#charlatan gangster

[fuckyeahmeikokaji]

Meiko Kaji (梶芽衣子) in Fabulous Swindlers (極道ペテン師), 1969, directed by Koji Chino (千野皓司).

I posted the trailer here: https://youtu.be/MYqKE9aIEfc

[zahri-melitor]

Batman v Ra's Al Ghul, by Neal Adams: A Bronze Age fever dream of a comic, written in 2019-2021.

Neal Adams caps off his over 50 year career with DC comics by...them letting him write a book for the first time in a decade.

Now, Adams is famous for his Bronze Age artwork, not his writing, and it's deservedly so: this is not the comic you would pick up if you were interested in award winning writing. But I have to say, it's actually something far more fun than 'good writing'.

I think the easiest way to describe the incredibly wild vibes of this title are 'Adams writes a multiverse Bronze Age time travel AU fic', where the cast technically consists of a modern set of characters (Dick is Nightwing and both Tim and Damian are Robin), but all of the characters are drawn, talking and acting like they just walked off a page in 1974 or so.

For assistance, that's: Dick in the yellow with the very 70s black vest; Tim in the blue t-shirt; Damian in the red t-shirt; and Bruce in the suit. You end up keeping track of them in this title by their haircuts.

Bruce and Damian here cannot remember anything about being Batman and Robin; Dick and Tim appear to have shown up with a fantastical story that cannot be proven (as I said, this has INCREDIBLE reality hopping AU vibes).

Some of the characters have been mindwiped. Some of the characters are robot duplicates. A whole list of characters Adams helped create show up largely because he created them (seriously Kirk and Francine Langstrom show up for a couple of pages mostly to give Dick and Tim an airlift into a difficult to reach entrance to the Cave). Nobody sounds particularly in character at any point, but that's not really a problem in this comic, because what it really is is a giant jolt of Bronze Age style writing nostalgia direct to the brainstem.

They don't make comics like this anymore and reading one written in the 2020s like this reinforces why.

Deadman's brother Aaron and sister Zeea show up; his brother is busy pretending to be an alternate Australian version of Batman called Marvin O'Hearn, and his sister is a psychic running around in the most 70s outfit imaginable controlling things and mindwiping Bruce on Ra's orders.

(And yes, if you too just asked 'Boston Brand has siblings???' the answer is 'kinda sorta but definitely not these two', however given Adams was writing Boston in 1968 at one point he's got as much right as anyone else to claim there are additional siblings)

There's a group who PRETEND to be the Court of Owls but secretly are a group of industrialists called The Money who want to control the world via paying for legislators, judges and industry (and yes I realise that sounds exactly like the Court's thing, but Adams was almost 80 when he wrote this, he can have an expy Court if he wants one).

Bruce pretends to be Matches for a good chunk of the back end of this comic and it actually acknowledges that Matches Malone was a real gangster before he died and Bruce stole his identity (something other writers and the fandom often forget), because Adams wants one more spin with the character he designed.

There's also a moment in the sixth issue where one of Ra's pet scientists tries to sell a panel of Gotham execs on a perpetual motion machine based on electrolysis as his replacement for the current Gotham power generators and at this point I lost it giggling at the portrayal of Ra's as a cheap charlatan.

(There is also a sneaky joke that only works if you know what British salad cream is; there's this sequence of the kids talking about Alfred making sandwiches with 'crappy salad dressing' instead of mayonnaise, only this tray has been made with mayo...and it's a hint that Alfred has been replaced by a robot. I laughed; I suspect it might be non-obvious to American audiences)

This is not a comic to read if you are interested in 'main continuity' or 'coherence' or even 'good writing'. However if you want some wild antics that feel like someone's 3am fanfic AU written in pure Bronze Age vibes and to see the last work of one of Ra's Al Ghul's creators? Give it a chance. You'll never be able to predict what's on the next page.

[sinkingtime]

Marvel X DC

Some years ago there were Amalgam Comics, where the characters were mashups of a Marvel and a DC character. I haven't read those, this is not that. Unless I accidentally hit on the same combos, though that seems unlikely.

So far it's just a few. Maybe later I'll have more ideas. We'll see.

Thomas Wayne is Sorcerer Supreme. His wife and son died during a mugging gone wrong. The police eventually found him beating the robber's unrecognizably-mangled corpse, having also destroyed his own hands after apparently several hours of that.

Medical science could not return him his hands, so he sought mystical alternatives, falling for several charlatans but eventually reaching the real thing, learning magic, being the best at it and etc etc.

Also I guess the Sanctum Sanctorum is in Gotham City, it was undefended for a few centuries, which is why the city is Like That.

Gwen Stacy is Star-spider. With spider powers, and Stargirl's staff, so she can swing and hang from it. Also it's the "tame symbiote" version, because she's cool. Honestly, my favourite spider hero, so far.

She should have a cartoon.

She'd wear the Gwenom outfit, minus the teeth, plus little stars and nebulae all over the black parts.

Also I guess (retired?) Captain George Stacy can be her sidekick, S.T.R.I.P.E. (formerly known as War Machine).

Diana Prince is The Immortal Iron Fist, defender of Themyscira, sworn enemy of the Hand. She's a local, not some tourist; they thought the Hand was defeated until Steve Trevor reached them, and from his ramblings they figured out they were active in the wider world, so she decided to leave to hunt them.

Danny the Ambulance is Ghost Ride. Host of the Spirit of Vengeance, but there's no rider, it's just him.

Casey the EMT is a Runaways OC, created after Danny had an adventure with them. She understands she's not part of their backstory, even if they are part of hers, so she carefully stays away, even if she can't help missing them.

Then the Runaways, I don't know their names, sorry, but the witch and the shining alien should be Raven and Starfire, respectively. And the Staff of One is now the Staff of Trigon, naturally. I suppose the rest of them should also be Titans.

There's a weapon maker's kid, that could be Cyborg, easy enough. Probably a less visually obvious cyborg, at least at first?

There's a crime boss' kid, that's Dick Grayson. Since there's no Batman he was instead adopted by a rival of the gangster that killed his parents. And who also happens to be a member of the Pride.

There's a strong girl, that's Terra.

And the last one is a time traveller's kid with a psychic link to a dinosaur. I've no idea what to do with that one.

Later on they get a Skrull kid, who becomes the shining alien's boyfriend, then her girlfriend after she explains that she's gay and what that is. That will be Beast Boy, a.k.a. Beast Girl. I don't think he can do that, but their mashup can, ok?

I know the gangster's kid eventually betrays the Runaways, and Terra betrays the Titans. I think probably him so he can become Red X. Or nobody betrays anyone, maybe. They also get more people but I haven't read that far. Moving on.

Saturn Girl is the host of the Phoenix Force, but only in the present. When she goes back to her time it just hangs around, waiting for her to come back. In the future it's not been seen for centuries, she hasn't been able to find out what happened.

Booster Gold is a low-ranking TVA worker. We only ever meet him during his breaks or days off.

Darkseid is the creator and leader of the Yellow Lantern Corps. The central power battery resides in Apokolips, and tints the flames yellow.

And that's it. Anyone have any ideas, please let me know. That goes double for me, me!

[eitmonline]

EITM Playlist 12/20/22

𝟙𝟘. The Lumineers - WHERE WE ARE | 6:09/5:09c

Primal Scream - Movin’ On Up | 6:28/5:28c

Ashe - Angry Woman | 6:33/5:33c  

𝟡. Mother Mother - Hayloft II | 7:09/6:09c

𝟠. Michigander - Stay Out Of It | 7:36/6:36c

The Tubes – Talk To Ya Later | 7:51/6:51c

𝟟. The Black Keys - It Ain't Over | 7:57/6:57c

𝟞. Ripe - Settling | 8:26/7:26c

𝟝. Taylor Swift - Anti-Hero | 9:00/8:00c

𝟜. The Head And The Heart - Virginia (Wind In The Night) | 9:30/8:30c

The Specials - Ghost Town | 9:41/8:41c

𝟛. Smith & Thell - I Feel It In The Wind | 9:46/8:46

𝟚. Bob Moses - Love Brand New | 10:16/9:16c

𝟙. Vance Joy – Clarity | 10:41/9:41c

[ayteezmooveez]

Happy Mondays-Step on

Chris Isaack-Baby did a bad thing

Cars-Candy O

Imelda May-Big Bad Handsome man

Cage The Elephant-Aint No Rest For the Wicked

Ivy-Digging Your Scene

Camper Van Beethoven-pictures of matchstick men

10000 maniacs-These are days

Charlatans-Weirdo

101ers-Keys To your heart

Badly Drawn Boy-You Were Right

Baby Huey-Messin With the kid

Millie Jackson-My man is a sweet man

Bonnie St Claire-I Surrender

Sweet-Action

Inxs-Don’t Change

Chaka Khan-Ain’t Nobody

Isley Brothers-It’s Your Thing

Elvis Costello-Don’t Want To Go To Chelsea

Scissor Sisters-Take Your Mama

Style Council-Ever Changing moods

Arctic Monkeys-Fake Tales Of San Fransisco

T Rex-20th Century Boy

David Bowie-Rebel Rebel

Echo Bunnymen-Bring On Dancing horses

The The-This is the day

Flock of seagulls-space age love song

Selector-Gangsters

English Beat-Save it for later

Clash-Rudie Cant fail

Small Faces-Sorry She’s mine

Rolling Stones-Satisfaction

Billy Idol-Dancing With Myself

Romeo Void-Never Say never

PetShopBoys-What have I done to deserve this

New order-Age Of Consent

Cure-Just Like Heaven

Depeche Mode-Personal Jesus

Adam Ant-Goody Two shoes

Blondie-One Way or Another

Joe Jackson-Look Sharp

Smiths-There’s a light that never goes out

Peter Murphy-Cuts You Up

English Beat-Save it for later

Elvis Costello-Pump it up

Violent Femmes-Blister in the sun

Ramones-I wanna be sedated

Wall Of Voodoo-Mexican Radio

Erasure-A little respect

Deelite-Groove is in the heart

Prince-Kiss

Talking heads-Once in a lifetime

James Brown-Get Up….sexmachine

ABC-Poison Arrow

Big Country-In a big country

Soft Cell- Tainted Love

Human League-Don’t you want me

Red Rockers-China

Lemonheads-Mrs Robinson

Buzzcocks-Ever fallen in love

Clash-Brand new Cadillac

Cult-She sells sanctuary

Echo-Lips Like Sugar

Morrissey-Suedehead

Tin Tin-Kiss Me

Psych Furs-Love My Way

Chameleons UK-Swamp Thing

Stone Roses-I wanna be adored

LCD Soundsystem-All My Friends

[satashiiwrites]

Outtakes that never quite made it into my fics 1/?

So I was going through my WIP folder and came across this snippet of an outtake that comes from An Andromeda Tale. There’s a few of them but this one is the most fleshed out. 

Warning for first draft, unfinished outtake, humor, telenovela abuse, references to the TV series Velvet (aka Galerías Velvet which everyone should watch!)

2819 June 7th

Draullier Collective Base, Kadara, Govorkam System, Heleus Cluster, Andromeda

Reyes Vidal, not-so-secret fan of telenovelas, currently enraged Charlatan and yes I-will-make-you-quake-in-your-boots Maiko!  I’m a tough gangster boss!

Status: Murder would be too kind of a fate for whoever did this

This may or may not really have happened....

Reyes knew his eyebrow was probably still twitching but his irritation and horror upon learning that one of his team had shared his stash without his permission was causing him actual chest pain and difficulty breathing. HIs thoughts were jumbled and the vein at his temple bulged with each heartbeat, signifying his emotional state as his hands shook so he curled them into fists to hide the tremor in them.

Overheated.

Agitated thoughts focusing on what his family had done.

The betrayal. 

The broken trust.

The horror of realization. 

The absolute and total embarrassment of having Scott ask him if his home culture was really like the telenovela the Tempest crew had introduced him to.  Scott had even written a program that made the message unfold like a paper airplane. Reyes had not missed the cute, hidden message behind the effort. Scott was a subtle flirt and if Reyes wasn’t familiar with the reference he would have been confused by it. 

It may have been cute and heartwarming and made him blush.

But damnit. 

Murder would not be satisfying enough given his embarrassment that Scott would figure out he had watched this series so many times even though it was a romantic melodrama about a fashion store. 

There was only one common source Scott’s crew could have gotten this particular telenovela from as it had been from his own library. 

He’d called a meeting of his family—Maiko, Kenax, Vestus, Alzik and Keema. No reason just get your ass to the Draullier base as soon as fucking possible. The Charlatan had called a meeting of his lieutenants and he wanted to talk to them face to face. 

[the-vengeful-demon]

(Hazbin 1920s Drabble)

Dust and soot clouded my vision as I stepped off the train and into the crowded station. The smell of smoke surpassed that of anything else. The chatter of the passersby was loud and lively, and the sharp sound of the train’s steam whistle pierced my ears. Never had I been in such a noisy place. I hadn’t expected a perfect sight upon arriving in New Orleans. A lot of noise and people was all you could ever expect at a train station. But I had hoped that my arrival would be a little more picturesque. But it was just loud and dirty. Exceedingly so.

I went over to the other end of the station to collect my luggage. Other travelers ran about; boarding, unboarding, waving goodbye, waiting for an arrival. They all formed one mass that was difficult to get through. No one even seemed to notice one another as they made their way through the area. It was completely unlike the station that I had initially boarded at, and I wanted nothing more than to get my bags and leave.

To my relief, my luggage was brought to me quickly and I hurried out though the sea of people. I forced my way past everyone until I walked out into the fresh, open air. The station was a quite a distance away from the center of town, where I intended to stay. But to my relief there were a few motorcars and small carriages waiting outside to whisk people into the city.

“Carriage, cher?” A boisterous man asked, his voice laced with a heavy accent.

“Can you take me to the Hotel New Orleans?”

He gave a slight smile and opened the side door of the coach. “Of course! Just a little into the city center on rue du canal.”

My excitement got the better of me, and I hardly listened to his response. I stepped lightly in, smoothing out my dress as the cabbie threw my luggage into the back. He closed the door and hopped in front of me, giving the horse a gentle tap with the reins. We hurried along the small streets, passing by buildings that grew taller the further we went into the city. People of all kinds were about the town, some dressed in their absolute finest, and others in second-hand rags. Street musicians played their brass for onlookers; the smell of magnolia and tobacco filled the air. I couldn’t help but stop the driver when he notified me of our impending arrival.

“I’ll walk the rest of the way, if you don’t mind.” I wanted to go about the street and be enveloped in its liveliness. To see, and hear, and experience it as closely as possible.

The cabbie’s response carried a worried tone “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Thank you, sir. It’s just down the street, right?”

He shook his head and pointed in the direction I was to head in. I paid him his due and rushed excitedly away with a bag in each hand. Never in my life had I seen so many motorcars, or so many people walking down a street. The heat of the sun was upon me now as it began to make its way lower into the sky. But it only seemed to bring more people out into the late afternoon. Back home, everyone would have been starting to head back to their houses after a long day of work in the sun. But it appeared as though Orleans was only starting to wake up at this hour. Couples stepped out of buildings taller than I had ever imagined. Flappers trotted down the street in their heels, only barely caring to cover their knees. Workingmen trudged along the sidewalk in groups, seeking out places to eat and drink during their off time. Children ran past, laughing and screaming all the way. I had never seen a place so full of life and activity. It was everything I had hoped it was. Just the way the advertisements and books depicted it. New Orleans.

I was grinning to myself in a state of blissfulness when a man approached me on the pathway. He was bony and tanned, with an unkept beard and ragged clothes.

“Excuse me, miss. Would you like to purchase some curiosities? Some good luck charms, potions to ward off evil spirits? Or perhaps you’d be interested in this here voodoo doll? Why, with just this doll you can bring about your wrath on your enemies! Just poke it or burn it, and your victim will suffer the same fate. It’s my guarantee!” He continued to speak in a fast and excited manner, erratically waving his products in front of me. It was all so interesting, all these bits and bobs supposedly holding supernatural power. My attention was only dragged away by a man standing closely on the edge of the street. I at first thought that he intended to cross the roadway. But he stalled at every opportunity to do so. Even as he was looking away, I could tell that his focus was upon the salesman and I.

The barker pulled my attention back just as he had finished showing his wares. “What about any of those? Anything catch your eye, missy?”

“Well, um. These are all such nice things, but I don’t have too much money to spend. Not on stuff like this. I just need to get to the Hotel New Orleans, perhaps you could-“

The exuberant man interrupted me before I could get another word out. “But you must want something! I’m just a poor man, trying to sell his genuine goods to folks like yourself.”

At this, the lingering man turned on his heel, his pretense of waiting now completely gone. He stood beside me and placed a hand lightly on my shoulder, staring solely at the shaggy merchant. He was in every way the opposite of the hawker; well-dressed and formal in the way he carried himself. He was tall and lean, with thick dark brown hair and olive skin. His smile was bright and wide, but his eyes had a hint of hostility in them, as did his words.

“Oh dear, don’t listen to this charlatan. When he’s not peddling nonsense, he’s being a dewdropper. Isn’t that right, Sam?”

“Why I-“

The more formal man stood upright quickly, now facing me. “But not to worry! He exclaimed, raising a finger in the air. “I’ll help you to your lodging, my dear. It’s not too far of a walk from here.”

And with that, he stepped aside and motioned me to the other side of the street with his arm outstretched. I took his implication and walked briskly to the opposite side as the hustler began cursing under his breath. I rolled my eyes. A quack, already? The tall man quickly followed but we stopped at the side of the road. I wanted to give my gratitude for being saved from a sham. “Thank you for that, I suppose.”

“No need to.” He put an open hand in front of him in protest. “It’s always a pleasure to expose his little ruses.” His voice was warm and welcoming, and he had a strange accent that I couldn’t place. “The name’s Alastor”. What’s yours, sweetheart?” He bent over somewhat and offered me his hand.

“Lily.” I said timidly, taking it as he shook my arm excitedly.

“Ah, a lovely name! Well, Lily I’m so very glad that you took my offer to help! I would certainly hate to leave a little thing like you alone on the streets.“

I had often heard that cities had more crime than the smaller towns and homesteads that I was used to. But his tone indicated that the problem was more pervasive than I had thought. “Should I really be that worried?”

“Why, yes!” His head spun toward me as he walked, his brown eyes wide behind his thin-rimmed glasses. “There are dangers lurking around every corner here. Swindlers, thieves, gangsters….and worse.”

“Worse?!” Shock was apparent in my expression.

“Yes, dear. Far worse.  He looked forward as he continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. ”The most a thief can take is your money. But there are people here that want to take more than that.” His ever-present smile faltered for just a moment.

I caught his meaning and looked away, but an anxiety came over me upon hearing his words. Alastor must’ve noticed this, as he immediately raised the back his hand to his forehead in an exaggerated manner, tilting his head back as he did so. “And I can just imagine how terrible I would feel, if you were to fall into the clutches of someone like that!”

I raised an eyebrow at his overacted tone. “And how do I know that you’re not someone like that?”

“You don’t.” He smiled, giving me a sidelong glance, likely eager to see my reaction. I said nothing but slowed my pace, almost coming to a complete stop. Alastor’s smile grew wider, and he let out a short laugh.

“Don’t fret, my dear! I mean you no harm. I just wish to safely escort a newly-arrived visitor. That’s all!”

“That’s very kind of you...but….” I avoided his eyes, trying to make my skepticism less evident.

“Is my behavior suspicious to you?” He raised his eyebrows but kept a slight grin.

My whole life I had learned that nothing was free. Everyone always wanted something in return, from goods to simple gestures. Everything came with a cost. Even back home, with the simplest of courtesies, many people always expected something in return. Food, money, a favor to be asked later. “Well, I’m just not use to people doing nice things for nothing.”

“Oh, but you are offering something in return, dear!”

“I am?” Of course he would want something. But I hardly had anything to give.

“Why, yes! I always enjoy conversing with strangers, especially ones from out of town. They tend to tell the most interesting stories…” Alastor’s voice lowered as spoke those last words, yet he seemed very satisfied with himself.

“I’m afraid I don’t have many stories to tell.” And in all honestly, I didn’t. I came from a relatively isolated area, with lots of farmland and simple people trying to make a living. But that hardly ever lent itself to good stories.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“I’m from a small town. There never seems to be much going on. Sometimes there’s hardly anyone to talk to, and there’s certainly no travelers. Just old folks and animals.”

He perked up even more at my response, as if it was exactly what he wanted to hear. “Well that’ll change while you’re here, sweetheart! I’m sure you’ll have lots of interesting tales to take back home with you.”

I smiled awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. What was there to go back to? I tried to make my case as best as I could.  “Oh…I’m-uh…not going back. My hometown has nothing to offer me anymore. Just old-fashioned ways, some rude people, and….well..sad faces.” All of which was true.

A satisfied expression settled on his face. He seemed to delight in my poor and simple background. “Then I’m glad to offer you a welcoming introduction and a friendly smile!” Alastor’s voice was soft and warm, and my faint caution began to withdraw. He was certainly charming. I had never seen anyone smile as much as he did. He was theatrical in his mannerisms and carried himself more confidently than anyone around him. Even walking down the street appeared to be a performance for him, even as no one was looking. Eventually we came upon a grand brick building in the middle of town. It was old and somewhat small compared to the structures that surrounded it, yet it was bustling with activity.

“Ah! Here’s your hotel! You’re only staying here temporarily I presume?” Alastor turned towards me and awaited my response, despite the obvious answer.

I only intended to stay until I found more affordable and stable accommodations. While the hotel was advertised to be on the more luxurious side of things, I knew I couldn’t stay long. My finances would not allow it, and I knew I couldn’t get to use to the lavish atmosphere. I would inevitably have to settle for something less so. “Yes, just until I can find something permanent.”

“Well, I wish you all the best, my dear.” He began to turn away as he spoke, as if he had somewhere important to be. But something stopped him and he glanced back at me, wide-eyed, like he had forgotten something.

“And one more thing! Est-ce que tu parles français?”

Oh, right. They speak French here too, I thought, chastising myself for not remembering such an important detail. Though what he said, I didn’t know. I had rarely ever heard a word of the language. …”I beg your pardon?”

He just grinned, and waved his hand. “Never mind, I’m sure you’ll get along fine either way!” I certainly hope he’s right about that. “Until we meet again, my dear!” And with that he left, strolling down the street at a quick pace. But how could we ever meet again? In such a big city, you could hardly ever meet the same person twice, right?

[firestorm889]

Top Dollar: Wrong. That's the perfect reason to quit. The only reason to quit. A man has an idea. The idea attracts others, like-minded. The idea expands. The idea becomes an institution. What was the idea? That's what's been bothering me, boys. I tell ya: when I used to think of the idea itself, it put a big ol' smile on my face. Greed is for amateurs. Disorder. Chaos. Anarchy. Now that's fun!

Gangster 2: What about Devil's Night?

Top Dollar: What about it? I started the first fires in this goddamn city. Before I knew it, every charlatan and shitheel was imitating me. You know what they got now? Devil's Night greeting cards. Isn't that precious? The idea has become the institution, boys. Time to move on.

[icymirss]

Does Trump have any idea what an anarchist is? Or is he just hoping that frequent repetition of a word he associates with widespread fear and loathing will get an increasingly hostile American public back on his side?

It's somewhat amusing that Donald Trump considers the word "anarchist" an insult, or that he fancies himself morally fit to insult anarchists....

He's a head of state. Or, in more accurate English, a second-rate mafia don, chieftain of an overgrown street gang with delusions of grandeur.

Trump and his type -- the "leaders" of political governments -- murdered hundreds of millions of innocent victims in the 20th century and are already off to a bang-up start in the 21st.

Trump and his ilk steal more wealth, destroy more property, and kill more of the people they claim to serve in any given week than all the anarchists in history combined....

Gangsters like Trump (and his 44 predecessors) aren't morally qualified to shine a Black Bloc rabble-rouser's Doc Martens, let alone criticize the ideological anarchists who daily expose the protection racket called the state.

Anarchism comes in many flavors, but at root it's a simple concept: It calls for the absence of rulers.

Note that second "r." Not an absence of rules, but of charlatans who empower and enrich themselves and their cronies on the false claim that they serve society by enforcing rules.

[pollylynn]

Title: Pharos WC: 1100

She likes Lucas Troy from the first. Even though he lies to her, even though he is guilty of the cardinal sin of even trying to lie to her, she likes him for his forthright commentary on their victim. She likes him for his loyalty to his friend, even though that’s precisely what leads him into his foolish lie. And most of all, for some reason, she likes him for the strange fact that he’s spending his lunch hour painting enchanted lanterns for a dance that will undoubtedly be populated, in large part, by people like their victim. She likes that for some inexplicable reason. 

She doesn’t have a lot of time to devote to Lucas Troy, though. She has charlatans to interrogate. She has Castle’s nonstop flow of supernatural tales to debunk. And once they finally find Jordan Gibbs, she has high school interpersonal dynamics to sort through. 

It’s not the best time she’s ever had. 

Madison Beaumont, according to Jordan, began acting out of pattern when school restarted after the winter break. It’s not exactly a highpoint of her career as a master interrogator that the information comes at the expense of causing real and obvious distress to the already distressed girl, but the information is useful. The timing of the change is inside the window Riley, Madison’s ex, ball-parked at a couple months ago. With typical victims—with common criminals—the change in behavior, the corroboration of it by multiple witnesses, would give the case forward momentum. 

But Jordan Gibbs is odd and harassment of Jordan Gibbses by Bitch Cliques led by Madison Beaumonts probably predates humanity’s descent from the trees. And even the Madison Beaumonts of the world are not immune to the dastardly effects of wild hormone swings and a self-image as fragile as a soap bubble. The secrecy, even with the boyfriend, the shiny new target for her Bitch Clique energies—acting out of pattern might mean everything or it might mean nothing. 

They luck out, if that’s the word for it,  and it means something. It means that Madison Beaumont was more than just a victim of hormones. Her sudden need to pick on the weird girl seems to have been related to her foray into extremely high-end robbery. It should make her feel better, but finding herself at the intersection of Heathers and Charade is not really an improvement over putting a misfit seventeen-year-old’s feet to the fire. The whole case just has her feeling not right in her own skin. 

He soothes some of that feeling away. Being home with him, sharing a glass of wine and guilty-pleasure dinner of a massive loaf of garlic bread and homeopathic amounts of real food soothes some of it away. Telling her story does, too. She’s not sure that she’s ever said out loud to anyone that she has regrets about it, and now that she has said it, she’s not sure it’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

It feels close, though. They clink glasses and toast the things they did and the things they didn’t miss. She sips her wine and sets it aside. She deprives him of his, and they dance in the kitchen to the song they don’t have until the timer dings for the garlic bread. They eat, side by side, and regret feels close to the truth. And she feels like herself again, mostly. Mostly. 

The morning brings with it a lead that’s firmly in her wheelhouse—a gangster who certainly would not have looked kindly on any thief, let alone the seventeen-year-old daughter of his defense attorney. A cocky rich kid, unsatisfied with all she already had at her feet, playing with that kind of fire—it’s a tragic, undeserved ending, of course, but it’s legible to her, at least. Until it isn’t. Until it’s not that at all, and it looks like it very well might be Lucas Troy. 

She’s unhappy about it. Even as she puts the pieces together out loud, voicing her own thought process about how clever it was to throw suspicion on to Jordan, to play up his hate for the eminently hatable Madison Beaumont, she’s unhappy to a completely inappropriate degree to have Lucas Troy in the suspect slot. 

It doesn’t help when he confesses all the things she doesn’t need him to confess—that he hides how smart he is, how niche his interests and talents are, that he wasn’t trying to frame Jordan, he was trying to protect her. The bleak, terrified look on his face when he admits that Madison was able to blackmail him because he’s a scholarship kid, because the Jordan Gibbses and the Lucas Troys of the world can’t hide forever from the world’s Madison Beaumonts—none of that helps at all, when what she needs is his confession to a murder she really, really wishes he hadn’t committed. 

She’s glad when it turns out he didn’t. She’s glad to an inappropriate degree, given the fact that she closes the case by slapping the cuffs on yet another pair of seventeen-year-olds, one of whom saw no way other than murder to get out from under Madison’s thumb. But inappropriate or not, she’s glad. 

She’s gladder still when she spies the two black sheep—Jordan and Troy—swaying more than a little awkwardly to the song she and Castle have just decided is theirs. She’s happy to share it, though. With her cheek resting on his shoulder, she takes in the spectacle of the gym transformed. She spies Lucas’s cerulean blue lanterns with the light of the disco ball sparking off them. She inches closer to the truth about her own feelings about dances and poetry slams, the things she missed and the things she didn’t. 

Regret isn’t quite the right word for what she feels. She looks at those lanterns and at Lucas, and she likes the way he’s insisted on being here. She likes that he and Jordan—she in her kicky Wednesday Addams dress and he in his baby blue shirt with a non-zero number of ruffles—have insisted on making a place for themselves here. She likes the cerulean blue lanterns—a concrete form of that insistence. 

She nestles closer to Castle. She loses herself in the music, in the dance. She doesn’t regret her poetry slam, but she regrets—a little at least—the either/or-ness of it. Here and now, she likes those lanterns. She wishes Rebel Bex had at least thought of that.  A/N: Lanterns. Hmm. 

images via homeofthenutty

[fuckyeahmeikokaji]

Meiko Kaji (梶芽衣子), Frankie Sakai (フランキー堺), Shiro Otsuji (大辻伺郎) and Junzaburo Ban (伴淳三郎) in Fabulous Swindlers (極道ペテン師), 1969, directed by  Koji Chino (千野皓司).

[ao3feed-yoonjin]

Rogues And Charlatans

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2Dr48Tz

by Solastia

What is a gang leader supposed to do when his long time rival shows up at his door, beaten and begging for help?

Defend their honor, of course.

Words: 3212, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Fandoms: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Kim Seokjin | Jin/Min Yoongi | Suga

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Mafia AU, Gang Violence, But light and not graphic, This is more like a Gang/Mafia comedy slash romance, side namseok, Side Taejikook, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2Dr48Tz

[brojames-glorytogodvideos]

Federal Judge Calls Trump Power-Hungry Charlatan

A federal judge on Thursday, April 14th, called Donald Trump a threat to democracy, accusing the former president of instigating a mob of "weak-minded" followers to attack the US Capitol on January 6th. US District Judge Reggie Walton said, quote, "I think our democracy is in trouble because, unfortunately, we have charlatans like our former president who doesn't care about democracy but only about power." Judge Walton, who was appointed to the DC Circuit by former President George W. Bush, lashed out at Trump after the jury trial of a January 6th insurrectionist. Dustin Thompson, 38, was convicted of obstructing Congress as it tried to certify Joe Biden's election victory. According to prosecutors, Thompson went to the US Capitol after Trump implored his supporters to "fight like hell." Testifying on Wednesday, Thompson said he felt that he was merely following "presidential orders" that day. His attorney, in closing arguments on Thursday, likewise blamed Trump. Quote, "You had, frankly, a gangster who was in power. The vulnerable are seduced by the strong. That's what happened." // Our website.. GloryToGodVideos.com 

[mubahood360]

Every Conspiracy against Museveni, NRM and Uganda will Fail – UGNEWS24

Every Conspiracy against Museveni, NRM and Uganda will Fail – UGNEWS24

Calm down, a Bobi Wine presidency of Uganda is not going to happen anytime soon, and there is ample evidence readily available for those who care to analyse Uganda’s current political terrain. We have seen these charlatans and yellow dog-gangsters before who stoke fears with claims unsupported by any evidence but they eventually fade away, sometimes into oblivion. Like Kizza Besigye and Aggrey…

[manualstogo]

For just $3.99 Released on July 1, 1938: A mean but wealthy radio show sponsor is murdered and it is up to Benjamin Franklin Butts to solve the mystery. Genre: Crime Duration: 1h 10min Director: Otis Garrett Actors: Nan Grey (Christina 'Steenie' MacCorkle), Donald Woods (Benjamin Franklin Butts), Jed Prouty (Harry Jones, the radio company boss), Berton Churchill (Caesar Kluck), William Lundigan (Dave Chapman, radio announcer), Richard 'Skeets' Gallagher (Finney Fish ad company man), Edward Van Sloan (Dr. Leonard Sylvester, charlatan), George Meeker (Tuttle, undercover FCC man), Frank Milan (Alexander MacCorkle), Lee J. Cobb (Tony Lisotti, the janitor), Johnny Arthur (Aiken), Peter Lind Hayes (Harry Lake, the call boy and aspiring performer), Louise Stanley (Maria Lisotti), Eloise Rawitzer (Miss Mildred Bello), Joe Downing (Gangster Joe Carney). *** This item will be supplied on a quality disc and will be sent in a sleeve that is designed for posting CD's DVDs *** This item will be sent by 1st class post for quick delivery. Should you not receive your item within 12 working days of making payment, please contact me so we can solve this or any other questions. Note: All my products are either my own work, licensed to me directly or supplied to me under a GPL/GNU License. No Trademarks, copyrights or rules have been violated by this item. This product complies with rules on compilations, international media, and downloadable media. All items are supplied on CD or DVD.

[pardontheglueman]

The Dangerous Case of Donald Trump / Edited by Bandy Lee

In the week that Fire and Fury, Michael Wolff’s dirtbag blockbuster on life inside Donald Trump’s dysfunctional White House, detonated without warning on the president’s front lawn, blowing the gaff on, amongst other things, the president’s paranoia over food poisoning, his concern that other people might have been touching his toothbrush, and the revelation that POTUS and the first lady lead separate but equal lives in the boudoir dept, it’s worth noting that an altogether more serious work, documenting major concerns over Trump’s fitness to hold office, was published in the U.S.A. last year with a barely a ripple of interest from the nations’ readers. 

The Dangerous Case of Donald Trump: 27 Psychiatrists and Mental Health Experts Assess a President, edited by Bandy Lee, Assistant Clinical Professor in Law and Psychiatry at Yale School of Medicine, is a fascinating and terrifying analysis of the mental well-being (or otherwise) of the world’s most powerful man. Within two months of Trump’s inauguration in January of last year, Lee had become so troubled by the former reality T.V. star’s unpredictable behaviour that she set about organising the Yale conference “Does Professional Responsibility Include a Duty to Warn”, which gathered together some of America’s most prominent mental health professionals to debate the ethical case for setting aside the long-standing “Goldwater rule” (1973), which prohibits clinicians from diagnosing public figures unless they have first examined them. The conference formed the basis of this book, in which many of America’s most respected psychiatrists make the case that ‘while a physician’s responsibility is first and foremost to the patient, it extends as well to society’. Some clinicians, in their defence, cite the “Tarasoff doctrine” (1976) a landmark court decision in California which places an obligation on mental health therapists to speak out when they have determined that an individual is dangerous to another person or persons. 

It is to the authors’ credit that they devote a foreword, Our Witness to Malignant Normality, by Robert Jay Lifton, Lecturer in Psychiatry at Columbia University, a prologue, Professions and Politics by Judith Lewis Herman, Professor of Psychiatry at Harvard School, and an introduction Our Duty to Warn, by Lee herself, all with the intention of debating the ethical case for overriding the Goldwater rule in the case of a national emergency. It should be noted that many of the contributors here have been impelled to question the continued observance of this commandment by the recent decision of the American Psychiatric Association to double down on its interpretation of the rule, or gag, as some of the writers contend, making it impossible now for any mental health professional to give an opinion, let alone a diagnosis of President Trump, without risking censure. 

Having established, at least to my own satisfaction, that the dedicated professionals who contribute to this book are doing so because they are motivated by genuine concern for the safety of their fellow citizens rather than any partial political expediency, I feel able to read this book with a clear conscience. Of course, many of those writing here are progressives openly opposed to Trump’s populist agenda, so there is no way to depoliticise the book entirely. On balance, then, even though the “patient” under discussion is subjected to an extremely painful public evaluation, I believe this is a book that had to be written. The stakes are simply too high for the profession to have remained silent in the face of the overwhelming evidence detailed here which suggests that the president is demonstrably unwell and a considerable danger to mankind. 

The portrait of President Trump that emerges from over 350 pages of expert testimony won’t come as a surprise to anyone (aside, that is, from the congregation of religious extremists, hard-nut republicans and white supremacists who make up a significant proportion of the Donald’s “base”), but the wide range of serious mental health disorders that seemingly afflict POTUS is simply astonishing and should be cause for the gravest concern. 

The book makes a thoroughly convincing case that Trump is an extreme present hedonist – a person who will say or do anything at anytime for the purpose of self-aggrandisement – also that Trump displays all the traits of a narcissist personality, a disorder which incorporates fantasising about power and attractiveness, feelings of superiority, outbursts of jealousy & a tendency toward lying (in 2015, the fact-checking website Politifact, running it’s “Lie of the Year” contest, checked 77 separate statements by Trump and estimated that 76% of them were false or mostly false). Furthermore, there is evidence of a bullying personality at work too (including sexual, prejudicial and cyberbullying). At this point, you might well feel that you concur with the book’s damning verdict on Trump, after all, as clinical psychologist John D. Gartner states, Donald Trump is so visibly psychologically impaired that it is obvious even to a layman that “something is wrong with him”. However, you may be astonished to know that we are still only in Chapter one!!!  If you are not already in a state of total despair at the thought of this man being in charge of the world’s biggest nuclear arsenal then you soon will be. 

Next into the witness box is Lance Dodes, M.D., a retired Assistant Clinical Professor of Psychiatry at Harvard Medical School who walks us through the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual for determining “antisocial personality disorder” or, to put it another way, whether someone might be considered a sociopath. Key traits to look out for, include evidence of deceitfulness and impulsivity, as well as predatory, bullying and dehumanising patterns of behaviour. Factor in an absolute lack of empathy and runaway paranoia and you are ‘severely emotionally ill’. 

Trump’s penchant for paranoid conspiracy theories are also examined in detail by Gartner; before the election, Right Wing Watch listed 58 conspiracies that POTUS had posited were true, these include his well known claim that Obama was born outside of America (“Birtherism”), which Trump has subsequently developed into an accusation that the former president had a Hawaiian government bureaucrat murdered to cover up the “scandal” and also that Senator Ted Cruz’s father, Rafael, was involved in the plot to assassinate JFK. Gartner also labels Trump a sadist (another trait equated with malignant narcissism), citing his constant delight in verbally “punching down” on people who are weaker than him, usually women, immigrants or the disabled. 

No respectable psychiatric study of a patient would be complete without reference to its subject’s childhood.  And here, it is possible, if only for a fleeting moment, to feel a sliver of pity for Donald Trump! Leaving aside the small matter of whether Trump’s father, Frederick Christ Trump Snr, was a racist (probably), a Klansman (possibly), Trump’s account of his childhood, as told to biographer Michael D’Antonio, is disturbing enough in its own right. Trump recalls his father “dragging him” around tough neighbourhoods in Brooklyn collecting rents and teaching him a life-lesson that the world was divided into “killers” and “losers”. Trump’s mentor, Roy Cohn, lawyer to gangsters and the notorious red-baiter Joseph McCarthy, said that when it comes to his feelings for his fellow human beings, Trump “pisses ice water”. Or, as Trump himself puts it, “The world is a vicious and brutal place. Even your friends are out to get you: they want your job, your money and your wife”. 

The Dangerous Case of Donald Trump is, in fact, an open and shut case.  As worthwhile as this book is, there is no mystery to be solved here. We don’t really need the testimony of twenty-seven expert witnesses to tell us what we can see very well with our own eyes – that President Trump is a seriously ill man, a man who suffers from a whole range of harmful disorders, any one of which might lead him, at any moment, to act in a way that endangers us all. And yet, despite the fact that Trump is a crook, a charlatan, a racist, a sexual predator and so gravely mentally ill that he could conceivably bring life on our planet to an end as a result of a Twitter spat, the GOP saw fit to nominate him for the Republican ticket in the general election of 2017 and continues, to this day, to support him in the face of all the horrifying evidence laid out here. Let’s not forget, either, that this book went to the publishers some months ago and Trump’s many conditions are visibly worsening by the day. None of this matters, though, to the super-wealthy eyeing the prize of another massive tax cut, nor to the evangelists who beef up Trump’s base, the very zealots who championed a suspected paedophile, Alabama’s Roy Moore, in last month’s senate race, and who remain determined that the commander-in-chief stay in office long enough to appoint a bunch of pro-life Judges to sit on the Supreme Court. What, too, of the American voter? Trump may have lost the popular vote, trailing Clinton by 2.9 million votes, despite the best efforts of partners in crime Wikileaks and Russia, but there were still 62,979,879 individual voters prepared to place Donald Trump in charge of America’s nuclear codes! 

On the subject of those that support Trump, the concluding part of the book, The Trump Effect, seeks to place the victory of the new president in the appropriate context by examining the culture that has allowed him to triumph. In an article entitled Trump and the American Collective Psyche, Thomas Singer, a psychiatrist and Jungian psychoanalyst practicing in San Francisco, theorises that ‘Donald Trump uncovered a huge sinkhole of dark, raw emotions in the national psyche for all of us to see. Rage, hatred, envy and fear surfaced in a forgotten, despairing, growing white underclass who had little reason to believe that the future would hold the promise of a brighter, life-affirming purpose. Trump tapped into the negative feelings that many Americans have about all the things we are supposed to be compassionate about – ethnic, racial, gender and religious differences…. Trump tapped into the dirty little secret of their loathing of various minorities, even though we may all be minorities now’.   

Where will it end? Dodes, unable to offer us any comfort, warns of what we can expect from Trump in the future, ‘Over time these characteristics will only become worse, either because Mr. Trump will succeed in gaining more power and more grandiosity with less grasp on reality, or because he will engender more criticism, producing more paranoia, more lies and more enraged destruction’. Perhaps that is why Noam Chomsky, in the books epilogue, calls our attention to The Bulletin of Atomic Scientists and it's world-renowned Doomsday Clock which estimates how near we are as a species to extinction. If the hands on the clock reach midnight, the jig is up for mankind. Within a week of Trump taking office the hands of the clock were moved to two-and-a-half minutes to midnight. That’s the closest we have been to destruction since 1953!