#gets revenge for a victim of a gang rape + takes care of a small child in a war zone despite being a child herself and defends + admires

[fromtheseventhhell]

Sometimes I see people misinterpreting Arya's character and honestly, all it does is make me appreciate her that much more. George could've easily written her into as a basic archetype and instead, he gave us one of the most complex and well-developed characters in the series and I'm forever grateful for that 🫶🏾

[girlbossbunny]

Porn sites collating a database of PERSONAL INFORMATION of people who do and don't want to be in porn is pretty fucking bad, yeah

Is the government collecting PERSONAL INFORMATION by making us apply for drivers licenses also bad?

If the government made anyone who bought a gun give their PERSONAL INFORMATION to be entered into a database with their name connected to their gun, would that be bad?

If a woman had to file a restraining order and thus had to give the government her PERSONAL INFORMATION would that put her in immediate danger?

Many videos on porn sites are uploaded without the consent of the people in the videos. Before Pornhub was forced to take down their amateur videos there were videos of children in asia who have to work as sex workers being raped by sex tourists. There was also revenge porn uploaded. And, there was also videos of children and adults being raped uploaded.

(the NCMEC is the national center for missing and exploited children) a 15 year old girl was kidnapped, they found videos of her being raped on pornhub before they found her. A woman named Priyanka Reddy was gang raped and killed. Her ordeal was filmed and after news got out her name was a trending search in Indian porn sites. The same happened with a group of Irish women more recently. Victims of child porn would have to constantly fight with pornhub to have their videos taken down after they would get reuploaded again and again and again. Mia Khalifa has been outspoken on how she wants her videos taken down and even had a petition started to try to get pornwebsites to stop showing her videos. Pornhub just kept featuring her and using her name. This law would help/protect all these people because obviously the children and adults being raped/uploaded without their consent would NOT be in a position to agree to have their videos put up by registering themselves.

This law would allow victims of child porn/rape porn/revenge porn/porn stars who regret their decision to be able to enter their name in a database so their videos would be immediately taken down. This is a dream for them it's exactly what they've been asking for. And your selfish ass thinks that's a bad thing. Wonder why.

Also, the GOVERNMENT having people's information is bad? Are you stupid? The government literally has our social security numbers, our addresses, our birth certificates, information on our houses, etc...does that also make us all very unsafe? When we file our taxes we have to let the government know if we work and our household information, does that lead to people getting doxxed?

When I read your ask I immediately assumed you were some groomed child because of how detached from reality/unaware of the real world you seemed. You're fucking 26 years old and you're THIS dense/sheltered???

And no. I don't care if there is a small minority of selfish, irresponsible sex workers who oppose this. To me, they're the same as right wingers who want 17 year olds to be able to buy guns at walmart. Narcissist shits who care more about their own happiness and convenience than the lives and well-being of thousands of other people.

This law would do so much to protect both people who want to be in and don't want to be in adult films. You're just selfish.

[theangriestpea]

Mercy Killing

TW/CW: sexual assault mention, violence, trauma

Summary: After a vicious run-in with a group of Ghoulies, Lavender Rhodes is forced down a bumpy road to recovery. In order to protect her from another attack, the Serpent king assigns Fangs and sweet Pea to stay by her side. Too bad Lav and Sweet Pea can't stand each other.

Cross posted on AO3

Chapter One: Road Kill

Two weeks. Fourteen days, three hours, and nineteen minutes to be exact. That’s how long she’d been a full-fledged Serpent. And that’s how long it took for her to be attacked by a group of rabid Ghoulies. Lavender left the Whyte Wyrm, swaying to a beat set on repeat inside her drunk head. Her purple waves of hair bouncing around her as her hips moved on par with the imaginary rhythm. She was too inebriated to drive so she did was she usually did when she had a few too many – she walked. Sunnyside Trailer Park wasn’t that far, about a thirty minute walk. The weather was nice and the cool air felt great against her scorching skin. 

She didn’t even notice the car pull up beside her. She waved off the cat calls and whistles she got. She didn’t stop until someone made her stop. Her eyes opened fully and tried to focus in the darkness. A man with a painted face obscured her vision as another man grabbed her by the wrist. “Time for some fun, boys.” The ghoul in front of her said with a deadly grin. Before she could realize what was happening, it was already too late.

“What is the fuck is that?” Sweet Pea asked, rolling down the window to Fangs’ truck. His eyes had caught sight of a heap on the side of the road. Fangs slowed down, pulling off to the side so that the headlights of his truck shown onto the mass. The sight of signature purple converse immediately caught his eye, “fuck!” Both boys scrambled out to confirm that it was who they thought. A fellow Serpent and a fairly good friend of Fangs’: Lavender Rhodes. She was laying on her side, vomit on the ground beside her. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Sweet Pea breathed out as he noticed the state of her ripped clothes and the blood pooling on the ground and in her clothes, most notably her light blue underwear. Fangs and Sweet Pea shared a look and a nod. Fangs lifted up her small body so Sweet Pea could shimmy her pants back onto his hips. He slid off his jacket and wrapped it around her torso, the large expanse of leather covering her almost down to the middle of her thighs. Sweet Pea picked her up with one hand under her shoulders and the other under her knees. A small whine escaped her lips as her head lulled to the side against his chest. He felt like he was holding a porcelain doll that was cracking, threatening to fall to pieces if he moved too quickly or too forcefully. “Who the fuck did this, Lavie?” Fangs asked, brushing her hair out of her swollen face. “I’m taking you to the hospital but you have to tell me who.” “Ghoulies.” She breathed out, as if just saying it would bring them back. A painful shudder passed through her at the thought, Sweet Pea’s grip tightened as a response. She lost consciousness as they got her into the truck.

*~~~~~~~~~~~*

Lavender thought nothing could be worse than what the Ghoulies did to her, but that was before she went through the rigorous examination for her rape kit. She thought it was pointless. Their faces were painted, it was dark, she was (and still is) drunk, and the only evidence she had was a bit of their flesh under her fingernails that she managed to get as a souvenir. The nurse performing it was very kind and patient. She didn’t judge her, even after she saw the double headed snake tattoo on her right breast. Once it was over she gave the teen a mild sedative to help her relax so the doctor could look over her other injuries. FP was outside along with Jughead, Sweet Pea, and Fangs. His arms were crossed and his teeth were clenched. He’d watch this girl grow up. He cheered her on through her initiation. Now he wondered the extent of what the rival gang members had done to her. And he asked repeatedly what the hell she was doing by herself at night. Fangs informed him that he offered to drive her home but she insisted that she didn’t need a man to take care of her. Insisted that she would be fine. Insisted that she’d done this dozens of times and nothing had ever happened. Insisted she was brave enough, strong enough, and smart enough to take care of herself. All four boys stopped breathing when the nurse exited the room once she thought Lav was settled enough to be on her own. She looked up at FP and shook her head. “This is bad FP.” “How is she?” FP asked, keeping his voice level and calm though he was everything but. “Resting.” The nurse said. “She’s been through a lot. Collecting the evidence is always the worst part for the victim.” There were a collection of bags in her hands along with notes detailing everything Lavender was able to tell her. “I’ll ask her more questions when she’s sober. The doctor still needs to take a look at her, but I would guess she has a concussion, cracked ribs, and I suspect that her wrist is broken but she wouldn’t let us do x-rays earlier. We stitched everything that required it, put bandages on everything else. They worked her over good, FP, but she fought. She fought like hell. Not that it did much against four grown men.” His frown deepened, an expression mirrored by the younger boys. “Be honest, are we going to find who did this?” “I collected some blood and skin under her fingernails. She made sure to grab a fistful of hair too. If there’s any other evidence on her clothes or from what I combed from her hair then forensics will find it.” She told him. “No semen?” FP asked, not wanting to say it but knowing he had to. She let out a sad sigh, “they used a foreign object. She wouldn’t tell me what, but I’ll ask again once she’s had a chance to rest. This wasn’t about sex. This was about power. The doctor is going to do a more thorough physical examination now that I’ve done what I need to. It’s going to be a while, we’re busy as hell tonight.” “Thanks Lorraine.” FP said with nothing less than sincerity. She nodded at him before taking the evidence to where it needed to be stored for the deputy who was coming to pick it up. “Those mother fuckers.” Fangs hissed out, “they’re going to pay for this.” Sweet Pea was just as angry, even if he didn’t really like Lavender. To him she had just been some Northsider with serpent blood, much like Jughead. She hadn’t proven herself. Sure she did the serpent dance and went through initiation but it wasn’t like she’d ever actually done anything for them. He didn’t care about her but the thought that the Ghoulies had done this to one of their own? That he did care about and he thirsted for revenge just as much as his best friend did. “Do we know for sure it was the Ghoulies?” Jughead dared to ask. “If we retaliate and it wasn’t them, then it’ll start a war.” FP was almost too lost in thought to hear him. Before he could answer Sweet Pea growled a response, “who the fuck else would do this?” “Someone wanting to frame the Ghoulies.” Jughead said flatly. It wasn’t that he didn’t think they were guilty. He just wanted all bases covered. FP understood this, but still didn’t quite like what he son was getting at. 

“There’s a tell in how they do things.” FP said. “A signature.” Lav wasn’t the first Serpent to be raped by the Ghoulies and he doubt she’d be the last. There had been two other victims in the past ten years who had been assaulted by the Ghoulies in a similar fashion. There was one blinding similarity: the object they used to violate the women. Jughead seemed to figure it out while the other two boys were left in the dark. “So? What is it?” Fangs pressed, his voice desperate for answers that FP just didn’t have. FP let out an aggravated sigh, “we need to find out what they used, but if she’s not ready to say then I don’t want to push her. Sweet Pea, Fangs, I’m assigning you to protection detail in case they decide to go for another round. Just until she’s healed up. Take shifts, do whatever, just don’t leave her side. In the meantime, Jughead and I will get to the bottom of this.” There was another tense, quiet moment. “I need to get this figured out, come with me Jug. You two stay here. I don’t reckon she’s going to be up for visitors for some time. I’ll be back in a few hours to check in.” FP said before leaving with his son to look into the other two cases that happened years ago. Fangs and Sweet Pea sat for a while without speaking, fists clenched so hard that their knuckles were white. “I know you don’t like her, Sweets. I can watch her myself.” Fangs said after a while of agitated silence. The doctor had swept past them and was inside now examining her with the help of Lorraine. “No, it’s my job too.” Sweet Pea stated hotly, not disagreeing with the fact that he didn’t like Lavender but also not liking that this had happened to her. “She didn’t deserve this.” “I know…I should have just taken her drunk ass home.” Fangs said with a sigh, his voice cracking near the end. Sweet Pea glanced at him, “it’s not your fault. She’s stubborn as fuck. Everyone knows it. No one’s going to blame you, Fangs.”

*~~~~~~~~~~~*

Lavender woke up the next day even sorer than she had been the night before. She didn’t remember much other than the pain. Her right eye was still swollen shut. There were stitches along the four evenly placed gashes across her face where the pointed brass knuckles had caught her skin. Her lip was busted. She looked down with her good eye to see a cacophony of bandages and a cast on her left wrist. She could feel think bandaging around her ribcage which hurt like hell. At first she couldn’t remember how she got there. It all came back in an achingly slow pace. The drinking, the attack, someone picking her up, the nurse…She remembered the exam more than anything else for some reason. Her dreams were all haunted memories of painted up ghouls and it was hard to ignore the pain between her legs. A soft snore caused her to turn her head to see Fangs sleeping quietly in the chair next to her bed. “Fangs,” She rasped out, not recognizing her voice. He didn’t stir, “Fogarty, wake up.” She said, a little louder. His snoring promptly stopped and his eyes fluttered open, “Lav? Hey baby, you’re awake.” He smiled at her, trying not to look distraught by her appearance. The bruising was so much worse now than it had been last night. “How you feel?” She stared at him for a moment, tears welling up into her eyes making Fangs instantly regret his question. “Hey, hey it’s okay.” He said, getting up to grab her good hand. “It’s okay to not feel okay.” Lav forced a small laugh “That doesn’t make sense…” She muttered, squeezing his hand weakly. “Did you bring me here?” He nodded, “Sweat Pea carried you while I drove. Do you not remember?” “It’s a blur.” She mumbled. “Sweet Pea? But he hates me.” Fangs’ thumb rubbed against her skin to try and sooth her. “He doesn’t hate you. In fact, we’ve been assigned to watch over you while you get better.” She let out a groan, “I don’t need babysitters.” “Yea, you do.” FP said firmly as he entered the room. “That’s not up for negotiation.” Lavender frowned as she looked at her king. He was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a duffel bag in the other. She quickly looked away, feeling too ashamed to meet his eyes. “How do you-“ FP started but Fangs quickly did a throat cutting motion to get him to stop before he upset her again. He cleared his throat, “The doctor says you can come home today but you’ll still need your rest. He’s giving you a few prescriptions. Something for pain, nausea, and some antibiotics to make sure none of your cuts become infected. I’ve already picked up some gauze and bandages to keep you wrapped up tighter than a mummy.” She chanced a glance up at him, “thanks, dad.” She joked lightly. Her father had died a year before of a bad motorcycle accident. Her mother left only months prior to that. She was alone now and the Serpents were all she had. Her dad and FP had been best friends, he was his right hand man. When she visited her father every other weekend, half the time she would spend it at the Jones’ trailer. “So…what was the damage?” Lavender asked, genuinely curious despite the sickening churn of anxiety in her stomach. FP sighed softly, “Concussion, fractured orbital bone, broken nose, broken wrist, three broken ribs, dozens of stitches. You really ran the gamut.” He paused for a moment, “Fangs and Sweet Pea are going to stay with you in your trailer, okay? They’ll have you feeling right as rain in no time.” FP said, setting the coffee down on the bedside table for her. “I got it just the way you like it. Three creams, no sugar.”

She gave him a sheepish smile before taking a sip of the bean juice. “It’s perfect, thanks…but, Sweet Pea? Are you sure?” “What? Not good enough for you, Northsider?” Sweet Pea asked, having been right outside the door. He was in the doorframe now, staring her down as he filled it completely. She was able to hold his gaze much longer than she held FP’s, “no, that’s not it.” She said flatly. “I guess your giant self will scare away any Ghoulie.” Sweet Pea continued to frown. Fangs chuckled, “damn straight, baby. When can she get out of here, FP?” “Hold your horses, it’ll be at least another hour.” FP said. “They have to get the discharge paperwork ready, Lorraine needs to ask a few follow up questions, and I’ll need to pick up the prescriptions. I brought some clothes for you from your trailer since yours are locked up with evidence.” “My shoes…” Lav mumbled, suddenly feeling like her whole identity had been ripped from her. Her nickname, her persona, everything came from those light purple ratty low tops she wore every day. They were in that good broken in stage where they were molded to her feet perfectly, and she could wear them without socks and not get blisters if she was in a hurry. She never had to untie them because they were stretched enough to where she could slip her feet in and out with no fuss. Sure the whites were no longer white and the purple was now muted with dirt but still…they were a part of her soul. Fangs was quiet, not knowing how to console her on that. He just held her hand tighter. FP dug through the duffel and pulled out a pair of shoes, setting them on her legs delicately. They looked identical to the ones she had lost…well, when they were new at least. Sure they weren’t broken in and she’d have blisters the first week or so wearing them but…the mere sentiment had tears in her eyes. “Thanks, FP...For everything.” “You just have to promise me to get better as soon as possible.” FP told her softly, as if he were a father speaking to his daughter. “Okay? We’re going to find who did this and we’re going to make them pay.” Lav just nodded meekly. They were going to fucking pay.

[mst3kproject]

514: Teenage Strangler

Oh, boy, I get to talk about serial killers!

That isn't even sarcasm.  Remember I mentioned my addiction to terrible television?  That includes not only MonsterQuest and Ghost Adventures, but also a number of things on ID (investigate!). I'm going to enjoy this very much.

Twenty-something 'teenager' Betty sneaks out of the house to see her boyfriend Jimmy with help from their mutual friend Anne.  On the way home, the two girls get separated and Anne is murdered by a figure in a leather jacket suspiciously like the ones Jimmy and his friends wear!  This isn't the first such murder, and it won't be the last.  Over the next few weeks more and more bodies are discovered... is it one of the kids? No, of course it's not.  It's obvious from the very first scene that it's Mr. Wilson the fucking creepy school janitor, and he has a totally rubbish explanation for why strangling women fills the void where his soul should be.

The movie was made in a small town by a bunch of people who had never made a movie before, and as a result the whole thing has a weird, histrionic vibe to it.  Every performance is either overdone or underdone.  Jo Canterbury as Betty sounds breathless and hysterical even before she witnesses a murder.    Bill Bloom as Jimmy is furious about everything.  Betty's mother is unaccountably delighted by the police in her house.  Jimmy's father intones every line as if he's doing Shakespeare.  The sheriff looks like he's reading his lines with a gun pointed at his head.  And then there's Mikey... I'm not sure English has the vocabulary to describe Mikey.  Imagine a kid so withdrawn and socially dysfunctional that not even Napoleon Dynamite would hang out with him.  Then make him more so.

The movie tries its best to present us with suspects.  Jimmy's anger and supposed criminal past makes him the obvious one, and when it turns out Mikey was the bike theif we're supposed to wonder if he is our pubescent DeSalvo.  When neither of them prove to be the suspect, we're next offered Curly, leader of the Fastbacks drag racing team.  All of these, however, are obvious red herrings.  The janitor is the only adult with a significant role in the story besides the cops – we know it's not any of them, therefore it has to be the janitor.  We would be sure of this even if his first appearance wasn't popping out of the darkness to scare Anne and Betty half to death and then creepily insisting on walking them home.  If you lined up everybody in this movie and asked people to pick which one is a serial killer, nobody would hesitate.  It's the janitor.

Meanwhile, there's very little evidence that the town at large cares about the series of horrific murders going on.  Kids are having a party with live entertainment in the malt shop the day after Anne's death hits the headlines (the malt shop extras probably look back at this movie and feel personally responsible for stereotypes about white people and dancing).  People don't even bother to start locking their doors.  There's no sense of the pervasive 'who will be next?' terror you might expect in a community being stalked by a serial killer.  Betty's parents tell her to stay home, but only because they don't want her hanging out with Jimmy, not because they're afraid the killer will find her.

The girl who gets up to sing Yipes Stripes actually looks a bit like Betty, so if you're not paying attention it's possible to confuse the two.  This may leave the casual viewer wondering why the hell this girl is literally dancing on tables mere hours after watching her friend get brutalized in an alley.  It feels downright surreal and it was a relief to know I'd merely confused the two characters... but then I realized that we were never going to see the singer again and there was no point to the song!  In I Accuse my Parents the songs were part of the story.  In The Giant Gila Monster Chase was a character as well as providing the soundtrack.  Yipes Stripes, much like California Lady, just kind of happens and then it's over.

Sampo on Satellite of Love News noted that Yipes Stripes is a hell of an earworm.  I concur: I was singing it to myself all week after watching the movie for this review (and now you will be too).  I have to say, though, that despite all Tom Servo's complaining I do like how the same tune in a minor key is used as the ominous stalking theme.  It unifies the soundtrack and represents a note of professionalism this movie otherwise would not have.

There's certainly not much professionalism in the sets.  The high school stuff seems to have been filmed mostly in and around a real school, and various people's houses make appearances, but check out the 'holding cell' the gang is kept in, with its cardboard walls painted in a 'brick' pattern.  Or the 'malt shop', which looks like somebody's basement bar – I especially like the sad little pennants pinned to the walls in the effort to distract from the lack of windows.  The Sheriff (played by the town of Huntington's actual sheriff, which is possibly why the guy looks like a deer in the headlights) makes his TV broadcast in front of a set of curtains standing in for a TV studio.

Between the amateurish sets and acting, the flat and uninteresting lighting and the lack of any suspense, the overall effect we get is that we're watching a school play.  It just happens to be a play about a serial killer for some reason.  So with that convenient segue, let's talk about our culprit, Mr. Wilson the janitor, and why his excuse that he kills for revenge against the girl who ruined his life is almost certainly bullshit!

Mr. Wilson is a very good fit to the standard profile of a serial killer: he's a middle-aged white male in a job that he feels is beneath his talents, and he murders vulnerable members of the gender he is attracted to – in this case, women and girls walking alone at night.  He is what the FBI calls an organized killer: his job at the school gives him ample time to observe and stalk the students and female teachers who are his victims, and he puts some thought into how he will avoid capture and see that the blame falls on somebody else, as illustrated by his theft of the Fastback jacket.  And he leaves the bodies in places that ensure swift discovery, so he can enjoy the shock and horror of the community and feel like he has power over all these people.

Also like many real-life serial killers, he has a rationalization for why he does what he does.  Sutcliffe claimed he murdered prostitutes because god had told him to.  Ramirez and Berkowitz blamed Satan. Bundy at least implied that it was revenge on a woman who had spurned him, while Gacy insisted that he killed over thirty teenage boys in self-defense.  In Mr. Wilson's case, it's about the lack of respect the students have for him, and particularly about a girl who ruined his life by accusing him of sexual harrassment.

This rings false, for starters, because the students never seem to be particularly disrespectful of Mr. Wilson.  He is not presented as the butt of jokes or pranks.  In the opening scene, Betty and Anne are startled by his appearance but they are not rude to him.  When he corners Betty at the climax he taunts her for calling him 'Mr. Wilson' as if this is something new, but throughout the movie we have never heard the students address him as anything else!  Mr. Wilson's persecution by the student body seems to exist mostly in his own imagination.

Then there's his claim of the false accusation that cost him his teaching job.  Of course we only hear his side of this, which is probably coloured by his victim complex.  We never meet the girl it happened to, so we can't get her version, but Mr. Wilson's choice of phrase when telling the story is interesting. I wasn't even near her, he says.  There are plenty of ways to sexually harrass somebody without actually touching them, and a teacher would be in an excellent position to take advantage of these.  Perhaps Mr. Wilson made embarrassing remarks to her in front of the class, or wrote inappropriate things on her test papers.  Maybe she accused him of attempted rape because her parents and the principal kept downplaying or ignoring complaints about his actual behaviour.  Whatever happened, I'm willing to bet this mysterious student would tell a very different story than he does!

The movie ends with Mr. Wilson being shot by the police, who had only just arrived and couldn't possibly have any idea what was going on in his office.  It's an ending that fails to be worthy of Colman Francis only because the shooter isn't in an airplane.  You'd think they could throw the audience a bone by having a line about how they'd suspected him all along or something.

I've probably made it sound like I don't like Teenage Strangler, but that's not the case.  The movie is something like Teenagers from Outer Space in that its ambition far outstrips the budget and talent attached to the project, but everybody gave it their best and you can't say their hearts weren't in it.  It sucks, but it sucks with sincerity, and that's my favourite kind of bad movie.

[bledvanity-archived-blog]

HEADCANON / RANT  // something that has bugged me when it comes to rosalie’s history is the complete disregard of her healing process. smeyer completely jumped to revenge after her death and trauma... 

as a gang rape victim myself, i couldn’t help but connect to rosalie when reading the books, but also -- be upset over the fact that ?? she completely IGNORED a vital part of rosalie and her past. yes. survivors can be angry, and our worlds are often changed by the horrors we’ve faced. and rosalie’s personality (dismissive, cold, untrusting) are completely normal pieces to adapt after something as traumatic as a rape. however, i just get super upset that smeyer directly went to anger -- and after anger, she was fine. no. this event HAUNTS her, and not only affect facets of her personality, but fears, anxiety, depression, and self hatred. 

now time for the headcanons.

1. rosalie suffers from ptsd, her main triggers being ppl touching her suddenly, groups of males, crowds, and small spaces. of course, there are other triggers that she has yet to realize (as triggers are always discovered through time and healing)

2. rose is also overly cautious when it comes to going out by herself. IF she goes out by herself. (let’s face it , emmett is with her 100% of the time). but before emmett, rosalie was afraid -- even though she adapted this speed and strength that comes with being a vampire, she’s afraid that she might freeze out of fear (another factor of ptsd). 

3. rosalie HATED her own beauty for years (as it was the reason for her rape, or so the men reminded her during the act) she avoided beautiful clothing, taking care of herself nor her hair until she met emmett. emmett made her feel beautiful as she was, without cosmetics, nice dresses, etc. emmett helped rosalie feel comfortable in her own skin again to venture back into beauty. 

4. make up and beauty regimes are more than regimes. they are ROUTINE daily practices that she must do. doing your makeup is a transformation, and rose loves wearing makeup as it takes her away from the girl she once was (lost in her grief and loss of innocence and pain) to someone who loves themselves and the life they have. 

5. rosalie IS OFTEN sex repulsed. and i will consider her demisexual for this reason. even then -- when she trusts and knows someone 100% (such as emmett), there are times when she cannot handle attention with a sexual intent. i like to think emmett is extremely respectful and knows her body language really well to know when she feels this way. you will most likely catch rosalie cuddling more than you’ll ever catch her in a make out session. 

[aesthetically-apocalyptic]

Chapter 1 - Worm's Eye View

 The year is 2009, and nobody knows what the fuck is going on. The biggest problem is that we have too much information to be well informed. TV, radio, cable news and a million Internet sites are all screaming The One Truth at maximum volume, and if you don't like the Truth you see all you have to do is be selective about your media intake. 

We still cling to the tattered remains of the myth that anyone with drive and determination can change the world, but most of us can barely change the channel. My girlfriend left me at 1 am last night, right after a session of exquisite make up sex. I had turned on the TV to some CNN anchor droning about massive flooding in the Midwest-God help me, I needed the noise to concentrate-and she came back from the bathroom where she had been sponging my DNA off her neck. "This isn't normal," she said. Her eye was still puffy; our previous discussion had been heated. My reflexive guilt twinge was long since burned out. I said "No one's normal." "You can't buy me off with a couple of orgasms anymore. I'm fucking done." Her voice-that small wounded girl with daddy issues voice that had drawn me to her like bloody chum for a shark-was surprisingly unwavering and resolute. She had probably been practicing her little speech in the bathroom for some time. "You fucking hit me. You fucking hit me." The last was incredulous, almost as if it hadn't happened before. "Nobody has to put up with that." "Can you cut the cliches?" I replied, clicking channels. I didn't look at her, less because of guilt and more because over the past year I had simply grown to hate her. "The victim card is all played out with you, doll. Go, if you need to go. But spare me the ultimatum speech; you know how it always ends." I could hear the shame in her voice now through the cracks in her defenses, as her carefully choreagraphed response was cut off by me skipping a couple stages ahead in the argument. "I'm not coming back this time. I met a guy at work-he says he's going to take care of me. He says I deserve better. He calls me Princess." Smug here. But attacking the moral outrage\jealousy nerve of the Modern American Male (Americanus Eunuchio) was a lost cause. My masculinity wasn't pricked; it wasn't even prickled. I paused in the act of stealing a cigarette from her pack, and looked up at her. Her graceful aquiline jaw was set in stone. She was serious. I weighed my options carefully, then took a couple more so I wouldn't have to go to the store until morning. "You can call a stripper princess, but that don't make her royalty," I said, more resigned than angry. Try as I might, I wasn't able to avoid the rest of the tedious, unremarkable argument. It was 2:30 before she actually packed up her shit and left. By then I had smoked all of my pilfered cigarettes and was pawing around in the ashtray for a reasonable butt. I found a roach instead, and lit it with a sigh of satisfaction. By now I had filtered through all 436 channels and was back to the news. There was rioting in Chicago again-with all that flooding, food prices had skyrocketed. One news channel was blaming the problem on a slow aid response by the government (Damn you laws of physics!) and the other was blaming it on greedy corporations raising prices the moment the supply dried up (Damn you laws of economics!"). I thought about turning on the computer to dig into the story a little more, see if aliens, Bigfoot or the Trilateral comission was getting the blame from the fringes, but I remembered the bitch had taken her laptop. That was probably when I realized it was final. The realization didn't touch me as much as it should have. The roach did though, and I was flying by the time they showed any footage from the riots. I watched two different mobs-one black, one Hispanic, and neither concerned with shattering the stereotype-break into empty grocery stores, one by prying open the door with a crowbar and the other by throwing a cinder block through the window. Their faces were rapt, breathless with fury as they pawed through the empty shelves. Most didn't even bother with protest signs. They were in it for revenge against their Oppressors, who had kept them in bondage for so long. They were a storm of righteous fury, brave socially disadvantaged rebels struggling against the tyranny of 16.50 for a loaf of bread and 8.75 for a bottle of clean water, in a city where every road in was cut off by torrential flooding. They spent at least an hour raping a woman who was calling the police. The camera never left her for about forty minutes of it; it was their highest rated segment in months. Years later I would see her in a celebrity topless boxing tournament. The revelation that human beings are violent, ruthless animals with just enough brains to wage war effectively was nothing new to me. The gang rape footage was, however, and I watched it, and the replay, until my buzz slowly died down to a dull roar. At 4:30 am, I went to get a pack of cigarettes, and Chicago burned.

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