Hello good afternoon! With this there are already two fundraising campaigns auctioning off items signed by Cait in the last month. Did you see the one at WCC?
https://twitter.com/WChildCancer/status/1776565710719721595
and
https://www.justgiving.com/campaign/world-child-cancer-tartan-day-2024
Dear (returning) Greeting Anon,
I think it's safe to say we're already old friends, or something along those lines. So allow me to call you 'Greeting Anon', from now on, if that is ok with you, too.
Thank you for reminding me something I paid only superficially attention to (you know, 📦and all, right?). Now, we know she has been a part of World Child Cancer's campaigns for quite a while, now.
Let's see how they did this year:
Overall, not too shabby, for a couple of days' only effort. Still, I would be more interested in the fundraising figure, than the online crowdfunding part (where we know her Stans compete in such an OTT fashion, just to get promoted to 'Best Fan Evah' - as if 🙄):
£ 1.7K is anemic, to be polite. It is perhaps less than a successful weekend for an AVON door-to-door saleswoman. But let's not be nitpicky, here: every single bit helps.
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@livlaughlovio has replied to your post:
damn what'd ya do
It's a very long story and rant. This ended up being a super long post.
The tl;dr version is that father slaps his kid who got her brain tumor removed so hard it knocked her out - and I sliced the skin and subcutaneous fat of his abdomen open without actually opening his gut - and no, he was never in danger of dying.
District Attorney Dent tries to prosecute me for Attempted Murder (15-25 years) but is forced to downgrade it to 2nd degree assault (7 years). It later changed to a plea deal of 1-2 years because DA Dent was concerned the jury would exonerate me solely because the victim was a child-beating asshole regardless of what the law says - I believe this is what's called a "jury nullification". This plea deal included an evaluation at Arkham, because - I'm assuming this - the people prosecuting me all thought I was crazy.
And that plea deal got wrecked because I had a year of surgeries that now had to be rescheduled - which the other three neurosurgeons in Gotham City can't cover because my caseload is a little less than all of theirs combined. An arrangement was made for the sake of those patients seeking me specifically and the hospital, which is why I'm out on a sort of work parole.
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The long story:
I came into the patient room with a father slapping the face of his middle-school aged daughter so hard it knocked her out. The only other person in the room was the mother, who was sporting bruises on the face herself.
In any case, his daughter's crime? Having a nasty locally-invasive medulloblastoma (type of brain cancer) and needing extensive, expensive chemoradiation prior to surgery.
Before I came in, I could hear lines like "should've let you die" and "a waste of money" kept coming out. I remember the room stinking of alcohol. And when I saw him hit her, I sliced a shallow thin cut across the abdomen with a scalpel I keep on my person - because Gotham - and he screams like I eviscerated him.
Later on, I learned he's her step-father, which makes sense. Animals are predisposed to making sure their genes survive, and killing the competition is one of those means to fulfill that. Compassion for others' young like you do is an exception rather the rule.
In any case, I called security to the room. I checked up on Wendy because I didn't take the effort of removing her brain tumor for someone else to kill her instead with a brain bleed. Her mother tried to check up on her husband - I just told her to "Just let him bleed. I didn't even touch the abdominal fascia" and that she has far more valuable things to worry about like the daughter he just struck. After security arrived and I kicked the screaming piece of garbage into the hall to let my patient convalesce in peace, I went on to my next surgery which was a subdural hematoma evacuation - essentially a slow brain bleed that is causing the brain to be squeezed to the patient's potential death.
It nearly got ruined when the police crowded the operating theatre and nearly broke the sterile field - so that's two surgeries the asshole nearly ruined. I told the police they could either arrest me and be potentially responsible for the patient dying on the operating table or they can let me do my job. They let me do my job.
The Gotham City Police Department later claimed I was holding my operating patient hostage. I told the court that the GCPD must've been projecting because I don't compromise duty for favors. That made the officers in the courtroom bristle something bad.
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The District Attorney Dent tried to push for Attempted Murder during my preliminary hearing, but he was forced to bring the charges down to 2nd Degree Assault / Assault with a Deadly Weapon. Even back as far as residency, I was known to have a perfect tactile sense: even through the scalpel, I can feel the softness and density and depth I'm cutting with touch alone - and when asked to demonstrate, I stabbed a lemon to a depth of exactly 2.54 centimeters - exactly an inch. Had I actually been trying, I could probably get that down to the thousandths place - I do delicate vascular reconstruction work after all, dealing with vessels as small as 3 mm wide using special magnifying goggles.
If I wanted Wendy's father dead, he would've been dead; I never went through the abdomen and into his space containing his organs. I knew exactly the damage I was doing, which ended up working against me as DA Dent argued that it can't be a crime of passion when I knew exactly the damage I was doing.
He was right. I did.
Eventually, there was a plea deal because the DA was concerned that the jury might let me slide because the victim of my crime was such an asshole. Apparently cause jurors can do that.
My defense attorney convinced me to accept the deal because the strategy of "asshole victim" is unreliable. And he also made promises that regardless of what happens, I'd be out of Arkham Asylum within days at most - perhaps not completely free, but definitely out.
Speaking of Arkham, apparently my actions during the entire thing was enough for everyone to be convinced to send me to the state's insane asylum, which I never really quite got. My defense attorney claims it's the disaffected attitude I treated an "apparently dying", bleeding man by kicking him out of the hallway and simply going to work afterwards.
I cut him because he assaulted my patient. I then kicked him out the door because he was being loud and disruptive with his screaming, which harms my patient's healing. And I went back to work because I was the only neurosurgeon on call, and brain bleeds don't typically cure themselves. It's a very clean and logical order of events because I won't compromise duty. Supposedly, it made people concerned there was a screw loose in my head.
In any case, my defense attorney was right. It didn't take more than a couple days before there was a bit of an uproar at Gotham Memorial Hospital - when people realized they'd have to cancel every single one of my surgeries this year.
There are only four neurosurgeons in Gotham City because no one wants to earn lots of money and then get shot before being able to spend it. On top of that, my caseload is almost equal to the three of there's combined. Even outside the city, there are very few neurosurgeons that can perform the cases I do because I can push the limits of what can be done through the surgery in speed, accuracy, and precision. That is what having a perfect tactile sense means.
My parole ended up being a quiet affair. It helped that the asshole victim was being incarcerated on child abuse / endangerment charges (25 years) with and had no means to publicize his version of "injustice." The mother who was in the room at the time also portrayed my actions as heroic. It didn't quite excuse the use of the scalpel, which was why I was being charged in the first place, but I think the DA office was a lot more lenient on me than it would typically be for other criminals.
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the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.
sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.
you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.
it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.
but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.
they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.
they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.
barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.
and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.
but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.
they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!
this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.
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Some Personal News
Hi.
For the last several months, I have been the CEO of dftba.com, the Awesome Socks and Coffee Clubs, and Sun Basin Soap. This happened because my brother Hank was the CEO, but then he got cancer. (He is now, thankfully, in remission.)
I have enjoyed getting to know the over 50 people who work on these projects, and learning from them about the challenge and fulfillment involved in making awesome stuff. I am immensely proud that together we've kept the ship afloat during Hank's cancer treatment, even growing the company a little in his absence. I would not wish this experience on anyone, but I am still grateful for all that I've learned and the people I've been able to work more closely with.
However! This week is my last week as CEO, which means starting Monday I return to my DREAM JOB: Unpaid social media intern for the Awesome Coffee Club and Anti-Tuberculosis Propaganda.
Every child harbors a dream. For me, it was that someday I might be so overpaid for writing novels that I could devote myself to being an unpaid intern who hates tuberculosis and loves our extraordinary coffee. Next week, the dream resumes, and I will once again be the world's only ethically sourced unpaid intern.
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