#edit: i lied nigel was the best

[visiosatanae]

I'm high and watching Devil Wears Prada for the first time, and I'm just thinking the whole time that everything would be fixed if Miranda and Andrea were gay

[mywifeleftme]

274: Nap Eyes // Whine of the Mystic

Whine of the Mystic Nap Eyes 2014, Plastic Factory (Bandcamp)

Can’t speak to the sound on the original 2014 pressing of this guy from Plastic Factory Records, but the 2015 Paradise of Bachelors/You’ve Changed edition sounds pretty revelatory to me—kudos to the folks at the plant, and to Mike Wright and Peter Woodford for the mixing and mastering. Talk about Nap Eyes tends to quickly descend into the Nigel Chapman show—the vocalist’s laconic cadences and ambling lyricism offer plenty of grist for a critic to chew on, but here on the LP the rhythm section is mixed loud and way up front so that the insistent throb of Josh Salter’s bass becomes as difficult to ignore as the pounding of your own pulse in your ears when you’ve run too hard. Whine of the Mystic was recorded at Drones Club in Montreal back in 2013, which is basically just a none-too-large loft apartment in my current neighbourhood where they do raves sometimes, and the record sounds just like listening to the boys play while wearing good custom-fitted ear plugs. That rawness does a band who can flirt with a nutritious beigeness a lot of good—the guitars singe and flare, the amps sizzle, and the feeling of this band as a slack psych live force comes through.

I’ve been a huge fan of Nap Eyes since I caught them in Ottawa back in 2014, and people generally dig them when I recommend the record (with the exception of my pal Meghan, who despises them with the grumpy exhaustion that comes of seeing a band you don’t like constantly opening for bands you do). As such, Whine of the Mystic has been with me through a lot—the best songs (like “Dark Creedence,” and the last four) make a shimmering soundtrack to existential hangovers; walking toward some workaday Calvary in the rain; handrolling cigarettes badly; pining for girls if only to keep in practice; not getting a master’s; being 27 as hell for many years. It’s full of little touches that still delight me, like when they kinda morph into the Proclaimers for a bridge on “The Night of the First Show,” or the way the raincloud pacing of “Dreaming Solo” finally cracks open into the most amiable outro jam imaginable.

Giving your record a punny name is a risky choice, and as a phrase Whine of the Mystic skirts the edge of dorkiness. But in the end, I come down on it as an apt synopsis of the album’s charms. Chapman’s plaints linger on the humdrum, yet they paint the experience as intoxicating, Halifax as the backdrop for an ancient mystery cycle that repeats itself wherever life’s taking place. It brings to mind an exchange from Louis Malle’s The Fire Within, a superficially dull but emotionally feverish movie I haven’t thought of in ten years. The main character, a suicidal alcoholic who feels drained by what he perceives as the world’s absence of meaning, talks to an old friend, who has settled into a steady life as an academic and a husband. I don’t remember much of what they talk about, besides this:

Alain Leroy: Dubourg, what will you do tonight? Dubourg: Tonight, I'll write a few pages on my Egyptians, then make love to Fanny. I fall into her silence as into a well. At the bottom is a great sun that warms the earth.

All life is quotidian, but the primal and transcendent lies within that quotidian life, if you can truly immerse yourself within your own. Good luck.

274/365

[libcrtine]

daniel ezra.     he/they.     demi man.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   nigel   dixon   ,   most   likely   listening   to   give   it   all   by   croix   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the    twenty   eight   year   old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -socially awkward   yet   +genuine   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about  football   jerseys   mounted   on   a   wall   ,   a   collection   of   first   edition   comic   books   ,   the   sound   of   the   naruto   theme   song   ,   thick   rimmed   glasses   slipping   down   the   bridge   of   his   nose   ,   followed   by   obsession   for   men   eau   de   toilette   by   calvin   klein   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   the   football   star   being   overheard   discussing   the   possibility   of   breaking   his   contract   with   the   jets   and   retire   early   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .   (   kels   ,   23   ,   they / them   ,   est   ,   no triggers   .   )

𝟎𝟏.

𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆,  nigel sebastian dixon 𝒂𝒈𝒆 / 𝒅𝒐𝒃,  28 years old / october 31st, 1994. 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆,  kingston, jamaica. 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 / 𝒑𝒓𝒏𝒔,  demi man, he / they. 𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏,  unlabeled in his mind, more than likely pansexual.

𝟎𝟐.

𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕,  5 ft 8 in. 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓 & 𝒆𝒚𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒓,  dark brown & brown. 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒆,  natural color, usually cut close, sometimes grown out a little. 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆,  casual and laidback unless at an event or red carpet. 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎,  daniel ezra.

𝟎𝟑.

𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆,  genuine, honest, kindhearted, & intelligent. 𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆,  shy, socially awkward, unforgiving, & reticent. 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔,  reading, anime, comic books, manga, music, animated movies, nature walks, & video games. 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔,  being lied to, having his trust broken, practices that run late, being in the spotlight & being overwhelmed.

𝟎𝟒.

𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏, nigel was born in kingston, jamaica and spent the first few years of his life there. when he was seven years old, after his mother unfortunately passed away in childbirth with his younger sister, the family packed up their things and moved to the states. their father had spent his youth in the united states, new york to be specific, and was even going to be drafted into the nfl, but suffered from an injury that took him out of the league before he could even get started. that was when he moved back to his home country, jamaica, and met nigel's mother. growing up, nigel was the odd one out amongst the men in his family. while his older and younger brother took to sports like fish to water, he ended up not being as invested in them as his siblings. he had inherited his father and mother's (who was a netball player) athletic genes, but he what he didn't inherit from them was their love of sports. he would much rather be tucked away in a corner somewhere with his favorite comic book, or hidden away in his room watching anime. he was also much more soft spoken and sensitive than his father and brothers, which often made him the target of his father's disdain. nigel's dad tried his best to raise four children on his own, but he held onto misogynistic and toxic masculinity-adjacent qualities that he tried to enforce on them; especially nigel. that was a big part of the reason as to why nigel never came out of the closet growing up. he didn't want to deal with his father's disdain even more than he already did. so he kept his sexuality a secret from any and everyone; save for his closest friend growing up. once he entered his last years of high school, he began applying for colleges outside of new york; wanting to get away from his father for a while. he was luckily accepted to the ohio state university, where he was selected to be apart of the football team (a condition his father had if he wanted to be allowed to go to school outside of the state was to play football).

that was where he met who he would describe as his first love. they never put any labels on what they were, but they were definitely more than friends. and the more that they spent time with one another, the more that nigel fell for him. but he knew that no one, especially his father, would really accept their relationship. two football players in love? it was almost laughable to think about.

but he wasn't laughing when his lover decided to end things between the two of them because of their future careers. he knew that he had a point and that it was probably for the best, but he still felt devastated. he never truly got over him, and he still regrets letting things go so easily to this day. he also still holds anger and resentment towards his sort-of-ex too.

he made the mistake of venting to his father, who obviously didn't take his son being in a homosexual relationship all too well. it led to a big fall out between the two of them, which was what prompted nigel to accept being drafted to the rams, across the country and far away from his father and the memory of his ex.

nigel made the switch to the new york jets over a year ago when his contract with the rams ended. he was drafted by the jets, and with pressure from his brothers and father, accepted the offer instead of retiring like he really wanted to. he's been wanting to retire for a few years now, but doesn't want to disappoint his father, or the fans he's acquired over the years. there's nothing he wants more than to have a normal life out of the spotlight, but he knows that's far from possible now. he feels as though it's too late for him to switch lanes and shift into a new career field, especially because he feels as though football is the only thing he's good at; despite it not being something he's passionate about.

[d2kvirus]

Dickheads of the Month: June 2019

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of June 2019 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

You’d think the Orange Overlord’s visit would’ve been the biggest farce in British politics that week, but then The Independent Hashtag Change Hashtag Now Group Ltd saw six of their eleven MPs jump ship - including lead egotist Chuka Umunna as well as company secretary Gavin Shuker

Of course it was a matter of hours before Chuka Umunna started another new political movement promising the usual yadda-yaddas about how politics was broken and he’s the one person on earth who can fix it...sort of like he did a few months earlier with his previous project that he flounced out of at the first sign of failure - and a few days later he fucked off to join the Lib Dems, meaning the constituency of Streatham has been under control of two political parties (and one limited company) in 2019 all because their sitting MP keeps party-hopping and refusing to call a by-election

While none of the runners and riders in the Tory Leadership Drug Off covered themselves in glory, particular mention has to be reserved for Michael Gove for his admitting to taking cocaine while angling for the Tory leadership job and the Premiership that comes with it considering that, as Education Secretary, he introduced legislation saying any teacher who was caught using cocaine would be fired immediately, which sounds uncannily like he believed there should be one rule for him and another for the plebs

Perhaps the buffoon act Boris Johnson has spent over a decade performing isn’t a complete act, not when he has Priti Patel running around telling everyone about how much integrity he has while he hides in his safe space in case anyone might actually want to ask him a pertinent question - yet somehow he surpassed this when convicted fraudster Conrad Black was happy to vouch for Johnson’s credibility while slagging off any journalist who dared question him

On the subject of Boris Johnson and integrity, did Alan Sugar really believe nobody would notice him go from saying Johnson should be jailed for his lies during the EU referendum to saying he should become Prime Minister in the space of six months - a 180 that had nothing whatsoever to do with him saying he’d relax the tax rate that Alan Sugar just so happens to reside in?

Almost as soon as Pride Week began we had Anne Widdecombe volunteering her ignorant waffle about a “gay cure” - which also happens to be as close to a policy announcement as we’ve heard from The Nigel Farage Ego Project - and, naturally, it didn’t take long before sentient testicle Toby Young chipped in with the usual “it's so haaaaaard being a straight white male these days” bollocks

Another month passes and the BBC once again demonstrate their inability to cover an election result properly, this time giving so much airtime to Nigel Farage after the Peterborough by-election even though not only did his candidate come second, but when he realised that Labour candidate Lisa Forbes had won Farage literally ran and hid in the toilet, all of which makes it look as if the BBC had planned for their coverage to be a victory lap for Farage and didn’t bother to change their plans even when Farage didn’t win

Of course, this has led to the Faragists claiming conspiracy with some blather about postal votes and the local South Asian community, aided by Ross Kempsell falsely claiming that 69.4% of the vote was postal votes as opposed to 69.4% of those with postal votes used their vote (which is actually a decrease on the 85.1% average postal vote turnout from the 2017 election) all of which is little more than them begging to be told “You lost, get over it” - which, of course, soon led to Rod Liddell penning yet another of his “I know this might sound racist, but...” articles that never sound racist, they just are

Add to that how there was something sad about Nigel Farage marching to Downing Street (when nobody was there) to deliver a letter demanding he be part of negotiations with the EU - which would have carried some weight had he won in Peterborough, but having lost it made him look like a tragic figure in complete denial of what had happened

Don’t you dare interrupt a black tie dinner when Mark Field is there, as he will respond by getting out of his seat, grabbing you by the throat and shoving you into the nearest pillar to make you shut up and know your place - which was followed by Peter Bottomley congratulating him for assaulting somebody and Nadine Dorries prattling some nonsense about Jo Cox, while of course Julia Halfwit Hartley-Brewer was saying how more people should feel this way about climate protests...a few weeks after howling that throwing a milkshake at Nigel Farage is a crime, and Laura Kuenssberg somehow found a way to use the story to take potshots at Labour

Yet somehow Field wasn’t the only Tory involved in deeply unsavoury incidents with women within those 24 hours, as Boris Johnson was involved in a spat with partner Carried Symonds which saw the police being called, but that’s not the end of it: first the Metropolitan Police attempted to deny they were called, and it was only because The Guardian did a journalism and were able to cite the incident number that caused the police to admit they were there, but also those looking for any defence be it sentient testicle Toby Young comparing the neighbours to the Stasi while Alison Pearson posted a tweet that was outright inviting somebody dox the neighbours who reported the story while inviting harassment against them, while James Cleverly gave the downright dangerous advice that people shouldn’t call the police if they hear their neighbours in a furious row where things are getting smashed

There appears to be a humanitarian crisis in the Slovenian education system judging by how Damir Skomina can’t tell an armpit from an elbow, let alone the complexities of the differences between a deliberate handball and ball-to-hand, judging by his giving Liverpool a penalty for no logical reason within thirty seconds of the Champions League final kicking off - and it was hardly an isolated derp, either, as Son Heung-min was also penalised for “handball” when the ball his his shoulder in the second half

Although it does say it all that West Ham United were quick to take to Twitter thinking it would be a smart idea to try and rub Spurs fans’ noses in their being fucked over by Skomina, which only made them look like a bunch of insecure children

Yet somehow this wasn’t the worst tweet about the Champions League final, as that honour went to George Galloway for his utterly bizarre claim that there won’t be any Israeli flags on the Champions League trophy, because apparently Tottenham Hotspur and Hapoel Tel Aviv are the same club - so of course Tracy Ann Oberman was quickly rushing to Twitter to declare herself a Spurs fan, because after the farces with both Peter Herbert and David Baddiel using the club’s reputation as a testing bed for weaponising antisemitism, having one of the people who apparently makes a living out of weaponising antisemitism declare loyalty to the club is just what they want to hear...

It wasn’t long after Trump stated the NHS was on the table for any negotiations before Richard Tice casually gaslighted the British public with completely fabricated claims about pharma companies ripping off the NHS that would be solved by carving it up a la the American system - rather than the reality that the NHS significantly drives down the prices of medications compared to the American system, which Big Pharma hates

Similarly on the gaslighting trail was John Humphreys when he attempted to deny that Donald Trump had said that the NHS was on the negotiating table for any UK/US trade deal - which Labour MP Andy McDonald did not take lying down, calling out Humphrys for outright lying and reducing him to a gibbering wreck on his own show

Guido blog gobshite Paul Staines obviously had a quota to fill when he posted an article claiming that Jeremy Corbyn stated that Britain should have rolled over if the Nazis arrived on British shores, which took a remarkable amount of editing on Staines’ behalf to get the quote to say that - and, of course, this was rapidly regurgitated all over Twitter by Rachel Riley and Tracy Ann Oberman because they’re so far down David Collier’s rabbit hole they’re the best advertising Guido blog doesn’t have to pay for

At last the BBC finally said they were doing something about the vetting process for their political programming...unfortunately this didn’t mean they were going to stop Tory councillors posing as members of the public in the Question Time audience nor would they stop hiring actresses to pose as Anglican vicars on Newsnight, instead they didn’t like it when a member of the public kept asking Boris Johnson difficult questions about him being an ignorant pig when it comes to race relations so are making sure that only people who follow the script are allowed within fifty feet of a microphone whenever Johnson is interviewed

It’s almost fitting that England fans decided to celebrate the 75th anniversary of D-Day by hurling bottles at Portuguese fans and scuffling with the local police - yet somehow they didn’t even end up being the scummiest involved in these incidents, as that honour went to Tommy Robinson after he posted a video demonstrating his hardman credentials by sneaking up behind one of them and punching them in the back of the head while flanked by his heavies

It appears that Suzanne Moore was a little too keen to push her narrative in the latest Guardian piece on how terrible it is that Jess Phillips isn’t leading the Labour Party, considering she not only tried to claim that Jeremy Corbyn doesn’t have any female MPs in his inner circle - which must be news to Diane Abbott, Angela Rayner, Rebecca Long-Bailey and Dawn Butler (among others) - but when she deigned to acknowledge the shadow cabinet isn’t a sausage fest she used the highly demeaning phrase "a suitable female pet has to be groomed or the revolution may stall" to describe their status within the shadow cabinet while dismissing any and all contributions they have

Rather than criticise the US women’s football team for their overly elaborate goal celebrations even when they were putting the eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth goal past the Thailand goalkeeper, instead I’m going to criticise them for their response of “You wouldn’t criticise the men for doing it!” which not only showed how quickly they were willing to play the victim as soon as they were being criticised, but it was downright insulting to even use that as a defence considering that men tend to stop celebrating goals when it’s starting to become a drubbing, most notably the German players didn't celebrate the fifth, sixth or seventh goal they put past Brazil in the 2014 World Cup semi final

On the one hand Bethesda thinking that it wouldn’t look ridiculous to announce Fallout 76 would have NPCs and questlines during their E3 conference is dickheaded enough considering those are things in most Fallout games at launch rather than nine months later - but this dickheadedness was drowned out by the bloke who runs The Elder Memes for his remarkably YEAH! irritating habit of YEAH! yelling YEAH! like an obnoxious YEAH! jackass YEAH! during YEAH! the YEAH! entire YEAH! conference YEAH!

According to EA lootboxes aren’t gambling mechanics at all, they’re “surprise mechanics” so there is no justifiable reason to make them the subject of any gambling laws in any country

It was inevitable that, in the wake of the plaudits headed HBO’s way for Chernobyl, others would attempt to get a piece of that remarkably radioactive pie - although nobody could have guessed Russian state broadcaster NTV would put a series into production claiming the entire thing was due to sabotage by the CIA and nothing to do with poor design, unsafe working practices and gross incompetence 

Noted Dubai resident Jim Davidson wittered about how Sadiq Khan being Mayor of London has caused him to leave his beloved city...even though he’s lived in Dubai since 2004

And last but by no means least, failing to understand that the moon and Mars are distinct celestial bodies (let alone the difference between Wales and whales...) is Donald Trump and his attempts to deny he called Meghan Markle “nasty” before spending the remainder of the month saying he couldn’t have raped somebody as she wasn’t his type, blaming the Democrats for migrant deaths at the border, and retweeting a failed gameshow contestant who is banned from South African for spreading racial hatred

[stereotypcd]

ooc;; so since a lot of ppl liked that post to read Debbie’s newish edited story. HERE YA’ GO !!!

Tell me wht u think :)

Also sorry I can’t put it under a read more bc tumblr is dumb...

CHILDHOOD HEADCANON:

Nigel and Mariann were both workaholics even when they started dating, they never stopped working- even while Mariann was pregnant with their first child. ( Making Debbie a wedlock baby. ) So Debbie was born during the the filming of the giraffes in savanena a mixed woodland/grassland of Africa, for Nigel Thornberrys animal world. Mariann’s water broke half way through the film ( they ended up filming over parts of the animals to film the brith of Debbie. ) They hadn’t expected for Debbie to have been born 2 months earlier than her due date. Nigel was the one to deliver the baby, the giraffes simply continued eating leaves from the tree above where Mariann was giving birth under. Without any sort of pain medicine on top of having her baby early.

They went to a small hospital in a village ( since traveling to far wasn’t safe for the newborn ) who was to care for her. Nigel and Marianne stayed by her side the whole time, hardly sleeping or eating. They waited months, during that time their family visited off and on since it was a long way to go. Grandma Sophia started the whole time too.

They got a makeshift birth certificate madeit was a beautiful baby girl who they named Deborah Radcliffe Thornberry. ( her middle name is her grandpa’s first name, ) it was written on a slip of paper Grandma Sophia had in her purse. They still have it.

The day of the discharge from the hospital was a mixture of joy and worry for the new parents. But Debbie seemed fine and Healthy, of course, the Thornberrys waited a bit longer until they started up their careers again. ( A few more months. ) The first few years of Debbie’s life was spend traveling the world with her parents, which even from a young age she slightly disliked. But she was happy, oddly enough she made friends with some of the more tamed animals. But that was mostly because Debbie was never around/met another kids her own age. Of course, she did get lonely and never really knew how to deal with those crippling feeling of loneliness that the life of traveling gave her.

Sophie would send letters upon letters always about how Debbie shouldn’t be spending her childhood living out of a camper and she feels sorry for Marianne that she can’t give her child all that she deserves because of Marianne’s little career choose. Along with a book called women who joggle to much. ( this happened in S1 Ep16. Nigel knows best. ) But they ignored her persistent nagging. Since they knew what was best for their children and that Debbie was happy and healthy. And as the years went on, she never stopped pressuring them more and more, which is why they caved when she became pregnant with Eliza. Debbie was turning four years old when the family packed up and moved to Flagstaff, Arizona to stay with Sophie and Frank while Mariann was pregnant, so they pushed their wants to the side for a time in order to focus their time wholly on raising Debbie and the new baby.  

Sophie seemed to relish in the idea of having her daughter back, she fussed over everything Mariann did or didn’t do when raising Debbie out in the wild- so she did everything in her power to get everything right with this one.  Over time she and slightly Mariann had become so preoccupied with the baby that Debbie was unintentionally placed on the backburner, not because they wanted it that way- just because it was that way. They seemed to be making up for lost time. But Debbie learned to adjust to spending time with her daddy ( and grandpa if he wasn’t too tired from working.  ) But soon Debbie begin to notice her daddy losing that surge of happiness he used to have, it started off small.  

So Debbie took it into her own hands, somehow feeling that it was her responsibility to mend all of her daddy’s sadness, to fix him. In small ways, the roles switched and soon Debbie filled the role of parent. So when Nigel ended up falling into a deep depression, days where Nigel would spend all day in bed, not shower or even eat ( Mariann or even Debbie would have to try and force him to do those things. ) And being the daddy’s girl Debbie was when she was younger- she would sit on the floor drawing pictures and when he didn’t eat she would bring him goldfish crackers ( she even gave him kippers- but she couldn’t get the tin open, ) she tried her best. She would sit with him and comb her fingers through his unwashed hair while watching animal documentaries. Sometimes he would talk about all the things he knew about animals, Debbie liked those times because he seemed happy.

They ended up getting married a month after moving to Arizona while Mariann was a few weeks along with Eliza.  It was a small wedding with just Nigel and Marianne’s immediate family and few close friends Jomo was Nigel’s best man. Debbie was the flower girl and she loved every second of it- she soaked up all the attention like a sponge. Nigel’s parents stayed with the family for a while, while the wedding was being planned. Grandma Thornberry started to take notice of Debbie’s odd behavior and sought out to correct it- something she tried and failed to do with Nigel. Seeing Debbie’s autism as something to be fixed ( Mariann’s parents knew about Debbie ) she would have Debbie sit on her hands so she couldn’t stim saying “Quiet hands, Deborah.” Or put soap in her mouth whenever she did something that Grandma Thornberry deemed unacceptable for a young lady. 

Of course, when Nigel found out what his mother had been teaching Debbie- he put a stop to it immediately. His daughter was perfect just the way she was, that was one of the few times Nigel raised his voice at his mother- he wasn’t going to let her fill up her head with those nasty thoughts. The following night he sat Debbie down and explained that how she interacted with the world was different from other children but that just made her special and she should never feel bad about being different. That she was perfect and to never change herself for anyone. But the damage was already done, Debbie believed the lies, she believed it was her fault, she knew whose advice she preferred still, she was burdened by a feeling of wrongness and guilt. So she hides those things away, hides those parts of herself buried them deep in the back of her mind.

Debbie was five years old when Eliza was born, it was a long delivery. A healthy baby girl. They prepared carefully for this, reading Debbie picture books about becoming an older sister, asked her opinion on names for the baby. Small things to help Debbie get used to the idea of having a baby sister. The following day, Nigel had been forced out of bed by Debbie to meet the new addition to the Thornberry’s, his hair pulled into a greasy ponytail holding Debbie’s hand. 

Of course, Nigel feared slipping back into that darkness, but when that didn’t happen, and he felt an incredible surge of happiness, he was amazed- Eliza seemed to be the thing to pull him out of that dark place and from the moment she was born to the first injured bird she brought home, Eliza was the favorite. Nigel and Mariann swear they love both of them the same, they love how different they are and love them both for who they are. But at the end of the day, Eliza was the favorite child- she shares the same interests as both her parents which only strengthened their bond to the point where they subconsciously favor their youngest. And of course, Debbie was jealous, but she was glad her daddy finally seemed like his old self, she liked that he took her on nature walks despite not enjoying the bugs, she liked having her dad back- so she bottled up her feelings kept them inside. 

Everything seemed to be going okay for the Thornberry’s, it wasn’t until they tried to enroll Debbie into kindergarten did they run into some trouble because she didn’t have a birth certificate since they never seemed to have time, what with the show taking off in popular before and after she was born. When Debbie finally started kindergarten, she became very anxious suffering from separation anxiety since she had never been apart from her mom and dad before.To some extent she was always the target of teasing because she was different- a bit too weird but it was always a bit hard for Debbie to make friends. ( She’s an extroverted introvert. ) She really excelled in all her classes, Debbie was especially good in math. 

Slowly Nigel and Mariann started to work on their show again, Nigel seemed happier- he’s spark for life was reborn again.  Debbie never made it to fifth grade before her parents decided to pack up the girls and travel the world again, much to the protest of Mariann’s parents ( and Nigel’s too, honestly. ) Eliza was beyond ecstatic about the whole idea… Debbie, on the other hand, was very unhappy about being forced to uproot herself again from the only comfort she’s ever felt was her own. 

Of course, she complained about the move but knew deep down that this was what her dad needed to be happy and she’d do anything for his happiness. Moving from such a spacious home back into the comvee was a huge adjustment for Debbie. Of course, now since she got a taste of what most people have. A real house, friends, and school she craved those things even more. But she was forced to give up those things for the happiness of her family. But she would give it up everything for her family even if it meant that she was unhappy. Her childhood wasn’t bad, it was actually pretty good. But she can’t help that small twinge of sadness in her chest when she looks back on it.

[endenogatai]

Extra Crunch Friday roundup: Edtech funding surges, Poland VC survey, inside Shift’s SPAC plan, more

I live in San Francisco, but I work an East Coast schedule to get a jump on the news day. So I’d already been at my desk for a couple of hours on Wednesday morning when I looked up and saw this:

What color is the sky this morning pic.twitter.com/nt5dZp5wWc

— Walter Thompson (@YourProtagonist) September 9, 2020

As unsettling as it was to see the natural environment so transformed, I still got my work done. This is not to boast: I have a desk job and a working air filter. (People who make deliveries in the toxic air or are homeschooling their children while working from home during a global pandemic, however, impress the hell out of me.)

Not coincidentally, two of the Extra Crunch stories that ran since our Tuesday newsletter tie directly into what’s going on outside my window:

As this guest post predicted, a suboptimal attempt I made to track a delayed package using interactive voice response (IVR) indeed poisoned my customer experience, and;

Sheltering in place to avoid the novel coronavirus — and wildfire smoke — is fueling growth in the video-game industry, perhaps one factor in Unity Software Inc.’s plan to go public ahead of competitor Epic Games. In a two-part series, we looked at how the company has expanded beyond games and shared a detailed financial breakdown.

We covered a lot of ground this week, so scroll down or visit the recently redesigned Extra Crunch home page. If you’d like to receive this roundup via email each Tuesday and Friday, please click here.

Thanks very much for reading Extra Crunch; I hope you have a relaxing and safe weekend.

Walter Thompson Senior Editor @yourprotagonist

Bear and bull cases for Unity’s IPO

Image Credits: Nigel Sussman (opens in a new window)

In a two-part series that ran on TechCrunch and Extra Crunch, former media columnist Eric Peckham returned to share his analysis of Unity Software Inc.’s S-1 filing.

Part one is a deep dive that explains how the company has grown beyond gaming to develop multiple revenue streams and where it’s headed.

For part two on Extra Crunch, he studied the company’s numbers to offer some context for its approximately $11 billion valuation.

10 Poland-based investors discuss trends, opportunities and the road ahead

Image Credits: Edwin Remsberg (opens in a new window) / Getty Images

As we’ve covered previously, the COVID-19 pandemic is making the world a lot smaller.

Investors who focus on their own backyards still have an advantage, but the ability to set up a quick coffee meeting with a promising investor is no longer one of them.

Even though some VCs are cutting first checks after Zoom calls, regional investors’ personal networks are still a trump card. Tourists will always rely on guide books, however, which is why we continue to survey investors around the world.

A Dealroom report issued this summer determined that 97 VC funds backed more than 1,600 funding rounds in Poland last year. With over 2,400 early- and late-stage startups and 400,000 engineers in the country, it’s easy to see why foreign investors are taking notice.

Editor-at-large Mike Butcher reached out to several investors who focus on Warsaw and Poland in general to learn more about the startups fueling their interest across fintech, gaming, security and other sectors:

Bryony Cooper, managing partner, Arkley Brinc VC

Anna Wnuk-Błażejczyk, investor relations manager, Experior.vc

Rafał Roszak, investment director, YouNick Mint

Michal Mroczkowski, partner, Market One Capital

Marcus Erken, partner, Sunfish Partners

Borys Musielak, partner, SMOK Ventures

Mathias Åsberg, partner, Nextgrid

Kuba Dudek, SpeedUp Venture Capital Group

Marcin Laczynski, partner, Next Road Ventures

Michał Rokosz, partner, Inovo Venture Partners

We’ll run the conclusion of his survey next Tuesday.

Brands that hyper-personalize will win the next decade

Image Credits: cnythzl (opens in a new window) / Getty Images

Even for fledgling startups, creating a robust customer service channel — or at least one that doesn’t annoy people — is a reliable way to keep users in the sales funnel.

Using AI and automation is fine, but now that consumers have grown used to asking phones and smart speakers to predict the weather and read recipe instructions, their expectations are higher than ever.

If you’re trying to figure out what people want from hyper-personalized customer experiences and how you can operationalize AI to give them what they’re after, start here.

VCs pour funding into edtech startups as COVID-19 shakes up the market

Image Credits: Nigel Sussman (opens in a new window)

For today’s edition of The Exchange, Natasha Mascarenhas joined Alex Wilhelm to examine how the pandemic-fueled surge of interest in edtech is manifesting on the funding front.

The numbers suggest that funding will far surpass the sector’s high-water mark set in 2018, so the duo studied the numbers through August 31, which included a number of mega-rounds that exceeded $100 million.

“Now the challenge for the sector will be keeping its growth alive in 2021, showing investors that their 2020 bets were not merely wagers made during a single, overheated year,” they conclude.

How to respond to a data breach

Image Credits: WhataWin (opens in a new window) / Getty Images

The odds are low that someone’s going to enter my home and steal my belongings. I still lock my door when I leave the house, however, and my valuables are insured. I’m an optimist, not a fool.

Similarly: Is your startup’s cybersecurity strategy based on optimism, or do you have an actual response plan in case of a data breach?

Security reporter Zack Whittaker has seen some shambolic reactions to security lapses, which is why he turned in a post-mortem about a corporation that got it right.

“Once in a while, a company’s response almost makes up for the daily deluge of hypocrisy, obfuscation and downright lies,” says Zack.

Shift’s George Arison shares 6 tips for taking your company public via a SPAC

Image Credits: Eric Burger/EyeEm (opens in a new window) / Getty Images

There’s a lot of buzz about special purpose acquisition companies these days.

Used-car marketplace Shift announced its SPAC in June 2020, and is on track to complete the process in the next few months, so co-founder/co-CEO George Arison wrote an Extra Crunch guest post to share what he has learned.

Step one: “If you go the SPAC route, you’ll need to become an expert at financial engineering.”

Dear Sophie: What is a J-1 visa and how can we use it?

Image Credits: Sophie Alcorn

Dear Sophie:

I am a software engineer and have been looking at job postings in the U.S. I’ve heard from my friends about J-1 Visa Training or J-1 Research.

What is a J-1 status? What are the requirements to qualify? Do I need to find a U.S. employer willing to sponsor me before I apply for one? Can I get a visa? How long could I stay?

— Determined in Delhi

As direct listing looms, Palantir insiders are accelerating stock sales

Image Credits: Patrick T. Fallon/Bloomberg (opens in a new window) / Getty Images

While we count down to the September 23 premiere of NYSE: PLTR, Danny Crichton looked at the “robust secondary market” that has allowed some investors to acquire shares early.

“Given the number of people involved and the number of shares bought and sold over the past 18 months, we can get some insight regarding how insiders perceive Palantir’s value,” he writes.

Use ‘productive paranoia’ to build cybersecurity culture at your startup

Image Credits: JakeOlimb / Getty Images

Zack Whittaker interviewed Bugcrowd CTO, founder and chairman Casey Ellis about the best practices he recommends for creating a startup culture that takes security seriously.

“It’s an everyone problem,” said Ellis, who encouraged founders to promote the notion of “productive paranoia.”

Now that the threat envelope includes everyone from marketing to engineering, employees need to “internalize the fact that bad stuff can and does happen if you do it wrong,” Ellis said.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8204425 https://ift.tt/2DSWeXb via IFTTT

[thesinglesjukebox]

THE CHICKS - MARCH MARCH

[7.44]

Presumably won't be sued by Judy and Suzanne Donaldson...

Katie Gill: Let's get this out of the way first: to the best of my knowledge, "March March" had already been written by May 1, the originally announced release date of Gaslighter. I suspect there's already an article out there claiming the Chicks are jumping on the #BLM bandwagon, which 1. ain't true in the slightest, and 2. if you think the group that was willing to publicly criticize the Iraq War in 2003 is doing this for brownie points, I've got some swampland in Florida to sell you. This is an absolutely powerful song that pulls no punches. The minimalist backing highlights the power of Maines' vocals and the group's lyrics. That "cut the shit, you ain't going to the gun range" is perhaps the most haunting aside I'll hear in all of 2020. And the transition from minimalist backing to that absolutely sublime violin solo is top-notch. But the majority of the power from this song comes from the video, which recontextualizes the song's more general indictment of various protestable problems like school shootings and climate change to focus on the current Black Lives Matter movement. The video is a triumph of editing, especially the absolutely arresting and heartbreaking list of names at the end. The moment when they start moving faster, fast enough to the point where you can't read them all, feels like a punch in the chest. If the VMAs actually gave a damn about music videos outside of the 20 or so approved VMA winning artists, this would be a shoo-in. But it does make you wonder how well "March March" plays on the album itself or in a performance context, without the sublime video to bolster it. [8]

Edward Okulicz: It's almost a pity that this isn't the debut single by an actual new group called The Chicks, because the opening lyric "march, march to my own drum," delivered like a serpent ready to strike, is as potent a statement of intent as Pistol Annies' "Hell on Heels." Only it sounds more like Lorde. Any country elements are ghostly, threatening to run away in the mix if you focus on them. The Chicks have done what Lady A(ntebellum) failed to do and met the moment head on. [8]

Jackie Powell: I appreciate that The Chicks are "meet[ing] the moment" by not only reflecting inward, but also giving voice and handing their platform to those who have been actually marching in the past two months. They know they shouldn't be in this video, and for the most part they aren't. I don't mind that we see Emily Erwin's hands plucking her dobro. The Chicks understand that their rebranding is more than a statement of their potential wokeness and clout (cough cough Lady A). "March March" has less of a sonic punch than its predecessor, but it does accomplish a lyrical gut-punch. "What the hell happened in Helsinki?" is delivered with such sarcasm but also a defeatist tone, and the guitar and banjo harmonize the answer. I remember that day, and I remember how Twitter and the news machine reacted. It was horrifying. The final chorus crashes with a percussive convergence, as a thunderous bass drum attacks the first syncopated motif from the first measure. The "march" is layered and has intensified. Overall, the track would have served The Chicks even before the world's racial reckoning. It could be interpreted as a bit more conceited: Natalie Maines and co. once again positioning themselves as the country stars who have "taken on" the Nashville establishment while making "the personal political." They've been "March March"ing to their own drum for a while. With their first full-length release in almost fifteen years, they ought to know they aren't marching alone. [7]

Tim de Reuse: Dramatic, unfocused rambling that could've come from any white country up-and-comer trying to cram a profound single into their feel-good debut album. The "lies are truth and truth is fiction" bit is wishy-washy enough, but choosing to end your second verse with an apparent plea that we all keep Russiagate in our minds betrays a catastrophic failure to understand what most of the country does and does not give a fuck about right now. A band that got nationally blacklisted for the better part of a decade after daring to condemn the Iraq war should in theory be positioned pretty well to say something incisive -- and yet, and yet... [3]

Alfred Soto: What makes "March March" a minor triumph aren't the lyrics, which are of course audible but nevertheless weirdly and touchingly mild for these anxious times, but the way the Chicks let the song expand its lung power. A trippy, haunting example of the genre's recombinant abilities unfolds in the last minute as Old Country's handclaps, banjo, and fiddle meet the echo and slight distortion of New Country. To deal with anxious times, art should remind audiences of how we see traces of what is lost in what is new. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: I did not expect them to almost turn into "Army of Me" -- not now, not circa Court Yard Hounds, not circa "Goodbye Earl" -- which was a cover, anyway -- not circa the bluegrass days. Jack Antonoff is producing (alongside Taking the Long Way's Dan Wilson), so "March March" mostly remains a yellow flicker beat. But as it progresses, it prove the Chicks' name change wasn't just cosmetic or #woke. They know half of you love them -- their loyal fanbase, and lots more people who don't listen to country but love the idea of them -- and will forgive pandering, via a single that's no more political or pointed than stuff by Brandy Clark or Eric Church or even occasionally Brad Paisley. (The "cut the shit, you ain't going to the gun range" aside is sassy-great, if obsolete -- the boogaloos aren't pretending -- and blunted when the Chicks reuse it on a throwaway line.) They also know there's no point pandering to country radio, the half that already hates then, and likely also that they're too much of a legacy act for pop-crossover radio. This gives them musical freedom, and unlike countless message songs with afterthought arrangements, they use it. "March March" dispenses with words for almost a full two minutes to show, not tell, via a Southern gothic (in both senses of the phrase) "I'm Not Done." Sopranos ping like sonar, fiddlers play like they're Nigel Kennedy, handclaps and banjos form a dense thicket. It's striking, and made to listen to, not just to retweet and Google lyrics. [9]

Steacy Easton: The harmonies are nice, and I've missed them, but the abstract, anxious and spiky instrumental -- especially the banjos, handclaps and mysterious production on the last minute of the song -- matches the innovation of the name change. [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: The Chicks occupy an odd space in my music memory. Their music was popular when I was a kid, but I was too young in 2003 to grasp how and why they were suddenly ostracized from the country music industry. After they disappeared, I never thought that much about it. It was only after Beyoncé and The Chicks' 2016 "Daddy Lessons" that I started to understand the subversiveness of their music. And it was only after perennial problematic fav Taylor Swift explained her fear of speaking about politics, in the context of The Chicks' blacklisting after speaking out about President Bush, that I began to understand how the country music establishment silences voices of dissent. "March March" is a band unapologetically doubling down on the principles that they were shut out for. It's a band using their white privilege to vocalize an anti-racist message that prioritizes black, trans, and POC lives--reclaiming space and power in a patriarchal, racist industry. It's a hyper-political country anthem that soundtracks this moment, but it's also more than that. [8]

Tobi Tella: Bluster and generic empowerment are not what white artists should be providing right now, nor does it match the mood of the moment. This is steely, gritty, minimalist, and resilient, from a group that's been walking the damn walk for over 15 years. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[trishbsblog]

It is never too late to be what you might have been ̴ George Eliot Reasons for and against giving up the glitzy, glamorous world of flying: Pros: 1. No more cleaning up other people’s sick. 2. No more 2 a.m. wake-up calls, jet lag, swollen feet/ stomach or shrivelled-up skin. 3. No more tedious questions like, ‘What’s that lake/ mountain down there?’ and ‘Does the mile high club really exist?’ 4. No more serving kippers and poached eggs at 4 a.m. to passengers with dog-breath and smelly socks. 5. No more risk of dying from deep vein thrombosis, malaria or yellow fever. 6. No more battles with passengers who insist that their flat-pack gazebo will fit into the overhead locker. 7. No more wearing a permanent smile and a name badge. 8. No danger of bumping into ex-boyfriend and his latest ‘I’m-Debbie-come-fly-me’. Cons: 1. No more fake Prada, Louis Vuitton or Gucci. 2. No more lazing by the pool in winter. 3. No more ten-hour retail therapy sessions in shopping malls the size of a small island — and getting paid for it. 4. No more posh hotel freebies (toiletries, slippers, fluffy bathrobes etc.). 5. Holidays (if any) now to be taken in Costa del Cheapo, as opposed to Barbados or Bora Bora. 6. No more horse riding around the pyramids, imagining I’m a desert queen. 7. No more ice skating in Central Park, imagining I’m Ali MacGraw in Love Story. 8. Having to swap my riverside apartment for a shoebox, and my Mazda convertible for a pushbike. ‘Cabin crew, ten minutes to landing. Ten minutes, please,’ comes the captain’s olive-oil-smooth voice over the intercom. This is it. No going back. I’m past the point of no return. The galley curtain swishes open — it’s showtime! I switch on my full-beam smile and enter upstage left, pushing my trolley for the very last time ... ‘Anyheadsetsanyrubbishlandingcard? Anyheadsetsanyrubbishlandingcard? ...’ Have I taken leave of my senses? The notion of an actress living in a garret, sacrificing everything for the sake of her art, seemed so romantic when I gaily handed in my notice three months ago, but now I’m not so sure … Be positive! Just think, a couple of years from now, you could be sipping coffee with Phil and Holly on the This Morning sofa … Yes, Phil, the rumours are true … I have been asked to appear on Strictly Come Dancing. God only knows how I’ll fit it around my filming commitments though. Who are you kidding? A couple of years from now, the only place you’ll be appearing is the job centre, playing Woman On Income Support. This follow-your-dreams stuff is all very well when you’re in your twenties, or thirties even, but I’m a forty-year-old woman with no rich husband (or any husband for that matter) to bail me out if it all goes pear-shaped. Just as everyone around me is having a loft extension or a late baby, I’m downsizing my whole lifestyle to enter a profession that boasts a ninety-two percent unemployment rate. Why in God’s name, in this wobbly economic climate, am I putting myself through all this angst and upheaval, when I could be pushing my trolley until I’m sixty, then retire comfortably on an ample pension and one free flight a year? Something happened, out of the blue, that catapulted me from my ordered, happy-go-lucky existence and forced me down a different road … ‘It’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m confused,’ Nigel had said. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said, almost choking on my Marmite soldier. ‘What’s brought this on? Have you met someone else?’ ‘No-ho!’ he spluttered, averting my gaze, handsome face flushed. ‘But you always said we were so perfect together …’ ‘That’s exactly why we have to split. It’s too bloody perfect.’ ‘What? Don’t talk nonsense …’ ‘I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s like I’ve pushed a self-destruct button and there’s no going back.’ ‘Self-destruct button? What are you talking about? Darling, you’re not well. Perhaps you should get some help …’ ‘Look, don’t make this harder for me than it already is. It’s time for us both to move on. And please don’t cry, Em,’ he groaned, eyes looking heavenward. ‘You know how I hate it when you cry.’ I grovelled, begged him not to go, vowing I’d find myself a nine-to-five job so we could have more together time, swearing that I would never again talk during Match of the Day — anything as long as he stayed with me. Firmly removing my hands from around his neck and straightening his epaulettes, he glanced at his watch, swigged the dregs of his espresso, and said blankly, ‘Good Lord, is that the time? I’ve got to check in in an hour. We’ll talk more when I get back from LA.’ ‘NO!’ I wailed. ‘You know very well that I’ll be in Jeddah by then. We’ve got to talk about this now. Nigel … Nigel …!’ For three days I sat huddled on the sofa in semi-darkness, clutching the Minnie Mouse he’d bought me on our first trip to Disneyland, as if she were a life raft. I played Gabrielle’s ‘You Used to Love Me’ over and over. I wondered if Gabrielle’s boyfriend had dumped her without warning, leaving her heartbroken and bewildered, and the pain of it all had inspired her. If only I had a talent for song writing, but I don’t, so I channelled my pain into demolishing a family-sized tin of Celebrations chocolates instead. Cue Wendy, my best friend, my angel on earth. We formed an instant friendship on our cabin crew training course. This was cemented when she saved me from drowning during a ditching drill. (I’d stupidly lied on the application form, assuming that it didn’t really matter if I couldn’t swim, because if I were ever unfortunate enough to crash-land in the sea, there would surely be enough lifejackets to go round.) ‘Look, hon, this has got to stop,’ she said in an uncharacteristically stern tone, a look of frustration on her porcelain, freckled face. (As a redhead, Wendy has been religiously applying sunscreen since she first set foot on Middle Eastern soil as a junior hostess twenty years ago; whereas I would roast myself like a pig on a spit in my quest to look like a Californian beach babe.) ‘Okay, so it’s not a crime to scrub the toilet with his toothbrush, but who knows where that could lead? You’ve got to stop playing the victim before we have a Fatal-Attraction scenario on our hands.’ ‘Eight years, eight years of my life spent waiting for him to pop the question, and now he’s moving out to “find himself”. I think I’m entitled to be a little upset, Wendy.’ Prising Minnie out of my hands and hurling her against the wall, she straightened my shoulders and looked deep into my puffy eyes. ‘I promise you that, in time, you will see you’re better off without that moody, selfish, arrogant …’ ‘I know you never thought he was right for me, but there is another side to him,’ I said defensively. ‘He can be the most caring and sweet man in the world when he wants to — and I can’t bear the thought that we won’t grow old together,’ I sobbed, running my damp sleeve across my stinging cheeks. ‘Come on now; take off that bobbly old cardie. I’m running you a Molton Brown bath, and you’re going to wash your hair, put on your uniform and high heels, slap on some make-up and your best air hostess smile, d’you hear?’ she said, pulling back the curtains. ‘And while you’re in Jeddah, I want you to seriously think about where you go from here.’ ‘But I want to be home when Nigel …’ ‘You always said you didn’t want to be pushing a trolley in your forties, and how you wished you’d had a go at acting. Well, maybe this is a sign,’ she said gently, tucking a strand of greasy hair behind my ear. ‘It’s high time you did something for you. You’ve spent far too long fitting in with what Nigel wants.’ ‘It’s too late to be chasing dreams,’ I sniffed, shielding my eyes from the watery sunlight. ‘And anyway, I just want things to go back to how they were. Where did I go wrong, Wendy? I should have made more effort. After all, he’s a good-looking guy, and every time he goes to work there are gorgeous women half my age fluttering their eyelashes at him, falling at his feet. He can take his pick — and maybe he did,’ I whimpered, another torrent of tears splashing onto my saggy, grey jogging bottoms. ‘Get this down you.’ Wendy sighed, shoving a mug of steaming tea into my hands as she frogmarched me into the bathroom. ‘And don’t you dare call him!’ she yelled through the door. Perhaps she was right; she usually was. She may be a big kid at heart, but when the chips are down, Wendy is the one you’d want on your flight if you were struck by lightning or appendicitis at thirty-two thousand feet. For the last year or so, hadn’t I likened myself to an aeroplane in a holding pattern, waiting until I was clear to land? Waiting for Nigel to call, waiting for Nigel to come home, waiting for Nigel to propose, waiting until Nigel felt ready to start a family? Yes, deep down I knew she was right, but I was scared of being on my own. Did this make me a love addict? If so, could I be cured? Jeddah, Saudi Arabia ‘Hayyaa’ala-s-salah, hayya ’ala-l-falah …’ came the haunting call from the mosque across the square, summoning worshippers to evening prayer. It was almost time to meet up with the crew to mosey around the souk — again. Too hot to sunbathe, room service menu exhausted, library book finished, alcohol forbidden, and no decent telly (only heavily edited re-runs of The Good Life, where Tom goes to kiss Barbara, and next minute it cuts to Margo shooing a goat off her herbaceous border), the gold market had become the highlight of my day. Donning my abaya (a little black number that is a must-have for ladies in this part of the world), I scrutinised myself in the full-length mirror. No wonder Nigel was leaving me; far from looking like a mysterious, exotic, desert queen, full of eastern promise, it made me resemble a walking bin liner. I read the fire evacuation drill on the back of the door and checked my mobile for the umpteenth time, then cast my eyes downwards, studying my toes. I know, I thought, giving them a wee wiggle, I’ll paint my nails. It’s amazing what a coat of Blue Ice lacquer can do to make a girl feel a little more glamorous, and less like Ugly Betty’s granny. As I rummaged in my crew bag for my nail varnish, there, stuffed in between Hello! and Procedures To Be Followed in the Event of a Hijack, was an old copy of The Stage (with another DO NOT PHONE HIM!! Post-it note stuck to it). Idly flicking through the pages, my eyes lit up at the headline: DREAMS REALLY CAN COME TRUE. Former computer programmer, Kevin Wilcox, 40, went for broke when he gave up his 50k-a-year job to become a professional opera singer. ‘My advice to anyone contemplating giving up their job to follow their dream, is to go for it,’ said Kevin, taking a break from rehearsals of La Traviata at La Scala. That was my life-changing moment; an affirmation that there were other people out there — perfectly sane people, who were not in the first flush of youth either, but were taking a chance. That’s what I’d do. I’d become an actress, and Nigel would see my name in lights as he walked along Shaftesbury Avenue, or when he sat down to watch Holby City, there I’d be, shooting a doe-eyed look over a green surgical mask. ‘What a fool I was,’ he’d tell his friends ruefully, ‘to have ever let her go.’ Hah! But revenge wasn’t my only motive. Faux designer bags and expensive makeovers were no longer important to me. I wanted the things that money can’t buy: like self-fulfilment, like the buzz you get on opening night, stepping out on stage in front of a live audience. Appearing through the galley curtains, proclaiming that well-rehearsed line, ‘Would you like chicken or beef?’ just wouldn’t do any more. Inspired, I grabbed the telephone pad and pen from the bedside table, and started to scribble furiously. 1. Apply to RADA/CENTRAL any drama school that will have me. 2. Hand in notice. 3. Sign up with temping agencies and find part-time job. 4. Sell flat, shred Visa, store cards, cancel gym membership, and Vogue subscription (ouch!). From: academy@ads.ac.uk To: m.mouse@gmail.com Subject: Audition Dear Emily, Following your recent audition, we of The Academy Drama School are pleased to offer you a place on our one-year, full-time evening course. We look forward to meeting you again at the start of the autumn term, details of which are attached. Sincerely, Edward Tudor-Barnes Principal Whey hey! It was reckless, irresponsible and utterly mad, but I was tired of being sensible or doing things simply to please others. Ever since I’d played the undertaker in a school production of Oliver! I’d wanted to act. Okay, so I may be running twenty-five years late, but now nothing and no one was going to hold me back. * * *

[kristinastanley]

I know a secret! Today on Mystery Mondays, Garry Ryan, best-selling author of the Detective Lane Mysteries, is here to talk about keeping a novel relevant. But that’s not the secret.

Do you want to know the secret? Of course you do.

The next novel in the Detective Lane series will be published by NeWest Press this year! The title:  MATANZAS.

The blurb is below…Maybe if we’re lucky, Garry will give us more details on the release.

And now over to Garry.

Keeping a Novel Relevant by Garry Ryan 

How do you make a book relevant at release? A few years can pass after the process of writing, submitting and editing is completed. It can become a bit of a challenge to remain current.

As a result, I look for plausible predictions of what’s likely to happen. I also watch trends and think about outcomes.

Matanzas might work as an example here. It’s set in Cuba and Calgary. Before writing the novel there had been whisperings about Cuba and the US normalizing relations. After the book was written and accepted by the publisher, the US reopened its embassy in Havana. It was necessary to keep this likely scenario in mind while developing characters and plot so as not to make any obvious errors.

I’ve also been watching the changes happening in Latin America while working on novels exploring the relationship between Canada and Mexico. It’s really about seeing how the old, the new and our cultures interact during difficult times. Carrying a camera documents these changes, which comes in handy when writing scenes.

Predicting the future is a fool’s game, but considering a variety of outcomes and how they might legitimize or compromise a novel is worth considering.

Matanzas

His psyche still reeling from having to kill a criminal in the line of duty, Calgary’s Detective Lane flies to Cuba to celebrate the wedding of his beloved niece. While there, though, he finds himself drafted by the local police into investigating the murder of a Canadian tourist.

Upon his return to Calgary, links between this incident and the deaths of local elderly pensioners start to make themselves known, drawing Lane and his partner Nigel Li further into a web of conspiracy, politics and big money.

Garry Ryan’s award-winning, best-selling mystery series continues with all the intrigue, good humour and mochaccinos that fans have come to expect.

Who is Garry Ryan?

Since 2004 Garry Ryan has published nine novels with NeWest Press. The second, The Lucky Elephant Restaurant, won a 2007 Lambda Literary Award. In 2009, Ryan was awarded Calgary’s Freedom of Expression Award.

Mystery Mondays: Author Garry Ryan on Keeping A Novel Relevant I know a secret! Today on Mystery Mondays, Garry Ryan, best-selling author of the Detective Lane Mysteries, is here to talk about keeping a novel relevant.