Fanatic Intervention Part 13!!!
Wow, you're probably thinking - That was fast, Puffin!! Yes. I saw the votes come in and was stuck with sudden inspiration and HAD to get this done and up before bed. Huzzah for manic creative energy!!
You're either going to love it or be very angry with me. Not sure which (maybe a bit of both) - but here we go!
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Newt was worried.
Now, this wasn’t uncommon so it wasn’t normally a problem. This time, however, he was very certain he had a very good reason to be worried – and it was, in fact, a problem.
He couldn’t find Muriel.
It is here, dear Reader, where I need to take a moment to remind you of a few things. First of all, we all learned, not so long ago, that not everyone can manage to stay in a building and keep their sanity. Not even in a place like Aziraphale’s bookshop, not everyone. Second, it is very possible to reason things in a way that makes them seem harmless. Third, everyone makes mistakes. Newt is just learning that some mistakes cost more than others.
In his defense, things had seemed safe enough at the time. Newt and Anathema had been keeping in touch, and she’d told him about the Metatron tailing them at Heathrow. He had therefore come to the conclusion that the Metatron was keeping tabs on Anathema’s group. It made sense, what reason did Metatron have to watch the bookshop when his biggest threat was traipsing around America openly looking to disrupt his plans, and with no wards to keep them safe. Besides, it was just the cinema. It wasn’t even very far away. The plan had been a short trip to see a Disney film, then straight back with no distractions. It would have been a couple of hours at most. What could go wrong? Right?
Everything, of course. Everything could go wrong.
It was fine at first. The film had started, and the film was fine. Muriel was enjoying themselves. Then Newt had got up to use the toilet, whispered to Muriel that he would be right back, and left. When he came back, he couldn’t find them again. He looked. He found their seats. Then he thought perhaps they just needed to use the toilet too, so he sat back down and waited. After a minute he remembered that angels don’t need the loo, and thought that maybe Muriel had wanted more snacks. The film finished, and still Muriel hadn’t come back. Newt looked through the entire cinema. He asked the employees if they’d seen his friend, but none of them had. They helped him look in other screens, the lobby, all the toilets, everywhere. Muriel was gone. In a move of desperation, Newt returned to the shop, hoping beyond hope that Muriel had simply gone home without telling him, but no. The windows were dark, the shop was still locked and empty (although the doors were kind enough to unlock themselves for him).
Now he sat on the floor of the kitchen, breathing heavily into a cup of tea that was doing a very poor job of calming his nerves. He had to do something. He took a final deep breath before pushing himself off the floor and into one of the chairs at the table. Alright, panic time was over, now he needed to think. The only thing he was very certain of was that something had gone very very wrong. While he wasn’t entirely certain where Muriel was, by now he felt he could make a reasonable guess that they were back in Heaven. It was possible they had left of their own accord, something going so terribly wrong that they had needed to leave immediately without time to leave a message. It was also possible that nothing sinister was taking place. But the fear that had put him on the floor a moment ago was that Muriel had been taken by the Metatron back to Heaven against their will. And his biggest problem right now was that he had no idea which it was.
So he considered his options. If he messaged Anathema, he ran the risk of separating them. Their mission was important, and they had discussed at length before leaving why splitting up the group would be a bad idea. If he messaged them, they might drop everything and come back to the shop to help find Muriel, and end up playing right into the Metatron’s hands. At the same time, he wasn’t sure what he could do without them. It wasn’t as though Muriel had a phone that he could call.
Although...weren’t angels and demons basically the same? Like, they started from the same place right? And he knew by now that people could summon demons. Maybe he could just...summon Muriel back? He got up to go back into the front room of the shop – he was fairly sure he’d left his phone on the desk when he came in – and his foot caught on the area rug, making him trip and fall face first into the hardwood.
He groaned as he pulled himself up. Now wasn’t the time for this. He looked back to find out what he’d tripped over, and instead saw that the rug had pulled up a bit to reveal white lines on the floor underneath it. Huh. Now that was something. He got to his feet and pulled away the rest of the rug, revealing the entire drawing. By this point in his relationship with Anathema, he recognized a summoning circle when he saw it, and clasped a hand to his mouth in equal amounts of surprise and relief. Thank goodness! He could use this to summon Muriel! And it would bring them straight back to safety! Then he swore to Agnes Nutter he wouldn’t ever suggest they set foot outside of the bookshop again until this whole Second Coming business was well over.
Alright, candles. He knew he needed candles.
He searched the entire shop, and the only candles he could find were battery operated. Unorthodox, surely, but after considering for a moment, he decided that if Aziraphale had these candles around, then they must be good enough to do the job. He began placing them around the circle, similar to the way he’d seen Anathema do on the solstice. Seven places, seven candles. Made sense. If Newt recalled correctly, Heaven liked sevens for some reason. He turned on the last candle, placed it on the designated spot, and stepped away. Anathema had told him once that things could go wrong if someone stepped into a summoning circle, so he made sure to watch his feet and stand well outside of it.
Great. That was done. Um...now what? He wasn’t a witch. Or wizard. Or warlock? Or whatever a male witch was called. Alright, time to think again. He was trying to contact Heaven so...well, people usually did that by praying, didn’t they? Carefully, he brought his hands together and raised his eyes towards the ceiling of the shop. He felt downright silly, but no worse than he had in church while growing up he supposed. Besides, literal angels and demons were his life now apparently. And Muriel was depending on him.
“Um,” he said, honestly unsure of how to begin, “Hello, my name is Newt. Is...um...is anyone there?”
Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but a pillar of white light appearing between the candles hadn’t been it. His hands separated on instinct and he stumbled backwards in surprise, nearly topping a pile of books as he did. Wow, alright, so that worked. Huh. Strange feeling actually – things didn’t normally work quite so well or so quickly for him.
Anyway, focus up!
“Uh, right,” he continued, bringing his hands back together – it only felt proper now that he knew someone was actually there and listening. “I, er, well you see I’m looking for an angel called Muriel is...um, are they there?” Silence. Newt cleared his throat and tried again, firming his tone to feign confidence. “I summon the angel Muriel!”
This time the light blinked. A tone sounded. A tone he recognized actually….was it….no it wasn’t...dial-up was it??
But that’s what it was. The dial-up tone from Newt’s childhood internet experiences come back to haunt him. After a moment of blinking and beeping, a voice finally responded. Calm, yes, angelic, also yes, and oddly generic. Definitely not Muriel.
“The angel you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try your prayer again later.”
The light disappeared, leaving the room dark and the circle dull once again.
Well bugger.
❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤
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one of the things that's the most fucking frustrating for me about arguing with climate change deniers is the sheer fucking scope of how much it matters. sweating in my father's car, thinking about how it's the "hottest summer so far," every summer. and there's this deep, roiling rage that comes over me, every time.
the stakes are wrong, is the thing. that's part of what makes it not an actual debate: the other side isn't coming to the table with anything to fucking lose.
like okay. i am obviously pro gun control. but there is a basic human part of me that can understand and empathize with someone who says, "i'm worried that would lead to the law-abiding citizens being punished while criminals now essentially have a superpower." i don't agree, but i can tell the stakes for them are also very high.
but let's say the science is wrong and i'm wrong and the visible reality is wrong and every climate disaster refugee is wrong. let's say you're right, humans aren't causing it or it's not happening or whatever else. let's just say that, for fun.
so we spend hundreds of millions of dollars making the earth cleaner, and then it turns out we didn't need to do that. oops! we cleaned the earth. our children grow up with skies full of more butterflies and bees. lawns are taken over with rich local biodiversity. we don't cry over our electric bills anymore. and, if you're staunchly capitalist and i need to speak ROI with you - we've created so many jobs in developing sectors and we have exciting new investment opportunities.
i am reminded of kodak, and how they did not make "the switch" to digital photography; how within 20 years kodak was no longer a household brand. do we, as a nation, feel comfortable watching as the world makes "the switch" while we ride the laurels of oil? this boggles me. i have heard so much propaganda about how america cannot "fall behind" other countries, but in this crucial sector - the one that could actually influence our own monopolies - suddenly we turn the other cheek. but maybe you're right! maybe it will collapse like just another silicone valley dream. but isn't that the crux of capitalism? that some economies will peter out eventually?
but let's say you're right, and i'm wrong, and we stopped fracking for no good reason. that they re-seed quarries. that we tear down unused corporate-owned buildings or at least repurpose them for communities. that we make an effort, and that effort doesn't really help. what happens then? what are the stakes. what have we lost, and what have we gained?
sometimes we take our cars through a car wash and then later, it rains. "oh," we laugh to ourselves. we gripe about it over coffee with our coworkers. what a shame! but we are also aware: the car is cleaner. is that what you are worried about? that you'll make the effort but things will resolve naturally? that it will just be "a waste"?
and what i'm right. what if we're already seeing people lose their houses and their lives. what if it is happening everywhere, not just in coastal towns or equatorial countries you don't care about. what if i'm right and you're wrong but you're yelling and rich and powerful. so we ignore all of the bellwethers and all of the indicators and all of the sirens. what if we say - well, if it happens, it's fate.
nevermind. you wouldn't even wear a mask, anyway. i know what happens when you see disaster. you think the disaster will flinch if you just shout louder. that you can toss enough lives into the storm for the storm to recognize your sacrifice and balk. you argue because it feels good to stand up against "the liberals" even when the situation should not be political. you are busy crying for jesus with a bullhorn while i am trying to usher people into a shelter. you've already locked the doors, even on the church.
the stakes are skewed. you think this is some intellectual "debate" to win, some funny banter. you fuel up your huge unmuddied truck and say suck it to every citizen of that shitbird state california. serves them right for voting blue!
and the rest of us are terrified of the entire fucking environment collapsing.
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Hey hi hello to any fellow Brits reading this.
You probably know we have a general election coming up, which by the way, make sure you're registered to vote and have the qualifying photo ID.
And hey maybe you're a fence-sitter who doesn't want to vote for Labour for whatever reason.
Well, this post is giving you a reason to vote for Labour (or any party other than Tory if the candidate actually has a chance to win the seat).
You might have noticed that a lot of local and city councils have either gone bankrupt recently or are teetering on the edge, and that officially, it's the councils themselves that have been blamed, and uh yeah, that's horseshit.
The majority of a local council's funding comes from core grants given out by Westminster.
There's actually a limit on funding that local councils can raise via taxes, and like a whole lot of issues in the UK, that comes down to Margaret fucking Thatcher. It's also thanks to her that local councils don't have as much power over the local area as you'd ideally want them to.
(That's been eased a little since, but if a local council ain't got the money, they can't exercise that power.)
Suffice to say, local councils are very much dependent on funding from the central government.
And as you might imagine, 14 years of Tory government has just made it worse. From 2010 to 2020, that funding was cut by 40%.
Wanna know why hundreds of libraries have closed down? Or why public services like bin collections are almost entirely ran by corporations? Or why bin collections are now once a fortnight rather than once a week? Or why council houses haven't been built? Or why public toilets are being closed? Or why you have to Tokyo Drift on the drive to work because it's been 2 years and no one's done shit about that goddamn pothole? Or why parks seem to now be maintained by Big Foot and by the way Big Foot has also declared bankruptcy? Or why local arts have had their budget of 17 paperclips and a whistle reduced down to 10 paperclips and no whistle? Or why your local museum is effectively a mausoleum?
It is all down to this.
Your local council runs on a shoestring budget because Tory rule has deprived local councils of the funding that they need.
If the Tories win in July, this problem is just gonna get worse and worse and worse.
More councils are going to go bankrupt; more public services are going to be cut or underfunded; more vulnerable kids are going to fall through the cracks; more local services will be privatised; more pressing issues will be ignored because there's no money left over to fix it.
You might not like the current Labour party, but hi hello welcome to harm reduction politics. Maybe a Labour government won't fix this, but another 5 years of Tory rule is going to break this country.
So for god's sake, get over yourself and your leftist purity bullshit, and just fucking vote for Labour as a vote against the Tories.
[Information for this post comes from this video by Tom Nicholas]
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what does it mean when people say stuff like individual morality or action is incompatible with class analysis or class struggle?
alright so like one of the key ideas about class analysis is the idea that classes (as a whole) have economic interests that affect all their members but don't extrapolate out to an individual analysis.
for example, let's say that you can't find a job, and somebody offers to pay you below the table for below minimum wage. it's in your individual interest to do this--it beats having no job! but as a member of the working class, once this practice becomes normalized, suddenly the standards of pay for everyone are lower because people know that they can just pay less than minimum wage under the table. competition between workers for jobs drives wages down for everyone, leaving them all in a worse situation overall even if each individual choice to scab, to accept lower pay, to resist unionization, etc, leaves the person who makes it better off. cf. karl marx on what happens when wages and working conditions deteriorate:
The labourer seeks to maintain the total of his wages for a given time by performing more labour, either by working a great number of hours, or by accomplishing more in the same number of hours. Thus, urged on by want, he himself multiplies the disastrous effects of division of labour. The result is: the more he works, the less wages he receives. And for this simple reason: the more he works, the more he competes against his fellow workmen, the more he compels them to compete against him, and to offer themselves on the same wretched conditions as he does; so that, in the last analysis, he competes against himself as a member of the working class.
— Karl Marx, Wage Labour & Capital
similarly, any individual member of the working class is completely dispensable and replaceable by capital. if one person refuses to work unless they're paid a higher wage, they'll be fired and replaced with somebody who doesn't. the individual worker has no economic leverage whatsoever. but the working class has incredible economic leverage! and so does the intermediate stage between the working class and the individual--organized segments of the working class (e.g. trade unions) have economic leverage. if one person strikes, the capitalist can fire them. if 40,000 people strike, your industry is going to shut down.
so the reason why class analysis is compatible with individual action is that your incentives measurably change when you start organizing--it's in the interests of the individual to compete, but in the interests of the class to cooperate. and obviously you cannot just expect everyone to spontaneously coordinate! you, the individual, are disposable to capital! if you, personally, refuse to take the under-the-table offer, either on moral grounds or because you recognize your class interest, your neighbour's going to take it--unless you and her get together and agree that neither of you will take it. that's the only way that the guy making the offer is going to have to give in and offer the job for a living wage.
and this is what organization is--trade unions (although they have severe limitations!), communist parties, and other worker's organizations allow the working class to pursue their collective interest--which can only be pursued by collective action, because engaging in the strategies of collective action as an individual, without the cooperation of your peers, is high risk for no reward.
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