#my family watch my social media to literally make sure i’m abiding

[natsukaishii]

twt if i see one more “zhongli and tighnari’s eng vas are zionists don’t support them” tweet i’m deleting the app

[mrslilyrogers]

Second Chances

Sequel to Not Enough (could be read as a standalone)

Pairing: Thor x Reader, OC x Reader

Summary: Years after Thor left you for Jane, he regrets his decision. While he trudged through life, you moved on, finding happiness until a chance encounter sees you both reconnected and he meets an unexpected surprise. 

Author’s note: I’m so sorry it took so long to update! Really trying my best to write but the words just keep eluding me. I was hoping I could wrap the story up here but looks like I’m making a next chapter, which would be the final one. 

You hurriedly pushed the cart in front of you with one hand as you shoved a bag of tomatoes onto it with the other, half-jogging to follow the little boy in front of you who was bouncing with energy, his imagination getting the best of him.

“Harry, stop! What did I say about running?” you warned your seven year old son who was now battling an invisible force with his shield, pretending to be his favorite superhero. He turned back to you with a mischievous laugh before zooming off, the face he just made instantly reminding you of his father and what once would have made you cry to remember was nothing but a distant, hollow memory now. Just another fact of life that happened to you, a fact that you’ve fully accepted and embraced, the very fact that made you who you were today. Stronger. Better. Happier.

The first few years had been hell, you literally saw him everywhere you went. From social media and TV to the billboards and posters strewn on the streets, it had felt like you would never be able to escape him. Even your happiness at seeing your son for the first time had been stabbed by your longing for Thor, longing for the family you once thought you would’ve had. But slowly and surely, over the years, you began to heal. The likeness and little quirks Harry inherited from his father no longer bothered you. That didn’t matter anymore, he was yours and you were a family. It didn’t matter that Thor’s smile was always written on Harry’s face or his booming laughter always echoed from Harry’s lips. You supposed it all came down to the godly Asgardian blood pumping in his veins. And that was something you didn’t even really want to dwell on now.

“Harry! If you don’t get back here, I’m putting you in this cart!” You shrieked which immediately had him backpedaling.

“Mom, I’m too old for that!”

“Then stick with me,”

He begrudgingly walked back to you, reaching his hand up to rest on your arm on the cart’s handle while he moped. You smiled, despite his protests and playful energy, he was always respectful enough to follow you. But still, you tried to grocery shop as fast as you could with a kid as impatient as your own. Soon, you were in line for the cashier, texting Aaron which lane to meet you at, barely even having your eyes off Harry when suddenly, he surged with excitement and dashed off without warning. You felt your heart drop as you went after him, leaving your cart unattended. ‘This kid is going to be the death of me’ you swore to yourself, following him to the aisle he ran into before he disappeared. Damn, that stupid Asgardian blood for making him so quick. You finally spotted him talking to a man, his neck bent way back as he looked up at him, amazement in his eyes. You didn’t even bother looking at the man’s face, all you felt was relief while you frantically called out his name.

“Harry!” Your voice rang out, laced with irritation, making Thor stiffen. Had he heard right? That sounded an awful lot like… “Y/N?” His breathless voice whispered, barely even audible as he watched you stomp down to them, shrieking what he assumed was the boy’s name.

“What the hell were you thinking? What did I say about running off?” You knelt down to the boy, shaking him, unaware of the hulking man’s presence whose mouth was opening and shutting at the mere sight of you. He couldn’t believe it. After years of searching, you were finally in front of him, alive and well with… wait, was the boy your son?

Scolding Harry, you didn’t notice how giddy he was as he tried to shut you up to tell you something important. You didn’t notice Thor’s eyes burning into you, taking into account how well and healthy you looked. You lost some of the weight you had when you were younger, making your face a bit more mature than he last saw, the barely visible crinkles by your eyes were a bit more pronounced too but you were just as lovely, if not, even more so than he remembered. His heart swelled at the sight of you and there was nothing more he wanted than to crush you into his arms and apologize for all that he has done, hoping against all odds that he could still make things right again.

“But Mom, look! It’s Thor!” Harry’s thrilled voice interrupted you and you felt your blood run cold. The same blue eyes you’ve dreamt about for years stared back at you, confusion marring their icy depths.

“Mom? Y/N, you have a son?” Thor heard himself ask. He had no right to be disappointed, no right to feel betrayed and yet, he was selfish enough to be so. He knew deep down, you deserved a family, deserved to have a life. Unlike how he’d been ever since he broke things off with you.

You couldn’t find the words to speak. You had this scenario in your head for as long as you could remember and yet, nothing could compare to the real thing. You felt your mouth open and close, your body knowing you had to say something even when your brain couldn’t comprehend. What did people really say in these things? You could feel your breaths coming faster, your head shaking at him as you took a hold of Harry. What if he recognized him? What if he wanted to take him away? 

“I have to go,” you spoke hastily, turning your back to him and dragging Harry along with you despite his protests. He used his weight to pull you back to the superhero, whining the whole time but determination must’ve gotten the best of you, his tries falling short as you kept walking, your heart heavy.

“Y/N, wait,” you could hear Thor shout, his hand suddenly coming up to your elbow to stop you, turning you around to face him. Harry huffed at your side, his brows furrowing at you, “Mom! Why are you being so weird?”

“Please don’t go,” Thor pleaded with you, completely ignoring the kid who matched his very own frown. “It’s been so long, darling. How have you been? Could we talk?” He asked in a desperate rush, worried that you’d walk out on him again.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Thor,” you yanked your arm out of his grasp, glancing nervously at Harry while his eyes went wide with astonishment.

“Mom, you know Thor?” His gasp was so loud, it made Thor look down at him again, his brows wrinkling in confusion as he stared at the boy, those locks eerily looking like his own, the familiar set of his chin and jaw, the spark in his eyes… it couldn’t be. Shaking his head, he could suddenly hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his palms starting to sweat as his breath came in rapid bursts. You felt your heart drop to your stomach the moment realization dawned on his face.

“Thor,” your voice betrayed your nerves as you shook your head at him. Not here, please. Not here.

“Y/N, how old is your son?” He asked, his voice unmistakably low and lethal. The tick in his jaw and his clenched fists, an indication of just how close he was to losing control. You opened your mouth to speak when Harry replied for you, oblivious to the tension, quirking an eyebrow up at his father.

“Seven, but my mom thinks I act younger when she’s mad at me.” His innocent voice punched Thor right in the gut. Seven years since you’d been gone. Seven years, he’d wondered where you were. Seven years, he’d wondered why you didn’t even say goodbye. He didn’t need any proof, the more he stared at the boy, the clearer the picture became. Here you were, in an obscure, small town living your life with his son, while he had been going through life with no direction of his own, just following orders and saving those who needed it with barely a break. Burying himself in work to forget the guilt and regret of the past. Mission after mission without anyone to look forward to. To think he used to trust you with his life, he scoffed to himself. If he weren’t so devastated, he would’ve laughed. Would anyone be able to imagine the irony? A week before his wedding, he broke it off with his intended bride, breaking sweet Jane’s heart because he realized his abiding love wasn’t for the woman he had pined for, the one he thought had gotten away but for you, the only one who had seen him at his worst but stayed by his side through it all anyway. He looked for you afterwards, only to find your empty apartment, your old employer and friends having no idea where you’d gone to.

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed his pride, already feeling his seething anger bubbling below the surface. He turned away from you, his jaw clenched as he focused on his son, easily getting entranced by the way he engaged him in conversation. 

“My mom got me his shield for Christmas. Look! I always bring it with me now cause I wanna be like him when I grow up even though mom always says you’re the strongest Avenger,” Harry continued to talk, nonchalantly ratting you out. You felt yourself flush as Thor glanced at you briefly before he kneeled to your son’s eye level. 

“Is that so?” He asked him, his eyes drinking him in, observing how alike they were and noticing the little quirks that was unmistakably yours too. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve had a witty return, and joked about proving his prowess but now, he was so quiet, so fascinated with whatever came from his tiny mouth that it wouldn’t have mattered if he had spoken gibberish. All he wanted was to hear his voice.

“Mm-hmm, Aaron thinks it’s the Hulk but mom always says it’s you,”

Hold on a minute.

“Aaron?” Thor had no idea he said that out loud, his face twisted into pure disdain. Who the heck was this Aaron now?

“Yup, mom’s—”

Just when you were about to warn him to stop talking, Aaron’s relieved voice rang loud and clear, 

“There you guys are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” He strode to your direction, a smile on his face as he pushed a cart full of repair tools when suddenly, he recognized the man who had just stood up, making his smile fall and his back stiffen. Thor watched Aaron with a deep scowl on his face, squaring his shoulders. He had just about too many revelations in one day, he certainly didn’t need to see the man you’ve been with these past few years.

Any other man would’ve cowered under his gaze but not this one. Instead, he looked to you with sympathy, putting a hand on your lower back to lend his support. 

And somehow, that hurt him even more.

“Aaron! I was just telling Thor about you!” Harry beamed up at him. Thor felt the unexpected twist of jealousy coil in his stomach. This was supposed to be his family. What the hell had he done to deserve this?

“Oh yeah, Buddy?” Aaron answered back, keeping his voice light as he ruffled the boy’s hair, the tension on shoulders still visible to anyone watching. 

“Uh-huh. Tell him about—”

“Harry,” you cut your son off before this awkward situation grew longer. 

“Sweetie, why don’t you go with Aaron first and help him find the cart we left?” You smiled down at him sweetly ignoring the dread creeping up your veins at having to face Thor alone.

“But Mom, I’m still talking to Thor,” Harry whined back.

“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving,” Thor told him sincerely, the words holding much more meaning than what his son realized. Harry dragged Aaron off quickly, promising they wouldn’t take long. Thor didn’t miss the concerned looks you exchanged and the little nod of reassurance you gave as they scrambled off. His jaw twitched at the sight of it. He squared his shoulders and crossed his arms as he tried to control the temper brewing inside him, his deadly gaze almost making you cower. Almost. But you stood your ground and lifted your chin up at him instead. The determined look on your face instantly causing him to unravel and before you could say anything, his shoulders sagged, arms dropping as he let out a defeated sigh. 

“Why?” He asked you, his voice disbelieving and quiet. His eyes searched yours without the fight you were expecting, looking at you as if you had just stomped on his dreams, making your resolve waver. What did he mean by that?

“I made a life for myself, Thor. What did you expect?” You replied accusingly, justifying to yourself that you had the right to get mad. 

“What did I expect? What did I expect? You’re really asking me that when you never told me we have a son?” His voice rose questioningly, looking at you as if he didn’t know you. You felt your anger burst forth, shaking your head. 

“Don’t,” you threatened, your eyes cold. “Don’t you dare put this on me when you never bothered to answer any of my calls. You’re the one who made it very clear you didn’t want anything to do with me,” your voice was calm and steady, devoid of the roiling emotions you felt inside, even as your hands shook. Taking several deep breaths, you tried to control yourself, not wanting to give him the chance to break you down so easily again. He shook his head incredulously, confused about what you just said. 

“What? What calls?” He asked, pulling his hair back knowing damned well he didn’t receive any calls or even any indication that you wanted to reconnect. As far as he was concerned, you had fallen off the face of the earth, not wanting to ever be found. You shook your head, not believing an ounce of what he said. 

“Stop pretending, Thor. It’s pathetic,” you scoffed at him, disgust clearly written on your face. Not being able to stop yourself, you turned around and walked with purpose, away from him and his stupid excuses. You knew it was pointless, he wasn’t ever going to let you go now that he knew the truth. You knew he would fight to be in Harry’s life but you couldn’t seem to stop your feet from moving. How could he pretend to be the injured party here? As if you were the villain who took his son away. As if he gave you any other choice! You still remembered the night you stood outside the compound, alone and pregnant, drenched in rain and still, they turned you away. 

“Y/N, please,” he pleaded behind you, his voice holding a kind of desperation you never heard before, his footsteps quick and heavy as he trailed after you. This time, grabbing your hand to turn you around, hoping the small, familiar intimacy would bring you back. Your jaw clenched as you looked down your intertwined hands, pulling yours away from his as quickly as he caught it.

“Y/N, please don’t leave,” he begged, having lost all of his pride. 

“I never wanted you out of my life! I don’t even know what calls you’re talking about! Darling, please. Harry deserves to know his father, I need to be in my son’s life,” His voice broke off at the last tone, piercing your heart. He looked to you as if you held all the power to dictate his life, his happiness in the palm of your hands. You had never seen him so vulnerable, the desperation in his eyes simmering your anger and frustration that you found yourself softening up. 

“I can’t promise you anything, Thor. I’m not letting you walk in and out of his life whenever you please. You can’t just leave because you need a change of pace, do you understand that?” you willed him to back out now before he promised anything he couldn’t commit to. At least this way, it was only you who was going to get hurt, sparing Harry the future heartbreak.Your words pierced his soul. Is that what you thought of him? That he just left you because he got bored? 

“I give you my word, Y/N. I would never do that to him,” he vowed, his voice solemn while his eyes concealed the guilt and hurt he felt at what he’s done to you. Gone was the carefree girl he knew, in place was this woman who built up walls around her heart. Even now, you looked at him suspiciously, weighing your options, wondering if you were doing the right thing. 

The sound of Harry’s excited cheer and Aaron’s thwarted attempts at stalling him grew near, making you jump out of your hesitation. You quickly gave Thor instructions to meet you at the local cafe tomorrow before you changed your mind. He nodded his thanks to you, his eyes soft as he watched you whip out out a smile for your boy, all traces of anger and hurt wiped out. You were magnificent; strong, protective and caring, all of the things he knew you would be when you became a mother. A sad smile formed on his face, if only he was there with you through it all. 

Harry ran straight to Thor, arms wrapping immediately to his waist. “You didn’t leave!” he giggled, giddy with excitement. Thor was taken aback by the moment and froze. Here was his son, hugging him for the first time. The weight of the moment almost overwhelmed him, his tears threatening to fall as he wrapped his arms around the boy’s back.

“No, kid. I wouldn’t.” he spoke, his voice low and serious, holding more meaning than Harry understood. His son squeezed him tighter, strength he didn’t think a normal child would possess coming from his tiny arms. Thor’s brows furrowed as he looked to you. You escaped his curious gaze, clearing your throat, “Harry, Thor has to get going. Come on, sweetie, say your goodbyes,” you coaxed, having had enough for one day. You needed a rest before you met him again tomorrow to set up the ground rules. He had to understand you were moving in Harry’s pace, you weren’t going to rush him to something he wasn’t ready for. 

“But Mom, I just got back!” Harry frowned at you while Thor looked hopeful and all you could do was sigh. 

“Harry, come on. We gotta get going if you still wanna help me fix your door,��� Aaron smiled at him, hoping he’d catch the boy’s attention but Harry just whined. “Your ice cream will melt, buddy.” he continued to no avail, meeting your resigned eyes. As much as it pained Thor, he knew he had to let him go. He didn’t want to push his luck for today. He already trusts you, he just needed you to trust him back. 

“I do have to go, Harry. But do not worry,” Thor paused, his eyes meeting yours, a silent permission before he continued. At your nod, his shoulders relaxed in relief. 

“We will see each other again, I promise.” 

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 3: Apdnarg is Really Hard to Spell

 Yo guys, people are getting vaccinated, the sun is parting through the clouds, and I felt so nice that I even stopped listening to quite so many throwback 00′s BTS mashups (and yet I keep clicking on these dissonant catastrophes thinking “this time it’s got to be better. This time they’ll figure it out.” and like, no. Turns out you can’t match Brittany’s Toxic with BTS’ Black Swan. You can’t do that.)

This must be a sign that things are getting better. If anything, it means my personal tastes are improving. I mean I only clicked on like 3 “Dark Academia” Playlists where I could pretend I’m some sort of spooky witch in an abandoned library with a bad music player and basic taste in classical music (like can we ban Satie from Youtube for a little while?). Hell, I might even do a prompt update to this blog!

Yeah, you heard me, I’m actually going to stay ahead of the update schedule for Yugioh Abridged (maybe. I haven’t actually watched cuz of spoilers, I just noticed the thumbnail pop up on Youtube and was like “Damn it, they came out of hiatus??? I got hurry UP.”)

Anyway, speaking of the sky parting.

I’ll have you know my bro said this is actually more like a circumcision and it was one of the worst thing I have ever heard.

We get a chance to take in this lineup of confusing and varied character designs, and Joey. who is...still Joey.

The animators probably had to hold a strike in order for them to put Yugi in the audience, lets be real. There are TOO MANY PEOPLE in this shot and one is wearing a turban where you draw every single wrap. I hope those artists charged by the line.

Tea has a subplot where she’s just very frustrated with everyone she knows. They have been traveling together for like many weeks and got trapped in a foreign country so I get it. But at the same time, it’s kind of hard to picture Tea with female friends.

Because right now you got this 12 year old child, the other duelist who does not care about anything besides cards, and Kaiba’s 3 dragon cards that we’ve all collectively decided are female.

Hell it’s almost like the writers are asking themselves why Tea is here. Maybe they forgot. There’s no more ghosts to bus, no more people to knock out with her ass with random Olympic feats. Tea’s just sidelining.

(read more under the cut)

Mokuba is a itty bit bit taller this season, and so I guess that means he can legally climb on top of the cherry picker in order to give a riveting speech.

Really says a lot about Mokuba that he is so unphased about talking to, I dunno...an entire planet of people. Kind of a shame we never see this courage from Mokuba used for anything other than talking really, really big and giving everyone around him a really hard time.

Mokuba takes a moment to dunk on Yugi Muto, as is Kaiba tradition.

And then introduce the first pair of duelists, which obviously must be between the few people in this tournament that we actually know and care about.

Thankfully, in between last episode and this episode, Yugi has figured out who his own Grandpa is. This is a relief, because Yugi is such a mess, that I was fully convinced it would take over half a season for him to recognize it. I mean how long did it take him to figure out he shares a body with a ghost? Like half a season?

Instead Yugi recovered gracefully from not recognizing his grandpa, but it’s not like he bothered to tell anyone else, so the rest of our cast is just gonna be like “Is he my hairdresser? The guy who delivers my mail? Who is this guy who made absolutely no significant changes to his outfit or voice?”

Like sometimes this show goes full Spongebob silly kid’s show and you never know when to take it seriously or not. They might be sacrificing the entire cast next episode. I really don’t know. But for now their big concern is who is grandpa??? Like an innocent card version of “Are you my Mother?”

Faced with public speaking, Yugi decides to have a melt down.

We have seen him face monsters, we’ve seen him on TV dozens of times, he’s been in multiple competitions...but give a speech? Of course he can’t do that. The kid doesn’t attend enough school to know how to do that. Them’s learning skills.

And that was when a newly assembled wife-jet spliced through the sky like a souped up razer scooter and deposited 1 fully equipped Seto Kaiba in a Buzz Lightyear jetsuit.

THE RECOVERY.

Seto always watching over his Brother, ready to save this awkward party if it kills him (and it really should, that suit is held together by two seat-belts), making sure to get on that platform before Yugi starts going off about how he’s half an Ancient Egyptian. (Ah, life before social media. You could just be hella famous and also half a dead dude and people would just not know. I kinda miss the time before I knew literally everything about everyone.)

Please admire how close those flames are to setting Mokuba’s heavily hairsprayed mane completely alight. It would be an unforgettable spectacle.

These were absolutely just random ass jet packs that Gozaburo Kaiba made to kill hell tons of people, right? Like Seto found it in the family cabin, clutched to the heart of some crispy fried corpse and was like “neat! Mokuba! I found a cool toy!” and just plucked that thing out of that skeleton’s clutches and has been flying around for months?

Like this is Seto Kaiba’s Butter Glider, right?

Seriously what type of vehicle license do you need for one of these things? RIP My ‘Seto only has a scooter license’ headcanon.

Which I’m only even thinking about because I’ve had to try and make an appt with the DMV for days to get a freakin REAL ID. I went to sleep in 2019 and I could fly on a plane. I woke up in 2021 and it’s like “Want one last screw you?” and just...can 2020 please stop screwing me over? It’s March.

Anyway, the Jet is removed soon after, so no, this is not part of his new outfit. He goes right back to his Post-S4-Trauma-Normcore.

After wrestling this competition out of his brother’s hands and confusing everyone in the audience, Roland must have gotten the memo to cut the microphone before Seto got too excited and we were quickly ushered on to the next stage of the tournament.

One sec...the BTS Mashup playlist I just clicked on did a Black Swan X 7 rings mashup and it’s the worst thing my ears have ever heard.

Holy crap. I had to actually turn down my volume. Like...Ariana Grande already has music that has way too many overlapping singing parts on it--and then lets just stick a 52-person boy band on top? That’ll fix it. Yeah. Go ahead.

Wow. Even I had to change the song and you know how much I enjoy pop culture mistakes.

Spot the Mickey but like a million times easier because it’s a Massive Dick Shaped Dragon.

Yep. That’s my grocery shopping outfit. Except maybe not a lab coat and a duel disk. Wish I had a duel disk, that would make social distancing just a hell ton earlier. Just a “Yo, only one person in checkout, please” and then bap them on the head with a propelled discuss/hologram.

Anyway, Grocery shopping/Doctor man dueled the Purple Hair Boy, and considering that Purple Hair got screen time and shook Yugi’s hand once--I think that Doctor man doesn’t stand a freakin chance.

Good. I hate him.

Also, every time he breathes he’s gonna fog up his glasses. I have experience in this area. He can’t read his own cards in the same way I can’t read my phone if I’m in the refrigerated aisle.

So the way this tournament works, is everyone has to sit in the stadium to watch the show. Kinda like showing up to a football stadium just to watch a recorded TV monitor...but then again...that is how it feels to watch a football game at a football stadium when it’s live (at least with the tickets I usually get.)

And as we watch Grandpa waiting for his competitor, we find out that his competitor (Joey) is too busy eating snacks to give him the time of day.

Why do cartoon hot dogs always have lettuce? Is that seriously supposed to be relish? Or is there a place in the world where you put lettuce on your hot dog?

Sorry, bro has just informed of his favorite hot dog order, which is absolutely terrible so I will share it with you: a Five Guys hot dog with ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, onions, mushrooms, pickled peppers, and you guessed it--topped with freakin lettuce.

My own kin. How am I over 30 and just finding out that my baby brother thinks it’s normal to walk into a restaurant with normal god-fearing law-abiding people and order lettuce and mushrooms on a hot dog?

I have fully failed him.

The rest of this episode is watching both Joey Wheeler and Mokuba have a shared panic attack while Seto does freakin nothing.

Please remember that Seto has both a jetpack and a dragon wife plane and could have easily solved this problem. But nah.

Then again, Seto Kaiba has given this crew so MANY rides, that maybe he’s tired of being the Soccer Mom for the team?

Like they don’t actually say this episode, but Seto was the one in charge of like...this entire place, do you think he made the 2 for 1 special just to get Joey where it hurts the most? Or does it actually not take any subterfuge to screw Joey Wheeler because he’s just naturally this way?

Like Mokuba wasn’t there when Joey was told “stay right here, and then we will all go together to fight Dartz” and Joey was like “I’mma save Mai from herself although she told me not to!” and then he Hella Died. But, Mokuba did see the result, AKA, Joey’s dead body being carried on the back of Tristan. Maybe Mokuba never realized that Joey died because he went out of his way to be late?

Lets do a tally of every time I can recall with my dodgy memory that Joey was threatened to be DQ’d/pretty much was DQ’d either by his own fault or no fault of his own

-When he wasn’t allowed to go on the boat to Murder Island because he was a stupid nobody kid who did not have a dueling glove

-When he wasn’t actually supposed to be in Pegasus’ tourney and was, in fact, secretly using half of Yugi’s entrance ticket the entire time

-when Bandit Keith stole the ticket that Joey got from Yugi so then Joey had to borrow Mai’s ticket although she had just used it so it really shouldn't have counted. Because, really anyone could have just piggy backed off of each other’s ticket until the whole boat went through that castle.

-When his account was hacked to get entered into Kaiba’s tourney when Kaiba very clearly told him he could not apply solely because he was Joey Wheeler.

-When he was late to his sister’s eye surgery because he got mugged by Marik’s Rare Hunters, so she almost refused to do the surgery.

-When Joey got possessed by Marik, and as Marik, threatened to murder everyone else in the tournament including both of the Kaiba brother’s who’s tournament it was, and then chained himself to Yugi Muto to throw both of them to the bottom of the ocean.

-I think there was a point when he threatened to attack Kaiba in Kaiba’s own tourney while not possessed? Like several times?

-when he got struck by Lightning and almost did not stand up fast enough after being struck by lightning, which is apparently a type of DQ in Duel Monsters.

-When he tried to save Mai from getting hit by a fireball, but then Yugi did it instead, and then so many people were standing on the dueling platform that Kaiba couldn’t possibly DQ them all.

-When he entered the restricted area of the blimp in order to hassle Kaiba into landing the Blimp, which Kaiba did not do.

-When Marik killed Joey before Joey could press the “go” button on his duel disk to play the card that should have won Joey the match.

-When he was dueling a lawyer in a digital universe but then the dice was like...weighted? So Noah had to walk over and be like “The hell is this weighted dice? This is my perfect digital world? How did you even do that?” and then Joey won because the match was no longer legit.

-When Joey yelled at Noah too much and so Noah turned Joey to stone for being a rude ass spectator

-When Mai was like “Wheeler and Valon, listen closely: do NOT murder each other” and then Joey did a murder on Valon so she was like “I guess I have no choice, I was very clear” and killed Joey straight up.

-When Joey decided to block Seto’s fireballs while Joey Wheeler WAS a playing card, somehow disrespecting both Dartz and Seto Kaiba at the same time.

-When Joey was playing cards but then got absorbed into a giant Leviathan and basically couldn’t play anymore after that.

-There’s probably hell ton of S0 stuff I just haven’t seen yet.

-This episode

And Joey runs fast for a montage of wacky things that really have no business being in a theme park. Things like this:

(remember when Bakura almost died from a rock that ended up being a balloon? It comes full circle.)

The stuff that the Kaiba brother’s think is normal and fun.

Anyway Joey fights off a bunch of hologram snakes and bats and everyone is like “Should we tell him it’s just holograms???” And it’s like wow, guys, how many times have these ‘holograms’ straight up murdered Joey Wheeler and everyone else on this cast? Too many? Because I have a google doc with so many deaths on it. 7,805,844,048, to be exact.

Anyway, he gets there with five seconds to spare and Mokuba’s like “well at least you were still entertaining while we filmed you in front of a live audience being a total spaz for 15 minutes straight, so I’ll let you go.”

Grandpa and Joey start playing, Joey completely oblivious that this is just an older Muto, while Hawkins walks up awkwardly and is like “hey guys. I’m so sorry about this.”

(welcome to my font choices, for those new here, I have to make weird font color choices to make sure it’s legible for the colorblind and also for the non-colorblind. This one is not much contrast, so I may change it up in the future, but for now, this is Grandpa Muto’s new font. I apologize to every graphic designer reading this. Please don’t tell anyone who has ever hired me for graphic design about this blog.)

What’s funny about this exchange is that after they find out that Yugi’s Grandpa is Apdnarg (HOLY my brain cannot get around the spelling for that, and I will not change it in the caps. I cannot do a ‘pdn’ ever again), they don’t stand on his side of the field or anything. Hawkins is legit Solomon Muto’s only fan during this exchange and like...damn. Way not to back your Grandpa, Yugi.

Yugi immediately strides up to Mokuba to non-confrontation-ally inform him that he has stepped over a line and Mokuba is like “what are these things you say called ‘lines?’”

According to Mokuba, Solomon Muto begged him to be in the competition so he could relive his glory days (glory days making no sense here, because the game has only been released for the past 15 years, so glory days is like...the before times that can only be referring to disgraced archeologists and Pegasus ((who is, in his own way...a disgraced archeologist, too))) and Mokuba was like

“You trained Yugi Muto, right? Hey that’s good enough for me. This drama is gold. People will eat it up. Hell yes. Don’t be afraid to abduct him a little bit. Maybe trap a couple people in a digital hellscape for a little while? Now we go by Pegasus house rules here, so fire as many lasers as you want, but just make sure not to hit anyone in the face. Oh man, we are going to be swimming in cash. Love it, Muto Sr, love it.”

But I dunno, I feel like Grandpa won’t make it past next episode. It is Joey. We kinda need him to make it past Ep 4 of the arc. If Grandpa Muto becomes the new Joey Wheeler, that will be a weird transition for this show to make.

But that’s all for today, as always, here is the link to read these in chrono order becuase there’s SO MANY that you don’t need to read backwards--don’t do it--just use the chrono tag (and I don’t know if you can add compound tags, but I did separate the Season from the Episode, so if you write S4, it should only pop up stuff from S4. I didn't’ do that to seasons 1-3 though because I just...didn’t.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And because I brought it up: here it is, the best BTS Mashup that I found on my deep dive. Like legit--this one isn’t a mess:

Most of other ones are horrible in a fascinating way. Like I’m not even a BTS fan, I think I sort of age out of that metric, I’m just bored and quarantined. And lets be real, we all appreciate a good bop when we hear it.

[heywritersblock]

generation why: g.d

a high school/best friend grayson au (bc who doesn’t want best friend!gray)

~2500 words

get in your car and laugh til we both turn blue

the day has been long and exhausting; between lesson after lesson with no free period and spending your break times in the library studying, your brain feels just about ready to combust.

you squint your eyes and bring your hand that’s not carrying your folders up to shield them against the bright sun as you finally step out of the school doors. you’d stopped a little later to get the last bit of homework done so the parking lot was much emptier than earlier.

you begin to make your way to the bus stop as your phone starts to ring in your bag. hurriedly slamming your folders onto the hip height wall next to the path and rummaging through your school backpack, you grab your phone and shove it in between your ear and shoulder, not bothering to check who’s calling.

“excuse me, ma’am. i’m gonna need you to stop right there and drop those folders. i’m afraid it’s a crime for a young hooligan like yourself to be carrying something that could easily be used as a weapon,” the voice in your ear says.

“grayson? what the hell? i’m kind of in a rush so whatever it is that you-” you start and then are soon interrupted.

“no ma’am, i don’t know who this grayson is that you speak of but he sounds like a handsome young man. in fact, this is a senior police detective trying to protect our community. that denim dress you’re wearing with the white sneakers is giving me the vibes of a delinquent who’s on her way to cause some havoc. as a law abiding citizen, i order you to stop and face the black truck in the parking lot.”

realization dawns on you as you turn to you right and see your best friend leaning against his black truck, one hand holding his phone to his ear and the other waving at you. rolling your eyes fondly, you quickly hang up your phone and keep it in your hand as you make your way over to where he’s waving you over. he’s grinning at you as you approach.

“hey shortstuff, haven’t seen you all day. you left me all alone. i was like a little orphaned lion cub just not knowing what to do with myse-“

“gray, you were literally with ethan all day. i wouldn’t call yourself an abandoned baby lion just yet,” you interrupt, a small smile on your lips.

“ok, point taken. where’ve you been though? i texted you a couple of times but you didn’t reply. are you good?” he asks genuinely.

you nod, smile growing at his concern. “yeah, just had a busy day. y’know, just homework and stuff kicking my ass. spent most of my day in the library if i wasn’t in class,” you explain, still clutching your heavy folders and moving them to your other arm being careful not to drop your phone. “ahh i see. that explains why your shoulders are so tense they’re almost up to your ears,” he says as he grabs the folders off you, ignoring your protests that you could carry them yourself.

he continues, not letting you get a word in edgeways, “god i can smell the boring on you. that’s what happens when you spend all day in the library. yeah, i can smell boring and books and…” he dramatically sniffs around you, “ahh yes. ms. garfield’s cheese and onion sandwich. gross! ok, get in. we’ll go get coffee and you can forget about what sounds like my idea of the shittiest day to ever exist.”

he slides your backpack off your shoulders and shoos your hands away as you try to grab it back. “in!” he sing songs at you as he makes his way around to the driver’s side, throwing your backpack and folders into the backseat with a little less care than you would like.

the mere presence of your best friend means that your crappy mood starts to lift and by the time you’re hitting the highway en route to grayson’s favourite coffee shop, you’re relaxing back into your seat listening to his ranting about his science teacher’s shitty attitude towards him and ethan.

“yeah, ok gray. now tell me about what you and E did to cause the shitty attitude,” you laugh.

“what? i’m offended! we’re well behaved, role model stu-- ok. well, so, it all started when…”

by the time gray’s exited the highway and you’re pulling into the coffee shop parking lot, your stomach is aching and your cheeks are screaming with laughter at the tale your best friend is telling about his and ethan’s escapades in their science experiment. gray physically can’t look at you until he puts  the car into park because when he sees you crying with laughter, he laughs so hard he starts to wheeze.

as your laughter finally begins to die down, you’re leaning forward and wiping at your eyes with your edge of your denim dress when you hear him ask, “how’re you feeling?”

he flashes his kilowatt grin at you after you reply, “much better already.”

“s’my secret talent. I know just how to cheer you up,” he says smugly.

“y’know gray. i think you might be right,” you smile before hopping out of the truck.

this town don't got much to do you and i haven't got much to lose do you wanna rock in your room like we always do?

“y/n! grayson’s here! again! it’s almost like he doesn’t have a home of his own to go to,” your dad yells up the stairs to you, adding on the last part for comedic effect. “nah, sir - of course i do. unfortunately though, mine has a demon who looks just like me that’s out for revenge. your house is more of a safe haven. thanks for protecting such a  young and helpless child!” you hear grayson reply as he’s climbing the stairs. your dad laughs and adds on a quick, “yeah, yeah. door stays open!” out of habit. “yes sir!” gray replies as he steps into your room and shuts your door until just before it clicks. you huff out a laugh from your desk chair as you watch him and he turns to shrug at you, “he never says how open it should stay, right?” you guffaw out a laugh as gray throws himself onto your bed and rests on his back. “hey, so. question for you,” he asks as he rolls his head to face you. “shoot,” you reply, rolling closer on your desk chair so you can rest your feet on the bed like a foot stool. “why is our town so fuckin’ boring?” “ahhh, the age old question. well, young grasshopper, it’s simply because we are far too much fun for this town. every town would probably pale in comparison to us. we would make even the funnest of towns appear boring. it’s just one of the prices to pay for being a bundle of fun, which, together, we are,” you explain sarcastically. gray’s bark of a laugh escapes his mouth and he slaps a hand over it, seemingly shocked at just how loud it was. you prod him with your toe as you giggle and watch him try to regain his composure. he grabs a hold of your foot gently and shakes it from side to side for a moment as he contemplates what you’ve said, before replying, “well fuck. we’re screwed then. our lives will be filled with boredom. gee, i’m so glad i came to see you,” he jokes. “we’ll only be bored if we’re together remember. together, we’re a bundle of fun. separately? we ain’t shit, gray,” you giggle, wiggling your toes that are still in his grip. “well, we’d better find something to keep us entertained then ‘cause i’m not planning on leaving you any time soon,” he says as he grabs further up your leg to pull you closer on your wheely chair and then pull you onto the bed at the side of him. your heart swells at how much love your best friend gives you and then you giggle when his koala arms and legs restrict you movement completely. “see what’s new on netflix?” you ask quietly and then elbow him fondly in the ribs to get him off you when he nods. he sits up and starts plumping your pillows behind him to get comfortable, explaining just why ethan’s out for revenge and then trying to convince you to go downstairs and grab some popcorn. ten minutes later, he’s heading back up the stairs having made the microwave popcorn and sliding under the blanket you’ve stretched over the bed with a mouthful of the snack. “screw our shitty town. i love it here,” he mumbles just as he rests his head on your shoulder and you press play.

parents think, we're fast asleep but as soon as we're home, we're sneaking out the window

your phone lights up as you scroll aimlessly through social media on your laptop. the night is dark and there’s a slight breeze that’s interrupted the spell of uncomfortably hot weather in your town. gray 23:48 here x you glance quickly out of your bedroom window and grab your backpack, hesitating about whether you should grab the hoodie lying at the end of your bed or not. deciding against it, you carefully but not at all gracefully climb out of your window onto the roof of the garage under the window. you slide the window silently shut, careful to make sure you’ll be able to get back in when you get home later. you walk to the edge of the garage roof and throw your backpack down first before lowering yourself onto the trash cans that are positioned perfectly for this. jumping down, dusting off your denim shorts and grabbing your backpack, you run as fast as you can across the lawn and dive into the black truck idling in front of your house. “’sup james bond. that was some serious spy shit i just witnessed,” gray greets you, taking your backpack off you and throwing it into the back seat, just as tradition dictates. “please. he’s got nothing on me. you ok?” you ask, noticing your best friend’s red eyes and dark rings under them. “yeah, yeah, i’m good,” he says, purposely not looking at you. he goes to move the car into drive but you place your hand on his forearm, tugging until he looks at you. “ok, now i’m actually concerned. when have you ever lied to me? what’s going on?” you ask. “just family shit, you know. family battles. can we go somewhere to talk? i feel like your dad is going to come out here at any point and lynch me and i really don’t wanna be crying when he does that,” he tries to joke. you smile softly to humour him and reply, “of course. let’s go to that diner on the edge of town. it’ll be nice and quiet,” you suggest. he nods, not meeting your eyes again. just before he finally puts the car into drive, he glances at you and mumbles a quiet, “thanks, y/n.” as the car begins to move, you whisper over to him, “hey. whatever it is, it’ll pass. families are the worst sometimes. love you, gray.” “love you, too.”

talk about how fast we grew and all the big dreams that we won't pursue

the summer is in full force now and school’s been out for weeks. you’ve just got back from your family vacation and after a quick nap at home to try and fend off the jet lag, you were straight on over to the dolan house.

you knocked rapidly on the front door and rolled your eyes as Grayson opened the door within seconds, sarcastically asking, “yes? can i help you? i’m just waiting for my best friend to return from the war. i’m not sure i’ll remember what she looks like. oh – wait! y/n? is that you?”

“well you can fuck off if you’re think you’re getting your gift from vacation now!” you laugh.

“y/n! it is you! the sass brought your memory straight back to me! get in here,” he yells, drowning you in his tight hug.

hours later after catching up with the rest of the dolan family and hanging out with the twins for a while, you’re lying on your back in grayson’s backyard, staring up at the star filled sky and listening to the crickets chirping from the forest nearby. grayson’s head is touching yours from where he lays behind you and you can feel the wave of calm you get from being around your best friend. he interrupts your thoughts when he asks you quietly, “hey, do you think in five years time we’ll still be here? like after college and stuff, do you think we’ll still find our way back here?” you hum to let him know you’ve heard him and then you contemplate what he’s just asked. after a couple of minutes, you feel him tilt his head back and try to knock it gently against yours to prompt you for your answer. “honestly, i don’t know,” you say, laughing quietly to yourself at grayson’s dramatic intake of breath. “wow, that hurts y/n. here i am planning our future together and you just crush my dreams in four words. ouch,” he jokes. “for real though, why aren’t you sure?” you sigh in thought and try to explain your thoughts eloquently enough for him to understand. “gray, you’re destined for great things. no, don’t laugh, you are. you’re going to be in LA with E, causing chaos and doing what you love. you’re going to do great things. i mean, so am i but not the same great things as you, y’know. i just feel like we’ll end up in different places. so no, i don’t think we’ll still be here in five years time. but we’ll be somewhere on a summer’s night where we’re laying out and looking at the same sky. hopefully we’ll be in the yard of my million dollar mansion but it’s ok if that’s not in five years. maybe six?” he guffaws in laughter behind you and you feel him start to shuffle around when he’s quietened. you’re still staring up at the sky, feeling content and warm when his body moves beside yours. he knocks gently at your head with his elbow to signal you to lift your head up. he slides his arm underneath your head and pulls you close into his side. time passes silently with the two of you laying on the dewy grass, holding each other close when he pipes up suddenly, “so what exactly do you think i’ll be doing in LA? ‘cause here’s what i’m thinkin’. so, imagine this…”

inspired by generation why by conan gray :)

[insecure-hbo-recaps]

hella open

Previously on Insecure: Issa slept with Lawrence but Lawrence is apparently with Tasha. Lawrence told Tasha, and it didn't go well. Lawrence moved out of Chad's place. Molly's therapist helped her try to move up a level at work. Issa starts to accept that Lawrence is done.

Issa is having a red wine and chill with some random. She's wearing a purple football jersey for the occasion, which is an interesting choice. Her hair is braided down in a protective after-shampooing set of Celie cornrows like... it tickles me when famous black women publicly do stuff that is just-for-at-home and mainstream media loses their shit over it (see also Rihanna wearing sparkly bobby pins in her wrapped hair) but, Insecure is for us. I'm not so sure I can cosign this ostentatiously quirky style choice, lol.

The guy moves in to kiss her and Issa awkwardly accepts it. She continually giggles while he is trying to be sexy, past the point where he is amused by it. As an aside, this is everything:

Issa is frankly annoying him now - I get that it's weird for her to have sex with a new person after being with Lawrence for five years. The first time I had a serious long term relationship I was surprised how weird it was to begin sleeping with someone new again. It wasn't something I thought I'd have a problem with, since obviously I'd never had a boyfriend and that was the weird thing. But, it was. Issa asks to reschedule, but she has blown this dude's high - he's wearing jeans with cutouts at the knee, this is some Eric Benet California shit - he doesn't really want to try again. This didn't work. So Issa gets dressed to leave.

Dunes. Issa is about to leave for work when she catches sight of the plume of smoke she burned into her wall at last week's party. She also notices before she goes that the new property management has issued what appears to be every apartment notices for noise violations, taped to their doors.

On the way out, Issa runs into one of the bloods that crashed her party. He has a really big, weird shaped head.

It reminds me of this kid I went to high school with named Mickey who had a big oversized head that sort of came to a point at the top; so more a triangle than round head. Of course now that I've spent several years working in developmental pediatrics I know what happened there is that he should have had a helmet as an infant and his parents didn't get him one, but at the time it was just there goes Mickey with his big ass pointed head that he for some reason chooses to accuentuate with a cloth headband. (This was obviously during the Rocafella era when that was en vogue for men.) I actually think that he ended up being shot and murdered as an adult, but for the life of me I cannot remember his last name in order to check and I'm not exactly on speaking terms with my high school classmates.

Anyway, Mickey (I don't know that we ever get to hear his name and I'm going to make the executive decision that it doesn't matter) says he had fun at Issa's party and she watches him go.

Molly's law office. She's skyping with Hannah in the Chicago office as well as the TSA agent from Get Out, Quintin, a fellow lawyer in a trendy bow tie. There's a Chicago joke about the sun shining so he's going to the beach. That doesn't work here because Chicago is not an overcast city and we don't have an excessive amount of cloudy days. You're thinking Portland, Insecure writers. Idk why the actor didn't correct him, since apparently he's also from Chicago. In the summer I hang a dark blanket on the window behind my blinds because my bedroom is east facing and there's too much sun for 75% of the day. Anyway, they bond over being the token black lawyers and it's all lovely and relatable.

High school. As you may have noticed, I really don't give a shit about this storyline. I did think it was interesting that Issa ended up being the bad guy in this scenario, as the show's hero, because you are definitely tempted to take her side in this. Frida comes across as an overly Clueless White Person with her concerns that the after school program is only black children while Issa isn't bothered because she's just glad the program is full. When I watched this the first time I was uncomfortable with it because while I didn't exactly disagree with Issa's blase attitude, I did think the show made it clear enough that she wasn't doing the right thing to take it. Of course this season will make it overtly clear - more than the first season did in my opinion - that Issa's judgment is sure in the fuck not to be trusted, and this was just another way that they established that. Duly noted that white people aren't always wrong when it comes to race. Issa's attitude doesn't sit well with Frida.

Multicultural Silicon Valley start up, aka Lawrence's computery job. It looks like he's wearing one of those Untuck It shirts. Tangent. I went out with this guy who was born in the 70s because he started hitting on me when I was working on my laptop at Map Room and trying not to cry because I was texting with my new boyfriend-even-though-we'd-been-fucking-for-the-last-three-years-not-as-a-couple because he up and booked a flight for a 10 day trip to Costa Rica and didn't tell me about it til afterward. I was two La Fin du Mondes in already and when I went to close out, the random man offered to buy me another, apparently not noticing my teary eyes. Anyway, because he was born in the 70s, he was particularly preoccupied with anything young and trendy, and frequently mentioned his Untuck It shirts to me. Granted they do look expensive and well made in real life. But they're also just regular fucking shirts that charge a 300% premium because they cut them slightly shorter so that you don't have to... guess what... tuck them in. I've literally only ever seen or heard of these shirts due to advertisements during daytime CNN or MSNBC viewing so like... who's supposed to be impressed by this?

Anyway, The Generic White Guy is obnoxiously eating snack food made from crickets, and Lawrence is talking about his trip to Phuket, so we get the full range of lovely diversity at work in this cool, trendy environment. Apparently the ethnic girl next to Lawrence slept with Corny Colin, which the blonde teases her about. Ethnic Girl is not amused by it. The group discusses a company social, but Lawrence can't go because he "promised someone he'd pick up some chairs." So he's going to go to Tasha's family bbq after all. The group clearly regards Lawrence as a trendsetter amongst what's hot and what's not - a distinction I feel that certain types of black people, in certain environments, are relegated to simply because black culture is presumed to be cooler than the other prevailing cultures - and everyone is disappointed that he will not be going.

Loading dock. Molly is wearing a fabulous black skirt suit with leather trimmed lapels. She's on the phone with her mom about the vow renewal thing her parents keep bugging her about. A worker comes out with her bookcase and assumes the random black man standing nearby is there with her. He asks if he should hand it over and everyone looks at each other, blanketed by the wrongness of the assumptions all around. Molly scoffs that she's not with him, and makes to pick up the bookcase by herself.

Yes, it is exactly as absurd as you'd think it would be, and two things. Motherfuck this whole concept where black women aren't allowed or should be or expected to be the normal amount of "feminine" granted to every other woman. I had this epiphany somewhere not long after high school when I realized how panicked and backed up against the wall I felt that my natural inclination was to resist any kind of vulnerability and the realization that I didn't want to have to be "strong" all the time. That wasn't going to work for me. I am damsel in distress all the time. You will stop when I cross the street, even if I'm timing it wrong with the stop signs - when I politely give you the right of way, you will insist I cross instead. You will pause to let me pass and open doors when I do. You will push my car out of the snow. You will offer to carry the leftovers from the restaurant. I dated a guy who insisted on walking down the stairs in front of me when I was wearing high heels, just in case I tripped. Point being, with regards to this scene, I wouldn't have lifted that shit. I wouldn't have carried shit. I would have been pointedly unable to carry that box. I'd have stood there for a half hour if that's as long as it took for someone to offer to carry the box for me. But it wouldn't have. When you behave with the expectation that you are a woman and you expect to be treated like a woman, something kinda funny happens... people treat you like a delicate woman. It doesn't escape my notice that the black man the worker assumed was there for Molly is there with a white woman, whose boxes he handily carries, while Molly struggles absurdly with the bulky oblong in her five inch heels down a flight of stairs. No ma'am. Later for "strong black womanhood," in this physical sense at any rate.

Molly's fantastic apartment. She's telling Issa she's putting her therapy on hold until she finds another therapist. Naturally, therapy was hitting too close to home, so Molly's instinct was to run from the truth. They are trying to put together this Ikea ass bookcase (related to my previous tangent, whenever I need this kind of manly work done, I outsource it now. Task Rabbit is an app, y'all. That's what it's for. It's not as solid a solution as having an actual man around or anything, but on some level I simply refuse to become a handyman myself just out of sheer principle. You will not deny me my femininity this way, it is a political issue at this point to me.)

Anyway, Molly is bitching about the therapist trying to get too close "just because we both got brown titties." Issa abides this silently. I can't believe they unironically drink Carlo Rossi. I remember being a kid and trying to learn about this kind of stuff and making a note from, of all places, an episode of Intervention about what kinds of wine people actually drink. Haha! (And yes, it was the huge gallon jug of Carlo Rossi.) Issa encourages Molly to keep looking for a new therapist, which Molly flips back on Issa regarding not finding a new Lawrence either.

Issa recounts how she couldn't do casual sex because she was too stuck in her own head. I'm so glad this has never been a problem for me LOL. I don't even know what my social life would be like if I had a hang up about this issue. They decide they should be doing their "ho phase" together - but then Issa met Lawrence and he "made [her] fall in love with him and shit." Issa wants to get on Team Fuck Love, and asks Molly "can you teach me how to ho?" "Bitch that's rude... and yes," Molly replies.

Late night spot. Issa is wearing a ridiculous outfit as she ridicules the other thirsty women in the spot that are there for an apparently different kind of thirst than the one she is. Seriously, what were we supposed to think about this outfit?

Baby, no. Especially as a woman walks past wearing the exact same bad dress. She's also wearing what I'm sure are an expensive pair of espadrilles, but they are wedge espadrilles, with a red floral print. Plainly, that outfit is ridiculous. Issa suggests a vacation to somewhere where they'll be exotic. Molly doesn't care, and seems very underwhelmed by the night.

Issa is chatting with some guy, making awkward double entendres and sexual innuendos. The guy is not amused and flat out walks away from her mid conversation. The next guy at the bar keeps peeling his eyes around at everything else but Issa, finally admitting that he's only talking to her because his friend wanted to talk to Molly. Issa is the grenade. Dayuuuuum, bro. "Do you have any other friends?" he asks, which Issa doesn't dignify with a response.

Molly is talking to Sterling K Brown and is still underwhelmed with the night - the way his friend was only talking to Issa, she's only talking to him. He asks for her number and Molly coolly hands him her business card. She joins Issa at the bar, who has given up on the night and ordered a plate of wings. I get it. There's only so much humiliation you can take when you put yourself out there to pick up a random at the bar. Hell, at least Issa has a friend with her while she does it.

Tasha's house. Tasha is in bed with Lawrence with her hair wrapped gossiping about tv shows. Lawrence tries to distract her and get amorous but Tasha isn't interested in going there. She pushes Lawrence away and we are treated to more of the show-within-a-show.

Back at the Dune's, Issa (in her middle-of-the-bed pillow) can't sleep so she pulls out her vibrator. The battery dies and she spends like ten minutes walking around the apartment looking for new batteries. And, why don't you have a magic wand? True story: I held off buying any kind of sex toys because I never had any and it made me have to seek out men if I wanted to have a sexual encounter; I (it turned out, rightly) figured that if I had any sex toys it would discourage and demotivate me from meeting actual men. Guess what... I was completely correct, and my love life took a marked down turn the same year I bought a magic wand of my own. Could have been timing, coincidence, I don't know, but it was interesting. I have since incorporated it into my regular sex life. (My boyfriend-that-I-loved-so-much-I-was-always-crying was amused the first time I used it with him, calling it "violent" and "over the top" because I was "loud" and it "plugged into the wall." lol. I did nothing but laugh and concede the point, because he was right. But in other news, fun fact: it also works on men, so if you are hooking up with someone that you don't actually want to have sex with, everyone can have an orgasm with no intercourse whatsoever.)

There are a few scenes about Molly's being underpaid and Issa missing the discrimination that I'm going to skip because the point has been made already.

Lunch. Molly is on a date with Sterling K Brown. He's showing her pictures of his niece on his phone, because he's a Good Black Man looking for a Good Black Woman. Actually, given the champagne flute and the bottle on the table I'm going to assume this is brunch (mimosas, you see). Sterling K Brown is wearing an interesting outfit, what says the tribunal?

This rote-date-conversation centers around the fact that they both have ticking biological clocks, and that Sterling K Brown is not being at all ambiguous about his intentions. Molly seems uncomfortable, and isn't following this conversation as well as a woman would be if she were truly interested. I gotta say, Sterling K Brown comes off as a LITTLE thirsty... but, considering Molly really does the most when it comes to choosing a man, like... you can't empathize with her at all. Do we know this, do viewers know this? Molly is wrong and ridiculous and has no clue what she is doing, and her choosing criteria is wildly outdated, immature, and foolish. Like, there is no shrewdness to her relationship behavior at all. She is doing nothing that would prove to be in her best interests or better her life circumstances at all, even if it were just casually dating a potential husband so that you have that back up available when things aren’t going well. This is the kind of thing I might of done before I realized it may be an actual real possibility that I actually might not find the husband I wanted some day.

California Family Cookout. There's ribs, there's dominoes. You feel right at home. Lawrence shows up in some hipster ass shirt, carrying chairs as promised. Tasha is wearing a lime green midi dress with scribbled print and a lopsided sew in. It works, as long as you don't pause at the wrong moment. Why am I hating on both their outfits? Let's move on. Tasha's relatives line up to get a good look at Lawrence and he is clearly there in a capacity of Tasha's Man Friend... which he looks decidedly uncomfortable with. Well, what the fuck were you expecting, Lawrence? Why do you think she hedged around inviting you, and made it clear you didn't have to come?

Lawrence's coworker texts him, and he decides to take it as an out, telling Tasha he'll be right back. "Oh... ok," she says. Damn. Again, people were furious over the "thirsty" character of Tasha. Meanwhile I'm just over here wondering why fellow black women didn't have more sympathy for her flexibility. Some of the time when I peek back into conversations in The Community, I am reminded of all kinds of toxic shit I used to feel and believe when I was younger that I eventually had to unlearn in the interests of any kind of healthy interpersonal life. She cheerfully says she'll see him later, and he leaves.

Molly is at a cupcake shop - those are a thing, y'all, and why? I live near one that granted, makes delicious cupcakes, but they cost like fucking four and a half dollars for one REGULAR SIZE muffin tin mold cupcake! Funnily enough, they are actually named "Molly's Cupcakes." Someone calls out that they will pay for her cupcakes, and it appears to be someone Molly knows:

A guy named Dro and his ostensible wife, who playfully criticizes Molly's insistence on wearing "ugly" dark colors - it's a black greek thing. (The wife is Delta, which I presume makes Molly AKA). The married couple set up the plot for next week's episode, expositing that they are in town for the Kiss n Grind party. It's clear that Molly knows Dro from way back, and the wife is newer.

Dunes. Issa has decided to paint over her burnt wall. She's typically spastic at it, dripping paint everywhere and making a mess. While cleaning off the roller, she spots Mickey Bighead lounging by the pool and is apparently attracted by what she sees. Molly calls; Issa notes her "high pitched fakeness" as she describes the date with Sterling K Brown: although there is clearly nothing wrong with him it's obvious to the both of them that Molly just isn't into it. For SOME reason. And this is the thing that is frustrating about Molly... there's never any legitimate or tangible reason why she has no interest in normal men and normal relationships, or why she brushes off scenarios that would be good for her. Like, what is she looking for instead? What's wrong with Sterling K Brown? Why would she not be interested in him? There are no red flags - it's not his looks, it's not that he's not a professional peer, it's not his baggage as he is unmarried with no children. And perhaps that is the point the show is making - that just because she should be interested in him, that doesn't mean she has to be. In the larger context of women "wanting it all" or "not settling," the point is valid. But in a practical sense, Molly is being ridiculous and her actions are not justified. This is how bitches end up single til 40 when they wind up marrying a bald janitor in the end anyway, is all I'm saying. Making smart choices don’t always feel like the choices you want to make.

Molly is comparing her lack of interest in Sterling K Brown with the fact that Candace and Dro are happy despite the fact that Dro was a mess and never had a "five year plan." So I guess that's what her problem is. She has no idea what will make her happy and is constantly peeking in other peoples' lives like it will tell her what would work in hers. You can always find a reason why a person is lacking when you compare them to someone else because... people aren't the same.

Start up Happy Hour. Lawrence shows up and his coworkers are happy to see him. They know the workplace is one big ho fest once enough drinks start flowing. Ethnic Girl is still pointed about regretting hooking up with Generic White Guy. Which, rude.

Issa has painted over her wall, which looks really good. But then she notices she neglected the smoke on the ceiling. Knowing she can't reach it, she reckons with it and tells it, "you can't have my joy." She spots Mickey Bighead going into his apartment and concocts a plan. She pulls out her charger and takes it down to Mickey's asking whether he left it at her house at her party. He seems momentarily taken aback, but recovers smoothly enough to invite her in.

Start Up Saturday. Lawrence gets a text from Tasha wondering where he is. Ethnic Girl asks what his deal is - and I kind of hate those "work people" that you can tell their primary source of social capital comes from people they meet in and around the work environment. Like other people are wrong for having a life outside of work and are not as immersed as you are. They ask whether Lawrence is single as a waitress comes up to flirt with him. Although Lawrence says he has to take off soon, her overt interest is all it takes for him to stay for a round of shots.

Back at Mickey's they're talking about Gossip Girl. Blake Lively is the most generic white woman on the face of the planet. "Yeah, white people," Mickey says. "There's so many of them," Issa adds awkwardly. Lol. Issa daydreams a confidence boost rap to convince herself to make a move: "even if it's wack, you can still get some head!" Unflattering accidental pause moment:

Issa makes an awkward kiss move, accidentally knocking him in the nose with her forehead. It works anyway, and they start making out. The first time I watched this I was a little annoyed because while I understand Issa's excitement over her new body, her constantly barely clothed state this season just seems so gratuitous. The fact that I personally don't like her body type - not to say she hasn't done a lot of work on it! - mainly just annoyed me. And I don't enjoy her sex scenes. Molly's sex scenes and Lawrence's sex scenes are great. So it's always kind of a let down when we have to watch Issa have sex. Her bra collection is excellent though, I guess.

Mickey asks if he could titty fuck her, which Issa "respectfully decline[s]." He wants to put her legs over her head, which she is uncomfortable with. Her head is squashed into the headboard and it's terrible. To her credit, Issa asks to change positions and finds a way that suits her better. He's wearing white socks. Aw. Flashbacks.

Molly is at home, working with a glass of red. Sterling K Brown invites her to a SZA concert and she declines. He comes back with a dinner invitation which she doesn't even reply to. Whatever, Molly. But hey, she heard my complaints and hired some random men to put the cabinet together for her! There's that at least.

Start up Saturday. Everyone's drunk and Lawrence is explaining the concept of his app to the two girls. What IS "Woot Woot" exactly? Besides the fact that everyone makes fun of him when he talks about it, as far as I can tell it's some kind of group chat client? Idk. Tasha calls, and Lawrence puts the phone to his ear in the loud bar. Tasha is mildly agitated, asking what happened to him because he never came back; her family members are even now in the background asking about him. He apologizes and says he ended up drinking too much. Tasha says if he didn't want to come he should have just told her. Lawrence tries to brush it off but then admits he isn't looking for a serious relationship. Tasha is put out because he ghosted on her in front of her entire family; if he didn't want a serious thing he shouldn't have come. He embarrassed her. Lawrence apologizes in a way that still blames it on her: "I know how much you wanted me to be there." It's her fault for expecting his intentions to match his behavior, not his fault for not being up front and leading her on. Tasha tells him to stop acting like he gives a fuck about her feelings, because he "fronted like it was [something more], apologizing for shit" he knew he wasn't sorry for.

Lawrence insists he was being genuine. Tasha: "You're a fuck nigga. You're worse than a fuck nigga. You're a fuck nigga who thinks he's a good dude." And she hangs up. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the cultural conundrum facing all of us in this new technologically advanced hook up landscape we are all attempting to navigate. I don't know how it used to be before Swiper Not Swiping and casual sex became the rule, not the exception, but I also find that men are preoccupied with being "good guys" in a way that belies their shitty behavior; some kind of veneer of honesty and distance that doesn't quite square with the level of intimacy and acquiescence they are seeking from their partners. Maybe back in the day it was understood you couldn't get that level of commitment without expressly acknowledging it; I find these days men think they get to have their cake and eat it too on this issue.

Anyway, look at this shit:

Bitch, what are you wearing? Those 1980s Jessie Spano mom jeans. Her name is "Arpana" which leads me to believe she's supposed to be Indian, but I think in real life her body type would indicate she is something else. She's probably Latina tbh. (And no I'm not going to google this to find out.) Anyway, Lawrence is laughing off his conversation with Tasha well enough as he rejoins the party.

Back at the Dunes, Issa is sneaking out of Mickey's apartment. She isn't quiet enough and he wakes up, offering for her to sleep over. Super generous considering she lives literally right upstairs. As Issa grabs her phone to go, she decides she isn't actually willing to sacrifice her phone charger for this farce, so she snatches it up too. But not to fear: it turns out Mickey was aware of her ruse the entire time, as his phone has been sitting plugged into his own not-missing charger the whole time. Issa can't even be mad as she lets out a chuckle and goes. She seems pleased, at least, with this first foray into "honess."

[trendingnewsb]

This Is Ajit Pai, Nemesis of Net Neutrality

In March, Ajit Pai, the 45-year-old chair of the Federal Communications Commission, took to the internet—a community he joyfully inhabits and grudgingly regulates—to pay tribute to his favorite movie. “It’s not just, like, my opinion, man: 20 years ago today, #TheBigLebowski—the greatest film in the history of cinema—was released,” Pai wrote on Twitter. “Decades on, the Dude still abides and the movie really ties us all together.” And sure enough, the response to Pai’s cheerful tweet was united.

You’re out of your element Ajit. —@JohnsNotHere

Yes, Ajit. Stop trying to mingle with humans. —@Douche_McGraw

I hope you enjoy watching that movie alone since you have zero friends —@aseriousmang

No one likes you dork —@chessrockwell_

The insults, hundreds upon hundreds of them, accumulated in his replies. Some took the form of incredulous Jeff Bridges GIFs, others mimicked famous lines of Lebowski dialog. (“Shut the fuck up, Ajit.”) People debated whether Pai was more like one of the movie’s nihilist kidnappers or its corporate stooge.

The WIRED Business Issue

The competition is stiff, but Pai may be the most reviled man on the internet. He is despised as both a bumbling rube, trying too hard to prove he gets it, and a cunning villain, out to destroy digital freedom. (As one mocking headline put it: “Ajit Pai will not rest until he has killed The Big Lebowski, too.”) The anger emanates from his move, shortly after being appointed by Donald Trump, to repeal Obama-era net ­neutrality regulations. He called his policy the Restoring Internet Freedom Order, an Orwellian touch in the view of his critics, who see ­it as a mortal threat.

In the simplest terms, the principle of net neutrality prevents internet service providers, such as Verizon or Comcast, from manipulating network traffic for discriminatory purposes. Defenders contend that, without such rules, those companies could exert nefarious powers. They might slow down Netflix, making movies like The Big Lebowski unwatchable, in order to push captive subscribers to their own properties, a prospect that becomes more plausible as telecoms like AT&T and Verizon expand into content. They could charge tech companies extra fees to reach customers, giving a competitive advantage to those that pay. They could starve a startup or stifle a voice of dissent. Pai discounted such scenarios, calling them “hypothetical harms and hysterical prophecies of doom,” and pointed out that there was little evidence of such behavior before the Obama administration imposed the regulations in 2015. But the opposition, drawing energy from the broader anti-Trump resistance, was not persuaded by his reassurances. “If you’re not freaking out about net neutrality right now,” the activist group Fight for the Future warned its followers last year, “you’re not paying attention.”

Pai sought to defuse suspicions by presenting himself as an affable nerd, dropping conspicuous references to Star Wars and comic book heroes. But the internet wasn’t buying it. Last May, after satirist John Oliver delivered a scathing monologue ridiculing what he called Pai’s “doofy, ‘Hey, I’m just like you guys’ persona”—he focused on Pai’s habit of drinking from a giant novelty coffee mug at meetings—and calling on viewers of Last Week Tonight to stand up for net neutrality, the FCC’s website received an onslaught of comments against the repeal. Most simply voiced support for Obama’s policy, but some spat ­racist vitriol at Pai, who is a child of Indian immigrants, or even threatened his life. Trolls tracked down review pages for his wife’s medical practice and filled them with abusive one-star reviews. Perhaps unwisely, Pai kept trying to fight back on the internet’s own terms. He jousted with celebrities and nobodies on social media. He staged self-conscious stunts, like appearing in a video entitled “7 Things You Can Still Do on the Internet After Net Neutrality,” in which he posed as a Jedi and danced to “Harlem Shake” with a bunch of young conservatives. But the video just inflamed the internet. On Twitter, Mark Hamill—Luke Skywalker himself—jeered at Pai, calling him “profoundly unworthy” to wield a light­saber. Someone else quickly identified a young woman dancing next to Pai as a right-wing conspiracy theorist who had helped spread “Pizzagate,” a hoax scandal from the lunatic fringe that linked Hillary Clinton to a child-abuse ring.

At a meeting of the FCC in November 2017, Ajit Pai drank from the novelty cup he finds so amusing—and his critics love to hate.

Zach Gibson/Bloomberg via Getty Images

On December 14, as that spectacle of Pai cavorting with the far right was zipping around the world, the FCC commissioners met to consider the fate of net neutrality. Demonstrators rallied outside the agency’s headquarters, but Pai appeared unperturbed as he and his four fellow commissioners filed into a fluorescent-lit chamber. By Washington tradition, the FCC’s membership is divided, with two seats picked by the opposition’s congressional leaders. His two Republican colleagues spoke in favor of the repeal, while the two Democrats offered harsh dissents. The chair had the final word. “The internet has enriched my own life immeasurably,” Pai said. “In the past few days alone, I’ve set up a FaceTime call with my parents and kids, downloaded interesting podcasts about blockchain technology, I’ve ordered a burrito, I’ve managed my playoff-bound fantasy football team. And—as many of you might have seen—I’ve tweeted. What is responsible for the phenomenal development of the internet? Well, it certainly wasn’t heavy-handed government regulation.”

As Pai spoke, there was furtive commotion in the back of the room. A hulking armed guard stepped forward. “On advice of security, we need to take a brief recess,” Pai said abruptly, and then stood up and hurried out a side door. A murmur went through the audience: bomb threat.

The room was evacuated and searched. Eventually everyone returned and Pai called for a vote. The repeal passed, 3–2. Pai took a satisfied sip from his much-maligned coffee mug.

People who know Pai swear that his nerdy persona is authentic. And even his adversaries will admit that he’s an anomaly in the Trump administration: a skillful practitioner of the Washington game. Pai has spent his entire professional life in the capital, acquiring influential patrons (Mitch McConnell, Jeff Sessions) and insider expertise. As Harold Feld, an ardent critic who works for the consumer advocacy group Public Knowledge, laments, “Why was my area of policy the one that got the guy who actually knows what he’s doing?”

Behind Pai’s brainy, technocratic mask, though, is an alter ego: ruthless conservative ideologue. In this sense, he is emblematic of Trump’s Washington, where all debates—even the bone-dry bureaucratic ones—have become so heated that they are fought like matters of life and death. Pai’s competence has allowed him to make quick work of undoing the Obama administration’s legacy at the FCC. But his polarizing politics assure that the battle over internet regulation will keep raging. “I like Ajit Pai personally, although I don’t want to defend him in public,” admits another net neutrality supporter. “But you’re not allowed to try to destroy the internet and then be treated well by the internet. The internet should hate him.”

Pai may be a creature of Washington, but he still presents himself as a provincial at heart. He grew up in the small town of Parsons, Kansas, where his parents, both Indian-born doctors, practiced at a county hospital. Pai’s connections to the wider world were AM radio and his family’s satellite television dish. Today many rural communities are without broadband internet access, an issue Pai often addresses publicly. “I’ve been to many, many towns around this country, and I’ve seen how people are on the wrong side of that digital divide,” Pai told students at his old high school in Parsons last September. (He declined to be interviewed for this article.) He told the assembly about a momentous occasion: meeting Trump in the Oval Office for the first time. “You walk out and you see the grandeur of the White House and you think about the fact that you just met the most powerful person in the world, and I couldn’t help but think about a kid I used to know 30 years before,” Pai said. “He was a shy kid, bushy mustache, bushy hair, really awkward talking to people, just didn’t quite know what was going on. He was, candidly, a dork.”

Pai could argue, though, that dorkiness was his ticket out of Parsons. He was a top-flight debater in high school and, later, at Harvard. He arrived in Cambridge as a Democrat, but under the influence of a professor, Martin Feldstein, who had advised Ronald Reagan, he adopted a conservative free-market philosophy. Pai was also put off by the racial politics on Harvard’s campus. After the 1992 race riots in Los Angeles, his residential house invited students to post their feelings on a wall—a literal, brick-and-mortar one. Though a minority himself, Pai was skeptical of liberal identity politics, and he wrote that “the real problem” when it came to race at Harvard was “voluntary segregation.”

“Pai is very much casting his lot with this Trump revolution.”

Pai graduated from Harvard in 1994, a year in which two developments emerged that would shape the course of his professional life. That October, Netscape released the first commercially successful web browser, opening the way for the modern internet. A month later, the Republican Party won control of Congress. The spirit of Newt Gingrich’s “Republican Revolution” was strong at the University of Chicago, where Pai had just started law school. He belonged to the Edmund Burke Society, a vocal conservative group, but also studied with Cass Sunstein, a brilliant liberal scholar of administrative law. (Gigi Sohn—a Democrat and net neutrality advocate who worked at the FCC when Pai was there—told me that after a controversial vote, she saw Pai vehemently arguing with someone who had disparaged his knowledge of administrative law on Twitter. Explaining his anger later, he told her: “I got an A in Cass Sunstein’s administrative law class!”)

When Pai later moved to Washington, he joined a cohort of young conservatives who were impassioned about curtailing regulation. “Ajit was a type, as were a lot of his friends from Chicago, that would geek out about the differences in originalist philosophy of Scalia and Thomas,” says a friend from the time, Ketan Jhaveri. “And how to use that to get the government to do less.”

In 1998, Pai joined the Justice Department as a junior attorney in the antitrust division. He was assigned to a task force overseeing the telecommunications industry, which was going through a period of upheaval. Deregulation had contributed to a boom in dot-com stocks, huge investment in broadband, and a wave of telecom mergers. In 2000, Pai took part in an investigation that eventually blocked the proposed merger of WorldCom and Sprint, partly because it stood to give one company a dominant percentage of the internet’s “backbone” infrastructure.

Protesters, like these in Chicago, came out in force to support Obama-era net neutrality regulations. But the Republican-­majority FCC repealed the rules on December 14.

Scott Olson/Getty Images

The concern, then as now, was that the company that owned the pipes could also manipulate the flow of data. For practical purposes, some traffic management was essential, but the academics and engineers who pioneered the internet could already foresee how that control could lead to abuses such as blocking access to websites and “throttling”—or deliberately slowing—the connections of certain consumers. In 2002, a young law professor named Tim Wu wrote a short paper that he titled “A Proposal for Network Neutrality.” He framed the issue in modest terms, suggesting a standard that regulators could use to decide which methods of network management should be permitted (for the valid purpose of directing traffic) and which should be banned (for distorting the fundamental openness of the internet).

“I was sure it was a complete waste of time,” Wu recalls of that paper. But the phrase “net neutrality” caught on. Over time the concept has come to mean something far more sweeping, invoked to protect not just bits of data but free speech, personal privacy, innovation, and most every other public good associated with the internet. (Pai has called it “one of the more seductive marketing slogans that’s ever been attached to a public policy issue.”)

The world of telecommunications law is small, and Wu says he crossed paths with Pai around the time he came up with the concept of net neutrality. “Back in the day, he used to throw pretty good parties,” Wu said. Pai was active in the Federalist Society, the intellectual center of the conservative legal scene, but he was a bipartisan networker. He used to arrange large happy hour events, sending out mass email invitations that took the form of clever limericks. “Everyone knew his politics, but it was kind of like a joke,” says Jhaveri, who worked with Pai at the Justice Department and is now a tech entrepreneur. “A lot of our close friends were liberal and would give him a hard time about it, but all in good fun.”

After the Justice Department, Pai went to work at Verizon as a corporate attorney, but his foray into the private sector lasted just two years. He went on to Capitol Hill as an aide to two of the most conservative members of the Senate: first Sessions, from Alabama, and then Sam Brownback, who represented Pai’s home state of Kansas. Unlike his bosses, Pai was not a fire-breather on social issues, but he could see who was on the ascent in Washington during George W. Bush’s presidency. Finally, in 2007, Pai found his natural place at the FCC, taking a midlevel position in the general counsel’s office.

Established in 1934 to oversee radio airwaves and the Bell telephone monopoly, the FCC is one of those government institutions that conceals its importance behind an impenetrable veneer of boringness. The agency has historically had a dynamic of symbiosis—to put it politely—with the companies it oversees. FCC staffers deal mainly with lobbyists, and often become lobbyists, shuttling back and forth between K Street and the “8th Floor,” as the commissioners’ suites are known in Washington.

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As Pai joined the agency, activism was starting to stir around the issue of net neutrality. On a basic level, the problem concerned an ambiguity in the way the law dealt with internet service providers. The ones that started as phone companies were regulated under Title II of the Telecommunications Act and classified as “common carriers.” The cable companies, like Comcast and Time Warner Cable, were governed by the more permissive Title I, which covers “information services.” During the Bush administration—after much lobbying, litigation, and a Supreme Court decision—the FCC reclassified all ISPs under the looser designation of information services.

“That deal really was: You won’t be regulated like a phone company—which they hate, it’s very expensive—as long as you invest and serve the country,” says Michael Powell, Bush’s first FCC chair. “And what did the companies do? Over a decade, it was the fastest-deploying technology in the history of the world. They invested over a trillion dollars.” Of course, putting broadband in the less regulated category meant the FCC would have fewer powers to police anticompetitive practices. In 2004, Powell, a Republican, set forth voluntary principles. “It was consciously and purposely meant to be a shot across the bow of the ISP industry,” Powell says. He was telling them to behave or else the rules could return.

Pai appeared in the video “7 Things You Can Still Do on the Internet After Net Neutrality.”

Courtesy of YouTube

The video included a group of young conservatives, one of whom had helped spread the “Pizzagate” conspiracy. The internet pounced.

Courtesy of YouTube

Powell’s approach looked feeble to net neutrality advocates, who were backed by an emerging economic and political force: Silicon Valley. Companies like Google suspected—not unreasonably—that the internet service providers, which had invested all that capital in broadband, resented them for skating on their networks for free. The providers were rumored to be interested in charging tech companies for fast delivery, a practice known as “paid prioritization,” and if they started to exploit their middle­man position, it could potentially upend the economy of the internet. “I’m not saying that Google doesn’t act out of self-interest,” says Andrew McLaughlin, who helped start Google’s public policy operation in Washington. “But that self-interest was the sense that the long-term future of the internet is better off if it’s free and open.”

The new billionaires of Silicon Valley embraced Barack Obama when he ran for president in 2008, as did many of their employees like McLaughlin, who became a White House technology adviser. “The Democrats won the fight about who was going to hang ­out with the cool kids,” says Randy Milch, who was then general counsel at Verizon. “Then they carried the water for the cool kids. That’s how this became a partisan battle.”

Obama took up the cause of net neutrality, and his first FCC chairman, Julius Genachowski, cut a deal with the telecom companies to accept new regulations. This incensed congressional Republicans. If Obama favored net neutrality, congressional Republicans were opposed, and the formerly technocratic issue became a right-wing bugaboo. On Fox News, Glenn Beck drew crazed diagrams on his blackboard linking White House aides who favored net neutrality to Marxist academics and Mao. With encouragement from its allies on Capitol Hill, Verizon sued the FCC. This was much to the consternation of the rest of the industry, which considered Genachowski’s rules preferable to the hardcore alternative of common-carrier regulation.

In 2011, when a Republican seat opened up on the FCC, Mitch McConnell put Pai forward for the post. During his confirmation hearing, when Pai was asked about net neutrality, he said he’d keep an open mind as the courts considered Verizon’s lawsuit. Net neutrality advocate Harold Feld wrote an approving blog post, calling the nominee a “workhorse wonk.”

“Boy, was I wrong,” Feld says today.

After McConnell and the Republican leadership sent Pai to the commission in 2012, he revealed himself to be a fierce partisan. He reportedly shocked FCC staff with the militantly conservative rhetoric of his very first dissent, over a small-bore decision about the Tennis Channel. Pai went on to clash bitterly with Tom Wheeler, the Democrat who led the FCC during Obama’s later years. “Pai was running circles around him,” says Craig Aaron, president of the advocacy group Free Press, who watched Pai maneuver in league with Republicans on Capitol Hill. So when a federal court sided with Verizon in early 2014, requiring the FCC to find a new net neutrality approach, Pai was ready. “He went to war,” Aaron says.

The court decision appeared to leave the FCC only one route: classifying service providers under the restrictive rules that covered phone companies as common carriers. This was the outcome the ISPs had dreaded. In 2014, in a move Pai decried as White House meddling, Obama released a YouTube video endorsing this approach. Pai fought against what he called “President Obama’s plan to regulate the internet.” But the regulations passed, and in June 2016 a court upheld them. The issue looked settled. Then, in a turn no one saw coming, Trump won the presidential election.

Pai never explicitly identified himself with his party’s “never Trump” faction, but as an intellectual conservative and the son of immigrants, he has little sympathy for the president’s crass nativism, says a friend who talked to him throughout the 2016 campaign. “I would be very surprised if he voted for Trump,” this friend added. (An FCC spokesperson says Pai voted for Trump.) Still, when Trump won the election, Pai, like many Republicans in Washington, recalibrated his ideological agenda. “I knew once Trump met him and heard his life story, Trump was going to like him,” says Christopher Ruddy, CEO of Newsmax Media and a confidant of the president’s. It helped that Pai’s old boss Sessions was, at that time, one of Trump’s most trusted advisers. When offered the FCC chairship, Pai eagerly accepted the post.

When Trump won the election, Pai, like many Republicans in Washington, recalibrated his ideological agenda.

As the nation’s top telecommunications regulator, Pai’s unofficial duties include presiding over an annual Chairman’s Dinner, also known as the “telecom prom,” a Washington hotel gala filled with inside jokes about cable retransmission disputes and the like. In last year’s speech, Pai offered tips for his newly powerless Democratic colleagues (“Tip #1: Leak … frequently”) and performed a skit in which he poked fun at his own reputation as a corporate shill. It depicted a young Pai, circa 2003, conspiring with a real-life Verizon executive. “As you know, the FCC is captured by industry, but we think it’s not captured enough,” she said. “We want to brainwash and groom a Verizon puppet to install as FCC chair. Think Manchurian Candidate.”

“That sounds awesome,” Pai replied enthusiastically. All that was missing was “a Republican who will be able to win the presidency in 2016 to appoint you FCC chairman,” the Verizon executive said. “If only somebody could give us a sign.” The twangy bass line of the Apprentice theme played, and Trump’s face filled the screen.

It is difficult to serve Trump without getting muddied in the mayhem of Trumpism—as Sessions and many others have discovered. Last fall, when Trump launched a Twitter attack on NBC, suggesting it might be “appropriate to challenge” its broadcast license for reporting “Fake News”—that is, news he didn’t like—the FCC chair kept quiet for days before meekly declaring that the FCC would “stand for the First Amendment.” Jessica Rosenworcel, a Democratic commissioner, says: “Maybe it was fear. But history won’t be kind to silence.”

For the most part, though, Pai has been left to run the FCC with little interference. Trump may love television, but he doesn’t care about the dry arcana of telecommunications regulation. At Pai’s sole Oval Office meeting, last March, Trump mainly wanted to talk about winning and their shared love of football, Pai told others, and gushed about the strategy his buddy, Patriots coach Bill Belichick, had employed to stage a Super Bowl comeback against the Falcons. Insofar as the White House has an opinion on net neutrality, it was set early by Steve Bannon, Trump’s political adviser, who declared that the “deconstruction of the administrative state” would be one of the administration’s core priorities.

LEARN MORE

The WIRED Guide to Net Neutrality

“It was sort of knee-jerk in the White House,” says a Republican net neutrality supporter who discussed the issue with both Pai and Bannon last year. “Bannon said, ‘This is Obama’s rule and we should throw it out.’ ” Though Bannon has since been banished, the deregulatory campaign marches on. Beneath the fireworks display of angry tweets, Russia investigations, and sex and corruption scandals, Trump has been filling the judiciary and federal agencies with appointees determined to curtail bureaucratic power.

Even before he was named chair, Pai said he wanted to take a “weed whacker” to FCC regulations, and it was inevitable, given his and his party’s hostility to net neutrality, that he would reverse Obama’s common-carrier designation. But Pai’s order went much further. It allowed ISPs to do what they want with traffic, so long as they disclose it to customers in the fine print, delegating enforcement power to another agency entirely: the Federal Trade Commission. “I think most people thought he would take the rules and roll them back in a modest way,” Rosenworcel says. “This was radical.” Effectively, he has set the industry free of the FCC.

Pai has also made decisions favorable to other corporations, like Sinclair Broadcast Group, the owner of nearly 200 local television stations, which is vehemently supportive of Trump’s agenda. Among other things, the FCC eased ownership rules that limited Sinclair’s growth and is reviewing a controversial merger that would allow it to control another 42 stations, giving it a presence in 70 percent of the US. Progressive priorities, meanwhile, have been slashed. The FCC has moved to curtail Lifeline, a program that subsidizes phone and internet connections for poor people. If the cutbacks go through, some 8 million consumers could lose their Lifeline connections.

“Pai is very much casting his lot with this Trump revolution,” says Aaron of the advocacy group Free Press. Pai has responded to Free Press’ net neutrality criticisms by calling the group “spectacularly misnamed,” characterizing one of its founders as a radical socialist. He is even more unsparing behind closed doors. A former employee of a public interest group tells of being berated by Pai for an offending press release. “When you were talking with him privately, he used to seem genuinely interested in understanding,” says someone who has discussed net neutrality with Pai on several occasions. Now, however, his mind is closed to contrary thoughts. People who work at the FCC say that the agency is roiled by internal conflict. “It is incredibly partisan,” Democratic commissioner Mignon Clyburn told me in December. “I’ve been there for almost nine years, and I’ve never seen it to this degree.” In April, she resigned.

How to Speak Net Neutrality

Net neutrality is the principle that internet service providers (ISPs) should not speed up, slow down, or manipulate network traffic for discriminatory purposes. It needs its own glossary.

Blocking and Throttling

The crudest types of net neutrality violations. Blocking means exactly what it sounds like, while throttling refers to deliberately slowing the flow of data.

Paid Prioritization

Without net neutrality, ISPs could prioritize—that is, speed up—the flow of data from certain sites, giving an advantage to companies that pay tolls.

Title I and Title II

ISPs want to be covered under Title I of the Telecommunications Act, which is fairly lenient. But net neutrality advocates prefer Title II, which would treat ISPs as “common carriers” and allow tougher regulation.

Common Carrier

A legal concept that says certain entities—like railroads and phone companies—are so important that government needs to ensure they are open to everyone equally.

Gloria Tristani, a former Democratic FCC commissioner who now represents the National Hispanic Media Coalition, went to visit Pai last June, up on the 8th Floor. Sitting in armchairs in the chair’s spacious suite, Tristani tried to broach the subject of net neutrality and the Lifeline cutbacks, but Pai gave her a frosty reception. She says that she tried to be diplomatic, saying that, despite their party differences, she still believed Pai was motivated by his view of the public interest. “He gets up from his chair, goes to his desk, and comes back with a sheet of paper,” Tristani recalls. Pai thrust the paper at her. “He says something to the effect of, ‘You really dare say that to me?’ ” On the paper was a tweet she had written in favor of net neutrality. Posted beneath it was a picture of Tristani at a protest, pointing toward a “Save the Internet!” banner. It was next to a monstrous effigy meant to symbolize corporate money, from which Pai and Trump dangled on puppet strings. (An FCC spokesperson says Pai recalls a less confrontational encounter.)

Pai’s opponents make no apologies for demonizing him, given the stakes they say are involved. Without net neutrality, they predict, consumers could end up paying more money for less bandwidth, while tech companies that have come to depend on fast connections could be faced with a shakedown: Pay up or choke. The service providers scoff, saying they have no incentive to alienate their customers. But if Pai’s enemies and allies agree about one thing, it’s that his policy aims are about something larger than the speed at which packets of data traverse the cables and switches that make up the physical infrastructure of the internet. “I don’t think this fight is really fundamentally about net neutrality,” says Berin Szoka, founder of the libertarian advocacy group TechFreedom, who is well acquainted with Pai. “It’s really about people who, on the one hand, want to maximize the government’s authority over the internet, versus people who don’t trust the government and want to constrain its authority.”

A decade from now, it’s possible that the net neutrality argument will look like the first skirmish in a much larger conflict—one with shifting alliances and interests. For years, the service providers have been telling Silicon Valley to be careful about what they wished for. Earlier this year, Powell, now the top lobbyist for the cable industry, told me: “They are going to lose the war, because they are acclimating the world to regulation. They’re going to be next.” And sure enough, over the past few months of scandals over Russian bots and Facebook data-­harvesting, and the ensuing congressional hearings, the notion that the government might seek to expand its regulatory purview over Silicon Valley has started to seem conceivable. The tech companies are suddenly friendless in Washington, facing pressure not only from the left, which now sees them as no less evil than the ISPs, but also the right, which complains that its voices are being muffled by speech restrictions.

It is no coincidence that last year, as the FCC prepared to repeal net neutrality regulations, Silicon Valley’s response was notably muted. The conservative antiregulatory ideology might represent the industry’s best hope for an escape route for an industry that now fears government constraints. And besides, the big tech companies are no longer so sure that net neutrality is crucial to their business models. Even if service providers start charging tolls, the dominant internet companies will have negotiating power. Reed Hastings, the chief executive of Netflix, conceded at an industry conference last year that net neutrality is “not our primary battle at this point” because his company is now “big enough to get the deals we want.” The demise of the regulation could even have an upside for a now-established incumbent like Netflix, protecting its position from upstart competitors. “I think there is a growing consensus,” says analyst Craig Moffett, “that while it’s nice to be able to talk about how an issue like paid prioritization will strangle the next Google before it’s born, no one will benefit from strangling the next Google before it’s born more than Google.”

it is impossible to say whether Pai has killed net neutrality or whether, in the long term, it will return, either through a change of power in Washington, a court decision—appeals are ongoing—or even legislation. It is safe to predict, though, that there will be no peace between Pai and the internet. Over the past year, as he has been ­parodied and tormented by trolls, Pai has spent a lot of time in real life, on the road, driving rental cars through rural states and promising to bring broadband to the heartland. He has directed billions in funds to close the “digital divide” while appointing an advisory committee to identify regulations that slow down deployment. Even on his signature issue, though, there are problems. The committee is stacked to favor corporate interests, critics say, and Pai’s choice for its chair, the chief executive of an Alaska telecommunications company, created an embarrassing scandal. She resigned last year and was later arrested on federal fraud charges related to that telecom business.

Pai says his rural initiative is intended to help neglected consumers, but his barnstorming has led to widespread speculation that he has one eye on Kansas. “He’s probably going to run for Senate one day,” says Roslyn Layton, a policy expert who dealt with Pai as a member of Trump’s FCC transition team. “He wants to be known as a person from rural America who cares about rural America’s concerns.”

Still, it’s hard to imagine Pai running for office after his recent experience in the fray. He’s proven to be a formidable infighter but a maladroit public figure. Though he tries to maintain an indifferent air in public, people who know him say he has been rattled. Jerry Moran, a Republican senator from Kansas, held a small reception for Pai at a Washington townhouse last spring. The attendees were old friends and colleagues, and Pai became emotional. “He broke down,” recalls Wayne Gilmore, an optometrist who owns a radio station in Parsons. “His family was already getting death threats. It was real.”

“He broke down. His family was already getting death threats. It was real.”

With the darkness, though, comes a bright side: Pai is now viewed as a hero by conservatives. One Friday this past February, Pai went to a convention center outside Washington to deliver a speech to CPAC, an important annual gathering for members of the conservative movement. Out in the corridor, many slim-suited young deplorables with fashy haircuts were milling about, along with a woman costumed as Hillary Clinton in prison stripes. Pai was in the unenviable position of following Trump, who had delivered a rambling stem-winder in which he joked about his hair, maligned the ill John McCain, and talked at length about arming teachers, his response to the school shooting in Parkland, Florida, the week before. By the time Pai took the stage for his segment, which was titled “American Pai: The Courageous Chairman of the FCC,” the schedule was running around an hour behind.

Pai walked onstage with Dan Schneider, one of the conference organizers. “Ajit Pai, as you probably already know, saved the internet,” Schneider said, by way of introduction, as Pai guffawed appreciatively. “And he spent a lot of hours preparing a wonderful speech that he’s not going to deliver now.”

“OK?” said Pai, who was carrying a copy of the speech in his inside coat pocket.

“As soon as President Trump came into office, President Trump asked Ajit Pai to liberate the internet and give it back to you,” Schneider went on. “Ajit Pai is the most courageous, heroic person that I know. He has received countless death threats. His property has been invaded by the George Soros crowd. He has a family, and his family has been abused.” Then Schneider sprung a surprise. He brought an official from the National Rifle Association onstage. She announced that the NRA, a conference sponsor, was giving Pai an award. “We cannot bring it onstage,” she said. “It’s a Kentucky handmade long gun.”

Pai looked dumbfounded. It later emerged that FCC staffers backstage had prevented the NRA from bringing out the “musket” for fear of violating ethics regulations—and also, no doubt, wanting to avoid the spectacle of the enemy of net neutrality brandishing a firearm, the week after a deadly school shooting that had ignited massive protests. Friends later said that Pai was enraged that his speech on internet freedom was preempted, but he smiled and gave awkward thanks. Afterward he was ushered downstage for a panel discussion. “Wow,” he said, unable to hide his befuddlement. Pai nonetheless managed to hit some of his usual notes, quoting Gandalf the Grey and praising his own decision to take on the interests favoring net neutrality. “Some people urged me to go for sacrifice bunts and singles,” he said. “But I don’t play small ball.”

Pai had been blocked and throttled, but he was still winning.

Andrew Rice (@riceid) last wrote for WIRED about architect Bjarke Ingels.

This article appears in the June issue. Subscribe now.

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Why You Should Care About Net Neutrality

A world without net neutrality might end up meaning that you have to pay more to access the internet content that you want. But it also might crush innovation.

Read more: https://www.wired.com/story/ajit-pai-man-who-killed-net-neutrality/

from Viral News HQ https://ift.tt/2LwgJbc via Viral News HQ

[theastonishingkylejackson]

– Written By Marlie Love, Contributing Columnist for The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine 

To read more of Marlie Love’s work, go to her website by clicking HERE.

Originally Published HERE on February 19th, 2018 at Marlie Love Life Coaching.

  The World Is Living In A Lot Of Fear Right Now, And If You Look At Everything On The Surface, You Can See Why.

The Astonishing Marlie Love, life coach and contributor for The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine

Rumors of wars, bombs, killings, etc…. it’s a lot.

However, we can’t thrive in this fear. We can’t be crippled by it.

WHY, you ask? Well, because to fulfill your purpose in life, you can’t be crippled by the negative spirit of fear. We weren’t made to have a spirit of fear! 

I have three ways we can find peace instead of living in fear. Follow these tips TODAY, so you can fulfill your purpose and destiny.

1)Watch what you share, read, and discuss: 

We live in a world that shares anything and everything. For example, people are literally sharing their deaths on social media!

What’s even crazier… we are sharing it TOO! My main point is, just because a story, article, video, etc. is out there – that doesn’t mean we have to share it.

We are not only infecting our minds, but we go on to infect our followers.

 If something you read or watch makes you “angry, mad, fearful, etc.” don’t share it.

It’s that simple. Don’t allow that negativity to spread further. You can stop it. TIP: When you see a post that creates fear, share something that shows peace, love, joy, etc.

2)Do for others, as you would want done to you: 

The golden rule. Why do we find it difficult follow that one rule? I find that if someone does us wrong, it’s more likely that we will do them wrong too (talking bad about them, cursing them, hating them, unforgiveness, etc.). 

  However, that means that we are disregarding the sure way to be blessed and be a blessing to others. We can be the one to stop the cycle of hate, mistrust, greed, and envy.

If we truly want others to treat us better, it has to start with us. We have to treat EVERYONE the way that we want to be treated. 

TIP: If someone curses you or treats you badly – practice mindfulness. Before you respond to them, pause, reflect, and smile.

You don’t have to do react to the negativity being thrown to you. An easy way to do this is to just say “God Bless You” to everyone – friend or foe. It puts a positive aura around you that negativity can’t break through.

3)Pray, pray, and pray some more! 

Accelerate your blessings by letting go of fear!

I’ve said this in NUMEROUS blog posts, statuses, shoot, I’ve created a kit that is dedicated to praying!

Prayer can move mountains, change history, change destiny, and help us create a peaceful wonderful life.

The Bible says in Philippians 4:6 “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”

In John 15:7 “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you,” and in Mark 11:24 “Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”

We need to pray that God’s will is done on this Earth. We need to pray for our country, for our leadership, for our president, for our friends, family, co-workers, enemies…. Pray for everyone and everything.

When you pray, trust that God will hear and answer your prayer.

TIP: Create a prayer room/closet. It’s a great way to seek God in a private way.

We are not supposed to live in fear. Don’t allow yourself to.

I’m The Astonishing Marlie Love, Columnist For The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine and I Am Astonishing And I Approve This Message!

You can visit Marlie Love’s Facebook page by clicking HERE.  You can also check her out on Instagram by clicking HERE. And visit her website at www.marlielovelifecoaching.com/ or click HERE.

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[insecure-hbo-the-recaps]

hella open

Previously on Insecure: Issa slept with Lawrence but Lawrence is apparently with Tasha. Lawrence told Tasha, and it didn’t go well. Lawrence moved out of Chad’s place. Molly’s therapist helped her try to move up a level at work. Issa starts to accept that Lawrence is done.

Issa is having a red wine and chill with some random. She’s wearing a purple football jersey for the occasion, which is an interesting choice. Her hair is braided down in a protective after-shampooing set of Celie cornrows like… it tickles me when famous black women publicly do stuff that is just-for-at-home and mainstream media loses their shit over it (see also Rihanna wearing sparkly bobby pins in her wrapped hair) but, Insecure is for us. I’m not so sure I can cosign this ostentatiously quirky style choice, lol.

The guy moves in to kiss her and Issa awkwardly accepts it. She continually giggles while he is trying to be sexy, past the point where he is amused by it. As an aside, this is everything:

Issa is frankly annoying him now - I get that it’s weird for her to have sex with a new person after being with Lawrence for five years. The first time I had a serious long term relationship I was surprised how weird it was to begin sleeping with someone new again. It wasn’t something I thought I’d have a problem with, since obviously I’d never had a boyfriend and that was the weird thing. But, it was. Issa asks to reschedule, but she has blown this dude’s high - he’s wearing jeans with cutouts at the knee, this is some Eric Benet California shit - he doesn’t really want to try again. This didn’t work. So Issa gets dressed to leave.

Dunes. Issa is about to leave for work when she catches sight of the plume of smoke she burned into her wall at last week’s party. She also notices before she goes that the new property management has issued what appears to be every apartment notices for noise violations, taped to their doors.

On the way out, Issa runs into one of the bloods that crashed her party. He has a really big, weird shaped head.

It reminds me of this kid I went to high school with named Mickey who had a big oversized head that sort of came to a point at the top; so more a triangle than round head. Of course now that I’ve spent several years working in developmental pediatrics I know what happened there is that he should have had a helmet as an infant and his parents didn’t get him one, but at the time it was just there goes Mickey with his big ass pointed head that he for some reason chooses to accuentuate with a cloth headband. (This was obviously during the Rocafella era when that was en vogue for men.) I actually think that he ended up being shot and murdered as an adult, but for the life of me I cannot remember his last name in order to check and I’m not exactly on speaking terms with my high school classmates.

Anyway, Mickey (I don’t know that we ever get to hear his name and I’m going to make the executive decision that it doesn’t matter) says he had fun at Issa’s party and she watches him go.

Molly’s law office. She’s skyping with Hannah in the Chicago office as well as the TSA agent from Get Out, Quintin, a fellow lawyer in a trendy bow tie. There’s a Chicago joke about the sun shining so he’s going to the beach. That doesn’t work here because Chicago is not an overcast city and we don’t have an excessive amount of cloudy days. You’re thinking Portland, Insecure writers. Idk why the actor didn’t correct him, since apparently he’s also from Chicago. In the summer I hang a dark blanket on the window behind my blinds because my bedroom is east facing and there’s too much sun for 75% of the day. Anyway, they bond over being the token black lawyers and it’s all lovely and relatable.

High school. As you may have noticed, I really don’t give a shit about this storyline. I did think it was interesting that Issa ended up being the bad guy in this scenario, as the show’s hero, because you are definitely tempted to take her side in this. Frida comes across as an overly Clueless White Person with her concerns that the after school program is only black children while Issa isn’t bothered because she’s just glad the program is full. When I watched this the first time I was uncomfortable with it because while I didn’t exactly disagree with Issa’s blase attitude, I did think the show made it clear enough that she wasn’t doing the right thing to take it. Of course this season will make it overtly clear - more than the first season did in my opinion - that Issa’s judgment is sure in the fuck not to be trusted, and this was just another way that they established that. Duly noted that white people aren’t always wrong when it comes to race. Issa’s attitude doesn’t sit well with Frida.

Multicultural Silicon Valley start up, aka Lawrence’s computery job. It looks like he’s wearing one of those Untuck It shirts. Tangent. I went out with this guy who was born in the 70s because he started hitting on me when I was working on my laptop at Map Room and trying not to cry because I was texting with my new boyfriend-even-though-we’d-been-fucking-for-the-last-three-years-not-as-a-couple because he up and booked a flight for a 10 day trip to Costa Rica and didn’t tell me about it til afterward. I was two La Fin du Mondes in already and when I went to close out, the random man offered to buy me another, apparently not noticing my teary eyes. Anyway, because he was born in the 70s, he was particularly preoccupied with anything young and trendy, and frequently mentioned his Untuck It shirts to me. Granted they do look expensive and well made in real life. But they’re also just regular fucking shirts that charge a 300% premium because they cut them slightly shorter so that you don’t have to… guess what… tuck them in. I’ve literally only ever seen or heard of these shirts due to advertisements during daytime CNN or MSNBC viewing so like… who’s supposed to be impressed by this?

Anyway, The Generic White Guy is obnoxiously eating snack food made from crickets, and Lawrence is talking about his trip to Phuket, so we get the full range of lovely diversity at work in this cool, trendy environment. Apparently the ethnic girl next to Lawrence slept with Corny Colin, which the blonde teases her about. Ethnic Girl is not amused by it. The group discusses a company social, but Lawrence can’t go because he “promised someone he’d pick up some chairs.” So he’s going to go to Tasha’s family bbq after all. The group clearly regards Lawrence as a trendsetter amongst what’s hot and what’s not - a distinction I feel that certain types of black people, in certain environments, are relegated to simply because black culture is presumed to be cooler than the other prevailing cultures - and everyone is disappointed that he will not be going.

Loading dock. Molly is wearing a fabulous black skirt suit with leather trimmed lapels. She’s on the phone with her mom about the vow renewal thing her parents keep bugging her about. A worker comes out with her bookcase and assumes the random black man standing nearby is there with her. He asks if he should hand it over and everyone looks at each other, blanketed by the wrongness of the assumptions all around. Molly scoffs that she’s not with him, and makes to pick up the bookcase by herself.

Yes, it is exactly as absurd as you’d think it would be, and two things. Motherfuck this whole concept where black women aren’t allowed or should be or expected to be the normal amount of “feminine” granted to every other woman. I had this epiphany somewhere not long after high school when I realized how panicked and backed up against the wall I felt that my natural inclination was to resist any kind of vulnerability and the realization that I didn’t want to have to be “strong” all the time. That wasn’t going to work for me. I am damsel in distress all the time. You will stop when I cross the street, even if I’m timing it wrong with the stop signs - when I politely give you the right of way, you will insist I cross instead. You will pause to let me pass and open doors when I do. You will push my car out of the snow. You will offer to carry the leftovers from the restaurant. I dated a guy who insisted on walking down the stairs in front of me when I was wearing high heels, just in case I tripped. Point being, with regards to this scene, I wouldn’t have lifted that shit. I wouldn’t have carried shit. I would have been pointedly unable to carry that box. I’d have stood there for a half hour if that’s as long as it took for someone to offer to carry the box for me. But it wouldn’t have. When you behave with the expectation that you are a woman and you expect to be treated like a woman, something kinda funny happens… people treat you like a delicate woman. It doesn’t escape my notice that the black man the worker assumed was there for Molly is there with a white woman, whose boxes he handily carries, while Molly struggles absurdly with the bulky oblong in her five inch heels down a flight of stairs. No ma'am. Later for “strong black womanhood,” in this physical sense at any rate.

Molly’s fantastic apartment. She’s telling Issa she’s putting her therapy on hold until she finds another therapist. Naturally, therapy was hitting too close to home, so Molly’s instinct was to run from the truth. They are trying to put together this Ikea ass bookcase (related to my previous tangent, whenever I need this kind of manly work done, I outsource it now. Task Rabbit is an app, y'all. That’s what it’s for. It’s not as solid a solution as having an actual man around or anything, but on some level I simply refuse to become a handyman myself just out of sheer principle. You will not deny me my femininity this way, it is a political issue at this point to me.)

Anyway, Molly is bitching about the therapist trying to get too close “just because we both got brown titties.” Issa abides this silently. I can’t believe they unironically drink Carlo Rossi. I remember being a kid and trying to learn about this kind of stuff and making a note from, of all places, an episode of Intervention about what kinds of wine people actually drink. Haha! (And yes, it was the huge gallon jug of Carlo Rossi.) Issa encourages Molly to keep looking for a new therapist, which Molly flips back on Issa regarding not finding a new Lawrence either.

Issa recounts how she couldn’t do casual sex because she was too stuck in her own head. I’m so glad this has never been a problem for me LOL. I don’t even know what my social life would be like if I had a hang up about this issue. They decide they should be doing their “ho phase” together - but then Issa met Lawrence and he “made [her] fall in love with him and shit.” Issa wants to get on Team Fuck Love, and asks Molly “can you teach me how to ho?” “Bitch that’s rude… and yes,” Molly replies.

Late night spot. Issa is wearing a ridiculous outfit as she ridicules the other thirsty women in the spot that are there for an apparently different kind of thirst than the one she is. Seriously, what were we supposed to think about this outfit?

Baby, no. Especially as a woman walks past wearing the exact same bad dress. She’s also wearing what I’m sure are an expensive pair of espadrilles, but they are wedge espadrilles, with a red floral print. Plainly, that outfit is ridiculous. Issa suggests a vacation to somewhere where they’ll be exotic. Molly doesn’t care, and seems very underwhelmed by the night.

Issa is chatting with some guy, making awkward double entendres and sexual innuendos. The guy is not amused and flat out walks away from her mid conversation. The next guy at the bar keeps peeling his eyes around at everything else but Issa, finally admitting that he’s only talking to her because his friend wanted to talk to Molly. Issa is the grenade. Dayuuuuum, bro. “Do you have any other friends?” he asks, which Issa doesn’t dignify with a response.

Molly is talking to Sterling K Brown and is still underwhelmed with the night - the way his friend was only talking to Issa, she’s only talking to him. He asks for her number and Molly coolly hands him her business card. She joins Issa at the bar, who has given up on the night and ordered a plate of wings. I get it. There’s only so much humiliation you can take when you put yourself out there to pick up a random at the bar. Hell, at least Issa has a friend with her while she does it.

Tasha’s house. Tasha is in bed with Lawrence with her hair wrapped gossiping about tv shows. Lawrence tries to distract her and get amorous but Tasha isn’t interested in going there. She pushes Lawrence away and we are treated to more of the show-within-a-show.

Back at the Dune’s, Issa (in her middle-of-the-bed pillow) can’t sleep so she pulls out her vibrator. The battery dies and she spends like ten minutes walking around the apartment looking for new batteries. And, why don’t you have a magic wand? True story: I held off buying any kind of sex toys because I never had any and it made me have to seek out men if I wanted to have a sexual encounter; I (it turned out, rightly) figured that if I had any sex toys it would discourage and demotivate me from meeting actual men. Guess what… I was completely correct, and my love life took a marked down turn the same year I bought a magic wand of my own. Could have been timing, coincidence, I don’t know, but it was interesting. I have since incorporated it into my regular sex life. (My boyfriend-that-I-loved-so-much-I-was-always-crying was amused the first time I used it with him, calling it “violent” and “over the top” because I was “loud” and it “plugged into the wall.” lol. I did nothing but laugh and concede the point, because he was right. But in other news, fun fact: it also works on men, so if you are hooking up with someone that you don’t actually want to have sex with, everyone can have an orgasm with no intercourse whatsoever.)

There are a few scenes about Molly’s being underpaid and Issa missing the discrimination that I’m going to skip because the point has been made already.

Lunch. Molly is on a date with Sterling K Brown. He’s showing her pictures of his niece on his phone, because he’s a Good Black Man looking for a Good Black Woman. Actually, given the champagne flute and the bottle on the table I’m going to assume this is brunch (mimosas, you see). Sterling K Brown is wearing an interesting outfit, what says the tribunal?

This rote-date-conversation centers around the fact that they both have ticking biological clocks, and that Sterling K Brown is not being at all ambiguous about his intentions. Molly seems uncomfortable, and isn’t following this conversation as well as a woman would be if she were truly interested. I gotta say, Sterling K Brown comes off as a LITTLE thirsty… but, considering Molly really does the most when it comes to choosing a man, like… you can’t empathize with her at all. Do we know this, do viewers know this? Molly is wrong and ridiculous and has no clue what she is doing, and her choosing criteria is wildly outdated, immature, and foolish. Like, there is no shrewdness to her relationship behavior at all. She is doing nothing that would prove to be in her best interests or better her life circumstances at all, even if it were just casually dating a potential husband so that you have that back up available when things aren’t going well. This is the kind of thing I might of done before I realized it may be an actual real possibility that I actually might not find the husband I wanted some day.

California Family Cookout. There’s ribs, there’s dominoes. You feel right at home. Lawrence shows up in some hipster ass shirt, carrying chairs as promised. Tasha is wearing a lime green midi dress with scribbled print and a lopsided sew in. It works, as long as you don’t pause at the wrong moment. Why am I hating on both their outfits? Let’s move on. Tasha’s relatives line up to get a good look at Lawrence and he is clearly there in a capacity of Tasha’s Man Friend… which he looks decidedly uncomfortable with. Well, what the fuck were you expecting, Lawrence? Why do you think she hedged around inviting you, and made it clear you didn’t have to come?

Lawrence’s coworker texts him, and he decides to take it as an out, telling Tasha he’ll be right back. “Oh… ok,” she says. Damn. Again, people were furious over the “thirsty” character of Tasha. Meanwhile I’m just over here wondering why fellow black women didn’t have more sympathy for her flexibility. Some of the time when I peek back into conversations in The Community, I am reminded of all kinds of toxic shit I used to feel and believe when I was younger that I eventually had to unlearn in the interests of any kind of healthy interpersonal life. She cheerfully says she’ll see him later, and he leaves.

Molly is at a cupcake shop - those are a thing, y'all, and why? I live near one that granted, makes delicious cupcakes, but they cost like fucking four and a half dollars for one REGULAR SIZE muffin tin mold cupcake! Funnily enough, they are actually named “Molly’s Cupcakes.” Someone calls out that they will pay for her cupcakes, and it appears to be someone Molly knows:

A guy named Dro and his ostensible wife, who playfully criticizes Molly’s insistence on wearing “ugly” dark colors - it’s a black greek thing. (The wife is Delta, which I presume makes Molly AKA). The married couple set up the plot for next week’s episode, expositing that they are in town for the Kiss n Grind party. It’s clear that Molly knows Dro from way back, and the wife is newer.

Dunes. Issa has decided to paint over her burnt wall. She’s typically spastic at it, dripping paint everywhere and making a mess. While cleaning off the roller, she spots Mickey Bighead lounging by the pool and is apparently attracted by what she sees. Molly calls; Issa notes her “high pitched fakeness” as she describes the date with Sterling K Brown: although there is clearly nothing wrong with him it’s obvious to the both of them that Molly just isn’t into it. For SOME reason. And this is the thing that is frustrating about Molly… there’s never any legitimate or tangible reason why she has no interest in normal men and normal relationships, or why she brushes off scenarios that would be good for her. Like, what is she looking for instead? What’s wrong with Sterling K Brown? Why would she not be interested in him? There are no red flags - it’s not his looks, it’s not that he’s not a professional peer, it’s not his baggage as he is unmarried with no children. And perhaps that is the point the show is making - that just because she should be interested in him, that doesn’t mean she has to be. In the larger context of women “wanting it all” or “not settling,” the point is valid. But in a practical sense, Molly is being ridiculous and her actions are not justified. This is how bitches end up single til 40 when they wind up marrying a bald janitor in the end anyway, is all I’m saying. Making smart choices don’t always feel like the choices you want to make.

Molly is comparing her lack of interest in Sterling K Brown with the fact that Candace and Dro are happy despite the fact that Dro was a mess and never had a “five year plan.” So I guess that’s what her problem is. She has no idea what will make her happy and is constantly peeking in other peoples’ lives like it will tell her what would work in hers. You can always find a reason why a person is lacking when you compare them to someone else because… people aren’t the same.

Start up Happy Hour. Lawrence shows up and his coworkers are happy to see him. They know the workplace is one big ho fest once enough drinks start flowing. Ethnic Girl is still pointed about regretting hooking up with Generic White Guy. Which, rude.

Issa has painted over her wall, which looks really good. But then she notices she neglected the smoke on the ceiling. Knowing she can’t reach it, she reckons with it and tells it, “you can’t have my joy.” She spots Mickey Bighead going into his apartment and concocts a plan. She pulls out her charger and takes it down to Mickey’s asking whether he left it at her house at her party. He seems momentarily taken aback, but recovers smoothly enough to invite her in.

Start Up Saturday. Lawrence gets a text from Tasha wondering where he is. Ethnic Girl asks what his deal is - and I kind of hate those “work people” that you can tell their primary source of social capital comes from people they meet in and around the work environment. Like other people are wrong for having a life outside of work and are not as immersed as you are. They ask whether Lawrence is single as a waitress comes up to flirt with him. Although Lawrence says he has to take off soon, her overt interest is all it takes for him to stay for a round of shots.

Back at Mickey’s they’re talking about Gossip Girl. Blake Lively is the most generic white woman on the face of the planet. “Yeah, white people,” Mickey says. “There’s so many of them,” Issa adds awkwardly. Lol. Issa daydreams a confidence boost rap to convince herself to make a move: “even if it’s wack, you can still get some head!” Unflattering accidental pause moment:

Issa makes an awkward kiss move, accidentally knocking him in the nose with her forehead. It works anyway, and they start making out. The first time I watched this I was a little annoyed because while I understand Issa’s excitement over her new body, her constantly barely clothed state this season just seems so gratuitous. The fact that I personally don’t like her body type - not to say she hasn’t done a lot of work on it! - mainly just annoyed me. And I don’t enjoy her sex scenes. Molly’s sex scenes and Lawrence’s sex scenes are great. So it’s always kind of a let down when we have to watch Issa have sex. Her bra collection is excellent though, I guess.

Mickey asks if he could titty fuck her, which Issa “respectfully decline[s].” He wants to put her legs over her head, which she is uncomfortable with. Her head is squashed into the headboard and it’s terrible. To her credit, Issa asks to change positions and finds a way that suits her better. He’s wearing white socks. Aw. Flashbacks.

Molly is at home, working with a glass of red. Sterling K Brown invites her to a SZA concert and she declines. He comes back with a dinner invitation which she doesn’t even reply to. Whatever, Molly. But hey, she heard my complaints and hired some random men to put the cabinet together for her! There’s that at least.

Start up Saturday. Everyone’s drunk and Lawrence is explaining the concept of his app to the two girls. What IS “Woot Woot” exactly? Besides the fact that everyone makes fun of him when he talks about it, as far as I can tell it’s some kind of group chat client? Idk. Tasha calls, and Lawrence puts the phone to his ear in the loud bar. Tasha is mildly agitated, asking what happened to him because he never came back; her family members are even now in the background asking about him. He apologizes and says he ended up drinking too much. Tasha says if he didn’t want to come he should have just told her. Lawrence tries to brush it off but then admits he isn’t looking for a serious relationship. Tasha is put out because he ghosted on her in front of her entire family; if he didn’t want a serious thing he shouldn’t have come. He embarrassed her. Lawrence apologizes in a way that still blames it on her: “I know how much you wanted me to be there.” It’s her fault for expecting his intentions to match his behavior, not his fault for not being up front and leading her on. Tasha tells him to stop acting like he gives a fuck about her feelings, because he “fronted like it was [something more], apologizing for shit” he knew he wasn’t sorry for.

Lawrence insists he was being genuine. Tasha: “You’re a fuck nigga. You’re worse than a fuck nigga. You’re a fuck nigga who thinks he’s a good dude.” And she hangs up. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the cultural conundrum facing all of us in this new technologically advanced hook up landscape we are all attempting to navigate. I don’t know how it used to be before Swiper Not Swiping and casual sex became the rule, not the exception, but I also find that men are preoccupied with being “good guys” in a way that belies their shitty behavior; some kind of veneer of honesty and distance that doesn’t quite square with the level of intimacy and acquiescence they are seeking from their partners. Maybe back in the day it was understood you couldn’t get that level of commitment without expressly acknowledging it; I find these days men think they get to have their cake and eat it too on this issue.

Anyway, look at this shit:

Bitch, what are you wearing? Those 1980s Jessie Spano mom jeans. Her name is “Arpana” which leads me to believe she’s supposed to be Indian, but I think in real life her body type would indicate she is something else. She’s probably Latina tbh. (And no I’m not going to google this to find out.) Anyway, Lawrence is laughing off his conversation with Tasha well enough as he rejoins the party.

Back at the Dunes, Issa is sneaking out of Mickey’s apartment. She isn’t quiet enough and he wakes up, offering for her to sleep over. Super generous considering she lives literally right upstairs. As Issa grabs her phone to go, she decides she isn’t actually willing to sacrifice her phone charger for this farce, so she snatches it up too. But not to fear: it turns out Mickey was aware of her ruse the entire time, as his phone has been sitting plugged into his own not-missing charger the whole time. Issa can’t even be mad as she lets out a chuckle and goes. She seems pleased, at least, with this first foray into “honess.”

[jackblankhsh]

Wedding Crash

Because I did not receive an invitation to the wedding I felt a desire to attend.  I reasoned if they really didn’t want me to come, the bride and groom could’ve taken better steps to prevent me from knowing about the impending nuptials.  Seeing how they brazenly mentioned it on social media, I felt indirectly invited.  Alluding to an open bar, frankly, they might as well have told a moth about a flame. So, in the interest of saving money, with hope of kindling a chance of romance, I ventured downtown to the wedding of Jackie Sanchez and some guy.  

I met Jackie in high school.  The first time I saw her I learned an erection can swell to a painful degree – dick feeling like a rock about to explode apart.  Long licorice colored hair, caramel skin, and sneakers decorated in white out doodles, she inspired feelings I’ve never learned to properly express.  Mainly that’s because there’s no way to charmingly say, “So I was jerking off the other day, thinking of you, and…” whatever comes next is irrelevant.  For some reason most folks aren’t flattered to learn they’re in the spank bank.  Maybe it’s something everyone fears they won’t live up to.  I don’t know, I’ve never had a problem failing people.

Hitching a ride from my buddy Sid, I told him to head to the Art Institute.  He pulled over to the curb, put the car in park, and said, “Do not go to Jackie’s wedding.”

Struggling to put on a tux while seated passenger side, “I resent the implication of your accusation.”

He sighed, “You had four years in high school, four years to ask her out.”

I nodded, “Truth fact.  However, life is a continuous opportunity for those willing to try.  I’m not dead.  Ergo…”

“Fuck yourself,” Sid said, then for emphasis, “Error go fuck yourself.”

“Are you gonna drive me to the Art Institute?”

Shifting the car into gear Sid remarked, “Only to see you fail.”

I truly believe it’s the amount of faith we have in one another that explains why the world is the way it is.  

#

Sneaking into any kind of event is an art form.  The amount of security dictates the level of infiltration skill required to achieve a successful sneak.  For instance, breaking into an eighth grade graduation is very different from photo-bombing the President at the State of the Union.  One simply requires ice cream cake and a hammer, while the eighth grade graduation involves chloroform, white wine, peanut dust, and a child sized coffin.

I originally considered crashing the actual wedding, but since it took place in a church I could not.  God and I have an understanding, and though we clearly have little respect for one another, I abide by our agreement:  I stay out of the churches, God stays out of evolution, and the Winter Olympics.  So instead I aimed at the reception.  

Security didn’t appear to be anything other than Art Institute guards.  Instead of preventing flash photography two doorstops in blue blazers checked invites and IDs against a list on a clipboard.  Once again I felt like they left the door wide open. Out of myriad gambits, the way one guard blatantly scratched his ass, hand down the back of his pants to get at bare skin, I decided to go with the maneuver known as the Hideous Hideaway.  

I called up a video on my phone then approached the entrance.  

A guard said, “Good afternoon.  May I see your invitation?”

“Sure thing.” Smiling I fumbled in my pockets, pretending to be unsure of its location.  In the process I pulled out my cell phone which seemed to inspire my remark, “Oh, hey, have you seen this yet?”

I pressed play on the video.  It featured insects devouring a man’s penis while he writhed in agony.  The millipede scrambling down his urethra is as far as most get, missing out on the young woman who comes along to save his cock by stomping the bugs to death.  These two made it all the way to the end.  That made things easier.

As expected, one guard asked, “Where’d you get that?”

I informed her of the link’s location, and while the two hurried to share the hideous spectacle with their friends, I slipped inside.  It almost felt too easy.  Then I stepped into the banquet hall where I immediately bumped into Jackie’s brother Alvaro.  

Alvaro Sanchez Junior always impressed me until he spoke.  He possessed the regal bearing and beauty of an Aztec emperor. Unfortunately, he often spoke with a toxic tone symptomatic of silver spoon poisoning.  This stemmed from the fact Sanchez Senior held a low level, but well connected political position; and many expected Alvaro, as eldest, to assume his father’s spot; regardless of the realities of democracy that political seat belonged to him – voters be damned.  Groomed, practically from birth, to be, as Alvaro liked to say “a leader of men,” he took a method approach to his future.  Like a Strasburg disciple, he stayed in the character of king almighty every moment of the day.  

We literally bumped into one another when, as I stood perfectly still, he walked into me. For a moment I tensed, expecting him to recognize me.  Alvaro never cared for me.  I based this on the fact he often told me, “I don’t care for you.”  However, he assumed from the second rate quality of my tux that I worked as a server.  An assumption made plain when he said:

“Watch where I’m going, and get me some crab puffs, or I’ll have you fired.”  He and a buddy high fived, yet didn’t linger.  So I headed for the open bar.  

There I collected a pair of cocktails, one for each hand.  Draining the glasses steadily, I orbited the banquet hall.  Staying in one spot ran the risk of prolonged conversation, chancing the development of holes in my cover – anonymity my best camouflage.  Still I paused every so often to dance in and out of conversations, killing time saying things like:  

“Baseball is a hell of a game if you can stay drunk… I’ve never been to Guayaquil, but that iguana park sounds fascinating… well, you’d be surprised.  Tuberculosis kills all kinds of career opportunities lemme tell ya (cough, cough)… Oh, I know the best man.  We used to sell runaways to the circus… No ma’am, I don’t think the bride’s dress is too tight.  She’s having trouble sitting because the groom, well, he likes to drill that ass.”

In retrospect, I could have been milder in some regards.  Yet, no one caught on to the presence of a crasher.  I’ve been to several weddings.  They all tend to be the same affair.  A nebula of tables adorned with floral centerpieces, ringed by a smattering of guests with various degrees of connectivity.  Wedding receptions are the only occasion where it’s okay to openly rank family and friends, status defined by seating assignments. Therefore, the trick to remaining discrete involved finding a table with the least desired family and friends. There I could sit, pretending to share in the minimalist joy of having at least been invited.  

“That’s better than Aunt Frida.  No one invites her anywhere.”

“That’s because she’s dead.”

“Only on the inside.  She’s a real downer.”

Still, I occasionally chanced brief hellos with those I recognized.  Her Aunt Morena, who wrote Xicana literature, a woman with a helmet of hair redefining Chicana archetypes.  Grandpa Emilio, whom I always thought of as the old guitarist.  I saw his beloved instrument beside his chair – Ana from the alley of the kiss – and hoped I’d get a chance to hear him play once more.  Cousins Fabiana and Facundo forever locked in a debate about the realism of football.  Friend of the family and party regular Vincent Redon in the 800th retelling of the woman at her toilette he saw after the hurricane ripped her house open. Jackie’s family and friends gathered, while I snuck booze in the background – it felt like old times.  

When dinner arrived, instead of eating I slipped outside for a smoke.  Exiting the room, I jokingly asked the guards if I needed a hand stamp to get back in.

One laughed, “Nope, but you gotta watch this.”  

He showed me a video of four women explosively shitting on the floor.  They then used the excrement as finger paint to draw floral designs on one another like sewer hippies.  I made an exaggerated display of comical disgust.  Delighted, the guards waved me off, and returned to finding more revolting videos.  

Outside I felt my phone buzz.

Sid texted, “I can’t believe you’re still in there.”

“Believe it,” I typed back.

“How much longer?”

Good question, I thought.  

After high school Jackie and I didn’t keep in touch.  By then we’d gone down very different roads.  We used to be kids searching for how to be who we wanted to be, following breadcrumbs laid out by albums, films, and books.  We could agree on the significance of a song, but not the whole album; the brilliance of a line from, though not the entire film, or book.  It seemed to me we were only off by a slight degree, that one shared element would bring us into sync.  But by the time we graduated… we took comfort in dissimilar realities, that one thing never having materialized.

Over a decade later, when social media blossomed, we got back in touch; however, it rarely amounted to more than peripheral interactions.  

Post:  Look at dis cutest kittie!

“Liked” by Jackie Sanchez. 

Strolling back to the banquet area, it dawned on me my infatuation with Jackie stemmed mostly from not dating her.  We never had a romantic relationship, so it never failed; therefore it could’ve been anything.  Possibilities are endless in the absence of contrary evidence.  Because I could only imagine us together I could always imagine us perfectly.  And oddly enough, fantasies have a way of making promises.  

Promises like if I got the DJ to play Patti Smith’s “Because the Night”, the song would inspire the words I needed to say to win her heart.  Seizing one last bold chance for love go up to the head table while the song fills the air, and speak – about this time I realized I hadn’t merely been vividly imagining the scenario, but actually now stood in front of the head table, Jackie staring over her pollo relleno in wide eyed disbelief.  

“Howdy do?” I said, immediately regretting my very existence.  If nothing else, I doubt any romantic victory ever began with howdy do, although I could be wrong.

Jackie blinked, “I’m good.  How… how are you?”

“Not bad.” I put my hands in my pockets, wondering how many times I’d have to punch myself in the throat with my keys before I finally killed myself.  I said, “It’s been a while.”

“Yes it has,” she nodded, “The last time I saw you, you set my boyfriend’s car on fire.”

“This is that guy?” her husband said.  He suddenly looked desperate to call the police.  

Smiling, I said, “That is indeed me.”  

“What are you doing here?” Jackie asked.

I sincerely believe honesty is the best move.  However, on this occasion, I lied, “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m here to steal a painting, saw y’all in here, and thought I’d stop by to say congratulations.”

“Thanks?” her husband said.

“Thank you,” Jackie smiled.  She got up, hurried around the table to hug me.  She smelled amazing, the kind of aroma that cures depression.  She whispered in my ear, “You’ll go to jail if you steal a painting.  Please tell me this is some deranged romantic stunt.”

It felt like an opening, yet I oddly enough knew better.  I squeezed her gently, “Nope.”  Stepping away from her I waved to the groom, “Once again, congratulations.  I’d stay, but timing is everything.  Don’t want to miss my moment.”

Heading out, feeling several eyes on me, I texted Sid:  "be out front, engine running, backseat open.“

Minutes later, running down the steps of the Art Institute, carrying one of Monet’s “Haystacks” – I had to steal something to diminish the lie – I found myself wondering what else I needed to let go of.  Diving into the backseat of Sid’s car, we peeled out, rocketing home.  

Glancing in the rearview Sid said, “What the fuck is that?”

“One of six, 25 technically – they can spare one.”

He cracked a beer, “So how was the reception?”

“A little too clear.”  

My impression of the past would no longer be the same, but that’s just growing up.  I tapped Sid on the shoulder.  He handed me a beer.  Opening it I thought, "Here’s to you Jackie.  I’m glad you’re happy.”

Sid said, “You know alotta marriages end in divorce.”

“Yeah.” But I didn’t feel like hoping for that. I felt like finding another dream girl, only this time actually trying to hold her instead of chasing the mirage.

[koffeehouse]

hello, so I'm a girl, and I had a girlfriend for a few months and I fell completely in love with her and then we broke up and became friends on and off for another few months. And we decided that it was better to not talk at all anymore. And now she's found someone new and she's in love with them, but I think I still love her? But it's been more than 6 months since I broke up with her. And my heart hurts. I just want to move on but I don't know how to stop feeling this way. So advice?

Hi, my love. I’m sorry to hear that you’re still hurting over this. When you love someone or care for them, you want for them to be happy overall, and for this particular situation, I think that abiding by what makes her happy is best. If she’s happy in her new relationship, I wouldn’t necessarily go about rocking the boat by trying to interfere. Any time you’re in love with someone, it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together or what happens over the course of your relationship, it is more than expected to have lingering feelings that seem like they’ll never go away. I’ve been in relationships before where the person and I never actually dated but we spent years going back and forth with one another in a will-they-won’t-they type deal and it crushed me when they finally moved on and began dating someone else. I’ve been in relationships where it took me three years to get over someone I loved even if it was for a short while; getting over someone does not know time limits. Right now, she’s happy, and even if she does have lingering feelings remaining for you, it is not on you to have her admit them or act on them. If it is meant to be, the two of you will find your way back to each other in the right way. Don’t stir up what may be a complication that only hurts you in the end. As for moving on, one of the initial things is to start by looking at what your reality is and find a way to process and accept that. Unfortunately, none of us can time travel as great as that would be, and what’s done is done. The relationship ended the way it did, your ex is in another relationship, and a chapter has closed there. Nothing can reverse that. It takes time to comes to terms with that, but time heals all wounds and time will start to stitch up the holes she left, I promise. If you aren’t in a situation where you see her every day, then that usually makes things a tad bit easier; unfollow her on social media if you haven’t already. One less follower won’t hurt anything. It is so much easier to get over someone if you do not keep tabs on them or see them every time you log onto Instagram. It only makes things worse when you see her posting on social media about this new relationship, and by blocking it out entirely, it isn’t something you’re plaguing yourself with and therefore you aren’t thinking about as much. If you are in a situation where you see her everyday, start surrounding yourself with your friends and fully investing yourself into their company when you’re with them. Act like she isn’t there. Don’t go ways where you know you’re going to bump into her; the best way to get over somebody is to quite literally cut them out of your life in whatever way you can. Start putting a heavier emphasis and focus on your relationships with friends and family, on the hobbies that make you truly happy; begin making your way through your Netflix to-watch list, go out and do something fun with your friends, find a creative outlet, anything of the sort! It is easier to move on from someone when you’re occupied with other things in your life, when they’re seemingly no longer there. Moving on doesn’t have to be in a romantic context unless you’re positive that’s something you’re ready for, and I would make sure it’s something you’re ready for. Sometimes, trying to eclipse your feelings with someone else’s shadow only makes emotional matters more complicated. Moving on is a healing process, especially after you’ve loved someone. Take your time, cut the remainder of her out of your life as best you can, and start channeling your time into doing the things that make you genuinely happy. Feelings will fade, you will eventually be able to see her post about a relationship and it won’t bother you, and you will find another girl (or guy, depending on what you’re looking for) who makes you happy. Love you much, darling, and if you ever need any further help, I’m right here.