#vaguely poland coded

[fuctacles]

Unusual, but maybe not in a bad way

Eddie's shoes might look good, but they were never a good choice for summer rains. He kept forgetting that and letting the reality of his fashion choices hit him hard in the face. Or knees.

The bus had a moving plate in the middle that usually wasn't a problem but today wasn't usual. Today the rain was pouring and Eddie's phone was at 15% because he had been too lazy to plug it in before falling asleep. So today he had to switch seats to one next to a charging port and as he was making the short voyage, a few things aligned perfectly to make today unusual, and in a bad way.

The rotating plate was wet from the rain.

The soles of his shoes had no grip.

The bus turned left.

"Shit."

Eddie gathered himself off the wet floor, cursing his shoes, the weather, and the throbbing pain in his knee. Without looking up he fell heavily into the seat that was his destination, afraid of the amused stares he might catch. His dignity? Gone. His pants? Well, they were torn already anyway so one new hole didn't make much difference. His knee? Bleeding, apparently. As he rubbed his knees, one of his hands came out red. He groaned.

"Of fucking course." He just had to hit something sharp on the usually safe and relatively smooth surface. 

When he was reaching to plug in his phone, someone grabbed the pipe just above the USB port. Eddie looked up and found a man looking down at him. He also realized the golden frames of his glasses complimented his hazelnut eyes beautifully.

"You should clean this up," the man said instead of making fun of him or asking if he was okay. No, he was holding out a packet of wet wipes like some kind of saint.

Eddie hesitated for a moment but while his dignity might be gone, the gorgeous man in front of him wasn't. He took the offered wipe.

"Thanks," he murmured, wiping the cut and the surrounding skin, cleaning off sand and blood.

The man dropped a backpack on the vacant seat next to him. Eddie eyed the pins attached to it; a couple of dinosaurs, a Hufflepuff crest, ‘protect trans kids’, and… a bisexual flag. Score.

"Pirates, Hello Kitty or dinosaurs?"

"Huh?"

"Band-aid," the man clarified, shaking a small tin can he fished out of his backpack. "I work with kids," he added like it explained everything. Well, it kind of did. Upon opening, the tin revealed an assortment of colourful band-aids.

Eddie hummed in thought, considering his choices.

"Dinosaurs."

"Good choice," the man praised with a smile, probably the same one he showed to the kids. Was he a teacher? Because suddenly all the teacher-student porn scenarios gained a new appeal. Where skimpy pencil skirts didn’t work on Eddie, a soft green jumper just might, apparently.

The man handed him a dino band-aid, apparently expecting him to apply it himself. Well, of course. They were two strangers on a bus, after all.

Disappointed, he put it on the cut, missing the amused tilt of the teacher's lips.

"Do you need anything else? I have some candy; lollipops, gummies…" The man flipped through the contents of his bag.

"Gummies?" Eddie's interest was piqued.

"They have colourful fillings and a tiny dragon on each wrapper," he advertised, offering him a small baggie to choose from. Again, his tone reminded him of an adult talking to a kid. This shouldn't be working on him as well as it was.

"Can I have two?" he asked, looking up into these stunning brown eyes. The level difference was not helping. Has he not sat down on purpose? To tower over poor Eddie's tiny metal heart?

The man smiled as he took a quick conspiratorial look around.

"You can even have three, just don't tell my kids," he whispered

"I ain't a snitch!" he assured and picked up two green candies and an orange one. Because red flavours belonged in the trash.

Or apparently in the plush mouth of a handsome stranger, since he picked one of those for himself. Maybe Eddie didn't hate them that much, after all. He could make an exception. Especially if he could taste them the fun way.

"You sure you don't want a lollipop? Water? Extra band-aid?"

Eddie shook his head adamantly but had a nagging feeling the man was stalling. His gaze dropped to the flag badge, giving him an instant shot of courage.

"Your number?"

The soft teacher's smile turned sly, and he knew he took the right step. His metal heart thumped in his chest, the sound resonating against his ribs. What a fun feeling.

"Better hurry up, my stop is next."

Eddie nearly dropped his phone in his haste to put in the string of numbers.

"What do I…?" he asked when the empty ‘name’ box stared at him from the screen.

"Steve," the man offered, just in time for the bus to stop. The doors swung open, and he was gone, but while the physical distance between them grew, Eddie now had the comfort of having him in the palm of his hand, hidden behind a number.

>> Thanks for the candy! 🖤 - Eddie 

[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

[eardefenders]

Sherlock & Co - Mailbag Episode 1 Transcript

00:00-00:30 Intro Music

*Typing Sounds*

0:36 Sherlock: What are you doing?

0:37 John: I’m collating the questions from the fans. Ah-well, d’you know actually they might not be fans. They might just. *pause* I don’t, I don’t know, listen, but, uh, ah, you know not actually, you know-

0:48 Sherlock: -Like you?

0:49 John: What?

0:49 Sherlock: They might not actually like you.

0:51 John: Us. The show. Anything. What do you mean ‘not like me’? Why would they not like me?

0:57 Sherlock: Well…you can come on a little strong…sometimes, I suppose.

1:02 John: In what way?

1:03 Sherlock (voice slightly high): You’re just, rather, keen. (voice normal, reassuring even) Nothing wrong with that of course.

1:07 John (sarcastically): Oh, great, thanks.

1:09 Sherlock: That’s something people add after making a crude observation on another’s character.

1:14 John (warily): What is?

1:14 Sherlock: “Nothing wrong with that of course.”

1:17 John: So you just added it because you thought-

1:19 Sherlock: It would soften the blow.

1:20 John (sarcastic): Lovely. Very kind.

1:23 Sherlock (clearly missing the sarcasm): Quite alright.

1:24 John: Okaaay, we got some Q’s from the L’s, and now its time for us to provide the A’s. That’s, uh, that’s questions from the listeners and for us to provide the answers.

1:36 Sherlock: Yes, I cracked the code, Watson.

1:39 John: Right! So! Beau from California wants to know where they should go when they visit London.

1:44 Sherlock: Er, sorry, uh, I thought this was about crime?

1:47 John: Whaddya mean?

1:48 Sherlock: I thought there would be questions regarding criminal activity?

1:52 John (lightly sarcastic): Oh, right yeah, sorry. Um, there is one here from ‘PsychoMurderer69’ who wants to know if he should stab his next-door neighbor.

1:58 Sherlock (seriously): What’s the length of the blade he’d have access to?

2:00 John: Jesus Christ.

2:00 Sherlock: Does the neighbor show signs of possessing any self-defense skillsets?

2:04 John (interjecting over Sherlock): Alright, no, where should Beau visit in London, please?

2:09 Sherlock: Um, uh, St. Dunstan in the East. Little Venice. Spitalfields. Brick Lane. The Vaults! Neal’s Yard is rather charming as well, I suppose…pleasing colors on display.

2:20 John: Right, great. Colors. See, that wasn’t difficult, was it?

2:23 Sherlock: South Kensington Ice Rink.

2:25 John: Yeah, lovely. I- Sorry, where are you going?

2:26 *Sound of door opening.*

2:27 Sherlock: I just said.

2:27 *Audio Cut - Vaguely outside sounds.*

2:28 John (sounding like he’s struggling to balance): Heeey, folks its, woah, woah, Ja-ah,*sound of skate blades scraping deeply in ice* Jesus, aw, bloody hell, ahahaaah Christ. *sounds of the mic rubbing as he presumably falls down, a sharp intake of pained breath* Ahh.

2:35 Sherlock (sounding at ease): Get up, Watson.

2:36 John: Ah, oh yeah, thanks for the advice. Uh, um, hey folks-*under his breath*ah, God- Sherlock, can get *sounding unsteady on his feet* easily distracted when he’s not w-w-what’d’you call it. Uh. Totally onboard with something. So he wanted to *sounding unsteady again* go ice-ce skating. Uhum *clears throat*, uh there’s a-a rink. Temporary rink open in South Kensington right now so we’re skating- hey-oh, ooo-getting up some speed now. Oh here we go. Ha ha hah! God is this what Canadians feel like? Oy oy! *laughs proudly*

3:10 Sherlock: Very good, Watson. You’ve got the hang of it.

3:11 John: Hahah, yeah well I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m not smashing my ribs into the ice, uh, for the time being. So-woah! Shit!- *clears throat* Right! Another question!

3:21 Sherlock: Go for it.

3:22 John: “What are your favorite hobbies?”

3:24 Sherlock: *with relish* CRIME. Deductions. Observations! Intricate studies that focus my mind. Feeding my hyper fixations, which often stem from crime and the desire to understand it.

3:37 John: …Riiiight. Yeah, I think the listener Sherlo8 in Poland, uh, I think they meant more like, um, you know, I don’t know. Golf?

3:48 Sherlock: Golf? *chuckles* I don’t golf. I live in Baker Street.

3:52 John: No, I-I know, but, um. *deep breath* Right, okay. My hobby is-

3:58 Sherlock (interjects): Podcasting.

3:59 John: Well, no. Uh, that’s my job.

4:00 Sherlock (skeptically): Is it now?

4:01 John: My hobbies. Uh…so I like to play football. I like films and tv. Ummm I’m very partial to a board game. Uhhhh… Oh! Ok! So here’s a confession. I have the flight tracker app. I’m not saying I’m a, a plane spotter, but um… I like to, yeah, just check in with that. Y’know? See what’s overhead? Where it’s come from, where it’s going. Picture the kinda people that uh. *sigh* Oh I don’t know, going from swha-Rome to Mexico City, y’know? Th-th-the weary business men and women tucking into their inflight meals, families that have created a whole crate of memories that they’re going to talk about for decades.

4:42 John (dramatically): The lovesick Italian man flying out to see his Mexican sweetheart. His heart bursting with excitement and fear that the stewards who keep complaining about some bloke in Row G, c-

4:49 Sherlock (interjects): Trains.

4:50 John: Hm?

4:51 Sherlock: Trains. I like trains. And, dinosaurs.

4:56 John: Ok. Great! Well, haha! That’s wonderful! We did it, another answer to another question. See, I told you it’s bloody easy- *sound of an ice blade scraping the ice too hard/wrong, a loud hard thump, the mic is rubbing terribly against clothing, sound is muffled* Oh, God!

5:07 *Audio Cut-Vaguely café sounds*

5:09 John (pained): Ahhh *sucks in air through his teeth* Oh that stings. *sounds like he’s holding his face*

5:15 Sherlock: Yep, they’re loaning us their frozen peas.

5:18 John: Oh what, they’ve got frozen peas in this place? Why aren’t they fresh, meals are twenty quid?

5:21 Sherlock: Uh, do you want the frozen peas or not?

5:23 John: Yeah! Yes, please, give’em here. *sound of a bag of frozen peas being shuffled around, John’s voice is muffled* Oh, yeah. Oh hoho, that’s the stuff, baby. Oh yeah. Ahhhhhhhhh. 5:39 Sherlock: Just to confirm,

5:40 John: Uh hunh?

5:40 Sherlock: they are paying for this? People are…paying for this audio?

5:46 John: Yeah, mate. Oh! Ah God! Ooo! Ouchie, ouchie, ouchie, ouchie…

5:49 Sherlock: Understood. Well, people can be rather odd, can’t they? Nothing wrong with that of course.

5:55 John: Uh, d’you mind? I see- I actually know what you’re doing with that ‘nothing wrong with that’ lark. So, right! Next question, ‘How did Archie get his name?’ says May Van der Hayden in New Zealand. Ah, well mate, I didn’t have much say in the matter. *clicks tongue* Um, I bought him as a birthday present for…uhhhh. M-my ex-girlfriend. Um, e-e-ex…yeah, y’know she was. She was-she was the bi- big one. The one I l-lived with and planned t’m-my life. Around. Sort of thing. Um. *clicks tongue* B-bought him for her, she chose Archie. Um. I-I don’t know why? Ha. And then she chose my friend who had a Range Rover Sport. So, yeah, she left me and the dog. *clicks tongue* And I left the dog to help the Ukrainians. Now I’m back. *clicks tongue* Got a dog and a master detective. Uh, lucky me. *awkward chuckle*

6:55 Sherlock: I feel your answers should be more concise.

6:58 John: Yep, thank you for that input. May also asks, Sherlock, seeing as you have handled cases for other countries, have you ever handled any in New Zealand?

7:07 Sherlock: Yes.

7:08 John: Oh! Lip, lip. Now numb. Ah, ah. Can you expand on that please?

7:13 Sherlock: Yes, but you’d have to stop recording or redact it from the podcast.

7:17 John: Aw, what’d be the point of that?

7:19 *Audio Cut- Sounds like they’re on the tube now*

7:23 John: Question here from Chloe Davies in Canada. Hi, Chloe. Sherlock, your hugging machine, is it based on that of Temple Grandin?

7:31 Sherlock: Er, she sent me some early designs, yes. I needed to tweak its pressure loads to clench my shoulder blades.

7:40 John: That’s the way you like it, is it? Hugwise?

7:43 Sherlock: Yes. Any sensation below the diaphragm causes me to stress.

7:47 John: Good to know. Uh, Nick Licher or, er, Licker. Uh…let’s go with Nick Licher. He asks, “Why did Sherlock need your shoelaces?” Yeah, why did you need my shoelaces?

7:58 Sherlock: I was conducting a thorough cleansing of our garments following the proximity to duck poo we had undergone that day in the park. *sucks in air sharply* The shoes contain the most potentially harmful pathogens. I removed the shoelaces for deep cleaning.

8:11 John: Okay.

8:12 Sherlock: Okay? Is that it? For potentially saving you untold hours and days on the toilet?

8: 19 John: How so?

8:20 Sherlock: E.coli, Watson.

8:22 John: Yeah, but on my shoelaces? Mate, I wasn’t going to chew on them. Right, Adrien Kaiser from Minnesota. “John, if you miss an upload should we just assume you and Sherlock have been arrested or are dead?”

8:32 Sherlock: Yes. As assumptions go, those options would be some of the likeliest. Wouldn’t you agree Watson?

8:39 John: No.

8:40 Sherlock: Why not?

8:40 John: Well, I don’t know. Maybe my laptop breaks, maybe we don’t get an adventure that week, I’m ill, your ill, a long list of things that aren’t dead or arrested, Sherlock.

8:50 Sherlock: It was Adrien that said it, not me.

8:52 John: *heavy sigh* Arlo asks, as a Shakespeare fan-him, not me- he asks what my favorite play by him was. Uhhh, um, I love Romeo and Juliet. Bit of um, a sucker for romance, me. *awkward chuckle* Hamlet’s too long, should’ve streamlined that a little. I’m uh going to go Romeo and Juliet. Or Julius Ceasar. Good drama in that one, I think. Kind of can’t understand what they’re saying, but uh I hold my English teachers at school responsible for that one, I mean also why are we reading them? Yeah, they’re meant to be performed, come on. Uh, next question. Soma asks “what’s your favorite tv show?” Uh, I loved ‘Band of Brothers’. Um, but, of course, an ex soldier would say that wouldn’t he. Um, psh, yeah, ‘Band of Brothers’. Or, something light and millennial, like, um, I don’t know. Fraiser? Or, uh, Will and Grace?

9:46 John: Sherlock? Favorite tv show?

9:48 Sherlock: This is us.

9:48 John: Really? I never saw it.

9:49 Sherlock: No, Watson! This is us! Quick!

9:52 John: Oh, bollocks, Oh! The doors are closing! Ow!

9:53 *Audio cut-sounds of a tube station/outside*

9:54 John: Misha asks,

9:56 Sherlock: Mmhm?

9:57 John: “Do you have a sweet tooth?” Well, I can tell you, Misha, that yes, he bloody does! Sherlock?

10:02 Sherlock: Yes, I bloody do. *awkward chuckle, sharp intake of breath* Yet, my diet is highly unpredictable and more often then not tied to my mood

10:08 John: Yeah, I can vouch for that. One minute he’s slurping down some borscht on a whim. Next minute, he’s going ten straight days eating tomato penne pasta.

10:16 *sound of a building door opening*

10:19 *sound of the door closing, presumably they’re in the foyer of 221 Baker Street*

10:19 John: *sigh* Uhhh, just trying to find uh…

10:23 Sherlock: Yet more questions?

10:23 *sounds like they’re removing their coats*

10:25 John: Yep. Uh, ooo, questions, right, last one. Uh, “Doctor Watson, hope this question doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Do you use a cane for your leg injury? I use a cane myself due to joint pain from Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. In fact, one of the canes was hand painted by a family in Ukraine during the war.” Well aw! *delighted chuckle* Aw that’s nice. Um, no I don’t use a cane. Uh, I had some surgery, and I was very kindly along with a few others flown out to Florida for some rehabilitation and then back to the UK for some hydrotherapy courtesy of the Ministry of Defense. Uh. Then they sacked me. So, heh, booooo. *chuckles* So, no. I’m actually cane free. But, uh, I have had moments. Especially climbing these bloody stairs *sounds of him stepping heavily up stairs* where I’ve wanted something like that.

11:15 Sherlock: Finished?

11:16 John (slightly out of breath): Finished.

11:17 *sound of a door opening, presumably 221B’s*

11:17 John: Right, say ‘Bye, Listeners’.

11:19 Sherlock: ‘Bye, Listeners’. You know, you do have a rather silly gait. *pause* Walking style. *sound of a door closing* The cane may have been needed. You do look weird when you stroll. Nothing wrong with that of course.

11:32 John (under his breath): For God’s sake.

11:33-12:03 *audio cut to end theme. It’s Mad Prodigy but a different part not used in the main show with a bit of piano.*

END

[buckybarnesss]

Stiles's parents both being Polish and to different "degrees" was one thing I never questioned. Granted, I grew up in Chicago, where it was common for someone that was essentially Polish in last name only to marry someone that had Poland-born parents that were happy the spouse was also Polish to any extent.

I have a lot of questions for Jeff Davis about his choices for the McCalls and Hales, however. It definitely felt like the Hales were hispanic-coded and/or indigenous-coded at times despite being played by white actors. Meanwhile, we get almost nothing about the background of either of Scott's parents beyond Melissa's maiden name and, I guess, Rafe speaking Spanish to teenage Derek. What a wild combination of choices.

the names scott and stiles come directly from the 1985 teen wolf movie but everything else is jeff and the writing team.

the way that we know more about the argents, the hales, the yukimuras and the stilinskis than we do about scott's family has always made me feel a particular way.

the argents and hales are the driving force behind so much of the narrative that their history is important to the overall narrative. noshiko's story was important to the story of 3B. malia's history intersects with the hales.

we even get a whole season to learning about lydia's banshee grandmother.

(i want to say there's something in that cora ended up in south america after the fire and went back there after she left beacon hills. do the hales have ties there?)

rafael mccall is just kind of there. i have affection for matthew del negro because he was steve cortez in mass effect and he was fucking wasted by teen wolf. how did he and melissa meet? did scott actually live with him for a while after the divorce as was said in season 1? why didn't we get to see rafael learn about the supernatural as was implied? did this man pay child support?

it's funny. @dear-massacre and i discussed earlier that there's such a small polish population in california but jeff gives us the vaguely polish name stilinski and claudia's maiden name is gajos. stiles is named for his polish grandfather mieczyslaw.

the only other vague slavic name we have is paige's last name, which is never said in canon but it's krasikeva.

jeff did something very deliberate with paige. she's a narrative mirror to sitles.

but yeah it would make sense that noah's family has been in the states longer and assimilated losing some of that cultural tie whereas claudia's either family came more recently and/or they kept cultural ties refusing to lose them to assimilate as much.

[mtgrgn]

eurovision 2025 entries i liked (playlist order)

estonia

georgia

spain (some flashing lights)

latvia

ukraine (some flashing lights)

sweden (some flashing lights)

finland (flashing lights)

entries i liked specifically for the videos

san marino, +1 for the conjoined braid dancers, -1 for the juxtaposition of sexy dancing with family values imagery

iceland, excellent alien boys having fun with fisherman and weird lenses

croatia, holy shit

netherlands, great costumes, vaguely reminds me of chandelier

australia, no, no, not the clowns

poland, the dancers are all in leather and heels (flashing lights)

luxembourg, doll-themed and kinda trans-coded

most baffling

italy

[dzthenerd490]

File: 4.n0m4ly - Warsaw Machine

SCP#: AMI

Code Name: Sanctuary of Nightmares

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: The house where SCP-AMI is located has been taken from the original family by the Department of Law and Detainment. The house is now purchased by the Foundation with the head researcher and her family being recognized as the homeowner. 

Venture or testing in regards to SCP-AMI must be approved by a level 3 Foundation staff member or by the head researcher. Foundation researchers who venture into SCP-AMI must always be escorted by at least three AFA-2 units at all times to prevent contact with SCP-AMI-Guardian instances. Under no circumstances is any Foundation staff member to be within SCP-AMI for any longer than 1 hour. 

Description: SCP-AMI is a hidden room located in the backyard of a house located in [data expunged] of Warsaw, Poland. Upon first entry, there's nothing but a room with the interior design of a bathroom but no appliances or such accommodations. However, in the middle of the room is an additional home with seemingly no natural way down such as a ladder or staircase. Whether this was a creation of the original owner or not remains to be determined. What makes this almost impossible to theorize is that he was a physics teacher and nothing more. 

Within SCP-AMI is a long and basic looking cavern system leading to an empty room populated with a single complex machine, matching human technology of the 19th century in appearance alone. In reality the technology does not resemble anything known to man or even any cataloged Species of Interest. It's more akin to what would look like if different computers, machines, and appliances were fused together on the atomic level, looking no different to a mess. The most noticeable component within this machine is the large hole in the middle projecting a blinding light. Camera recordings during its discovery and all prior tests show that beyond the light is what seems to be an infinity mirror illusion. There should be no way for this kind of illusion to project such a blinding light nor for it to exist behind a light. How this works or is possible is unknown. 

However when someone looks beyond this light and into the infinity mirror illusion they will be transported into the true form of SCP-AMI. Which consists of a nearly infinite underground system of old and worn buildings resembling apartment complexes. The entirety of the area is filled with nothing but an endless labyrinth of these apartments as well as large bundles of cobwebs. At least that’s how it appears upon first glance but in reality there are creatures wandering this place called SCP-AMI-Guardians. 

SCP-AMI-Guardians are seemingly humanoid entities, unfortunately there is no way to confirm as no one during expeditions has been able to identify any of the creatures. The best anyone has gotten is a face of one of the SPC-AMI-Guardians but thought this face vaguely resembles a humanoid face. These creatures are very stealth based, always trying to avoid being spotted as much as possible. They desire to find any intruders of SCP-AMI, kill them, wrap their bodies in the webbing, and take them away. Normally once this happens, they end up getting transported in a random part of our own world normally in hidden areas like an abandoned building or a sewage pipe. The only other way to leave this place is to go back to the machine and look beyond the light into the infinity mirror illusion again bringing the view back to our world. It's because of SCP-AMI-Guardians that AFA-2 units are used as guards in expeditions and testing. 

SCP-AMI was discovered in 2001 when two students going to the same school where [data expunged] worked and invaded his house. They found nothing until they stumbled across the door in the back yard leading to the entrance of SCP-AMI. They were later found in [data expunged], both dead and wrapped in webbing. 

Unfortunately, though the bodies were found by local authorities the camera they used to record their expedition was retrieved by Group of Interest: Parawatch. Thankfully as usual of Parawatch they uploaded the recordings online allowing Mobile Task Force Dionysus-1 “Fake News” to easily find it. The MTF altered the video and all internet posts in regards to the finding to make it seem like another creepypasta short story. This method has proven efficient in discrediting Parawatch’s findings in regards to the anomalous world. However, it does have the knock-on effect of allowing their websites to gain popularity especially in younger generations who love the recent trend of internet horror.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[geschiedenisish]

100% true.

Thing about dogwhistles is that they don't even have to be political.

I would argue this; 👉👌 is also a dogwhistle. Not a political one, just a 'normal' dogwhistle. Or when people use 🐱 when they're actually talking about 3-MMC.

Dogwhistle where even more common back in the day. We don't really have mediaeval versions of "Sexy Back", because people used far more dogwhistles back then to talk about taboo subjects than nowadays. Nowadays we're way more open, direct and to the point about even taboo subjects.

One of my favourite dogwhistles is an Italian hit from 1928. It's "the tango of blackcaps", blackcap being a type of bird. Blackcap, or capinera, is also in Italian literature used as a synonym for girls. The joke is a bit vague in Italian but it can pretty easily be done in English with the word raven (Raven also being a girl name);

"Over there in Arizona Land of dreams and chimeras If a guitar plays A thousand Ravens/ravens (start to) sing They have brown hair They have a fever in their hearts Who goes to seek fortune Will find love there"

(I do love the thought of 1000 girls just sitting on rocks in the middle of the Arizona dessert as just, like, a paranormal phenomenon that just happens like every day before a full moon or something. lol And then after singing they turn into ravens and fly away until the next full moon.)

Tango's are a really fun source for this type of thing. There's also the really queer-coded "Graj, skrzypku graj" from interbellum Poland (written, sung and made popular by a man btw, the amazing Adam Aston);

"Play, violinist, play, (play) all night Give your heart, and a lot of emotions

Let the violin weep, play an enchanting tango For your/such playing, I will give my life/my heart"

I could keep going on, such as with rhyming slang, religious dogwhistles (persecuted religious minorities having ways of finding others of that religious minority through dogwhistles. The Christian Church is full of them and even uses them in majority-christian regions. Like, seeing a Christian cross out of context is usually a christian dogwhistle. Meaning "hey, don't worry, it looks like there's no Christians here, but there are. You know from the random cross!") Hidden political meanings in old (religious) art etc. etc.

TL;DR Dogwhistles just like cancel culture, have existed since forever. Both are not politics-specific phenomenona. They're part of being human and people use and have used dogwhistles in all kinds of different contexts! Excommunication is the Christian version of being canceled and "Hi, is Mary home?" is a Catholic dogwhistle/shibboleth in a protestant city. (It's not just christians, but christianity provides easy examples. "You can't sit with us." from Mean Girls is an example of apolitical high school cancel culture.)

"there's no way that's a dog whistle, it's just a regular word to me!!!" have you thought about why we call them 'dog whistles' for like literally two seconds

[bitchapalooza]

Lithuania headcanons

• Showers like once a week because he's too busy and stressed to do so everyday.

• But don't call him stinkie, it's not his fault :(

• Hangs out with America a lot because he really knows how to help him destress and let loose.

• Meanwhile when he's hanging with Belarus there's an 98.9% chance he's going to get arrested for any type of crime. Y'know, like when he got arrested for setting an abandoned Fire Station on fire. All blame was put on him due to Belarus, very convincingly, playing dead inside the car.

• Sleeps with socks on.

• Favorite candy is peppermint.

• Least favorite candy is whatever amalgamation Poland made when he mixed every single candy he had on him together.

• Has an emotional support dog that helps with his anxiety. He failed to think of a name so he told Estonia to name her. Her name is Bus Stop. Thanks Estonia. She doesn't respond to anything else but Bus Stop.

• The type of guy to vaguely know what popular thing his loved ones like. He'll end up getting a bootleg thinking it's the real thing.

• For example he bought America Ratatoing thinking it was Ratatouille.

• Drinks nothing but coffee and he's still tired.

• Set a fire to stop France, England, and America's arguing.

• Don't take him to the hot springs and leave him there. He'll falls asleep while still in the water. It's that relaxing for him.

• Color codes his pens.

• Will push Prussia into any body of water if given the chance.

• Has never had an overdue library book.

• But his paperwork is always late.

• Has mild road rage.

• He's immortalized on Google Earth. Lithuania, Canada, and Bulgaria are all carrying Furbies out of a Toys R Us.

• Those Furbies were later used to make a larger Furby that would sit outside on China's lawn.

• Liet was bored and had extra time on his hands. What else was he gonna do other than make a large Furby out of other Furbies??????

[erzherzog-von-edelstein]

Child King

Characters: Prussia, Holy Roman Empire

Summary: Prussia gets an unexpected visit from his brother, who is desperate for some help controlling his domains.

Word Count: 4.4K

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Snow was falling in slow scattered flakes as the bright yellow banners of the Holy Roman empire appeared at the gates of Königsberg. Gilbert could just make out the bright color through the flakes. He put his hand on the pommel of his sword, a bastard blade that had ended the life of many men. Those flags had never appeared at his gate, not even when his father was still alive. The proud banners of the empire never came this far into the Eastern frontier. This was one of the farthest outposts of the empire.

It was puzzling. The fanfare seemed far too much for just a messenger, so Gilbert couldn’t help but wonder what the reason was behind this strange display. Had his brother finally come to reconcile after so many years of silence? That seemed very unlikely. Maximilian had proved throughly inept so far in his role as empire. Their father may have been a heavy handed tyrant, but he had at least kept order better than this. Under his younger brother, every province of the Holy Roman empire had exercised their own autonomy.

Gilbert did not begrudge it; he had prospered in the absence of a central authority. He did not wield his sword for a distant emperor. He fought for the brothers he had at his side, and they did the same for him. Even now, he knew some of his order were preparing to defend him if this visit should turn hostile. There was comfort in that.

The albino adjusted his cloak against the cold wind which always seemed to blow in off the North Sea. It was not yet high winter, but the weather had taken a frigid turn. If he believed in such things, Gilbert would say that this was a very poor omen. He turned and descended from the ramparts, where he had been watching the imperial procession draw nearer. The wind buffeted his back and he took sure steps down the stone steps. He may as well make his brother feel welcome, even though he doubted this encounter would be pleasant. There had been nothing but silence between them since Germania died.

When he entered the great hall, there was already a large fire filling the space with warmth from the wood floors to the spacious buttressed ceilings. The heavy wood door would keep the howling winds of the North sea out. There would be a comfortable feeling in the hall, at the very least. The cold that surrounded would be kept out. It would only be a matter of time now before he saw his little brother again. This would be the first that they had been face to face since their father’s death. Gilbert had spent the time making his mind keener and his sword sharper, one with books the other with blood. But, he had no idea what the young empire had been doing. He was vaguely aware that both Austria and Spain had been exerting influence on him, but it meant very little to Gilbert.

As he contemplated the reason behind this strange turn of events, the albino removed his fox fur lined gloves and placed them on a table. The gloves were the product of his own hand. There was no finery here but what you hunted and sewed yourself. He then untied the cloak at his neck and hung it over the chair at the head of the same table.

As he turned to inquire about how close his brother was, the doors of the citadel swung open, admitting a young man and a small party of retainers. There were only a few armed knights among them, few enough to only be a precaution for the journey. This was a sure sign that he meant this to be a peaceful visit. Gilbert took in the sight of Holy Rome before saying anything. For a young man, he looked surprisingly haggard. His face no longer had the light of exuberent youth. But the child king’s clothing was fine. An ermine cloak protected him from the cold and there was gold in the cross he wore around his throat.

Gilbert’s own was made of iron, but he had earned it with his own blood. He was an ordaned knight in a monastic order, his brother only had the name “Holy” because it was given to him. As the boy’s eyes lighted upon the albino, he cleared his throat and spoke, “Brother, I have come to seek your assistance.” His tone was commanding, but his voice was still that of a child. It could not possibly illicit fear from anyone.

Gilbert was struck by how brazen and forced this was. Did he not even deserve a familial greeting? However different their worlds may be, they were still brothers. It would be more fitting to greet him as a brother rather than a vassal. He responded in kind, “What could the mighty Holy Roman Empire need from me? You haven’t needed me for hundreds of years.” He saw the young man nervously swallow. They were still on opposite sides of the huge table that the order used for strategy, but Gilbert could see every detail of his brother’s reaction. It was clear that the boy was trying to carry the lofty weight of his own authority, “Surely you have heard of the heresies that are spreading like a plague in my territories. Even in this wilderness you must know about Martin Luther. I wish to uproot this weed, but Saxony will not give him up. As a knight of Christendom, you must assist me.”

Holy Rome spoke of duty as though he knew the weight of it. But, he did not. He was young and pampered. He had inherited a title without ever having to work for it. Gilbert knew his duty well, he wore the callouses and scars of it. What could Holy Rome know about defending the Church? He had not fought against the heresies of the patriarch. He had not felt his life slip away under ice only to be delivered by a divine hand.

But, one statement was true: Gilbert had heard of Martin Luther. A copy of the thesis had made it this far East. He had read it personally, and it seemed to him that if the church in Rome was as corrupt as Luther claimed, it deserved to be purged of its debauchery. He had spent his formative years painstakingly copying scripture, and he knew exactly how wrong transgressions were. If priests in Rome were indulging in adultery and pluralism, they deserved to be called out on their debauchery. Gilbert was far removed from Rome, so these allegations were some of the first he had heard. But, Luther didn’t seem like he was wrong. His own life was as austere and as reliant on prayer as any Martin Luther advocated. He would not pledge himself or any of his brothers to a campaign he thought unjust.

Gilbert said, “I have heard of Martin Luther. From what I understand, he does not speak against God. He speaks against the practices of corrupt men. Tell me, brother, why I should lift a finger against him?” The boy’s blue eyes widened. They were the exact same deep blue as his father. The last time Gilbert had looked in eyes that color, it had been with rage. Holy Rome straightened his spine and pushed his chest out. He looked like a small bird attempting to ruffle his feathers. But, even ruffled, a canary was not an eagle. He said, “You have a duty to me as your liege lord.”

The albino felt a smile on his own lips. He let his hand casually return to the pommel of his sword. Words he would have held in front of his father spilled freely from his lips, “You speak of duty, but you never seemed to know your own. It was your duty to either summon me to pay homage or to come here to allow me to do so. You did not, so you are not my liege lord.”

Holy Rome made a flustered squeak and took a couple steps back, closer to his knights. His hands tightened in the white fur lining of his cloak. All semblance of authority had left his voice as he stumbled over the words, “I-I didn’t know.” Then, seeming to remember his position, he added, “I will take your oath now and atone for my carelessness.” For that single moment, the albino felt regret at his brusqueness. He remembered that they at least shared half of the same blood. But his brother’s return to the formality of a lord hardened his own resolve.

He squared his own stance and tightened his hand on the sword. The albino said, “It isn’t yours to have anymore. Since you chose to deprive me of my benefice by you, I looked elsewhere. A knight needs a lord, if only in name. I gave my vow of fealty to Felix.” The other looked completely flustered. He took a couple more steps backwards in an uneasy retreat towards the doors. Holy Rome spoke, placing his own hand at the gilded, gaudy sword at his hip, “You lie! I know you have attacked Poland before.”

Gilbert clenched his teeth to stop himself from immediately responding to the incendiary accusation. He was a knight and he lived his life by the code of chivalry and honor. He did not lie on principle. All he had said thus far was true, but so was what his brother had said. Gilbert had turned against his liege lord when he had thought he had to. He said, “Hold your tongue, Holy Rome. I live by my honor while you indulge in your wealth and privilege. You have no right to besmirch my honor. Yes, I have fought with Felix when he did not delivered on what he promised to me as my liege. I require enough land to maintain my order, as any monastic order does. If Felix does not give me that, I chastise him for it. I want no more than what I am owed.”

Gilbert could hear his own raised voice echoing off the walls. It’s echoes made it into a fearful chorus, accusing Holy Rome with every syllable. He could not remember the last time he had sounded this enraged outside of battle. T His younger brother, who had little right to call himself a lord, was standing before him calling his honor, the only treasure he was allowed, into question.

But, he took a step forward and realized that there was still a quiver in the boy’s lower lip. The Holy Roman empire was still a child quaking in his boots at the sight of a a knight with a sword. He had aged since they had last met, but not enough to be a man in his own right. Gilbert had forgotten it when he had been speaking to his brother. He had seen the old resentments and the threat of outside tyranny reflected onto the slight form of his brother, who had not asked for the position he now held. The insults had galvanized him, but he thought it better to give the boy another choice, if only for the sake of their shared blood. Was it not chivalrous to extend a lord’s curtesy?

As these thoughts occurred to Gilbert, Holy Rome pulled his cloak tighter around him. He spoke, his voice shaking, “I have come to you to request assistance as is owed to me as an empire. If you will not give it to me, then I will leave.” This admission of defeat gave Gilbert a chance to atone for his rudeness. He could not offer his assistance against Martin Luther, on that he was firm, but he could stop his little brother from leaving. He spoke, “The storm will only worsen tonight; it is no weather to travel, especially for you. You are soft from your Southern summers. I can give you and your men shelter for the night.”

There was a shade of confusion in the other’s blue eyes as he heard the words. For a moment, he looked uncertain how to interpret the change of heart. But, the look was soon replaced by one of relief. He responded, “Thank you, brother.” He tripped over the familial title, as though this was the first time he had spoken it genuinely and his tongue was unused to it. He continued, “I would like to dine with you so that I may attempt to change your mind.”

Gilbert anticipated the request, but was uncertain whether he wanted to grant it. He did not want to be pestered about a decision he had already made. But, he had not spoken to his brother in decades, centuries even. This could be a valuable chance to make up the lost time. Perhaps even to mend the rift that their father had cleaved between them. With some reservations, Gilbert replied, “I can grant you that, but do not expect much.”

The albino then waved one of the lesser knights that stood around the edge of the hall, beckoning him. The man approached with quiet discipline, saying only, “My lord?” It was only a perfunctory title to explain Gilbert’s importance in the order. He had grown used to being called lord, even begun to enjoy it. Without his father’s help or backhanded gold, he had achieved status of his own. He may not be an empire like his little brother, but everything he had had been earned.

He answered, “Find rooms for the emperor’s envoys. Then inform the Grand Meister that I will not be dining with him tonight. Once you have done that, instruct the kitchens to prepare something rich. I doubt our usual fare will satisfy my brother.” The orders rolled off his tongue with a comfortable cadence. Years of learning that deference had no place on the battlefield had made giving orders natural. The boy who waited for his father’s permission for every action was gone now. He turned back to Holy Rome, who was looking at him with a strange new respect. Then he said, “Is there anything else you would like to request for the night?” Holy Rome shook his head in resolute silence, understanding at last that he was no longer in his own domain.

There were what seemed to Gilbert to be an inordinate number of candles lit in a spacious room, where food was sprawled across the table. As Gilbert had instructed, the fare was sumptuous. He wondered if the larder had been raided too heavily. There was still winter to be considered and he had hoped to spend it eating more than just course bread and mutton. There was little to be hunted when the darkest winter set in and trade was expensive. Gilbert felt the miserly pang in his gut again as he surveyed the roasted foul, fine bread, and ale.

But, he kept his silence and took a seat on one side of the table. This did nothing to lessen the resentment he felt at the thought of his younger brother. He knew less that this would have drawn judgmental looks. How easy it was for a young man who had known nothing but pampering at the hands of the Hapsburgs to turn his nose up at luxury. Gilbert attempted to restrain the feeling in the name of familial harmony.

He did not touch the food. He would not until his brother joined him. Holy Rome was late and treading dangerously on his brother’s curtesy. Perhaps, Gilbert mused, there was more tolerance for tardiness in the Austrian court. He doubted it though. The representation of Austria had seemed to be rather careful for a courtier. They had met years ago when Gilbert had been passing through Hapsburg territory. Roderich had been courteous and careful, even if he was a little odd. There had been word long ago that the boy had grown into a kingdom while Gilbert continued to work for his own survival. It was futile to spend his time thinking of the unfairness of it; there was nothing to change it.

The thought was accompanied with the groan of the hinges. The albino turned his head to look at his brother as the boy walked in. He noted that Holy Rome had changed into another set of clothing, this one even finer than his traveling clothes. Gilbert had only taken off his outer layers. Here there was little utility in Flemish cloth or Neapolitan silk, even if it had been feasible to trade for them. Gilbert had never felt the need for anything different.

As chivalry dictated, Gilbert stood. He did not speak, not quite yet. Holy Rome did not return the favor. He said, “I am grateful for this chance. I hope that I will be able to convince you to aid me.” The idea that Holy Rome thought he possessed enough theological knowledge to persuade him was grating. Gilbert sat down wordlessly. He tersely waited for Holy Rome to sit.

The blonde looked over the set table with a distinct sense of disdain. He said only, “Has it been a hard autumn?” Gilbert took the sentence as a veiled insult. Even if it was meant to be simple conversation, it sounded like a judgment on the food. Gilbert replied, making little effort to hide his irritation, “No, the yields were good. I’m rather grateful for it.”

He watched as darkness seemed to creep over Holy Rome’s face. The blonde seemed to be seeking for something else to say. So, Gilbert decided to fill the silence. He said, “We should eat before the food gets cold.” Then, without waiting for his brother’s reply, he clasped his hands together and bowed his head. Usually, he would mutter the words of the prayer under his breath in Latin. But, with his brother so close and, presumably, able to understand Latin, he could not risk it.

He spoke the usual words of gratitude. But he also prayed for the patience to be able to deal with whatever provocation Holy Rome was going to offer him. His nature was forced in battle and was volatile. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that the other was staring at him, the candlelight dancing over his face. The expression was difficult to read until Holy Rome decided to voice the words on the tip of his tongue, “Your life is so pious.”

Gilbert could not quite understand the shock he heard in the boy’s voice. He was a knight of a Holy Order. Naturally his life was pious, even if that was all it was. He only said, “Did you expect anything different?” He could hear the anger rise in his own voice again. To distract himself, Gilbert reached out and tore a drumstick off of the fowl and then reached for a chunk bread. The physical action of tearing off pieces of meat and bread alleviated his anger for the moment. While he worked, Holy Rome spoke again, “Of course not, your faith is just different than what usually see.”

The comment seemed intentionally vague. For a moment, Gilbert wondered what really lay beneath it. His mind turned back to what he had read of Martin Luther. The man claimed that the clergy in Rome was ignorant and corrupt and this slip in his brother’s demeanor seemed to indicate that this was the truth. The thought only affirmed Gilbert’s decision to keep his knights firmly where they were.

They both lapsed into silence again while the albino tore pieces of meat off of the bone. Holy Rome finally broke the silence again, “Why didn’t you stay to mourn our father?” The authority in his voice, or what had been masquerading as authority, disappeared. There was even a quaver of tears. He sounded like a little boy asking for an explanation. Gilbert did not feel particularly ready to explain it to his brother, who had never had a cross word with their father. He said, trying to hide the truth of the last words he had spoken to his father, “To you he was a father and a king. To me he was just a king. It was not my place to stay.”

The truth was that he did not want to stay and meet the eyes of his brothers, who saw him as nothing but a demon and a usurper. He did not want to be present to see the man who had stripped him of a title that rightfully belonged to him laid to rest. Holy Rome would not understand the bitterness that Gilbert still felt at the thought of his father. He hoped that the answer would be enough to placate his brother. But, unfortunately, Holy Rome immediately said, “He was your father too. He gave you this.”

The boy made a sweeping gesture as though he meant the very ground that they stood on. Gilbert tightened one of his hands into a fist. He had won this land himself; all his father had given him was a small spit of land along the Baltic sea. He did not owe anything to his father. He ate to stop himself from speaking. Hopefully, his brother would take the silence as a sign to change subjects. The boy picked up a piece of bread and looked at it doubtfully. Then, seeming to search for his words, he said, “If I asked you to come back for a more joyous occasion, would you heed me?”

The question seemed odd and Gilbert was at a loss to respond. He responded, not thinking of the motivation behind the question, “I would. But that is not what we are discussing.” They were the only words he could muster. Was there a pertinent reason Holy Rome was asking? There was no joy in speaking of Martin Luther for either of them.

Gilbert was not left in suspense for long. The blonde smiled for the first time since he had arrived. Dimples appeared in his round cheeks. He said, “I am planning to ask a lady for her hand in marriage. I know we haven’t been close, but I want my entire family to be there.” He stopped speaking for only a moment before continuing with an even wider smile, “Please say you’ll be there.”

The boy was glowing from the excitement radiating from him. Gilbert felt a strange disconnection from it. He had never thought of marriage. His own position required a vow of chastity, but he had never thought of breaking it. His brother’s excitement belonged in some distant, glittering world that Gilbert was not privy to. It was like placing ones hand over a candle but not feeling the warmth. He asked, because it was the only polite question that occurred to him, “Who is your intended?”

He doubted the answer would mean anything to him, but it seemed correct to ask. As he expected, a blush mounted his brother’s cheeks and the boy quickly said, “She’s the granddaughter of Rome. Can you imagine it? The wounds between our families finally healed.”

Suddenly, Gilbert understood. This wasn’t about marriage at all; it was about intimidation. If Holy Rome was able to marry an heir to the remainder of the Roman empire, he would have claim to almost all of Europe. He would have the power to command vast armies. With the Spanish emperor he currently had and that kind of land, there was no possibility of resisting him.

Gilbert clenched his jaw. Why had he thought that his brother actually wanted to speak about anything else? This was ambition hidden in the empty news of frivolity. He replied, “If you really cared about healing wounds, you would not have come to me to demand compliance. You are no less a tyrant than our father. Marry your Roman bride. Take your Spanish army to Saxony. Take whatever foreign help you need to turn against your own kin. I will take no part in it.”

Holy Rome went pale. He said, his voice breaking as it crescendoed, “I didn’t ask for this! I want to live with all of you, but no one will listen to me! I hoped that you would help me because we are brothers. Why do you treat me like an enemy?” Gilbert pushed himself away from the table and stood. He would take no more of this. He had made his stance clear enough. His own anger was reaching a boil and threatening to spill over.

He said, avoiding his brother’s question, “You have never treated me as a brother.” He was not the one who had chosen to keep silence over the years. He wanted to walk out of the room, to leave Holy Rome standing there. But, he did not move. Leaving felt too much like surrender. Holy Rome stood as well, but he did not have the same confidence. Holy Rome raised his voice, “I am still your lord! I deserve your loyalty! If you deny me, I will turn on you once I deal with Saxony.”

The threat hung in the air, empty and desperate. But, it showed his resolve. He had, as Gilbert had suspected, never cared to fix the family. He was another tyrant not yet strong enough to enforce his will. The albino’s temper broke free from its restraints. He snapped, “You don’t deserve anything! I am your older brother and I should wear your crown.” The blonde slowly shook his head and said, “Our father did this to both of us. It was up to us to fix it. The next time we meet, I will be a conquerer putting you in your place. I hope you look back on this as the moment you failed to do what you should have as my brother.” He then walked out, letting the door close lightly behind him.

Gilbert felt his absence like an unspoken reproach in the air. He had won his neutrality, but it was hollow. He was not scared of the threats. No matter what he said, Holy Rome could not afford to risk a war with Poland over land that had little worth. But as he sat and stared at the, practically untouched, food, he felt as though he had lost something.

[dsudis]

Hey, so I have a vague memory of you saying you were reading the Witcher books? Are they good? Would you recommend them?

Okay so the thing is that given the state of the world and my mental health, I have a real hard time reading anything that is not a romance novel, which the Witcher books are very not, so my experience of them is not apt to be the same as anyone else’s who is not experiencing that. (But hey anyone who is, remind me to rec some lovely romances because hooboy have I read a lot of them since I last suggested any to anyone.)

That said, I’m pretty sure that it is objectively true that the Witcher books read very much like what they are, which is a series of fantasy novels written by a dude in Poland in the late 80s and 90s, so his efforts to write Powerful Female Characters are, uh, problematic by current standards, and also there’s a lot of rape and a lot of coded fantasy antisemitism baked into the worldbuilding. (Not, to be clear, in a way where I think Sapkowski himself is in any way antisemitic, but in the way where his writing reflects the big awful cultural conflict that is most salient to a Polish guy, and that’s mostly antisemitism. And misogyny. So much misogyny.)

Also, the first two books, which formed the basis for the first TV season, are a series of disconnected stories/novellas, so if you are looking for a really coherent version of those events, you will not find one. You will also not find much or any illumination as to Ciri and Yennefer’s backstories or internal narratives because those were mostly created/extrapolated for the show, to give them more equal weight with Geralt, who is the central POV character for those stories. You also don’t get a lot more of Geralt’s internal experience, for that matter, because the POV is not the riding-behind-the-eyes tight-third-person that I think I tend to expect as a default narrative experience; it’s a bit more of the camera riding over Geralt’s shoulder, so you sometimes get an idea of his thoughts/feelings but you often don’t.

Also also holy shit book Jaskier is so much worse. I hate him so much you guys oh my god. So much. Um. Other people don’t though, that one might just be me fixating on his worst moments in the books I’ve read so far.

Uhhh anyway, all that said, other than that they’re pretty good I guess?

I’ve only read the first two books and read/listened to the audiobook of about 5/6 of Blood of Elves. I mostly am persevering, inasmuch as I am, because I want to get to the books where Geralt is traveling around getting in adventures with his D&D party including his vampire BFF, and also from a morbid curiosity to know just exactly how awful a person book Emhyr is, which is, uh, not entirely a recommendation. Obviously. But again, I am also not a person who reads fantasy novels for funsies in any case so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[dweemeister]

Marona’s Fantastic Tale (2019, France)

Before delving into the thick of this review, I have a few personal biases to reveal. First, I am not a “dog person”, let alone a “pet person”. I understand why people adore dogs, but I have long been uncomfortable around them – small, energetic ones especially. In addition, I tend to view the subgenre of animal movies (dogs, cats, horses, etc.) as littered with saccharine, but nevertheless watchable, dreck. Reading back those last few sentences, you may conclude that I am describing a heartless monster that should not be trusted with living things. So be it.

Anca Damian’s Marona’s Fantastic Tale, also known by its original French title L'extraordinaire Voyage de Marona, avoids the common traps of this subgenre. It, too, happens to be an animated film. Damian, a Romanian-French filmmaker, has previously only directed two animated features, both documentaries: Crulic – The Path to Beyond (2011, Romania/Poland) and The Magic Mountain (2015, Romania/Poland/France). She is, foremost, a dramatist concerned with humanist ideas and values. Damian and screenwriter Anghel Damian (her son) treat the title character – also called three other names – as maturely as any human character in this film, where other filmmakers in this subgenre might only do so superficially, to elicit obligatory “awws”. Marona’s Fantastic Tale artfully depicts the perspective of its canine star through the chapters of her life. These life chapters are laden with ambiguous resolutions and important conversations and decisions withheld from the viewer – moments where love, responsibility, and survival intertwine or clash.

The film begins with the female dog’s death. She (voiced by Lizzie Brocheré) has been hit by a car, and narrates the rest of the film, framed as a recollection of her most potent memories. Her first given name is “Nine”, as she is the last of nine puppies between a mixed-breed dog and a purebred Dogo Argentino. Nine is shortly adopted and immediately abandoned. As a stray, she is adopted by a struggling acrobat named Manole, and given the name “Ana”. Happy though their initial time together may be, Ana recognizes she is an impediment to his financial situation, and runs away. Slumbering at a construction site, she is grateful for the warmth of architect Istvan, who always brings her food. Istvan, who calls her “Sara”, eventually brings her home to his manipulative wife who abhors Sara. Lastly, our protagonist will be adopted by a little girl named Solange, who names her “Marona” (from the French word marron, meaning brown; I will refer to the protagonist by her final name for the remainder of this review). Solange’s overworked single mother and irascible grandfather oppose the impromptu adoption for differing reasons, but eventually accept the new addition to their household.

I may not know much French, but Lizzie Brocheré (The Magic Mountain, 2017′s Rings) is a wonderful narrator. At least half of the film’s lines come from Marona narrating her unfolding life. In her voice, Brocheré captures numerous emotions: joy, regret, indignity, confusion, yearning. Marona, whose understanding of the world is similar to that of a young child, is devoid of enmity – even when faced with humans showing little concern or dismissive of her well-being. The film keeps Marona’s narration to a certain register, leaving the greatest narrative subjectivity to the film’s visuals and not Marona herself. Marona’s narration reveals how she interprets the world around her:

[Dogs] want things to stay exactly as they are... Humans always want what they don't have. They call it dreaming. I call it not knowing how to be happy.

Marona’s Fantastic Tale employs various animation styles in ways that may not feel sensible at first. Humans do not look like humans. They come in all colors of skin (blue, green, incomplete black crayon upon white construction paper etc.) and impossible figures (Manole, the acrobat drawn in yellow and red stripes, has stretchable, tubular limbs that any real-life acrobat would envy; other characters appear anything but humanoid). The most conventionally “human”-drawn characters in Damian’s film are those closest to Marona during her life – namely Istvan, Solange, and Solange’s mother. Marona, and the viewer, find comfort in these familiarly-shaped humans. Istvan’s predominant blue skin is a cool color, contrasting against his wife’s vaguely ostrich-like yellow-and-black appearance – attributes shared by her gossiping and materialistic lady friends, all of whom may need to see the doctor for possible jaundice. Like any animation director, Damian uses the character animation in this film to code viewers’ perceptions on a character. But the abstraction of Marona’s Fantastic Tale means she and her animators can further exaggerate characters’ physical aspects and experiment with color. The film’s backgrounds are a mesmerizing interplay of hand-drawn and CGI animation. Depending on where the camera is approaching, the apparently 2D backgrounds might unfold into layers of CGI, and vice versa.

These effects are bewildering. They appear as one might imagine a small dog might understand humanity’s vastness of appearance and personality, as well as the sprawling natural and man-made world they occupy.

Even more abstract through Marona’s eyes are the concepts of memory and time. On occasion, Damian has Marona reminisce about her past – an abstract flashback within a larger flashback. That past is filled with heartache – of being separated from her litter, her multiple abandonments. But in the confusion of understanding human motivation, Marona’s unconditional love for her mother and siblings and those who have taken care of her shines through. Hers is a melancholic loyalty, abiding despite abandonment. Time’s passage in the film is linear but inconsistent, leaving the viewer to make inferences for themselves. As a being with a short life, Marona has little time to find the most fulfilling, profound moments of her life in things that a human might deem mundane (in an occasionally funny piece of narration, she says, “A good sense of smell is worth a thousand words.”)

Every human in Marona’s Fantastic Tale is beset with character flaws and, with the exception of Manole, difficult familial lives. Their flaws may manifest themselves towards Marona, other humans, or both. Marona observes human frustration, jealousy, and pettiness and can always sense the unspoken tension that precedes a fateful action. Here, the film plays out not only as a simple flashback, but as a sort of dying wish. Marona, who we know is dying or is en route to what happens after death, appeals to the viewers without so much directly addressing them. It is an appeal for understanding: to realize our personal faults and to exemplify the consideration and goodwill that makes living worthwhile. 

Some Western viewers might be irked that Marona dies in the film and that her death does overhang the proceedings. (They may be too accustomed to the excessively manipulative and stereotypical death fake-out so common in dog movies. Picture, if you will: a dog is shown to be in peril, the human characters hang their hands down acknowledging the likelihood of a dog’s death, but there is sudden uplift when, against all odds, the dog protagonist comes over the hill or rounds the corner and leaps into the arms of his caretakers.) But Anca and Anghel Damian have taken care to ensure that Marona’s death is handled as non-sensationally and abstractly as the rest of the film. Morbid it is not. That is no easy feat for any filmmaker, whether working in a live-action or animated format.

Marona’s Fantastic Tale does assume some life experience and contains presumed moments of cruelty, so I would hesitate to show the film to very young children. But the film should play well to slightly older children and, of course, open-minded adults. Marona’s Fantastic Tale is a film concerned about how time claims all, how dogs and humans might leave behind an example of love that sustains even in our darkest moments. That it does so convincingly through Marona drives this film’s beauty.

My rating: 8.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[ninja-muse]

Heart of Europe - Peter H. Wilson

In brief: An incredibly comprehensive macro history of the Holy Roman Empire, from its founding to dissolution, with the general thesis of “No, no, this actually existed, it was important, and it was not actually backwards. Historians who say otherwise are being ahistorical.”

Thoughts: How do you review what is pretty clearly the work of decades? When you’re not entirely sure you understood everything, because there was just so much to understand?

About how you write such a book, I think: by compartmentalizing. 

First, some explanation, though, because the Holy Roman Empire isn’t that well-known of a historical entity. Basically, we’re talking about German-speaking Europe with some extra bits—northern Italy, bits of Poland, bits of France, the Netherlands, the Czech Republic, Hungary—between the late 700s to the early 1800s. (Napoleon ruins everything.) The HRE was a pretty big deal in a lot of ways too, like, part of the “Holy” and “Roman” was that many Emperors either chose the Pope or protected the Pope and the Church.

As you can maybe guess by that half-joke, this doesn’t have the structure I’d expected. Wilson starts at the beginning and ends at the end, yes, but he does this multiple times, running through the changes of dynasty and ideas of kingship, the wider political structures and wars, the social order, and the justice system so that the reader gets a good sense of how one state of affairs lead directly into another, but less sense of concurrent events. For instance, he’ll discuss an emperor’s ruling style in one section, the war he was fighting in another, and the peasant uprisings he was contending with in a third. Honestly, I’m kind of impressed how well Wilson manages to remind the reader of information, but it’s not perfect and when I need to reference this book in the future, I will be very grateful for the timeline of events, the genealogies, and the index.

I’m equally impressed by the amount of research and synthesis Wilson’s done. Even if he didn’t read through all the tax records and law codes and contemporary political writings himself, he has to have all the articles and books that discuss them, and to have read a whole lot of 19th and 20th century histories of the Empire to boot—and then somehow he’s managed to write a narrative in reasonably non-academic English. It’s still pretty dense and dry, but the book gives a good overview of the Empire in all its facets without getting bogged down in details (and yes, the names of kings, emperors, and popes are frequently details, that’s how macro this book gets).

Those two points alone are enough for me to call this a solidly good history book and to recommend this to people genuinely interested in the topic, but then we come to Wilson’s thesis, which honestly? I wasn’t expecting to get. I enjoyed seeing him pointing out the more than a little biased historical readings out there, the ones that, say, apply a 19th century idea of a nation state and political identities to the past and find the 1100s decidedly lacking, and seeing him point out, at the same time, that not only was the 1100s in the HRE about the same as the neighbouring countries, but that in many ways, the fluid, flexible, “works for us” structure of the Empire gave it more stability over time than other regions of Europe. Probably Wilson comes with his own biases—he certainly is passionate about his subject—but it’s also a bias that works for me.

So those are a few of the biggest things I took away from reading this: the overall history of the Holy Roman Empire and how it was structured and run; the Empire more or less in context of the rest of European history; and the ways history can be misdirected but also interrogated. I also learned a lot about historical political systems and social orders in general, and have a better idea of what Europe looked like in the past when it wasn’t being British or, occasionally, French. There were also a number of wars and uprisings that I’d only heard vaguely of or didn’t have the historical run-up to (like the Reformation and the Thirty Years’ War) which I have a much better idea of now.

If you quizzed me on any particular aspect, though, a month from finishing this and nearly three from starting it, I’d be hard-pressed to give more than a vague answer. There’s too much scope in the book for that. I was a little disappointed too that Wilson assumes the reader has a decent general understanding of European history, and will mention the Pope fleeing to Avignon or a monarch outside of the Empire or a war without filing you in on context except for how it relates to the Empire. (And that he scraps a lot of social history in favour of politics.) Can’t say I really blame him, since this book is already 1000 pages long, but all the same. It’s something to go in aware of, I think.

In sum: this book was excellent. It does everything a history book of this scale should, does little if anything such a book shouldn’t do, contains more information than a human brain can retain in one go, and is, dare I say it only having read the one book on the topic, the definitive book on the Holy Roman Empire. If you’re interested in European history, medieval history, or anything else that the HRE touches on, especially if you’re working in an academic framework, this is an important book to have. I’ll definitely be rereading sections and working through the index when that one writing project comes up on the docket.

To bear in mind: This is a heavy book, in terms of both size and content. While the sentences are always readable, the paragraphs and sections often need time to sink in, and even if you’re an actual historian of the HRE or adjacent topics, I’d highly advise giving your brain a rest at least at the end of every section. Also, I spent most of my reading time with this either held in both hands or propped up on some object or other and I definitely strained my thumb at one point, so there’s also that.

Also, fair warning: there is reasonably frequent reference to historical Muslim peoples as a “threat” or “menace”, as in “the Ottomans are threatening our borders and political stability”, and also the occasional reference to or discussion of early medieval slavery, intra-European racism, poor treatment of women and peasants, war and famine, and similar things which I’m undoubtedly forgetting now but should probably be expected in a history book. Oh, and historians and political leaders using the HRE’s existence to support their own agendas.

9.5/10

[arplis]

Arplis - News: I had known him almost all my life, Beniek

He lived around the corner from us, in our neighborhood in Wrocław, composed of rounded streets and three-story apartment buildings that from the air formed a giant eagle, the symbol of our nation. There were hedges and wide courtyards with a little garden for each flat, and cool, damp cellars and dusty attics. It hadn’t even been twenty years since any of our families had come to live there. Our postboxes still said ‘Briefe’ in German. Everyone – the people who’d lived here before and the people who replaced them – had been forced to leave their home. From one day to the next, the continent’s borders had shifted, redrawn like the chalk lines of the hopscotch we played on the pavement. At the end of the war, the east of Germany became Poland and the east of Poland became the Soviet Union. Granny’s family were forced to leave their land. The Soviets took their house and hauled them on the same cattle trains that had brought the Jews to the camps a year or two earlier. They ended up in Wrocław, a city inhabited by the Germans for hundreds of years, in a flat only just deserted by some family we’d never know, their dishes still in the sink, their breadcrumbs on the table. This is where I grew up. It was on the wide pavements, lined with trees and benches, where all the children of the neighborhood played together. We would play catch and skip ropes with the girls, and run around the courtyards, screaming, jumping on to the double bars that looked like rugby posts and on which the women would hang and beat their carpets. We’d get told off by adults and run away. We were dusty children. We’d race through the streets in summer in our shorts and knee-high socks and suspenders, and in flimsy wool coats when the ground was covered in leaves in autumn, and we’d continue running after frost invaded the ground and the air scratched our lungs and our breath turned to clouds before our eyes. In spring, on Śmigus-Dyngus day, we’d throw bucketloads of water over any girl who wasn’t quick enough to escape, and then we’d chase and soak each other, returning home drenched to the bone. On Sundays, we’d throw pebbles at the milk bottles standing on the windowsills higher up where no one could steal them, and we’d run away in genuine fear when a bottle broke and the milk ran slowly down the building, white streams trickling down the sooty facade like tears. Everyone – the people who’d lived here before and the people who replaced them – had been forced to leave their home. Beniek was part of that band of kids, part of the bolder ones. I don’t think we ever talked back then, but I was aware of him. He was taller than most of us, and somehow darker, with long eyelashes and a rebellious stare. And he was kind. Once, when we were running from an adult after some mischief now long forgotten, I stumbled and fell on to the sharp gravel. The others overtook me, dust gathering, and I tried to stand. My knee was bleeding. “You alright?” Beniek was standing over me with his hand outstretched. I reached for it and felt the strength of his body raise me to my feet. “Thank you,” I murmured, and he smiled encouragingly before running off. I followed him as fast as I could, happy, forgetting the pain in my knee. Later, Beniek went off to a different school, and I stopped seeing him. But we met again for our First Communion. The community’s church was a short walk from our street, beyond the little park where we never played because of the drunkards, and beyond the graveyard where Mother would be buried years later. We’d go every Sunday, to church. Granny said there were families that only went for the holidays, or never, and I was jealous of the children who didn’t have to go as often as me. When the lessons for the First Communion started, we’d all meet twice a week in the crypt. The classes were run by Father Klaszewski, a priest who was small and old but quick, and whose blue eyes had almost lost their color. He was patient, most of the time, resting his hands on his black robe while he spoke, one holding the other, and taking us in with his small, washed-out eyes. But sometimes, at some minor stupidity, like when we chatted or made faces at each other, he would explode, and grab one of us by the ear, seemingly at random, his warm thumb and index finger tightly around the lobe, tearing, until we saw black and stars. This rarely happened for the worst behavior. It was like an arbitrary weapon, scarier for its randomness and unpredictability, like the wrath of some unreasonable god. This is where I saw Beniek again. I was surprised that he was there, because I had never seen him at church. He had changed. The skinny child I remembered was turning into a man – or so I thought – and even though we were only nine you could already see manhood budding within him: a strong neck with a place made out for his Adam’s apple; long, strong legs that would stick out of his shorts as we sat in a circle in the priest’s room; muscles visible beneath the skin; fine hair appearing above his knees. He still had the same unruly hair, curly and black; and the same eyes, dark and softly mischievous. I think we both recognized the other, though we didn’t acknowledge it. But after the first couple of meetings we started to talk. I don’t remember what about. How does one bond with another child, as a child? Maybe it’s simply through common interests. Or maybe it’s something that lies deeper, for which everything you say and do is an unwitting code. But the point is, we did get on. Naturally. And after Bible study, which was on Tuesday or Thursday afternoons, we’d take the tram all the way to the city centre, riding past the zoo and its neon lion perched on top of the entrance gate, past the domed Centennial Hall the Germans had built to mark the anniversary of something no one cared to remember. We rode across the iron bridges over the calm, brown Oder river. There were many empty lots along the way, the city like a mouth with missing teeth. Some blocks only had one lonely, sooty building standing there all by itself, like a dirty island in a black sea. We didn’t tell anyone about our escapes – our parents would not have allowed it. Mother would have worried: about the red-faced veterans who sold trinkets in the market square with their cut-off limbs exposed, about ‘perverts’ – the word falling from her lips like a two-limbed snake, dangerous and exciting. So we’d sneak away without a word and imagine we were pirates riding through the city on our own. I felt both free and protected in his company. We’d go to the kiosks and run our fingers over the large smooth pages of the expensive magazines, pointing out things we could hardly comprehend – Asian monks, African tribesmen, cliff divers from Mexico – and marveling at the sheer immensity of the world and the colors that glowed just underneath the black and white of the pages. This is where I saw Beniek again. I was surprised that he was there, because I had never seen him at church. He had changed. We started meeting on other days too, after school. Mostly we went to my flat. We’d play cards on the floor of my tiny room, the width of a radiator, while Mother was out working, and Granny came to bring us milk and bread sprinkled with sugar. We only went to his place once. The staircase of the building was the same as ours, damp and dark, but somehow it seemed colder and dirtier. Inside, the flat was different – there were more books, and no crosses anywhere. We sat in Beniek’s room, the same size as mine, and listened to records that he’d been sent by relatives from abroad. It was there that I heard the Beatles for the first time, singing “Help!” and “I Want to Hold Your Hand”, instantly hurling me into a world I loved. His father sat on the couch in the living room reading a book, his white shirt the brightest thing I’d ever seen. He was quiet and soft-spoken, and I envied Beniek. I envied him because I had never had a real father, because mine had left when I was still a child and hadn’t cared to see me much since. His mother I remember only vaguely. She made us grilled fish and we sat together at the table in the kitchen, the fish salty and dry, its bones pinching the insides of my cheeks. She had black hair too, and although her eyes were the same as Beniek’s, they looked strangely absent when she smiled. Even then, I found it odd that I, a child, should feel pity for an adult. One evening, when my mother came home from work, I asked her if Beniek could come and live with us. I wanted him to be like my brother, to be around me always. My mother took off her long coat and hung it on the hook by the door. I could tell from her face that she wasn’t in a good mood. “You know, Beniek is different from us,” she said with a sneer. “He couldn’t really be part of the family.” “What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled. Granny appeared by the kitchen door, holding a rag. “Drop it, Gosia. Beniek is a good boy, and he is going to Communion. Now come, both of you, the food is getting cold.” * One Saturday afternoon, Beniek and I were playing catch on the strip outside our building with some other children from the neighborhood. I remember it was a warm and humid day, with the sun only peeking through the clouds. We played and ran, driven by the rising heat in the air, feeling protected under the roof of the chestnut trees. We were so caught up in our game that we hardly noticed the sky growing dark and the rain beginning to fall. The pavement turned black with moisture, and we enjoyed the wetness after a scorching day, our hair glued to our faces like seaweed. I remember Beniek vividly like this, running, aware of nothing but the game, joyous, utterly free. When we were exhausted and the rain had soaked through our clothes, we hurried back to my apartment. Granny was at the window, calling us home, exclaiming that we’d catch a cold. Inside, she led us to the bathroom and made us strip off all our clothes and dry ourselves. I was aware of wanting to see Beniek naked, surprised by the swiftness of this wish, and my heart leapt when he undressed. His body was solid and full of mysteries, white and flat and strong, like a man’s (or so I thought). His nipples were larger and darker than mine; his penis was bigger, longer. But most confusingly, it was naked at the tip, like the acorns we played with in autumn. I had never really seen anyone else’s, and wondered whether there was something wrong with mine, whether this is what Mother had meant when she’d said Beniek was different. Either way, this difference excited me. After we had rubbed ourselves dry, Granny wrapped us in large blankets and it felt like we had returned from a journey to a wondrous land. “Come to the kitchen!” she called with atypical joy. We sat at the table and had hot black tea and waffles. I cannot remember anything ever tasting so good. I was intoxicated, something tingling inside me like soft pain. Our Communion excursion arrived. We went up north, towards Sopot. It was the sort of early summer that erases any memory of other seasons, one where light and warmth clasp and feed you to the absolute. We drove by bus, forty children or so, to a cordoned-off leisure centre near a forest, beyond which lay the sea. I shared a room with Beniek and two other boys, sleeping on bunk beds, me on top of him. We went on walks and sang and prayed. We played Bible games, organized by Father Klaszewski. We visited an old wooden chapel in the forest, hidden between groves of pine trees, and prayed with rosaries like an army of obedient angels. In the afternoons we were free. Beniek and I and some other boys would go to the beach and swim in the cold and turbulent Baltic. Afterwards, he and I would dry off and leave the others. We’d climb the dunes of the beach and wade through its lunar landscape until we found a perfect crest: high and hidden like the crater of a dormant volcano. There we’d curl up like tired storks after a sea crossing and fall asleep with the kind summer wind on our backs. On the last night of our stay, the supervisors organized a dance for us, a celebration of our upcoming ceremony. The centre’s canteen was turned into a sort of disco. There was sugary fruit kompot and salt sticks and music played from a radio. At first we were all shy, feeling pushed into adulthood. Boys stood on one side of the room in shorts and knee-high socks, and girls on the other with their skirts and white blouses. After one boy was asked to dance with his sister, we all started to move on to the dance floor, some in couples, others in groups, swaying and jumping, excited by the drink and the music and the realization that all this was really for us. Beniek and I were dancing in a loose group with the boys from our room when, without warning, the lights went off. Night had already fallen outside and now it rushed into the room. The girls shrieked and the music continued. I felt elated, suddenly high on the possibilities of the dark, and some unknown barrier receded in my mind. I could see Beniek’s outline near me, and the need to kiss him crept out of the night like a wolf. It was the first time I had consciously wanted to pull anyone towards me. The desire reached me like a distinct message from deep within, a place I had never sensed before but recognized immediately. I moved towards him in a trance. His body showed no resistance when I pulled it against mine and embraced him, feeling the hardness of his bones, my face against his, and the warmth of his breath. This is when the lights turned back on. We looked at each other with eyes full of fright, aware of the people standing around us, looking at us. We pulled apart. And though we continued to dance, I no longer heard the music. I was transported into a vision of my life that made me so dizzy my head began to spin. Shame, heavy and alive, had materialized, built from buried fears and desires. That evening, I lay in the dark in my bed, above Beniek, and tried to examine this shame. It was like a newly grown organ, monstrous and pulsating and suddenly part of me. It didn’t cross my mind that Beniek might be thinking the same. I would have found it impossible to believe that anyone else could be in my position. Over and over I replayed that moment in my head, watched myself pull him in to me, my head turning on the pillow, wishing it away. It was almost dawn when sleep finally relieved me. The next morning we stripped the sheets off our beds and packed our things. The boys were excited, talking about the disco, about the prettiest girls, about home and real food. “I can’t wait for a four-egg omelette,” said one pudgy boy. Someone else made a face at him. “You voracious hedgehog!” Everyone laughed, including Beniek, his mouth wide open, all his teeth showing. I could see right in to his tonsils, dangling at the back of his throat, moving with the rhythm of his laughter. And despite the sweeping wave of communal cheer, I couldn’t join in. It was as if there were a wall separating me from the other boys, one I hadn’t seen before but which was now clear and irreversible. Beniek tried to catch my eye and I turned away in shame. When we arrived in Wrocław and our parents picked us up, I felt like I was returning as a different, putrid person, and could never go back to who I had been before. We had no more Bible class the following week, and Mother and Granny finished sewing my white gown for the ceremony. Soon, they started cooking and preparing for our relatives to visit. There was excitement in the house, and I shared none of it. Beniek was a reminder that I had unleashed something terrible into the world, something precious and dangerous. Yet I still wanted to see him. I couldn’t bring myself to go to his house, but I listened for a knock on the door, hoping he would come. He didn’t. Instead, the day of the Communion arrived. I could hardly sleep the night before, knowing that I would see him again. In the morning, I got up and washed my face with cold water. It was a sunny day in that one week of summer when fluffy white balls of seeds fly through the streets and cover the pavements, and the morning light is brilliant, almost blinding. I pulled on the white high-collared robe, which reached all the way to my ankles. It was hard to move in. I had to hold myself evenly and seriously like a monk. We got to the church early and I stood on the steps overlooking the street. Families hurried past me, girls in their white lace robes and with flower wreaths on their heads. Father Klaszewski was there, in a long robe with red sleeves and gold threads, talking to excited parents. Everyone was there, except for Beniek. I stood and looked for him in the crowd. The church bells started to ring, announcing the beginning of the ceremony, and my stomach felt hollow. “Come in, dear,” said Granny, taking me by the shoulder. “It’s about to begin.” “But Beniek–” “He must be inside,” she said, her voice grave. I knew she was lying. She dragged me by the hand and I let her. The church was cool and the organ started playing as Granny led me to Halina, a stolid girl with lacy gloves and thick braids, and we moved down the aisle hand in hand, a procession of couples, little boys and little girls in pairs, dressed all in white. Father Klaszewski stood at the front and spoke of our souls, our innocence and the beginning of a journey with God. The thick, heavy incense made my head turn. From the corner of my eye I saw the benches filled with families and spotted Granny and her sisters and Mother, looking at me with tense pride. Halina’s hand was hot and sweaty in mine, like a little animal. And still, no Beniek. Father Klaszewski opened the tabernacle and took out a silver bowl filled with wafers. The music became like thunder, the organ loud and plaintive, and one by one boy and girl stepped up to him and he placed the wafer into our mouths, on our tongues, and one by one we got on our knees in front of him, then walked off and out of the church. The queue ahead of me diminished and diminished, and soon it was my turn. I knelt on the red carpet. His old fingers set the flake on to my tongue, dry meeting wet. I stood and walked out into the blinding sunlight, confused and afraid, swallowing the bitter mixture in my mouth. The next day I went to Beniek’s house and knocked on his door with a trembling hand, my palms sweating beyond my control. A moment later I heard steps on the other side, then the door opened, revealing a woman I had never seen before. “What?” she said roughly. She was large and her face was like grey creased paper. A cigarette dangled from her mouth. I was taken aback, and asked, my voice aware of its own futility, whether Beniek was there. She took the cigarette out of her mouth. “Can’t you see the name on the door?” She tapped on the little square by the doorbell. “Kowalski”, it said in capital letters. “Those Jews don’t live here any more. Understood?” It sounded as if she were telling off a dog. “Now don’t ever bother us again, or else my husband will give you a beating you won’t forget.” She shut the door in my face. I stood there, dumbfounded. Then I ran up and down the stairs, looking for the Eisenszteins on the neighboring doors, ringing the other bells, wondering whether I was in the wrong building. “They left,” whispered a voice through a half-opened door. It was a lady I knew from church. “Where to?” I asked, my despair suspended for an instant. She looked around the landing as if to see whether someone was listening. “Israel.” The word was a whisper and meant nothing to me, though its ominous rolled sound was still unsettling. “When are they coming back?” Her hands were wrapped around the door, and she shook her head slowly. “You better find someone else to play with, little one.” She nodded and closed the door. I stood in the silent stairwell and felt terror travel from my navel, tying my throat, pinching my eyes. Tears started to slide down my cheeks like melted butter. For a long time I felt nothing but their heat. Did you ever have someone like that, someone that you loved in vain when you were younger? Did you ever feel something like my shame? I always assumed that you must have, that you can’t possibly have gone through life as carelessly as you made out. But then I begin to think that not everyone suffers in the same way; that not everyone, in fact, suffers. Not from the same things, at any rate. And in a way this is what made us possible, you and me. __________________________________ From Swimming in the Dark by Tomasz Jedrowski. Copyright © 2020 by Tomasz Jedrowski.Reprinted with permission of the publisher, William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.  #FromTheNovel #WilliamMorrow #SwimmingInTheDark #FictionAndPoetry #Novel

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/i-had-known-him-almost-all-my-life-beniek

[reseau-actu]

WASHINGTON - L’US Air Force s’apprête à modifier radicalement la stratégie d’acquisition de sa prochaine génération d’avions de combat, avec un nouveau plan qui pourrait obliger l’industrie à concevoir, développer et produire un nouveau chasseur dans cinq ans ou moins.

Le 1er octobre, le service réorganisera officiellement son programme d'avions de combat de nouvelle génération, connu sous le nom de Next Generation Air Dominance, ou NGAD , a déclaré Will Roper, responsable des acquisitions de la Force aérienne, lors d'un entretien exclusif avec Defense News.

Dans le cadre d'un nouveau bureau dirigé par un responsable de programme encore non nommé, le programme NGAD adoptera une approche rapide pour développer de petits groupes de chasseurs avec plusieurs compagnies, un peu comme les avions de la série Century construits dans les années 1950, a déclaré Roper.

«En fonction de ce que l'industrie pense pouvoir faire et de ce que mon équipe me dira, nous devrons définir avec précision la rapidité avec laquelle nous pensons construire un nouvel avion à partir de zéro. À l'heure actuelle, mon estimation est de cinq ans. J'ai peut-être tort », a-t-il déclaré. «J'espère que nous pourrons aller plus vite que cela - je pense que cela sera insuffisant à long terme [pour faire face aux menaces futures] - mais cinq ans, c'est beaucoup mieux que là où nous en sommes avec une acquisition normale."

La Force aérienne se prépare à répondre aux besoins futurs des chasseurs

L’armée de l’air étudie diverses technologies pour mieux répondre aux besoins de son prochain avion de combat.

Par: Valerie Insinna

L’approche de la série Century constituerait un départ notable par rapport à la pensée antérieure de la Force aérienne sur son futur chasseur . Dans son étude «Air Superiority 2030» publiée en 2016 , l'armée de l'air a décrit un «tireur de capteurs furtif à longue portée, appelé« Penetrating Counter Air », qui servirait de nœud central du NGAD en réseau avec des capteurs, des drones et d'autres plates-formes. La Force aérienne utiliserait le prototypage pour accélérer l'utilisation de technologies clés dans l'espoir de les faire mûrir suffisamment tôt pour pouvoir être intégrées dans des aéronefs perfectionnés au début des années 2030.

Mais ce que Roper appelle «la série numérique du siècle» renverserait ce paradigme: au lieu de faire évoluer les technologies au fil du temps pour créer un chasseur exquis, l’objectif de la Force aérienne serait de construire rapidement le meilleur chasseur que l’industrie puisse rassembler en quelques années, en intégrant tout la technologie émergente existe. Le service sélectionnerait, mettrait un petit nombre d’appareils sous contrat, puis relancerait une nouvelle ronde de concurrence entre les constructeurs de chasseurs, qui réviserait leurs conceptions de chasseurs et explorerait de nouvelles avancées technologiques.

Le résultat serait une famille de chasseurs en réseau - certains plus interdépendants que d'autres - développés pour répondre à des besoins spécifiques et intégrant les meilleures technologies à bord d'une cellule unique. Un jet pourrait être optimisé autour d'une capacité révolutionnaire, comme un laser aéroporté. Un autre combattant pourrait donner la priorité aux capteurs de pointe et inclure l’intelligence artificielle . On pourrait être un camion d'armes sans pilote.

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Que se passe-t-il avec les prochains modèles de chasseurs américains?

L'US Air Force et la Navy déploient des efforts constants pour créer un nouveau modèle de chasseur, mais à quoi ressemble-t-il?

Par: Aaron Mehta, Valerie Insinna, David Larter

Mais le problème, a déclaré Roper, est qu'au lieu d'essayer de répondre aux besoins pour faire face à une menace inconnue dans 25 ans, l'Armée de l'Air créerait rapidement des avions dotés de nouvelles technologies - une tactique qui pourrait imposer une incertitude à des concurrents proches tels que Russie et la Chine et les obliger à traiter avec l'armée américaine selon ses propres conditions.

Imaginez: «Tous les quatre ou cinq ans, il y avait les F-200, F-201, F-202. C’était vague et mystérieux [sur ce que les avions ont], mais il est clair que c’est un vrai programme et que de vrais avions volent. Eh bien, maintenant, vous devez comprendre: qu’apportons-nous au combat? Qu'est-ce qui s'est amélioré? Etes-vous certain d'avoir le meilleur avion à gagner? »Se demanda Roper.

«Comment gérez-vous une menace si vous ne savez pas quelle est la technologie future? Soyez la menace - ayez toujours un nouvel avion qui sortait. ”

Ce rendu d'un avion de nouvelle génération à dominance aérienne, de Lockheed Martin, montre un futur chasseur sans queue furtif. (Lockheed Martin)

Comment l'armée de l'air y parvient-elle?

Trois technologies industrielles permettent une approche de la série Century pour NGAD et établiront des exigences pour les participants, a déclaré Roper. Le premier est le développement logiciel agile - une pratique dans laquelle les programmeurs écrivent, testent et publient rapidement du code, sollicitant les commentaires des utilisateurs tout au long du processus.

La deuxième, l'architecture ouverte, est depuis longtemps un mot à la mode dans la communauté de la défense, mais Roper a déclaré que l'industrie l'utilisait souvent pour décrire un système avec du matériel plug-and-play. Idéalement, le NGAD serait entièrement ouvert, avec un matériel interchangeable et la possibilité pour un tiers de développer un logiciel pour le système.

La technologie finale, l’ingénierie numérique, est la plus récente et peut-être la plus révolutionnaire, a déclaré Roper. Les ingénieurs de l'aérospatiale ont utilisé des ordinateurs pendant des décennies pour aider à la création d'aéronefs, mais ce n'est que récemment que les sociétés de défense ont développé des outils de modélisation 3D capables de modéliser tout un cycle de vie - conception, production et maintenance - avec un niveau élevé de précision et de fidélité. Le processus permettrait aux entreprises non seulement de cartographier un avion de manière extrêmement détaillée, mais également de modéliser le fonctionnement d’une ligne de production en utilisant différents niveaux d’effectifs ou la manière dont les réparateurs effectueraient les réparations dans un dépôt.

«Vous pourriez commencer à apprendre beaucoup avant de courber le premier morceau de métal et de tourner la première clé, de sorte que vous l'ayez déjà appris lorsque vous l'avez fait pour la première fois. Vous avez déjà atteint un niveau de compétence auquel vous auriez dû auparavant appartenir dans le 100e avion », a-t-il déclaré. "Et ensuite, si vous continuez et modélisez la maintenance, vous pourrez alors poursuivre la partie du cycle de vie qui constitue 70% de ce que nous payons."

Jusqu'à présent, peu de programmes de défense ont utilisé l'ingénierie numérique, a déclaré Roper. La Force aérienne demande à Northrop Grumman et à Boeing d’utiliser cette technique pour développer leurs versions respectives du dispositif de dissuasion stratégique basé au sol.

Boeing perd sa place dans la compétition ICBM de nouvelle génération

Cette décision laisse Northrop Grumman le seul soumissionnaire du programme de dissuasion stratégique basé au sol.

Par: Valerie Insinna

Boeing a également fait la démonstration de la technologie avec son entraîneur TX à feuilles nettes , passant de la conception au vol initial pour la première fois en trois ans et battant deux concurrents proposant des versions modifiées des jets existants.

Lors d'une visite effectuée en mai sur le site de production de Boeing, Paul Niewald, ingénieur en chef du programme TX, a expliqué comment la société avait conçu sa conception TX numérique avec une précision telle que les pièces pouvaient être assemblées sans cales - le matériau utilisé pour combler les vides pièces d'un avion - et un seul outil principal était nécessaire pendant la production de l'avion.

Au total, Boeing a été en mesure de réduire de 80% le travail manuel nécessaire à la fabrication et à l'assemblage de l'avion, a déclaré Niewald.

Le dessin de cette artiste de Boeing montre un concept pour le futur chasseur de l'armée de l'air, connu sous le nom de Next Generation Air Dominance. (Boeing)

Mais créer un simple avion d’entraînement comme le TX est très différent de la fabrication d’un avion de combat pénétrant comme le NGAD, et rien ne prouve que ces nouvelles techniques de fabrication fonctionneront pour un avion plus perfectionné, a déclaré Richard Aboulafia, analyste en aérospatiale chez Teal. Groupe.

Aboulafia a suggéré que l'armée de l'air pourrait "réagir de manière excessive" aux luttes du F-35, où une approche "taille unique" et une focalisation sur les logiciels et les capteurs produisaient un avion très coûteux dont le développement prenait presque deux décennies. . Mais une approche de la série Century, a-t-il averti, pourrait donner la priorité au développement de nouveaux véhicules aériens aux dépens d'investissements dans de nouvelles armes, radars, capteurs, engins de communication ou autres technologies habilitantes.

«Avec le F-35, nous avions trop mis l'accent sur les systèmes et pas assez sur les véhicules aériens. Peut-être que cela va trop loin dans l'autre sens », a-t-il déclaré. «La vérité ne se situe-t-elle pas entre deux ou trois véhicules aériens, mais une plus grande allocation des ressources pour les systèmes? En d'autres termes, la vérité n'est pas le F-35 et la vérité n'est pas la série du siècle. Ne pouvons-nous pas simplement penser en termes de quelque chose entre les deux, un compromis raisonnable? "

Rebecca Grant, analyste en aérospatiale chez IRIS Independent Research, a exprimé son enthousiasme pour un nouvel effort de conception de chasseurs, affirmant que les ingénieurs pourraient pousser les options pour un effort de la série Century «extrêmement rapidement». Elle a toutefois ajouté que le choix du moteur, l'intégration de sa suite de communications, et la décision de faire de la plate-forme avec ou sans équipage seraient des variables clés influençant la conception du véhicule aérien.

«[Une approche de la série du siècle] me semble très traditionnelle, car c’est ce qui se passait dans le passé. Et je pense que c'est ce qu'ils essaient de faire. Ils veulent des conceptions fraîches. Mais la difficulté réside toujours dans le fait que vous commencez à faire les compromis les plus importants et à identifier les critères les plus importants », a-t-elle déclaré. «Celles-ci deviennent des fonctions de conduite assez sérieuses assez rapidement."

Un plan de match (potentiel)

Le nouveau bureau du programme du NGAD déterminera la stratégie d’acquisition finale de la série Digital Century, notamment la durée du cycle de développement, les quantités d’achat et les mécanismes de passation de marché. Cependant, Roper a révélé à Defense News sa pensée sur la façon dont le programme pourrait fonctionner:

Mettre au moins deux constructeurs sous contrat pour concevoir un avion de combat. Celles-ci pourraient inclure les sociétés existantes capables de construire des avions de combat - Boeing, Lockheed Martin et Northrop Grumman - ainsi que les nouveaux entrants qui pourraient apporter une technologie unique.

Demandez à chaque entreprise de créer un «jumeau numérique» hyper-réaliste de sa conception de chasseur en utilisant une modélisation 3D avancée. Utilisez ces modèles pour effectuer une multitude de simulations sur la manière dont la production et le maintien en puissance pourraient se produire, optimisant ainsi les hypothèses et réduisant les coûts et les heures de travail.

Attribuer un contrat à un seul fabricant d'avions de combat pour un premier lot d'aéronefs. Roper a déclaré que l'industrie pourrait construire environ un escadron d'avions par an, soit environ 24 avions. Inclure des options dans le contrat pour des lots d'aéronefs supplémentaires. La direction du commandement du combat aérien a dit à Roper que 72 avions - à propos du nombre d’aéronefs dans une aile typique de la Force aérienne - seraient une quantité viable pour des opérations normales.

Pendant que ce fournisseur entre en production, relancez la concurrence, en engageant d'autres entreprises sous contrat pour concevoir le prochain avion.

À mesure qu’il formera la stratégie d’acquisition du NGAD, le nouveau bureau du programme explorera également les moyens de rémunérer les principaux mandataires de la défense pour leur travail. La plupart des programmes actuels de la Force aérienne sont attribués à la société qui peut offrir le plus de capacités au prix le plus bas, ce qui conduit à un statu quo dans lequel les fournisseurs sous-traitent pour obtenir un contrat et réaliser des profits uniquement lorsque les plates-formes sont produites en masse et sont durables.

Un observateur du budget avertit que ce chasseur pourrait coûter trois fois plus que le F-35

Le bureau du budget du Congrès met en garde contre le prix élevé du prochain avion de combat de l'US Air Force.

Par: Valerie Insinna

Toutefois, si une structure de la série numérique Century est adoptée, l’armée de l’air peut verser aux entreprises davantage d’argent dès la phase de conception et les obliger à produire des avions ayant une durée de vie plus courte; Par exemple, un avion à réaction ayant une durée de vie de 6 000 heures de vol au lieu de fabriquer des avions conçus pour rester dans le ciel pendant 20 000 heures, a déclaré Roper.

"Cela nous donne la possibilité de faire les choses très différemment, de concevoir différentes structures, de ne pas faire de test de fatigue à grande échelle et de faire tout ce que nous faisons dans l'armée de l'air gériatrique pour garder les choses en vol", a-t-il déclaré. nous gardons les avions assez longtemps pour faire une réelle différence, mais pas si longtemps que nous payons une prime pour les maintenir ou incapables de les rafraîchir avec de meilleurs avions?

L'un des obstacles à l'approche de la série Digital Century peut être de persuader le Congrès d'approuver le financement nécessaire. Le Comité des services armés de la Chambre avait déjà recommandé de réduire le financement du programme NGAD dans la demande de budget de l'exercice 2020 de 1 milliard à 500 millions de dollars - un signe que le comité ne pourrait pas être vendu dans le futur.

Roper a déclaré que l'idée avait généré une "bonne réponse" de la part des comités de la défense du Congrès, mais a reconnu que les législateurs avaient des questions sur l'approche. Il a également souligné qu'il faudrait trouver un moyen de payer les factures, en particulier au début du cycle de développement, lorsque plusieurs entreprises sont sous contrat pour concevoir des avions.

"Je pense que la théorie est bonne, c'est le financement requis et la taille de la base de l'industrie que nous pouvons maintenir", a-t-il déclaré. «Je ne veux pas laisser les entreprises de côté, mais je ne veux pas non plus aller si gros que nous échouons à cause du financement, pas à cause de la solidité de l'idée.»

[tears-of-araxes-blog]

News after Obama was elected to a second term- listed (roughly) chronologically, most recent first: 

[For this post, from the most recent, to after his reelection in 2012]

In the final week of his presidency, Obama sends hundreds of U.S. Marines to Norway in a move that puts more U.S. military at Russia's doorstep (READ)

Obama sends 3,500 U.S. troops and tanks to Russia's border in one of his final decisions as president. Russia reponds by saying, "These actions threaten our interests, our security, especially as it concerns a third party building up its military presence near our borders." (READ)

Obama sanctions Russia over unproven hacking claims (READ ).

Obama takes parting shot at Russia in UN finale: "We see Russia attempting to recover lost glory through force", the US leader said without a hint of irony. "If Russia continues to interfere in the affairs of its neighbors, it may fuel nationalist fervor for a time, but over time it's also going to diminish its stature." Obama also appeared to be detached from reality when he said, "The world is by many measures less violent and more prosperous than ever before (READ ).

Obama takes parting shot at Russia in UN finale: "We see Russia attempting to recover lost glory through force", the US leader said without a hint of irony. "If Russia continues to interfere in the affairs of its neighbors, it may fuel nationalist fervor for a time, but over time it's also going to diminish its stature." Obama also appeared to be detached from reality when he said, "The world is by many measures less violent and more prosperous than ever before (READ ).

Although President Obama began his administration with a dramatic public commitment to build a nuclear weapons-free world, that commitment has long ago dwindled and died, as Obama plans a 30-year, $1 trillion, taxpayer-funded program to modernize  US nuclear arsenal and production facilities. (READ ).

Obama opens up relations with Vietnam by agreeing to sell them weapons ( READ ).

Obama plans to increase deployment of heavy weapons and other equipment to NATO countries in Central & Eastern Europe ( READ).

Instead of condemning Turkey for shooting down a Russian jet, Obama voiced his approval ( READ ). And instead of offering condolences to Russia, Obama blames Russia ( READ ).

Obama announces US war in Afghanistan will not end in 2016, as promised ( READ ).

The White House made clear yesterday that they oppose any independent investigation of the recent US attack on a Doctors Without Borders hospital in Afghanistan, and the next day the US smashed into the wreckage of the hospital with a tank, forcing their way in and destroying potential evidence that would be used in a war crimes investigation ( READ ).

Obama: Mistakes Made in NATO War on Libya, US Should ve Done Even More. Suggests Even More Intervention the Answer ( READ ).

In Letters to Congressmen, Obama Pledges More Money for Israel, Talks Up Attacking Iran ( READ ).

Former Bush Official With Ties To CIA Torture Program Now Advises Obama Interrogators ( READ ).

After US drones kill hostages in Pakistan, Obama invokes American Exceptionalism ( READ ).

Obama won't call it Armenian 'genocide' on 100th anniversary of atrocity ( READ ).

US intelligence used for Saudi airstrikes in Yemen ( READ ).

Obama halts US troop withdrawal from Afghanistan ( READ ).

Obama approves US airstrikes in Tikrit ( READ ).

Sounding a lot like Bush, Obama says the US is going after ISIL wherever it hides, ( READ ).

Huh? Obama: Defeating ISIS Hinges on Syria Regime Change ( READ ).

Obama administration to allow sales of armed drones to allies - will sell to allied countries, some of which have troubling records on human rights and political freedoms ( READ ).

Obama's Blank Check For War: Obama's authorization for the use of military force (AUMF) against ISIS permits action anywhere in the world against not just ISIS, but "associated forces" ( READ ).

13 Years, $1 Trillion Plus Spent, Obama Declares Afghan War a Success - Insists Protracted Occupation Made World 'Safer' ( READ ).

Obama administration refuses to pursue charges against CIA torturers in spite of scathing report ( READ ).

Obama has signed more executive memoranda than any other president in history ( READ ).

President Obama is actively seeking options for how to use ground troops in Iraq ( READ ).

Obama Extends NSA Spying Powers Yet Again ( READ ).

Obama Plans to Increase Number of Troops in Afghanistan in 2015 ( READ ).

In Secret, Obama Extended U.S. Military Role in Afghanistan Combat ( READ ) - contradicting his statement in May " Americas combat mission will be over by the end of this year. Starting next year, Afghans will be fully responsible for securing their country.

White House, C.I.A. Working Together to Thwart Release of Agency's Torture Report ( READ ).

Obama immigration speech: Sounded just like Bush's 2006 speech ( READ ).

Obama punts on net neutrality ( READ ).

Obama doubles the number of troops in Iraq ( READ ).

Obama again pushing for TPP ( READ ).

Obama Could Reaffirm a Bush-Era Reading of a Treaty on Torture ( READ ).

America's deadly double tap drone attacks are 'killing 49 people for every known terrorist in Pakistan' according to Stanford/NYU study ( READ ).

White House exempts Syria airstrikes from tight standards on civilian deaths ( READ ).

U.S. Ramping Up Major Renewal in Nuclear Arms ( READ ).

U.S. to keep 9,800 troops in Afghanistan ( READ ).

Mass surveillance just earned another 90-day blank check, nine months after President Obama promised to rein in the NSA s spying powers ( READ ).

Obama and Cameron push for war on ISIS in Syria and Iraq - insists anyone who opposes this conflict is an "isolationalist" ( READ ).

Obama's Pentagon Covered Up War Crimes in Afghanistan, Says Amnesty International ( READ ).

Obama Authorizes Airstrikes in Iraq (yet somehow says, "As commander in chief, I will not allow the United States to be dragged into fighting another war in Iraq") ( READ ).

Thank You, President Obama. Love, Israel ( READ ).

Six US Presidents Have Destroyed Iraq ( READ ).

How the Obama Administration is Keeping Big Coal Alive ( READ ).

Afraid to Stoke Populist Ire, Obama Abandons 'Inequality' Rhetoric ( READ ).

Rubbing our noses in it: Obama's FAA gives first approval of commercial drones in US to... BP ( READ ).  Obama appointee and fellow Democrat Anthony Foxx who is the secretary of Transportation, which oversees the FAA, said that BP's use of drones is "another important step toward broader commercial use of unmanned aircraft."

Obama Seeks to More Heavily Censor Drone Killing Memo ( READ ).

Speaking at the West Point commencement speech, President Obama put forward his foreign policy vision, which he described as might doing right, declaring that I believe in American exceptionalism with every fiber of my being. ( READ ).

Obama to announce direct training of "rebels" in Syria ( PHOTO ).

Deal Welcoming US Military Into Philippines Slammed As 'Betrayal' ( READ ) - protesters burn effigy of Obama in Philippines ( PHOTO).

Obama breaks campaign promise on net neutrality ( READ ).

At the same time the US is accusing Russia of being militarily provocative, the US sent 600 troops to Poland to counter "Russia's aggression in Ukraine;" deployed six American F-15 aircraft inside Lithuania ; pledged a $10 million increase in border security aid to Moldova ; declared its desire to strengthen NATO's military cooperation with Armenia and Azerbaijan ; stated that it wanted to send more troops to Romania ; decided to send more US troops and military aircraft into Uganda ; announced it would expand its covert support of the Syrian opposition , and fomented unrest in Venezuela .

US secretly created 'Cuban Twitter' to stir unrest ( READ ). White House calls it a "a development-assistance programme." ( READ ).

Obama The Least Transparent President in History ( READ ).

Obama says 'bigger nations cannot simply bully smaller ones'. Wait... what? ( READ ).

Obama defends Iraq invasion: "But even in Iraq, America sought to work within the international system. We did not claim or annex Iraq s territory, nor did we grab its resources for our own gain. Instead, we ended our war and left Iraq to its people and a fully sovereign Iraqi state could make decisions about its own future. ( READ ).

Obama Wants More NATO Troops in Eastern Europe ( READ ).

US Regime-Change Operation in Ukraine Exposed in Leaked Diplomatic Phone Call ( READ ).

The Obama administration has killed 4,700 individuals in numerous countries, including Pakistan, Yemen and Somalia, bragged Sen. Lindsey Graham ( READ ).

Obama administration extends $6.5 billion loan guarantee to build nuclear reactors ( READ ).

One of the most generous offerings for corporate America in the U.S. tax code is about to become even more bountiful under an Obama administration proposal ( READ ).

Obama's NSA 'Reforms' Are Little More Than a PR Attempt to Mollify the Public ( READ ).

Obama Unveils Vague NSA Reforms, Denies Wrongdoing ( READ ).

Groups to Obama: Your Fossil Fuel-Driven Policies Equal 'Catastrophic Climate Future' ( READ ).

Christmas day, 2013 announcement: Obama is sending Hellfire missiles and drones to Iraq ( READ ).

Obama plans $355 billion upgrade to nuclear weapons ( READ ).

Obama s photo policy smacks of propaganda ( READ ).

I am sorry that they, you know, are finding themselves in this situation, based on assurances they got from me, said Obama, apologizing to Americans receiving insurance cancellation notices.  In 2009, Obama said: If you like your health-care plan, you ll be able to keep your health-care plan, period. No one will take it away, no matter what. ( READ ).

"A Corporate Trojan Horse": Obama Pushes Secretive TPP Trade Pact, Would Rewrite Swath of U.S. Laws ( READ ).

Amid government shutdown, Obama signals cuts to Social Security, Medicare ( READ ).

Obama wants war on Syria, the people don't ( READ ).

Obama appears to be delusional: I didn't set a red line (on Syria), the world set a red line  ( READ ).

Obama administration asks Supreme Court to allow warrantless cellphone searches ( READ ).

White House knew Glenn Greenwald's partner David Miranda would be detained ( READ ).

Obama refuses to cut off military aid to Egypt in spite of brutal crackdown on protesters ( READ ).

Obama Appoints Documented 'Liar' to Convene NSA Review Board -- Investigation established by James Clapper is part of president's so-called transparency reforms ( READ ).

Obama's 'Tonight Show' Domestic Spying Comments Contradicted By New York Times Story ( READ ).

Obama toasts George HW Bush: 'We are surely a kinder and gentler nation because of you' ( READ ).

The case against Edward Snowden is the seventh under President Barack Obama in which a government official has been criminally charged with leaking classified information to the media. Under all previous presidents, just three such cases have been brought. ( READ )

Obama administration implementing a crackdown called the Insider Threat Program. Millions of federal employees must watch for "high-risk persons or behaviors" among co-workers and could face penalties, including criminal charges, for failing to report them.  Leaks to the media are equated with espionage. (READ) .

The CIA has been operating a secret drone base in Saudi Arabia for the past two years (READ) .

Obama is running the biggest terrorist operation that exists, maybe in history" - Noam Chomsky

Edward Snowden: Obama expanded 'abusive' security programs (READ) 

In justifying his actions in Syria, Obama said, "[T]here are folks who say, you know, 'We are so scarred from Iraq. We should have learned our lesson. We should not have anything to do with it.' Well, I reject that view as well." (READ)

In his 2009 inaugural address, Obama claimed that we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals.  Now, in defending NSA spying, Obama says, "You can't have 100 percent security and also then have 100 percent privacy We are going to have to make some choices as a society." (READ)

Obama decides to arm rebels in Syria, in spite of it being against U.S. law to arm designated terrorist organizations.  Obama's justification: The arms sent by the U.S. won't get into the hands of the al-Qaeda fighters amongst the rebels (READ)

Obama defends PRISM sweeping surveillance efforts (READ) .

Obama's NSA collecting Verizon customer phone records - under the Obama administration the communication records of millions of US citizens are being collected indiscriminately and in bulk, regardless of whether they are suspected of any wrongdoing (READ) .

President Obama uses a sledgehammer against dissent - From Jeremy Hammond to Bradley Manning and the AP, Obama's 'assault on journalism' is a threat to our democracy (READ) .

Obama admits the U.S. kills innocent civilians: "it is a hard fact that U.S. strikes have resulted in civilian casualties" (READ) .

The United States has formally said for the first time that it killed Yemeni-American cleric Anwar al-Awlaki and three other US citizens in anti-terror strikes abroad  (READ) .

Obama administration secretly obtains trove of Associated Press phone records in "unprecedented intrusion"  (READ) .

Cornel West: Obama 'Is a War Criminal'  (READ) .

Four Obama policies that help keep Gitmo open (READ) .

Obama's calls George W. Bush a "good man" at Bush library dedication (READ) .

The first of 500 Marines have begun deploying to Spain as part of a new rapid reaction force to respond to threats against U.S. citizens, government personnel or installations in Africa ( READ ).

It s Official: A Democratic President Proposes to Cut Social Security  (READ) .

While Urging Gun Laws at Home, Obama Joins NRA to Weaken U.N. Arms Trade Treaty (READ) .

Signed the Monsanto Protection Act into law.

Obama Admin: GPS Tracking Without Warrants Necessary - Insists Tracking Americans' Every Movement Has 'Minimal' Privacy Impact ( READ ).

Obama inflames anti-Iran hysteria by speculatively claiming "Right now, we think it would take over a year or so for Iran to actually develop a nuclear weapon, but obviously we dt want to cut it too close" ( READ ).

Obama administration to let spy agencies scour Americans' finances ( READ ).

U.S. Steps Up Aid to Syrian Opposition, Pledging $60 Million ( READ ). Previous related: Al Qaeda leader Ayman al-Zawahri has called on all Muslims to back the rebels in Syria in the overthrow of President Bashar al-Assad ( READ );( READ ).

Is Obama really the 'lesser of two evils'? Could John McCain or Mitt Romney have gotten away with what President Barack Obama is doing?  Where Democrats once feverishly denounced the actions of George W. Bush, they are now eerily silent when their own candidate behaves in much the same way as his predecessor ( read entire article ).

Obama sends U.S. troops to Niger to set up drone base ( READ ).

Obama's Possible Frack-Friendly Energy Plan a 'Nail in the Coffin' for Climate: Choice of MIT professor Ernest Moniz, known for championing gas fracking, as head of Department of Energy receives rebuke ( READ ).

Obama Maneuvers to Keep Kill List Memos Permanently Secret ( READ ).

Obama OKs $50 million to assist France in Mali ( READ ).

In State of the Union, Obama Misleads on Foreign Policy.  "Over the next year, another 34,000 American troops will come home from Afghanistan," the President said. But Obama is overselling this withdrawal: by the end of this year, the number of troops in Afghanistan will be about equal to the number that were there when Obama was elected. This is only a withdrawal because he decided to triple troop levels in an ill-advised military surge ( READ ).

Barack Obama is Pushing Gun Control at Home, but He's a Killer Abroad ( READ ).

White House: Drone Killings Ethical and Wise ( READ ).

US responds to Israeli attack on Syria by warning Syria ( READ ).

Obama's nomination of Mary Jo White for SEC chief reveals the president still isn't serious about cracking down on big banks ( READ).

Obama Inaugural Speech: US to Maintain Global Military Presence ( READ ).

The Untouchables: How the Obama Administration Protected Wall Street from Prosecutions ( READ ).

MLK: I have a dream.  Obama: I have a drone ( READ ).

The Pipeline President: Obama s Keystone XL ( READ ).

Three Ways Obama Carried Bush s Tyrannical Torch, in Just One Week - Warrantless wiretapping of American citizens, Indefinite detention without charge or trial, Targeted killings of suspects by drone, without any pretense of due process (even if they are US citizens) remains none of the American people s business ( READ ).

Obama signs 2013 NDAA - blocking closure of Gitmo ( READ ).

Amy Goodman: Obama s New Year s Resolution: Protect the Status Quo - a number of bills were signed into law by President Barack Obama that renew some of the worst excesses of the Bush years ( READ ).

The Obama Administration deported more than 400,000 undocumented immigrants in the 2012 fiscal year, the most in the nation's history ( READ ).

Announced on Christmas eve: The U.S. will be sending Army brigades into as many as 35 African nations in early 2013 ( READ ).

Obama Administration Snubs Risk, Set to OK 'Frankenfish' ( READ ).

The US is going to substantially increase its military presence in the Philippines, increasing the number of troops, aircraft and ships which routinely rotate through the country, - a reason given: to serve The Philippines when struggling against natural disasters. ( READ ).

Obama's Deficit Proposal: Cut Social Security Benefits ( READ ).

Remember All the Children, Mr. President. Remember the 35 children who died in Gaza this month from Israeli bombardments (with your approval and U.S. weapons).  Remember the 168 children who have been killed by US drone attacks in Pakistan since 2006.  Remember the 231 children killed in Afghanistan in the first 6 months of this year ( READ ).

Barack Obama's tears for the children of Newtown are in stark contrast to his silence over the children murdered by his drones ( READ).

Obama sends 400 troops to Syrian border ( READ ).

Obama grants unprecedented powers for warrantless surveillance. The rules now allow the little-known National Counterterrorism Center (NCTC) to examine the government files of U.S. citizens for possible criminal behavior, even if there is no reason to suspect them. Now, NCTC can copy entire government databases flight records, casino-employee lists, the names of Americans hosting foreign-exchange students and many others. The agency has new authority to keep data about innocent U.S. citizens for up to five years, and to analyze it for suspicious patterns of behavior. Previously, both were prohibited ( READ ).

Obamacare Architect Leaves White House for Pharmaceutical Industry Job ( READ ).

US to leave 10,000 troops in Afghanistan past 2014 ( READ ).

Obama 'drone-warfare rulebook' condemned by human rights groups ( READ ).

Obama says he is "fully supportive" of Israel's attack on Gaza. There is no country on Earth that would tolerate missiles raining down on from outside its borders" (We wonder if Obama applies this logic to Pakistan, Yemen, Somalia and Afghanistan where the U.S. is raining down missiles on those countries) ( READ ).

Obama Administration: Hamas to Blame for Gaza Violence.  Says Israel 'has the right to defend itself' (but makes no mention of Palestinians having the same right) ( READ ).

Obama-appointed Afghanistan commander supports troops there past 2014 (READ) .

U.S. expands counterterrorism assistance in Cambodia in spite of human rights concerns ( READ ).

Julian Assange: Reelected Obama a 'wolf in sheep's clothing'.   All of the activities against WikiLeaks by the United States have occurred under an Obama administration. ( READ ).

[royal-mortician]

Poland Is a Shit Country: The Disagreeable Trivia Funtime Hour(tm)

the following first names were banned in poland until 2013:

Abigail, Adriana, Aleks, Adrea, Andrzeja, Anetta, Anika, Annika, Antonia, Arian, Ariana, Arianna, Arletta, Bernadetta, Brajan, Cyntia, Domicella (Domicela), Jagna, Jessica, Jozue, Kamilla, Karmen, Kewin, Klaudian, Korynna (Koryna), Ksymena, Kuba, Liliana, Lotar, Maks, Marieta (Marietta), Marika, Natan, Nel, Nikola, Nikoleta, Noemi, Odetta, Pamela, Petronela (Petronella), Rajner, Stella, Sylwana, Syntia, Wiliam, Żanetta

these names are still banned as of right now:

Abbadon, Akaina, Alexander, Alma, Andrzelika, Ardena, Arkhan, Bastian, Benjamin, Bhakti, Boromir, Brian, Carmen, Carmena, Chiara, Clea, Cynthia, Dajana, Emaus, Ewan, Herrada, Jaila, Joshua, Julka, Karla, Klea, Krystina, Kuba as a female name, Lester, Lilith, Lorina, Majka, Malta, Martin, Martyn, Maxymilian, Maya, Merlin, Montezuma, Morena, Natasha, Nicol (female), Nicole (female), Nika, Nikol (male and female), Nikola (male), Ole, Opieniek, Pacyfik, Pakita, Poziomka, Radek, Rener, Ricardo, Sofia, Tea, Teonika, Tonia, Tupak, Una, Unka, Veronika, Victoria, Violeta, Violetta, Wilga, Wilk, William, Xymena

the above lists are not exhaustive as there are a bunch of other arbitrary rules as to which names are okay; “foreign” names (intentionally vague) will usually be rejected; names containing the letters x and v will usually be rejected as x and v are technically not part of the polish alphabet; diminutive versions of names are always rejected (the english equivalent would be names like Johnny or Annie as opposed to John or Anna: Ivanka as opposed to Ivana would definitely be denied); “altered” or “foreign” spellings of accepted names are always rejected as well (Ann, Ana, Anne and so on are all banned, only Anna is okay).

the names being banned doesn’t mean that anyone has to change their name, just that you’re not allowed to name your newborn kid/s any of those. none of them are swears or offensive in any way- some are fairly common first names, others regular polish words that mean perfectly benign things like “berry” or “sparrow”.

as to why exactly any of these names are banned: the official reasoning goes roughly like so: 1. kids with “foreign” sounding names will be bullied and/because: 2. “foreign” names combined with polish surnames (such as Joshua Kowalski or Nicole Wiśniewska) are not “aesthetically pleasing”. yes they forbade a bunch of names because they get to decide for you whether your (child’s) chosen name is pretty enough; in short: the reason is "patriotism” (code for nationalism), and also diversity is not “aesthetically pleasing”.

[judefan813-blog]

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