#mailsack

[biblioklept]

Mail call | Thomas Pynchon

A great shout went up near the doorway, bodies flowed toward a fattish pale young man who’d appeared carrying a leather mailsack over his shoulder. “Mail call,” people were yelling. Sure enough, it was, just like in the army. The fat kid, looking harassed, climbed up on the bar and started calling names and throwing envelopes into the crowd. Fallopian excused himself and joined the…

[fuckyeahthomaspynchon]

A great shout went up near the doorway, bodies flowed toward a fattish pale young man who’d appeared carrying a leather mailsack over his shoulder.

“Mail call,” people were yelling. Sure enough, it was, just like in the army. The fat kid, looking harassed, climbed up on the bar and started calling names and throwing envelopes into the crowd. Fallopian excused himself and joined the others.

Metzger had taken out a pair of glasses and was squinting through them at the kid on the bar. “He’s wearing a Yoyodyne badge. What do you make of that?”

“Some inter-office mail run,” Oedipa said.

“This time of night?”

“Maybe a late shift?” But Metzger only frowned. “Be back,” Oedipa shrugged, heading for the ladies’ room.

On the latrine wall, among lipsticked obscenities, she noticed the following message, neatly indited in engineering lettering:

“Interested in sophisticated fun? You, hubby, girl friends. The more the merrier. Get in touch with Kirby, through WASTE only. Box 7391. L. A.”

WASTE? Oedipa wondered. Beneath the notice, faintly in pencil, was a symbol she’d never seen before, a loop, triangle and trapezoid, thus:

img_5980

It might be something sexual, but she somehow doubted it. She found a pen in her purse and copied the address and symbol in her memo book, thinking: God, hieroglyphics. When she came out Fallopian was back, and had this funny look on his face.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he told them. He had an envelope. Oedipa could see, instead of a postage stamp, the handstruck initials PPS.

“Of course,” said Metzger. “Delivering the mail is a government monopoly. You would be opposed to that.”

Fallopian gave them a wry smile. “It’s not as rebellious as it looks. We use Yoyodyne’s inter-office delivery. On the sly. But it’s hard to find carriers, we have a big turnover. They’re run on a tight schedule, and they get nervous. Security people over at the plant know something’s up. They keep a sharp eye out. De Witt,” pointing at the fat mailman, who was being hauled, twitching, down off the bar and offered drinks he did not want, “he’s the most nervous one we’ve had all year.”

“How extensive is this?” asked Metzger.

“Only inside our San Narciso chapter. They’ve set up pilot projects similar to this in the Washington and I think Dallas chapters. But we’re the only one in California so far. A few of your more affluent type members do wrap their letters around bricks, and then the whole thing in brown paper, and send them Railway Express, but I don’t know . . .”

“A little like copping out,” Metzger sympathized.

“It’s the principle,” Fallopian agreed, sounding defensive. “To keep it up to some kind of a reasonable volume, each member has to send at least one letter a week through the Yoyodyne system. If you don’t, you get fined.” He opened his letter and showed Oedipa and Metzger.

Dear Mike, it said, how are you? Just thought I’d drop you a note. How’s your book coming? Guess that’s all for now. See you at The Scope.

“That’s how it is,” Fallopian confessed bitterly, “most of the time.”

“What book did they mean?” asked Oedipa.

Turned out Fallopian was doing a history of private mail delivery in the U. S., attempting to link the Civil War to the postal reform movement that had begun around 1845. He found it beyond simple coincidence that in of all years 1861 the federal government should have set out on a vigorous suppression of those independent mail routes still surviving the various Acts of ’45, ’47, ’51 and ’55, Acts all designed to drive any private competition into financial ruin. He saw it all as a parable of power, its feeding, growth and systematic abuse, though he didn’t go into it that far with her, that particular night. All Oedipa would remember about him at first, in fact, were his slender build and neat Armenian nose, and a certain affinity of his eyes for green neon.

So began, for Oedipa, the languid, sinister blooming of The Tristero.

[shorif-07]

CBD Dosage & Finding Your "Sweet Spot" - Mailsack

in this segment, We briefly introduce a new member of the team and dive into finding a ‘sweet spot’ with dosing in our mailsack segment.

📻 Tune in to this episode of Mailsack live from our Radio Show: CBD and Dosing for Pets

https://www.understandingcbd.com/cbd-...

Watch Now : 

To know more about CBD and our products,

Visit our website: https://maxandstevens.com/

CBD Dosage & FINDING YOUR "SWEET SPOT"

👉 Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/understandCBD

👉 Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/under…

👉 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/understandi…

👉 LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/company/unde…

[shorif-1]

CBD Dosage & Finding Your "Sweet Spot" - Mailsack

in this segment, We briefly introduce a new member of the team and dive into finding a ‘sweet spot’ with dosing in our mailsack segment.

📻 Tune in to this episode of Mailsack live from our Radio Show: CBD and Dosing for Pets

https://www.understandingcbd.com/cbd-...

Watch Now : 

To know more about CBD and our products,

Visit our website: https://maxandstevens.com/

CBD Dosage & FINDING YOUR "SWEET SPOT"

👉 Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/understandCBD

👉 Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/under…

👉 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/understandi…

👉 LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/company/unde…

[tastydregs]

Ambi deploying parcel sorting robots at OSM warehouses

Ambi Robotics is deploying its parcel-sorting robots at OSM Worldwide’s warehouses in the U.S. Based on the minimum four-year robots-as-a-service (RAAS) deal, the flagship AmbiSort A-Series system will be installed at OSM warehouses in Atlanta, Chicago, and Las Vegas.

The AmbiSort A-Series is a configurable robotic sorting system that uses machine learning to adapt to mixed parcels like polybags, flats and boxes into last-mile mailsacks. The systems are modular and configurable to accept parcels via rolling bin or the new conveyor-fed automated induction system.

AmbiSort is powered by AmbiOS, the company’s proprietary operating system that leverages simulation-to-reality (Sim2Real) artificial intelligence (AI). AmbiOS is based on The Dexterity Network (Dex-Net) project that was developed at UC Berkeley to automate the training of deep neural networks to improve a robot’s ability to grasp various items. Many of Dex-Net’s developers are now working at Ambi Robotics.

According to Ambi Robotics, AmbiSort systems are first designed and trained in simulation, which speeds up training 10,000x faster than teaching algorithms in the physical world.

“At OSM Worldwide, we are always looking for ways to improve our sorting and delivery operations, and we’re excited to partner with Ambi Robotics to empower our workforce with cutting-edge technology across our warehouses,” said James Kelley, president at OSM Worldwide. “With the AmbiSort A-Series systems, we can improve order accuracy and speed to our ecommerce customers while improving efficiency and safety for our warehouse employees amid rising parcel demand.”

Ambi Robotics’ AmbiSort parcel sortation system. | Credit: Ambi Robotics

Ambi Robotics raised a $32 million funding round in October 2022. The company has now raised about $67 million since it was founded in 2018. It closed a $26 million Series A in September 2021.

Ambi said it deployed an additional 60 robots to its U.S. customer base in under 60 days ahead of the 2022 peak holiday season. It said its robotic sorting systems are being used in more than 13 cities across the U.S. Pitney Bowes, a global shipping and mailing company, is another high-profile customer for Ambi. The company’s recently signed a $23 million expansion deal that would bring AmbiSort systems to additional warehouse locations.

Jeff Mahler, co-founder and CTO of Ambi Robotics, will be speaking at the Robotics Summit & Expo, which takes place May 10-11 in Boston. Mahler will be on the panel “Innovation in Robotic Grasping” to discuss emerging approaches to robotic manipulation, including the work being done at Ambi.

    The post Ambi deploying parcel sorting robots at OSM warehouses appeared first on The Robot Report.

[alcalavicci]

(Disclaimer: treat 1950s articles like they’re RPF/fanfiction. This is from 1960, but it still reads very much like a 50s article)

Photoplay Magazine- July 1960

WHY MILLIE PERKINS HAD TO SETTLE FOR A RUNAWAY MARRIAGE by Elaine Blake

When Millie Perkins and Dean Stockwell slipped off to Las Vegas for a secret marriage just before Easter Sunday, people in Hollywood didn't have the nerve to ask them, "But why the runaway? What's all the hush-hush about?" Hardly anyone knew them intimately enough to ask such personal questions. But they wondered plenty. For if Millie and Dean were older, or anyone of Hollywood's multi-divorced-and-married couples, you could more easily imagine them climbing into his three-year-old Chevy or her tiny English job and casually taking off for the Gretna Green Wedding Chapel in Vegas. But Millie and Dean are young! And though the newspaper stories were as brief and uninformative as this secretive couple themselves, you still read seven very romantic little words. "It was the first marriage for each." First marriage! To any girl that's a big-wedding dream woven of satin and lace, perfumed with flowers, set to organ music whispering in a hushed church till it swells triumphantly for a radiant bride and bridegroom. Mostly this is a girl's dream, a magic charm to keep romance alive forever. It's Her Day, her audience smiling and weeping just a little at the lovely vision coming down the aisle to meet her waiting bridegroom.

Millie had no part of the dream. You could understand Dean's not caring for it - many a male goes through the ordeal only because a girl loves a big wedding and he loves his girl. But Dean loves his girl, too. And wouldn't you expect a little girl from Fair Lawn, New Jersey, to want her family around when she says "I do" to the first love of her life? Why, then, did Millie Perkins, with a great big wonderful family - father and mother, four sisters and a brother - who could have made her wedding the most wonderful, exciting day in her life, settle for slipping off to a secret ceremony like a pair of runaways?

They drove up to Las Vegas just before eleven, that Good Friday morning. Millie was wearing a simple little blue dress. Everything about her is always tiny and unfancy, and her wedding outfit was no exception. But, for Millie, this was quite dressed up - a nice change from her eternal blouse-and-skirt-and-high-socks.

THEY WERE MR. AND MRS.

Their first stop was the Gretna Green, one of the many "marrying chapels" in Vegas and one of the nicest. They told the hostess, Mrs. Anderson, what they wanted in the way of a ceremony - a simple one, naturally. Then they headed immediately for the Clark County Courthouse to take out the license. A Las Vegas newspaperman just chanced by a stroke of luck - his - to be in the County Clerk's office. Hopefully, he followed Millie and Dean to the elevator, asking when and where they were getting married.

"No publicity," Dean said flatly. All further tries got the reporter nothing but a brush-off. What frustration! The only newspaperman on the scene and he was getting nowhere. He pleaded plaintively, "I wish you'd help me!" Dean shook his head, took Millie's arm and walked her away without another word.

Back at the Gretna Green, with the license, they found a minister summoned by the management, the Rev. Alan Robertson, pastor of the Church of Christ. The single-ring ceremony didn't take long. Millie

and Dean, alone with their love, seemed completely unaware that there were no attendants for a girl with four sisters, no best man for a boy with an older brother. No mother smiling through tears, no father choking down a lump.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the minister said. They were Mr. and Mrs. Robert Dean Stockwell, looking into each other's eyes as they spoke a Beverly Hills address for the license to be forwarded to after it was duly recorded. Then, they left town - all this within a few hours. Nobody had seen the star of "Diary of Anne Frank" married to the star of "Compulsion" except a stranger, the chapel hostess.

Secrecy? Hollywood says that Millie's idol is Greta Garbo the Sphinx, and that Dean deals curtly with the press like HIS idol, Marlon Brando. Millie's studio got a taste of the same. All they knew about the marriage was what they read in the papers. Their frantic phone calls finally reached Millie after the weekend, and when they asked, pointblank, "Are you married?" she answered, "My personal life is my own."

But is a passion for privacy all that was back of the slip-away marriage? Hollywood thought not. People who wouldn't dream of asking either of them such an outright blunt question, immediately began asking each other more round-about ones. "Why do you suppose they had to run off like that, dodging reporters, and refusing to say if THEY DID or THEY DIDN'T marry?" For a while, there was even a revival of an old rumor - that this celebrated pair of "loners" were actually married more than half-a-year before, when a top movie columnist reported their secret union from "very reliable sources."

Now, this was all some people needed - Millie and Dean refusing to deny or confirm a new report of a new secret marriage - and the old one was stirred to life. Some began insisting, all over again, that they must have been husband and wife the whole time.

If all the uproar and theory doesn't seem to make sense, neither do most rumor binges in small towns where everybody knows everybody - except the rare handful who REFUSE to be known. Actually nothing could be simpler than to explain Millie's and Dean's kind of wedding, once you accept them not merely as two secretive people, but two highly individual ones.

"LITTLE PEOPLE"

Both are what Millie calls "little people" - meaning they make no pretenses and are sturdily against being pushed into any. And before they fell in love, each had a shattering capacity for loneliness. But right there is a nub of difference. For Dean has known, since childhood, what it is to be so apart from others and so hurt by the apartness that he'd die before he'd let it show. That's loneliness, from way back and deep down.

But Millie was never a hermit girl - not until she came to Hollywood. Home in Fair Lawn, in the tree-shaded house full of lively Perkinses, you couldn't be sad unless you worked at it. "A lot of living went on there" she recalls wistfully, "and I was always part of it." Her chief grief was peering into the mirror and deciding she was the one ugly Perkins. She still isn't sure the duckling has, as yet, made it to swan.

That's a tell-tale symptom. The ground isn't firm under Millie's feet because her big breaks came with luck, not the hard work she believes in. When she left the safe nest for New York, fashion modeling fell

into her lap - someone liked photos he saw of her. It spiraled. Twentieth Century-Fox talent scouts, searching the world for a girl to play Anne Frank, also liked Millie's face in a magazine. They chose her

over 10,000 applicants who wanted to be movie stars, when she didn't particularly want to be one. She came to Hollywood looking fourteen, indeed, in dark knee socks, a rumpled skirt and blouse. These are still her favorite kind of clothes - she's indignant when they're called her "Anne Frank costume."

But she came quivering with fear. She was an amateur, a worrier, the pros were watching for her to fall on her face. She never got over her dread of failure. She cried under pressure, she walked alone. But to those on the set who were patient and kind, she was sweetly courteous. Director George Stevens beame an ideal in the place of her papa, the Merchant Marine officer she used to greet rapturously after each sea trip when she was home. Dodie Heath, who became Millie's friend while both were in the "Anne Frank" cast, loved her for the gentleness that many mistook for weakness - till they found she couldn't be stepped on.

Dodie told a writer, "When Millie finds someone who understands her, she gets all excited." Prophetic words. For when she met Dean, they both found understanding. And this he had been groping for all his life. From then on they walked together. They shared the outdoors, on a sailboat, on horseback, anywhere away from people and night clubs. They sprawled in secluded grassy fields and read to each other. And they talked - about everything in both their worlds. Millie even confided how sad it was for a little girl to be an ugly duckling. She didn't care that girls never admit to ugliness, past, present or future.

Anyway, Dean topped her. He said, "It's worse to be such a pretty little boy that the kids you want to play with laugh in your face. You're different - a child actor, and that's a terrible thing to be!" At six, Dean was a stage veteran starting a film career in "Anchors Aweigh." He worked too hard and played too little, till at sixteen he'd completed high school and more than twenty pictures for M-G-M. Then he rebelled.

"I'm through with all this," he told his mother and older brother Guy. "I'm going to college. I don't know what I want to be - but I want to be something." A year at Berkeley, and the "apartness" got under his skin again. He felt he'd always be "that actor" or "that conceited ham." Restless, unfulfilled, he took off for anonymity. As "Rudy Stocker" he wandered to find himself. He did everything from lugging office mailsacks, in New York, to driving railroad spikes in Texas. After a few years, satisfied he could live by the sweat of hard labor, he came back - first to the New York stage, to co-star in "Compulsion," then to Hollywood. And eventually to meet and fall in love with Millie Perkins.

THEY'RE YOUNG - BUT WISE

The mixed-up rebel was a man now, and Millie saw this in him; leaned on him for strength. She worried with him, wept on him, laughed with him, shared his quiet times with music and books, his exciting times in the big outdoors. Dean had been close to other girls, but never one like Millie. He listened to her joys and troubles, comforted and praised her, poured out his own complicated heart to her - and never, never tried to change her.

"This is my girl," he introduced her at his birthday party, where she showed up in the same old kind of skirt and blouse - and the others were all so dressed! He kissed her and said, "My girl looks different from any other - because she IS different." He loves her exactly as she is and doesn't want to change her.

This is the all-accepting love that Millie never wrote her family back home about; they read it for themselves in the columns. Friends said then, "Millie isn't sure how the Perkinses will take it, they being Catholic and the boy Jewish." They described the pictured fragment of the Ten Commandments framed and hanging over Dean's fireplace, and the Torah, the Hebrew Law, among his books.

But if difference of religion finally prompted them to go off to Vegas, secretly, and be married by a Protestant pastor, that's only part of it. The whole story is that Millie and Dean have something together far more important to them then religion, family, career, anybody or anything.

They're young, but wise. They know love is something you can't describe in words that anybody but your own beloved will truly understand. And suppose, not understanding, your family or studio or friends disapprove? They can't stop you, not when you're of legal age. But to two sensitive people, criticism of their best, dearest treasure would be harsh as a rough finger bruising a petal.

No, say the few people who really know Millie Perkins and Dean Stockwell, they took no chances. They thought about how they felt toward each other, and decided it WAS their own and very precious. That was why they ran away - to protect their love.

SEE DEAN IN 20TH'S " SONS AND LOVERS."

-The End -

[iconuk01]

Oh myyyy...

Now, it’s long been known that I have... a bit of a kink. It’s a small thing, harmless fantasy bondage thing, but it’s mine.

And it was, in part, shaped by what I read when i was little. Comics helped, but so did the Hardy Boys books, where Frank and Joe Hardy, our strapping, clean cut, uber-competent heroes were pretty regularly put into perilous predicaments en route to stopping the bad guy.

Frequently tied up, often gagged

Sometimes left to drown with the rising tide...

Sometimes, menaced by lumberjacks

Sometimes threatened with being tattooed against their will by pirate cosplayers

You know, the usual scrapes any couple of teenage brothers might run into.

But those books were a long time ago, and I’ve not kept a regular eye on the series, which has been relaunched several times since my youth and had some graphic novels in the process too

So when I saw a couple of books (as it turns out from 1992) in the local charity shop, I had to wonder if things had changed, and I thought what the hell and picked them up.

Good grief, but if anything, these are even weirder than the ones I grew up with.

Case in point. Hardy Boys Casefiles no 26 “Trouble in the Pipeline”

As you can see, the cover has both of our heroes plummeting from a plane, but the more observant of you might have noticed that only one of them is wearing a parachute (Joe looks, quite rightly, a bit panicked)

Leafing through this little tome, here are a few highlights.

Chapter 2 ends with both boys being having mailsacks thrown over their heads and knocked unconscious with blows to the head.

They wake in Chapter 3 folded up and stuffed into the bags, which have been tied shut and are about to be thrown out of an aeorplane in mid flight.

They escape, but in the process of fighting the guys who did this to them, Joe is knocked unconscious AGAIN and IS thrown bodily out of the plane. Frank grabs a parachute and dives after him, which at least explains the cover.

I’ll leave aside random bear attacks and being strafed by helicopter gunships, because I’m sure that happens to everyone at some point in their lives and note that in Chapter 7, as they attempt to break into a suspect base, our two heroes end up being gassed into unconsciousness. )I think that, so far, all these events have happened in the same day.)

Chapter 8 is where we enter genuine supervillain territory... I mean The Riddler. Blofeld and Jigsaw from the Saw movies territory.. Joe wakes up to find himself strapped into an electric chair (He notes the tight leather bindings have been done very professionaly, with a jaded, almost casual air which is genuinely disturbing in someone who is 17 years old) with wires running under his shirt and around his arms into a complicated looking machnine.

A short blond man in a suit, with a clipboard and an overly polite manner (who would be played by some up and coming Christopher Walken type in the movie version) comes in and starts questioning him, noting that the machine is a very comprehensive lie detector so there’s no point fibbing.

When he is unhappy that Joe is being truthful, but evasive, in his answers, he steps out for a moment and comes back in pushing a gurney, a gurney which has Frank Hardy strapped down to it, his mouth taped shut and some sort of machine strapped to his stomach.

Blond guy then connects some wires from that device to the lie detector and explains that Frank is wired up with plastic explosive and Joe is now, effectively, the detonator. If Joe lies, or gets excited for any reason, the lie detector sends a signal to the explosives and Frank Hardy goes BOOM!

So under threat of indirectly killing his brother, Joe (traditionally the more excitable of the brothers)  has to spill his guts to prevent Franks guts from going all over the walls. I’m all for a little inventively harmless bondage and whimsical deathtraps, but this is some messed up shit!

Even when they’re rescued, Joe has to practically go into a yoga trance to manage to keep calm enough to explain to their rescuers what to disconnect so they don’t kill Frank.in the process. (Though Joe makes up for it by almost shooting Frank with a sub machine gun in Chapter 15)

I don’t know who these kids’ therapist is, but I’ll bet they’re putting their kids through medical school on what they get from the Hardy kids alone.Hey kids, BOOKS!

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 56: Love Letters

“Three’s a crowd.”

So, it turns out time passes in Beach City! Its residents aren’t in a Springfield Limbo where seasons change but ages stay the same, and this opens a whole new realm of possibilities to expand the ongoing narrative of Steven growing up by having him actually grow up. We really shouldn’t take this for granted, considering how easy it is for a cartoon to freeze characters (especially child characters) in time, and honestly my biggest initial takeaway from Love Letters is that it’s the first episode that deals with how the passage of time by itself, rather than a series of events like Steven’s adventures, affects the show and its characters. This is a show where Steven, Lars, and Sadie disappeared for a week and nobody seemed to notice, so yeah, it matters.

The reason time alone is a factor is because we focus on the all-but-forgotten Jamie the Mailman. After a cameo in Mirror Gem/Ocean Gem, Jamie disappears without a trace for thirty episodes. This isn’t remarkable for a side character, especially one whose only other appearance is the first scene of the third episode. Jamie may be sweet and funny in Cheeseburger Backpack, but on a show full of sweet and funny characters he was easily lost in the background.

Well, it turns out his absence for the latter half of Season 1 has an in-universe explanation, one that allows the show to hang a quick lampshade on the common trope of vanishing characters while reintroducing him to those of us that forgot he existed: Jamie was literally gone, looking for his big break in the bright lights and busy streets of the Sunflower State, the big KS itself, home of Dorothy Gale and the Rockin’ Chalkin’ Jayhawks, that’s right, Kansas.

I’m really glad he’s back! Jamie is similar to Ronaldo in his role as a background character and occasional lead whose cluelessness is played for laughs and occasional drama. Both are passionate about self-expression (Jamie through acting, Ronaldo through blogging and the occasional documentary) and show some skill at it, but think themselves masters. However, where Ronaldo fluctuates between funny and grating at the drop of a fedora, Jamie is a consistent force for entertainment; he never reaches the comedic highs of Ronaldo’s A-game, but we never suffer any lows.

The secret, I think, is that Jamie’s core kindness evokes empathy instead of annoyance when he goes off the rails. His silliness doesn’t hurt anyone, and in an episode where he could’ve turned bitter and nasty over romantic rejection, he handles it surprisingly well considering his maturity level in other regards. This reaction may be a thematic necessity to teach Steven and Connie and the audience a generic “honesty is good” lesson, but it sets the tone for Jamie’s fascinating ability to be self-important without being a jerk.

Jamie’s overacting always benefits from Eugene Cordero’s veteran comedy chops, but is amped up even further by Lamar Abrams and Hellen Jo’s delightful brand of hypersilliness (see: Steven and Garnet’s workout in Future Vision, Amethyst’s burial service in Watermelon Steven, all of Rising Tides, Crashing Skies). Jamie’s love letter is zany enough, but actually seeing him write it does wonders to enhance what could have been a simple letter-reading sequence. Even if Jamie didn’t literally write the letter this way, it’s a nice peek into his ridiculous self-image, complete with anime twinkles.

Steven and Connie are classic theatrical meddlers in a classic farce, where love letters gone awry and easily avoidable misunderstandings create melodramatic tension. It’s a nifty twist that they aren’t playing matchmakers despite their resemblance to middlemen like Don Pedro or Dolly Levi, but just want to spare Jamie’s feelings. And I love that Steven, a hero with a weakness for schmaltz, rejects the idea of Jamie and Garnet as a couple even before Garnet does, solidifying that neither the show nor our well-meaning but misguided kids are going in that direction.

(Love Letters also don’t drag out secret of who wrote “Garnet’s” response letter, which further subverts typical farce tropes but probably has more to do with the eleven minute runtime.)

As Jamie says, Steven and Connie are super cute. It’s nice to have them as supporting characters (albeit the characters with the most screen time); we get snippets of them just hanging out in most of their episodes, but this time it doesn’t contrast with more serious drama like Connie’s replacement by a doppelganger or the possible end of their friendship. This is the first full episode of the two kids just being kids since Winter Forecast (oh look, another Jo/Abrams episode), and it’s soon to be followed by Connie’s temporary indoctrination; heavy episodes like Full Disclosure and Sworn to the Sword may be great, but a respite is appreciated.

Fortunately, a calmer (if wackier) tone doesn’t mean Love Letters lacks good character moments. Connie gets a quiet display of her growing emotional intelligence in the back-to-back scenes of Jamie’s admission of multiple rejections and the rewrite of Garnet’s letter. In the first scene, after hearing all about Jamie’s emotionally vulnerable state, she sees no issue with handing him another rejection and has to be stopped by Steven; whether or not ripping off the bandage is the right course of action, Connie’s reaction shows a distinct lack of tact. But in the second scene, she’s the head writer of the revamped letter (using the power of torrid soap opera know-how); even if she and Steven are way off-track in terms of how romance works here, she understands the problem and wants to help.

Little slip-ups and corrections like these do a great job of showing how far Connie has come from Bubble Buddies without losing the realistic awkwardness that makes her so endearing. Her disadvantage to Steven on the emotional intelligence front also continues to even out their relationship, as she schools him in book smarts throughout the series and will soon become a far more capable tactical fighter to his natural talent, a la Katara and Aang. Just because Steven isn’t an idiot and Connie isn’t emotionless doesn’t mean their differences have to go away, and Love Letters is a great example of her lower-key foil duty in action.

Garnet is mostly great as the oblivious, then apathetic subject of Jamie’s affection. Her sexualized emergence from the sea is played for laughs thanks to over-the-top visual effects and Estelle’s exaggerated sultriness. Visually, while her introduction may evoke classic Birth of Venus imagery, the more amusing sight gag can be found in the, erm, interesting positioning of Jamie’s mailsack malebag mailbag as he’s filled with sudden lust:

But back to Garnet. Her instant and insistent dismissal of Jamie may be cold, but it’s fair and faithful to her character: Garnet is locked down on the relationship front, and we’ve seen how little she cares about the feelings of human strangers from her interactions with Kofi (and her general demeanor). She benefits from having little to do with Steven and Connie’s scheming, which makes her another victim of poor communication who gets fed up with what she perceives to be a pushy admirer instead of doubling down on her bluntness to a point that might make her seem mean; it also reinforces how important is to take the feelings of both people involved in a crush into account.

Even so, my biggest/only issue with Love Letters is her final conversation with Jamie, where she dismisses his infatuation as a performance. I guess I get that she’s trying to let him down easier than before and is putting things in a way he understands, but there’s a much better way to differentiate between love and a crush than essentially saying his crush is delusional. As someone who’s had crushes and has been in love, sure, the latter is strong enough to make the former look tame in retrospect. But that doesn’t make infatuation an act, and for a show that’s all about feelings, Steven Universe could do way better at explaining Garnet’s point of view without being condescending about someone’s emotions (especially the emotions of a young audience).

That said, Jamie’s response is somewhat true: local theater, at least, is really solid advice.

Future Vision!

Beyond local theater being in the future, Love Letters gets a nice resolution in Jamie insisting that he’s moved on in I Am My Mom. And then we get to see that, uh, nope, he’s still holding the torch as of Reunited.

Our introduction to Barb is a long time coming, and the fact that she knows Greg telegraphs their low-key and largely off-screen friendship.

If every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have inconsistencies…

Despite Garnet proclaiming that love at first sight doesn’t exist, The Answer more or less shows Ruby and Sapphire’s relationship to be just that. Maybe they spent more time on the surface getting to know each other than it seems, but as per its fairy tale nature, love springs up pretty much immediately. (And it’s great! But maybe don’t have that person be against the notion of instant love.)

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

I enjoy the goofiness here and the dedication to a farcical format for a theatrical character, and as I said, the acknowledgment that time is an actual factor for this show earns some points. But beyond not sticking the landing, and it’s honestly just a little too broad to be a favorite.

Top Fifteen

Steven and the Stevens

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

The Return

Jailbreak

Rose’s Scabbard

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Winter Forecast

On the Run

Warp Tour

Maximum Capacity

The Test

Ocean Gem

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Future Vision

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

No Thanks!

     4. Horror Club      3. Fusion Cuisine      2. House Guest      1. Island Adventure

[biblioklept]

Mail call | Thomas Pynchon

Mail call | Thomas Pynchon

A great shout went up near the doorway, bodies flowed toward a fattish pale young man who’d appeared carrying a leather mailsack over his shoulder.

“Mail call,” people were yelling. Sure enough, it was, just like in the army. The fat kid, looking harassed, climbed up on the bar and started calling names and throwing envelopes into the crowd. Fallopian excused himself and joined the others.

Metzge…

[amazingneurotypicalperson-blog]

Hot.

she was hot, she was so hot I didn't want anybody else to have her, and if I didn't get home on time she'd be gone, and I couldn't bear that- I'd go mad... it was foolish I know, childish, but I was caught in it, I was caught. I delivered all the mail and then Henderson put me on the night pickup run in an old army truck, the damn thing began to heat halfway through the run and the night went on me thinking about my hot Miriam and jumping in and out of the truck filling mailsacks the engine continuing to heat up the temperature needle was at the top HOT HOT like Miriam. leaped in and out 3 more pickups and into the station I'd be, my car waiting to get me to Miriam who sat on my blue couch with scotch on the rocks crossing her legs and swinging her ankles like she did, 2 more stops... the truck stalled at a traffic light, it was hell kicking it over again... I had to be home by 8,8 was the deadline for Miriam. I made the last pickup and the truck stalled at a signal 1/2 block from the station... it wouldn't start, it couldn't start... I locked the doors, pulled the key and ran down to the station... I threw the keys down...signed out... your goddamned truck is stalled at the signal, I shouted, Pico and Western... ...I ran down the hall,put the key into the door, opened it...her drinking glass was there, and a note: sun of a bitch: I waited until 5 after ate you don't love me you sun of a bitch somebody will love me I been wateing all day Miriam I poured a drink and let the water run into the tub there were 5,000 bars in town and I'd make 25 of them looking for Miriam her purple teddy bear held the note as he leaned against a pillow I gave the bear a drink, myself a drink and got into the hot water. Charles Bukowski

[hourlywritingprompts]

Writing prompt of the hour: mailsacks

[theimaginationconnoisseur]

We want to hear from you. Send in your questions , comments and or topics for Jay & Cole. We want to read your mail on the show ! Send them to S7evendaysageek@gmail.com #mailsack #podcasting #7DAG #PodernFamily #podcastcommunity #podcasts #mailbag #7daysageek #monkeypoostudios #podcastcouture #podcastcomments #listenerfeedback #listenerfeedbackline #PodcastingLife #questions #comments #topics #repost #podcasters #podcastersunite Visit monkeypoostudios.com for more info on the many podcasts we have to offer . Find 7 Days A Geek on #iTunes #stitcher #googleplay #libsyn and on our website . Follow us on #Twitter : @7DAGPodcast & @monkeypoostu

[misssarahdee]

she was hot, she was so hot I didn't want anybody else to have her, and if I didn't get home on time she'd be gone, and I couldn't bear that- I'd go mad... it was foolish I know, childish, but I was caught in it, I was caught. I delivered all the mail and then Henderson put me on the night pickup run in an old army truck, the damn thing began to heat halfway through the run and the night went on me thinking about my hot Miriam and jumping in and out of the truck filling mailsacks the engine continuing to heat up the temperature needle was at the top HOT HOT like Miriam. leaped in and out 3 more pickups and into the station I'd be, my car waiting to get me to Miriam who sat on my blue couch with scotch on the rocks crossing her legs and swinging her ankles like she did, 2 more stops... the truck stalled at a traffic light, it was hell kicking it over again... I had to be home by 8,8 was the deadline for Miriam. I made the last pickup and the truck stalled at a signal 1/2 block from the station... it wouldn't start, it couldn't start... I locked the doors, pulled the key and ran down to the station... I threw the keys down...signed out... your goddamned truck is stalled at the signal, I shouted, Pico and Western... ...I ran down the hall,put the key into the door, opened it...her drinking glass was there, and a note: sun of a bitch: I waited until 5 after ate you don't love me you sun of a bitch somebody will love me I been wateing all day Miriam I poured a drink and let the water run into the tub there were 5,000 bars in town and I'd make 25 of them looking for Miriam her purple teddy bear held the note as he leaned against a pillow I gave the bear a drink, myself a drink and got into the hot water.

Charles Bukowski

[mhmmdnadeem]

Infamous Juan Joke

There once was a guy named Juan. He was a really nice guy....didn't beat his wife, didn't beat his kids, didn't beat the aardvark in the backyard. He lived in a small country in South America. Juan lived a simple life, and was simply happy.

One day, he was sitting in a coffeeshop with a few friends, when the topic of the election for mayor came up. One of his friends said 'Hey Juan, why don't you run? You're a really great guy!' Juan smiled and thanked his friends for their kindness, but they were persistant, as they should be...he was a great candidate and a great guy; he didn't beat his wife, or his kids, or the aardvark in the backyard. Juan reluctantly agreed, and posted a few signs out to announce his candidacy; he thought of it as kinda a joke Well, as it turned out, when word got around that Juan was running, his popularity grew fast. 'Wow, Juan is running?' 'What a great guy!' 'I heard he doesn't beat his wife, or his kids!' 'Yeah, nor the aarvark in the backyard!' Well, to nobodies surprise (except Juan), he won by a landslide (the other candidate was Oliver North), and was sworn into office with a very surprised look on his face. Well, he saw that there was do getting out of it, so he decided to do his best.

And his best was quite good. The town prospered like it never had before. The crime for the year consisted of someone dropping a lollipop stick on the sidewalk. He spent 6% of the budget, and donated the rest to the Dum Fiters Relief Fund. The townspeople were ecstatic, and his performance turned a lot of heads. Everyone in the town was thrilled with Juan as mayor; he didn't beat his wife, or his kids, or the aardvark in the backyard. Well, at the end of the year, with his term almost up, Juan was pretty pooped. As he sat in the coffeeshop with his friends, reflecting on the year, one suggested that, despite the town's success, the province was in some financial trouble. 'Heck, with Juan's record, he should be governor!' another smiled. Juan wondered why everyone's eyes lit up suddenly. Within hours the campaign was on. All the ads and posters had the same theme: 'Vote for Juan! He doesn't beat his wife, or his kids, or the aardvark in the backyard!' When election day came, there was no doubt about the winner; Juan had been in the lead since the week he had entered. Governer Juan sat back in his padded chair and went to work once again.

His record was brilliant for the two years he spent as governor. The crime rate fell by 2/3, the budget was balanced, education rose sharply, and the province's Soccer Team sold out every game that Juan attended (he was a big Soccer Buff). The whole country was now buzzing with Juan;s work. Everyone commented how he was such a great guy, how he didn't beat his wife, how he didn't beat his kids, and how he didn't beat the aardvark in the backyard. Then the President was shot. This meant that they needed a new president. Normally, they would turn to the vice-president, except for the fact in this case was that the vice-president was the murderer. Hmm. The Governors got together to decide on a new President for the remaining three years of the term. Each one walked into the room with a mailsack full of letters, all of which has similar messages: 'Juan for President!' 'Let Juan preside as President!' 'How can you not select Juan? He doesn't beat his wife, doesn't beat his kids, and doesn't beat the aardavrk in the backyard? What else do you want?' To make a very long story not quite as long, Juan was quickly named president, and the country was glad he did. The country prospered; new trade agreements were made, old disputes were settled, and there was peace throughout the country. Juan was a national hero. One day Juan came home from work exhausted. He put his briefcase down and plopped down in his easy chair. His mind was racing, but he was exhausted. He couldn't concentrate...pressure from everyone...lobbiests want this...governors want that....everyone wants this and that and acccccckkkkk!!!!!! Juan looked out the window into the backyard. As usual, the aardvark was out there slurping up ants. Wander....wander....sluuuurp! Wander.....wander....sluuuurp! The monotonous repetition snapped something in Juan's mind. A sudden rage built up inside of him, something evil and uncontrollable. He stood Unfortunatelty for Juan, his neighbour heard the CRACKs and quickly moved the telescope from Juan's upstairs window, where his daughter was undressing, down to the yard, and witnessed the brutal attack. He immediately phoned the police, and within hours, Juan was behind bars, the aardvark rushed to the hospital, and the telescope back up to the upstairs window. The country was horrified, and the citizens called for nothing less than the usual penalty given out for this type of crime....death by firing squad. It was granted, and the punishment was to be carried out swiftly. Juan stood there, broken and insane.

The firing squad levied their guns at him. 'Ready.......' 'Aim.........' Suddenly, and without warning, the aardvark leapt from the shadows, aimed at Juan and fired a golf gun. The shot boomed throughout the town, and the shot itself went clear through Juan's heart and out his back.

You may be asking yourself in between sobs what a golf gun is? This in itself is the morale of the story....

The answer...well, I don't know. But it sure made a hole-in-Juan

submitted by /u/survivornerd [link] [comments] from Jokes http://ift.tt/2wMwgiu via IFTTT

[brooklynlocalnews]

P&T Mailsack, pt. 2: Where in the world is Andrea Bargnani?

P&T Mailsack, pt. 2: Where in the world is Andrea Bargnani?

More mail! Yesterday in part one we looked at the upcoming season, the aftermath of abolishing hand-checking, and whether “F*** Paul Pierce!” is sustainable long-term. Let’s dive in to the rest of the mailbag. What can 170 inches of Sevilla bigs do for you? Prezs2ReprsntMe writes:What defensive skills/habits do you think are the most important for Kristaps Porzingis & Willy [Hernangomez] to…