#i literally looked up biblical/christian town names

[vincent-sinclair-deserved-better]

A Little Bit Of Heaven, A Little Bit Of Hell

I wasn't able to write today because the day drained me and I am frustrated so I'll just split this in two parts I guess (I just want to show it to people asdffgasad)

Characters: Judah (by @bluecoolr), Esther (yet to be introduced? mayhaps?), other minor background characters

Words: 3023

Content warnings: religion/Christianity, religious guilt, bible quotes, it's been years since I was in church so I'm making stuff up as I go, mention of murder - if you need anything else tagged or specifically marked in the text, please let me know

dividers by firefly-graphics

Where my heart becomes free  And my shame is undone 

It was like paradise. 

Or that was what it felt like in comparison to Judah’s home anyway. Sure, most of the people living in Zak would disagree, they were too brainwashed to see what kind of hell they lived in, but he knew. He saw the darkness wherever he looked, the corruption seeping from every nook and cranny, staining everyone and everything. And he knew the source of it, lived with it, the whole house and family tainted by self-righteous lies and false promises. He’d had to get out. 

Carmel was different. People were kind and welcoming from the moment he arrived, there was no one watching his every move or monitoring his words. They weren’t suspicious simply due to him being an outsider. There was no constant underlying threat of severe punishment for making a mistake. And he was treated just like everyone else; he didn’t catch spiteful glances thrown his way, nor was he immune to consequences or exempt from rules. For the first time in years, he felt normal and like an equal member of the community. 

Also, people genuinely liked and respected the Reverend as opposed to being scared or seeming completely enraptured with him. They came to the services because they wanted to and didn’t get anxious if they missed one.

The town had communal gardens, a bakery, a butcher, all the usual things. It was pretty self-sustained and actual money was only rarely used. Mostly for things that had to be bought from out of town; there were a few people who worked in the city and did supply runs. Everyone helped everyone and did whatever work was needed, to the best of their abilities. 

Parents didn’t have to worry about their children getting a place in kindergarten or school since the town had everything. In the community centre, there was a specific area for children who needed to be watched past the time the school ended, and it included free food, activities, and help with homework or studying. Single parents didn’t have to worry about not finding someone to look after and take care of their kids because there was always someone willing to do it. Alternatively, the town had what could probably be most closely compared to boarding schools, where parents who were overwhelmed with childcare could send their children, along with being where orphans lived. Those schools also offered an option for teenage mums to stay and live with their children. 

Carmel also offered full support for people who wanted to move away for whatever reason, from kids wanting to attend college over single adults looking for a job and career to families who wanted a change of scenery. They were supported on every step of the way. No questions, no criticism, no judgement, no objections. 

Everything was perfect. 

So perfect it was outright blinding. 

But things don't always come that easy  And sometimes I would doubt 

He still wasn’t sure if he had actually not seen the signs or if he’d subconsciously ignored them, unwilling to let go of the ideal vision that he’d had in his mind. It was difficult to bring the image of the Reverend’s friendly, helpful brother David into accordance with the devious person Abigail had spent the last half hour describing to him. Still, he couldn’t sense any dishonesty in her voice, and her tearful expression seemed sincere. It pained him to see his usually cheerful and smiling neighbour like this. 

“Please,” she said, “I won’t ask your aid, all I need is for you to not tell on us. Not yet, at least.” 

Some strands of dark hair that had escaped her braid where clinging to her forehead and cheeks, her skin covered in a mix of sweat and tears. She looked tired and scared. Desperate. He was torn, unsure what was the right thing to do. All he had wanted to do was take out the trash and get ready for a lazy evening, lounging on the sofa and watching TV. He hadn’t expected to catch Abigail and Esther, a girl who helped with a lot of community events, climbing out of a window of the neighbouring house. Esther walked over to them, still holding Abigail’s new-born son. The boy had been fussy and crying, so she had taken him to calm him down. 

“They’ll send her to Saint Margaret’s,” she stated simply. The community home for single parents, teenage mums, and struggling families. A good place, build on kindness and compassion. Or so he had thought. 

Judah rubbed his temples, watching the boy who was now looking around the room, his chocolate brown eyes filled with curiosity and innocent wonder, “And you’re sure you can’t just- I mean, surely someone would believe and-” 

There had to be a solution. Something that didn’t involve him lying and going behind other community members’ backs. There had to. But then again, why would they lie? If what he had been taught before was true, why would anyone want to run away? If the people actually were as supportive and kind as he had thought up until now, why would a first-time mother go through the trouble of sneaking out of the hospital with her baby? 

Esther sighed and handed the boy back to his mother, before stepping in front of Judah, looking up at him, “Listen, I know this is a lot to take in, but we don’t have much time. At this point, someone must have noticed her disappearance. They’re probably looking for her already, and it won’t be difficult to figure out that she might want to stop by her former home.” 

“It’s just... it just seems so... harsh. Ostracising someone, sending them away or locking them up I could imagine, but outright murder? It’s against everything we believe in, isn’t it?” he said unsure, questioning, not even knowing whether he was trying to convince himself or not. 

“I can give you proof, okay? I can prove everything she said and more, just not now,” Esther replied and grabbed his hand, her eyes pleading, “Just go to sleep and act like nothing happened. Pray for forgiveness for all I care. This isn’t your... ‘fight’, for the lack of a better word. You don’t have to get involved, and the sooner we get out of here, the smaller the risk of being seen with us.” 

He sighed but nodded, “Alright. I’ll just... I’ll head upstairs, get ready for bed. You do what you must.” 

With that he turned and left before either of the women could say another word. When he reached his bedroom, he just sat down on his bed, not even bothering to turn on the light. He just stared into the darkness. This was the exact kind of stuff he had been running from. Secrecy and lies, fear and betrayal. Death. But it seemed like it was impossible; no matter how idyllic a place looked on the surface, corruption spread its tendrils everywhere, slipping through the smallest cracks in people’s faith and seeping into their hearts. 

And, contrary to everything he thought he had known, if what the women had said was true, things here were even worse than back home. 

Back home? 

This thought gave him pause, ripping him out of his contemplation. This was his home. It had been for almost a year now, and that’s what he had thought and felt about it as well. The town, the people, the house – this was his home. The community was his community, his family. 

He hadn’t thought of Zak as home in years. It’d been the place he lived, where he was stuck, trapped – his own personal hell. Zak had not been home. It wasn’t home. How could it be? It was led by a bunch of murderers. 

Just like Carmel, apparently. 

His heart clenched at the thought and his chest hurt. His head hurt too. It was too much, everything was too much, and for the first time since he was a child he went to sleep without proper prayer. All he could muster the energy to do were a few sentences mumbled under his breath, before he lied down and slipped under the blanket. He didn’t even change into his pyjamas. 

My life  I know it’s never really been mine   So do with it whatever You like   

Judah had expected there to be some kind of agitation or restlessness the next day, some consequence for what had happened last night – instead everything was as calm and peaceful as always. Nothing had changed. As he stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, he wondered if it had all just been a dream. Back in Zak someone would’ve already come knocking at the door, ready to take him in for questioning. Nothing escaped Darrell and “The Zakkaites” attention. But there was no knocking, no doorbell, no calls. 

Despite feeling exhausted, he did manage to get dressed and attend the 12 o’clock service, half expecting people to give him judgemental or knowing looks, but everyone just smiled at him. Kindness and trust.  

Proverbs 28:13 – Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy. 

He sat down next to the baker, a woman named Sarah, and tried to calm down. At this rate, people were bound to figure out that something is wrong, it was basically written in his face. As if on cue, Sarah nudged him, “Are you alright? You are looking pale.” 

“Yeah, I just didn’t sleep well,” he replied, which technically wasn’t a lie. 

Sarah nodded and squeezed his hand, “Maybe try and take a nap once you’re back home. You deserve some rest.” 

Luke 8:17 – For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open, and everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all.   

The service seemed to pass in the blink of an eye while also seeming to last forever. The Reverend had talked about guilt and regret and penance. About how everyone could be forgiven. Judah was ready to go and ask if the Reverend had a moment, that he needed to tell him something, but before he had the chance someone grabbed his arm. 

“You ready to talk?” Esther said, piercing blue eyes seemingly staring right into his soul. 

“Actually, I was going to-” he began, but she cut him off, “Great, let’s go then.” 

With that, she turned around and pulled him with her. He was to stunned to react at first, and didn’t want to draw attention to them either. 

“Esther, wait. We can’t just- I can’t just keep quiet about this. It’s wrong,” he said, managing to pull his arm from her grasp and stop. Esther turned to look at him, then their surroundings, and nodded towards an alley, “Can we at least not do this in the middle of the road?” 

He sighed, “Yeah, sure.” 

They went to the side of the road, just far enough to be out of immediate earshot while also remaining fairly inconspicuous. 

“So, what is it? Did all the talk about sin and forgiveness affect you, or were you planning to run off to the Reverend all along?” Esther said, an edge to her voice that almost felt hostile, but was really just bitterness. He felt sorry for her, wondering if her mind was perhaps being affected by guilt she wasn’t aware she was carrying. 

“I hadn't really made up my mind going in, I wasn’t sure whether all of last night’s... happenings were actually real or just a dream,” he said slowly, “But the Reverend did bring up some good points. Relatable points. Like, I think it was Psalms 32:3-4, ‘When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy on me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer.’ - don’t you feel that at all?” 

She scoffed, “No. And I strongly doubt David and the Reverend’s other brothers care much about confessing their own wrongdoings either.” 

“But it isn’t our place to judge,” Judah replied, “That’s up to the Lord.” 

“Isaiah 1:17 – ‘Learn to do right; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.’” Esther said, “Widows like Abigail. Orphans like the children whose mothers pass in that cursed birth house because if they aren’t deemed worthy, they only receive minimal care. They let people die there, Judah.” 

Psalm 120:2 – Save me, Lord, from lying lips and from deceitful thoughts.   

“I’m sorry, Esther, but that’s just really hard to believe,” he said, unable to meet her eyes. 

Some people had gathered in front of the café just a little down the road, watching their quiet but agitated discussion. Esther clenched her jaw and leaned closer, forcing him to look at her, “So let me speak. Tell you what I know, the other perspective. Just hear me out, or are you so unsure in your faith that you worry you could be this easily deceived? If what I say is untrue, don’t you think you’d be able to tell?” 

“If what you say is true it would only prove that I have been deceived already, so how could I trust my own judgement?” he replied, frowning at his insecurity. 

“Whatever. If you don’t want to listen, I can’t make. If you prefer to stay blissfully oblivious, be my guest. And if your ‘guilt’ is so much you insist on running off to the Reverend, sure. They’ll be grateful, and whatever will happen to me... well, I have no regrets. I only do what I deem to be right and just. And if I could go back in time, I’d do it all over again,” Esther stepped away from him and straightened her posture, putting on a neutral expression, “Just one more thing for you to consider: Proverbs 11:13 – ‘A gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy person keeps a secret’. Make of that what you will.”   

Everything I once held dear  I count it all as lost 

Hearing his brother’s words come from Esther’s mouth was like a punch to the gut, and he kept staring at the space she had stood even after she had left. He felt sick. How could it be that the past he had so desperately tried to escape from and forget was catching up to him now? Did Esther know Darrell, or was it just chance? He didn’t know what to believe anymore, his thoughts and feelings in complete disarray, and he prayed for some kind of sign that would show him the right way. 

The touch of a hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts and his gaze met Sarah’s worried expression, “Judah, dear, are you alright? You really aren’t looking well.” 

He just stared at her for a moment and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. 

Sarah gently took his arm and lead him across the street, towards the café, “Come, take a seat and have a glass of water. Take a moment to calm down, you seem troubled.” 

“I- yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he replied, voice raspy and almost inaudible. 

They found a table right by the window, and the small crowd that had formed dispersed on Sarah and Judah’s arrival. He still felt eyes on him, people watching while walking out. He told himself they were just concerned for his well-being, but it didn’t feel quite right. 

It didn’t even take five minutes for a glass of water to be brought while Sarah sat across from him, holding his hand and keeping a watchful eye on him. It was only when he picked up the glass to take a sip that he realised he was shaking, but thankfully Sarah didn’t comment. He didn’t feel like talking about his past. He didn’t even want to think about it. 

“You really shouldn’t spend too much time with Esther,” Sarah said, gentle voice having a surprisingly serious edge to it. 

He met her gaze, brows furrowed in confusion, “Why not?” 

“She’s a bad influence. Hiding it well, though,” the older woman replied, “Her parents have been trying to rein her in for years now, but despite acting all nice and proper on the surface, people know she’s secretly up to no good.” 

“But... isn’t she one of the main people planning the gardens? And doing a lot of tutoring in the community centre?” 

Sarah sighed, “As I said, she is hiding it well. Just, be careful. Don’t blindly believe what she says, and be prepared for her trying to use her past as a means to gain you sympathy.” 

The way Sarah was talking about and describing Esther was so different from what he had seen and her tone rubbed him the wrong way. Despite trying to keep her voice concerned and caring, there was clear judgement. Especially the last part of her sentence sounded almost deprecating. “Her past? What about it?” 

“Her older siblings died in a car accident when she was fourteen, she didn’t take it well and started acting up afterwards, running away and doubting the Lord. It got better – or at least more subdued – once she turned eighteen,” she explained, turning to wistfully look out of the window, “She used to be such a good girl, you know? Well behaved, polite, gentle, earnest. Then her sister started getting into her head, telling the poor child Lord-knows-what. The accident was the last straw, and no matter how well she pretends to have returned to that innocent and pious girl she used to be... it is hard to believe. People don’t just change overnight. There’s still something wrong with her, that I am certain of.” 

Judah’s stomach twisted, every single word making the feeling stronger, and by the time Sarah had finished speaking, he was feeling nauseated. No matter how hard the older woman had tried to obscure her acrimony towards Esther, attempting to cover it behind pretend compassion and melancholy, it had seeped through, her words dripping resentment. In all the time he had been here, he had never seen anyone express such negativity. Maybe it was a slip-up on Sarah’s part, or maybe he hadn’t paid attention. Either way, he wanted to get out and have some space to think. 

tag? tag: @probably-a-plant-thing @solmints-messyocdiary @visceravalentines @goldrose-star @rottent33th @immortal-velociraptor @myers-meadow @ace-of-hearts-and-spades

remember, remember, the fifth of November to tell me if you don't want to be tagged, I know all the AU and OC stuff isn't for everyone, not everyone cares about all OCs etc. I won't be offended, promise <3

[poetriarchy]

was plagiarism considered a thing in like ancient times? and early medieval times? especially before the printing press it seems like it would be really easy to slap your/anyone's name on a copy of a work or just misattribute it for whatever reason—copying/paraphrasing portions in your own original work would be even easier. i ask if it was "considered a thing" because i get that people have had different attitudes to the concept of authorship. so the question is actually twofold—what was people's concept of plagiarism (if any), and how did people react to it? i imagine one barrier to blatant misattribution prior to the printing press might have been that literate people had a much more finite amount of written material available to them than we do today, especially if you're talking about the literate population within a given city. like it might be relatively easier to identify if someone's plagiarizing when you're all drawing from the same temple library or something. nobody in your town will believe you if you say your favorite random local weirdo wrote the aeneid. but how that actually holds up depends on the amount of written resources available in a city/region, the homogeneity of education, other things. it'd still be absurdly easy to steal an obscure work, especially if only like ten copies of it exist in the whole world and half are in private collections. and did people have incentive to do that? i should be looking this up rather than typing this out but i can't let myself go down a rabbit hole with other work to do so i'm posting this as a reminder to myself to look into it LOL.

it just occurred to me bc i feel like i always see situations where a book of the bible or apocryphal text is attributed to some biblical figure and people today know it couldn't have been written by them. but the assumption (which i assume is the correct one) is always that it was written by some later christian(s) or picked up from oral tradition, and that whoever put it to paper WANTED it to be attributed to that figure rather than themselves. or believed the attribution to be true, in whatever sense they construed "true authorship" in that time. but i don't think i've ever heard a story where some ancient or medieval guy actually got their work stolen/misattributed and was pissed about it. i'm sure it's out there but i haven't seen it. shrug. time to go make coffee

[acetrainermags]

Pokémon Adventures Chapter 10-14: The One With The Scene

Chapter 10 finds Red in Vermillion City, where he encounters the Pokémon Fan Club. They’re… an eccentric bunch, to say the least. The club chairman thrusts a copy of their newsletter into Red’s hands, and we’re given this cursed panel:

Red’s expression really says it all: I don’t think I actually want any more context for these headlines.

Upon finding out that Pokémon have been going missing in town, Red decides to investigate. He sneaks aboard the ship docked in the city, where he meets Lt. Surge.

(Side note, I'm absolutely losing my mind of the henchmen's faces in the background)

Surge is a fascinating character, even outside the manga. His name and appearance make it clear that he was a soldier at some point in his past, though as far as I can remember, this isn’t directly mentioned in Pokémon Adventures. In the main series games, he’s explicitly stated to be a U.S. soldier (his title was literally “The Lightning American” until recently), and he fought in a war.

I know that there’s a popular fan theory around the games that there was major war somewhat recently, but I’m not sure it applies here. In any case, I wish we got a little more clarity on Surge’s character in the manga, especially given his relevance in later volumes. Or maybe the man just likes the camo aesthetic. Who am I to judge?

Surge deals with Red by knocking him out with electricity and tossing him into the ocean… or so he thinks. Sensing Red’s distress, Poliwhirl evolves into Poliwrath and brings Red back to the surface. Poliwrath defeats Surge and his Electabuzz with a Seismic Toss, and the stolen Pokémon are safely returned to their owners.

Next thing we know, Red is participating in a Pokémon bike race to try and earn some quick cash. He tries to take a shortcut through a forest, which works at first, until…

“Blorg”

Also, I noticed that money bags have the symbol for Yen on them. Pokémon has its own currency, simply known as Pokémon Dollars, but I’m guessing that wasn’t commonly used when this was written. I’ll have to watch in later volumes to see if it gets referenced again.

Following the bike race, Red arrives in Lavender Town, everyone’s favorite haunted village. There’s a lot to talk about in these last few chapters of this volume.

The people of Lavender Town aren’t very friendly, but Red eventually meets Mr. Fuji, who is paying his respects to his dearly departed Pokémon, Doduo.

A couple things here: I’ve always been unnerved by the idea that Pokémon can actually die. Logically it makes sense – they’re biological creatures after all, they’re not immortal. But there’s just something unsettling about it that I can’t quite put my finger on. But this comes up in the manga rather often, so I’m sure I’ll write about it more in the future.

On another note, it’s fascinating to look back and see how willing the “old” Pokémon media was to reference real-world religions, like the cross that marks Doduo’s grave here. It reminds me of Pokémon anime episode where Ash and company were lost at sea, and Brock referenced the Biblical story of Noah. As a child, I remember watching that episode with an acquaintance and he asked, “Is this show Christian?” I wasn’t sure how to answer.

Anyway, Red finds out that Blue was in Lavender Town recently. Blue went to go investigate the rumors of ghosts in the Pokémon Tower, and he hasn’t been seen since. In what is either a concern for Blue’s safety or a need to prove he’s just as brave as his rival (or probably both), Red runs to the Pokémon Tower to make his own investigation.

The Pokémon Tower is full of nightmare fuel, in case anyone was wondering. I don’t consider myself squeamish, but, uh… no thanks.

Red finally finds Blue and together, they face down the person responsible for the ghosts, none other than Koga of Team Rocket. Shout out to Red for not being intimidated in the slightest.

This is also the first time we see Blue and Koga interact. Keep that in mind for the future.

And it would be impossible to write about the first volume of Pokémon Adventures without discussing The Scene. You know which one I’m talking about.

And objectively, it’s a GOOD SCENE. We get to see Blue’s ingenuity and how he’s able to outsmart one of Team Rocket’s elite, and Red gains some newfound respect for his rival’s ability. Plus, it gives Koga a reason to desire revenge later on. It’s great writing!

But this scene has been ruined by the internet, as the internet often does. It gets paired with clickbait headlines like “The DARK Pokémon Series!!” which is… disappointing to say the least. Actually, I can’t stand it. It’s exhausting to keep seeing online edgelords try and make themselves sound cool because they read the “mature Pokémon” manga.

Like, these are from well-known gaming/geek websites. You can do better than this, Polygon. I know it.

Pokémon Adventures has so much more to offer than just extra violence. I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: What makes this manga so good is its commitment to telling good stories.

Pokémon as a whole is about wonder and exploration – it presents us with a colorful, unfamiliar world and invites us to discover its secrets. Pokémon Adventures doesn’t appeal to an older audience because it’s “dark and gritty,” but because it takes that childlike wonder and expands on it with endearing characters and engaging plotlines. Boiling it down to just “edgy Pokémon” is a disservice to the manga itself and the fans who enjoy it.

We've seen so many amazing things just in the first volume! That's what makes Pokémon Adventures so good - the adventure.

Whew. That was a lot.

Vol. 1 ends with Red saying farewell to Mr. Fuji and continuing on his journey. I’ll be writing a wrap-up post about this volume soon, then it’s on to vol. 2!

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Wrestling with the Bible’s most disturbing stories

An excerpt from Rachel Held Evan’s book Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again

“Growing up, I noticed the ugly details in the Sunday school stories; children always do. I remember I was deeply troubled by the fact that God drowned all but two of each kind of animal in the Great Flood (to say nothing of all the people), and wondered aloud at the dinner table how God could be all-knowing and all-powerful, but also filled with regret. A friend's seven-year-old captured the angst well when she recently asked, 'Mom, is God the good guy or the bad guy in this story?'

This question of God's character haunted every scene and every act and every drama of the Bible. ...Feminist scholar Phyllis Trible aptly named these narratives 'texts of terror.'

'If art imitates life,' she wrote, 'scripture likewise reflects it in both holiness and horror.'

Rereading the texts of terror as a young woman, I kept anticipating some sort of postscript or epilogue chastising the major players for their sins, a sort of Arrested Development-style 'lesson' to wrap it all up -- 'And that's why you should always challenge the patriarchy!' But no such epilogue exists. While women are raped, killed, and divided as plunder, God stands by, mute as clay. I waited for a word from God, but none came.

...When I turned to pastors and professors for help, they urged me to set aside my objections, to simply trust that God is good and that the Bible's war stories happened as told, for reasons beyond my comprehension. 

'God's ways are higher than our ways,' they insisted. 'Stop trying to know the mind of God.'

It's an understandable approach. Human beings are finite and fallible, prone to self-delusion and sentimentality. If we rely exclusively on our feelings to guide us to truth, we are bound to get lost.

When asked in 2010 about Joshua's conquest of Canaan, Reformed pastor and theologian John Piper declared, without hesitation, 'It's right for God to slaughter women and children anytime he pleases. God gives life and he takes life. Everybody who dies, dies because God wills that they die.'

Piper's dispassionate acceptance represented pure, committed faith, I was told, while mine had been infected by humanism and emotion -- 'a good example of why women should be kept from church leadership,' one acquaintance said.

And for a moment, I believed it. For a moment, I felt silly for responding so emotionally to a bunch of old war stories that left the rest of the faithful seemingly unfazed. 

But this is the deleterious snare of fundamentalism: It claims that the heart is so corrupted by sin, it simply cannot be trusted to sort right from wrong, good from evil, divine from depraved. Instinct, intuition, conscience, critical thinking -- these impulses must be set aside whenever they appear to contradict the biblical text, because the good Christian never questions the 'clear teachings of Scripture'; the good Christian listens to God, not her gut.

I've watched people get so entangled in this snare they contort into shapes unrecognizable. When you can't trust your own God-given conscience to tell you what's right, or your own God-given conscience to tell you what's true, you lose the capacity to engage the world in any meaningful, authentic way, and you become an easy target for authoritarian movements eager to exploit that vacuity for their gain. I tried reading Scripture with my conscience and curiosity suspended, and I felt, quite literally, disintegrated. I felt fractured and fake.

Brené Brown warned us we can't selectively numb our emotions, and no doubt this applies to the emotions we have about our faith. If the slaughter of Canaanite children elicits only a shrug, then why not the slaughter of Pequots? Of Syrians? Of Jews? If we train ourselves not to ask hard questions about the Bible, and to emotionally distance ourselves from any potential conflicts or doubts, then where will we find the courage to challenge interpretations that justify injustice? How will we know when we've got it wrong?

'Belief in a cruel god makes a cruel man,' Thomas Paine said. If the Bible teaches that God is love, and love can look like genocide and violence and rape, then love can look like...anything. It's as much an invitation to moral relativism as you'll find anywhere.

I figured if God was real, then God didn't want the empty devotion of some shadow version of Rachel, but rather my whole, integrated self. So I decided to face the Bible's war stories head-on, mind and heart fully engaged, willing to risk the loss of faith if that's where the search led. 

I listened to sermons. I read commentaries and theology books. I became a real downer at dinner parties:

'If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?' 'Have you seen any of the Oscar-nominated films this year?' 'What's your Enneagram number?' 'Do you think God condones genocide?'

The explanations came hurried and certain. Oh, God told Israel to wipe out the Canaanites because the Canaanites were super-duper evil, like the worst people ever. They worshipped idols and had orgies and sacrificed children to their gods. So God condemned the practice of child sacrifice...by slaughtering children? Well, that's just how things were back then. It was kill or be killed, tribal warfare and all that. Israel did what it had to do to survive....

I began to feel a bit like the disheveled Berenger, a character from Eugène Ionesco's play Rhinoceros, who grows increasingly bewildered as the people of his provincial French town acclimate to the sudden presence of rhinoceroses in their community. In one scene, a rhinoceros thunders through the town square, trampling a housecat. After their initial shock, the villagers get sidetracked debating whether the rhino had one horn or two, and whether its origins are Asiatic or African. And on it goes throughout the play, as the townspeople themselves transform into rhinos, one by one, arguing all the while over pointless trivialities, until only Berenger remains human.

The play is about fascism, I think, but it reminds me a bit of Christians and their Bibles. Sometimes it seems as if there are all these rhinoceroses barreling through the pages of Scripture, pooping on sidewalks and flattening housecats, but we've grown so accustomed to defending their presence we end up debating the length of their tails.

...

My questions came with consequences. We left the church in which I was raised, and rumors of my 'rebellious spirit' circulated around town, prompting more than a few well-meaning interventions. ...

But accepting the Bible's war stories without objection threatened to erase my humanity. ‘We don’t become more spiritual by becoming less human,’ Eugene Peterson said. How could I love God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength while disengaging those very faculties every time I read the Bible?

So I brought my whole self into the wilderness with God – no faking, no halfway. And there we wrestled."

[hoseas-angry-ghost]

YES YES YES I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR UR THEORIES

Hello anon! I am very surprised anyone wants to hear my chutney but here's my Strange Man Hot Take with some hopefully interesting info for curious parties:

To be honest, R* included so much misdirection around the Strange Man's identity (especially in RDR1) that I'm not *totally* convinced they're married to any one idea. RDR2 also complicated things by introducing new religions into Red Dead's world (Voodoo, Old Norse, etc.): he's no longer limited to just Christian / Western interpretations, as in RDR1, and it's possible R* might try to syncretise him with figures from other faiths (they did place Bayall Edge in Bayou Nwa, where most of the Voodoo stuff is).

At the same time, though, I think RDR2 actually narrowed things down somewhat in terms of the direction R* chose to take his character, and what we were shown of that. There's still a level of misdirection in RDR2, but IMO, it almost comes off as half-hearted in comparison to what was basically trolling in RDR1 -- it seems like they were a lot more focused on playing the "bad news" angle the second time round.

Based on what we know, and on the balance of things, I'm not convinced that the Strange Man is necessarily meant to be any one thing or figure, but I do think he's meant to fulfil some type of Satanic role within Red Dead's world, either in main or in part.

I won't compare and dissect other theories or anything, I just thought I'd list off some things that people might find interesting:

Armadillo. The deal between the Strange Man and Herbert Moon seems to be a pretty textbook Faustian bargain: Moon is offered earthly rewards ("happiness or two generations"), and although the price was (tellingly?) never specified, it seems like the recent Blood Money update for RDO all but confirmed that the cost was probably his soul. Although it's left ambiguous what Moon actually chose, the Armadillo curse was possibly an unforeseen (for Moon) consequence of the deal's terms, which would fit with similar tales of the devil or demon in question taking liberties with their end of the bargain.

In the files, there's some great audio of Moon off the shits and straight-up saying "I've made a deal with the devil, and I will never truly die!" It's possible this was cut for its own reasons (too overt?), but as a lot of stuff was apparently cut from Armadillo, I'm guessing it was either cut when Arthur in New Austin got cut, or it was part of something that R* didn't have time to implement in the epilogue. Either way, if it's not actually in the game then it's not technically canon, but it is an indication of what R* was thinking during development.

There's a lot of audio from the Armadillo townsfolk in general about devils and "devil curses," but the only thing I know of that definitely made it into the game is a line from the town crier ("Devil has the town in his hand").

There's audio of the Armadillo bartender saying "I heard the Tillworths made a deal with the devil to keep from gettin' sick! I don't wanna die any more than the next man, but ain't no safety worth a man's soul." Possibly idle gossip, but given Moon, possibly not.

RDO seemed to flirt with the idea of soul-selling a little bit with Old Man Jones' line "Well, this is America, so anything can be bought -- even souls," but then RDO pretty much just came right out and said it with Bluewater John in the Blood Money update. Bluewater John also apparently made a deal, almost definitely with the Strange Man (given the Moon deal and how close Bayall Edge is to all the drama); he was based on blues musician Robert Johnson and the myth that he sold his soul to the devil for mastery of the guitar. It's basically a rehash of the Moon deal, except it's... not subtle in its dialogue about deals, devils and souls.

"I GAVE EVERYTHING FOR ART, AND I LEARNED TOO MUCH AND NOTHING AT ALL" written on the wall at Bayall Edge also sounds like a reference to another one of these deals to me ("everything" being their soul, and "I learned too much and nothing at all" the foolishness of accepting eternal damnation for temporary knowledge). I think Bayall Edge might have originally belonged to a painter who struck a deal with the Strange Man for artistic skill, but then the Strange Man slowly possessed him or something -- which could be why some of the landscapes depict RDR1's I Know You locations, and why the writings on the wall kind of look like they deteriorate in quality. The puddle of blood at the foot of the portrait might also be linked to this somehow (whose is it?).

It's the deal-making for souls that really pushed the "devil" theory over the edge for me, because I can't think of whose wheelhouse that would be in except a devil's, or someone similarly malevolent.

Alternative name. The Strange Man's character model is called cs_mysteriousstranger in RDR2, and he's referred to as "the mysterious stranger" at least once in RDR1's in-game text. This could be a reference to The Mysterious Stranger, written by Mark Twain between 1897-1908, in which the stranger is a supernatural being called Satan. (At the end of the last version written, he tells the protagonist that nothing really exists and their lives are just a dream.)

Bayall Edge. Bayall Edge was possibly based on a Louisiana urban myth called the Devil's Toy Box, which is "described as a shack. From the outside, it is unappealing and average. ...The inside of the shack consists of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, including the walls. No one can last more than five minutes in this room. ...According to the legend, if you stood inside this mirror-room alone for too long, supposedly the devil would show up and steal your soul." The Strange Man does show up in the mirror eventually, and it's kind of curious that the paintings that change depending on your Honour act as metaphorical mirrors. This was also cut, but in the files, Arthur's drawing of the interior of Bayall Edge is unusually sloppy, like his faculties were impaired or something.

"Awful, fascinating and seductive". John writes this about Bayall Edge after the portrait is finished, and I think that's as good a description of something like the / a devil as any, but "seductive" is a big red flag for me, because it's such an odd choice of word and, from a Christian perspective, it's so loaded with connotations of evil and sin and temptation.

I Know You. Some have pointed out that I Know You in RDR1 resembles the Temptation of Christ, as it also takes place in three separate locations in the desert, and John is given moral tests in which he must choose between higher virtue or worldly vice. John is also, in a weird way, a kind of Christ-like figure in that he ultimately sacrifices his life for others. I do think the "temptation" in these encounters is very surreptitious but very much there ("Or rob her yourself" -- excuse me??), but they may also be operating on a Biblical definition of the word, i.e. a test or trial with the free choice of committing sin.

RDR1 dialogue. I don't want to get *too* much into this because I feel like we're all just getting punked in RDR1, but I think the Strange Man's dialogue broadly fits with something like a "devil" interpretation, or at least doesn't contradict it.

I'm thinking particularly of lines like "Damn you!" / "Yes, many have" (which would work metaphorically but also literally, given that the devil was thrown from heaven by God and his angels), and "I hope my boy turns out just like you" (of all the leading theories, I think Satan is the only figure who's popularly conceptualised as having a son, or prophesied to have a son -- God obviously had a son, but that ship kinda sailed).

I think the "accountant" line refers to Honour (which even uses an invisible numerical system), and how John's fate depends on the number of both good and bad acts he's committed throughout his life, and how these weigh against each other. If the Strange Man likes to collect souls, then he would have a vested interest in auditing you and seeing if your accounts are in the black or the red, as it were (and providing you with opportunities to push yourself further into the latter...), because if you're bankrupt, you're his.

Blind Man Cassidy. Interestingly, Cassidy seems to distinguish between "Death" and the Strange Man, implying that he's something else beyond his understanding: in one of Arthur's fortunes, after his TB diagnosis, he says "the man with no nose [Death] is coming for you," but in one of John's fortunes, he says "Two strangers seek thee: one from this world, perhaps one from another. One brings hatred; I'm not so sure what the other brings."

Arthur's cut dialogue. In the files, there's audio of Arthur having the exact same conversation with Herbert Moon as John in the epilogue, asking about the Strange Man picture because he "just seemed familiar". I think it's interesting that, like John, Arthur also would have apparently recognised the Strange Man despite (presumably) never seeing him before. Given how strong a theme morality is in Red Dead -- and how much both John and Arthur struggle with it -- my theory is that they find the Strange Man vaguely familiar because they're both familiar with the evil within themselves, or the potential for evil; and likewise, the Strange Man "knows" John because he embodies evil in some sense, so is aware of John's worst sins (like his involvement at Blackwater), or possibly even all of his sins (which would be, like, a lot).

Honourable mention: There's such a greater emphasis on conspiracies, myths, etc. in RDR2 that I half-wonder if the Strange Man's RDR2 incarnation was partly inspired by Hat Man (~excuse the link~ but often it's hard to find good sources for the kind of weird shit R* includes in their games).

ANYWAY, this got a little long but I hope someone found all this at least passably interesting. Thanks again for letting me ramble about the video game man, anon!

[aion-rsa]

Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist

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This article contains huge spoilers for Midnight Mass. So help me God if you read this without watching the series first…

The version of Midnight Mass that Netflix advertised still would have made for a compelling horror series. 

An isolated, insular island community? Great. A young, charismatic preacher suddenly coming to town to shake things up? Perfect. That preacher proving capable of performing minor miracles? Love it, no notes! 

Of course, as viewers who have watched at least four episodes of the seven-episode series now know, Midnight Mass has one extra supernatural twist in mind that elevates an already interesting story to true mind-blowing status. Critics were understandably asked to keep this aspect of the show a secret before it premiered. So please indulge me as I finally slay these embargo demons and get it off my chest.

Vampires. Vampires! V-A-M-P-I-R-E-S. VAMPIRES! VAMPIRES VAMPIRES VAMPIRES! Literally like Dracula. And Nosferatu. Anne Rice’s Lestat. Stephen King’s ‘Salem’s Lot. Vampires. VAMPIRES, BRO, VAMPIRES.

For creator Mike Flanagan, a filmmaker influenced by all manner of classic horror, bringing the fanged bloodsuckers to life was a long time coming.

“My favorite vampire movie is (Werner) Herzog’s Nosferatu,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets prior to the premiere of Midnight Mass. “That film is the vampire story as high art. I also adore From Dusk Till Dawn. I read Dracula young enough for it to really burrow in for me. And I read ‘Salem’s Lot early enough to color an enormous amount of work that I’ll do for the rest of my life.”

Midnight Mass’s depiction of the mythological undead beast and how it can neatly fit into Christian dogma is one of the most satisfying horror twists in years. Now that the truth is out, let’s discuss Midnight Mass and how it conflates vampires and biblical angels. 

Mistaking a Vampire for an Angel

The interesting thing about Midnight Mass is that it clearly takes place in a universe where the average person has no knowledge of what a vampire is. Even Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish), arguably the most well-read person on Crockett Island, has to do some research into “porphyria cutanea tarda” (a.k.a. the real life “vampire disease”). This is similar to The Walking Dead’s approach to zombies, in which the “z” word and George A. Romero’s name are never spoken. This strategy in Midnight Mass allows for a truly fascinating case of mistaken identity.

While viewers immediately know that the creature Monsignor John Pruitt (Hamish Linklater) encounters is a vampire, he believes it to be an angel. Given how studied Pruitt is in the Bible and Cathloic theology, it’s entirely understandable why he would think a tall, muscular, bald-headed beast with fangs and leathery wings is an angel. As it turns out, the angels of the Old Testament can be truly terrifying. 

Not all angels are soft-featured human-like creatures with fluffy white bird wings. Some, like Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones are designed to intimidate God’s enemies. In the New Testament’s Book of Luke, an angel visits Zechariah and immediately asks him to “be not afraid” because the angel can see the poor guy absolutely shaking in his boots upon his arrival. Angels being terrifying is even something of an Internet meme, with users contrasting the phrase “be not afraid” with images of truly monstrous beasts. 

Not only does Pruitt’s vampire have the vague appearance of an angel, it also apparently holds the secrets to eternal life as promised in the Bible. By merely drinking some of the “angel’s” blood, a good Christian can live forever just like God says. Does that blood-drinking sacrament sound familiar? It did to Mike Flanagan.

“In Bible school I used to say ‘if the wine turns into Jesus’s blood literally and we’re drinking it so that we can live forever … that seems like a short leap to vampiric myth.’”

Of course, drinking the angel’s fluids in the case of Midnight Mass also leads to some unwanted side effects like a thirst for blood and extreme sensitivity to sunlight. Thankfully, good ol’ Bev Keane always has a Bible quote ready to go for that. When read through the proper perspective, the Holy Bible may as well be the original vampire story. 

The Rules of Vampirism

“The thing that I love about the vampire as a cinematic tool is how malleable it is,” Flanagan says. “We all agree that there is no canon. There are no rules. In fact, part of the joy is seeing what rules people cherry pick as they approach a vampire story.”

All depictions of vampires are indeed quite different. Vampires can range from the classic Stoker-ian monster to Twilight’s nigh-invulnerable sparkle bois. Midnight Mass’s version of the vampire leans towards the classic, albeit with some tweaks. In terms of appearance, The Angel (as we will be calling Midnight Mass’s O.G. vampire for simplicity’s sake) has a more bestial look like Nosferatu rather than an aristocratic one like Count Dracula or Anne Rice’s creations. 

“We winked at (Nosferatu the Vampyr actor) Klaus Kinski a few times when we designed our guy,” Flanagan says.

Though the Angel resembles Nosferatu in appearance, its vulnerabilities owe more to Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles. Religious iconography does not appear to hurt the Angel nor its thralls. Traditional human weapons like bullets or blades also do no harm (at least not mortally). These vampires are, however, tremendously susceptible to both fire and sunlight. Exposure to the latter for even a few seconds is enough to kill the Angel and his many acolytes. 

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Like in Rice’s works as well, the path to creating a new vampire is quite simple. Step 1: Drink its blood. Step 2: Die. In Dracula and ‘Salem’s Lot, the method of vampire creation is merely being bit by one, zombie-style. Rice and Flanagan’s approach is quite a bit more intentional and interesting. It also opens the door for perhaps Midnight Mass’s most ingenious storytelling quirk: communion. John Pruitt is able to get nearly the entirety of Crockett Island to become a vampire by spiking the communion wine with his buddy’s blood. Then, all that remains is for them to poison themselves to death, Jonestown-style. 

The mass “resurrection” scene in which the congregation awakes as their new vampire selves also provides some insight to just how hard it is to contain the vampire’s overwhelming hunger. Riley Flynn was able to resist it when he turned because John Pruitt babysat him like a psychedelic mushroom guide. The plan for the rest of the congregation was to have their babysitters as well but that didn’t quite work out. Still, Riley’s dad Ed makes it clear to his wife Annie, that even if it’s hard to resist the call for blood, it’s not impossible. 

“When I saw them at the church, I thought it was something they really couldn’t help. Like something impossible not to do. But it isn’t, Annie,” he says.

Maybe if more vampires were like Ed Flynn, a whole island full of vampires wouldn’t be too bad of a thing in the first place. 

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How to Defeat a Vampire

While every vampire story presents its own unique take on the creature, the answer on how to defeat a vampire is usually the same: by doing it together.

“We poor humans only have so much that we can give,” Flanagan says. “We’re ill-equipped as individuals to make any kind of meaningful stand. The only way evil in the world can be brought down is through collective effort. That’s something Stoker understands inherently. It’s clearly something King understands.”

Alongside the aforementioned Bram Stoker and Stephen King, Flanagan presents a small team of humans at story’s end who will do what it takes to defeat evil, even if it means dying in the process. Erin Greene (Kate Siegel), Dr. Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), Annie Flynn (Kristin Lehman), Warren Flynn (Igby Rigney), and Leeza Scarborough (Annarah Cymone) are the six residents of Crockett Island brave enough to try to take down the Angel. All but two (Warren and Leeza) die. They do succeed in eliminating the immediate threat on Crockett Island but it’s possible the Angel made it away to suck blood another day, damaged wings and all.

What’s interesting about Midnight Mass’s “final crew” is that six appears to be the magic number when it comes to taking down a vampire. Stoker’s Dracula has six heroes: Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker nèe Murray, Arthur Holmwood (Lord Godalming), John Seward, Quincey Morris, and Abraham Van Helsing (of which, only poor American cowboy Quincey Morris dies). King’s ‘Salem’s Lot also has six: Ben Mears, Matt Burke, Susan Norton, Mark Petrie, Jimmy Cody, and Father Callahan (of which, decidedly more than one of them die). This strange bit of arithmancy is something we asked Flanagan about.

“The number was certainly not intentional,” he says. “Once it was clear that Riley was not going to be carrying the torch to the end it really was about asking ‘who are the characters who seem in the very beginning to be at a disadvantage and how do we empower them in the end?’ This was gonna be played out by Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan, and everyone else who would get to just give a little piece.”

Considering that Erin and company were outnumbered about 117 to six, it was a pretty good showing for Crockett Island’s last humans standing.

All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[creepingsharia]

While Europe Slept, 15 Years Later  - a new preface

Bruce Bawer has updated his book While Europe Slept - detailing the destruction of the West by Islam (practitioners of Islam actually, aka Muslims) - with a new and much needed preface. Excerpts below.

Note: My book While Europe Slept was first published by Doubleday in 2006. Now the Stapis publishing house has put out a Polish edition, translated by Tadeusz Skrzyszowski. Given that the book is fifteen years old, Stapis asked for a new preface. Here it is.

   This book, which appeared first in English, has already been translated into several other languages, but it is a special pleasure to see it published in Polish. My father’s parents were both Polish...

   When I wrote this book, I used such terms as “radical Islam” and “Muslim extremist.” Indeed, the book’s original English subtitle was How Radical Islam Is Destroying the West from Within. I have asked my Polish publishers to remove the word “radical” from the subtitle of this edition. I no longer use such terms in connection with Islam, for I have recognized that Islam itself is radical and extreme; people who call themselves “moderate” or “liberal” Muslims are people who have exchanged key elements of their faith for Western Enlightenment values.

   In the same way, I no longer speak of “Islamic fundamentalism.” This expression came naturally to me because prior to writing While Europe Slept I had published the book Stealing Jesus, about Protestant fundamentalism in the U.S. Fundamentalism is a legitimate word to use in connection with certain varieties of Christianity that uphold an untenable Biblical literalism and preach a harsh legalism derived largely from the Old Testament book of Leviticus while losing sight of the forgiving, all-encompassing love that Jesus Christ preached in the gospels.

   But Islam is fundamentalist – it insists that every word of the Koran be taken literally, that every commandment in that book be followed, that Muslim men look upon Muhammed (a bloodthirsty warrior who married a little girl) as the perfect role model in every possible respect, and that women accept their role as household chattel whose lives may someday need to be sacrificed in so-called “honor killings” in order to preserve their families’ reputations. I have long since ceased, then, to speak of “Islamic fundamentalism.”

   In this book I blame the failure of Muslims to assimilate into European society in part, at least, on the fact that Europeans, while welcoming – and housing and feeding and clothing – Muslim immigrants prefer that they live apart, in their own enclaves, rather than blend into mainstream society, and prefer to give them welfare handout rather than jobs. I now feel that I put too much blame for this situation on Europeans; after all, Hindus and Sikhs and other such minorities have faced similar obstacles in Europe but have overcome them. (In Britain, the average Hindu earns more than the average British native.)

   I also suggest in the book that America, historically a “melting pot” of people from all over the world, will be more successful than Europe at turning Muslims into happy, productive, and patriotic citizens. I now realize that I was mistaken. If Muslims in America do indeed seem somewhat more likely to be well integrated, law-abiding job-holders than are their coreligionists in Europe, this has a lot to do with the fact that many Muslim immigrants to America are educated professionals from largely Westernized cities, while many Muslims who emigrate to Europe are illiterate rural villagers. Yet even the most privileged Muslim families in the U.S. manage to breed terrorists. What I failed to realize when I wrote this book was that while the American “melting pot” may indeed work wonders on people from a great many parts of the globe, Islam, when truly believed in, is a force that powerfully repels other loyalties.

   In this book I describe the 2005 election of “pro-American, reform-minded Angela Merkel” to the office of German chancellor as a “hopeful sign,” and applaud her for insisting that a 2006 Berlin staging of Mozart’s opera Idomeneo go forward in the face of Muslim outrage. This is also the woman who in 2010 famously – and admirably – admitted that German multiculturalism had “utterly failed.” Who would have expected, then, that she would later open her country’s floodgates to a tsunami of Muslim immigrants – hundreds of whom sexually assaulted German women on New Year’s Eve 2015/16 – and would turn violently against the U.S., describing it as the moral equivalent of Putin’s Russia and Communist China? This woman whom I thought so well of in 2006 has turned out to be the scariest German chancellor since – hmm, what was his name again?

   The U.S. invasion of Iraq posed a particular problem to me while I was writing this book. On the one hand, I knew enough about Islam to doubt strongly that Iraqis, once freed from the dictatorship of Saddam Hussein, would institute something in their country resembling Jeffersonian democracy. On the other hand, I had never set foot in the Muslim world, so I hardly felt I was in a position to question “experts” many of whom had spent decades there. Besides, my country was at war, and I didn’t want to join in the pile-on against my president, however ill-advised I thought he was. So it is that while acknowledging that “there were sensible arguments against invading Iraq” and making clear my conviction that Islam, as currently constituted, is not “compatible with democracy,” I didn’t explicitly support or oppose the Iraq War in these pages, and instead focused on what to me, in any case, was the most relevant issue related to it: the truly vile tendency of many commentators in both the U.S. and Europe to equate Bush with Saddam and to attribute unworthy motives to decent Americans who, however misguided, truly thought they were engaged, as in World War II, in a struggle for other people’s freedom.

   This book first came out in 2006; the paperback was published a year later with an afterword that is included here and that brought my account up to date. In the thirteen years since, needless to say, there have been a great many developments in the ongoing story of Islam in Europe. The continent’s Muslim population has continued to mount, creating more “no-go zones” and increasing the incidence of rape and other violent crimes by Muslim youth gangs. There have been major acts of jihadist terror in Paris, Brussels, Berlin, Barcelona, and many other places.

   Meanwhile, in the U.S., major terrorist acts have occurred in Boston, Orlando, San Bernardino, and elsewhere. In 2018, Ilhan Omar, a hijab-clad Muslim woman who is virulently antisemitic and openly contemptuous of America, was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives from a largely Muslim district in Minnesota. Another hijab-wearing Jew-hater, Linda Sarsour, enjoys the respect of many leading U.S. politicians, who take seriously her claim to be a feminist.

   In Europe, Canada, and elsewhere, though (thanks to the First Amendment) not yet in the United States, critics of Islam have been prosecuted. Throughout the West, such critics have been censored or have engaged in self-censorship, resulting in an alarming decline in freedom of speech. (This was the subject of my 2009 book Surrender.) As I write these words, Turkey, a member of NATO whose reputation as an exemplarily civilized and tolerant Muslim country has been destroyed by its current leader, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, was encouraging tens of thousands of military-age men from around the Muslim world to force their way across the Greek border and flood into Europe.

   When I wrote this book, I lived in Oslo; I now live in a small town in the mountains of Norway, a two-hour drive from the capital. If you had told me in 2006 that the Muslim population of Oslo would increase dramatically by the year 2020 (as it has), I’d have believed you; if you had told me that by 2020 women in hijab and even niqab – which covers everything but the eyes – would be a familiar sight in the small town where I now live (which it is), I’d have been surprised.

   The subject of this book, then, is more urgent than ever. Yet there is nothing new under the sun; despite everything that has happened on the Islam front in the years since this book was published, all of these developments come under the heading of “more of the same.” Hence, I believe, this book continues to be, as it was in 2006, a useful introduction and overview of its subject – a subject about which every responsible citizen of a free country, and every loving parent of a free child, should be seriously knowledgeable.  

[holyhellpod]

Holy Hell: 3. Metanarrativity: Who’s the Deleuze and who’s the Guattari in your relationship? aka the analysis no one asked for.

In this ep, we delve into authorship, narrative, fandom and narrative meaning. And somehow, as always, bring it back to Cas and Misha Collins.

(Note: the reason I didn’t talk about Billie’s authorship and library is because I completely forgot it existed until I watched season 13 “Advanced Thanatology” again, while waiting for this episode to upload. I’ll find a way to work her into later episodes tho!)

I had to upload it as a new podcast to Spotify so if you could just re-subscribe that would be great! Or listen to it at these other links.

Please listen to the bit at the beginning about monetisation and if you have any questions don’t hesitate to message me here.

Apple | Spotify | Google

Transcript under the cut!

Warnings: discussions of incest, date rape, rpf, war, 9/11, the bush administration, abuse, mental health, addiction, homelessness. Most of these are just one off comments, they’re not full discussions.

Meta-Textuality: Who’s the Deleuze and who’s the Guattari in your relationship?

In the third episode of Season 6, “The Third Man,” Balthazar says to Cas, “you tore up the whole script and burned the pages.” That is the fundamental idea the writers of the first five seasons were trying to sell us: whatever grand plan the biblical God had cooking up is worth nothing in face of the love these men have—for each other and the world. Sam, Bobby, Cas and Dean will go to any lengths to protect one another and keep people safe. What’s real? What’s worth saving? People are real. Families are worth saving. 

This show plugs free will as the most important thing a person, angel, demon or otherwise can have. The fact of the matter is that Dean was always going to fight against the status quo, Sam was always going to go his own way, and Bobby was always going to do his best for his boys. The only uncertainty in the entire narrative is Cas. He was never meant to rebel. He was never meant to fall from Heaven. He was supposed to fall in line, be a good soldier, and help bring on the apocalypse, but Cas was the first agent of free will in the show’s timeline. Sam followed Lucifer, Dean followed Michael, and John gave himself up for the sins of his children, at once both a God and Jesus figure. But Cas wasn’t modelled off anyone else. He is original. There are definitely some parallels to Ruby, but I would argue those are largely unintentional. Cas broke the mold. 

That’s to say nothing of the impact he’s had on the fanbase, and the show itself, which would not have reached 15 seasons and be able to end the way they wanted it to without Cas and Misha Collins. His back must be breaking from carrying the entire show. 

But what the holy hell are we doing here today? Not just talking about Cas. We’re talking about metanarrativity: as I define it, and for purposes of this episode, the story within a story, and the act of storytelling. We’re going to go through a select few episodes which I think exemplify the best of what this show has to offer in terms of framing the narrative. We’ll talk about characters like Chuck and Becky and the baby dykes in season 10. And most importantly we’ll talk about the audience’s role, our role, in the reciprocal relationship of storytelling. After all, a tv show is nothing without the viewer.

I was in fact introduced to the concept of metanarrativity by Supernatural, so the fact that I’m revisiting it six years after I finished my degree to talk about the show is one of life’s little jokes.

 I’m brushing off my degree and bringing out the big guns (aka literary theorists) to examine this concept. This will be yet another piece of analysis that would’ve gone well in my English Lit degree, but I’ll try not to make it dry as dog shit. 

First off, I’m going to argue that the relationship between the creators of Supernatural and the fans has always been a dialogue, albeit with a power imbalance. Throughout the series, even before explicitly metanarrative episodes like season 10 “Fan Fiction” and season 4 “the monster at the end of this book,” the creators have always engaged in conversations with the fans through the show. This includes but is not limited to fan conventions, where the creators have actual, live conversations with the fans. Misha Collins admitted at a con that he’d read fanfiction of Cas while he was filming season 4, but it’s pretty clear even from the first season that the creators, at the very least Eric Kripke, were engaging with fans. The show aired around the same time as Twitter and Tumblr were created, both of which opened up new passageways for fans to interact with each other, and for Twitter and Facebook especially, new passageways for fans to interact with creators and celebrities.

But being the creators, they have ultimate control over what is written, filmed and aired, while we can only speculate and make our own transformative interpretations. But at least since s4, they have engaged in meta narrative construction that at once speaks to fans as well as expands the universe in fun and creative ways. My favourite episodes are the ones where we see the Winchesters through the lens of other characters, such as the season 3 episode “Jus In Bello,” in which Sam and Dean are arrested by Victor Henriksen, and the season 7 episode “Slash Fiction” in which Dean and Sam’s dopplegangers rob banks and kill a bunch of people, loathe as I am to admit that season 7 had an effect on any part of me except my upchuck reflex. My second favourite episodes are the meta episodes, and for this episode of Holy Hell, we’ll be discussing a few: The French Mistake, he Monster at the end of this book, the real ghostbusters, Fan Fiction, Metafiction, and Don’t Call Me Shurley. I’ll also discuss Becky more broadly, because, like, of course I’ll be discussing Becky, she died for our sins. 

Let’s take it back. The Monster At The End Of This Book — written by Julie Siege and Nancy Weiner and directed by Mike Rohl. Inarguably one of the better episodes in the first five seasons. Not only is Cas in it, looking so beautiful, but Sam gets something to do, thank god, and it introduces the character of Chuck, who becomes a source of comic relief over the next two seasons. The episode starts with Chuck Shurley, pen named Carver Edlund after my besties, having a vision while passed out drunk. He dreams of Sam and Dean larping as Feds and finding a series of books based on their lives that Chuck has written. They eventually track Chuck down, interrogate him, and realise that he’s a prophet of the lord, tasked with writing the Winchester Gospels. The B plot is Sam plotting to kill Lilith while Dean fails to get them out of the town to escape her. The C plot is Dean and Cas having a moment that strengthens their friendship and leads further into Cas’s eventual disobedience for Dean. Like the movie Disobedience. Exactly like the movie Disobedience. Cas definitely spits in Dean’s mouth, it’s kinda gross to be honest. Maybe I’m just not allo enough to appreciate art. 

When Eric Kripke was showrunner of the first five seasons of Supernatural,  he conceptualised the character of Chuck. Kripke as the author-god introduced the character of the author-prophet who would later become in Jeremy Carver’s showrun seasons the biblical God. Judith May Fathallah writes in “I’m A God: The Author and the Writing Fan in Supernatural” that Kripke writes himself both into and out of the text, ending his era with Chuck winking at the camera, saying, “nothing really ends,” and disappearing. Kripke stayed on as producer, continuing to write episodes through Sera Gamble’s era, and was even inserted in text in the season 6 episode “The French Mistake”. So nothing really does end, not Kripke’s grip on the show he created, not even the show itself, which fans have jokingly referred to as continuing into its 16th season. Except we’re not joking. It will die when all of us are dead, when there is no one left to remember it. According to W R Fisher, humans are homo narrans, natural storytellers. The Supernatural fandom is telling a fidelitous narrative, one which matches our own beliefs, values and experiences instead of that of canon. Instead of, at Fathallah says, “the Greek tradition, that we should struggle to do the right thing simply because it is right, though we will suffer and be punished anyway,” the fans have created an ending for the characters that satisfies each and every one of our desires, because we each create our own endings. It’s better because we get to share them with each other, in the tradition of campfire stories, each telling our own version and building upon the others. If that’s not the epitome of mythmaking then I don’t know. It’s just great. Dean and Cas are married, Eileen and Sam are married, Jack is sometimes a baby who Claire and Kaia are forced to babysit, Jody and Donna are gonna get hitched soon. It’s season 17, time for many weddings, and Kevin Tran is alive. Kripke, you have no control over this anymore, you crusty hag. 

Chuck is introduced as someone with power, but not influence over the story, only how the story is told through the medium of the novels. It’s basically a very badly written, non authorised biography, and Charlie reading literally every book and referencing things she should have no knowledge of is so damn creepy and funny. At first Chuck is surprised by his characters coming to life, despite having written it already, and when shown the intimidating array of weapons in Baby’s trunk he gets real scared. Which is the appropriate response for a skinny 5-foot-8 white guy in a bathrobe who writes terrible fantasy novels for a living. 

As far as I can remember, this is the first explicitly metanarrative episode in the series, or at least the first one with in world consequences. It builds upon the lore of Christianity, angels, and God, while teasing what’s to come. Chuck and Sam have a conversation about how the rest of the season is going to play out, and Sam comes away with the impression that he’ll go down with the ship. They touch on Sam’s addiction to demon blood, which Chuck admits he didn’t write into the books, because in the world of supernatural, addiction should be demonised ha ha at every opportunity, except for Dean’s alcoholism which is cool and manly and should never be analysed as an unhealthy trauma coping mechanism. 

Chuck is mostly impotent in the story of Sam and Dean, but his very presence presents an element of good luck that turns quickly into a force of antagonism in the series four finale, “Lucifer Rising”, when the archangel Raphael who defeats Lilith in this episode also kills Cas in the finale. It’s Cas’s quick thinking and Dean’s quick doing that resolve the episode and save them from Lilith, once again proving that free will is the greatest force in the universe. Cas is already tearing up pages and burning scripts. The fandom does the same, acting as gods of their own making in taking canon and transforming it into fan art. The fans aren’t impotent like Chuck, but neither do we have sway over the story in the way that Cas and Dean do. Sam isn’t interested in changing the story in the same way—he wants to kill Lilith and save the world, but in doing so continues the story in the way it was always supposed to go, the way the angels and the demons and even God wanted him to. 

Neither of them are author-gods in the way that God is. We find out later that Chuck is in fact the real biblical god, and he engineers everything. The one thing he doesn’t engineer, however, is Castiel, and I’ll get to that in a minute.

The Real Ghostbusters

Season 5’s “The real ghostbusters,” written by Nancy Weiner and Erik Kripke, and directed by James L Conway, situates the Winchesters at a fan convention for the Supernatural books. While there, they are confronted by a slew of fans cosplaying as Sam, Dean, Bobby, the scarecrow, Azazel, and more. They happen to stumble upon a case, in the midst of the game where the fans pretend to be on a case, and with the help of two fans cosplaying as Sam and Dean, they put to rest a group of homicidal ghost children and save the day. Chuck as the special guest of the con has a hero moment that spurs Becky on to return his affections. And at the end, we learn that the Colt, which they’ve been hunting down to kill the devil, was given to a demon named Crowley. It’s a fun episode, but ultimately skippable. This episode isn’t so much metanarrative as it is metatextual—metatextual meaning more than one layer of text but not necessarily about the storytelling in those texts—but let’s take a look at it anyway.

The metanarrative element of a show about a series of books about the brothers the show is based on is dope and expands upon what we saw in “the monster at the end of this book”. But the episode tells a tale about about the show itself, and the fandom that surrounds it. 

Where “The Monster At The End Of This Book” and the season 5 premiere “Sympathy For The Devil” poked at the coiled snake of fans and the concept of fandom, “the real ghostbusters” drags them into the harsh light of an enclosure and antagonises them in front of an audience. The metanarrative element revolves around not only the books themselves, but the stories concocted within the episode: namely Barnes and Demian the cosplayers and the story of the ghosts. The Winchester brothers’s history that we’ve seen throughout the first five seasons of the show is bared in a tongue in cheek way: while we cried with them when Sam and Dean fought with John, now the story is thrown out in such a way as to mock both the story and the fans’ relationship to it. Let me tell you, there is a lot to be made fun of on this show, but the fans’ relationship to the story of Sam, Dean and everyone they encounter along the way isn’t part of it. I don’t mean to be like, wow you can’t make fun of us ever because we’re special little snowflakes and we take everything so seriously, because you are welcome to make fun of us, but when the creators do it, I can’t help but notice a hint of malice. And I think that’s understandable in a way. Like The relationship between creator and fan is both layered and symbiotic. While Kripke and co no doubt owe the show’s popularity to the fans, especially as the fandom has grown and evolved over time, we’re not exactly free of sin. And don’t get me wrong, no fandom is. But the bad apples always seem to outweigh the good ones, and bad experiences can stick with us long past their due.

However, portraying us as losers with no lives who get too obsessed with this show — well, you know, actually, maybe they’re right. I am a loser with no life and I am too obsessed with this show. So maybe they have a point. But they’re so harsh about it. From wincestie Becky who they paint as a desperate shrew to these cosplayers who threaten Dean’s very perception of himself, we’re not painted in a very good light. 

Dean says to Demian and Barnes, “It must be nice to get out of your mom’s basement.” He’s judging them for deriving pleasure from dressing up and pretending to be someone else for a night. He doesn’t seem to get the irony that he does that for a living. As the seasons wore on, the creators made sure to include episodes where Dean’s inner geek could run rampant, often in the form of dressing up like a cowboy, such as season six “Frontierland” and season 13 “Tombstone”. I had to take a break from writing this to laugh for five minutes because Dean is so funny. He’s a car gay but he only likes one car. He doesn’t follow sports. His echolalia causes him to blurt out lines from his favourite movies. He’s a posse magnet. And he loves cosplay. But he will continually degrade and insult anyone who expresses interest in role play, fandom, or interests in general. Maybe that’s why Sam is such a boring person, because Dean as his mother didn’t allow him to have any interests outside of hunting. And when Sam does express interests, Dean insults him too. What a dick. He’s my soulmate, but I am not going to stop listening to hair metal for him. That’s where I draw the line. 

 Where “the monster at the end of this book” is concerned with narrative and authorship, “the real ghostbusters” is concerned with fandom and fan reactions to the show. It’s not really the best example to talk about in an episode about metanarrativity, but I wanted to include it anyway. It veers from talk of narrative by focusing on the people in the periphery of the narrative—the fans and the author. In season 9 “Metafiction,” Metatron asks the question, who gives the story meaning? The text would have you believe it’s the characters. The angels think it’s God. The fandom think it’s us. The creators think it’s them. Perhaps we will never come to a consensus or even a satisfactory answer to this question. Perhaps that’s the point.

The ultimate takeaway from this episode is that ordinary people, the people Sam and Dean save, the people they save the world for, the people they die for again and again, are what give their story meaning. Chuck defeats a ghost and saves the people in the conference room from being murdered. Demian and Barnes, don’t ask me which is which, burn the bodies of the ghost children and lay their spirits to rest. The text says that ordinary, every day people can rise to the challenge of becoming extraordinary. It’s not a bad note to end on, by any means. And then we find out that Demian and Barnes are a couple, which of course Dean is surprised at, because he lacks object permanence. 

This is no doubt influenced by how a good portion of the transformative fandom are queer, and also a nod to the wincesties and RPF writers like Becky who continue to bottom feed off the wrong message of this show. But then, the creators encourage that sort of thing, so who are the real clowns here? Everyone. Everyone involved with this show in any way is a clown, except for the crew, who were able to feed their families for more than a decade. 

Okay side note… over the past year or so I’ve been in process of realising that even in fandom queers are in the minority. I know the statistic is that 10% of the world population is queer, but that doesn’t seem right to me? Maybe because 4/5 closest friends are queer and I hang around queers online, but I also think I lack object permanence when it comes to straight people. Like I just do not interact with straight people on a regular basis outside of my best friend and parents and school. So when I hear that someone in fandom is straight I’m like, what the fuck… can you keep that to yourself please? Like if I saw Misha Collins coming out as straight I would be like, I didn’t ask and you didn’t have to tell. Okay I’m mostly joking, but I do forget straight people exist. Mostly I don’t think about whether people are gay or trans or cis or straight unless they’ve explicitly said it and then yes it does colour my perception of them, because of course it would. If they’re part of the queer community, they’re my people. And if they’re straight and cis, then they could very well pose a threat to me and my wellbeing. But I never ask people because it’s not my business to ask. If they feel comfortable enough to tell me, that’s awesome.  I think Dean feels the same way. Towards the later seasons at least, he has a good reaction when it’s revealed that someone is queer, even if it is mostly played off as a joke. It’s just that he doesn’t have a frame of reference in his own life to having a gay relationship, either his or someone he’s close to. He says to Cesar and Jesse in season 11 “The Critters” that they fight like brothers, because that’s the only way he knows how to conceptualise it. He doesn’t have a way to categorise his and Cas’s relationship, which is in many ways, long before season 15 “Despair,” harking back even to the parallels between Ruby and Cas in season 3 and 4, a romantic one, aside from that Cas is like a brother to him. Because he’s never had anyone in his life care for him the way Cas does that wasn’t Sam and Bobby, and he doesn’t recognise the romantic element of their relationship until literally Cas says it to him in the third last episode, he just—doesn’t know what his and Cas’s relationship is. He just really doesn’t know. And he grew up with a father who despised him for taking the mom and wife role in their family, the role that John placed him in, for being subservient to John’s wishes where Sam was more rebellious, so of course he wouldn’t understand either his own desires or those of anyone around him who isn’t explicitly shoving their tits in his face. He moulded his entire personality around what he thought John wanted of him, and John says to him explicitly in season 14 “Lebanon”, “I thought you’d have a family,” meaning, like him, wife and two rugrats. And then, dear god, Dean says, thinking of Sam, Cas, Jack, Claire, and Mary, “I have a family.” God that hurts so much. But since for most of his life he hasn’t been himself, he’s been the man he thought his father wanted him to be, he’s never been able to examine his own desires, wants and goals. So even though he’s really good at reading people, he is not good at reading other people’s desires unless they have nefarious intentions. Because he doesn’t recognise what he feels is attraction to men, he doesn’t recognise that in anyone else. 

Okay that’s completely off topic, wow. Getting back to metanarrativity in “The Real Ghostbusters,” I’ll just cap it off by saying that the books in this episode are more a frame for the events than the events themselves. However, there are some good outtakes where Chuck answers some questions, and I’m not sure how much of that is scripted and how much is Rob Benedict just going for it, but it lends another element to the idea of Kripke as author-god. The idea of a fan convention is really cool, because at this point Supernatural conventions had been running for about 4 years, since 2006. It’s definitely a tribute to the fans, but also to their own self importance. So it’s a mixed bag, considering there were plenty of elements in there that show the good side of fandom and fans, but ultimately the Winchesters want nothing to do with it, consider it weird, and threaten Chuck when he says he’ll start releasing books again, which as far as they know is his only source of income. But it’s a fun episode and Dean is a grouchy bitch, so who the holy hell cares?

Season 10 episode “fanfiction” written by my close personal friend Robbie Thompson and directed by Phil Sgriccia is one of the funniest episodes this show has ever done. Not only is it full of metatextual and metanarrative jokes, the entire premise revolves around fanservice, but in like a fun and interesting way, not fanservice like killing the band Kansas so that Dean can listen to “Carry On My Wayward Son” in heaven twice. Twice. One version after another. Like I would watch this musical seven times in theatre, I would buy the soundtrack, I would listen to it on repeat and make all my friends listen to it when they attend my online Jitsi birthday party. This musical is my Hamilton. Top ten episodes of this show for sure. The only way it could be better is if Cas was there. And he deserved to be there. He deserved to watch little dyke Castiel make out with her girlfriend with her cute little wings, after which he and Dean share uncomfortable eye contact. Dean himself is forever coming to terms with the fact that gay people exist, but Cas should get every opportunity he can to hear that it’s super cool and great and awesome to be queer. But really he should be in every episode, all of them, all 300 plus episodes including the ones before angels were introduced. I’m going to commission the guy who edits Paddington into every movie to superimpose Cas standing on the highway into every episode at least once.

“Fan Fiction” starts with a tv script and the words “Supernatural pilot created by Eric Kripke”. This Immediately sets up the idea that it’s toying with narrative. Blah blah blah, some people go missing, they stumble into a scene from their worst nightmares: the school is putting on a musical production of a show inspired by the Supernatural books. It’s a comedy of errors. When people continue to go missing, Sam and Dean have to convince the girls that something supernatural is happening, while retaining their dignity and respect. They reveal that they are the real Sam and Dean, and Dean gives the director Marie a summary of their lives over the last five seasons, but they aren’t taken seriously. Because, like, of course they aren’t. Even when the girls realise that something supernatural is happening, they don’t actually believe that the musical they’ve made and the series of books they’re basing it on are real. Despite how Sam and Dean Winchester were literal fugitives for many years at many different times, and this was on the news, and they were wanted by the FBI, despite how they pretend to be FBI, and no one mentions it??? Did any of the staffwriters do the required reading or just do what I used to do for my 40 plus page readings of Baudrillard and just skim the first sentence of every paragraph? Neat hack for you: paragraphs are set up in a logical order of Topic, Example, Elaboration, Linking sentence. Do you have to read 60 pages of some crusty French dude waxing poetic about how his best friend Pierre wants to shag his wife and making that your problem? Read the first and last sentence of every paragraph. Boom, done. Just cut your work in half. 

The musical highlights a lot of the important moments of the show so far. The brothers have, as Charlie Bradbury says, their “broment,” and as Marie says, their “boy melodrama scene,” while she insinuates that there is a sexual element to their relationship. This show never passed up an opportunity to mention incest. It’s like: mentioning incest 5000 km, not being disgusting 1 km, what a hard decision. Actually, they do have to walk on their knees for 100 miles through the desert repenting. But there are other moments—such as Mary burning on the ceiling, a classic, Castiel waiting for Dean at the side of the highway, and Azazel poisoning Sam. With the help of the high schoolers, Sam and Dean overcome Calliope, the muse and bad guy of the episode, and save the day. What began as their lives reinterpreted and told back to them turns into a story they have some agency over.

In this episode, as opposed to “The Monster At The End Of This Book,” The storytelling has transferred from an alcoholic in a bathrobe into the hands of an overbearing and overachieving teenage girl, and honestly why not. Transformative fiction is by and large run by women, and queer women, so Marie and her stage manager slash Jody Mills’s understudy Maeve are just following in the footsteps of legends. This kind of really succinctly summarises the difference between curative fandom and transformative fandom, the former of which is populated mostly by men, and the latter mostly by women. As defined by LordByronic in 2015, Curative fandom is more like enjoying the text, collecting the merchandise, organising the knowledge — basically Reddit in terms of fandom curation. Transformative fandom is transforming the source text in some way — making fanart, fanfic, mvs, or a musical — basically Tumblr in general, and Archive of our own specifically. Like what do non fandom people even do on Tumblr? It is a complete mystery to me. Whereas Chuck literally writes himself into the narrative he receives through visions, Marie and co have agency and control over the narrative by writing it themselves. 

Chuck does appear in the episode towards the end, his first appearance after five seasons. The theory that he killed those lesbian theatre girls makes me wanna curl up and die, so I don’t subscribe to it. Chuck watched the musical and he liked it and he gave unwarranted notes and then he left, the end.

The Supernatural creative team is explicitly acknowledging the fandom’s efforts by making this episode. They’re writing us in again, with more obsessive fans, but with lethbians this time, which makes it infinitely better. And instead of showing us as potential date rapists, we’re just cool chicks who like to make art. And that’s fucken awesome. 

I just have to note that the characters literally say the word Destiel after Dean sees the actors playing Dean and Cas making out. He storms off and tells Sam to shut the fuck up when Sam makes fun of him, because Dean’s sexuality is NOT threatened he just needs to assert his dominance as a straight hetero man who has NEVER looked at another man’s lips and licked his own. He just… forgets that gay people exist until someone reminds him. BUT THEN, after a rousing speech that is stolen from Rent or Wicked or something, he echoes Marie’s words back, saying “put as much sub into that text as you possibly can.” What does Dean know about subbing, I wonder. Okay I’m suddenly reminded that he did literally go to a kink bar and get hit on by a leather daddy. Oh Dean, the experiences you have as a broad-shouldered, pixie-faced man with cowboy legs. You were born for this role.

Metatron is my favourite villain. As one tumblr user pointed out, he is an evil English literature major, which is just a normal English literature major. The season nine episode “Meta Fiction” written by my main man robbie thompson and directed by thomas j wright, happens within a curious season. Castiel, once again, becomes the leader of a portion of the heavenly host to take down Metatron, and Dean is affected by the Mark Of Cain. Sam was recently possessed by Gadreel, who killed Kevin in Sam’s body and then decided to run off with Metatron. Metatron himself is recruiting angels to join him, in the hopes that he can become the new God. It’s the first introduction of Hannah, who encourages Cas to recruit angels himself to take on Metatron. Also, we get to see Gabriel again, who is always a delight. 

This episode is a lot of fun. Metatron poses questions like, who tells a story and who is the most important person in the telling? Is it the writer? The audience? He starts off staring over his typewriter to address the camera, like a pompous dickhead. No longer content with consuming stories, he’s started to write his own. And they are hubristic ones about becoming God, a better god than Chuck ever was, but to do it he needs to kill a bunch of people and blame it on Cas. So really, he’s actually exactly like Chuck who blamed everything on Lucifer. 

But I think the most apt analogy we can use for this in terms of who is the creator is to think of Metatron as a fanfiction writer. He consumes the media—the Winchester Gospels—and starts to write his own version of events—leading an army to become God and kill Cas. Nevermind that no one has been able to kill Cas in a way that matters or a way that sticks. Which is canon, and what Metatron is trying to do is—well not fanon because it actually does impact the Winchesters’ storyline. It would be like if one of the writers of Supernatural began writing Supernatural fanfiction before they got a job on the show. Which as my generation and the generations coming after me get more comfortable with fanfiction and fandom, is going to be the case for a lot of shows. I think it’s already the case for Riverdale. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t the woman who wrote the bi Dean essay go to work on Riverdale? Or something? I dunno, I have the post saved in my tumblr likes but that is quagmire of epic proportions that I will easily get lost in if I try to find it. 

Okay let me flex my literary degree. As Englund and Leach say in “Ethnography and the metanarratives of modernity,” “The influential “literary turn,” in which the problems of ethnography were seen as largely textual and their solutions as lying in experimental writing seems to have lost its impetus.” This can be taken to mean, in the context of Supernatural, that while Metatron’s writings seek to forge a new path in history, forgoing fate for a new kind of divine intervention, the problem with Metatron is that he’s too caught up in the textual, too caught up in the writing, to be effectual. And this as we see throughout seasons 9, 10 and 11, has no lasting effect. Cas gets his grace back, Dean survives, and Metatron becomes a powerless human. In this case, the impetus is his grace, which he loses when Cas cuts it out of him, a mirror to Metatron cutting out Cas’s grace. 

However, I realise that the concept of ethnography in Supernatural is a flawed one, ethnography being the observation of another culture: a lot of the angels observe humanity and seem to fit in. However, Cas has to slowly acclimatise to the Winchesters as they tame him, but he never quite fit in—missing cues, not understanding jokes or Dean’s personal space, the scene where he says, “We have a guinea pig? Where?” Show him the guinea pig Sam!!! He wants to see it!!! At most he passes as a human with autism. Cas doesn’t really observe humanity—he observes nature, as seen in season 7 “reading is fundamental” and “survival of the fittest”. Even the human acts he talks about in season 6 “the man who would be king” are from hundreds or thousands of years ago. He certainly doesn’t observe popular culture, which puts him at odds with Dean, who is made up of 90 per cent pop culture references and 10 per cent flannel. Metatron doesn’t seek to blend in with humanity so much as control it, which actually is the most apt example of ethnography for white people in the last—you know, forever. But of course the writers didn’t seek to make this analogy. It is purely by chance, and maybe I’m the only person insane enough to realise it. But probably not. There are a lot of cookies much smarter than me in the Supernatural fandom and they’ve like me have grown up and gone to university and gotten real jobs in the real world and real haircuts. I’m probably the only person to apply Englund and Leach to it though.

And yes, as I read this paper I did need to have one tab open on Google, with the word “define” in the search bar. 

Metatron has a few lines in this that I really like. He says: 

“The universe is made up of stories, not atoms.”

“You’re going to have to follow my script.”

“I’m an entity of my word.”

It’s really obvious, but they’re pushing the idea that Metatron has become an agent of authorship instead of just a consumer of media. He even throws a Supernatural book into his fire — a symbolic act of burning the script and flipping the writer off, much like Cas did to God and the angels in season 5. He’s not a Kripke figure so much as maybe a Gamble, Carver or Dabb figure, in that he usurps Chuck and becomes the author-god. This would be extremely postmodern of him if he didn’t just do exactly what Chuck was doing, except worse somehow. In fact, it’s postmodern of Cas to reject heaven’s narrative and fall for Dean. As one tumblr user points out, Cas really said “What’s fate compared to Dean Winchester?”

Okay this transcript is almost 8000 words already, and I still have two more episodes to review, and more things to say, so I’ll leave you with this. Metatron says to Cas, “Out of all of God’s wind up toys, you’re the only one with any spunk.” Why Cas has captured his attention comes down more than anything to a process of elimination. Most angels fucking suck. They follow the rules of whoever puts themselves in charge, and they either love Cas or hate him, or just plainly wanna fuck him, and there have been few angels who stood out. Balthazar was awesome, even though I hated him the first time I watched season 6. He UNSUNK the Titanic. Legend status. And Gabriel was of course the OG who loves to fuck shit up. But they’re gone at this stage in the narrative, and Cas survives. Cas always survives. He does have spunk. And everyone wants to fuck him.  

Season 11 episode 20 “Don’t Call Me Shurley,” the last episode written by the Christ like figure of Robbie Thompson — are we sensing a theme here? — and directed by my divine enemy Robert Singer, starts with Metatron dumpster diving for food. I’m not even going to bother commenting on this because like… it’s supernatural and it treats complex issues like homelessness and poverty with zero nuance. Like the Winchesters live in poverty but it’s fun and cool because they always scrape by but Metatron lives in poverty and it’s funny. Cas was homeless and it was hard but he needed to do it to atone for his sins, and Metatron is homeless and it’s funny because he brought it on himself by being a murderous dick. Fucking hell. Robbie, come on. The plot focuses on God, also known as Chuck Shurley, making himself known to Metatron and asking for Metatron’s opinion on his memoir. Meanwhile, the Winchesters battle another bout of infectious serial killer fog sent by Amara. At the end of the episode, Chuck heals everyone affected by the fog and reveals himself to Sam and Dean. 

Chuck says that he didn’t foresee Metatron trying to become god, but the idea of Season 15 is that Chuck has been writing the Winchesters’ story all their lives. When Metatron tries, he fails miserably, is locked up in prison, tortured by Dean, then rendered useless as a human and thrown into the world without a safety net. His authorship is reduced to nothing, and he is reduced to dumpster diving for food. He does actually attempt to live his life as someone who records tragedies as they happen and sells the footage to news stations, which is honestly hilarious and amazing and completely unsurprising because Metatron is, at the heart of it, an English Literature major. In true bastard style, he insults Chuck’s work and complains about the bar, but slips into his old role of editor when Chuck asks him to. 

The theory I’m consulting for this uses the term metanarrative in a different way than I am. They consider it an overarching narrative, a grand narrative like religion. Chuck’s biography is in a sense most loyal to Middleton and Walsh’s view of metanarrative: “the universal story of the world from arche to telos, a grand narrative encompassing world history from beginning to end.” Except instead of world history, it’s God’s history, and since God is construed in Supernatural as just some guy with some powers who is as fallible as the next some guy with some powers, his story has biases and agendas.  Okay so in the analysis I’m getting Middleton and Walsh’s quotes from, James K A Smith’s “A little story about metanarratives,” Smith dunks on them pretty bad, but for Supernatural purposes their words ring true. Think of them as the BuckLeming of Lyotard’s postmodern metanarrative analysis: a stopped clock right twice a day. Is anyone except me understanding the sequence of words I’m saying right now. Do I just have the most specific case of brain worms ever found in human history. I’m currently wearing my oversized Keith Haring shirt and dipping pretzels into peanut butter because it’s 3.18 in the morning and the homosexuals got to me. The total claims a comprehensive metanarrative of world history make do indeed, as Middleton and Walsh claim, lead to violence, stay with me here, because Chuck’s legacy is violence, and so is Metatron’s, and in trying to reject the metanarrative, Sam and Dean enact violence. Mostly Dean, because in season 15 he sacrifices his own son twice to defeat Chuck. But that means literally fighting violence with violence. Violence is, after all, all they know. Violence is the lens through which they interact with the world. If the writers wanted to do literally anything else, they could have continued Dean’s natural character progression into someone who eschews the violence that stems from intergeneration trauma — yes I will continue to use the phrase intergenerational trauma whenever I refer to Dean — and becomes a loving father and husband. Sam could eschew violence and start a monster rehabilitation centre with Eileen.

This episode of Holy Hell is me frantically grabbing at straws to make sense of a narrative that actively hates me and wants to kick me to death. But the violence Sam and Dean enact is not at a metanarrative level, because they are not author-gods of their own narrative. In season 15 “Atomic Monsters,” Becky points out that the ending of the Supernatural book series is bad because the brothers die, and then, in a shocking twist of fate, Dean does die, and the narrative is bad. The writers set themselves a goal post to kick through and instead just slammed their heat into the bars. They set up the dartboard and were like, let’s aim the darts at ourselves. Wouldn’t that be fun. Season 15’s writing is so grossly incompetent that I believe every single conspiracy theory that’s come out of the finale since November, because it’s so much more compelling than whatever the fuck happened on the road so far. Carry on? Why yes, I think I will carry on, carry on like a pork chop, screaming at the bars of my enclosure until I crack my voice open like an egg and spill out all my rage and frustration. The world will never know peace again. It’s now 3.29 and I’ve written over 9000 words of this transcript. And I’m not done.

Middleton and Walsh claim that metanarratives are merely social constructions masquerading as universal truths. Which is, exactly, Supernatural. The creators have constructed this elaborate web of narrative that they want to sell us as the be all and end all. They won’t let the actors discuss how they really feel about the finale. They won’t let Misha Collins talk about Destiel. They want us to believe it was good, actually, that Dean, a recovering alcoholic with a 30 year old infant son and a husband who loves him, deserved to die by getting NAILED, while Sam, who spent the last four seasons, the entirety of Andrew Dabb’s run as showrunner, excelling at creating a hunter network and romancing both the queen of hell and his deaf hunter girlfriend, should have lived a normie life with a normie faceless wife. Am I done? Not even close. I started this episode and I’m going to finish it.

When we find out that Chuck is God in the episode of season 11, it turns everything we knew about Chuck on its head. We find out in Season 15 that Chuck has been writing the Winchesters’ story all along, that everything that happened to them is his doing. The one thing he couldn’t control was Cas’s choice to rebel. If we take him at his word, Cas is the only true force of free will in the entire universe, and more specifically, the love that Cas had for Dean which caused him to rebel and fall from heaven. — This theory has holes of course. Why would Lucifer torture Lilith into becoming the first demon if he didn’t have free will? Did Chuck make him do that? And why? So that Chuck could be the hero and Lucifer the bad guy, like Lucifer claimed all along? That’s to say nothing of Adam and Eve, both characters the show introduced in different ways, one as an antagonist and the other as the narrative foil to Dean and Cas’s romance. Thinking about it makes my head hurt, so I’m just not gunna. 

So Chuck was doing the writing all along. And as Becky claims in “Atomic Monsters,” it’s bad writing. The writers explicitly said, the ending Chuck wrote is bad because there’s no Cas and everyone dies, and then they wrote an ending where there is no Cas and everyone dies. So talk about self-fulfilling prophecies. Talk about giant craters in the earth you could see from 800 kilometres away but you still fell into. Meanwhile fan writers have the opportunity to write a million different endings, all of which satisfy at least one person. The fandom is a hydra, prolific and unstoppable, and we’ll keep rewriting the ending a million more times.

And all this is not even talking about the fact that Chuck is a man, Metatron is a man, Sam and Dean and Cas are men, and the writers and directors of the show are, by an overwhelming majority, men. Most of them are white, straight, cis men. Feminist scholarship has done a lot to unpack the damage done by paternalistic approaches to theory, sociology, ethnography, all the -ys, but I propose we go a step further with these men. Kill them. Metanarratively, of course. Amara, the Darkness, God’s sister, had a chance to write her own story without Chuck, after killing everything in the universe, and I think she had the right idea. Knock it all down to build it from the ground up. Billie also had the opportunity to write a narrative, but her folly was, of course, putting any kind of faith in the Winchesters who are also grossly incompetent and often fail up. She is, as all author-gods on this show are, undone by Castiel. The only one with any spunk, the only one who exists outside of his own narrative confines, the only one the author-gods don’t have any control over. The one who died for love, and in dying, gave life. 

The French Mistake

Let’s change the channel. Let’s calm ourselves and cleanse our libras. Let’s commune with nature and chug some sage bongs. 

“The French Mistake” is a song from the Mel Brooks film Blazing Saddles. In the iconic second last scene of the film, as the cowboys fight amongst themselves, the camera pans back to reveal a studio lot and a door through which a chorus of gay dancersingers perform “the French Mistake”. The lyrics go, “Throw out your hands, stick out your tush, hands on your hips, give ‘em a push. You’ll be surprised you’re doing the French Mistake.” 

I’m not sure what went through the heads of the Supernatural creators when they came up with the season 6 episode, “The French Mistake,” written by the love of my life Ben Edlund and directed by some guy Charles Beeson. Just reading the Wikipedia summary is so batshit incomprehensible. In short: Balthazar sends Sam and Dean to an alternate universe where they are the actors Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, who play Sam and Dean on the tv show Supernatural. I don’t think this had ever been done in television history before. The first seven seasons of this show are certifiable. Like this was ten years ago. Think about the things that have happened in the last 10 slutty, slutty years. We have lived through atrocities and upheaval and the entire world stopping to mourn, but also we had twitter throughout that entire time, which makes it infinitely worse.

In this universe, Sam and Dean wear makeup, Cas is played by attractive crying man Misha Collins, and Genevieve Padalecki nee Cortese makes an appearance. Magic doesn’t exist, Serge has good ideas, and the two leads have to act in order to get through the day. Sorry man I do not know how to pronounce your name.

Sidenote: I don’t know if me being attracted aesthetically to Misha Collins is because he’s attractive, because this show has gaslighted me into thinking he’s attractive, or because Castiel’s iconic entrance in 2008 hit my developing mind like a torpedo full of spaghetti and blew my fucking brains all over the place. It’s one of life’s little mysteries and God’s little gifts.

Let’s talk about therapy. More specifically, “Agency and purpose in narrative therapy: questioning the postmodern rejection of metanarrative” by Cameron Lee. In this paper, Lee outlines four key ideas as proposed by Freedman and Combs:

Realities are socially constructed

Realities are constituted through language

Realities are organised and maintained through narrative

And there are no essential truths.

Let’s break this down in the case of this episode. Realities are socially constructed: the reality of Sam and Dean arose from the Bush era. Do I even need to elaborate? From what I understand with my limited Australian perception, and being a child at the time, 9/11 really was a prominent shifting point in the last twenty years. As Americans describe it, sometimes jokingly, it was the last time they were really truly innocent. That means to me that until they saw the repercussions of their government’s actions in funding turf wars throughout the middle east for a good chunk of the 20th Century, they allowed themselves to be hindered by their own ignorance. The threat of terrorism ran rampant throughout the States, spurred on by right wing nationalists and gun-toting NRA supporters, so it’s really no surprise that the show Supernatural started with the premise of killing everything in sight and driving around with only your closest kin and a trunk full of guns. Kripke constructed that reality from the social-political climate of the time, and it has wrought untold horrors on the minds of lesbians who lived through the noughties, in that we are now attracted to Misha Collins.

Number two: Realities are constituted through language. Before a show can become a show, it needs to be a script. It’s written down, typed up, and given to actors who say the lines out loud. In this respect, they are using the language of speech and words to convey meaning. But tv shows are not all about words, and they’re barely about scripts. From what I understand of being raised by television, they are about action, visuals, imagery, and behaviours. All of the work that goes into them—the scripts, the lighting, the audio, the sound mixing, the cameras, the extras, the ADs, the gaffing, the props, the stunts, everything—is about conveying a story through the medium of images. In that way, images are the language. The reality of the show Supernatural, inside the show Supernatural, is constituted through words: the script, the journalists talking to Sam, the makeup artist taking off Dean’s makeup, the conversations between the creators, the tweets Misha sends. But also through imagery: the fish tank in Jensen’s trailer, the model poses on the front cover of the magazine, the opulence of Jared’s house, Misha’s iconic sweater. Words and images are the language that constitutes both of these realities. Okay for real, I feel like I’ve only seen this episode max three times, including when I watched it for research for this episode, but I remember so much about it. 

Number three: realities are organised and maintained through narrative. In this universe of the French Mistake, their lives are structured around two narratives: the internal narrative of the show within the show, in which they are two actors on a tv set; and the episode narrative in which they need to keep the key safe and return to their own universe. This is made difficult by the revelation that magic doesn’t work in this universe, however, they find a way. Before they can get back, though, an avenging angel by the name of Virgil guns down author-god Eric Kripke and tries to kill the Winchesters. However, they are saved by Balthazar and the freeze frame and brought back into their own world, the world of Supernatural the show, not Supernatural the show within the show within the nesting doll. And then that reality is done with, never to be revisited or even mentioned, but with an impact that has lasted longer than the second Bush administration.

And number four: there are no essential truths. This one is a bit tricky because I can’t find what Lee means by essential truths, so I’m just going to interpret that. To me, essential truths means what lies beneath the narratives we tell ourselves. Supernatural was a show that ran for 15 years. Supernatural had actors. Supernatural was showrun by four different writers. In the show within a show, there is nothing, because that ceases to exist for longer than the forty two minute episode “The French Mistake”. And since Supernatural no longer exists except in our computers, it is nothing too. It is only the narratives we tell ourselves to sleep better at night, to wake up in the morning with a smile, to get through the day, to connect with other people, to understand ourselves better. It’s not even the narrative that the showrunners told, because they have no agency over it as soon as it shows up on our screens. The essential truth of the show is lost in the translation from creating to consuming. Who gives the story meaning? The people watching it and the people creating it. We all do. 

Lee says that humans are predisposed to construct narratives in order to make sense of the world. We see this in cultures from all over the world: from cave paintings to vases, from The Dreaming to Beowulf, humans have always constructed stories. The way you think about yourself is a story that you’ve constructed. The way you interact with your loved ones and the furries you rightfully cyberbully on Twitter is influenced by the narratives you tell yourself about them. And these narratives are intricate, expansive, personalised, and can colour our perceptions completely, so that we turn into a different person when we interact with one person as opposed to another. 

Whatever happened in season 6, most of which I want to forget, doesn’t interest me in the way I’m telling myself the writers intended. For me, the entirety of season 6 was based around the premise of Cas being in love with Dean, and the complete impotence of this love. He turns up when Dean calls, he agonises as he watches Dean rake leaves and live his apple pie life with Lisa, and Dean is the person he feels most horribly about betraying. He says, verbatim, to Sam, “Dean and I do share a more profound bond.” And Balthazar says, “You’re confusing me with the other angel, the one in the dirty trenchcoat who’s in love with you.” He says this in season 6, and we couldn’t do a fucken thing about it. 

The song “The French Mistake” shines a light on the hidden scene of gay men performing a gay narrative, in the midst of a scene about the manliest profession you can have: professional horse wrangler, poncho wearer, and rodeo meister, the cowboy. If this isn’t a perfect encapsulation of the lovestory between Dean and Cas, which Ben Edlund has been championing from day fucking one of Misha Collins walking onto that set with his sex hair and chapped lips, then I don’t know what the fuck we’re even doing here. What in the hell else could it possibly mean. The layers to this. The intricacy. The agendas. The subtextual AND blatant queerness. The micro aggressions Crowley aimed at Car in “The Man Who Would Be King,” another Bedlund special. Bed Edlund is a fucking genius. Bed Edlund is cool girl. Ben Edlund is the missing link. Bed Edlund IS wikileaks. Ben Edlund is a cool breeze on a humid summer day. Ben Edlund is the stop loading button on a browser tab. Ben Edlund is the perfect cross between Spotify and Apple Music, in which you can search for good playlists, but without having to be on Spotify. He can take my keys and fuck my wife. You best believe I’m doing an entire episode of Holy Hell on Bedlund’s top five. He is the reason I want to get into staffwriting on a tv show. I saw season 4 episode “On the head of a pin” when my brain was still torpedoed spaghetti mush from the premiere, and it nestled its way deep into my exposed bones, so that when I finally recovered from that, I was a changed person. My god, this transcript is 11,000 words, and I haven’t even finished the Becky section. Which is a good transition.

Oh, Becky. She is an incarnation of how the writers, or at least Kripke, view the fans. Watching season 5 “Sympathy for the Devil” live in 2009 was a whole fucking trip that I as a baby gay was not prepared for. Figuring out my sexuality was a journey that started with the Supernatural fandom and is in some aspects still raging against the dying of the light today. Add to that, this conception of the audience was this, like, personification of the librarian cellist from Juno, but also completely without boundaries, common sense, or shame. It made me wonder about my position in the narrative as a consumer consuming. Is that how Kripke saw me, specifically? Was I like Becky? Did my forays into DeanCasNatural on El Jay dot com make me a fucking loser whose only claim to fame is writing some nasty fanfiction that I’ve since deleted all traces of? Don’t get me wrong, me and my unhinged Casgirl friends loved Becky. I can’t remember if I ever wrote any fanfiction with her in it because I was mostly writing smut, which is extremely Becky coded of me, but I read some and my friends and I would always chat about her when she came up. She was great entertainment value before season 7. But in the eyes of the powers that be, Becky, like the fans themselves, are expendable. First they turned her into a desperate bride wannabe who drugs Sam so that he’ll be with her, then Chuck waves his hand and she disappears. We’re seeing now with regards to Destiel, Cas, and Misha Collins this erasure of them from the narrative. Becky says in season 15 “Atomic Monsters” that the ending Chuck writes is bad because, for one, there’s no Cas, and that’s exactly what’s happening to the text post-finale. It literally makes me insane akin to the throes of mania to think about the layers of this. They literally said, “No Cas = bad” and now Misha isn’t even allowed to talk in his Cassona voice—at least at the time I wrote that—to the detriment of the fans who care about him. It’s the same shit over and over. They introduce something we like, they realise they have no control over how much we like it, and then they pretend they never introduced it in the first place. Season 7, my god. The only reason Gamble brought back Cas was because the ratings were tanking the show. I didn’t even bother watching most of it live, and would just hear from my friends whether Cas was in the episodes or not. And then Sera, dear Sera, had the gall to say it was a Homer’s Odyssey narrative. I’m rusty on Homer aka I’ve never read it but apparently Odysseus goes away, ends up with a wife on an island somewhere, and then comes back to Terabithia like it never happened. How convenient. But since Sera Gamble loves to bury her gays, we can all guess why Cas was written out of the show: Cas being gay is a threat to the toxic heteronormativity spouted by both the show and the characters themselves. In season 15, after Becky gets her life together, has kids, gets married, and starts a business, she is outgrowing the narrative and Chuck kills her. The fans got Destiel Wedding trending on Twitter, and now the creators are acting like he doesn’t exist. New liver, same eagles.

I have to add an adendum: as of this morning, Sunday 11th, don’t ask me what time that is in Americaland, Misha Collins did an online con/Q&A thing and answered a bunch of questions about Cas and Dean, which goes to show that he cannot be silenced. So the narrative wants to be told. It’s continuing well into it’s 16th or 17th season. It’s going to keep happening and they have no recourse to stop it. So fuck you, Supernatural.

I did write the start of a speech about representation but, who the holy hell cares. I also read some disappointing Masters theses that I hope didn’t take them longer to research and write than this episode of a podcast I’m making for funsies took me, considering it’s the same number of pages. Then again I have the last four months and another 8 years of fandom fuelling my obsession, and when I don’t sleep I write, hence the 4,000 words I knocked out in the last 12 hours. 

Some final words. Lyotard defines postmodernism, the age we live in, as an incredulity towards metanarratives. Modernism was obsessed with order and meaning, but postmodernism seeks to disrupt that. Modernists lived within the frame of the narrative of their society, but postmodernists seek to destroy the frame and live within our own self-written contexts. Okay I love postmodernist theory so this has been a real treat for me. Yoghurt, Sam? Postmodernist theory? Could I BE more gay? 

Middleton and Walsh in their analysis of postmodernism claim that biblical faith is grounded in metanarrative, and explore how this intersects with an era that rejects metanarrative. This is one of the fundamental ideas Supernatural is getting at throughout definitely the last season, but other seasons as well. The narratives of Good vs Evil, Michael vs Lucifer, Dean vs Sam, were encoded into the overarching story of the show from season 1, and since then Sam and Dean have sought to break free of them. Sam broke free of John’s narrative, which was the hunting life, and revenge, and this moralistic machismo that they wrapped themselves up in. If they’re killing the evil, then they’re not the evil. That’s the story they told, and the impetus of the show that Sam was sucked back into. But this thread unravelled in later seasons when Dean became friends with Benny and the idea that all supernatural creatures are inherently evil unravelled as well. While they never completely broke free of John’s hold over them, welcoming Jack into their lives meant confronting a bias that had been ingrained in them since Dean was 4 years old and Sam 6 months. In the face of the question, “are all monsters monstrous?” the narrative loosens its control. Even by questioning it, it throws into doubt the overarching narrative of John’s plan, which is usurped at the end of season 2 when they kill Azazel by Dean’s demon deal and a new narrative unfolds. John as author-god is usurped by the actual God in season 4, who has his own narrative that controls the lives of Sam, Dean and Cas. 

Okay like for real, I do actually think the metanarrativity in Supernatural is something that should be studied by someone other than me, unless you wanna pay me for it and then shit yeah. It is extremely cool to introduce a biographical narrative about the fictional narrative it’s in. It’s cool that the characters are constantly calling this narrative into focus by fighting against it, struggling to break free from their textual confines to live a life outside of the external forces that control them. And the thing is? The really real, honest thing? They have. Sam, Dean and Cas have broken free of the narrative that Kripke, Carver, Gamble and Dabb wrote for them. The very fact that the textual confession of love that Cas has for Dean ushered in a resurgence of fans, fandom and activity that has kept the show trending for five months after it ended, is just phenomenal. People have pointed out that fans stopped caring about Game of Thrones as soon as it ended. Despite the hold they had over tv watchers everywhere, their cultural currency has been spent. The opposite is true for Supernatural. Despite how the finale of the show angered and confused people, it gains more momentum every day. More fanworks, more videos, more fics, more art, more ire, more merch is being generated by the fans still. The Supernatural subreddit, which was averaging a few posts a week by season 15, has been incensed by the finale. And yours truly happily traipsed back into the fandom snake pit after 8 years with a smile on my face and a skip in my step ready to pump that dopamine straight into my veins babeeeeeeyyyyy. It’s been WILD. I recently reconnected with one of my mutuals from 2010 and it’s like nothing’s changed. We’re both still unhinged and we both still simp for Supernatural. Even before season 15, I was obsessed with the podcast Ride Or Die, which I started listening to in late 2019, and Supernatural was always in the back of my mind. You just don’t get over your first fandom. Actually, Danny Phantom was my first fandom, and I remember being 12 talking on Danny Phantom forums to people much too old to be the target audience of the show. So I guess that hasn’t left me either. And the fondest memories I have of Supernatural is how the characters have usurped their creators to become mythic, long past the point they were supposed to die a quiet death. The myth weaving that the Supernatural fandom is doing right now is the legacy that will endure. 

References

I got all of these for free from Google Scholar! 

Judith May Fathallah, “I’m A God: The Author and the Writing Fan in Supernatural.” 

James K A Smith, “A Little Story About Metanarratives: Lyotard, Religion and Postmodernism Revisited.” 2001.

Cameron Lee, “Agency and Purpose in Narrative Therapy: Questioning the Postmodern Rejection of Metanarrative.” 2004.

Harri Englund and James Leach, “Ethnography and the Meta Narratives of Modernity.” 2000.

https://uproxx.com/filmdrunk/mel-brooks-explains-french-mistake-blazing-saddles-blu-ray/

[sartorialatlantan]

Silver Lining and A Brief Backstory

Whether you’re an optimist or not, anyone, even if only in hindsight, can see the silver lining of a bad situation, circumstance or series of events. When I was 20 years old I ended a three-year relationship with my first serious girlfriend. We had met at 17 or so and it was your classic teenage love story. We were young and foolish and led by a shared faith in evangelical Christianity that I would eventually and happily abandon. We had convinced each other and ourselves that it was ordained by god that we came together and that when the time was right we would get married. To add insult to injury we told nearly everyone we knew about our plans at all of 18 years old, so naturally the sting of embarrassment came with the sting of separation. I don’t need to, nor do I care to go into details of our breakup or what brought it about, but this tiny bit of back-story is crucial to understand the silver lining that would follow. Now that I’m saying it out loud, to call what followed a silver lining doesn’t even really cut the mustard, what followed was the absolute best thing that’s ever happened to me.

It’s safe to assume that anyone reading this has been through a breakup, maybe even safe to assume a bad one or two. We all know how down in the dumps, miserable and depressed and isolated and totally alone you feel when you separate from someone you were literally saying, “I love you” to not one day ago. It’s an awful place to be, whether you’re 20 or 35 or 50 etc. it’s just plain awful. And I imagine it’s existentially worse the older you get because of the looming fear that you’ll be too old to meet someone else before the clock stops. While that may be true at 78, the irrational brain of an 18 or 20 year old will tell them the same thing. So in the wake of my adolescent breakup I drank, a lot. I took up smoking and heavy drinking and gave up on the idea of partnering with someone ever again. Some of this ridiculous thinking goes back to the Christian thing, and apologies now if you take offense so some of what I say about that faith. When you’re 20, and for the last 3-4 to years you not only thought, but believed at your bible thumping core that you were paired with someone else by gods own hand and it ends, well to put it plainly you A. start doubting that there even is a god or B. find it impossible to understand why god would start something and end it. Now in hindsight, it’s really a mixture of A and B and I also now realize that if god is real, his most famous creation to date (us) has a beginning and an ending. It’s also very easy to religiously rationalize everything to fit your made up narrative, kind of like biblically cherry picking in reverse.

I’m not going to go into my exiting the church and Christian faith altogether, that would be too far removed from the topic at hand, but I will say that when I left it, and truly let go of it mentally, it was the most calming and freeing feeling I had had at that point. All it took was squarely asking myself, practically in a mirror, “do your really believe in this, do you REALLY believe in ANY of this?” When I answered “no” I felt a combination of grief and relief; on the one hand I was letting go of what had been the norm to that point and on the other I was free from what rabbi’s refer too as “a wrestling match with god”, and that freedom felt better than any made-up wave of holy spirit baptism ever had. Bottom line, if you’re an evangelical and truly believe that you have a private, gibberish love language with god, don’t mock what the Mormons believe, it’s just as ridiculous. I knew too many Christians in those days who couldn’t see that irony. Some still can’t.

Now back to the story. There I was broken hearted and feeling like life was over at 20, it was time to grow a beard and become a wandering nomad. Maybe I’ll get a motorcycle and seek out an outlaw gang and just ride til' I die. Maybe I’ll head up the east coast and get a job on a boat out of New England. Really all of my ideas involved my look first, and occupation second. Anything involving hand tattoos and a long matted beard would’ve sufficed. But then, some time passed and I would eventually turn 21, which opened up a whole new world, the bar scene. Now, still in the throws of depression, single and not loving it, I proceeded to the bar scene with a new drinking friend named Will in the East Atlanta Village. We drank and socialized all over the village, almost every night too, to excess. We were not, living, laughing or loving as the girls touting faux happiness, post break-up say in their Facebook statuses. There was the Graveyard Tavern, a very large dive bar with something akin to a dance floor and a pool table area. Then the Glenwood that at the time had a horror/cult movie theme down to movie posters laminated under the tabletops. There was My Sisters Room and Mary’s, a lesbian bar and gay bar, separated by a side street and Grant Park Pizza. Then you came to the 5 Spot, which was a dive bar and punk music venue, then across the street from there was the Flatiron, which was the shape you’re picturing. It sat below 13 Roses Tattoo, which for that era in my opinion was the best shop in town. If you took a hard left from there you could walk up to The Earl, a dive bar with pretty damn good food and a solid standing room only music venue in back. And lastly across from there was The East Side Lounge, the perfect spot if you wanted to do cocaine while watching Predator 2 on the TV over the bar. I never did cocaine, but everyone in town knew that’s where you went to score some, or to watch Predator 2 while drinking $2 PBR on draught.

This little village was our spot for nearly a full calendar year, Will and I rarely took anyone else along, because no on else was as equally miserable as us and who needs positive company when you’re binging cheap beer pitchers and smoking a whole pack of cigarettes in one night? Now, to be clear, it was always to the two of us but we were making the attempt, occasionally, to meet women. 20 something, tattooed, smoking, drinking, most likely cocaine doing, women who were 100% not interested; we were suburb boys and you could practically smell it on us, and these were city chicks, with sleeve tattoos, hidden piercings and a palpable hate for their fathers. Maybe I’m adding that last part for effect, but you get the idea. Now that said, in that time span I did manage to meet and get to know a girl or two, I think Will did too but nothing ever really stuck.

Now I’m going to back up, but keep in mind this was all happening by night, most nights of the week, but by day I was still working at the same place I am now, didn’t love it then still not crazy about it today, but that’s a whole other topic. Some days after work, before Will and I would venture to East Atlanta I would go meet up with this piano player I had been introduced to by a former band mate who needed a guitar player capable of on-the-fly melodic riffs to accent his songs. In the band I had been in before, that was literally all I did, so we were a good fit. He would play his latest song for me a few times through headphones and then I’d start “noodling” as they say until I landed on some solid melodic hooks to overlay on what he had already recorded. We had a solid system, and he paid me in pizza and beer and we could smoke cigarettes in the studio. Just for a brief tangent, you have to smoke inside in these situations. If you and your fellow musicians are trying to accomplish something in the studio, but you’re walking outside every 20 minutes to have a dart you’ll never get anything done. So I would listen and noodle and drink and smoke and eventually eat. Once I tapped into a riff he liked we’d build on it together, shape it, shorten it, lengthen it, whatever it needed, then we’d lay it down and repeat. This was a regular thing for me a couple times a week. It went like this, get up, go to work, leave, go home grab my gear, head to the garage studio, record, smoke, eat, drink, leave, drop off the gear, grab Will, and be in the Village by 10pm or so. Then we’d stay til' last call, go home, shower, sleep, wake up, repeat. If you’re doing the math, yes I was driving most of the time, it was stupid and reckless and I’m not proud of it and it was over a decade ago lets just leave it at that and drop it. There’s no one to make amends to for anything from those days, other than a few girls that I probably drunkenly intimidated buy hitting on them too much. Anyways, this was the pattern for the better part of 20 to 21. Now, cut back to my Jesus-y girlfriend from the beginning of the story. To the best of my knowledge she was off in a new circle of friends, living and laughing and loving and meeting new people and I knew for a fact she was dating around. Through this new circle of friends she would eventually meet Kristen, and if you know me, then you know my wife’s name is Kristen, yes the very same Kristen. Kristen was 26 at the time, recently divorced from a total dipshit, we’ll leave it at that, and she too was socializing with a new circle of friends.

To help you keep up with the wild web of who begat who, at this point in time, if I hadn’t separated with my girlfriend when I did a year prior, she wouldn’t have started dating who she did and met the string of people who would eventually introduce her to Kristen, my wife today. Now, for her privacy I won’t name my high school girlfriend so for the story we’ll call her Jane. Jane and Kristen and a large circle of churchy band kids all became friends, though only briefly. Kristen being newly single was introduced to some guys via this circle and Jane specifically introduced her to guy named Steven, possibly to date, though I don’t think they ever did. That said, Kristen and Steven formed a friendship and Kristen soon after parted ways with Jane and the churchy band kids because they were all just A. a little too Jesus-y and B. more than immature to say the least. Now I was peripherally aware of a lot of this via Facebook, doing the creepy ex thing. I didn’t know Kristen, but I had seen her in some photos and she had a killer Audrey Hepburn ribcage tattoo, still does obviously.

So, Kristen and Steven are friendly and attend some of the same bars and house parties and she’s out in the world dating and doing her thing. Kristen would eventually meet Steven’s newest girlfriend, Amy. Amy and Kristen became fast friends and were practically joined at the hip. Kristen and Amy were partying, dive bar hopping, nightclub dancing best friends. Meanwhile, just to take you back to my reality at the same time, I was grumpy binge drinking with Will somewhere in the East Atlanta Village. Now, here’s where it gets fun. Amy has a brother named Chad, who at that time was in a band, Chad worked at a little café/bar with a certain piano player, yes, you guessed it, the one I was working with that year. Now through this maze of people Kristen would eventually meet the same piano player and it would be an understatment to say she was into him. One night I’m in the studio with him and we’re sort of half working, half chatting and he starts telling me about this girl he’s kind of seeing and her Audrey Hepburn tattoo. It was one of those small world funny moments, because I knew who he was talking about from my Facebook stalking, and I knew she was hot, no naturally I was envious. Some time later, he would invite me and Will and Kristen and Amy to watch a band play at the previously mentioned Earl in the East Atlanta Village, I knew it well. This is where I would meet Kristen and where our relationship would ultimately begin. I could write another 6 dozen paragraphs on our early dating relationship and how it all went and maybe I will at some point, but the point of this very long-winded essay is about the silver linings of a bad situation. Now to call this love story and how I would eventually meet my wife that I would have two beautiful and amazing daughters with a silver lining to a high school breakup would be borderline insulting. But realize, at 21, now nearly 22, I was still miserable and alone and thought I would be forever. Then along comes Kristen. Now to recap, I split with Jane, became a miserable person while Kristen was divorcing her first husband from college that she really only married to piss off her parents. Kristen would eventually meet Jane, who would introduce her to Steven, who introduced her to Amy who introduced her to the piano player, who she was infatuated with for a brief moment, who introduced her to me. We’re separated by 6 years in terms of age, come from completely different backgrounds and other than this small cluster of people, had no one in common between us. In a very long-winded, round about way, I owe my heartbreaking high school girlfriend a thank you. I had to experience a terrible breakup, the kind where you don’t ever talk again, go through a shitty, drunken, depressing year and ultimately give up on having any semblance of a happy life to meet my wife, and everything changed after that. I didn’t go to college, I had a small circle of friends and most of them avoided the city. It took this wild culmination of events and people I’ve never met to bring Kristen and I together.

You might be saying that story’s not all that compelling, things like that happen all the time, and you’re not entirely wrong, but that said, I still think there’s something special about it.

The year 2020 has shown me a lot about myself. Once quarantine started I quickly learned how unimportant clothes were. Take a moment to catch your breath. I still love tailoring and will absolutely wear dress clothes again, but when you’re staring down a pandemic, drape and tie space just become less of a concern and are quickly replaced with stocking up of frozen goods and day drinking. I’ve spent the majority of 2020 in Vans and golf polo’s, and I don’t hate it. In this time I’ve found a new passion for the game of golf, I’ve cooked new things, in the early days of lock down I got creative with my photography in ways that wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been home all day. I don’t think any of us knows when this nonsense will be over, 2020 might be entirely wrapped in Covid and it might even bleed into 2021, and by then, most of the world might’ve had it. I know that I don’t want it, and if I am to get it I hope to the god I don’t believe in that it’s mild.

When your 6 year old asks if you’re going to be alive when they’re a grown up in the middle of a pandemic it stings, because the reality is I can’t promise her I’ll be alive tomorrow, let alone 20 years from now, so I lie. And when you lie like that to a child you lie big, I tell her I’ll always be alive, that way we snuff out all worry in her little 6-year-old mind, because those wheels are constantly turning. I was burdened with the reality of death at 4 years old, seeing my 19-year-old cousin dead in a coffin after a motorcycle accident. I will shield the reality of death from my kids as long as possible. Life’s stressful enough already, no reason to start the trauma early. I blame that funeral at 4 almost entirely on my hypochondria. I’m that guy, who feels a leg pain and assumes it’s a blood clot bound for my heart. A pain or weird feeling in my side must be cancer. Naturally the rise of Covid has not been kind to this sick part of my brain. As I write I feel funny, the way you feel when you sleep too long and your limbs feel numb, I’m also hoarse from over doing it with a vaporizer recently trying to relax with a little THC. So naturally the weird feelings and throat tickle are Covid in my mind. If you don’t have anxiety, count yourself lucky.

The thing I keep trying to remind myself of is that it won’t last forever. Time literally fixes everything. It took time to get over being broken up with at 20 and even more time for the stars to align and bring Kristen and I together. It will take time for Covid to sweep the world and end and time further still for the powers that be to develop a safe vaccine. It will take time for society to feel comfortable going out mask-less again; it will take time for supermarkets to feel safe enough to take down all the plexi-glass at the checkout. It will all take time and in the end, if we’re lucky, we’ll see the silver linings that came out of it. New interests, new jobs, new relationships, etc. If I hadn’t found my passion for menswear I would not have eventually reignited my passion for photography. If the quarantine hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have done all the self-portraits I did that ultimately inspired a Hunter S. Thompson theme that lead to my newfound love and interest in golf. The new interest in golf led to new ways to spend time and bond with my in laws and my own family. It’s also the first form of physical activity I’ve done in nearly a decade; all good things.

The only thing I’ve never really been able to draw a connect-the-dots of positively around is my job. I’ve done the same thing for 13 years and I’ve never liked it. It has afforded me the opportunity to do things at times, and the schedule has always been flexible around my personally needs, but I’ve never really liked being here. As I write I’m sitting in an office that I’d rather not be in. If I were single and not a parent I would've left long ago. But the stability of this place and the paycheck keep me here. I’d much rather be taking photos for brands, submitting to publications etc. but there’s way to much financial risk in that. The time for that kind of seat-of-your-pants living is in your 20’s, when you’re a renter with no kids. If I could take photos, write, travel, golf, eat and drink for a living you‘d never hear a complaint. Kristen and I often talk about what we’d do with millions to distract ourselves from what we don’t have, and the stress of the day. She works in a very unforgiving retail environment, more unforgiving now with a pandemic on the rise again in our state. I work in print, for my father. A dying industry with a parent as my superior, what could possibly go wrong? We get along 9 days out of 10, but day 10 is always noteworthy. We bend over backwards for our customers, though I don’ think they care. We once had a 20 years long client say they were thinking about switching to another printer, just to shake things up. This after 20 years of late shifts, miracle timing and total and complete ass kissing. That day I learned, that quality service only matters to a select few, the rest just want to see the bill.

So that’s 2020 so far, new interests popping up, old interests taking a back seat, looking to the past to see the greatness that came out of dark times, hoping the future is as bright as today is, compared to the depths of despair I found myself in at 20. Still thinking there is no god but hopeful for an afterlife of some kind, wondering if there is a god why he’s letting old people who literally hang his picture in their dining rooms suffocate from a wet market virus that our leadership dubbed a hoax in the beginning…I will not go on a political tangent... By the time 2020 wraps I hope to be alive and well, I hope that everyone I know is alive and well too. I hope that Kristen finally lands herself a job in UX, she graduated from her UX academy in March and so naturally the job market has been slim pickings. Beyond that, I hope to find myself doing something other than what I do now at some point. When I dwell for too long about how many hours of my life I’ve spent folding booklets for people who are ultimately going to throw them away I feel myself reaching for the bottle. Bottom line, things aren’t great now, but I hope they get better. The funny thing about that is, according to Buddhists, it’s the act of wanting something, which causes suffering in the first place. So maybe the answer for the shit storm we’re all in today lie’s in the Buddhist teachings. I’m not about to proselytize Buddhism, but what I do know is the first truth as they call it is basically, that “suffering exists” and the second truth is that “desires and ignorance cause the suffering”. So it could be a major over simplification for our current state of affairs, but maybe if we stop wanting a better today and just accept today for what it is, we’ll all suffer a little less. Because whether we’re here for it or not, the sun will rise again and set again. The earth will turn and everything that is happening today will happen again tomorrow. Time fixes everything, and we can’t control it. So pray, meditate, work, golf or buy a motorcycle and head to the nearest New England port and join a boat crew, there’s no telling what kind of crazy we’re all going to wake up to from one day to the next, so to end on a cliché, make the most of today and try focus on the positive, maybe the stars will align and when it all shakes loose, you’ll meet your Kristen.

[ishouldhaveknownbetterdammit]

Christianity and Homosexuality

 So I got my car serviced today and they ended up needing to go get an air filter for me cause they didn’t have one in stock. While I was waiting, I ended up chatting with one of the service techs. I don’t remember how we got there, but at some point she mentioned her girlfriend and then said something to the extent of “I know it’s a sin, but I don’t see why it’s so much more wrong than my mom cheating on my dad...”

To which I said, “You see, I disagree...” Her face kind of went slack, so I continued with, “I don’t think that homosexuality is a sin.”

She seemed so surprised and kinda stumbled a bit before continuing the conversation. You see (and I don’t know whether or not this will surprise most of you), I had already told her that my degree was in Religion/biblical studies and that most of my work since graduating has been with religious groups...and, especially in our area, a pro-lgbt stance is sadly not what’s expected from religious people. 

From there we ended up in a discussion on biblical doctrine in general but much also about how it pertains to homosexuality. From her reaction...I think I’d like to share 2  of the points we talked about on here as well.

(Let me take a moment here to say that I firmly believe that if your religion encourages you to be cruel or hate people, you need a new religion. Even back when I was firmly in the camp of “homosexuality is wrong,” I never agreed with any kind of discrimination. I was in favor of marriage equality because, in the same way that I think religions should be left to practice as they believe, I also think that no religion, including Christianity, should be allowed to use the government to enforce their beliefs. Also, I should point out that this is going to be a discussion on this from a Christian pov. If that’s not your thing, no big deal at all.)

Here goes...

1. Sodom and Gomorrah - This. Genesis 18-19. This is the story that get’s thrown in our faces ALL THE TIME. This is, as they say, the story of when God burned two cities to the ground because he could no longer tolerate their homosexual behavior. Right? Right??

Not exactly. Please consider this passage from Ezekiel 16: - (49)Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy. (50)They were haughty and did detestable things before me. Therefore I did away with them as you have seen. 

Did you catch that? The people of Sodom were horrible. They were themselves wealthy and arrogant and did not use that power and privilege to help those who needed it. And in Genesis we find out that when God sends 2 angels to go check it out and see if it’s as bad as people’s prayers say it is...They try to rape the angels and Lot ends up trying to protect/shelter them. But did you notice what didn’t get said?? “God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah because of same sex couples who loved each other and just wanted to be together.” Nope. That’s not said at all. There are places, such as Jude 7, that do mention the sexual depravity of Sodom...but even those don’t cite the problem specifically as homosexuality so much as promiscuity/depravity in general. Which brings me to my next point...

2. Context: Gosh...how on earth do I condense years and years of study in biblical interpretation into something understandable and short enough for a blog post? *sigh* Look, let me just say that when studying scripture, context is key. The Bible is a product of the time in which it was written, meant to be understood by people who lived thousands of years before us. Not considering context would be like me leaving a note to my husband while I’m out of town to “remember to take the trash out on Wednesday...” and then people find that note 2000 years later and go, “Oh shit! We’ve been taking the trash out of Tuesday! We’re all going to hell!!”

Maybe that example is a bit extreme, but my point is that while the Bible is excellent and there is so much we can learn from it...we need to be VERY careful not to take everything in there literally as a rigid rule meant to be followed exactly for all time. There are many many things in there written as advice for specific situations. We can learn from those, but we need to be careful in how we choose to understand them.

So what does context have to do with sexuality? This. Back in biblical times, the family unit was everything. It’s how you survived. Women needed a husband because they didn’t have their own rights in most cultures. People who had kids and lots of them were the ones who prospered because they had people to tend the land/flocks and carry on their name/legacy. 

So with this society being what it was, men and women were GOING to get married and make as many kids as they could. Any homosexual relationship that existed was either going to be adultery/promiscuity or oftentimes as a part of pagan rituals. Of COURSE in that setting it went against Judeo/Christian teachings.

But things aren’t like that anymore. Our society isn’t built the same way. It’s possible for two same sex people who love each other to live together happily, have kids, and do well for themselves.

...

I know this is a long post, but I know that a lot of my mutuals also come from religious backgrounds and thought this may be a discussion y’all would be interested in. Feel free to add your thoughts. No hate/homophobia/anti-lgbt though. Trust me, anyone in the lgbt community has already been listening to those arguments our whole lives. You’re not going to tell us anything new.

[kingdomofthelogos]

Some Will Love Demons

I enjoy a good monster story, not for the sake of glorifying monsters but because I like to see good triumph over the ugliness of sin. A good monster story can point us to the ugly truth that sin corrupts the world and God’s goodness is truly the antidote to evil. The account of Jesus casting out demons in Matthew 8 is full of monsters. Scripture tells of demons possessing people, townspeople who prefer evil to God, and even people calling Jesus the ruler of demons. Yet, we know that Jesus is not a wicked ruler of demons, and even when people were hostile to His ministry to the point of casting Him out of society, Jesus held firm to His purpose of pulling people out of the way of death and onto the way of life. The unfortunate truth of Scripture is this: that some will love demons over the holiness of God.

Matthew 8:28-33

28 When he came to the other side, to the country of the Gadarenes, two demoniacs coming out of the tombs met him. They were so fierce that no one could pass that way. 29 Suddenly they shouted, “What have you to do with us, Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the time?” 30 Now a large herd of swine was feeding at some distance from them. 31 The demons begged him, “If you cast us out, send us into the herd of swine.” 32 And he said to them, “Go!” So they came out and entered the swine; and suddenly, the whole herd rushed down the steep bank into the sea and perished in the water. 33 The swineherds ran off, and on going into the town, they told the whole story about what had happened to the demoniacs. 34 Then the whole town came out to meet Jesus; and when they saw him, they begged him to leave their neighborhood.

Often townsfolk are depicting as grabbing their pitchforks to hunt down the witches and monsters in their midst. Surprisingly, this is not the case in the Gospel according to St Matthew. The townspeople are perfectly fine having demoniacs in their cemetery and would rather hunt down the man casting out demons than to be liberated from evil. There is a fascinating juxtaposition between Jesus casting out demons and townspeople wanting to cast out Jesus.

Although we do not hear specific words of dialogue from the townspeople in this text, we know that in following chapter of Matthew 9 the pharisees explain Jesus’ power to cast out demons as result of Him being the ruler of demons. We could assume some similar logic is at work here in this text, but I don’t think it is necessary to do so. I think the text says enough in showing that some people simply prefer to hold onto demonic possession rather than find the freedom that God has in store for us. It is not logical to hold onto such misery, but people do it all the time. People often think they know what will be satisfying and fulfilling in life, and only from the perspective of an onlooker can we see that they are they are holding on misery and suffering.  

The townspeople literally prefer demoniacs and the oppression of demons to the healing power of Jesus. They do not want to let God work, and they do not want to let go of the victimhood that defines their society. They do not want aspirations, but to remain in a lowly state. They do not want to reach towards the heights of God because it is easier to remain at the lowest point of existence.

Jesus comes to cast out demons, but people would rather cast Jesus out of polite society. It is much more socially acceptable to have demoniacs in your graveyard than to have the Son of God roll into town and tell the evil to get out. The townspeople come to Jesus begging Him to leave. They are not aggressive like some mobs, but instead this mob is simply too polite to have Jesus’ holiness around. They must come to Jesus and beg Him to leave, because they cannot allow something as just as casting out demons to disrupt the order of polite society. This selection of scripture teaches us a brutal truth that we do not want to hear. Not everyone desires good things in life, and some do not even want goodness to be defined by God. Sometimes people are hostile to righteous change.

Jesus walking along the adventure of His ministry, and it is the demons who come running out to address Him.  It is the demons who start talking to Jesus, if we can even describe their antagonizing as “talking,” it seems to be much more accurate to describe their behavior as “fitting.” The demons come out shrieking like toddlers who have just realized their parents are watching their naughtiness. The demons behave like children about to be busted for playing with a beautiful heirloom that was not a toy for them. They have been caught destroying something valuable that was not theirs to play with, and Jesus does not even have to say a word to them. They convict themselves and betray the truth of their wickedness.

After the demons spew their guilt, Jesus finally speaks to them and the only thing He says is “go.” We can imagine that this looked similar to the scene in High Plains Drifter when Clint Eastwood says “out” to the panicking inn keeper. The inn keepers is sweating at the idea of removing everyone from his hotel, and says “well I just can, ugh, I mean I got eight people living up there in rooms in my hotel and I just can’t, uh, where are they gonna go?” Clint Eastwood, after a pause, stares the man down with an unmoved countenance and firmly replies “out.”

After enduring the panicked fit of the demons, Jesus simply tells them “go.” Evil has been busted and sent away. It cannot remain after Jesus has cast it out.

It is interesting to consider the people that are silent in this account; namely, the demoniacs. We hear from the demons possessing them, we hear from the townspeople, and we here from Jesus; however, we do not have any indication of words spoken by the people who personally experienced possession. We know that Jesus has a conversation with the demons, who crave the way of death and desire any death they can get their hands on, even if they can only take the life away from swine. Sin and chaos love to separate the breath of life from God’s creatures.

The demoniacs are not consulted about their wishes. We might assume that they prefer to be freed from demons just as we might assume that townspeople would desire demons removed from the cemetery; but, as the story goes, we would be wrong this assumption because the townspeople prefer the demons to Jesus. Therefore we shall abstain from assuming anything about those possessed by demons. What we know is that Jesus did not consult them, that He came to them and cast out the demons with a single command. Jesus knows what is best for us more than we do ourselves.

God Wants us to Live on Way of Life

Our Heavenly Father does not want our lives to be centered around the sins and sufferings that marked us while we were on the way of death. God does not want us to hold onto the demonic possession like the townspeople. God wants us to be liberated from sin and chaos.  

Evil likes to attack virtue, and it often does this by calling names and attempting to spread false representation about those who are trying to live as God designed us to live. Being falsely accused of witchcraft is not the same thing as actually pursing black magic. Being called the prince of demons does not make you the prince of demons. There are people who enjoy wickedness and evil, and often evil tries to keep people from finding freedom. People who try to be righteous are called names, falsely accused, and threatened with excommunication if they do not surrender to wickedness.

This makes starting a walk with Christ especially difficult. Sin and chaos are hot after people who are new to the faith, and these are considered easy prey to pull back to the way of death. As believers we must work to fortify our minds against the social pressures of the world. One can argue that of the townspeople in this Scripture are the worst people in the story. At least the demoniacs have the excuse of being outright possessed by demons, but the townspeople have no excuse for their hostility to righteousness.

There is a line of thinking in Christian culture that evil cannot touch you. Biblically this does not hold up. If we read Scripture closely, we find that evil can touch the body but not the soul. Biblically we know that evil cannot take your soul unless you have given your soul over to evil. Quite often we see that evil, whether demons in the story of Matthew 9, or evil acts carried out by people, can cause real harm to those who are innocent and righteous. Ever since the fall of creation, sin and evil have been causing real harm to people, even to the point of death.

The purpose of Jesus’ ministry is to move people from the way of death to the way of life, and this comes at a great cost. It required that the Son of God take on full Human form and endure the suffering of death so that it could be conquered. For believers, it requires a metanoia, a repentance that changes the complete direction of our lives, so that we can live in the holiness that God designed us for. God did not design us to suffer and be possessed by demons, but since the fall into sin the world has been maimed in the horrors of death. The purpose of the Gospel is not to say soft things, and we see that the townspeople are offended by the hurtful truth that the demons need to be cast out. It is painful for them to endure the holiness of God, and they would rather reject it than accept it.

The demons love death, they cannot care for the souls of people, so they must satisfy themselves with separating the breath of life from God’s precious creatures. They are horrific and wicked, and they are petty before the eyes of God. Nonetheless, Christ Jesus is faithful to bless people even when they do not know what blessing is.

Truly, in this text we can see the faithfulness of Christ Jesus at work. Christ is not deterred by name calling or threats of being blacklisted from society. Evil has no power over Jesus, and even as the wicked forces of the world will take joy in seeing Him on the cross, Jesus is showing the world that it is God who has victory over life and death, and it is He who will judge the living and the dead.  

[tearlessrain]

part 2 of me watching Dracula: The Dark Prince and complaining about it the entire time

when we left off, the power ranger villain (who I guess is called the scourge) had kidnapped xena 3.0 (who confusingly may actually be named xena), lucien the roving misogynist is the chosen one, and dracula sits in his castle brooding about how much he doesn’t like strangers even though he forcibly brings them to his home.

anyway, here we are back at the castle of timely thunderclaps, brought to you by playmobile and LED lights.

oooh they just zoomed in on remfield’s face and played some ominous music. he’s secretly plotting something. to be honest I should have picked up on it before because he was super sketchy but I thought it was just bad acting

the scourge has just arrived with an ineffectually struggling xena 3.0, and the flamenco-dancing ceiling angel has opinions about it

I wish I could comment on what just happened but honestly it was completely incomprehensible. I think the takeaway is that the scourge used to be a young boy who helped dracula kill the dudes who killed his wife, but that might have been remfield. the editing is too confusing to tell. also I’m not sure what any of this has to do with xena 3.0

“my friends will come for you, I however will continue to not do shit”

ooh he’s giving her the Edward Cullen Stare™ this poor woman attracts the weirdest guys

“what is you name?” TELL HIM. THE PUBLIC WANTS ANSWERS. WHAT IS YOUR NAME.

TELL HIM. TELL HIM. TELL HIM.

Oh okay it’s Alena, not Xena. Fair enough, at least she has a name now. honestly at first I thought she was the sidekick and esme was the main character.

“go ahead, kill me. free me from this horrible movie”

all right we all know she’s the reincarnation of dracula’s dead wife but sure let’s pretend it’s a mystery

REMFIELD, ESCORT HER TO THE ROYAL WING, AND SEND HER OUR FINEST LESBIANS

meanwhile, lucio and esme get a pep talk from leonardo, the only level headed person on earth, and someone finally mentions that esme and alena are sisters, which maybe should have been established half an hour ago but whatever

let me tell you I did not have high opinions of lucio’s chivalry and honor, but now that his band of roving misogynists has been killed off, he has somehow still managed to disappoint me. 

like I don’t want you to be in this movie either dude but you were the one who made out with a main character in act 1

meanwhile, dracula gestures dramatically at a portrait of his dead wife, which burns his hand for unclear reasons

“are not the women of the castle enough to... sate your appetite?” remfield asks as he, apropos of nothing, stands awkwardly close to help dracula undo his cravat. nevermind he’s not planning anything shady he’s just gay and possessive.

why is this shot so funny to me they’re just having a conversation like this

what the fuck who’s using a hedge trimmer and why is everything pink

oh that was what the director of this movie thinks conveys the concept of a nightmare. okay.

alena looks very confused to be in this room considering she was fully awake and cognizant when she was brought here

they either need to get better cgi or stop showing zoomed out shots of thunderclap castle

meanwhile, some of the ambient lesbians cuddle sensuously. once again, no reason for the scene’s brief presence in the movie is given and we just cut back to alena, who is still just going to chat with remfield.

“you know the stories” “yes but I never believed them to be true” THEN WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING FOR THE ENTIRETY OF ACT 1. WHAT EXACTLY DID YOU THINK THE LIGHT BRINGER WAS FOR, ALENA.

okay alena, zombie alexa already told us all this, you don’t need to repeat the entire prologue story.

“what do you know of love?” “god is love, eveything else is a pale shadow in comparison” well yeah you would think that since you go for guys like lucio.

“god has no power here” so that’s the reason for the ambient lesbians. christian repelling forcefield. sensible security system for a vampire tbh.

okay remfield we get it you’re in love with dracula, chill.

oh of course lucien is a descendant of cain. also I disagree with almost everything he’s said in the entire movie but “please spare me the whole family tree” is a mood.

“there they are, the carpathian mountains”

........ where

“it’s fitting that cain killed his brother with a scythe, he was a farmer, you know” I mean. yes. but he didn’t, it was a rock. he killed him with a rock. and it probably would have been a normal scythe without a magical blood-activated articulated blade propeller on the end. because, you know, he was a farmer. was this his special murder-scythe. I was actually more willing to accept this weapon’s existence before you tried to explain it.

wait apparently if dracula (descended from abel) gets it, its power reverses and it brings the dead back to life. which implies that its default power in the hands of cain’s descendants is to make the living dead. which uh. is also what regular scythes do if you hit someone with them. I’m becoming less and less sold on the magical powers of this thing. 

alena is trying to convince some of the ambient lesbians that dracula is evil and they’re not buying it.

“he’s nice to us! come, I’ll show you!” wait are we finally going to get an explanation about the lesbians. are they taking her to the secret magical lesbian chambers where they have the lesbian meetings.

OH MY GOD I WAS JOKING

there’s like. chipper flute music and they’re all dancing and twirling her around and bewitching her with their lesbian magic

she seems cautiously into it though, which isn’t surprising since her last kiss set a real low bar

apparently he’s only nice to them when they don’t try to seduce his reincarnated wife. I love how he doesn’t look furious so much as exasperated. he’s just like “ugh, this shit again”

also shoutout to the token twinks in the background there, I assume they’re just here for remfield’s benefit

ooo the lesbians do not like remfield, he’s mean to them. I’m calling it now he’s gonna get eaten and not in a fun way.

oh my god there’s a little village comprised entirely of monster/demon slayers

this is literally the town from The Ballad of Edgardo

his name is Andros, son of Cormac the Wolfslayer, a demon hunter from beyond the frozen seas, and after five seconds I already like him better than any other character in this movie. I want a movie that’s just him and Leonardo wandering around hunting demons. that would be a better movie.

“what we are seeking is no ordinary demon... but a vampyr”  

[O M I N O U S  C H I M E]

“lord dracula is as cunnink... as he is stronk.” - leonardo van helsing, my second favorite character

“to be bitten and not drink of dracula’s blood... is a suffering.. without end...................... so! my friend! is this danger a price you are willing to pay? :)” -also leonardo

see look how much fun andros and leonardo are having. this movie would be so much better if lucien wasn’t here being a wet blanket and moping because they won’t give him alcohol

MAKE ANDROS THE CHOSEN ONE. MAKE ANDROS THE CHOSEN ONE. DEPOSE LUCIEN.

cue yet another timely thunderclap. seriously, every time.

“only the lord god can give eternal life! what you’re doing is blasphemy!” “DAMMIT, WHAT ARE WE KEEPING THESE LESBIANS AROUND FOR”

“here try on this ostentatious necklace that belonged to my dead wife, no reason just do it”

and there goes the floaty piano music again, this girl will fall for literally anyone.

so nobody knows where dracula’s castle is, which is weird since it’s huge and has a loud thunderstorm going on for miles around it at all times that constantly lights it up like a beacon. but I mean the entire mountain range it’s rumored to be in is apparently invisible, so who knows.

dracula: I have a loneliness inside my heart

remfield, visibly suffering from his eternally unrequited crush on the only straight vampire in existence: let me guess. miss alena.

ambient lesbians: [twirl and sashay past in the background]

oh noes, the scourge is attacking demon hunter village. I’m sure this will end well for him.

I fucking love andros

so lucien killed the power ranger villain with his scythe of inaccurate biblical allegory, and somehow it hurt dracula. I may never understand what that thing and his relationship to dracula actually is. ah well, he’s dead now.

andros is fine and that’s all that matters.

okay, never before has a movie contained so much concentrated insane bullshit that I had to split it into three parts, but I think that’s what I’m going to do with this one. lucien and esme have run off to go save alena, and the Murder Uncles, sadly, are staying behind to defend the village for when the squeaking goblins return in force

tune in next time to find out whether any of this comes to any sort of logical or sane conclusion. it probably won’t.

[zaxal]

what they say: im fine

what they mean: you know how everyone knows the stop-motion rankin & bass christmas movies? rudolph, santa claus is coming to town, and the little drummer boy?

yeah there's one of those about a donkey named nestor who carried mary across the desert to bethlehem. he has a physical deformity which gives him very very long ears and thus good enough hearing to listen to angels.

and it's like. an absolutely bonkers story on paper, but imo it does the rudolph moral so much better bc literally everyone not biblical makes him miserable. no one asks him to step up to the plate, he's just maneuvered by angels into being in the right place at the right time and mary looks upon him and loves him and trusts him.

but like. in the first 15 minutes, the roman empire sees nestor's ears, seizes all the other young donkeys for the empire and drives them into a blizzard, the owner of the stable throws nestor out in the snow to die, and his mom busts loose to follow him. she lays on top of him and freezes to death instead.

and it's like. who..mst. wrote this. bc baby zax who didn't really comprehend death didn't need that coming at them at 95 mph.

and like. mufasa is one thing bc you see how it happens. the audience sees the betrayal, they're in on scar's plot, they witness the stampede.

but this is just: she's there one scene and the next the narrator is telling us that she gave her life for her son and im realizing as i type this and cry over christian fanfiction that this has probably endeared me to donkeys more than any other piece of media.

anyway the final scene after, presumably, mary, joseph, and jesus seek refuge in egypt is nestor returning to the stable keeper bc that's supposed to be 'home' to him and suddenly everyone loves him including the fuck who tried to kill him and ive been mad about it for 20 years.

this is such a niche fuckin hill to die on, and no one knows what the fuck im talking about but i love the sad donkey & every christmas i want to rescue him from his bad ending and just fuckin steal him. like who would notice? it's a victimless crime.

and yes i took ambien before i made this post but shut up

[errantabbot]

All Saints and Souls: An Address

Within the comparative religious circles in which I run, there’s a turn of phrase common to examining religious practice that I’ve become quite fond of, finding it exceptionally to the point, namely that of the “primal wound of consciousness.” 

In essence, this “primal wound” is a meta-awareness that we are alive, coupled with the understanding that alive-ness itself is inextricably interlinked with death. It’s primal because this dual awareness is a fundamental building block in the very structure of consciousness, and it’s a wound because it predicates dis-ease. 

From time immemorial the response to this primal wound has been to look outside of oneself for a possible solution, be it a grasping for eternity, or a shouting into the cosmos as a plea for understanding; religion as a whole has its raison d’etre rooted entirely in seeking a balm for this primal wound, and as it has evolved, in blunting some of the pointed difficulties that occur in the space between birth and death. There’s no doubt in my mind that our gathering together here each Sunday, and especially today as we obverse All Saints/All Souls Day, is an expression of religion of this sort. Our awareness of death and the losses it leaves in its wake is the usually unspoken, but plainly clear topic of the day. In the Judeo-Christian tradition we’re taught that humanity was created for an eternal life of bliss and ease in deep union with the divine. And yet, we’ve found ourselves, scripture says, subject to death, discomfort, and disunion; an unnatural reality given as result for somehow missing the mark in our former arrangement. Now, whether we approach this literally, allegorically, or even, not much at all, this supposition underlies most of our psyches, and we hope for one version of the biblical reward for faithfulness during our seemingly now fleeting lives, namely entry into heaven upon our death in this world. As a contemplative, I think it’s important that we not let these often subconscious suppositions go unchecked, and in reality, that’s what named days of reflection like this one are for, albeit usually with the intention of reinforcing dogma, and doctrine, rather than for posing question and evoking mysterious uncertainty. And of these two roads, I think that most of you know which one I am inclined to take. As you may remember, I was out of town last weekend traveling to Atlanta to open a new Meditation Monastery, and I distinctly recall the wondrous display of colors that the trees in Kansas City were projecting into the sky both on take-off and landing. It was truly stunning. The irony of fall, is that so many of us celebrate the very thing that cripples our tongues when viewed as a lens to our own experience. We have mazes cut through dead corn fields, falling temperatures that rid us of biting insects for a time, and of course, the color show that is put on especially well by our local foliage. We have fall themed coffee shop drinks, window clings, cupcakes, sprinkles in the shape of dead leaves, and memes galore that really seem to me more as memento mori – festive reminders of life’s transience, than anything else. Perhaps though, most of us don’t view them as such because we have faith that these things are ultimately but a sign of renewal. The trees bud, blossom, and bloom with new foliage, grasses push through the recently frozen ground, the crickets, cicadas, and yes, mosquitos all return. I find that most of us view ourselves similarly, as destined to whether, and destined to return- something of a staunch departure from our usual human lot of viewing ourselves as stewards of nature at best, and at worst, as distinct and separate from it. Alas, in examining such things, cognitive dissonance tends to kick in. After all, it’s not really as though each leaf that falls is really reanimated upon the tree branch, nor the blades of grass, stalks of corn, nor the chirps, buzzes, and bites of the crickets, cicadas, and mosquitos. Each comes in successorship, as part of an intimately interwoven fabric of reality, wherein the fallen leaves serve to nourish the ground with nitrogen and leaf mold that then becomes the nutrients trees use to bloom once again into our familiar spring waves of greenery. Beyond this ecological reality, modern evolutionary science has poked a gaping hole in any literal understanding of the Garden of Eden story. Not only were modern humans not created as finished products, two in number that came to populate the earth, but too humans did not name all of creation in primeval history, rather the creation of primeval history gave rise to humans. Certainly, humans weren’t uniquely created to live in paradise eternally. But we do seem to have evolved uniquely hardwired to seek eternity. Back in 2010 “The Onion” produced a very poignant piece of satire, entitled “Scientists Successfully Teach Gorilla It Will Die Someday,” the opening line of which read: “Tulane University researchers say Quigley is now able to experience the crippling fear of impending death previously only accessible to humans.” Interestingly enough, scientists were non-satirically able to have a discussion about death with Koko, the famed sign-language utilizing gorilla. Koko’s caretaker once showed the gorilla a skeleton and asked, “Is this alive or dead?” Koko signed, “Dead, draped.” “Draped” means “covered up.” Then the caregiver asked, “Where do animals go when they die?” Koko said, “A comfortable hole.” Then she gave a kiss goodbye. I don’t know about you, but I find as much beauty in that short, primatial dispensation as I do in admiring the fall leaves from several thousand feet. It’s simple, it’s raw, and it rings true, no exegesis needed. But, in light of all of this talk about primal wounds, and evolutionary biology, where does that leave religions, saints, and souls? It’s a fair question, and one that I fear not enough theologians are seriously engaging, let alone speaking toward. But, the fact of the matter is, if theology is to remain relevant in our emerging world, it must remain poised and confident to thrust itself into the unknown, as it always did in yonder days. If not more humbled than in the past. Cliff noted last week that this observance of All Saints/All Souls day is one of his favorite in the liturgical calendar. It’s one of mine too. However, I must admit that when I bring photos of my loved ones and ancestors to place upon the altar and reflect upon, I don’t do so out of some hope of praying for the repose of their souls, that is for their rest, tranquility, and ease. I suspect they’re accomplishing that quite well on their own. Rather, I do so to intentionally bask in the fullness of life, the known and the unknown, the coming, and the going, the joy, and the sorrow, and deep appreciation for the whole beautiful mess. I do so to remember- to remember that in the realm of the known, no one really just disappears, or goes away. We just have to turn our gaze inward rather than outward to find them after a certain time, the sad reality being that we so often forget that portion of ourselves and our loved ones while they’re expressed outwardly and visibly. After all, we exist not apart from them, neither metaphorically, nor literally. And so, perhaps humanity does stretch into eternity after all, if not created for eternity, then born into and from its all-transcending stream. In closing, I’m reminded of the most iconic verse of the 13th Century Japanese Zen monk Dogen Kigen who once wrote” “Life and death are of supreme importance. Time swiftly passes by and opportunity is lost. Each of us should strive to awaken. Awaken! Take heed, do not squander your life.” What is that opportunity? What is it that Dogen is inviting us to awaken to? I’d argue that it’s just this. The opportunity for us to reflect on who and what we are, where we come from, where we’re going, and where we fit into the whole Communion of Saints, now and ever. This is the balm of religion, knowing beyond words and intellectual constructs, and remembrance. [Pointing toward the memorial altar:] As the Jewish people so wonderfully put it, “May their memory be for us a blessing.” ~Sunyananda November 11th 2018

[rileygoldsteins]

i’ve literally copy and pasted my app and that’s the best i can do RN!!! pls skip to the second section if you just want to get her personality + feel with judaism ( though, there’s a lot of that in the bio too ) but !!! i’ve love to plot even though riley can def be a muse who your muse hasn’t talked to because she is pretty to herself and antisocial so if you’d like to go with that let me know!! IM JINX i also play rose!!!

❝ In my mind I am eloquent; I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, everything collapses.❞ Riley Goldstein, Margaret Qualley, Almost Eighteen ( Virgo Queen! ), Seventh Year, Hufflepuff, Cis-Female, Halfblood, She/Her

PINTREST: [ x ]

BIOGRAPHY:  ( parental abandonment, mentions of drugs and alcohol. )

When you meet Riley Goldstein, a picturesque childhood in a picturesque suburbia in Virginia is not what you would expect and yet it was exactly what she had. Born on the cusp of summer and fall, Rachel and Christopher were over the moon to have their daughter, Riley Hayes, born on August 28, 2000. Finally, a child to complete the perfect family unit. Maybethey had hoped for a boy despite what science said ( hence the name Riley & a full name for a boy they had prepared ) but, they had a daughter and for the first ten years of her life they pampered her greatly. Trips to the coast every summer to visit his side of the family where Riley was praised for being such a pretty, good girl, and what seemed like infinite love from her father was doled out as long as she was what hewanted her to be. The younger girl was cooperative, it was in her nature it seemed, because she loved seeing her parents happy with each other. As long as Riley stayed within the lines, stayed within Christopher’s lines at least, everything would be well. Even when Riley started to develop a few habits and interests that were off the wall, he brushed them aside as childhood obsessions. Never could he accept his family for what they were which is exactly why he left.

The ugly truth was, Riley was an accident and the picture painted had been a lie – not that Riley knew until then. While she knew they had gotten married young she’d never known how much exactly her mother had given up to be with her father. Rachel Hayes had left her family, forsaken her religion ( as Christopher was a very religious Christian man ), the semi famous Goldstein Wizarding name, and moved down south into this suburbia all with the promise of a family. The biggest thing? Magic. When Christopher left a year before Riley entered school, Riley was forced to grow up and pick up the pieces of a broken lost woman who simply couldn’t find herself in the rubble that was the aftermath of her father leaving. But finding out she was an accident was the least of her worries. No matter how much poetry she wrote trying to figure out her mind, oftentimes thinking she was losing it, something within her was different, something within her felt different.

It took a few months to coax the why from her mother, and truly she was her caretaker. It wasn’t until her 10th birthday when she got the letter from Ilvermony that she realized what exactly was off. When she confronted her mother – her mother just poured everything out to her. Who Riley was, who her family was, what she was doing with her life before she met Christopher. At first, Riley couldn’t believe it – – she’d grown up hiding comics under her bed, hiding anything about the supernatural away. Even if her whole life she had felt a weird pull to these people who didn’t belong in her comics, these freaks, she never in her wildest dreams thought she’d have something in common with them. It all made sense though, and finally the pieces of her life started to come together. Riley knew what she had to do, so at the age of 10, she went with her mother to Wizarding NYC to try to find out more. To try to find the family her mother left behind.

After that, everything fell into place – her family was beyond accepting, even if they gave her shit, more than she’d ever known from her dad’s family and her mom started to get better as she become more true to herself. The family reconciled, helping Riley and Rachel move into a flat in NYC, in Chinatown. Rachel got a job at the ministry as an assistant and with the help of some family members and Riley started to prepare for school Wizarding School. She’d never been more happy in her life. New York City was her home, more than her podunk shitty town ever had, and she felt a freedom that made her wander the city, she felt a freedom to finally be herself. The only issue then? Riley wanted to go to a school far away from everything, because even if New York was her home, she needed to a break from being in the states. A break from all these people who knew who her family was & really, a place that was her own to find her own in the world. Easily, she picked Hogwarts and was delighted when they accepted her no matter how far she was. Hufflepuff was the perfect house for her, even if she wasn’t the most conventional or stereotypical kind of one.

For years, she pushed away a lot of the pain she felt – she figured her pain was her own, it was selfish of her to dwell on it or even think about it when she had this new fantastic life. Only in her poetry would she divulge her feelings, only her poetry knew that she felt inexplicably lost in the world the more she saw it. Around her 14th birthday, she met two boys in school who were a bit older than her but the twins ended up being her half-brothers – as they found they shared a father. A scumbag father who’d also been horrible to them. It was then that Riley wanted to distance herself from her father even more, fiercely signing and writing her last name as Hayes-Goldstein or just Goldstein when she could get away with it.

The thing was, the reminder of her father, the reminder that he was out there ruining more people’s lives, that he was out there spawning more children really intensely messed with Riley’s head. Why wasn’t she good enough for him to stay? Why couldn’t they have been enough? It was stupid, but the thoughts started to consume her and the lost feeling just got bigger. Picking up vices like smoking, smoking pot, drinking beer like she was her own father after a long day of work, anything to escape the feeling that she didn’t really have a place in this world. Not one she could see. What was she even going to do with her life after school? What did she have to offer the world? A loneliness she could not shake slept with her at night like any blanket did, every day felt like she was smothered. Every day there was a new realization that she didn’t know what the hell she wanted to do with her life, and that she didn’t really have a place in the world. Having the family members she does in New York is comforting, but, there’s still a feeling of not quite belonging – no matter how much she loves them.

II. PERSONALITY.

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Daria ( Daria ), Seth Cohen ( The OC ), Veronica Sawyer ( Heathers ), Ron Swanson/Ben Wyatt ( Parks & Rec ), Quentin Coldwater ( The Magicians ),Pam Beasley ( The Office ), Zari Tomaz ( Legends of Tomorrow )

LIKES & INTERESTS: Cult Classics - Movies ( Heathers, Dead Poets Society, Sixteen Candles, Ferris Buellers Day Off, Cruel Intentions, The Breakfast Club, Almost Famous ), Blue raspberry Slushies, Donuts, Judaism, Arctic Monkeys, Lana Del Rey, The Strokes, The Smiths, the color blue, writing poetry, e. e. cummings, art museums, greek mythology, rmemes, exchanging memes with Sahar, Rolling joints on her favorite books, biblical mythology, astronomy, astrology ( she finds it very entertaining in a mocking way and would never admit there’s a small part of her that enjoys it ), Star Wars, black cats, black cats named Boggart, black nail polish, tattoos, carnivals, comic books, ferris wheels, puns, the sea, jellyfish, NPR every morning, going to the beach at twilight, 4 am drives, 5am runs, spliff.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Observant, Cooperative, Strategic, Witty, Intelligent, Resilient, Morally Responsible, Loyal.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Reserved, Pessimistic, Sardonic, Secretive, Curious ( it will get her into trouble ), Awkward, Suspicious.

III. HISTORY / CONNECTION WITH JUDAISM. 

Judaism was once a rarely talked about religion in the Hayes house, in fact, Riley knew barely anything about the religion at all. If she had realized it was taboo instead, it would’ve been something she would’ve dipped her mind into much earlier. The Hayes family were church goers, Sundays, Easter, Christmas, that was the religious practice they followed and had been since Rachel Hayes had forgone her roots in Judaism. Once she married & became Mrs. Christopher Hayes, she lost the part of her that made herher,that connected her to her family, all because of a pregnancy that was unplanned, and a marriage that needed to happen in result of it.

Once Christopher left, Riley dug up old numbers, old things, anything she could find that would bring her mother back to herself. Here, the woman gave so much of herself to her father and Riley felt she needed to get some of her back. Anything would do, anything at all. When Riley found an old Siddur, stuffed in the back of her mother’s side of the closet, she had a pretty good idea of a way to start.

It started with looking at temples in NYC when they finally moved. All the two did was walk around, taking in the city itself. Taking in the fact that there were even so many people in one place as opposed to small town Virginia where they lived. Taking in people coming back synagogue, the dress, and while it was painful at first for her mom, Rachel slowly started to explain to Riley different things, different details about Judaism. Soon, Riley and Rachel learned together and go at least once a month for Saturday evening services as well as for most High Holidays. From then on, the rest of the Goldstein family also invited them to family event after event, Passover, Rosh Hashanah, Hannukah gatherings.  

Riley’s favorite Jewish holiday is Yom Kippur: the day of Atonement. While she knows she had absolutely no control over being born, she does feel she has a lot to atone for. A lot to cleanse from her soul. A lot of regrets, a lot of guilt for the things she’d done and the people she’s not been able to become. Like a failure, failing her family, failing their legacy. Her poetry may be fair game – it’s raw, it’s unforgiving and it’s brutal – to herself & to others. For being what she is, for being something else other than human and purposefully standing by while others cause havoc – she feels she needs to cleanse & atone for that. It’s the day that she for once feels clean, cleansed and not like the figure from Greek mythology: Atlas.

Is your character involved in any summer programs? Do you wish for your character to be a Prefect, Head Student, or a member of the Quidditch team?:

Truthfully, Riley has no clue what she wants to do with her life but she knew that she’d have to do something over the summer for her mother to allow her to stay there for the majority of it. So, after not getting into three of the departments under the Shacklebolt Internship Program, Riley submitted her writing and a desperate application to Obscurus Books Publishing and got a small internship there. She also works in an extension of her cousin Sahar’s great grandfather’s bakery in Diagon Alley.

[skepticraven]

15 Reasons Not To Be a Christian

It's sad that this has to be said but it does because unfortunately, too many people take disagreement as hostility. At least if its an atheist who is doing the disagreement. I do not hate Christians. I don’t think they are all bad people. I harbor no ill will towards them. I just happen to think they are wrong. I get asked why I’m not a Christian a lot so I thought I’d answer the question. I could probably write a small novel on this but this seems like a good start for now. 

1) The concept of Christianity is entirely based on the Bible. We have no original manuscript for it so you have no idea what it said originally. The oldest version we have of the Bible isn’t even in the language that would have been spoken in that part of the middle east and in that time period. 

2) The Bible was supposedly written by a lot of carpenters, shepherds, farmers, fishermen, and similar types of professions. Such people would have been totally illiterate during that time period.

3) Based on the date that the original Bible was supposedly written, the Book spent over a 1000 years being copied, translated, and intentionally altered by hand until the printing press came about in the mid-1400's. You couldn't copy it once without making some error accidentally and it was handled entirely by powerful men with plenty of reason to alter it for personal gain. Churchgoers were often illiterate until the past couple hundred years and mass was given in Latin on top of it back then. So most people would be none the wiser if something had been altered. In fact, we know for sure the Bible has been intentionally altered numerous times. There are literally hundreds of versions of the Bible just in English and thousands of sects of Christianity. 50+ Books were either left out of the Bible or later excluded (some were excluded by Martin Luther and some by Pope Clement VIII). If Christians can’t even get their story straight, why in the hell should I believe it? 

4) The Bible plagiarized stories from numerous pre-existing religions: both monotheistic and polytheistic. For example, the Persian scriptures of the Zoroastrians tell the story of how their god created the world and the first 2 humans in 6 days and then rested on the 7th. The names of these two human beings. Sound familiar? The Zoroastrians also invented the concept of heaven and hell and their art portrays the prophet Zarathustra as being surrounded by the same halo of light in which Christian figures are often depicted. Zarathustra even looks like Jesus before they white-washed Jesus. Chapter 125 of the Egyptian Book of the Dead is the same as the 10 commandments only written in negative confession. The story of the great flood was stolen from The Epic of Gilgamesh- right down to using birds to find dry land and the fact that the boat landed on a mountain.

5) I find it morally contemptible that the Biblically conceived God supposedly gives you enough free will to hang yourself with so that is not really free at all. Love him or burn forever? They'd call that abuse if he were human. And if Christianity is so true, why must they drill it into the heads of children before they have the capacity for critical thought? Its easier to get people to accept extraordinary claims as children. That's just brainwashing 101.

6) I find it morally contemptible that the Biblically conceived God supposedly committed an act of genocide against all firstborn Egyptian sons because he was mad at one guy (the Pharaoh). The whole point of the Pharaoh is that he alone controlled Egypt and why could this God character have not just unilaterally eliminated him with a bolt of lightning? Instead, Christians believe he murdered a bunch of random people and children who had nothing to do with the decision to keep or free the Jews. But then again, Christians also believe this God murdered the entire fucking world in a flood because our "free" will became a pain in the ass. Not just people but also animals. I guess those giraffes were really acting up!

7) The Bible has dozens of current versions and resulted in hundreds of sects of Christianity with wildly varying beliefs. So if they can't agree on what it says, why should anyone else believe it?

8) Most Christians believe in the Christian god because they were born in a country where Christianity is the dominant religion. Most people in India are Hindu because they were born into it too. And the same with Muslims in Iraq. And so on and so forth. If there was any divine truth to Christianity over any other faith, why don’t we see more conversion? Why aren’t non-Christians flocking in? Because it sounds absurd to anyone who hasn’t had this stuff drilled into their heads for their entire life.

9)If you read the Bible, there is actually some pretty sick shit in it besides just the aforementioned genocide. The whole idea of the Bible is that it is supposed to be the divinely inspired word of god. I don’t know why God couldn’t just write his own book but supposedly he told his prophets what he wanted to be written. So if that is true, God is not an entity deserving of my praise or respect. Here are examples of this contemptible god character condoning sexual slavery:   In Numbers 31:17-18, Moses commands his people to kill the men, the children, and any women who aren't virgins. Then tells his people that they may KEEP any woman or girl who is a virgin for themselves. Then in, (Deuteronomy 21:10-14) Moses spells out a ritual to purify a captive virgin before sex. Then in (Leviticus 19:20-22), The Bible tells you that if you bang a slave while engaged to another woman, that you must beat the slave girl and sacrifice a sheep.

10) Either the Bible is bullshit or god sanctions sexism repeatedly. For example: 1 Timothy 2:12, "I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man, she must be silent." 1 Corinthians 14:34-35: “Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but they are commanded to be under obedience as also saith the law.” Colossians 3:18: "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fit in the Lord." Deuteronomy 22:20-21 "If however the charge is true and no proof of the girl’s virginity can be found, she shall be brought to the door of her father’s house and there the men of her town shall stone her to death…” Leviticus 15:19-30 I’m paraphrasing here but it basically says, menstruating women are unclean. Anyone or anything that touches she is unclean.

11) This God character in the Bible also sanctions physical slavery many, many times, not just sexual slavery. Here are a few examples: Ephesians 6:5, "Slaves obey your earthly masters with deep fear and respect." Colossians 3:22: "Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything you do. Try to please them all the time, not just when they are watching you. Serve them sincerely because of your reverent fear of the Lord."

12) Either the Bible is bullshit or the God character in the Bible sanctions murder many, many times.:   (Numbers 16:41-49) In this verse, the Israelites complain that God is killing too many of them. So, God sends a plague that kills 14,000 more of them. (Deuteronomy 17:12) says to kill people who don't listen to priests (Exodus 22:17) Kill witches. (Leviticus 20:13)Kill gays. (Leviticus 20:27) Kill Fortunetellers. (Exodus 21:15) Kill someone who hit a parent. (Proverbs 20:20) and (Leviticus 20:9) Kill people for cursing their parents. (Leviticus 20:10) Kill adulterers (Leviticus 21:9) Kill a priest’s daughter who has sex. (Exodus 22:19) & (Numbers 25:1-9) Kill people of other religions. (2 Chronicles 15:12-13) Kill Nonbelievers (Deuteronomy 13:13-19) Kill the Entire Town if One Person Worships Another God (Deuteronomy 22:20-21) Kill Women Who Are Not Virgins On Their Wedding Night (Leviticus 24:10-16) Kill Blasphemers (Exodus 31:12-15) Kill people who work on the Sabbath (Isaiah 14:21) & (Leviticus 26:21-22) Kill the children of Sinners That’s not even a complete list and it leaves essentially no one alive.

13) God is supposed to be this big divine being who created an entire universe full of billions upon billions of planets and stars. And yet the Bible claims he cares an awful lot about incredibly petty, stupid human things. Here are a few of his downright stupid rules. Don't get a tattoo or a piercing. (Leviticus 19:28) Don't eat Shellfish. (Leviticus 11:10) Don't cut the hair at the sides of your head or clip off the edges of your beard. (Leviticus 19:27) Don't get divorced. (Luke 16:18) Don't wear cloth of blended fabrics. (Leviticus 19:19) Don't eat pork. (Leviticus 11:8) Don't work on Sundays. (31:14-15) Don't have pre-marital sex. (Deuteronomy 22: 20-21) 

14) The Bible contradicts itself all over the place. If the Bible doesn't have any consistency, why would anyone believe it? Again, there are way more examples than I can list here. STATEMENT 1: Genesis 1:26-27 Adam and Eve were created at the same time. CONTRADICTION 1: Genesis 2:7 and 2:21-22 Adam was created first, woman sometime later. STATEMENT 2: Genesis 1:24-27 Animals were created before Adam. CONTRADICTION 2: Genesis 2:7 and 2:19 Animals were created after Adam. STATEMENT 3: Genesis 1:31 God was pleased with his creation. CONTRADICTION 3: Genesis 6:5-6 God was not pleased with his creation. STATEMENT 4: Exodus 20:13 "Thou shalt not kill." CONTRADICTION 4: Look back at #12. I listed a bunch of people the Bible says to kill STATEMENT 5: Genesis 6:19 "And of every living thing of all flesh, two of every sort shalt thou bring into the ark." CONTRADICTION 5: Genesis 7:2 "Of every clean beast thou shalt take to thee by sevens: and of beasts that are not clean by two.

15) There is simply is no evidence for any god, much less the Christian god.  In fact, there is some scientific evidence that debunks biblical stories. Here are a few examples. Darwinian evolution debunks the idea that animals or people were created as they are today. We have archeological evidence of human beings existing long before humans were supposedly created according to the Bible. There is no geologic evidence of a worldwide flood. And even in theory, how did kangaroos get to this ark from Australia? Fly? Millions of species couldn’t have gotten to the ark if they tried. There are an estimated 6.5 million land animal species. That's just land animals. If all this flood water was salt water, it would have killed all the freshwater animals (or vice versa) so Noah would have had to include either all saltwater or all freshwater animals as well. And some species need shallow water to survive so that becomes a problem with a flood that reached the tops of mountains. There is no fucking way all those animals fit on any boat, much less one with the dimensions described in the Bible. Besides, there just is not enough water around to account for the water levels rising above the highest mountaintop. Then Noah supposedly lived to be 950? lol. Come on. People had significantly shorter lifespans in ancient times than they do today for obvious reasons. Only 0.0173% of Americans live to be 100 with the benefits of modern medicine and sanitation. 

Conclusion: I reject Christianity because it does not make sense to me. It's not a phase. It's not teenage rebellion that has stretched into adulthood. It’s definitely not devil worship since I don’t believe in him either. This is just the conclusion I came to after careful contemplation. Nothing more. Nothing less. Hopefully, this was food for thought for someone. As always, I appreciate feedback and thanks for reading!