#the racist really blocked me and then started shooting their mouth

[sysmedsaresexist]

These (completely unfounded) conspiracy theories are wild

[a-lee-en]

Reading your disclosure and don't get me wrong rules and boundaries are good to be posted and clearly spelled out. However stating how someones undisclosed political views will upset you through a fetish that has to do with sneezing .who's singling out who here?? . Bottom line your a hypocrite and how is someones political views even brought up through a blog that pretains to a sneezing fetish. Your singling out people and judging them before you even know who they are . Believe it or not oh wait .......isn't that part of the definition of a racist. Wow check your head before u shoot your mouth off . A sneeze is just a sneeze to be enjoyed by anyone regardless who they voted for or what gender they are or what color there skin is . Just something you should let sink in and not stomp on people because of your ignorance ........ have a great day 😁

Lmaooo listen buddy stfu you're already wrong in so many ways.

This isn't a "sneezing kink blog" (do you have no reading comprehension?)

I guess you don't have any reading comprehension bc it clearly says DNF/DNI (and if you can't use Google, those are abbreviations for "Do not follow" and "Do not interact") if you identify as any of those things.

I put that in my disclaimer because guess what? I live in goddamn Texas, and even though I live in a blue city, a majority of people I grew up with/know were/are either fully conservative or lean towards conservative, even if they proclaim they're liberal. That's just how things are down here, can't help it.

I put that disclaimer there because people with conservative views and I don't mix. We just don't click because we can't have an intellectual/deep conversation without either getting into a debate/argument or without there being blatant ignorance (usually from the conservative, but I will admit I've had slip ups myself).

Like, if someone wants to follow me and they're conservative- Guess I can't help that, but if they try to interact with me and it's blatantly obvious (or their blog gives them away) then it's like uhhh, no. Believe it or not, buddy, political views bleed into personality and conversation, and I don't want to even start with someone who already doesn't have the same beliefs as me because that's just a headache waiting to happen.

Also, this is my blog, so- Guess what! I decide who I get to interact with and you have no fucking say in it. I'm a gay, non-white trans man so you can see why I wouldn't want to interact with someone who IDs as conservative when I've had so many Republicans/conservatives tell me that I'm living my life incorrectly, and even if they claim to be LGBTQ "allies" they still have other beliefs that I just do not agree with.

So, buddy, I've got some advice for you: stay off my blog, block/blacklist me if you have to, and don't send me another fucking message (and on anon, no less, you fucking coward*) or I will fucking block you. I will delete your silly little comeback and fucking block you because Tumblr does have that option, and if you try to be sneaky about it I will just block you over and over again. When I say "don't interact," I mean don't interact.

Also, be careful about throwing the term "racist" around; not saying that because I'm non-white, but because nowhere in my disclaimer do I mention jack shit about race. You fucking idiot, it's right there in the term. Racism. You really have no fucking reading comprehension, do you? Don't get into an argument with an English major, you fucking prick. Call me discriminatory if you want because I guess that's a closer term, but don't throw around big words that you don't even know how to use. You fucking cunt.

Keep your passive aggressive ass off my blog.

*Only calling this person a coward because they're choosing to harass someone online under the protection of anonymity. If you use anon to send people compliments or sweet messages but are shy, that's completely fine and this doesn't pertain to you mwah

[nightsysdoesart]

yeah so

so i had a mental health crisis last night and didn’t go to bed until after 5:30 and i wrote this sort of as a coping thing. it was really cathartic, but as you might guess, it’s really depressing. tws in the tags

The first 1k words are some fluff and the last 1k are all depressing. I pulled most of this from my real life, with some changes (obviously. i mean, i am sitting here typing this) yes the people in this are based off people i know/knew irl

reader discretion advised, this is really sad and upsetting. i just wanted to post it to get it out of my saved writings that never see the light of day. plus i spent all night on this.

2241 words

She’s talking, hands flapping excitedly as she infodumps about butterflies and moths, lepidopterans, she calls them. She’s loud and expressive and bubbly, the opposite of me. Maybe that’s why I love her so much. Love. What a crazy thing, the chemicals in your brain firing in such a way when you meet the right person that you’re willing to do anything for them. People pass on the sidewalk in front of us, and kids play on the playground behind us. Leaves crunch under their feet, and our breaths are visible in the cool autumn air. Laughter and chatter echo through the park.

Her curly hair shines in the dying afternoon light. It seems to be getting dark earlier and earlier. Her eyes are bright, though. They shine with excitement as she tells me about the coloring patterns of poisonous butterflies, how they warn animals away, and how some non-poisonous species mimic the poisonous ones to survive. I feel my lips curve into a smile, her enthusiasm infectious. My eyes snag on her mouth, moving quickly as she speaks so fast I can barely keep up. Her lips, always so quick to tilt into a smile, make everything out to be the best it possibly can be. Always so quick to offer reassurance and a positive comment. The best part of this world I’ve been condemned to.

Police sirens startle both of us, her hand flaps turning nervous as she goes silent. They fade into the distance, and I quickly sign to her, trying my best to reassure her. It takes a few minutes, but her breathing goes back to normal. I sign and question, and she nods. I put my hand on her shoulder, hoping to reassure her with touch. She turns to me, looking at my shoulder as I watch her chin. It starts to wobble after a second, and I gently pull her into my arms as she collapses into my chest. I play with the ends of her hair as she sobs, coming down from the adrenaline shock of fear.

I press my eyes closed as a breeze comes through, threatening to make my eyes water. She shivers, and I wrap my arms more fully around her, dipping my chin to lean my head on her. Her hair smells like her hair products. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s inexplicably her. Through both of us adjusting to get more comfortable, she ends up in my lap. Her shaking slows down, and she looks up at me. I offer her a small smile and cup her cheek with my hand. She leans into it and closes her eyes, being absolutely adorable. I clench my gut at the onslaught of emotion I feel when her lips curve into a small smile. She looks happy and content. With me. Because of me.

But I can’t keep this up. I can’t keep her safe. Not from everything that’s going on. Not from the world that will keep hurting her, for no fault of her own. I can’t protect her, keep her smile on her face. I will inevitably fail. This is a situation I can’t succeed in. I’m bound to disappoint her. I don’t want to fail her; she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If only I could do better, be better, then I could make sure she was never sad or in pain. If I could do more, I could make sure she didn’t have to deal with racists, misogynists, queerphobes… I could make her happy, always. I could make sure the smile never left her face and make sure she had everything she ever wanted.

Her eyes flutter open, catching on my ear. She asks a question I don’t fully process. She noticed me tensing up, drifting away in my mind. I shrug my shoulders, wanting to savor this moment with her rather than dive into it right now. She seems to understand, falling silent again. This time, it’s a comfortable, companionable silence. She leans her head against my shoulder, and I rub her cheek with my finger. Sometimes the world gets so fast I forget to stop and appreciate what I have. What I don’t deserve. What I won’t always have.

I press a kiss to the crown of her head and feel one of her arms disentangling from around me to happy stim. I suppress a smile and press another to her forehead, another to her nose. She lifts her head a bit, guessing my next question. I still ask, though. I tap the corner of her mouth with my pointer finger, and she nods, smiling and happy stimming a bit more. I grin, feeling my mouth go lopsided as I close my eyes and press my lips to her.

Every time feels like the first time.

Nevermind the facts that it’s only been a handful of times. I will treasure every kiss I get from her. They are gifts, and I can’t be more grateful. Kisses from her feel like how looking at outer space feels when you’re in an area with low light pollution. I feel simultaneously small and in awe and wonder of how something, someone, so amazing could exist. And I have the honor of being here, at this moment, to experience it.

It doesn’t feel like the fireworks and explosions I’ve read; it feels like a quiet night where you might see a shooting star, but even more importantly, you’re sitting on a blanket with the one you love as the sky blazes purple and blue with twinkly lights here and there. I learned all about the constellations when I was younger, but I can’t sign to her while she looks up. I wish I could infodump to her the same way she does to me. I wish I was verbal like her; I wish I could take the words in my brain and put them in other people’s ears.

Her phone goes off, buzzing against my thigh as we separate. Her face dims as she reads the text. She lets me know she has to go as she stands and collects her bag. I stand up too, opening my arms as an invitation for one last hug. She takes me up, wrapping her arms around my midsection. I lean down a little to rest my head on hers, closing my eyes as I savor the moment. She pulls back, and I mirror, expecting her to leave, but she surprises me with another kiss. I happy stim as well, thumbing the spinner ring on my finger as I kiss her back. I try to memorize the feel of her lips on mine, her hands on my back, her curly hair in my fingers, our bodies pressed together- nevermind the fact I won’t have the memories for too much longer.

I do my best to make her last memory of me a good one. We break apart and I sign to her how much I love her, no matter what. She smiles and signs back, still learning. She waves goodbye and heads down the street to her apartment. I picked this park for our last meeting place so I wouldn’t have to worry about her getting home safely. This city isn’t as bad as others, but there are always bad people. I watch as she strides confidently down the sidewalk, a look I’ve seen more and more on her as we’ve been together longer. She’s grown so much, gotten so much happier- which is why I need to do this before I ruin it. Before I hurt her like I always do with those I love. Once she’s out of sight, I head back towards my apartment. It’s several blocks away, and I use that time to run over my plan in my head, to ensure that there will be no hiccups. I switch my music to instrumental and try to relax.

It doesn’t work, though, as I fumble with my keys and nearly drop them trying to get my door open. My hands are shaking so badly it takes me four tries to get the key in the lock. What am I, scared? No, I’m ready for this. I’ve come close many times, but this is the time. I’m going to do it tonight.

I swallow a handful of ibuprofen and down another glass of water. I’ve been drinking a lot more water than I usually do the past few days. Sparkling water, of course, I have sensory issues with plain water. I turn on the spout in the bathtub, getting it warm but not too hot. I grab some candles, lighting them to help me feel more relaxed. I put a bath bomb in the slowly filling tub for the same reason. Switching my music to the speakers placed strategically around the small space, I wander into the kitchen for a knife and sharpener. I change into a swimsuit because fully clothed would feel weird, but my dysphoria is bad enough to unsettle me right now.

Moving to the bathroom, I sit on the edge of the bathtub with my feet in the water as it slowly rises. I work on sharpening the blade as my hands shake uncontrollably. I sigh, setting down the knife and sharpener to move to the kitchen. It takes a minute of digging, but I find the bottle of vodka I had put back there in case I needed it. I squirt a ton of water flavoring in; I’ve never loved the flavor of alcohol. I take a sip and put in some more flavoring.

Making my way back to the tub, I find that it’s mostly full. I set the blade on the ledge of the tub and slide in, sighing at the warmth. Picking up the vodka bottle that’s now filled with green liquid, I take a big gulp, the liquid burning as it goes down. I keep sipping as I think. I let my mind fill with thoughts of her as the tub finishes filling with water. I push the remains of the bath bomb around with my finger, watching the colors trail out of it. Rainbow colors, like the colors of all the dresses she wears. Rainbow colors, like all the colors she’s dyed her hair. Bright and wonderful, like her. 

She’ll be happier with me gone. She’ll be able to find someone new, someone who can say “I love you” out loud. Someone who can infodump verbally, someone who can do all the things I can’t. She deserves someone more, someone who is better. She’s better off without me; the whole world is. With that in mind, I pick up the knife and start cutting. Right arm first. I dig in, barely feeling the pain. It’s bleeding a lot, which is good. But I can’t really see if I’m cutting in the right place or not, so I just keep pressing the knife in deeper until it hurts too badly to continue. I don’t know if I hit the artery or not, but it’s bleeding pretty heavily, so I’ll leave it at that. I dunk my hand in the water, watching as blood swirls and dissipates in the water. More blood comes out of my wrist immediately, which is a good sign.

I switch my knife to the other hand and immediately drop it into the water, my hand wet and slippery. I fish it out and dry my hands off with the bath towel hanging on the wall. I sip some more alcohol, hoping to get deeper on my other wrist. I take a deep breath and check the time on my phone. Good, I have plenty of time before my roommate will be home. I pick up the blade again and start on the other wrist, the shaking worse than before. Now, I feel every little movement in my right wrist, and it’s not responding normally; I think I nicked the tendons in there. My usual coordination is gone, and I’m glad I did my non dominant hand first.

I’m getting kind of lightheaded, and I’m not entirely sure why, but I just keep going. I’m not going to let some dizziness stop me. I’m doing this, and I’m doing it now. 

Spots swim in front of my eyes as I start breathing faster, almost like I’m hyperventilating. I try to remember my breathing exercises, but I can’t remember what counts they were. Was it four in or seven in? Why can’t I remember? I’ve literally used this same exercise for most of my life. Am I? What am I… ? Something slips from my hand, there’s noise in the background. A splash and noise, radiating pain and- what’s going on? I just wanted to hit quit. Why do I have to put so much work into it?

My head drops, and I can’t keep my eyes open. Am I? Why am I in the bathtub with my swimsuit? There’s a noise that won’t stop. I know it from somewhere. Over the throbbing of my head and the sound of my breath, I hear the front door unlocking. Why is my roommate home so early?? Oh well, they’ll leave me alone for a little bit. I can’t see anything; the pain is gone, there’s nothing to sense. The sound bounces in my head. The video chat ringtone I set for her, echoing off into the void.

[zenosanalytic]

People What Aint From Round Here Is The Problem...

So I just watched Once Upon a Time... In Hollywood and I have THOUGHTS:

Ive read a few reviews&ruminations on this film at this point and I can’t believe that none of them got(or at least, mentioned explicitly) the primary thesis of this movie, spcl given that Tarentino flatly states it out the mouth of his primary protagonist within, like, the first 15-20mins of the film: “...most important thing in this town is when you’re making money you buy a house in town. You don’t rent... Hollywood real estate means you live here. You’re not just visiting, not just passing through. You fuckin live here.” i.e., the most important thing in Hollywood, to Hollywood, is the people FROM Hollywood; Everyone else is just a filthy, trouble-making tourist or profiteer who is “Passing Through” and “Doesnt Get It” and  “Is Fucking It Up”(It being the film industry), and probably “Secretly Hates Movies”. There are places and aspects of this movie that are basically a Nativist Angeleno rant, written by a life-long Angeleno film-nerd-turned-film-maker, against Hollywood’s critics(and his critics which he just totally conflates with the former), and probably non-Angelenos(and non-Californians?) in general.

There are two ways to read this thesis: Straight and Subverted/Satirized.

The evidence for reading it straight is pretty plentiful. Lots of reviews have puzzled at where the line connecting the constant hippie-bashing, the weird focus on knocking Polanski’s Polishness & preference for shooting in London, and the inexplicable pot-shot at Bruce Lee is, and I think this is it. “The Hippies” are repeatedly presented as a corrupting force: digging through trash, living in squalourous filth at the Spahn Ranch dragging members of “Old Hollywood” like its owner into it with them, selling drugs, and using sex to “control” men. And attached to this is presenting “The Hippies” as foreign; not only from another place, but refusing to assimilate with the LA way of life and hostile to it. The Manson family are the only explicitly identified “Hippies” in the film(other than, possibly, the one who sells Cliff an acid cig). The only “positive” portrayals of Bruce Lee in the film are silent ones of him teaching anglos kung fu, which has some fairly obvs and well-understood Implications.

But there’s also good evidence for reading it as subverted and satirized. Both Tate and Dalton are NOT from California, let alone LA, and Booth’s origins are left unclear. Dalton’s the only one of them explicitly id’d as being from elsewhere(Missouri), but Tate’s easy to google and she was a military kid who grew up all over the place. When Dalton returns from Italy, that sequence and his look in it are VERY reminiscent of the scenes introducing Polanski at the beginning of the film. The side-characters around Tate, perennially shown in a positive light, are also non-Angelenos. Doing Spaghetti Westerns revitalizes Dalton’s career, despite his disdain for Italian cinema. Tate and her crew, while not explicitly ID’d as “Hippies” and often shown in Mod and other fashion styles, are also presented in “Hippie” fashion, shown listening to “Hippie” music, smoking the “Hippie” Reefer(Im sorry, but Comedy Demanded this phrasing and I am Devout u_u), and implied to be living a polyamorous “Hippie” life.

It really is difficult for me to say which predominates. On the one entirely metaphorical hand, the ways in which Dalton’s Angeleno chauvinism are subverted and mocked are fairly obvs, but on the other emh, the film is FILLED with LITERALLY GLOWING nostalgia for this pre-Hippy, pre-Lefty, pre-70s, Conservative and Republican California&Los Angeles. Dalton’s focus on property-ownership&the film industry in the opening thesis could easily be seen as resolving these subversive contradictions to allow for a straight read(ie: Tate, Booth, and Dalton are “Hollywood People” who’ve both bought real-estate in LA, and who’ve grown up in film or film-adjacent fields and choose to center their adult lives in the film industry). So much, in fact, that I kinda started to wonder abt QT’s politics while watching it. And, if it WAS satirical, then what’s the point of the knock to Bruce Lee and focusing criticisms of Polanski on his Polishness and shooting in London? Is that just meant to characterize Dalton and Booth as nativists and racists?

It really cannot be said enough that there are REALLY MORE APPROPRIATE CRITICISMS to make of Polanski than 1)begin Polish, 2)possessing boyish effeminacy, and 3)preferring to shoot movies in London instead of LA. Which are this movie’s only problems with him(though it also takes the time to show him bitchily smoking a cigarette in an evening gown while being rude to a dog). Obvsl I dont object to villainizing an ACTUAL REAL LIFE VILLAIN like this shitstain, but I DO object to being asked(albeit gently) to participate in this film’s understated nationalist bigotry.

It’s possible that Cliff’s turning Pussycat down during the drive to the ranch was intended to be this but I highly doubt it. And if it was it’d be misrepresenting Polanski’s misdeeds enormously, considering that Pussycat, the too-young girl, is the sexual instigator in this film. Polanski liked to manipulate, drug, and rape underaged girls(he pulled the same shit with models in Europe before getting busted for it in LA, btw, then continued doing it after fleeing back to Europe); really not the same situation.

There’s another irony in that, while the film goes out of its way to call Polanski “boyish” and imply that makes him feminine and that this is Bad, there’s also a subtle under-current that... Tarentino sees himself in his youth the same way? He’s certainly never been short like Polanski and Jay Sebring are/were, QT’s 6 1, but the actors he cast to play them and the description made of the pair in-film are more than a bit reminiscent of how Tarentino looked&was discussed in the press back in the 90s when he was starting out. AAAaaand the film explicitly calls that Tate’s “Type”; leaving me with the question: would Tarentino be able to stop himself from implying a dead starlet would have been attracted to him? I leave the answer to your imaginations, Dear Readers u_u

Having said all that it IS a really good film, which I liked, I dont think it’d be very hard to set aside this political stuff while watching, the driving sequences are especially emotive&exhilarating, and there’s some seriously great acting in it. IDK if I’d say I liked it more than the recent Emma movie, tho.

I feel like each of the trio, Tate, Dalton, and Booth, were meant to symbolically Embody LA/Hollywood/California? Like Pitt especially seemed to be channeling movie characters and CJ from GTA: San Andreas throughout his performance, while I couldnt help but think of Ronald Reagan watching DiCaprio(spcl given the character’s likely politics). So there’s this sense in which the film is a fantasy of “Old Hollywood”, embodied by these three, Vanquishing its “Enemies”, represented by The Hippies(moralizing, pretentious, gross leftist) and potentially Polanski&Lee(foreign film ppl who refuse to integrate into the LA scene). Again, given the political history of Cali after this era, this embodiment raises some questions for me abt the film and QT’s politics(particularly in re: misogyny and feminism).

Also DiCaprio is totally going to get pitched a Reagan biopic off of this role and I sincerely hope he has the good sense to turn that shit the fuck down.

Circling back to the ranting at his critics, this movie was definitely and consciously a response to them. Like: up until the last 5-15 minutes of the film, and aside from a handful of too-lingering too fetishistic too on-the-nose creep shots of the female cast that Tarentino simply could not stop himself from making, OUATiH is precisely the sort of “Serious” film Tarentino’s critics have been saying he should make for decades now(of course he did Jackie Brown, which was that and which he blew Completely out of the park). And then there’s that bloody, gross-out, exploitation-movie ending. I dont actually think it was as bad as many critics were saying it was? For some reason I was thinking there was gonna be a massacre of the ENTIRE Manson family, which would have been totally out of left-field. But it WAS clearly a stinger of a major tone-shift thrown in as a Fuck You to the ppl who’ve called out his violent and exploitative preferences throughout the years. As for me I generally like his movies and think he’s a great filmmaker but he absolutely does go too far sometimes.

Rick Dalton, in an evening-gown, with a mixer full of iced-margarita in one hand, getting all up in the face of the driver of a loud exhaust-spewing jalope in his PRIVATE STREET was TOTALLY Tarentino himself :| By which I mean NOT ONLY that That’s ABSOLUTELY the sort of cameo he would have given himself 30 years ago and if it made any sort of sense at all in the film(which here it wouldnt have, obvsl), BUT ALSO that I feel 94% confident that Tarentino has actually done that at least once in his lifetime :| :|

I think the monologue&interactions T gives Bruce Lee leading up to the fight were probably more insulting to him than the fight itself. Contrary to popular discussion, it isn’t Pitt’s character totally trashing Lee, he gets in one good throw after Lee repeats a successful attack at his request(which I doubt Lee would have ever done from what little I know about him; not being predictable in a fight was his whole Deal), but rather an even duel between them(most of the fight is just the two blocking each others’ attacks). I dont think the film was trying to say “Lee was full of hot-air”, if it wanted to say that it’d have shown him getting trounced instead of showing him knock Booth down then trade him blow for blow, but more “Lee was pretty arrogant and a bit pretentious”.

OK, that’s abt all that I can think of right now: thanks for reading ^v^

[ducktracy]

116. gold diggers of ‘49 (1935)

release date: november 2nd, 1935

series: looney tunes

director: tex avery

starring: tommy bond (beans), joe dougherty (porky), bernice hansen (kitty), billy bletcher (villain)

oh man, where to begin? this is probably the most important review yet, arguably more important than i haven’t got a hat. you’re seeing that right! this is tex avery’s directorial debut. some history before we start (yes, this is going to be one of those LONG posts, but it’s certainly worth it):

tex had worked at walter lantz before working at warner bros, where he suffered an eye injury. he was horseplaying in the office—they had a game where one would shoot a rubber. and or a spitball at someone and hit them in the back of the eye, yelling “bullseye!” with each successful shot. the game evolved to using paper clips, and someone told tex to look out. he turned around just in time for the paper clip to strike him in his left eye, losing vision in said eye. many have attributed his poor depth perception to the wackiness and bizarre nature of his cartoons.

avery applied for warner bros, bluffing his way through and telling leon schlesinger he was a director. tex is cited as saying “'hey, i’m, a director'. hell! i was no more a director than nothing, but with my loud mouth, i talked him into it.” with hardaway gone, freleng and king were the only directors there, and avery was graciously accepted.

yet, the staff was growing in size, and avery’s unit was beyond the limit for a single studio. thus, termite terrace was born—a shoddy five room bungalow affectionately dubbed termite terrace as a result of their termite houseguests. he was assigned animators bob clampett, chuck jones, sid sutherland, and virgil ross. instead of animators swarming around to whatever director needed them, avery now had a solid unit, a model that would continue on and distinguish the animators/units as we know them today.

tex is attributed to birthing the studios greatest stars. daffy duck, elmer fudd, and bugs bunny (it could be debated whether he created bugs or ben hardaway created bugs, especially since bugs was hardaway’s nickname and literally named bugs’ bunny. however, for simplicity’s sake, tex is virtually the creator of bugs. he solidified the voice, the personality, and the design, which differed greatly from the hayseed loon that was hardaway’s bugs.) he had a relatively short career at warner bros, leaving in 1941 after a dispute with leon schlesinger over his cartoon the heckling hare (which we’ll cover in depth once we get there). he moved to mgm, where his potential as a director really exploded. he spawned the iconic yet austere droopy, as well as red hot riding hood, the inspiration for jessica rabbit in who framed roger rabbit. this man is responsible for a LOT, including holding the title as one of my favorite directors (the others being, of course, bob clampett and frank tashlin. coincidentally, all of them left sometime in the 40s. maybe that’s why i love the 40s cartoons so much)

i’ll run my mouth more at the end of the review, soap boxing on why this cartoon is so important, but let’s actually SEE the contents of the cartoon so we can interpret it. it’s 1849, the heart of the gold rush. beans and porky wish to hit it big by digging for gold, but a nefarious villain snatches their findings, resulting in trouble.

tex avery loved to play around with words, whether it be sign gags or narrating captions as we see here. open to a remote western town, rife with cacti and dry land. “THE TIME” is proudly displayed on the screen as we pan to a covered wagon, a calendar inside clueing us in that it’s july of 1849. “THE PLACE”—we pan to a saloon titled “GOLDVILLE SALOON”. and, of course, “THE GIRL”.

little kitty comes bounding out of the general store, joining a crowd congregating around a bulletin board. the newspaper article posted details beans’ gold digging ambitions: “YOUNG PROSPECTOR TO HUNT GOLD IN RED GULCH”. a picture of a proud beans, posing with his pickaxe and his mule. below it: “BEANS — local boy to brave hazards of red gulch for gold”.

absolutely ecstatic, kitty snatches the paper from the billboard and rushes away. bernice hansen’s delivery is on point and absolutely hilarious as kitty gives her breathless monologue: “oh, that’s my sweetie, and i’ll bet he’ll find the gold, and he loves me and everything!”

porky makes his second major (i use that term loosely, since his appearance in i haven’t got a hat wasn’t REALLY a major role but more of an acknowledgement) appearance, this time as a fully grown adult, father to kitty. genetics work in mysterious ways. he fixes himself a giant towering sandwich, including a whole fish, a block of cheese, sausage links, and an entire roasted turkey. sustenance! he scarfs the sandwich down and gives an ecstatic “WWWWHHOOOOPEEEE!!”, a catchphrase of his that thankfully never returned outside of this short. still extremely amusing. as i said before, i don’t find dougherty’s porky “painful” like how some other people find it, but i definitely think this is his most awkward performance, and it’s not even because of his characterization, but the decision not to speed up his voice. dougherty had a very deep voice, and in this cartoon his voice isn’t sped up at all. it’s a bit jarring, but this WAS his second real appearance. tex’s next porky cartoon, the blow out, would have him back as a (much cuter) plucky child.

kitty rushes in and shoves the paper in porky’s face, continuing her breathless babbling. “look what my sweetie’s gonna do! i’m so proud of him! he loves me and everything! he’s gonna find gold and we’re gonna be married! and right this minute, he’s way out in the mountains—“ kitty’s breathless narration continues as we get a shot of the mountains. a long, exposed tunnel goes right through one of the mountains, where we get a distance shot of beans hacking away at a mountain. “and right now he might be discovering gold!”

a closeup reveals beans picking away at the side of the mountain, carving a little hole. just above it are some slots. beans plucks a button from his shirt and feeds it into the makeshift machine, pulling a branch as a lever. he spins, and lands the jackpot. a plethora of gold coins rush out of the slot, beans collecting the loot with his hat. if only it were that easy!

rightfully gleeful, beans cries “gold!gold!” and leaps on his trusty steed. a giant “GOLD!” zooms into view on the screen as beans gallops along on his mule, rushing into town. he bursts into the saloon and declares “i found gold in the gulch, boys! gold in the gulch!”

all of the patrons echo “GOLD?” incredulously, deserting their post at once. even the bartender leaps over the bar, leaving behind some ice cream and other desserts on the counter. a bit of an awkward shot—there’s a still frame of the food on the counter, and you’d expect someone to come in and take the food with them, but that’s not the case. it just sits there and goes onto the next scene. i wonder if there were any cuts, or if didn’t have time, or what. nevertheless, it’s slightly jarring but a menial thing to pick at.

one by one, the patrons leap on their horses and follow beans to his site. a man flops to the ground where his horse rides HIM instead—a regular gag in the looney tunes universe, but one that tex avery seemed to enjoy in particular. can’t blame him.

beans alerts everyone in town—a dog in the bathtub, the dog taking his bathtub with him as he runs, two stereotypical chinese men at the laundromat (yeah, not a good way for tex to start off. just blatantly racist.), and a barbershop quartet singing “sweet adeline” outside of a barbershop, animation by bob clampett. beans alerts them, and the quartet runs off... until they rush right back to finish their song. a great gag as they run right back to find the gold.

next stop, kitty’s house. beans rushes inside and exclaims “i found gold!”, holding kitty by the hands. porky pokes his head out from the kitchen, wielding a fork and spoon, where he repeats “gold?” incredulously. no time is wasted as he jogs right out the door, donning a ten gallon hat and a pick axe. beans excuses himself, kitty refusing to let go. he runs out the door, and kitty reflects on her sweetie. good, snappy timing as beans unexpectedly zooms right back inside, dipping kitty and giving her a rather passionate kiss. he leaves once more as kitty collects herself.

porky has his jalopy all ready to go, and beans jumps right in. porky gives another “WHOOPEE!” as they barrel on. more blatant racism as they pass the chinese men traveling via rickshaw. porky and beans zoom right past them, and a cloud of exhaust cover the men. predictably, they’re now in blackface, talking in a stereotypical accent (as if they weren’t before). obviously, it goes without saying why or how this is disgusting and wrong. i love tex avery as much as the next person, but this isn’t a good start. you’re better than this, tex! it bears mentioning regardless. although we’ll explore a ton of beautiful, great cartoons, we’ll also be examining cartoons that are equally nasty and grotesque. both are important and deserve equal attention.

fade out and back in to the site where beans struck it rich. porky gives another “WHOOPEE!” and strikes his axe into the ground, as do the siamese twins and beans. porky sticks his hand in his hole, where he pulls out a shiny coin and yells “gold!” so far, his dialogue has been three “WHOOPEE!”s and two variations of “gold”. what a complex character! he stores his find in his back pocket for safekeeping. a highly amusing gag as he sticks his hand down again, this time his hand extending through another hole near his pocket. he fishes his hand into his back pocket (unknowingly) and grabs his find, reaching his hand out of the hole and admiring his “new” loot.

the process repeats until beans’ voice stops porky in his tracks. he’s found something. porky tosses a rope down into the cavernous hole that beans is in, and with a few good tugs, beans pops out of the hole, perched on top of a heavy treasure chest.

everyone crowds around as porky and beans lift the chest. inside is a tiny little book, covered in a thick layer of cobwebs that reads “HOW TO FIND GOLD”. beans opens the book, and the answer is right there in the print: “DIG FOR IT”. tex’s strong sense of humor brings the cartoon much needed liveliness and fun. tex was definitely a gag man more than an artist, and he has said so. not that his cartoons are badly drawn at all, but it’s clear he has a priority in humor, which is a great priority to have. porky and beans exchange gobsmacked looks.

enter the villain, creeping along furtively with his horse. he peers through his binoculars, surveying the site. pan past porky and beans scratching their heads over their instructions, past a bag of gold, past a pickaxe... the villain goes back to the bag of gold, exclaiming “ah! gold!” he fires his gun, a wonderfully strange hybrid between a gun, a fishing rod, and a grappling hook. as he fires, a lasso extends down to the gulch, tying conveniently around the bag of loot. the villain reels in his catch—some great added detail as he struggles, as if fighting a big one, and even scooping it up in a net.

porky and beans spot the bandit. porky stutters “if you get that bag for me, you can have my daughter.” beans is delighted and eagerly shakes his hand—it’s a deal. he jumps into porky’s car and rides off, winding up the twists and turns of the mountain as the bandit makes off with his gold. visions of grandeur fill the bandits head as he imagines a long, fanciful, costly limo, a driver touting him around as he chuffs on a fat cigar, donning expensive clothes.

his fantasy is interrupted by gunfire. beans wields duel pistols, firing back and forth at the bandit. bullets reduce the bandit’s hats to shreds, the hat a shadow of its former self as it plops back on the villain’s big head. great contrast. beans continued his fire, shooting a giant hole in the bandit’s pants. a makeshift buttflap falls open, revealing a giant tin pan covering the bandit’s ass for protection. bullets ricochet off the pan, much to the delight of the bandit.

frustrated, beans opts for a rifle instead. a gunfight ensues, and tex avery’s need for speed begins to break out. it’ll climax soon, but tex’s strong point in his cartoons is definitely speed and timing. he can drag out gags or make them ensue in a blink, so much so that those scenes leave you breathless and exhilarated. some great examples that we’ll see are in this, the village smithy, and porky the wrestler. the bandit slings his guns back at beans, his arms whirling around at impossible speeds, so much so that he turns into a literal blur, rising and falling back on his horse.

beans ducks, retaliating. the force of his fire is so strong that his car is propelled back multiple feet with each shot. however, trouble boils when his car stalls out. empty. beans pours a jug of moonshine directly into the engine (instead of the gas tank), and the car explodes to life—parallel to the same scene in you don’t know what you’re doin’! but on steroids. the car turns into a giant blur, stretching out to vaguely resemble a race car. with amazing force, the car barrels into the villain, who is thrown into the air with ease. this is where tex’s speed is magnified and used to a great amount of potential, a potential we haven’t seen yet in a cartoon. it’s exhilarating and breathless, and above all, believable. you feel like you’re right there with them, a must see scene.

the car defies gravity as it speeds along the walls of the caverns, a lovely angle of the car headed straight towards the camera (that would be recycled in one of tex’s cartoons at mgm, dumb-hounded). beans now barrels whence he came, knocking into the villain once more. instead of being propelled into the air, the bandit is dragged into the car, reduced to nothing but a mere blur. around another curve they speed, the loose bag of gold that was thrown into the air with the bandit now landing in the car.

a forlorn porky paces anxiously, awaiting the return of his beloved gold. he, too, is wiped into the chase, again reduced to a mere blur as he falls into the car. the car zips into town, right past kitty, who sweeps outside her house. she’s spun around like a top as the shanghaied racecar whirls past.

finally, the car screeches to a halt. the villain is slumped over inside the car, whereas porky and beans are unharmed. kitty reunites with porky, who lifts her up lovingly. he places her down in front of beans. “well, here’s my daughter!” beans graciously accepts kitty’s hand as he thrusts the bag into porky’s hands, replying “and here’s your gold!”

a lovely twist as porky stutters “gold be derned! that’s my lunch!” sure enough, he stuffs his hands inside the bag and lifts out a giant towering sandwich, identical to the one he scarfed down at the beginning of the cartoon. he gobbles it up with ease, giving a contented smile as we iris out.

whether you love this cartoon or hate it, it’s historical significance can’t be denied. this and i haven’t got a hat are probably the most important cartoons we’ve seen thus far, and the two, in my opinion, rely on each other for success. had friz not created porky, who knows what would have happened in this cartoon. same goes the opposite way. had tex not come aboard and used porky in a suitable role, porky may have continued to exist in cameos, but how far would looney tunes have gotten before inevitably getting canned?

i personally love this cartoon, and is probably my favorite one so far. tex avery was such a pivotal element to the success of looney tunes. albeit this isn’t his most polished work (and the blatant racism with the chinese twins and the blackface gag can’t be overlooked or dismissed), this cartoon is fun, exhilarating, and happy. tex’s sense of humor is on point, and his timing/speed is impeccable. it leaves you wanting more, almost as if you aren’t satisfied. the whole cartoon revolving around porky reuniting with his giant sandwich is another plus. beans is endearing, though bland in personality. kitty is equally endearing, her breathless excitement indescribably amusing and contagious. porky is also amusing, but hardly endearing—but, again, second cartoon, still trying to figure things out. without comparing his appearance here to other cartoons (which is very difficult to do), he fits just fine as the bumbling comic relief character.

this is a major turning point in the world of looney tunes. thanks to tex, cartoons are going to get snappier, funnier, wittier. i may be biased since he’s one of my favorite directors, but it’s hard to argue with, especially since this is the man who made daffy, elmer, bugs. if anything else, i definitely recommend this for historical significance. aside from that, it’s fun, happy, energizing, and a great relief to the drab cartoons we’ve been seeing thus far (though friz deserves much more credit than he gets for his merrie melodies). obviously, express discretion at the racist gag of the chinese twins/blackface—they aren’t too exhausted, but definitely prominent enough to constitute a warning. this is a cartoon worth watching.

link!

[kikyozoldyck]

ii. catch me if you can

PAIRING: diego hargreeves x reader SUMMARY: taking gifts from criminals is only morally dubious if said criminal obtained it illegally, ...right? right?! WARNINGS: mentions of shooting people, also diego being a fuckboi extreme ____

“Do you have any idea how many laws you’ve broken tonight alone?” You sigh, gun leveled at the Kraken like it always is right before he gets away. The Kraken shrugs, tucking his blades into his pants pockets.

“Honestly officer, the real offender here is you. Don’t you know it’s a crime to look that sexy?” you roll your eyes. The Kraken is always talking to you like this, feeding you lines like this whole thing is some cheesy cops and robbers porno from the 70s.

“Stop flirting with me! You’re only trying to mess with me, and it won’t work! Not today Kraken!”

The Kraken is quiet for a moment.

“Mm.” He says, somewhat ambiguously, “I got you a gift.” He nods towards the alley behind him, where you can hear a distinct groaning sound along with a string of curses in a language you don’t recognize. You take a deep, calming breath.

“Most people get flowers, you know.” You tell him, rolling your eyes, “maybe even some jewelry if you’re into that. They do not get people maimed criminals.”

“Well, you don’t like jewelry...do you?” The Kraken cocks his head, frown bordering on a pout. “You never wear it.”

“You’re being a creep again.” you breathe, a little dubious. “Just because I don’t wear it on duty doesn’t mean I never wear it. And you should not be considering whether or not buying me jewelry is a good investment. You should be putting your hands up, or I should be shooting you. Which I will unless you put your hands up.”

“Every time.” The Kraken grins, and he sounds even fonder than the last time. “It’s almost an inside joke at this point.”

“It is not a joke. Five seconds or I will shoot you.” You warn, uncocking the safety on your gun, “One.”

The Kraken, the dick, holds up his gloved fingers to count along. 

Two. 

Three. 

The Kraken smiles.

“That seems like my cue to leave.” He responds, then somewhat out of the blue he adds, “you like gold or silver?... Never mind I’ll figure it out.”

And with that, he vanishes into the night.

---

You end up going on a date with Mr. McSexy Millionaire -- who’s real name is John Perseus, a name you’re supposed to be extensively familiar with apparently. And he’s nice, really. And so is his designer suit, and his Italian leather shoes, and the Michelin star restaurant he rented out.

The conversation is pleasant, if not a little dull, and the food is delicious, although the portions are distressingly small.

And overall, although you had a lovely time, you’re immensely relieved when the night is cut short due to an emergency at the multibillion-dollar company John runs that he just could not stop talking about.

You dismiss his offer to have his driver take you home with a lie about how your apartment is only a few streets away, instead of the three blocks it actually is. You doubt you’ll ever be bringing him back to it anyway.

“You clean up nicely.” A voice calls as you pass a dark alley.

“Fucking Hell!” You squeak, hands already fumbling for your pepper spray as you see the Kraken leaning against the dimly lit wall of the restaurant, “what’s the matter with you?”

“I missed you.” The Kraken shrugs as he pushes off the wall. You stand in place and purse your lips as he walks towards you, a small grin on his face. “You can imagine my surprise when I beat the shit out of a crew of wannabe bank robbers, and they send some turkey-necked rookie to bust me because my favorite cop has the night off.”

“I just saw you two nights ago! Remember? You stabbed a senator!” You reply, feeling more than a little hysterical, as you walk past him. He’s not in his usual get up. He’s traded the leather harness and kevlar sweater for a grey t-shirt and baggy hoodie. His eyes still obstructed as they usually are, though he's wearing sunglasses instead of the typical tuxedo mask. 

He would be the kind of guy to wear sunglasses at night.

“I stabbed a racist, xenophobe who was complicit in human trafficking.” The Kraken corrects and jogs to catch up to you. It isn't like he has a lot to do besides ridding the city of its scum, he has more than enough time to follow you home. “But enough about that, how was your date?”

“Why do you care?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him, “I told you we’re not friends.”

“I care because there’s only room for one wily criminal in your life,” the Kraken says, his fingers digging into the pockets of his jeans, “and that slot is taken.” He gestures widely to himself.

“John isn’t a criminal.” You tell him, you don't add that you’d already ran his name through the police database a few times, or that you pulled some strings at Interpol to check twice there too. “And you’re not in my life. You’re the bane of my existence, sure, but you’re not in my life.”

“He’s a millionaire.” The Kraken says bitterly, his mouth small and angry like he’s just sucked on a lemon, “all of those guys are criminals.”

“If that’s true,” you argue, turning around for a moment, so your back is to the street, “why aren’t you beating the shit out of them instead of following me home like a lost puppy?”

“Like I said,” the Kraken replies easily, “I missed you. My life of crime is empty without you running around threatening to shoot me.”

“So, what?” You snort, turning again to walk in step with the Kraken, “You just found out I had the night off, and then you ran home to change and stalk me?”

“Something like that.” He answers, flashing you a smug smile.

“So, your whole night of law-bending and criminal beatings was ruined because of a lack of my presence?”

“Pretty much.”

“If missing me keeps you from breaking laws then maybe I should just quit my job.” You say as the two of you pause at a stoplight.

“Please,” the Kraken laughs, giving you a gentle nudge when the light turns green, “within an hour, you’d be back at police plaza begging Ludo to give you your badge back.”

“That’s probably true.” You admit as you spot your building.

“I know it is.” The Kraken tells you, “you love your job. Plus, your heart would break if you didn’t get to see me at least once a day.”

“I think my heart would survive.” You laugh, as you round the corner of your building, “but I doubt you would.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Kraken asks, leaning against the doorframe as you dig for your keys.

“Oh, just that every cop in the city is itching to bust a cap in your ass.” 

“Well, tell those pigs that you’re the only cop I’m letting put anything near my ass.” The Kraken purrs, and it steals all the air from your lungs.

“Get out of my sight before I shoot you.” You say once you’ve gotten your wits about you.

“How are you planning on doing that when you left your gun upstairs?” The Kraken laughs, and just as you’re about to yell at him for snooping around your apartment he says, “That reminds me,” and starts digging into the pockets of his hoodie, “I got you something!”

He tosses something at you before you have a chance to talk. You catch it quickly, your reflexes are sharp even when you’re surprised, and you blink down at it, “and before you say anything, I want you to know that I bought it with my own money. Receipt’s in the box.”

“What the hell is this?” You ask because it looks like a very familiar kind of box and this cannot be what it looks like. You flip open the lid. “No. No. No.”

The necklace is nice. It’s gold and sturdy and professional enough that you can wear it at work. Plus, the small golden pistol that dangles from the chain is a nice touch. And you think if anyone else had given it to you, you’d say thank you but this is the Kraken, so all you can do is yell: “Take this back!” but when you look up, then he’s already gone.

With a sigh, you stash the necklace in your pocket. You’ll keep it — for evidence.

____

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before you ask, yes i did just imply that diego hargreeves likes it in the ass because it’s true

feed my big ass ego & comment something pls

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[masslessobtrusion]

My Dad yelled at a McDonald’s cashier because the fish filet isn’t on the dollar menu...

I just moved home after living on my own for 9 years, losing everything to a crippling heroin addiction. I took my Dad to a doctor’s appointment. Before I moved out I told him I would never go to a store with him again. I explained this in a nice manner with my Mom present.  The reason I stopped going to stores with my my Dad is because he berated a female cashier at a grocery store in 2008. He has done this many times in front of me. I always wrote it off as acceptable behavior because this is what I was raised around. He almost always has an altercation every time he stands in line, parks in a parking lot, drives in traffic. Sometimes multiple. He was having trouble using the credit card machine and when the woman said you have to hit enter. He became pissed off. “Ha! There was nothing wrong with the old ones. It’s funny, you can afford new credit card machines but can’t keep the god damn shelves stocked!”. He often projects this line of thinking towards people, as if they’re responsible for the thing he is angry at. Human, animals, grandkids, wife, son. Doesn’t matter. He will follow it up with scoffs such as “haha, figures, typical, fuckin idiot”, There’s an ongoing theme of ranting about people or groups “trying to fuck me!”. I move back home in 2019. I’m a defeated depressed shell of the vibrant happy person I was years earlier. I take my Dad to a doctor’s appointment. I was taking him to Wal-Mart and stores too. He would behave most of the time. Actually I think I was reluctant because I recall him blocking a a driver and laying on his horn, giving the guy the finger for 20 seconds. He did this at a liquor store and a gas station too. I think the gas station incident happened right after the doctor’s office because he was pissed off that my Mom asked for lunch. She works nearby. We’re in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. A uniformed cop walks in and my Dad starts becoming uneasy. Scoffing and mumbling. The cop gets called in to his visit and my Dad says out loudly, “fucking pig, walking around with his gun, maybe I should get my gun and walk around, haha!”. Oh my fucking god, I was so embarrassed. There was like 10 people in that office. Then when he gets out of the office, the way he yells my name. It’s like, hey! what the fuck are you doing? Fucking idiot! Lets go, now! NOW! It’s just like, holy shit dude. Yes, I saw you walk-in. I will stand up and be by your side within seconds.  So, we get my Mom lunch. He gets into an altercation at the gas station because someone is trying to back out but my Dad flies through and slams on his brakes. Lays on his horn staring at the driver as she backs out, horn blazing the entire time.  He’s mumbling “stupid fucking bitch” type of stuff because we have to drop off a sandwich to my Mom. Usually she asks me to come in and shames me when I decline because she wants me to meet one of her 40-60 year old chatty co-workers. I have mentioned dozens of times how I don’t like this and I feel bad but I really have nothing to talk about with these people. Show them a picture on your phone. It’s not the 90′s and I’m in my 30′s, not 6 years old. She has tricked me in the past to meet her co-workers and the image she puts on to her friends and co-workers has always been so far from reality. At least she stopped volunteering “her boys to help ya” move in or tear out your dog piss stained hoarder carpet. We drop the lunch off at my Mom’s work. I ask my Dad if we can go to McDonald’s. I didn’t have money. He says I can get something off the dollar menu. I tell my Dad I want 1 cheeseburger, 1 McChicken and a Dr. Pepper.  My Dad orders a Filet o’ Fish and soda.  She tells him the price and he yells at me “”jeeezus! What the fuck did you get?”. I tell him that the Filet o’ Fish is $3.99. He becomes irate. The woman hands him his food and he says. “Hey, I thought the god damn fish filet was on the dollar menu, this is the last time I go to this fucking place, trying to fuck me in the ass!”. It will become a theme as I share my experiences. But my Dad has always complained about being poor. He has always complained about how he works his ass off for nothing. How he can’t afford anything. He has so much anger and hatred towards “rich people”.  He will become angry at people who own expensive things and it’s pretty much anything. I used sushi as an example of something that made him become angry enough to cuss, complain about money, and then he uses it to classify me as one of his enemies. He becomes angry at people for being “smarter”, Think you’re so smart? I’ll show you for thinking you’re smarter than me, hope you die, hisss, hahaha!  I’ve mentioned this, but he will take his teeth out and hiss at people as a “party trick”. He likes being the person who everyone thinks is crazy. It would be funny if it was on occasion. It’s that I have asked him specifically on so many occasions and the situation escalates to insanity instantly.  He’s also extremely racist, homophobic, abusive towards animals, makes funs of those with disabilities. It’s non-stop awful. Every. Single. Interaction. Every time he opens his mouth it’s something mean and hateful. It’s fucking nuts. I’ve written about the injured dog they’ve had. There’s so much more. That’s an example of his abuse and ignorance but there’s so much more and so much worse. He has killed people’s pets. He has threatened to kill and laughs at the death and pain of animals, including people’s pets. He has joked about the neighbors dog he poisoned for eating his trash. He jokes about his friends and brother shooting dogs and cats.

[hunny-bunny-babyy]

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Go for a I'm Not Training To Be Flaca I'm Training To Be Chigona T Shirt From AllezyGo little crazy that you know what they were holding which is 16 years our guys view the girl in all cases which are mojo cowboys showing no emotion no emotion at all is he saying people satisfied Gill Knoll demanded the bites the musicals he just knows procedure is my sonic illuminati bullshit going on the plan this stage you just plan his role you have nothing to do with news of that same day all of von Samuel woman is the low what mailman is model manchild wall you don’t histogram cinemas seem to be or not right up and I won’t will be just be fine now she waited days later Breslow want to really little wooden regardless of how it will really little man when now don’t far less a dog is fine by any means Roy Hansen’s I will shoot all so also Jim is not as visible also this sign is my mold to M also be seen from the one I sent little pieces when you stand that societies you want no longer feel the portal began gain Northand all moral binding know what sold on one of videos I can see is you trying to look into the lock Ronald with all that was trying to favorite the meal rep was a trying single trying after their training for I needed to do my thing that clavicle are not a knowledge of the Mobile don’t all with this old by is told total bullshitand members of the all problem is a recalled where are your wedding night is another mopey as the people have sold all the no names no pictures know nothing of the problem that will all thereand also some of the celebrities all Masonic brawls known people who see two guysand your bottom may article to let all is all will shoot you pushing your job blind to push us alone say all the money brought the they fake beef is not coldand not be they lead us on the phone when he watched a video not be is not an all in the familyand also the case with all Malibu no more fun Simpson case in on these to bring more controversy just to make people watch for more don’t think about was going on behind the legal right the old areas Lord from old days. 9 million tasks and that number is growing and again as the president said in Brad will talk about our states aspired to do well over 12 million cast over the next four weeks you see the graph growing which you also see very importantly is that little orange bar and the bottom is the cumulative number of positives are percent positives are going down and naturally want to see in fact in 31 states as of last night the positivity rate is less than 10 which is not a litmus test but is a good idea that were doing planning enough testing that we can enter phase 1 for careful reopening I also take the opportunity to say this doesn’t happen by accident on seeing everyone in the audience here and so pleased that they can beer on people sitting in the front have been working literally 18 to 20 hours a day every single day of the week for at least the past two months none of this happens by accident happens because their hard work there sacrifice their sacrifice and their family offer a common good. Is the only thing standing between them and us being muzzled so consider that also consider this the Muslims were one of the first groups on a planet Earth to start trafficking start human trafficking and slavery as far as history as far as history recounts so and is also part of their culture to cover up and I have a sneaking suspicion that they force their women to cover up because again it aids in the human trafficking so this is no surprise that there over here trying to get power in our government try to run for Congress and want to get rid of the Constitution because that remove that remove the restrictions on all the evil they want to do to us this masks it is just downright evil everybody forgot that there is no flu virus that is ever proliferated in the summertime ever everybody forgot that they need to breathe fresh air and is like this virus is a virus that killed common sense and because people are so stupid these human traffickers in these scumbags and these demons there lying to the people See Other related products: Saucisson Girl Once U Put My Meat In Your Mouth T Shirt

[caroltheman]

Read at your own risk. These are MY thoughts and MY feelings and they do not cater to the leftist idealism, so if you are afraid of getting your feelings hurt, STOP HERE.

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Today is a big day. I’ve never been so involved with politics EVER in my life than this year. In 2016, I was with the Democrats, the left, and whatever ideas were pushed towards me to stop Donald Trump from winning. I hated him. I hated the way he spoke. I was against my husband’s political stance (yes, the hubby and I can have different opinions and get along PERFECTLY). I thought he was a terrible example of what our nations leader should resemble. I was ANTI-Trump. 

When he won, I didn’t care too much. I got over it. But... I kept an eye out on events after his election. I never really understood what was happening but I did hear whispers of what was going on in the white house every so often. As issues kept coming up... Build the Wall, ending of DACA, Large amounts of people running from other countries (mainly Latin American countries) trying to get into our southern border, Individuals from the cabinet slowly being replaced or resigning, impeachment, school shootings, banning of firearms, court cases (don’t really know much of that, but now I know its about individuals getting seats on the Supreme Court), etc. etc. etc. BLM, Antifa, more civil unrest, shooting of cops, burning of poor democratic cities, etc etc etc.. I started to wonder.... WTF is going on?? And demos still crying about the same shit...

I started to do research. I don’t really care to listen to local news and big news stations like Fox or CNN or whatever. Yes, sometimes I tune in to both sides, but seriously, I was sick of watching things set on fire. American flags burning. Looting. Violence. I was searching for perspectives outside of my overly democratic run social media feed. I’ve watched probably hundreds of videos of different people of all different walks of life. I started discourse with more right-winged individuals. I started to become more open minded about things on the right. And when I think about my only personal values, I kept finding myself more and more on the right side of things. 

Today, this is where I stand:

1. I stand for strong border protection. I do not support shouting “Build the Wall” out loud, but I do support what that message means. To me, the wall is analogous to our house door. For all the people against strong borders, I challenge you to keep your door unlocked at night. Would you feel safe knowing that anyone can come in at any time? Anyone, as in people we don’t know. Any sane person with rationale would say NO. We must lock our doors at night. We must secure our house (just think of all the tech we buy to keep out houses secure) to keep people outside and keep our families safe. An open border sounds like chaos and the most unsafe place to stay. People are confused that building a wall means no immigration. That’s not what that means. It means that we are against ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION. I am an immigrant for heavens sake. I naturalized. I was not born an American Citizen and in order for me to receive benefits of an American Citizen, first, my dad served 12 years of his life in the United States Navy. He brought over my mom, my kuya, and myself to start a new life in a country with opportunity. I am thankful for his service and my moms sacrifice and bravery for leaving everything she knows and loves behind in order for my siblings and I have to an opportunity to be successful. People don’t understand that you cannot have a country as successful as the U.S. without protecting our land from outside forces. I do believe that we desperately need immigration reform. I would like all people of all different backgrounds and economic status to have a chance at being able to immigrate to our land, but I believe there is a right way to do it... and it definitely isn’t let everyone in anytime they want. I have kept my mouth shut about my stance on border protection because I am aware of my audience. I know that I have hundreds of students watching me. I know that a lot of them are low income. I know some of them are illegal. But as a teacher, it was never my mission to out undocumented students or families. I sympathize with my students who’s families face deportation, but I stand my ground that illegally penetrating our borders is not the way to do things. I don’t have a full on answer on how the country should handle it (obviously, I have my own life and I am not a politician - although I do have some ideas) but I know the difference between wrong and right. Entering this country illegally, to me, is not the right way... AND ESPECIALLY with the thought of my own family in the Philippines who also face the same struggles that others who flee their country face. It is unfair that due to physical proximity, some can just come through while others from PI and countries from all over the world are waiting for their turn. To me, that is unfair. Moving to Hawaii and having spoke to Aunties who have immigrated from PI has added even more support to my stance. I spoke to an Auntie that said she waiting 21 years to get her Visa. She is petitioning over her son who may wait about a decade before being looked at. I stand my ground on illegal immigration for people who are in line waiting patiently, yet desperately, to come here for their opportunity. I stand my ground for all the other people in the world who are also waiting for a way in to this country the legal way.

2. Law and Order. I mean, how is this even a topic of confusion? like WTF? This is one of the reasons that literally pushed me away from the left. You’ve got Antifa and BLM rioters burning cities and businesses down. (and yes, I know, I know.. the response is, “but that’s not ALL of BLM” or “those people are not even BLM”, or blah blah blah. BULLfuckingSHIT. They are all ANTI-trump and some of them (actually most that I’ve seen) do wear BLM shit. They tag BLM shit everywhere and they don’t care about who they hurt or what they bring down with their anger.) I’ve seen videos of these groups harassing people who are minding their own business and eating lunch as protestors are yelling in their faces and forcing them to leave. They surround elderly who are merely walking down the street by blocking their way and yelling at their faces. I’ve watched countless videos of small business owners trying to protect their property and life’s work by getting jumped or die trying to protect their store fronts. And you know what gets me ever more riled up, SOME (if not most) OF THOSE PEOPLE ARE BLACK!!!!!!! Black owned business burned down. Black business owners crying about their life’s work totally gone at the expense of the anger of the wrongful death of another black person (who happens to be criminal). I empathize with the anger and sadness of the wrongful death of George Floyd. I agree that justice for his life should be served. I agree that Police Brutality needs to be addressed and police accountability and training needs reform... but how the left handles their emotions of anger is un-excusable. I’ve seen posts from my liberal friends, “Let them show their anger the way they want.” WTF? Seriously? So, if I’m mad, I can just go burn shit down? go beat somebody up? Go shoot cops? Like every field, I believe there are bad apples. Any one who denies that, I’d be very cautious to believe, but I have faith that the majority of our police officers are not racist. I believe that the majority of them are trying to do the right thing. I hate to admit that police presence is probably more prevalent in communities with higher numbers of people of color, but I’m curious to know WHY are communities with high numbers of POC are more prone to gangs, violence, drugs, and inevitably higher presence of law enforcement. I wonder why? ...and that leads me to the next reason:

3. Accountability. Leaders like Candice Owens, the Real MAGA Hulk, Kingface, and many many many many many many more Black Americans talk about it all the time. They talk about why nothing has changed in our Black American Communities. They have been voting Democrat for YEARS... and its still the same! Biden and Kamala Harris have been in politics for soooo long, but whats going on in these democratic cities? More tents of homelessness. More criminal activity. More drugs. More human trafficking. But instead of acknowledging the issues that minorities face and holding ourselves accountable for the changes we want to see, what do we do? BLAME TRUMP. The guy has been in office for less than 4 years and everything is his fault. Trump this, Trump that. Trump is the reason everything is going wrong. Trump divides us. Trump makes me mad. Trump, Trump, Trump. Jesus Fuck. Sooo OVER IT. People want to blame him for their shortcomings, for the racial tension, for every single challenge we face as a nation. As an individual I hold myself accountable for where I am today. Every accomplishment I’ve successfully completed has all been to holding myself accountable for making goals, whether for my career or for romantic relationships, and making sure I make no excuse to meet these goals. Yes, I grew up disadvantaged! I’m a victim of living in low-income housing and a victim of an unstable household to include divorce, domestic violence, and exposure to gang life. Yes, we had Section 8. Yes, my mom used food stamps when we were young. Yes, my dad was not around due to the military and my mom practically having to hold shit down with three children in a country she knows nothing about with a language she barely knew with NO HELP as all her family is in the PI and my paternal side being pretty much evil and hated her. Yes, we moved a million times as a child -  from an apartment near Kimball Park... to Meadow Brook Apartments... to my uncle’s house... to my other uncle’s garage...to the same uncles house... to a rent a room near where Joann/Erika used to live... to a house on M street... to the apartment on 2nd street (in the front)... to the same apartment complex but another apartment in the back... to an apartment behind Suhi... to an apartment on Highland Ave bordering Chula Vista... to the apartment on 1st Street... with pockets of staying in Welfare housing to staying at Rvy’s house to staying at Apryl’s house to staying at Josie’s house. Schools: from Kimball to John Otis to Daniel Boone to Las Palmas to El Toyon and finally, Granger Jr. High and Sweetwater. I remember having to use candles because we had no electricity. I remember no christmas tree during the holidays and instead using a sorry ass fake plant to replace it. I remember going on our show choir weekend trip to SF where my kuya and I literally exchanged looks as we decided which meal at McDonald’s we should share keeping in mind we have to budget for the rest of the meals we have to pay because thats all the money my mom gave us - while everyone around us could order much more than what we had. I remember hanging out with gang affiliated individuals and realizing how lucky I am to have separated from that lifestyle. Recently, I’ve been challenged to remember my upbringing, yes, my dear friend, I remember. I remember sitting outside your front door, peeking into the black metal screen door as my siblings and I watched you play the coolest and latest console gaming. I remember you hanging out after school at the Boys and Girls club while I hung out with the Mexicans and Samoans and the other crips whom were my neighbors. We can sit here and compare our sad stories and struggles but for people to ask me to reflect on the shit I’ve been through, brother you have no fucking clue. Have you watched your mom beat to colors black and blue? And I whole-heartedly am not trying to discount the struggles you’ve faced, but please don’t lecture me on why I should be angry or sad about my upbringing, because you have no clue what I’ve had to endure. My story is sad. If I had let that this shit bring me down and cry “Woe is me,” I have no doubt I wouldn’t be where I am today. Ever since I can remember, I’ve volunteered to be part of the change. Any positive change. I’ve dedicated my high school career trying to make school life as enjoyable as possible - but what happens? - the majority is still upset and hated the ASB (People have NO idea how many hours I’ve spent on the Suhi campus as a student trying to make things better). I’ve dedicated my post secondary life to become a teacher in the community I grew up in to affect change for the future generations. I stand as living proof that despite all the shit we all go through in life, we can be successful. WHY? Because we live in the land of opportunity. America is probably one of the only places (I can’t think of no other, but sure, lets pretend there are other countries like ours), where you can be poor and go through tons of shit and despite all of it, can still come out and be successful. But blaming others and being upset is not the key. It’s about HARD WORK and PERSEVERANCE, not blame or bull shit. This is the same kind of accountability that haunts communities with majority POC and I will not support the “Woe is me” or the “Endless Circles of Victimhood” mindset. I want out of that shit and into something better. 

4. National Security and all its benefits. This is the only country that I’ve seen where there are people who hate it and refuse to leave. Like damn, you hate our country so much, you want to burn it down, and you REFUSE to get the fuck out. Must not be that bad? Our borders are closed for random people to be able to come in without a Visa or Citizenship, yet we do not stop people from leaving this country if they really wanted to. The fact that everyone is trying to come in proves that people would die to be here. The scariest part of this election (to me) is losing our freedoms. I’ve watched a video of a testimony from a Cuban guy who risked his life to wind surf from Cuba to land on the Keys of Miami to seek asylum. Thats how great Socialism is. He says, socialism sounds great in text book. It may even feel great the first few years, but after a while, it starts to suck when you realize the government controls what you eat, when you eat, when to shop, where to shop, where to go for medical, etc. etc. He says, he wakes up very early in the morning to line up for food for his family to receive some mediocre bread, rice, and beans or whatever he said was the glamorous meal of the day. He says, when he finally got to America, he cried at the sight of being able to eat steak because he never had an opportunity to do so in his home country. He says medical attention sucks because since everyone gets treated the same, everyone must wait in line. Anyway, if socialism was so great, why’d he risk his life to leave it? They say Socialism is the step before Communism (places like China). You’ll never find anyone in China burning Chinese flags because if you do, you’re dead. I think at this point in the election, everyone has already chosen their sides. You’re either left or right. I don’t care to change Leftist perspectives but this is the side I chose for myself. Trump didn’t need to become president. Why the fuck would he want to do that? He had it all. He doesn’t even take a salary. He’s been attacked for the last 3-4 years, event after event. He’s attacked for being a racist, yet Dems support Joe Biden who LITERALLY said, “If you don’t know who you are voting for, me or Trump, then you ain’t Black.” That is literally the most racist shit I’ve ever heard and if we flip the script and Trump was the one who said that exact same line, the media will be having a field day!!!! But it was Biden who said it, so let’s forgive him, blame trump, and sweep it under the rug. Trump is not the best speaker, I’ll give you that. I can barely stand his voice sometimes. I too, need to take a break from his rallies of screaming and shit lol, but I admire that the guy is NOT a politician. He doesn’t need to listen to lobbyists who want him to do things because he doesn’t need money. He cannot be bought. On the other hand you have long time politicians like Biden and his family who have made money through and through by running for political spots promising things he’s never delivered. Black people look to him for some deranged idea of “hope” like he’s going to affect change when he himself wrote the 1994 Crime Bill which incriminated many people for petty crimes, primarily POC. Kamala Harris did the same thing according to many black testimonies I’ve seen - they are LITERALLY running away from her. Trump stands for America and its values. As a so-called racist, he signed a bill giving Historic Black Universities funding for not one year, but many years! I think 10, is it? (i’ll leave the dems to fact check it). He has created opportunity zones in democratically ran cities. He has pardoned POC to finally escape from prison for non-violent crimes. I mean, you have to wonder.. yes there are black people that hate him in the spark of BLM when they come out, but there are a lot of black people who love him too. Trump stands up to other nations and his “bad-ass” attitude may not be attractive to our soft demo’s who prefer to vote personality over policy, but it’s the same attitude that demands more from other countries in terms of financials and their fair share in world-wide peace. Trump is not a political puppet that can be swayed and pressured into selling out our country’s soul at the hands of other countries who are so called out performing us in every possible way - military strength, education, and financials. No one wants to talk about Biden’s ties with China but that shit is literally scary. It’s not that “impossible” to believe that we could be attacked at anytime (Hawaii and SD would be huge targets). Trump expects more from other countries and only makes deals that will benefit our country, not theirs. As the demos look up to Biden/Harris for whatever they are crying about, others are looking to Trump/Pence to literally MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN. I have never been so proud and patriotic as a proud Republican Female Immigrant voting for Donald Trump. A long time ago, I let my teacher know (Mrs. Hall or Mrs. Rose) know that I was agnostic and asked, "Will I ever find my reasoning to believe?”. She said, “One day, you will find one. Some day. Just Wait.” I think it’s today, lol. If Biden wins, I’ll start praying our nation doesn’t get sold along with it. I thank my husband and Josie for helping me keep it together through this ever emotional year of 2020. I pray that all this is in my head. I look to House of Cards for a reminder that maybe... all this political shit is exactly that - just politics. I pray there is nothing to fear and that our national security is at no risk if Biden wins. I pray that if Biden wins, my  demo friends or ex-friends are right - that he’s gonna do the right thing for the our nation and it’s citizens. 

5. Hatred FROM the left. Honestly, I started to secretly doubt the left, but kept my mouth shut about it especially on social media - knowing that more than 90% of my feed were leftists. I only spoke to people I trusted who would help me create logical thought processes on how to absorb the things I was seeing realtime. Little did I know that my social media silence bothered a black person and he called me out for not saying anything. So I pursued research. I watched videos of the cries of BLM and found that besides George Floyd’s death (and a few others), I don’t see the same things other Demos see in these cases. Breonna Taylor died in the hallway of her own home, not in her bed when she was sleeping, unless she sleeps in the hallway, but idk her so who really knows? Coming to find that her bf is the one that shot at the cops first and shot a cop in the leg to be answered my gun shots leading to Breonna Taylors death but not the BF who hid behind her. Ya’ll want to protest that?? What about the cops that are trying to do their jobs? They were there due to continuous investigations of drugs that BT’s bf was involved in. What about the families of the cops? Are they expected to just come home dead? I would NEVER allow my husband to be a police officer. It is a bad time to be one. They risk their lives everyday to do what’s right and yet they get shit thrown at them, deal with rioters that hate them, etc etc. If my husband had to chokehold someone (IDGAF if he or she was white, black, asian, mexican, WHATEVER race bait you want to bring up), I authorize my husband to throw it down however the fuck he felt necessary to come back home to me and my future family. I stand with the spouses and families of all service members that sacrifice everything for the common good and safety for the people and their communities. AND I KNOW, that there are BAD COPS out there. I agree with you that they should be addressed and be pushed to resign, but I believe that the majority of our service men and women are here to do the job the right way. I back the blue 100%. If you don’t, I better not hear or see of any demos calling cops when you need help. I hope you win your battles with your pitchforks cause ya’ll won’t even have weapons to defend yourself if ever you had to because Demos are trying to take your guns away. lol Yea yea, pretty dramatic, but not “impossible” in my eyes. *DEEP BREATH* After sporadic days of emotional wreck, I made a decision on where I stand, I posted, “TRUMP 2020″ and here they come!!!! “If you vote for Trump, you are a racist” Really bro? All of a sudden, I’m a racist? “How can you vote for him? You are a female, asian immigrant!” What does that even mean???? Because I am a female, or because I am Asian, or because I am an immigrant, are you telling me that I only have ONE WAY TO VOTE?! That is the most UN-FREE-ING thing anyone has every told me. There’s only one way. Sounds like a fucking trap. The left made it clear to me - that is not the side I want to be on. Easy choice. AND EVEN THEN... My black ex-friend, says... “Ohhhh, your husband is white and in the miltary. Makes sense.” MOTTTHEEERRRRFUCCCKKKERRR. Did you just discredit my position because my husband is a white man in the Navy? Pffft. I’ve walked away from the left with no intent to return. I’ve learned that I need to have thicker skin when it comes to losing friends because we can’t see eye to eye with politics. I won’t initiate separation but I’ve spent plenty of time thinking about the kinds of people and ideology I’m leaving behind in 2020 and looking forward to cultivating relationships with those who still accept me despite our differences and especially those who share the same ideology. 

6. Hate for America and Disrespect for our Armed Forces. I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I see American flags burning or football/basketball players kneeling during our National Anthem, it doesn’t make me want to join you. I asked my husband, “How do you feel when people kneel during the National Anthem?” He said, “I joined the military so they have the freedom to do what they want.” WTF?! My dearest hubby, I love you for your humble stance because you are right.. Americans are free to do what they want... and this freedom is protected by the men and women who sacrifice their lives to defend this country from outside forces! Don’t you guys fucking remember World War II??? We barely won this war. Some say by luck of the creation of the atomic bomb from someone from our side. If we had lost that war, we would probably be owned by Japan? maybe Germany? (Seriously, I wished I paid more attention when I was enrolled in history classes. lol) In my eyes, we wouldn’t have our current freedoms or our current lives if the brave men and women of our armed forces didn’t sacrifice their lives to preserve it... and ya’ll have the balls to kneel for what???? racial injustice for criminals?? GET. THE. FUCK. OUT. OF. HERE. There are plenty of mothers who give birth to babies who’s dads can’t be there because they are overseas. We’ve got people crying about COVID? << (don’t even get me started on that shit) Countless fathers miss their babies births, birthdays, graduations, weddings, etc. etc. to protect our great nation so that you can, in turn, burn the flag and disrespect what it stands for. People can’t be with their friends and families during COVID?? I sympathize with you but now you’ve had a small  taste of what military families go through. Then you got people who respond with, “But that’s your choice. Your choice to join the military. Your choice to marry someone in the military.” FUCK YOU. Are you telling me that people like my husband don’t deserve to be loved and supported in fear that we will be separated for months at a time while he is over seas?? Fuck you. I’m actually VERY LUCKY that I met a man that has worked his way up that I didn’t have to feel ALL the sacrifices that other families have made. Do you know what military families have to go through to keep their families together?? There are plenty of families broken because spouses are not together, and to say - “oh that’s their choice” is the most selfish thing EVER... and I don’t (completely) blame the family members that are left behind when they can’t hack it, because seriously, it’s hard. Countless nights alone and separated from loved ones. Trying to do a two person job alone ALL THE TIME, not just a couple days, but MONTHS. Sometimes YEARS altogether. My husband may not care about the donk donks that disrespect our military and everything they’ve done and to all the lives sacrificed, and to all the service members who come back with no families, no love, and no one to support them, I STAND WITH YOU. Oh! Oh! Don’t even get me started with the VA and the medical that is provided to our service members. People want Free Healthcare?! Veterans have Free HealthCare and its one of the worst! We provide our service members with maybe “par” sometimes SUBPAR healthcare. I technically have free healthcare, but in fear that I won’t be seen on time or seen with proper care when I get pregnant, we have opted to pay the extra fees for better care.

7. Personal Health and Sanity. To discuss all the controversial things that the right vs left argue about sounds mundane and tiresome. It really is. I’ve invested so much time and emotions deciphering where I stand to include conversations with handfuls of people who say, “I respect your opinion and I’ve always respected you as a person and am curious to know why you’re voting for Trump.” I’ve questioned my position many times. I’ve watched and read (although, I’ll admit, I hate reading and it was never something I was strong in. I am a visual person and I prefer to hear and watch videos of other’s personal thoughts and experiences.”  I appreciate my friend, Cassie, who reminded me, it doesn’t always have to be about policies. It is okay to vote for Trump based on my own experiences - just like how she see’s things. She a Mexican trump supporter who legally immigrated to the U.S. from Mexico and attended SYH. She watched her school cater to undocumented students putting their needs before hers when she is an Mexican-American who’s single mom pays taxes and wanted to learn curriculum in English, not Spanish, but was taught in Spanish because the other kids didn’t know English. Cassie, you literally lifted tons of weight off my shoulders. Thank you! I thank my long time friend Paulos, who responded to my recent post of me wearing a Trump hat with, “You’re about to piss off ALL your friends. Good job though. Fuck em lol” I responded with, “I fucking love you!!” Always have and always will. I’ve never in my life felt like I couldn’t be myself out loud until 2020, a time where leftists shame you for having a different opinion and basically delete you if you support Trump. But I thought to myself, this is the WORST TIME to stay quiet. I am worried that our youngsters who live in democratic cities like National City are only exposed to what the left exposes them to, triggering hate and fear that may or may not be real, and despite my very democratic social media feed, I figured, I’ll be the first to stand for what I believe in with pride and without shame. I have always done what I believe is right, even if its not the most popular opinion, and even if that meant standing my ground against people I thought loved me - especially coming from California, and especially coming from National City. I have ALWAYS told the hubby that after he retires from the Navy, I only see us living in SD. This is the first time in my life where I did not want to come back to CA. In fact, CA was third on my list after Texas and Tennessee. I want to thank my bf Jo, for reminding me of why I should reconsider and remember where my roots are. To remember our upbringing and remember that the people we are most close with today are those in proximity to us. Thank you for taking me out of my very emotional mental state and bringing me back to rationale about why it is important to me to live near my closest friends and family and I truly thank you for investing time to make sure I am always considering all my options rationally and not emotionally. I thank my family, although we are 3vs2 lol we still love each other despite what we value politically. I thank my husband who protects me, my thoughts, and my values. I thank you for being patient with ALL my emotions throughout this year. You have NEVER EVER EVER pushed me to be one way or another. You have ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS let me decide things on my own and in my own time, including the move to Hawaii and my recent change in political views. You truly are the BEST person I know and I will love you FOREVER!!!!! Lastly, Thank You Donald J. Trump for ruffling feathers everywhere and shedding light on the bull shit going on with politicians. Thank you for sacrificing your life as well as your families’ lives and businesses for the sake of preserving American values and American Life. GOD BLESS AMERICA. 

[everyonesomething]

Session 21b

Grim: "I like that, you're good folks."

Malkas: "My girl said she was goin' and what was I gonna do without her, you know?"

Grim: "You are just hook line 'n sinker for her, huh"

Malkas grins a little lopsided. His jaw is sore. "Yep."

In this session, Grim and Mal bond and the group blows off steam.

The set-up: The day after the cyclops encounter, at a nondescript truck stop.

The Game: After dinner, Mal and Grim are loitering outside in the parking lot. Mal sees a halfling struggling to change a tire and goes to help him, getting paid with a bag of Luhix—a popular recreational drug—for his troubles.

Looking to unwind, he and Grim go to a nearby bar to chat and swap stories.

Malkas: "Don't kidnappings, decapitations, all that happen literally everywhere? There was a beach in Waterdeep too and a kid from down my block got eaten by a real big mother Displacer beast."

Grim: "Sure. Ain't everywhere that floats its economy off it, though."

Malkas: "Except Waterdeep probably does. Didn't you ever hear about that crime boss beholder?"

"Ruled the city for three hundred years and didn't even have thumbs."

Grim: "Shit, don't talk to me about the Waterdeep families. There's damn few jobs I wont touch, Malkas, but even I got more sense than working that city."

Malkas: "It was a very interesting place to grow up in."

Malkas finishes his beer in one slug.

Malkas: "When I was a kid, I remember, before the houses around us got so built up, there were these two big guys, a dwarf and a half-orc maybe, digging a big hole in an open field."

"And I was, maybe seven? And I wander over there..."

Grim lights up a cigarette while she listens

Malkas: "Tell me they're playing a real fun game of Hole-Digging."

"And give me, like, a shovel."

Grim snorts softly

Malkas: "And they just... let me dig for a while. And then when it was starting to get dark, they take back the shovel, give me a handful of candy and a pack of smokes and send me on my way. And "Don't tell anybody."

Grim: "Real trusting kid."

They drink some more, talk some more, add a little spice to their evening with the Luhix, and decide to do some bar-hopping to burn off a little steam. They've both been feeling too tightly-wound between the monster fights and being cooped up in a car that a change of pace would do them some good.

Malkas: "Alright, usually when I was high, I'd go find somebody who would call me Horns or Imp and get into a fistfight."

Grim grins, wide and crooked

Grim: "You're speakin' my language, Malkas."

Malkas: "I don't know if we're gonna find anyone racist around here."

Grim: "In a shitstain truck stop asshole've the midwest, are you kiddin' me? Practically grow 'em for export, towns like these."

"Hell, all we gotta do is get off've the roadway here, head on out where the money from nonhumans don't spend."

Malkas: "Arright, well I'll be buzzing for another hour, so let's boogie."

Grim elbows him and heads off along one of the smaller roads

Grim: "You're a whole lot more fun than you act, I'll tell you."

Malkas: "Whaaat? How do I act?"

Grim: "Oh shit like you ain't playin' up the butter don't melt in your mouth, never done a crime good kid for Edith day in an' out."

Mal confesses to Grim that he's always been under pressure to be the good kid, his two older brothers were a handful for his parents. He did his best, but he wasn't perfect, and it's still something that puts a strain on him—worse now that he's head over heels for Edith and doesn't want to ruin their relationship.

At another bar, Grim asks Mal how things are going with Edith and apologizes for accidentally causing tension between them. It's water under the bridge for him, he's a lot more concerned now about going to her parents' place.

Malkas: "We, we're .I-it's gonna, uh... Her parents are kind of awful and I hate 'em a lot."

"And I sure as [infernal] don't wanna GO and stay at their house but but but"

"She wants me there with her."

"So I'm going."

Malkas reaches over his head to scratch his left ear with his right hand.

Grim: "Sure they sound like fuckin' grade-A fuckin' assholes, but what the hell d'you say to that, kid's clearly got a blind spot size've a boulder over them."

Malkas: "Yeah yeah yeah I know but its her parents so.... What'm'I gonna do? I made you guys come see my dumb family."

Grim leans back in her seat, rocking one leg restlessly while they talk

Grim shrugs and toys with her empty glass, spinning it around and around in one hand

Grim: "Shit, I don't know what the hell kind've advice you think you're gonna get from me, I don't know jack about none've this."

Malkas drums his fingers on the table. Incessantly. "Oh no, I don't want advice, there's no angle here, I just mean we're doing great aside from the impending parents disapproval, you know?"

Malkas: "Because their grandkids might come out looking like demons. Devils."

"It's just a thing! That's happening. I need another hit do you want another hit?"

Grim: "Fuck 'em, who needs 'em? Ain't like Runekill's got trouble standin' on her own two feet. Hell d'you need with a lotta near strangers getting up your ass about whatever the hell- fuck yeah let's do it"

Malkas: "Yes good."

Honestly confronting your fears and concerns with a close friend can be helpful!

They decide the bar isn't doing it for them and head back out into the night to find a more physical activity. Since rockwall climbing hasn't been invented yet, they just climb the side of a building to loiter on a rooftop.

Malkas balances on the thin wall around the roof.

Grim dumps her pack and hat on the top of the roof once she gets up there and turns to survey the town while she lights up

Grim: "Y'ever think about how fuckin' easy it would be to just take a bunch've people out?"

"Fucked up."

Malkas: "Hahaah this place sucks."

"What, like, shoot people from a rooftop?"

Grim: "Sure, or whatever. Blow 'em up. Lure in a monster, drive into some big ass building. Don't take fuckin' nothin' to mess up a whole lotta people good. Kinda crazy it don't happen all the time, y'know?"

Grim huffs out smoke

Grim: "Set a fire."

Malkas: "Maybe it does out in the wilderness."

Grim: "Yeah, but there ain't so many people all together in one place."

Malkas: "Mn."

Grim sights down her rifle and scans the darkened streets for a few moments, then snorts and sets it aside

Grim: "Fucked up shit, man."

Malkas rocks on his heels, his tail swinging around to set his balance on the wall.

Grim sits on the edge of the building and draws her knees up, leaning over precariously

Grim: "How long 'til we all bite it out here, you reckon?"

Malkas: "We're not gonna die out here."

Grim: "The hell we ain't, we all got a timer. Someone's kickin' it sooner or later."

Malkas: "I I just - I just think tha-that weeee're... Gonna be fine. We got somebody to heal us. And Syd, Syd's obviously got a through line to Bahamut."

"And I don't see us ALL dyin' until we're up against something too big."

"Like Tam."

Grim nods

Grim keeps nodding

Malkas paces up and down the thin wall.

Grim: "Man, I want somethin' to fuck me up good though, y'know that feeling? Like I want to get laid out, it ain't enough 'til somethin' takes me the fuck down."

Malkas: "Or maybe tomorrow, a red dragon's gonna fly down outta nowhere and toss the car into the ocean."

Grim: "S'a convertible, red dragon'd just eat us."

Malkas: "Alright alright okay okay okay okay GRIM."

"Grim."

Malkas turns and faces her, "Grom."

Grim: "I know about red dragons, man, I know some shit - about dragons."

Malkas: "The only thing I know how to do anything. Is by pretending that whatever dumb shit I'm doing is not ever gonna kill me."

"It's the only way I could keep breaking into old dungeons filled with spike traps and swinging axes and the only way I keep fucking with mummies."

"So... Yeah, we're all gonna die horribly! Probably. But, you know. Pretend we're not. And then we won't maybe."

Malkas hops off the wall.

Malkas: "What about dragons?"

Grim: "Dragons'll eat a car, ain't the point. Ain't the- point is that's your shit, Mal, that's all you an' prob'ly Edith and hell, most normal folks, but that ain't my shit. That ain't how I get goin', alright."

"Somethin's got a mark on me an' somethin's gonna take me out someday, an' I ain't goin' without a fight; So I gotta go hard, I gotta want it, that's how the fuck I keep on goin', I gotta find that shit that's gonna wreck me for good."

"If I ain't lookin' for it, I ain't doin' all I can do, an' that ain't me."

"Fuck man, I wanna see my death comin' an' look it right in the eye an' get at least a good shot off first."

Deep, philosophical conversation about the nature of life and humanity with a close friend can be helpful!

After a lull in conversation, Grim talks Mal into having a spar with her on the rooftop. It starts clean and friendly, even though they both nearly fall over the side at different times. They devolve into taking pot-shots at each other before Mal pulls out his trump card.

Helia (GM): The rooftop goes black.

Grim freezes

Malkas punches Grim and then the darkness evaporates.

Grim stumbles and grabs for her rifle instinctively

Malkas snickers.

Grim casts around wildly and levels it at Mal before she realises what's up and curls her lip

Grim: "Fuckin' asshole, magic's cheatin'."

Malkas: "It's not really magic, it's just the gifts that my ancestors gave me."

Grim: "Magic gifts. Asshole."

Malkas holds up his hands, "Alright, alright."

Grim sets her rifle down and spits blood again, then wipes her chin

Grim: "Goddamn magical creature shit, ain't no less magic just 'cause it's in your blood."

Malkas: "Alright, I'm sorry. You want a free swing?"

Grim: "Nah, I'm good. Ain't out to kill your paper tissue ass."

They call the match at that and split a post-workout drink before deciding to go back to the diner. Grim verifies with Mal that they're friends in time for them to both slip and fall off the building on descent.

When they get back to town, they join the rest of the gang—Edith more than a little alarmed at their roughened state.

Edith Runekill springs to her feet and rushes over to Grim and Mal, looking horrified.

Edith Runekill: "Oh no!! What happened to you two? Are you okay????"

Pepper steadies the table as Edith rams into it, it's already mostly supported by soggy napkins shoved under the legs.

Malkas: "Heyyy Edi-bell! What? We're good, we're great. Great great great. Keen even."

Pepper squints at Mal.

Malkas: "How's it goin', Pep."

Edith Runekill cocks her head to the side. "You... don't really look it. Did you two get in a fight?"

Grim raises her tray of pie out of Edith's general radius

Grim: "Goddamn Runekill, back up off my ass there will you?"

Pepper: "Oh, it's going. You're awful bright eyed and bushy tailed for looking like you got run over by a truck."

Malkas: "No, nonono, just... General roughhousing. No big deal!"

Edith Runekill: "Should we get Capridi? Or... or Millicent?"

Grim: "Yeah, nah, nah, we ain't been into much, weren't much but a li'l scrappin'."

Edith Runekill dabs at Mal's face with a clean napkin.

Edith Runekill: "You two... are speaking kinda oddly. Did. Um. Did you drink a lot?"

Sweet, sweet Edith.

Grim and Mal reassure her that they just had a sparring lesson, no serious damage done. She accepts his explanation, but sends a message Pepper asking her if she thinks they're acting weird. Pepper's not getting in the middle of this one and just tells Edith to let them ride out the evening and worry about it in the morning. Edith is on board with this suggestion, until Mal and Grim let slip that they both fell off a building.

Edith isn't going to just worry about this in the morning and questions if the roof of a building was the best place for a sparring lesson. Edith points out that someone could have been injured or killed for no reason—everyone is already risking their lives on the journey, there's no need to go looking for more trouble. Grim gets defensive at the lecture, it's not news to her that any one of them might die on the trip.

Grim: "Shit, Runekill, we ain't all the same person out here, I ain't about that shit and I ain't interested in playin' at it. Yeah man, prob'ly gonna die, prob'ly a couple of us before this thing's through, turns out it's one hell of a lot easier stickin' the whole lifestyle out when you want that."

Edith Runekill: "I don't want some historian to sit down in the year 2100 and read about how Szass Tam conquered the world because the people trying to stop 'im got drunk and fell off a roof."

Grim: "And guess what, that ain't gonna happen, cause here's some news: we ain't goddamn dead."

Malkas sits up a little straighter.

Edith Runekill: "And I'm terribly glad of that!! But it's just... [infernal] fuck, [common] the odds're stacked against us enough without just taking... completely unnecessary risks..."

"I made peace with the fact that I'm probably gonna die out here but that doesn't mean I wanna and I won't try not to."

Grim: "Who the fuck are you to tell me what's necessary, Runekill?"

Malkas: "Hey, okay, come on."

Pepper: "C'mon, man," she throws her spoon on the table.

Grim glowers over at Edith, lips pursed around her cigarette

Malkas: "Edi, let's get some fresh air, okay?"

Edith Runekill: "I mean. I'm just having kind of a hard time seeing how knocking one another off a dang roof is 'necessary'. I know I'm just a naive country girl but I'm having a bit of trouble figuring that one out..."

Malkas looks pleadingly at Edith.

Malkas looks a little less deranged with his pupils less dilated,

Grim: "Girl, I spend day in day out dead on the inside an' livin' on the out. You fuckin' tell me I ain't entitled to feel like a real person once in a while, like a livin' thing. You don't see it cause you ain't gotta, you got your warm feelings about doin' right an' keepin' lore, an' your li'l devil boy on your arm. You ain't ever had to take a punch to keep goin' another day. Don't you come at me like your world's my world, it ain't."

Pepper taps the table like "annnnd there it is".

Sydney Gaydos is sliding in at the worst time! "Oh! There you all are!"

Malkas slams his hand down on the table.

Helia (GM): Everyone falls asleep.

Edith Runekill , who has had a traumatic, near-death experience every day for the entire adventure, doesn't need to hear THAT from Grim.

Sydney Gaydos does in fact have the worst timing.

Edith Runekill falls face-first on Pepper's fries.

Malkas is shaking a little, looking beyond furious.

Pepper doesn't sleep but doesn't really react.

Grim is Out like a light

Mal gently wakes Edith and leads her outside, nudging Sydney and the waitress awake as he passes. Sydney joins Pepper and the sleeping Grim at the table as Mal and Edith sit on a bench outside. He tells Edith he got upset and cast Sleep on the diner by accident, angry over how Grim was talking to her. He also tells her what he and Grim were up to with the Luhix and apologizes for worrying her and taking on extra risks.

Malkas: "Anyway, uh... Grim gets a little more aggressive apparently."

Edith Runekill: "Just... just say you'll be careful, okay? I... I'm afraid enough of losing you without it just being some stupid mishap."

Malkas: "I will. Sorry. We were just feeling a little pent up, I guess."

"But yeah. I'll, uh, be more careful."

Edith Runekill: "I mean. We all do in stressful situations. And frankly we all get kinda blasted. Just... maybe not on a roof...?"

Malkas: "I suggested tree."

Malkas: "Also, we were very, very high."

Edith Runekill: "On... cannabis?"

Malkas: "... Remember when you found me in that deli at 7am?"

Edith Runekill: "When you drank all those espressos? At least I was pretty sure that's what happened."

"When I was trying to reconstruct the chain of events that led you there."

Malkas: "... No, uh, I helped a guy change his tire and he gave Grim and me some Luhix."

"And usually, for me alone, leads to tree climbing, bagels, maybe one streetfight against some asshole calling me "devil boy."

Malkas shoots a look at the diner.

Malkas: "Turns out, Grim's ... uh, she's a pretty bad influence on me?"

Edith Runekill: "...Luhix? Really?"

"Um."

Malkas: "It's not that rare in Waterdeep."

Edith Runekill: "No kiddin.'"

"Uh... yeah. Maybe Grim is kinda a bad influence on you...?"

Malkas: "Mom used to rub it on Lem's gums when he was teething."

Edith Runekill: "Well, in medicinal quantities, I assume...?"

Mal gets one last thing off his chest with Edith: he asks her if she's just dating him to make her parents upset. She denies this, of course. She loves Mal with all her heart. Aw, these two.

Inside the diner, Pepper fills Sydney in on what she missed. Neither one of them are too impressed with how the evening ended up, but they're content to let it go for now, there's more important issues at hand.

Grim tenses with a sharp intake of breath, as if startled, and then freezes for a second, totally disoriented by waking up slumped on the table

Pepper: "[Elvish] for the love of--" she recoils as Grim comes back.

Sydney Gaydos: "... hello Grim!"

Grim looks up in the direction of Syd's voice, half buried under her own hair and looking a little like a cornered animal for a moment

Grim: "Th'fuck?"

Pepper: "You were asleep forrrr," she consults the clock over the lunch counter. "I dunno, a few minutes?"

Grim glances around warily and then runs her fingers across her mouth, wiping away a little of the blood from her split lip

Grim: "What the fuck just happened?"

Pepper slides a glass of water over in Grim's direction.

Grim eyeballs the water and then Pepper with fairly open hostility

Sydney Gaydos: "Now now let's all be civil here..."

Pepper: "You were asleep," she repeats herself as if it's the first time she said it. "In a magic kind of way. After you lost your head at Edith."

Grim sits up and rakes her hair out of her face, gaze twitching from Pepper to Syd and back

Grim: "Who th'hell's been castin' goddamn magic on me?"

Pepper: "Well first off, you should know it was an accident. Probably even hit some poor asshole just trying to use the toilet."

Sydney Gaydos slowly begins to tense up. "Right, an accident."

Grim growls, gaze fixed on Pepper now

Grim: "Who"

"Cast"

"Goddamn"

"Magic"

"on me"

Malkas throws a pebble at the window.

Malkas: "Well. Remember me as I was."

Grim flinches and looks up, then spots Mal and scowls

Grim confronts Mal who apologizes up-front for the Sleep spell and then gestures for her to follow him outside for a private conversation. He tells her the evening was fun, but Grim crossed a line talking to Edith the way she did. Grim considers his words, and they both make up.

Malkas: "I get the idea we have to ... hold it together a lot."

"Probably have been the only ones holding it together for longer than most people should have been at our ages."

Grim exhales smoke slowly, watching Mal, and gives a nod and a half shrug

Malkas: "And so... letting loose, as we did tonight, while fun..."

"Man we agree on some terrible ideas."

"I'm sure there's some deep reason for that, but I'm not really interested in that."

Grim: "You don't gotta justify it, Mal."

Malkas: "And I am sorry about the spell. You went off at Edith and that Devil Boy crack... I dunno, I was about to go over the table at you."

"Came out a little differently."

Grim has to think about that

Grim: "Don't even recall what I said there. More temper than anything, I guess."

Malkas: "Oh, you know, it was your basic "YOU DON'T KNOW ME" thing."

"Yeah. Temper. Me too."

Grim scratches the side of her head, thinking

Grim: ".....y'said y'were lookin' for someone to fight. Who'd call you devil boy."

"......I'm a hell of a shit stirrer when i want to be."

Malkas snorts a laugh, "Oh... I DID, didn't I?"

Grim: "Been spoilin' for a fight all night. Still am, kinda."

Malkas stands up and refolds his sleeves.

Malkas: "Okay. Take two?"

Grim: "For real?"

Malkas nods. "Yeah. Let's get this out of our systems. Because I'm still a little pissed about the Devil Boy thing."

Grim studies him for a moment, then nods

Friendship restored.

Back inside the diner, Edith beats herself up over what happened—the stress of trying to hold herself and the group together boiled over for her tonight, too. Pepper and Syd reassure her that it wasn't her fault and Mal and Grim will work the situation out between them. She's still unsure as the two re-enter the diner even bloodier than before, but accepts that they've made up in their own way.

Grim apologizes to Edith for what she said. With some of the stress and tension resolved, the group settles back in the diner booth for a late-night post-fight meal.

Edith Runekill looks from Grim, to Mal, to Grim, to Mal again.

Malkas takes a sip of water.

Grim leans over and spits blood into an empty cup

Edith Runekill in a very small voice: "oh auril i have a type"

Pepper: "[Elvish] Plaguewrought girls are weird," mostly to herself.

Edith Runekill: [Elvish] "We kinda are."

Pepper: "ANYway." She points to Grim. "This place makes a pretty amazing plate of hashbrowns, if you're not going to bed for awhile. I was probably gonna get a plate, myself."

Malkas: "Sounds good. Blow my mind, diner."

Grim looks up at Pepper and studies her kind of warily for a second. Then nods slowly, perplexed.

Grim: "Sure."

Pepper goes up to the counter to order because the servers sure-as-shit are avoiding the table at this point.

Grim goes back to cleaning the worst of the blood off her face. And knuckles.

Pepper wanders back. "It shouldn't take too long, but I think I gotta pick the plates up from the counter when they're done."

Grim gives Pepper another odd look but says nothing

Edith Runekill: "I guess... we look like a pretty rowdy bunch, huh?"

Pepper piles up some of the empty plates from the table to make room.

Pepper: "Oh yeah, you're a killer-diller."

Edith Runekill: "A real rough and tumble crowd."

Grim: "Reckon we are a pretty rowdy bunch."

Edith Runekill: "Often with literal tumbling."

Grim looks down and dips her napkin in some water to clean off her hands

Malkas: "I'm gonna ... wash up."

Grim is starting to feel kind of like absolute garbage in both the physical and moral sense

Malkas smooches Edith on the cheek, leaving a slightly blood kiss mark.

Edith Runekill smiles, not noticing that she has blood on her face, gross

Sydney Gaydos: "... Ah Edith, you have a little... let Gaydos get it." She tugs a piece of her jacket sleeve onto a finger to gently wipe the blood off of her cheek.

Edith Runekill: "Oh! Thanks, Sydney. Didn't... didn't see that."

Pepper glances over at the counter when she hears a bell dinging. She takes a stack of the dirty dishes with her and comes back with plates of food. "Told'ja it wouldn't take long, they really wanna get rid of us."

Malkas returns, cleaner but bruised.

Grim moves down the booth to make room for them, only leaving a light smudge of blood in her wake

Pepper slides a plate to Mal and sits down to eat.

Malkas searches for a fork.

Grim slides him the one she tried to stab his tail with earlier

Pepper surveys the table. It's a crime scene. "Everyone's got enough cash on 'em to leave a good tip after this mess right?"

Malkas: "Yeah."

Grim grunts

Edith Runekill: "Yeah. Don't worry about it."

Grim remembers the property damage they committed earlier and feels kind of shitty about it

Grim adds it to the laundry list at this point

Sydney Gaydos is 100% just going to leave some of those gemstones they got from the cyclops killing.

Pepper dumps what's left of her food onto Grim's plate because she's really been eating non-stop for hours, she's hit her limit.

Grim pauses when this happens and gives Pepper another of those odd looks

Grim: "....thanks."

Pepper grins. "Welcome."

Grim glances along the table at the others briefly, as if looking for some sign that they might be in on whatever this is

Grim looks back at Pepper, then slowly goes back to her food

I think these kids'll be alright.

[captainband]

page//genesis pt. one

WATSON: Who would you say inspired your group most?

PAGE: Queen.  I really had a thing for Freddie, and Paisley had a thing for Brian.

BARNES: I think all of us had a thing for Brian.

[Laughter from the group]

WATSON: And you got to tour with Queen in ‘76.

ROGERS: Oh yeah. Really awesome moment for us. Arguably one of the best tours in our career.

REYNOLDS: And we performed for Live Aid with them, didn’t we?

BARNES: Hell yeah we did. You know, I think being there with all of those famous names was really how we knew we’d made it.

PAGE: Definitely. We’d just recently gotten back together when we performed there. Great concert, and great cause too.

WATSON: So, how did Captain begin?

BARNES: What, our origin? Well, we all had different circumstances that kind of brought us together.

WATSON: What was that like?

[Cue “Tiny Dancer”]

FEBRUARY 29th, 1972.

Tucked away on a forgotten corner on Park and 18th street lived an old, craggily man who owned a musical instrument repair shop, run by his most hated yet most affordable employee, Mr. Terrell Smith, who made it his line of work to get back at the racist Mr. Donahue in any way he could. What this meant was letting the new girl in town test all of the guitars and pianos herself before he deemed them ready to be released once more to their owners. Around three o’clock every single afternoon, the lonely yet lovely Ms. Terrance Paige Marsh came to the shop, found her place at the base of the piano, and began playing Elton John’s greatest hit thus far: Tiny Dancer. She’d barely gotten a chance to hear it before she was already practicing and mastering it, taking advantage of what records they had there to play it over and over again until the poor thing had just about snapped in half, along with the record. Mr. Terrell’s least favorite song--in fact, least favorite artist--would forever be Elton John’s Tiny Dancer. Nonetheless, the plucking of recently tuned piano strings made the streets buzz a little more for that single hour each day, springing to life from the drab and rusted parts of forgotten city. Business was surely booming from the talk about the city of a simple country girl having real talent. She’d barely been here a month, and already, the people were in love.

Yet, every single day, Terrie was greeted with the same response from Mr. Terrell: “You again? Don’t you have something better to do? How ‘bout starting with getting a real job?”

“Working on it, Mr. Smith. I’m getting close. Just have to wait, until.. You know, women can actually get a man’s job.” Her hair was wildly long—it fell down past her hips, tapering off into dull, splitting ends she was desperately trying to rejuvenate through various experimental home remedies she’d only heard of. Dark, heavy strands cascaded downward in uneven waves across her shoulders and her face, partially obscuring her left eye and casting shadows that got people shooting quick second glances in her direction and nothing more. Heavy makeup lined her face, foundation covering every imperfection, blue eyeshadow drawing attention to her eyes, bright lipstick making men fantasize in passing moments as she walked by. The origins of this makeup were questionable at best, but with no proof or evidence, she may have very well bought them this time. A better question would have been where she was able to apply makeup every day, but Mr. Terrell knew better than to ask. He could leave it to his imagination, seeing the way she worked, the way she could hustle her way into an establishment to use their bathroom, steal some food, even bathe. He could take a few guesses as to where she slept too, but he hoped he was wrong.

“You know that ain’t never gonna happen. You’ve more luck getting famous as a piano player.”

“I could be working here, you know,” she retorted, shooting him a glance before positioning herself once more at the piano.

“No. Girl, we talked about this. Mr. Donahue won’t be wanting nothing from you. Nothing but bad news. A harlequin.” Mr. Terrell shook his head just imagining, seeing the smart, young girl wasting away as some colorful prop for a useless man. Too many women ended up like that nowadays.

Terrie, jaw dropped, stared at Mr. Terrell until he turned to notice, then she scoffed and turned away once more. “I am not a harlequin. I don’t sleep my way to the middle.”

“No, you sleep your way out of homelessness.”

She rolled her eyes, placing her hands again on the familiar keys, prepping herself. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m still homeless.”

“That ain’t right.”

“Shit yeah, it’s not right,” she said, emphasizing with a determination that kept her up most nights.

“No, Girl, I mean sleeping around like that. I mean, shit, most women doing it anyways, but you’re better than that.”

She watched her hands, hesitation beginning at her fingertips, creeping their way up into her hands. “Obviously not,” Terrie muttered, and with a quick shake of her hands, the hesitation was shoved away momentarily, the quiet, dim interior reminding her no one was around. The melody was simple enough--sweet and elegant, the way most classic pieces she’d learned were. Her eyes would momentarily close, her shoulders relax, body becoming one with the piano and its gentle embrace. Mr. Terrell would be fiddling with another broken string, one tightened too much by the careless owner--easy fix--that could take minutes yet get hours worth of profit, and he’d watch her from the corner of his eye, seeing the way her movements coalesced with the music itself, a fusion between man and musical instrument which made the world a little safer in their one hour of power. Mr. Donahue wouldn’t wake from his scheduled nap for another forty-nine minutes, so the store was hers, so long as the slowly greying Mr. Terrell could work.

“You know what you making me think, Girl?” Mr Terrell said, now wiping the counter off with a partially dusty drag. “You gonna marry a music man. I can feel it.”

With a soft, almost voiceless laugh, Terrie twisted her body and her shoulders to move enough of her locks across to her back. “Yeah, right.”

“That’s what Mr. Elton John tells you. Yes ma’am, a rich, young music man. Best goddamn smile you ever seen. That’s who you’ll find.” And to Mr. Terrell’s surprise, he was absolutely right. The perfect music man just hadn’t walked through those doors yet.

Most often, customers never came in, or if they did, it was to get just a glimpse at the young girl making music great again, before leaving the store once more, uninterested in its contents and Mr. Terrell. Apart from the occasional jingle of the bell which unwillingly slammed against the door with each shift and opening, the room was quiet, and Terrie could block out the entire world, practicing and playing, praying that one day she could perform on stage. She didn’t want much, as long as it could afford an actual house, with an actual window looking over the city from the top instead of the bottom. She wasn’t even particularly fond of the city--no, she wanted freedom to travel the world, to see the seven wonders, to live an adventurous life with the imaginary man of her dreams. If she was extra lucky, she could play guitar around the world, get a record deal, find herself overcoming every single person who knocked her down as a kid, making sure she knew only the male artists were going to make it anywhere. There had undoubtedly been some inspirational women in her lifetime, yet it simply was never enough. Most women were content with what they had--whatever that was--but Terrie never was. Most days she spent wishing she weren’t a woman at all, but being a woman also had its perks.

The door jingle alarm system sprang, although Terrie didn’t particularly notice. It certainly wasn’t the first time someone popped in for a glance, and Mr. Terrell’s silence typically meant they weren’t really a customer.

But oh how it feels so real,

She was singing softly, something she only let herself do when she really got into the music, eyes half-closed to avoid seeing the room and remembering another person was nearby, listening to every single tune of hers.

Lying here with no one near.

“Goddamn,” she could faintly hear Mr. Terrell, suddenly empowered by his words of amazement. Energized, she fell away into her own world with each passing second.

Only you, and you can hear me.

The tempo begins to slow down, bringing the tension of the next words to their most literal sense.

When I say softly, slowly--

Tiny Dancer is cut off with the huff of the first word escaping her mouth, the movement of the keys halting to a dead final beat, as a man stands, looking over her curiously. Tall, handsome, and carrying a partially damaged guitar, still clutched in one hand, the man stares down at her for what feels like hours, and not even Mr. Terrell will save her.

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice, you know how to play. I mean, really play. Granted, your singing was god awful, but your skills as a pianist.. They’re definitely something. You’ve got potential, Sweetheart.”

She was struck with fear, paralyzed with shock, and the lower half of her body went numb despite the active upper half screaming at her to run. She had just been crushed and also lifted up, wondering if only for a moment if Mr. Terrell had some possessed fortune telling skills that allowed him to predict her very own music man walking through those doors. This man certainly was both young and rich, and his eyes weren’t leaving her body for anything: not even Mr. Terrell’s not-so-subtle, “Speak, Girl.”

She started strong with a stutter, not sure if she was beginning with “I” or just stuck on vowels, lost in a skipping record “uh” sound, pulling her gaze slowly from the man to look again at the keys she once controlled so effortlessly.

“Whose piano is that, anyway?” the man asked.

Finally, Terrie could speak. “Mr. Garrison’s, I think. He left it a week ago.”

“Yeah, and if he ain’t back by tomorrow to pick it up, it’s Mr. Donahue’s piano,” Mr. Terrell remarked, coming from behind the counter now to meet up with the handsome intruder. “I take it one of your prospective new talents did that,” he said, pointing toward the guitar now.

The stranger hardly seemed to remember he’d brought in a guitar. Funny thing, Terrie noticed about the guitar: Gibson SG, newer model, nice polish. This wasn’t a poor man’s guitar, not in the slightest, and while the damage was reversible with enough time, a seriously incapable person must have placed their hands on that thing. This was more than just your average overly-tightened string. “What do you mean?” she asked, staring inquisitively at the guitar, trying to tear her eyes away despite being glued. In all her life, all her time in Mr. Donahue’s shop even, she’d never been this close to such an expensive beauty.

“That’s Mr. Grant Ward, Terrie. The Mr. Grant Ward,” Mr. Terrell said.

“I work for a talent agency that recruits aspiring musicians to hydra records. Only the best, really,” Grant added.

In a slow and dazed, almost drugged motion, she lifted her head again to meet the eyes of the talent agent. “You.. work for.. A record studio,” she said softly, processing.

“I work for the record studio.”

For the first time in the last several minutes, Terrie managed to crane her neck to meet the stare of Terrell, who only made it seem less real by mouthing, “See? I told you so.” No, there certainly was no way her music man had walked through those doors to give her a job like that, maybe even more.

“What was your name again? Terrie..?”

“T-Terrie Marsh.” Still terrified, she watched him turn his head, suddenly lost in thought.

“You got a middle name?” Grant asked.

“Yeah, Paige. Why?” She couldn’t think to do anything but stare and ask questions--she had a million questions, and not enough oxygen left in her lungs to express half of them.

“Yeah, you know what? That’s a whole lot better. Terrie Page. It’s catchy like that.” And Terrie wasn’t particularly coherent enough to complain that a talent agent had just come in and insulted both her singing and her name, more so lost and dumbfounded to the point that nothing seemed real anymore. She was beginning to think a name change was the least of her worries; hell, she could be coming back from a bad trip any minute, and she wouldn’t even know.

“Now wait just a minute,” Mr. Terrell said, finally interjecting to save Terrie. “You gonna do business or not?”

Without tearing his eyes from the young girl, Grant pushed his hand into the pocket of his suit, loose twenty dollar bills spilling out to send Mr. Terrell and Terrie both into a deeper, more permanent stupor. With a few twenties into the sweaty hands of Mr. Terrell, the guitar was handed over, the transaction was complete. “I’m sure that will cover it.” Neither of them could recover from what they’d just seen.

“Yessir.” Mr. Terrell returned to his safe haven behind the counter, eyeing the guitar closely now, another, “goddamn” being muttered from his direction.

She couldn’t seem to stand, pinned to the bench which kept her by the piano, the only current means of her existence. Grant’s expression was tense, eyes lost in some deep form of thought, before finally, “Do you have a job, Terrie Page?”

From behind the counter, Mr. Terrell laughed. “Does she have a job?”

A dark, deathly stare from Terrie met his eyes. “Shut up.”

Grant seemed intrigued by the display. “Well, Ms. Terrie Page, you happen to be in luck. I’ve been looking for a decent pianist for weeks. You see, I’ve got guests over almost every day. Parties, meetings, you know how it is.” She most certainly didn’t. “I’m looking to add a little atmosphere. And who knows, maybe it could lead to something more further on down the road. Something like that interest you?”

With nothing to say, apart from an audible gasp, Terrie remained silent, bewildered, and frozen. “Well, Girl, you gotta say yes!” Mr. Terrell yelled from the counter, his voice just high enough to catch her attention and return her to the real world. She’d definitely need a lot more money if she was meant to be playing so often at a rich man’s house--she’d had maybe three outfits left from home.

“I.. I’m not sure I can. I can barely make it here every day.” With that, Terrie finally came to her senses, slowly turning from the man to stand, grab her tattered book, and walk back toward the entrance.

Only for a moment or two did Grant watch her, letting her walk on, perhaps wanting to see how determined she was to walk away. Before she reached the door, he quickly made the distance between the two, grabbing her bicep and positioning to meet her gaze once more. “Now wait a minute.” With her finally looking into his eyes, he seemed to have her attention. “Do you have a place to stay?”

“I..” She glanced away, still tethered by his grip, but now ashamed and embarrassed to be this close to a rich man of any kind. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

With a quick nod from Grant, the atmosphere began changing slowly as again he became entranced in his own thoughts. “Well, since you would be playing so often, it would only make sense that you lived there.” With her eyes suddenly wide, Grant added, “Only if you wanted, of course.”

But how could someone like her refuse?

[serenagaywaterford]

Who's the new commander/wife in s3? And yes, please give me s3 spoilers! Also, do you have any thoughts about mayday? How I wish we got to see more of it

OKAY ERRYBODY IN THE CLUB GET TIPSY. SPOILERS AHEAD.

EDIT: added in the Mayday stuff cos I forgot the first time around.

Like the actors? Christopher Meloni and Elizabeth Reaser, and they’re playing the Winslows who host the Waterfords in DC. (Which I’m not sure if you’ve seen all the hubbub about the DC trip but there are loads of pics of them shooting one of those scenes. You’ve probably seen them. Like with the Handmaids’ mouths stapled shut? Fred looking all Evil Supreme Leader-y with Serena and June alongside him.). Meloni is “powerful and magnetic” and Reaser is supposedly a “friend and inspiration” to Serena. Whatever the fuck all that means. It could be good, it could be bad. (Personally, I can’t stand either of those actors but meh. Maybe they’ll be okay.) And DC, not Boston, is Gilead central… and so Fred’s not really as important as he thinks. 

Off-topic: To be honest, I find this odd. We see frequently that all the dudes responsible for the rise/creation of Gilead are in Boston and it was formed IN Boston (Putnam, Pryce, Waterford, Cushing?, Lawrence, (Nick), etc.) so how there is a ANOTHER HIGHER level group of SOJ in DC is a little stupid, imo. It doesn’t make sense how that core group (the literal architects of the entire system) are off in Boston while the other guys (who we’ve literally never seen nor heard of before, even in flashbacks–bad storytelling, show) are top dogs in DC. Seems like yet another plot contrivance. Now, fair enough, that I think it’s sort of funny that Fred is still in Boston rather than with the big brass in DC cos he THINKS he’s so much smarter/better/etc than all these other guys but the fact he’s not there just shows that as much as he was one of the Gilead OGs, he’s too incompetent to be trusted at the highest level of government. HA HA FRED. Ya moron. I get that there’s never a guarantee that the evil people that come up with a totalitarian society are in charge of said society when it comes to fruition, but it’s a general trend throughout history. The fact all these guys would give up top billing of the SOJ to some punks from DC seems… a bit off. But then, hey, maybe said punks were the other part of the SOJ that Fred was talking about to Serena when he suggested bombing congress.

As for a few more, June flips out at one point, turning on other Handmaids (Brianna is holding her back.) It’s against a Handmaid who is a “true believer” in Gilead. I’m going to take an educated guess (based on where they’re filming) this is the lead up to the mass hanging. I guess I should mention: the Handmaids are gonna have to hang a bunch of people. Like a salvaging, but with hanging instead of stoning or beating.

June gets dressed up like a Martha.

June apparently works with Lawrence. It’s assumed she’ll be his Handmaid although the production, especially the DC scene, seem to imply she’s back with the Waterfords.

Serena’s mother shows up.

Luke & Moira are fighting against Gileadean ideology in Canada. Cos obviously it would come up here too. I always thought it was too happy-happy that Canada wasn’t experiencing ANY fallout from a worldwide birthrate crisis. Like, we may be more liberal than the US, but what happens there, spreads here fairly quickly. Like we have some Trumpian/Tea Party-esque politicians and racist/homophobic/xenophobic/misogynistic activist groups too, with a lot of power. And a lot of ignorant regular people to boot. The fact Canada was portrayed as like this utopia free from Gilead’s evilness just seemed unrealistic to me. While I do believe it would take a bit longer to take root here, the building blocks are already here and ripe for the pickin’. 

(I also have a huge issue with how unrealistically and healthy they portrayed the economy in Canada without their main US trading partner. We’d collapse if the US economy collapsed, at least for a time until we figured a way around it. Oil alone would go crazy. It wouldn’t be all life as normal. What Serena saw in 2x09 was literally what I see everyday here and I find it super hard to swallow that our lives would just go on as if nothing happened if the USA fell into massive civil war and was overthrown by a theocratic “republic”. 

And I also have a HUGE issue with how rosy they portrayed refugee and asylum seeking here. It’s just as bad as elsewhere, with all the same struggles that European countries (for example) are facing right now. Like if Gilead was an actual thing, Canada would be having a fucking mASSIVE humanitarian crisis along the border. We had a taste of it when Trump was elected and loads of people fled across the border. We could barely handle THAT, let alone hundreds of thousands of Americans swarming in to safety.) So, yeah, that’s a really long way of saying THANK FUCK the show is going to start to deal with some of the reality of the situation north of the border. They already showed Mexico breaking down and there’s no reason Canada wouldn’t too if the birthrate crisis is indeed as catastrophic as it’s presented by Serena/Fred/Gilead.

Emily makes it to Canada with Nichole. It’s all happy families. At least from the set photos the whole gang is there: Luke, Moira, Emily, Sylvia, Nichole. Not sure about Oliver or Erin. Now, the photo was likely taken when they weren’t filming which is why they’re all so fucking smiley and happy laughing together. That’s probably just the actors. But it could be shooting. I didn’t actually save the photos and I’m not sure where they are now. I think reddit?

Aunt Lydia is alive and will get some backstory and her character is gonna change. Somehow, somewhat, unclear how much. All cos of what Emily did to her.

Lots of stuff about Nichole, the whole Gilead vs. Canada thing, etc etc. 

____

I totally forgot to add about Mayday!

Personally… and first off: I much prefer the name “Mayday” to that weirdass co-opted “female railroad” or whatever shit they called it in the show when Moira was getting out. That was just in poor taste and completely uncreative. You don’t have to call it a railroad at all, tbh. It could be an extension of Mayday, or it could be called something entirely different. Sometimes the THT writers really drop the ball.

As for Mayday… I am not even convinced it exists as such? When I was reading the book, I liked the theory that Emily was sort of … not crazy, but misinformed or exaggerating. The only we really hear about Mayday in the book is through her and there’s no real evidence it exists as a cohesive organization. 

In the show, it’s like we’ve been fed this Mayday idea… but again, not seen anything particularly solid in terms of evidence it exists as a large organized resistance effort. 

We see Emily talk about it but she never seems to get anything from it and everything she does is through her own agency. Mayday never helps her.

We see June ask Alma about it. But Alma doesn’t really say much.

We see Nick, kind of doing his own thing and organizing shit for June, specifically. (We never see him do anything for any other woman except the one he’s banging. Snerk.) 

We see Lillie somehow get a complex explosive and blow shit up. Obviously that came from somewhere and it’s not the sort of thing a Handmaid can just make herself. There has to be a “terrorist cell” (as Gilead would consider it) within Gilead that siphons off weapons to a small rebel faction and passed it to her.

We know there’s a war still going on because Fred talks about the front so there are obviously large pockets that are actively and violently resisting Gilead within the continental US. IIRC the map they showed, the fighting tends to be along international borders and in the west and Florida? I can’t really remember the map exactly. There’s no real evidence that these people at war are also running an underground resistance network within Gilead strongholds like Boston. But other than sympathetic Guardians, Eyes, Angels, they could be the ones supplying weapons.

We see the butcher hand June the package from Moira. Somehow there is a network that passed this along.

We see the Guardian give June the way out of the hospital to the butcher’s truck. This could be Nick’s doing alone, not a network.

We see the butcher/delivery dude who brings June to the Globe. Again, this could solely be Nick as well, but we don’t know.

We see there’s Omar, who seems more like someone who accidentally fell into it rather than an active participant. We also learn that “Mayday” has supposedly safe houses within Gilead, but we never see them.

We see the pilot who helps people escape to Canada.

We hear of “Rachel” often, especially wrt Jezebels. I don’t think we ever see Rachel however. It could be code, it could be a person, it could be a group of people. Considering the gravity of the name Rachel in Gilead, I would put my money on this being a code name cos the writers don’t just throw little things like that around. Especially since Moira, who lived and worked at Jezebels, claims she doesn’t know a “Rachel”. Sure, she could just be protecting June or she could actually be telling the truth. I find it really interesting that the consulate worker in Toronto is called Rachel as well. While I don’t think the two are connected, I’m just surprised at all the references to Rachels in THT, esp with the story of Rachel & Leah (+ Bilhah, Zilpah, etc.) being such a massive cornerstone to the entire society.

We see the Marthas have a very complex network that is referenced multiple times and is known to Commanders, and they’ve done very little to address it for some reason.

We see Serena get both cigarettes and a pregnancy test, both of which are illegal technically although nobody seems to take issue with Serena’s smoking. I would assume this is unrelated to Mayday and more akin to Jezebels (and its sex trafficking) as the illegal underbelly of Gilead that everyone knows exists and everyone uses but nobody talks about. The black market likely has no connection. But it’s still something that requires a large chain of procurement and distribution, and secret knowledge of how to access it.

I’ve probably missed some other examples…

None of this really speaks to a larger web, imo. I can easily see these as individual cells, sometimes connected, rather than ruled by some grand master command somewhere nonspecific and so far unseen. Resistance usually doesn’t begin with a cohesive structure but small cells that see a need to rebel or at least protect/assist victims. It’s also MUCH safer that way and harder to dismantle the entire thing if cells are independent. (I used to be fascinated with the so-called “eco-terrorist” culture.) 

And I would say Mayday, if it exists, relies on Econopeople, specifically Economen and Guardians who have “normal” jobs and freedom of movement within Gilead. But we’ve been shown SO VERY LITTLE about the lives of Econopeople (the majority). I mean, it makes sense since this is the Handmaid’s Tale, not the Economan’s Tale… still, it’s very abrupt to build a giant resistance network suddenly and not have shown anything of real substance about it in 2 seasons.

Other than Lawrence, there’s no indication that any other Commanders or Wives are involved in any resistance but I think we’re supposed to believe some are. So it’ll be curious what side these new characters fall on, whether Mrs. Winslow is an “inspiration” in terms of resistance or compliance. I think we all assume she’ll be on the side of resistance and inspire Serena to take that path (although I think June and Nichole and her own awful husband should be inspo enough lol). I’m not so sure since this is THT and I am absolutely terrible at predicting anything, lol. I can see THT going the opposite direction just as easily. I hope not, but hey.

I think for simplicity within a TV show, they’ll flatten it to a single resistance organisation. 

Quite frankly, I wish we had already seen more of Mayday, if it exists. I feel a bit annoyed that it’s been 23 episodes and other than a few hints, we’ve never seen a significant exploration of any of it. Like how on earth June is supposed to just be a Martha…? I just… I don’t know. Who knows.

Since we know this season is going to be all about Team Resistance, obviously they’ll go into more detail. I just wish we had seen more ahead of time. Although to be perfectly frank, I also really enjoyed the “Emily is sorta crazy and Mayday doesn’t quite exist” theory too.

[becausegoodbye]

Here’s an odd happenstance: in the whole history of the American republic, there’s probably only been one person who actually had the ability to get universal government-paid healthcare passed. His name is Donald Trump, and the opportunity is right now. 

There have been a number of occasions when Trump’s said something that sounded an awful lot like support for socialised healthcare (”Everybody’s got to be covered […] the government’s gonna pay for it”). If he wasn’t a congenital liar who changes position based on whoever spoke to him last, there’d be a lot of talk about holding him to that. If he hadn’t surrounded himself with right-wing plutocrats and ideologues who want to do the exact opposite, we could take it more seriously. As it is, only the most naïve Trump backers believe that he’ll do anything close to replacing Obamacare with free healthcare for all. 

In case anyone’s still not clear on this: Trump’s economic populism is fake. He talked all the time about how the pharmaceutical lobbies have too much power and how the government should be negotiating drug prices, and all it took was a single sit-down with some pharmaceutical executives to decide that actually, no, the government shouldn’t negotiate drug prices after all. He’s not an ideologue; he just likes money, and he likes being liked by people with money. However he might shoot off at the mouth about ‘covering everybody’, you can bet there’ll always be plutocratic Republicans in the room to steer him back to more amenable territory. 

Here’s what he almost certainly will do: back some terrible “market-based” Republican healthcare plan, any of which would reduce the number of insured people and make costs higher for the sick. He might lie about it, or be genuinely unaware of what it is, but that’ll be the policy they put in front of him, and he’ll sign it. 

Here’s what he could do, though: push through genuine single-payer healthcare, and pay for it with a populist-as-hell tax on the rich. His base would go with him on it. (As Trump’s primary win proved, they’re not Republicans because they care about small government or limiting entitlements; they’re Republicans for Other Reasons.) Liberals would be suspicious, of course, but if the plan was genuinely good, workable, and economically progressive – and especially if Trump got some respected left-wing people in the room to help draft it – they’d support it too. Single-player healthcare has been a cherished Democratic goal ever since Roosevelt’s ‘second Bill of Rights’ speech, and Democrats have consistently failed to get it done. But Trump controls the base of the party that has always acted to block its passage. If it was done right and sold right, single-payer healthcare could pass under this administration. 

It wouldn’t pass easily, of course. There would be fierce resistance from the Republican establishment and conservative ideologues. The health insurance lobby would spend truly ungodly amounts of money advertising against it. It would certainly be the end of the tense detente between Trump and Paul Ryan. Republican politicians are willing to overlook Trump sexually assaulting women and abusing the office for personal gain and maybe starting World War III, but the instant he tries to raise taxes on the rich, that’d be the red line for them. And single-payer in the United States would require big tax-hikes on the rich.

I honestly think Trump could sell it, though. Imagine him saying it this simply, tying it into to his more general nostalgia-for-the-1950s schtick:

“I just wanna go back to where it was under Eisenhower. Then we can pay for everybody’s healthcare, and you don’t need to worry about how much it’ll cost when you get sick!” 

Tell me that wouldn’t be instantly popular among voters. Elected Republicans would be forced into a terrible corner, no longer having the tribalistic cover of “opposing left-wing tyranny” to hide their real position behind. Instead, they’d be forced into the argument they’ve been trying for 70 years not to have, and would have to justify – to their own skeptical voters – why it’s better to have healthcare be more expensive and less accessible for regular people. I’m pretty sure establishment Republicans would lose that argument. Fearing backlash from Trump voters in their own districts, enough elected Republicans would back the bill to get it passed. America would finally have single-payer healthcare.

These kinds of cross-party votes on huge issues are unusual and historic, but not unprecedented. Back in 1964, when a Democratic president pushed for the Civil Rights Act, a higher proportion of Republican senators voted for it than Democratic ones did. Of course, that catalysed the fundamental realignment of the two parties (with the racist southern Dixiecrats finally leaving the Democratic Party for good, eventually settling into the new Republican Party), and was a titanic moment in American political history. If Trump pushed for genuinely universal single-payer healthcare, something similar might happen. Trump won the presidency by plying a combination of xenophobic nationalism and fake economic populism. If he pushed for and won genuine single-payer healthcare, you’d have to take the “fake” out of that appraisal, and that combination would be a powerful force in American politics in perpetuity. 

It won’t happen. You have to really care about something to get into such a slog-fest with your own team, and Trump just doesn’t care that much. He’ll just back some bog-standard Republican plan, say it’s “terrific”, and call it a day. Trump’s been fairly predictable with this kind of thing. His statements are so all over the place they’re barely worth listening to (because he genuinely doesn’t care what’s true), but when it comes to his actual actions, he’s leaned pretty unerringly towards standard hard-right pro-rich-guy policy on most issues. 

It’s just strange to think about. If he wanted to, I really think he could do it. He’s the only one who could. If Mitt Romney had suggested single-payer healthcare in 2011, he would’ve been run out of Republicanville on a rail. But Trump has a hold on his core Republican supporters that borders on the cultish, and a knack for revealing how little they actually care about traditionally conservative policy. They would follow him on it, and Democrats – bound by their conscience and how many people it would help – would too. It’s not going to happen, but it’s literally the one time in the last 70 years when I think it’s even been possible. 

It’s a weird time. 

[thefaeriereview]

Inside the Mind: Abby Ross

https://ift.tt/3dZxxoX

Welcome to Inside the Mind where we here at The Faerie Review interview authors and creators.

Our guest today is Abby Ross, the author behind The Poop Diaries.

Lily:  Thank you so much for agreeing to this interview Abby I giggled while reading The Poop Diaries. How did you find plumbers willing to share their crazy stories?

Abby:  Thank you, Lily. Finding plumbers who would speak to me was the toughest part of this project! The story idea stemmed from an experience with my own plumber. Our toilet clogged on a Wednesday evening. Jon, our plumber, came to fix it. After he finished the job, I asked him to share his most memorable plumbing stories. I couldn’t believe what he shared and couldn’t stop laughing. I immediately knew I had to write a book about him. After interviewing Jon and writing his diaries, I realized I was onto something. So, my search for plumbers began. Most of the plumbers I found were through word of mouth. I told everyone I encountered about the project. Little did I realize how many people in my inner circle are related to or friends with a plumber. The female plumbers in the book – Jac and Carissa – my husband found. I knew I wanted to capture the female perspective and asked my husband to help me find female plumbers. Fortunately, both women agreed to talk to me, and their stories add so much laughter, heart and surprise to the book. I found the Canadian plumber – Kenny – through his YouTube channel. I figured any plumber who is already publicly promoting his work would be more inclined to speak to a first-time author. 

Lily:  I loved the diversity, as well as the stories. Were you able to write this without laughing the whole time?

Abby:  And what’s wrong with that? ;) I did laugh 90 percent of the time. The book however isn’t all about poop and hilarious stories. Some of the diaries have a serious tone. Some focus on the kindness clients have shown plumbers. Others focus on the struggles of working as a woman in a male dominated industry. One plumber talks about his struggles as an African American man working in a predominantly Caucasian industry. The stories run the gamut from hilarious to heartwarming to serious to gross. I wanted to capture the reality of being a plumber, which is not only unclogging toilets.

Lily:  Nothing hehe and I honestly thought it was a great collection, with a perfect mix of stories. Out of all the stories, which plumber had the one that grossed you out the most?

Abby:  I am most grossed out by anything vomit-related. Jon told a couple stories where he vomited on the job. Those grossed me out more than anything else, including poop stories.

Lily:  I can completely agree with that! Which plumber had the one that made you laugh the most?

Abby:  That’s a tough one because each plumber had a story that made me laugh. I love any stories related to sex toys. Andy and Kenny, in particular, shared those stories. I also love the stories about awkward people encounters. Jon told a funny one about a guy who refused to get out of the shower while he fixed the clogged drain, and one about a woman who stripped down naked when paying the bill. Todd told one about getting photographed by a neighbor while peeing in a client’s bush. I thought that was funny too.

Lily:  I have to admit I had water coming out of my nose over the shower one lol. Now we’d like to talk about you as a writer. Do you have a ritual you do when writing?

Abby: Not really. I write when I feel like I have something to write about. When I am writing, it feels like I am in a tunnel with my laptop, and I am not talking about the Holland Tunnel in New York City that’s filled with cars. I am talking about a tunnel built by The Boring Company, something narrower, quieter and in its own universe underground. My kids could be yelling. My husband could be on a work call. The television could be blaring. No matter what is happening around me, I am in my tunnel – focused and relaxed. That’s why I love to write. It makes my mind and body feel completely relaxed.

Lily:  I love that you're able to just tune out everything once you're in the writing tunnel. Do you have a favorite time of day to write?

Abby: No. I write at all times of the day.

Lily:  I imagine being able to block out everything around you helps with that. Let’s finish up with some fun questions and get inside your mind. When you were a kid what did you want to be when you grew up?

Abby:  I wanted to be an actress. That changed when I became a teenager. Then I wanted to be a news reporter, which is what I became after graduating college. No matter my career ambitions, however, I always loved writing. I brought it with me through all of my career dreams. Now I specialize in cyber security marketing, and I absolutely love it. 

Lily:  I'm glad you've gotten to follow your dreams and you love your job. That seems so rare these days! What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?

Abby:  I studied abroad in Santiago, Chile during my junior year of college. Early into my stay, my university went on strike giving me plenty of free time. I was staying with a host family that had a celebrity daughter. She won Miss Universe 2001 and was co-hosting a show on the public television station in Santiago. Since I had so much free time, I asked if I could join her on a shoot. When we got to the studio, she introduced me to the director of the show. We schmoozed for twenty minutes. He told me about the infomercial my Chilean “sister” was about to shoot. It was focused on a vibrating abdominal fitness belt that helped make people’s abdominal muscles stronger. The director liked my personality (and Spanish speaking abilities) and asked if I could be on the show. He wanted the “American’s perspective” about the belt. Of course, I said yes, and before I knew it, I was whizzed into hair and make-up. It was a great opportunity!

Lily:  That is amazing! It also sounds like a great time. Do you have a favorite dessert?

Abby:  Girl Scout cookies

Lily:  Those are definitely a weakness for me. Is there anything else you would like to add that I haven’t included?

Abby:  Yes. We are living in difficult times. I have always been someone who treats everyone equally – no matter the color of their skin. I have realized, however, that being “not racist” is not enough. We need to do more to support the African American community. We need to sign petitions, research politicians before voting for them and really understanding their record on civil rights issues, donate to organizations working to stop police brutality and bring justice to the African American community, and share useful information on social media about how people who are not African American can stand alongside that community and support them. We are all humans. We all deserve respect and a chance to become the best versions of ourselves. It’s disgusting what has happened to African Americans in the United States. It needs to stop, and it starts with everyone standing together to fight for a change of political policies, leaders and the court system.

Lily:  I really appreciate you addressing that - it's something I completely support, and even though I try to keep the blog strictly books I think it's extremely important that those conversations happen. How can readers discover more about you and you work?

Abby:  I am on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Goodreads. I also really like LinkedIn.

Book Links

Amazon | Amazon CA | Goodreads

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[asktemmie-frisk]

T & A (Temmies and Aarons) (ゴッドモードアーク (Goddomodoaku)) (God-mode Arc)

That day, none of the school or its inhabitants were physically damaged. However, they all took a sizable psychological hit. Most of the students, both monsters and humans, were scared for their lives. Some of the staff were just as bad. Frisk's friends could only look at them with pity in their eyes. Chara didn't bother looking at anyone but Frisk. She was so worried about him, nobody else mattered to her for a moment. They all took a seat in the cafeteria, waiting for the police to arrive. It took them a while to settle down, but when they finally got a hold of their nerves, Asriel spoke. "Chara?" He tried to gently nudge her. "Chara, can you hear us?" "What is it, Asriel?" Chara responded in a saddened tone. "I...I'm so sorry. Truly I am." Asriel held her shoulder. Sans broke his silence. "Hey. Dreemurr. Can we see your face?" He asked. Chara tilted her head up, and showed what her face looked like. They were surprised. Chara's face was that of an astigmatism, only she had two sets of horns, both longer than a normal one, and she could form a mouth where a monster of her type normally wouldn't have unless they closed their eye. "Does it hurt still?" Asked Undyne. "Well, that's kinda rude to ask, but no. No, it doesn't hurt anymore." Replied Chara. "I just...can't put my finger on it." Said Alphys. "There's no way Frisk should be able to absorb monster and human souls, unlesss...his hybrid status makes it so he's neither monster nor human. And if that's the case for Frisk, then the same must be true for you, Chara." "I guess so." "So sweetie, how does it feel knowing what you are now?" Mettaton said, earnest and humbled thoroughly. "It's...bittersweet. Now I know why everyone in my village hated me, but I never thought it was because I-" Chara felt herself get a mild headache. Toriel tried to run off. "Chara! It is okay, my child; mommy will-" "No, mom. It's fine. It's just a memory came back to me." Toriel sat back down. "A memory? What memory does this one show to you?" She asked. "My mother and father. I was born in Hotland. She gave birth to me in a secluded spot. They knew dad wasn't looking for human souls, but they decided to get me out of the underground. My mom gave my dad her soul, and he used it to cross the barrier with both of us in his arms. But you know what the weird part is? I didn't get left behind. Why is that?" "When the barrier was still around, in order to cross it, you would have needed a powerful soul, and it had to be the equivalency of a monster soul and a human soul." Answered Alphys. "Because of your hybrid status, it's possible that's the reason you didn't get left behind. Therefore that means...that means if the barrier wasn't destroyed, you and Frisk were free to come and go as you pleased, and no one could stop you! Not even...us." "Not even mom and dad?" "Especially not us." Admitted Asgore. "A monster that acquires a human soul becomes a being with unfathomable power, and right now, that's what you are: a soul fusion. A being with power we can only guess at for now. And it seems that one of your special abilities is being able to heal at an incredibly rapid pace. Those blows Talrok did unto you are almost nonexistent now. Are they not?" "Yeah. Now that you mention-" Chara felt her chest, and looked at it. She was shocked. "Mom, dad, you're gonna need to look at this." Chara exposed herself just enough to reveal where Talrok took her soul out. She had a scar, but it was disappearing quickly. It faded from existence only a second after her parents saw it. "Chara. You are all better now." Toriel said, finding it difficult to describe what she saw. "That scar should have stayed for much longer, but your healing process...it is...inhumanely fast. No normal human can heal that quickly from a strike like that." "Wait. Hold on." Sans said, trying to process everything. "How would she be able to? Wouldn't she have to kill a boss monster, then absorb their soul in order for her soul to be so powerful?" "No, Sans. It's like Talrok said: I was born this powerful. Which only makes what I said to Frisk true. He's an excellent fighter. He's more powerful than all of us, except for Asriel and I. Asriel's only more powerful because of those 6 human souls he has inside him. But me? I was born this way." "But it doesn't make sense." Said Undyne. "Why would Frisk be so violent with Asriel if he's half temmie? I thought those little things were stupid and harmless." "Ah, I see." Asgore said, ready to clarify. "So you do NOT know of what happened, Undyne." "What? What happened?" "A while back after I made that little policy against humans, temmies and aarons started getting at each other's throats. Temmies blamed aarons for what happened to Chara and Asriel, and aarons retaliated exactly the same. Tensions rose and tempers thinned until one day the temmies and aarons engaged in a civil war against each other. It is truly a shame. They were such good friends with each other before Chara and Asriel's death. But right then and there, they cast aside their past relationships with each other and fought. No one could stop the temmies, especially since they were too scared to do so. I even tried to get involved, but a energy shot zoomed to me until a temmie used their ear to block it. They told me 'your majesty, LEAVE NOW!' I stood my ground and tried to reason with them, but they just used their ear to grab me and take me to a safer spot. They apologized for getting me involved, but on that day, I remembered what temmies were really like, and the memory stuck with me ever since." "What happened after that, dad?" Asked Chara. "From what I remember hearing, the relationship between the two was broken, and the temmies won the civil war they were involved in. As such, the land they fought in and for was dubbed 'Temmie Village'. As for what has happened after that, even I don't know." "Would you like to, your majesty?" Everyone tried find where the voice was coming from. They looked around frantically until they saw a temmie walking toward them and bowing to Asgore. "Hey. I thought you guys couldn't speak like we do. You always do some broken English, or some shit like that." Said Sans. "That's just an act we put on so you people won't be scared of us." "What are you doing here?" A litter of temmies came out from the hallway. "We came because of Frisk. One of our own was in danger." "One of your own?! What does that mean?!" "We've always known what Frisk was. Some of us were there to see Frisk when he was born. He was so adorable back then. But he had to go away." "Go away? Why?" "Why don't you ask the king? He's the reason, after all." "Do you mean to say Asgore's why Frisk had to leave the underground?" Some of the temmies glared at Asgore with a disappointed look. "So what you're saying is I started TWO wars?" Chara said sadly. "No, Chara. Your death was just saddening to us. We thought the aarons were to blame for your death, and they thought we temmies were to blame. That little disagreement was on us. All you did was suffer unnecessarily. That's not your fault, is it?" "Actually, it IS my fault. I'd rather not say why right now." "With all due respect Princess Dreemurr, stop blaming yourself, and stop feeling sorry already. Whatever happened, it's in the past now. We can't dwell on it, or more people are gonna die wrongfully." "Wait. Hold on." Toriel said, starting to grasp the situation being explained. "If what you are saying is correct, then that means Chara and Frisk were both born in Mount Ebott, Frisk is one of your kind, and because of Asgore declaring war, Frisk had to sneak out or he would be killed? How would he even sneak out?" "Isn't it obvious, Queen Toriel? One of us snuck him out while Asgore wasn't looking. As for the king, thanks to that 'death to humans' policy, Frisk's parents had to sneak him out of his homeland. His dad gave his soul to Erica, and-" "Wait! YOU KNOW FRISK'S MOTHER?! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ANYONE IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE?!" Toriel got profane, and the temmie feigned offense. "My, my, your majesty! Such language!" "OH, DON'T FUCK WITH ME NOW, YOU LITTLE CATDOG!" The temmie was actually offended this time, so she slammed her teeth on Toriel's hand, and smacked her in the face with one of her ears. Then she pulled Toriel close to her own face. "Don't ever fucking say that again, 'your majesty', or I'm gonna TEAR your intestines out and choke you with them to death. The word 'catdog' is considered a racial slur between us temmies." Toriel was actually scared. Okay, so I did cross the line this time, she thought. "I-I'm sorry. I did not know that was not okay to say to you. I shall do my best to filter that word from my vocabulary." "Thank you. If that's the truth, then that'll be the last time you have to worry about that. We'll let you off just this once." "So it's kinda like a certain bad word? We can say it, or we can't say it?" Chara said, confused. "You can say it if we let you say it. You can also say it if Frisk lets you say it." The temmie clarified. "Welp, that's another one to chalk up. A murderer, an abusive wife, and a racist. Three strikes, Tori! You know what that means?" Asked a smug Sans. "What does it mean?" Toriel asked nervously. Sans wasted no time shooting a Gaster blaster at Toriel. "AAH! Sans, that fucking HURTS!" Toriel said, doubling over in pain. "Serves you right, you racist, obscene murderer." Sans shot back. Toriel didn't bother staying angry at Sans. She knew she kinda deserved it. "Now if you're just about done, I can tell you what happened. Come with us." The temmie said, thoroughly annoyed by the situation. Frisk's friends and family followed the temmies out of the school with Frisk in Chara's hands after the police interviewed all of them, and they went back to Toriel's house. When they got inside, Chara sat Frisk on the couch sitting up, she sat next to him. "See, Frisk? I think this is much better than being near where Talrok tried to kill us. Only thing left is for you to wake up now. I'd really like it if you did." Chara said, trying to keep her emotions under control. "Chara..." "No, Asriel! I'm not leaving him alone! He's my partner, and I won't just abandon him like the humans did!" Chara held Frisk tightly to her chest, and fought back tears. "Don't worry, Frisk. We don't need humans; we have each other and the monsters. That's close enough." Chara smiled warmly while she held temmie-Frisk, who was still unconscious. "Okay, everyone. Now we can tell you." One temmie said, taking charge. "Let's start at the beginning. Long ago, even before the war between monsters and humans, temmies and aarons have always acted kind toward each other. We relied on each other for survival. We needed them, and they needed us. We provided protection to them against a lot of things like the elements and predators. When the war started, our instincts immediately took over, and we shielded the aarons as much as we could. Whoever we couldn't shield, we protected by attacking their aggressors. The humans were scared. However, we temmies knew we couldn't keep it up forever because stretching that much for that long would take more magic than we had, so we retreated alongside the rest of the monsters. When we got to the marshland, the aarons and us temmies acted the same as we did on the surface. Only this time, after Chara died, we started blaming each other for her death because we thought the humans had taken her away from us. We thought someone gave Chara the idea to go to the surface. But we were wrong. After us temmies won our little civil war, we named our village after us. We lived peacefully...for a while. Unfortunately, that wasn't to last. At some point, some parasites that feed off magic invaded our village. We called them 'dust mights'. You know, like dust mites? Anyway, initially we kept on the lookout for them, but they found out an extremely detrimental evolutionary weakness us temmies have: we can't resist anything cute. Those dust mights weren't big, but they were smart enough to find out that if they leeched a little magic from one monster and used it to make themselves cute, we would willingly let them into our village and our hearts. We thought it was perfect until a temmie lost all their magic and died. We started getting scared. Then they started using some of the magic to control our minds. This caused us to shrug off the imminent threat to our species. More temmies started dying until some of the aarons stepped in and saved us. They flexed, and flexed, and flexed some more until we snapped out of it just enough to realize what happened. After that, the dust mights died out completely without any magic. We had no choice but to thank the aarons. As a show of gratitude, they demanded we hand our village to them. We gave it up because we knew if this happened again, we might have gone extinct. For a while, the aarons lived the same as we did: peacefully. Until that changed as well. You know that picture of a dragon in the village? Well, it depicts what we did for the aarons. There was a monster that terrorized the aarons, and even went so far as to eat them. Aarons started disappearing in the same fashion as temmies until one day, it cornered every last one. It tried to eat them all in one shot, when suddenly, before it could get its mouth near the first aaron, a lone temmie slang-shot themselves at the monster. It tried to throw it off, but the temmie didn't go anywhere. Then more of us came to help the aarons by getting them away. That dragon tried to eat that temmie, but they fended it off of themselves. However, the dragon tried to go after the aarons again, but the temmie stood in the way, roaring loudly. It was our way of saying 'back the fuck off my people, or I'll kill your ass!' The Temmie roared so loudly to protect the aarons that the dragon got too scared to go after them anymore. It ran away because it didn't want to die. It submitted to our will. The aarons couldn't thank us enough. At that moment, we all realized that we temmies and aarons need each other to survive. In fact, that stupid civil war only proved that much because it was stupid to even start it! So we came to a truce. We temmies got to have our village back, but in exchange, from then on, aarons of all types were free to come and go as they pleased. We still disagree on things, and we don't treat each other like we should. In fact, sometimes we even say things to each other that we don't mean. But at the end of the day, we don't want to lose one another. We don't act like that because we hate each other. We don't treat each other badly because we don't like the flexing. We do it because we want to keep each other going. To protect each other. Because we know we can't live without one another." "What are you saying?" "I'm saying temmies and aarons are essentially family. They help us, and we help them. Now it's similar to old times, except there's still a little bad blood. But that doesn't matter right now. What does matter is one of our own. That being said, we're working together, but we don't have to like it." Everyone was surprised. The only monster in the underground that looked cute, innocent and naive, and it turns out they're really vicious predators? Well, it was certainly beyond unprecedented. Undyne was especially impressed. "We've been staying away from your village for all the wrong reasons." She said. "No, we act like that involuntarily sometimes. The bad speech, the temmie flakes, which are actually pretty good, that one chick that's allergic to us, and the occasional lack of common sense. They're all just moments of weakness." "But what about muscles? Do you actually like when aarons flex?" "MUSCLES R NOT CUTE!!" The temmie bared her teeth. "Whoa, calm down, lady. So pretty much everything we knew about you was nothing but the surface of what you really are? Kinda reminds me of our wimpy loser right now." "Your 'wimpy loser' is currently the strongest temmie across the land, and he hasn't woken up yet. And when he does, he's gonna be real dangerous, and not just because of what's happening." "Seriously? Is there something else we never knew about temmies?" Asked Sans. "There's a lot about us that you don't know. All I'm doing is telling you what you need to hear if you're gonna stay around Frisk. For one thing, there comes a time in a temmie's, or aaron's, life when they become hostile towards everyone. To help them calm down, we have a little ceremony that welcomes them out of their adolescence and into adulthood. We do this for both temmies AND aarons. When the ceremony is done, they usually acquire better control over their emotions. Also..." "What?" "During the ceremony, we have a lot of butterscotch, and we eat it. It's an aphrodisiac for us temmies and aarons, and we end up...having lots of sex. I mean, seriously, it is the fucking best! I remember last time I was at one. I rode that aaron like my life depended on it! It was great." "Hold up. I thought you said muscles weren't cute." "That's right. Muscles aren't cute. Muscles...are hot!" "So you DO like it when aarons flex! You sicko! And you're a hypocrite!" "Now don't get me wrong. We do like it when they flex; it's just that they do it all the time. If you only flex on occasion, that's one thing, but they do it all day, every day, and it gets annoying." "Oh. Well, when you put it like that, I take back what I said about you being a hypocrite. You're still a sicko, though." "That's fine. A temmie liking sex is fine. Letting them have sex with whoever they want or whenever they want is encouraged actually." "Why would you say that?" "There's no right way to say this without sounding gross, so I'll have to do it the wrong way: by nature, temmies...are total horndogs. We have a hyperactive libido. We can't control ourselves very well at all. In fact, we even have a mating season: the summertime. Temmies love warm climates, so when it gets hot enough, we get hot and bothered. And the worst part is we can't even control it." "Yikes. So what you're saying is my lil' bro's gonna start acting like his natural self, which happens to be a violent sex-addict?" "To an extent, yes, but because he's only half-temmie, he can resist his nature." Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. They couldn't imagine Frisk being affectionate with everything in sight. "Our little shining star's growing up, and we can't stop what he'll become." Said Mettaton sadly. "Yes. My little brother won't be so little anymore. But he'll still be him, even if it's another part of him! And I'll still love him just the same! Isn't that right, Sans?" Papyrus proclaimed proudly. "Yeah, bro. You got that right." Sans agreed, placing his hand on Frisk. Chara was unsure of how to feel about this. Frisk is gonna be violent and horny pretty much all the time? Might need some help controlling himself, she thought. Then she realized that because he was half-temmie, that could be good for what she had in mind. She made her signature creepy face, only this time, it was coupled with an unusually perverse smile, indicating some less than wholesome ideas. "Chara, stop with the creepy face." Asriel said, trying to get her attention. She didn't respond. Sans smacked her with a bone. "Snap out of it! My little bro ain't your sex toy!" He said. "Hey! Fuck you, comedian! And what's a sex toy?" She replied. Sans refused to say anything else. Some of the temmies groaned at what Chara just said. "She doesn't know what a sex toy is." One of them said. "How old are you, princess?" "I'm 17, you perv. Why?" "So that's why. Nevermind." "Right. Well, what do you propose we do with Frisk?" "Me? What you're doing right now is fine. Just watch over him for a while. Hopefully until he wakes up will be enough." "We do not know when Frisk will wake up, or if he'll even wake up at all. Why are you so confident he will?" Asked Toriel. "He'll wake up. As powerful as he is, he'll wake up. Might take a while, but it'll happen sooner or later. You just gotta be patient." "So we just gotta wait it out for him, and hope for the best, huh?" Sans asked, taking what was said to heart. "Fine. Nothing a little cyan can't handle. Let's give my bro as much time as he needs. Alphys, let's go back to your place. We'll need to make those upgrades Frisk suggested." "Okay, sure." Said Alphys. "Hey, babe, can we help?" Undyne said, pointing at Papyrus and Mettaton. "Sure, you can. I'll definitely need yours, Undyne. In more ways than one." They both made the same perverse smile Chara made with Frisk. "Okay, ladies, that's enough. Let's go." Sans said as he, Papyrus, Alphys, Undyne and Mettaton left Toriel's house and made a beeline straight for Alphys' home. It was time for Gaster's work to be tested out en masse, and the worst was coming. This was going to be a grueling test for monsters and humans alike. At this point, survival without relying on each other would be nothing short of a miracle as Chara and everyone else kept a watchful eye over their unconscious hope for the future.