#the problem is they are perfect together and the writers used their last brain cells for the drama

[missezramay]

I swear rinas only care about how EJ "isn't the one for gina" and argue with their facts ... but those facts also apply to Ricky too?? Let's for a minute entertain the reasons they claim portwell doesn't work.

EJ is older than Gina. Okay. But so is Ricky. I swear rinas are all pre-teens the way they act like a two-year age gap is god forbidden. I'd like them all to ask their parents what their age gaps are.

EJ is moving on from high school while Gina is still there. Okay. But so will Ricky. Gina is the youngest of the group, so they will ALL graduate high school before she does.

EJ can't prioritize Gina. Okay. So we're just gonna conveniently pretend like Gina isn't Ricky's third choice. I think this is why Gina's "maybe" line doesn't sit right with me. She was never a "maybe" for EJ. She is, however, a "maybe" for Ricky. Maybe Ricky will finally see Gina with Nini out of the picture. Maybe Ricky will consider Gina after his rebound with Lily. Everything EJ has done in season 3 is to prioritize his future with Gina, and it's so disheartening that both Gina and rinas don't see that but they have so much praise for Ricky for "being there" for her when EJ wasn't because he was overwhelmed with trying to make the show perfect because a perfect show translates to a future with Gina.

Hi Anon!!

Can I thank you for filling my inbox with STRAIGHT FACTS?!

These are very strong, very valid points and it's clear that some of y'all just want to ignore them in favor of what you want.

This is also further clarified to me that EJ is really getting the short end of the stick. I would love to say Portwell have made equal mistakes, but if I put my critical thinking cap on, I have to say that there were more moments I was disappointed in Gina over the season. I know she's young and she wants her perfect summer, but between her attitude in 3x05 and changing her mind every 2 seconds ('let's focus on right now!' 'I was trying to pursue a future with you!'), the girl has me frustrated!

[bts-ficrecs]

a happy, happy birthday to my sweetest love, Park Jimin. the love and adoration and admiration i have for him is forever growing and evolving. happy Jimtober to him and to all of his babies aka us <3

pls enjoy this smol list of Jimin fics and luv him and luv the writers!!~

boys_charlie_xcx.mp3 by obiwrites (AO3)

fluff

Min Yoongi is positive that you and Park Jimin share exactly one brain cell, and Jimin hogs it for the most part.

Dairy Kink by @mygsii​​

smut

You’ve always had a bad sweet tooth, and perhaps that’s why you find yourself at your local dairy queen at odd hours of the night. Fortunately, it seems like a specific worker always has the night shifts.

Firecracker by @ratedbangtann​

smut

Now that you had worked your way up to the advanced contemporary class, you had to face your most trying challenge yet; Park Jimin. The man was infuriating, always picking on you, giving you so many reasons to hate him including one very, very humiliating nickname… Firecracker. But when you have to dance with him one evening, the tension builds and builds and spills over. Perhaps you need to… reflect… on your behaviour?

I Do (want to love you) by @taeverie​​

fluff

There is only one word to describe your life, and it is simple; there are a million words to define Park Jimin’s sphere and the few are extravagant, prodigal — affluent, especially. Though despite the stark differences between your plain world and Jimin’s riches, you both find a common ground within the universe of love.

Little Helpers by @cupofteaguk​​

fluff

In which some children are more assertive than adults will ever be—especially if it means bringing together two of their favorite people.

Lower by @parkmuse​​​

fluff, smut

After six months you finally break the sexual tension… with phone sex.

Make It Right by @moononthejoon​​

fluff, angst, smut

With his sister married and living a happy life, maybe its time to get the king a queen too, but of course, that idea didn’t come from him.

Nothing a Lil Green Can’t Fix by @threeletterslife​​​

fluff, angst

Imagine having a best friend so crazy you have to have 911 on speed dial. Turns out that you are that friend. And it’s up to Park Jimin to keep you from facing disaster.

Notes To Find You by @luckyjisung​​

fluff, smut

You returned home from work to an empty house and the love of your life nowhere to be found. Guided by a series of love letters, you are led on a journey reconnecting you to the timeline of your love story. Where did you begin and how will you find him?

“Oops.” - Jungkook, 2019 by @idroppedthesope​​​

fluff, angst, smut, ongoing series

Having caught Daesung dipping his wick in your sister’s VAT of wax one too many times, you’ve reached the decision to move out. And of course, your crackhead of a best friend, Jungkook, is going to help ensure your new roommate is perfect. Jimin is a female name, right?

Outside Looking In by obiwrites (AO3)

fluff, angst

You and Park Jimin have known each other since you were just a bunch of rugrats tearing up his familys farm—a byproduct of being best friends with your older cousin. And while it might’ve been Hobi who’d introduced the two of you, you were in no uncertain terms off limits to his friends. But now that you and Jimin are older and he’s reeling from heartbreak dealt at the hands of a certain city girl—how long will that last?

Point of No Return by @wwilloww​​

fluff, smut

Both Jimin and you are determined to never act on the feelings you hold for one another. Instead, you’d rather shove it down, somewhere deep, dark, and inaccessible. So what do you get when you mix a broken furnace, an old victorian home, a little bit of jealousy in the club, and a need to keep warm together? A mess.

Snow, Don’t Tell by @stutterfly​​

fluff, smut

Granny Park’s Gossip: Jimin is the sweetest boy around, no comparison. Always ready to listen to my stories, visits me regularly and tells me all sorts of tales about those friends of his. Might as well adopt them all, I know so much about them! Jiminie’s the best grandson anyone could ask for, really, a little angel, and his little gang of friends is quite the hoot. He’s been a little quiet about himself lately, though. Kept going on and on about that neighbor of his, how cute she always looks and how he likes to help her with her groceries, but I think maybe I teased him just a little too much about that crush of his. Maybe he’ll figure out a way to get closer to her this holiday season, because who knows how much longer he’ll pine over the girl if he doesn’t.

The Duality of Man by @taesthetes​​

fluff

Once again, soft boys with pretty smiles—specifically one named Park Jimin—will surely be the death of you.

The Skirt by obiwrites (AO3)

fluff, angst

Jimin was the furthest thing from a friend—definitely not someone you’d ever take for the consoling type and especially not when it came to you. The two of you liked each other about as much as cats and dogs. For reasons beyond you you’d just grown up hating each other. Jimin was your neighborhoods resident douchebag and had mocked you mercilessly growing up. You’d always been a tomboy, ‘fashionably challenged’ as he’d called you. But something or rather someone had spurred a change as of late. And it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by Jimin.

Viscum: Dark Parasite by @darknytemare​​​

fluff, angst

Christmas is… dead. It has been for too long a time. You believe in an old tradition that could not only save Christmas but restore much-needed joy to the world. There’s just one small problem. The answer involves a rare strain of mistletoe and kissing the Spirit of Christmas.

[abacus-and-paper-money]

"Fight Me" for Anon!!

Welcome to the first drabble! Somebody has begrudgingly sent a request!! Happiness!!

You didn't specify who or an au or anything, so I'm just gonna choose everyone's favorite and a modern AU.

Also, sorry this is a day late, I had some writer's block last night oof- I wasn't the most loyal to the prompt, it's more of a standoff than a fight, but I hope you still like it anyway.

TWs: nothing except swearing

Probably-cringey fanfiction below the cut!

Pairing: Hélène Kuragina + Reader (Kuragina here because she's not married to Pierre)

AU: Modern College AU

Prompt: Fight Me

Hélène and I were stuck in the dorm, plain and simple. It was full-on pouring outside. This normally wouldn't be too much of an issue, we got along just fine, and we didn't have class on Saturdays. But today, there was a big problem with being trapped inside.

There was only one fucking cookie left.

We both have what you might call a sweet tooth. It's gotten a tiny bit out of hand, to be honest. At this point, it's basically mandatory that we have something sweet in the dorm at all times. This week it was cookies. Emphasis on was. They were almost all gone now. And there was no way we could go out to get more in this weather.

There was only one left. It was a perfect one, too. Big, not at all burnt, and if the rest of the batch had been any indication, it looked like it would taste good as hell. It sat in the jar on the counter, taunting me. No, taunting us.

We'd both been eyeing it all day. We were both eyeing it right now. And we knew it. Neither of us had mentioned it, but we were well aware the other wanted it. A silent, mental fight.

Hélène casually slid off her bed, stood up, and started across our room towards the little kitchen area. Shit. She better not be- she was. As soon as I realized the race was on, I practically fell out of my chair in a rush to follow.

Then, in a brilliant moment of self-awareness, I realized that I probably looked ridiculous. For the last few feet, I changed from awkwardly slowly-running my ass to the cookie jar, to frantically speed-walking my ass to the cookie jar.

Our hands touched the lid at the same time. I looked over at her. She looked over at me. She raised her eyebrows, and I raised mine back. This was the stupidest conversation we'd ever had, and neither of us had spoken a word.

I opened my mouth to say something, then, realizing I didn't have anything prepared to say in this situation, closed it again. Hélène seemed to have the same string of thoughts, her face almost mirroring mine. We stood there for a minute, just looking at each other. Half-contemplating the sheer idiocy of this entire interaction, and half-thinking about how much I wanted that fucking cookie.

We looked at each other for another second, then both burst out laughing. This was so fucking on-brand for us. Staring at each other for two fucking minutes in a silent standoff for the last cookie.

As Hélène doubled over in another fit of laughter, I suddenly became very aware of the warm hand still on top of mine. We were basically holding hands. Well, not really, because it's on top of a cookie jar and has a ridiculous context, but still. I felt my cheeks get a little warm, for some reason that was probably entirely unrelated to this. I am not blushing because my hand is touching a very attractive woman's. That is not what I am doing.

Said very attractive woman must have noticed about then, because her laughter seemed to take a different tone. Ah, shit. I mean, if nothing else, this was one hell of a way to embarrass yourself, might be some kind of record for 'dumbest situation to be embarrassed in' or something.

"Aww, Y/n, are you blushing because of this?" Hélène squeezed my hand, and sure enough, I felt my face get warmer.

She didn't give me a chance to respond before continuing to speak, a sweet smile across her face.

"How charming." She brought our hands off the cookie jar, properly weaving our fingers together now. "I wonder if this will do the same thing." She hummed. Then, Hélène leaned in, and pressed her lips to mine.

It was only for a few moments, but holy shit, dude. I'm pretty sure I died a little bit as my three remaining brain cells attempted to process what just happened, without exploding like their brethren did when she kissed me.

After feeling my soul leave my body multiple times, I finally seemed to comprehend the situation, and broke into an idiotic grin. But I should've known this was too good to be true.

While my brain had been overheating like a slightly broken laptop, Hélène had walked away. I turned to look at her bed, and sure enough, there she sat, giving me a flirty smirk.

With the last fucking cookie in her hand.

[bookandcranny]

The Grave Robbing Thing

[cw for discussions of death, decomposition, gore, drugs, alcohol, and suicidal ideation]

“So are we gonna talk about this?”

“About what?”

“You know, the whole grave robbing thing.”

“What about it?”

“Well it’s not exactly… ethical, is it.”

“When did you have time to study ethics? You’re like four months old. Dig faster. We only have so long before the groundskeeper wakes up.”

“I can't dig very fast with one arm.”

“It’s a real paradox isn’t it. Can’t dig with one arm, need to dig to get the arm. A real ouroboros. The snake eats its tail. The undead consuming the dead-dead.”

“Are you high?”

“Are you high?”

“Of course I am. My arm is rotting off.”

“It’s not rot. Rot is decay, caused by a foreign bacteria or fungi. As long as you keep your sutures clean and keep taking your medicine you shouldn’t have to worry about that for a good while. This is what we in the biz call the bloat stage, which starts when naturally occurring gut bacteria go from aerobic to anaerobic and... Okay well essentially, your body is eating itself. It’s a natural stage of decomposition for dead bodies.”

“But I’m alive.”

“In a philosophical sense, sure, but you’re made of dead tissue and by the looks of that limb I don’t think your bacteria knows the difference. For you the process is slowed but it’s not stopped. At least your head hasn’t shown any signs of deterioration so we can assume your brain is still very much in tact. If that changes, then, that’s a whole other story, but I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, hm? Actually that reminds me of another interesting paradox: the ship of Theseus. Ever heard of it?”

“No.”

“Okay so it’s like-”

“You know you could probably dig faster if you didn’t talk so much.”

“… Did I say something?”

“Never mind. Let’s just get this done.”

“You know nothing lasts forever.”

“Yeah.”

“This person, uh... shit, does that say ‘Jim’ or ‘Jon’? Jim. Jim Rothsfeld. He’d probably be honored to know his corpse was going to a good cause.”

“What makes it so good?”

“Are we really gonna do this, Lu? You want to turn around? Go home? I can amputate the arm but if you think I’ve got another substitute just lying around I regret to inform you you’re shit out of luck!”

“Don’t. Yell at me.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“Just, don’t yell at me.”

“… It is a good cause. Good because it’s necessary. And if Jim Rothsfeld couldn’t recognize that then maybe he doesn’t deserve the arm. Not like he’s using it now anyway. I can’t have you pussying out on me, Lu. Until I can figure something else out this is going to happen, and next time it might not be an arm, it might be your legs, or your lungs, or your heart. You were the one who wanted to talk about it, okay? You know me, I try not to get hung up on heavy stuff like that. I live in the moment.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And for the record, if I ever- if it were me, I’d totally give you my arm.”

“You are high.”

“I’m not! I’m drunk!”

“You are?”

“I focus better when I’m drunk, and magic is tricky shit.”

“I don’t know if I like the idea of you doing surgery on me drunk.”

“I implore you to consider your fucking options. Besides I’ll be fine by the time we get back."

“God, you drove us here. Have you at least done something like this before?”

“Of course. Got my second doctorate in necromancy.”

“Really?”

“Ha. No. No, they don’t really go for that in most schools.”

“Yasmine, you’re a real piece of- oh shit.”

“Ooh did we hit coffin. Ah, feels like mahogany. Come on, help me with the lid. Don’t get shy now, you’re a big boy aren’t you?”

“I am big.”

“It looks like a perfect fit to me, Cinderella. Good and fresh too. You know, there’s a reason I wanted you along for this one.”

“I know. To dig.”

“Not just to dig, smartass. I just thought it’d be good for you to look at it. You need to get accustomed if we’re going to keep doing this.”

“Okay, well, I’m looking at it.”

“Get comfortable with it. Try- try talking to it.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No, really, it’ll help. I used to talk to cadavers all the time when I was doing my first dissections. It makes the process easier. Go on, he's not going to hurt you.”

“… What do I say?”

“I don’t know, do what feels natural. Maybe thank him? For his ‘donation’, you know.”

“… Thank you, Mister Rothsfeld. I don’t think you can hear me but if you can, somehow, I hope you can understand. I hope… Yasmine I can’t do it.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious, I don’t think it’s right. This is the Eternal Rest Cemetery. This was supposed to be his eternal rest.”

“He is resting! The sleep of the dead, so deep he can’t feel a thing. Look I’ll show you.”

“Don’t! Don’t… touch him. Just put him back. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Lu, look at me. Your body is dying. Piece by piece, cell by cell. Today it’s your arm, tomorrow-“

“Tomorrow my legs, my lungs, my heart, my brain, I know!”

“Do you wanna die! Answer me. Do. You want. To die. Or do you want to live.”

“I don’t know! I don’t think I even know what that means.”

“Okay. Fine. Then, think of it this way: do you want to watch the sunrise tomorrow?”

“I… yes?”

“Do you still want to sing at Georgie’s this Friday?”

“Of course I do.”

“And after that do you want to keep singing at Georgie’s? Do you want to go to farmer’s market and pet the jam lady’s dog again? Do you want to watch The Crow for the millionth time? Do you want to pick up pizza on the way home?”

“Yeah, I... yes. I do.”

“There you go. Your problem is, you think of life as this one big thing, and it’s not. It’s a bunch of itty-bitty things, little moments all sloppily patchworked together and, I’m gonna be honest, the final product is a fucking mess. Some moments are going to suck- like digging up bodies in the middle of the night, or waking up hungover the morning after- but if you want the good moments, those real good little moments, you have to be able to put up with it. You have to be willing to make sacrifices.”

“I kinda thought Jim was the one making sacrifices.”

“We all make sacrifices! Look, it’s not a perfect metaphor. You’re the writer, not me. Make a poem about it or something if it helps. For now, grab his legs."

[blackasmidnightcats]

Continued discussion about Sophie's "redemption arc"

Original post from @agathasarmy

@agathasarmy I've moved this to a new post cause I have a lot of feelings and still want to continue this discussion and I hope you don't mind

So anyways...

(this wouldve been also a great way to introduce the concept of legacies, especially with the past vs. present. vs. future theme and it would also parallel tedros’ storyline as they’re both dealing with the fallout of carrying their predecessor’s glory)

YESSSS

All of them have big shoes to fill because of the people who've nurtured and believed in them

One thing I really hated in the camelot years was the lack of mourning that Agatha and Sophie did for Callis and Lady Lesso respectively.

That is the kind of anguish that I was looking for. Just them being children and missing their parent/parental figure and wishing that they could still be someone's child who could look out for them and motivate them when they needed.

Like Sophie remembering that Lady Lesso believed in her the way that Sophie could never do and Agatha remembering how her mother would have wanted her daughter to live out her life with with love and adventure.

Let's not even get with Tedros (that's a whole other meta in itself)

so far all i got was lesso and hester being the best examples of it, but what i also got from them was that Evil wasnt being cruel but serving as the balance to Good like ok???? what exactly does that entail??

Exactly, I'm really frustrated about this because as much as Soman has tried to make us understand that Good and Evil are equals, he has never actually shown us how equal they can be since all the Evil figures that we have are usually helping Good.

I'm really pissed that the Coven's quest involve them finding a new School Master when they have absolutely no need to do that. They should be doing their own stuff instead. It's the one thing I shame Prof Dovey for.

that was what I expected the series would be: Tedros and Agatha as Good because Good always stands stronger together, and Sophie as Evil because Evil is best alone, but not lonely

I stand behind your point about "Alone but not Lonely" quote because if that does not describe Sophie's biggest problem than I don't know what does. She can have all the fans that she wants and build the whole School for Evil in her tribute and pretend that she's a strong independent woman who doesn't need a man but she'll still feel the loneliness seep through if she doesn't have a closure with her insecurities and envy

instead Soman subverted our expectations in the worst way possible since GoT S8 (dont @ me)

I will stand by you with the hate for GoT s8. That was a trainwreck so badly done it imploded on itself. Recently, writers that have big productions have been having a hard time gracefully ending their stories

EXACTLY I JUST KNOW SOMAN’S GONNA BRUSH IT OFF OR BARELY MENTION IT WHEN THIS KIND OF DIALOGUE IS MORE IMPORTANT TO THE MESSAGE OF THE STORY THAN SOMAN RANDOMLY INSERTING DOVEY AS TEDROS’ GODMOTHER OR REAPER BEING KING FOR PLOT CONVENIENCE

I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL. I WILL NOT STOP BEING SO FREAKING BITTER ABOUT IT.

Soman was off with a good start on that one. I would have been more interested with Sophie trying to handle her narcissistic desires vs her need to actually be a decent Dean to all the new students just like how Lady Lesso was for her. Her understanding how to be Evil and be herself would have been a nice read.

if soman had to bring back a trope from the last era, it would be the discussion of dichotomies i.e. Good vs. Evil, instead of the evil lover trope cos aint nobody got the time for that

YESSS

It's still technically the school for GOOD AND EVIL SERIES even if we go to a new era I was hoping that Soman would still have these as the roots but NOOOO.

His obsession with Sophie obsessing over boys that obsess over her is a strong one apparently.

like at this point it’ just really blatantly obvious how much Soman favors Sophie and I wouldnt be that bothered if he didnt sacrifice the plot or the other characters’ brain cells to go along with it cos to this day I refuse to believe that people really would just accept Rhian like that after reading The Tale of Sophie and Agatha

EXCATLY. I HONESTLY COULD NOT UNDERSTAND SOME OF THE DECISIONS OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS ABOUT THIS.

Like did no one still understand that not everything is what it seems?!

I am baffled with how easy they trusted a comeplete stranger over Agatha who has proven over and over and over again that she fights for the good of EVERYONE and is perfecrly willing to sacrifice her happiness for theirs.

Like at this point I'm thinking that her fairy tale propably does not do justice for everything that she's been through cause if the other people of the Woods read her story the way we did, there would be no doubt that we would stand behind Agatha for a lifetime

like cmon people we went through this already?? a random hot stranger coming out of nowhere??? ITS THE RED FLAG

In defense with them, (and I am saying this very, very off handedly) Rhian did come around saving everyone's asses and was a pretty decent guy (NOT).

WHAT I AM REALLY SURPISED ABOUT IS THAT THEY WANT A PIECE OF HIM AND HOW EASILY THEY TRUSTED HIM WITH EVERYTHING

I THOUGHT THE POINT OF THIS SERIES WAS TO SHOW THAT ROMANCE WASN’T THE ONLY HIGHEST MANIFESTATION OF LOVE, BUT A LOVE BETWEEN FAMILY OR A LOVE FOR ONE’S SELF WAS JUST AS IMPORTANT????

One of my biggest beefs with Soman's writing. He highlights romance too much compared to platonic and self love. I want a moment with Sophie like the one in TLEA where Agatha was getting stressed about letting Sophie and Tedros grow closer and Soman managed to pretty realistically portray that; Agatha was being insecure and possessive and jealous but she let herself reflect on her actions. She made peace with it and faced it with bravery even though it really hurts her. Because she understood that she would never have closure for this if she didn't let it happen.

AGGIE IS THE BEST. I LOVE HER

Why the hell can't Soman write something similar like this for Sophie.

WHY SOMAN PUTTING THIS AMATONORMATIVE BS IN THIS STORY AGAIN LIKE WE ARE TIRED

In fairness, Sophie getting into ANOTHER romantic relationship I will PASS SO HARD.

But for everyone else that deserves some romantic love (TAGATHA PLS) I will accept crawling

also I like your ideas on what could’ve happened instead, with Rhian being more proactive towards Tedros and Agatha instead of Sophie - it would play well into the Camelot myths and themes that I was really expecting in the new era

I KNOW RIGHT?!?!?!

If Soman could only just get over his Sophie Obsession, then he would understand that Tedros was the perfect target for Rhian's manipulations and Sophie was the perfect target for the downfall.

I have no idea how the hell did Rhian think (but apparently it worked because soman plot) that seducing Sophie would win him the love of the Woods.

plus it wouldve been a chance for Sophie to actively help them instead of tearing them apart like in the last 3 books?? like she’s kinda doing that rn but it would’ve been nice if she didn’t have a hand in stealing their happiness like she’s always done too

Well...for me she doesn't seem like she's tearing them apart anymore but I stand with your point about her stealing their happiness.

This could have been good, good character development for her. Her realizing that she keeps making tagatha miserable and stealing what belongs to them and the complexity that comes with her inner struggle between her envy vs love for her best friends.

PLUS CHADDICK DESERVED TO LIVE INSTEAD OF BEING KILLED FOR PLOT CONVENIENCE LITERALLY IT’S THE WORST DEATH IN THE SERIES NOT COS IT’S SAD BUT COS IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE AND MAKES FOR TERRIBLE WRITING IMHO

"NOT COS IT'S SAD BUT BECAUSE IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE"

SCREAM IT A BIT LOUDER SO SOMAN CAN HEAR IT AT THE BACK!!!!

Soman, I will never forgive you for doing this to this boy.

You could have made Tedros and Chaddick have a falling out. I mean the last time that they interacted was during AWWP and Chaddick treated Tedros as crap. I know that all of us headcanon that these two are each other's best mates but they've barely had significant interactions for me to consider that a case.

They'd be so pressured about not followong the legacy of Arthur and Lance that a small problem could propably tear these two apart.

also, on another point, you would think Sophie would be more sympathetic to Tedros situation given that they’re both leading populations, essentially

plus Sophie learned to understand Tedros’ mind better in awwp??? where the hell did that relationship development went (even if she was Filip at the time)??

I am honestly more suprised at how viciously Tedros seems to treat her.

Like it wasn't that long after TLEA that Tedros was perfectly willing to let Sophie stay in Camelot and even asked her to visit but come his coronation (which was like less than a day after) he keeps on proclaiming about how happy he is with her out his life and in aCoT his distrust for her was off the roof.

Then there is the Handbook ordeal with Sophie just completely roasting Tedros like what happend to the two of you?

I don't even understand Soman's decision about this. It doesn't even affect the actual storyline in anyway. It's just Sophie and Tedros at each other's throats.

Tedros has been treated the crappiest out of the main trio (let’s be honest) as if the game was built to oppose him, meanwhile Sophie gets major Soman privilege and is given the role ONCE AGAIN that could change the game

THIS

It's the reason why I can't even read AWWP anymore. It hurts too much to have to read at how badly the other characters treat him. Just reading the first line of that book gets me anxious.

And PREACH THAT SOPHIE HAS MAJOR SOMAN PRIVILEGES.

This is why I was actually suprised that Soman shared that he planned on killing Sophie off at the end of TLEA but we'll never how that story went

like if the School Years was for Sophie to realize and accept her Evilness, couldnt Soman have decided to give Tedros and Agatha the deciding roles this time around given that, you know, it’s called the CAMELOT YEARS ERA???

Honestly, I just want Tedros to have the most agency out of all the characters. Like make his decisions actually matter to the plot. Make him the center of the plot and revolve Rhian's plans around him instead of being against him cause that's exactly how Agatha's role in the school years era was for Rafal.

The basic formula goes like this;

Sophie important to the Rafal's/Rhian's/Japeth's/hell even Evelyn Sader's plan

Agatha/Tedros are in the way of that plan so they have to go

Agatha/Tedros saves Sophie's ass

Sophie making the big decision

Like didn't Soman say that he didn't want to be that repetitive writer? That's why he changed the ending of AWWP because it was too similar to the first book?

WTF SOMAN?

she’s still out here wanting someone to look at her the tedros looks at agatha (honestly big mood right there) but I wish this didn’t have to be her main conflict

This is actually why I'm not that mad that Sophie fell for Rhian. Because at the end of the day Sophie will be Sophie.

But I agree I kinda hoped that she wouldn't be as guilible

the girl is smart and knows her worth so I can’t really understand why she decided to get ENGAGED to the next person (Hort obviously cant count cos plot) who tells her she looks pretty???

NOW THIS. THIS IS MY BEEF WITH SOPHIE.

I can understand why she'd date him but MARRIAGE?! That was going a little bit too far.

You'd think after her engagement with Rafal that she'd be TRAUMATIZE for the next one.

And honestly it would have been hella funny if she did feel this way. Imagine Rhian nearly getting all that he needed but Sophie just straight up leaves him on the stage cause she's still got issues with it.

Would have been my favorite scene

And Hort, poor boy, he needs character development of his own. I'm not his fan honestly and currently, he's not winning me over.

ALSO THE FACT THAT SHE ENDS UP BEING CONSIDERED FOR THE ROLE OF QUEEN OF CAMELOT INFURIATES ME SO MUCH COS WE WENT THROUGH THAT SHIT IN TLEA???? WHY ARE WE BRINGING THIS UP AGAIN????

THIS. THIS IS MY BEEF WITH SOMAN

Can he not understand that she would be crap as QUEEN?

A parallel I noticed with Rhian and Sophie is that they both completely remodeled their respective castles in their image. Not even considering anyone else. And they both treat their faculty as crap.

Kinda tells us that she really would be crap as queen.

At least the Camelot citizens had enough braincells not to fall for this crap

Every other kingdom in the Woods though. They better be budgeting gold to Tedros and Agatha once they're back on the throne.

(and im so so tired of Sophie stealing Agatha’s Ever After from her, indirectly or not, like cant she just be happy for her best friend and move the plot in some way other than this???)

I really do believe envy is only one of the things that Sophie needs to sort out. The fact that she admitted at the end of TLEA that she does, in fact, feel envious that Agatha gets to be a queen and her little episode in the Ever Never Roundtable about how she's the one with the official title of queen and that Agatha isn't even a princess says a lot.

I wouldn't have minded if Sophie had a slight blackout and just lost it and saying mean things about Agatha but instantly regreting it because no matter what, deep down in the foundations of her soul, she loves Agatha with everything that she has. And is she has the be in a constant battle with herself about this fact then she's willing to keep on fighting. That would have been satisfying to read.

I mean just imagine if Sophie was there when Agatha was leading her army and Hester mentions that Agatha is Queen in the School, in Camelot, or anywhere elsse in the Woods. They would follow her. Willingly.

Sophie would have had a panic attack.

This girl needs to learn that she can't force people to be loyal and follow her by making every physical reminder of how amazing she is but instead she needs to lead and make some sacrifices of her own because she's doing these sacrifices in the benefit of Evil and its future instead of herself.

Sophie appreciating people?? Not only remembering them when she needs something from them??? Like @ soman im not asking her to be the next Mother Theresa but I’ll take this character development pls and thank u

I am all in for Sophie appreciating everyone. If she can't do it for other people, then she better do it for Evil.

[travllingbunny]

The 100 rewatch: 4x01 Echoes

Echoes? I see what they did there. The title may refer to echoes of the first nuclear apocalypse, of what happened in season 3, but also obviously refers to the return of the character of Echo.

This would mostly be a solid follow-up to the season 3 finale/introduction to new season, but everything to do with Echo brings it down. My problem with Echo is not that she’s a bad person (she is, but that’s not the issue), it’s that she’s a bad character, and nothing about her makes sense, starting with her supposed profession.

I also don’t enjoy the behavior some of the random Grounders, who are written to be stupid for plot reasons, as it often happens on this show. It’s the problem both with Grounders, and with ordinary people who are minor characters in general (random Arkers also tend to be stupid), and sometimes with major characters, too, because we need our protagonists, especially Clarke as the main character, to be constantly opposed and blamed for things, even though it often doesn’t make sense.

Right after Clarke pulled a plug on the City of Light and found out that everyone on Earth will die in about six months due to the new wave of radiation, we see the chaos in the streets of Polis – blood on the streets, crucified people who didn’t want to take the chip (Indra was one of them, fortunately she’s not badly hurt as it happened recently).

For once, Jaha actually feels guilty for the things he’s done, now that he’s free of ALIE’s brainwashing, which sets him up to be more sympathetic in season 4.

Why are the random nameless Grounders in Polis so stupid? They are now blaming everything on Sky people (again) – but while blaming Jaha would make perfect sense, for some reason they are blaming Clarke?! Is she supposed to be automatically responsible for anything any of Sky people do? Everyone remembers the things that happened while they were chipped, they know Clarke wasn’t chipped and fought against ALIE – oh yeah, and she defeated ALIE and freed everyone. There’s also a woman grieving her husband who apparently died when Flame!Lexa killed him in the City of Light, because who die in the City of Light also die in the real world, and the woman starts yelling “Wanheda” in an accusatory way. Because that’s also somehow Clarke’s fault now? Wow, the logic is astounding.

While the main antagonist of the season is a natural disaster, Echo as the new main human villain, unfortunately – because she immediately gets a character makeover into Ontari 2.0 – or the last thing the show needed. Because what better way to show what a Badass Chick/Strong Female Character ™ you are, if not yelling, waving a sword around and murdering an ambassador who opposes you?

We also find out now that Echo is not just a random Grounder who was only of note because she happened to be in the next cage to Bellamy in Mount Weather, and then used that connection to manipulate him and facilitate a mass murder of Sky people on behest of Queen Nia – she’s apparently a senior member of the Azgeda government, to the point that she announces that she’s taking the power while King Roan is incapacitated due to being severely wounded. According to Indra, Echo is a “member of the Royal Guard, spies”.

Wait, what?! How can they be Royal Guard and spies? Either she’s one or the other. A spy is supposed to be inconspicuous and able to blend in, collect intelligence, have a cover, manipulate people… so how can she be a spy if she is Royal Guard and everyone knows who she is? Maybe she and other RG members could also be doubling as something like state security, arresting people and torturing them for info, but spies? I guess she could be running a network of spies and just giving them orders while actual spies do the espionage… but there’s absolutely no indication of that, and there’s nothing about Echo that makes her look like a potential spy. Emori would make a better spy, because we know she can lie and manipulate people, present a convincing cover, use her charm to fool people – which she used as a common thief. Echo has no charm and no subtlety and doesn’t seem smart or sly enough to come up with elaborate schemes – she’s very in-your-face, loud, shoot (or rather wave your sword) first, ask questions later. And everyone apparently knows who she is. The whole “Echo is a spy” thing never made sense.

So in this episode, Echo threatens Clarke’s life, which makes Bellamy immediately run towards her and yell at her to let Clarke go; wants to kill all Sky people, and, since she doesn’t seem to understand that Abby is a better medical practitioner than the healer Azgeda have, won’t let her treat Roan, who is still unconscious and with a bullet inside his body. Clarke, who unlike Echo, can use her brain, has an idea that they should surrender, so they could get to Roan and heal him, hoping he will be more reasonable.

Bellamy gets the task of stalling Echo by presenting her their terms for surrender, and does his part by showing incredible self-control of listening to Echo talk total BS without snapping. She starts by actually telling him that he should be grateful that she saved his life by taking him out of Mount Weather (yes, she actually said that!). She says sorry she couldn’t tell him to take his girlfriend, so she wouldn’t die, but she invokes the Nuremberg defense: “I was following orders”. I guess she thinks Bellamy wouldn’t mind that mass murder or feel guilty over failing those people, if his girlfriend hadn’t died, because she doesn’t know him really and she assumes people generally don’t give a damn about human lives unless they’re someone really close to them. That’s the only time she showed only regret for blowing up a bunch of civilians in Mount Weather – and it’s not feeling sorry for what she did, but just because it hurt Bellamy and might have ruined the potential for a relationship with him. Little does she know she’s in a show where doing terrible things to a person only increases the probability of eventually starting a romantic relationship with them.

More bad writing! Echo says that Trikru can’t do anything now without an army. Wait, what? Are you kidding me? So those 300 warriors were the only ones Trikru had?.What?! And Lexa sent all of them to guard Arkadia? There was no one to guard Polis, fight Azgeda if necessary, fight any other possible dangers, there were reserves…? That makes no sense at all. Also, what were all the guards in Polis? Also, Lexa had previously sent an army of 300 to kill 80 teenagers and that army got burned… and then she had another army of 300 and nothing more? Jason Rothenberg (aside from being the showrunner, he is the credited writer of this episode) is really terrible at world building, and with everything to do with military strategy, how government and the military works, etc.

Echo is then like “You know why everyone hates Skaikru”. Why? Please tell. Killing Lexa’s army? Don’t you guys, Trikru and Azgeda, hate each other and had been at war before? Didn’t you blow up Mount Weather as a part of a scheme to destabilize the coalition and eventually assassinate Lexa and grab power from her, even when you were a part of the same coalition? Now you’re telling Bellamy you guys hate Skaikru for killing Trikru? LMAO If you suddenly feel Grounder solidarity because remembered you were all in the coalition – well, then you attacked Skaikru and killed a bunch of their civilians while you were a part of the coalition, so in that case, you hate them for taking your attack as an announcement they were at war with the Grounder coalition and acting accordingly? Pick a story and stick with it, geez.

Bellamy managed to stall her enough while Abby was taking out the bullet, but then when Echo finally realizes something is happening and cuts him off, realizing they’re stalling, and she throws him to the ground and puts a knife under his throat. Later she is just about to kill Clarke, when Roan wakes up. Since Roan isn’t an idiot, he just puts them in a cell, Clarke later manages to convince him that Praimfaya is coming and that they need to work together, and offers him the Flame to keep and have control over whoever the next Commander will be. Echo tries to convince Roan to kill Clarke and “take her power” as his mother had planned (do they actually believe in that superstition, or is it just because of the social importance of defeating a renowned enemy), but Roan has functioning brain cells, so he accepts Clarke’s suggestion instead.

So, after an episode full of amazing setup for their future relationship, such as threatening his life and trying to kill people he loves (as we’ve established that the worst the initial interactions are, the more likely a pairing is to get together), Echo is like “Do you think it’s possible for us to ever trust each other again?” Really? Bellamy is naturally unimpressed. I’m trying to imagine what it was like on the ring he is stuck with her for years in a small space with just 5 other people, and has to listen to her “apologies” for 3 years before caving in and forgiving her. Maybe I should be grateful I didn’t see it on-screen?

Better parts of the episode: everything that didn’t involve Echo.

Bellamy and Clarke are really at functioning as a unit and as co-leaders, and we see that in the way they discuss and come to the agreement how to deal with the situation. Bellamy suggests that they should keep quiet about Praimfaya, at least until Raven checks it out – because he understands how news would affect people, who had just been through something terrible and have just become able to feel pain again, so telling them they are probably all going to die in 6 months would have bad consequences. They end up telling a few people - Abby, Kane, Octavia, Indra (who was talking about an inevitable war between Azgeda and other clans – prompting Clarke to tell them about Praimfaya). Clarke clearly considers Bellamy her co-leader as she first looks at him to see if he agrees before she reveals the truth. This is similar, with role reversal, to their dynamic in season 1, when Bellamy was  giving orders to the Delinquents but listening to Clarke and consulting her (which is why, for instance, Lincoln in 1x07 concluded Clarke was the leader). This time, Clarke is looked on as the leader (in the same informal way) and she consults with Bellamy the same way he did with her.

Abby and Kane have some shippy moments, and Clarke is looking at them with some envy and sadness, seeing others develop a happy new relationship.

During the scene where all of them are put in a cell together, Clarke cries and tells her mother that she loved Lexa, and Abby comforts her. From now on, we know that everyone knows about Lexa’s and Clarke’s relationship, rather than just suspect it or guess it. Note that Kane looks at Bellamy to see his reaction, and the camera pans to Bellamy for his (muted) reaction to this.

I find it interesting that, in their last conversation in this episode, Bellamy calls Clarke ‘Princess’ for the first time since season 1. Unlike what some fans think, I don’t think Bellamy ever used that nickname to flirt, like Finn did. He first used it with resentment, to point out at her privileged background, and then he started using it with respect – but “Princess” was a way to underline the distance between them. Since they got closer, he has always called her “Clarke”. Murphy decides that all the plans for alliance with Azgeda seems too crazy for him and changes his mind about sticking around, and leaves with Emori instead. First appearance of Gaia: when Roan announces to the crowd his decisions to accept Sky people as the 13th clan, and to keep the Flame, she seen in the crowd, protesting that it’s blasphemy for a king to act like a Flamekeeper. The latter is clearly a religious role.

In still mostly empty Arkadia, Harper and Monty are enjoying themselves, having a lot of great sex. Harper is unsure if their relationship is anything more but some temporary fun, but doesn’t want to be clingy so she does the “I understand if you don’t want to continue with this after everyone returns”, but Monty is direct and tells her that he would like to continue their relationship, to Harper’s relief and pleasant surprise.

Raven confirms that the radiation from the meltdown of the plants will indeed kill everyone in six months. Unlike Raven, who thinks that “nothing like a little pain reminds you that you’re alive”, Jasper is suicidal after being able to feel the pain again. He is listening to music on Maya’s player and has Maya’s favorite painting on his wall, and comes close to blowing up his brains, when he’s called by Monty, Harper and Raven. The other three are confused and shocked by the fact that he laughs at hearing the news of the upcoming end of the world. He feels free and this is where he decides on the “Seize the day” approach – if the world is dying, let’s have some fun and then die.

The closing scene is the first (and last) time we see something that happens in another part of the Earth, not North America: in Egypt, in the desert see a dead man, and a woman dies horrifically when a radiation wave hits. It’s a very gruesome image, and also a reveal that Raven’s and ALIE’s calculations weren’t right, and the death wave is coming much faster.

Timeline: The episode starts mere minutes after the end of season 3, and seems to takes place over the period of a few hours.

Body count:

We find out that several people died in the season 3 finale when Lexa killed them in the City of Light, which seems to follow the Matrix rules.

Rock Line ambassador is killed by Echo with a single sword stroke, because she stood up to her.

Two Azgeda guards and the Azgeda healer, killed by Octavia when she sneaked in as a part of the plan to allow Abby and the others could get inside and heal Roan.

Two scavengers in what used to be Egypt, killed by the death wave.

Rating: 6/10

[maxmundan]

I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut. I am a smart ass through and through, and many times this inability to know when to speak and when to keep quiet and who should or shouldn’t be told to their face that they are an idiot has gotten me into big trouble. In junior high school I had been regularly beat up and shoved into trash cans due to my habit of making sure every meathead there knew exactly what I thought of them and their intelligence level at all times. Later, I would decide that it was better to be feared than crushed, and I would start telling everyone that I was Hitler’s grandson. They tended to stay away from me after that. Hitler never had any children, of course, and thus was unlikely to have any grandchildren, but most of the guys at my school were in no danger of making the debate team or winning the spelling bee any time soon, if you know what I mean. Junior high school had been very hard on me, and I feel like I just ever so barely made it out with my life. I’ve learned a lot since then, and I’ve made a concerted effort to not mouth off to people I don’t know very well, or whose ability to control their temper I have been unable to gauge. Here’s the problem though. I drink. I drink a lot. I drink to excess, among other vices that I’ve cultivated, and when I drink, my control over the time delay between some insulting thought entering my brain and that same ugly thought popping out of my mouth becomes pretty nonexistent. I can say some pretty nasty things. One time I was on a blind date with this young lady named Elaine. She was the friend of a friend’s wife, who had set us up together, thinking that we were both fiercely proud of our intelligence and that, because of this, we would be perfect for each other. It was a stupid thought. I took her out to dinner at this nice Italian restaurant and we fought the whole damn time. About everything. We fought about art and science and music and movies. We couldn’t agree on a single thing. And the more I drank, the more insulting I got. I went from disagreeing with her to telling her how unbelievably moronic I thought her opinions were. I ended the date by telling her that I would rather fuck a man than her. She burst up from the table, throwing her full glass of red wine directly in my face and stormed out of the restaurant. What had gotten into me? What a terrible thing to say. Here’s the weird part, though. It wasn’t even true. I had thought she was pretty hot and, until that moment, I had been hoping we could get past our differences and I was going to get into her pants. That shit about fucking a man had just popped into my brain and out of my mouth without even a moment’s thought. The more wasted I get the greater the chance that I am going to say something that will just burn it all to the ground. This brings me to a night I spent doing way too many drugs and drinking far, far too much alcohol; a night I got lost and beaten and bloody and wet and ended up sleeping it off in the local holding cell; the night I met the inbred hick fucks. I like to party. That much has been established. I like to drink, and I like to drink to fucking excess, and if you invite me over to your house and pour me a glass of wine, or a beer, or a shot of whiskey or tequila, you are not getting me out of your house until every drop of alcohol you have has been consumed. That’s just the way it is. Don’t invite me over if you are saving your alcohol for a different, special occasion. It doesn’t even matter if you hide the alcohol from me. When you are out of the room, say going to the bathroom, or paying the pizza delivery man, I will go through all your cupboards and look under your bed and behind the old photographs in your closet to find it. I am going to have your alcohol, that’s just all there is to it. If you don’t have a lot, chances are that we are going to be taking a little trip to the store to get more. You’re going to have to pay, of course. I’ve been out of work for a while now and I can barely afford to take care of myself. You wouldn’t expect me to go without food or shelter, would you? I’m sure you don’t want me to stop feeding myself, am I right? So, you’re going to have to pay. We might very well get bored of the alcohol at some point and decide to move on to something a little more challenging and exciting, like cocaine or crystal meth. That would be fun. Don’t you think that would be fun? What about a little heroin? We could do speedballs for the rest of the night and really get fucking crazy. That would be something, wouldn’t it? Angel dust? Did someone mention angel dust? Damn, I’d sure love to do a little of that. It’s been so long. Do they still even have angel dust? Of course, it goes without saying that you’re paying for this too. I can’t afford that kind of shit. It’s expensive. We talked about this. I thought you understood. If I pay for this little bit of fun for the two of us, then I have to go without one of life’s essentials. Do you want me to be homeless or starve to death? Of course you don’t. So just pay for the coke and smack already and we can get this party started. The particular night in question, I was going to a cast party. You may have guessed already that I am an actor, due to my savoir faire and barely controlled narcissism. Yes, I’m a struggling actor. You say that like it’s a bad thing. Of course, I’m a struggling actor. I think I’ve made $10 doing it my entire life and that was when I played Twinkie the Kid at a grocery store opening for a half hour when I was 17. That’s a story for another time, though. The night of the inbred hick fucks was a cast party. I was doing a show called “The Feeling Child.” It was an amazing piece of shit, I’ll tell you that. You know “The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood? Well, this was sort of the opposite of that. It was a science fiction play about a future world where abortion was mandatory. The evil commie lefties had taken over and placed a strict limit on the number of babies people could have. They had convinced everyone that the lie of climate change was in fact true, and this new law was necessary to cut down on the out of control overpopulation that was depleting the planet’s resources. So, this evil, leftie government was forcing good, god-fearing, Christian parents to kill their fetuses. I played the leader of the anti-abortion rebellion who had been arrested protesting at one of the abortion mills and was now being tortured by the authorities for the crime of just wanting babies to live, damnit. It was written by a born-again right-winger. I guess that goes without saying. Only a born-again right-winger would write something so fucking stupid. The play was a disaster from the get go. I have no idea why I even agreed to do it in the first place. I must be a glutton for punishment. Either that or I have absolutely nothing going on in my life, and I will sign on to any piece of shit that will get me in front of an audience, where I can feel the adulation and hear the applause. Nothing else, not even the drugs, can quiet the voices in my head of crippling self-doubt and self-loathing like adulation and applause. It got even worse. The director was under no illusion that this piece of shit was going to Broadway and was afraid, I think, that the audience was going to laugh instead of cry or become outraged when they saw it, so he decided to do this thing Kabuki style. That is right, Kabuki style, which is an ancient form of Japanese theater. So, me and the rest of the cast had to perform in a very stylized physical way. We also had to hold paper cut-out masks in front of our faces the whole time. There is a scene where my tongue gets cut out because I just can’t stop talking about how fetuses were meant to live, and god would hate us for what we were doing. The director decided to symbolize this by having a red ribbon attached to my mask. When the big tongue cutting scene happened, which was the climax of the whole atrocious play, I just pulled the ribbon through the mouth of my mask and let it drop all the way to the floor. Needless to say, it was a hoot. The opening night of the play, about four or five minutes in, the audience started laughing. They started to laugh really loud. They didn’t let up. They thought the play was amazing. They thought it was a comedy. Hell, they thought it was a really terrific comedy. Now, I’m no idiot, so when the audience started to bust up laughing, I decided to go for it. I played it for laughs. I started exaggerating my movements and holding for laughter and using my comedy training for things like double takes and physical theater bits. I even did a spit take at one point, shooting water through the mouth hole of my mask. The audience loved it. They ate it the fuck up. When it came time for the curtain call, every last one of them got up on their goddamn feet and gave me a standing ovation. I shit you not. A standing ovation. It was one of the crowning achievements of my acting career to this point. I mean it was fucking amazing. It felt great. I felt like a star. Of course, the writer and director were a little pissed about the whole thing. More than a little pissed, actually. they were furious. They refused to talk to me, or even look at me, after the show. To this day, they still haven’t ever talked to me. As far as they are concerned, both of them, I am persona non grata. This was the party after the performance, though, and I was riding a pretty great high, so I was bound and determined to get wasted. I started off slow, just getting my game on, with a couple of Mango Wheat Brown Ales or some such shit, I don’t really remember. Then, a bit later, someone produced a bottle of Stolichnaya from the freezer and man, was it on. I can drink straight vodka all night. I just started pounding shots. I couple of cute girls came into the kitchen where I was and started egging me on, so I upped the pace a little and began chugging straight from the bottle. By the time I reached the bottom of it, though, the chicks were nowhere to be seen. What the hell happened to those girls? They must have disappeared when I wasn’t looking. I didn’t have long to wonder about the whereabouts of the girls before my friend Sycamore Taylor walked in holding a big blunt in his fingers and asked if I wanted to take a little toke. Well, of fucking course I wanted to take a goddamn toke. Who the hell did he think he was talking to? Sycamore was as big a stoner as me, if not worse, and he was always rolling these big, fucking bomber joints that were half weed and half tobacco. It took like ten rolling papers to make one, and goddamn they wiped you out. The one this night was a particular monster and just the first hit off it gave me cotton mouth so bad I had to get something else to drink to go with it. There was a bottle of Somrethingorother Cabernet Sauvignon sitting unopened on the counter, so I grabbed that and started rifling through the kitchen drawers to find a corkscrew. I couldn’t find anything, so I handed the bottle to Sycamore, thinking, “What the fuck is wrong with these people that they don’t have a corkscrew? Isn’t that the bare minimum if you’re going to throw a party at your house?” I was throwing open all the cabinets and even looking through the trash. There had to be some way to open this fucking bottle of wine. Sycamore was just standing there, looking at the label on the bottle, not helping me in any way, when he said, “Shit, man. Check it out. This bottle is a 1996. I don’t think we should drink this. It’s probably pretty valuable.” “Are you some kind of fucking idiot?” I asked him, snatching the bottle from his hands, “If they didn’t intend for people to drink it, they would have never brought it to a goddamn party, right?” Sycamore acquiesced and agreed that this was pretty logical thinking on my part, but we still couldn’t open the damn bottle for the life of us. I ended up just taking a big steak knife and carving my way through the cork till I could finally get my lips at the delicious wine. Fuck, that tasted good. By this time the blunt had gone out and we needed to relight that sucker and give it a good smoking. By the time I had crushed the tiny butt out on the kitchen floor with my boot, Sycamore had disappeared too, and the bottle of wine was empty. I was completely alone in the kitchen, leaning up against the refrigerator. I decide to go in search of more alcohol and lurched forward with that intent. I was a lot drunker than I had given myself credit for, though, and my legs didn’t operate in anywhere near the fashion I wanted or intended them to, and I fell flat on my face instead. I banged my chin pretty goddamn viciously on the kitchen floor so that I bit down hard on my tongue. I could taste blood in my mouth. I decided the best thing for me to was to stay down on the floor like that. I might really fuck myself up if I tried to get back on my feet. I don’t know how long I was there, but eventually someone, I don’t know who, came in and lifted me back up. I must have blacked out around this time because the next thing that I remember was sitting on the couch in another room with a glass full of whiskey in my hand, watching John Waters “Pink Flamingos” on the TV. It was the part of the movie where Divine buys the piece of meat at the butcher and shoves it up her dress between her legs as she walks. I was having black out experiences a lot these days. I would be missing hours, sometimes entire nights. The worst was when I would wake up in the back seat of my car and realize that I must have driven from some party or other to wherever it was I found myself in the morning but had no recollection of getting there. I could easily kill myself or someone else in one of these blackout experiences. At a certain point, I realized I needed to give up drinking and driving before something terrible happened. I decided to sell my car. I polished off my glass of whiskey and looked around the room. I was the only person there. Well, not the only person. There was a shirtless guy passed out on the couch next to me. Someone had drawn cartoon penises all over his chest. “That’s totally fucked up,” I remember thinking. “Where had everybody gone?” I wondered. I pushed myself gingerly off the couch and went in search of more alcohol. “There must be something here,” I thought. I wandered back through the kitchen where a whole bunch of people I didn’t recognize were laughing at some story I couldn’t quite figure out. I asked them if there was any more beer, but they just ignored me. I had no idea where all my friends had gone and by this point I couldn’t even remember whose house it was that I had been partying at. I pushed a couple of guys out of the way of the refrigerator and threw open the door. There had to be some alcohol inside. There wasn’t. I started to ask the guys if they knew where to find any, but they were giving me a particularly dirty look, so I slithered out of the kitchen to continue my search. There was nothing. I looked everywhere. I found a couple of half full bottles of beer, but they had already become party ashtrays. I even tried to drink one but got a cigarette butt in my mouth that I had to spit out on the floor. What’s more, there didn’t even seem to be anybody I knew in the house anymore. I ran from room to room, but I didn’t recognize any of my friends or anybody from the cast of the show I had just done. Where did everybody go? “I guess I might as well head home,” I thought. I stumbled out the front door with the intention of walking home. I was having trouble moving in a straight line, but I figured if I really focused I would probably be able to make it. A sort of jock looking dude about a foot taller than me stopped me on my way down the driveway. “Hey man,” he said, placing his hand on my chest to slow me down, “You’re really drunk. why don’t you let me give you a ride home?” “I’m fine,” I answered, belligerently, pushing his hand out of my way. “Seriously,” he said, reaching out for me but failing to grab my shirt as I dodged his reach, “You’re going to fuck yourself up going off like that.” “Don’t worry about me,” I spit back at him over my shoulder, “I’ve done this a thousand times. I’ve walked home drunk more times than you’ve masturbated, and from the look of you that’s a whole fucking lot.” “Well, fuck you then, asshole,” I heard him shout at me as I lurched from the driveway out into the road, just narrowly stepping out of the path of a pair of headlights that was rushing on me quickly. The problem was that the guy was right. As I walked off down the street, it occurred to me that I had no idea where I was and thus, no concept of the correct direction to choose to get home. I had only the vaguest memory of getting to the party in the first place. I know I had been driven there by one of the other cast members, but I was damned if I could remember which one. I’d had a few fucking drinks, okay? How the hell was I supposed to remember boring details? I hadn’t been paying attention to the streets either. I had just been laughing and telling jokes and otherwise making a spectacle of myself.   “God-fucking-damnit,” I thought, “Why am I always such a colossal fuck up?” I figured the best thing I could do was to keep walking. If I did, maybe I would come to a place I recognized, and from there, be able to find my way home. It’s wasn’t like I just moved here yesterday. I’d lived in this town for a couple of years. I’m not some newbie, wannabe poseur who just fell off the turnip truck.  I just happened to be in a strange part that I didn’t recognize. I walked for about fifteen minutes, turning frequently, but always trying to move in the direction that I assumed the center of town might be. I’m pretty arrogant about my sense of direction. Unfortunately, I was way off. I found myself at the bottom of a cul-de-sac I had been sure was going to lead somewhere, so I marched back in the other direction and turned the opposite way from the one I thought I had come. “This has got to work,” I thought. There were only so many directions I could go. I had to find the town center sooner or later. I was wrong again. I walked about a block and a half on this street before the houses started to disappear and I began to encounter bigger and bigger plots of land. “Oh shit,” I said to myself, slapping my own face with my hand, “I’m on the fucking Bottoms. How did I get to the Bottoms?” The Bottoms were what we all called the huge stretches of farmland on the outskirts of town. I was nowhere near where I had thought I was. The Bottoms were about a twenty-minute drive from the center of town, about thirty minutes from my place. It was going to take me for-fucking-ever to walk home at this point. I briefly wondered what time it was. It must have been after 2am. The party hadn’t even started till 10:30. It occurred to me that I might be really fucked here. I’d never spent much time on the Bottoms in the couple of years I’d lived in town. I mean, why the hell would I spend a lot of time in this area? I’m not a big fan of cow shit and there wasn’t fuck all else on the goddamn Bottoms. Why would anybody with half a brain even come down to this shithole if they didn’t have to? I’m not a frat boy into drinking two shots of Jägermeister and then drunkenly pushing cows over and I don’t need to pick magic mushrooms out of fresh, wet poop. I buy my mushrooms from the dealer like a respectable drug addict. I just kept stumbling down the road. I started looking around, hoping to see a car coming that maybe I could flag down and hitch a ride home. That seemed to be the best idea, but there was nothing, not a car in sight. This wasn’t exactly New York City. If it was as late as I thought it was, every goddamn person in town might be in bed already. “Jesus fucking Christ,” I screamed at the top of my lungs, so the cows could understand my pain, “could this be a bigger disaster?” Then it started to rain. With my luck, I should have predicted it. Oh, it had been misting for a while, but all of a sudden, the skies opened up and it started to pour. The rain was pounding down on the pavement and the marshy farm land the road ran through, splashing mud all over me. Within a few minutes, the original color of the clothing I had worn was impossible to distinguish, covered as it was with a thick layer of dripping clay. “Fuck,” I thought, “these were brand new duds I picked out specifically for the party.” I started to run as fast as I could down the road, screaming at the top of my lungs as I went. I have no idea what I was screaming and was pretty certain nobody could hear me anyway. After a few minutes, I slowed to a halt, realizing that running was counterproductive. I could easily be running farther away from where I wanted to go. I stopped in my tracks. “I’ve really fucked up this time,” I thought. I had no idea how I was supposed to get out of this situation. I probably should have accepted that ride from the jock dude back at the party. The rain continued to pour. If anything, it was raining harder than it had been a few minutes ago. “I guess it’s just never going to fucking stop,” I said to myself. Then I started to laugh. I just threw my head back and let out with as big a belly laugh as I’d ever laughed in my life. “I guess I’m going to die out here,“ I thought, and as I did so, I realized that the laughter had morphed seamlessly into tears, and I was bawling like a baby. I really committed myself to self-pity at this point. I plopped my ass down in the mud at the side of the road and cried my eyes out as the rain pelted me till I could taste the mud in my mouth as it rolled down my face. “What a shitty place to die,” I thought. Then I saw the headlights.   At first, I wasn’t sure that’s what they were, as they crept slowly down the long road. My mind could have easily been playing tricks with me at this point. After a couple of minutes, though, I recognized the outline of a vehicle headed my way. I jumped to my feet and started waving my hands hysterically and shouting. I must have looked a sight, a soaking wet and mud-drenched lunatic standing in the road screaming in the middle of the night. Nobody in their right mind would pull over and let me get in their car. The most likely outcome is that they would just drive on by and leave me there with my misery. I wanted them to stop so fucking badly, though. It could be the difference between life and death for me. I found myself praying for the first time in many years, repeating a mantra to myself over and over again, “Please God, let them stop for me. Please God, let them stop for me.” The car got closer and closer to me and it did appear that they were slowing down. I could see now that it was an old Galaxy 500 in pretty bad disrepair. Even through the driving rain I could see that this was one junker of a car that really had no business being on the road at all. It certainly wasn’t one of those beautifully restored models that real car lover guys often have. It looked like it had been driven non-stop from the 50s to this moment in time without so much as a tune-up. “Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers,” I thought. To my surprise, the car pulled over to the side of the road and the driver’s side window rolled down. Inextricably, the rain seemed to double in intensity at that moment, obscuring my vision, so I couldn’t make out any details of the head or face that looked at me from the open window. “Please God, let them give me a ride home,” I prayed silently, not moving a muscle. At that moment, the face in the window spoke. “Hey buddy,” it said, “are you alright there? You don’t look like you’re doing so good.” “I’m not,” I replied. I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to get down on my knees and beg for my life, beg for him to save me, to give me a ride home. Nothing came out, however, and I just stood there in silence for a minute or two. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the driver spoke again. “Why don’t you get in the car dude? We can give you a ride home.” “I’m soaking wet and covered in mud,” I told him, taking a hesitant step towards his car. “No shit,” he replied, “I can see that. It won’t make a difference in this car. Just get your ass inside and we’ll get you home.” I couldn’t believe my luck. A minute ago, I thought I was going to die out here, alone on the road, and now my salvation was at hand. “Thank you,” I said hesitantly, as I stepped towards the car and opened the rear driver’s side door. It was dark inside, but I could make out that there was already someone in the back seat. I looked towards the front and saw that there was another person in the front as well. I still couldn’t make out their faces, just the outlines of their figures. “Three guys in here,” I thought, “I guess that’s okay.” Now, I don’t usually hitch rides and I certainly never pick up hitchhikers. I’ve heard too many of the stories and half the people around here seemed like they walked out of a Manson family look-alike contest, so the last thing on earth I’d want is to share a ride with them. I was hesitating in a limbo between getting in the car and stepping back out onto the road. I was getting a really weird feeling that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and it was leaving me very unsure as to what I should or shouldn’t do. It was then that the guy in the back seat reached out and pulled me into the car. I flopped down on the seat beside him, spraying an arc of mud across the inside of the car as I did so. “Goddamn,” the guy in the back seat said at this point, “this fucker really is covered in mud.” “That’s okay,” the driver said, turning to look at me, “Would you close the door though, dude? A lot of rain is getting in the car.” “Oh yeah,” I replied, as I pulled the car door shut, “sorry about that.” “No worries,” the driver said, “Now where we takin’ you, Mr. Mud?” “Uh, I live in t…t…town,” I stuttered, “near the corner of 5th and G.” “Alright,” he said, “then let’s get on the road.” He and the other guy both turned their faces back towards the front of the car then and the driver pulled out onto the road. I could hear the rain pounding on the roof as we started to move. If anything, it was falling even harder still. “Thank God I’m finally out of it,” I thought. “Thank you,” I said to the whole car, as I settled back into the seat, resting my head on the cushion. I was still very fucked up and drunk. You would have thought the walk and the rain might have sobered me up a bit but that was far from the case. I turned towards the guy sitting next to me in the back seat and realized that he was staring at me. I had the distinct impression he was sizing me up. I hadn’t paid much attention to the way the guys in the car had looked to this point, but I noted now that they could almost be triplets. All three were blond, white guys with short, military-cut hair and camouflage hats like hunters wear. “So, what’s your story, Mr. Mud?” the one sitting next to me said, “You look like you’ve fucked this night up one side and down the other.” “What do you mean?” I answered tentatively. As I did, I looked over at him and noticed for the first time that he was very heavily tattooed. He was wearing blue jeans and a grey t-shirt and had tattoos all down his arms and up his neck. It’s possible he even had a couple on his skull that were showing through his short blond hair a little bit. In the diffused lighting inside the car, I couldn’t really be sure. Now, I have nothing whatsoever against tattoos. I like them, in fact. I even have a couple myself. One on my right arm of my dog, Oscar, and a Chinese Symbol that means freedom on my chest that I had gotten the first time I got sober. There was one on this guy that bothered me a bit, however, just below his left ear. It was partially hidden but still unmistakable as the double lightning bolt SS symbol of the Nazi Stormtroopers. “I mean all THIS, Dude,” He said, waving his hand at me, “All this mud and water and stench and the scratches on your face. You are one fucked up dude, am I right?” “Yeah, I guess I’m a little drunk,” I said, trying my best to sound confident. I turned to look at the guy in the passenger seat, who was now turning around staring at me. He was smiling the most hideous grimace of a smile I’d ever seen and there was nothing in his eyes, no life, no warmth. He was a killer, through and through. He had the same SS Tattoo under his left ear. I swung my gaze towards the driver to see if he had one too. Mercifully he was still looking forwards, towards the road, but he had an identical SS tattoo under his ear as well. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” I thought. I live in little town in Northern California called Arcata. Arcata is the most liberal town you are ever going to find in your life. My guess is that every old hippy left on Earth has ended up here and every young hippy makes a pilgrimage to be among their own kind. It’s my kind of place, full of vegan restaurants, political action committees, and hot hippy chicks. In the end, though, Arcata is just a very tiny, progressive island in a vast sea of redneck ignorance. Some of the dumbest, ugliest motherfuckers you’ve ever seen in your life populate the surrounding towns, like McKinleyville, Garberville, and Laytonville (which I always referred to as Satanville for its hellish, frightening qualities). The most conservative people in Arcata vote Democrat every time, but in the surrounding communities there are a pretty fair share of racists, neo-Nazis, and white supremacists. It was looking like I’d fallen in with three white trash mutants from outside Arcata. Now, I’m sure you’re probably able to guess exactly how I feel about motherfucking Nazis. You are correct, sir, I cannot fucking stand them. We’ve fought long and hard to cut through the moronic racism in this country and shame the drooling, KFC swilling, KKK hood wearing redneck pigs back under the rocks they originally emerged from. What’s more, we had gone to war in Europe not so very fucking long ago to eradicate these ridiculous, sadistic scum from the face of the Earth. Not only were Nazis and white power jerk-offs amazing assholes, but they were always history’s big losers, constantly on the wrong side of both victory and history. Why any human being would want to throw their hand up in a “sieg heil” and declare yourself one of this spineless, pathetic crowd is beyond me. Yet, here I was, trapped in a car with three of them. The driver kept his eyes on the road and without turning, he said to me, “I’d say you’re more than a little drunk, wouldn’t you, friend? I’d say you’re shitfaced, you’re two sheets to the wind, you’re one toke over the line, aren’t you?” This Nazi sure knew a lot of colorful terms for being wasted. “Alright, I’m totally fucked up,” I replied, just deciding to go with it now, “Is that a crime?” The one sitting next to me busted out laughing, and slapping me on the shoulder, said, “I think it might be. What do you guys think, guys? Isn’t getting fucked up out of your mind a crime?” The guy in the passenger seat turned towards me again and in the coldest voice I’d ever heard said, “Yeah, it’s a crime. I think it’s called drunk in public. Maybe I oughta make a citizen’s arrest.” This guy was the one I really needed to watch out for. It’s possible he could jump in the  back seat and slit my throat at any second. “Ha,” I said, laughing myself to try and join in their fun somehow, holding my arms out with the wrists turned up as if I was waiting for handcuffs to be put on, “you got me dead to rights. I’m busted. Why don’t you put the cuffs on and take me to the clink?” The guy sitting next to me grabbed my arms and pulled them towards himself so that I was spun around in the back seat. His grip on my wrist was tight, and he had long, rat-like fingernails that were now digging deeply into my skin. I couldn’t tell for sure by the light in the car, but it was possible that he was drawing blood. “Hey motherfucker,” he screamed at me, moving so his face was so close to mine that I could see the spittle from his pasty lips spraying off him at my mouth and eyes, “Do we look like cops to you?” “Uh…,” was all I could say in response as he continued to hold my arms tight. The one in the passenger seat reached back to grab me now too, leaning way over the back of his seat to wrap his arm around my neck and put me in a headlock. “Well?” the passenger seat guy screamed, “Do we look like cops to you, motherfucker?” “N…n…no,” I answered, trying to wriggle out of their grasp, “you guys do not look like cops.” Apparently, that was the right thing to say, as they both released me now and settled back into their seats. I looked at my wrists and saw that the asshole next to me had, in fact, drawn blood. “How fucking long are that guy’s nails?” I thought. “You got that right,” the guy next to me said now, “We ain’t no fucking cops. Maybe you ain’t so drunk after all. You can figure that out at least.” All three were guffawing now. They thought this was the funniest comedy ever. Nazis have a pretty lousy sense of humor, it turns out. Maybe that’s why there are no Nazi comedians I can think of off the top of my head. They just kept repeating “Ain’t no fucking cops” over and over and laughing at the top of their redneck lungs. Suddenly, however, the laughter stopped dead. I looked around the car and the two who weren’t driving were both looking at me with the fiercest intensity I’d ever seen. I could practically see the steam coming off the tops of their heads from the angry fire of their stares. The one in the passenger seat leaned a little closer to me and said, in a voice that could cut through steel, “What DO we look like, Mr. Mud?” Without warning, the driver pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. He turned towards me also and asked, “Yeah, what DO we look like?” I said nothing and just looked around the car, from one impenetrable face to the next. “C’mon Mr. Mud,” the guy in the passenger seat said, “you can be honest. Tell us what we look like.” I realized later that I should have said “You look like nice guys” or “You look like cool dudes.” That would have been the safe and appropriate response.  When I get really fucked up, though, as I’ve been telling you, I get very belligerent and the time between thinking a thought and that thought spilling out of my lips becomes almost nonexistent. So, instead of saying something sensible that would help get me safely out of this situation, I opened my big, fat mouth and said, “Inbred hick fucks. You guys look like inbred hick fucks.” This was a mistake. Next thing I knew, the three of them were dragging me out of the car and out into the middle of a muddy field. I obviously do not know when to shut my big, fat, fucking mouth, because I just kept screaming “INBRED HICK FUCKS” at the top of my lungs. If I had had my senses about me I would have understood that this wasn’t going to improve my situation any. Inbred hick fucks do not like to be called inbred hick fucks. Go figure. They must have dragged me for quite some ways because this part seemed like it went on forever. “What they hell is going to happen to me?” I wondered. Were they going to kill me? Rape me? I’d fucking seen Deliverance, you know. The last thing on earth I wanted was to be made to squeal like a pig, not by these stinking scumbags.   Finally, the three of them came to a stop and threw me down hard into the spongy, muddy grass on the ground, so that my face became half submerged in muck. I tried to scream “INBRED HICK FUCKS” one more time but my mouth filled with filthy water and it was all I could do to spit it out before the beating started. The first kick hit me right in the crotch. I jerked in pain and tried to roll myself into a ball, but the kicks started coming hard and fast now, landing from all sides. My stomach, my back, my ass, my ribs. Kicks were landing all over my body and Jesus fucking Christ, it hurt. Those motherfuckers must have all been wearing steel-toed boots. They just kept kicking me and kicking me. All I could do was to put my arms in from of my face to at least protect that. “Please God,” I found myself praying, “don’t let them ruin my pretty face.” I was very worried that one good kick to my kisser would be able to knock out my teeth. I didn’t have the most attractive teeth in the world. I mean, I was usually a lot more interested in getting royally shit-faced than I was in going to the dentist or practicing proper hygiene, but I sure liked my teeth better in my mouth than lying on the ground with the mud and the cow shit. We must have been out in the middle of a field because I could hear the cows mooing over the sound of the still driving rain. The rain didn’t seem to be bothering the three assholes at all, though, or slowing them down a bit. They didn’t say a word while they did it, or even make a sound. They seemed totally focused on the business of beating the living shit out of me. Finally, the one who I think had been the driver shouted to the others, “Okay, that’s enough. We don’t want to kill this fucker.” And like that, the beating stopped. Thank God they didn’t want to kill me. It actually came as a bit of a shock. I didn’t expect Nazis with moral boundaries. I looked up at them, wiping the rain, mud and what I assumed to be blood out of my eyes. The three of them spit on me, and then the one who had been sitting next to me in the back seat kicked me one more time, square in the face and shouted, “Who’s the inbred hick fuck now, fucker?” “Well, it’s still you,” I thought, touching the bruise on my face where the toe of the boot had connected, “kicking my ass doesn’t change that.” I kept this thought to myself, though. For the time being, at least, I had learned my lesson. The three Nazis walked back to their car then and left me lying alone, sprawled on the ground in pain, soaking wet and covered in mud and blood. I tried to raise myself up to my feet, but my legs gave out and I immediately fell back in the mud. “Shit,” I thought, “those guys really fucked me up.” I forced myself painfully to my knees. I didn’t think anything was broken, but until I started to walk I couldn’t possibly be sure. I had no idea what hour of the night it was at this point. It could be four or five in the morning for all I knew. I couldn’t judge how much time had elapsed since those fucking rednecks had picked me up. I looked around, in all directions. All I could see was grass and mud and rain and cows. It occurred to me then that, the vicious beating aside, I was much worse off than I had been when the inbred hick fucks had picked me up. I had been lost to begin with, but now I didn’t even know what direction to go in to find a road. I was well and truly fucked. I plopped my ass down in the mud one more time and just started to scream at the top of my lungs. I don’t know how long I sat there screaming. It could have been five minutes. It could have been an hour. It was impossible to tell. I was bleeding from multiple spots on my face and body and there was so much pain. Every part of my body hurt. Those stupid bastards had really fucked me up. Why the hell had I insisted on telling them what I really thought? At one point during my screaming, I looked over and there was a cow just a few feet away, looking absently at me. It must have wondered what this loud, obnoxious creature was doing out in the middle of its field. The cow didn’t look particularly menacing, more quizzical than anything else, but I did catch myself wondering if there was any way I’d be able to defend myself if the cow decided to charge me. Luckily, that never happened. I didn’t want the headline in the morning to read “Unknown Actor Trampled to Death by Cow.” I just kept screaming and screaming. I wasn’t doing it for any particular purpose. It was more that I just couldn’t think of anything else to do. If I got up and started walking; if I was, in fact, able to make it to my feet at all, I ran the risk of getting myself even farther from the road and making my chance for survival worse than it already was. I screamed for what seemed an eternity. “Somebody has got to hear me,” I thought. I decided I would scream and scream until someone, anyone, eventually showed up to help. “Please just don’t be more Nazis,” I thought. I was still screaming incoherently when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I turned half way around to see the flashing red and blue lights of a police car. “Oh, thank God,” I thought, “I’m saved. These cops will take me home.” You might not be surprised to know that I really don’t like cops. I hate them, in fact. As a general rule, they are never there when I fucking need them, but always manage to show up when I’m speeding, or running a red light, or transporting a shitload of heroin and hashish across state lines. Cops are not my friends any more than Nazis are. On this one occasion, however, I was overjoyed to see them. I stopped screaming completely at this point. I didn’t want to look like a total idiot. I’m sure I looked bad enough without the screaming. The lights were about a hundred yards away from me. Those fuckers had really dragged me far from the road. I kept staring at the lights to see if anyone was coming towards me, but for the longest time there were just the lights, no movement at all. “What the hell was taking them so long?” I thought. Couldn’t they see I was in trouble here? Finally, I started to see two tiny figures moving towards me in the rain. I stared at them as they got closer, trying with all my might not to start screaming again. It took every bit of my will power, though. In the end, I couldn’t fight it anymore and started waving my arms and shouting, “Hey, over here. I’m hurt bad. Over here.” When the cops got close, I could see that one was a guy and one was a girl. Rather than looking like they were happy to see me, however, they both looked like they were pissed that they had to get all wet on account of me. “Okay, quiet now,” the male cop said to me when he got within a couple of yards, “You can stop screaming now.” I stopped immediately. I hadn’t realized that I had still been screaming. The two cops stopped right in front of me, looking down. I got the distinct feeling that they were observing me like they might a bug they were about to crush. They stood that way for a few moments, before the female cop said to me, “Well, what exactly is going on here?” “Yeah buddy,” the other cop added, “don’t you think it’s time you left these poor cows alone?” “What?” I replied to them, trying to get to my feet, “These fucking Nazi guys brought me out here and beat the shit out of me.” “Hey now,” the female cop said, “watch the language. Is it necessary to have such a foul mouth?” As she said this, the other cop reached out with his foot and pushed me back down into the mud. “Why don’t you just stay where you are?” he said, “You can tell your story from there.” “They beat me up,” I answered, trying to get all the story out now in one breath so that they might believe and help me, “I was walking home from a party and hitched a ride from these guys with Nazi tattoos and they started giving me a hard time, so I called them inbred hick fucks, sorry but that’s what I said. I called them this name, so they pulled the car over to the side of the road and dragged me out here and beat me up. There were three of them and I tried to fight back and defend myself, but they were all attacking me at once and there was nothing I could do except try and defend my face from getting kicked.” “Wow, this guy’s really got a story to tell,” the male cop said, looking at the female cop. He then turned back to me and added, “How much have you had to drink, buddy?” “Uh…,” I answered, stunned, “what’s that got to do with anything?” “It has a whole to do with a lot of things,” the male cop responded, “There’s actually a law against public intoxication.” “Yeah, I’ve heard that somewhere before,” I said, looking from one cop to the other for some sign of compassion. I didn’t see any. I tried to find something else to say but nothing came to my lips. I was dumbfounded. I had told them the whole story of those violent Nazi scumbags and these two stupid cops actually thought that I was the criminal here. These fucking cops were proving to be as useless as all the rest. “C’mon now,” the female cop said as they both reached down to pull me up by my arms, “haven’t you bothered these poor cows enough?” “Yeah,” the other cop added, “maybe we should let them get some sleep.” Both cops started laughing then as they dragged me, tripping and stumbling, the hundred or so yards back to the police car. Every once in a while, one cop would look at the other one and repeat their hilarious joke, “Let them get some sleep.” Then the two of them would both bust out laughing. When we got back to the road and the police car, the female cop threw open the door and the guy cop tossed me unceremoniously in the back seat. “You’re going to get a little time to rest,” he said to me as he closed the door, “Don’t you dare vomit back there.” I must have passed out on the way back to the police station because I don’t remember any details about it at all. I remember being wet and filthy and uncomfortable but there is nothing else. The two cops could have laughed at me or taunted me the whole way, or they could have passed the entire ride in total silence. I have no way of knowing. I do remember arriving at the police station, because the guy cop pulled me so hard from the car that I smashed my head on the doorway as I came out. I thought cops were supposed to protect your head. Maybe that was only getting in the car, not getting out. Fuck, it hurt. I could tell I was going to have a big bump there on top of the damage that the inbred hick fucks had done to me. The two of them each held one of my arms to keep me steady as they dragged me up two flights of stairs. I was thinking the whole time about who I was going to bother when I got the one phone call they always give you. They carried me into a wide room with another cop standing behind a big counter at the end. I didn’t like the look of this one. He looked like a real asshole. In fact, he looked pretty similar to the fuckers I had been in the car with and who had beaten the shit out of me. He had blue eyes and short blond hair and that typical Nazi look of total condescension when his eyes met mine.  “Christ,” I thought, “the two who had arrested me and brought me in might be the nice ones.” Chances were that I was pretty fucked here. “What do we got here?” he said to the cops who brought me in. “Drunk in public,” the female cop said. “We found him crying and screaming in a cow field,” the guy cop added, “He needs a night in the drunk tank to sleep it off.” “Alright then,” the cop behind the counter said, “Let’s get to it then.” The two who had arrested me left me with the asshole looking cop then and disappeared back into the night. I guess they were off to arrest some other poor slob who had been beaten senseless by Nazis. The majority of the booking process that followed occurred in almost complete silence. The asshole looking cop may have said one or two words to me the entire time but that was the extent of it. He took my mugshot and my fingerprints, and I had to blow into some balloon like thing, I guess it was to measure my level of drunkenness. It was totally unnecessary. If he would have just asked I would have gladly told him how drunk I was. “Alright,” he said when we were finished with that, “I think it’s tank time for you.” “Don’t I get a phone call?” I asked him. I had been going over my options and I planned to call my friend, Satlin, who was a guy I’d known for a long time and who had been at the performance of the terrible play earlier in the evening. Damn, that seemed like a lifetime ago now. I’d been wracking my brain and Satlin was the only one I could think of who might be interested in me getting the hell out of here. It wasn’t that he cared so much about my wellbeing, but Satlin had a sick sense of humor and would want to make sure I was safe and ready to give another over-the-top performance of “The Feeling Child.” In response, however, the asshole looking cop just slapped me on the shoulder and laughed. After he had giggled and chortled his fill, he looked at me and said, “No phone call. Now, take off your clothes.” “Wh…what?” I replied to him. “I said give me your clothes,” he said to me, biting off the words right in my face, “You’re not getting in my tank wearing all that filthy, stinking shit.” “M…my clothes?” “Yes, your clothes. Go ahead now. I’ll wait.” So, I proceeded to strip naked in front of the asshole cop. He didn’t seem to be enjoying it, thank God. It wasn’t one of those things, at least. As I mentioned earlier, I naturally always think the worst of cops and It would surprise me not the tiniest little bit to find out they made a habit of raping and murdering the people they arrest. To be perfectly honest, though, it felt pretty good to take my clothes off. I had been wet and covered in mud for so long that I had kind of gotten used to it, but it was a bit of a relief to finally be rid of the clothes. When I got down to just my underwear, I thought of asking if he wanted me to continue but I knew the answer already, so I just stripped them off and threw them onto the pile of my clothes on the floor. “Okay, what now?” I said to him when I was finished, standing completely naked in front of him. “Now I say nighty-night,” He answered, taking me by the arm and leading me down a short hallway to a room with a very thick door and an extremely tiny window. I assume the window was for checking on what was inside rather than looking out. The asshole looking cop opened the door and I peered inside. There were two other guys already in there, sitting on the floor. For some reason, they had been allowed to keep their clothes. The walls and floor were all heavily padded, and other than the two guys, there was nothing in the room but a dirty toilet in one corner. “Home sweet home,” I thought. “Hey look, I got a friend for you guys,” the asshole looking cop said, then threw me roughly into the room. Luckily everything was padded because I smashed hard into one wall and slid to the ground. What was it with people throwing me around? The two guys didn’t even look at me. they were both in their own little worlds. Then the asshole looking cop slammed the door and left me alone with my new friends. I looked up from where I was now squatting uncomfortably against the wall. The excitement had roused the two other guys in the cell and they were now looking in my direction. Both of them looked like redneck guys in their mid to late 50s. They were wearing jeans, flannel shirts, and red MAGA caps, and both of them had long cracker beards, like the assholes on Duck Dynasty. They eyed me like a piece of meat. I was trying to figure out if they wanted to kill me or fuck me, or both. “Christ almighty,” I said to myself, “how many fucking rednecks does a guy have to deal with in one evening?” They were both the same evil person as far as I was concerned, so I don’t remember which of them spoke first. Maybe it was the one closest to me, maybe it was the other one. It doesn’t make any difference. One of them, however, asked me then, “So, what are you in for?” “I was arrested for being drunk in public,” I answered, feeling that I had nothing really to gain by lying about my situation at this point, and really, who gave a damn what these rejects thought of me, “but in truth I had the shit beat out of me by these three guys and I was left out in a field to die. The cops decided not to believe any of that, though. They think I did this shit to myself somehow and decided to drag me in.” The two of them sat up a little straighter against the wall, and this time I’m certain it was the one closest to me who said, “Those motherfuckers. They never fail to let the bad guys run wild in the streets and arrest the decent, law-abiding folks.” “Right?” I responded. I was pretty sure that when he said “bad guys” he meant immigrants and African Americans. I thought it best to keep that to myself for the time being, however. “What the fuck did they do with your clothes?” the other one said to me. “They told me to take them off,” I answered,” I thought they were going to give me new ones. “Those motherfuckers,” the first one said again, “Did they at least give you a motherfuckin’ phone call?” “No,” I said, feeling like I was starting to win them to my cause, “I asked for a phone call and they just laughed at me.” “Goddamnit,” the second one said, and the first one chimed in with another “motherfuckers.” “Yeah,” I told them, “It doesn’t seem right to me. Does it seem right to you?” “Hell no,” the first one said, “it does not seem motherfuckin’ right. You are owed one goddamn phone call, like everybody else.” “Those bastards are robbin’ you of your rights,” the second one added. Both of these were certainly insufferable redneck racists in real life, but I sure needed someone on the me-team at this point, so anyone was welcome. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or some such nonsense, right? Never underestimate the comradery of shared whiteness. The two of them got up on their feet at this point and started pounding on the door and walls, shouting “Give this guy a phone call,” and “Everyone deserves a phone call,” and other stuff like that. I watched them in amazement for a while. I was pretty certain they had as good a chance of getting me beat up again as they did of getting me a phone call, but there was no way I was going to stop them. After a while, I got up myself and started pounding the walls and shouting with them. I was not unaware of how ridiculous I looked doing this, being naked and all, with my junk bobbing up and down every time I pounded the foam rubber wall. All this accomplished nothing, however. The cops never showed up and eventually, my two new friends gave up, sitting back down in pretty damn near their original positions and passing out. Mercifully, it wasn’t too much longer before I passed out myself. I was roused by a sharp kick in my already badly bruised and painful ribs. “Fuuuuuuuuuck,” I exclaimed, as I opened my eyes to see the asshole looking cop standing over me. He had my clothes in his hands. They were folded neatly, so maybe someone had washed them in the night. “Get up, buddy,” He said to me, “It looks like you’re in luck.” “What?” I replied, not understanding. “You’re in luck,” he said again, “It looks like somebody loves you. Now get your ass up and let’s go. I don’t have all day.” I looked around the room and my new friends were both gone. I wondered for a second what had happened to them, but then the asshole cop kicked me in the fucking ribs again, so I got myself up and followed him. He led me out of the padded cell and motioned silently to a bathroom just outside, handing me my clothes as he did so. “Why are they letting me go?” I wondered to myself, and what had the asshole looking cop meant when he said, “It looks like somebody loves you.”? I slowly got into my now clean clothes. It was difficult because of all the cuts, abrasions and bruises I had suffered from the night before. I had been hoping all that had been a bad dream. Apparently, it was all too real. I checked my poor, battered face in the mirror. “Fuck,” I thought, “Those inbred hick fucks really did a number on me.” I opened the bathroom door and the asshole looking cop was still there waiting for me. He took me by the arm and led me back to the very same room where this trip to the looney bin had begun. Satlin was sitting there, waiting for me. I should have guessed. Who else had enough riding on my continuing to breath air? He had an expression on his face that said, “What idiotic situation have you gotten yourself into this time?” It looked like he was having serious difficulty holding back a laugh. Satlin has always been fond of telling other people that they should only spend time with me if they want their entire lives turned upside down. Of course, this comes from a wealth of his personal experience. One time Satlin and I been walking together to the movies, when a car came screeching around a bend in the road and plowed us down in the intersection we were crossing. The car hit Satlin’s leg and spun him to the ground, but I jumped and and ended up on the hood, hanging onto the windshield wipers. The first thing Satlin said after the car had sped away was “This is all your fault.” I was pretty certain he was really enjoying seeing me like this. The asshole looking cop pushed me, not entirely gently, in Satlin’s direction and said, “He’s all yours. Don’t let him take you on a tour of any cow fields.” Then, he threw his head back and let loose with one last hideous guffaw. Fuck, I fucking hate cops. Almost as much as Nazis. Of course, there’s probably a lot of crossover there. On the way home, neither Satlin or I spoke a single word to each other. I wasn’t in the mood, with my head banging and pounding like someone was playing an NFL game inside of it. Satlin must have known it wasn’t a great time to give me any shit about what had happened. There’d be plenty of time to hear the whole story and to bust my chops later. When we got to my apartment, I got out of the car without saying goodbye and walked into my place. The first thing I did was to draw myself a hot bath and place my wounded body into the blissfully warm water. “What a fucking night,” I thought. I spent the rest of the day in the bath, not being able to pull myself out, wondering if I’d ever learn to keep my big fat mouth closed. The moral of the story, of course, is I should give my life to Jesus, and I should spend my days praying and imitating Norman Rockwell paintings so that shit like this doesn’t happen to me. If that’s too extreme for me to handle, then maybe I should go to an AA meeting and get a grip on my drinking problem, or at least learn how to leave a party while there are still drugs and alcohol waiting to be consumed. None of those things are going to happen, of course. The best I may achieve is to learn to keep some of my more unflattering thoughts inside my head where they belong, instead of blurting them out in people’s faces. At least around inbred hick fucks.

Max Mundan, Inbred Hick Fucks

© Max Mundan 2018

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[angeltriestoblog]

I watched a couple of movies! (Part 2)

Back again with the second bunch of my latest quarantine companions! My last post wasn't that long ago, but I’ve already gone through an additional 21 and thanks to the extension of the lockdown and the abrupt cancellation of the rest of my sophomore year in college, I predict that this number will only increase exponentially. I obviously have to start looking for a sustainable way of reviewing the media I consume (probably will try dumping mini-reviews on Letterboxd instead), but until then, here is today’s little catalog: divided into four neat categories so there’s a little bit of everything for everyone.

Dead Poets Society (1989, dir. Peter Weir) ★★★★½

John Keating is the teacher we secretly deserved yet never had, which is probably what's behind the fervent loyalty audiences have had for this movie since its release around three decades ago. His methods of teaching are admittedly unorthodox, but they effectively instill in fictional students and real-life audiences the core message: to seize the day and be extraordinary. I definitely would have appreciated more of Williams, though: I noticed later on that he was used mostly as a plot device, as the focus started to shift to the impact his words had on the group of young boys under his tutelage. But, thankfully they are endearing and lovable in their own little ways (special mention goes to ambitious Neil, played by Robert Sean Leonard; and Ethan Hawke as timid Todd), which is why the last half-hour remains one of the heaviest in recent memory.

Mrs. Doubtfire (1993, dir. Chris Columbus) ★★★★

When Daniel Hillard’s (Robin Williams) wife splits up with him and takes their kids, he disguises himself as an English nanny called Mrs. Doubtfire and applies as their housekeeper to be with them. Not exactly the most realistic and practical approach to an issue as serious as divorce, but it succeeds by banking on heartfelt humor to strike a chord in products of broken families. When you take his several antics, punchlines, and vocal impersonations aside, he is simply a father willing to do anything for his children. Williams was destined to be the lead for this: his comedic timing, sheer versatility, and natural ability to bring joy remain unparalleled. Such a shame I didn't get to grow up with this guy, but maybe this saved me a lot of heartbreak.

Catch Me If You Can (2002, dir. Steven Spielberg) ★★★★★

A con man successfully cashes in millions of dollars worth of checks as a Pan Am pilot, doctor, and lawyer, whilst evading the FBI agent who’s hot on his heels. And this is all before he turns 19 years old--what a total underachiever. The best part? It’s a true story. I find it hard to believe that this clever cat-and-mouse story lasted more than two hours: it's easy to lose track of time thanks to its dynamic and snappy screenplay, coupled with the chemistry of its brilliant lead actors (no less than Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hanks). But beneath the complex and technical aspects of his scams that have high entertainment and educational value lie touching moments that may be admittedly easy to miss. At the end of the day, these escapades were nothing but some twisted coping mechanism of Frank Abagnale, Jr.’s to deal with the divorce of his parents. *blows nose into handkerchief* Wow, I seriously didn't think something could be so fast and fun, yet so depressing either!

Good Will Hunting (1997, dir. Gus Van Sant) ★★★★★

Academy Award-winning writers Matt Damon and Ben Affleck may look like they share a solitary brain cell in total (a prime example would be this footage of their acceptance speech), but it was the power that radiated from that which brought us this instant favorite of mine. This engrossing story revolves around a janitor at MIT, with a genius-level IQ but a troubled and traumatic past. A scuffle with a police officer leads him to Sean, his therapist (and platonic soulmate) who breaks down his dangerous defense mechanisms and self-destructive patterns, helps him tackle his inner demons, and ultimately transforms his life. There is a lot to adore about this film that’s equal parts wit and heart, but my favorite has to be the razor-sharp and realistic dialogue between Damon and Williams. Smoothly transitioning from topic to topic—genuine friendship, abusive relationships, and everything in between—it gives us the opportunity to monitor Will’s growth while carefully examining these aspects of our own lives. With every word said, the audience is reminded once again of any person's innate capacity to change for the better as long as someone else believes in them.

Lost in Translation (2003, dir. Sofia Coppola) ★★★

Film Twitter and the Letterboxd community both made this out to be an outstanding piece of modern cinema, so I went in with very high expectations only to be sorely disappointed and unable to understand the hype behind it. This revolves around two lonely people who find solace in each other and the unfamiliar and unpredictable territory they're in, a storyline brimming with potential that just fell flat to me. I normally appreciate the beauty in silent and ambient scenes, but the ones that made up a huge bulk of this feature didn’t have substance—it was similar to watching mashed-up clips from some random travel vlog. I did find the choice of location fitting though, I am now a hundred percent convinced I should travel to Japan once this pandemic is over. And Scarlett Johansson is incredibly talented for her age: her ability to channel and characterize emotions that a 17-year-old may not even be able to comprehend is above par, which is the main reason why this gets a passing rating from me.

Forrest Gump (1994, dir. Robert Zemeckis) ★★★★★

What I would give to run into a chocolate-eating, Nike Cortez-wearing Forrest Gump at a bus stop, and hear him tell me these fantastic stories himself! This heartwarming tale shows the manner in which he weaved himself into significant historical narratives (literally and figuratively, thanks to the power of deepfake) and injects timeless lessons along the way. Tom Hanks is undoubtedly brilliant as the titular role, and as we see the world according to this feeble-minded and well-meaning man, we come to admire his values, appreciate his efforts, and forgive his occasional shortcomings. In this fast-paced and overly complicated world that we struggle to navigate, this can serve as a necessary breather, a reminder of the simple joys that the world has to offer.

Celeste and Jesse Forever (2012, dir. Lee Toland Krieger) ★★★★

I think this is the first time I’ve witnessed a breakup end rather amicably on the big screen: there's no screamfest that concludes with a cold slap to the face and a dramatic walkout, or a courtroom confrontation that unearths past transgressions, et cetera. Instead, the leads are forced to confront the fact that the friendship they have forged years before that eventually blossomed into something more will never be the same again. Even if they want to so, so bad. I guess that’s why this is so heartbreaking, and thus the perfect companion for any person in the process of finding themselves after the demise of a long-term relationship. Celeste (Rashida Jones) meanders through the process with an extreme lack of finesse—which is the most realistic way to do so—that heavily accentuates her several fatal flaws. But, she manages to finish strong, emerging as a self-reflective and action-driven version of who she was in the beginning. I definitely wanted additional exposure for Jesse (Andy Samberg), though, who was not only surprisingly tender and sensitive in contrast to the Jake Peralta we know and love (and want to pick on), but also an unexpected perfect onscreen match for Jones.

A Star is Born (2018, dir. Bradley Cooper) ★★★★

The third remake of the 1937 movie starring Janet Gaynor and Fredric March, this edition of A Star is Born strays far from the paths traversed by its predecessors (and this I am aware of, from that film analysis video binge I did recently). It’s the first to give Jackson Maine (Bradley Cooper), the has-been with a raging alcohol and drug problem, extensive back story that draws audiences closer to him. But, this character arc comes at the expense of Ally's, the talented singer that he propels to fame, played by Lady Gaga. It was a shame she wasn’t fleshed out as much as she should have been, given that Gaga was a natural, her vulnerability a far cry from her outrageous onstage persona. But, then again, expectations must be kept realistic: it would’ve been impossible to cram that into the specified duration. Nevertheless, I thoroughly appreciated it: though rehashed several times, a romance done this way keeps its key components while catering to the preferences of this generation. The soundtrack is outstanding, and the climax—though somewhat expected—finds new ways to reduce us to a puddle of tears, particularly as the last song number start to roll.

Fall in Love At First Kiss (2019, dir. Frankie Chen) ★★½

Our Times has been a favorite of mine for years, so I couldn't believe that I missed this work from the same director which starred the same male lead during its initial release. Turns out it didn’t make much of a difference whether I watched it or not. The storyline was silly, but forgivably so: in a school where students are segregated based on intelligence, a stupid girl is smitten by the smartest boy in school and gets rejected as soon as she confesses. Consequently, hell breaks loose after they are forced to live together for reasons you have to see to believe. I remember enjoying the first half, squirming in my seat because of Jiang Zhishu (Darren Wang) every chance I'd get. I can’t pinpoint where exactly it started going wrong, but I remember realizing that it is possible for something to drag along, yet also move so fast: to bore me with excessive detail in a single scene, then cut to the next so fast it loses a sense of continuity. In addition to that, the female lead (Jelly Lin) was so unbearable in terms of her acting style and character development (or lack thereof). She seemed to think that constantly complaining in her shrill voice and thrashing her limbs was a fitting substitute for dialogue, thus making it difficult to want her to get her happily ever after. Also, I’ve had pretty intense crushes in the past few years but what she has for Zhishu is bordering more on an unhealthy obsession—I have trouble believing he reacted so calmly to the shrine that she built for him (which included life-size pillows with his face on it).

The Object of My Affection (1998, dir. Nicolas Hytner) ��★½

I was very confused as to why I had never heard of a chick flick that starred two of my favorite actors from the 90s, but now I understand why it didn't take off. (Phoebe would probably share my sentiments. What's her best friend doing with her husband anyway? And why is he attracted to men?) Nina (Jennifer Aniston) is hopelessly in love with her gay best friend George (Paul Rudd), so much so that she decides she wants to raise her unborn child with him instead of with her overbearing and borderline manipulative boyfriend (John Pankow). Though it wasn't a complete disaster given that she didn't successfully convert him, Nina was far too demanding, constantly overstepping her boundaries, and feeding her delusions. Maybe it could afford a modern retelling since I know our generation could tackle the concepts of platonic soulmates and LGBTQ+ relationships in a way that is simultaneously vibrant and sensitive.

How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days (2003, dir. Donald Petrie) ★★★★★

Once I had tried my luck in a number of different genres, I decided to reward myself with a return to the cheesy, corny, and conventional chick flicks I am familiar with—and I’m glad that I picked this one! Andie Anderson (Kate Hudson) is a magazine columnist with her biggest scoop yet: an article on how to lose a guy in 10 days. To test this idea out, she tries it out on Ben Barry (Matthew McConaughey), who’s on a mission to make a girl fall for him within that duration as well. Their conflicting agendas lead to disastrously hilarious results as they realize that they’re both *gasp* catching feelings for each other! I enjoyed this very much despite the predictability, although I’m honestly unable to judge it based on any criteria other than what I felt which was pure and utter, slamming-the-table, throwing-my-stuffed-toy-across-the-room “kilig”.

Just My Luck (2006, dir. Donald Petrie) ★½

I didn’t expect this to be on the forgettable side of the romcom spectrum, when it had Chris Pine as the leading man and Brit-pop band McFly lending their music to most of the scenes (the sole redeeming factor I found). But, I guess it’s Lindsay Lohan’s character and her surprising lack of chemistry with the equally attractive and talented person opposite her that killed it for me. Here, she plays Ashley, the luckiest girl in the world who gets everything her way and is thus as snobbish and stuck-up as you’d expect her to be. A chance encounter brings her to Jake, who is the human equivalent of a black cat standing in front of a broken mirror, and swaps their fate. She is then left to deal with poorly contrived misfortunes with effects that are bordering on slapstick comedy: she gets doused in mud, mildly electrocuted, and soaked in bubbles shortly after blowing up a washing machine and I get that they’re probably supposed to be funny, but all I’m seeing is a live-action version of the Looney Tunes show.

Eighth Grade (2018, dir. Bo Burnham) ★★★★★

Entering our awkward preteen years has always come with a certain and specific kind of mortification, but I reckon it’s become increasingly difficult in the age of the Internet. It’s become easier to find fault in oneself for the pettiest of reasons: why isn’t my crush accepting my friend request? Why do I look like a monster in my #wokeuplikethis selfies? Why is no one viewing my YouTube videos even if I work hard on them? Eighth Grade encapsulates this difficult period in the lives of Gen Z kids with the use of experiences and references which are so specific to this generation: I may have gotten whiplash more times than I would care to admit. Elsie Fisher shines in her painfully relatable performance as Kayla: you can sense her desperation for social acceptance. She just wants to be worth noticing and remembering, is that so bad! Although his role is often overshadowed, I also felt for her dad (Josh Hamilton), who tries to hide the struggle of looking out for a daughter who's growing in ways he simply can't understand.

Boyhood (2014, dir. Richard Linklater) ★★★

This ambitious effort by the director of my favorite film trilogy observes the growth and development of a typical American boy named Mason. No fancy plot devices or major conflicts are in sight, but by using the keeping the cast members fixed during the 12 years it took to put this project together instead of swapping them out for older counterparts, audiences are expected to form an emotional connection with them because they were given an intimate and prolonged look into their lives. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case for me. Yes, I did watch him grow up before my eyes, but I barely know who he is. These mundane snippets of his life haphazardly stitched together, without any indication of how much time has elapsed since the previous scene, made it hard to keep up with the pace and look at the viewing experience as anything but a chore. I honestly am puzzled as to why I endured 165 minutes (I’m kidding, it was for Ethan Hawke) worth of footage, and sadly it wasn’t even worth it.

Brooklyn (2015, dir. John Crowley) ★★★★

This drama about the migration of an Irish girl to New York to seek better opportunities delves into the concept of what home truly is, as Eilis is left to choose between two men from two different countries. Divided into three segments revolving around pivotal events in the protagonist’s life, it sensitively tackles the experiences and issues familiar to any immigrant, remains true to the period it is set in, and engaging to audience members of all ages. Most in the historical genre are incapable of doing all three, so that's definitely no mean feat! And I’m not biased because Saoirse Ronan plays the starring role, although her compelling performance renders it impossible for anyone who claims to have a beating heart to finish this without puffy eyes and a heavy chest.

Happy Old Year (2019, dir. Nawapol Thamrongrattanarit) ★★★★

I thought Chutimon Chuengcharoensukying couldn’t top her role in Bad Genius, but she just had to come along and star in this personal take on new beginnings. Here, she plays Jean, a girl in the process of decluttering her house so she can transform it into an office space. While sifting through her possessions, she finds certain things belonging to people from her past, that remind her of broken relationships and question her philosophies on forgiveness and letting go. Her performance may be understated compared to the cunning and reckless Lynn she has become popular for, but I see this mastery of restraint as indication of her growth as an actress. The film is relatively simple in its execution, staying true to its central theme of minimalism. By stripping the structure down to the bare essentials of actor and dialogue, the audience can focus on the poignancy ingrained in the most mundane part of our everyday routines.

The Edge of Seventeen (2016, dir. Kelly Fremon Craig) ★★★★

It's actually true that a coming-of-age movie has been written based on every definitive moment a teenage girl experiences, they weren’t lying. The Edge of Seventeen could serve as part of Eighth Grade's cinematic universe, but instead we’re dealing with another reflection of who we were (or maybe still are). Nadine (Hailee Steinfeld) is a teen constantly teetering between arrogant self-assurance and sheer hopelessness. When she loses her best friend to her worst nemesis, she suddenly has to learn to navigate the ups and downs of adolescence and deal with her mental illness on her own. Besides focusing on the several firsts that we often encounter during this stage in our lives, the film accurately portrays our angsty and self-deprecating nature without resorting to mockery, therefore calling us out on this reflex we have of beating ourselves up and giving those around us permission to do so during such a critical part of our lives. I swore I was actually going to try not to cry here, but I guess Nadine's tearful monologue left me with no choice. (I'll leave it below so you can suffer with me.)

You know, ever since we were little, I would get this feeling like, like I’m floating outside of my body, looking down at myself… and I hate what I see: how I’m acting, the way I sound, and I don’t know how to change it. And I’m so scared that the feeling is never gonna go away.

The Kingmaker (2019, dir. Lauren Greenfield) ★★★★

This documentary is a fitting introduction for anyone who isn't familiar with the ill-gotten wealth and abuses the Marcoses have lying underneath their glossy veneer of opulence as well as the consequences of their actions that we suffer from to this day. Greenfield’s juxtaposition of this family’s fabricated stories and the testimonies of victims and first-hand witnesses was a smart move, as we observe the lengths they often go to, to revise the course of history. By spotting the parallels in their narrative and that of Rodrigo Duterte, the next strongman the voting population would unfortunately elect as their leader, we are also given a glimpse into the selective amnesia of the Filipino people that keeps these people in power. The danger lies in the fact that being an outsider herself, Greenfield leaves plenty of room for interpretation: there is no clear-cut statement of what was right and wrong among the several interweaving statements we heard. I was able to determine which was which is due to the fact that I already had prior knowledge, but where does that leave those who don't?

By the way, if you’re wondering why this has been grouped under this category, it’s because I remembered from Grade 6 science class that anger is one way to trigger adrenaline in the body.

Inception (2010, dir. Christopher Nolan) ★★★★★

Perfect always felt like a lazy way to describe what is supposed to be of superior quality. If you want to sing praises about anything that good, you're gonna have to do a better job than that to convince anyone that it's worth their time: was it inventive and bold or cerebral or emotional? Well, I'm afraid I have to bend this rule for Inception for the sake of brevity, because if I leave myself to ramble on about everything this did right, I would surely run out of adjectives. This sci-fi-heist-psychological thriller is in a league of its own, with its intricate plot and layered method of storytelling further amplified by stellar cast performances, masterful editing and special effects, and a thundering musical score that keeps audiences on edge for the entirety of its run. These elements come together to create a production that resonates and lingers with viewers long after the credits have rolled, partly thanks to that highly disputed final scene. (If my opinion is worth anything here, I believed that it stopped. Iykyk.)

The Lobster (2015, dir. Yorgos Lanthimos) ★★★★½

In this dystopian society, single people are required to check into a hotel in the hopes of finding a suitable partner within 45 days. If they fail to do so, they are sentenced to live the rest of their lives as an animal of their choice. It’s an absurd plot, far removed from reality, executed in a bleak and dry fashion. Yet, it manages to mirror and even satirize the world of modern relationships rather profoundly, particularly the societal pressure to couple up and find our ideal match instantly, or face harsh judgment. I doubt I've watched anything this dark in my life, but I found the unpredictable twists and turns, the deadpan humor, the sheer strangeness of it all very amusing and recommend it to anybody who wants to learn a thing or two about how blind love can be.

Ocean’s Eleven (2001, dir. Steven Soderbergh) ★★★★

I admit I was as pissed as Rusty Ryan (Brad Pitt) following his discovery that the reason why Danny Ocean (George Clooney) was keen on carrying out an elaborate heist of the three biggest casinos in Las Vegas was to win his wife (Julia Roberts) back. But, along the way, I was reeled in by the airtight pacing of the multiple scams that were a part of the scheme and the natural banter that takes place among the members of the ensemble. Also, it’s quite impossible to be annoyed at something that starred so many big names during the peak of their careers. (I have a soft spot for Matt Damon, thanks a lot Good Will Hunting.) Although I already knew what was going to happen, it was a joyride to see everything unfold. Based on the ending (and the copies of Ocean’s Twelve and Thirteen that my dad owned as a kid), I can tell that it’s far from over and I’m surely looking forward to what happens next.

So, that’s it for today’s round-up! Hope something caught your interest: I’d be happy to send 123m*vies links for any of those that aren’t available on Netflix. Feel free to hit me up too: I'm honestly up for thought-provoking discussions and straight-up keyboard smashing. Wishing you love and light always, and don’t forget to wash your hands, check your privilege and pray for our frontliners!

[superbahisdestekk-blog]

New Post has been published on Betcanlı

New Post has been published on http://betcanli.com/2019/03/11/make-your-morning-hours-more-productive-with/

Make Your Morning hours More Productive With Thesis Website

Make Your Morning hours More Productive With Thesis Website

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[braindamageforbeginners]

A Few Thoughts on Writing

Cycle 8, Day 2

The good news - from my pespective, is my new GP (who may or may not make guest appearances in this journal as “GP”) immediately realized I was out of her medical jurisdiction, although she did insist I get an updated Tetanus vaccine before leaving the office, and she wants to see me every few months. Which is less than ideal, just from a time-commitment issue on my part, because it’s literally a full-time job staying healthy (it took me 3 hours today to get a prescription filled, pick it up, and see a doctor - I didn’t even go to the gym because my left side was being temperamental)(that seems to happen with Marizomib and Temodar together). So, although she seems bright and competent enough to treat me for a broken leg, her office does need a more complete set of records than releases of information, and I doubt her office will be happy with my filling out the checklist of conditions with just, “Brain cancer,” but she (GP) does get bonus points for asking me if I had my pain issues under control. It’s odd, but she’s the first person who’s asked that since Radiation Oncologist. She also advised me that I should probably get my teeth and vision checked in the near future (SIGH, yes, Mom), and I should come see her when I’m ready to deal with my genetic predisposition for colorectal cancer (4 more cycles/2 more clean scans, and it’s a date). I’m starting to realize why the glioma death rate is so high; most doctors aren’t equipped to diagnose/test it, or have the connections/references to send patients quickly to the folks who can provide needed expertise. It’s not a slam against GP individually (again, anyone who asks if I’m physically comfortable these days gets instant karma), just your local doctor’s office. If I had headaches or nausea (okay, so I get those all the time these days, but that’s the chemo) and just walked in off the street, the amount of time it’d take to diagnose me would kill me before even dealing with the problems associated with.... y’know, cancer.

And I did figure out how to identify good doctors; they aren’t motivated by money. I mean, everyone wants a pay-check and it’s hard to earn a decent living today, but, even in medicine, the highest-paid jobs are in administration or CEO roles.  And of course everyone wants doctors who will work out of a sense of generosity or humanitarianism’ and I’m not going to say my oncology team is lacking for that. What I did realize recently is, great people, in any field, but especially the medical world, are more ambitious than filthy lucre. Or if they are, anything less than a 10-digit sum doesn’t interest them. I honestly think Mad Scientist has a blazing curiosity to figure out how/why cells that usually don’t grow much suddenly uncontrollably reproduce and regrow. I think that butcher of a neurosurgeon is the consummate watchmaker, and wants to perfect neurosugery (again, he gets points for being competent and compassionate, but, dude, if the patient’s blood is on your pants, change out of that shit before the patient comes to) I think Warlock Senior wants to go down in medical texts as the next Jonas Salk; given his - and Warlock Junior’s unapologetic commitment to unconventional measures (pumping me full of an experimental toxin might count), I’d put even odds that he just went out and found the biggest, baddest, scariest disease we know of, and assumed Ebola virus and heart disease would be relatively easy afterward), I’d bet that Radiation Oncologist wants to figure a completely safe form of radiotherapy (okay, that would net her a gabillion dollars in one go). And I think Shrink wants to know what it takes to give people the psychological strength to slog through Hell (again, there’s a potential money-maker there, but it’d be an obscene amount of it). And most of the nursing staff I’ve encountered are highly competent, but, sadly, I doubt they’re paid enough to be motivated by money (or they’re not paid enough to be solely motivated by money). I did get one nurse at the infusion center that was clearly just working for the meager paycheck, and although the experience wasn’t awful, it was extraordinarily unpleasant. This is not to say that we should pay medical personnel less (although I’d be entirely in favor of marching the hospital administration and insurance creatures to the guillotine), but I know that a lot of patients use doctor pay or earnings or number of patients as a measure of quality; I’m just noting that didn’t work out so well for concierge doctors. and it really didn’t work out well for their patients.

This might seem like an odd train of thought for the guy who usually just kind of jabs and pokes at his situation while shouting, “Hey, this is screwed up, right? It’s not just me.” But I’ve been reading Cheryl Della Pietra’s “Gonzo Girl.” So, full context, C.D. Pietra wanted to be a writer, and actually worked more ambitiously (and effectively) than I clearly am (she learned at age 20 that social connections/references are more important to success than a degree or skillset). Due to a combination of talent, luck, and connections (she’s very up-front about this in the book), she wound up as Hunter S. Thompson’s personal assistant/editor for almost a year in 1992. Which entailed living in his guest house. Now, I realize that Thompson isn’t everyone’s literary cup of tea, and his quality is pretty choppy, but I won’t deny that the man had one of the clearest, and most unique voices you’ll encounter in all of literature, to the point of inventing his own genre - gonzo journalism; without which there is no experiential journalism, which is what I’m trying to write, Having said that, half the appeal of Thompson’s stuff is that he was a total maniac (his preferred breakfast involved margaritas and cocaine)(that’s a direct quote), and, though you get a bit of that in his writing or from other accounts, we never had the viewpoint of a long-term houseguest. And, based on Pietra’s book (which is under fiction, but marketed and described as a roman a clef), the word “maniac” doesn’t even come close. According to Pietra, her chief job was to help provide the sort of atmosphere Thompson found conducive to writing. Which largely entailed being a facilitator/co-dependent. To be fair, a day involving manic binge-eating, high-grade drugs (apparently, the street drugs mere mortals are familiar with are far below Thompson’s personal stash)(as someone who has had access - at various points - to the full might of the pharmaceutical industry, street drugs are relatively tame, so I get it that Thompson’s acid tabs were terrifyingly potent), blasting “The Loss of Innocence” at 900 decibels at Don Henley’s summer house, and shooting massive guns off in the backyard would be entertaining (and terrifying) and would probably give most of us enough to write for a lifetime (or maybe a nervous breakdown)(also, bear in mind; that’s Day 2 of a job that lasted eight months). What’s odd about all this - and what kind of got me thinking about Thompson in relation to my physicians - is that, according to Pietra, Thompson’s self-professed favorite high was writing, but getting Thompson to sit down and write something even semi-coherent involved lots of cajoling, negotiating, bargaining, and, one suspects, a cheer-leading costume (usually aimed at getting his publishers’ to release more advance money). Whereas you can’t keep me away from the keyboard these days, even if it’s blathering on about nothing (especially if it’s blathering on about nothing)(which reminds me, it’s a Temodar week, so expect more spelling errors, rambling half-thoughts, and incoherence). And even though I have a tough time seeing my oncology team sprint into the office each morning, I think they’d still work if there was a significant pay-cut.

Speaking of which, I know there are a few folks who read this for advice on what to do in my situation, and I recently heard of Toca 5 (look it up), which is entering testing as an immunotherapy treatment for recurrent, high-grade gliomas (mine hasn’t recurred - yet). Traditionally, immunotherapy has a better long-term outcome than traditional treatments, but you do have to inject it at the site (according to the FDA’s clinical proposal). Which sounds beyond horrible, but it’s still comforting to think medicine might have something closer to a long-term cure if/when this thing comes back. And, hey, I know a surgeon just crazy enough to do it.

[girlwholikessports]

Is Bill Belichick to Blame for Aaron Hernandez Murder Spree? No, But One Person Thinks So...

It’s been almost a year since my former future husband Aaron Hernandez took his own life in the confines of a jail cell where he was serving a life sentence for at least one murder committed in 2013. 

I disassociated myself from Aaron Hernandez the person as soon as he was arrested, but the tweets live on in my history so everyone will always know I once wanted to fuck a convicted killer. Ted Bundy always had the bitches in a frenzy so I know I’m not the only one. 

Since this story is unlike anything that’s ever happened in the NFL, if not professional sports, people will be speculating about who Hernandez was and what could have been until the end of time. I am hopeful the story continues to remain in the news because I have at least 3 pieces of signed Aaron Hernandez memorabilia that may be my ticket to retirement if they are ever worth anything. I thought I learned my lesson with Beanie Babies but will probably end up on an episode of Antiques Roadshow in 25 years trying to get someone to buy autographed jerseys of a convicted murderer. 

The latest is in regards to the recently released suicide notes that Aaron left in his cell. One of which was directed at his attorney, Jose Baez, who successfully argued Hernandez’ innocence of a different double murder just days before he killed himself. He also was the attorney who got Casey Anthony acquitted of a murder she definitely committed and was almost the lawyer for complete shithole George Zimmerman, so what else could we expect from him other than a tell all book. 

There’s no way I’m spending any money buying/reading this book, so it’s a good thing The Boston Globe didn’t block me from the paywall yet either this month so I can give you some of the highlights.

The book, called “Unnecessary Roughness: Inside the Trial and Final Days of Aaron Hernandez” certainly tries to stir up more controversy in the hopes of selling books, which no one buys anymore anyways. I was most curious on if there is any confirmation to the gay prison lover rumors circulating right after Aaron’s death, and that was quickly addressed in the foreward of the book by his fiance Shayanna Jenkins.

“Aaron was very much a man with me. I saw no indication he was gay or homosexual.” But Baez writes that the police found a man known to both Hernandez and Jenkins, and he “confirmed to the police he had a romantic relationship with Aaron.” -The Boston Globe

Whether he had a secret prison boyfriend or not, I learned from “The Night Of” that it’s probably something you shouldn’t mention.

But much like Roger Goodell, the NFL and fans of almost every other NFL franchise, Baez does not take it easy on Bill Belichick and the Patriots organization. In fact he pretty much blames them for the murders that Hernandez may or may not have committed. That and the aggressive CTE discovered in Hernandez’ brain.

The book details a meeting that was supposed to take place in February 2013, one week after Alexander Bradley was shot in the face and lost his eye, which sounds painful AF. Bradley was sending Hernandez some threatening text messages, a move only terrible criminals would make. The texts read like a bunch of high school fake thugs trying to act cool, but are actually pretty scary when you consider the severity.

Hernandez asked to meet with Bill Belichick about the messages and despite missing the first meeting, finally spoke at the combine in Indianapolis that year. Baez claims that Aaron approached Belichick about trading him to a team on the West Coast so he could run away from his problems in peace.

“Aaron told me the coach was incensed by the idea, and reminded Aaron that the team had made a significant investment in him.” Belichick told Hernandez to contact the Patriots’ director of security, and to get a new residence.

Not a chance Aaron knew or used the word incensed (shoutout the ghost writer on this one) but not sure you can blame Bill Belichick or the Patriots for not trading away a 23 year old dominant tight end they just committed to for five years and $40 million. Although they probably would have gotten more than a second round pick for him, JUST SAYING. 

There is a lot of other tea spilled in this tell all book, but without a living subject to corroborate the story, it’s a choose your own adventure story for what you want to believe. 

-Baez did end up subpoenaing Bill Belichick in the South End double murder trial, but didn’t end up calling him to the stand because “It would have been a pain in the ass to get him there, and I’m sure he would’ve fought it as much as he could to prolong it.” Reporters have been trying to get Belichick to tell us why Malcolm Butler didn’t play in the Super Bowl for 8 months so if anyone thinks the United States justice system was going to get anything out of him, you’re the real suckers.

-Despite actually being convicted of the murder, Baez thinks the Patriots were in the wrong for releasing Hernandez once he was arrested. If you thought Deflategate was a bad look for the organization, you’re gonna love that one.

-Speaking of Deflategate, the book does a good job of portraying Tom Brady as the American hero, role model and perfect human being we all know and love. 

“Brady always wanted to know where I was at all times,” Hernandez said, via Baez. “He would always tell me, ‘Stop hanging with those guys, get your [expletive] together.’ One of the things I regret is not listening to him more.”

-The book is also timely in the controversy happening with Urban Meyer. Hernandez went to college at the University of Florida with Tim Tebow. Aaron allegedly admitted to smoking weed before every game, which is further proof that the NFL should let players get high. Meyer apparently wanted to cut Hernandez from the team, but decided against it at the request of Tebow. It’s astounding how far Tebow has stayed from this story. Put his name on the line for a guy who ends up murdering a few people. I guess playing for the Mets is the punishment he deserves. 

-One hole I’ve found in the storyline of Baez’ book is with the suicide itself. Baez claims that since a toxicology report wasn’t released, it’s possible the suicide was fake.

 “What if Aaron was poisoned in prison or given a sedative and then a hanging was staged?” 

Except earlier in the book he blames the CTE. 

“When did Aaron decide this would be his last night on earth? Maybe the disease CTE knows,” Baez wrote. And, “You can’t hold anyone with a serious brain disease responsible for their actions any more than you can a four-year-old child who pulls the trigger of a gun and kills a sibling.”

I don’t particularly trust Jose Baez intentions with this book, nor do I understand how he was able to get 2 of the 3 guiltiest people on the planet acquitted of murder (Robert Kardashian the OG). The book is on sale for $25 on Amazon which is AGGRESSIVE considering I just outlined all of the juicy details in one blog but read it at your own free will and let me know if there’s anything else important to note.

And once again, thanks to Ben Volin for continuing to be the nerd that does all the work so I could bring you this recap.  

[katiezstorey93]

3 Week Diet Reviews — Does 3 Week Diet Plan Work?

3 Week Diet Reviews — Can 3 Week Diet Plan Work?

Health they say is riches. This is largely because, when our health is in great shape, it allows us to live our everyday lives. One of the methods to ensure your health is maintaining the proper health. Getting overweight poses an extremely serious problem to the health and overall living. If you find yourself in such circumstance and do not know where to begin, here is introducing the 3 week diet program. This 3 week diet reviews aimed at showing to you one plan which has prove that weight loss is not quite as hard as it seems.  The 3 week diet program is a weight loss system that is scientifically backed and is intended to help burn fat in as quickly as 21 times — 3 months. This system includes measure and step instructions and techniques which can claims to help get the pounds off. The major aim behind this program is teaching folks how to burn off fat stored in the body and transform into energy.  

Everyone wants to eliminate weight and get that slim appearance. To achieve this, a lot of people undertake absolutely unsuccessful and health-threatening steps to make sure that they shed weight in the shortest period possible. Contemplating crash diets is organic and most probably by nearly all people. However, as a result of the unwanted effects associated with nearly all them, people often become doubtful. If you happen to be in such circumstances, I have to say that your times of wandering and wondering are all over. Together with the 3-week diet program, your weight loss goals could be attained as desired.

Who’s this 3 Week Diet Plan for?

This application is for:

Those who have gotten tired of watching themselves obese every time they have a look at the mirror

Those who have gotten tired of needing to use different kinds of weight loss pills, gadgets and other programs and with no result

Whatever Your kind of body, one of the benefits you are going to get in the 3 week diet meal program contain the following;

Improved cholesterol level

Healthier hair and skin

Metabolism boost

As much as 23 pounds loss in weight

Increased muscular tone

Increased vitality amounts

The 3 Week Diet Plan Works

Going from the title alone, it is likely to be mislead to believe that it is just your normal dietnonetheless,  it’s not just your normal diet. The program covers all locations that have to do with losing weight at a healthful way. It includes 4 guides, together with each covering a particular area of the entire process. We’ve got the introduction Manual, Diet manual, Workouts manual and Mindset & Motivation manual. This program clearly reveals the place of developing healthy habits, active and happy in a successful weight loss

The diet plan is made up of four basic manuals whereby each covers particular aspects. They are quite detailed and detailed; giving you an perfect perspective on how best to approach each activity. They are:

The debut manual- covers the most key little-known science which aids your body melt away fat. In addition, it introduces you to the basics of the diet and all these supplements are needed to work together with the 3 week diet. It describes the mechanism of the human body in burning and storing fat, so showing you the way you will achieve melting fat stored in body.

The diet manual— This manual discusses how to develop with an effective diet program. It contains advice that is tailored to precise body types and also shows you how you can calculate lean body mass vs. fat percentage to offer you a rapid weight loss program that is suited to your body. It has the exact type of foods you have to consume in addition to those which have to be avoided during the program.

Workout manual— additionally contained in the exercise manual are many workouts which can be carried out with the plan — exercise types which are going to double your outcome and enhance your weight loss. However, they are optional during the program. Within this manual, there are two sorts of ab workouts contained, which are going to chisel your own stomach. The exercise manual is made up of house based workouts and 2 gym workouts. Home based workouts are both simple and easy to follow along with aim in the vital points of your body.

Mindset and motivational manual— This manual is exclusive to this diet only, and it is among the most basic elements in the overall effectiveness of the 3 week diet plan. They are subjective yet fundamental prerequisites for the plan to operate — the manual explains that this is the place where the method starts. It teaches you to rewire your brain and thinking by strengthening positive habits that are influenced by our own ideas. It guides on how best to transform our feelings to ideas, and our ideas to habits which eventually result in regular activities. By seeing fat and weight loss in another perspective, you will be able to accelerate your weight loss outcomes.

During adherence and adoption of the program’s guidelines, you’re guaranteed to get the outcomes you need in under fourteen days.

Who’s Behind The 3 Week Diet Plan?

Brian Flatt is a nurse and health coach. He undertook a study that last about 12 decades, on the secrets behind losing weight the quickest way possible. This study led to the discovery which getting the entire body into a starvation mode, does a whole lot in causing it to burn off stored fat and utilize for fueling organs such as the heart, liver, and so on. According to Brian Fatt, backed by his mathematics, this is an entirely safe and natural method to help lose weight within a brief time period. Unlike other programs which do not work for everyone, the 3 week diet works for you irrespective of your age or gender — that the so far registered 3 week diet evaluations is an indicator of this.

What You Will Learn from Brian Flatt’s Guide

According to the writer, this application can help you lose 12 to 23 pounds out of body locations inclusive of their butts, stomach, hips and waist in just a count number of 3 months.

This program comes with diet regime manual, an introduction guide, a chunk out manual, plus a motivation manual.

This weight loss plan method guide is aimed toward coaching you on the techniques of figuring out muscle cells from fat.

It’ll help you three principal elements of successful weight loss (exactly what to consume, what amount you should consume and whilst to consume).

Furthermore, to those 3 critical weight-loss aspects, it additionally lets you know which of kind of meals which works for your system and the ones who don’t so you can eliminate them.

This is 1 program that is suitable for both men and women looking for how to shed weight. Particularly it is for those who promise to be busy and have no time and cannot be patient enough to wait too long for the results. Regardless of age, gender, experience or physique, this system promise sustainable weight loss outcomes. So whether you are a single mom, busy parent, Experience dieter or maybe a new one, you’re an perfect candidate for the 3 week diet.  

In this application, you know how to make the body to Enter into starvation mode. Once this happens, it begins to burn stored fat; and this becomes fuel for the liver, liver and other organs that are similar. It has been scientifically demonstrated to do anything it promises.

Experts of 3 Week Diet Program

Offers quick outcomes

Different from all the other programs you got tired of, the 3 Week diet program offers quick results through simple tasks arranged into guides. Despite that it is thought that slow weight loss is beneficial for your body, this particular approach kills motivation of attaining for the outcomes you desire.

Suits busy people and not age limited

The program is advised to only use around 30 minutes of time. This comes out useful even for its most busy people who don’t have any time for extended weight loss plan sessions. Additionally, the program does not restrict age since the program is categorized in to guides with different approaches, whereby some require too much effort as only avoiding or moving for particular types of foods.    

They are based on scientific study

This is the characteristic which makes the 3 Week Diet strategy a comprehensive success with outcomes turning out quickly. Flatt documents the goods with techniques are scientifically proven.    

Cons of 3 Week Diet Program

Needs a great deal of devotion

Losing weight using the three week diet program will require more than just reading the guides. The jobs included therein take a lot of dedication. If the necessary actions are not performed, your weight loss goal won’t be achieved.

Price of Supplement

Cost of supplements is on the large side, and that not everybody can purchase. This is usually a concern for people who are on a strict budget.

Closing Verdict

This weight reduction loss process is one tailored for those who would love to jumpstart their weight loss journey. It generally takes 21 days to complete the diet interval, even though you can select to continue thereafter. This program is suited for all age categories, physique and weight loss experience. If you’re interested in finding a fast and lasting solution to your weight loss problem, then the 3-week diet is here for you. According to the various 3 week diet reviews, it has turned out to be over a helpful program. This is particularly so in regards to busy mothers, people planning to get a wedding or just any quick fix. If you’re unsure on where to start your weight loss, the three week diet is a safe starting point.

The post <p>3 Week Diet Reviews — Does 3 Week Diet Plan Work?</p> appeared first on fitness.

from network 8 http://www.resultsfitnessbyram.com/3-week-diet-reviews-does-3-week-diet-plan-work/

[resultsfitnessbyram]

3 Week Diet Reviews — Does 3 Week Diet Plan Work?

3 Week Diet Reviews — Can 3 Week Diet Plan Work?

Health they say is riches. This is largely because, when our health is in great shape, it allows us to live our everyday lives. One of the methods to ensure your health is maintaining the proper health. Getting overweight poses an extremely serious problem to the health and overall living. If you find yourself in such circumstance and do not know where to begin, here is introducing the 3 week diet program. This 3 week diet reviews aimed at showing to you one plan which has prove that weight loss is not quite as hard as it seems.  The 3 week diet program is a weight loss system that is scientifically backed and is intended to help burn fat in as quickly as 21 times — 3 months. This system includes measure and step instructions and techniques which can claims to help get the pounds off. The major aim behind this program is teaching folks how to burn off fat stored in the body and transform into energy.  

Everyone wants to eliminate weight and get that slim appearance. To achieve this, a lot of people undertake absolutely unsuccessful and health-threatening steps to make sure that they shed weight in the shortest period possible. Contemplating crash diets is organic and most probably by nearly all people. However, as a result of the unwanted effects associated with nearly all them, people often become doubtful. If you happen to be in such circumstances, I have to say that your times of wandering and wondering are all over. Together with the 3-week diet program, your weight loss goals could be attained as desired.

Who’s this 3 Week Diet Plan for?

This application is for:

Those who have gotten tired of watching themselves obese every time they have a look at the mirror

Those who have gotten tired of needing to use different kinds of weight loss pills, gadgets and other programs and with no result

Whatever Your kind of body, one of the benefits you are going to get in the 3 week diet meal program contain the following;

Improved cholesterol level

Healthier hair and skin

Metabolism boost

As much as 23 pounds loss in weight

Increased muscular tone

Increased vitality amounts

The 3 Week Diet Plan Works

Going from the title alone, it is likely to be mislead to believe that it is just your normal dietnonetheless,  it’s not just your normal diet. The program covers all locations that have to do with losing weight at a healthful way. It includes 4 guides, together with each covering a particular area of the entire process. We’ve got the introduction Manual, Diet manual, Workouts manual and Mindset & Motivation manual. This program clearly reveals the place of developing healthy habits, active and happy in a successful weight loss

The diet plan is made up of four basic manuals whereby each covers particular aspects. They are quite detailed and detailed; giving you an perfect perspective on how best to approach each activity. They are:

The debut manual- covers the most key little-known science which aids your body melt away fat. In addition, it introduces you to the basics of the diet and all these supplements are needed to work together with the 3 week diet. It describes the mechanism of the human body in burning and storing fat, so showing you the way you will achieve melting fat stored in body.

The diet manual— This manual discusses how to develop with an effective diet program. It contains advice that is tailored to precise body types and also shows you how you can calculate lean body mass vs. fat percentage to offer you a rapid weight loss program that is suited to your body. It has the exact type of foods you have to consume in addition to those which have to be avoided during the program.

Workout manual— additionally contained in the exercise manual are many workouts which can be carried out with the plan — exercise types which are going to double your outcome and enhance your weight loss. However, they are optional during the program. Within this manual, there are two sorts of ab workouts contained, which are going to chisel your own stomach. The exercise manual is made up of house based workouts and 2 gym workouts. Home based workouts are both simple and easy to follow along with aim in the vital points of your body.

Mindset and motivational manual— This manual is exclusive to this diet only, and it is among the most basic elements in the overall effectiveness of the 3 week diet plan. They are subjective yet fundamental prerequisites for the plan to operate — the manual explains that this is the place where the method starts. It teaches you to rewire your brain and thinking by strengthening positive habits that are influenced by our own ideas. It guides on how best to transform our feelings to ideas, and our ideas to habits which eventually result in regular activities. By seeing fat and weight loss in another perspective, you will be able to accelerate your weight loss outcomes.

During adherence and adoption of the program’s guidelines, you’re guaranteed to get the outcomes you need in under fourteen days.

Who’s Behind The 3 Week Diet Plan?

Brian Flatt is a nurse and health coach. He undertook a study that last about 12 decades, on the secrets behind losing weight the quickest way possible. This study led to the discovery which getting the entire body into a starvation mode, does a whole lot in causing it to burn off stored fat and utilize for fueling organs such as the heart, liver, and so on. According to Brian Fatt, backed by his mathematics, this is an entirely safe and natural method to help lose weight within a brief time period. Unlike other programs which do not work for everyone, the 3 week diet works for you irrespective of your age or gender — that the so far registered 3 week diet evaluations is an indicator of this.

What You Will Learn from Brian Flatt’s Guide

According to the writer, this application can help you lose 12 to 23 pounds out of body locations inclusive of their butts, stomach, hips and waist in just a count number of 3 months.

This program comes with diet regime manual, an introduction guide, a chunk out manual, plus a motivation manual.

This weight loss plan method guide is aimed toward coaching you on the techniques of figuring out muscle cells from fat.

It’ll help you three principal elements of successful weight loss (exactly what to consume, what amount you should consume and whilst to consume).

Furthermore, to those 3 critical weight-loss aspects, it additionally lets you know which of kind of meals which works for your system and the ones who don’t so you can eliminate them.

This is 1 program that is suitable for both men and women looking for how to shed weight. Particularly it is for those who promise to be busy and have no time and cannot be patient enough to wait too long for the results. Regardless of age, gender, experience or physique, this system promise sustainable weight loss outcomes. So whether you are a single mom, busy parent, Experience dieter or maybe a new one, you’re an perfect candidate for the 3 week diet.  

In this application, you know how to make the body to Enter into starvation mode. Once this happens, it begins to burn stored fat; and this becomes fuel for the liver, liver and other organs that are similar. It has been scientifically demonstrated to do anything it promises.

Experts of 3 Week Diet Program

Offers quick outcomes

Different from all the other programs you got tired of, the 3 Week diet program offers quick results through simple tasks arranged into guides. Despite that it is thought that slow weight loss is beneficial for your body, this particular approach kills motivation of attaining for the outcomes you desire.

Suits busy people and not age limited

The program is advised to only use around 30 minutes of time. This comes out useful even for its most busy people who don’t have any time for extended weight loss plan sessions. Additionally, the program does not restrict age since the program is categorized in to guides with different approaches, whereby some require too much effort as only avoiding or moving for particular types of foods.    

They are based on scientific study

This is the characteristic which makes the 3 Week Diet strategy a comprehensive success with outcomes turning out quickly. Flatt documents the goods with techniques are scientifically proven.    

Cons of 3 Week Diet Program

Needs a great deal of devotion

Losing weight using the three week diet program will require more than just reading the guides. The jobs included therein take a lot of dedication. If the necessary actions are not performed, your weight loss goal won’t be achieved.

Price of Supplement

Cost of supplements is on the large side, and that not everybody can purchase. This is usually a concern for people who are on a strict budget.

Closing Verdict

This weight reduction loss process is one tailored for those who would love to jumpstart their weight loss journey. It generally takes 21 days to complete the diet interval, even though you can select to continue thereafter. This program is suited for all age categories, physique and weight loss experience. If you’re interested in finding a fast and lasting solution to your weight loss problem, then the 3-week diet is here for you. According to the various 3 week diet reviews, it has turned out to be over a helpful program. This is particularly so in regards to busy mothers, people planning to get a wedding or just any quick fix. If you’re unsure on where to start your weight loss, the three week diet is a safe starting point.

The post <p>3 Week Diet Reviews — Does 3 Week Diet Plan Work?</p> appeared first on fitness.

from fitness http://www.resultsfitnessbyram.com/3-week-diet-reviews-does-3-week-diet-plan-work/

[mooftang-blog]

Seldom, it doesn't really last too long. Long enough to know you want the feeling to last, yet fade into something tangible, something solid and worthy to inspire more existence. It has many mediums, I feel like it clings to any cell that vibrates. Long enough to know you're alive, do you want to feel it? How do you know where you reside until you visit the edge. I can only attempt to fathom the depth of my unconscious mind and its interconnection to my unseen environment, to the existence of  of an existential spirit, the keeper, or the greater power. I like to believe it resides in all of us, in my undisciplined monkey brain I attempt to recognize a pattern, but it is chaos, controled thought pattern. You claim I do not know, well show me. What I do know is that we were one at one point. Together, I do not want to underestimate the powers of vibration and energy. The unharnessed soul is an amazing thing, unstable and erratic, powerful yet liable for every every emotion and all that entail. So what do you do with this energy.

Unharnessed love, it's my demise as a self proclaimed romantic, obviously i'm throwing myself at you if you would take me from afar, if compassion is all you show me, I would hold onto it, if you ever wanted someone to lean on, live with or create, cry hug or scream, fuck it destroy something together I am down. Words are wind and life happens fast. Even if it was just re affirmation that someone thinks you're the bee's knees you don't owe me anything. How I am, how I grow that what I dream, and trying to hold on to that dream in a selfish nature is not how to go about it. I could not sit where I am clueless to your depth, those voids, those wounds maybe to till the ground in word from afar to plant whatever is beautiful and I have faith it will be but can not emphasize enough no expectations for my own sake cause love can drive me crazy. I have never heard you sing, or really shine on any of your instruments, I wanted to create beautiful music with you, but for now I write with what you have given me so far and I will make something great of it. I want to water those seeds, watch the flowers bloom. I saw that void and stars that fucking shine when we made love, and I hold onto that as seriously significant. The stories i've read of yours and the tales you tell do paint an image, a idea, and I glorify that to the tenth degree and in all honesty I am far from perfect and you are just J@X$ but who is to say what is real and what isn't. I told you once if you fall in love with a writer you will live forever, well it's true and that is my unending gift to you if you would take it as that. My gift from the universe and you is to open my eyes and smell the fucking rose’s, and for that I am ever grateful. It is those kind of memories that make me hold on, so many times I have almost slipped away with no regard for my own life or the life of those who love me, and with exposure to something as powerful as true human connection on a level I didn't know but want to embrace and nurture, for my own self worth I want to deserve your care and affection, is that a standard? No for me it is a goal, to be worth your love, and to do that it is known you must love yourself first. I like to glorify your image, but my self image is dark, I've tried to express my little brothers problems and I can't help but to let it instigate that black hole I fight every day, and fight and fight and try not give up. Lately i've been slipping, i've tried to tell myself I’m making healthy choices, but I am not. Given the pink cloud of our connection reality does have it’s toll. I am in one of the best places in the world and it is where i need to be. The tranquility I find in this landscape is so serene, that to me is what is real and nature will be there when my lover is not, and unlike heroin getting mauled by a mountain lion doesn't sound to bad. I need to ground myself back to nature, when i was younger I spent my summers in Asheville at a hiking camp and found my love of nature when my head was was poisoned with hate. I need to nurture that feeling for beyond you this is the most real thing I have in my life and it makes me feel alive. It fills that void organically where I have tried with sex and drugs.  I have been in and out of the rooms all my life and every time i step back from my drug use i've sensed inevitable death or sobriety if i can not walk the line straight and find a balance. I have prayed and lived off mantras in states of sober ecstasy that I hold on to a clear state of mind,  I have a lot of work to do and self reflection in writing to someone who cares helps me so much I hope you know you don't have to respond to this :) if you reply with a blank I will know you exist.   Ive desensitized sexual and platonic relationships to the level of indulgence in my past and found something that shook my core where i least expected it to.Yes I am currently having a hard time grasping all of it and have lashed out in frustration. You're like a cigarette you make me so mad when you're not around but damn you can take my breath away. If it is meant to be it will happen but for now i need to be patient. I lost XX$&!X to my clingy overbearing emotional need and lack of self respect to my own body given what i was doing with my life. She was polyamorous and i wanted her all to myself, she gave me her love and I wanted more, what more is there other than a vibration that shakes my cells when the thought of your eyes or the touch of your skin grazes mine. It gave me some serious perspective to the nature of relationships and love, given you will be the third person I have let myself be vulnerable to and that is your gift, not your burden do whatever you want to do with it.

[resultsfitnessbyram]

3 Week Diet Reviews — Does 3 Week Diet Plan Work?

3 Week Diet Reviews — Can 3 Week Diet Plan Work?

Health they say is riches. This is largely because, when our health is in great shape, it allows us to live our everyday lives. One of the methods to ensure your health is maintaining the proper health. Getting overweight poses an extremely serious problem to the health and overall living. If you find yourself in such circumstance and do not know where to begin, here is introducing the 3 week diet program. This 3 week diet reviews aimed at showing to you one plan which has prove that weight loss is not quite as hard as it seems.  The 3 week diet program is a weight loss system that is scientifically backed and is intended to help burn fat in as quickly as 21 times — 3 months. This system includes measure and step instructions and techniques which can claims to help get the pounds off. The major aim behind this program is teaching folks how to burn off fat stored in the body and transform into energy.  

Everyone wants to eliminate weight and get that slim appearance. To achieve this, a lot of people undertake absolutely unsuccessful and health-threatening steps to make sure that they shed weight in the shortest period possible. Contemplating crash diets is organic and most probably by nearly all people. However, as a result of the unwanted effects associated with nearly all them, people often become doubtful. If you happen to be in such circumstances, I have to say that your times of wandering and wondering are all over. Together with the 3-week diet program, your weight loss goals could be attained as desired.

Who’s this 3 Week Diet Plan for?

This application is for:

Those who have gotten tired of watching themselves obese every time they have a look at the mirror

Those who have gotten tired of needing to use different kinds of weight loss pills, gadgets and other programs and with no result

Whatever Your kind of body, one of the benefits you are going to get in the 3 week diet meal program contain the following;

Improved cholesterol level

Healthier hair and skin

Metabolism boost

As much as 23 pounds loss in weight

Increased muscular tone

Increased vitality amounts

The 3 Week Diet Plan Works

Going from the title alone, it is likely to be mislead to believe that it is just your normal dietnonetheless,  it’s not just your normal diet. The program covers all locations that have to do with losing weight at a healthful way. It includes 4 guides, together with each covering a particular area of the entire process. We’ve got the introduction Manual, Diet manual, Workouts manual and Mindset & Motivation manual. This program clearly reveals the place of developing healthy habits, active and happy in a successful weight loss

The diet plan is made up of four basic manuals whereby each covers particular aspects. They are quite detailed and detailed; giving you an perfect perspective on how best to approach each activity. They are:

The debut manual- covers the most key little-known science which aids your body melt away fat. In addition, it introduces you to the basics of the diet and all these supplements are needed to work together with the 3 week diet. It describes the mechanism of the human body in burning and storing fat, so showing you the way you will achieve melting fat stored in body.

The diet manual— This manual discusses how to develop with an effective diet program. It contains advice that is tailored to precise body types and also shows you how you can calculate lean body mass vs. fat percentage to offer you a rapid weight loss program that is suited to your body. It has the exact type of foods you have to consume in addition to those which have to be avoided during the program.

Workout manual— additionally contained in the exercise manual are many workouts which can be carried out with the plan — exercise types which are going to double your outcome and enhance your weight loss. However, they are optional during the program. Within this manual, there are two sorts of ab workouts contained, which are going to chisel your own stomach. The exercise manual is made up of house based workouts and 2 gym workouts. Home based workouts are both simple and easy to follow along with aim in the vital points of your body.

Mindset and motivational manual— This manual is exclusive to this diet only, and it is among the most basic elements in the overall effectiveness of the 3 week diet plan. They are subjective yet fundamental prerequisites for the plan to operate — the manual explains that this is the place where the method starts. It teaches you to rewire your brain and thinking by strengthening positive habits that are influenced by our own ideas. It guides on how best to transform our feelings to ideas, and our ideas to habits which eventually result in regular activities. By seeing fat and weight loss in another perspective, you will be able to accelerate your weight loss outcomes.

During adherence and adoption of the program’s guidelines, you’re guaranteed to get the outcomes you need in under fourteen days.

Who’s Behind The 3 Week Diet Plan?

Brian Flatt is a nurse and health coach. He undertook a study that last about 12 decades, on the secrets behind losing weight the quickest way possible. This study led to the discovery which getting the entire body into a starvation mode, does a whole lot in causing it to burn off stored fat and utilize for fueling organs such as the heart, liver, and so on. According to Brian Fatt, backed by his mathematics, this is an entirely safe and natural method to help lose weight within a brief time period. Unlike other programs which do not work for everyone, the 3 week diet works for you irrespective of your age or gender — that the so far registered 3 week diet evaluations is an indicator of this.

What You Will Learn from Brian Flatt’s Guide

According to the writer, this application can help you lose 12 to 23 pounds out of body locations inclusive of their butts, stomach, hips and waist in just a count number of 3 months.

This program comes with diet regime manual, an introduction guide, a chunk out manual, plus a motivation manual.

This weight loss plan method guide is aimed toward coaching you on the techniques of figuring out muscle cells from fat.

It’ll help you three principal elements of successful weight loss (exactly what to consume, what amount you should consume and whilst to consume).

Furthermore, to those 3 critical weight-loss aspects, it additionally lets you know which of kind of meals which works for your system and the ones who don’t so you can eliminate them.

This is 1 program that is suitable for both men and women looking for how to shed weight. Particularly it is for those who promise to be busy and have no time and cannot be patient enough to wait too long for the results. Regardless of age, gender, experience or physique, this system promise sustainable weight loss outcomes. So whether you are a single mom, busy parent, Experience dieter or maybe a new one, you’re an perfect candidate for the 3 week diet.  

In this application, you know how to make the body to Enter into starvation mode. Once this happens, it begins to burn stored fat; and this becomes fuel for the liver, liver and other organs that are similar. It has been scientifically demonstrated to do anything it promises.

Experts of 3 Week Diet Program

Offers quick outcomes

Different from all the other programs you got tired of, the 3 Week diet program offers quick results through simple tasks arranged into guides. Despite that it is thought that slow weight loss is beneficial for your body, this particular approach kills motivation of attaining for the outcomes you desire.

Suits busy people and not age limited

The program is advised to only use around 30 minutes of time. This comes out useful even for its most busy people who don’t have any time for extended weight loss plan sessions. Additionally, the program does not restrict age since the program is categorized in to guides with different approaches, whereby some require too much effort as only avoiding or moving for particular types of foods.    

They are based on scientific study

This is the characteristic which makes the 3 Week Diet strategy a comprehensive success with outcomes turning out quickly. Flatt documents the goods with techniques are scientifically proven.    

Cons of 3 Week Diet Program

Needs a great deal of devotion

Losing weight using the three week diet program will require more than just reading the guides. The jobs included therein take a lot of dedication. If the necessary actions are not performed, your weight loss goal won’t be achieved.

Price of Supplement

Cost of supplements is on the large side, and that not everybody can purchase. This is usually a concern for people who are on a strict budget.

Closing Verdict

This weight reduction loss process is one tailored for those who would love to jumpstart their weight loss journey. It generally takes 21 days to complete the diet interval, even though you can select to continue thereafter. This program is suited for all age categories, physique and weight loss experience. If you’re interested in finding a fast and lasting solution to your weight loss problem, then the 3-week diet is here for you. According to the various 3 week diet reviews, it has turned out to be over a helpful program. This is particularly so in regards to busy mothers, people planning to get a wedding or just any quick fix. If you’re unsure on where to start your weight loss, the three week diet is a safe starting point.

The post <p>3 Week Diet Reviews — Does 3 Week Diet Plan Work?</p> appeared first on fitness.

from fitness http://www.resultsfitnessbyram.com/3-week-diet-reviews-does-3-week-diet-plan-work/