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livelivefastfree · 6 years

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100% need a masterpost of your fics cause you've been drawing them and I love everything. But recs would be appreciated too!!

ALRIGHTY THEN. One……VERY large post of my fics and my Motorcity recs, coming up. ^v^ 50+ fics for y’all’s consumption.

Let’s start with my fics, because I know them better, haha.

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Save A Horse, Ride A Dragon

One of my fav fics I’ve done to date in any fandom. Mike is a mercenary dragon trapped in the shape of a human, wandering the Michigan wastes in post-apocalyptic magical America, when he and his Burners get an offer from the mysterious Lord Vanquisher. T+ at this point for suggestive moments and makeouts. Polyburners/Muckles. Warnings for the Duke being The Worst, and for Mike being the DUMBEST oblivious thirst-lizard.

The Officer Present//Director Absent series (AKA Live Free and Welcome To The Kane Co Family)

A love letter to the Season 2 that never was, co-written by me and my twin sister toastyhat/HeatedHeadwear! :D Live Free chronicles the appearance of a new, menacing super-soldier in Motorcity, the shadowy machinations that led to his appearance and an overarching plan from Kane that could destroy Motorcity–once and for all!!!!!! Welcome to the Kane Co Family starts shortly after the fallout from the first, with both cities struggling to come to terms with their new reality–but the world is changing and there are new threats on all sides, and if they thought their status quo changed in the first fic, BOY THEY’VE GOT A BIG STORM COMING!! >8Dc Also Julie punches multiple people and generally kicks ass, it’s fabulousBoth fics are gen, they’re both rated T+ for violence, Evil Science, angst, etc. Warnings for copious Deluxe worldbuilding, egregious amounts of backstory, a couple OCs I’ve been reliably informed are extremely fun, and chapter titles in the style of anime episode titles, because why not. :D

Supersynesthesiac

Originally created solely to fill a prompt from a sexy prompt generator, this fic and the world it’s set in both spiralled wildly out of control, and a much more plot-heavy sequel is in the works. Supersynesthesiac follows Mike Chilton, a vigilante superhero in Detroit Of The Future, as he finally meets his elusive, telepathic partner Blonde Thunder under the most dramatic circumstances possible. Rated M for psychic makeouts, mind-melding and also there’s sex happening, probably. It’s not nearly as lovingly described as the mind-meld porn going on in the foreground. Polyburners is happening in the background, but this fic is basically entirely Muckles. Warnings for Red being awful.

Rest In Pieces (Come Apart)

Mike is getting entirely out of control, and needs to burn off energy before he can get himself (and everybody else) in trouble again. Fortunately his gang has a Plan.Rated M for sweet, loving and totally relentless polyburners gangbang. Warnings for everybody being absolute dorks. Also bondage and edging, if that’s not your thing. UoU

Werewolves Of Detroit

A series of vignettes exploring the world of Mike Chilton, rogue ex-commander werewolf, his vampire best friend, his highly unconventional pack, and the world they live in. EVERY section is illustrated and I’m very proud.Rated T+, mostly gen with mentions of Dutch/Tennie. Warnings for Kane being a huge bigot, mentions of KaneCo-mandated surgery, and Texas being an asshole about vampires.

Exposure Therapy

Mike has a cool idea for a cool present for his cool boyfriend to totally cure Chuck’s fear of going fast in Mutt. Rated M for dumb, fluffy smut and implied sex toys. Warnings for unsafe driving practices.

Kiss And Tell

Somebody came into my askbox and suggested polyburners–but the rest of the city doesn’t know that’s their relationship, just that SOME configuration of Burners is together, and it seems to change CONSTANTLY. Rated T+ for vaguely-implied possible sex at some point off-screen. Warnings for nothing, this fic is a perfect warm fluffy representation of my poly-burner feelings and I love it.

Wreck

A little snapshot from an AU I’m not really planning to flesh out–I mostly wanted to capture a certain kind of bittersweet emotional conflict. Chuck’s doing his best to keep his head down and live through college when a face he hasn’t seen since The Accident shows up at his door. Vaguely Muckles-ish. Rated T+ for reference to a nasty car accident and the aftermath, warnings for Kane being, just, Not A Good Dad.

Override 0

Not exactly an AU, more of a speculative fic about the Burners finding out that Chuck’s enhancements go a lot further than just the weapons systems in his arms. A realization prompted, of course, by the Duke of Detroit’s thirst for drama. T+, no pairings. Warnings for, in the words of AO3′s tag system, “#Loss Of Limbs”, mind control via brain-hacking, and mentions of unethical scientific/surgical procedures.

So Real In The Dark

I challenged myself to write people pining for each other while simultaneously being in a relationship, and a sci-fi AU with an artificial amnesia hookup service turned out to be the solution. Half a fic about boys being incredibly dumb, and half a fic about trauma, bigotry, coping mechanisms and communication, and how you can love somebody and know them incredibly well and still not really understand them. Explicit, Muckles, background Dutch/Tennie and Claire/Julie. Warnings for brief stranger danger, aphrodisiacs, more poor treatment of cyborgs, and emotional gut-punch.

–Stuff I Post About That Isn’t Posted/Finished Yet–

Burnerswap

A universe where the Burners are grown-up villains, and the former villains of the canon series are our new teenage heroes. They’re dysfunctional and weird, but they’re doing their best to protect the clean, orderly, shining city of Deluxe from the gangs and bots and nasty, climbing bots that Ms. Kane sends up from the city below. UoU Likely to be rated T+ if I ever post it. Not much in the way of pairings except Ms. Kane’s right and left-hand man are VERY married and VERY tragic because you know I gotta fit Muckles in there.

–Collab Fic / Gift Fic–

Chilton 2.0 by me and LaughingStones

The Kane Co. super-soldier program needs a volunteer, and who better to be superhumanly enhanced than the rising star of the Security program, Commander Chilton? He’d never betray Kane Co, or need to have his brain overridden! There’s no way this project can possibly go wrong! Rated M for some pretty fucked-up treatment of cyborgs, and also for sexy future reasons. Warnings for Mike getting really messed up physically, emotionally and psychologically by bad programming and free-will overrides, and also for dumb boys stumbling awkwardly through impromptu sex-ed together. Muckles.

i’m not the same kid from your memory by roachpatrol and also I helped

Kane Co. captures Chuck and manages to do some nasty shit to his brain before the Burners come and re-capture him. Chuck does NOT appreciate being held captive by Burner Scum. Emotions!!! Angst!!!!! …it’s rated T+ on AO3 but there’s sex so just, be aware of that. UoU Muckles!

Experiments In Cross-Species Makeouts by LaughingStones

This one is very hard to explain, because Jem and I like to bounce of each other’s AUs and fics and write derivative fics of fics–there’s an OC in the Live Free/Welcome To The Kane Co Family universe who has what is essentially a nasty brainy kismessisitude/hate-love relationship (not fully explored in the fic, but very fleshed out in my mind, haha) with Chuck. And this is….those two, but with the races/species from Werewolves of Detroit. So…supernatural AU Chuck/OC hate-sex. M, obviously. Warnings for vampires getting drunk on siren blood and Live Free/WttKCF spoilers.

Recalibration Nation by HeatedHeadwear

!!!! A fic for my picture of Chuck as the Duke’s cyborg bodyguard, because toasty is great. A+ hurt/comfort and recovery and bittersweet life-goes-on vibe, aslkfjsadf I love it. T+, no pairings, warnings for anxiety/panic attacks, ear trauma, violence, emotions.

Proper Disposal Of Project Materials by LaughingStones

A scene in Chilton 2.0 I didn’t get to write; Chuck is a Failed Project, and Kane Co. has no used for Failed Projects. Fortunately, the techs he grew up working with have his back. T+ for (yet again) unethical treatment of cyborgs.

Making Friends The Superhero Way by LaughingStones

Set before Supersynesthesiac; Mike’s good at his superhero job, but sometimes everybody needs help. In this case, help just happens to have cat ears. Gen, rated G. Warnings for trouble breathing and also Mike being a doofus.

The Space Shenanigans series by LaughingStones and roachpatrol

Loosely related to/based on the Forget Me Not, but set much later. I’m not sure FMN is going to be poly or not, but these fics are inspired-by, so they go in this section. :D The various sexy shenanigans of space-captain Mike, cyborg Chuck and Julie the terrifying space princess. M for sexy shenanigans. Warnings for (acted/fake) dubcon for the benefit of an asshole, and…..just various sexual shenanigans, I would check the warnings on the fics, haha. :D

–Aaaaaand some non-me recs!–

(((I’m going to have to speed through these a little bit more, but I love them also, this post is just getting VERY long)))

All Steamed Up by Gumbridge

Gen, G: coffeeshop AU, technically. Chuck would REALLY like a new espresso machine, he has done the MATH, it’s GOOD BUSINESS, MIKE!!!!!

Artificial Nocturne by Icka M. Chif (mischif)

Gen, T+: Mike accidentally trespasses on the territory of a mysterious guy who calls himself “Hound”. Mike immediately sets about pushing past the emotional barrier of standoffishness and the physical barrier of giant, repurposed KaneCo HOUNDbots, and ends up with two awesome new friends out of the deal. (The “Chuck is a constantly-terrified badass with an army of bots” AU)

Atlas and Copernicus by charcoalmink

Gen, G: A piece about how Kane can think of Mike and Julie both as his children, but feel so completely different about them. Hurts so good, ahhh ToT

Behind The Throne by intravenusann

Duke/No. 2, Explicit: Number 2 would never really leave. But sometimes it’s nice to be reminded why she stays.

Bittersweet by EnsignCelery

Gen, G: Sometimes they get stressed. Sometimes you just gotta lie down and cuddle.

Chicken Soup For The Burner Soul by renquise

Gen, G: Mike’s immunity boosters start to wear off and he goes down like a tree. Good old-fashioned soft sickfic hurt/comfort.

Constantinople And Timbuktu / By(zantine) Any Other Name by (orphan_account)

Mike/Chuck, G: oh my god, this fic is strange to explain but so fun?? Historical AU–Chuck’s an orphan who ended up a body-double for russian royalty in like 1500, until he ends up kind of ambiguously kidnapped by a Tatar horseman who doesn’t speak his language but has a really nice smile and a fun come-and-go family of other riders from other countries. In the words of the author, “ [the Russian nomad!au] “

Degreaser by Gumbridge

Claire/Julie, T+: Claire can tolerate getting dirty down in Motorcity, but it has to be under the right circumstances. Julie provides those circumstances.

I Thought You Were Dead by Caligraphunky

Gen, G: Jacob thought all the androids he created for KaneCo were scrapped. But here’s unit CHUCK, back again.

In The Lost Age Where The Jewels Hide by roachpatrol and LaughingStones

Chuck (Lord Vanquisher)/Mike (Smiling Dragon), Explicit: The LARPing group plays WAY crazier games than Mike is used to, but he could really get used to in-character Never Have I Ever if it always ends with stuff like this. WOW. Sex is GREAT.

Loaded Up And Truckin’ by RaccoonDoom

Gen, T+: Smokey And The Bandit AU–AKA Jacob has a truck and uses it to run illegal goods; Mike and Chuck run interference and keep the cops off his tail. Trucker AU, heyyyy. :D

Love Free by Prim_the_Amazing

Multi/Polyburners, G: KaneCo has the algorithms, the expertise, they determine the most perfect possible partner. So what do you do when the person KaneCo chooses isn’t the person you wanted?

Never Quite Thought We Could Lose It All by LaughingStones

Mike/Chuck, Explicit: It’s not weird for a KaneCo tech to have a huge blank spot in their memory, but it is unusual for one of their childhood friends to show up at their cubicle dressed as a physical relief technician, looking stressed and desperate and acting like Chuck should know him. Warning for implied/referenced noncon.

The Obligatory Fantasy AU series by LaughingStones

Mike/Chuck, G/T: Chuck’s a Mage On A Mission, and he’s not going to be derailed by the fact that his bodyguard is definitely a dragon who definitely considers Chuck his beautiful, golden-haired treasure.

our guts can’t be reworked by roachpatrol

Mike/Julie, Chuck/Mike, T+: Mike finds out he’s bisexual in the most confusing possible way: BODY-SWITCHING.

Pyrrhic Victory by Clementine

Mike/Chuck, G: I live for Mike and Chuck LARPing dramatic emotional scenes and being dumb, dorky boys and that’s what this is, and I LOVE it.

Quiet by deanon

Mike/Chuck, Explicit: Mike makes the mistake of wondering about Chuck and sex and being noisy, and get catapulted abruptly into terrible, flustered pining.

Quit or Retry by Caligraphunky

Gen, T+: a really short but really nicely done piece that slowly illuminates more and more of a single scene until you get the full picture. fear. android Chuck.

Riding Shotgun by Oisiflaneur

Polyburners, T+: I’ve never smoked pot but I’m all for the Burners hanging around being chill and kissing and occasionally also Mike does shotguns and people make out.

rise if you’re sleeping (stay awake) by RaccoonDoom

Gen, T+: Another cyborg fic, this time about Mike and Chuck and insomnia and nightmares. Sweet hurt-comfort. UwU

Rule Number Eight by drown (teii)

Chuck/Texas, Chuck->Mike, T+: the fic that got me into Chuxas–starting with the aftermath of one-sided Chuck/Mike and chronicling Chuck’s descent into weird, Texas-related madness.

Scars by corelton

Claire/Julie, G: Julie’s line of work puts her in enough danger for her to actually have scars, like, old-fashioned scars from actual injuries. Claire is fascinated by them.

searchlights in the parking lots of hell by roachpatrol

Gen, T+: I don’t know if it sounds like a compliment to say this is one of the most subtly, gorgeously horrifying fics I’ve ever read, but that’s basically how I feel. Mike is a kid in a cyborg program, and he keeps ending up in sparring matches with the same kid, over and over again; it’s a different kind of unsettling every time. There’s something about seeing a scenario that’s obviously intensely messed up, through the point of view of a character who thinks it’s normal and good. It gives it a special, extra punch.

Sex Level: Texas! by LaughingStones

Texas->Mike, Texas->Burners, Explicit: Texas has some totally cool and sexy thoughts–mostly about Mike. WHAT? It’s not like it's weird.

Spend Life Fighting For Your Sanity by roachpatrol

Dutch/Tennie, T+: Deluxe has no patience for rebel scum, free-thinkers or artists. Unfortunately for Dutch’s continued health and well-being, he’s all of those things. Even if he can’t really remember what he did. AKA: Deluxe re-captures Dutch and comprehensively fucks him up, but SUCK IT you can’t take away the colors in his SOUL.

Sprouts by renquise

Gen, G: a fic about Dutch finding ROTH, and Dutch and Chuck becoming ROTH’s weird programmer dads. ROTH is adorable and the characterization is great, A++

Test Drive by renquise

Mike/Julie, Explicit: Julie and Mike have a fun adventure in pegging together.

thursday’s child has far to go (and they go so very, very quickly) by thinkingCAPSLOCK

Gen, G: Kane loses one child, but at least he still has the other.

Walls Twice As Strong by deanon

Mike/Chuck, T+: in the words of the original summary: “When Mike and Chuck fight, everybody knows.“

We Are Golden by renquise

Polyburners, T+: Mike kisses everybody, and it’s soft and good and makes my heart feel all happy.

We Can’t Punch Good: A Love Story by heartsinhay

Dutch/Texas, T+: Texas is pretty sure Dutch has just gotten immune to Texas’s sweet Texas Moves, but that’s okay. Texas has got more than one trick up his sleeve, and he knows what Dutch likes. Probably

yellow highway lines (that you’re relying on to lead you home) by renquis

Gen, G: A delicious exploration of the world that might exist outside the dome, and also THE BURNER ROADTRIP FIC YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. The kids take a package from Rayon and go on the road, headed for San Fran come hell or nuclear superstorm.This is one of the first Motorcity fics I read, and It’s a big part of why I started making things for this fandom in the first place. :D Very recommend, A++

#Anonymous #Motorcity #Fic Recs #Writing Is Hard #y'aLL THERE ARE SO MANY FICS OH MY GOD #JEEZY FUCK

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top40gordy · 6 years

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Twitt https://twitter.com/share?text=Everything%20You%20Know%20About%20Obesity%20Is%20Wrong&url=https://highline.huffingtonpost.com/articles/en/everything-you-know-about-obesity-is-wrong/&via=HiSEPTEMBER 19, 2018

For decades, the medical community has ignored mountains of evidence to wage a cruel and futile war on fat people, poisoning public perception and ruining millions of lives.

It’s time for a new paradigm.

STORY BY Michael Hobbes

IMAGES BY Finlay MacKay

From the 16th century to the 19th, scurvy killed around 2 million sailors, more than warfare, shipwrecks and syphilis combined. It was an ugly, smelly death, too, beginning with rattling teeth and ending with a body so rotted out from the inside that its victims could literally be startled to death by a loud noise. Just as horrifying as the disease itself, though, is that for most of those 300 years, medical experts knew how to prevent it and simply failed to.

In the 1600s, some sea captains distributed lemons, limes and oranges to sailors, driven by the belief that a daily dose of citrus fruit would stave off scurvy’s progress. The British Navy, wary of the cost of expanding the treatment, turned to malt wort, a mashed and cooked byproduct of barley which had the advantage of being cheaper but the disadvantage of doing nothing whatsoever to cure scurvy. In 1747, a British doctor named James Lind conducted an experiment where he gave one group of sailors citrus slices and the others vinegar or seawater or cider. The results couldn’t have been clearer. The crewmen who ate fruit improved so quickly that they were able to help care for the others as they languished. Lind published his findings, but died before anyone got around to implementing them nearly 50 years later.

This kind of myopia repeats throughout history. Seat belts were invented long before the automobile but weren’t mandatory in cars until the 1960s. The first confirmed death from asbestos exposure was recorded in 1906, but the U.S. didn’t start banning the chemical until 1973. Every discovery in public health, no matter how significant, must compete with the traditions, assumptions and financial incentives of the society implementing it.

Which brings us to one of the largest gaps between science and practice in our own time. Years from now, we will look back in horror at the counterproductive ways we addressed the obesity epidemic and the barbaric ways we treated fat people—long after we knew there was a better path.

I have never written a story where so many of my sources cried during interviews, where they shook with anger describing their interactions with doctors and strangers and their own families.

About 40 years ago, Americans started getting much larger. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, nearly 80 percent of adults and about one-third of children now meet the clinical definition of overweight or obese. More Americans live with “extreme obesity“ than with breast cancer, Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s and HIV put together.

And the medical community’s primary response to this shift has been to blame fat people for being fat. Obesity, we are told, is a personal failing that strains our health care system, shrinks our GDP and saps our military strength. It is also an excuse to bully fat people in one sentence and then inform them in the next that you are doing it for their own good. That’s why the fear of becoming fat, or staying that way, drives Americans to spend more on dieting every year than we spend on video games or movies. Forty-five percent of adults say they’re preoccupied with their weight some or all of the time—an 11-point rise since 1990. Nearly half of 3- to 6- year old girls say they worry about being fat.

The emotional costs are incalculable. I have never written a story where so many of my sources cried during interviews, where they double- and triple-checked that I would not reveal their names, where they shook with anger describing their interactions with doctors and strangers and their own families. One remembered kids singing “Baby Beluga” as she boarded the school bus, another said she has tried diets so extreme she has passed out and yet another described the elaborate measures he takes to keep his spouse from seeing him naked in the light. A medical technician I’ll call Sam (he asked me to change his name so his wife wouldn’t find out he spoke to me) said that one glimpse of himself in a mirror can destroy his mood for days. “I have this sense I’m fat and I shouldn’t be,” he says. “It feels like the worst kind of weakness.”

My interest in this issue is slightly more than journalistic. Growing up, my mother’s weight was the uncredited co-star of every family drama, the obvious, unspoken reason why she never got out of the car when she picked me up from school, why she disappeared from the family photo album for years at a time, why she spent hours making meatloaf then sat beside us eating a bowl of carrots.

Last year, for the first time, we talked about her weight in detail. When I asked if she was ever bullied, she recalled some guy calling her a “fat slob” as she biked past him years ago. “But that was rare,” she says. “The bigger way my weight affected my life was that I waited to do things because I thought fat people couldn’t do them.” She got her master’s degree at 38, her Ph.D. at 55. “I avoided so many activities where I thought my weight would discredit me.”

Chances of a woman classified as obese achieving a “normal” weight:.008%Source: American Journal of Public Health, 2015

But my mother’s story, like Sam’s, like everyone’s, didn’t have to turn out like this. For 60 years, doctors and researchers have known two things that could have improved, or even saved, millions of lives. The first is that diets do not work. Not just paleo or Atkins or Weight Watchers or Goop, but all diets. Since 1959, research has shown that 95 to 98 percent of attempts to lose weight fail and that two-thirds of dieters gain back more than they lost. The reasons are biological and irreversible.

As early as 1969, research showed that losing just 3 percent of your body weight resulted in a 17 percent slowdown in your metabolism—a body-wide starvation response that blasts you with hunger hormones and drops your internal temperature until you rise back to your highest weight. Keeping weight off means fighting your body’s energy-regulation system and battling hunger all day, every day, for the rest of your life.

The second big lesson the medical establishment has learned and rejected over and over again is that weight and health are not perfect synonyms. Yes, nearly every population-level study finds that fat people have worse cardiovascular health than thin people. But individuals are not averages: Studies have found that anywhere from one-third to three-quarters of people classified as obese are metabolically healthy. They show no signs of elevated blood pressure, insulin resistance or high cholesterol. Meanwhile, about a quarter of non-overweight people are what epidemiologists call “the lean unhealthy.” A 2016 study that followed participants for an average of 19 years found that unfit skinny people were twice as likely to get diabetes as fit fat people. Habits, no matter your size, are what really matter. Dozens of indicators, from vegetable consumption to regular exercise to grip strength, provide a better snapshot of someone’s health than looking at her from across a room.

The terrible irony is that for 60 years, we’ve approached the obesity epidemic like a fad dieter: If we just try the exact same thing one more time, we'll get a different result. And so it’s time for a paradigm shift. We’re not going to become a skinnier country. But we still have a chance to become a healthier one.

A NOTE ABOUT OUR PHOTOGRAPHS So many images you see in articles about obesity strip fat people of their strength and personality. According to a recent study, only 11 percent of large people depicted in news reports were wearing professional clothing. Nearly 60 percent were headless torsos. So, we asked our interview subjects to take full creative control of the photos in this piece. This is how they want to present themselves to the world.

“As a kid, I thought that fat people were just lonely and sad—almost like these pathetic lost causes. So I want to show that we get to experience love, too. I’m not some 'fat friend' or some dude's chubby chasing dream. I'm genuinely happy. I just wish I'd known how possible that was when I was a kiddo.”— CORISSA ENNEKING

This is Corissa Enneking at her lightest: She wakes up, showers and smokes a cigarette to keep her appetite down. She drives to her job at a furniture store, she stands in four-inch heels all day, she eats a cup of yogurt alone in her car on her lunch break. After work, lightheaded, her feet throbbing, she counts out three Ritz crackers, eats them at her kitchen counter and writes down the calories in her food journal.

Or not. Some days she comes home and goes straight to bed, exhausted and dizzy from hunger, shivering in the Kansas heat. She rouses herself around dinnertime and drinks some orange juice or eats half a granola bar. Occasionally she’ll just sleep through the night, waking up the next day to start all over again.

The last time she lived like this, a few years ago, her mother marched her to the hospital. “My daughter is sick,” she told the doctor. “She's not eating.” He looked Enneking up and down. Despite six months of starvation, she was still wearing plus sizes, still couldn’t shop at J. Crew, still got unsolicited diet advice from colleagues and customers.

Enneking told the doctor that she used to be larger, that she’d lost some weight the same way she had lost it three or four times before—seeing how far she could get through the day without eating, trading solids for liquids, food for sleep. She was hungry all the time, but she was learning to like it. When she did eat, she got panic attacks. Her boss was starting to notice her erratic behavior.

“Well, whatever you're doing now,” the doctor said, “it's working.” He urged her to keep it up and assured her that once she got small enough, her body would start to process food differently. She could add a few hundred calories to her diet. Her period would come back. She would stay small, but without as much effort.

“If you looked at anything other than my weight,” Enneking says now, “I had an eating disorder. And my doctor was congratulating me.”

Ask almost any fat person about her interactions with the health care system and you will hear a story, sometimes three, the same as Enneking’s: rolled eyes, skeptical questions, treatments denied or delayed or revoked. Doctors are supposed to be trusted authorities, a patient’s primary gateway to healing. But for fat people, they are a source of unique and persistent trauma. No matter what you go in for or how much you’re hurting, the first thing you will be told is that it would all get better if you could just put down the Cheetos.

Emily went to a gynecological surgeon to have an ovarian cyst removed. The physician pointed out her body fat on the MRI, then said, “Look at that skinny woman in there trying to get out.”

This phenomenon is not merely anecdotal. Doctors have shorter appointments with fat patients and show less emotional rapport in the minutes they do have. Negative words—“noncompliant, “overindulgent,” “weak willed”—pop up in their medical histories with higher frequency. In one study, researchers presented doctors with case histories of patients suffering from migraines. With everything else being equal, the doctors reported that the patients who were also classified as fat had a worse attitude and were less likely to follow their advice. And that’s when they see fat patients at all: In 2011, the Sun-Sentinel polled OB-GYNs in South Florida and discovered that 14 percent had barred all new patients weighing more than 200 pounds.

Some of these doctors are simply applying the same presumptions as the society around them. An anesthesiologist on the West Coast tells me that as soon as a larger patient goes under, the surgeons start trading “high school insults” about her body over the operating table. Janice O’Keefe, a former nurse in Boston, tells me a doctor once looked at her, paused, then asked, “How could you do this to yourself?” Emily, a counselor in Eastern Washington, went to a gynecological surgeon to have an ovarian cyst removed. The physician pointed out her body fat on the MRI, then said, “Look at that skinny woman in there trying to get out.”

“I was worried I had cancer,” Emily says, “and she was turning it into a teachable moment about my weight.”

Other physicians sincerely believe that shaming fat people is the best way to motivate them to lose weight. “It’s the last area of medicine where we prescribe tough love,” says Mayo Clinic researcher Sean Phelan.

In a 2013 journal article, bioethicist Daniel Callahan argued for more stigma against fat people. “People don’t realize that they are obese or if they do realize it, it’s not enough to stir them to do anything about it,” he tells me. Shame helped him kick his cigarette habit, he argues, so it should work for obesity too.

This belief is cartoonishly out of step with a generation of research into obesity and human behavior. As one of the (many) stigma researchers who responded to Callahan’s article pointed out, shaming smokers and drug users with D.A.R.E.-style “just say no” messages may have actually increased substance abuse by making addicts less likely to bring up their habit with their doctors and family members.

Plus, rather obviously, smoking is a behavior; being fat is not. Jody Dushay, an endocrinologist and obesity specialist at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston, says most of her patients have tried dozens of diets and have lost and regained hundreds of pounds before they come to her.

Telling them to try again, but in harsher terms, only sets them up to fail and then blame themselves.

89%of obese adults have been bullied by their romantic partners Source: University of Connecticut, 2017

Not all physicians set out to denigrate their fat patients, of course; some of them do damage because of subtler, more unconscious biases. Most doctors, for example, are fit—“If you go to an obesity conference, good luck trying to get a treadmill at 5 a.m.,” Dushay says—and have spent more than a decade of their lives in the high-stakes, high-stress bubble of medical schools.

According to several studies, thin doctors are more confident in their recommendations, expect their patients to lose more weight and are more likely to think dieting is easy. Sarah (not her real name), a tech CEO in New England, once told her doctor that she was having trouble eating less throughout the day. “Look at me,” her doctor said. “I had one egg for breakfast and I feel fine.”

Then there are the glaring cultural differences. Kenneth Resnicow, a consultant who trains physicians to build rapport with their patients, says white, wealthy, skinny doctors will often try to bond with their low-income patients by telling them, “I know what it’s like not to have time to cook.” Their patients, who might be single mothers with three kids and two jobs, immediately think “No, you don’t,” and the relationship is irretrievably soured.

When Joy Cox, an academic in New Jersey, was 16, she went to the hospital with stomach pains. The doctor didn’t diagnose her dangerously inflamed bile duct, but he did, out of nowhere, suggest that she’d get better if she stopped eating so much fried chicken. “He managed to denigrate my fatness and my blackness in the same sentence,” she says.

“There is so much agency taken from marginalized groups to mute their voices and mask their existence. Being depicted as a female CEO—one who is also black and fat—means so much to me. It is a representation of the reclamation of power in the boardroom, classroom and living room of my body. I own all of this.”— JOY COX

Many of the financial and administrative structures doctors work within help reinforce this bad behavior. The problem starts in medical school, where, according to a 2015 survey, students receive an average of just 19 hours of nutrition education over four years of instruction—five hours fewer than they got in 2006. Then the trouble compounds once doctors get into daily practice. Primary care physicians only get 15 minutes for each appointment, barely enough time to ask patients what they ate today, much less during all the years leading up to it. And a more empathic approach to treatment simply doesn’t pay: While procedures like blood tests and CT scans command reimbursement rates from hundreds to thousands of dollars, doctors receive as little as $24 to provide a session of diet and nutrition counseling.

Lesley Williams, a family medicine doctor in Phoenix, tells me she gets an alert from her electronic health records software every time she’s about to see a patient who is above the “overweight” threshold. The reason for this is that physicians are often required, in writing, to prove to hospital administrators and insurance providers that they have brought up their patient’s weight and formulated a plan to bring it down—regardless of whether that patient came in with arthritis or a broken arm or a bad sunburn. Failing to do that could result in poor performance reviews, low ratings from insurance companies or being denied reimbursement if they refer patients to specialized care.

Another issue, says Kimberly Gudzune, an obesity specialist at Johns Hopkins, is that many doctors, no matter their specialty, think weight falls under their authority. Gudzune often spends months working with patients to set realistic goals—playing with their grandkids longer, going off a cholesterol medication—only to have other doctors threaten it all. One of her patients was making significant progress until she went to a cardiologist who told her to lose 100 pounds. “All of a sudden she goes back to feeling like a failure and we have to start over,” Gudzune says. “Or maybe she just never comes back at all.”

60%of the calories Americans consume come from “ultra-processed foods” Source: British Medical Journal, 2016

And so, working within a system that neither trains nor encourages them to meaningfully engage with their higher-weight patients, doctors fall back on recommending fad diets and delivering bland motivational platitudes. Ron Kirk, an electrician in Boston, says that for years, his doctor's first resort was to put him on some diet he couldn't maintain for more than a few weeks. “They told me lettuce was a ‘free’ food,” he says—and he’d find himself carving up a head of romaine for dinner.

In a study that recorded 461 interactions with doctors, only 13 percent of patients got any specific plan for diet or exercise and only 5 percent got help arranging a follow-up visit. “It can be stressful when [patients] start asking a lot of specific questions” about diet and weight loss, one doctor told researchers in 2012. “I don’t feel like I have the time to sit there and give them private counseling on basics. I say, ‘Here’s some websites, look at this.’” A 2016 survey found that nearly twice as many higher-weight Americans have tried meal-replacement diets—the kind most likely to fail—than have ever received counseling from a dietician.

“It borders on medical malpractice,” says Andrew (not his real name), a consultant and musician who has been large his whole life. A few years ago, on a routine visit, Andrew’s doctor weighed him, announced that he was “dangerously overweight” and told him to diet and exercise, offering no further specifics. Should he go on a low-fat diet? Low-carb? Become a vegetarian? Should he do CrossFit? Yoga? Should he buy a fucking ThighMaster?

“She didn't even ask me what I was already doing for exercise,” he says. “At the time, I was training for serious winter mountaineering trips, hiking every weekend and going to the gym four times a week. Instead of a conversation, I got a sound bite. It felt like shaming me was the entire purpose.”

All of this makes higher-weight patients more likely to avoid doctors. Three separate studies have found that fat women are more likely to die from breast and cervical cancers than non-fat women, a result partially attributed to their reluctance to see doctors and get screenings. Erin Harrop, a researcher at the University of Washington, studies higher-weight women with anorexia, who, contrary to the size-zero stereotype of most media depictions, are twice as likely to report vomiting, using laxatives and abusing diet pills. Thin women, Harrop discovered, take around three years to get into treatment, while her participants spent an average of 13 and a half years waiting for their disorders to be addressed.

“A lot of my job is helping people heal from the trauma of interacting with the medical system,” says Ginette Lenham, a counselor who specializes in obesity. The rest of it, she says, is helping them heal from the trauma of interacting with everyone else.

“My weight makes me anxious. I'm constantly sucking my stomach in when I stand, and if I'm sitting, I always grab a pillow or couch cushion to hold in front of it. I'm most comfortable in my bathrobe, alone. At the same time, my brain starves for attention. I want to be onstage. I want to be the one holding a microphone. So, I decided to split the difference with this photograph: to perform and to obscure. The worst part is that intellectually I know that I have worth beyond pounds and waist inches and stereotypes. But I still feel like I have to hide.”— SAM (NOT HIS REAL NAME)

If Sonya ever forgets that she is fat, the world will remind her. She has stopped taking the bus, she tells me, because she can sense the aggravation of the passengers squeezing past her. Sarah, the tech CEO, tenses up when anyone brings bagels to a work meeting. If she reaches for one, are her employees thinking, “There goes the fat boss”? If she doesn’t, are they silently congratulating her for showing some restraint?

Emily says it’s the do-gooders who get to her, the women who stop her on the street and tell her how brave she is for wearing a sleeveless dress on a 95-degree day. Sam, the medical technician, avoids the subject of weight altogether. “Men aren’t supposed to think about this stuff—and I think about it constantly,” he admits. “So I never let myself talk about it. Which is weird because it’s the most visible thing about me.”

Again and again, I hear stories of how the pressure to be a “good fatty” in public builds up and explodes. Jessica has four kids. Every week is a birthday party or family reunion or swimming pool social, another opportunity to stand around platters of spare ribs and dinner rolls with her fellow moms.

“Your conscious mind is busy the whole day with how many calories is in everything, what you can eat and who’s watching,” she says. After a few intrusive comments over the years—should you be eating that?—she has learned to be careful, to perform the role of the impeccable fat person. She nibbles on cherry tomatoes, drinks tap water, stays on her feet, ignores the dessert end of the buffet.

Then, as the gathering winds down, Jessica and the other parents divvy up the leftovers. She wraps up burgers or pasta salad or birthday cake, drives her children home and waits for the moment when they are finally in bed. Then, when she’s alone, she eats all the leftovers by herself, in the dark.

“It’s always hidden,” she says. “I buy a package of ice cream, then eat it all. Then I have to go to the store to buy it again. For a week my family thinks there’s a thing of ice cream in the fridge—but it’s actually five different ones.”

Ratio of soda and candy ads seen by black children compared to white children:2:1Source: UConn Rudd Center for Food Policy and Obesity, 2015

This is how fat-shaming works: It is visible and invisible, public and private, hidden and everywhere at the same time. Research consistently finds that larger Americans (especially larger women) earn lower salaries and are less likely to be hired and promoted. In a 2017 survey, 500 hiring managers were given a photo of an overweight female applicant. Twenty-one percent of them described her as unprofessional despite having no other information about her. What’s worse, only a few cities and one state (nice work, Michigan) officially prohibit workplace discrimination on the basis of weight.

Paradoxically, as the number of larger Americans has risen, the biases against them have become more severe. More than 40 percent of Americans classified as obese now say they experience stigma on a daily basis, a rate far higher than any other minority group. And this does terrible things to their bodies. According to a 2015 study, fat people who feel discriminated against have shorter life expectancies than fat people who don't. “These findings suggest the possibility that the stigma associated with being overweight,” the study concluded, “is more harmful than actually being overweight.”

And, in a cruel twist, one effect of weight bias is that it actually makes you eat more. The stress hormone cortisol—the one evolution designed to kick in when you’re being chased by a tiger or, it turns out, rejected for your looks—increases appetite, reduces the will to exercise and even improves the taste of food. Sam, echoing so many of the other people I spoke with, says that he drove straight to Jack in the Box last year after someone yelled, “Eat less!” at him across a parking lot.

“I don’t want to be portrayed; this is not about me. It’s about that guy you always see on the far treadmill at the gym. Or the lady who brings the most beautiful salads to work every day for lunch. It’s about the little girl who got bullied because of her size and the little boy who was told he wasn’t man enough. It’s not about me but had it been about me when I was that chubby little girl, maybe I wouldn’t be standing here, head against the door, wondering if I’m enough.”— ERIKA

There’s a grim caveman logic to our nastiness toward fat people. “We’re attuned to bodies that look different,” says Janet Tomiyama, a stigma researcher at UCLA. “In our evolutionary past, that might have meant disease risk and been seen as a threat to your tribe.” These biological breadcrumbs help explain why stigma begins so early. Kids as young as 3 describe their larger classmates with words like “mean,” “stupid” and “lazy.”

And yet, despite weight being the number one reason children are bullied at school, America’s institutions of public health continue to pursue policies perfectly designed to inflame the cruelty. TV and billboard campaigns still use slogans like “Too much screen time, too much kid” and “Being fat takes the fun out of being a kid.” Cat Pausé, a researcher at Massey University in New Zealand, spent months looking for a single public health campaign, worldwide, that attempted to reduce stigma against fat people and came up empty. In an incendiary case of good intentions gone bad, about a dozen states now send children home with “BMI report cards,” an intervention unlikely to have any effect on their weight but almost certain to increase bullying from the people closest to them.

This is not an abstract concern: Surveys of higher-weight adults find that their worst experiences of discrimination come from their own families. Erika, a health educator in Washington, can still recite the word her father used to describe her: “husky.” Her grandfather preferred “stocky.” Her mother never said anything about Erika’s body, but she didn't have to. She obsessed over her own, calling herself “enormous” despite being two sizes smaller than her daughter. By the time Erika was 11, she was sneaking into the woods behind her house and vomiting into the creek whenever social occasions made starving herself impossible.

And the abuse from loved ones continues well into adulthood. A 2017 survey found that 89 percent of obese adults had been bullied by their romantic partners. Emily, the counselor, says she spent her teens and 20s “sleeping with guys I wasn’t interested in because they wanted to sleep with me.” In her head, a guy being into her was a rare and depletable resource she couldn’t afford to waste: “I was desperate for men to give me attention. Sex was a good way to do that.”

Eventually, she ended up with someone abusive. He told her during sex that her body was beautiful and then, in the daylight, that it was revolting. “Whenever I tried to leave him, he would say, ‘Where are you gonna find someone who will put up with your disgusting body?’” she remembers.

Emily finally managed to get away from him, but she is aware that her love life will always be fraught. The guy she’s dating now is thin—“think Tony Hawk,” she says—and she notices the looks they get when they hold hands in public. “That never used to happen when I dated fat dudes,” she says. “Thin men are not allowed to be attracted to fat women.”

The effects of weight bias get worse when they’re layered on top of other types of discrimination. A 2012 study found that African-American women are more likely to become depressed after internalizing weight stigma than white women. Hispanic and black teenagers also have significantly higher rates of bulimia. And, in a remarkable finding, rich people of color have higher rates of cardiovascular disease than poor people of color—the opposite of what happens with white people. One explanation is that navigating increasingly white spaces, and increasingly higher stakes, exerts stress on racial minorities that, over time, makes them more susceptible to heart problems.

But perhaps the most unique aspect of weight stigma is how it isolates its victims from one another. For most minority groups, discrimination contributes to a sense of belongingness, a community in opposition to a majority. Gay people like other gay people; Mormons root for other Mormons. Surveys of higher-weight people, however, reveal that they hold many of the same biases as the people discriminating against them. In a 2005 study, the words obese participants used to classify other obese people included gluttonous, unclean and sluggish.

Andrea, a retired nurse in Boston, has been on commercial diets since she was 10 years old. She knows how hard it is to slim down, knows what women larger than her are going through, but she still struggles not to pass judgment when she sees them in public. “I think, ‘How did they let it happen?’” she says. “It’s more like fear. Because if I let myself go, I’ll be that big too.”

Her position is all-too understandable. As young as 9 or 10, I knew that coming out of the closet is what gay people do, even if it took me another decade to actually do it. Fat people, though, never get a moment of declaring their identity, of marking themselves as part of a distinct group. They still live in a society that believes weight is temporary, that losing it is urgent and achievable, that being comfortable in their bodies is merely “glorifying obesity.” This limbo, this lie, is why it’s so hard for fat people to discover one another or even themselves. “No one believes our It Gets Better story,” says Tigress Osborn, the director of community outreach for the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance. “You can’t claim an identity if everyone around you is saying it doesn’t or shouldn’t exist.”

Harrop, the eating disorders researcher, realized several years ago that her university had clubs for trans students, immigrant students, Republican students, but none for fat students. So she started one—and it has been a resounding, unmitigated failure. Only a handful of fat people have ever shown up; most of the time, thin folks sit around brainstorming about how to be better allies.

I ask Harrop why she thinks the group has been such a bust. It’s simple, she says: “Fat people grow up in the same fat-hating culture that non-fat people do.”

“I think some folks are genuinely surprised that a man who looks like him is with a woman like me. As a fat person, I'm very aware of when I'm being stared at—and I have never been looked at this much before. So I thought that taking the photo in public would be a good idea. It feels subversive to show my fat body doing regular stuff the world believes I don't or can't do.”— EMILY

Since 1980, the obesity rate has doubled in 73 countries and increased in 113 others. And in all that time, no nation has reduced its obesity rate. Not one.

The problem is that in America, like everywhere else, our institutions of public health have become so obsessed with body weight that they have overlooked what is really killing us: our food supply. Diet is the leading cause of death in the United States, responsible for more than five times the fatalities of gun violence and car accidents combined. But it’s not how much we’re eating—Americans actually consume fewer calories now than we did in 2003. It’s what we’re eating.

For more than a decade now, researchers have found that the quality of our food affects disease risk independently of its effect on weight. Fructose, for example, appears to damage insulin sensitivity and liver function more than other sweeteners with the same number of calories. People who eat nuts four times a week have 12 percent lower diabetes incidence and a 13 percent lower mortality rate regardless of their weight. All of our biological systems for regulating energy, hunger and satiety get thrown off by eating foods that are high in sugar, low in fiber and injected with additives. And which now, shockingly, make up 60 percent of the calories we eat.

Draining this poison from our trillion-dollar food system is not going to happen quickly or easily. Every link in the chain, from factory farms to school lunches, is dominated by a Mars or a Monsanto or a McDonald’s, each working tirelessly to lower its costs and raise its profits. But that’s still no reason to despair. There’s a lot we can do right now to improve fat people’s lives—to shift our focus for the first time from weight to health and from shame to support.

The place to start is at the doctor’s office. The central failure of the medical system when it comes to obesity is that it treats every patient exactly the same: If you’re fat, lose some weight. If you’re skinny, keep up the good work. Stephanie Sogg, a psychologist at the Mass General Weight Center, tells me she has clients who start eating compulsively after a sexual assault, others who starve themselves all day before bingeing on the commute home and others who eat 1,000 calories a day, work out five times a week and still insist that they’re fat because they “have no willpower.”

Acknowledging the infinite complexity of each person’s relationship to food, exercise and body image is at the center of her treatment, not a footnote to it. “Eighty percent of my patients cry in the first appointment,” Sogg says. “For something as emotional as weight, you have to listen for a long time before you give any advice. Telling someone, 'Lay off the cheeseburgers' is never going to work if you don't know what those cheeseburgers are doing for them.”

4% of all agricultural subsidies go to fruits and vegetables Source: Environmental Working Group, 2014-16

The medical benefits of this approach—being nicer to her patients than they are to themselves, is how Sogg describes it—are unimpeachable. In 2017, the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force, the expert panel that decides which treatments should be offered for free under Obamacare, found that the decisive factor in obesity care was not the diet patients went on, but how much attention and support they received while they were on it. Participants who got more than 12 sessions with a dietician saw significant reductions in their rates of prediabetes and cardiovascular risk. Those who got less personalized care showed almost no improvement at all.

Still, despite the Task Force’s explicit recommendation of “intensive, multicomponent behavioral counseling” for higher-weight patients, the vast majority of insurance companies and state health care programs define this term to mean just a session or two—exactly the superficial approach that years of research says won’t work. “Health plans refuse to treat this as anything other than a personal problem,” says Chris Gallagher, a policy consultant at the Obesity Action Coalition.

The same scurvy-ish negligence shows up at every level of government. From marketing rules to antitrust regulations to international trade agreements, U.S. policy has created a food system that excels at producing flour, sugar and oil but struggles to deliver nutrients at anywhere near the same scale. The United States spends $1.5 billion on nutrition research every year compared to around $60 billion on drug research. Just 4 percent of agricultural subsidies go to fruits and vegetables. No wonder that the healthiest foods can cost up to eight times more, calorie for calorie, than the unhealthiest—or that the gap gets wider every year.

It’s the same with exercise. The cardiovascular risks of sedentary lifestyles, suburban sprawl and long commutes are well-documented. But rather than help mitigate these risks—and their disproportionate impact on the poor—our institutions have exacerbated them. Only 13 percent of American children walk or bike to school; once they arrive, less than a third of them will take part in a daily gym class. Among adults, the number of workers commuting more than 90 minutes each way grew by more than 15 percent from 2005 to 2016, a predictable outgrowth of America’s underinvestment in public transportation and over-investment in freeways, parking and strip malls. For 40 years, as politicians have told us to eat more vegetables and take the stairs instead of the elevator, they have presided over a country where daily exercise has become a luxury and eating well has become extortionate.

“My son and I both like to play the hero. There wasn't necessarily any intentional symbolism in the costumes we chose, but I am definitely a member of the rebellion, and I see my role as an eating disorders researcher as trying to fight for justice and a better world. Also, I like that I'm sweaty, dirty and messy, not done up with makeup or with my hair down in this picture. I like that I'm not hiding my stomach, thighs or arms. Not because I'm comfortable being photographed like that, but because I want to be—and I want others to feel free to be like that, too.”— ERIN HARROP

The good news is that the best ideas for reversing these trends have already been tested. Many “failed” obesity interventions are, in fact, successful eat-healthier-and-exercise-more interventions. A review of 44 international studies found that school-based activity programs didn’t affect kids’ weight, but improved their athletic ability, tripled the amount of time they spent exercising and reduced their daily TV consumption by up to an hour. Another survey showed that two years of getting kids to exercise and eat better didn’t noticeably affect their size but did improve their math scores—an effect that was greater for black kids than white kids.

You see this in so much of the research: The most effective health interventions aren't actually health interventions—they are policies that ease the hardship of poverty and free up time for movement and play and parenting. Developing countries with higher wages for women have lower obesity rates, and lives are transformed when healthy food is made cheaper. A pilot program in Massachusetts that gave food stamp recipients an extra 30 cents for every $1 they spent on healthy food increased fruit and vegetable consumption by 26 percent. Policies like this are unlikely to affect our weight. They are almost certain, however, to significantly improve our health.

Which brings us to the most hard-wired problem of all: Our shitty attitudes toward fat people. According to Patrick Corrigan, the editor of the journal Stigma and Health, even the most well-intentioned efforts to reduce stigma break down in the face of reality. In one study, researchers told 10- to 12-year-olds all the genetic and medical factors that contribute to obesity. Afterward, the kids could recite back the message they received—fat kids didn’t get that way by choice—but they still had the same negative attitudes about the bigger kids sitting next to them. A similar approach with fifth- and sixth-graders actually increased their intention of bullying their fat classmates. Celebrity representation, meanwhile, can result in what Corrigan calls the “Thurgood Marshall effect”: Instead of updating our stereotypes (maybe fat people aren’t so bad), we just see prominent minorities as isolated exceptions to them (well, he’s not like those other fat people).

What does work, Corrigan says, is for fat people to make it clear to everyone they interact with that their size is nothing to apologize for. “When you pity someone, you think they’re less effective, less competent, more hurt,” he says. “You don’t see them as capable. The only way to get rid of stigma is from power.”

This has always been the great hope of the fat-acceptance movement. (“We’re here, we’re spheres, get used to it” was one of the slogans in the 1990s.) But this radical message has long since been co-opted by clothing brands, diet companies, and soap corporations. Weight Watchers has rebranded as a “lifestyle program,” but still promises that its members can shrink their way to happiness. Mainstream apparel companies market themselves as “body positive” but refuse to make clothes that fit the plus-size models on their own billboards. Social media, too, has provided a platform for positive representations of fat people and formed communities that make it easier to find each other. But it has also contributed to an anodyne, narrow, Dr. Phil-approved form of progress that celebrates the female entrepreneur who sells “fatkinis” on Instagram while ignoring the woman who (true story) gets fired from her management position after reportedly gaining 100 pounds over three years.

“Fat activism isn’t about making people feel better about themselves,” Pausé says. “It’s about not being denied your civil rights and not dying because a doctor misdiagnoses you.”

And so, in a world that refuses to change, it is still up to every fat person, alone, to decide how to endure. Emily, the counselor in Eastern Washington, says she made a choice about three years ago to assert herself. The first time she asked for a table instead of a booth at a restaurant, she says, she was sweating, flushed, her chest heaving. It felt like saying the words—“I can’t fit”—would dry up in her mouth as she said them.

But now, she says, “It’s just something I do.” Last month, she was at a conference and asked one of the other participants if he would trade chairs because his didn’t have arms. Like most of these requests, it was no big deal. “A tall person wouldn’t feel weird asking that, so why should I?” she says. Her skinny friends have started to inquire about the seating at restaurants before Emily even gets the chance.

Hearing about Emily’s progress reminds me of a conversation I had with Ginette Lenham, the diet counselor. Her patients, she says, often live in the past or the future with their weight. They tell her they are waiting until they are smaller to go back to school or apply for a new job. They beg her to return them to their high school or wedding or first triathlon weight, the one that will bring back their former life.

And then Lenham must explain that these dreams are a trap. Because there is no magical cure. There is no time machine. There is only the revolutionary act of being fat and happy in a world that tells you that’s impossible.

“We all have to do our best with the body that we have,” she says. “And leave everyone else’s alone.”

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Minitube Linux

Distributing the Linux build of your app as a zip lets you provide one download and set of instructions for all of Linux. However, end user discovery and update management remain a challenge. Snaps fill this gap, letting you wrap your existing Linux build in an app store experience for end users. MiniTube Version 2.4 Updated, Install in Ubuntu/Linux Mint MiniTube is beautiful, lightweight and a native YouTube client. With MiniTube you can watch YouTube videos by typing keyword into the search-box and MiniTube will immediately loads the results. It offers two type of.

Information on all packages for project minitube. Packages for minitube. 80 package(s) known. In minitube-bin don't skip hashcheck and don't unneeded msg2 FabioLolix commented on 2020-12-09 17:50 Hello, this pkgbuild should have been called minitube-bin from the start. Minitube-bin exist and was abandoned by its maintainer, I' have adopted it and added you as co-maintainer. WordPress developer for iThemes, Linux fan, all-around nerd, and @chrisjean on Twitter. Fix: Minitube Doesn’t Play Videos in Ubuntu. I’ve been a huge fan of Minitube. I use it nearly every work day to run interesting videos to give me a nice sound backdrop to work.

Watch YouTube videos in a new way: you type a keyword, Minitube gives you an endless video stream. Minitube is not about cloning the YouTube website, it aims to create a new TV-like experience.Read more

Light on your computerBy consuming less CPU and less memory than a web browser, Minitube preserves battery life and keeps your laptop cool.

Great for kids! Very easy to use and with filters for inappropriate content.

Channel subscriptionsSubscribe to YouTube channels and be notified of new videos.No need to login with a YouTube account: more privacy!

Stop fiddling Just search for something. Minitube automatically plays videos one after another. Sit back and enjoy.

WindowsWorks on Windows 7/8/10 Also available on the Microsoft Store.

macOSWorks on 10.13 or better. Also available on the Mac App Store.

Debian & Ubuntuor build by yourself.Works on Ubuntu 20.04 (64bit) or better

Help translating Minitube to your native language! You can do it online onTransifex.

Need help? Found a bug? Have a suggestion? Head over to theForums.

Sep 11Minitube 3.6: the Javascript release

Aug 7Minitube 3.5 and Musictube 1.13

May 30Minitube 3.4

My kids just love this app! Easy to use and a great interface.. just love it!

WimDS

If you're looking for a way to check out YouTube clips outside the browser, it's a really elegant solution

Lifehacker

Makes it impossible to stop watching videos when what you should be doing is writing that program's review.

PCWorld

It's a terrific app that eliminates the need to poke around YouTube's Web site and navigate through a sea of ads, comments, and related videos you may not care about.

OStatic

Minitube allows you to search for videos in a breeze without any complications in between. Microsoft app remote desktop.

AppYourMac

It sort of subtly changes your perception of what's going on.

Linux Format

It's been a long time since I found a program that works out of the box and does what the blurb says it should. Minitube belongs on every multimedia PC.

Linux Magazine

I believe you succeeded well in your goal to make watchingvideos more like the experience of watching television, and more enjoyable.

Tim

I will be installing a copy of Minitube om my Mother's PC. I thinkMinitube would be a terrific way to introduce her to the world of Internetvideo. Friday night funkin all weeks game. She really LOVES television, so I think she will like using Minitube aswell.

Tim

My 4 years old is a big fan of Minitube ;-)

Roberto

A clean, modern interface and no requirement of third party plug-ins makes this program an invaluable tool

Tomaaato

My dad has even told me that this is without a doubt the program that he spends most of his time on (he does other things, but this is almost constantly open in another space playing some traditional Italian music or 1930s comedies).

Tomaaato

Great app! Was hesitant to buy, but it did what it said and was exactly what I was after!

James Bedford

Works very well and is genuinely useful.

Allan Campbell

At first, I was skeptical of the utility of Minitube. After installing it, and running it, I 'get' the purpose, and would gladly recommend it

Will, Stormfront Tech

Was dubious to buy .. sounded basic.. but thats the clever thing - it is! choose you search subject and off you go.. continious material on that subject - Simples! well worth it!

Murtha Piggott

Minitube features

Minitube focuses on a pleasing overall experience, not on having tons of features. Here's what Minitube can do:

Channel subscriptions without using a YouTube account

Compact mode: a small, always-on-top window

Take video snapshots at full resolution

Editable playlist: drag'n'drop and remove videos

Stop after this video: 'Last one, kids!'

Sort videos by relevance, date, view count and rating

Filter videos by publication date, video duration and video quality

Search by keyword, channel name or paste a YouTube link. Suggestions while typing.

Remembers recent keywords and channels. These can be cleared if needed.

YouTube categories: “Most Popular”, “Music”, “Games”, etc.

Related videos

Fullscreen mode: mouse cursor, toolbar and playlist autohide

Copy YouTube link to clipboard

Share on Facebook, Twitter or via email

Translated to more than 30 languages including German, French, Italian, Russian, Danish, Dutch, Spanish, Portuguese, Hebrew and Chinese.

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Minitube Linux 32

I’ve been a huge fan of Minitube. I use it nearly every work day to run interesting videos to give me a nice sound backdrop to work by. Mostly, I find myself playing AMVs, but I also enjoy just typing in random stuff to see what it starts playing.

However, a few weeks ago, it just suddenly stopped working. I was sad, but there was a lot of stuff going on, so I just left it broken. Today, I found the fix.

Minitube Linux

On Minitube’s install page, Flavio mentions removing the phonon-backend-xine package as a possible solution. I tried it, and it worked. Given that I don’t know what other software may rely on this, I tried reinstalling the package, and Minitube still worked. After rebooting, I found that it no longer worked again, so it seems that the package does need to stay removed. I’ve updated the following to only show removing the package.

Here’s how you can do what I did.

To verify compatibility of WhatsApp Messenger with Samsung GT-S5300 Galaxy Pocket To find Android version: go to 'Settings' - 'About the phone' - 'Android version' 2. WhatsApp Messenger is a FREE messaging app available for Android and other smartphones. WhatsApp uses your phone's Internet connection (4G/3G/2G/EDGE or Wi-Fi, as available) to let you message and call friends and family. Switch from SMS to WhatsApp to send and receive messages, calls, photos, videos, documents, and Voice Messages. Samsung galaxy pocket whatsapp.

Hopefully, you’ll be fast on your way to enjoying a fully-functional Minitube once again. If this doesn’t fix your issue, Minitube now has a forum that could help you out.

Good luck and happy Minitubing.

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Minitube Linux Mint 19

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lalunaunita · 6 years

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Millennials and Money Pt. 2: Budgets

Please don’t run away! You are tough and smart and you can do this.

Saying “I can’t live with a budget” is like saying “I can’t drive a car with a steering wheel.”

Following directly from my last post on this topic, we’ll pick up with ‘budgeting is critical’. I used to try to budget with self-help books, free online paper sheets, creating my own by tracking expenses… it was so hard. The biggest problem was that while I knew why I needed a budget (to save money), I didn’t know how a budget does that. So let’s look at the functions of a budget.

1. A budget provides information: just like information, a budget isn’t static – it evolves and changes with your needs. Think of it as a month-by-month snapshot in the flow of your financial life. But here’s the thing: you, as the photographer of this snapshot, get to set the scene. A good budget communicates the information you find relevant, according to goals you set for yourself.

2. A budget provides guidance: after sticking with it for 90 days, a budget will (I promise) help you plan and choose how you want to spend your money. Why does it take 90 days? Because almost nobody keeps an accurate tally of how many times they ordered pizza and Chinese delivery in a single month. We ALL find something surprising in our spending during those first months.

For me, it was groceries. I thought I spent a certain dollar amount each week, and was devastated to find out it was consistently more than I thought. But with a family of 4, I had to suck it up and admit that the number was not going to change – it’s a necessary expense and it’s just plain different from how cheap life was when I was single. It’s not bad that the number is higher, it just means I need to expect it and plan for it in the future.

3. A budget allows you to high-level prioritize: a budget isn’t a diet. It’s not about denial. It’s about setting priorities and picking what’s most important to you. If happy hour with your co-workers is a must for your peace and well-being, then it needs to be included. If tuition is necessary, then cut back on eating out. You get to choose; the budget is at your mercy, not the other way around.

Okay, great, but exactly how do I make my budget do these things?? There is a bit of trial and error involved, but I can help you formulate the basics so that you get the concept and rhythm down for yourself.

First, there’s nothing wrong with using a template budget – provided you know a few facts about them. 1) They will nearly always have categories you don’t need – you can just delete those right out. 2) They will nearly always be missing a category that’s important to you, and you’ll have to add it in. 3) They will not be able to help you determine the difference between a need and a want, which is very important. 4) If you have intermittent or fluctuating income, they will not help you deal with times when you have no money coming in.

Second, the easiest mistake to make is to look at your bank account and base your budget around your expenses. Sounds logical, but it’s not! Start by basing the budget around your needs, and then add in the other expenses.

Category 1 - Basic needs (i.e., you must have these in your budget):

Food/Water (Groceries) (NOT eating out, getting drinks, fast food, unnecessary sustenance) Shelter (Rent/Mortgage) Utilities (Electricity/Gas/Heat/Water) Transportation (Car/Bus/Bike/Other) Clothing (Work attire/Basic daily clothes) (NOT accessories, jewelry, purses, fancy clothes)

Some of these you can fill in right away, like rent and possibly utilities. (A little trick: some cities let you go on a plan to even out your utility payment so it’s the same each month.) The rest can be guesstimates – and guess what? It takes about 90 days to get it right, so if you only budget $200 for groceries and you’re dead wrong, just keep track of how much more you spent, so you can change the number next month. Transportation doesn’t include car loans, just what it takes to keep your car running and getting you to work/home/errands. Be real on whether you need an Uber or not – don’t put it as a need unless it really is. We are just doing the basics that keep you alive and employed right here.

Category 2 – other potential needs:

Phone/internet service Tuition Tithe

I put these here to demonstrate that not all budgets must have them, even though many do. I know that living without home internet or phone seems an impossibility, but since your life and livelihood wouldn’t necessarily depend on them (free wifi, etc.) I put them here. If you had to cancel for a month, you’d still live.

Category 3 – Debt:

Credit card Car loan Phone purchase Computer purchase Student loans Medical debt Other debt

This is the suckiest category. It’s depressing, it’s hard to get rid of. Blech. Now it’s time for the big girl pants. You can knock these out and get rid of them over time. Why did I not include debt under Needs? Because if everything fell apart and you couldn’t pay all your bills, you have to have the Needs listed above, but you don’t have to pay the debt. Debt collectors do not want you to think this way. If you get behind they will call you and basically threaten your future children, but they have no power over you. People get trapped paying debt and not taking care of their needs for these reasons: 1) Debt collection is an aggressive industry and they will do whatever it takes to guilt you into paying, 2) People worry about ruining their credit (forgetting that getting evicted/foreclosing will do worse things to your credit), 3) People who have integrity want to play fair and pay it back. I am saying yes, always pay your debt bills. But I am also saying put your needs first. If something has to slip for a month, let it be a debt, not your utilities, get me?

Category 4 – Savings:

Emergency savings Retirement savings Goal-oriented savings (like for school, car, vacation, etc.)

Dave Ramsey’s recommendation for those of us with debt is to have a little $1000 starter emergency fund, and then to stop saving until we get the debt paid off. I like this method and have used it. You can read about it on his website or in his book to get a clearer picture of why he recommends.

Category 5 – Lifestyle:

Pet expenses Eating out Movies Coffee shops Shopping Art supplies Video games Yarn

Look, I don’t know what goes into your lifestyle. I made up some categories here. These are things you choose to spend your income on, and if you don’t have enough money, you probably drop it for a while until you do. At first, this may feel the most bewildering: “It’s not the same each month; how do I plan this?” It’s okay! Just guesstimate, and keep track so you have better information going forward. You’ll probably get a ton of things wrong and overspend in the first month. The next month, you’ll realize that you have to skip trivia night because you’re visiting your parents, so you’ll feel smart for taking it off the budget. The third month, you’ll suddenly remember that Debra’s getting married on the 30th and you’ll set aside some cash to get a gift, rather than using a credit card. And boom, just like that, you are planning your finances. In my family, we have lifestyle categories specific to us and the kids, but we also always have a discussion about “specials” at the start of each month. Those are things like birthdays, parties, weddings, trips, etc. that get written in as one-time budget items. We put an upper limit dollar value on each, and then if we don’t spend it all, great. If we go over a little, we file it away under “experience” and do better the next time. At the bottom of the budget page, we even look farther out, just as a heads-up for planned trips, etc. Like, I know I’m going on vacation in July, so even though it’s only May, I have a little reminder telling me that any extra money we end up with should be tucked away for my vacation. It keeps us from spending it on sodas or other junk on impulse.

To implement your budget, set a reminder for the last 1-5 days of the month that says “Time to plan next month’s budget!!” or something. Sit down for 10 minutes with the last budget and look through the numbers. Do this before the 1st of the month! Do you only buy cat food every other month? Put a line thru or some other indicator that you don’t need it this month. Oh, are there 4 birthdays this month? Better increase the amount of gift money you put aside. Is the future a mystery and you have no idea whether someone will surprise you with an invitation to a party or event? Put “mystery spending” as a category and drop $50 in, just so you are covered. You get to decide!

Above all, don’t give up. I gave up so many times after just a single month. I never knew all those years that it takes a 90 day commitment to make this change and see results.

Hit me up with questions if you read this and are interested in starting a budget. You don’t have to give me specifics; general information will do for most questions. I would love to help.

#llu speaks #finance #budgeting #budgets #how to adult #personal

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josephlrushing · 4 years

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TickTalk 4 Review: Smartwatch Connectivity Brought to a Safe, Kid-Friendly Device

One of the toughest parts of parenting is determining when your child is ready for more connected technology and how you balance connection with safety. Making a kid-friendly phone safer by combining it with a watch isn’t a brand-new concept, but TickTalk thinks they’ve brought it to a new level with the TickTalk 4 launching Tuesday on Kickstarter. Is it a success? I tested it on my 7-year-old, so read on to learn how it went!

So what makes TickTalk 4 special? Here’s what the company has to say:

So What Can TickTalk 4 Do?

The TickTalk 4 has the world’s largest battery capacity in a children’s smartwatch, free streaming music powered by iHeartRadio Family, end-to-end encrypted messaging, activity tracking, 2x 5MP Selfie and Snapshot photo and video cameras, parental controls, and more.

The TickTalk 4 comes fully loaded with 2-way voice, Wi-Fi, and video calling, location tracking, emergency SOS contacts, reminders, Do Not Disturb class mode, and more. In the Secure Messaging Center, children can safely send texts, photos, emojis, voice messages, and GIFs in individual and group chats with parent-approved contacts.

In the free TickTalk app, parents and guardians can track the watch location, block unknown calls, view watch call and text logs, approve 50+ watch contacts, set daily music limits, step goals, and more.

The first thing to consider about the TickTalk 4 is who this is for. I’d say the age for this is range-bound from about 7 or 8 years old to around 10, maybe 11. Older than that, I think a kid would chafe at the restrictions built into the watch, while younger kids aren’t really away from a parent enough to make this useful. So the sweet spot is really the age where the kids might go out and on their own on a bike ride or over at a friend’s for a sleepover, but they’re not yet buried in social media and games. The TickTalk 4 will be available in Titanium Black, Galaxy Blue, and Laser Pink.

My son figured out nearly immediately how to navigate and use his Titanium Black TickTalk 4, which is how I ended up with several videos texted to me of just fart noises.

Apple Watch on the left, TickTalk 4 on the right.

Physically, the TickTalk 4 is really obviously a phone-watch. It’s … chunky. I measured the screen at 50mm, which is a full 6mm more than my Apple Watch! It’s almost 0.5″ thick, so this is not a watch that will blend in on your child’s wrist. It sports two cameras, one on the face and one angled out, and there are two large buttons on the side for controls.

I thought it was a little over the top, and I like big watches, but my son had zero issues with the size and thought it was awesome, so it forced me to step back and evaluate the watch from kid-eyes. In that respect, the size makes sense-the screen is big and easy for a kid to navigate, there’s no chance they’re going to forget they have it on, and the buttons are large and easy to press. All those things matter more than aesthetics for a kid using this, so the larger the size, the better it is for the kids, somewhat counterintuitively.

Before we get to what the watch can do, it’s important to look at what you, as a parent, can allow the watch to do. The app gives you near-total control over the watch. As a parent, you can set reminders to send to the watch for your child, control which contacts are allowed on the watch, track your child’s activity, see where they are on a map, and even message back and forth with them. You can also set times for “do not disturb” so they can’t make calls or send messages, such as during schoolwork time. (Click any photo to enlarge it and open a gallery.)

It would be nice if this allowed you to geofence it, so you could have it automatically go into Do Not Disturb mode when your child was near their school and then have it automatically turn on once they left. I could see that being especially helpful for a kid who walks home from school in non-pandemic times; your child might not leave school at exactly the same time every day, so having it automatically switch on and off would be a nice feature.

I also don’t love that they tucked the Do Not Disturb option in the settings, where it’s not as easy to jump in and navigate quickly. But that’s the only quibble I really have with the app. Otherwise, it’s easy to use and offers many ways for a parent to communicate and interact from their phone to the child’s TickTalk 4, from messages to remote booting and accessing.

There’s also a “super hearing” feature, which is definitely slightly creepy but might be helpful under specific circumstances. With it, the watch will secretly call you, so you can hear what your child is up to without them knowing. TickTalk seems to know it’s a gray area at best since there’s a popup warning about being considerate of your child’s privacy. So whether you use it is up to you, but it’s another way you as a parent can keep a fair bit of control over what your child is up to with their watch.

The watch itself offers several options for the kids. There’s a calculator, calendar, camera, messages, phone, and many customization options with different watch faces. As I said above, my son figured it out almost immediately, and even before I could go through it all with him, he had scurried off to play with it.

The camera isn’t going to win any awards for quality, but it’s surprisingly decent for one strapped to your wrist, and the strap’s chunkiness makes it easy for small fingers to buckle and unbuckle.

TickTalk also sent us the TickTalk 4 Power Base (a dock for the watch) and some Chums, which are little plastic charms that can be snapped onto the strap. I found both were easy for my son to use, and the dock is especially helpful. The TickTalk 4 has a 1,000mAh battery, which the company says will last 62 hours with typical use and provide up to 100 hours of standby time. The battery lasted all day for us, but my son also wasn’t going far and the watch was only used sporadically throughout the day. I’d say planning for daily charging is smart, and the Power Base dock made it super easy to toss it on for a top-off.

Chums charms added to the TickTalk 4’s strap.

Users in the U.S. will also have free, unlimited access to iHeartRadio Family, but we did not test it because unless there’s a radio that plays nothing but Legend of Zelda soundtracks, my son doesn’t care. The app does allow you to limit music time, though, so if you don’t want your kiddo blowing off schoolwork for a dance party, you can control that too.

I can’t find any fault in the hardware or software of the TickTalk; as I said at the start, the biggest challenge this device has is being bound to the ages where it makes sense. Connectivity-wise, TickTalk can connect with Red Pocket on a $10/month plan that offers unlimited texting, 1GB of data, and 1000 minutes. It’s unclear if there will be other carrier support once it launches, but $10/month and 1GB of data are more than reasonable, especially when the watch can also use wifi when at home to save on data costs.

The TickTalk 4 is launching on Kickstarter this Tuesday, and it will sell for $179.99; you can learn more here.

Source: Manufacturer supplied review sample

What I Like: Easy to use; Lots of parental controls; Tough build quality; Attractive to kids; Offers lots of tracking and other safety options: Free, unlimited access to iHeartRadio Family for users in the U.S.

What Needs Improvement: Phone-watches as a category feel like a solution in search of a problem; Battery life is nothing special; Very chunky design

from Joseph Rushing https://geardiary.com/2021/03/08/ticktalk-4-smartwatch-review/

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accio-ambition · 7 years

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I know it seems like there's a lot of time jumps in this story, but they'll calm down soon. Ish. Promise. But I’m giving you some relationship milestone(s) in this chapter, sooooo... As always, thank you, thank you, thank you to @sotheylived, @queen-icicle-fandom, @shipsxahoy, and @captainswanbigbang for doing their parts in this story. If you feel so inclined, go ahead and leave a comment or message me on the tumblr. I've spent all day with screaming children, I'm already impervious. :)

Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU Rating: M Content warning: Character death, some violent situations

FFnet/Ao3/Cover/Snapshots/Gifset

Chapter Eleven

A week later, Emma and Henry arrive at the wrap party, dressed up for the occasion because what else is she supposed to dress up for in Storybrooke? They’ve gathered at Jefferson’s house, a nice little two bedroom on the other side of town. The furniture has been pushed to the sides of every common room, and Emma can only be thankful that Jeff had the forethought to plan it here and not on the Jolly Roger or the Jewel. There’s got to be upwards of 50 people here, crews and casts and friends and family, and there’s no way more than 10 could fit on the Jolly Roger on a good day.

(The weather isn’t spectacular either, but the late fall breeze wouldn’t be unwelcome with all this body heat surrounding them.)

She’s got a drink in one hand, waiting for some big announcement Jefferson had teased upon entering the party. She’s laughing with Liam at a shitty joke Mulan’s told when Jefferson claps his hands and mounts a crate.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I have an enormous announcement,” Jefferson says, his arms flying wide and spilling some of his drink over the lip of his glass. It falls just short of Emma’s bare toes.

“Not one for the dramatic, are you now, Jeff?” she asks, loud and sarcastic, getting a raucous laugh out of the crowd.

Jefferson gives her an annoyed side eye. Otherwise, he continues as if Emma hadn’t interrupted. “I have the great pleasure to tell you guys that the execs loved the show.”

“Well, that’s always nice to hear,” Liam booms.

“And that they want a second, full-season!”

“No way!” Emma shouts, covering her surprised smile with her hand. Henry runs into her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist.

She’d hoped for a second season, but figured they wouldn’t have a clue for another couple of months. The premiere hadn’t even aired yet, and it was, in her experience and knowledge, very rare for a brand new series to get picked up at this point in the game. Thus, the job searching.

“So congratulations, everyone!” Jefferson yells over the chaotic din that’s broken out. “We’re a hit!”

“Technically,” Henry says at her side, “the show hasn’t premiered yet, so we can’t tell if it’s a hit.”

“Ah, m’boy, that means little,” Killian chides him in good nature, appearing at their sides from nowhere. His free hand ruffles her son’s hair and Henry beams.

For once - and it’s been known to happen on the odd occasion since their tenuous friendship began - Emma agrees with Jones. “Seriously. Think of it this way, we get to stay here.”

“We’re staying?” Henry asks at the same time Jones says, “You were planning on leaving?”

Emma directs her nod toward the captain. “I’ve got to go where I can provide for my son,” she says simply. And then she grins wide and looks down at the boy. “And right now, that’s Storybrooke.”

Henry’s excited, as she knew he would be. He’s practically jumping on her feet. “I can’t wait to tell Phillip and Grace.”

“Well, Grace is over there with Ruby, so you can tell her now.” Gently pushing him toward the little group of kids gathered together in the corner of the room, Emma nods her assent. “Go ahead.”

He starts off toward them, but then Henry hesitates and comes back. “Can I have friends over tomorrow?” he asks.

“In the afternoon,” Emma responds. With a slight glance - hopefully not too noticeable to anyone but herself - in Jones’ direction, she adds, “I have a feeling we’re going to want to sleep in tomorrow morning.”

Nodding, Henry turns around and bounds toward his friends, yelling their names to grab their attention.

“And just what do you plan on doing that’ll force you into a late morning?” Killian asks with a smirk, leaning toward her slightly.

She knew he was going to ask something along those lines, especially if he caught the look she gave him. Which, of course, he did, if the look he’s giving her - a look she’s seen on many men in bars during late nights - is any indication.

Biting on her bottom lip, Emma smiles. “I’m going to celebrate with my friends because I have a steady job for a little while longer and people who care about me.”

“Yes, that is indeed true. An ever growing list, if I’m not to mistaken.” Killian takes another step toward her, invading her personal space and Emma can’t find it in herself to reprimand him for his bold move. “Henry, of course, the Nolans, Ruby and Granny, the crews-”

“You,” she interrupts despite herself. And then she feels her face go blank because now she’s the one who’s being bold. Nervously, she seeks a bit of validation. “Right?”

Killian chuckles nervously and scratches at his ear. “Me,” he admits, “and hopefully it’s likewise?”

She feels kind of foolish, like they’re middle schoolers with their first crushes. She shrugs, trying and failing to hide her growing smile. “You’re alright, I guess.”

Killian scoffs, his hand coming up to his chest. “You know how to wound a man, love.”

Emma smiles wider, tilting her head to the side. “Let’s just say, god forbid, if you were to be lost at sea, I’d help look for you,” she says, “and if you were never found, I’d be sad.”

Chuckling softly, Jones shakes his head. “Such a way with words, Swan,” he says on a sigh. “So eloquent.”

And because she’s happy, so happy, she goes for it. She grabs his hand at his side and pulls him into her, their noses barely touching, but their bodies are aligned from hip to shoulder. “I’m more of a take-action kind of girl.”

“Do tell,” he murmurs, leaning forward just enough so the tips of their noses touch. She, in turn, sets her hands atop his shoulders.

“I’ll leave the words to you, Jones. How’s that sound?”

She feels more than sees him shrug his shoulders beneath her hands. “I think I’m agreeable with that.”

It’s been so long since Emma’s just kissed a man that she becomes a bit too enthusiastic at the prospect. Normally, Killian stands maybe six inches above her, if not less. Now, in her present shoes, they’re nearly the same height. When she pushes up on her toes to kiss him, Emma overshoots and her lips end up closer to the crease of his brow than his lips.

Killian chuckles. It seems he leaned down to compensate for their height difference. Emma groans in embarrassment, sinking to her regular height and clunking her head against his chest.

“Now, now, love,” he says, tipping her chin up to face him. “We’re both a little eager. You’ve been dreaming about this moment since the day we met. That’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

His comments make Emma scoff, a real smile growing across her lips as shakes her head. “You’re so full of yourself,” she mutters, closing the distance between them much more cautiously than before.

When their lips brush against each other, it’s steady and surprising. For all the hard exterior bravado he puts on, Killian is soft, both in the pressure he exerts on her lips and the way he holds her. His arms wind around her waist as they give and take. Her arms slide up from his shoulders to around his neck, her fingers finding a sweet spot that makes him shiver at the nape of his neck. Scratching at the hair she feels there, short and coarse, makes him growl, a dark sound starting in the back of his throat and rumbling into hers.

It’s not at all what she was expecting, makes her heart pound and her breathing run amok, but then again, when has Killian Jones ever done or been what she was expecting?

Killian leans further into her, his mouth more insistent against hers, forcing her to bend backwards to keep their lips together. She gasps, allowing the perfect opportunity for him to slip his tongue between her lips and tangle with hers. Emma feels a grin on his lips and can’t help but respond with her own, a hand coming from behind his head to hold his face, bring him infinitesimally closer to her.

She pulls back quickly when she begins to lose her footing, but not without inner protest. Feeling sort of dazed, she opens her eyes to find his bright blue ones shining down at her. If Emma could keep kissing him – perhaps even more than that – without the threat of Henry or anyone else popping in on them or questioning their motives, she most definitely would. No question.

Alas, even now, Ruby approaches them, their bodies still entwined around the other’s, with a martini glass in one hand and a devious smirk growing ever bigger on her lips. She was drunk before Emma got to Jeff’s, and Emma wouldn’t expect her to have stopped because she arrived. Nor would Emma have expected her to spot her and Killian in the midst of everything facebattling one another and not comment on it.

“Were you two just making out in the middle of a public event?” she asks, loud and brash, whatever drink in her glass swooping perilously close to the edge.

Emma shakes her head furiously, even though her arms are still wrapped around Killian’s neck. “Of course not.” She licks her lips as she tries to think of a plausible excuse as to why the two of them are so close. Killian casually swings them so the weight of their bodies shift from one foot to the other and it’s as she hears the slow music in the background that Emma finds the perfect lie. “We were just dancing,” she explains, swaying them more obviously from side to side as if to prove her point. “You know these Jones men.” In a more secluded corner of the room, Emma finds Liam dancing similarly with a brunette woman wrapped up in his arms. She nods her head over Ruby’s shoulder to direct her gaze as she herself looks up to Killian, a soft smile on her lips. “Nothing but gentlemen.”

“Aye,” he chuckles, pulling her closer by the waist. “Raised to save a damsel in distress.”

Ruby cocks a brow, not understanding something that Emma doesn’t want to attempt to understand either. “So you’re saying you saved Emma?” she asks.

Killian shakes his head. “She can save herself.” But under his breath, meant for her ears only, he adds, “I’m just here to help if you need.”

Ruby all but forgotten, Emma feels his words resonate deep inside her. No matter what curve ball she throws at him next, he’s going to stay by her side. He’s sticking around for a while and Emma can scrupulously say it’s the first time in a long time she’s believed anyone who’s vowed to do that.

0000

In-between seasons have usually been a letdown in Emma’s experience. She goes from occasional 14 hour days to nothing. Granted, her place does seem cleaner, and she gets to hang out with Henry more often, but it’s very much a 60 to zero lifestyle.

That being said, of all the off seasons she’s experienced, this one is the least boring. With the promise of another season on the horizon and a nice system – support, school, etc. – in place, it only makes sense for Emma and Henry to stay in Maine for the winter. She did promise him cold days cuddled up by the fireplace and snowman building sessions. It only seems fair to follow through.

(And she loves it. Honest to God, this winter makes her regret every winter she spent in sunny wherever, without snow and her snow bunny son, with his chubby red cheeks and nearly nonstop laughter.)

What she’s not prepared for is the sheer amount of time she spends with people from the show. Emma expected to hang out with Mary Margaret and David simply because they’re old friends of hers and they live right next door, but when Robin calls her a week and a half after the wrap party to invite her and Henry to a pre-Thanksgiving get together, she confusedly says they’ll be there. Then Ruby invites her to a girls’ night down at the Rabbit Hole, as many drinks as you want for five dollars because the season’s slowing down and Ruby finds herself bored more often than not at her off-season bartending job.

And then the snow starts in earnest and barely stops enough for the roads to clear and their clothes to dry again. Henry’s running off to Jefferson’s house for a snowball fight while she drinks with Scarlet and Whale on the front porch, trading horror stories and laughing so loud that both Joneses two and a half blocks away can hear them.

(Killian texts her one specific evening, telling her to calm down and “next time you decide to imbibe the drink, please invite me so I can keep the lads from getting too randy.”

“You think I can’t smack your men into shape?” she responds.

His answer comes a moment later: “Oh, I know you can. I want to make sure I have a crew afterwards.”)

By the time Christmas rolls around, Emma doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. For so long, it’s just been her and Henry. They’d usually go to Walmart or Home Depot and buy a small potted plant to throw on the few ornaments they had collected, most of them handmade. She’d get a handful of presents for Henry and split them down the middle – half from her and half from Santa. They’d stay up late and watch Christmas movies until they couldn’t keep their eyes open on Christmas Eve and laze about on Christmas Day.

But now they have a house – a big house, far bigger than they really need but worth every square inch – that needs decorations inside and outside. It calls for a real Christmas tree, with lights and tinsel and a star on top. Stockings hanging from the actual fireplace mantle and the scent of Christmas cookies wafting through every room: the mere thought makes Emma emotional when she’s on her own some nights.

They have friends and people who care for them. When she and Henry sit down to make a list for the people they need to get presents for, Emma nearly cries at how long it is. There’s David and Mary Margaret, Jefferson, Mulan, August, Graham, Robin and Regina...

For the first time in a long time, Emma feels like she belongs.

“Liam and Killian!” Henry reminds her, his finger anxiously jabbing the next blank line on the paper. “We have to get something really good for Liam and Killian.”

“Why do we have to get something really good for them?” she asks as she reluctantly writes down their names. There’s a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that bubbles up when she adds their names to their list, and it’s a bit hard to place, so Emma shoves it further down.

“Because they’re our best friends,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

(And it kind of is, when she thinks about it.)

“What about your friends from school? What about them?” she asks in an attempt to distract him.

Henry shrugs and shakes his head. “Liam and Killian are our best friends.”

Chuckling, Emma means to correct him - she meant does she need to add any of his school friends’ names to her list - but a knock sounds at the door. Both of them tilt their heads to the side: neither of them are expecting any visitor. As the adult of the relationship, unfortunately, Emma stands up and shuffles over the front door, swinging it open and letting in a chill.

Lo and behold, it’s Killian himself.

“Speak of the devil,” she murmurs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Is that your way of saying you find me devilishly handsome, Swan?” Killian asks with a twinkle in his eye. It’s been showing up a lot more often these days, as a byproduct of their wrap party dalliance, she’s sure.

But as for development of whatever it is between them, there’s been none. Aside from occasional texts and drive-bys, Emma hasn’t really seen or talked either Jones brother since the party. Unsure as to whether Killian was staying away from her, letting her come to him in her own time, or whether she was unconsciously hiding away from him, Emma couldn’t say.

(But she does miss them. Him. Henry runs down to their house and says hi at least three times a week when he’s off to school or a friend’s house. She knows that, and they’re less than a mile away, but they just haven’t said anything about the elephant in the room and it feels awkward.

So Emma doesn’t broach the topic.)

(Whatever she tells Ruby in the aftermath and hangover of that night, Emma ruminates in the memory of making out with her soft, blue-eyed captain more than she would like to admit.)

“No.” She ushers him in quickly with a roll of her eyes as the wind picks up, and motions to Henry still sitting on at the table. “We were just coming up with a list of people we need to get Christmas presents for.”

Killian smiles, acting honored with a hand to his heart in true Jones-drama fashion. “And I made the cut?” he qualifies. Spinning around on his heel, Killian looks back at her and sends her a wink. “Swan, I’m truly honored.”

“Nuh uh.” Emma points to Henry with a slight grin. “You should be thanking him. I was more than happy to leave you off the list, but he insisted because he thinks of you and Liam as his best friends.”

His expression softens before turning to face her son. He looks truly honored now. “I’ve never heard kinder sentiments, lad.” In a few long strides, Killian situates himself right next to Henry’s chair. He reaches out and ruffles his hair. “Thank you, Henry.”

Henry’s bashful when he says you’re welcome - his cheeks rouge and he begins twiddling with his fingers beneath the table. Emma’s heart hurts from how happy she is, how much joy she finds in this moment in time. Henry’s never really had anyone but her to look up to, but here and now, it feels like Killian is taking on some of that burden.

“So,” Killian starts, breaking the moving warmth in the room, “do the Swans have any big Christmas plans?”

Emma shakes her head, settling back into her chair. “We’ve got a lot of decorating to do before then,” she reminds him dolefully, both answering his question and not. “That’s where my mind is right now.”

Henry asks, “What are you guys doing?”

Killian shrugs. “Nothing special, I suppose,” he tells them. “We usually eat dinner with Robin and his clan, but I shouldn’t think us welcome in Regina’s current condition.”

Under her breath, Emma laughs. Regina’s well into her second trimester, maybe even the beginning of her third at this rate, reaching the point in her pregnancy where Emma knows nothing matters but finally getting the baby out of her. She remembers those days far too well.

It probably is better that Liam and Killian stay far and away from a woman in such a volatile state, especially during one of the most stressful times of the year. But in no way would she think her own son would suggest the alternative he does.

“Why don’t you come and spend Christmas with us?”

Emma’s jaw drops and she sharply scolds him. “Henry!”

His eyes meet her from across the table. “I’m serious, Mom,” he says. “It’s just going to be us and Liam and Killian are going to be alone too. Why shouldn’t we be alone together?”

Killian glances at her, then back to Henry. “If it’s quite alright with your mother, I would love to,” he answers the boy gently, “and I’m sure Liam would think the same.”

Henry’s face illuminates more than any Christmas tree Emma’s seen in her life. Then he turns his begging puppy dog eyes on her. “Mom, please?” he begs.

“I don’t know,” she responds hesitantly. Her gaze flick between the brown of her son’s eyes and the startling blue of Killian’s. She relents. “Maybe during the day. But not in the morning,” she says sternly. “That’s gonna be for me and you, kid.”

“You should come over for dinner,” Henry offers. “Mom makes spaghetti.”

Killian cocks a brow. “Really?” He stares her down, his tongue peeking out from the smirk growing on his lips. “You cook, Swan?”

Holding her ground, Emma casually shrugs. “On occasion.”

He nods, his mouth trying - and failing horrendously, she observes - to hide his grin. With a nod of his head, Killian says, “Then I look forward to the day.”

Her smile is smug, she knows, she can feel it, but she’s very satisfied with how her son’s little surprise ends with a win for her. And then she remembers Killian interrupted their family Christmas list making session. “Did you come here for a reason or did you just need to get out of the house?” she asks.

“A little bit of both,” he admits, pushing off the back of Henry’s chair to scratching behind his ear. “I wanted to see if I could interest you in coming over for dinner tonight.”

“Tonight?”

He nods, his eyes darting everywhere that isn’t her and his hand moving furiously at the skin behind his ear.

She’s suspicious. She narrows her eyes and purses her lips. “What did you do?” Emma grumbles.

“Nothing, hopefully.” And his words ring true to her. “Liam sometimes gets a little too into the holiday spirit. He’s been baking and cooking all day and though the house smells heavenly, I am merely one man and cannot possibly eat close to a quarter of what he’s made,” Killian explains. “So I called up the lads and some other neighbors and invited them over and thought I’d swing by and invite you and your boy.”

Jones’ sentence is barely finished when Henry says, “We’ll be there.”

“Henry,” she reprimands.

(What is up with him, she wonders to herself. He’s never been this obstinate and she of all people would know how stubborn her son can be.)

“Mom, you were going to say yes anyways,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. That takes Emma aback even further, but Henry doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he turns to look up at Killian. “What did Liam bake?”

“A few dozen batches of cookies, a lasagna or three, and there may have been some homemade jam as well,” Killian rattles off, ticking each one off his fingers.

Just the list of food has Emma practically drooling. She looks to Henry, whose eyes are wide as saucers and his mouth gaping open. “Yeah, we’re definitely going to be there,” she decides immediately. “What time?”

“Whenever pleases you.” Killian gestures to the door he’d entered through a few minutes before. “We can walk back together now, if you so wish.”

“Can we, Mom, please?” Henry pleads. “We want to get all the good cookies before Will comes and steals them all.��

Opening her mouth to respond, it’s cut off by the clicking of Jones’ tongue. “The lad’s got a fair point, Swan,” he says, turning a swarthy look on her. “You know Scarlet will scarf down everything in sight.”

After scrunching up her nose - she’s displeased to say the least at her coworker and son banding against her - Emma groans, turning to Henry. “Did you do all your homework?”

“Not my math.”

“Take it with you,” she says reluctantly. “Maybe Killian will be better help than me.”

“Oh, well, I, uh,” Killian says, stumbling over his words. That makes her smile. For once the tables have turned and she’s caught him off guard.

But Henry’s already cheering, excited to be having this huge dinner with the people he’s grown to love.

Emma - she’s just excited to see her son so happy.

They gather up their warm clothes, Henry his backpack from upstairs, and then they’re out the door. Henry, in a great impression of the Tasmanian devil, whirls down the porch steps and is halfway out the gate while Emma turns around to lock up the door.

“Honestly, Swan, I don’t know why you insist on locking up your home,” Jones grumbles at her side. “You know practically everyone in town. The town knows you and the lad. What do you think should come to pass if you don’t lock the door?”

She shrugs, watching Henry hurry down the sidewalk to the Jones’ house. “Old habits, I guess.” A brief look at his face shows him unsatisfied with her answer. “You know me. We were in Phoenix before we were here, and L.A. and Baltimore before that.” She shrugs again. “I guess I’ve just always lived in cities.”

“Oh, so it’s not because you don’t trust a soul in this town,” he says, pushing and holding the gate open for her. “Because, honestly, love, I hope there’s at least one person in Storybrooke you trust enough.”

Emma giggles and hums. “And who do you hope that it is?” she asks him, already knowing the answer. Stopping short on the sidewalk, she faces him. “You, Jones?”

The question hangs in the air as they silently make their way through the cold and around the corner to his and his brother’s home. It’s similarly big as hers, though a light blue instead of a gray. The porch doesn’t extend all the way around, but it covers most of the front. Even from here, Emma can spot their backyard, shadows dancing across the lawn from people inside. They extend as far as the wooden walkway, on which the other side harbor waters lie. Even before her son claimed the Jones brothers as their best friends, she could’ve said this was a perfect house for them.

Henry’s already made it to the front porch. Emma can see him knocking on the door from the sidewalk.

Jones doesn't answer her question until they step up to the front door. He reaches for her arm, squeezing her forearm before shrugging, a boyish quality taking over his body language. “It’d be an honor of mine,” he tells her, not a hint of teasing to be heard. “But in the unfortunate case it is not, then I’d be glad to know that you’ve got someone to lean on.”

Emma chuckles. “You know, your brother said something eerily similar when we first met.”

Opening the gate for her, Killian laughs as well. “Honestly, Swan, it’s like you forget who raised me.” He leans in to her, close enough for her to smell the cologne he must have sprayed before coming to visit them. “I know who my confidante is,” he whispers conspiratorially to her, winking. “I happen to be standing next to her. She’s quite enticing, even when she’s yelling at me.”

His words really touch her, even with their slight jab at her temper, but she doesn’t have time to contemplate them for her attention is immediately focusing on the ruckus from inside. It sounds like something fragile just hit the floor and shattered. “How many people did you invite?” she asks.

Killian chuckles and pats her on the shoulder. “Come now, Swan, it’s a spontaneous dinner,” he reminds her. “Can’t have dinner without the entire crew.”

He opens the door to reveal literally the whole crew: all trawlers from both of their ships and assorted family members parade through the house. Emma spots David and Robin in the corner with beers in hand and August and Mary Margaret chatting in another. She’s been to crew dinners before, but she doesn’t even know half of these people.

“Are you sure Liam made enough food?” she asks him quietly, stripping off her jacket.

“Definitely,” he assures her, taking her coat and somehow finding it a spot on the crowded coat rack. “Funnily enough, Swan, this is not the biggest crowd we’ve ever had in this house.”

She grimaces. “I’d hate to have been there.”

He gently pushes her toward the center of the madness. “Don’t be prickly. Who knows, maybe you’ll have a good time.”

Emma groans and drags her feet as she makes her way toward the kitchen and the admittedly heavenly smells that waft from that direction. There’s got to be a bottle of beer and a handful of Christmas cookies with her name on them somewhere in this house.

#csbb #captain swan big bang #cs ff #captain swan #ouat #ditlot #my words #storytime #YOU WANT DANCING?!#HAVE IT #KISSING?!#PRESTO CHANGE O #CHRISTMASTIME #TAKE IT #HEART TO HEARTS #WHAT HAVE I GOT TO LOSE

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gibsongirlselections · 4 years

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When Half of NYC’s Tax Base Leaves and Never Comes Back

The separateness in New York, and by extension much of the nation curled around it from America’s eastern edge, stands out. There are the hyper-wealthy and there are the multi-generational poor. They depend on each other, but with COVID who needs who more has changed.

It’s easy to stress how far apart the rich and the poor live, even though the mansions of the Upper West Side are less than a mile from the crack dealers uptown. The rich don’t ride public transportation, they don’t send their kids to public schools, they shop and dine in very different places with private security to ensure everything stays far enough apart to keep it all together.

But that misses the dependencies which until now have simply been a given in the ecosystem. The traditional view has been the rich need the poor to exploit as cheap labor—textbook economic inequality. But with COVID as the spark, the ticking bomb of economic inequality may soon go off in America’s greatest city. Things are changing and New York, and by extension America, needs to ask itself what it wants to be when it grows up.

It’s snapshot simple. The wealthy and the companies they work for pay most of the taxes. The poor consume most of the taxes through social programs. COVID is driving the wealthy and their offices out of the city. No one will be left to pay for the poor, who are stuck here, and the city will collapse in the transition. A classic failed state scenario.

New York City is home to 118 billionaires, more than any other American city. New York City is also home to nearly one million millionaires, more than any other city in the world. Among those millionaires some 8,865 are classified as “high net worth,” with more than $30 million each.

They pay the taxes. The top one percent of NYC taxpayers pay nearly 50 percent of all personal income taxes collected in New York. Personal income tax in the New York area accounts for 59 percent of all revenues. Property taxes add in more than a billion dollars a year in revenue, about half of that generated by office space.

Now for how the other half lives. Below those wealthy people in every sense of the word the city has the largest homeless population of any American metropolis, which includes 114,000 children. The number of New Yorkers living below the poverty line is larger than the population of Philadelphia, and would be the country’s 7th largest city. More than 400,000 New Yorkers reside in public housing. Another 235,000 receive rent assistance.

That all costs a lot of money. The New York City Housing Authority needs $24 billion over the next decade just for vital repairs. That’s on top of a yearly standard operating cost approaching four billion dollars. A lot of the money used to come from Washington before a multibillion-dollar decline in federal Section 9 funds. So today there is a shortfall and repairs, including lead removal, are being put off. NYC also has a $34 billion budget for public schools, many of which function as distribution points for child food aid, medical care, day care, and a range of social services.

The budget for a city as complex as New York is a mess of federal, state, and local funding sources. It can be sliced and diced many ways, but the one that matters is the starkest: the people and companies who pay for New York’s poor are leaving even as the city is already facing a $7.4 billion tax revenue hit from the initial effects of the coronavirus. The money is there; New York’s wealthiest individuals have increased their net worth by $44.9 billion during the pandemic. It’s just not here.

New York’s Governor Andrew Cuomo has seen a bit of the iceberg in the distance. He recently took to MSNBC to beg the city’s wealthy, who fled the coronavirus outbreak, to return. Cuomo said he was extremely worried about New York City if too many of the well-heeled taxpayers who fled COVID decide there is no need to move back. “They are in their Hamptons homes, or Hudson Valley or Connecticut. I talk to them literally every day. I say. ‘When are you coming back? I’ll buy you a drink. I’ll cook. But they’re not coming back right now. And you know what else they’re thinking, if I stay there, they pay a lower income tax because they don’t pay the New York City surcharge. So, that would be a bad place if we had to go there.”

Included in the surcharge are not only NYC’s notoriously high taxes. The recent repeal of the federal allowance for state and local tax deductions (SALT) costs New York’s high earners some $15 billion in additional federal taxes annually.

“They don’t want to come back to the city,” Partnership for NYC President Kathryn Wylde warned. “It’s hard to move a company… but it’s much easier for individuals to move,” she said, noting that most offices plan to allow remote work indefinitely. “It’s a big concern that we’re going to lose more of our tax base then we’ve already lost.”

While overall only five percent of residents left as of May, in the city’s very wealthiest blocks residential population decreased by 40 percent or more. The higher-earning a neighborhood is, the more likely it is to have emptied out. Even the amount of trash collected in wealthy neighborhoods has dropped, a tell-tale sign no one is home. A real estate agent told me she estimates about a third of the apartments even in my mid-range 300 unit building are empty. The ones for sale or rent attract few customers. She says it’s worse than post-9/11 because at least then the mood was “How do we get NYC back on its feet?” instead of now, when we just stand over the body and tsk tsk through our masks.

Enough New Yorkers are running toward the exits that it has shaken up the greater area’s housing market. Another real estate agent describes the frantic bidding in the nearby New Jersey suburbs as a “blood sport.” “We are seeing 20 offers on houses. We are seeing things going 30 percent over the asking price. It’s kind of insane.”

Fewer than one-tenth of Manhattan office workers came back to the workplace a month after New York gave businesses the green light to return to the buildings they ran from in March. Having had several months to notice what not paying Manhattan office rents might do for their bottom line, large companies are leaving. Conde Nast, the publishing company and majority client in the signature new World Trade Center, is moving out. Even the iconic paper The Daily News (which published the famous headline “Ford to City: Drop Dead” when New York collapsed in 1975 without a federal bailout) closed its physical newsroom to go virtual. Despite the folksy image of New York as a paradise of Mom and Pop restaurants and quaint shops, about 50 percent of those who pay most of the taxes work for large firms.

Progressive pin-up Mayor De Blasio has lost touch with his city. After years of failing to address economic inequality by simply throwing free money to the poor and limiting the ability of the police to protect them, and us, from rising crime, his COVID focus has been on shutting down schools and converting 139 luxury hotels to filthy homeless shelters. Alongside AOC, he has called for higher taxes on fewer people and demanded more federal funds. As for the wealthy who have paid for his failed social justice experiments to date, he says “We don’t make decisions based on a wealthy few. Some may be fair-weathered friends, but they will be replaced by others.”

What others? The concentration of major corporations once pulled talent to the city from across the globe; if you wanted to work for JP Morgan on Wall Street, you had to live here. That’s why NYC has skyscrapers; a lot of people once needed to live and especially work in the same place. Not any more. Technology and work-at-home changes have eliminated geography.

For the super wealthy, New York once topped the global list of desirable places to live based on four factors: wealth, investment, lifestyle and future. The first meant a desire to live among other wealthy people (we know where that’s headed), investment returns on real estate (not looking great, if you can even find a buyer), lifestyle (now destroyed with bars, restaurants, shopping, museums, and theaters closed indefinitely, coupled with rising crime) and…

The future. New York pre-COVID had the highest projected GDP growth of any city. Now we’re left with the question if COVID continues to hollow out the city, who will be left to pay for New York? As one commentator said, NYC risks leading America into becoming “Brazil with Nukes,” a future of constant political and social chaos, with a ruling class content to wall itself off from the greater society’s problems.

Peter Van Buren, a 24-year State Department veteran, is the author of We Meant Well: How I Helped Lose the Battle for the Hearts and Minds of the Iraqi People, Hooper’s War: A Novel of WWII Japan, and Ghosts of Tom Joad: A Story of the 99 Percent.

The post When Half of NYC’s Tax Base Leaves and Never Comes Back appeared first on The American Conservative.

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5brightplanets · 4 years

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Hi Mom,

I hope this note and the enclosed set of books find you after their shipment and quarantine. It has been a while since my last letter. The good news is the letter that I sent with the first set of books still does a good job of summing up how I feel about my journey. While there is no immediate plan to travel back home, I also have no plan not to travel home. It would be good to visit with friends and family, maybe that will happen soon.

There is a welcome side effect of little future planning. I have more freedom to focus creative energy and attention on a range of curiously ordinary subjects. Somehow, these ordinary subjects are prone to be roundly ignored and bluntly taken for granted at the same time. If that last bit makes sense, than great. Otherwise, just know I am happy finding time to make art which draws on many ordinary experiences and ideas - both old and new.

Please try not to worry about me. I feel good and have been taking extra care to try and keep healthy during this extended flu season. There are plenty of books for me to read. Music still touches my life in many ways. Nearly every day I find time to play the guitar and sing.

I remain grateful to have time to share some of my experiences and perspective through my poetry. Hopefully, my journey and free form art will resonate with others in terms of questions and answers they already hold just on the tip of their tongues.

It is amazing to think about all of the twists and turns in life. Pretty much mind boggling to look back on so many friends, family, strangers, books, movies, songs, and images, all of which combine to provide help, comfort, and perspective over a lifetime. It is possible to think back on situations and places where I was lined up to be the butt of somebody else’s joke. In light of the much bigger story which we are all part of, it surprisingly seems there was as much helping as hurting on those occasions - basically 50:50.

50:50 experiences in life bring to mind a kid’s book that I remember we had in the house when I was first learning to read. The book hinted at the same idea. I don’t remember the book’s title but with each page the storyline and pictures alternated a fortunately … event with an unfortunately … event. Near the end of the story, a pilot jumps out of an exploding plane wearing a faulty parachute only to narrowly miss landing on a three pronged pitch fork sticking up out of a big haystack. Before the end, I thnk the man finds the proverbial needle in a haystack.

Which brings me to the subject of this new set of books. The four books include three books in German with pictures that are perfectly enjoyable without needing to know German. In browsing the German language books, I noted bits of English and French in some of the photo descriptions.

One book is a kid’s book printed in The United States Of America. The Shad Are Running is in English with a couple of Dutch treats to dialect and names, like Mynheer Van Loon and his son Corny Van Loon. The story takes place in 1833 New York State in a village on the lower Hudson River. North of New York City the Hudson River is a tidal river with salt and fresh waters mixing with the tides. Like the Bagaduce River in Castine, Penobscot, and Sedgwick, but different.

The look and feel of the book made me think of you and the years you spent working in the schools to help kids improve their reading skills when they had progressed in grade level but were having difficulty keeping up. It also reminds me of the books you occassionally brought home for me from the school library because they came with good recommendations. Some of those books you lugged home in the early 70’s still continue to influence how I see the world today. It also brought to mind the many years you shopped local bookstores for prizes to give to students in the annual Milton Historical Society History Contests. Lots of wonderful memories to look back on.

The Shad Are Running by Judith St. George and illustrated by Richard Cuffari has all the telltale attributes of a long overdue US library book initially checked out in 1977 which then got waylaid on a lengthy Indo-European tour. However, it also has a discounted price tag of 50 cents and includes an all caps redeeming stamp of disavowal: NO LONGER THE PROPERTY OF THE ST. LOUIS COUNTY LIBRARY.

Reading the book cover to cover, I learned the Hudson River was regionally better known as the North River in the 1800’s. The story and illustrations revolve around the history of steamboat racing - fast paddling for fun and profit. Apparently, steamboat racing has a pretty explosive history. The author explains that in 1852 they had to pass laws to try and discourage that kind of commercial competition playing out on public waterways. The agitated competition among steamboat crews too often resulted in life and death outcomes for river watchers, fared passengers, and employees of the lines.

After digesting the book, I did a little poetic riff on the same subject.

A Race Of Steamboats

The more clings change the more Hey! sways the same. Samply survey virtual landscapes and ride choppy ideas along entertaining meants on big revered streams. Hold tight to a bitty poetic license as steamboats race headlong on remarkably predictable tracks in time before then and now floating on meer currents of refreshed difference. Imagine: wheely attractions; idle bystandings; gangplank stakes; inclined plains; smoking stacks; fast forwords; pidiful action; boiler plight monitors; occidental sterns; swell plowing; rolling stops; scenic pullovers; whatery domains; thruway benefits; risky aversions; wait redistributions; telltale floaters; racey undertows; and the belly visibles. The cumulonimbus after bath of skidfree channels; gripping ors; bold lead lines, timbered peers; sweeping decollections, heady counts, bobbing intimates, and ex port witnesses. A legal ezelly onplussed muddy struggle of parsunk costs and kowtow slicked back doos of A tout of sight bout of mind. Certified diverse mask scans a cousteaudian bottom strewn with unsurfaced causalities, scalable reskew manuals, and riveting rosey poster pinops flexing silty sleeves of What To Do In Case Of X. All echoes of route detours over arching the 69 Generally Accepted Plucky Standards of univen hip lilies ever after.

By Jivananda Candrāmā (James FitzGerald)

I am sure you miss seeing most of my poetic positings to Facebook and Tumblr. A Race Of Steamboats gives you some idea of how my online poetry reads. The wrapping format is the same as online but this poem is a little different (more drafts, punctuation, and caps than usual). It was after my writing had been headed in this direction for a time that I learned more about notable Irish roots anchored in evocative and kindly wordplay. It’s good if it sounds to you like it means something important and simultaneously means nothing at all - that is the sweet spot.

The three German language books all focus on nature. One of the three books features photographs of roses. It is curious how the photo on the cover features a rose garden with a classical statue of a woman holding a pitcher. Her stance, posture, and righthanded gaze give every indication she is checking her cellphone for messages.

The second book features artistic portraits of roses. For some reason, I find the paintings of roses seem to say more about roseness than the photographs. Interesting to think about the whys and wherefores of all the arts (social and physical sciences included) and their ability to bypass realism and focus our attention on specific attributes of interest.

The third book is devoted to pictures of trees in all stages - seedlings to stumps. There are tree photos from all over the world but many photos feature regions of Germany close to Leipzig. The cover photo gives away the photographer’s obvious attraction to trunks which are featured in many photos. The book reminded me how the nature of trees invite us to find beauty across all the stages of life. Saplings, trees, stumps, and moss covered logs on the forest floor are like so many snapshots of story unfolding. Mini stories told within a forest of stories and echoing within a bigger story in which all beings and things participate. On page 155, I was drawn to the little blue junked car on a dirt track in a field with the evergreen treeline in the background.

I understand this flu season has shut down many activities and turned many people’s lives upside down. Even with all the isolation and change to normal routines, I hope the books and this letter give you some comfort and provide some good things to think about until things settle down.

Love,

Jimmy

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ignitingwriting · 5 years

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Igniting Writing ‘Explore’ Contest 2019, Submission by ‘Kira_Collins88’ from Young Writers Project

Submission number 12 has been received for our ‘Explore’ themed teen creative writing contest, led jointly by Igniting Writing, Lake Erie Ink, Young Writers Project and Fighting Words. It was sent in by ‘Kira_Collins88′, another user from Young Writers Project, and it’s an interesting tale titled ‘The Lion’s Odyssey’. There’s an interesting narrative voice and an intriguing plotline, so have a read for yourself below:

Outwardly, my mother seems pretty ordinary. Miyamoto Mitsuko Suzue commenced life as a second-generation Japanese American. The Suzues lived in a meagre town in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Diversity was paltry and Miyamoto struggled as bigotry became increasingly prevalent. Bowing her head against harsh words and prejudice was her norm and she desired nothing more than to leave. From day one she envisaged a world outside her town, fabricated places to explore. There was a hunger in her, a craving to pinpoint where she fit in the puzzle of the universe.

Her pursuit of exploration swelled when she rocketed out of high school, where she proceeded to formulate her education around photography. Not only did she idolize the art, she was resolute on becoming a photojournalist. Globetrotting while molding a story behind a viewfinder was a job she deemed her calling. Furthermore, Miyamoto harbored a delicious secret, one on the romantic side. A freshman exchange program had introduced her to Mexico City, and that audacious escapade was exalted by Aaron Torres. They’d dated for five of the six months she’d been there, and Miyamoto planned on returning to her inamorato at the first chance.

Little did she know, Aaron Torres hadn’t been thinking of her lately. Of course, Aaron wasn’t unsympathetic. He was genial and benevolent, but he couldn’t await the lambent lady from his sophomore year. Eva Andino, a bounteous woman, snagged his heart.

Thus leaving Miyamoto stranded. Her flight to Michigan left in three weeks. Her Spanish was subpar, despite extensive studying, and she was alone. An unfledged baccalaureate attempting to salvage her vacation. She had aspired to take snapshots of the exquisite capital, but she was lost, toting a hefty camera bag and suitcase. Companions from her previous Mexico trip were dispersed, barely a handful in immediate reach.

Thankfully, Pia Rodriguez was one among that handful. Pia had a dense network of associates, connections to almost every conceivable person. She was astonishingly animated, making all look placid by contrast. Befriending Pia Rodriguez was the ultimate guarantee of safety and piquant dishes. Miyamoto’s expedition persisted, rescued from derailment at the hands of a juvenile boy.

She devoted her days to touring Mexico. The sundry hues of the Mexico City houses ensnared Miyamoto. The exotic aromas and customs engrossed her. It was generally a 50-50 chance if Pia accompanied her. Someone so illustrious could only be tethered down transiently. Miyamoto was glad for whatever sporadic company she obtained. Finding a dry hour amidst the summer rains when Pia and she could drink in the sunlight became a jaunty game.

Now, I must draw you to the other side of our tale, where Roman Ortega rented a room alongside his pregnant girlfriend, Melina. Miyamoto had passed by their apartment a few times. A mint-green two-story with a faded orange stucco roof and a tiny crimson garage. Miniature Mexican flags were strung along the balcony fencing.

And as fate would have it no other way, Melina didn’t survive delivery.

If Miyamoto hadn’t embarked on an evening stroll, she could’ve avoided it all. If she hadn’t strode outside shortly after Melina’s passing, our paths never would’ve clashed. But Miyamoto witnessed Roman’s harrowing act. She saw the young father, his curly brown locks dishevelled and clothes wrinkled. His skin was wan and his eyes red-rimmed, the taint of whiskey weighing on him. He lurched towards the local church, clutching his daughter. Facing the looming steeple and delicate stain glass felt like marching to the jaws of a guillotine. His palms were clammy around the newborn pressed to his chest.

The baby was whimpering, useless to prevent the approaching calamity. The gentle slope of stairs to the chapel was cold as ice, the dusk steadily seeping the stone of warmth. Roman felt none of it. His eyes blurred when he placed his child at the church doors, his limbs numb. An immense chasm yawned within him in light of his loss. Melina dying had morphed him into a shell, snapped his grip on reality. Roman Ortega departed the church detached from his surroundings. He didn’t see the satiny indigo sky or the glow of illuminated patio lights. He was in freefall, his resolve shattered.

Miyamoto saw. She saw the swaddled child and heard the pattering of Roman’s retreating gait. Miyamoto felt frozen to the spot, petrified by the scene. A deep maternal sense seized her and she was coddling the blubbering bundle at once. She sat on the steps, stupefied. The crescent moon was sluggishly superseding the sunset. She wanted to hammer on Roman’s door, no matter the early hour, and demand he take his newborn back. But she couldn’t, not when he had deserted her on a whim that the priests may welcome her.

The dusk should’ve been temperate, but Miyamoto tugged the baby’s blankets tighter to block a sharp chill. An eerie sensation had filled Miyamoto, an ominous peril constricting her throat. Shadows were awakening on the horizon’s edge, surging up to capture their prey. The engravings on the church façade, wisps of Bible teachings, grew hostile.

Miyamoto bonded inexplicably with the child, pitying the abandoned girl with an accompanying sense of reflection. Miyamoto understood being an outsider, battling with demons of identity. Throughout her toils she’d at least had her family for support. She retained the assertion that his disparities made her distinctive. She had history. If she left, the girl wouldn’t have that. No priest or foster care personnel would tag her as Roman’s offspring. There was no promise of anyone would bother to tell her what occurred on these steps. She’d have no background. To combat those plights at an early age was plenty gruesome, but to have no one would be arduous.

She wasn’t brought back to Roman’s apartment, instead to Pia’s scantily furnished flat. Miyamoto clambered inside, hastening to escape the beasts of the blackness. Pia was like a cat, always landing on her feet and seldom disoriented. But when Miyamoto showed up with a baby and a dreadful tale she was baffled. Pia paced for an eternity, striding back and forth in front of the coffee table. Silence oozed between the cracks in the walls, poisoning the air with uncertainty and unrest.

Two weeks later, a plane carrying Miyamoto Suzue arrived in Michigan. She was a hot mess, overwhelmed from the plunge into an unfamiliar lifestyle. Pia had been a monumental help, but she was gone now. Pia belonged in Mexico as much as the sun belonged in the sky and Michigan was out of the question. Miyamoto could only replay their final moments together, Pia embracing Miyamoto at the door and swiping at escaped tears. Pia didn’t normally cry, but she could scarcely think what trying years waited for her friend.

“You can still see the world, Miya. Hoshi isn’t the end of your fun.” Pia murmured.

“I wish that were true,” Miyamoto replied, pulling Pia close. Pia’s eyebrows knit, yet she didn’t voice her doubts. Pia was soon whisked away by another group of comrades, Miyamoto waving woefully to Pia’s retreating silhouette. Miyamoto knew Pia’s apathy wasn’t intended to harm, merely as a shield against worse emotions. Pia had endured far too many farewells to not have a defense mechanism assembled.

Miyamoto’s Mexico crusade was a rollercoaster of phenomena, beginning with schoolgirl heartbreak and concluding with a baby. Miyamoto Suzue was nothing short of a dreamer, ambition coursing through her veins. There was no staying put for her, not while her unremitting thirst for pioneering remained unquenched. How could anyone lacking such a headstrong mindset and robust fortitude walk in her shoes? It necessitated the lion inside her to shoulder through. Coming forth from that atrocious evening true to herself was no easy feat. Because if I’m being honest, there was considerable creative liberty on my part painted into the portrait of that night. My mother has spoken sparingly on the sensitive matter and I do my best to complete the picture. I do know the subsequent events of Miyamoto’s arrival, a bit worse for wear and discombobulated due to her new travel mate’s frequent crying, in Michigan.

She never revisited Mexico. Miyamoto Mitsuko Suzue moved to Sunnyvale, California, on a job offer. There, she met and married Dr Bradley Lane in a whirlwind romance. Dr Lane was the gentleman of all epic fantasies, a superb partner to Miyamoto. He was a radiologist with a wiry frame and gleaming copper hair. Dr Lane didn’t care that his beloved daughter Hoshiko Roman Suzue wasn’t of his flesh and blood. Miyamoto gave a perfunctory explanation about me, and Dr Lane was wise enough to not pressure her.

Miyamoto went on to have kids with Dr Lane in her thirties. My first sibling came when I was eleven and another at nearly fourteen. Dr Lane is more of a father to me than my biological one, having nurtured me since age six. Roman Xavier Ortega wasn’t informed of my existence until I turned nineteen and mustered the courage and resources to track him. We have a detached relationship, an annual birthday card and Christmas card with his kids plastered on it. Last I checked, he has a whole slew of children. Five to be exact. I suppose I’m happy for him, but I can hardly focus on that Christmas card without anger twisting a knife in my gut. Abandonment isn’t cured with biannual Hallmark cards.

Abandonment, however, is placated with my family. And what an odd bunch we are. Kaiyo is the middle child, my mother’s stab at a conventional infant. His name means ‘forgiveness’. Carter is the youngest, a notorious ladies’ man. He snagged the prime features of both his parents, ending up with a rich black mane and blue-green eyes. His name means ‘one who transports goods by carts’ because at that point my mother yielded the naming reins to Dr. Lane. He didn’t apprize meaningful names as she did.

Miyamoto’s adventurousness was deprioritized thanks to me. In adopting me, she was flung into a spiral, making tremendous sacrifices to atone for a man who didn’t provide a thing for me. But the spark of discovery refuses to stray far from my mother. It attracts to her like a magnet, undeterred across her euphoric decades of life. The minute Carter graduated she was off, lugging her camera bag and Dr Lane in tow. I’ve pored over infinite pictures, enraptured by how her gaze translates to the camera lens. I wonder if she regretted rearing me, a topic she regarded most exclusive and never discussed with me. Wonder what journey she is on now, soaring loftily above the clouds.

#igniting writing #teen writers #writing for teens #creative writing #lake erie ink #fighting words #young writers project #writing challenge #writing competition #writing contest #writing club #writing group #explore

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thisdaynews · 5 years

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The Hard Work of the 2020 Instagram Spouse

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/the-hard-work-of-the-2020-instagram-spouse/

The Hard Work of the 2020 Instagram Spouse

Not long before the second presidential primary debate, a new photo popped up on Douglas Emhoff’s Instagram feed—a grinning selfie with his wife, Kamala Harris. The accompanying caption was brief, almost an afterthought: “Hello Miami! See you all at the debate on Thur!”

It was typical for Emhoff’s feed, which started in 2013 but had accumulated only about 60 posts by the time of the debate, mostly a smattering of low-key snapshots, like a private photo album that was accidentally dropped into the public sphere. Emhoff posted the day he dropped his son off at college; on his father’s birthday and Father’s Day; on a visit to his wife’s office in Washington, D.C. Things picked up in January, when Harris announced her presidential bid, but still, the feed retained its casual, DIY feel: mediocre lighting, questionable cropping, selfies galore.

Story Continued Below

This has Emelina Spinelli concerned. “It’s selfies. It’s all selfies!” she repeated, when I asked her to evaluate the feed. “I think they’re missing a huge opportunity.”

Spinelli, 31, is an Instagram consultant who makes her living helping would-be influencers master the platform. It’s also fair to say she’s an influencer herself: Nearly 75,000 people follow her feed, which is filled with artfully composed glamour shots of her life in Los Angeles. Her posts often show her grinning exuberantly while gazing at something off-camera; lately, she’s also seen holding a Labrador puppy. And to her expert eyes, Emhoff’s anemic, unedited Instagram account is a glaring but fixable miss for the Harris campaign.

Emhoff’s world was once far from Spinelli’s, but not anymore. As social media becomes a critical tool in politics, Instagram is increasingly used as a soft-focus medium to showcase a candidate’s relatability. New York Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez shared her skincare routine in one Instagram story. 2020 presidential candidate Kirsten Gillibrand has used the platform to show off her workouts. Indeed, most presidential campaigns now have Instagram presences; even Joe Biden, who is definitively not of the Instagram generation, has a carefully managed feed with 1.3 million followers. His posts, like those of most candidates, have a different voice from his campaign’s Facebook and Twitter presences: less combative, extra-polished, fully promotional. Theyadd a bit of “Here’s why you want to have a beer with me” to “Here’s another look at my pretty campaign logo” and “Here’s a professional video about my climate plan.” It’s all part of the Instagram voice that Spinelli helps her clients achieve:I’m just like you, only a bit better.

A political spouse’s Instagram feed has a different role to play. Done right, it can accomplish the traditional task of humanizing a candidate, in a place where people go to escape the push-and-pull of politics. At a time when people are envisioning new families in the White House, Instagram can present a family that’s just like yours, but better.

Spinelli points to the Instagram feed of Chasten Buttigieg—husband of Pete, card-carrying millennial, confirmed social media genius. He has 176,000 followers, who shower his posts with copious “likes” and messages of love and support.

“Looking at Chasten’s account and just how well he’s rallying people and how vocal people are,” Spinelli told me by phone, puts Emhoff’s sweet, inconsequential posts into stark contrast. Harris, she notes, has 1.9 million followers on her own Instagram account. “Her husband Douglas, I would say, is under-indexing”—marketing-speak for the fact that he should be embarrassed to have a paltry 4,700 followers at this writing. Indeed, she thinks most candidate spouses are, at this stage, underused—good luck finding Elizabeth Warren’s husband on the platform—or, like Emhoff’s, unfiltered through professional advice, left to the spouse’s own whims, selfies and all.

Spinelli is channeling every influencer, marketing executive and 20-something corporate social-media associate who has cottoned to the sales potential of Instagram, the current go-to-medium for young consumers. Instagram, which was purchased by Facebook for $1 billion in 2012, had 1 billion users worldwide as of 2018. A study that year by the Pew Research Center found that 71 percent of 18-to-24-year-old Americans use the platform, and that six out of 10 Instagram users look at the site daily, for roughly an hour each day. Corporations, aware of the need to go where your buyers are, were projected to spend $5.5 billion that year to reach them.

That’s in part due to a particular quality of Instagram: It gives you a hall pass to show off. On Facebook, bragging too much can get you unfriended. On Twitter, bragging is on some level discouraged. On Instagram, promoting yourself—or, rather, promoting an aspirational version of yourself—isn’t just acceptable. It’s what the whole ecosystem isfor.Just ask the many “Instagram husbands” who came before Emhoff, following their wives (or husbands) across the globe, lugging camera equipment, capturing perfect images and editing them to make them more perfect. (What is a U.S. president, after all, if not the ultimate global influencer?)

The trick, though, is nailing down the voice. There’s a way to do Instagram right, and it’s staking out the middle ground somewhere between authentic and aspirational. Too much authentic, and you’re in Doug Emhoff territory. Too much aspirational and you might become the political equivalent of an infamous influencer who was caught eating folded tortillas when she said she was eating pancakes, sparking outrage for presenting a false reality. If the medium has changed, the fraught, precise work of the humanizing spouse has not. If anything, Instagram has made the age-old rules for political spouses only more transparent—and a bit more ridiculous.

***

Confession: I am a Gen Xer,closer in age to the 54-year-old Emhoff than to the 29-year-old Chasten Buttigieg. My own Instagram feed is so embarrassingly scant, my follower count so minuscule that I don’t even want to type the numbers. And based on Spinelli’s descriptions, I make a lot of Emhoff-level rookie mistakes.

Let’s start with the selfies. They are a no-go, or at least, should be used sparingly, she said. Photos of you should be taken by a third party, composed with care: Images with ample white space around the humans draw more engagement than the ones where people fill the entire frame. Spinelli advises would-be influencers to use filters—though not the Instagram stock filters, which, she says, are woefully inadequate—and to consider a theme of colors or patterns for visual consistency. (Her own feed has a blue motif.) She tells her clients to pose deliberately, heads tilted, toes pointed, no matter now uncomfortable that is. “A lot of photographers will say stick your head past your neck a little bit, which feels very awkward, but it does tend to look better in photos,” she told me. “The more awkward a photo it is, typically the better it looks.” (The rules are more relaxed for “Instagram stories,” which are meant to capture real life as it happens, and expire after 24 hours.)

Not all of this applies, of course, to Emhoff, a 50-something male entertainment lawyer who isn’t looking to sell beauty products or get luxury resorts to comp his rooms. But the broader point remains: To get people to follow your feed and drive up the all-important metrics of engagement—how many people like or comment on your photos—you have to serve up what the audience wants to see.

And what Instagrammers want, Spinelli says, is some strange alchemy of authenticity and very-inauthentic perfection—the conceit is that your unreal photos, by virtue of being unreal, are the ideal window to your actual inner self. “Instagram really comes down to creating, generally speaking, a highly polished brand narrative,” she explained, in marketing-speak. People turn to the platform to escape their mundane lives or petty troubles. “It’s almost like, if you don’t edit your photos, people are like, ‘Ugh, it’s normal.’”

There’s even a term for this, she informs me: “narp,” which stands for “nonathletic regular person.” The word is alternately used as a slur—like being “basic”—or as a self-deprecating point of pride, say, for someone trying to brand herself as a fitness guru for wimps. But for marketing purposes, Spinelli insists, being a narp is no good. If you’re a narp, your photos don’t encourage people to stare endlessly at every corner of the frame, or to wish, on some level, that they were you. I am a narp. Emhoff, in his current state, is a narp. And Spinelli thinks his unrepentant narpiness could be holding back his wife’s campaign.

Her verdict was echoed by two other Instagram marketers I spoke to, who also specialize in helping people improve their social presence. “If you’re looking to gain a following, you should either be inspiring, educating, or entertaining. It is something that I think of for every story, I think of for every post,” said Lacey Faeh, who runs the travel and lifestyle blog A Lacey Perspective and is schooled in the language of Washington promotion: She once created digital ads for Democratic campaigns and now does social media consulting for “people of influence in D.C.”

Faeh, too, was critical of Emhoff’s account. “Two selfies with kids [posted] on the same day,” she noted, is “not good strategically.” She noted that Jill Biden’s Instagram feed, with 167,000 followers, adheres to the rules of Instagram more effectively: It’s noticeably short on selfies and high on professional photos and motivational messages. And Chasten Buttigieg, she said, has a savvy, winning voice from the get-go. His Instagram bio reads: “Teacher. Theater Ed advocate. First Gent of South Bend. My husband is running for President and my dogs don’t seem to care.”

Emhoff’s, by comparison, reads like an amateur’s, Faeh said: “Dad. @kamalaharris Hubby. Lawyer.”

Still, it’s hard to deny that Emhoff’s Instagram feed, a gallery of warm hugs and dad grins, is as relatable as it gets, with the easy appeal of someone who isn’t trying too hard. Indeed, some 20 minutes into my conversation with Faeh, she thought about his bio again and reconsidered her critique. “The way he described dad first, then husband,thenlawyer—that seems intentional,” she said. “Wouldn’t every woman love to have a man who thinks in that order? Now it makes me wonder if he’s doing this correctly.”

Even if Emhoff is accidentally doing Instagram right, his voice is likely to shift if Harris’ popularity grows, says Shane Barker, a Los Angeles-based digital marketing consultant who teaches a UCLA class on branding and how to be an influencer. “There is something nice about the guy that’s not being advised,” Barker says. “But I can tell you: As this thing goes on, his profile and what he puts up there will change.”

Indeed, Spinelli has loads of professional advice. If she were on Harris’ campaign team, she says, she’d pour resources into Emhoff’s feed, hiring a photographer to shoot a series of charming behind-the-scenes shots, along with polished family portraits and “lifestyle” shots that show him exercising or running errands. She’d strive to get him verified, with one of those blue check marks, and the goal of aggressively growing his following into the 100,000 range.

In the past couple of weeks, Emhoff’s profile has already gotten more attention—a result, in part, of his wife’s strong debate performance. The day after the debate, the millennial-aimed website Refinery 29 declared him “Kamala Harris’ ultimate Instagram husband,” based on his obvious affection. Before long, there was a noticeable uptick in engagement in his posts, along with the inevitable critiques. One reader who came across Emhoff’s pre-debate selfie griped about the caption, with its shorthand use of “Thur”: “You should probably just say Thursday. This is like if Bernie Sanders starts ending his statements with ‘Okurrrr.’ Don’t be afraid to be yourself.”

You can sense that Emhoff is trying to do just that—aiming, in his charmingly narpy way, to project some more Instagram-friendly version of himself, stumbling a bit as he goes. In late June, he posted an inartful snapshot of a bunch of men in a room, apparently at a rally before a San Francisco Pride event. The caption read, “I always want her to go out there with a smile,” though Harris herself was nowhere in the frame.

About an hour later, Emhoff posted again, this time with a photo that miraculously seemed to follow Spinelli’s rules. Taken by someone else, it showed him and Harris behind the scenes at the Pride event, surrounded by ample white space, with a caption that attested to his effort. “Here’s the smile one … still working on my IG skills!” he wrote.

The next day, he posted another selfie.

#Foreign #Instagram #Politics #Spouse

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coolfortunatelycoldbouquetm-blog · 5 years

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oovitus · 6 years

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Level 1: Nearly 1 million data points show what it REALLY takes to lose fat, get healthy, and change your body.

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How consistent do you have to be in order to make “good progress”?

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It could even inspire you to embrace your “imperfect” self, and make the (surprisingly small) changes that can transform your body and your life.

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People lost weight anyway.

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Surprise #3: Being at least 50% consistent with your health and lifestyle improvements might be easier than you think.

You don’t need to be a superstar.

With some small, manageable changes (especially if you get help and support from a coach), you—yes, even you, with the children and covered in dog hair and rushing to soccer practice—can be pretty darn consistent.

Most of our clients end up in the 50-79% consistent group (even though they often feel like they’re “not doing enough”).

Once again, think about what this might mean in the context of your life.

Maybe dinners at your house are nuts. The family is scrambling to get homework done, or get to extra-curricular activities; the teenager or toddler is complaining about the food; someone brought home greasy takeout, and it’s a whirlwind.

Right now, eating “whole foods” mindfully and slowly with the right portion size is so not happening for you.

But… what if you could figure out how to organize your breakfasts and lunches a little better—without a lot of life disruption?

If you nail a healthy breakfast and lunch, plus the occasional snack, you could hit your mark of eating nutritious foods at 17 out of 28 weekly meals. And boom… 60%.

Or perhaps you want to control your portions. At Precision Nutrition, one of our core habits is called “eating to 80% full.” This helps you naturally reduce your intake by learning to tune into hunger and fullness cues, and getting used to stopping when you’re satisfied, but not stuffed.

If your goal were eat to 80% full at breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day (21 meals per week), you’d be 60% consistent if you did that at only 13 meals.

Another example: Let’s say you love wine but want to drink less.

And let’s say that “100% consistent” is never drinking. (Wait… stop screaming. Stick with us here.)

If you normally have three glasses of wine each night, and you cut that down to one, you still get a daily Chardonnay, and you’ve knocked out two-thirds of your regular habit.

Perfect? No, but definitely better. And better is the goal.

In all these cases, you’ve got lots of wiggle room. And as the data shows, you’ll still come out ahead.

Surprise #4. Even super-dramatic changes don’t require 100% consistency.

As you may know, some PN clients achieve incredible body transformations.

Of course, if you’re after big changes, you’ll have to be more consistent, and make more tradeoffs or adjustments to your lifestyle.

But even so, you still don’t have to be perfect.

Our data show that being 80%-89% consistent with your nutrition and lifestyle habits can result in significant—and, more importantly, sustained—losses in body weight and waist size.

How does this level of consistency take shape in real life?

Let’s go back to our practice of eating nutritious meals, made of mostly whole, fresh, minimally processed foods with lots of good stuff in them. (What we call “PN-friendly.”)

If you eat 4 meals a day, again, that’s 28 meals a week. Achieving 80% consistency means about 22-23 meals are “PN-friendly.” And that means 5-6 meals might be “less optimal.”

Now suppose you’re trying to cut out desserts.

If you’re used to eating dessert every evening, then 80% consistent would mean skipping dessert about 5-6 times over the course of the week.

That’s a big change, but it doesn’t mean total dessert deprivation. You’d still have 1-2 desserts to enjoy each week, and the rest of the week is highly consistent. Double win!

Surprise #5: People’s actual circumstances didn’t determine what they were able to do.

You’d think having particular demands on you would make it harder to stick to your habits.

That’s why we ask our clients about things like their work schedule, whether they have kids, whether they travel a lot, and/or how much stress they feel.

In fact, there was no correlation between how much stress people felt at home or at work, or how well they said they were coping with that stress, and the results they got.

In other words, no matter what a dumpster fire of flaming stress some people’s lives were… if they were able to figure out how to take small, meaningful actions day to day, they were able to be consistent anyway.

This often meant having creative solutions, like:

Eating the same meal for breakfast and lunch, rather than prepping two separate ones.

Getting meal or grocery delivery, if they could afford it.

Enlisting older kids into shopping and meal prep help.

And so on.

It also meant knowing how to scale back a little—rather than completely shutting down—whenever things didn’t go as scheduled.

For example, imagine you sleep through your alarm, or drop a carton of eggs on the floor at breakfast. Suddenly, you have no time to get to the gym.

Instead of skipping your workout all together, you can turn a walk with the baby in the stroller or a trip to the playground into the “workout.” It may not have been what you planned, but you still got some exercise.

This is called adjusting the dial, and it helps you stay consistent, even when life gets messy.

You can apply this concept to not only your exercise habits (shown in the “dial” illustration below), but also to your eating and overall wellness habits. (Learn more about the “dial method”.)

As you devise these work-arounds, your consistency is sure to improve, as will your results. In fact, some of our clients became so good at this they were able to achieve an astounding 90-100% consistency.

And again, their increased effort paid off, with more weight and inches lost.

To be sure, this level of consistency isn’t doable for everyone. And that’s okay.

Not all of us desire to work this hard or live with all the tradeoffs it requires—or even care about such dramatic physique changes. (For more, see The Cost of Getting Lean.)

But even so, 17% of our clients were able to hit this mark. And they did it by adding one habit at a time and building from there. Just like everyone else.

Now… have a look at the results from all groups together, and take note. It provides a nice visual of how improvements in consistency truly drive change. (Have we made our point yet?)

Surprise #6: Just making some effort—however inconsistent and imperfect—can make you feel better about how your body looks, feels and moves.

Consistency creates confidence.

Many forms of progress are invisible to the bathroom scale.

That’s why we include a 13-question “resilience index” in our PN Coaching program. We ask clients to tell us how they feel, by indicating how strongly they agree or disagree with statements like:

I’m the person I want to be.

I lead a meaningful and purposeful life.

I feel good about how my body looks.

I feel healthy and physically thriving.

I feel confident in my ability to take charge of my life.

What we found:

The more consistent people were, the better they felt about life in general.

In part, this happens because people feel good about the changes they see in their bodies, such as less pain, more fitness, and the ability to do more movements, more easily.

But it also happens because people are acting on their own behalf.

We gain positive energy, confidence, and resilience after and because we act, not the other way around.

Even a small boost in confidence might mean:

You walk into a gym for the first time.

You try a new exercise.

You say hi to that attractive person.

You dress better.

You take on a physical challenge, like a race.

You consider a more active vacation, like a hiking trip.

You finally wear that bathing suit, or take off your shirt, at the beach.

You ask for what you need and want, or say no to what you don’t want.

You take care better care of you.

And each action you take only creates more action.

No perfection required.

You can still become, at last, the healthy, thriving, confident person you’ve wanted to be—just by putting in whatever effort you’ve got.

Whether that’s 40%, 60%, or 80%, your best really is good enough.

If you’re a coach, or you want to be…

Learning how to coach clients, patients, friends, or family members through healthy eating and lifestyle changes—in a way that helps them adopt simple but effective habits they can sustain—is both an art and a science.

If you’d like to learn more about both, consider the Precision Nutrition Level 1 Certification. The next group kicks off shortly.

What’s it all about?

The Precision Nutrition Level 1 Certification is the world’s most respected nutrition education program. It gives you the knowledge, systems, and tools you need to really understand how food influences a person’s health and fitness. Plus the ability to turn that knowledge into a thriving coaching practice.

Developed over 15 years, and proven with over 100,000 clients and patients, the Level 1 curriculum stands alone as the authority on the science of nutrition and the art of coaching.

Whether you’re already mid-career, or just starting out, the Level 1 Certification is your springboard to a deeper understanding of nutrition, the authority to coach it, and the ability to turn what you know into results.

[Of course, if you’re already a student or graduate of the Level 1 Certification, check out our Level 2 Certification Master Class. It’s an exclusive, year-long mentorship designed for elite professionals looking to master the art of coaching and be part of the top 1% of health and fitness coaches in the world.]

Interested? Add your name to the presale list. You’ll save up to 33% and secure your spot 24 hours before everyone else.

We’ll be opening up spots in our next Precision Nutrition Level 1 Certification on Wednesday, April 3rd, 2019.

If you want to find out more, we’ve set up the following presale list, which gives you two advantages.

Pay less than everyone else. We like to reward people who are eager to boost their credentials and are ready to commit to getting the education they need. So we’re offering a discount of up to 33% off the general price when you sign up for the presale list.

Sign up 24 hours before the general public and increase your chances of getting a spot. We only open the certification program twice per year. Due to high demand, spots in the program are limited and have historically sold out in a matter of hours. But when you sign up for the presale list, we’ll give you the opportunity to register a full 24 hours before anyone else.

If you’re ready for a deeper understanding of nutrition, the authority to coach it, and the ability to turn what you know into results… this is your chance to see what the world’s top professional nutrition coaching system can do for you.

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