#what is important is steve has the oh he did it accidentally predicts the bad guy of every movie ever nd skill

[formosusiniquis]

any cosmo girl would have known

“Oh she did it for sure.”

“Steve!”

“Ten bucks, Bobert, don't give me that look last time we agreed double or nothing.”

“No,” Nancy insists. “This isn't Murder, She Wrote or Scooby-Doo or Columbo-”

“You saw who did it in Columbo at the beginning,” Eddie reminds.

“I know it's an awful show.”

Robin and Steve remain in sync enough to each get a hand on his shoulder to keep him from getting on the coffee table to defend the only good cop show in existence.

“I'm only pointing out,” she rewinds the VHS taking it back the two or three minutes they'd talked over before stopping it completely, “that this is a movie, not a drama with a repeated format that Steve can pattern recognition into predicting.”

“You haven't seen it already, right?” Robin asks. “The one rule of Monthly Middle-Aged Movie Night is you have to pick a movie none of us have seen.”

“No, I haven't seen it already. If you'll all remember when I asked you each to go see it with me I got,” he points to each of them in turn. “‘Wouldn't you rather see Tomb Raider?’ from double VHS, prestige cinephile and ‘That's too much pink for me, baby, you know I have that intolerance, maybe Rob or Nance will go?’ from my emo-isn’t-a-phase husband. And ‘I'm a little busy with this new story, Steve,’ from Nancy, the only one of you with a real excuse.”

“Some feminist you are, Birdie.”

“I don't want to hear it from you. I watched two of the blandest men alive pursue Renee Zellweger while the screen writers tried to convince us she was homely because you ‘forgot’ you had band practice.”

“You said you liked it!”

“It grew on me, but sometimes you just want to see a woman in a tank top. And I won't be shamed by the same man who cried during Beauty and the Beast.”

“I went with my sweet baby Lucy Joan, you miserable hag,” Eddie says, “and they turned that hot werewolf into a boring looking man.”

“You weren't into that? Look at who-”

“Why am I getting made fun of? Can we finish the movie?”

“No, I'm not going to let this be another Sixth Sense situation,” Nancy says, holding the remote hostage, she knows no one will try to take it from her.

“Ugh don't even bring that up,” Eddie groans, “Dustin still mentions it in at least one letter a year.”

Nancy nods, prim and proper, “Exactly, so tell us right now why you think she did it, then we'll play it again.”

“Chutney, the daughter,” Steve corrects, “have you even been paying attention? Her hair's permed.”

“And press play,” Eddie shouts.

“No,” Robin smacks his hands as he makes his ballsy play to reach around her for the remote. “Show your work, Dingus, even I didn't follow that one.”

“I don't always like the movies everyone else picks but I at least watch them. Her hair is permed, she said she was in the shower. She would have had to have been washing her hair if she didn't hear the gunshot and she has a perm.”

“You can wash your hair with a perm,” Nancy points out.

“You would know.” Eddie snarks, fingering the ends of his own hair.

“You can't wash a fresh perm, you'll fuck up the ammonium thioglycolate. Then you're out forty bucks and you've got limp hair. She killed her dad and lied about being in the shower.”

“Press play,” Eddie decrees again, leaning in close to Steve's side to purr, “it's pretty sexy when you go all hair care detective.”

His hand starts to slip below the blanket. “This is how we ended up with Lucy in the first place,” Steve reminds him, just under the sounds of the courtroom drama picking back up. It doesn’t stop Eddie’s hand from wandering until the movie’s climax starts getting closer, and Eddie’s attention is captured just like Robin’s and Nancy’s.

“Unbelievable,” Robin says, when Elle cites the perm salt.

“Never again,” Nancy swears, when Chutney screams her confession.

“Lucy’s been asking for a brother or sister,” Eddie flirts, as Elle reveals that any good Cosmo girl could have solved it.

No more movies with mysteries or twist endings for a while, they all agree, Robin can’t afford to keep betting against Steve.

[ceealaina]

Title: What's New Pussycat? Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card: 4008 Link: AO3 Square Filled: K1 - Image: Uh, Kitties Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Romantic Fluff, Domestic Summary: After crashing through a wall at the Bad Guy Lair of the Week, Tony finds cats. A lot of cats. And entire roomful of cats. Apparently Avengers Tower is now a shelter for cats as well as superheroes...   Word Count: 1829

So maybe -- maybe -- Tony had just very slightly overestimated his abilities in handling this fight without backup. Or maybe he’d underestimated the number of bad guys. But either way it was okay. It was fine, he was fine, everything was fine. He had it all totally under control. 

And he totally believed that. Right up until, in taking out what he really hoped was the last bad guy, he’d found himself thrown through a wall, because of course he had. 

For a minute Tony just let his eyes fall shut beneath the faceplate, waiting for JARVIS to run scans and make sure there wasn’t somebody waiting to whallop him with a bulldozer, or something else stupid. It had been a long day and a longer fight, and while there were no serious injuries, he ached in places he hadn’t even known he’d had. All he wanted right now was to go home, have a drink, and then take a long, hot bath with the jets on extra strong, and then maybe sucker one of the various supersoldiers he had running around his house into giving him a backrub and --

“Uh, sir?” 

JARVIS interrupted the very nice daydream Tony was developing with a tentative tone that had Tony groaning. 

“What is it, J? Another five hundred of them in the basement?” 

“Not exactly, sir.” 

But before JARVIS could explain, Tony heard the sound for himself, faint little squeaking noises filtering through the speakers of the armour. He looked up and his eyes went wide as he took in what he was looking at. 

“Uh, kitties?” 

“It appears so.” 

Lots and lots of kitties, in fact, perched in little cubbies lining the walls of the room he’d crashed into -- thankfully it didn’t seem any had been injured with his abrupt entrance, so there was that, at least. They were viewing him with various degrees of curiosity, and as Tony was still trying to get his bearings, one of them hopped down. He lifted his hand on instinct, and the cat wound her little body around him, rubbing her chin on his fingers. Tony blew out a breath. 

“Oh boy.” 

***

“Okay, so Honeybear, don’t be mad.” 

Tony met Rhodey at the door with an extra-large coffee and his flirtiest smile; in retrospect probably not his best first move, because nothing was going to make Rhodey more suspicious. 

Rhodey hesitated before stepping inside, eyes narrowed at Tony. “What did you do?” 

“Seriously! Steve already yelled at me once today, which is just ridiculous really because I actually didn’t even do anything wrong this time, and it’s not like he still has allergies or anything. Really, if anyone’s the injured party here, it’s me.” 

“I didn’t yell at you, Tony!” Steve called from somewhere near the kitchen. “We just had a serious conversation about making executive decisions without consulting the rest of the team.” 

Tony waved an arm like that was the same thing. “Who pays the rent, Steven?” he shot back. 

Rhodey just pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a deep breath. “Tony,” he said, trying to get him to refocus on the actual issue at hand. “What. Did you. Do?” 

Tony gave him a guilty smile in lieu of actually answering, and then started to lead him down the hall. “I just want you to know that I didn’t have a lot of other options. There was nowhere else to take them, Rhodey. I couldn’t just dump them all on the street. And they were doing weird things to them, Honeybear. Cloning them and god knows what else, and sure I took out the bad guys, but what if it was the shell of a larger company, huh? I wasn’t going to leave them there!”

Tony could tell that Rhodey was bracing himself for the worst, so rather than trying to explain further he just led Rhodey into the room he’d converted for his purposes. It was supposed to have been a gym, initially, but then he’d realized the extent of Steve’s abilities and he’d repurposed an entire floor for the gym instead, leaving this space empty. It had been mostly used for storage since, so it hadn’t been too hard to convert it into--

“Holy shit,” Rhodey muttered as he opened the door, revealing all the kitties, some of the playing, some of them eating, some of them snuggled up for a good, long nap, or perched on the window watching the day go by. “Tony, did you start a cat shelter?” 

“Uh…” Tony couldn’t tell if Rhodey was impressed or horrified, which wasn’t a great start. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Not exactly?” 

Rhodey arched an eyebrow, but Tony was pretty sure he could see a slight smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “So what, exactly, is it?” 

“I told you, I couldn’t just leave them there! And do you know how overcrowded the shelters are in this city? Nobody could take this kind of influx, not even if I spread it around. I could have covered the costs -- would have covered the costs -- but they still wouldn’t have the space. So… Easier to just keep them here, right?” He gave Rhodey his best smile. “Just think of it like a foster home, just until we find them all permanent homes.” 

“We?” 

“They!” Tony corrected quickly. “I’ve got a contact at the shelter. They’re working on it, but you know, there’s kinda a lot so it might take a bit. Come on Honeybear, it’s not like I’m going to keep them. You know me, I’m much better with electronic babies than real ones.” 

Rhodey rolled his eyes, but he was fully grinning now, and when one of the cats came to wind herself around his ankles, he immediately reached down to give her neck scratches, setting off a loud barrage of purrs. “You’re such a doofus,” he told Tony, but his voice was all affection. 

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, grinning back at him. “That’s what Steve said too.”

***

The thing was, while he never made a big deal about, Tony knew that Rhodey had always loved animals. He’d seen the monthly donations on Rhodey’s credit card bill (and had tripled them anonymously), he’d seen the way he’d choked up over the abandoned animals commercials on television, and he’d been in the car that time he’d nearly killed them while successfully avoiding a squirrel. (Rhodey swore that it hadn’t been that close, but Tony knew the truth.) 

So it wasn’t exactly surprising when Rhodey “accidentally” got well and truly invested in taking care of all the cats, making sure they were fed and watered, that the bot Tony had designed kept their litter boxes cleaned, and that they had lots of play and snuggle time. Neither of them had ever had pets before -- it hadn’t really been conducive to their lifestyles -- but Tony loved watching Rhodey interact with them. He was already soft as hell for the man, falling more in love with him practically every time he looked at him, but something about watching Rhodey interact with the clowder of cats made Tony fall even that much harder. 

He also wasn’t oblivious to the way Rhodey’s face would fall a little each time one of kitties left for their new home, the way he’d cuddle the remaining cats just a little closer the next time he was visiting them. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for them, of course he was. And of course deep down he’d know that they wouldn't all be able to stay. But Tony knew his husband, knew how little it took for him to adopt someone -- that was, after all, how they’d ended up together in the first place. So it wasn’t surprising that Rhodey had mentally adopted every single one of the cats. 

They were down to only seven cats left when Tony snuck into the room one day, intending to ask Rhodey something that had seemed important at the time, only to find him sitting in an armchair, facing out over the city with his favourite kitty snuggled into his arms (not that he’d ever admit to having favourites, but Tony knew). He was talking away to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how they’d be sure to find her the best home, somewhere really special, and Tony felt his heart melt. He snuck right back out again, waiting until he was safely out of earshot before speaking up. 

“JARVIS? I need you to order some supplies.” 

***

It wasn’t too much longer before the rest of the cats had been adopted, all except for the one that definitely wasn’t Rhodey’s favourite, even though he kept turning down adopters for her, and had already named her Einstein. Tony loved Rhodey, but he was such a dumbass sometimes. (Yeah, yeah, pot, kettle, shut up JARVIS.) 

Tony had waited until Rhodey had some meetings that he couldn’t put off, pretended he was on a lab binge, and then the second that Rhodey was gone he’d rushed down to the cat room to get everything ready. It didn’t take much to close everything up, sneak Einstein out -- she really was a sweet little thing -- and then plunk himself on the couch in time for Rhodey to get back. 

As predicted, Rhodey headed for the cat room almost immediately upon his return, barely even offering Tony a wave on his way by. If Tony hadn’t known his husband so well, he might have been offended. Almost immediately Rhodey was sliding back out of the room, eyes wide. 

“Tones? Have you seen Einstein?” 

Tony feigned a neutral expression, but he knew he was doing a terrible job of hiding his dumbass smile, stupidly pleased with himself. “Oh, uh… She was adopted. While you were gone.” 

Rhodey, apparently, had missed his smile altogether. “What? When? By who?? I’m supposed to have veto privileges. I didn’t even meet them, Tones!” o

“Oh my god,” Tony groaned, rolling his eyes. “You ruin everything.” He was still grinning through, and he got up to reach behind the couch, picking up the little cat pet that Einstein was snoozing in, all dressed up with a red and yellow ribbon. “She was adopted by you, dipshit. Surprise.”

Rhodey stopped dead. “Oh,” he managed. And then he broke out into a wide smile, moving to take Einstein, now blinking at him sleepily. “Wait, really? She’s ours?”

“Ye-es…” Tony narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “You’re in charge of her litter box, though. I’m not doing that.” 

Rhodey just burst out laughing, bright and happy, and Tony couldn’t help beaming at the sound of it. “God, I love you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, love you too.” Tony stuck his tongue out at him. “You’re lucky you’re cute though, cause god, you’re dumb.” 

Rhodey didn’t even protest, just reached out and hauled Tony in for a tight hug, holding him close until Einstein gave an indignant meow of protest from between them.

@tonystarkbingo

[getseriouser]

20 THOUGHTS: Nic Nat Tackle Whacked

DONALD Glover, aka Childish Gambino, has released a very provocative music video for his latest hit This is America. Why mention that here? That’s a song and subsequently a film clip too that is about gun violence, American politics, race-based atrocities. This column is about none of those things, most weeks anyway.

But one theme that Glover touches on with the way the video is choreographed is about where your eyes focus. In it you naturally take notice of him, centre of shot, dancing, smiling, making faces. The subtext explored is that because the viewer does this, they miss all the more important stuff happening in the background, which is natural but undesirable human behaviour – a metaphor the for the political landscape in the United States on a number of sensitive but highly pertinent issues.

So what’s the link?

Whether it’s state of the game, suspicious tribunal reports or the reasons we immediately think in diagnosing why Essendon’s bad, or the Brisbane-Collingwood game is good, our proclamations might not necessarily be accurate. What’s happening in the background, what’s the root cause of what we’re seeing and sensing. Are we just being lazy in our judgement?

Not here we ain’t. We proclaim we get serious here. And we do. On that note…

  1.    So we start with tonight’s tribunal sittings. Firstly, Tom Hawkins, touching the umpire. The precedent on this is Heath Shaw, who was dismissive in his physicality without being overly demonstrative. Hawkins was similar. But we say Shaw was a good ‘precedent’ but in reality, that will be relevant in predicting the punishment as how good a mood the sitting Tribunal members are in tonight. How good was their day, did they have a good lunch, did their Uber run late which really got their goat, did their Foxtel not record Masterchef last night and they can’t get the Tenplay website to work as well? For me, it’s a week. Not because he is playing Collingwood but because any sort of fine doesn’t say much. If umpire contact is a big deal, when deliberate, then it’s a week.

2.    Now, young Nic Naitanui. Tackles a bloke strongly and he has a date with the tribunal. But as per the Ryan Burton-Shaun Higgins incident of a few weeks back, the theme in 2018 is that if your actions are good, ok, legal, but the injury is purely accidental, you’re ok. So in that case, from a technique standpoint, other than a push in the back free Naitanui did not do anything to warrant a suspension. So he should get off, not even any sort of minimal fiscal sanction either. Watch him get two weeks down to one or something and we’re back for an appeal on Thursday but he should not get anything.

3.    Quick divert to other sports before back to the Footy – first, Ice Hockey. Yep, you saw that coming. Shout out to Nathan Walker. Who? Yep, fair call, but he is someone you should know about. He is the first Australian to play in the National Hockey League, he has played only nine games, seven of which for the Washington Capitals. But today he was the first Aussie to take part in a playoff game. And he scored a point too, an assist. Bloody good on the bloke.

4.    And then also in the US, Ben Simmons. Haven’t touched on the fella in this column yet but oh my. His 76ers are only a game away from having their season come to an end, still a pretty good performance even if they don’t get the chance to play for a title. But no question now that he is this country’s biggest star. The fact he plays just like Magic Johnson, someone we’ve all heard of, and just maybe could be just as talented as Magic too, is phenomenal. Sure, he will go to the Olympics and help the Boomers finish with a Bronze, maybe, one day, perhaps, but what he’ll do in his NBA career on a global stage will amaze. He won’t just amaze us patriotic few back here, he’ll amaze the natives over there, which is quite something.

5.    Quick couple on the A-League, and we have to touch on the Grand Final. Yes, it was a pulsating finals series, the standard on show was reasonable and Victory deserve all the plaudits. Now the bad stuff. Adelaide vs. Carlton on free-to-air  Saturday night rated 415,000, 170,000 of that in Melbourne. Only 183,000 people watched the A-League on ONE, 64,000 of those in Melbourne. Both NRL games out rated the game on Foxtel, and the Swans-Roos game matched it as well. So it’s a good thing no-one was watching to see the horrendous attempt at a pre-match obviously choreographed by sugar-high local kindergarten students. Or the missed offside goal…

6.    How does that happen? We acknowledge the score review in the AFL is poor, but compared to the stuff up in Newcastle Saturday night it’s as perfect as Baby John Burgess hosting a TV game show. The fact that the television referee, known as the VAR, lost his feed to do his job correctly 20 seconds before the only goal in the game, a goal that was clearly offside, that the assistant referee missed it too or believed that his mate upstairs would see it anyway so not to worry, that the game continued without any pause or review – disastrous. Then, the audacity with the statement on Sunday morning to not just admit the stuff up but adjoin it with an apology, that they “understand the disappointment and frustration of the Newcastle Jets”. The FFA is as good as running the A-League as Steve Harvey announcing the winner of Miss Universe. Oh my hat!

 7.    Ok, so some Footy again. Where to start. Let’s close off this ‘state of the game’ nonsense. Firstly, the Brisbane-Collingwood game wasn’t the saving grace, which I’ll touch on shortly, but it was decent we concede. But clearly what we could do to ensure that all games can be attractive, not just one or two a weekend, is twofold – remove the ruck nominations and be far more stringent with incorrect disposal. Remove the need for ruckmen to nominate, it means a quicker stoppage, no time to set up, and as long as only two go up, we’re good. The third man up was the issue, why we need to outline who the rucks are beforehand is redundant.

 8.    And then incorrect disposal – how many times do we see play on when the ball spills out, or is dropped, or someone attempts to kick but misses, but gets let off because he had a crack? Bin it. If you take possession, you must get rid of it legally unless your tackler knocks it free, then we are cool for that to be play on. You’ll get a lot more free kicks and less ball-ups. But no-one will be put off because everyone knows if you had prior and you don’t get rid of it properly you’re in danger. So there’s two good moves, no need for zones, which is laughable given it will do precisely zero to congestion. Malcolm Blight, you’re a legend, but on this you’re drunk, or old, or both. Sorry mate. You think it sounds legit but practically it does nothing.

 9.    Now as for that Lions-Pies game, oh, the ecstasy afterwards, the number of children that will be born in nine months’ time off the back of it. It only gets the love because it was a high-scoring thriller. It was high-scoring firstly because both teams uncharacteristically kicked straight, it even broke some league accuracy records. If they kicked at league average it would be 14 goals to 13, or similar, and just a ‘good game’ then. The game in Sydney on Saturday was arguably closer, and if anything more akin to a finals game standard, but everyone got swept up in Sunday twilight. Spare me. The Lions were gallant, the Pies were good enough, move along. Rub your eyes a bit and then look again perhaps? It was decent but not orgasmic.

 10. As for the Swans-Roos result, that’s a far more relevant game to look at, so let’s. Firstly, the home team. That’s the third loss at home, which is strange. Yes, no Franklin, but they didn’t have the Budweiser down at Geelong and got away with it. The forward line, or forward of the ball play, is hit and miss right now for the Bloods. They are so Buddy-focused that without him they are so unpredictable it can mean on-the-road success to a off-guard Geelong, or equally make them ripe for the taking at home to North. A reliable plan B is necessary, may mean they don’t win that Cats game, but it assures them of the home win instead, which is probably a better outcome going forward when he misses.

 11. So how about those Roos? A big scalp. Needed it, so far their wins were not massively persuasive. But ahead of the ledger, playing some good football, the combo of Brown, Ziebell and the return of Mason Wood inside 50 is very dangerous. Reliable down back too but I fear that when it comes to big games, much like the Melbourne loss they a month ago, up against a class, top-8 midfield they’ll be found wanting more often than not. But, great signs for the rebuild, this isn’t about 2017 for the Shinboners, so it’s all good stuff.

 12. Hmm, Essendon. Not good at the moment. Brendan Goddard continues to add to his portfolio of ‘really bad high possession count games’ and the whole ball movement is just ordinary. Certainly putting talent on the park each week but they’re not able to do enough when they have it for long enough, but worse still are not defending anywhere near enough cohesively as a unit when they haven’t got it. Clearly looks a confidence thing, couple bad losses have set them back, a good game or two can turn this around pretty quick; momentum is pretty powerful when you have it (West Coast) but gee, when you haven’t, it’s horrible – hard to stop, hard to turn around.

 13. Joe Daniher is copping plenty around the traps, out of form, a bit of a poster boy for their performance as a team in one sense. Now this is an All-Australian centre-half forward only 12 months ago, so he deserves a little more credit. And mind you, yes, he might not be playing his best, but I don’t think the team setup is helping him too much. For mine sharing the 50 with James Stewart and Jake Stringer is hindering Daniher. Yes, Daniher meshed ok with Stewart last year, but now with Stringer spending a lot of time inside 50, Stewart is now in Daniher’s way. This team does not look good with all three, and its main impact is being felt with the form of their key man. Either Stringer has to get on the ball more, or despite how well he has played in his role Stewart’s spot needs to be looked at. Harsh, yet Daniher can play a lot better but a shuffle of the magnets is required first.

 14. A tick to this column, pardon the forthcoming narcissism. This time last week we whacked Jon Patton, he then had another off night Friday (did a lot rucking though, granted) and the football media then jumped on. Remember where you read it first. They all either read my column or are just massively behind. Either way, stick with this column each week first and foremost.

 15. Freo are just not bringing the effort this last little bit and it’s very concerning. Lots to like about their 2018 prospects as this column outlines but the stats that measure effort and want are looking a little wanting. Has the club been distracted by the Ross Lyon stuff? Do they need a good old-fashioned week of training where mouthguards are required? This team is good enough for September, if they miss it’s a lost opportunity. Still only early May, they remain a ‘Hold’.

 16. Nat Fyfe though, playing beautifully. Best on ground for sure on the weekend, with the reigning Brownlow medallist sharing the same field. They didn’t really play on one another for comparison but as we speak, if you had to do the old-school lunchtime picking teams, Fyfe goes before Martin. Don’t let any Victorian bias let you down, Fyfe is just better.

 17. Um, St Kilda. It’s all a bit scratchy isn’t it? And the real shame is you ask Carlton fans, is there anything to be positive about, winless from seven, worst start in their club’s history, a club that’s properly old, not GWS old? And they respond no, sure, Curnow, Cripps, but no, not really. It’s a very sulky and sad kind of response. But if you ask them to choose between their list and the Saints’, then there’s a pause, followed by a wry smile. They answer theirs, and wonder off with the slightest pep in their step. And I agree with them, the Saints list might just be league’s worst right now. I’d rather Brisbane’s list a well. Trouble at Moorabbin.

 18. Couple on Hawthorn. Think Fox Footy’s Tom Morris might be on good oil here, the Hawks right now would be favourites for Tom Lynch. They will offer more money than Richmond off the top, and whilst I still believe Collingwood won’t be outbid for salary or term, just feel Lynch would chose Dingley over the Holden Centre. As a Roughead replacement it’s perfect. And to be coached by Clarkson, the man who was coach of the last 100-goal season, it makes too much sense.

 19. And on Clarkson too, he might be the biggest threat to Richmond right now. This column doesn’t massively rate his Hawks, but is besotted by his ability to get results, make things happen, strategically and tactically get his team towards the top. And Clarko knows this year’s yardstick, it’s the mob from Punt Road, and can now over the course of three months analyse and break down and plot a method that his less-talented team can deploy should they meet in September. If I’m Damien Hardwick, I’m almost somehow preparing for that already in readiness, Clarko is that good, and dangerous.

 20. And lastly this week, Bomber Thompson. Bad week for him last week, and then curiously this week those especially grubby journos thought it public interest to run a column exposing his long-term love interest who just happens to be Thai citizen. What’s curious is what is the point in doing so? She has nothing to do with anything related to the two-time premiership coach getting into hot water with the law, she’s got very little if anything to do with his social spiralling away from football. The only reason you run that story is, and we’ll be careful here even though we know we don’t need to, is because of … how to be delicate here… her interesting backstory. Or should we say his interesting backstory. Now that’s no-one’s business, nor really that interesting. But clearly that’s the only reason you run that story, yet they didn’t mention it. Bizarre times.

(originally published May 8)