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fatehbaz · 2 months

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Because tuatara are very long lived - between 100 and 200 years by most estimates […] - the founding of Aotearoa/New Zealand as a modern nation and the unfolding of settler-wrought changes to its environment have transpired over the course of the lives of perhaps just two tuatara [...].

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[T]he tuatara (Sphenodon punctatus) [...] [is] the sole surviving representative of an order of reptiles that pre-dates the dinosaurs. [...] [T]he tuatara is of immense global and local significance and its story is pre-eminently one of deep timescales, of life-in-place [...]. Epithets abound for the unique and ancient biodiversity found in Aotearoa/New Zealand. Prized as “Ghosts of Gondwana” (Gibbs 2008), or as denizens of “Moa’s Ark” (Bellamy et al. 1990) or “The Southern Ark” (Andrews 1986), the country’s faunal species invoke fascination and inspire strong language [...]. In rounded terms, it [has been] [...] just 250 years since James Cook made landfall; just 200 years since the founding of the handful of [...] settlements that instigated agricultural transformation of the land [...]. European newcomers [...] were disconcerted by the biota [...]: the country was seen to “lack” terrestrial mammals; many of its birds were flightless and/or songless; its bats crawled through leaf-litter; its penguins inhabited forests; its parrots were mountain-dwellers; its frogs laid eggs that hatched miniature frogs rather than tadpoles [...].

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Despite having met a reassuringly temperate climate [mild, oceanic, comparable to western Europe], too, the newcomers nevertheless sought to make adjustments to that climate, and it was clear to them that profits beckoned. Surveying the towering lowland forests from the deck of HMS Endeavour in 1769, and perceiving scope for expansion of the fenland drainage schemes being undertaken at that time in England and across swathes of Europe, Joseph Banks [botanist on Cook's voyage] reported on “swamps which might doubtless Easily be drained” [...]. Almost a century later, in New Zealand or Zealandia, the Britain of the South, [...] Hursthouse offered a fuller explication of this ethos: The cultivation of a new country materially improves its climate. Damp and dripping forests, exhaling pestilent vapours from rank and rotten vegetation, fall before the axe [...]. Fen and march and swamp, the bittern’s dank domain, fertile only in miasma, are drained; and the plough converts them into wholesome plains of fruit, and grain, and grass. [...]

[The British administrators] duly set about felling the ancient forests of Aotearoa/New Zealand, draining the country’s swamps [...]. They also began importing and acclimatising a vast array of exotic (predominantly northern-world) species [sheep, cattle, rodents, weasels, cats, crops, English pasture grasses, etc.] [...]. [T]hey constructed the seemingly ordinary agronomic patchwork of Aotearoa/New Zealand's productive, workaday landscapes [...]. This is effected through and/or accompanied by drastic deforestation, alteration of the water table and the flow of waterways, displacement and decline of endemic species, re-organisation of predation chains and pollination sequences and so on [...]. Aotearoa/New Zealand was founded in and through climate crisis [...]. Climate crisis is not a disastrous event waiting to happen in the future in this part of the world; rather, it has been with us for two centuries already [...].

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[T]he crest formed by the twinned themes of absence and exceptionalism [...] has shaped this creature's niche in the western imagination. As one of the very oldest species on earth, tuatara have come to be recognised [in Euro-American scientific schemas] [...] as an evolutionary and biodiversity treasure [...]. In 1867, [...] Gunther [...] pronounced that it was not a lizard at all [...] [and] placed the tuatara [...] in a new order, Rhynchocephalia, [...] igniting a frenzy of scientific interest worldwide. Specifically, the tuatara was seen to afford opportunities for "astonished witnessing" [...], for "the excitement of having the chance to see, to study, to observe a true saurian of Mesozoic times in the flesh, still living, but only on this tiny speck of the earth [...], while all its ancestors [...] died about one hundred and thirty-five million years ago" [...]. Tuatara have, however, long held special status as a taonga or treasured species in Māori epistemologies, featuring in a range of [...] stories where [...] [they] are described by different climates and archaeologies of knowledge [...] (see Waitangi Tribunal 2011, p. 134). [...]

While unconfirmed sightings in the Wellington district were reported in the nineteenth century, tuatara currently survive only in actively managed - that is, monitored and pest-controlled - areas on scattered offshore islands, as well as in mainland zoo and sanctuary populations. As this confinement suggests, tuatara are functionally “extinct” in almost all of their former wild ranges. [...] [Italicized text in the heading of this post originally situated here in Boswell's article.] [...] In the remaining areas of Aotearoa/New Zealand where this species does now live [...], tuatara may in some cases be the oldest living inhabitants. Yet [...] if the tuatara is a creature of long memory, this memory is at risk of elimination or erasure. [...] [T]uatara expose and complicate the [...] machineries of public memory [...] and attendant environmental ideologies and management paradigms [...].

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All text above by: Anna Boswell. "Climates of Change: A Tuatara's-Eye View". Humanities, 2020, Volume 9, Issue 2, 38. Published 1 May 2020. This article belongs to the Special Issue Environmental Humanities Approaches to Climate Change. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Text within brackets added by me for clarity. The first paragraph/heading in this post, with text in italics, are also the words of Boswell from this same article. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

#i posted commentary about this article in 2020 right after it was first published but i did a sloppy job presenting and discussing it #some might be familiar with boswells 2015 article on longfin eels or her article the stoat free state on weasels in aotearoa #basically she writes on british imperial environmental imaginaries #how settlement tries to reshape a colonys landscape in idealized english image of domesticated home replacing native species with introduce #ecology #abolition #imperial #colonial #landscape #paleo #aotearoa #indigenous #multispecies

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scotianostra · 9 months

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The Scottish actor Nicol Williamson was born on October 14th 1938 in Hamilton.

Williamson was an enormously talented actor who was considered by some critics to be the finest actor of his generation in the late 1960s and the 1970s, rivalled only by Albert Finney in his generation.

Born the son of a factory owner. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Birmingham, England. Williamson was sent back to Hamilton to live with his grandparents during World War II due to Birmingham's susceptibility to bombing, but returned when the war ended, and was educated at the Central Grammar School for Boys, Birmingham

He left school at 16 to begin work in his father’s factory and later attended the Birmingham School of Speech & Drama. He recalled his time there as “a disaster” and claimed “it was nothing more than a finishing school for the daughters of local businessmen”. After his national service as a gunner in the Airborne Division, Williamson made his professional debut with the Dundee Repertory Theatre in 1960.

In 1962 he made his London debut as Flute in Tony Richardson’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Royal Court Theatre. His first major success came in 1964 with John Osborne’s Inadmissible Evidence for which he was nominated for a Tony Award when it transferred to Broadway in 1965. 1964 also saw him appearing as Vladimir in Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot at the Royal Court Theatre. In 1968, he starred in the film version. Williamson’s Hamlet for Tony Richardson at the Roundhouse caused a sensation and was later transferred to New York and made into a film, with a cast including Anthony Hopkins and Marianne Faithfull. Faithfull later stated in her autobiography Faithfull that she and Williamson had had an affair while filming Hamlet.

His most celebrated film role was as Merlin the magician in the King Arthur epic Excalibur in 1981. Director John Boorman cast him as Merlin opposite Helen Mirren as Morgana over the protests of both actors; the two had previously appeared together on stage in Macbeth, with disastrous results, and disliked each other intensely. It was Boorman’s hope that the very real animosity that they had towards each other would generate more tension between them on screen, as is evident from their scenes together. Williamson gained recognition from a much wider fanbase for his performance as Merlin. A review of Excalibur in the London Times in 1981 said, “The actors are led by Williamson’s witty, perceptive Merlin, missed every time he’s off the screen.”

Some of his other notable cinematic performances are as a deeply troubled Irish soldier in the 1968 Jack Gold film The Bofors Gun; Sherlock Holmes in the 1976 Herbert Ross film The Seven-Per-Cent Solution; and Little John in the 1976 Richard Lester film Robin and Marian.

Williamson had a reputation as a bit of a hellraiser and a troublesome man who was known for several tantrums and on-stage antics. During the Philadelphia tryout of Inadmissible Evidence, a play in which he delivered a performance that would win him a Tony Award nomination in 1965, he hit the equally mercurial producer David Merrick. In 1968 he apologised to the audience for his performance one night while playing Hamlet and then walked off the stage, announcing he was retiring. In the early 1970s, Williamson left the Dick Cavett Show prior to a scheduled appearance, leaving the host and guest Nora Ephron to fill the remaining time. In 1976, he slapped an actor during the curtain call for the Broadway musical, Rex. In 1991, he hit co-star Evan Handler on the backside with a sword during a Broadway performance of I Hate Hamlet.

In 1974, Williamson recorded an abridged reading of The Hobbit for Argo Records, with authorisation for abridgement provided by Tolkien’s publisher. The recording was produced by Harley Usill. According to his official website, Nicol himself re-edited the original script, removing many occurrences of “he said”, “she said”, and so on, as he felt that an over-reliance on descriptive narrative would not give the desired effect. In 1971, Williamson married actress Jill Townsend, who played his daughter in the Broadway production of Inadmissible Evidence. They had a son, Luke, but divorced in 1977.

Despite concerns over his health in the 1970s, Williamson admitted drinking heavily and claimed to smoke 80 cigarettes a day. In an episode of The David Frost Show in the 1960s, during a discussion about death, which also involved poet John Betjeman, Williamson revealed that he was very much afraid of dying, saying that “I think of death constantly, throughout the day” and that “I don’t think there is anything after this, except complete oblivion.” On 25 January 2012, Luke Williamson announced on his father’s official web site that Nicol Williamson had died on 16th December 2011, aged 75, after a two-year struggle with oesophageal cancer. The news was released late as the actor did not want any fuss to be made over his death.

#scotland #scottish #actor #theatre #cinema #television

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stirringwinds · 2 years

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Just wondering why you give Aus and NZ the surname Kirkland when they’re independent? And if so, why not the same for Canada? Is it because Canada has a diff name in canon? Would be interesting to know if you have the time. :)

Good question—and to answer, I don't see them sticking to Kirkland forever, actually. If you're referring to the character sheet I drew of 🇺🇸🇨🇦🇦🇺🇳🇿 in their WWII uniforms some time back, it’s because Jack/AUS and Zee/NZ will change it after WWII in my headcanon. For me, WWII (and after) is a really big milestone in how the Arthur-Jack-Zee-Matt-Alfred dynamic is drastically reconfigured.

Name-wise—Zee and Jack's backgrounds were based on a lot of @draw-a-circle-thats-the-foxhole’s ideas and collaboratively explored together (particularly moving away from canon!NZ’s appearance), so we have some shared/overlapping headcanons about them. In this case, the post-Kirkland surnames I headcanon are the ones she chose (Kaipo for Zee and Kelly for Jack).

As to why I see it being after WWII: While NZ and AUS had considerable self-governance as dominions compared to other British colonies even before WWII, events in the 1940s like the adoption of the Westminster Act, which reduced British powers over its dominions and other developments that made NZ/AUS Parliaments fully sovereign and stripped the British Parliament of any vestiges of control are very significant milestones to me. Because before that, Britain still had some level of control/influence over their foreign policy for example—this had enormous consequences in WWI, and it will again in WWII. WWII however, is where British power wanes obviously and decisively— where their Eldest Brother (tm) finally eclipses their old man for good. Especially since they are both Pacific nations—it’s Alfred who turns the tide of the Pacific War as the juggernaut filling the vacuum left by the destroyed European empires—especially the much vaunted British navy. Post-1945 is decolonisation, the evolution of the British Empire into the Commonwealth—a time of power realignment and reassessment of their relationships and identities.

So, I personally headcanon Zee changing her surname in 1948. NZ adopted the Westminster Act in 1947 and a new nationality law in 1948—which had the effect of making New Zealanders NZ citizens, not just “British subjects.” Jack would be earlier, in late 1945, after the end of WWII in the Asia-Pacific. This is because his own Westminster Act was adopted in 1942—motivated in large part by the disastrous Fall of Singapore, which saw thousands of Australian, British, Indian and local soldiers captured as POWs by a much smaller Japanese force, due to spectacularly bad British planning (and a whiff of arrogance about British invincibility). He only makes it official in 1945 because it’s way too troublesome administratively to change his name in the middle of a war. However, he might’ve informally started referring to himself that way before that. So, WWII is in many ways the major rupture. I see them still having r/ships with their Old Man in the postwar afterlife, but it’s a changed and more equalised dynamic.

As to Matt, yes, partly because he already has a different name in canon. But I also see him never ever being a “Kirkland” (unlike the short-lived Alfred Fly-from-Fornication Kirkland, lol)—he was, well, Mathieu Marc Jean-Luc Bonnefoy at first, but then later adopted Williams when he became incorporated under Arthur’s rule. Admittedly, I might’ve gone about it completely differently if it weren’t his canon name I guess. One very rough idea I’ve had to make canon fit is that “William” is Arthur’s middle name (on Arthur’s part, it’s from William the Conqueror, the Norman king who invaded England) and Williams ended up as some sort of compromise between Matt and Arthur, which Matt later didn’t mind keeping after full independence because it’s different from “Kirkland” and England to most people is just “Arthur Kirkland”.

#hetalia #hws canada #hws australia #hws new zealand #hws america #pacific siblings #hws england #hetalia headcanons #long post

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rockislandadultreads · 1 year

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For Fans of... Hallmark Holiday Movies

The Twelve Dates of Christmas by Jenny Bayliss

When it comes to relationships, thirty-four-year-old Kate Turner is ready to say "Bah, humbug." The sleepy town of Blexford, England, isn't exactly brimming with prospects, and anyway, Kate's found fulfillment in her career as a designer, and in her delicious side job baking for her old friend Matt's neighborhood café. But then her best friend signs her up for a dating agency that promises to help singles find love before the holidays. Twenty-three days until Christmas. Twelve dates with twelve different men. The odds must finally be in her favor... right?

Yet with each new date more disastrous than the one before - and the whole town keeping tabs on her misadventures - Kate must remind herself that sometimes love, like mistletoe, shows up where it's least expected. And maybe, just maybe, it's been right under her nose all along...

A Princess for Christmas by Jenny Holiday

Leo Ricci's already handling all he can, between taking care of his little sister Gabby, driving a cab, and being the super of his apartment building in the Bronx. But when Gabby spots a "princess" in a gown outside of the UN trying to hail a cab, she begs her brother to stop and help. Before he knows it, he's got a real-life damsel in distress in the backseat of his car.

Princess Marie of Eldovia shouldn't be hailing a cab, or even be out and about. But after her mother’s death, her father has plunged into a devastating depression and the fate of her small Alpine country has fallen on Marie’s shoulders. She’s taken aback by the gruff but devastatingly handsome driver who shows her more kindness than she’s seen in a long time.

When Marie asks Leo to be her driver for the rest of her trip, he agrees, thinking he’ll squire a rich miss around for a while and make more money than he has in months. He doesn’t expect to like and start longing for the unpredictable Marie. And when he and Gabby end up in Eldovia for Christmas, he discovers the princess who is all wrong for him is also the woman who is his perfect match.

This is the first volume in the “Christmas in Eldovia” series.

Right Beside You by Mary Monroe

With a successful career, money in the bank, and a solid future, Felicia Hawkins has almost everything she ever wanted. But getting married is the one holiday wish she can't seem to get. And it's not helping that she's hopelessly in love with her co-worker, widower Richard Grimes. They have the perfect office partnership, and he's as supportive as he is kind. But Felicia doesn't want to wreck their friendship by letting him know how she really feels...

Richard has his hands full juggling pre-Christmas work demands and raising two teen daughters. But he's not too busy to wish his relationship with Felicia could become much more. He's drawn to her calm spirit and determination, along with everything they surprisingly have in common. And just once he'd like a chance this season to dare tell her the truth...

But what Felicia and Richard get instead is a cascade of misunderstandings; messy, well-meaning matchmaking from family and friends, and a long-distance transfer Richard can't refuse. Finally, in the middle of one chaotic snow-struck day, it will take all their courage and compassion to risk opening their hearts to each other - hopefully for many more holiday happily-ever-afters...

No Ordinary Christmas by Belle Calhoune

The quaint New England town of Mistletoe is thrilled to welcome back one of their own, Dante West. Now a famous Hollywood action star, Dante is filming a movie in town to help the local economy, as well as make amends with the people he hurt when he abruptly left Mistletoe all those years ago.

Librarian Lucy Marshall isn't thrilled to see Dante. He was once her best friend and first love until he left her behind without a word of goodbye. When Dante makes her an offer she can't refuse - use of the library as a filming venue in exchange for a lucrative donation, Lucy finds herself spending a lot of time in Dante's company. With the magic of Christmas in the air, Dante and Lucy begin to forge a new bond. But can two people leading such different lives find lasting love the second time around?

This is the first volume in the “Mistletoe, Maine” series.

#fiction #romance #holiday books #holiday romance #hallmark movies #christmas romance #christmas stories #cozy christmas #book recommendations #book recs #reading recommendations #reading recs #TBR pile #tbr #to read #book blog #booklr #book tumblr

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croatoanpod · 2 years

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Welcome to Roanoke...

Edith Raleigh was supposed to have a boring summer. After a disastrous year, she’s shipped to the infamous Roanoke, a small New England town known only for its forest of monsters. Yet town tradition may hide a monstrous secret history. Edith has no choice but to team up with local outsider Bentley to get to the bottom of a seemingly bottomless mystery. Monsters, mayhem, mythology, this could get out of hand quickly.

Discover the truth. Survive the summer. Fight god?

What do you mean this wasn’t in your history textbook?

An original audio drama, releasing every Wednesday on YouTube and Spotify.

#audio drama #audio fiction #podcast #fiction #original fiction #roanoke #croatoan #croatoan pod

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occupied-retirement · 1 year

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It’s Been A Long Time Coming to write this blog (2018)

I started this blog back in 2012, not too long after I retired from what I thought was my last paid organizing job and before a trip I was about to take to Spain. Since then, I’ve managed to contribute absolutely no blog posts to this page and life sure has taken me in a lot of directions I couldn’t have predicted when I wrote that post about Spain and the Spanish Civil War back in 2012.

So to catch up a little on my retirement life, I’ll start with 2018 and then work backwards a bit later to share in this blog what has led up to this year of my participation in a bunch of iconic happenings in a number of countries I visited. I’m going to write about organizing work, politics and the difficulties of living in the USA under Trump in a separate post. This one is going to focus on the lighter side of life and the serendipitous set of iconic events I was excited to participate in this year.

I’ve been living in between San Salvador, El Salvador more than half of each year and Salem, OR since the summer of 2012, and this year I left El Salvador in March after volunteering for the fourth time to help out with a delegation of international observers to watch the disastrous congressional and municipal elections with the right regaining power in the National Assembly and many of the departments and municipalities, following somewhat in the same path as the 2016 election of our president in the USA.

Earlier in the year I agreed to accept a 16 month long, three quarter time job coordinating a new organizing fellowship program with the Rural Organizing Project in Oregon. More on this later as it is partly in response to the DJT election and other political events taking place in the USA.

But, I had already planned a big two-month long journey/vacation before I accepted the job and so on April 13th, I flew to Miami, met up with my friend and former co-worker Ann, and we boarded a cruise ship for a trans-Atlantic crossing which would take us to Southampton, England, then for a short round trip over to Le Havre, France, then for another week-long round trip up to the Fjords in Norway – linking a 15 day cruise, a short 3 day party cruise, and a 7 day scenic Fjords cruise together for us on one ship. After that, I’d leave Ann and walk over to the train station in Southampton and take a train to Cardiff to join my brother at an apartment we rented for six weeks in Cardiff Centre across the street from the Millennium Stadium and the Cardiff Arms Park – my second time spending extended time in Cardiff since my retirement and my fourth visit to Wales. The plan was to spend time in Wales, visit with my cousin and her husband who live in Carmarthenshire, enjoy hanging out in the city and countryside , and after Bob’s partner Jan joined us, fly up to Iceland to meet up with friends Lorene and Jess from Oregon and spend another week there – partly in Reykjavik and partly out in western Iceland at the home of lifelong Icelandic friends of Lorene. And all of that happened. But along the way all of this did too:

When the ship docked in Portugal on the route to Southampton it was Independence Day – a chance to celebrate the fall of the fascist dictatorship called the Carnation Revolution on April 25, 1975 and to talk about it with the locals and wander the city on a festive day. It was also an opportunity to reflect on how long it takes to break the chains after a country is taken over by right-wing dictatorial regime.

In Cardiff – the Cardiff Bluebirds, the city’s football club (AKA soccer), had recently been moved up into the premier league. Many people were sporting their Visit Malaysia shirts (who knew what that meant? Not me. Found out the owner of the team is Malaysian and the shirts were a premium at a game). We were in town for the big parade to celebrate the team – and the rally in front of Cardiff Castle.

Then – what else was happening in the UK while we were there? Well – the royal wedding of course. Wedding mania – the BBC and the BBC Wales were solid wedding coverage and there were a lot of other weddings going on in that month too – so many hen and stag parties in Cardiff Centre! Beyonce and Jay Z showed up while we were there too for a big stadium concert that brought a huge crowd to the city too.

And then…..the 100th Anniversary of the first women (and working class men) getting the right to vote in England in 1918 (not all women I have to add here – a lot of misinformation about the facts of this) – but it was a significant breakthrough. So – in all four of the capital cities of the UK (London, Edinburgh, Cardiff and Belfast) there were huge women’s marches sporting the colors of the original suffragettes – purple, green and white – and Jan and I marched with 10,000 Welsh women while Bob took photos. Men were not allowed in the march.

And then….off to the Republic of Ireland. This was not part of my original plan but through my friend Brooke who I am connected to through election work in El Salvador, I was connected to a Canadian woman organizing an observation of the vote to liberalize abortion laws in Ireland. Since I was already in Cardiff and she knew the travel costs would be minimal she asked me if I’d like to participate and since I have worked on abortion rights in the USA of course I was interested. She connected me with Sherrida, amazing new Welsh friend, who picked me up in Cardiff and drove us to Pembrokeshire to take the ferry to Ireland and introduced me to several historic sites there – a short vacation ahead of the delegation that included Glendalough and the fabulous Newgrange. I then got to spend some time in downtown Dublin, several days with a retired teacher in South Dublin and a day observing the vote in 10 schools in her area (8 Catholic, one Muslim, one denominational – all publicly funded) and then observing the count in South Dublin as well. It was a historic vote – 65-35 countrywide to approve legalization of abortion! After our debrief session and a bit of a tour of downtown Dublin with Margaret, we took the ferry back from Dublin to Holyhead and I had a chance to see even more of the northern part of Wales and the mountainous areas of Snowdonia National Park. The abortion vote in Ireland, and their previous votes on approving divorce and gay marriage, were thought-provoking as well. It is much harder for the right-wing to continue to fight back against a resounding democratic vote than a court decision like we have had in the USA on both gay marriage and abortion. It was also interesting to hear that the majority of the anti-abortion funding came from USA sources.

Then on to Iceland for the last of the iconic happenings I experienced across the pond. Our third day in Iceland was the day of Iceland’s first game ever in the World Cup of Football (AKA soccer) and the entire country (or so it seemed) turned out to watch it on big screen TVs outside in rainy downtown Reykjavik. Since Iceland has only about 350,000 people and Argentina has about 55 million, it hardly seemed like a fair match up but Iceland held their own and it ended in a tie which definitely felt like a victory!

Since returning from that trip, we’ve had midterm elections in the USA and in Oregon we beat back four bad ballot initiatives including anti-immigrant, anti-choice and anti-tax ones and gained seats in our State House and Senate, re-elected our female Governor, elected the first African-American woman to the Portland City Council and had some other local victories so there is hope that changes can take place in the nation too.

I don’t expect 2019 to be quite as exciting for me personally as 2018 was – at least for someone who loves traveling as much as I do, but I am going to travel across one major threshold in 2019 – I’m going to reach the age of 70. Ojala!

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featurenews · 2 years

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Wednesday briefing: The (un)intended consequences of voter ID

In today’s newsletter: Why a purported solution to concerns about voter fraud may create a whole set of new problems instead. An electoral systems expert explains how * Sign up here for our daily newsletter, First Edition Good morning. It’s a simple enough proposition: ask people to show photo ID if they want to vote. The government says that a new law coming into effect next year will ensure the integrity of elections, and reinforce public trust in British democracy. But others say the reality is a lot more complicated than that. The strongest critics of the Elections Act argue that, far from being an attempt to secure the voting system, it is a “shameless voter-suppression bill” – and, given there was only one conviction for voter impersonation at the 2017 election, totally unnecessary in any case. Health | Researchers have hailed a new era of Alzheimer’s therapies after a clinical trial confirmed that a drug slows cognitive decline in patients with early stages of the disease. Read Ian Sample’s recent feature on why lecanemab could lead to drugs that offer better and better control of Alzheimer’s. Census | Census results revealing that England is no longer a majority-Christian country have sparked calls for an end to the church’s role in parliament and schools, while Leicester and Birmingham became the first UK cities with “minority majorities”. Local government | A Tory-led council has admitted a series of disastrous investments caused it to run up an unprecedented deficit of nearly £500m and brought it to the brink of bankruptcy. Thurrock has appealed to the government for an emergency bailout and warned that it will have to push through a drastic programme of cuts. Channel crossings | A man has been arrested in the UK in connection with the deaths of at least 27 people who drowned while trying to cross the Channel in a dinghy a year ago. Harem Ahmed Abwbaker, 32, is accused of being a member of an organised crime gang behind the disastrous crossing in November 2021. China | China has sent university students home as part of an attempt to disperse protesters angry at zero-Covid policies, as the country’s top security body called for a crackdown on “hostile forces”. Authorities also announced plans to step up vaccination of older people. Continue reading... https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/nov/30/wednesday-briefing-first-edition-voter-id-electoral-systems?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

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ultraheydudemestuff · 2 years

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Windsor Mills Christ Church Episcopal

Wisell Rd. and U.S. Route 322

Windsor Mills, OH

Windsor Mills Christ Church Episcopal, also known as Windsor Mills Historic Church, is a historic former church building in Windsor Township, Ashtabula County, Ohio. Built in the 1830s, it features a distinctive combination of two different architectural styles, and it has been named a historic site. Windsor Township's first Protestant Episcopal society was established in 1816, and pioneer settler Solomon Griswold, a pioneer settler who came with his family to Windsor from Connecticut in 1800, donated the resources to build its first building north of Windsor Center. Dubbed “Solomon’s Temple,” it served the parish for a comparatively short time when they purchased three acres of land from Alexander Alderman for $10.00., and the present structure replaced it in 1832, although at a different location west of Windsor Center.

The parcel of land was on the northeast corner of the crossroads later known as Windsor Mills. The former Christ Church is a weatherboarded structure combining the influences of the Greek and Gothic Revival styles. At the time, the Greek Revival style was in vogue, but when this style fell out of favor and the Gothic Revival replaced it in the popular imagination, Christ Church was updated accordingly. The church building constructed by those Connecticut settlers is shaped like a New England Meeting House, with curved supporting beams for the roof, tall pointed Gothic windows placed around the rectangular building, pews of solid walnut, a balcony, and a raised pulpit, with a central main entrance on the facade. Sanctuary pews which seat 200 are divided in the center by a panel. Only one pew has a continuous aisle to allow passage from one side to another. The balcony has a seating capacity of 50, and access to it is gained by curving stairways on either side of the vestibule. A closet-like enclosure leads up awkward steps to the attic. The roof rises to a gable at each end, and a tower with a pinnacle on each corner sits atop the roof near the front.

On Tuesday, October 1, 1833, the building was consecrated by Bishop McIlvane who described it as standing at “the edge of the forest.” Soon after the church became established, the parish was disrupted by a disastrous revival of the Campbellites (Disciples of Christ) in 1834, which depleted the congregation and it lapsed into a quiescent state. By 1856, the church was abandoned. Its name was no longer included in a list of Ohio parishes in 1884. Early in the 1900s, Archbishop Asa Appleton Abbott reportedly spent many days in a corner of the church where he had fitted up for himself a bed. He repaired the dilapidated church and revived the parish that had been virtually dead for 30 years. But by 1920, the church again fell into disuse. In 1955, the Ashtabula County Historical Society obtained a twenty-year lease from the Episcopal Diocese of Cleveland at an annual rate of dollar. Restoration began in the summer of 1956. A 30 x 18 addition was made at the rear of the church to serve as a museum to house historic items from the area that the Society had acquired.

More architectural work was performed in 1961, as extensive interior renovations were performed with such success that the project was recognized by the American Institute of Architects. Since that time, it had ceased to be a church, with a museum becoming the building's new occupant. When the 20-year lease expired in 1975, the Ashtabula County Historical Society did not renew the lease. However, concerned area residents had anticipated the decision and had formed the Windsor Historical Society and they decided to gather the funds and obtain another 20-year lease form the Diocese.

On May 29, 1975, the church was listed with the National Register of Historic Places, qualifying both because of its historically significant architecture and because of its general importance in local history. It is one of four National Register-listed locations in Windsor, along with the Wiswell Road Covered Bridge, the Windsor Mills Fort and Village Site (a prehistoric archaeological site), and the town center at Windsor Center. In 2004, the Diocese sold the building to the Windsor Historical Society for $15,000. With a $5,000 down payment, the Society had ten years to pay off the remaining balance. In 2008, the Society obtained a $25,000 grant from the Ashtabula Foundation for extensive repairs to the church “at the edge of the forest,” the forest now long gone. The church is now operated seasonally as the Windsor Historical Society Museum.

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acquariusgb · 3 years

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9/11 Bill POV

While Hillary was in Washington and Chelsea in New York, Bill was in Australia. Here's an extract from Man of the World by Joe Conason, describing the events from that day.

In Clinton’s suite at the Sheraton Mirage, a luxurious hotel surrounded by palm trees, he turned on the television to see the nightmarish images that would soon become a historic symbol of horror for Americans. Across the bottom of the screen, a crawling ticker listed the names of passengers on the four flights hijacked by the al Qaeda terrorist teams. Suddenly, Clinton saw the name of a friend, someone who had worked with him for years, a man with a family of his own. “Oh my God,” he breathed.

He knew Chelsea was in New York City, visiting a friend before her scheduled departure for England. Now he had to find out exactly where she was and who was with her, but nobody had been able to find her yet. When Hillary finally got through to his room, she pretended to know already that their daughter was safe, hoping to calm him—even though she felt inwardly frantic as her Senate staff continued to try to locate their daughter.

By her own account, Chelsea had been watching television at her friend’s apartment in Union Square when the second plane hit, and quickly tried to call her mother in Washington—but as she spoke with an aide in Hillary’s office, overburdened phone lines went dead. In a panic, she left the apartment and headed downtown, searching desperately for a pay phone to reach Hillary’s Senate office again. She was standing in line at a pay phone, about twelve blocks from the disaster scene, when she heard the deafening roar of the second tower collapsing. She headed back toward Union Square, eventually found her friend, and they walked uptown, like thousands of other New Yorkers. When she found a working phone and reached Hillary, her mother burst into tears of relief.

At Clinton’s office in Harlem, Karen Tramontano and members of the foundation staff were meeting in a conference room with a panoramic southward view when they saw the first plane. Someone came running into the room and suddenly they were watching the catastrophe on television. Tramontano picked up a phone immediately, trying to reach Band in Australia.

With all flights into the United States canceled, the Clinton entourage was stranded in Australia. After talking with Band, Tramontano placed a call to Condoleezza Rice to ask for help. After some wrangling that involved more calls from Band to the Secret Service and to Transportation Secretary Norman Mineta, the Pentagon dispatched a military aircraft to pick them up at Cairns Airport in Port Douglas. “It won’t be very comfortable,” Rice warned, “but it’s the only plane we have available out there right away.”

It wasn’t comfortable at all aboard the C-130 cargo plane and the trip took almost twenty-four hours. There were no seats, there was no food, and at thirty thousand feet, the interior of the plane was cold—very, very cold. They stopped in Guam and switched to a refueling plane, which was no better. Band had tried to scrounge some sweaters and other warm clothing at the hotel, but they were all bone-chilled, starved, and exhausted when the plane finally landed at Stewart Airport, a New York National Guard airbase about fifty miles north of Chappaqua. Almost immediately they departed for Manhattan, where they headed to Union Square.

Despite their ordeal, Clinton was grateful to have gotten home, unlike thousands of Americans left overseas with no way to return until the airports reopened. Among them was Al Gore, who had been in Vienna when the terrorists struck, giving a speech to an Austrian Internet forum.

Evidently the Bush White House was not prepared to provide military transportation for the former vice president, who could find no way to get back except via Gander Airport, a tiny facility in Newfoundland. From there, he and an aide would have to drive southward across the Canadian border.

While seeking help with their predicament, a former Gore aide—who had also worked in the Clinton White House—called the Harlem office. Gore and Clinton had exchanged messages within the first hours after the terrorist attack, but had not spoken yet. Distant as relations between their bosses had become, the staffers remained friendly. When Gore’s aide reached Tramontano, they talked casually about “the crap that’s gone on for far too long” between Gore and Clinton—who literally had not spoken since a bitter two-hour argument about who was to blame for the disastrous outcome of the 2000 election. She suggested that on the long drive down from the Canadian border, Gore might stop in Chappaqua. When Tramontano reached Clinton to discuss the proposed sleepover, she wasn’t surprised by his enthusiasm. That evening around 8 p.m., the former vice president picked up his cell phone to speak with the former president for the first time in many months.

“Why don’t you come down here, and then we’ll fly down together Friday morning?” Clinton asked. An Air Force jet provided by the White House would take them to the capital for the special memorial service on September 14 at the National Cathedral.

Hours after midnight, driving a rented car, Gore arrived at the five-bedroom colonial on Old House Lane. Clinton was waiting for them in the living room, where he had been napping on and off, and got up to greet Gore.

As he climbed the steps to the front porch, the former vice president noticed a refrigerator, sitting where it had been moved while the kitchen was undergoing renovation—a tableau that struck him as more hillbilly Ozarks than chic Westchester. Eyeing the fridge, he cracked, one Southerner to another: “Well, you’ve really come a long way, haven’t you?” At the door, Clinton roared with laughter.

They stayed up almost until dawn, talking mostly about the 9/11 attacks, their own efforts to deal with terrorism, and the murky times ahead. Chelsea met them in the morning at Westchester Airport to fly to Washington. On the flight down, Gore invited the Clintons to join his family after the memorial service for lunch at his home in Arlington, Virginia.

At the cathedral, a century-old Gothic Revival structure on the northern outskirts of the capital, Clinton sat in a front pew alongside President Bush and the other living former presidents, Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, and George H. W. Bush. He listened as the president delivered words of compassion for the bereaved and a warning to the enemy. He was speaking out forcefully in support of Bush at every opportunity, starting with his departure from Australia. He had canceled all of his speaking engagements abroad to remain in Manhattan, spending hours at local vigils and especially at the Armory on Park Avenue, where he tried to comfort families whose loved ones were missing and presumed dead.

“They cheered, they wept, they hugged him,” wrote a reporter for London’s Daily Mirror. “All around him, New Yorkers gathered, some to pass on their thanks that he had rushed to their side, others to grab his hand and use him as an emotional crutch. . . . All felt lifted to be in the presence of the man they had looked to for most of the past decade when their country was in its hour of need.”

The Mirror correspondent was not alone in contrasting Clinton’s instinctive leadership with the unsteadiness displayed by his successor in the early hours following the attack, although Bush soon righted himself and took command. America and the world had turned a page, moving beyond the petty controversies that had almost consumed Clinton in the days after he left office. Gaunt, somber, and worried, he and his fellow Americans now found themselves in a very different world.

Not everyone was willing to leave old habits behind, however, especially among Clinton’s most rigid detractors on the right. Even as Bush and congressional leaders prayed for the nation to unite, the habitual haters simply could not resist a fresh opportunity to target him. Nothing mattered more than proving (or at least asserting) that the terrorist attacks of September 11 should be blamed not on the current president, but the one who preceded him. Before long a writer for National Review warned, only half-jokingly: “If we members of the Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy don’t get back to our daily routine of obsessive Clinton-bashing, then the terrorists will have won.”

#bill clinton #al gore #chelsea clinton #hilllary clinton #the clintons

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darkmindsotome · 3 years

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Icy Interrogation

Title: Icy Interrogation

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing: Kazuomi Shido x MC

Word count: 2,998

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Summary: A sudden trip with no explanation triggers a game of unmasking that becomes hotter than the weather.

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #10: Ice Cube Cool Down | Ice Cream Cool Down

---

It was a lazy day and I found myself still temporarily “homeless” and staying at Raven. When everything had happened, Kazuomi stepped up and offered me a job and a roof over my head. I was really grateful to him. Not just with the offer but knowing that I would have lost another part of myself in the line of duty without him.

As ludicrous as it sounded, he was my safe place I could run to and know I would be accepted. The man topping the world's blacklists as the number one bad guy. The man who at any moment could once more be my target. It was his loving arms always reaching out for me, willing to hold me. Me as I am, not who I was for work. Plain old Mc. It was a joy I had never experienced before in any other relationship. He was his own brand of dangerous persuasion and I continue to fall fast and hard for it every time.

Since becoming a couple, he had helped me remember the me who I was before all the lies, aliases and espionage. He comforted me when I didn’t even know I needed it and accepted me no matter how I was acting. The love and kindness of this man was an absolute truth he hid well behind his usual playboy mask. That’s not to say he was an Angel, if anything he was a Devil at times. Still, better the Devil you know right?

Raven in England was different to Raven in New York or Tokyo. It was still a grand luxury hotel but there was something a bit more reserved about it. I giggled imagining how that sat with Mr Dramatic. A man famed the world over for his extravagance and love of all things opulent.

I had been rushed onto a private jet in the early hours of the morning in New York only to wake up in an airfield in England nearly seven hours later. All my repeated requests for my boyfriend to explain why I was here were met with evasive answers. In typical Kazuomi fashion, he would not reveal any secrets, if I wanted to know I would have to uncover the answers myself. Well, game on.

When I was pondering how I would get him to crack the door to the penthouse opened, the man in question strolling inside. The dark green bags in his hand had the words Harrods picked out clearly on them in gold. He vanished into the kitchen and reappeared empty-handed moments later with a big grin on his face.

“Welcome back.” I adjusted myself on the sofa dropping the magazine I had been idly perusing on the coffee table. The ice in my glass clinked against the tumbler where a final mouthful of fruit juice remained waiting to be drunk.

“What no third degree?” Kazuomi practically purred. He was really in a very happy mood which made me even more suspicious. Seriously what was this guy up to?

“What would be the point? You already made it very clear you intend on telling me nothing. I’m not in the habit of wasting my time on a blisteringly hot day.” I shrugged pretending my curiosity was not reaching its limits.

Kazuomi was watching me intently. My little act was no doubt doing nothing to hide anything from him. Damn him and his observational superpowers. It was easy to tell that he was wanting me to bite. Take the bait and play along with his little games. ever since my questioning on the plane he had this playful look in his eyes.

The heat of the summer here was different to that from back home and I was feeling sluggish. It was so hot even the locals had dubbed the weather “unseasonal” and I had found a bit of solace in a light cotton dress.

“Fair point.” He agreed with me smiling that Cheshire cat grin. I was just about to reach for my glass to finish the last of my drink when he took it for himself. I watched as the minted apple juice was drained over his lips and slid down his throat. “Ah, that’s the stuff.”

“Hey!”

“Yes?” He kept hold of the glass in his hand-balancing it on the back of the sofa we were sharing. The look on his face was far from guilty if anything it was yet another taunt to get me to play with him. A silent request I was already planning on fulfilling.

“Oh, you are so going to regret that.”

“Am I? I can’t wait to see what my Goddess has in mind for retribution.”

That cocky grin on his face was as irritating as it was sexy. Well, the game had officially started so I guess now it's time to play. His successful theft of my drink had given me an idea.

I moved over to his side careful to push my breast against his arm and let him see them taking a new form as they pressed into him. He was observant enough to have seen from the second he walked in that I wasn't in a full set of lingerie. Trailing my hand over his leg from his knee to the top of his thigh, I made sure to brush a little too close to his cock. He relaxed back into the sofa. Both arms now stretched out over the seat he looked like the epitome of a lion surveying the savannah.

“Mm don’t tell me my girl has been bored waiting for me?” That same playful happy purr rippled through the room. This time instead of spiking my curiosity it made my heartbeat speed up.

“You left me all alone again without a single word as to when you’d be back and with only glossy magazines to keep me company.” I whined a little as I played the part he wanted. I wasn’t so new at these little games that I would not know my own role.

Reading my target was something that kept me alive on missions. It was what made our games together so much fun. Both of us competing to unmask the other. To get the other to surrender and declare a winner. It was a little amusing that it normally “officially” ended in a draw between us even if Kazuomi was really the winner in all honesty.

“A disastrous oversight on my part. How ever would you like me to make it up to you?” On cue, he made the first play. He was matching my mock whine with fake placation in his voice. Moving his hips so my hand brushed harder where he wanted it to.

“Well, you could tell me why we are here. I thought you had work in New York to attend too.” I pulled my hand away preventing his move and brought it up to his cheek. Brushing my thumb over his lips as I looked into his eyes. He took the pad of my thumb between his lips biting down onto it before answering.

“Somethings are more important and can’t wait.”

“What things?” I tried pressing for a real answer knowing how futile it was. His eyes were locked on me in that stubbornly defiant manner he had where he was not going to give up anything until he was ready.

“All will be revealed in due time.” The grin on his face spread wider. He was certainly enjoying this.

I gave up simply stroking him and decided to straddle him instead. The sight of him trapped under me was always a thrill and not one I always had. Kazuomi was the type to enjoy what he called a perfect view. It only happened for as long as he would allow it before I was usually flipped over and he ended up on top.

Our bedroom activities were always a flurry of motion and give and take. The endless competition between us to come out on top. This kind of contest that carried throughout our relationship and into sex left us both craving more. Right now, I was looking for something he had, the key to the secret emergency trip to England that in his mind couldn’t wait.

My fingers undid his shirt while he remained very calm and collected, his arms still locked over the back of the sofa. The only part of him moving except for the growing bulge under my thighs was his eyes. They were roaming over me taking in every detail and mapping every curve.

After uncovering his broad bare chest, I dipped my hand down and relieved him of his belt. Leaning forward I covered his lips with mine. His tongue lapped at my lower lip before pushing past and ravishing my mouth. The remnants of mint and apple on his tongue dissolved inside me as the heat between us rose.

The arms that had been holding back were wrapping around me tight like a snake. The cold glass in his hand pressed into the dip of my spine causing me to groan into his mouth. If I wasn’t careful, he was going to steal all of my rational thoughts and I would forget about my self-imposed mission.

Reaching behind I took the empty glass from his hand. After breaking out of our lip lock I poured one of the melting ice cubes into my mouth. The devilish smirk on his face was still plastered there. He had never once tried to hide how he loved his kinky little games and I was always willing to play along.

I reached up and pulled a fist full of his reddish-brown hair exposing his neck to me. Dragging the ice in my mouth over that pulsating artery and feeling him moaning under me was like I was charged with an electrical current. His hands settled on my ass rubbing his thumbs over the top of the elastic on my panties through my dress. I pushed his hands away pinning one on either side of him and brought my mouth lower.

The water from the melting ice escaped my lips running across his muscles. That broad chest becoming something of a salacious slip and slide. I tracked the flow to his own waistband and slid my weight from his lap to rest my head over his now rock hard desire.

He hissed as I pulled it free from the confines of his pants exposing enough to do what I planned and no more. The hiss became an almost instant grunt as he bucked his hips against me when I slid the ice along his shaft. Rolling it and my tongue around that throbbing head and back down again. He hated to be in clothes at times like this and I was taking a little satisfaction in his discomfort. Karma is a bitch, isn’t it?

Ice melted now I wrapped my mouth around his cock bobbing my head alternating fast and slow. I was taking full advantage of the chill in my mouth before it had time to fade, seeking peeks at him from between his thighs. Each time I looked up I saw that dark and powerful look waiting for me. The one that didn’t just threaten to eat me up but promised to. I felt my own passions stirring more and was a little thankful when he freed his hands and pulled me off his cock back up into his lap.

“Is that another of your little spy tricks?” He was rushing to free me from my dress. His fingers fumbling with the buttons.

“You know I never sleep with someone when I’m working.” I reminded him of the facts, rolling my hips against him before whispering in his ear. “It’s all me.” He shuddered when I took the lobe of his ear in my mouth and gave it a little tug. Our little game was only just beginning.

“What a bad girl you are.” He chuckled pulling me to him so he could clamp down on my collar bone. A sting of pain later and I had a fresh very visible mark for the world to see. It was childish and as much as I would complain later about it I also loved the idea that he wants me so badly he felt compelled to do it. “I always knew you were my kind of woman.”

His fingers now given up with undoing my dress properly slipped into the gaps between them and tugged hard. The sound of fabric ripping and popped buttons hitting the floor like a rainmaker only served to create the music to our mood. His trousers and my panties were yet more fallen victims to our passions.

Shimming to the edge of the sofa he wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted us both off the seat. I didn’t complain about the dress I knew it would only be met with “I’ll get you a new one” later. What did make me confused was we weren’t moving towards the bedroom at all.

“Mhm… where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Kazuomi walked into the brightly lit space that was the kitchen. Instead of putting me down on the floor, he sat my ass on the cold hard countertop. The polished marble was beautiful and smooth but damn it was freezing.

He bent down and rummaged around in the freezer for a second before pulling out a small tub with a very familiar logo.

“Is that Lady Borden?”

“A completely new and exclusive flavour. It was released today.” He smiled pulling the paper cap from the carton and then dipping his fingers into the frozen treat. He brought it to my mouth and bit his lips as I slid my tongue over his digits chasing that luxurious creamy delight.

I was so absorbed in not letting the ice cream on his fingers go to waste that it took a few seconds for what he had just said to sink in. Lady Borden was known to produce limited flavours in different countries all over the world. They were exclusive to the place so it was not a massive shock that one would be done in England, but it was released today?

“H-hang on. Are you telling me you put work on hold and flew from one side of the Atlantic to the other JUST to get this?” I snatched the carton from his hand and looked at the pale green container. Luxury Early Grey Tea flavour ice cream. I’d been so into what we were doing I didn’t even taste it.

“Naturally. I know you’re a superfan too and the chance to get my hands on the first tubs of this was too much to pass up.” He took the pot back with one hand and used his other to push me lower onto the marble. “And now I also get to have my favourite dessert on the best plate in the house.”

I felt ridiculous laying on a countertop but I knew that feeling wasn’t going to be in my mind very long. I shivered as he took a scoop of the ice cream out once more on his fingers and drew a line on me from my belly button to my clavicle.

“It’s cold.” I squirmed. Kazuomi dipped down and dragged his tongue along the line he had just painted. Instead of going right to the top, he stopped at my chest. Taking a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before moving to the other side.

“I’ll warm you up.” His breath over my flushed skin was hotter than anything else in the room.

“It’s all sticky.” I arched against him his trail of kisses and gentle nips with his teeth continued as he lazily painted me with more of the ice cream.

“I’ll be sure to clean it all up and lick you nice and clean.” He vanished from my peripheral vision. I felt his heat move away leaving me laid out for all to see. His “plate”.

The ice cream was melting fast running in ticklish rivers over me and one that he had placed low down was working its way towards my core. I didn’t have time to look to see where my bad boy boyfriend had gone. With a slap on the counter from his hands, he pounced, his face buried between my thighs as he pinned me in place with his arms and tongue. All strength in my body vanished as it tried to focus on him and his targeted attacks.

“Ah! Kazuomi!” I wasn’t just arching I was sure I had probably contorted into a pretzel at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving me. His mouth was always so talented and the things he did with his fingers? My mind was getting foggy trying to keep up with him.

I was so close and if history told me anything he wasn’t far behind. I was lost in his eyes when he stood back up. The gleam of my own juices lingering on his lips as he licked them clean. With one hand on my hip and the other dragging one of my legs to his shoulder, he positioned me well enough to tell me what was happening next.

Hanging partly off the edge and stretched out in a way that meant he had full control I saw sparks the second he entered me.

“Ngh… Mc.”

The sounds of us joined together echoed in the bright space of the kitchen. The ice cream on my skin adding a new scent between us as our heat soared higher than the weather outside.

I said before Karma was a bitch. The games we had as we had our unmasking sessions added to that knowledge. Right now though as we both lost ourselves in the moment for the first of many times today I really couldn’t bring myself to be angry with them.

---

#summer of smut #summer of smut content creation challenge

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handeaux · 3 years

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In The 1880s, Cincinnati Strongly Supported Vaccination To Fight A Deadly Virus

Smallpox was dreadfully common in the 1880s, killing hundreds of Cincinnatians every year. Health officers confined anyone who contracted smallpox, and their entire family, to the pest house, fumigated their residence, and waited for everyone to die. Vaccination was available and effective, but an international movement worked to sour public opinion on this preventive method.

Most of the anti-vaccination propaganda throughout the 1880s originated in England and Germany. With a substantial German population, one might expect Cincinnati to be fertile ground for planting the anti-vaccination impulse. In general, this was not the case. A couple of Cincinnati’s German-language newspapers groused about the “vaccination humbug,” and the Catholic Telegraph, with a heavy German readership, sat on the fence for decades, but they were overshadowed by the majority of Cincinnati newspapers.

A fair summary of Cincinnati opinion in the 1880s was provided by the Cincinnati Commercial Tribune [11 May 1882]:

“A parcel of cranks in this country and England have been preaching against vaccination. Their false and foolish pamphlets are flying in every mail. If it were not for vaccination, the small-pox would be a devastating plague. The fools who are fighting the scientific defense against it, are flagrant mischief makers, and amount to public enemies.”

That sentiment was echoed by the Cincinnati Daily Gazette, normally a political opponent of the Commercial Tribune, on 20 February 1882:

“It is the darling object of the ‘antis’ to abolish compulsory vaccination in Germany and England, and to prejudice people everywhere against it. They are no doubt sincere, but their misrepresentation of facts and distortion of statistics appear to show that they think the end justifies the means. A more cruel work was never undertaken than this deliberate attempt to induce whole communities to take a course which is little better than suicide.”

By 1880, vaccination for small-pox was anything but new. Vaccination in one form or another had been practiced in Asia and Africa for centuries before Western medicine paid attention. Edward Jenner, an English physician generally credited with creating the first safe vaccine, inoculated his first patient in 1796. Cincinnati newspapers began promoting vaccination as early as 1805.

Vaccination, although commonly practiced, was mysterious and haphazard throughout the 1800s. No one understood the mechanism that propelled smallpox into such a lethal disease. Viruses were not discovered until well into the Twentieth Century. Medical doctors lacked a monopoly on vaccinations – or any medical treatments for that matter. Barbers, midwives, patent-medicine quacks and sometimes outright amateur inoculators wandered the city “vaccinating” patients for a small fee. The result was a morass of misinformation caused by “vaccinated” residents who died from smallpox. On investigation, it was proven that these unfortunate victims had been so improperly exposed to the smallpox virus that they developed no immunity at all.

There was no standardization and no quality control because no one, at that time, had any idea what was in the vaccine. This uncertainty spawned a plethora of myths, repeated continually by the anti-vaccination organizations. The Cincinnati Gazette [24 February 1882] summarized the anti-vax arguments:

“An effusion which reached us yesterday from the office of the Anti-Vaccination League endeavors to prove that it is foolish to be alarmed over the prevalence of smallpox, since it is not nearly so ‘catching’ as most people believe; that it does not increase the number of deaths, but merely replaces other diseases which would be present did it not appear; that vaccination is as much a humbug as magical arts, resulting only in discomfort and danger to the person who undergoes the operation; and, finally, that the attacks of smallpox are limited to a small portion of any population, chiefly its dregs.”

All this debate swirled through the pages of local newspapers while residents died by the hundreds. In 1882, Cincinnati lost 1,249 people to the depredations of smallpox. Periodic outbreaks were common: 640 deaths in 1868; 1,179 deaths in 1871; 927 deaths in 1876. The Cincinnati Post [23 November 1882] claimed most of the deaths from smallpox afflicted the immigrant community:

“Foreigners coming to Cincinnati refuse to be vaccinated. It is feared that small-pox will rage disastrously among this class of citizens. A prominent Hebrew said to a Penny Paper reporter yesterday that he would not be surprised to see every Russian refugee in this city die of small-pox this winter. They live in thickly populated tenement houses, and refuse to be vaccinated, even so far as to give up their positions in stores and factories where vaccination is made obligatory.”

Many of Cincinnati’s fatalities involved unvaccinated children. In his annual report for 1882, Cincinnati health officer Dr. D.D. Bramble emphasized this horrendous statistic:

“It is in the young, unvaccinated portion of our population that small-pox mortality chiefly occurs. Statistics show fifty-six per cent of deaths are in children under five years of age, and as much as seventy per cent in children under ten years that have neglected vaccination. It is needless for me to illustrate how recklessly the loathsome contagion is spread among the people.”

And, of course, there were ironies. As reported in the Commercial Tribune [12 October 1883]:

“The London Medical News reports the suicide of a leading anti-vaccine agitator in England. Last summer the small-pox broke out in his family and carried off his wife and three children. The loss preyed upon his mind, and he completed the extinction of his family by self-destruction.”

Although Cincinnati officials and the State of Ohio legislature declined to mandate vaccinations for everyone, eventually the schools and employers required vaccination, which amounted to the same thing. Data piled up ever higher to prove that vaccination really did stop the fatal consequences of smallpox, typhus and other diseases. The Enquirer [8 December 1882] stated its hope that logic, facts and proof would ultimately prevail against the disinformation, rumors and balderdash that constituted the anti-vaccination platform:

“During his official term the Health Officer has examined into one hundred small-pox cases for the purpose of gathering some data regarding the efficacy of vaccination. Of the one hundred people suffering from the loathsome disease he found that seventy had never been vaccinated, while the remaining thirty had suffered the simple ordeal so long ago that its virtue had entirely died out. These figures ought to prove a blow to the anti-vaccination society.”

#smallpox #vaccination #cincinnati medicine

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scotianostra · 2 years

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The Scottish actor Nicol Williamson was born on September 14th 1938 in Hamilton.

Williamson has been described as an enormously talented actor, considered by some critics to be the finest actor of his generation in the late 1960s and the 1970s, rivalled only by Albert Finney in his generation.

Born the son of a factory owner. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Birmingham, England. Williamson was sent back to Hamilton to live with his grandparents during World War II due to Birmingham’s susceptibility to bombing, but returned when the war ended, and was educated at the Central Grammar School for Boys, Birmingham

On 25th January 2012, Luke Williamson announced on his father’s official web site that Nicol Williamson had died on 16th December 2011, aged 75, after a two-year struggle with esophageal cancer. The news was released late as the actor did not want any fuss to be made over his death.

There are few actors with a lengthy bio like Williamson’s on imdb. https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0932116/bio?ref_=nm_ov_bio_sm

#Scotland #scottish #actor #theatre #film #tv

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barricadethesky · 3 years

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*technically another technically reintroduction. i accidently posted the other one when it was not ready because even though i’ve been on this website for godknows how long i still fuck up*

So i’m Jess, i’m 23, a libra, and from n.i. no real set genre or tropes that i like reading or writing. i dabble in a lot tbh. i need accountability from other people so that’s why i’m back again. and i just like talking about what i’m working on within limits obvs.

these are the wips that i’m sort of dabbling the most in atm. also subject to change because i’m reckless and impulsive and frankly just like making my life more difficult. also sometimes i’ll just post random vague ideas that i have and then never go anything with them (i’m looking at you summer hill)

[Duology] [Writing] [Spy/Thriller/Action] [Worldwide, mainly European Countries] [MC: Andy]

World peace is precariously balanced on a knife’s edge. One wrong move could have disastrous consequences. An untold number of deaths would closely follow. Those who know about the delicate world state notice a highly distressing trend: a series of deaths and kidnappings of important people and those closest around them.

The group, The Collective, are carrying out these missions and they were highly trained and unrecognisable. These missions wouldn’t be linked together if it wasn’t for their signature, a black business card left in the bloodbath.

A team is quickly put together with one goal; find and eliminate The Collective, no matter the cost. By whatever means necessary. The only problem. The one chosen to lead. They were no better than them. A burnt spy, an ex-assassin and an ex member of The Collective, they alone were said to be responsible for a high number of violent killings.

But in order to keep the delicate peace, sometimes pardoning the enemy of thy enemy is a necessary evil…

Bloodshed, chaos and death await.

[Series] [Writing, slowly] [New Adult, Romance] [Sunrise Cove] [MC: Victoria]

When Victoria Walker was given the opportunity to help the up and coming legal aid centre that her law firm financially backed. She jumps at the chance as this opportunity shouldn’t happen to her, especially not after having a stress educed breakdown in front of one of the firm’s highest paying clients.

Most would have seen this as a punishment, watching over and help mentor a bunch of arrogant and rude recent law school grads who think they knew everything about law. But not Victoria, she saw it as anything but a punishment. She wanted to give back to the small town that helped raise her.

The Walkers sisters were only meant to move to this quiet seaside town for nine months – a year at most. But everything changes when Victoria meets Casey Markov, the closed off but kind hearted man who managed one of the local restaurants.

[Duology] [Outlining] [Supernatural/War] [London, England] [MC: Ripley]

Ripley Balfour was a survivor through and through. The night her family was murdered, she survived that. Ripley didn’t want the life she’d been forced to live.

She was one of the few witches who managed to live on the fringes of society. She managed to survive because avoided the rest of the supernatural community.

The constant whispers of a brewing supernatural revolt started to look like a possibility. They were looking for a leader and that was Ripley, all she had to do was survive once more.

Also there’s a good number more vaguely inspired by n.i. and n.i. politics even though i said a few years ago that i hate things that are based in n.i. or based on n.i. having these issues. and then there’s like my main project that i don’t post about here just because

#writerblr intro #writeblr #wip intro #wip introduction #writeblr introduction #jess rambles #mine

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blackboar · 3 years

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Journey to Bosworth: A Nation of Fence-Sitters

(RIP Richard III)

Some people have a hard time figuring out why thousands of Englishmen died for the right of some guy to take or keep the English throne, while there was little difference in their way of governing or their political program. Don't worry: many English didn't care at the time those events happened.

To be fair, the first phase of the War of the Roses (1455-1461) was incredibly divisive for England. Almost all of the English Peerage would fight at Towton. Of course, many fought because they had 'private' interest to do so (rivalry with someone on the other side, willingness to monopolize royal favors by fighting on the right side, familial/feudal solidarity, etc...).

However, many factors contributed to make the first phase of the civil war an extremely violent and polarizing one. Rampant insecurity, the accumulation of private feuds and the return of thousands of unemployed soldiers from France were aggrievating factors. King Henry VI was a factor of discord by himself. His inept and ineffective rule was replaced in 1453 by a half-made king who was even more unfit to rule. On the reverse, loyalty toward his dynasty and his reputation for piety, generosity and pacifist gave him the alliegances and a core of hard-line subjects who would followed him to the bitter end.

On the reverse, the House of York with its promesses of reform, sound government and financial solvency brought them supports. London and counties of the South-East, sensitive toward those issues, would gladly bring support toward duke Richard and his heirs.

In 1471, Edward IV definitely triumphed over his rivals. His reign until 1483 would see a broad pacification of the realm, an end of the most violent private feuds and the restoration of order and financial solvency. Yorkist Parlements were broadly less critical of the king and his councilors than those of Henry VI ever were.

When Richard III usurped the crown in 1483, it was the ruin of some court factions and nobles but it simply didn't impact the country. The fall of the Wydevilles was a good action for many, and the execution of the duke of Buckingham seemed to brought little regrets, even amongst the ranks of his own tenants and retainers.

Opponents of Richard III were, roughly speaking, the household servants of Edward IV (and V) and the gentry connected to the Wydevilles in the South-East and the South-West, accompanied with some remnants of the old Lancastrian faction. They weren't the expression of a significant social group or the champions of a decisive political issue (other than dynastical).

On the reverse, Richard III wasn't popular. His ascension was followed by a trail of blood, including the possibility that he killed his own nephews. His usurpation, confirmed by Parlement, did taint the prestige of the Crown and the death of his son and wife was seen as divine justice. While committed toward resolving the wrongdoing of the reign of his brother Edward IV, this appeal didn't bring for him the support he hoped simply because his reputation was disastrous. The last Plantagenet was forced to come back to his Northern affinity and to govern the realm with them, adding further unpopularity toward him. Richard III wasn't a bad ruler, but the conditions of his avent determined him so much that he couldn't bolster support. When Henry Tudor landed in Wales, his support was slim. In the peerage, he had the support of the Earls of Oxford and his uncles the Earl of Pembroke and lord Wells. The first two were exiled for more than a decade, and didn't bring any force. He had to leave behind the Marquess of Dorset because he wasn't reliable. To bolster his forces, he had to rely on smaller, local figures such as Rhys ap Thomas or Sir Gilbert Talbot, who brought little troops.

Richard III wasn't really supported by the country when his fateful hour came. He had the support of nine peers, and out of them, seven had received significant endowments from him. The new Earl of Westmoreland didn't came to his help, nor his brother-in-law the Duke of Suffolk or the Earl of Arundel, despite both having blood links toward his designated heir, the Earl of Lincoln. Still, he had the committed support of his old affinity and the loyalty of his inner circle. Stricly speaking Richard III had more support than his rival, but certainly less than a legitimate king would have. It is also possible that he thought he didn't needed more.

The battle of Bosworth was primarily created by dynastic drama. In other term: it was a conflict inside the ruling elite. It didn't concerned the peers less close to the central government as well as the sheer majority of the country, Although there was some moralistic undertones with the potential murder of the princes in the Tower. Nonentheless, people might have expected Richard III to win. He was a seasoned battle-commander, with superior forces against a nobody. Some simply didn't bother to help him, even when they had interest at the continuation of his rule (Suffolk's absence his a good example). No doubt the outcome of Bosworth surprised many, but concerned little people.

#richard iii #henry vii of england #battle of bosworth #ill-documented battle #Concerned few folks #Life continued in England as before #even during the battle some soldiers didn't care #think of the 3000 men of Henry Percy and those of lord Stanley which came for nothing #as they just didn't engage #and just watch a battle which was as long as a random movie

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croatoanpod · 2 years

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Hello and Welcome!

We're glad you're here. Who are "we?" Well, introductions are in order!

This is the official tumblr for the new audio drama Croatoan.

What is Croatoan?

Croatoan is a 10 episode, supernatural audio drama created by WWM Productions. In short, a young woman teams up with the local bad-boy to solve mysteries and survive monsters, with commentary by a local unreliable narrator. Lots of chaos ensues.

If you're intrigued, here's the official synopsis:

How can I listen in?

So glad you're interested! Each episode gets split into two parts, and these get released every Wednesday on Youtube and Spotify (links below). However, sometimes the episodes get a little delayed due production issues (nothing serious, just comes with the territory of being so small), so if we're not in your feed when expected, just be patient. More is on its way, and I'll do my best to keep you updated.

As promised: Who are we?

We are WWM Productions, two people who love stories! Our Youtube channel was our first endeavor, where we created a film discussion podcast, We Watch Movies, and solo videos on all types of media. Croatoan is our first original fiction project together.

Croatoan is...

Written by Jenna Ulizio (and yes, they mod the tumblr, too)

Produced and sound designed by Ava Dell'Orfano (who triples as our composer for the music!!!!)

Brought to life by a talented group of voice actors who you will meet through the episodes

Where can you find us?

Now that I've blathered on, let's put up all of our relevant links.

For Croatoan:

Tumblr: you're already here. Woo! Stick around :)

Twitter: https://mobile.twitter.com/Croatoan611590 --> Highly recommended

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRhwEP_QQ_cihZ27lcD6pKvt1zNVEcvck

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/43jTvnH2tXEKVMo60aFKNS

For WWM Productions:

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/wwmproductions/ --> UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Twitter: https://mobile.twitter.com/wwm_productions

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC_6XIpkQ5Jjh4Wab65tWbTA

Spotify*: https://open.spotify.com/show/1lOGffuLitEeuYKde3HUgA

*You can also find us in varying capacities on Google Podcasts, Breaker, Anchor, Pocket Casts, and RadioPublic.

That's all for now! I sincerely hope you check out our show. We've all worked so hard on this project. Until the next Wednesday, folks! Now, back to writing this thing...

#audio drama #audio fiction #croatoan #croatoan pod #podcast #roanoke #fiction #original fiction

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kyndaris · 3 years

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A Vikingr Saga for the Ages

Ever since the first game in the franchise, I was enraptured by the idea of stalking my prey on the rooftops of Renaissance Italy and then leaping down - slaying them with a flourish. I didn’t know it yet but the marriage between history and stealthy parkour had me hooked from the very first trailer for Assassin’s Creed. When the series pivoted towards mythology and set further in history than ever before, I eagerly followed. From Ptolemaic Egypt to Ancient Greece. It should come as no surprise that I devoured, then, that I devoured as much of the world that I could in the latest entry: Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla. And after clocking in just under 150 hours, there is much for me to unpack in Ubisoft’s latest entry into the Assassin’s Creed franchise. That, and a fierce desire to finally start watching Vikings.

When I initially booted up Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla (AC:V), I will admit that I was a little disappointed with the control scheme. Once again, Ubisoft had made it a confusing mess with trigger buttons instead of face buttons used to attack. Since I had just come from Spider-Man: Miles Morales, it took a good long while for me to adjust. Several hours later, after fumbling through my first battle with a lost drengr (I actually dumbed down the difficulty a litte), I finally managed to find my footing and was on my way to England to scrape out a place for the Raven Clan.

As for stealth...well, the less said about it the better. I never found it effective. It was much easier to smash my way through, axe in hand (or greatsword) and lay waste to their paltry resistance with a mixture of heavy attacks and parrying. I also, hardly used the bow (one of my favourite weapons to being stealthy in Origins and Odyssey).

The story in AC: V is a little messy. Most of it is done through a separate arcs for each territory Eivor ventures through: from East Anglia to Snotinghamscire, with little to link it all together except the main character. Were it not for the very loose story threat surrounding Sigurd and the conquering of Mercia to establish a firm foothold in this new land of England, many of the storylines could be regarded as standalone adventures in Eivor’s epic saga of conquest.

That doesn’t, of course, mean it’s bad. Merely disjointed. Particularly when I went from Jorvik and its Yule Tide celebrations to Glowecestrescire that was right in the midst of Samhain right after each other. Did I go back in time? Or did almost an entire year fly past Eivor with none the wiser?

Still, even though they were mostly standalone storylines, I still very much liked all the characters I met along the way. My favourites were the earnest Hunwald, noble Ceolbert (his death was almost as bad as all the horse deaths I’ve encountered in video games) and fun-loving Twydwr (particularly when he and Eivor were drunk, and messing with the local chickens) On the Norse side, I very much enjoyed the banter between Eivor and her childhood friend Vili. But the one that I admisted most was Soma. She was the jarlskona of Grantebridgescire - the first place I explored after landing in England. And one, I hoped I could romance to some degree. Alas, my hopes were dashed on that end.

What I did find a little intriguing were how Sigurd and Eivor were sages for the Isus: Odin and Tyr. And in their little Raven Clan, revealed much later, was also Freyr. It seemed strange that so many of the reincarnated Isu were all incredibly close at hand.

In this title, Ubisoft was able to focus again a little more on their complex lore that was seeded throughout the first few games. And while some questions were answered, it still left plenty of mysteries of where the games go from here - particularly from a modern-day standpoint. Though I am reluctant to see the franchise go, it does feel like Ubisoft is finally coming to a close on the grand story that they are trying to tell. What the end result turns out to be is still to be determined, but more emphasis needs to be focused on the central conflict.

For a game that still has Assassin’s Creed in the title, Eivor’s connection with the order and their enemies seemed very tangential. While I killed many Order of the Ancient members, there was no sense of personal investiture, like, say with Ezio’s quest. The only ones that I felt motivated to put an end to were Fulke and Kjotve the Cruel. Unfortunately, all the build-up in the first scenes with Eivor were quickly resolves within the first two to three hours of the game, and Fulke’s arc was all but over in the half-way point.

I suppose the main reason for my discontent with the narrative of AC: V is the fact that there is no Big Bad for Eivor and her Raven Clan. Yes, Aelfred of Wessex is a ‘villain’ that hinders our protagonist, but he never felt like an oppressive threat.

Basim’s reveal, somewhat late in the game, was also a little underwhelming. Yes, he did look an awful lot like Loki, but how did he manage to get to Norway? He hadn’t accompanied Sigurd and Eivor. Did he travel with a third party? How did he know that Sigurd and Eivor would be in the ruins of an Isu temple? So many questions, so little time.

Then there was the whole ‘Heir of Memories’ and the fact that Layla seemed so worn. After finishing Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, my last impression of her was receiving the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus from Kassandra and being hopeful for the future. Fast forward to AC: V and Layla is tired. The world is on the edge of destruction once again and she’s now paired up with married couple: Rebecca Crane and Shaun Hastings (the two last appearing undercover in Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag).

On a side note, why are their adventures all done in the comics or some other media? AND WHY DO I NOT HAVE ACCESS TO ANY OF THIS?

And because I didn’t play the expansions for Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, I knew too little regarding the modern-day struggles with Layla. In fact, I basically resorted to the Assassin’s Creed wiki to bring me up to date. Honestly, DLC should never be story-related. Or, if it is, should be more tangential rather than major. It’s a terrible practice that quite a few publishers do, and which leaves players such as myself playing catch-up.

The only one that landed with any oomph (at least for me) were the Asgard and Jotunheim arcs. These were connected and told the story of Havi as he struggled to find a way to avert his fate. The final battle also proved challenging and climactic. A far cry from the ‘endings’ that the main story provided. In all honesty, I probably should have left that to last while completing everything else first. But the temptation was too great and I was vastly overlevelled.

I also enjoyed the play on the Norse myths. The only downside with the Builder was that there was no horse to help him. And so, there was no sexy mare Loki to tempt away the Builder’s horse - giving birth to Sleipnir. The other stuff, though, was clever. And I liked the references made to other myths, such as fighting against ‘old age’ and Thrym’s disastrous marriage to ‘Thor dressed as Freyr.’

What was also a little odd, at least for me, was that there was no definitive part where the credits rolled. Much like in Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey and Assassin’s Creedy: Origins. Personally, I hate it. Credits give closure and tell gamers that the narrative that they were pursuing has come to an end. It lets me reflect on everything that I experienced and is an indication that I can finally set the controller down.

Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla also came with its fair share of bugs and glitches. Many, after reading up on them, made me frightened to continue. One, in particular, took me a while to figure out an alternative to: entering Lunden. I didn’t help that the more I read, the more I worried about encountering a game-breaking bug. Thankfully, most were simply treasure hoards not loading, late texture pop-ins that were a little frightening, and the drunk Eivor every time I loaded up the game.

Despite its many faults, I still very much enjoyed my time roaming around England, Vinland and Norway as I worked to build up Eivor’s reputation and to ensure her name would be sung for ages to come. Like a true Vikingr, I played copious amounts of orlog, drank mead and tore up the battlefield to create a home for my people.

Even better, at Gunnar’s wedding, I managed to finally woo Randvi (who I abstained from bedding down with earlier on in the game)! That, perhaps, elevated the game for me and I can be happy knowing that all my hard work paid off.

(As an additional aside, I also love how many of the side quests or ‘mysteries’ in AC: Valhalla made references to popular culture. From Winnie the Pooh to Alice in Wonderland. AND ROBIN HOOD! THE NPC CALLED LITTLE JOHN HAD ME GUFFAWING!)

#Assassin's Creed: Valhalla #AC:V #Assassin's Creed #video games #Eivor x Randvi

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