest songs by Holly Near and Joan Baez as lullabies and teach me how to use the contents of her toolbox. This education was fundamental to the person I have become, but it couldn’t stanch the tide of contrary messaging from teen magazines and, most influentially, my peers that arrived as I approached puberty. My sex education was no better than the PTA-sponsored educational film Margaret’s class watches—What Every Girl Should Know, which consists almost entirely of a diagram illustrating menstruation. I assume the title must be a wink from Blume, cribbed from Margaret Sanger’s 1916 text that defied obscenity laws by candidly describing sex, reproduction, and sexually transmitted infections.

I might have been capable of drawing an accurate diagram of the female reproductive system, but my upbringing had made me a kind of Pollyanna as well: innocent of the rituals of compulsory heterosexuality and vulnerable to indoctrination by more knowledgeable girls. During slumber parties my peers taught me that we wanted to wear bras, to shave off our body hair as soon as it arrived, and to be desired by men and boys. The closest thing the novel has to a villain is Nancy Wheeler, Margaret’s first friend in New Jersey, in the film a blond pixie with a Stepford-style mom who dominates their friend group with fascistic control. I remember rereading, mystified, the scene in which Nancy teaches her friends an arm-pumping exercise accompanied by the chant we must, we must, we must increase our bust. Inspired by Margaret, I stole my mother’s (disappointingly practical) bras and stuffed them with socks to see what I’d look like when I got older.

There is a supporting character in Are You There God?, Laura Danker, who has developed early. She is the tallest student in their class and the only one with breasts. Nancy leads her flat-chested cohort in mean-spirited gossip, claiming that Laura “goes behind the A&P” with older boys and wears sweaters to show off her figure. “But do you think she looks that way on purpose?” Margaret asks Nancy in the novel. Blume’s implicit acknowledgment of the cognitive dissonance at the heart of all such bullying is mostly absent from the film—one of its weaknesses, it struck me, in contrast to the book. While in the film the audience observes Laura’s humiliations, in the book Margaret herself does. During the birthday party she notes that Laura looks “gorgeous.” In a detail the film leaves out, Laura accompanies Philip Leroy into the closet before Margaret. When they emerge, Laura’s face is red, and Margaret finds that odd “for a girl who goes behind the A&P with boys.”

Laura Danker is Catholic, and one of the book’s dramatic ironies is that she is meant to be seen as actually quite chaste. Every time I read the novel, my heart surged for Laura, who does not deserve the treatment she gets. But I didn’t linger over her character because I never imagined that I would share her fate, nor that it would be so much worse, and more complex, than Blume described. By the time I was eleven and in fifth grade, if there had been an exercise meant to retract my developing bust, I would have diligently performed it. My experience after developing early was more closely reflected in Blume’s later novel Blubber (1974), which takes bullying as its central topic.In the halls of my middle school, I was subject to crude gestures, lewd comments, leering stares, and, on a few occasions, unwanted groping. When I found myself alone in closets with boys, refusing their hands did not feel like an option. I came to understand what made Laura Danker blush with shame.

Unlike Laura, I was not Catholic and had no one to confess to. I knew that chastity was essential to being seen as a victim of this treatment and that I did not have such a defense. I alone was responsible for my humiliation. Having a head full of feminism didn’t help (until years later). It only increased my shame, because in addition to being a slut I was also a bad feminist. So I feigned indifference to the harassment and neither confided in nor complained to anyone. The best way to survive the nightmare caused by my body was to dissociate from it, so I did. I developed an eating disorder.

Detachment isn’t an a la carte option, however. One doesn’t get to stay connected to some parts of oneself but not others. In my experience, it’s a wholesale divestment from embodied consciousness. By cutting off contact with my body and my emotions, I also severed the line that connected me to God.

*

If only I’d had Curtis Sittenfeld’s Prep back then, or Sara Zarr’s Story of a Girl, both of which movingly depict teen sexual harassment from the point of view of the victims. Twenty years later, young adult fiction more broadly began to deal with the thornier challenges that adolescents face. I learned the phrase “slut-shaming” in my thirties, but in 1992 there was no name for what was happening to me. There was no Internet with which to seek out others who shared my struggle, no TikTok to teach me terminology. There was only the word slut and the way it marked my body as a kind of public property.

Just as I’d feared that my feelings were exceptional, so I feared my body’s eruption, as though I was the only girl alive who suffered this particular curse. Later, I wrote a book about my adolescence in which I followed the trailheads of my experience to their historical origins. I needed to understand what had happened to me, and how it fit into a larger schema of human history—how words had been weaponized against women, used as prods to control their bodies, to punish the unruly ones, the outliers—to clear away for good the suspicion that I was just making a big deal out of something ordinary.

The film and the novel both illustrate that puberty is difficult even for the Margarets of the world: white, middle-class, cisgender, heterosexually inclined girls with loving parents. But the film is also a fantasy, a best-case scenario, eliding the many also ordinary brutalities of adolescence. There is no hint of sexual pressure, let alone assault. All the parents are attentive and safe. There are no poor characters. A number of Black actors are cast in roles not described as such in the book, but the film does nothing to acknowledge the racism that such characters would have experienced in suburban New Jersey in 1970.

Blume was a white, middle-class mother in suburban New Jersey when she wrote Are You There God?, and I don’t fault her for not addressing all of these complex realities; given how radical the book’s content already was, it probably wouldn’t have gotten published if she had. As Jason Reynolds says in the documentary, “I don’t think Judy Blume wrote her books to be timeless.” But the film would not have lost its humor or sweetness if there had been some chips in its cozy façade. Perhaps mine is also a misplaced wish that I could alter my own past, go back and warn myself that deviating from a rigid definition of “ordinary” renders a child more vulnerable to worse fates than embarrassment, and that fitting the mold offers no immunity from them.

It turns out that one doesn’t know what kind of woman one is until one discovers what kind of girl one was. In the years that followed my agonized early adolescence, I found language for who I was and slowly arrived at an awareness of the injustice of my treatment. In junior high I battled my classmates and teachers in health class conversations about gay liberation, racism, and abortion rights. I was not an outcast, but I was still an outlier, and still lonely. By the time I got to high school I had discovered Ani DiFranco and Bikini Kill, and kissed a few girls. I started shaving my head instead of my legs and littered my hometown with zines. In hindsight, it makes perfect sense that I dropped out after freshman year to pursue my own writing. At fifteen I was already tired of fighting, of feigning indifference.

I never shed a tear over those years, not while living them nor while reliving them in writing. So here it was, finally, in the dark theater: my grief. I grieved for that girl, that ten-year-old with the scabbed knees and dirty nails who memorized the contours of a familiar story in the hope it might predict her own.

[springfieldcameraclub]

[brn1029]

On this date in music history…the important stuff anyway…

April 29th

1963 - The Rolling Stones

Publicist Andrew Oldham and agent Eric Easton signed a management deal with The Rolling Stones after buying the rights to the bands first recordings for £90. They also persuade keyboard player Ian Stewart to drop out of the line up and become the bands road manager, (and still play piano at the back of the stage).

1965 - Jimmy Nicol

Jimmy Nicol, the drummer who stood in for Ringo Starr during a Beatles Australian tour in 1964, appeared in a London Court faced with bankruptcy with debts of £4,000.

1967 - Technicolour Dream Benefit Party

The 14 hour Technicolour Dream benefit party for The International Times was held at Alexandra Palace in London. Seeing the event mentioned on TV, John Lennon called his driver and went to the show. Coincidentally, Yoko Ono was one of the performers. Other acts to appear included The Flies, Pink Floyd, Arthur Brown, The Move and Suzie Creamcheese.

1976 - Bruce Springsteen

After a gig in Memphis Bruce Springsteen took a cab to Elvis Presley's Graceland home and proceeded to climb over the wall. A guard took him to be another crank fan and apprehended him.

1980 - Ronnie James Dio

Black Sabbath began their first tour with vocalist Ronnie James Dio, who had replaced Ozzy Osbourne.

1990 - The Friends of Distinction

Floyd Butler of The Friends of Distinction, died of a heart attack at the age of 49. Had the US No.3 single 'Grazing In The Grass' in 1969.

1993 - Mick Ronson

Guitarist, producer, Mick Ronson died of liver cancer aged 46. Ronson recorded and toured with David Bowie from 1970 to 1973. Released the 1974 solo album 'Slaughter On Tenth Avenue'. Ronson co-produced Lou Reed's album Transformer, also part of Hunter Ronson Band with Ian Hunter. And worked with Morrissey, Slaughter & The Dogs, The Wildhearts, The Rich Kids, Elton John, Johnny Cougar, T-Bone Burnett.

1997 - Keith Ferguson

American bass guitarist Keith Ferguson died of liver failure at the age of 50, due in part to a nearly thirty-year addiction to heroin. He was a member of The Fabulous Thunderbirds who had two hit songs in the 1980s, 'Tuff Enuff' and 'Wrap It Up.'

1998 - Aerosmith

Steven Tyler broke his knee at a concert in Anchorage, Alaska delaying Aerosmith's 'Nine Lives' tour and necessitating camera angle adjustments for the filming of the video for 'I Don't Want to Miss a Thing.'

2001 - Rod Stewart

Rod Stewart asked for a change in wedding vows bringing them up to-date and to be treated like a dog licence. Stewart said 'a change is needed because they've been in existence for 600 years when people used to live until they were only 35'.

2001 - Dusty Springfield

A blue plaque was unveiled at 38 Aubrey Walk, Kensington, London to honor the musical heritage of the address where British singer Dusty Springfield lived between 1968-1972.

2003 - Creedence Clearwater Revival

A $5 million lawsuit against former Creedence Clearwater Revival leader John Fogerty was dismissed after a personal-injury lawyer claimed that he suffered hearing loss in his left ear from attending a Fogerty concert. The Judge said the plaintiff assumed the risk of hearing damage when he attended the concert in 1997.

2009 - Queen

An anonymous Queen fan won a two-hour one-to-one guitar lesson with Brian May, after bidding £7,600 (approximately $11,900) at a private charity auction. The auction, in support of the Action for Brazil's Children Trust, of which May is a patron, was held at the exclusive Cuckoo Club in London.

2014 - Jail Guitar Doors

David Gilmour, former Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr and Radiohead's Ed O'Brien and Philip Selway all signed an open letter, published by The Guardian, to keep musical instruments available to UK prisoners. Spearheaded by Billy Bragg, the singer-songwriter founded an "independent initiative" called Jail Guitar Doors in 2007 to provide instruments for the rehabilitation of inmates.

[antiquecompass]

Untamed Winter Fest Day 11: Believe

Meng Yao (Nie Yao now--legally speaking) often found himself in disbelief upon reflection allowed in his rare quiet time to himself. Disbelief over his current life--his marriage, his career, his home. Disbelief over how some small changes and one very big one had resulted in his current happiness. Disbelief that he’d gone from a high-class Boston penthouse rubbing elbows with New England’s elite to a farmhouse in Western Massachusetts, rubbing elbows with the farmhands here at their home and the bodyguards at Springfield Security.

Disbelief that at nine at night on a Saturday, he was in the barn brushing tangles out of his favorite horse’s mane instead of at some party or in some club, letting a pathetic excuse for a man flirt with him in order to gain information. His life now was an entire world away from trying to bring down the fall of his father and his father’s business empire.

He had very few regrets over the turn his life had taken, even surrounded by the stench of horseshit and having to fight each morning with stubborn, spoiled chickens.

He had brought down his father, granted with much help, but it was a life-long goal since he was ten, and it had succeeded. He’d never really planned for a life after--he didn’t want Jin Enterprises, never had despite the accusations lobbed at him from so many different directions. He simply wanted what was due to him, his mother, the other Jin bastards, and to see his shitstain excuse of a father cut-off at his knees, his pleas for mercy denied like he once denied his son’s pleas for attention and help.

Goal set, goal achieved, the victory of it all still tasted so sweet, even years later.

“Oh, no, that’s the evil smile.”

He lifted his head to find his husband leaning on the stall door. He hadn’t even heard him enter the barn.

“Is Moonshadow about to get the most stylish haircut this side of the county? Finally putting Westbrook Farms to shame?”

“Moonshadow is gorgeous as she is,” he said, stepping down from his stool. “And those charlatans over at Westbrook deserve whatever’s coming their way.”

He put the stool away and gathered the brushes while Mingjue distracted Moonshadow with some carrots. He’d just closed the stall door when his world titled as Minjgue picked him up.

“At least have the decency to give me a warning,” he said as he wrapped his legs and arms around Mingjue, truly not bothered at all. “Some people find this emasculating, you know.”

Mingjue pushed him up higher, so that Meng Yao was looking down on him.

“Do you feel emasculated, my little fox? Should I put you down so you can stumble through the yard in the dark, getting your designer boots in chicken shit?”

Meng Yao leaned down and kissed him, refusing to admit any sort of defeat.

“Carry on,” he ordered.

Mingjue’s eyes cut towards the side.

“No,” he said, gripping the back of his husband’s neck. “Back to the house. You are not rolling me in the hay again.”

It’s not that he didn’t enjoy it at the time, but he remained itchy for days after. He wasn’t ruling it out again for the future, but it was December, and nighttime, and their nice, warm, house called to him.

“But,” Mingjue said.

“House,” he insisted. “Besides, I smell like horse and you smell like your client’s horrendous cheap perfume.”

“Not that your judging,” Mingjue said as he shifted him and started towards the house.

“Her taste in perfume is as good as her taste in musicals,” he said, squirming down until he could rest his head against Mingjue’s shoulder.

“Some people like Love Never Dies,” Mingjue said as he carried him towards their home, easily navigating the yard in the dark. “Of course, those people also don’t often go on hour long rants about how between The Phantom and Raoul, Christine should’ve picked Meg.”

“My point stands,” he said as he opened the back door for them.

Once they were inside, Mingjue finally set him down on the bench of the mudroom. Now indoors, he could see how tired his husband truly looked. He shook his head. Mingjue shouldn’t be working jobs in the field anymore. There was no reason for it. And it was the one thing they kept fighting about, their equally matched tempers and stubbornness clashing over this one point. Yes, Mingjue was still fit and in fighting form, but he was an owner, and nearing forty, and had no reason to keep working jobs when they had a staff of younger, capable, competent bodyguards.

“I know,” Mingjue said. “Next quarter I’ll take myself off the rota.”

“Thank you,” he said. “This doesn’t mean you’ve won,” Mingjue said as he cradled his face. “Just that I’m agreeing that you’re not wrong.”

He stood up on his tiptoes and kissed Mingjue’s cheek. “So very kind of you. I supposed I won’t wave this particular victory flag in your face.”

“Thank you,” Mingjue said.

Meng Yao took his hand and pulled Mingjue towards the kitchen. “Dinner, bath, bed.”

Mingjue scooped him up again, laughing at his surprised squawk.

“May I interest you in kitchen table, guest shower, dinner, bed?”

“We agreed no communal spaces,” Meng Yao reminded him of last month’s family meeting. Both sets of brothers agreed upon it after seeing too much, collectively, of each other. “Though I am open to negotiations.”

“Guest bedroom it is,” Mingjue said.

It somehow all still felt like a dream. Like something that could be snatched away from him. That he was bound to wake up at any moment, back in the penthouse he knew was full of hidden cameras and bugs and various things tracking his every movement. Back to a life lived constantly on edge, waiting to attack or be attacked. Back to when his only true escapes were to his mother’s home and dance studio, where they only knew him as Meng Shi’s son. Back to bitterness and loneliness and the pain of loving someone he couldn’t have, not in the way he truly wanted him.

The rings on his fingers were real. The man who held him, cradled him, like he was something precious, was real. The shared laughter of his youngest brother and his brother-in-law, spilling out of the movie room, was real. And Meng Yao wouldn’t, couldn’t believe otherwise.

[simpsonsnight]

Episode #461

WHAT THIS?

To Surveil with Love Season 21 - Episode 20 | May 2, 2010

This is a bad one but at least there’s some fun stuff in it. Okay I’ll talk about the plot now. Homer accidentally leaves a duffel bag full of plutonium in a train station and it’s mistaken as a terrorist attack, so Springfield puts up a lotta surveillance cameras. AND! I! MEAN! A! LOT!! Flanders is assigned to look at all of them and he has the ability to scold people through the cameras. Also there’s a b-story that they spend like 5 minutes on where Lisa is pegged as stupid in debate club because she’s blonde so she dyes her hair and gives a speech. It sucks So best stuff in this episode has to do with Bart discovering that most of his backyard is a blindspot for the may cameras in Springfield and he and Homer start charging people to do crimes/perversions in there. That’s a fun idea, right? Yeah that’s why I’m being all like “this episode is bad but kinda fun!” This episode is maybe most notable for having an alternate opening where the cast lip syncs Tik Tok by Kesha. I remember when this came out it was presented on a comedy message board I frequented as an abomination, one of the worst things to ever be on The Simpsons, a new low, etc. But weirdly enough the few girls on that message board all liked it and decreed that it was sexist to hate it. As for me, I really do hate it. It is not to my taste! The first time I ever heard Kesha I was in an FYE record store (more like RIP record store am i right) and I had this visceral reaction to it that caused me to yell, out loud “FUCK THIS” and storm out of the store. One could argue that my crippling anger issues caused the outburst, and I should have gone straight to therapy. Others might argue that it’s because I have perfect taste in music, and that Kesha is the opposite of that. But Kesha eventually stopped bugging me so much. It has been absorbed into the neutrality of culture I just don’t care about. Which is probably where these episodes of The Simpsons ultimately belong. THE B-SODE:

Regular Show: “Peeps” Season 2 - Episode 4 | January 17, 2011 I own this episode on blu-ray! And then Cartoon Network put out Season 3 on DVD-only and the dream was over. Damn. Okay, so, this episode is about The Gumball guy putting surveilence cameras all over the park at an increasing rate in order to outsmart Bird Guy and Racoon Dude’s constant slacking. This culminates in him hiring a big eyeball that floats around and follows them around and stuff. They do a staring contest and the whole thing is very reminiscent of that Brak Show episode where the big eye shows up for a few seconds at the end. When I redo this entire blog to accommodate C-SODES I should really keep that in mind.

[still-single]

HEATHEN DISCO for December 15th, 2019 <-- LISTEN

New radio show is up here on Mixcloud, click it and pick it.

Tracklist below:

Klon Dump - Do the Dump

Inner City - Big Fun (12" remix)

Thule - Springtime (Etched in Ice)

Miss Nude - Taste My Acid Fruit

Sally Haze - Tell Me Everything

Hiro Kone - Shatter the Gangue of Piety

The Riders of the Mark - The Electronic Insides and Metal Complexion That Make Up Herr Doktor Krieg

Killing Joke - Requiem

K-Group - Over-Future Shop

Individual Industry - Eyes

SPK - Junk Funk

Galcher Lustwerk - Bit

Charles Rumback & Ryley Walker - Worn and Held

Eddy Current Suppression Ring - Vicariously Living

The Male Nurse - Male Midwife

The Teardrop Explodes - Sleeping Gas

Dolly Mixture - Understanding

Itchy Bugger - Nothing Tougher Than Hard Yakka

The Lemon Pipers - Green Tambourine

Major Stars - Elephant (live)

Pom Pomuntitled

Scott & Charlene's Wedding - Boundary Line

The Clean - Point That Thing Somewhere Else

The Method Actors - Commotion

Sauna Youth - Distracted

In Camera - Die Laughing

Club MusicImpulse CTRL

King Sunny Ade - Oremi

Fred Anderson Quartet - Era of Rocks

Burning Spear - Wailing

Steve Hauschildt - Attractor B

Richard Youngs & Raül Refree - Another Language

Dan Melchior - Happiness Is Over Rated

Kyle Hall - Nothing to Fear

The Springfields - She Swirls Around Me

[gerardbecher-blog]

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[rsfannan4]

Day Fifteen: Henley-on-Thames

Cruising into Henley is delightful. Both sides of the river host beautiful houses and estates, boats to die for, and a lovely landscape of trees and flowers. There is a very nice park just short of the town center adjacent to the river, and that is where we parked for our stay. We got there pretty early in the day so we could have lunch and then explore the town.

Henley has been around since Roman times, with the first substantial settlement dating to 1179. It’s position on the river and the bridge that crosses it have made this a popular market town since ancient times. The current bridge, dating to 1786, replaced a series of wooden structures going back over a thousand years. And there is archeological evidence that a stone structure spanned this point as early as 43 A.D.

The name of the game these days in Henley is rowing. The calm wide Thames, and the straight stretches of water are perfect for this sport. All along the river, we passed numerous rowing clubs, their members eagerly getting out their sculls for a quiet workout. Henley is also the center for competitive rowing. Each summer, Henley hosts the Royal Regatta and numerous other races are held throughout the year.

After we moored, we all strolled down the river to the town center by the bridge. We ate at The Angel, a cafe on the water. We happened to get there just minutes after it opened, so we got tables riverside. We were again fortunate as the place filled up quickly. Great place to eat. Most of us had fish and chips, and we all agreed that these were the best so far on the trip (and we have had plenty, believe me). Carol had Cumberland sausages and mash. She couldn’t eat the entire portion, so we all got plenty of this as well. Absolutely delicious.

The center of town starts at the bridge and heads up the hill several blocks. Nice quaint town with many shops, cafes, bakeries, and of course, a church that dominates the skyline. The one here, St. Mary’s, is very nice, and also is the home of the grave of Dusty Springfield. We of course, paid our respects. (If you don’t have the old lp, buy Dusty in Memphis, a great record)

At the top of the walk is Friar Park, George Harrison’s home here in Henley. Of course, there is no admittance to this 62 acre mansion. The pictures on Wikipedia look nice. But then again, a little much……

We all went our separate ways for a while and that afternoon we met pack at the boat for a Uke session on the deck. A little bit later, who shows up by our friend Carlos from the boat company, who had to drive to Henley to fix another boat, saw our boat, and decided to drop by. Such a nice man. We played him a couple of tunes and he even filmed a video of us on his camera. His father was a musician so again, we had a musical connection.

On to Marlow tomorrow, where we will again be meeting up with Becky, Carol’s daughter.

More to come…….

[bythebigcoolingtower]

I Wrote a Simpsons Script...

Over the last couple of months, when I’ve had time, I’ve tried to write something that was not only better than what’s currently being produced but could also find a place lower down the seasons. I don’t think I’ve been successful but I thought I’d share my endeavors for an important reason: It made me realize how hard coming up with an idea, writing and editing a script for a cartoon was. For some background, I write scripts for films part time and try to sell them, so far (obviously, because I wouldn't shut up about it if I had) I’ve not been able too (partly because it’s tough to sell scripts in England and partly because I don’t have the money/time/resources to make them independently) but I do have some experience in shaping a narrative, the structure of scripts and other techniques, so I’ve not walked into this blind. Whether it’s good or not is your opinion, seriously, feel free to criticize it, if you think it’s bad, tell me, I’m a grown man, I can take criticism. If you like it, that’s allowed too, but the main question is this: What season do you think it’d fit into?

Be warned, it’s 30 pages on Word so it’s a long read, it’s your choice, you don’t have to. For reference: Italics are description, bold is who’s talking, normal is dialogue, (Beside name is ‘Off Screen’, under name is the way the line is delivered).

(Disclaimer: I obviously don’t own the rights to the Simpsons, this is a non-profit idea and simply a writing exercise to keep me amused, so I believe it falls within fair use, please don’t sue! If you want me to take it down, I will.)  

OPENING CREDITS

COUCH GAG: The family sit on the couch, Maggie is a baby’s bottle, Lisa a plastic cup, Bart a glass, Marge a wine glass and Homer a beer mug. They are then filled with drink, Maggie with milk, Lisa with orange juice, Bart with Buzz cola, Marge with Wine and Homer with Duff.

EXT. CHARITY FUN FAIR – DAY

We move down from a clear blue sky past a sign, ‘CHARITY FUN FAIR: WHERE ONLY THE CHAIRTY IS OBLIGATORY’, down into the park which has been taken over by various things.

There’s a puppet show, some games and a stage. It all looks very cost effective, as if they wanted to bare minimum to maximize profits.

Walking around are the Simpson’s, looking a bit bored, except Marge who’s seems disappointed. Lisa holds a brochure about the fair.

MARGE

Fifteen dollars for cotton candy, what charity would charge such high prices?

Lisa consults the brochure.

LISA

‘Quimby retirement homes’.

(she reads more)

He wants a place in Tobago.

BART

I thought he already embezzled funds for that?

LISA

No that was for his golf club membership in Bermuda.

HOMER

(wistful)

I wish I could retire.

BART

What’s stopping you?

HOMER

Burns had us sign contracts in perpetuity in exchange for a second ice machine.

STAGE, CHARITY FUN FAIR – LATER

Quimby is on stage, along with a few others, and has a big smile on his face. Something sits under a sheet on a table beside him. He approaches the microphone to address the crowd, which includes the Simpsons.

QUIMBY

Thank you ladies and gentleman for your tremendous charity. I’m one step closer to getting a holiday home in Trinidad.

There’s scattered applause, murmurs. Quimby doesn’t care, carries on as an assistant walks over with a bucket.

QUIMBY

To show my appreciation I will now draw a winner from this bucket of parking tickets, that’s worth more than the prize in question, this-

Quimby unveils the prize, a toaster oven, has to be told by his assistant what it is.

QUIMBY

Toaster oven, I didn’t want as a gift.

No applause this time, just coughs and confused looks. Quimby draws a ticket.

QUIMBY

Marge Simpson.

The family react with little enthusiasm. Scattershot applause as they move up onto the stage.

QUIMBY

(to Lisa)

Congratulations, Marge.

He shakes Lisa’s hand, she can’t be bothered to tell him, it’s over quickly enough.

QUIMBY

(to his Assistant)

Bundle the cash, my flight leaves in an hour.

Quimby and his assistant leave, the stage is vacated by all but the Simpsons and a reporter, TOM, 20′s, The crowd disperses.

TOM

This is headline stuff, can I get a quote?

LISA

This is your headline? I thought you reported on real news, like your stories on the upcoming winter.

TOM

That was a Game of Thrones review.

LISA

Oh.

TOM

We haven’t printed a real news story since the town got high speed broadband. No one reads the paper anymore.

MARGE

Well, it would be nice to be named in the paper in a context other than: “we apologize for erroneously reporting the death of Homer Simpson”.

TOM

(to Homer)

Oh hey, I thought you looked familiar.

HOMER

Can you print a different picture of me this time? That old one makes me look fat, I’m portly.

TOM

Sure, we’ll send our new guy round later.

LISA

I thought Fred was your photographer?

TOM

He was until 7/11 poached him. They offered him something we couldn’t.

BART

Job satisfaction?

TOM

A wage.

(pause)

Oh and that.

INT. DINING ROOM, SIMPSON HOUSE – NIGHT

The family are sat around the table eating.

HOMER

This is great pasta honey.

MARGE

It’s Shepard’s pie.

HOMER

Do you want the compliment or not?

Moe enters, camera in hand.

MOE

Hey everyone.

HOMER

Hey Moe-

(sees camera)

Are you the Shoppers new photographer?

Moe looks around, stutters.

MOE

Uh... yeah... I sure am.

LISA

How did you get in?

Moe panics slightly.

MOE

Gather round, picture time.

There’s a knock on the door.

MARGE

I should get that.

Marge walks past Moe, who stands awkwardly at the top of the room, to the front door.

DOOR

Marge opens the door to CLIVE BREWER,  38, average looking, gentle.

CLIVE

I’m Clive Brewer, from the Shopper.

MARGE

If your-

Marge turns right to find Moe has gone, then left to see an open window at the back of the living room.

MARGE

Never mind. Please, come in.

DINING ROOM

Marge shuts the front door and walks Clive into the room, then sits back down.

CLIVE

Hi, it’s nice to meet you all. I thought it’d be good to have the toaster oven in the picture.

HOMER

The what?

CLIVE

The prize you won.

Nothing, the family don’t remember it.

CLIVE

Earlier today.

Nope.

CLIVE

It’s the reason I’m here.

HOMER

You should probably just take the picture.

CLIVE

Alright, big smiles.

The family bunch up, Clive takes the picture.

THE SPRINGFIELD SHOPPER

HEADLINE: LOCAL FAMILY FILLS PICTURE SPACE

SUB STORY: FRED PROMOTED TO ASSISTANT MANAGER

INT. GROCERY STORE – THE NEXT DAY (MORNING)

The family are out shopping, Marge reads the newspaper, very proud that they’re on the front.

MARGE

What a great picture, we’ll have to ask Clive for a copy, he’s so talented and nice.

HOMER

Pfft, he’s no nicer than me, Carl, Lenny or Moe.

MARGE

Last week you told me Moe throw a mug at you.

HOMER

(laughs)

Oh, honey, that was only because I hit Lenny in the head with a pool cue to stop him biting Carl after he’d bruised Lenny’s arm in Moe’s annual pain Olympics.

Marge stares at him, doesn’t like any of that.

EXT. SPRINGFIELD SHOPPER – LATER ON

The shopper is housed in a wide, one storey building, Marge’s station wagon is parked outside.

INT. FOYER, SPRINGFIELD SHOPPER – SAME TIME

Marge carries Maggie with her as she stands at the reception desk, a woman, FELICITY, walks over to her.

FELICITY

Hi, can I help?

MARGE

I was looking for Clive Brewer, the photographer?

FELICITY

He should be at his desk. We can look after your baby while you talk to him. We’re running a day care to add a little extra cash until our readership picks up.

MARGE

You are? I didn’t know that?

FELICITY

You didn’t? We advertise it all the time-

(pause)

Oh.

OFFICE – MOMENTS LATER

Marge enters what should be a loud bustling office, full of journalists and writers, but instead finds around twenty very unenthusiastic employees, mainly students, not doing much at all.

Clive stands out like a sore thumb, not least because he’s stationed by a window with the sun is beaming through it.

Marge walks over, Clive sees her, smiles.

CLIVE

Marge, hi, I assume you’re here because we referred to Homer as a “buffoon” in the article.

MARGE

Well, he is really more of an oaf but I was actually hoping I could get a copy of the picture you took. It’d be nice to have one were Homer isn’t giving the kids rabbit ears.

She takes out her phone, opens up the picture folder and shows Clive several photo’s as she’s described. The shadow on the wall behind the kids makes them look like characters from ‘Life in Hell’.

MARGE

I just don’t get why people find it funny.

Clive laughs. Stops when he really hears what Marge said.

CLIVE

Sure, I’ll print you off a copy.

Tom, walking past at the time, overhears the conversation.

TOM

The printer here doesn’t work.

CLIVE

It doesn’t?

TOM

No, wasn’t this explained when you were given the tour?

CLIVE

I was supposed to have had a tour?

Tom looks around.

TOM

(covering)

No.

He walks off. Clive sighs.

CLIVE

I guess I can’t print you off a copy.

Marge can see his disappointment, smiles trying to perk him up.

MARGE

Don’t worry, we have a printer a home, you can bring the picture there.

CLIVE

(trying)

Sounds like a plan.

EXT. PARK – THE SAME TIME

Bart, Lisa and an annoyed looking Homer walk around the park, it’s barely been cleaned since yesterday, or the days before that.

HOMER

How many days do I have to do this for?

LISA

Dr. Hibbert said you need to walk for at least an hour a day for the next three months.

HOMER

Three months! What’s the point?

LISA

(concerned)

Dad, he said in your condition you could die at any moment.

HOMER

(grumbling)

That can’t come soon enough.

Lisa gives him an off look, concerned but confused as to whether Homer actually understands.

BART

Why am I here?

LISA

You were supposed to be walking Santa’s Little Helper.

BART

Oh, yeah.

(pause)

I’m sure he’s getting plenty of fresh air.

CUT TO: The basement of the Simpson house, pitch black, SLH barking incessantly.

BACK TO: Homer and the kids walking, Lisa now concerned by the amount of rubbish about.

LISA

Did they even bother cleaning up from yesterday?

They pass a crumpled sign: 2017 CHARITY DRIVE. QUIMBY WANTS A PORSCHE.

LISA

Or last year?

HOMER

Lisa, fly tipping is a part of nature, ever since the caveman.

LISA

It’s destroying the natural environment of the animals.

BART

Looks like there adapting to it.

We pan across the rubbish, which the animals are using, including a family of raccoons operating the toaster oven.

LISA

Well, it’s not right, animals deserve to live with the same rights as us, nature deserves to flourish and not be cluttered by plastics that should be being recycled. I’m going to start a group to clean this place up.

Homer gets down to Lisa’s level, puts his hand on her shoulder to calm her.

HOMER

Lisa, is this the type of thing were you ask me to join and I keep saying no and you just keep asking and interrupting while I’m trying to drink beer and watch TV, until I eventually cave?

LISA

(shyly)

Yes.

HOMER

Then consider me in.

INT. KITCHEN, SIMPSON HOUSE – A LITTLE LATER

Marge carries Maggie into the kitchen, leading Clive through with her.

She puts Maggie in the high chair.

MARGE

Take a seat, I think the printer’s in the basement.

Clive takes a seat at the table, takes his bag off as he sits, from that he takes out his laptop and opens it on the table.

Marge walks to the basement door, opens it, SLH rushes out.

MARGE

Hmmm.

She disappears downstairs. Clive begins clicking through his laptop, trying to find the image.

He goes through various folders, opens one that he hadn’t meant too, it’s full of beautiful shots, landscapes of parks, woods and forests.

Clive opens one, a melancholic look upon his face. Maggie begins laughing.

Turning, Clive sees that it’s the picture Maggie is amused by.

CLIVE

You like it huh?

(pause)

Yeah, it’s alright.

Marge can be heard coming back up.

CLIVE

Let’s just keep it between us.

He backs out of the folder, Maggie stops laughing.

Marge re-enters, carrying a really old looking printer.

MARGE

Here we go. We only use it when Lisa wants to print out protest leaflets. Luckily she’s boycotting paper right now.

CLIVE

I’m sure it’ll work fine.

Marge puts it on the top, plugs it in, it comes on immediately. She hands Maggie the bottle she’s reaching for.

CLIVE

It’s connected. Here-

From his bag Clive takes a ream of paper, hands it to Marge.

MARGE

Do you always carry so much paper?

CLIVE

Oh, I took it from the office.

(pause)

I mean, there not actually paying me.

Marge shrugs, puts the paper in. Clive clicks on the picture, selects print, the process begins immediately.

He backs out of the folder, leaving him on the page with all the folders on.

Quickly the picture prints, Marge is very pleased with it.

MARGE

What a great shot. You really do have a talent.

Clive is non committal, modest.

CLIVE

Maybe.

MARGE

I’ve got the perfect frame for it too, hold there.

Marge leaves Clive sat with Maggie again, she sees the situation, ‘accidentally’ drops her bottle on the laptop, the printer starts up again.

Clive turns, looks panicked once he sees that it’s printing the pictures from earlier.

CLIVE

What are the odds?

One after another they print, Clive tries to grab them as quickly as he can, to hide them but can’t. Maggie laughs.

MARGE (O.S)

It fits perfectly.

Marge enters to see Clive stuffing a couple of the printed pictures into the toaster, she looks suspiciously at him, wondering what he’s up to.

At that moment the printer jams. The final fully printed picture flies out, lands at Marge’s feet.

Putting down the family portrait, she picks up the printed picture, a glorious shot of the early evening.

MARGE

Clive, did you take this.

Clive looks embarrassed, by both his actions and Marge seeing his work.

CLIVE

(nervous)

Yeah.

MARGE

It’s so expressive-

She moves around, fishes another from the oven.

MARGE

They all are. Why would you hide them?

CLIVE

I guess because they remind me of what I had, lost.

MARGE

Please, sit down, tell me.

Clive takes one of the pictures from the toaster, gives it to Maggie, then sits down.

INT. GYM, SCHOOL – 30 YEARS EARLIER

An eight year old Clive sits on a stall.

CLIVE (O.S)

My passion for photography came from my dad.

A photographer stands behind an old camera, readies the shot, beside him is Clive’s dad, DANIEL BREWER, 36, taking multiple pictures.

CLIVE (O.S)

He was always taking pictures of me, the whole family.

MONTAGE - OVER THE FOLLOWING YEARS

Daniel takes pictures of Clive in the bathroom, sleeping, at school, playing sports, as he has his first kiss, first date and even through the window of his first ‘adult sleep over’.

CLIVE (O.S)

I just started doing the same.

Clive takes pictures of Daniel in the bathroom, sleeping, at work, watching sports on TV, watching Clive play sports whilst Clive plays and while Daniel is taking pictures of Clive.

MARGE (O.S)

Are you two still close?

CLIVE (O.S)

We haven’t been close for a while.

EXT. TRAIN TRACKS – DAY, 20 YEARS AGO

Daniel stands in the middle of the tracks, camera ready.

CLIVE (O.S)

He was trying to take a picture of the front of a train.

A train can be heard approaching, Daniel takes his stance.

The train approaches from behind Daniel.

EXT. FUNERAL, CEMETERY – A COUPLE WEEKS LATER

Daniel’s headstone is a camera, his picture is a picture of him taking a picture of the picture taker, presumably Clive.

The family weeps in sadness, as does a now eighteen year old Clive. Still, he continues to take pictures.

CLIVE (O.S)

After that I vowed to take my time in my work and for a while that went well.

INT. HIGH END MAGAZINE COMPANY – TEN YEARS LATER

A happy Clive, now twenty eight, shows off the negatives of his work to his boss, MR. HARTFORD, 44.

He gets the thumbs up, which he takes a picture of.

CLIVE (O.S)

But it didn’t last, with smart phones, people wanted shots quicker and I just didn’t work fast enough.

EXT. TOWN SQUARE – TIME LAPSE, OVER 12 HOURS

Clive arrives in the empty town square to take a picture of a new sculpture, he takes his stance and waits.

Over the course of the next twelve hours, hundreds of photographers, selfie taking tourists and interested locals take pictures.

There’s also a protest about the statue, people with banners and plaques turn up, then the police arrive to stop them, there’s a conversation and then the police join in with the protesters.

Lastly a work crew turns up and removes the statue, Clive is alone again, finally takes the picture.

INT. KITCHEN, SIMPSON HOUSE – THIRTY MINUTES LATER

Marge has sat and listened, she and Clive have also drunk coffee in the interim. Maggie is asleep, holding the picture Clive gave her.

CLIVE

Eventually the work began to dry up, now I’m wherever here is, taking pictures for nothing.

MARGE

Clive, I’m so sorry.

He sits upset, but he’s been like this for a while so it’s almost normal to him.

CLIVE

It’s not the work or money I miss, it’s the feeling. That passion I used to have when I was an eight year old, like there was nothing more important.

(sigh)

I wish I could capture that again.

HALLWAY – AT THAT MOMENT

The door bursts open, an impassioned Lisa enters as SLH bolts out the house.

LISA

(loud, excitable)

Mom, get the printer, were making flyers!

EXT. PARK – TWO DAYS LATER (MORNING)

Lisa has organized an impressive line-up, along with the family, her and Bart’s school classes, Skinner, Willie and Grampa, Jasper and the old Jewish man. Each has a rubbish picker, bag and hi-vis jacket.

Skinner looks annoyed and anxious, walks over to Lisa, who’s reading through her to-do list.

SKINNER

Exactly how many more favors does the school owe you? I feel this is bordering on absurd, especially since you already hijacked the band to play for sick children at the hospital.

LISA

Your right, maybe I have been abusing my power.

Skinner relaxes, but Lisa isn’t done.

LISA

Although I’m quite sure the building shouldn’t be held together with driftwood and crazy glue.

All Skinner’s good thoughts have gone, he groans.

SKINNER

Young lady, I’d like to see you run a school on two hundred and seventy five dollars a month without resorting to crazy glue and criminality.

LATER ON THAT DAY

Everyone is picking rubbish up, rather un-enthusiastically, but slowly the park is looking a little better.

Sat under a tree, watching, is Clive he eats a toasted sandwich. Marge walks over to him.

MARGE

Clive-

(sees the sandwich)

Where’d you get that?

CLIVE

A raccoon gave it too me.

MARGE

Oh.

(pause)

Is any of this inspiring you?

CLIVE

It’s great to watch your daughter care so much about nature and boss around her principal but it feels like something’s missing, I can’t put my finger on it.

Lisa, seeing Marge and Clive talking, has come over.

LISA

Mr. Brewer, maybe joining in will inspire you, being involved with the experience.

Clive stands up, sandwich in hand.

CLIVE

Your right, it’d certainly be more helpful than me just sitting around. Hand me a stick.

In comes a stick, held by Homer, his bag and jacket in the other hand.

HOMER

Have mine.

Clive takes it, Homer runs off, drops the rest of his stuff.

LISA

Dad!

He walks back to Lisa.

HOMER

Lisa, honey, I wouldn’t leave unless it was very important.

LISA

But-

Homer snatches Clive’s sandwich-

HOMER

Yoink!

Then runs off.

CUT TO: Close up, Homer, moments later. He laughs to himself.

HOMER

Got away clean.

He looks around, finds he’s back in the park, gear on. He stares at his legs, accusingly.

HOMER

(to his legs)

I said go to Moe!

Homer looks back up, finds Moe stood there, in full gear.

HOMER

Moe!

(confused)

What are you doing here?

Moe laughs, looks away, remembering.

MOE

Well, you remember the other day, when I was in your house?

He looks back to Homer, who’s gone, his stuff on the floor.

Moe sighs, looks away, finds Homer stood the other side of him, chastising his legs, he looks up.

HOMER

Moe!

(confused)

What are you doing here?

TIME LAPSE – OVER THE NEXT FEW HOURS

Lisa, Clive and the rest pick up what rubbish they can, but it’s a losing battle.

First the other kids leave at three o’clock with the school day over, then the old folks at four being called back for bedtime, then Skinner and Willie leave.

Now with only Clive and the family they face other residents openly fly tipping as they clean up. For everything cleaned three more things are dropped.

It hits early evening, everyone bar Lisa is exhausted.

7:10PM

Maggie is asleep on Marge’s shoulder, even she is yawning.

MARGE

Lisa, I think we should stop for today, we need food and rest. We’ll come back tomorrow.

Lisa puts another can in the bag, knows that Marge is right but has a hard time accepting it.

LISA

(sadly)

But we aren’t even close to half way done and Clive-

She looks across the park, to the tree Clive was sat under earlier, where he is now, grabbing his stuff.

MARGE

It’ll be better tomorrow.

Lisa well’s up.

LISA

But if we don’t do the work today, there won’t be a tomorrow.

In goes another can, her bag splits, the rubbish falls out and she bursts into tears.

The family stand, as sad as Lisa but unable to help her.

From the tree Clive can hear Lisa, he turns and sees her, his eyes ache over her pain, he can feel his own, the rejection, the loss of his father, in the pit of his stomach.

Grabbing his camera, Clive steels up, he aims and takes a picture.

INT. OFFICE, SPRINGFIELD SHOPPER – LATER THAT NIGHT

ON THE COMPUTER SCREEN: The picture of Lisa crying, rubbish at her feet, family beside her. The headline reads: TOWN MUST CLEAN UP ACT.

Alone, Clive writes the story himself.

PRINTING ROOM – LATER

The paper runs through the machines, Clive snaps the process.

At the end of the process, the papers are bundled, Clive snaps it.

INT. BACK OF VAN – EARLY MORNING

Paperboys throw bundles of the paper onto the street for waiting sellers, Clive is in the van handing the papers to them and, of course, taking pictures as he does.

EXT. STREET – MORNING

A young paperboy rides his bike quickly, throwing papers to the doors.

Behind him Clive runs, struggling to keep up and take pictures at the same time.

INT. BEDROOM, CLIVE’S APARTMENT – A LITTLE LATER

Clive sleeps, exhausted, his finger on the resting on the button of his camera which faces him.

INT. LISA’S ROOM, SIMPSON HOUSE – 7:30AM

Marge is waking Lisa up, but Lisa is reluctant.

LISA

(sleepy)

Do I have to get up?

MARGE

No, honey but at least read the paper first.

This intrigues Lisa, she gets up fully and is handed the paper by Marge.

Her eyes light up seeing the headline and picture she reads the story below. The sub headline is: FRED FIRED. PAGES 3-12.

LISA

Do you think it made a difference?

MARGE

I wouldn’t have woke you up if it hadn’t.

EXT. PARK – 9AM

The whole town, inspired by the picture or perhaps feeling really guilty for making an eight year old cry, are out picking up rubbish.

Lisa watches over them, helping herself.

Clive enters the park, having just got back up, Lisa spots him immediately.

LISA

Oh Clive, thank you!

She gives Clive a hug, he half smiles, a little embarrassed.

CLIVE

Wow, I didn’t think it would have so much of an impact.

LISA

Then why did you do it?

CLIVE

Because I didn’t want you to give up, I wanted you to keep that passion, that fight that I lost.

LISA

Do you think you’ll rediscover yours?

CLIVE

Maybe in time, but right now I want to take pictures to show what can be achieved with a passionate spirit.

PICTURE MONTAGE – OVER THE REST OF THE DAY

We start with a picture of Lisa stood in front of a large group of helpers. Lisa working within that group.

Moe, Homer and the other barflies picking up cans and bottle’s of beer.

Skinner picking up bricks. Skinner putting the bricks in his car.

Homer picking up the toaster oven. The raccoons fighting Homer for the toaster oven. Marge, Bart and Maggie helping Homer take the toaster oven. The raccoons crying.

Jimbo, Kearney and Dolph putting together a bin. Then putting Milhouse in the bin.

Shots of people cleaning, the park changing and eventually being clean.

Finally the whole town together in a photograph, in the background is a plane.

5PM

The town talks as it begins to disperse, rolling past the park is a black car, Quimby’s. The window rolls down.

INT. BACK, QUIMBY’S CAR – CONTINUOUS

Quimby, very well tanned, takes off his sunglasses to look at the scene in the park.

QUIMBY

Someone find out what’s happening.

One of his bodyguards exits the car.

Through the window we watch the bodyguard, who is dressed top half in a suit and bottom half in shorts and sandals from the holiday, walk over to Carl and talk to him. He walks back to the car, leans in at the window.

BODYGUARD

Apparently the town came together to clean the park and Lenny’s having an ice cream party, can we go?

QUIMBY

No you moron, but this park thing, that we can exploit.

(thinks)

How much money do we have left from the holiday?

BODYGUARD

Around three hundred dollars sir.

QUIMBY

Perfect.

EXT. SPRINGFIELD MUSEUM OF ART – THE NEXT NIGHT

Lit up and looking good the museum has a stream of patrons entering it.

ENTRANCE – SAME TIME

A doorman stands selling tickets, beside him there’s a sign:

TONIGHT – CLIVE BREWER EXHIBITION (ADULTS: $30, KIDS $20)

TOMORROW – PICTURES FROM YESTERDAYS EXHIBIT.

INT. MAIN, SPRINGFIELD MUSEUM OF ART – SAME TIME

Everyone in town is about, looking at the various pictures on the wall, a photographer, FRED, takes pictures of them.

Lisa stands looking at one of the pictures holding a program from the evening, Clive walks over to her.

CLIVE

What do you think?

LISA

They’re so good, I’m really impressed.

CLIVE

I’m glad you like them. Honestly I’ve never had a crowd this big for my work before, where’s the money going to?

Lisa consults the program.

LISA

It’s going to pay off Mayor Quimby’s tax bill.

CLIVE

Well, I would complain and say something like “if only you could clean up the corruption in the mayors office like you did the park”, but he did pay me two hundred dollars for tonight.

MAN (O.S)

How would you like to make twice that a year?

Clive turns. His old boss Mr. Hartford is stood there.

CLIVE

Mr. Hartford? What are you doing here?

MR. HARTFORD (MAN)

We were in town to do a story on small town mayoral corruption, until Mayor Quimby paid me fifty dollars not too. Then we saw the sign, figured we’d see your work.

CLIVE

And?

MR. HARTFORD

It’s impressive, so how about coming back on staff?

CLIVE

Last time we spoke you said as long your daughter had a smart phone you wouldn’t need me?

MR. HARTFORD

(laughing)

Yes, what a four years it’s been.

(serious)

Unfortunately Stephanie has gone from a cute twelve year old to a sullen sixteen year old.

Across the room STEPHANIE, 16, is sat on the floor, headphones on, in her own world.

MR. HARTFORD

The only pictures she takes now are of herself looking unhappy. I need a true photographer, I need you Clive.

CLIVE

Okay, but not for four hundred pound a year.

MR. HARTFORD

How about four hundred pounds a day?

CLIVE

Deal.

He almost snaps Mr. Hartford’s hand off shake on it, which Hartford doesn’t quite understand.

MR. HARTFORD

(thinking)

Did I say a day or a month?

LISA

A day.

MR. HARTFORD

Darn it.

(sighs)

Nevermind, I probably fire you in a couple weeks anyway, I fire everyone eventually.

Mr. Hartford walks off.

MR. HARTFORD (O.S)

Stephanie, you’re fired!

LISA

I guess this means you’re leaving?

CLIVE

If it’s any consolation I probably would have left anyway, the paper hired Fred back.

Fred walks over at the same time.

LISA

Are the rumours true, Fred?

FRED

(staunch)

No comment.

He takes a picture of Lisa and Clive, then leaves.

CLIVE

Thank you, Lisa. You’ve given me a taste of the passion I had for photography and a chance to have another go at making it into a career.

LISA

Well, thank you for helping me clean the park.

CLIVE

I have something to give you.

From his pocket Clive takes a picture, an image of train tracks, hands it to Lisa.

CLIVE

This is the last picture my dad ever took. I want you to have it.

LISA

Clive, I can’t take this.

CLIVE

Why not? It’s just a copy.

LISA

Oh.

QUIMBY (O.S)

Yes, alright now.

Lisa, Clive, and the rest of the patrons turn to see Quimby at a hastily set up mic stand.

QUIMBY

I’d like to welcome everyone, from art lovers to lovers of free food-

Cut to Homer holding two bowls of food that was supposed to be for everyone.

QUIMBY (CONT’D)

To this celebration of our town and it’s ‘do it anyway’ spirit. And now, welcome the man who took the pictures you see here tonight, without permission, Clive Brewer.

Clive looks surprised, walks over to the mic, applauded.

CLIVE

Wow, what a reception, but your applause should be for Lisa, she’s the one who inspired all of this.

He waves Lisa over, drops the mic stand to her size and moves away from it. She gets even greater applause.

LISA

I believe strongly that this town can be truly great if we all work together and to better ourselves each and every day.

She looks across to where Clive was, he’s gone, she looks back at the crowd, all of whom are fully engaged by her words.

Taking a deep breathe she continues on.

EXT. SPRINGFIELD MUSEUM OF ART – SAME TIME

Clive watches Lisa through the window, smiles, takes a picture of her, then moves on.

CREDITS

We see Clive’s journey back to his job, then his work on the job.

We end on three pictures. The first of the front of a train. The second the back end of that same train and the third a picture taken of Clive by a nurse as he lays in a full body cast in a hospital. Big smile on his face.

END

[aworldinsideapersonprimary-blog]

Before the Nuptials - Nips and Tucks

When R. L.'s wedding day rolled around last May 7th, her nose, which she had hated for so long, had been at last fully repaired so she could stare into the many cameras present on the big day with confidence, if not a huge measure of sass. "With my old nose, I knew I would hate every wedding picture taken that day," R.L. told CosmeticSurgery.com. (She asked her full name be withheld.) R.L., now 30, suffered a botched rhinoplasty (nose job) when she was 16, followed by another surgery years later to try and repair the damage. But it did not work. She did some research and started looking for a surgeon who specializes in cosmetic surgery revisions. "My nose was an absolute atrocity," says R.L., who works in marketing in New York City and just married a graphic artist. She shopped physicians for the pre-wedding revision surgery by reading doctors' websites for information about their training and background and then ventured out for face-to-face interviews of three. One in particular impressed her with price, training, patient testimonials and a warm beside manner. "I knew I had to get it right this time," R.L. says. "When I went in for surgery, my nose was twisted, and the left side was collapsed so badly, I could not breathe through it. In the past, when a picture was taken, I made sure the photographer was far off or that only my good side was pictured. Once my nose was finally straightened, I couldn't believe I had been walking around so long, looking that badly." R.L. is not the only bride looking for a surgeon to perform a nip, a tuck or more before taking that walk down the aisle. Cosmetic surgeons and others report seeing many more wedding party members seeking procedures before the nuptials. "Cosmetic surgery procedures for brides-to-be, mothers of the brides and others in the wedding are up 300% over this time last year," says Cho Phillips, executive director of Lovegevity.com, a Northern California website devoted to engagement, marriage and other family issues. "First-time brides tend to have liposuction and breast augmentation in preparation for their big day." Yet another wedding consultant says pre-nuptial cosmetic surgery is so common, most couples should think about carving out a budget for facial makeovers. Arlene Howard, 64, a Beverly Hills public relations practitioner, had the striking good looks of a model in her early 20s. Now, she has an October 10th wedding date at the Bel Air Hotel in Beverly Hills. So for a segment of tv's "Dr. 90210," Arlene underwent a facial peel that took 25 years off the calendar – after a two-month recovery time -- and made her, in the words of her husband-to-be, "a trophy bride." "I wanted my outward appearance to catch up with my self-image," Arlene says. "It will now be the wedding I've always wanted." Compliments have been so encouraging, Arlene says she will also have a tummy tuck before the wedding. Says Robert Freund, M.D., a Manhattan plastic surgeon, "As the field of cosmetic and plastic surgery receives more attention in the media, cosmetic surgical procedures become more widely accepted. Plus, the medical technology is getting better and that allows plastic surgeons to offer more sophisticated rejuvenations, with quicker healing time and less post-operative bruising." It was another uncomely schnoze that drove Tara, J. a 29-year-old magazine writer in New York State, to see about repairing the damage caused by a surfboard that broke her nose years ago. Her rhinoplasty was done in February to prepare for an October (2003) wedding. "I think everybody noticed my new nose at the wedding," she says. "Because all eyes will be on the bride at the wedding, the perfect time to start a new skincare routine is at the engagement," says Keith LaFerriere, M.D., president of the American Academy of Facial Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery (AAFPRS) which reports the two most popular procedures for brides-to-be and their mothers are Botox and chemical peels. "If a bride goes in for Botox or chemical peels, she should have it done weeks in advance because swelling and redness can occur," says Dr. LaFerriere who is also a clinical associate professor at the University of Missouri, Columbia. According to Leo McCafferty, M.D. a Pittsburgh plastic surgeon and immediate past chair of the public education committee of the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgeons, (ASAPS) the mother of the bride is more likely to get a pre-wedding nip or tuck. "Most often, the mothers of brides and grooms are seeking facelifts or eyelifts, sometimes, up to a year before the wedding," Dr. McCafferty says. That was what drove Mary Anne R. of Brooklyn, New York, to see a plastic surgeon before her daughter's wedding in May 2004. Except, in her case, Mary Anne wanted less to be more attractive. "I've always been very large chested and learned I was a candidate for breast reduction after reading about typical symptoms such women have," says Mary Anne. "For instance, I was having pain in my shoulders and down into my arms from my bras which, in some respects, were almost like wearing harnesses. I really wanted to go to the wedding in a strapless dress, but that was impossible before the surgery. I would have popped right out!" Mary Anne underwent a breast reduction in November 2003, and says she had completely healed and "looked great" by the wedding date in March, 2004. "At the ceremony, I received many compliments in my strapless dress and everybody told me how wonderful I looked," she says. "Plus, my husband is my biggest fan of my new look." Jennie H., of Union Town, Pennsylvania, actually didn't think too much about cosmetic surgery until a close friend at her health club pointed out how tired she looked. "I took a look in the mirror, and said, 'My god! She's right! I don't look good." Although it was only six weeks before the wedding, Winnie had upper and lower blepharoplasty (eye lids and eye bags) performed on May 7th, 2004, and was healed in time for her daughter's July 26th wedding. "At the wedding, virtually everybody noticed and complimented me on how young I looked," Jennie says. Michael C. Bruck, M.D., director of plastic surgery at New York's Juva Skin & Laser Center in New York City finds the most common pre-wedding cosmetic surgery mistake is waiting too long to see the surgeon about major procedures on the face, eyes and abdomen. "The other busy time for special occasion requests is before high school and college reunions," Dr. Bruck says. "For some reason, those people come in much farther in advance of the event. Maybe they want to look extra good for old flames." About one quarter of patients, who visit doctors for pre-wedding consultations – but did not go ahead with the procedure – come back after the wedding for the operation, he says. "Once a patient starts thinking about a particular cosmetic procedure, it seems to stick in her mind," says Dr. Bruck who reports using a lot of Restylane, a filler that gets rid of blemishes, acne scars and some minor lines and wrinkles. However, all is not lost if you do find yourself short on time. For instance, David J. Goldberg, M.D., dermatologist and director of The Skin Laser & Surgery Specialists of New York & New Jersey, says some wedding ceremony patients come to him a scant week before the ceremony. "For younger brides, physicians can offer smoother skin through laser dermatology and some filler agents to fill out lips," Dr. Goldberg says. "Hylaform is good because it produces quick results and is a natural substance, so no skin or allergy tests are required. Those tests take time." Blushing brides find microdermabrasion helps makeup go on smoother. There is usually no bruising because the needles used to inject some fillers are as thin as one human hair. A current trend is giving cosmetic surgery as a gift. So, six months before opening her other gifts, Sheryl H., a 30-year-old medical transcriptionist in Springfield, Missouri, opened an envelope containing a gift for six dermabrasion treatments. "I had little dark areas of complexion on my face but dermabrasion made my skin lighter, smoother and fresher," she says. "The treatments make your face feel wind burned but your skin glows more afterwards." Mothers of brides in a hurry often ask for fast relief of crow's feet, wrinkles and worry lines. Dr. Goldberg says Hylaform usually fills that bill, too. But whatever procedure is used, girls – and their moms – just wanna look good.

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