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octuscle · 3 months

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Allez les bleus

Frederique, Marcel and Luc had to go to Berlin on business. They were all really looking forward to the trip. Although there was a lot to do - the three of them were assisting a French bank with the takeover of a German start-up by a French tech group - they were spending a few days without their wives and children. Frederique's children were already at university, which made the other two, whose children were still of primary school and children's card age, quite envious.

After landing in Berlin, there was a culture shock. None of them were soccer fans. They all played tennis or golf, Marcel had been quite a successful lacrosse player until he had to give up the sport two years ago at the age of 30 due to a knee injury. They hadn't realized that the European Football Championship was being held in Germany. The airport was decorated with UEFA posters, fans from all over the world were walking through the terminal, the cab rank was empty and the three of them had to take the S-Bahn into the city center.

They were surrounded by cheerful fans. Most of them were no longer sober. But all in a good mood. In their suits with their laptop bags and wheeled suitcases, the three of them were absolute strangers on the train. Even though the atmosphere was good, they were annoyed. They had already had a long day at work before they boarded the plane. They had actually been looking forward to a quiet evening. And not an odyssey on a crowded train.

The next shock came when they arrived at their hotel. It wasn't really a hotel. More like a bed and breakfast. In the middle of Berlin's gay district. The streets were not only decorated with the flags of the nations taking part in the European Championships, but also with rainbow flags. The pubs in the area mostly had black-taped windows and were obviously aimed at a fetish clientele. But even here, there were screens outside, people drinking beer and watching a football match. The atmosphere was great. But the three of them had imagined something different. This wasn't the Sofitel they usually stayed at. Whoever had booked this hotel would be ready for a rant. But now the three of them just wanted to go to bed. Looking for something to eat here for dinner was too exhausting for them at this time of night. They agreed on that. And drinking a beer on the street? Not on your life!

When Luc arrived in his room, he had to grin. Yes, this really wasn't what he was used to. But he'd never had a room with a sling in it either. In addition to the usual things, the bathroom also contained lubricant and condoms. Luc sent a picture to the WhatsApp group he had with Frederique and Marcel. Marcel replied with a picture of an Andreas cross. And Frederique sent a picture of a flyer that had been lying on his pillow:

"Yes, I got that too," wrote Marcel. Obviously a voucher for a beer in a pub down the street. "So, are you up for it?" "Tomorrow," Frederique replied. "I'm just too tired." The three of them wished each other a good night. Marcel put the contents of his suitcase in the cupboard. And there were soccer shorts and a jersey in the wardrobe. With a note saying "Welcome to UEFA Euro 2024" on it. "If you want to have fun, help yourself!". Marcel thought about it. He had googled that Spain were playing Italy today. Maybe not a bad game… He tried out the outfit. It looked a bit silly with his Hogan sneakers. It was also a bit tight and the pants were really short. But now to go downstairs, have a beer and watch the second half? Why not?

The atmosphere was great. The beer tasted better than expected. The second one too. And after the third, he had to piss. The pub's toilet was tiled in black. The lighting with black light was more than dim. Marcel could hear from the stalls that men were clearly having sex there. He just grinned. He was having fun. He took his cock out of his soccer shorts to pee. And before he knew it, a clean-shaven skinhead was kneeling in front of him and greedily opening his mouth. Shit, what the hell? thought Marcel and pissed in his open face. And then had his cock sucked.

When Marc came into the breakfast room the next morning, his two French colleagues were already sitting at the table. As usual, they were both as fit as a fiddle. Marc felt a little uncomfortable in his jeans and tight-fitting T-shirt, which showed off his body and tattoos to good effect. Hehehehehe, he thought. But these two will hardly feel comfortable in a gay guesthouse. And shit, he worked for a fintech start-up. That was a different world to the venerable BNP. The three of them went through the agenda again before leaving for Marc's employer. Marc was a developer and web designer. Numbers were not necessarily his world. But because he spoke fluent French, he had been assigned to look after the two investment bankers. It didn't matter, Frederique in particular was a hot DILF. There were worse fates… A ten-hour day, for example. Marc knew that they probably wouldn't be back at the boarding house before 9 pm. Then France played the Netherlands. The top match of the day. Surely the two of them would want to see that.

It was 9.10 p.m. when Marc was finally back in his room. He hurriedly put on his soccer outfit. He loved the knee-length soccer socks. They accentuated his shapely calves perfectly. The three of them had a date downstairs on the street. Marc had organized a high table in his local pub almost directly in front of the screen. He ordered three beers and waited. Damn it, Frederique had actually put on the outfit provided by the guesthouse. As Marc had suspected, he was in really good shape. Perhaps too well for the jersey that was stretching dangerously across Frederique's chest. Luc had only taken off his jacket and was still in his office outfit. He really wasn't interested in soccer at all. He took his beer from the table and walked a few steps away from the bar so that he could talk to his wife and children on the phone without being disturbed.

Frederique was in a good mood. He had drunk three beers by the half-time break. Marc hadn't managed that. And so he followed Frederique to the toilet at some point to relieve the pressure on his bladder. With a bit of luck, the horny skinhead from last night would be back. He loved it when a hot guy had Marc's piss flowing out of the corner of his mouth. When he arrived downstairs at the toilets, he could already see his piss face. Marc got ready. And grinned all over his face. That was definitely Frederique fucking a Dutch fan in one of the toilet cubicles.

When Fred and Marc came to breakfast together, Luc barely raised an eyebrow. He didn't care that they were both dressed far too casually for his taste. He wasn't a start-up hipster. He was just providing them with the fresh money they needed to expand. And Luc and his employer were making a good profit. No, he raised an eyebrow because they both came out of Marc's room. Fred almost naked, in just his soccer shorts. He disappeared straight back into his own room, only to sit down at the breakfast table a few minutes later, dressed more or less appropriately. Luc sighed and turned his attention back to the messages on his cell phone.

Fred and Marc were used to having to work on Saturday. They liked that about their job. Work hard, party hard. And with the new work lifestyle, the boundaries between work and leisure, between colleagues and friends, were becoming increasingly blurred anyway. If this had the effect of Fred shagging Marc in the loo in between, neither of them complained. But today they urged Luc to finish work reasonably on time. They definitely wanted to watch the Turkey-Portugal game. It was interesting from a footballing point of view, but above all they were looking forward to the hot Turkish fans. Hairy, muscular… Especially Marc's taste. But Frederique didn't mind fucking a hot, hairy ass either. If necessary, he sucked a circumcised cock first. Shit, he loves the Turks for the fact that they always keep their balls and cocks slick. Luc wasn't at the reception at 5:30 pm as arranged. When Fred knocked on his door, he opened it. On the phone. Still in his suit. Fred went to the wardrobe and pulled out the soccer outfit. "Come on, loosen up for once. It's Saturday night!" Luc smiled painfully. He pulled the door shut. And after a few minutes, still on the phone, he stepped out of his room in his soccer outfit. The two of them dragged him down to the street, Marc organized three beers and the party could begin.

Shit, some of those footballers are really fucking hot, Luc kept thinking to himself. No wonder he kept building a clearly visible tent in his shiny shorts. One of the Portuguese fans, a small but damn muscular guy, naked except for his boots and leather chaps, but with a Portuguese flag draped around his shoulders, noticed this more than clearly. The two of them shared a beer. And another. The Portuguese asked Luc if he had a room upstairs in the guesthouse, he had seen him come out of the door earlier. Luc licked his lips and nodded. Neither of them noticed how the game ended. By the time the final whistle blew, Luc was already tied to the St. Andrew's cross in his room.

"Mates, where are we watching the game? Here in the Bermuda Triangle or on the fan mile?" With his Germany jersey, it was clear what Luke's preference was. Marc and Fred would have preferred to stay here in their favorite pub, where they were drinking themselves into shape on this Sunday morning. The party and the sex before and after were more important to them. But Luke was a hardcore soccer fan. For him, it was a matter of honor to watch the game in front of the Brandenburg Gate. Marc and Fred took a sip of beer and sighed. "Okay, fan mile then," Marc moaned. "OMG, like if we can catch that Albania vs Spain match at our spot again, it'd be so lit! I ran into some seriously fire Albanians in the restroom yesterday, no joke." The three of them clinked glasses and laughed. The European Championship was great!

Pics by @ki-kink

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #age reduction #soccer tf #ai image #skinhead tf #hooligan tf

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hoodienanami · 9 months

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fantastic article from original London punker Vivien Goldman about the not-so-secret but often forgotten Jewish role in the early UK punk scene

In a classically angst-ridden Jewish ambivalence about identity, the New York punk Richard Hell – of Television, the Heartbreakers and the Voidoids – has said he doesn't like to be defined by the fact that his father is Jewish. But he's one of many Jewish (or Jewish-ish?) artists on the New York scene, such as Joey Ramone, Lenny Kaye of the Patti Smith Group and Blondie's Chris Stein, who overcame his Holocaust paranoia by collecting Nazi artefacts. (The concerns of punky American Jews are documented by by Steven Lee Beeber in his book The Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's). In a documentary I made for BBC 6 Music, A Tale of Two Punk Cities, Talking Heads bass player Tina Weymouth recalled that New York punks thought people who talked politics were a bore. But to us, the ideas expressed in Anarchy In The UK and White Riot were real. The G2 or Second Generation theory, whereby children of Holocaust survivors are often socially conscious activists, could have had something to do with it, however it was never discussed. But the Yanks were trying to forget Vietnam, while we were still living among bombsites in our own civil war zone, fighting teds, skinheads and rockers as well as the sus law and the National Front. Our punky Jew experience was also different because British punk mostly inhabited a shared political landscape, as well as views of the kind that McLaren and Rhodes helped to spread, which manifested in organizations such as Rock Against Racism.

#punk rock #1970s #jewish history #the clash #sex pistols #music ppl #hoodie talks #the two bands tagged bc their managers are heavily discussed in the article #punk rock posting

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mariacallous · 19 days

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Picture this, if you will: hundreds of grey-haired grannies ganging up to face down a group of neo-Nazi skinheads. Some of the skinheads have beer bottles in their hands. The grannies are armed with nothing more than umbrellas and hand-knitted woolly hats. It sounds like a corny sketch for a TV comedy show. But no. It’s election time in Germany’s eastern Länder (federal regions), and the grannies are out on the streets.

There’s no Granny Party. The movement, called in German Omas gegen Rechts (Grannies against the right), has grown into a national and international force since it was founded in 2017 by an Austrian psychotherapist and evangelical priest, Monika Salzer.

It is widely assumed here that apathy and low voter turnout will result in a far-right victory. But election posters showing a cartoon granny with a rainbow flag carry a simple message: “Granny says – go out and vote!” Apart from the rainbow, a symbol of tolerance, sexual liberation and diversity, there is no instruction on how to vote.

In between elections, the Grannies are busy knitting and babysitting. But they also raise funds, for example by baking and selling cakes, to finance the poster campaign and a set of beer mats that make up a pub quiz.

In Leipzig, my new home town, the Grannies have raised enough money to install three new Stumblestones (Stolpersteine). These are little brass plaques inscribed with the names of people whom the Nazis deported and murdered in the 1930s and 40s. The new plaques commemorate the Wesly family – Hermann, a Jewish publisher of music and books, his wife, Berta, and their daughter, Margot. Berta and Hermann were taken to Auschwitz and murdered in the gas chambers. Margot escaped to England – but the British authorities put her in a concentration camp too, as an enemy alien.

A violin and an accordion were played during the installation of the little plaques where the Weslys’ house once stood. The stonemason’s hammer punctuated the music with a slow beat. Then Granny Gisela read out a short account of how the family was persecuted and how we must never forget. Many spectators were in tears. The memorial is on the doorstep of the new building that now stands on the site – a kindergarten. Its head teacher joined the ceremony and promised to find a way of explaining the story to the kids “without scaring them too much”. I remarked that it was a very special moment. Granny Sylvia put me right.

“Sadly, it’s not so special. This brings the number of Stolpersteine in Leipzig to almost 800. There is one on almost every street,” she said, before inviting us all to join her for coffee and cake.

Later she shared a link to the Stolpersteine app in the Google Play store (also on Apple). It’s true – there are hundreds of Stumblestones. Many are not for Jewish victims, but for brave souls like William Zipperer who tried to stop the Nazis and save their neighbours. He was executed in January 1945 for plotting against the state.

As a mark of respect, the Grannies regularly go out to polish the small memorials set into the pavements, to light candles and lay flowers.

There is another side to the movement. They are part of the Antifa, Germany’s radical ultra-left. Not quite as radical as Lina Engel, the antifascist activist who is serving jail time in Dresden for plotting physical attacks on neo-Nazi pubs and meetings. Nor have any Grannies been caught setting fire to building sites where executive homes are replacing the old affordable blocks of flats – a typical Antifa action.

They upload videos to TikTok. And they are taking their campaign out of the city and into villages and suburbs where right wing parties recruit people who feel neglected or “left behind” by the Berlin government.

“Solidarity without borders instead of right wing propaganda,” says the Radical Grannies’ poster, urging supporters to join them in a mass demonstration. These are Grannies who don’t knit.

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whatevergreen · 2 months

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By Aude Konan (this is most of the article):

"Black punk communities seldom exist in France.

Many French black punks don't gather in groups as they don't feel the necessity to further ostracize themselves from a punk scene that's already not so welcoming of non-white faces. Throughout the years, though, a few black indie punks groups have emerged such as Mau Maus in the 1980s or the still active Zenzille.

One of the closest things France had to a black punk community was the Black Dragons, a group united by a will to fight back against racist skinheads and a strong sense of belonging to the Parisian suburbs.

The Black Dragons were an anti-fascist group formed in the 1980s in the northwestern Parisian suburbs. They were initially founded in the U.S. during the late '70s, largely influenced by the Black Panther Party.

Before the French branch was created in Paris, two black groups dominated the scene: the Del Vikings and the Black Panthers (named after the American party). These groups have been portrayed in Gilles Ellie Cohen's photography book Vikings & Panthers.

The Del Vikings were apolitical, focused on rockabilly music, the party scenes and a love of vintage American cars from the '50s. Many Del Vikings switched from flamboyant rockabilly to punk, like the young punk Petit Jean, who allegedly got killed by skinheads during a fight in Les Halles.

Indeed, racists and xenophobic attacks soared during the 1980s due to the rise of the far right party Le Front National and prominent fascists skinheads groups like the GUD and PNFE. They would patrol specific Parisian neighborhoods, especially Les Halles, a metro station and mall, attacking passersby.

They'd also attack people at punk gigs. In 1983, the skinheads launched one of their most horrific attacks: 'la chasse aux Beurs' or 'hunting Arabs.' The attack resulted in the deaths of 23 people.

Unable to get any type of protection from the police, groups of anti-fascist vigilantes appeared, like the Ducky Boys and, later, the Red Warriors. They chased down skinhead groups armed with baseball bats, knuckle-dusters and tear gas. The rise and fall of these groups is featured in Marc Aurèle Vecchione's documentary Antifa: chasseur de skins.

Following the 'chasse aux beur', a young man, Yves “Le Vent," created the French branch of the Black Dragons in 1983. At its height, the Black Dragons had between 600 to 1,000 members. Contrary to the other 'antifa' groups like the Red Dragons, the Black Dragons were mostly made-up of black members.

The Black Dragons' black and Arab French members were often working class, second generation children of migrants that came from the French banlieues. They considered themselves French, but were faced by racism in their streets and neighborhoods.

Invisible in a country that didn't seem to acknowledge them and lacking proper representation, these young people pledged allegiance to groups like the Black Dragons, which gave them a home and a purpose.

They were aware of the inherent institutional racism at play within the French establishment, but their main concern was the daily racist attacks Black and Arab people were victims of.

Hunting skinheads was, for them, more than a petty vengeance: it was a necessity.

The autobiography J'étais un Black Dragon (I was a Black Dragon) written by Patrick Lonoh, a former Black Dragon, describes the inner workings of the movement and the solidarity inside of that community."

"One branch of the Black Dragons called “Miss Black Dragons" was entirely dedicated to women members, as a way to boost their members. They would only fight other all-female skinhead groups. Music was also a component of the movement. Politically conscious French ska and punk bands like Les Beruriers Noirs, La Souris Déglinguée, and Laid Thénardier encouraged their fans to stand up against skinheads and hired 'antifa' groups to act as bouncers during their gigs."

A group of Black Dragons, Paris, 1980s

As for the 2020s, former Black Dragon Michael Patrick Lanoh has stated that:

"the extreme-right parties are no longer demonised and their leaders are invited to TV broadcasts, their racist ideologies have become commonplace,” ..., they have opted for a jacket and tie so they blend better into society and quietly exercise their baneful influence.”

Not so quietly lately.

#black dragons #black panthers #paris #80s #punk

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iamdangerace · 8 months

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Terry Hall and Neville Staples of The Specials, Rock Against Racism and Anti-Nazi League Carnival, Potternewton Park, Leeds, 1981.

All you punks and all you teds

National Front and natty dreads

Mods, rockers, hippies and skinheads

Keep on fighting till you’re dead.

– The Specials, Do the Dog

#everybody's doing the dog

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bl0odymess · 8 months

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⭑ My bio

݁ ˖ ◜ Hey, I'm Bambi (fake name, obviously). On the lookout for friends in the True Crime community.

⭑ Brazilian, white (no idea why I'm mentioning that, but I see people doing it, so I thought I'd join in). She/her, straight, and cis, with a touch of nationalism.

⭑ In the True Crime scene since last November (2023). I'm a skinhead but also dig a vintage vibe. Had another account, got banned – probably for some racist comments and my love for criminals, lol. 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Anyway, let's be friends/mutuals.

#tc community #tccblr #tcc edit #tcc columbine #tcc fandom

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togglesbloggle · 10 months

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I think my killer app for saving the world would be an algorithm that trawls social media sites and newspaper comment sections. For any given defined class of argumentation, it would classify and quantify (in absolute numbers or as a fraction) (anonymized) posts by type- including retweets and reblogs, correctly classifying either support for a proposition or a mockery/dissent-type reblog.

We keep having this problem, right? Where we can't distinguish in our little monkey brains between "<X> argument exists", "<X> argument has backing from a politically significant fraction or faction of the population," and "<X> has a clear path to implementation that would present risk of grave harm." The flat structure and large base of social media sites means that there will always be at least some arguments for <X> available for us to find, and when you throw in our inability to distinguish between existence-of-argument and salience-of-argument, it works everybody in to a really dangerous position of fear and factionalism. It would be so nice to say, e.g., "yes, proponents of walkable cities are often somewhat blind to disability concerns, but people actively hostile to disability accommodations represent only 2.7% of the total, compared to 78.5% who will readily incorporate disability accommodations if the topic is broached." In other words, to really have a sense of what the conversation as a whole looks like (even if it was buggy and subject to the occasional serious error), instead of one dominated almost entirely by my own cognitive biases and local network effects, and thereby gain the ability to simply dismiss certain types of argument as coming from an inconsequential fraction of the population.

I think probably the example where I most badly wanted something like this was in 2016-2017, when there were huge concerns of an upswing in white nationalism in general and Nazism in particular. And I just... don't know whether that was real at all? Reports and concerns about this resurgence were everywhere, but there was no quantification of this whatsoever, nor any real attempt to do so. And it would have been so comforting to say that "eh, the amount of Nazis in the world seems to be stable, we're just hypersensitive to existing skinhead rallies because of the white house situation," or, "here's roughly the amount of support that white nationalism has now gained, here's how it compares to long-term trendlines and total population." Numbers are always soothing to me, because they're inherently tractable.

We talk a lot about fact-checking, but a parallel thing I'd love would be salience-checking. If Fox news or whoever does a special interest story about The Democrats What Support Euthanizing Christians, the best response would be to dismiss the argument on grounds that some trusted calculation shows that the view simply isn't characteristic of the Enemy Faction, no matter how rhetorically convenient it would be for things to be otherwise. Channel that "nobody would seriously believe <X>" instinct in to a more correct and useful "<X> is below the lizardman constant, or only a factor of 2-3 above it."

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variousqueerthings · 3 months

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there's something about young soul rebels as part of a canon of british working class culture cinema and centred on queer characters set in the late 70s, but it's not as well known (including in queer circles i feel) as billy elliot and pride and my beautiful laundrette, which do take place later (we're firmly 80s and miners strikes and the AIDS crisis), and generally not as well-known as other working class narratives like this is england (punks and skinheads) or miniseries like our friends in the north (set, unsurprisingly, in the north)

i don't know if this is because it centers mainly black characters and culture and hasn't been well-marketed to a wider audience or what, because it's got an incredible soundtrack and a narrative that depicts the earlier days of many of the subjects covered within the other works with neat characters, and it's got similar vibes to a lot of the others (especially my beautiful laundrette, but maybe i'm biased about how well-known that one is as well... i consider it a cinematic classic)

but yeah, young soul rebels definitely deserves a wider audience and appreciation -- also wonder if one were to do a watch that went chronologically, how jarring it would be to go from this one, to my beautiful laundrette to pride, considering the former two are about people of colour, and the last one -- as much as it means to me -- really dropped the ball on like. any characters of colour

all three of them do have the "we have one lead female character, but to be fair (i guess) she's fucking great" thing happening as well. sophie okonedo, rita wolf, faye marsay, you're fucking carrying on your backs!

but yeah. i do enjoy the particular cinema that goes "hey... you know what wasn't great? the rise of neo-nazism, hyper-nationalism, and generally everything that happened around the time thatcher became leader of the conservative party, i wonder if the politics was all connected somehow... but we did have great taste. we did have that."

considering the vote coming up on july 4th (and everyone in the uk, please do vote!!!! (unless you're a conservative, stay at home or change your hearts)) and the promise of the conservative party losing so badly that they may not be in the top two parties in the country anymore, i feel like... this has been a long long time coming

highly recommend this film

#young soul rebels #queer cinema

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