#White House

[xtruss]

As “War Criminal, Complicit in Genocide in Gaza, Demented, Hypocrite, Hegemonic and The Scrotums Licker of the Zionist 🐖 🐷 🐖 🐗 Joe Biden” Cheers TikTok Ban, White Elephant House Embraces TikTok Influencers

The White House Brushes Off Accusations of Hypocrisy, Courting TikTok While Seeking To Ban It.

— Ken Klippenstein, Daniel Boguslaw | April 23, 2024

President Joe Biden greets digital content creators on Oct. 25, 2022, at the White House. Photo: Adam Schultz/White House

As Congress And the National Security State continue their quest to ban the TikTok social media platform in the United States, President Joe Biden has been courting TikTok influencers to help him shore up youth support for his reelection. While the administration has been publicly casting TikTok as a grave threat to American security, the White House has quietly hosted a number of influencers to pitch them on pro-Biden content.

“Don’t jump, I need you!” Biden joked to a group of TikTok influencers as he walked by the group standing on the White House balcony on his way to deliver his State of the Union speech earlier this year.

In recent months, some of the biggest TikTok users with accounts boasting millions of followers have visited the White House, visitor logs reveal. Since September alone, some of the most prominent examples include:

Jason Linton, a dad who posts wholesome content about his family and whose TikTok account @dadlifejason has 13.8 million followers.

Michael Junchaya, (who goes by “Mikey Angelo” on the handle @mrgrandeofficial, 3.5 million followers), a young entertainer who specializes in rap recap videos.

Mona Swain (@monaswain, 1.9 million followers), theater enthusiast.

Alexandra Doten, space communicator, who previously worked for NASA (going by “Astro Alexandra” @astro_alexandra, 2.3 million followers).

Andrew Townsend (going by “Papi Dre” @andrewtowns, 3.1 million followers).

Alex Pearlman (@pearlmania, 2.6 million followers), comedian.

Josh Helfgott (@joshhelfgott, 5.5 million followers), LGBTQ+ advocate.

Perhaps the biggest TikToker hobnobbing at the White House was Oneya Johnson, a viral sensation famous for his angry reaction videos (@angryreactions) boasting 27 million followers. He visited the White House on September 27. (Johnson has since deleted his account after being arrested for domestic violence.)

Each of these TikTokkers’ meetings was coordinated by White House deputy director of partnerships, Morgan MacNaughton, who herself has a background with the company. She was hired away last year from Palette, a social media talent management company that specializes in TikTok personalities. While there, MacNaughton helped found the political group “TikTok for Biden” (since renamed “Gen-Z for Change”). Many of the TikTok users who visited the White House are themselves represented by Palette.

In 2022, Palette received a $200,000 payment from the Democratic National Committee for paid media, Federal Election Commission data shows. According to the Washington Post’s Taylor Lorenz, Palette was paid a retainer from the DNC to cover expenses for eight TikTok creators to travel to Washington in hopes of wooing them in the run-up to the midterm elections, resulting in an Oval Office meeting with Biden.

Anita Dunn, senior adviser to the president, told The Intercept that MacNaughton “helped to get POTUS’s message out to more audiences.”

“The reason Morgan’s position exists is because we knew the work she was capable of: discovering, ideating and leading creator talent,” Christian Tom, director of the White House’s Office of Digital Strategy, told The Intercept. “In just under a year at the White House, she has driven on many digital creator projects that have been vital to our digital strategy.”

With Biden’s reelection campaign in full swing, it would hardly be surprising that they’re meeting with influencers whose videos reach millions of Americans — were it not for the administration’s national security rhetoric about the app’s purported threat. Earlier this month, Biden raised his concerns about TikTok during a call with Chinese President Xi Jinping, their first contact since November. Biden administration officials have raised hypothetical concerns about the Chinese ownership of TikTok’s parent company, ByteDance.

Public opinion on banning TikTok is sharply divided, with support tending to come from older Americans but marked opposition coming from youth. Biden’s support for the legislation has irked even some of his most ardent supporters.

“There are clearly some First Amendment concerns here and to do this in an election year seems wrong to me,” Harry Sisson told The Intercept. Sisson describes himself as a “pro-Biden content creator” and frequently uses his TikTok account (@harryjsisson, 800k followers) to advocate for the president and blast his opponents. (Sisson has himself visited the White House and is represented by Palette.)

“There are over 170 million Americans on TikTok, many of which get their news from the app, and to take that away and give Trump a talking point only hurts the Democratic Party,” Sisson said.

While White House visitor logs are only available through this past September, it is clear that TikTok influencers have continued to frequent the White House. When Biden gave his State of the Union speech in March, Sisson was one of dozens of social media influencers, including TikTok stars, invited to the White House where he spoke to his 800,000 followers during Biden’s address. The influencers sat on the White House balcony and watched as Biden headed over to the Capitol to deliver his speech.

Though the Biden administration has directly consulted on the creation of the legislation that could ban TikTok, the Biden campaign has embraced the app, creating an official account in February. The decision has drawn criticism from even some of Biden’s most stalwart allies.

“I’m a little worried about a mixed message,” Sen. Mark Warner, D-Va., chair of the Senate Intelligence Committee, said of the decision.

The White House, for its part, has brushed off accusations of hypocrisy, pointing to the fact that the federal ban on the use of TikTok on government devices is still in place and applies to White House officials, referring questions to the Biden campaign.

The campaign has said that it will “continue meeting voters where they are.”

Unless, of course, the app is banned.

[darkeagleruins]

This is both a FTC and FEC violation

[jemej3m]

What Now? p5

Or more correctly titled: twice that andrew asked neil out and it failed miserably, and the one time they managed to get it right.

note: these are just drafts and i will be uploading a proper, easier read onto ao3. enjoy none the less!

Andrew thought it was going smoothly. They were eating across from one another in one of Palmetto’s few elegant restaurants. Neil had managed to wear something other than a tank top and sweats: His jeans were not threadbare, and he wore a sweater over a button-down shirt. His curls cascaded neatly from his head, and Andrew fucking hated everything about the man.

Both had found suitable care for their children for the rest of the evening. Perhaps, if things went truly well, they could return to Andrew’s empty apartment. Kevin was visiting his father for the night.

It seemed a little too ambitious. For all of Neil’s reclusive mannerisms, he was oddly relaxed. It made Andrew somewhat suspicious.

The meal was good. The conversation was comfortable: They shared early memories of Robin and Kevin, tales of snobbish parents, explaining further details of their work.

“Wymack’s child?” Neil had said, startled. “I...hadn’t realised.”

“What of it?” Andrew asked, leaning a little closer and sipping on his gin.

“I’ve had two kids granted scholarships with Palmetto State.” He admitted. “If it weren’t for Wymack’s initiative to take in disadvantaged youth, they’d never be considered. I’m hoping - well, Robin wants to go there.”

“Tell the old fuck to say hi to his kid more often.” Andrew grumbled.

Neil laughed softly, a quick curl of the lips. It was a sound Andrew was becoming incredibly fond of. Fuck, he was turning into a sappy shit, wasn’t he?

Outside, they smoked together, leaning against the hood of Andrew’s Maserati. Andrew’s suspicion had grown when Neil insisted to help pay, but perhaps that was just him defying traditionalism, like the rest of his existence did. 

There was only one way to figure it out.  

His hair shone in the moonlight whilst the golden hues leaking from the windows of the restaurant curved over his cheekbones and lips. His scars distorted his skin, warped by age and further growth.  

Regardless of scars, Neil was, in short: Stunning. The most attractive man Andrew could remember stumbling across. He was the perfect height, the appropriate age, a single, working father who understood trauma and trust issues. And he was here, on a date with Andrew.

What were the chances?

“Can I kiss you?”

Neil looked at him, shock spasming across his face. “Huh?”

Apparently, the chances were zero. 

“A kiss, Josten.” Andrew said, flatly. He ignored the disappointment that lurched in his throat. “Must I spell it out for you?”

“I -” He stammered. “I didn’t realise you like me.”

“I hate you.” Andrew: Contradictory as always. He kept his gaze upon the restaurant, refusing to allow Neil to see the tumultuous storm of unwarranted emotion in his eyes. “What did you think this was?”

“Not a date.” He said, weakly. “Didn’t occur to me that someone was willing to look past this.” Andrew saw the gestures out of the corner of his eyes. Neil was talking about his scars. 

“Fuck off, and take your pity party with you.” He said, decidedly. 

“I still had a nice evening.” Neil offered. “I hope me being a dumbass didn’t ruin it entirely.” He had slid off the hood, grinding the cigarette under his boot. “Uh. I’ll go?” 

“Do.” Andrew said flatly. He’d known it was too good to be true. 

And then - against all expectations - 

(Seriously, why did Andrew bother with expectations surrounding Neil? He had defied every single one of them thus far.) 

-  Neil leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. Andrew whipped his head to look at him as his own face grew warm, unable to stop his body’s reaction. 

Neil was even more hopelessly awkward, clutching his car-keys to his chest. “I hope that was okay. Uh. I had a really good time. Sorry I didn’t realise it was a date. Um. Call me?” He grimaced at himself, cheeks as red as his hair. “I’m going to walk away now.”

“Take your time.” Andrew offered, ignoring his own hypocrisy as his heart slammed against his ribcage. “I’m finding this rather amusing.”

Neil scowled. “Oh, fuck off.” With that, he swivelled on his heel and stormed away. 

Now, that was a more typical ending to Andrew’s usual dates. He took a drag of his cigarette and let himself smile - just a little - as he remembered the brush of Neil’s lips over his cheek. 

“Come out with me again.” Andrew was leant against the plexiglass wall with his arms crossed, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he watched Neil pack up from practise. Most kids had already vacated: Late, Thursday practises always cleared out quickly. Robin and Kevin were running drills together at the other end of the court.

“What?” Neil was awfully distracted by Andrew’s popped collar, unable to forget Allison’s critical analysis of Neil’s newfound distraction. Not to mention they’d already been on a date - not that Neil had realised. “What do you mean?”

“You’re hopeless.” Andrew shook his head. “I should have known better than to do this.”

“No, wait-” He dragged the stack of cones over, dropping them onto the wooden floorboards when he was stood in front of Andrew. He was much taller than the man when Andrew was slouched against the wall like this. “What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”

“You’re an idiot and a liar.” Andrew offered. “I’d like to run you over.”

“Right.” Neil said, trying not to smile. “Of course.”

“I’m asking you out to dinner.”

“Why?” Neil asked.

Andrew narrowed his eyes. “Are you that thick?”

“I didn’t think you were interested, after how much of a mess last time was.” Oh, fucking fuck, what the fuck was he doing?

“Surprise, surprise.” Andrew muttered, shouldering his way out from between Neil and the wall. “I’ll be at yours at 7. Don’t make me wait. Kevin!” He snapped. “We’re going, hurry up!”

“Come help me pack up, Robin.” Neil urged.

The two kids dragged their feet as they were forced in opposite directions. Neil saluted Andrew in farewell, and was flipped off in response. He laughed, but it hiccupped in his throat. Andrew Minyard had asked him out to dinner - a date. A real date, that he knew was a date. And he’d said yes.

Robin rubbed her eyes as she yawned when they’d finally packed up. “Are we going home now?”

“Yes, honey.” He ruffled her hair. “Do you want to go over to Allison’s tomorrow night?”

“But there isn’t an away game on Saturday?” She yawned again.

“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do in the office tomorrow night.” Neil lied. It didn’t sit well in his stomach, but he didn’t really want to explain to his daughter why he wanted the house free. He didn’t want to admit to himself why he wanted the house free. “And there will be games played on court, so you can’t practise. I’m sure Laila and Jeremy would love to have you over.”

“Okay.” She hiccuped, skipping ahead. 

Neil frantically pulled out his phone.

N: you have to look after robin tomorrow night sorry not sorry 

Allie: uh huh. 

N: and you need to help me figure out what to wear.

Allie: knew it! i believe in u, u sexy midget

N: um thanks? 

The whole arrangement between him and Allison worked swell: Her kids came over for a snack as Allison shuffled him into his bedroom. 

“Ass jeans.” She threw a plastic bag at him. “Trust me on this one.”

“How’d you know my size?” He demanded, mystified. When he pulled out the new boxers, he threw them at her with an indignant squawk. “The children are next door to us, Allison.”

“But they won’t be tonight.” She winked, clapping her hands delightedly. “Fuck, I love being a wing-woman.”

“I haven’t seen you in such a good mood - ever.” Neil accused. “How’s Renee.”

“Fuck off and get dressed, Neil.” 

Then she’d taken Robin off Neil’s hands ( “Dad, why are you dressed fancy to go to work?” “I’m just testing out some new clothes, honey. Enjoy yourself! Go to sleep early!” ) and Neil was left alone, waiting for Andrew on his front doorstep. The gun-metal grey of the car - a Maserati, as Andrew had previously insisted - was impossible to miss as it turned into Neil’s street. 

Andrew had his hand hanging limp out of his window as Neil clambered in. 

“Hey.” He said. 

“Hey yourself.” Andrew replied, shooting off. 

Second date basis, Neil thought to himself. Did the first one even count? Oh, fuck. He was so out of his depth.

“Called it.” Andrew said quietly, as the car pulled to a stop. Neil glanced over at him and Andrew slanted a bored look. “You were too relaxed last time, which made me suspect you hadn’t gotten the clue.”

Neil stuttered out an apology, to which Andrew lifted his chin with his finger. 

“Quiet.” He instructed. “Breathe.”

Neil did as he was told. When they got out of the car, he followed Andrew through a parking lot: It was crowded. When Neil saw the orange and white donned fans, he couldn’t stifle his smile. 

He was completely overdressed for an Exy game, but Andrew was also dressed to the nines, so it didn’t feel strange. From the boot of his car, Andrew gathered two Palmetto Fox-themed scarves for the both of them. 

“Tell anyone I willingles went to an Exy match, and I’ll kill you.” Andrew warned. 

Neil just couldn’t stop grinning. “Would anyone believe me?”

The stadium itself was huge: Neil wondered how different his life would have been, should he had participated in collegiate exy. Maybe he would have been able to make a name for himself. Maybe his father would have killed him. They had good seats, in the third row back from the sub benches of the Catamounts. It was an exceptionally tough game: Neil would have been upon the edge of his seat, but watching Andrew was equally as thrilling. He sat back, allowing himself to gaze upon the icy-blonde hair and hazels eyes that shone with each flash of a red goal light. 

“Staring.” Andrew commented. 

Neil hummed. It was lost under the cacophony of noise as the Foxes scored another point. Robin would have loved to go to a Foxes game, as would Kevin. It was both a shame and a relief that they weren’t here. It meant the flush across Neil’s cheeks wasn’t questioned, nor the way that Andrew risked a hand on Neil’s knee. 

After the game - Foxes, winning 7:6 - they ate food  stall dinner and walked lazily back to the car beside one another. The drive was just as relaxed, Andrew humming along with Neil’s technical analysis of the game. There were a lot of whole in which he had no idea what happened, too distracted by the man next to him. 

“I wonder if our kids think we still hate each other.”  Neil mused.

“I do hate you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “My mistake.”

The corner of Andrew’s mouth quirked. 

They arrived at Neil’s place, Andrew parking to escort Neil to his front door. Neio felt his fingers involuntarily clench into fists as they approached the entrance, knowing it was a crucial moment. 

His hand hesitated over the door handle. He turned to Andrew. “Would you like something to drink?”

Andrew rose a single eyebrow.  

“Tea, coffee, whisky,” Neil was blushing, but he stood his ground, stepping through the door and propping it open. “Come on. It’s getting cold outside.” 

Andrew walked across the premises and the door clicked shut behind him with a dulled sense of finality. Neil guided Andrew through to the kitchen, putting the kettle on for himself. 

As Andrew gestured towards the coffee machine, Neil’s phone began to ring in his back pocket. He grimaced apologetically as he put it to his ear, Andrew simply raising a single eyebrow, switching the coffee machine on. “Hello?”

“Neil, thank god.” Allison said, breathless. 

“Allison?” His hand stilled. “What is it?”

“Robin’s okay, but she’s been seriously sick. I’ve tried to keep her calm, but she’s super distressed. She needs you. It’s probably just some bug she’s caught, but it’s pretty bad.”

“Shit. Shit. I’m on my way.” He hung up and buried his head in his hands. “Christ alive.” He spins around with a derisive laugh. “I get you into my place, and for what?” 

Andrew rose up the other eyebrow. Neil flushed. 

“Robin’s sick. I need to go grab her.” 

Andrew took his keys from the kitchen bench. “I’ll drive you.”

“What? That’s -” He coughed. “You don’t have to.”

“I wouldn’t trust your car not to spontaneously combust if a fly landed on it.” Andrew said, truthfully. “Come on.”

“The life of single parenting.” Neil grumbled, the anticipation of the evening vanishing with the first words from Allison’s call. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Andrew was at his wits end with this case. It was not heart-warming, nor simplistic. And while he appreciated a challenge, his client had repeatedly created many issues that he would have to divert in order to succeed, and his client still treated him like an asshole, no matter the effort. Justice was a complicated, bitch of a thing. 

He got out of the shower, donning sweatpants and a t-shirt. It was evening: Kevin had gone out with Wymack again: This time, Wymack was well enough to fly over to LA to see the Trojans, and Kevin had been practically hopping all morning with excitement. His son’s over-enthusiasm hadn’t helped the headache of a case, either. 

He threw himself back onto the couch and pulled out his phone. 

Nei(diot)l: date #3, yes or no?? 

A: yes. when. 

N: uh. now? i kinda have chinese food and am at ur door. 

Andrew yanked the door open. Neil’s sweatpants hung deliciously low on his hips, the long sleeve covering his scarred torso and arms. In his arms were bags of food. Andrew stepped out of his way, but didn’t miss the way the hair on the back of Neil’s neck rose as Andrew brushed his fingertips across Neil’s lower back. 

They ate in comfortable silence on the couch, amongst papers and books.  Respectfully, Neil didn’t look. Instead, he asked. “Kev’s upstairs?”

“Away for the weekend.” 

Neil hummed. 

“Why are you here, Neil?”

He shrugged, stabbing into his chao mien. “I have a six-senth.” 

Andrew put his carton down onto the coffee table, uncaring if it ruined transcripts. He, realistically, shouldn’t want to want Neil. Not when work was stressful, and often hitting too close to home. But he wanted Neil. In every way that Neil would give him. He stood in front of the young man and took the chinese food from his grasp, chucking it alongside his own. 

“Robin?” Andrew checked. 

“Sleeping over with Allison’s children.” Neil murmured, gazing up at Andrew with undeserved awe. 

Andrew clambered onto the couch, a knee on either side of Neil’s hips. He grabbed Neil’s hands and pinned them to the couch cushions. 

“Can I kiss you: Yes or no?” 

“Yes.” Neil said. “Obviously.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He took Neil’s jaw into his hands. Even this close, Andrew was fearful to take the leap. Being a single parent had defined him for so long, it was almost incomprehensible to think of himself as anything else. Kevin and Robin ought to get used to each other. “You’re so fucking annoying.” 

“Should I take the food and go?” He suggested. 

Andrew kissed him quiet.

ta-daaa!

its sooooo messy but idgaf *shoves it at you* good luck lmao

[7livky]

Dionysus - Park Jimin

CHAPTER 6

Diona's POV

Tied up feelings. Does that mean anything to you? Do you know it when you close your eyes for a moment, look around again and lastly touch things to realize something? Do you know that feeling when you are dominated by something else, when you lose control?

Then you gulp and it pulls in your chest, your breath is briefly gone. It jams behind your eyes, you're unable to do anything, to say anything.

Has a voice ever touched your soul? No more than four words that came out of his mouth and yet I heard something in his tone of voice that was so fascinating and reassuring to hear that it had settled in my head.

A human, surrounded by an angelic aura, white little sparkles that did not stray from his body for a second as if they belonged to him only.

Scintillation. The glittering of the stars, the creation of flashes of light. A man who reflected the entire universe in his eyes?

His small nose was like drawn, with almost invisible freckles and a slight shimmer on the tip of his nose.

Such piquant features, such prominent cheekbones and jaw lines that you wanted to draw him here and now.

When a silver strand of hair fell on his forehead, tiny glitter particles flew around us, making him smile. As soon as his snow-white teeth appeared, my mouth also formed into a smile.

Two loud blast sounds in a row.

My hand on his chest trembled when I tried to take it away, but he wouldn't let me. It was really the beating of his heart. His ice-blue eyes were still focused on my small smile.

I glanced at the chandelier on the ceiling, which was swaying back and forth.

My hand now floated in front of his face before my index finger touched his lower lip. He closed his eyes and remained still like a statue. My nail brushed along his feathery lips, forming a heart shape.

Could something like that really be just a human being?

I took a deep breath, because I noticed that I was losing more and more control. But it was just a dream, so I could say whatever I wanted.

"Do we drink at midnight and kiss until our lips burn?"

He opened his eyes.

But this time we heard a ringing that came from afar. It sounded like a giant horn, indicating a signal. The sound was so frightening, it made me sick.

As if out of nowhere, there was suddenly a grape between his index finger and thumb, that he slowly brought to my mouth. Biting the grape, I felt his fingers touching my lips. My whole body tense up from the contact.

Why was his impact stronger than mine? Why did it feel like my skin was on fire the closer he got to me?

Then he slowly got up and without further ado he ran out of the room, towards the direction where this loud instrument came from.

I swallowed hard, the sweet taste arousing a desire for more.  I was completely alone and knew that I would wake up soon. I licked over my lips, they still tasted like the delicious fruit. Slowly I lay back on the bed and turned to my right. This was the moment when I first realized what was hidden behind the long curtains. No windows, no. It was the ocean.

-

"I ask for the last time! What the fuck did you put in my drink?!"

I grabbed him by the collar and looked into his big eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted up every second, not because he seemed amused, but..

"What? What are you smiling at now?" When he smirked, one corner of his mouth went higher than the other, his teeth looked even bigger in real life than in the pictures, he had not only two dimples, but four. I didn't want to admit it, but my heart was beating like a madman. He was fascinating.

"I'm just happy."

I let him go. "Oh, my God, what did you do to me while I was half dead?"

He suddenly bit his teeth. "If you knew BTS, you would know we're not such disgusting people. I never touched you once. Even if you accused me of something like that, I'd still like you to keep on painting."

I kept looking into Jungkok's eyes, but found no trace of hypocrisy. How could this angel lie?

"Okay, I get it. Just transfer the whole amount back" ,he lifted my bag and walked through the huge mansion. Opening the door, he looked at me sadly. I sighed loudly and took my things off him.

"See you tomorrow" I rolled my eyes before I got in the car and sod off.

There was a sudden pressure on my temples, which made me hiss. "Fuck" I whispered and looked in the rearview mirror before I stopped at the side of the road. An unbearable beeping in my ears started now. I shut my eyes, continuing to massage my temples.

He was staring at me. But this time with an incredibly fearful look that would make even a demon jealous. As if he was peering right into my soul. His eyes were darker than the night that gave me goose bumps.

"Get out of my head!" I hit the steering wheel and tried to breathe. I opened the compartment to my right so I could take my pills. I screamed with rage as all three fell from my trembling hand.

I was looking down at my leg when my phone suddenly vibrated.

Jong-suck my dick is calling.

"Hello."

"Diona you little whore, where have you been for a day?!"

A day?

"Ha ha, that was a good one."

But when I looked at the date, my eyes widened. I- I had been there for a.. a day?

I heard him taking a deep breath and puking it out, so I covered my ears. I was ready.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, ARE YOU STONED OR SOMETHING? DID YOU SMOKE? YOU'VE BEEN WITH GOD KNOWS WHO SINCE YESTERDAY! PAINTING A WALL, MY ASS, DON'T LIE. DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO GO THERE? NO. HAVE I BEEN ABLE TO REACH YOU? NO. DID I HAVE TO LIE TO YOUR PARENTS ABOUT YOU SLEEPING AT MY HOUSE? YES!"

I opened my eyes again as he gasped for breath. Here we go again.

"NOW COME TO MY PLACE, BECAUSE OF YOU I COULDN'T FUCK SOMEONE THAT NIGHT BECAUSE I WAS SO WORRIED."

I raised my eyebrows and.. well..

I just hung up.

-

"OW! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?" He rubbed himself in his most precious place. I pushed him aside and lay down on the grey couch in the living room.

"Now she yawns like a hyena?"

He ran up to me and started grabbing me everywhere. "Ew let go!"

"What have you been doing all night long that makes you so tired?!" He held my hands, which were trying to beat him, and analyzed my neck. Was he seriously looking for hickeys?

"Oh man, she had her first time, and I wasn't the one she had the pleasure with?" ,he sighed disappointed.

"Oh please, it would take too long for you to get yours up anyway."

He made his lips into a line.

"Oh, and by the way," I started taking my pills right after that.

He blinked for a second.

"-I saw Jungkook from BTS."

It didn't take long before he burst into laughter and looked at me as if I had lost my mind. "That was a good one."

I grinned, getting up and looking for something yummy in the fridge. "You don't believe me? Just come with me next time."

"Hmm" he nodded, "sure. Everyone wants to see JK, right?" He still laughed at me.

I sat down after I had prepared a delicious toast. But what was that between my legs?

JK's giant **** maybe?

And there she was again. Let me introduce you. My inner me, which spoke to me from time to time.

"Jongsuk."

"Yes?" he asked while playing with his cell phone.

"Open your mouth" I said sweetly, and he did. I stuffed the thong into his mouth, which I had found between the crack of the sofa.

He got up immediately and threw it at me. "Psychophath! I  told you!"

"Fuckboy. I told you."

After a while he had calmed down and got ready for tonight. I, on the other hand, was in a conversation with his brother, who was a therapist.

"Try to control the action in your dream. It' s called lucid dreaming. It sounds dreamy in the truest sense of the word, and it works."

I scratched my head. " But I already can. It feels too real... And that's what scares me so much. I can even absorb scents. And it looks like I've been dreaming for more than a day but I can't complain."

This time he was the one who scratched his head. He stared at his younger brother, who was coming out of his bedroom. "She needs at least fifteen sessions."

"Maaaaaan", I murmured and got up. "Are there any more of my clothes here?" Jong-suk nodded. "And shoes?" He nodded again.

I thanked my therapist by bending over. "It looks like I'll let it all out tonight."

He nodded understandingly, whereupon I started to get ready.

-

Author's POV

"She had stars in her eyes and poetry on her lips. Loving a woman like her will bring you to your knees.." ,he simply nodded as he spoke with such certainty.

"Sitting next to her was like taking a sip of eternity, the sun, the stars, the sky never tasted so good."

Jimin and Jungkook had their eyes on each other. Jungkook licked over his lips and finally nodded as he leaned back. A calming silence then set in. As if they were too busy with their thoughts.

Their attention suddenly shifted to the door. The person knocked exactly three times and only then did Jimin get up. With elegant steps, he walked there to open it. Jungkook watched his black hair shining in the light.

The person at the door lowered his head slightly to one side, "Come on, let's go."

-

"Shut the fuck up, please!" she hissed and tried to cover his mouth. " Shhhhh!"

Jongsuk managed to free himself from her small hands. "It's fucking Suga, oh my God!"

When they left Jongsuk's penthouse, Diona recognized the stunning purple sports car on the road with which she had a race.

She decided to follow the driver, but nobody could have imagined where they would end up and who he was.

Jongsuk drove further back and tried to disguise himself,  fortunately his car was black and therefore more inconspicuous than Diona's in the dark. Suga stepped aside, allowing you to see..

Was that..

Diona put her hand on her heart.

"I-is this really-"

Park Jimin?

All three of them got in the car when the others heard the sound of three doors slamming.

"He," she swallowed loudly, "looks completely different than in my dreams."

Jongsuk finished his cigarette and drove further into the forest before they were caught. "I don't want to sound weird, but as much as I love women and their pussies, those men over there are the hottest men that were ever born."

Diona's POV

The only thing I could say or do about this statement was to nod like a lunatic. "And that's only three of the seven members..."

We held our breath as they raced past us and seconds later we followed them. I played with the ends of my dress, trying not to die of a heart attack.

"I think I know where we're going." We exchanged glances. "They're going to the most luxurious club in Seoul."

"But what if they get attacked by dozens of fans there? Isn't that too dangerous?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if the club was owned by one of them so they could choose exactly who was allowed to get in and who wasn't."

He had a point.

"Wait a minute" I looked at him. " That means that we're not gonna get in. Look at us."

"Hey!" he said angrily as he tried not to lose track of them. "We look like Bonnie and Clyde."

I grunted like a pig. "More like Spongebob and Patrick, but okay."

"We're almost there" ,he ignored me.

As Jongsuk had already claimed, Suga drove in the direction of the back building and disappeared as if from nowhere. We, on the other hand, parked in the parking lot for the regular guests.

"Ready?" He checked me out with his perfect face.

"Let's go" I nodded.

"And don't forget to show your cleavage."

I was about to take off my red high heel and hit him with it. "What am I? A whore?"

"Yes," he giggled cute. "My little whore." The guard gave us a weird look when he heard that.

"Lee Jongsuk and Park Diona",I spoke in a deep voice, licking my red lips.

The bodyguard grabbed the plug on his ear and turned his back on us. After a few seconds, he bent over in front of my feet. "I'm sorry, of course you can come in."

Just as I was about to beg him to let us in, I stopped. What did he say?

"Just hurry up" ,Jongsuk whispered, pushing me past him.

A strong red light shone in my face, the walls, even the floor gleamed as if there were mirrors everywhere. Only after a few seconds did I realize that they were really mirrors. In the whole club. The bass vibrated under my feet, the red light changed to dark blue and left me speechlessly standing on the court. The sound of the music was another level, it sounded perfect. Everything was perfect.

"Come on, show these people how badass my best friend can dance!" Jongsuk yelled and slapped my ass. I laughed out loud and looked away from him while we stood at a table. The club was crowded, except for the lower area. If you looked up, you saw VIP seats, but they were still free.

At that very moment I heard a beat that sounded very familiar to me. I moved to the rhythm, I knew what was coming.

Usher, Usher, Usher

"Wooooooo!" Jongsuk yelled, trying to hit on me. I laughed louder and louder until a sudden cheer broke out. Not a single person who didn't clap, scream or jump around.

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

My eyes sought the path that all other eyes followed, because I wanted to know where they were looking.

Upstairs. Someone was actually standing there,

with his divine aura.

[nebris]

Last week, Charlie Kirk, 26-year-old spokesman for the deep-pocketed Republican youth group Turning Point USA, held an event called “Prove Me Wrong” at the University of Houston. Billed as a chance to watch Kirk “debate the merits of capitalism vs. Socialism” in his signature blustering style, it ended in chaos. A hostile throng materialized around the small table—adorned with a poster that said, “I’m pro-choice. You can pick your gun”—at which Kirk was sitting and chased him bodily from the area, shouting, “America first!”

It was the latest in a series of escalating disruptions of conservative events that amounted to a piecemeal showdown between the corporate wing of the Republican establishment and an insurgent faction of white nationalists, an outgrowth of the alt-right. The events underscored the perils engendered by the Trump-era Republican Party’s willingness to accede to the goals of white nationalism, even as it attempts to keep the ideology’s most strident proponents at a careful, corporate-friendly arm’s length.

The insurgent faction’s agenda had three major points: advocating for anti-Semitism; advancing the theory that white Americans are being “replaced” by immigrants, including legal ones; and asserting the necessity of explicit homophobia. It is led, tactically and spiritually, by a 21-year-old named Nicholas Fuentes, who was neither a particularly significant nor a particularly popular figure on the white nationalist right prior to the disruption campaign. He was a minor participant in the deadly Unite the Right rally at Charlottesville in 2017, dropped out of Boston University, and then launched a YouTube channel called “America First!” Although Fuentes is frequently described as a “Trump supporter,” the principal objection he and his faction have toward the Trump administration is its insufficient cruelty to nonwhites, and its perceived coziness with Jews. Fuentes’s strategy—sending minions to disrupt the Q&A sections of corporate-conservative events with overtly white nationalist questions—was effective, but did not require any significant cunning: Pointing out the hypocrisy of establishment conservatism in the age of Trump is a fantastically easy task, fruit hanging so low it brushes muck.

The evident success of Fuentes’s faction in humiliating and distressing mainstream conservative speakers engendered a slew of press coverage, which in turn emboldened the youthful white nationalists further. Last week, Donald Trump Jr. faced a humiliatingly abbreviated launch for his book, Triggered: How the Left Thrives on Hate and Wants to Silence Us, scampering off stage right a mere 20 minutes after his event began, as he was beset by demands for a Q&A—silenced by a MAGA-hatted crowd that thrives on hate. The neo-Nazi publication the Daily Stormer, which has aligned itself with Fuentes’s faction, revealed plans for the disruption campaign to continue throughout November and beset several events scheduled by the Young America's Foundation.

The subsequent scramble by Republicans to repudiate white nationalism has been a tragicomedy in Tweet form. Benny Johnson, fired from BuzzFeed and the Independent Journal Review for plagiarism and currently serving as chief creative officer of TPUSA, laid out a long thread establishing Fuentes’s history of public bigotry, from overt racism to “Unabashedly Sexist” (sic) commentary. Johnson ended with a passionate plea to fellow conservatives to “disavow hatred, racism, identity politics and open antisemitism.” And Texas Republican representative Dan Crenshaw, who was heckled by Fuentes’s acolytes no fewer than three times, took to Twitter to clarify that “conservatives are 100% different” than these “vehement racists, anti-semites & ethnic-nationalists.”

Yet both Johnson and Crenshaw are avid supporters of Trump and his policies. Johnson spent the following day live-tweeting the House impeachment inquiry, manically defending a president who has predicated his entire rule on racism, and who is credibly accused of multiple rapes; Crenshaw has advocated ending visa lotteries and policies that make it easier for immigrants’ family members to immigrate, and has advocated repeatedly for Trump’s signature border wall, a concrete symbol of xenophobia.

Trump’s own statements and policies are the strongest argument that his vision aligns with that of white nationalists. One wonders how, precisely, someone like Charlie Kirk could have answered a question posed by Fuentes in his channel: “Why does the president prefer immigrants from Norway vs. Haiti?”

While the litany of Trump’s acts cozying up to and encouraging a once-fringe white nationalist element is long, it’s worth considering the architect of the immigration policies that establishment Republicans like Dan Crenshaw champion. An ongoing series of articles by the Southern Poverty Law Center’s Michael E. Hayden, drawing on some 900 e-mails sent by Trump's senior policy adviser Stephen Miller to former Breitbart editor Katie McHugh, have laid out precisely the ideological affiliations of the administration’s immigration czar. From championing the Confederate flag to repeatedly linking to openly white nationalist sites like VDARE and American Renaissance, Miller stridently embraced the tenets of white supremacy; and like the Fuentes faction, he also advocated a complete cessation of legal immigration of any kind. “There should be no immigration for several years. Not just cut the number down from the current 1 million green cards per year. For assimilation purposes,” he wrote to McHugh.

Miller’s e-mails show a familiarity with—and advocacy of—the “great replacement” conspiracy theory, which posits a plot by elites to replace the white population of America and Europe with nonwhite immigrants. Miller stops short of embracing a crucial tenet of “great replacement” theory embraced by most of the white nationalist right: that this replacement is being orchestrated by Jews. (That precise theorem is what motivated the Pittsburgh synagogue shooter to murder eleven Jews almost exactly a year ago.) Perhaps this is because Miller is Jewish, a fact that the White House has belabored in its increasingly mendacious defenses of the staffer, going so far as to accuse the Southern Poverty Law Center of an anti-Semitic campaign.

But it is impossible to advocate for white nationalism, as Miller has throughout his career in politics, without simultaneously elevating anti-Semitism. For most white nationalists, anti-Semitism is a non-negotiable raison d’être for the movement, the unified field theory that ties a bigoted worldview together. In their minds, nonwhite people are too ignorant and barbaric to organize the kind of demographic coup the “great replacement” theory lays out; instead, they assert again and again, it has been orchestrated by cunning Jews, pulling the marionette strings of mass migration and advocating for interracial marriage. The sites, forums, and chats that advocate for an end to legal immigration—and that push the false theory that demographic change amounts to “white genocide”—are places that praise Hitler and traffic in the ugliest of anti-Semitic sentiments. This is why an administration awash in anti-immigrant sentiment, slashing rights for asylees and refugees, governed during the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting, the deadliest pogrom in American history. It is not a coincidence. It never was.

None of the Republican figures so quick to disavow Fuentes did the same for Miller; indeed, there has been a profound, impenetrable closing of the ranks around him on the right. The chief difference at play is that Miller advocates from the White House for the end of legal immigration, while the insurgent faction does so on messaging apps, and while lined up in the audience section at events, like plebes. It’s difficult to avoid the conclusion that the differences are not primarily ideological; principally, they are about an aversion to heckling.

The sudden, awkward repudiation of white nationalism by conservative ideologues subjected to its unruly minions may be comical, but it is a small part of the story of a national plague. Begrimed in the filth of racist invective and nativist sentiment, which groups like TPUSA have eagerly whipped up in their own right with a constant stream of culture-war content, the Republican establishment finds itself unable to ward off the forces they have unleashed. It’s akin to someone who starves a dog intentionally; lets it terrorize a neighborhood, maiming and wounding all who come close to it; and then reacts in horror and surprise when at last the wretched cur turns on them.

There are tens of thousands of children who have been separated from their families by Stephen Miller’s policies; there are dozens of dead, murdered in an El Paso Walmart and a Pittsburgh synagogue and a Charlottesville street and by inadequate medical care in migration facilities. Through these years, as ethnic minorities and Jews and feminists and trans people and gay people have sounded out the alarm bells, the mainstream GOP laughed. They turned a profit on “triggering the libs”; they called opposition to the tide of rising white nationalism “Trump Derangement Syndrome.” Only when the hound turned on them, its jaws red and insatiable, did they at last begin to cry out in alarm about the danger the rest of us have known for years.

Talia Lavin is a writer based in Brooklyn. Her first book, Culture Warlords, is forthcoming in 2020 from Hachette Books.

https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/why-white-nationalists-turning-trump-161612393.html

[mrclaudeknowsbest]

The Kids are Our Future

The Children are Our Future... so what does “The Baarn ... a ...Baby” issue say to them

Roll out the song cue…"The kids are our future, teach them well, and show them the way. Conflate with “Baby, baby it's a wild world, it's hard to get by without a smile”.

In my humble opinion (”IMHO”) the overall direction of society has followed a consistent historical trajectory of self-interest and hypocrisy. Improvement may not be demonstrable while recognizing improvements in intellect, knowledge base, or technology. Different folk will cherry-pick whatever period of mankind resonates with them, and their particular narrative. That can change easily to whatever is expedient at any time, situation, or audience.

So, what are the most important issues IMHO that today’s adults are leaving our next generations:

1. Climate Change, and its impact on economies, prosperity, population movements and unequal impacts on countries or continents.

2. Inequality in Society and growing disparities are certain to challenge the Western Democratic Model. The constant challenges from alternatives cannot be naively discounted, as appears the norm.

3. Expanding Debt, both public and private, and all its trailing issues. Yes, too many to detail at the moment (”ATM”).

4. Intangible expenses, such as pollution, climate change, and all changes in technology, social cohesion or perceptions of a good life. How they are measured, and how they are communicated to an economically unsophisticated populace. The merits of GNI over GDP is a meaningful starting point.

5. Whatever issues an observant dog, of sufficient mental bandwidth, can sniff out?

Now to “The Baarn…a…Baby issue” (”BaB”) as an aphorism, metaphor and parable (”AMP”) to today’s media beat up as a distraction, and competitor for limited public attention spans, when compared to my list of critical issues.  

For future reference, any AMP requires the background lyrics, soundtrack and visuals by AC/DC to their song ‘TNT’).

IMHO ABC program “Insiders” is the best current affairs offering ATM. The 18/02/18 episode devoted much time to BaB, so why?

Gerard H said words to the effect of - a furious statement by the PM initiated an equally emotional response by Barnaby Joyce (”B”). To the less involved, other side of the brain, thinkers such as GH “fury is best handled privately”. Wow, what does that mean to a dog? My perception is whatever you want it to mean. Any wide statement can be interpreted by anyone for whatever narrative they seek to perpetuate. So, surprise, politicians and media commentators from the left and right start bickering. Any subset of otherwise “emotionally intelligent” folk share many values of narcissism, cognitive dissonance, willful blindness, hypocrisy, hubris, self-interest for the greater good of the tribe ("my filters").  IMHO, Pollies are just pecking at the seeds as a usual course of conduct. I suggest a good lick to discern the pheromones and relevant neurotransmitters being released.  

The PM has a strong view on marriage. That may be limited due to his success at meeting his true soul mate. I often see Lucy and Malcolm walking, hand in hand, completely at ease with each other's company and on display for all to see. Half or more of the population should be in envy. The media have many examples of opposing examples such as Donald Trump and other partners. I refer to this President as Agent Orange (”AO”). Has he followed precedent and introduced some dog sense of values into The White House?    

I submit that the PM has limited experience of family breakdown, or Family Court of Australia ("FCA") matters. I describe this mental vacuum as no personal skin in the game. Accordingly, the PM should stay out of issues, such as BaB, that he is largely ignorant of. An empathetic dog can construe B’s statement and use of the emotive word “inept” in that context. Maybe it is partially true in the entire context of FCA issues that B is currently submerged by. This is not suitable material for political glibness, and I repeat a matter that the PM has no skin in the game. Strangely I have heaps of it. When the subject of divorce is raised in discussion with acquaintances, and lesser relationships, I mention my master's circumstances in this quagmire having a wife who is a more competent lawyer than him. It is unsurprising that the conversation mostly stopped, until a circuit breaker was introduced. That is an example of excessive skin in the game. Perhaps better and further particulars may be relevant in another blog.

The AMP of “oil and water” was raised to elucidate the entire context of many contradictions encompassing personal matters, or family issues, and politics. Agreement with the outstanding broad-brush AMP, yet where is the public interest test for any Government ("G") funded person or position? The timing of the introduction of “The New Code” comes into question and may be the Emperor’s New Clothes. It cannot apply to B, either retrospectively or due to the fact that the PM has limited ability to direct leadership decisions for its Nationals coalition partner. However, the timing was a barb that B, as a compromised individual experiencing family trauma, could not ignore. The lack of foresee-ability shown by the PM to this certainty is breathtaking and disappointing to my master. Furthermore, this distraction from real policy making for the public good was fodder for an opposition attempting to gain traction amid good economic and employment news.  

I submit that the decision for B to take a week off to consider his options was appropriate and necessary in the entire political and FCA context. His priority ATM should be to manage as best as possible the vexed issue of his children’s welfare and the future of his new union, including a yet to be born baby. FCA papers, and counselors, discuss the theory that divorce proceeding initiate various lengths of temporary psychoses in about 80% of applicants. Therefore, I submit that B has a good chance of being affected, especially when conflated with the extreme pressures of politics.

The optics of whether B should have accepted free rent from a mate is more political chaff. Need and greed, overlaid by timing and other distractions, are relevant issues for subjective navel gazing. The journalists with their usual premised questioning techniques have managed to obtain a narrative of different ‘facts’ from B and the friendly landlord. Wow, what a revelation? Seek, often and repeatedly enough, and you will find ‘gold’. Any dog knows that you have to sniff out the entire turf, just to cover the field of possibilities.

That luminary social commentator, Karl Stephanovic ("Karl"), raised doubts about the PM’s possible different treatment of B compared to previous Ministers. I suspect he may be a cat lover. Karl alleged that the PM knew of all manner of mischief, while taking advantage of all the investigative instruments of State. This was likely to have been, months before us mere mortals were informed by the ever-vigilant media. The argument raised by one hypocritical politician, or media commentator, against other equally morally compromised members is that you must be consistent. I submit that Karl has recently been in a similar situation to B, and therefore in my doggy notion of fairness has standing to comment. The issue is likely to have tickled his nerve on the hypocrisy exhibited by the PM and many other journalists and Pollies.  

In summary, I suggest that asking a Pollie to be consistent is akin to asking a flossy such as Kim K to justify engaging in a sexual act on social media for added exposure. OK, perhaps a mental stretch, yet still an intellectual departure for a nuanced PM. Are the Nationals actually unable to remove a leader to the standards expected of effective politicians? The optics of going into a by-election in a Conservative jurisdiction with a leader who has left his family and is now living rent free with his pregnant former staffer requires some review by the local voters. It is not a loyalty to the National Party issue, or the hidden elephant of the G’s tenuously hold on power, yet a question of political judgement. These may be watershed moments when a 24/7 social media enabled electorate require greater transparency from the PM for appropriate information to determine his ability to perform the job.

Legislating personal liaisons of any nature between consenting adults, including the specter of a moral police on a Monotheist Iranian or Saudi model, should appropriately raise the hackles of most Western Libertarians. The opportunities for abuse, conflicts of interest, and by whom are too obvious to require review. However, the matter of moving a well-paid position that already existed in the Nations party office to that of senior ministers is well within the public interest test. Note, not a created position as touted by unsympathetic media outlets, yet the variation to salaries is also relevant. Exposing hypocrisy may be embarrassing to both the accuser and accused. The legal analogy in Equity is that if you seek relief, then you must approach with clean hands.  

Subjective review, and Key Performance Indicators (”KPI”), for which job are merely far too salacious matters for a dog. Geoff asked me if a previous standard existed regarding the issue of moving jobs to shield B or others from political harm? My assessment was a conceded pass to a vague and subjective concept, requiring a tasty bone to mull over the marrow. The issue of a possible breach of existing Ministerial Conduct wrt informing the PM or others is worthy of greater scrutiny. The fact that B was not an active Minister at the time of job movements, moving into free accommodation or when relevant persons should be fully informed has some traction. No journalist to my knowledge has raised the issue of relevant timing. Requirements for a possible breach of conduct by B resurfaced immediately after a position of trust was engaged, and more so, if re-engaged. The reasonable person test kicks in, with a greater expectation due to the previous experience. It is easier to sniff a butt when the tail is raised.  

The new lady journalist to the Insiders panel, Annika S raised further hypocrisy when cherry-picking B’s words on the campaign trails. Specifically, B advising folk to move to the country to obtain cheaper rent was a zinger of Bill Short- of- Integrity optics. Perhaps a well-paid Government Minister could afford to pay a friend a sensible rent, even if he offers otherwise. Conflicting recollections of negotiations, invitations to treat, leading to oral contractual relations and past conversations are emerging. I confess to being a cynical person in relation to the conduct of all business-folk, especially regarding tax minimization. Therefore, should some cunning person or the ATO sniff out if the ‘landlord’ providing free rent to B was negatively gearing this particular complex, or his wider property portfolio, within his tax affairs?

The observation recalling the 2016 election tussle with Tony Windsor was a true political gem or nauseating to a right-minded person or their dog. The “running off with Julia barb” was regurgitated. The salacious suggestion that Tony was engaging in an illicit extra marital affair with a former PM was outside The Pale. Yes, it offended most of my value set and alerted all my sensory filters. Maybe, B's canine pals can provide some relevant insights?

The vexed issue of the scarce resource of water and conflating such with the performance of the (Federal) Murray Darling Water Authority and other State entities was salient and relevant political inquiry. IMHO, this is the really meaty issue that B should be answering in regard to a waste of taxpayers' funds. Geoff assures me that the quantum of money and political machinations far exceed the tantalizing and salacious content of BaB. When he asked me if we could chase this simmering saga into another blog, I merely opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue to taste the air, and wagged my tail in approval.

Mike Bower’s photo zooming in on B, with other Pollies out of focus was potentiated by a musical option. The cartoon of pigs covered in crap was identified by Mark Knight as worthy - of a culinary award IMHO.

[thedeadshotnetwork]

Spike Lee's Gentrification Problem Lee's role in gentrification is complicated, despite his vociferous criticism of the phenomenon, because in some ways he's responsible for the Brooklyn of today. A woman and child walk down a street in the Fort Greene neighborhood where the director and artist Spike Lee once lived on February 27th, 2014, in the Brooklyn borough of New York City. Spike Lee's new Netflix series She's Gotta Have It is an update of his eponymous 1986 movie , a portrayal of a black "sex-positive, polyamorous pansexual" woman named Nola Darling who's trying to find a safe space for her sexual and artistic freedoms in Brooklyn. In the movie original, her efforts are hampered by the three men she's dating, and a woman she's curious about dating. They each treat Darling like their own personal merchandise and insist on trying to fix what they see as sexually wayward ways. In the Netflix special, Darling's freedoms are further depressed by a new antagonist: gentrification. Darling's white neighbors call the police and hold neighborhood meetings to report noise, loitering, funky smells, graffiti, and other perceived nuisances in their neighborhood. Every episode opens with a shot of a real estate sign that displays the obscenely high housing rental costs in Brooklyn. Gentrification was not an issue in the original SGHI , but it's a major concern for Lee, and it's worth exploring why—and the role Lee plays in making Brooklyn what it is today. Brooklyn neighborhoods like Fort Greene and Bedford-Stuyvesant were Lee's primary canvases back in the 1980s and '90s. His art was heavily concerned with black life on black terms in Black Brooklyn . Way before television shows like Atlanta and Insecure and the movie Moonlight were able to get away with it, Lee was creating urban landscapes that were completely devoid of non-black characters, as seen in his early movies Joe's Bed-Stuy Barbershop , School Daze, and the original SGHI . Lee's New York City was as black as Woody Allen's was white. It wasn't until Lee's seminal 1989 film Do the Right Thing that he began teasing the menace of the invasion of white people into Black Brooklyn. When the white character Clifton bumps into Buggin' Out (a young Giancarlo Esposito) scuffing his Jordans in the process, Buggin' Out berates Clifton and questions his right to live in the neighborhood. Buggin' Out is as much offended by the fact that Clifton doesn't excuse himself for bumping into him as he is hurt about his now besmirched white Nikes. Clifton's assertion that he was "born in Brooklyn" and hence deserved to throw his weight around is what leads Buggin' Out's crew to throw up their hands in that classic "Awwww!!!" cry that is now a scene of legend. Lee clones this scene in the new She's Gotta Have It , using a similar setting, at the base of the steps of a Brooklyn brownstone that's owned by Bianca, a white character who over-polices her neighborhood problems. Papo Da Mayor, a Latino character who claims the streets as his home, is aggravating Bianca by sitting on her steps. She's further perturbed when she sees a painted green "G" with the "anti-" line through it on her staircase, and she accuses Papo of doing it. The police appear on the scene as Nola Darling and Papo's fellow community members gather to defend him. Bianca recognizes the tag as an anti-gentrification sign, which she says is tantamount to reverse racism—cue everyone throwing up their hands crying "Awww!!!" The gentrification problem has escalated in the time between Do the Right Thing and the new She's Gotta Have It . In Do the Right Thing , the harm the white gentrifier caused was negligible—a mark on Buggin' Out's sneakers that he was later able to brush off. The harm caused by the white gentrifier in the new SGHI is much more consequential: Bianca is not only able to summon the police, but she has Papo and Nola Darling arrested. The episode was titled without subtlety: "#ChangeGonCome (GENTRIFICATION)." For Lee, this is the logical climb of gentrification—first it's just a mere slight of black folks in the neighborhood; eventually it's the removal of black folks from the neighborhood. It's an escalation that Lee has documented in various forms in some of his movies through the years, from his 1991 film Jungle Fever , which confronted the real physical dangers of racial integration in New York, to his 2012 film Red Hook Summer , where his feelings on gentrification turned from angst to pure rancor. In the new SGHI , Lee's Brooklyn is still mostly black , and he still has black characters operating on black terms, but whiteness has become part of the stew. A new girlfriend has been added to Darling's squadron, Rachel, who is white, and who was not in the original movie. Also, Darling and her squad are constantly under the surveillance of white Brooklynites as they go shopping, brunching, and drinking. It's the first Spike Lee joint where black people look out of place in Brooklyn in some scenes. In 2017, white people are less escapable for black Brooklynites. (The Living Single reboot will likely have to deal with this as well .) It's a tad complicated, however, indulging Lee's case against gentrification. He has been publicly challenged on the fact that his own living and business arrangements in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, have drawn upscale developers, renters, and homeowners to the neighborhood, helping make it unaffordable. When the scholar Marc Lamont Hill questioned him about this after Lee's infamous 2014 diatribe against gentrification at Pratt Institute, Lee was more defensive than clarifying. The 2017 book Gentrifier , written by Hill, John Joe Schlichtman, and Jason Patch takes a swing: Spike Lee is a "native" who—like many residents—is encouraging the gentrification that he dislikes. Furthermore, he is a person of great wealth whose residential decisions serve to displace people—just as the residential decisions of gentrifiers with much less income than Lee also serve to displace people. Our purpose here is not to call out insincerity. Lee's contradictions are not the result of a personal hypocrisy—and if they are, they are no worse than our own. We highlight such fragile contradictions to question our current understanding. I asked Lee about these charges, and how they play into his approach of the topic in SGHI . His response was not illuminating: Spike Lee Is The Reason Why Fort Greene Is Gentrified? Get Da Fuck Outta Here With Da Bullshit. There Had To Be White Flight First For Gentrification To Happen. FACT. I Wrote A Scene (Way Back In 1988) About Gentrification In DO THE RIGHT THING Which Featured The Actor JOHN SAVAGE. FACT. So Your Questions/Narrative Are WACK!!!! Lee was indeed prophetic, as he boasted in his reply, about gentrification by writing about it in 1988. However, the fact that Do the Right Thin g and his 40 Acres and a Mule company made Fort Greene a popular destination for wealthier residents may have inadvertently made that a self-fulfilling prophecy. Lee is also correct that white flight is a more suitable pretext for the gentrification problem. Lee is part of a vanguard of black artists and professionals who helped buy and fix up properties throughout Fort Greene after white residents abandoned it. He helped fortify Fort Greene so he's earned the right to speak out for it. But it was that exact urban-renewable energy that made it attractive to the children of white flight, who began moving back to neighborhoods like Fort Greene , interrupting the beautiful Black Brooklyn canvas that Lee was so in love with. He needn't be ashamed or disown that. He only needs to keep working on that canvas, reminding people why Black Brooklyn is so special, as he continues to do with She's Gotta Have It , and keep doing his neighborhood justice. This story originally appeared on CityLab , an editorial partner site. Subscribe to CityLab's newsletters and follow CityLab on Facebook and Twitter . December 6, 2017 at 04:43AM