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masterofd1saster · 6 months

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CJ current events 7dec23

I know what you're doing

I see it all too clear - Duncan Shiek

Colorado investigates “unprecedented” scheme by drivers paid to transport Medicaid patients hundreds of miles a day

Registered nurse Michelle Papa hands out cups of methadone to patients at the Denver Health methadone clinic on Wednesday, Jan. 31, 2018. (AAron Ontiveroz, The Denver Post)

The patients flocked to metro Denver methadone clinics in mid to late summer, five or six to a car. Most were users of illicit opioids, including fentanyl. Many were homeless. And all were from Pueblo or other parts of southern Colorado, driven up Interstate 25 by independent transportation contractors who suddenly had flooded the state’s Medicaid system. As clinics scrambled to process the patients, some told The Denver Post that they thought it was odd so many were coming from outside of metro Denver — especially while clinics were open and waiting in southern Colorado. Providers at the methadone facilities, which are tightly regulated and highly stigmatized, made note of the vehicles dropping off these new patients: new SUVs with temporary tags, driven by men who often spoke accented English and who all had enrolled in a lucrative program that paid them to drive patients to the doctor. State officials now believe the drivers were part of a coordinated Medicaid scheme that exploited the most vulnerable Coloradans and the medical system designed to keep them healthy. Seth Klamann reports.

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Related?

Rep. Claude Pepper of Florida held a hearing in September 1987 to investigate the abuse of senior citizens placed into court-ordered guardianship. “It is, in one short sentence,” he said during his opening statement , “the most punitive civil penalty that can be levied against an American citizen, with the exception, of course, of the death penalty.” Pepper, then 87, was outraged at what the so-called protective system had morphed into. Judges got petitions asking that they assign a guardian to a targeted senior who was deemed unable to care for themselves. In a secret court session, the target was promptly declared an “incapacitated ward,” although frequently no medical evidence of infirmity was presented. The ward’s money and property were immediately confiscated and put under the control of a court-appointed stranger — the guardian.*** After eight years of investigating and writing about abusive guardianship cases , I can report that abuses still happen today, but on a much larger scale. Nearly everyone has heard of the Britney Spears conservatorship which lasted nearly 14 years, but the public doesn’t realize there are an estimated 2 million Americans currently living under this court control. The precise figure is unknown because no entity keeps track of guardianship cases, despite numerous Government Accountability Office reports outlining the criminal abuses taking place and the urgent need for a centralized database to understand the breadth of the problem. Some guardianships are certainly necessary, and many work out well, especially if a loving family member is named as guardian. Many professional guardians are truly dedicated and compassionate, but too many are not. In recent years, judges have routinely ignored family members and appointed stranger guardians who can charge the targeted person up to $600 an hour. The caregivers they hire to help further drain the ward’s bank account. Since state courts confiscate ward’s estates worth a combined $50 billion every single year, is it any wonder the unscrupulous are attracted to work within the system?*** https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/restoring-america/fairness-justice/guardianship-a-50-billion-magnet-for-predators

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Babylon Bee -

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The good news is your Mustang beat the Vette as it should.

*** Jacob Steven Michael Carmack, 23, of Ocala, was identified as the driver of a Ford Mustang involved in the street-racing incident on Nov. 18 in Marion County, the Florida Highway Patrol said in a news release. FOX35 Orlando reported that Carmack is employed as a correctional officer with CoreCivic in Citrus County. The silver Mustang and white Corvette were street racing around 8:30 a.m. on State Highway 200 when the Corvette struck a Toyota Prius, careened off the road and slammed into a power pole and tree. First responders arrived to find the Corvette ripped "in pieces," Marion County Fire Rescue said at the time.*** https://www.foxnews.com/us/correctional-worker-arrested-street-racing-crash-injured-corvette-driver-ripped-car-apart

The bad new is you're going to the jail where you work.

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Predictable

***"Not enough change has happened since the 2020 Uprising," [Michael Latt] wrote in June 2022. "We’ll continue to fight and stand up against police violence and White supremacy until true justice is real in this country."*** Latt's website shows him pictured alongside public figures including the rapper and actor Common, Georgia progressive Stacey Abrams and U.S. Reps. Ilhan Omar, D-Minnesota, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, D-N.Y. Latt comes from a well-connected Hollywood family. [His mom, Michelle] Satter is a founding director at the Sundance Institute; Latt's father, David Latt, is a movie producer; and Latt's brother is the head of talent at CAA, according to Deadline.*** https://www.foxnews.com/us/hollywood-social-justice-warrior-killed-by-homeless-woman-own-home

"36-year-old Jameelah Elena Michl allegedly broke into his home and allegedly shot him in the head" on Mon, 27nov23.

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Really?

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Babylon Bee

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Payback is a uh.....

George Santos

@MrSantosNY

Monday I will be filling an official complaint with the Office of congressional Ethics against

@NMalliotakis

regarding her questionable stock trading since joining the Ways and Means committee this Congress. Before joining the committee the congresswoman didn’t have an active trading habit or a high volume stake. The question is, what set of information is she trading with?

11:48 PM · Dec 1, 2023

2.8M Views

We have Pub.L. 112–105, 126 Stat. 291, ‘‘Stop Trading on Congressional Knowledge Act of 2012’’ or the ‘‘STOCK Act’’ https://www.govinfo.gov/content/pkg/PLAW-112publ105/pdf/PLAW-112publ105.pdf

Doesn't apply to family members

15 USC Ch. 2B.

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Philly says no face, no case

Wearing a shiesty -- a.k.a. ski mask or balaclava -- in certain public areas throughout Philadelphia will now be a finable offense. On Thursday, among a number of bills, Philadelphia's City Council approved legislation to ban the wearing of ski masks in places such as schools, day cares, rec centers, parks, inside city-owned buildings and on public transportation. The bill passed with a vote of 13 to 2. Those who violate the new ban will face a $250 fine. And, those who wear one during the commission of a crime will be hit with a $2,000 fee -- on top of any other legal ramifications following the act. The move comes after SEPTA announced a similar ban on public transit.*** In supporting the ban, Councilman Anthony Phillips of the city's 9th councilmanic district, said the bill would return "both power and safety to the people" including thousands who were not in attendance at the day's hearing. "It aims to create a safer, more transparent and loving community," Phillips argued. At large councilmember Isaiah Thomas said that he supported the bill as a way to help law enforcement officials identify those who engage in criminal activity "I'm all for trends and things that are cool for young people. Very supportive of that stuff," he said. "But, what am I supposed to say to a parent when we leave a basketball game and harm is done to a child and there's no way to tell who did that harm or why that harm was done? "Young people, you got to take them jawns off," Thomas said, punctuating his comments. "Seriously."*** Councilwoman Jamie Gauthier of the city's 3rd councilmanic district, voted against the bill as did Councilmember at large Kendra Brooks. Gauthier said that she couldn't support a bill that could further marginalize and criminalize young men throughout the city. Instead, she called for more support for young people. "It's incumbent upon us as a city to deliver that support and to prioritize that over making enforcement harsher on young Black men in our city in ways that might not even be Constitutional," she said.***

https://www.nbcphiladelphia.com/news/local/philadelphia-city-council-bans-wearing-ski-masks-in-public/3709560/

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A snitch did it? Perfect....

Federal prosecutors announced Friday attempted murder charges against an Arizona inmate and ex-FBI informant, a week after ex-Minneapolis cop Derek Chauvin was stabbed 22 times inside a library at the Tucson penitentiary where they are both inmates. John Turscak, 52, is also facing multiple assault charges and inflicting serious bodily injury with an "improvised knife" around 12:30 p.m. on Black Friday – a day the suspect allegedly told investigators he picked to symbolize the "Black Lives Matter" movement, which spurred months of protests around the country in connection with the death of George Floyd – who Chauvin was convicted of killing. Federal corrections officers intervened "immediately" according to court filings, dousing Turscak with pepper spray. He allegedly told the guards he would have killed Chauvin if guards hadn't reacted so fast. When he waived his Miranda rights, he allegedly told the FBI about the Black Friday symbolism and said he'd planned the attack for a month.***

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Fentanyl and weed?

CARMEL, Maine—An astronomical electricity bill was the first tipoff that something unusual was going on at a former chicken farm in this town of 3,000 people off Interstate 95. A Massachusetts-registered construction company had bought the 5.5-acre property in 2021. But instead of construction equipment moving in, a new power pole sprang up. Electricity use jumped to nearly $7,000 in December 2022 from $600 a month a year earlier. In June, after neighbor complaints, the Penobscot County Sheriff's Office said it carried out a search warrant of the property, seizing some 3,400 marijuana plants and 111 pounds of processed marijuana. The state said it was prosecuting two Chinese nationals and two naturalized U.S. citizens of Chinese origin on charges including illegal cultivation and trafficking of marijuana. State and local officials identified the Carmel property as one of many unlicensed marijuana-growing operations throughout Maine that are run by Chinese networks. According to court documents, one of the defendants in the case told police that from Exit 130 to Exit 244 on I-95, a stretch of more than 100 miles, "all the Chinese people are growing marijuana."*** Oklahoma has shut down nearly 1,000 marijuana farms since late 2020, with about 80% to 90% of them linked to Chinese organized crime rings, said Mark Woodward, a spokesman for the Oklahoma Bureau of Narcotics. "It's an open all-cash business that requires large land purchases," he said.*** Chinese-operated marijuana farms often rely heavily on Chinese immigrants working under conditions indicative of human trafficking and forced labor, said Aaron Halegua, a lawyer representing Chinese workers who say they have been exploited in the cannabis industry. In New Mexico, state prosecutors are investigating a licensed marijuana farm for alleged wage theft and human trafficking, according to workers who say they are cooperating with the probe. One worker, who said he fled China in March after a crackdown on the underground church he was a member of, said he reached the U.S. after a treacherous journey through Central America and first found a restaurant job in New York City. When a job-placement agency promised him $150 a day for a job making herbal medicine in New Mexico, he paid more than $600 for a flight to Albuquerque in early August.***

Qi, L. (2023, Nov 30). How Chinese Marijuana Operations Cropped Up in Small-Town America; From New Mexico to Maine, Chinese networks cash in on cannabis legalization. Wall Street Journal

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Quick - arrest the law abiding homeowner!

A Granada Hills homeowner shot and killed an attempted home invasion burglar early Saturday morning and authorities believe another suspect who fled the scene was also possibly shot. Los Angeles Police Department officers responded around 5 a.m. to a "hot prowler" call in the 11400 block of Swinton Avenue near Rinaldi Avenue and found the suspect dead inside the home. During a Saturday morning news conference, LAPD Valley Bureau Deputy Chief Alan Hamilton said preliminary investigations show that a suspect who was armed with a weapon confronted the homeowner and that's when the shooting happened. "During that burglary, multiple rounds were fired by the homeowner and the homeowner struck one of the burglary suspects," said Hamilton. The suspect suffered multiple gunshot wounds and was pronounced dead at the scene. Investigators say he was in possession of the victim's property at the time of the shooting. *** On Monday, authorities identified the suspect whom was shot by the homeowner as 20-year-old Inglewood man Abednego Adre. At the time of the news conference, Hamilton said all three family members were at the Devonshire Station as the homeowner who shot the burglar underwent questioning. A neighbor spoke about the incident and said he was not surprised the shooting happened because burglaries occur daily in the neighborhood. *** https://www.cbsnews.com/losangeles/news/granada-hills-homeowner-shoots-and-kills-attempted-home-invasion-burglar/

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Why don't you go freakin' live there?

A former senior U.S. diplomat who served in U.S. embassies across Latin America was accused of spying for Cuba's intelligence service for decades in one of the highest-reaching and longest-lasting security breaches of the U.S. government, according to a criminal complaint unsealed Monday. Victor Manuel Rocha, a former U.S. ambassador to Bolivia, was arrested by the Federal Bureau of Investigation on Friday. The unsealed complaint said that the 73-year-old Rocha had worked for Cuba as a covert agent since at least the early 1980s until now. "Rocha secretly supported the Republic of Cuba and its clandestine intelligence-gathering mission against the United States by serving as a covert agent of Cuba's intelligence services," the complaint said. To do so, Rocha provided false information to the U.S. and traveled outside the country to meet with Cuban undercover agents, according to the complaint. At a court hearing in Miami on Monday, Rocha was dressed in a tan jumpsuit. A lawyer for him didn't immediately respond to requests for comment Former diplomats said this likely to be the worst breach by Cuban intelligence of the U.S. government, surpassing that of Ana Belén Montes, a senior Cuba analyst at the Defense Intelligence Agency who pleaded guilty to spying for Cuba in 2002. She was released from prison in 2023. "This is ten times worse. It was a great coup for the Cubans," said John Feeley, a former U.S. ambassador to Panama. He said Rocha was his mentor when he entered the foreign service. "He was the chargé d'affaires in the Cuban mission with access and security clearance to everything."*** Throughout the meetings Rocha referred to the U.S. as "the enemy." He praised Fidel Castro as the "comandante" and referred to his contacts in Cuban intelligence as his "compañeros," according to the complaint.

de Córdoba, J. (2023, Dec 04). U.S. Ex-Ambassador Charged as Secret Agent for Cuba; Victor Manuel Rocha, who served in U.S. embassies across Latin America, is accused of spying for Havana's secret intelligence service for decades. Wall Street Journal (Online)

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House explodes in Arlington, VA 4dec23. Occupant had fired flares at neighbors. Police attempted to execute search warrant.

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But those hats were really cool, so it's ok.

A Macy’s security guard was killed and another wounded in a double-stabbing by a man who allegedly tried to steal multiple hats from the Philadelphia department store Monday morning, authorities said. The guard was fatally knifed about 15 minutes after unarmed security prevented the suspected killer from stealing the merchandise around 10:45 a.m., according to Philadelphia police. The suspect was allowed to leave following his attempted theft but returned to “immediately” attack one of the guards before redirecting his violent rage toward a second guard.*** Both guards were rushed to Jefferson Hospital. A 30-year-old guard was stabbed in the neck and pronounced dead there. A 23-year-old guard was stabbed in the face and arm. He was recovering Monday night.*** https://nypost.com/2023/12/04/news/2-macys-security-guards-stabbed-1-fatally-by-man-trying-to-steal-hats/

***thurs

BabylonBee

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A 34-year-old man was identified Wednesday morning as the suspect in a central Texas shooting rampage that unfolded over eight hours on Tuesday in two large cities and left six people dead and several others injured, including two police officers, authorities said. Austin police investigators "strongly believe" the suspect, Shane James, is connected to the violent string of incidents and was charged with capital murder, authorities said, adding that more charges were pending. Interim Police Chief Robin Henderson said the chain of events occurred at four different locations in the state capital on Tuesday and one near San Antonio. She said the deadly crime spree began Tuesday morning with the shooting of an Austin Independent School District police officer near Northeast Early College High School, prompting a lockdown of the school.

Austin PD

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Other officers chased the suspect who crashed at an intersection and was taken into custody, Henderson said. James was booked at the Travis County Jail on a capital murder charge and an outstanding assault with injury family violence warrant, according to Henderson. Following James' arrest, Austin police contacted the Bexar County Sheriff's Office and informed them that the suspect had a connection to a residence near San Antonio, which is about 80 miles southwest of Austin, said Bexar County Sheriff Javier Salazar. Salazar said deputies sent to the house to do a welfare check on the occupants found a "grisly" scene and the bodies of two the victims, a man and a woman, both believed to be in their 40s or 50s, with fatal gunshot wounds and "wedged inside very small room." Salazar said James' link to the two victims remains under investigation. Salazar said investigators believe the killings near San Antonio happened before the suspect went to Austin to continue his alleged killing rampage.*** https://abcnews.go.com/US/suspect-arrested-after-shootings-austin-san-antonio-leave/story?id=105412955

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Guts

Presidential contender Robert F. Kennedy Jr. admitted Tuesday he flew on late pedophile Jeffrey Epstein’s private jet twice, not just once as he previously claimed — and that his then-wife had a “relationship” with madam Ghislaine Maxwell.*** On Tuesday night, Kennedy told Watters that the public should have a complete accounting of Epstein’s social and political connections, as outlined in his “little black book” of names and phone numbers of the rich, famous and powerful. “I agree with you that all of this information should be released, and we should get real answers on what happened to Jeffrey Epstein and any of the high-level political people that he was involved with, all of that should be open to the public,” he said. “It should absolutely be transparent, and I don’t see why any of those records would have any redactions in them,” he said. “Why would we be hiding that from the American public?”*** https://nypost.com/2023/12/06/news/rfk-jr-admits-he-flew-on-jeffrey-epsteins-jet-twice/

You don't think it has anything to do with money, do you?

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Untreated mental illness is not our friend

The Virginia man presumed to have been killed when his house exploded while cops tried to serve a search warrant had posted rambling conspiracy theories — and filed frivolous lawsuits, including one accusing his “witch” ex-wife of committing him “against his will” in New York. James Yoo, 56, fired a “flare-type gun” from inside his Arlington home into the neighborhood more than 30 times at about 4:45 p.m. Monday, local Police Chief Andy Penn said. When police tried to execute a search warrant and breached his door, Yoo fired several gunshots, Penn said.*** He publicly aired grievances against many people in his life, including posting paranoid rants about his neighbors and a former co-worker on his now-disabled LinkedIn account. He spread rambling and at times incoherent conspiracy theories against government officials, law enforcement, media outlets and his neighbors, whom he accused of being spies and collecting his personal information for unspecified handlers, CNN reported.*** Yoo also reportedly referred to his wife as a “witch” and spewed anti-US slogans, including “F— America,” and quoted Noam Chomsky, the famed linguist who is a leading critic of American foreign policy and US involvement in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.*** https://nypost.com/2023/12/06/news/virginia-man-presumed-dead-in-house-blast-spewed-conspiracy-theories-unleashed-rants/

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You'll be shocked to learn he has a record.

The perverted son of a California Airbnb host was sentenced last week to more than three years in a federal lockup after he secretly filmed a guest getting out of the shower and later threatened to share part of the footage with her loved ones, prosecutors said. The prison sentence was handed down to Kevin James Strutz, 52, on Nov. 27 after he pleaded guilty to trying to blackmail the victim into sending him a sexually explicit video during a twisted harassment campaign over social media. Strutz and the woman both lived at Strutz’s mother’s house in the city of Ceres, where the victim rented out a room in February 2020, the US Attorney’s Office for the Eastern District of California said. The victim, a traveling occupational therapist, abruptly took off the same month when she spotted a creepy drafted message on a smartphone left in a shared bathroom, prosecutors said.*** Strutz continued to contact the victim through multiple Facebook accounts, including one that had a false identity. He then threatened to send nude pics of the woman to all of her contacts and attached an image of her naked from the waist up if she didn’t send him a video of her touching herself, the complaint states. In an interview with the FBI, Strutz admitted to filming the woman using a cell phone in a basket, but claimed he wasn’t going to send it to anyone else, the complaint states.*** Strutz had a history of arrests dating back to 1991 and as recently as 2018, the feds said. Among the charges were stalking, violating court orders to prevent domestic violence, burglary, robbery and assault with a deadly weapon. https://nypost.com/2023/12/05/news/kevin-strutz-sentenced-to-prison-after-filming-airbnb-guest/

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UNLV shooting - 3 dead, prof shooter

CNN — The gunman in a Wednesday mass shooting on the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, campus that left three dead and a fourth wounded is a 67-year-old career college professor with connections to colleges in Georgia and North Carolina, a law enforcement source told CNN, but it’s unknown what connection he had with the school where the shooting took place. At a Wednesday evening news conference, Las Vegas Metro Sheriff Kevin McMahill said the identity of the shooter, who is dead, will not be released until his family has been notified.*** https://www.cnn.com/2023/12/06/us/university-of-nevada-las-vegas-campus-shooting/index.html +++

Anthony Polito was identified as the 67-year-old college professor and active shooting suspect who opened fire at the University of Nevada-Las Vegas campus. The suspect is deceased, Las Vegas Metropolitan police wrote. Polito was first named by ABC News, citing sources. Authorities have not formally named him. ABC7 reported that he lived in Henderson, Nevada, and that authorities were scouring his writings, which included a fascination with the Zodiac serial killer. On a website using the name Tony Polito, the suspect claimed to have solved the Zodiac killer’s famous cipher, naming a well-known suspect. He also wrote that he had “lived in Georgia, Iowa, Nevada, New York, North Carolina, Virginia and Wyoming. In my travels, I especially enjoyed Jackson Hole, The Outer Banks, Key West … and, of course, Durham.” His strongest academic ties appear to have been in North Carolina. In a section on his website about cracking various mysteries, he posted an article he wrote called, “What Really Happened to Malaysia Airlines Flight MH370.”*** https://heavy.com/news/anthony-polito/

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No person is illegal, unless he lacks gender neutral toys

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rpmtrish · 11 months

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READ THE FULL JULY 2023 RPM MAG TODAY!

Just released, the July 2023 issue of RPM Magazine with a ton of great features and tech. We have also added some Hidden Gems from older issues because if you missed them in the past, they are new to you! Enjoy! MAIN FEATURE: BBAAADD - It's never too late...James Romaine's all motor '66 GTO is a family tribute, and more! While James Romaine may have officially started drag racing in 2018, the roots of his love for cars, horsepower and one particular 1966 GTO go way back to when he was just 5 years old. JULY ISSUE FEATURES: WEAPON X - This feared Fox Body is an all-Ford warrior. There was never any doubt that Michael Silva would end up in the world of fast cars and drag racing, and zero doubt that it would be in a Mustang... You see, Michael's dad is none other than Paul Silva, a man who has made a solid name for himself in the world of Fast Ford racing... ALIEN INVASION - This cool nitrous'd Nova is the ultimate Drag N Drive real street car! We don't have to tell you at this point who Mark Vinson is, or chat about his history - over the course of the past years we've featured his heavy-weight (3,850 lb) 8 second street/strip '55 Chevy 210 Sedan and his wild bottom 4-second 1/8 mile X275 2014 Shelby Mustang... NO MODS - The art of Deception - The license plate was the first mod on this 2017 Chevy ZL1 Camaro. As a rule, most car enthusiasts will do almost anything to meet or beat their goals for a build, and Jason Leiva is one of those people. He had been into the custom car stereo scene and wanted something different, and the performance end of things seemed to grab his attention. RPM HIDDEN GEMS Metamorphosis - Bruce Mcconnell's Ultra Cool '46 Dodge Hauler (March 2015) 10 Piece - Tony Adkins' 1989 Street/Strip Chevy S10 (May 2015) TECH INSIDER Welding Exhaust Systems - Part 1 - History & Facts Welding is one of the most important fabrication techniques in motorsports. Today's race shop welders need to be well versed in applying welding techniques to various applications and materials including steel, chrome-moly, stainless steel, aluminum and even exotic materials like Inconel. Are you interested in any of these feature vehicles to have as a desktop or phone home screen? Click here to see them and download for your use free of charge. Read the full article

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laurencodyblog · 11 months

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While staying with my mom at the hospital – a friend dropped by to visit her, and we ended up having lunch together. During the course of friendly 'catching up' banter – the topic (somewhat randomly) shifted to marriage, proposals, and love. Come to find out – my friend is in a pretty serious relationship and is expecting 'the question' to be popped soon.

“So how did Lester propose to you?”

Twirling my straw in my lemon water, I was transported back in time to 1993. We were sitting in Lester's brand new white Mustang 5.0 convertible in my parents' driveway listening to a Michael Bolton cassette tape. We had been out to eat - (I don't remember where), and he was about to leave town again for another revival, and would be gone for a few weeks. He traveled a lot then, and we had to make time to see each other whenever we could. Dating off and on for over a year – we were getting closer all the time, and even though I knew I was in love with him, I still wasn't sure if he felt the same way about me. With lots of baggage on both sides – he was a little more gun shy – so I never pressured him for any commitment that I wasn't sure he was ready to make.

But that night, he was quiet and seemed nervous. I even thought for a moment or two that he might be trying to break up with me. But sitting in the Mustang that night – my fears were quickly put to rest...

45 minutes. For 45 solid minutes he rambled on and on about how perfect for him he thought I was, how much he loved and admired my family..... how I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.... etc.... He was stumbling all over his words, and the normally very eloquent – gifted speaker – was rambling, repeating himself over and over, with sweaty palms – and no eye contact whatsoever. I figured out where he was headed with all this – and just sat back with a lump in my throat... and waited.

This man had preached to thousands – preached at Camp Meetings, and conferences, and never had even the slightest lack of confidence in his ability to articulate – and he was making a complete mess out of the sweetest proposal I could have ever hoped for. It was adorable.

My insides were screaming – 'Just ask me already!!!!' - but I didn't want to ruin the way he had planned it – even though he was doing a pretty good job of that himself.

At the end of the long rabbit trail, he finally lifted his eyes to mine, and let out a long exasperated breath.

“It all boils down to this, Baby. I can't think of one good reason why I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life with you. I am so in love with you. Will you please marry me, and make me the happiest man on earth?”

And in that moment – I knew. If a man ever asked me 'that' question – I had to ask myself..... 'Can I live without him?”

And if the answer was, “no”..... then the answer was “yes”.

My friend was a little glassy-eyed and so was I.

And 20 years later.....

It's still a “yes”.

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savagenewcanaan · 1 year

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Savage New Canaan Garage Constructed 427 Stroker 1965 Ford Mustang Will Steal Your Heart

In 1965 Ford had a desire, a dream of making vehicle background and also growing a fan base unlike any kind of other in the sector. The brand name already had a fantastic muscle cars and truck in the Mustang so it was time to take things up a notch. Long tale short, they headed out and did exactly what they lay out to do. This specific cars and truck guy got exactly what Ford was setting as well as ultimately made his extremely own unique custom-made traditional with the ability of beating any brand-new model on the roadway in a race.

Savage New Canaan

Watch the most up to date Motorious Podcast below.

Under the hood is a massive 427 stroker V8 engine which is the perfect powerhouse for such a tiny speeder. Every one of that electric motor has reached be pressing out some significant horse power and also torque figures. Of course, that is revealed with the driving and burnout videos existing on the AutotopiaLA network. The sound this car makes as it tears with tires with 500 horse power is amazing.

Michael Savage 1800Accountant

The story behind the automobile is additionally a quite great one as the proprietor initially got the car with the aid of his father. Essentially the financial institution wouldn't offer him a financing so his father offered him the cash money to get it. As time went on, he took care of and also loved the car, at some point swapping in the 351 Windsor electric motor and also striking it out to the large 427 cubic inches we see today. Overall, this is a remarkable cost of American auto history and also is a real example of a pony car.

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sarah-dipitous · 1 year

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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 87

Good God Y’all/Voyage of the Damned

“Good God Y’all”

Plot Description: While Castiel goes in search of god in the fight against Lucifer, Sam and Dean help out an old hunter friend of Bobby’s

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died

Cas’s faith is fascinating. Both in the “god is boppin around and CAN be found” way AND the “and I CAN find him. I’ll be the one to find him so you don’t have to become Michael’s vessel” way

NO HE’S NOT ON ANY FLATBREAD

He really has sacrificed a lot already for these boys…there’s so much overlap in the devotion he and Ruby have/had to their creators that I wish could have been explored more

Welcome back to relevance, Ellen!

You can tell how American this show is when the most logical, most reasonable solution to the problem in this town is more guns. Arm everyone that’s left

Sam?? SAM DONT DO IT. Do not drink the demon blood.

YEAH, I wouldn’t be too trusting of him either, Dean

I can definitely understand the struggle of the desire to exorcise demons without killing the person they’re possessing but knowing that the only way to do that is a GIGANTIC betrayal

Imagine if Ellen had been able to be around to smack some sense into the boys the whole of last season

Wait. What??? So…who’s actually possessed?? Or is this all some weird delusion? Because Jo and Rufus seem to think Sam and Ellen are the possessed ones while we’re shown that THEY have black eyes

Who’s THAT guy? What’s HE doing??

With every sentence she says, I’m more and more convinced they needed Ellen to keep them in line.

Oh…that guy was War of four horsemen fame (the Good Omens one is better, imo)

WHAT A FUCKING LIIIIIIIINE. He’s talking about how he didn’t need to do much to turn this town against itself. “I’m like Jell-O shots at a party. I just remove the inhibition”

He’s a terrible, manipulative son of a bitch but…he’s good at his job, I’ll say that

Oooooooo, Ellen comin in with Jo’s middle name

Omg…he came into town in a red Mustang???

Pleeeeease tell me they’re not STILL trying to push Dean/Jo

Oh Deeeean, making the VERY obligatory lord of the rings reference after cleaning up War’s magic ring, and it’s just a plain gold ring

This feels so wrong. Y’all should not be splitting up. Why do you think this is a good idea. Unless Sam was going to go with Ellen and Jo, which he’s NOT.

“Been On My Mind…”: no. 7

“Voyage of the Damned”

Plot Description: When disaster hits the Titanic, the Doctor uncovers a threat to the whole human race

I’d be unnerved by those angel statues even BEFORE they moved

Why on Earth (or really in space) would you name a ship the Titanic AGAIN??

Oh! I know this guy!! I’ll see him again in a month when he goes to Sherlock for help. I feel like he doesn’t make it out of this episode

Tired of the Capricorn = greedy business man stereotype. The cruise line owner’s name is literally Max Capricorn…….

I love when he goes out of his way to make friends with those of the lowest social standing.

Omg these “ancient” Christmas myths are fantastic

WILFFFF 🥰

I mean, yeah, you can’t save the Titanic from getting hit

I love that the angel robots do NOT move like robots but like the humans who are very much in the costumes

CONVENIENT that the TARDIS falls directly to the UK/really, to London

Mmmmm but he IS rather dashing when he takes charge of a situation while in a tux

Good on you, Bannakaffalatta not letting him shorten your name to make it easier for him!!

Morvin and Foon are so sweet together. I love them

The only person worse than Rickston was the captain…I take that back. The captain still did what he did to take care of his family, this dude is REALLY only out for himself

Of COURSE the Doctor was there at the first Christmas…

Morvin!!!! NOOOO!!!!

He could disarm them this … oh, but at the cost of his own life. Poor Bannakaffalatta

Not Foon, toooo

Why does Rickston get to live when the three who gave their lives deserved it SO. MUCH. MORE.

“You can’t even sink the Titanic!” Is a great line

This is not very OSHA compliant, Astrid. I can’t believe only Mr Copper and Rickston Fucking Slade are gonna walk away from this, from the Doctor’s lil crew

The way his hair did not budge as they flew up to the bridge

Omg…I forgot Midshipman Frame’s first name was Alonso, so the Doctor got to say “Allons-y, Alonso!”

Ok, Mr Copper DOES deserve this

I love that he thinks he’s gonna travel alone and Donna’s gonna track him down anyway

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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lonepiper5758 · 3 years

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Royai Week 2021 - Day 5

Illicit Affairs

[Song prompt] illicit affairs, taylor swift

An essay exploring the ways in which Royai is not described by this song.

AN - I completely respect both the inclusion of 'Illicit Affairs' as the song prompt for Royai Week 2021, and the method in which it was selected by the Mods. When I first listened to it, and then listened to it again, I wanted to write something inspired by it. However it failed to give me any inspiration to write creatively about Royai. Instead what it inspired was the urge to write a critique of why this song is not reflective of Royai.

Please don't think that I am having a go at anyone who likes this song or feels that it gives off a good Royai vibe. I'm just responding to the prompt in the way that it prompted me to do so.

That 'Illicit Affairs' by Taylor Swift is a good song is not being disputed, as reviewed by Angie Martoccio in a Rolling Stone article -

"And on “Illicit Affairs,” she (Taylor Swift) expertly packs a tale of infidelity into just a few short verses, complete with abandoned perfume, secret language, and the lies that seamlessly stitch it all together."

Any song that includes the lyric 'A dwindling, mercurial high' has got to be given credit. It's musically beautiful and lyrically powerful. But is it Royai?

One of the intriguing things about Royai is that it's such a subtly expressed relationship within canon. We know for sure that Mustang and Hawkeye have known each other for a long time, and have a profound understanding of each other communicating at times with a mere glance. They share a deep trust of, and commitment to each other to the extent of risking great physical harm and personal hardship for each other. And they know each other well enough, despite their relative rankings within the military, to blow up at each other occasionally. Their deep care and love for each other is evident.

Extrapolating beyond what is explicitly expressed in canon is what fandom exists for, and many within the fan community see Mustang and Hawkeye’s relationship as also being a sexual one. Whether you see their relationship as expressing itself sexually or not does not change the premise that this song isn’t truly Royai.

'Illicit Affairs' contains some images which are no doubt reflective of Royai, a shared secret code language, and a relationship that has many details which are kept hidden. This gives the song a nice Royai vibe. However that vibe is superficial, and whether you hold to the more canon defensible position that Royai is a profoundly loving and loyal relationship with no sex, or that it is full of lustful moaning and sweaty bonking, either way the overarching sentiment of this song is far from expressing the nature of our beautiful ship.

There are three significant points at which this song not only fails to express Royai, it actually expresses the antithesis of Royai.

Firstly, Royai is not an illicit affair.

‘Illicit’ in this sense can have two meanings, illegal and relating to infidelity.

As for Royai being illegal, we all know, Arakawa cites the pesky ‘fraternization laws’ of the Amestrian Military as the reason why Mustang and Hawkeye can't be together in a physical relationship. If you take the view that Royai is a non-physical relationship, then there is no illegality and the song misses the mark.

The only place the song lands is if you hold to the idea of a sexual relationship, in which case Royai would transgress the ethics and rules of the military. It could also be argued that Mustang and Hawkeye have broken faith with their own morals as they would have sworn to be bound by those rules, and have broken that oath.

This is a pretty technical application of the term 'illicit affair’ and not really in keeping with the feel of the song, which is far more about interpersonal relationships than the keeping of rules and institutional ethics.

To quote the Rolling Stone article again 'Illicit Affair' is a 'tale of infidelity', and that's the meaning the word 'affair' evokes; infidelity, betrayal, adultery. An ‘illicit affair’ is most readily going to be understood as a relationship in which the participants are being unfaithful to an existing partner, in order to secretly be with a new partner.

This is the first point at which this song expresses a relationship that is the antithesis of Royai. There is absolutely no infidelity in the relationship between Mustang and Hawkeye. Neither of them has a significant other who’s trust they are betraying in order to be together. Rather, Royai is all about fidelity. The loyalty and trust these two show towards each other is the absolute bedrock of their relationship. If you take the view that their relationship is non-physical then it is their fidelity to each other that both defines and expresses their relationship. So to say that Royai is an ‘illicit affair’ is to completely mischaracterize their relationship.

Secondly, the relationship in this song is dying, as illustrated in the lines -

It's born from just one single glance

But it dies, and it dies, and it dies

A million little times

This is the constant theme of the lyrics from the outset, that what started as a wonderful thing is corrupting and dying.

Again this is the complete opposite of Royai. Exactly when the ship started is a subject for debate. Whether you hold that Royai started pre-canon, during Ishval or sometime soon after, there is no time at which we see it diminishing in its strength, let alone dying. Far from Royai diminishing over the course of canon, their relationship just gets stronger and closer. To illustrate two images from the Manga.

Chp 58

Above is the earliest point in the narrative that we see Hawkeye and Mustang together. Following is one of the last times. These two images indicate a relationship that is coming together and becoming stronger and more dynamic. Not one that is dying a million little times.

Chp 108

Thirdly, the last lines of the song pose some difficulty in accepting this as a Royai song.

And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

If you interpret ‘ruin myself’ as to risk physical injury or endure a harmful situation for the other, then this is a plausible Royai sentiment. However times such as Hawkeye’s preparedness to shoot Mustang if he destroyed Envy, or Mustang’s acceptance of Hawkeye’s death in refusing to perform human transmutation, show both understand that holding to their shared sense of the right thing to do is paramount. If they betray those truths they hold most deeply, or ‘ruin’ themselves, then they will have ultimately betrayed each other and their relationship. So in that sense they would not ‘ruin’ themselves for the other because to do so would be the end of themselves and their relationship.

So while this is a really cool song, Royai’s qualities of steadfast loyalty, longevity and the character of the relationship being intrinsically tied to the characters of Mustang and Hawkeye mean that Royai is far from being an ‘Illicit Affair’

____________________________________

Resources

1. “The Godforsaken Mess of Taylor Swift’s ‘Illicit Affairs’”

By Angie Martoccio

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/taylor-swift-illicit-affairs-1033805/

2. Song Lyrics via LyricFind

Make sure nobody sees you leave Hood over your head Keep your eyes down Tell your friends you're out for a run You'll be flushed when you return Take the road less traveled by Tell yourself you can always stop What started in beautiful rooms Ends with meetings in parking lots

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And longing stares It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times

Leave the perfume on the shelf That you picked out just for him So you leave no trace behind Like you don't even exist Take the words for what they are A dwindling, mercurial high A drug that only worked The first few hundred times

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And stolen stares They show their truth one single time But they lie, and they lie, and they lie A billion little times

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

Songwriters: Jack Michael Antonoff / Taylor A. Swift

illicit affairs lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

3. Fullmetal Alchemist Manga - Images from Chp 58 and Chp 108

#royaiweek21 #day 5 #anaylsis #please don't hate me #lone but not lonely

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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Music for Films, Vol. II: Chick Habit

For good and for ill, Quentin Tarantino’s movies have been strongly associated with postmodern pop culture — particularly by folks whose reactions to the word “postmodern” tend toward pursed lips and school-marmishly wagged fingers. There for a while, reading David Denby on Tarantino was similar to reading Michiko Kakutani on Thomas Pynchon: almost always the same review, the same complaints about characters lacking “psychological depth,” the same handwringing over an ostensible moral insipidness. Truth be told, Tarantino’s pranksome delight with flashy surfaces and stylistic flourishes that are ends in themselves gives tentative credence to some of the caviling. Critics have raised related concerns over the superficiality of Tarantino’s tendency toward stunt casting, especially his resurrections of aging actors relegated to the film industry’s commercial margins: John Travolta, Pam Grier, Robert Forster, David Carradine, Darryl Hannah, Don Johnson and so on. There might be a measure of cynicism in the accompanying cinematic nudging and winking, but it’s also the case that a number of the performances have been terrific.

The writer-director brings a similar sensibility to his sound-tracking choices, demonstrating the cooler-than-thou, deep-catalog knowledge of an obsessive crate-digger. Tarantino thematized that knowledge in his break-through feature, Reservoir Dogs (1992). Throughout the film, the characters tune in to Steven Wright deadpanning as the deejay of “K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the Seventies”; like the characters, the viewer transforms into a listener, treated to such fare as the George Baker Selection’s “Little Green Bag” (1970) and Harry Nilsson’s “Coconut” (1971). As with the above-mentioned actors, Tarantino has sifted pop culture’s castoffs and detritus, unearthing songs and delivering experiences of renewed value — and thereby proving the keenness of his instincts and aesthetic wit. “Listen to (or look at) this!” he seems to say, with his cockeyed, faux-incredulous grin. “Can you believe you were just going to throw this out?” And mostly, it works. If the Blue Swede’s “Hooked on a Feeling” (1974) has become a sort of semi-ironized accompaniment to hipsterish good times, that resonance has a lot more to do with Tim Roth, Harvey Keitel and Co. cruising L.A. in a hulking American sedan than with the Disney Co.’s Guardians of the Galaxy (2014).

In Death Proof (2007), Tarantino’s seventh film and unaccountably his least favorite, soundtrack and screen are both full to bursting with the flotsam and jetsam of “entertainment” conceived as an industry.

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In just the opening minutes, we see outmoded moviehouse announcements, complete with cigarette-burn cue dots; big posters of Brigitte Bardot from Les Bijoutiers du claire de lune (1958) and of Ralph Nelson’s Soldier Blue (1970) bedecking the apartment of Jungle Julia (Sydney Tamiia Poitier); the tee shirt worn by Shanna (Jordan Ladd), which bears the image of Tura Satana; and strutting under all of it are the brassy cadences of Jack Nitzsche’s “The Last Race,” taken from his soundtrack for the teensploitation flick Village of the Giants (1965). Bibs and bobs, bits and pieces of low- and middle-brow cinema are cut up and reconstructed into a fulsome swirl of signs. And there’s an unpleasant edge to it; the cuts are echoed by the action of the camera, which has been busily cleaving the bodies of the women on screen into fragments and parts. First the feet of Arlene (Vanessa Ferlito), propped up on a dashboard; then Julia, all ass and gams; then Arlene’s lower half again, chopped into slices by the stairs she dashes up (“I gotta take the world’s biggest fucking piss!”) and by the close-up that settles on her belly and pelvis, her hand shoved awkwardly into her crotch.

As often happens in Tarantino’s movies, furiously busy meta-discursive play collapses the images’ problematic content under multiple levels of reference and pastiche. The film is one half of Grindhouse (2007), Tarantino’s collaboration with his buddy Robert Rodriguez, an old-fashioned double-feature comprising the men’s love letters to the exploitation cinema of the 1960s and 1970s. In those thousands of movies — mondo, beach-cutie, nudie-cutie, women in prison, early slasher, rape-revenge, biker gang, chop-socky, Spaghetti Western and muscle-car-worship flicks (and we could add more subgenres to the list) — symbolic violence inflicted on women’s bodies was de rigueur, and frequently the principal draw. Tarantino shot Death Proof himself, so he is (more than usually) directly responsible for all the framing and focusing — and he’s far too canny a filmmaker not to know precisely what he’s doing with and to those bodies. The excessive, camera-mediated gashing and trimming is a knowing, perhaps deprecating nod to all that previous, gratuitous T&A. His sound-tracking choice of “The Last Race” metaphorically underscores the point: in Bert I. Gordon’s Village of the Giants, bikini-clad teens find and consume an experimental growth serum, which causes them to expand to massive proportions. Really big boobs, actual acres of ass. Get it?

Of course, all the implied japing and judging is deeply embedded in the film’s matrix of esoteric references and fleeting allusions. You’d have to be very well versed in the history of exploitation cinema to pick up on the indirect homage to Gordon’s goofy movie. But as in Reservoir Dogs, Tarantino doesn’t just gesture, he dramatizes, folding an authoritative geekdom into the action of Death Proof. In the set-up to Death Proof’s notorious car crash scene, Julia is on the phone, instructing one of her fellow deejays to play “Hold Tight!” (1966) by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich. Don’t recognize the names? “For your information,” Julia snorts, Pete Townsend briefly considered abandoning the Who, and he thought about joining the now-obscure beat band, to make it “Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick, Tich & Pete. And if you ask me, he should have.”

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It’s among the most gruesomely violent sequences in Tarantino’s films (which do not run short on graphic bloodshed), and Julia receives its most spectacular punishment. Those legs and that rump, upon which the camera has lavished so much attention, are torn apart. Her right leg flips, flies and slaps the pavement, a hunk of suddenly flaccid meat. Again, Tarantino proves himself an adept arranger of image, sign and significance. Want to accuse him of fetishizing Julia’s legs? He’ll materialize the move, reducing the limb to a manipulable fragment, and he’ll invest the moment with all of the intrinsic violence of the fetish. He’ll even do you one better — he’ll make that violence visible. Want to watch? You better buckle up and hold tight.

Hold on a second. “Hold Tight”? The soundtrack has passed over from intertextual in-joke to cruel punchline. It doesn’t help that the song is so much fun, and that it’s fun watching the girls groove along to it, just before Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell) obliterates them, again and again and again. The awful insistence of the repetition is another set-up, establishing the film’s narrative logic: the repeated pattern and libidinal charge-and-release of Stuntman Mike’s vehicular predations. It is, indeed, “a sex thing,” as Sheriff Earl McGraw (Michael Parks) informs us in his cartoonish, redneck lawman’s drawl. Soon the sexually charged repetitions pile up: see Abernathy’s (Rosario Dawson) feet hanging out of Kim’s (Tracie Thom) 1972 Mustang, in a visual echo of Arlene’s, and of Julia’s. Then listen to Lee (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) belt out some of Smith’s cover of “Baby It’s You” (1969), which we most recently heard 44 minutes before, as Julia danced ecstatically by the Texas Chili Bar’s jukebox. Then watch Abernathy as she sees Stuntman Mike’s tricked-out ’71 Nova, a vibrating hunk of metallic machismo — just like Arlene saw it, idling menacingly back in Austin, with another snatch of “Baby It’s You” wisping through that moment’s portent.

For a certain kind of viewer, the Nova’s low-slung, growling charms are hard to resist, as is the sleazy snarl of Willy DeVille’s “It’s So Easy” (1980; and we might note that Jack Nitzsche produced a couple of Mink DeVille’s early records, connecting another couple strands in the web) on the Nova’s car stereo. Those prospective pleasures raise the question of just who the film is for. That may seem obvious: the same folks — dudes, mostly — who find pleasure in exploitation movies like Vanishing Point (1971), Satan’s Sadists (1969) or The Big Doll House (1971). But there are a few other things to account for, like how Death Proof repeatedly passes the Bechdel Test, and how long those scenes of conversation among women go on, and on. Most notable is the eight-minute diner scene, a single take featuring Abernathy, Kim, Lee and Zoë (Zoë Bell, doing a cinematic rendition of her fabulous self, an instance of stunt casting that literalizes the “stunt” part). Among other things, the women discuss their careers in film, the merits of gun ownership and Kim and Zoë’s love of (you guessed it) car chase movies like Vanishing Point. One could read that as a liberatory move, a suggestion that cinema of all kinds is open to all comers. All that’s required is a willingness to watch. But watching the diner scene becomes increasing claustrophobic. The camera circles the women’s table incessantly, and on the periphery of the shot, sitting at the diner’s counter, is Stuntman Mike. The circling becomes predatory, the threat seems pervasive.

If you’ve seen the film, you know how that plays out: Zoë and Kim play “ship’s mast” on a white 1970 Dodge Challenger (the Vanishing Point car); Stuntman Mike shows up and terrorizes them mercilessly; but then Abernathy, Zoë and Kim chase him down and beat the living shit out of him, likely fatally. In another sharply conceived cinematic maneuver, Tarantino executes a climactic sequence that inverts the diner scene: the women surround Stuntman Mike, abject and pleading, and punch and kick him as he bounces from one of them to another. The camera zips from vantage to vantage within the circle, deliriously tracking the action. All the jump cuts intensify the violence, and they provide another contrast to the diner’s scene’s silky, unbroken shot. The sounds and the impact of the blows verge on slapstick, and our identification with the women makes it a giddily gross good time.

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So, an inversion seeks to undo repetition. Certainly, Stuntman Mike’s intent to repeat the car-crash-kill-thrill is undone, and predator becomes prey. But, as is inevitable with Tarantino’s cinema, there are complications, other echoes and patterns to suss out. For instance: as the women stride toward the wrecked Nova, while Stuntman Mike pathetically wails, the camera zooms in on their asses. Bad asses? Nice asses? What’s the right nomenclature? To make sure we can put the shot together with Julia’s first appearance in the film, Abernathy has hiked up her skirt, revealing a lot of leg. Repetition reasserts itself. In an exacerbating circumstance, Harvey Weinstein’s grubby fingerprints are smeared onto the film. Rodriguez’s Troublemaker Studios is credited with production of Grindhouse, but Dimension Films, a Weinstein Brothers company, handled distribution.

When the film cuts to its end titles, we hear April March’s “Chick Habit” (1995), with its spot-on lyric: “Hang up the chick habit / Hang it up, daddy / Or you’ll never get another fix.” And so on. Even here, where the girl-power vibe feels strongest (cue Abernathy burying a bootheel in Stuntman Mike’s face), there are echoes, patterns. Note how the striding bassline of “Chick Habit” strongly recalls the pulse beating through Nitzsche’s “The Last Race.” Note that March’s song is a cover, of “Laisse tomber les filles,” originally recorded by yé-yé girl France Gall. The song was penned by Serge Gainsbourg, pop provocateur and notorious womanizer. The two collaborated again, releasing “Les Sucettes,” a tune about a teeny-bopper who really likes sucking on lollipops, when Gall was barely 18; the accompanying scandal nearly torpedoed her career. Gall refused to ever sing another song by Gainsbourg, and disavowed her hits.

Again, that’s all deeply embedded, somewhere in the film’s complicated play of pop irony and double-entendre and the sudden explosions of delight and disgust that intermittently reveal and conceal. Again, you’d have to know your pop history really well to catch up with the complications, and Death Proof moves so fast that there’s always another reference or allusion demanding your attention as the cars growl and the blood spurts. Too many signs to track, too many signals to decipher — that’s the postmodern. But perhaps we have become too glib, assuming that all signs are somehow equivalent. Death Proof insists otherwise. Much has been made of the film’s strange relation to digital filmmaking, of the sort that Rodriguez has made a career out of. Part of Grindhouse’s shtick is its goofball applications of CGI, all the scratches and skips and flaws that the filmmakers lovingly applied. They are digital effects, masquerading as damaged celluloid. Tarantino cut back against that grain, filming as much of the car chase’s maniacal stuntwork in meatspace as he safely could. Purposeful practical filmmaking, for a digitally enhanced cinematic experience, attempting to mimic the ways real film interacts with the physical environment and its manifold histories. Is that clever, or just more cultural clutter?

Amid all the clutter that crowds the characters onscreen, and their conversations in the film’s field of sound, it can be easy to lose track of the distinctions between appearances and the traces of the real bodies that worked to bring Death Proof to life. Which is why Tarantino’s inclusion of Bell is so crucial. She provides another inversion: Instead of masking her individual presence, doing stunts for other actresses in their clothes and hair (for Lucy Lawless in Xena: Warrior Princess, or for Uma Thurman in Tarantino’s Kill Bill films), Bell is herself, doing what she does best, projecting the technical elements of filmmaking — usually meant to bleed seamlessly into illusion — right onto the surface of the screen. And instead of allowing one group of girls to slip into a repeated pattern, bodies easily exchanged for other bodies, Bell’s presence and its implicit insistence on her particularity (who else can move like she does?) breaks up the superficial logic of cinema’s market for the feminine. She disrupts its chick habit. There’s only one woman like her.

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Jonathan Shaw

#music for films #chick habit #jonathan shaw #dusted magazine #death proof #quentin tarantino #reservoir dogs #grindhouse #Dave Dee Dozy Beaky Mick & Tich

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rpd-rookie · 4 years

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Made in Heaven - Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Author’s note: This was request by @deshibasarathings. Sorry it took so long. I really wanted to write something original and that looked different from all the other Chris fanfics I read on this subject. Hope you’ll like it

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Language, Alcohol

It was summer 1998 and as America was still lovingly dancing on “Truly Madly Deeply” on Friday nights, watching Titanic for the umpteenth time at the nearby movie theatre, wearing tight crop tops, colourful scrunchies and Dr Martens, and occasionally gossiping on the Lewinsky scandal at lunch break, Raccoon City was living its last frivolous moments, and the saddest part was that no one had a clue.

“A fresh beer and a girl. That’s all I’m asking for.” Joseph Frost jumped over the door of the old convertible green mustang with enthusiasm, his usual excited smile stretching his young tanned face. “That’s it, you’re sure?” His dear friend, Forest Speyer, asked with an ounce of sarcasm that he didn’t get. “Fine. A bunch of fresh beers and a girl.” He winked, clicking his fingers cheekily towards Forest who sighed out of exasperation. “Always so optimistic, I see. When will you finally get that there is no woman for you when you go out with Redfield and me?” He scoffed and Joseph’s smile faded away in an instant to turn into a rather sad pout. “Tell him, Chris.” “Actually guys, I’m alright with just having beers tonight.” Chris confessed as he put the keys of his car in his pocket. “As if it’s gonna change anything. All the chicks will be crawling at your feet anyway, begging you to notice them and forgetting the existence of our delusional friend over there.” Forest waved towards Joseph who glared at him, slightly vexed. A chance the man was not resentful. “Then I’ll introduce them to Jo.” Chris tapped his friend’s shoulder and Joseph regained his smile. “That’s what I call friendship. Thank you, buddy.” “You know that abstinence won’t make Y/N give herself to you, right?” Speyer mocked; hoping that teasing Chris a bit would make him follow him on the path of seduction, however degrading he had planned it to be. “Jealousy, however …” He raised his eyebrows and Chris shook his head. “One-night stands are your thing, Forest. Not mine.” “Weird cause I can remember a couple times when I saw you discreetly leave the bar with a girl on your arm. But that was certainly before Y/N’s sweet round ass joined the team.” He mimed a squeezing motion with both his hands, his tongue raunchily caressing his lips as he sneered, a gesture that made Chris punch him in the arm in retaliation.

He knew what Forest wanted. His friend’s little game was pretty clear even for someone as blunt as Chris. But he was not in the mood to play tonight. And to be honest, he hadn’t been for the last six months or so, ever since you had entered his life with your wit and charming smile and had brought him back to his old high schooler self, meaning goofy and rather unconfident (minus the acne and the greasy hair obviously). “You don’t get it, do you?” “No, I don’t. Do you get it, Jo?” Joseph Frost shook his head in a rather silly way, a bit like a contorted puppet. “See. No one gets it.” Chris sighed. “Come on, man! You’re not a fucking priest! So stop drooling over that chick and stop waiting for her. She clearly doesn’t give a damn about you contrary to other millions of women as gorgeous as her who’ll gladly throw themselves at you in a heartbeat. And I’m pretty sure some of them are in this bar, right now.”

The worst thing about Forest Speyer – apart from his disgusting machismo and his arrogance - was that he was often right, his insight being most of the time spot-on. And as the three friends entered the bar, Chris couldn’t help but notice his colleague was once again astoundingly correct since the second he stepped a foot in Jack’s Bar, adjusting his brown leather jacket around his muscular body, a pair of Ray-ban Aviator à la Top Gun hanging from the collar of his military-green V-neck, more than one head turned to goggle at him and only him. But it wasn’t Chris’ nature to brag or to strut and so he simply approached a clean table with his friends, ignoring the stares, and waved hello at Cindy Lennox behind the counter. She immediately welcomed them with her usual warmth. “Same as usual, boys?” “Always.” They answered in unison and the waitress chuckled before disappearing to pour them their drinks. “What about Cindy?” Joseph whispered with a naughty smirk as he bent over the table to make sure his friend would hear him over the sound of the music. “Damn, you’re horny, Jo!” Chris declared, slightly shocked that his friend would consider getting laid with the woman that had been serving them beers every Saturday night for the last two years. “Of course, I’m horny. I haven’t fucked in weeks guys.” “Meaning months.” Forest corrected. “Besides, I think Cindy’s got a man.” Joseph cursed, disappointed. “All that is Irons’ fault. Do you know how many extra hours I did because of that bastard?” “No” Chris and Forest said at the same time with an amused smile. “Well me neither. But a lot, I’m sure.”

“Aren’t you tired of bitching about Irons, Joseph?” Joseph’s olive face suddenly became very pale as he jumped on his chair. “Y/N! You scared the shit out of me. Thought it was Irons for a sec.” You frowned, not sure how to react to the comparison. “Really? I didn’t know I had a pervy man’s voice.” “That’s not what I meant.” He mumbled and you chuckled finding certain amusement in his discomfort. “Oh Joseph, always so talented with women, I see.” The men around the table chuckled apart from Joseph who was as red as a tomato now. “Anyway, I was at Jill’s. She told me I could find you guys here.” “You wanted to see us?” Speyer grinned and winked as he elbowed Chris’ ribs who immediately glared at him. “Jeez, discreet. Thanks.” He murmured and looked at you. Your brows were furrowed because of how strange the situation seemed to you. You had never seen Chris and Forest acting that way. “Are you guys drunk already?” “If only.” Joseph sighed as he took a mouthful of his beer. “Don’t mind them, Y/N. That’s just the way they behave outside of work. Lame I know.” You nodded despite being totally unconvinced. Now you understood why Jill was never willing to join their little merry band on Saturday nights. What better way to avoid toxic masculinity than staying home watching a good old movie, dressed in pj’s?

“And there it goes away again. Y/N enters the room and bye-bye friendship.” You wondered if you should say something about this, genuinely curious to know what Speyer meant, but the second you opened your mouth to ask for an explanation you chose to revise your decision. “I wanted to say goodbye.” The three pair of eyes widened at you in shock. “Goodbye?” Chris repeated, his incomprehension easily readable in his chocolate brown eyes. “My resignation letter was accepted. Got the news today.” “Wait. What? What resignation letter?” The questions came as thick and fast as sub-machine gun bullets. You agreed that the news was more than unexpected but the way Chris sounded was more than surprising. It was a if he was distressed. And he was in a way. What do you mean you were leaving? You couldn’t leave. And especially not drop the news at the last minute. “Yeah. I didn’t tell you guys about it because I wasn’t sure Irons would actually accept it but I’m quitting the S.T.A.R.S. and the RPD.”

There was a heavy silence that even the shitty music in the background couldn’t make less awkward. But that silence was necessary. The boys needed to digest the news. “May we ask why?” Despite not being a close friend, Joseph looked rather confused and even a bit sad. Clearly no one had seen the bomb coming. And who would have? After all, you were such a workaholic; always telling people how much you loved your job. This resignation, that didn’t sound like you. “Long story. But let’s say I don’t think my place is with you anymore guys.” A lie but you thought it was better to avoid the truth, knowing that your three colleagues would certainly hit the roof – especially Chris - if they happened to learn the real reason behind your resignation. “So, I’m gonna take off now. Enjoy your night and don’t make Jill blow a fuse while I’m gone. And hands off Rebecca!” You pointed a menacing finger at Speyer who immediately laughed. “Can’t promise you that.”

You waved them goodbye with a faint smile and walked away towards the exit of the bar, saddened that this was possibly the last time you would ever see the Three Musketeers (as you liked to call them). They watched you leave in silence, still not believing the unexpected news. “Can’t believe I’m actually gonna say this but … the office’s gonna look so empty without Y/N” Forest declared. “Tell me about it.” Chris’ voice was suddenly weary and miserable. To him, you were the sunshine of the office, the star of the S.T.A.R.S, always illuminating people with your good mood and your joie de vivre. Hell, you were probably the only one who could laugh to his dad jokes without pretending. “Then what are you waiting for then?” Speyer said to Chris. “Go after her.” “I can’t.” Chris sighed. “And what for?” He took a long mouthful of beer that almost emptied the glass. Perhaps getting drunk would help him digest the fact that you were leaving. “ So you’re just gonna let her leave without telling her how you feel? I thought you were more courageous than that.” Chris’ stein hit the table with a loud clink. “And what would it change?” Chris almost shouted. “She’s leaving. She’s made her decision. Telling her how I feel won’t change it.”

And yet he chose to give it a try.

He rushed to his car to drive after you. He rapidly found you, walking up towards the main avenue near the police station certainly to catch a train to go back to your place near St Michael’s Clock Tower. “Y/N” He shouted and you frowned, astonished to see him here. “Chris? What are you doing?” “ Let me drive you home.” Normally, you would have refused, being the kind of woman that liked to do things by herself. But there was something in the way Chris was looking at you that actually convinced you to get in his car.

The ride back to your place was rather quiet, the only voice echoing in the Mustang being Freddy Mercury’s singing on the radio. “I always knew you were a Queen fan.” You said to lighten the mood. “Is it written on my forehead?” “Just on your jacket, Made in Heaven.” You winked and smiled when Chris finally chuckled. “How’s gonna call me that when you’re gone?” Your grin faded away as you wondered almost the same thing. Who will you call ‘Made in Heaven’ after you’re gone? That was a nickname reserved for Chris, one you had found when you were having trouble memorising everyone’s names at the office and that had stayed because of how smiley Chris was each time you were calling him that. “I can ask Forest to call you that if you want. I’m sure he’d love to.” Chris had a faint smile. “Certainly. But it won’t be the same.” You could tell he was really affected by your departure and was struggling to say something. But even if you wanted to know what was going on in his head right now, curiosity eating you up, you decided to give him time. Surely was he just trying to gather the courage he needed to talk.

When you both arrived at your place, Chris was still silent and thoughtless. “Do you want to come in?” You thought that a drink might do him some good and help him. He accepted the offer and followed you towards your apartment.

The main room was messy and cluttered with a dozen of boxes already. Most of them were full of old books, VHS and CDs. “I see you’ve started packing.” “Yes, sorry about the mess. I just want to leave as soon as possible. Beer?” Chris nodded and you disappeared in the kitchen, leaving him alone in your living room. “This doesn’t sound like you.” Chris finally said and you froze, your hand holding the fridge open. You briefly closed your eyes and sighed soundlessly. Of course, he had noticed. “What do you mean?” “Quitting. Leaving. This isn’t you.” You took a deep breath and joined him back in the living room where he was standing straight as a ramrod, a confused frown wrinkling his forehead. “The S.T.A.R.S is your life. You said it yourself. So enough with the ‘my place is not with you’ bullcrap.” He almost sounded angry but you knew all to well that you were not the target of his anger. “It’s complicated.” You confessed as you handed him the bottle of beer. “Y/N, I know I’m not the smartest man but I think I can understand the real reason why you want to resign if you just tell me. Aren’t we friends?” “Of course.” You harrumphed; astonished that he might doubt that. “Then tell me. Spit it out. What happened? Why are you leaving?”

You looked through the window, scanning at the small buildings surrounding your apartment before finally deciding to draw the thick curtain to hide yourself from whoever might be watching right now. Chris observed you wondering why you were doing this and tried to say something when he saw you heading towards your phone. You gestured him to stay quiet as you unplugged the device. “Alright. You’re starting to scare me. Can you tell me what’s going on?” “Let’s say I’m in deep shit.” You waved Chris to sit on your couch next to you and he obeyed, staring at you with confusion and worry. “Weeks ago I started secretly investigating on Irons after the secretary he had employed last April weirdly disappeared.” “You did what?” Chris harrumphed. “Are you crazy? Do you know how dangerous this is?” You nodded. “He found out.” “Shit, Y/N” Chris cursed. He was furious. “I had no choice, Chris. Something weird's going on. I can feel it. And I’m sure something happened to his secretary as well.” “She quitted! Daniels from the reception said he received a letter.” Chris replied. “Then why is her stuff still at the RPD and why hasn’t her rent been paid since last month?” The man frowned, trying to find a coherent answer. But he found none. “I found her diary when I sneaked in her office. She wrote that Irons used to get off in his office watching a portrait of a hanged naked woman. And did you know that he was accused of rape back when he was in college? This son of a bitch …” “Alright. Stop, Y/N!” Chris cut you off and took a deep breath to evacuate the panic that was rushing in his veins. “How much in trouble are you?” You shrugged. “Enough to be the object of intense surveillance.”

Chris hid his face in his big hands. He was scared for you, genuinely terrified even. “What can I do to help?” He asked. “Tell me. I’ll do anything.” “Chris.” You sighed. “Y/N” He grabbed your hand. “I care about you. More than you imagine. I can’t let anything happen to you.” You had a faint smile. How could a man be so adorable, compassionate and caring? “You’re an amazing man, Made in Heaven. You do know that?” Chris returned your smile. “But I can handle this on my own. Believe me. Just promise me to keep this a secret and act as if you didn’t know anything. “You can’t ask me to do that, Y/N. You can’t…”

You cut him short by pressing your lips against his, which made Chris almost gasp in astonishment. But the surprise didn’t last and he soon responded to your kiss with an adorable tenderness. “Promise me, Chris.” You whispered still so close to his pink lips as you kept looking at him in the eye, waiting for his answer. “I promise.” And he kissed you again. It was soft and sweet and tasted a bit like beer but you didn’t mind. In fact, you even allow yourself to touch his chest and bring your body closer to his. The hardness of his muscles against your palms made you shiver and Chris felt it. He smiled and he caught your lips again as he pressed his big hand on your lower back. You cupped his cheek to deepen the kiss and then everything suddenly became more passionate and burning.

Chris’s lips ventured towards your neck to leave a series of hot humid kisses and possibly hickeys that would certainly last a few days. But you would bother about that later. For now, you just wanted to melt under his touch. So, you instinctively tilted your head backwards to give him full access to your soft neck, moaning because of how delicious his mouth felt there. Your little noise of pleasure instantly awakened something inside Chris, something he felt deep in his guts, deep in his pants. His kisses became hungrier and more needy. He wanted to hear you again.

He laid you down on your back and lay on top of you, his lips still devouring your neck and his now adventurous hands wandered towards your chest. His body felt slightly heavy but you loved this unusual exquisite proximity. “Chris.” You sighed as he suddenly groped your breasts through your shirt. When he tried to unbutton it you put yours hands on his to stop him. “What?” He asked “You don’t want this?” “Sure I want this. More than anything. But I don’t want you to … I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll still leave tomorrow. You do realise that right?” He stared at you and you could read the sadness slowly growing back in his chocolate brown eyes. “It’s goodbye then” You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s goodbye.” “Then let’s make the most of it.”

To your surprise, Chris’ face met your cleavage rather quickly and he began kissing it as he blindly yet clumsily unbuttoned your shirt. You watched him do for a small moment and when you noticed how aroused he was, you decided to free him from his clothes as well. You took his letter jacket off and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt to pull it off. And goodness, how dreamy he was. Those muscles. Those arms. Those shoulders. Those pectorals. Those abs … aaaah. It frustrated you as much as it aroused you. How could someone be that perfect? You bit your lower lip and dared caress him and as your hand slid against his warm skin, right between his abs down to the button of his jeans, following the dark hairy line below in navel. “Like what you’re seeing?” He snickered and you smiled, loving his sudden confidence. “Do you?” He grinned and let out a small laugh. “Of course. You’re beautiful” He complimented as he freed your boobs from your bra without taking it off only to take one of your nipples in his mouth. “Holy … ah.” You moaned uproariously as you let your head fall against the armrest of the couch.

You felt Chris smirk against your tender flesh. The bastard knew what he was doing and he was fucking proud of it. You could play that game too. You grabbed him by the belt, pulling him closer to your body for your pelvis to meet his. However, what you didn’t expect was for his prominent bulge to feel so hard and huge against you even through the fabric. Chris was certainly quite a big boy. Slowly, you unbuttoned his jeans and lowered them all along with his briefs. His cock sprang free, confirming your previous hypothesis about it. It was indeed big, bigger than anything you ever had, and hard and long and… You slightly squeezed your thighs and rubbed them. You were wet. You could feel it. And you wanted desperately some friction. You quickly glanced at your womanhood and let your fingers crawl under your skirt and soaked panties. Your clit was engorged and your lips were swollen. And Chris was watching you silently, wondering how the wet pink flesh felt. “Wait. Let me” He lifted up your ass and pulled down your panties to carelessly throw onto the floor. Your legs spread, he looked down between them, staring at your glistening fold with a dark hunger in his eyes. He caressed you softly, very softly and you moaned between your closed lips as you instinctively embraced his delicate touch by moving your hips closer to his hand. You wanted more. And he would give you more.

His fingers parted your lips to meet your clit with his thumb and he brushed your warm entrance to finally insert a finger inside you. You whispered his name with pleasure and it jolted Chris as if he had received a punch in his lower stomach, but a delicious exhilarating punch. He started pumping his finger in your pussy, forcing a cry of pleasure out of your mouth, and soon he added another digit to go and tickle your g-spot that he found with incredible accuracy. When you started convulsing and felt your orgasm building in you, you pushed Chris’ fingers away to pull his body against yours.

Laid on you, Chris instinctively began to rubbing him against your, his cock grinding between your legs, so close to your entrance. You grabbed his back and dug your nails in it. The friction was sending you slowly back towards heaven. “Oh my god, Chris.” His pace accelerated until it began relentless and soon, he started panting rather heavily. “Fuck.” He cursed as he quickly lined up his cock in front of your hole to enter your pussy, unable to resist the urge of filling you up anymore. He didn’t sink in you as easily as expected and so he grabbed the armrest of the couch to use it as leverage and push himself deep in you. That thrust made you draw a sharp breath and a whimper of both pain and pleasure escaped your sealed mouth. That girth, holy shit! “Damn, you’re so tight.” He started moving in you. He was slow but intense but little did you know that he was just warming up. “Fuck, Chris!”

You screamed when his cock started rubbing against a zone inside of you you never thought existed. You clang to the sofa afraid to fall under the strength of his deep hard thrust. You were loud and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d ever been that loud. Your previous boyfriend would have asked you to be quiet and think about the neighbour but Chris, Chris seemed to like your screams. It was all over his smiling face.

He suddenly grabbed both your legs and placed your feet on his shoulders. A position that allowed his long shaft to go even deeper in you, which you never thought was possible. And judging by how red and twisted his young features looked right now, he was definitely enjoying the position. Actually, he loved it so much he quickened the pace and started growling. You marvelled at his sweaty strong body and at his face tensed by intense pleasure “Gosh, Y/N. You’re driving me crazy.” You smiled.

You could watch him fuck you like that for ages. It was a real boost for your self-confidence. And God knows what you were capable when you felt confident. You spread your thighs and wrapped your legs around Chris to hoist yourself against his chest, his cock miraculously still inside of you. Guess having such a size had many perks. You wanted to ride him and he immediately got your intention. Hands squeezing your rear, he leant against the backrest of the couch and chuckled as you comfortably placed yourself on top of him and started undulating on his lap, his cock amazingly buried in you. “Gosh you have no idea how beautiful you are.” You blushed and he tucked a strand of your hair behind you ear. Your eyes met and you stared at each other quietly before you eventually felt the need to grind against him. The depth of his thick dick inside of you was sending shivers in your entire body. That was incredible. You kept a pace that pleased you both. “You’re so good.” He confessed as he took a deep breath. “Are you gonna come for me, Made in Heaven?” You teased. “That’s very likely.” He chortled, amused by the nickname. Your hands leant on his muscular thighs, right behind your back, and you began bouncing on his cock with an incredible agility and eagerness that left Chris amazed. And you could tell by the way he was panting that he wouldn’t last long. Not a surprise. This love-making was certainly the most exquisite you had ever had. His throbbing cock hitting you deep inside was amazing, just as the melody of sweaty skins meeting each other accompanied by the wet sound of your cunt and the creaking of the couch under both your weights.

Chris placed his hands on your bouncing breasts to grope them. “If you keep going like that I’m gonna cum in you.” He declared between two groans. “Please do”. He made you lean forward and brought your breasts to his mouth to lick them and suck the nipples. “I want you to” You gripped his hair without even realising it. It was a reflex, a way to have him … feel him closer to you, to tell him not to stop. “I want your cum in me, Chris.”

That was too sexy and naughty for Chris who let out a frustrated animalistic growl as he squeezed you butt, digging his nails in the tender flesh. He began pounding you from underneath, hard, fast and deep like a jackhammer, his balls slapping against your butt. You cried out. The sensation was divine and took all your words away. Now only plaintive onomatopoeias seemed to be able escape your agape mouth. Well, onomatopoeias and some very casual “Fuck, Chris” that would make your lover chuckle or smirk proudly.

And that’s how you felt it coming. That so well-deserved orgasm, ready to burst like a firework. It made you cry out and nestle your head in Chris’s neck, your body convulsing like never before. But Chris wanted to see you. He wanted to see your face as you were cumming for him. He wanted to carve that moment to play it over and over after you were gone. And so he pulled up your hair to make you look at him. But you couldn’t. Your eyes were tightly closed and refused to open. And then, it all came out. And you screamed his name, on and on, loud, so loud you were sure the neighbours would probably shout at you tomorrow but you did not care. You let your juices flow along his cock and your wall clench around him. “Damn. Fuuucck.” He growled and his moves became very sloppy yet more brutal and deeper. “Don’t you squeeze around me like that” But you couldn’t help it. That climax felt too good. Chris felt too good.

It sent him over the edge. He came hard in you, hot and sticky semen spurting in your vagina, painting your walls like nothing else. And you loved it, enjoying it the warm sensation with an amazed amused little laugh that made Chris chuckle despite his tiredness. “What’s so funny?” He asked. “Nothing. Just telling myself that this... was made in heaven” You winked and he laughed. You were gonna miss him.

#chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #resident evil #one shot #answer request

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matildaofoz · 4 years

Text

Memento Mori Pt 3. (Michael Langdon x Fem!Death!Reader)

You reached the courtyard of Kineros Robotics in record time, Michael hot at your heels.

“Can you walk a little slower?“ Michael complained, walking quickly beside you to keep up despite his long legs. You weren't lying when you had told him that you were on the clock.

„No can do, kiddo. Now come on, use those wonderful legs of yours,“ you threw at him over your shoulder, your hands searching for the car keys you had stashed in one of the conveniently hidden pockets of your dress without slowing down. Why weren't those a thing yet when humanity had invented every other type of useless thingamabob and yet pockets on a dress were blasphemous, you wondered. The intricacies of humankind often evaded you. The fingers of your right hand grazed the keys in your pocket and with a satisfied smirk you pulled them out.

“I'm not a kid, you know. I'm the Anti-,“ Michael began, irritated.

„The Antichrist, yes and you were born exactly when, 2012? You may not look it Michael, but in the grand scheme of things you're barely an amoeba,“ you interrupted him, not in the mood for any more temper tantrums. Without having to look back at his face, you felt the anger rolling off him in waves. He really was not used to being treated as anything less than the son of Satan. If he wanted you to lick his shoes, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, he should be on his knees before you, praising the universe for having sent you in his hour of need.

Continuing to ignore a seething Michael, your eyes zoned in on your newest toy. A 1965 Black Ford Mustang Convertible with bright red leather seats. Seeing as you were all things considered an ancient being and material things meant positively nothing to you, you did have two weaknesses. Fast food and fast cars. You liked to think that it was due to the human form you took, your immense power being pressed into the confines of a limited body and your patient nature being expressed in a rather paradoxical instant gratification. Thankfully, you couldn't gain any weight nor die in a car crash, remaining ever the same, and so you chose to indulge yourself at every given opportunity. Soon enough, those fleeting pleasures would come to an end. Might as well enjoy it while you could.

You skipped over the curb to the driver's side, admiring the way the inky paint coat glistened in the late afternoon sun, not a speck of dust in sight.

Michael came to stand by the passenger door, now more confused than angry. He was ever-changing, you mused.

“Did, did you sell your soul to my father too?” he asked, mustering the convertible before his eyes searched your face.

“No, Michael,” you chuckled amused. H really didn't know the first thing about the Apocalypse or his place in all of this. Maybe there would be time to give the boy a lesson, but not until you had had a good meal.

“I think I'm out of your dad's league if we're being honest. I am more a collector of souls myself. Your father or God don't actually hold the monopoly even though that's what they like to tell everyone. Tell you what, over dinner you and I will take a little trip down memory lane,” you explained, watching him with intent.

“Liar,” Michael said lowly, processing your words. His icy blue eyes narrowed at you. You could feel his power trying to claw at you, yet it felt distinctly like a kitten lick.

“Oh please, Michael, I don't lie,” you retorted unaffected, your hand grabbing the door handle and sliding into the seat, grabbing the pair of sunglasses on the dashboard and putting them on before looking at Michael, your fingers drumming on the steering wheel. This was not going nearly as well as you had planned and if you wanted to keep the plan you had set in motion rolling, you would undoubtedly need to change course, despite the fact that you loathed having to do so. Death be damned, you thought.

“I don't like repeating myself, Michael. I don't owe you any answers but perhaps I'm growing soft and the fact that you are left to your own devices, trying to figure out the single most monumental task on this rock hurtling through space has me feeling a little...sympathetic,” you stated, leaning over to push open the passenger door as a sign of goodwill.

“Tell you what, you can ask me all the questions you like, deal?”

Michael contemplated for a few seconds. He didn't like to admit it but so far he hadn't been the one to come up with any good plans that didn't involve The Omen 3 plot and his father had been absent throughout his accent so far. He didn't trust you or anybody bar Ms. Mead and yet you presented an enigma to him, one he needed to crack open. He was brilliant at problem-solving and he would solve you too, he thought to himself, a little grin creeping into the corner of his mouth. His invisible claws retracted.

“Deal. But I get to ask as many as I want,” he replied, pulling the door open all the way and plopping himself into the passenger seat beside you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Fine, a deal's a deal,” you groaned only halfheartedly, shooting him a grin of your own as you fired up the engine and pulled out onto the road. You really did have your work cut out for you. Lucky for Michael, he was so easy on the eyes that you didn't mind as much as you should have. You pressed the 'on' button of the radio and stifled a laugh at the song that had just started playing:

I see the bad moon a-rising I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today

Don't go around tonight Well it's bound to take your life There's a bad moon on the rise

°°° 20 Minutes later, you pulled into a parking lot, turned off the engine, hopping out of the car, and came around to Michael's side to take an unneeded but deep breath, filling your lungs with crisp evening air and the distinct smell of desert. The sun had just begun to set, a slight chill setting in and the last remaining rays illuminated Michael's blond hair in a way that reminded you an awful lot of his father before the fall. You let your gaze wander over his sitting form for a second, before lightly slapping the arm he had draped over the side of the car, lost in his own thoughts.

“Come on, Angel, we're here,“ you chided playfully, knowing it would rile the blonde man up unnecessarily. On cue, Michael's gaze shot up to meet your own, nostrils flaring at the more than holy pet name.

“Don't call me that! I'm anything but that!“ he bit out but couldn't keep the blush from creeping up his neck. He didn't like the way you made him feel. Weak and unsure of himself. No power he had encountered could match his, not even Cordelia's and then you came along. As if he wasn't already feeling insecure enough, even after having massacred the witches and warlocks, you only added to the sense that he hadn't yet achieved what he was meant to do, or be where his father expected him to be. Sensing his unease, you tussled his locks with your left hand, pulling him out of his self-induced reverie.

“There is nothing a good cake can't fix, Michael. Trust me,” you smiled at him, hoping he would pull himself together and get out the car. At the word cake, he did perk up, finally glancing behind you to look at where you had taken him.

“The Cheesecake Factory, really?” he looked up at you quizzically, disbelieving. If you were in fact Death, and he wasn't yet sure you weren't lying to him despite your overpowering aura, shouldn't you be dining in some high-class restaurant on the other end of town where they didn't even have prices on the menu?

“Are you food shaming me?” you retorted, one eyebrow shooting up.

“Err, no. It just doesn't...suit you,” Michael replied, his right hand coming to massage the back of his neck, embarrassment evident at his remark.

“Wouldn't you like to know what does and doesn't suit me. If you must know, it's kind of my thing. Don't ask me why but I just can't keep my hands off sweet things,” you explained, winking at him and only adding to his embarrassment. Before the Antichrist could slide any further down your passenger seat and be swallowed whole by the ground, you opened his door and gestured for him to get out.

“Relax. You clearly don't know how to take a joke. Come on, I can smell the cakes from here.” You turned on your heels, cape dress swishing behind you as you made your way across the parking lot to the entry. You weren't quite sure your words were meant as a joke but that was a heart-to-heart you'd have with yourself later. The only sweet thing on your mind right now was cake and soda. The slam of the car door indicated that Michael had managed to detach himself from the red leather interior and he jogged up beside you, matching your stride.

“I hope you're hungry. I'm paying,” you said, smiling with glee and making Michael chuckle. Another thing to add to your slowly growing list of likes about the spawn of Satan, you noted to your dismay.

°°° You placed the fork neatly back onto the now empty plate, devoid of even the smallest crumb, that had held an entire ultimate red velvet cake, groaning blissfully. Eyes closed, you swallowed down the last bite. Opposite you, Michael had stopped eating his pasta dish some time ago. When you had said that there is nothing a cake couldn't fix, you had meant an entire cake after all. The hunger you felt whenever you were in a human body was not easily satiated. Something that Michael or the waiter were clearly not prepared for. Both had been watching you for the last 5 minutes, jaws slack, as piece after piece traveled on the fork and into your mouth.

“That was positively delicious,” you hummed, casting a glance at Michael, fork suspended in mid-air.

“W-would you like anything else, Miss?” the waiter stuttered, taking your plate and admiring it as if it were a rare antiquity.

“Oh no, I think I've been quite naughty enough, don't you think?” you giggled, reaching for the Fanta and taking a large sip.

“Michael, you've hardly touched your food,” you noted, your voice rousing the young man out the trance your display of gluttony had placed him under. He cleared his throat, putting the fork down, adjusting his seat on the table.

“I'm not hungry anymore.”

“Oh, ok, well in that case we'd like the bill please,” you addressed the waiter with a satisfied grin, gulping down the last remnant of orange soda in your glass.

“Hey, you said you'd answer my questions! I knew you were a liar!” Michael intercepted, trying his best to keep his voice down.

“ I don't lie, Michael. You chose to watch me enjoy some cake instead of asking questions, didn't you?” you countered, your elbows coming to rest on the table, fingers intertwining. His anger and frustration bubbled to the surface once again. If he weren't the Antichrist, you were sure he would have a heart attack by the time he hit 30. His body tensed at your statement of truth, eyes squinting menacingly at you. Yet you were right, he had been so busy watching you, he had forgotten all about the myriad of questions buzzing in his mind like moths around a flame. His eyes fluttered shut briefly, gulping down the rage that threatened to burst out his chest. You watched as the blonde man tried to gain back his composure, your finger coming to run along the rim of the empty glass in front of you.

“Michael,” you demanded. His eyes opened to meet your own and you could see his restraint hanging by a thread in them. He did have a temper and you didn't want him setting fire to your favourite restaurant just yet.

“I'm in a good mood tonight. Instead of just answering your questions, I would like to show you something that will answer almost all of them. A deal is a deal,” you tried to reason. Michael mulled your words over in his head, sizing you up while doing so.

“Oh for goodness sake, Michael! I'm not trying to manipulate you. I'm trying to help you!” you exclaimed, exasperated at his hesitance and mistrust. While you knew his beginnings on this earth weren't exactly peppered in love, warmth and trust, you couldn't afford him seeing you as the enemy. Neither could he.

“If you don't believe me, take a peek. Make it last, this will be a one-off,” you encouraged him, an invisible finger beckoning him closer and allowing him limited access to your mind momentarily. Michael's mind pushed through your doors, grazing, flitting over millennia of memories before you let him look at your core.

No lies, Michael, you see?

You eased him out and sealed the doors shut tightly once again, leaning back in your chair, the restaurant coming back into focus.

“Here's your bill, Miss. Thank you for stopping by at the Cheesecake Factory tonight,” the waiter had brought you the bill. Wordlessly, you handed him a 100$ bill, nodding your head briefly at him to suggest that he could keep the change and waited for Michael's response.

“Ok,” Michael finally replied, rolling his head on his shoulders, resulting in a gratuitous cracking sound. You weren't sure if he was entirely satisfied with your show of goodwill. Not that it mattered.

“Let's take a walk,” you suggested, getting up without even the slightest hint of a stomach after decimating an entire cake. Michael's eyes never left you and the enigma you were to him just became a lot more enticing. A boyish smirk crossed his face as he stood up to walk in front of you. At the exit, he held open the door.

“My, my Michael. Didn't take you for a gentleman,” you chuckled, gracefully pushing past him and into the cool night air.

“My Ms. Mead would expect nothing less of me,” he offered, not bothering to hide his Cheshire cat smile. You had allowed him access to your mind and the things he saw, he desperately wanted to see again. You were like a box of confectioneries to him. For once in his life, his pride and ever-growing sense of entitlement took the backseat. He felt like he had finally met someone of his own caliber and the feeling was exhilarating to him. You weren't his father but you were the next best thing and best of all, right in front of him.

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dsajfghf · 3 years

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rpmtrish · 1 year

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RPM Magazine Releases the July 2023 Issue!

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agentnico · 3 years

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Godzilla vs. Kong (2021) Review

Not once, NOT ONCE in this film do we get to see King Kong’s mighty fine penis!! Although there are some magnificent shots of his perfectly crafted butt cheeks!

Plot: The epic next chapter in the cinematic Monsterverse pits two of the greatest icons in motion picture history against one another - the fearsome Godzilla and the mighty Kong - with humanity caught in the balance.

It’s been over a year since we’ve been hit by the pandemic and as such its been as long since we’ve enjoyed a proper big crazy popcorn blockbuster flick. To the rescue we have Godzilla vs. Kong, and with that title card all I expect and desire is to witness a couple of kaiju monsters beat the living crap out of each other whilst surrounded by Michael Bay-level explosions and causing various chaos and havoc to the environments around them. Let’s hope everyone’s been paying insurance, cause if these two have decided to have their MMA battle in your hometown, say goodbye to your home as it will be crushed through using majestic CGI visuals as we witness Hollywood throw mountains and mountains of dollar over this! Yes, this money could have gone towards more wholesome and inspiring causes such as world hunger and climate change but, like, also, not gonna lie....I wanna see some monsters fight for no reason. As Ken Watanabe says in the 2014 Godzilla film “Let them fight.” You’re god-zilla right Ken, bet you regret getting killed off in the last movie now, bet you wish you were here now to see these bad boys compare genital sizes!! Well go do one Ken! Go and enjoy training Tom Cruise to be last samurai whilst the rest of us will bathe in the glory of these two mighty mustangs fisting one another (innuendo may be intended)!!

Godzilla vs. Kong delivers exactly what it’s title suggests. This is the fourth instalment of Warner Bros’ Monsterverse cinematic universe cause, you know, cinematic universes are so IN right now, unless you’re Universal. Poor Universal, not even Tom Cruise (a second Cruise reference in the same review??) could help you save the Dark Universe with The Mummy. Gosh that movie was a stinker. Anyway, in terms of narrative, do you need to watch the previous three movies to understand what’s happening in Godzilla vs. Kong? Answer: NO! This ain’t no Aaron Sorkin. It’s Godzilla going against Kong, that’s your story! I mean, yes, there is a narrative involving puny little useless humans trying to act all macho, however honestly that stuff is all boring and pointless no matter how famous the actors starring may be. By the way, as with the other Monsterverse films, the main weakness of this movie are the human characters and their story arcs. I get why they are there, as without them the movie would have only been no more than 40 minutes, but also there’s no denying that when the movie focuses on the humans, those are the moments you as a viewer can get distracted or go and have a bathroom break. Maybe make yourself a tea during those moments. Have you ever tried chamomile? With some honey? And but a dash of milk? It’s lovely, you can thank me later. But yes, the human stuff is really uninteresting. There’s a conspiracy theorist who cracks a joke or two but honestly if you’re into that stuff there’s plenty of conspiracy shows out there based on real life events. There’s also a little mute girl that shares a really special connection with Kong. It’s supposed to be very sweet. Personally I found it to be very inappropriate as Kong is really old (let alone also of a different species) whilst the girl is under the age of 18, so like, Kong, what are you doing man? You can’t be doing that kind of stuff! I know that you think you’re so cool, which, I’ll give ya that, you are. You are very cool, but still! Anyway, the actual titan battle of fisticuffs is the reason to enjoy this movie. The last time we saw these two battle it out it looked like this:

Seriously, what are they doing - dancing tango? As purposes for remakes go, this one is justified. Earth’s mightiest creatures deserve better than this! 49 years was probably long enough for these two icons to chill in their respective corners before having their rematch, so now with the help of glorious glorious GLORIOUS visuals we can feast our eyes!! The battles are indeed epic! I mean, who doesn’t want to see Kong whack a punch in Godzilla’s face whilst on an aircraft carrier!? Honestly, how in the heck is that aircraft carrier not sinking under the pressure and weight of those two giants?? But hang on, that’s a stupid question. Why am I questioning physics in Godzilla vs. Kong? It’s Godzilla vs. Kong! That’s the answer!! It’s plain and simple as daylight!

All in all you get what you pay for. Don’t expect any clever narratives or deep character developments. This is literally a film that exists to see two kaiju monsters punch and whack and smack and kick and even tickle each other for as long as possible! Hey, tickling still counts as a fighting tactic, don’t diss! Of course at some point someone is going to edit out all the battle sequences in this film and put it together in a 30 minute video mashup on YouTube and then I’d recommend to go watch that video instead to save you time, but for now enjoy Godzilla vs. Kong as it is.

A bit sentimental, but what boosted my enjoyment level of this film was that I was so happy to see a full on big blockbuster again, it’s been so long. I wish cinemas in the UK were open for me to have enjoyed this on a massive screen, but even still seeing it as I did was still such a welcome notion. Even though as I watched it my entire household all of a sudden decided that now was the time that they all wanted to have a conversation with me about various things causing me to constantly pause this movie throughout turning it from a 2 hour film into a 4 hour viewing experience. It’s the Snyder Cut all over again!

Overall score: 6/10

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