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writing-in-april · 4 years

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My Date with the President’s Daughter

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Spencer POV)

Summary: Spencer has a date with the President’s daughter, who he’s been dating for a while in partial secret. He hasn’t seen her in person for a while so he’s had to settle for another form of communication.

A/N: Ok just to get this out of the way— this is not a politically charged fic, I don’t express my own political beliefs in this fic nor do I express my opinion on the beliefs of others. The president in this fic is entirely made up and I just thought it would be cool to release it on Inauguration Day like the nerd I am. I do not want a political debate in the comments, this blog is not meant for that. This fic is for fun and to make people a little happier in these trying times. Please respect my wishes. This was a really fun way to write a twist on Spencer dating someone famous and- I wonder if anyone can spot the West Wing reference I used 🤔Thanks to @spencers-dria again for always helping me out with my fics 🥰This is also apart of my unlinked fic series called Spencer Reid & Letters! Requests are open and thank you for reading!

Warning: Vague political talk, References to keeping their relationship secret earlier, Avoiding the paparazzi- that should be it.

Main Masterlist Spencer Reid & Letters Word count: 1.6k

She didn’t have to put her short little letter to me on the back of a postcard, but she always did it this way. I remember when she first told me why she did it. We were sitting cuddled up on my couch at the early start of our relationship. I had asked her why she always insisted she send her letters on the back of a tiny card, she would’ve had so much more room if she got out a piece of paper.

She said she got into the habit of sending them to her father whenever he was away on business. Her handwriting had been horrible as a child according to her and her father had suggested she try to fit all of her thoughts onto a postcard. So, now she sent all of her letters neatly handwritten with the smallest of letters, so small you could almost barely read them, on the back of a postcard.

The postcard I had gotten late today, delivered by one of the last people on duty this late at night, was a picturesque view of the White House. The grass bright green and the outside covered in pure crisp white, a statuesque image of American democracy. Now, she didn’t send this to me because she wanted to express her political views and patriotism in a postcard, it just so happened to be where her father lived.

The fact that she was the President’s daughter used to intimidate me a lot when I first met her. I hadn’t immediately connected the dots in my head that she was the first daughter when we first met, though I could tell I had seen her somewhere before. Though, my first assumption was that maybe she had been a regular at my favorite coffee shop, not the daughter to the President of the United States. Literally my biggest boss.

First time I met him was also my first time in the east wing; she had some help from her secret service detail to sneak me in through the back. I only ever nervously stutter when I’m in intimidating or stressful situations and I’m pretty sure I barely got a sentence out the first ten minutes after I had met him. Luckily, he did seem to like me, though I’m not really sure why. Y/N told me once it was because he found my intelligence extraordinary and my constant willingness to share facts endearing. I always blush when I remember that, she was always so sweet to me and the fact that her family loved me as well caused my heart to swell exponentially. I stared at the captured view for a few seconds longer before the dots had fully connected in my head, I may have an eidetic memory, but sometimes it took me a minute to get her subtle hints. She didn’t actually live at the White House, she had her own house in D.C. But, this postcard meant one thing. She’s home.

Each postcard she sent me had a picture of wherever she was while she was traveling the world, it was a small gesture that made me feel closer to her, I always tried to imagine I was there with her at every location she sent. She had been out of the country for at least a month on business and even before that we hadn’t seen each other for a while, I had been stuck on a long case that kept me away from her for half a month.

A month and a half, that’s how long it's been since I’ve had her in my arms. I turned over the card expecting to see it filled with more words than most people would think could fit on the back of a postcard to let me know when I could see her, but this was not the case. Instead, the back of the card contained less words than normal. Only the words- meet me at 10pm at our usual spot.

My body moved faster than my brain, getting up to pack up all my things to rush to our usual spot. My watch sat over my cardigan sleeve on my wrist and it blinked up at me letting me know I only had 30 minutes till I had to get to the other side of town.I still had some paperwork left, but enough that I could push it off till the next day. Once I had gotten all my stuff together I scurried over to leave through the glass doors.

“Are you heading home, Spence?” A voice from inside the bullpen called out startling me out of my thoughts, I had thought everyone had left for the night. I turned around to look at the owner of the voice, JJ, who had come back from the break room to finish her large stack of paperwork that still remained.

“Actually no- I have a date.” A small shy smile made its way onto my face, I still felt very shy when I talked about my relationship with the team. When I had first told them after around 8 months into our relationship, they had thought I was pulling their legs. Once they did realize that I was in fact, not bullshitting them as Morgan had suspected, the questions had immediately come down on me. The ogling at my relationship never really ceased in the months after it had come out to the team, and the rest of the world. We mostly still tried to keep it under wraps, but the fact that the press now knew about me after some photos got leaked from a date only made the team ogle even more.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to who you go on dates with, it’s like something out of a movie.” JJ joked, then yawning again and leaning her face into her palms. “Well- I still have a lot of paperwork to do, you go enjoy your night, Spencer. I know you haven’t seen her in a while.”

My mind had already begun to shift away from JJ as soon as she brought her up, I was practically vibrating in anticipation, I couldn’t wait to see her.

—-

The rare book store on the east side of Quantico had been my favorite for years, ever since I had moved out here from Vegas actually. So much so that the owners, an older couple named Margaret and Dan, both knew me by name and knew almost exactly what books I wanted every time. The both of them had immediately jumped at the chance when I had hesitantly asked them to let the both of us meet up here, I had been desperately trying to find a place outside of my apartment where we could meet up.

When I entered the shop through the back it was already deserted just for us, she must have contacted Maggie and Dan to ask them if we could have the store for the night. The store was packed full of the rare books the owners had both acquired over the years, ranging from old tales and poems written by Edgar Allan Poe, the dark brother’s Grimm tales, to almost any old book that you could think of. It was almost to the point where I thought maybe Maggie and Dan should upgrade to a bigger shop.

“Long time no see.” A voice piped up from the mostly dark corner where she sat in a dark green armchair only partially illuminated by a standing lamp. Broad grins broke out on both of our faces before we both ran to each other, engulfing ourselves into an overwhelming bear hug.

“I missed you so much you don't even know.” Tears prickled at the edge of my eyes, though I wasn’t afraid to admit that us being apart for so long made me tear up.

“I've got a pretty good idea, I missed you so much as well.” She sniffed and then sighed into the crook of my neck. I moved my hand up to cradle her head to try and bring her as close as possible to me, even though there was already not even an inch of space between the two of us.

A nagging thought was dancing around in my brain, the card was so short and abrupt. It wasn’t like her to not be long winded whenever she wrote to me, she even had a tendency to be worse than I was sometimes.

“Why was the card so short? You feeling ok?”

“I just couldn’t wait to see you… It’s been so long since I’ve seen you...” Her tone of voice made me sad, it had been so lonely for me as well when we were apart. “I never want to be away from you for that long ever again.”

“Move in with me.” The words blurted out of my mouth before I could really think about my words. I didn’t care whether it would be feasible or not, I just knew I never wanted us to be apart for so long ever again.

“Well-“ I cringed a little at her words sensing a rejection, I worried that I had just screwed it all up by asking. However, again she surprised me, “We might need to get a new place to settle my father’s worries about security.”

I breathed out a breathy laugh of relief at her words, enveloping her into a bruising kiss, my worry and anxiety immediately melting away. I couldn’t wait for the next chapter of my life with the President’s daughter.

—-

Tag list (Message me if you want to be added):

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@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss

Spencer Reid & Letters Series:

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid & letters series #spencer reid & letters #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #series #criminal minds series

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xvangoghssunflowerx · 5 years

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Anemone Estrella Profile

Credit for template: @hogwartsmysterystory

Identity

Name: Anemone Estrella (Nickname: Ann).

Gender: Female

Age: 18

Birthday: August 12, 1973

Species: Human/Siren

Blood Status: Half-blood (father is a Siren, mother was a pureblood witch. I am using the fish-like sirens of Greece, not the bird-like ones).

Sexuality: Pansexual

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Ethnicity: American

Myer Briggs Personality Type: INFP

The Mage

Wand:

Cedar Wood

Dragon Heartstring Core

10″

Quite Bendy Flexibility

“Whenever I meet one who carries a cedar wand, I find strength of character and unusual loyalty. My father, Gervaise Ollivander, used always to say, ‘you will never fool the cedar carrier,’ and I agree: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I would go further than my father, however, in saying that I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them.“

Animagus: None, but can grow fins and gills if near a body of water.

Misc Magical Abilities:

Pescatongue: She has the ability to speak to any fish or water mammal.

metamorphmagus: She can only change her hair color and turn into a Siren form. Though she rarely changes her hair color, unless she’s in a bad mood.

Bogart Form: Fishing nets and spears.

Riddikulus Form: The fishing nets turning into bubbles and the spears into fish.

Amortentia: She would smell like salt water and driftwood, the kind of smell after taking a nice long walk on the beach.

Amortentia: She would smell owls. And then she would smell flowers from herbology class.

Patronus: Siren (she doesn’t use her patronus as she hates being associated with them).

Mermaids/Sirens are known around the world as half human half fish creatures. Muggles know them only from folklore that can lead humans to their death through song (by distracting them), or by simply drowning them. But a mermaid patronus will only drown out the Dementors, luring them in by their sweet songs.

Patronus Memory: Playing with her father and mother at the beach.

Mirror of Erised: At age 10, she would see her mother braiding her long hair. At age 18, she would see her lover and her holding hands.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Singing: Her father taught her how to use singing as a weapon against humans for protection, not necessarily to kill them.

Caterwauling Charm: Learned to disarm opponents.

Nebulus: Used among sirens to trap sailors.

Ventus: Creats hurricane like winds.

Appearance

Faceclaims: None.

Game Appearance:

Height: 5′04″

Weight: 160lbs.

Physique: Chubby, pear-shaped.

Eye color: Brown

Hair: Blue and pink, thick long hair. She always has it down. Her fishtail is baby blue.

Skin tone: Light skinned.

Body Modifications: Ear piercings.

Inventory: Has a gold seashell pendant around her neck, and has her wand with her at all times.

Allegiances:

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Affiliations/Organizations:

Slytherin

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Ministry of Magic

Order of the Phoenix

Professions:

Spy for Order of the Phoenix

Ministry of Magic

Auror

Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures: Merpeople and Siren Division (Not of her choosing).

Hogwarts Information

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy:★★★★★★★★★★

Charms: ★★★★★★★★★★

DADA: ★★★★★★★★★★

Flying:★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Herbology: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆

History of Magic: ★★★★★★★★★★

Potions: ★★★★★★★★☆☆

Transfiguration: ★★★★★★★★★★

Electives:

Swimming: Though not actually an elective, Hogwarts allowed her to take it up in her spare time. (There’s an indoor pool somewhere in Hogwarts, I just know it! XD). She avoids the Selkie in the lake.

Quidditch:

Hates quidditch, would rather watch two people beat each other with sticks than play or watch.

Extra Curricular:

None.

Favourite Professors:

Minerva McGonagall: One of the only professors who knows about her father. She admires her and her strict approach in lessons.

Professor Flitwick: She does find him a little annoying, but enjoys the spells that are taught.

Least Favourite Professors:

Professor Silvanus Kettleburn: She feels uncomfortable around him, and how he treats magical creatures. (Letting them escape, etc).

Relationships:

Father: Taras

Merfolk: Sub-category: Siren.

Height: 6′5″

Blue and pink hair long and thick. Ice blue eyes. Light skinned. He has a blue tail.

Was next in line to succeed his father as king, but was disowned for involving himself with a human witch.

He’s soft-hearted. Over protective of his daughter. He despises humans, except his deceased wife. He gave up living in the ocean to raise his daughter when she was 3. His feet are in constant pain from being on land for so long.

When Anemone went to Hogwarts, he went back to the ocean, returning only during the summer.

When he was younger, he was cold and kept to himself. Not letting others see how kind and considerate he was.

Mother: Valda Estrella

pureblood witch from America

Height: 5′6″

Blonde wavy hair and brown eyes. Tanned skinned.

She was sorted into Thunderbird whilst in Ilvermorny.

Patronus: Sting-ray

Fell for Taras at 18, just after graduating from Ilvermorny. She had decided to venture around the world in search of magical creatures. She was exploring near the ocean of Tsigrado for sea dwelling creatures when she came upon a beautiful voice. Losing herself in the voice she hadn’t noticed she was about to step off a cliff leading to a rocky ocean below. The song stopped before she could fall. She kept coming back to the spot, hoping to hear the voice again.

Taras was annoyed by this, as the spot was one of the least frequented by humans, so he confronted her with a self-made spear. To which Valda only smiled and said: “You’re beautiful.” Taras fled there after.

She still kept coming, over and over. This time venturing into the open waters (like the daring idiot she was), not knowing that the reason for there basically being no humans around, was because the water was treacherous. She almost drowned, but Taras, having been watching from underwater, saved her. Taras had yelled at her for being stupid, but she smiled again, “I found you.”

She fought in the first wizarding war in 1970. But stopped fighting when she got pregnant in 1972. In 1975, she wanted to go back and help, but Taras wouldn’t have it. Saying that humans should be left to their own demise. Pissed off, she left for a walk. She never came back. Her body was later found near the docks of a nearby village.

Love Interest: Talbott Winger

First met in their Second year, both wanting privacy. Talbott was annoyed to have her around, as was she. After a while, they both realized they just wanted to be away from large crowds of people. So they became friends.

Anemone tried her best to keep her siren form a secret. However, she saw Talbott transform into his Animagus form, he kept his distance from her there after. She confronted him one day, dragging him to the Black Lake. Once there, she dove head first into the water, not resurfacing for a good minute. Talbott panicked, until she peered her head out of the water. “Can you keep a secret?” Talbott could only nod. To which she raised her tail out of the water. Since then, the two became inseparable.

Talbott asked her out on a date in their fourth year. Then they went steady in their fifth year.

Taras, her father, was largely against it. Always glaring at Talbott when he came over in the summer of their fifth year going into sixth year. At one point telling him that he could kill him if he wanted to. Talbott wasn’t too afraid, as he shrugged it off as a father(beast) being overprotective of his child, and knowing full well how much merfolk hated humas.

They both became aurors and helped fight in the second wizarding war. After the war, they continued to work for the ministry and had twins (a boy and girl). Both gaining the ability to entrance with their singing and being able to turn into sirens, though for a limited time.

Best friends:

Andre Egwu

Tonks

Beatrice Haywood

Rival:

Penny Haywood: Annoyed by her. She feels a fakeness emanating from her persona.

Enemy:

Sirens of Tsigrado Kingdom

Voldemort

Death Eaters

Dormmates:

Liz Tuttle

Ismelda Murk

Merula Snyde

Pets:

Bottlenose Dolphin: Named Bluefin. Found her trapped in a resort, her and her father helped free her.

Sea turtle caretta-caretta: Named Viridescent. She helped rescue him when it was a baby from local muggle teens who were torturing it.

Closest Canon Friends:

Talbott Winger

Beatrice Haywood

Tonks

Background/History

Anemone was born and raised near Milos, Greece. Often visiting the Tsigrado beach. Her father and mother would take her to the beach as often as they could. Sometimes she would stay in the ocean with her father for days at a time, while her mother stayed in town. It was the happiest three years of her life.

She hated the muggles and witches/wizards in Milos because of how poorly they treated the animals and ocean. She would always find trash, plastics around the beaches. At age five, her and her father rescued a dolphin from an “aquarium”. Not so much an aquarium as a small pool, the size of a jacuzzi.

The following year, she almost sang a couple of muggle teens off a cliff to their death for torturing a turtle, before her father interfered.

That same year, she had befriended a wizard who could turn into an eagle. They never told each other their names, and he left the area after only a month. He was the only human that she found trustworthy, since he helped save some birds.

At Hogwarts, she kept to herself, and minded her own business. Only Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the ministry knew of her lineage, Which was kept secret for her safety.

She made friends with Talbott, in second year. She then realized it was her old friend from years ago, so she confided her secret to him.

Beatrice began to hang out with her, to spite her sister, to which Anemone protested, but at the same time, didn’t care. Beatrice found out about her siren self, when she followed her one day to Hogwart’s underground pool. She thought it was amazing and promised to never tell a soul.

Tonks became her friend in first year, loving that they were both metamorphmagus. Anemone accepted her being around, as it was easier to ignore her than to avoid her.

Personality

Introverted, when she needs to be. She would rather be lost in thought among the relaxing waves of the ocean than to be near humans.

She loves music. She hates to admit, but she loves lots of music made by muggles. (Favourite bands being: The Beatles, Abba and Queen).

Misc

Is half siren, half witch. Was being hunted by the Tsigrado Kingdom of Sirens, now they search for her as she is the only heir left, besides her father.

Her mother was pureblood, but was orphaned at age 12. She left her daughter a gold seashell necklace.

Her theme music is: Chiquitita by ABBA and How I Became the Sea by Owl City.

#hphm #Hogwarts mystery #oc #character profile #anemone estrella #harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter: hogwarts mystery

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viperinheels · 7 years

Photo

► GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: alice renee miller, neé cooper NICKNAME(S): -- AGE: 44 DATE OF BIRTH: april 3rd, 1973 GENDER IDENTITY: cisgender female SEXUALITY: heterosexual NATIONALITY: american SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): english, some high school level french PAST OCCUPATION: graduate of riverdale high & current owner of the riverdale register RELIGION: catholic with a strong affinity to the occult / wiccan beliefs

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: mädchen amick HEIGHT: 5′6″ WEIGHT: 132 lbs BODY TYPE: hourglass MUSCLE TONE: unformed HAIR COLOR: blonde EYE COLOR: blue ACCENT: american SCARS: she has one on the back of her right thigh from hopping a fence as a teen, one on her right hand from needing stitches after an accident in high school and c-section scars from giving birth and various stretch marks that have come in time on their own accord TATTOOS: she has a flower on her rib from her teenage days

► BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: southside of riverdale FINANCIAL STATUS: upper middle class EDUCATION LEVEL: riverdale high graduate, went to a local community college CONVICTION(S): none FATHER: brian miller ( estranged ) MOTHER: rhonda miller ( estranged / deceased ) SIBLING(S): julie miller ( estranged sister ) PARTNER(S): hal cooper ( husband ), fp jones ( former lover ) CHILDREN: unknown son given up for adoption ( joaquin desantos ), polly cooper, elizabeth cooper

► EXTRA INFORMATION

HOROSCOPE: aries JUNG TYPE: estj -- the executive ENNEAGRAM: the enthusiast MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful neutral SIN: wrath VIRTUE: fortitude MOTTO: if you were born with the weakness to fall, you were born with the strength to rise. -- rupi kaur THEME SONG: the river -- bruce springsteen // small town -- john mellencamp

► PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: capable, resourceful, driven, organized, devoted, adaptable, protective NEGATIVE TRAITS: perfectionist, wrathful, self-indulgent, judgemental, controlling, overbearing, manipulative

► HEADCANONS/FUN FACTS

✖ betty and polly have no idea about alice’s past on the southside. they know their mother was born and raised in riverdale, but both alice and hal have remained light lipped on where alice came from. hal had always wanted to keep alice’s southside a secret and she was running from her past, so she went along with it. her connection to fp has also been buried.

✖ to the best of alice’s knowledge, hal doesn’t know the baby wasn’t his. at the home she wondered if he did and that’s why he made her give it up, but ultimately he never asked and she never told him. it was assumed the baby belonged to hal and that was that.

✖ after delivering each of her children alice suffered from severe post partum depression. they weren’t sure if it was post partum anxiety or ocd, but it was prevalent long after the births and alice struggled raising the newborns in silent with hal being busy. it went untreated as she never went to see anyone

✖ one of her greatest shames is alice’s mental illness and the fact that she passed it along to her daughters. there’s a movement destigmatizing mental illness, but alice always kept her ocd to herself as a teenage as she wanted to be perfect and continued to suppress it later on in life even when taking medication. despite that, however, is determined to be there for her daughters and has never been shy about getting them medication.

✖ alice never forgave hal for making her give up the baby. not really. she moved on but the sting is still there, hiding under the surface. sometimes she watched the boys she passes or sees a student at riverdale and wonders if he’s hers. then she forces the thought out of her mind.

✖ alice tried as hard as she could to love hal. she used him though, relying on him to help her build a new life. she does love him in a sense, but it doesn’t feel authentic. it’s complacency and familiarity now. there are no butterflies nor were they ever. alice will likely never divorce though.

✖ her initial instinct is to take her anger out on others. she emotionally manipulates betty because she doesn’t know how to reach her and she placed too much pressure on polly. her anger at jason went to archie. it’s unhealthy but all alice has ever done.

✖ despite being friends with fred and mary in high school, alice isn’t close to her neighbors now. it’s easier to judge them for how they choose to live. besides, she doesn’t want them influencing her girls.

✖ alice could have killed jason. she wishes she had. she knows that she had it in her, but she never did it because it would have killed polly. out of all her worst nightmares, losing her daughter entirely is alice’s worse.

✖ her ultimate fear is betty and polly succumbing to the ‘craziness’ of the cooper family and not being able to hold it together. the coopers rely on a facade of perfection. even though polly has ruined it and betty teeters on the edge, alice still clings to it. it’s all they have.

✖ while she was disappointed about polly being pregnant, alice never would have scheduled her an appointment like hal did. never. she knows what it’s like and she wanted her daughter to feel safe, something that she never did. the home was alice reacting in fear of the past repeating itself.

✖ in the sisters home of quiet mercy, alice spent a lot of time thinking. she went back and forth about leaving hal and running away, showing up at fp’s step with a bag and telling him the truth about their baby so they could raise it together. she never did though and instead gave the baby up. it’s always going to be her biggest regret.

✖ alice thought maybe having other children would help ease the sting of the child she gave away, but it never did. she loves polly and betty and they aren’t replacement children. for a second alice hoped they could fill the hole though even if it was impossible.

✖ she’s a catholic in public to keep up looks, but alice has spent time researching the occult and knows about wiccan culture. she’ll banish spirits and refer to spells because she’s decently versed in the matter, but only at home.

✖ keeping a gun makes alice feel safe. god knows hal won’t do anything if anyone breaks in, so she has to be the one. maybe one day she’ll get to use it.

✖ alice has a long standing anger management problem she’s never treated. she’ll throw bricks at her husband and scream, but she tries to repress it as she feels like it’s a nasty side-effect of her upbringing.

✖ after marrying hal, alice cut ties with her family. her mother later died and while she’s estranged from her father she does occasionally send money. her daughters have never met him though and most likely never will. her sister is a junkie and alice partially raised her son for her, making her close to chic while having no relation with julie.

✖ alice has a long standing problem of thinking of girls like herself and then girls like veronica, cheryl or hermione. she started in high school when she was insecure and now uses it against her own daughter to make betty less confident as well. being a girl like ‘that’ never works out. you get pregnant like polly or end up deceitful like hermione lodge. she wants to spare her daughters from ever feeling less than like she did.

✖ aging has been hard for alice. the wrinkles, the way your body changes... she hates it. she always wears makup to lessen the effects and makes sure her clothes are flattering. she hates having stretch marks and scars even though they’re natural.

✖ alice is lactose intolerant. it was worse when she was younger and she stayed away in high school from dairy. as an adult she’s started taking lactaid and can have some now and then.

► WANTED CONNECTIONS

HAL COOPER -- their marriage seemed to be one of convenience and while hal does seem to genuinely love his daughters, alice is less obvious. it’s an interesting dynamic.

MARY ANDREWS -- she was friends with alice but it never lasted. alice judges her pretty harshly and wouldn’t be shy about that fact.

HERMIONE LODGE -- they never liked one another and alice would love to rub hermione’s troubles in her face because she’s that petty. it’d be karma and alice would enjoy seeing that.

ANYONE WHO KNEW ALICE ON THE SOUTHSIDE -- anyone who knew where she came from and what she used to be.

#in the face of adversity she rose ( ABOUT. )

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rayalez · 7 years

Text

Notes for the Leader — II

click here for Notes for the Leader — I

He looks peaceful, as one should when dead. I noticed a slight smile on his face when I went up to the casket to pay my respects. The dreadful wail of the widow fills the funeral hall behind us. We’ve all taken to drink, passing around a flask, well out of view of the widow and the family.

“This is fine whiskey,” say Colonel Kim.

“Thank you. It is not American,” I reply.

“Where’d you get it?”

“From that Chinese guy on People’s Struggle Road.”

“He’s very good at smuggling in American liquor,” says Kim.

“He is.” I reply, raising the flask in toast and taking a gulp.

“Poor Min,” I say. I pass him the empty flask, shaking it to show him I’ve just finished off the last drop. “As lowest ranking officer, you miss out on the booze but have to carry the flask.”

Min calls us a bunch of assholes.

“I heard he was found in a whorehouse,” says Colonel Kim, probably a bit too loud.

“Yes, he was. However, truthfully, he died working diligently at his desk,” says a lieutenant.

“If he died at his desk, why was he found at a whorehouse?” asks Min.

“Remember, officially it was not a whorehouse,” I tell Min.

“Min,” says Colonel Kim, “common sense would say that if you die at your desk then you are probably going to be found at your desk. We are not dealing with common sense. We are dealing with the truth.”

“What was the cause?” asks a Lieutenant with a crooked nose and thinning hair.

“Truthfully? A heart attack. Judging from the man’s girth, I’m inclined to believe that truth too,” says Kim.

The widow lets out another wail in the background and we turn our heads slightly aback for a second.

“I heard it was the whorehouse on People’s Road,” says another colonel.

“Officially that whorehouse has been shut down by our compatriots, the municipal authorities. In all honesty, however, I think you’re right.” I say.

“You know, he was a pretty good looking officer when I first knew him, before he packed on the weight. It was only in the last few years that he had to resort to the whorehouse,” Kim says.

“Who will be taking his position?” asks Min.

“Perhaps you, my buttercup. How would you like to run our Strategic National Electronic Espionage Unit?”

“I have no experience in computers or coding,” Min replies in a deadpan fashion.

“Judging from the former head of the unit, who now lies in that casket, I don’t think that is a qualification for the job,” says Kim, missing Min’s sarcasm. I look over at the casket, keeping my eyes fixed on the large banner depicting the Leader’s face that’s hanging above the dead man’s body.

“So you knew him when he was younger?” I ask. “What kind of man was he?”

“He was ambitious, but somewhat dim.”

“Was he a good man or bad man?” I ask.

“We are at his state-sponsored funeral. The banner of the Leader hangs above him. Officially, he was a good man,” says Kim.

Another piercing wail from the widow.

“Is that wailing because she’ll actually miss having a 300 lb. manatee trying to mount her or because she now gets evicted from general’s housing? Sorry if I’ve just caused you all to picture a preying mantis mounting a pile of playdough” Kim muses.

“I think she’ll be okay financially, if he did his duty and squirreled away some money. He was a member of the Showshin Group so he should have had a lot,” I say.

“What’s the Showshin Group?” Min asks.

“You’ve heard of Showshin,” Kim interjects. “The most accomplished protégé of the Grandfather’s favorite painter, Chouen. Years ago a group of high-ranking government officers and generals got together and created Showshin,”

“What do you mean? Showshin is a real person. I’ve seen his paintings,” Min replies.

“You’ve seen paintings that are called Showshin paintings. You haven’t seen Showshin’s actual paintings because Showshin wasn’t a real person.”

Min stares at Kim.

“He was created,” Kim continues. “This cadre wanted some extra cash. Chouen’s paintings were so expensive and profitable that they decided to just make up a guy, slap a name on him and say he was Chouen’s protégé to give him the necessary pedigree. Of course, they claimed he had been killed fighting counter-revolutionaries in the great steppe. That accomplished two goals. First, dead artists always fetch more. Second, they wouldn’t have to worry about getting some actor to pretend he was the artist.”

“I don’t believe you,” Min says matter of factly. He’s been egged on by Kim one too many times.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true — well, not officially of course.”

“It is true, Min,” I chime in. “Kim’s not just being an asshole, like usual. These guys created their own market and made thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of dollars. All it took was for this group of guys to start pretending to clamor for these supposed masterpieces and the suckers joined in.”

“But what about the paintings of Showshin?” asks Min.

“They had some guy make some paintings. Tell me, do you like Showshin’s paintings?” Kim asks

“He’s my favorite painter if I had to name one from our country.” Min says.

“What about Showshin’s paintings is so great?” Kim continue.

“I like his style. He’s famous. He has a….”

“There it is!” Kim shouts. Others glare at him and he quickly lowers his voice to a whisper. “There it is. That word — famous. You like him because he’s famous. If he was some guy who painted out of his alleyway and you stopped by one day, you wouldn’t think those paintings were fantastic. You’d think they were mediocre. But people tell you the paintings are great, so you think they are great. And therefore, you pay a lot of money for them — well, you do if you are a member of the Leader’s family or some corrupt businessman and not some underpaid sergeant in the military.”

Kim continues. “It’s basically printing your own money if you are a member of the Showshin group. You have some anonymous guy paint something for you and you put it up at auction. If some previously undiscovered Showshin just happens to show up on the market one day, they have a ‘group’ of experts declare it as authentic but only if the owner is a member of the Showshin group. Anyone else and they declare it a fake.”

“How the hell do you know this?” Kim asks.

“My well-connected uncle once bought a Showshin. It cost him a fortune.”

“Did the group tell him the secret after he bought it?” Min asks.

“No, he learned the secret the hard way,” Kim says, fussing with his shirt collar. “He had a falling out with some higher-ups. Turns out one of them was a member of the Showshin group.” Kim says. “How did he find that out?”

“The day after the fight, his painting was declared a fake.”

I chuckle, gazing up at the store window advertising a sale on notebooks. Walking inside, I am greeted by a young female storekeeper who bows deferentially at the patron dressed in full military uniform. I peer down and see a three-foot tall, life-size Eschuan, an elfen-like rabbit creature that’s been manufactured to serve as the symbol and inspiration of the People’s Struggle for children. It grins back at me, an axe in one hand and a hoe in another. An older man, probably her father or grandfather, makes his way from the back of the store and gives me a polite smile. I feel bad intruding on people like this. The uniform causes trepidation, though everyone tries their best not to display it, and I feel guilty. I feel guilty because they kiss your ass and they especially kiss my ass because I’m nicer to them than most high-ranking officers. This always catches them off-guard. Soon the fear melts off their faces and the confusion they experience, mixed with the unexpected relief, molds into an almost ecstatic gratitude reflected in their eyes. But I don’t know if I act the way I do to them because that’s who I am or because I selfishly want to see that gratitude. I am either a good person or a truly awful person. And if I do not know which I am, I am certainly the latter, I think, remembering what Sun had said.

“Hello, Most Honored Fighter,” the old man says, using the mandated term of endearment for high-ranking military officers. “May I help you find something?”

“Hello, my esteemed compatriot and worker. I see you have been advertising for paper supplies.” Here, I could easily say I want a notebook, but I wait, extending the conversation.

“Yes, Most Honored Fighter, we are. Do you require some paper supplies?”

“Yes, I may. Is business good?” I look around, noticing the entire aisle devoted to Leader merchandise: scented candles imprinted with the face of the Leader, Leader action figures, Leader books and good luck charms, Leader-recommended medicines and topical ointments.

“It is. Each day we are constantly striving to improve the People’s betterment, true to the Leader’s behest.” The last line is delivered in a textbook manner.

“You do not need to speak that way with me, friend.”

He looks confused at me. “Sorry, Most Honored Fighter. I will do better.”

“No, you don’t understand. No need for robotics. I am a boy from farm country. I know normal speak, esteemed compatriot and worker.”

“Normal?” The man looks at me, a bit off put. I start to get annoyed. He’s either sincere in his beliefs or too cowardly to let down his guard. I don’t know which is worse.

“Forget it. Please lead me to your paper supplies. I need a notebook.”

“They are in this aisle. Do you require any special kind?”

“Something small enough to fit in my back pocket,” I reply.

“Of course. Take a look at these,” he says, handing me several leather bound notepads. As I look over the selection, I feel his eyes on my face. I look up from the stack and see him avert his gaze.

“Are you on duty today, Most Honored Fighter?” he asks, almost in a hushed tone. I look at him and sense that he’s smelled the whiskey on my breath.

“Why do you need to know that, citizen?” I ask, switching to a standard form of address for the commoners.

“You have such an important job. I figure there’d be no way you’d have time to honor our little store with your patronage on a day you must devote your energy to protecting the Leader’s land.” A subtle chide at me for being drunk on the job. This is, according to true believers, not patriotic behavior and we must always — always — evince patriotic behavior. It rankles me that he would risk upsetting a high-ranking official for the sake of such blind, stupid devotion. My presence, right here and now on this man’s floor, captivating his entire view, his entire mental processes; these illustrious medals, shining and glimmering on my chest before his eyes; my odor, the smell of liquor and well shined shoes and hair gel and cigarettes welling up in his nostrils; my side arm, loaded and black, uncaring and ready to kill; all my supposed raw power: they have all been trumped by some ethereal propaganda, some false truth that’s never seen but always there.

“My energy is never not devoted to protecting the Leader’s land, even on my off days,” I say sternly.

“Of course,” he says, staring blankly at my chest. I see the young woman in the back begin sweeping the floor.

“Tell me, citizen, have you served in our Eternal Struggle,” I say, referring to combat.

“During the Epic Conflict, I was racked with tuberculosis, unfortunately. I did everything I could, helping to fashion clothes and armaments in my bed.”

The man reminds me of my grandfather and I long to hug him.

“So you have no risked your life for our Most Glorious People?” I say, disdainfully.

“Not as you have,” he says. I notice the young woman has been sweeping the same spot behind the counter for ages.

The old man looks up at me meekly and I want to cry. I peer at his shoes, torn and soiled. His sweatshirt has the stains of a man who has worked long hours for very little. His pants sag from his waist. An old belt musters its might to keep them up, cinched tighter than it was ever intended.

“You seem like you come from the countryside.”

“Yes, I do. Five miles from Ancestral Mountain.”

“Very auspicious. How’d you make your way into the city?”

“My wife died and I thought I could help in the struggle more if I was here.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure she was a good person. How did she die?”

“Old age.” By this, he means either starvation or disease.

“Well, I am sorry. Is that your daughter?” I smile and give a nod. The young woman keeps her eyes on the floor.

“No, my granddaughter.”

“What did you raise in the country?”

“Goats and chickens mostly, and then I was recruited to work as a school teacher.”

“You must have been very smart, and very busy. Most of the rural school teachers also worked for the Rural People’s Re-education Program.”

“I would have been happy to serve the Leader wherever, but the fatherland saw fit that I just serve as school teacher.”

“I’m sure that’s true.” I know it is not. “My father worked for the Rural People’s Re-education Program,” I tell him.

The old man begins straightening boxes and cans, lining them up so they just touch the edge of the shelf in front of him.

“He would’ve been your age, I suspect,” I continue. “He said it was hard work. He said in those days there was lots of necessary re-education. There were many rats skittering in and out of the farm fields back then. Rats from across the border. Many traps had to be set. It was very hard.”

“I’m sure you are very honored by his service for such a just cause, but perhaps we should not speak about his noble efforts. It is better not to throw a rock at the tail of a passing tiger. That is what the Just and Kind Grandfather once said.”

“But hasn’t the Leader said, ‘When sailing down the River of Glory, keep one eye looking ahead and one eye looking behind. For someday the journey might take us back upstream, and it will helpful to remember the location of the rocks we first passed.”

“You may be right, Most Honorable Fighter.”

“Who are we to believe then — the Leader or the Grandfather?”

“We believe them both.”

“But, if they are irreconcilable?”

“These are not questions to be asked,” he muffles.

“How many surviving children do you have, my friend?”

“I do not have any. I once had three.”

“I am sorry to hear that. The three children — were their deaths prescribed or was it the natural order?”

“Two had their deaths prescribed. One died by natural means.”

“I am very sorry for your loss.”

“Death is natural, but thank you,” he says.

“But prescribed death is most unnatural.”

“Death prescribed by the Leader is more natural than any kind of death.”

“Except death by actual nature, I suppose?” I ask, pulling out a cigarette and twirling it unlit in my fingers.

“No, even more natural than that,” the old man responds.

“And how do you figure?”

“The Leader is Father of All. If he prescribes it, it is done by nature.”

“And he is good — isn’t he?”

“Without any doubt he is.”

“I’m sorry for all the questions,” I say. “I have no doubt this is a difficult topic for you, though you certainly don’t show it. Tell me, friend, does it ever bother you that some of us are born naturally good and some are born naturally bad?”

“No, I suppose that is the way of things.”

“But, there’s consequences for being bad isn’t there? The Leader says that before we are born the spirits of the afterlife have already foreseen our entire lives. And when they are molding us, they know how deep or shallow our every breath will be, how far we will walk with our first steps, how many times our heart will beat during our first kiss. They know if we will be good or bad. They know who will ascend into the Ultimate Glory, and they know who will descend into the depths of the great suffering for eternity.”

“The spirits of the afterlife are all knowing and good. Of course they know all this.”

“Ah, you say they are good, and that’s what we are taught, isn’t it?” I ask, raising my voice. “If they are so good, so benevolent, and if they are all knowing — able to predict the future — why then do they make bad people?”

The man stares at me.

“It’s cruel, can’t you see? In their very hands, they possess clay and they shape it and mold it and this entire time, while their hands are still moist and sticky with the residue of our eventual existence, they know if what they are molding is good or bad. If they sense it will be a bad person, they know it is doomed to suffer an eternity of hellfire. Then, I ask, why make such a pitiful creature, knowing full well its awful fate? Why, if they are so good, do they make something only to have it suffer for the rest of the ages? Is that not the cruelest thing that can be meted on a being?”

“I wish I knew the answer. I am just a simple shop keep.”

“I hardly doubt that is true. Your granddaughter — where will she be going to university?”

“The Great Father’s University of Science,” he says, quickly looking up at me. He realizes he’s made a mistake.

“Oh, the University of Science. Very prestigious. I’m very happy for you,” I say looking over the shoulder of the old man at the young girl. She gives a faint smile and keeps sweeping.

“It is very difficult to get into the University of Science. One needs to be close to the Leader’s heart, as they say. I am happy the Leader, in his righteousness and wisdom, has decided to open such doors to us, the rural peasantry. Of course, he has always been very generous to those who do such nasty work on the People’s behalf.” The old man looks at me at first uncomfortably, but then his expression changes and for the first time I see it in his eyes, that cold, dark, calculating expression. It is the look he must have given hundreds, if not thousands, of times in the fields. The subtle winds pushing the tops of the wheat where he stands resolutely. Women cowering and screaming for mercy before him, clutching their babies while houses burn in the distance. His pants are tattered and he is holding an AK-47 and he points it at the object pleading at his feet.

“Was it all worth it?” I ask.

“Of course.”

“Did they all deserve to die? Even the children?”

“Truthfully, yes.” He stares at me.

“Let us have tea in the backroom,” he says after a moment’s pause, his voice quivering for the first time.

“Yes, lead me to your backroom. I need to show you something,” I say.

I rest my hand on his shoulder and hear a scream.

“Good lord, will she ever stop with the wailing?” Kim asks, as I keep my hand resting on him. The casket is being lowered into the ground as dozens stand grazing about.

“Maybe she will calm down once he’s out of sight,” Min whispers, replying to Kim.

“Let us hope so. The People’s Struggle was never meant to be easy, the Leader tells us, but there’s only so much one man can endure.”

“You’re just pissy that we’re out of scotch,” I tell him.

The National Anthem starts to play and we bow our heads. I pass the time by looking at the shoes surrounding me. Most are military, black and well-polished. Some of the women wear dress shoes and heels. A few of the men in civilian suits — the political class — get away with brown leather. As the anthem reaches climax a pair of high heels steps right in front me, toes pointing toward me. I look up and see Mari.

“I mean this in the most sincere way. You have always been good at fucking,” I tell her.

“Thank you,” she says, unstradling me and making her way towards the bathroom. I stare at her as she walks, her gymnast body fluttering around the bed, looking almost like a ghostly apparition in the darkened room.

Notes for the Leader — II was originally published in Fiction Hub on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Discover more awesome fiction at https://medium.com/fictionhub

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Prager University Part 37.

Father Absence Is the Biggest Issue Facing Black America.

Left vs. Fact: Rent Control Hurts Renters.

The Beatles' Ringo Starr: Brexit Is Good for Britain Why I Don't Want and Don't Deserve Reparations.

Trailer: The Candace Owens Show Featuring Douglas Murray.

Tolerance Is a Conservative Value.

Climate Activists Use Kids to Fuel Hysteria.

Is College Worth It?

Sports & Politics.

How the Government Made You Fat.

Trailer: The Candace Owens Show Featuring Vice President Mike Pence.

Left vs. Fact: Male and Female - What's So Confusing?

Trailer: The Candace Owens Show Featuring Nathan Latka

Father Absence Is the Biggest Issue Facing Black America.

https://youtu.be/ENprGZXlXUk

PragerU

Which poses a bigger threat to black communities: Racism? Or absent fathers? Children who grow up without a father are: - 5 times more likely to live in poverty - 9 times more likely to drop out of school - 20 times more likely to end up in prison Candace Owens and Larry Elder show just how important black fathers are in turning boys into responsible and happy men--and how their absence has had a tragic impact on millions of black Americans.

Left vs. Fact: Rent Control Hurts Renters.

https://youtu.be/vZyeNFTje2A

PragerU

Think you support rent control? This might change your mind. Rent control sounds like a great way to make affordable housing more available. Unfortunately, these laws have the opposite effect. Nicole Gelinas of the Manhattan Institute shows why price ceilings on apartments hurt those it intends to help.

The Beatles' Ringo Starr: Brexit Is Good for Britain.

https://youtu.be/_XE1SYsDoFM

PragerU

Is the European Union good for Britain? Or would the British be better off without it? "I think it's a great move...to be in control of your own country is a good move." - Ringo Starr Nigel Farage, a member of the European Parliament and a leader of the UK's Brexit movement, also shares his view.

Why I Don't Want and Don't Deserve Reparations.

https://youtu.be/18tGOIvotFE

PragerU

The Reparations Movement — a government payout to descendants of slaves — is making a comeback. Super Bowl star Burgess Owens, who happens to be black and whose great grandfather was a slave, finds this movement both condescending and counterproductive. He wants no part of it. In this video, he explains why.

Script: My great-great-grandfather, Silas Burgess, came to America shackled in the belly of a slave ship. He was sold on an auction block in Charleston, South Carolina, to the Burgess Plantation. Orphaned by age 8, he was, fortunately, surrounded by elder slaves who, though physically chained, mentally envisioned themselves as free men. They escaped, taking young Silas with them, making their way to West Texas. Silas worked hard and saved his money. Eventually, he became the owner of 102 acres of farmland, which he cultivated and paid off within two years. I proudly carry the name of my first American ancestor—who, like millions of others drawn or brought to our country, struggled past overwhelming obstacles to live the American Dream. Silas founded the first black church, the first black elementary school in his town. He was a Republican, a Christian, and a pillar of his community. He was proud and industrious and taught his children to be the same. Now, because great-great-grandpa Silas was once a slave, so-called “progressives” want to give me money. Never mind that, like him, I am an entrepreneur who received an excellent education, built businesses, raised a remarkable family and, unlike most white Americans, earned a Super Bowl ring. Because of work I’ve never done, stripes I’ve never had, under a whip I’ve never known, these progressives want to give me money I’ve never earned. The fact that this money will be forcibly taken from others who also dreamed, worked and sacrificed for it, I’m told is not my concern. But it is. At the core of the reparations movement is a distorted and demeaning view of blacks and whites. It grants superiority to the white race, treating them as an oppressive people too powerful for black Americans to overcome. It brands blacks as hapless victims, devoid of the ability which every other culture possesses to assimilate and to progress. The reparations movement conveniently forgets the 150 years of legal, social, and economic progress obtained by millions of American minorities. It also minimizes the sacrifice of hundreds of thousands of white Americans and a Republican president who gave their lives to eradicate slavery. I think Grandpa Silas would have seen this loss of American lives as payment in full. Every grateful black American, then and now, would feel the same. The reparations movement also reinforces a view of racial relationships that undermines America’s Judeo-Christian foundation. It defies the ideals of forgiveness and second chances and scorns individual accountability. Proponents of reparations believe that black Americans are incapable of carrying their own burdens, while white Americans must bear the sins of those who came before them. Proponents do not take into account the majority of white Americans who never owned slaves, who fought to end slavery, or who came to America long after it was ended. For the complete script, visit https://www.prageru.com/video/why-i-d...

Trailer: The Candace Owens Show Featuring Douglas Murray.

https://youtu.be/iIm3j8p8zlQ

PragerU

The Left is obsessed with race. It gives them purpose. And it is harming society—creating more problems, which also gives them... more purpose. 😤 Stop it. Don't miss author/ journalist Douglas Murray on The Candace Owens Show this Sunday. Find out more about his devastating new book The Madness of Crowds here: https://amzn.to/2nWgf77

Tolerance Is a Conservative Value.

https://youtu.be/up-p0-Wm430

PragerU

Are you tolerant? You probably think so. But who is tolerant in America today? Is it those on the left, or those on the right? Presidential candidate Marianne Williamson was caught on a hot mic swallowing a big red pill 💊Leftism makes people mean. It does.

Climate Activists Use Kids to Fuel Hysteria.

https://youtu.be/nHmsaAAdn2Y

PragerU

Leftists are telling children that climate change is going to kill them and everyone they know—and then place those terrified kids in front of cameras to beg for their lives. Want some "propaganda"? Here you go.

Is College Worth It?

https://youtu.be/nFIMiQ5eApk

PragerU

Is college a good investment? It’s getting harder and harder to make that case. Student loans have suckered a LOT of students into massive debt, with little more than a useless degree and a hangover to show for it. 🤕

Sports & Politics

https://youtu.be/ZTR_3ylevwM

PragerU

Journalist says black athletes should leave 'white' colleges. Um. What? Sports have a unique ability to unite our communities and our nation. Until recently, that is. How did sports get so politicized? Clay Travis, host of Outkick the Show, tackles the country’s cultural divide and its effect on our favorite pastime.

How the Government Made You Fat.

https://youtu.be/Q7vJZAYoFPk

PragerU

Ever since the introduction of the Food Pyramid in the early '90s, the average American has gotten fatter and sicker. Has this government-approved nutritional guideline — the basis of the modern “healthy diet” — led us astray? If so, how did this happen, and what can we learn from it? Cardiologist Dr. Bret Scher offers some food for thought on this very weighty issue.

Script: Here’s a riddle: How is it that ever since the government began telling us what to eat, we have gotten fatter and sicker? In 1977, when the government first set dietary guidelines, the average American male weighed 170 pounds. He now weighs 197. It’s not any better for women —145 to 170. And you don’t need an academic study to know the same thing is happening to kids. Just look around. The weight gain has real-life consequences: the percentage of Americans diagnosed with type 2 diabetes—a condition that can lead to severe medical issues—has risen from 2% in 1977 to over 9% in 2015. In hard numbers, that’s five million people to over 30 million people. How did this happen? It all started innocently enough in the 1950s, when President Dwight Eisenhower had a heart attack while in office. Suddenly, the issue of heart health became a national obsession. Keep in mind this was an era when scientists had harnessed the power of the atom, unlocked the secrets of DNA, and cured once incurable diseases like polio. Surely, there had to be a scientific solution to heart disease. There was. And a charismatic medical researcher from the University of Minnesota named Ancel Keyes had it. Cholesterol, Keyes claimed, was the villain of the heart disease story. His now famous “seven countries study” determined conclusively—in his mind, at least—that people who consumed high amounts of fat—specifically, saturated fat—had higher cholesterol levels and thus, higher rates of heart attacks. Lower your fat intake, and you would lower heart disease risk. The ever-confident Keyes spread the gospel. As an influential member of the American Heart Association, he was in a very strong position to do so. There was only one problem: Keyes’s study was bad science. The sample size was so small, the data collection integrity so shoddy, and the life-style variables between the countries he studied so great, that his research had no scientific validity. In other words, he asserted a conclusion he couldn’t prove. When other scientists questioned Keyes’s conclusions, they were invariably met with stern responses like: “people are dying while you’re quibbling over data points.” And, “there are great benefits and no risks” to adopting this new way of eating. In 1973, the American Heart Association set the dietary limit on saturated fat at 10%, and in 1977, the US government followed suit. Where did the 10% value come from? It didn’t come from any scientific data. It was merely a government committee’s best guess. This was despite contrary evidence like the 1957 Western Electric Company employee study showing no difference in heart attacks in those who ate more or less saturated fat. A longer-term study of the same Western Electric subjects in 1981 reached the same conclusion. But again, no one wanted to hear it. To make this all easier to understand and to spread the message to schools, “the food pyramid” was created. That’s the chart you first saw in third or fourth grade with all the supposedly good foods at the bottom—meaning, “eat a lot of those,” and the bad foods at the top—"eat those ones sparingly.” What our kids are fed in school, what our military troops are fed on bases, what sick people are fed in hospitals; what crops we plant and how we raise our cattle, are all predicated on this deceptive nutritional concept. For the complete script, visit https://www.prageru.com/video/how-the...

Trailer: The Candace Owens Show Featuring Vice President Mike Pence.

https://youtu.be/OT7jGEUQYFM

PragerU

This Sunday, Candace Owens sits down with Vice President Mike Pence to discuss family, faith, and growing opportunities for black Americans. Tune in for a very special episode of The Candace Owens Show at the White House! Never miss a new episode! Get notified here: https://www.prageru.com/candace/

Left vs. Fact: Male and Female - What's So Confusing?

https://youtu.be/n3Wsp66QSyE

PragerU

Singer Sam Smith has come out as gender non-binary, identifying as they/them. It's all very woke but it doesn't change the fact that he's still biologically male. Ashley McGuire, author of "Sex Scandal: The Drive to Abolish Male and Female," explains the confusion surrounding gender identity.

Trailer: The Candace Owens Show Featuring Nathan Latka

PragerU

In this Sunday's episode of The Candace Owens Show author and self-made millionaire, Nathan Latka, shares tips on how to gain wealth, why you should avoid the blame mentality, and why capitalism is the only system that lifts people out of poverty. Tune in! Sign up for notifications so you never miss a new episode: https://www.prageru.com/candace/

Donate today to PragerU! http://l.prageru.com/2eB2p0h To view the script, sources, quiz, and study guides, visit https://www.prageru.com/video/why-i-d... VISIT PragerU! https://www.prageru.com Join Prager United to get new swag every quarter! http://l.prageru.com/2c9n6ys Join PragerU's text list to have these videos, free merchandise giveaways and breaking announcements sent directly to your phone! https://optin.mobiniti.com/prageru Do you shop on Amazon? Click https://smile.amazon.com and a percentage of every Amazon purchase will be donated to PragerU. Same great products. Same low price. Shopping made meaningful. FOLLOW us! Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/prageru Twitter: https://twitter.com/prageru Instagram: https://instagram.com/prageru/ PragerU is on Snapchat! JOIN PragerFORCE! For Students: http://l.prageru.com/2aozfkP JOIN our Educators Network! http://l.prageru.com/2aoz2y9

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jonnieleonski-blog · 7 years

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Social media site Advertising For Services

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