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brookstonalmanac · 1 year

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Events 4.29

801 – An earthquake in the Central Apennines hits Rome and Spoleto, damaging the basilica of San Paolo Fuori le Mura. 1091 – Battle of Levounion: The Pechenegs are defeated by Byzantine Emperor Alexios I Komnenos. 1386 – Battle of the Vikhra River: The Principality of Smolensk is defeated by the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and becomes its vassal. 1429 – Joan of Arc arrives to relieve the Siege of Orléans. 1483 – Gran Canaria, the main island of the Canary Islands, is conquered by the Kingdom of Castile. 1521 – Swedish War of Liberation: Swedish troops defeat a Danish force in the Battle of Västerås. 1760 – French forces commence the siege of Quebec which is held by the British. 1770 – James Cook arrives in Australia at Botany Bay, which he names. 1781 – American Revolutionary War: British and French ships clash in the Battle of Fort Royal off the coast of Martinique. 1826 – The galaxy Centaurus A or NGC 5128 is discovered by James Dunlop. 1861 – Maryland in the American Civil War: Maryland's House of Delegates votes not to secede from the Union. 1862 – American Civil War: The Capture of New Orleans by Union forces under David Farragut. 1864 – Theta Xi fraternity is founded at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, the only fraternity to be founded during the American Civil War. 1903 – A landslide kills 70 people in Frank, in the District of Alberta, Canada. 1910 – The Parliament of the United Kingdom passes the People's Budget, the first budget in British history with the expressed intent of redistributing wealth among the British public. 1911 – Tsinghua University, one of mainland China's leading universities, is founded. 1916 – World War I: The UK's 6th Indian Division surrenders to Ottoman Forces at the Siege of Kut in one of the largest surrenders of British forces up to that point. 1916 – Easter Rising: After six days of fighting, Irish rebel leaders surrender to British forces in Dublin, bringing the Easter Rising to an end. 1944 – World War II: New Zealand-born SOE agent Nancy Wake, a leading figure in the French Resistance and the Gestapo's most wanted person, parachutes back into France to be a liaison between London and the local maquis group. 1945 – World War II: The Surrender of Caserta is signed by the commander of German forces in Italy. 1945 – World War II: Airdrops of food begin over German-occupied regions of the Netherlands. 1945 – World War II: HMS Goodall (K479) is torpedoed by U-286 outside the Kola Inlet, becoming the last Royal Navy ship to be sunk in the European theatre of World War II. 1945 – World War II: Adolf Hitler marries his longtime partner Eva Braun in a Berlin bunker and designates Admiral Karl Dönitz as his successor. 1945 – Dachau concentration camp is liberated by United States troops. 1945 – The Italian commune of Fornovo di Taro is liberated from German forces by Brazilian forces. 1946 – The International Military Tribunal for the Far East convenes and indicts former Prime Minister of Japan Hideki Tojo and 28 former Japanese leaders for war crimes. 1951 – Tibetan delegates arrive in Beijing and sign a Seventeen Point Agreement for Chinese sovereignty and Tibetan autonomy. 1952 – Pan Am Flight 202 crashes into the Amazon basin near Carolina, Maranhão, Brazil, killing 50 people. 1953 – The first U.S. experimental 3D television broadcast shows an episode of Space Patrol on Los Angeles ABC affiliate KECA-TV. 1965 – Pakistan's Space and Upper Atmosphere Research Commission (SUPARCO) successfully launches its seventh rocket in its Rehber series. 1967 – After refusing induction into the United States Army the previous day, Muhammad Ali is stripped of his boxing title. 1968 – The controversial musical Hair, a product of the hippie counter-culture and sexual revolution of the 1960s, opens at the Biltmore Theatre on Broadway, with some of its songs becoming anthems of the anti-Vietnam War movement. 1970 – Vietnam War: United States and South Vietnamese forces invade Cambodia to hunt Viet Cong. 1974 – Watergate scandal: United States President Richard Nixon announces the release of edited transcripts of White House tape recordings relating to the scandal. 1975 – Vietnam War: Operation Frequent Wind: The U.S. begins to evacuate U.S. citizens from Saigon before an expected North Vietnamese takeover. U.S. involvement in the war comes to an end. 1975 – Vietnam War: The North Vietnamese army completes its capture of all parts of South Vietnam-held Trường Sa Islands. 1986 – A fire at the Central library of the Los Angeles Public Library damages or destroys 400,000 books and other items. 1986 – The United States Navy aircraft carrier USS Enterprise becomes the first nuclear-powered aircraft carrier to transit the Suez Canal, navigating from the Red Sea to the Mediterranean Sea to relieve the USS Coral Sea. 1986 – Chernobyl disaster: American and European spy satellites capture the ruins of the No. 4 reactor at the Chernobyl Power Plant. 1991 – A cyclone strikes the Chittagong district of southeastern Bangladesh with winds of around 155 miles per hour (249 km/h), killing at least 138,000 people and leaving as many as ten million homeless. 1991 – The 7.0 Mw  Racha earthquake affects Georgia with a maximum MSK intensity of IX (Destructive), killing 270 people. 1992 – Riots in Los Angeles, following the acquittal of police officers charged with excessive force in the beating of Rodney King. Over the next three days 63 people are killed and hundreds of buildings are destroyed. 1997 – The Chemical Weapons Convention of 1993 enters into force, outlawing the production, stockpiling and use of chemical weapons by its signatories. 2004 – The final Oldsmobile is built in Lansing, Michigan, ending 107 years of vehicle production. 2011 – The Wedding of Prince William and Catherine Middleton takes place at Westminster Abbey in London. 2013 – A powerful explosion occurs in an office building in Prague, believed to have been caused by natural gas, and injures 43 people. 2013 – National Airlines Flight 102, a Boeing 747-400 freighter aircraft, crashes during takeoff from Bagram Airfield in Parwan Province, Afghanistan, killing seven people. 2015 – A baseball game between the Baltimore Orioles and the Chicago White Sox sets the all-time low attendance mark for Major League Baseball. Zero fans were in attendance for the game, as the stadium was officially closed to the public due to the 2015 Baltimore protests.

#Events

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brookston · 1 year

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Holidays 4.24

Holidays

Action Day for Tolerance and Respect between People (Argentina)

All Souls’ Day (Transdniestra)

Ambivalence Day

Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day (Armenia)

California Day of Remembrance of the Armenian Genocide (California)

Concord Day (Niger)

Day for the Naming of Rocks and Planets

Day of Silence (anti-bullying student protest)

Fashion Revolution Day

Firefly Day

Gathering of Nations Pow Wow (New Mexico)

Genocide Remembrance Day (Armenia)

International Day of Feminist Solidarity Against Transnational Corporations

International Day of Multilateralism and Diplomacy for Peace

International Watch Firefly Day

International Youth Solidarity Day

Kapyong Day (Australia, Canada)

Labour Safety Day (Bangladesh)

Library of Congress Day

Loktantra Diwas (Democracy Day; Nepal)

National Brandon Day

National Bucket List Day

National Dog Day (Finland)

National Kiss of Hope Day

National Lingerie Day

National Panchayati Raj Day (India)

National Physics Day

National Pool Opening Day

National Remembrance of Man's Inhumanity To Man Day

National Report Medicare Advantage Fraud Day

National Scream Day

New Kids on the Block Day

Newman Day

Oil in the Middle East Day

Pastele Blajinilor (Moldova)

Remembrance Day of Deportees (France)

Republic Day (The Gambia)

Right to Read Day

Spring Cat Cleaning Day

St. Mark’s Eve (UK)

Trojan Horse Day

Walk @ Lunch Day

World Anti-Colonialism Day

World Blind Sports Day

World Corrosion Awareness Day

World Day for Laboratory Animals (UN)

World Immunization Day

World Swimzi Day

World YMCA Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

National Pigs-in-a-Blanket Day

Sauvignon Blanc Day

Soda Fountain Day

4th & Last Monday in April

Confederate Memorial Day (AL, FL, GA) [4th Monday]

Confederate Memorial Day (Mississippi) [Last Monday]

Public Library Day [Monday of Library Week]

School Librarian Day [Monday of Library Week]

Independence Days

Ireland (a.k.a. Easter Rising; from UK, 1916)

Shireroth (Declared; 2000) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Benedict Menni (Christian; Saint)

Beuve of Rheims (Christian; Saint)

Commodus Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Dermot of Armagh (Christian; Saint)

Doda of Rheims (Christian; Saint)

Dyfnan of Anglesey (Christian; Saint)

Ecgberht of Ripon (Christian; Saint)

Feast of Eros (Ancient Greece)

Feast of Hermes Trismegistus (patron of alchemy)

Fidelis of Sigmaringen (Christian; Saint)

Gregory of Elvira (Christian; Saint)

Hairball Awareness Day (Pastafarian)

Ivo of Ramsey (Christian; Saint)

Johann Walter (Lutheran)

Kuningan (Purification Ritual at Tirta Empul, Bali)

Leonidas (Positivist; Saint)

Ljubov Popova (Artology)

Mary of Clopas (Christian; Saint)

Mary Euphrasia Pelletier (Christian; Saint)

Mellitus (Christian; Saint)

Mick the Stick (Muppetism)

The Mothers (Celtic Prosperity Festival)

Nathaniel Hone (Artology)

Peter of Saint Joseph de Betancur (Christian; Saint)

Robert of Chase-Dies, Auvergne (Christian; Saint)

Salome (Christian; Disciple)

Susan DeLucci Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Walpurgisnacht, Day I (Pagan)

Wilfrid (Church of England)

William Firmatus (Christian; Saint)

Willem de Kooning (Artology)

Yom HaZikaron (a.k.a. Yom HaZikaron LeHalalei Ma’arakhot Yisrael ul’Nifge’ei Pe’ulot HaEivah or Memorial Day for the Fallen Soldiers of the Wars of Israel and Victims of Actions of Terrorism or יוֹם הזִּכָּרוֹן לְחַלְלֵי מַעֲרָכוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל וּלְנִפְגְעֵי פְּעֻלּוֹת הָאֵיבָה) [4 Iyar]

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Historically Bad Day (Greeks enter Troy, Armenian genocide, Iran hostage rescue fails & 3 other tragedies) [3 of 11]

Sensho (先勝 Japan) [Good luck in the morning, bad luck in the afternoon.]

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [23 of 57]

Premieres

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (UK TV Series; 1984)

The Age of Adaline (Film; 2015)

Assault and Peppered (WB MM Cartoon; 1965)

Border Song, by Elton John (Song; 1970)

The Brethren, by John Grisham (Novel; 2000)

A Bright Shining Lie, by Neil Sheehan (Historical Book; 1989)

Calaboose Moose or The Crime of Your Life (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S1, Ep. 43; 1960)

Diamond Dogs, by David Bowie (Album; 1974)

Ex Machina (Film; 2015)

Extraction (Film; 2020)

Full Moon Fever, by Tom Petty (Album; 1989)

I Wonder Why, by Dion & The Belmonts (Song; 1958)

The Man Who Fell To Earth (TV Series; 2022)

The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton (Novel; 1967)

Sliding Doors (Film; 1998)

Space, by James A. Michener (Novel; 1983)

There Goes My Baby, by The Drifters (Song; 1959)

Tom Thumb, by Henry Fielding (Play; 1730)

Valse Triste, by Jean Sibelius (Orchestral Work; 1904)

Waitress (Broadway Musical; 2016)

When a Felon Needs a Friend or Pantomime Quisling (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S1, Ep. 44; 1960)

Woman is the N****r of the World, by John Lennon (Song; 1972)

Year of the Comet (Film; 1992)

Today’s Name Days

Egbert, Fidelis, Wilfried (Austria)

Fidel, Vjera, Vjeran (Croatia)

Jiří, Jiřina (Czech Republic)

Albertus (Denmark)

Aada, Iida, Vaida, Vanda (Estonia)

Albert, Altti, Pertti (Finland)

Fidèle (France)

Egbert, Marion, Virginia, Wilfried (Germany)

Achilles, Doukas, Elisavet, Elizabeth, Thavmastos (Greece)

György (Hungary)

Fedele (Italy)

Nameda, Varis, Visvaldis, Visvaris (Latvia)

Ervina, Fidelis, Kantrimas (Lithuania)

Albert, Olaug (Norway)

Aleksander, Aleksy, Egbert, Erwin, Erwina, Fidelis, Grzegorz, Horacjusz, Horacy (Poland)

Ilie, Iosif, Pasicrat, Sava, Valentin (Romania)

Juraj (Slovakia)

Fidel (Spain)

Vega (Sweden)

Isabel, Isabella (Ukraine)

Fidel, Fidelia, Marques, Marquez, Marquis, Marquise, Wilfred, Wilfredo (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 114 of 2024; 251 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 1 of week 17 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Saille (Willow) [Day 9 of 28]

Chinese: Month 3 (Bing-Chen), Day 5 (Ren-Zi)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 3 Iyar 5783

Islamic: 3 Shawwal 1444

J Cal: 23 Aqua; Twosday [23 of 30]

Julian: 11 April 2023

Moon: 21%: Waxing Crescent

Positivist: 2 Caesar (5th Month) [Leonidas]

Runic Half Month: Man (Human Being) [Day 15 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 36 of 90)

Zodiac: Taurus (Day 5 of 30)

#calendar #Holidays

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dream-masters · 1 year

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IRISH STATE 2016

When the rebels had been crushed in the GPO on Dublin’s O’Connell Street and the devastation to the existing shambles of a city was inspected, the soon-to-be martyrs were excoriated as traitors and criminals. This was because the rebels had attacked the GPO on O’Connell Street.

Popular opinion did not begin to shift against the reigning British regime until after the leaders of the 1916 uprising were executed. A military overreaction, which occurred frequently throughout the history of British colonial possessions, sparked a series of events that eventually led to the overthrow of that regime. One of the defining moments on the path to Indian independence was the 1919 slaughter that took place at Amritsar, which took place in India. This tragedy helped turn public sentiment against the British on the subcontinent.

The events that transpired in Ireland followed a very similar pattern.

The awakening of the sleeping Irish population came about as a direct result of the execution of Pearse and Connolly, who were the most prominent of the sixteen individuals who were put to death at that time.

The Easter Rising was the immediate cause of Ireland’s subsequent war of independence, which Michael Collins led as Prime Minister while Eamon de Valera established the first government. The young Irish state was eventually able to stand on its own two feet, but not before a bloody civil war broke out in the interim. In 1948, the government of Ireland formally organised itself as a republic.

What would have happened to Ireland if the sixteen people who were executed had instead been imprisoned rather than executed? Would the Irish have been content to just rebuild Dublin and carry on with their lives if they had been ruled by the British? How much longer do you think it would have been before there was another uprising? If the British Empire still ruled Ireland today, would the entire island of Ireland be under its control?

Of course, there is no way to tell for sure. As the saying goes, “history is written by the victors,” and those people who, even now, condemn the uprising as an illegal and immoral act of madness are drowned out, having their ideas trumped by the eventual results of the Rising. History is written by the victors.

The price that the men and women of 1916 paid did, in fact, have enormous repercussions for every individual who lives on this island and for every person who claims Irish ancestry.

In 1916, there will be a whole series of activities to remember the Rising, and there will be lots of similarities between the reasons of those heroic men and the incentives that we elect for our leaders today.

Economies Around the World

Maybe you already know what I’m talking about? Ireland has made its return! To some extent, yes.

Anecdotal evidence of an economic recovery in Ireland is supported by a wealth of numerical evidence, which demonstrates that numbers almost never lie.

At its highest point in 2012, unemployment was above 15%; today, it is at 8.8%. According to projections made by the OECD, Ireland’s gross domestic product would increase by more than 4.1% in 2016, placing it much ahead of the average for Europe. The number of applications for planning clearance for building projects is up significantly, the number of sales of new automobiles is up significantly, the number of strikes by employees is down significantly, and the confidence of consumers has increased significantly.

All good news.

Unless you come to the conclusion that the main reason the economy is recovering is because of the huge decline in the value of the Euro currency relative to the value of other currencies and the value of the United States dollar (which is helping exports a great deal), then you should not draw that conclusion.

There is now sufficient evidence from both human and animal studies showing that cumulative exposure to aluminium adjuvants is not as benign as previously assumed.

You can also come to the conclusion that the decline in the price of oil, which is a key economic element in both the United States and the rest of the world, has helped the situation with Ireland’s currency.

You can also come to the conclusion that the decline in the unemployment rate is only attributable to the fact that a large number of people from the present generation have moved to countries such as the United States, Canada, Australia, and other countries further afield.

Or perhaps you are thinking about the most significant challenges facing the Irish economy. There is no general agreement over the potential financial impact on Ireland that would result from the United Kingdom’s decision later this year to withdraw from the European Union (which will be put to a vote). Massive immigration from countries in the European Union (EU) and refugees from other parts of the world might bring the social and healthcare systems, which are already in disrepair, to their knees.

Or perhaps you don’t care about any of that and just want to act like it’s 1999 and you’re in “Celtic Tiger” Ireland.

We are all aware of the outcome of the situation.

Politics

Fine Gael went into the year of 1916 General Election certain that they would retain their position as the ruling party. Recognized by the people of Ireland for their role in rescuing the country.

At the very least, it is how Enda Kenny and the other members of his team would prefer the circumstance to be interpreted.

On the one hand, the leadership of Fine Gael continues to criticise their political adversaries in Fianna Fail for allegedly enacting policies that have a negative impact on the economy.

On the other hand, the exact same politicians keep implementing and expanding those exact same policies, holding out hope against all odds that the Irish electorate will either not notice or will not care. They will reason that the only thing that the average punter cares about is having money in their back pocket.

It’s possible that they are correct. If recent events are any indication, then it should come as no surprise that the average Irish voter is far simpler than is commonly believed to be the case.

Or perhaps Irish people will further illustrate that self-interested philosophy by voting a whole new raft of independent “local-issue” T.D.’s, which has the potential to create electoral mayhem (members of the Irish parliament).

In all honesty, the results of the approaching election are quite impossible to forecast.

But there is no doubt that Fine Gael will take the helm of the next government. If they were not, it would be a major talking point.

Fianna Fáil harbours faint hopes of regaining lost territory, but it is unrealistic for them to believe that they will actually form the government after the ballots are counted. Despite this, people can hold out hope.

Even while they continue to perform well in opinion polls, Sinn Fein are completely hampered by their murderous IRA heritage and links.

The socialist left, which includes the Socialist Party, People Before Profit, and a whole host of other left-wing groups, is fully anticipating that they will be able to trounce the Labour Party, which was meant to be the party that would protect the country from harsh austerity. The Labour Party is in for a rough ride in the upcoming election.

You might be wondering about the right-leaning political parties.

You have the option to inquire. However, Ireland does not possess any of these. To be honest, no.

Not in the sense of being a right-wing party in which one despises liberals, denies the legitimacy of abortion, is homophobic, xenophobic, and brandishes firearms. And you know, that might not be such a bad thing. Or perhaps not.

Every national debate must unquestionably have some element of fairness and moderation. Some looney fringe that exists if for no other reason than to demonstrate how astute we all are to huddle together in the centre ground.

And if not a completely looney fringe, then at the very least a well-reasoned opinion with which we may either agree or disagree. One of the unsolved riddles in the annals of Irish political history is why there has never been a significant right-wing party in Ireland that has managed to stay in power.

Therefore, with the 1916 Anniversary celebrations shortly to be exploited for political benefit by each and everyone who comes along, it is indeed business as usual in the so-called “Ireland of the self-interest.”

Alterations Made to Irish Society

It should come as no surprise that the referendum on “same-sex marriage” was successful in Ireland in 2015. The vote was ultimately successful, with 62% in favour and approximately 38% opposed. It is quite evident that the decision has resulted in certain unanticipated consequences, and contrary to popular belief, these repercussions have nothing to do with the legalisation of homosexual marriage.

Some elements of the Irish media continue to portray the outcome of the referendum as a win for the entire country, which is perhaps the most significant issue that has arisen as a result of the outcome of the vote. This smugness on the part of these elements of the media has been extremely excessive. Naturally, in their world, the result of the referendum is a huge win, especially considering that they campaigned in concert with the national print and broadcast media in support of the vote being carried out. But is this a win for the entirety of the nation?

According to the same line of reasoning, the referendum on abortion that took place in Ireland in 1983 and resulted in the constitutional prohibition of abortion (62 percent to 38 percent) was a win for the entire nation.

According to this line of thinking, the outcome of the referendum held in 2013 to keep the ineffective and wasteful Seanad (lower house of parliament) was a win for the entire nation.

A victory for the entire country was achieved in the referendum held in 2013 to keep the minimum age for holding the presidency of Ireland at 35 years of age rather than lowering it to 21 years of age.

It is very clear that a significant number of Irish authors and commentators are unaware of the fact that each and every third voter who went to the trouble of casting a ballot in the referendum on gay marriage was really opposed to the adoption of the new laws.

Homophobes and bigots, each and every one of them!

The ease with which the concerns of the nearly 38% of people who opposed the referendum have been dismissed as belonging not just to another era of old Ireland but as being out of touch, bigoted, uninformed, unintelligent, backward, and (insert demeaning word here) is truly astounding. They have been labelled as being “out of touch,” “bigoted,” “uninformed,” “unintelligent,” and “backward.”

Smugness is never a desirable attribute in a person or group of people; and yet, smugness, contempt, and scorn have remained the consistent tone of the conversation among the vast majority of pundits ever since the vote to legalise gay marriage was successful.

The outcome is unquestionably a significant victory for those who advocate for gay marriage (62%). Regarding the 38 percent of respondents who disagreed with the proposal and gave their reasons for doing so, The outcome of the referendum not only altered the Irish Constitution but also, it would appear, rendered them mute and abandoned them by the well-funded and still self-satisfied and arrogant liberal commentariat.

There is now sufficient evidence from both human and animal studies showing that cumulative exposure to aluminium adjuvants is not as benign as previously assumed.

The European Union and Ireland

The economy will continue to be the primary topic of discussion in Europe; nevertheless, there are currently two other important concerns that are occupying the continent’s minds.

The staggering number of people fleeing their homes in Eastern Europe and making their way westward, in especially to Germany and Sweden, is a major source of concern.

It can be challenging to get a grasp on just what the German policy on immigration is (and, by extension, the policy of the EU).

The Germans are taking a risk that is greater than the economy of Europe by allowing predominantly Syrian citizens to enter their country. The terrorist events in Paris provide politicians on the political right with an opportunity to draw a clear connection between immigration and lawlessness. Whether they are correct or not, they can refer to a liberal immigration system as an example of a regime that will encourage terrorism. They will claim that the programme would result in an increase in unemployment, and that on the social level, it will result in the formation of ghettos.

And this is not to minimise the genuine readiness and desire to assist the neediest people in Syria, Africa, and other parts of the world who are being taken advantage of by heartless gangsters and military tyrants.

Knowledge of endogenous plasma arginine vasopressin activity prior to initiation of therapy could therefore be helpful in clinical bedside decision making and should be the goal of future research.

People in Ireland are eager to lend a hand. They simply do not want to have their intelligence called into question. That they would allow a culture from outside their borders to supplant the culture of their own country, all in the name of political correctness, is an extreme example of liberalism gone wild.

Allergy is a disease of growing concern because of its already high and still increasing prevalence, and because it interferes with people’s social life, school performance and work productivity, therefore it constitutes a major burden for society.

Is it possible that people feel the same way in your country?

Another significant challenge that Europe must overcome this year is “the Brexit.” According to the Taoiseach, Enda Kenny, the possibility that the United Kingdom will withdraw from the European Union is one that could have enormous repercussions for Ireland and may even require the reestablishment of the border along the six partitioned counties in Ulster. This is the opinion of the Taoiseach.

Results from preliminary clinical observations suggest that frankincense essential oil may be a viable therapeutic agent for treating a variety of cancers.

However, as was the case when the people of Scotland were given the opportunity to leave the United Kingdom but they declined, it is likely that the people of the United Kingdom will be given a variety of concessions. The pro-European machine, which is intent on maintaining the United Kingdom’s membership in the Union at all costs, will immediately follow this bait with the stick, which will consist of spreading unfounded fears about the enormous costs of leaving the Union.

The majority of bookmakers currently place the odds of a Brexit at approximately 2 to 1. (or 1 occurrence of a Brexit every 3 opportunities). Therefore, it is evident that they believe the referendum will be unsuccessful.

Having said that. You can never tell.

Culture

It is not difficult to look back on Ireland in 1916 and consider that time period to be the greatest age of Irish writing. During that time period, the early part of the century, Ireland produced a number of great authors, including William Butler Yeats, Oliver St. John Gogarty, James Stephens, James Joyce, and John Millington Synge, to name a few. A great golden age.

But hold on! The year 2016 has seen the beginning of a new writing revolution in Ireland.

Seamus Heaney was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, while Iris Murdoch, Roddy Doyle, John Banville, and Anne Enright were all given the Man Booker Prize. These well-known authors are just the top of the proverbial iceberg. There has never been a time when Irish writing has been more popular than it is right now, and with good reason; there are innumerable excellent voices producing truly remarkable writing that are not included here.

In the world of sports, Katie Taylor maintains her dominant position in Ireland, and the Irish national soccer team has qualified for the European championships to be held in France, indicating that Irish soccer is on its road back to its former glory.

On the big screen, Saoirse Ronan is garnering acclaim for her performance in the film “Brooklyn,” while Michael Fassbender, Colm Farrell, Liam Neeson, Gabriel Byrne, Cillian Murphy, Brendan Gleeson, and Aidan Gillen are among the talented actors demonstrating that the Irish acting scene is in an excellent place.

The Conclusion Regarding the Condition of the Irish Nation in the Year 2016

Even one hundred years after the Easter Rebellion, Ireland is still searching for its national identity. Even now, we are looking for it.

The Irish of 2016 are a confused and diverse mix, just like every other generation of Irish people that has come before them.

However, there are instances when it may be a touch excessively comfortable.

And possibly just a tad too haughty.

However, considering the disgrace that the Irish have suffered over the past ten years, those who have already written them off had best get ready to start eating their words.

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autumncottageattic · 5 years

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Rebellion, 2016 television miniseries

can’t wait to watch the sequel

#rebellion #rebellion series #rebellion 2016 #Easter Rising #Ireland #1916 Rising #historical drama #Brian Gleeson #Charlie Murphy #Ruth Bradley #Sarah Greene #Paul Reid #Barry Ward #Perdita Weeks #movies #british tv-series #irish series

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stairnaheireann · 6 months

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#OTD in 1971 – Death of Revolutionary, Margaret Skinnider, in Glenageary, Co Dublin.

“Scotland is my home, but Ireland my country.” –Margaret Skinnider Margaret Skinnider’s mother was Scottish and her father was originally from Co Monaghan. She became a mathematics teacher in Scotland and was active in the women’s suffrage movement. She also joined the Glasgow branches of the Irish Volunteers and Cumann na mBan in 1914; she also joined the women’s rifle club, becoming a first…

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#1916 Easter Rising #Co. Monaghan #Coatbridge #Countess Markievicz #Cumann na mBan #Declan Kerr Easter Rising 1916 Series #Fianna Eireann #Glasgow #ICA #Irish Citizen Army #Margaret Skinnider #Michael Mallin #Pension #Scotland #Shelbourne Hotel #St Stephen’s Green #Teacher

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jasonpraetor · 3 years

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let me just prefix this by saying PLEASE LISTEN TO BIPOC AND THEIR ISSUES before you listen to my little rant here. As an Irish person, I'm just here to note what I noticed while reading Mcga.

so, if you've read mcga, you know who mallory keen is. First off is just kinda a silly thing, but it's noted that mallory speaks "Gaelic" (which, one, isn't the right term for the Irish language, its Gaeilge,) and two, Mallory is noted to be northern Irish. Irish as a language is dying even in the Republic, and in the North only around 5000 people speak it, so the chances that Mallory actually knew how to speak Irish are close to none, but honestly this isn't really where my issue lies because this is understandable.

My issue lies in the fact that Mallory died while trying to disarm a car bomb on Bloody Friday during the Troubles. First of all, Bloody Friday is one of the most horrific events in Irish History, and this isn't the first thing Rick has done this for. He ties in real history to his books for what seems to be shock value and it just completely insensitive in a lot of places.

Back onto this, as a quick synopsis, the troubles were a time from 1968-1998 of conflict and low level war between Catholics and Protestants in northern Ireland. Around 3,500 people died throughout the Troubles.

Mallory dying disarming a car bomb enforces a common stereotype that is alive because of the IRA (Irish Republican Army), who are a nationalist terrorist group, that Irish, particularly Northern Irish people, blow things up, which is incredibly insensitive in itself because of what the Troubles were and even before that in 1916 with the Easter Rising, the Civil War and the War of Independence. This stereotype has existed in characters like Séamus Finnegan in the Harry Potter series, who's literal only purpose was to blow things up.

A lot of this probably makes no sense and my apologies for that. In short, what I am saying is that Rick making Mallory die by DISARMING A BOMB is incredibly insensitive, especially considering she is the only prominent Irish or Northern Irish character in any of Ricks books. Mallory could have died in any other way and it wouldn't have been an issue, and it baffles me how Rick for some reason had to choose this of all things.

#Mallory keen #Pjo #Mcga #magnus chase #Percy jackson #Rick Riordan #Hoo #heroes of olympus #heroesofolympus

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callsigns-haze · 4 months

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Loves Revolution

Chapter 1

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw (as Micheal Collins) x Jake Seresin (as Harry Boland) x OC! Madison Cassidy

Word count: 3.2K

A/n: This is the first post to my new series so please be nice! I'm going to try to make this into a series so please show this story a bit of love and reblog!

Summary: Bradley, Jake and Maddie have been friends for many years ongoing. Bradley from Cork and Jake and Madison from the troubled Dublin, have been close for life. Now fighting in the 1916 Easter rising and the ongoing history to the Treaty and the independence of Ireland their story lives on...

History: Bradley (represents) :Michael Collins (October 16, 1890 – August 22, 1922) was an Irish revolutionary, soldier, and politician who was a key role in the early twentieth-century campaign for Irish independence. During the Irish Civil War, he served as Director of Intelligence for the Irish Republican Army (IRA) and as a government minister in the self-proclaimed Irish Republic. From January 1922, he was Chairman of the Provisional Government of the Irish Free State, and from July till his death in an ambush in August 1922, he was Commander-in-Chief of the National Army.

Jake (represents) :Harry Boland (April 27, 1887 – August 1, 1922) was an Irish republican politician who led the Irish Republican Brotherhood from 1919 to 1920. From 1918 until 1922, he was a Teachta Dála (TD).He was elected as the MP for Roscommon South in the 1918 general election, but, like other Sinn Féin candidates, he did not serve in the British House of Commons, instead sitting as a TD in the First Dáil. Boland was elected to the second Dáil as a TD for Mayo South-Roscommon South in the 1921 general election. He was re-elected as an anti-Treaty candidate in 1922, but he perished two months later during the Irish Civil War.

History :The Easter Rising (Irish: Éir Amach na Cásca), often known as the Easter Rebellion, was an armed insurgency in Ireland in April 1916 during Easter Week. While the United Kingdom was waging the First World War, Irish republicans started the Rising against British control in Ireland with the goal of establishing an independent Irish Republic. It was Ireland's greatest important insurrection since the 1798 rebellion and the first armed battle of the Irish revolutionary period. Beginning in May 1916, sixteen of the Rising's leaders were executed. The executions' nature, as well as following political developments, eventually contributed to an upsurge in popular support for Irish independence.

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood

Year 1916, Easter

"Sir, we got the General Post Office surrounded, Sir! We believe that inside are De Valera, Macdonagh, Clark, Connolly and a lot of other rebellions, sir!" One of the funny dressed British soldiers replies to their head commander, with hand at forehead, ready for a salute. This is how the English planned it all along, for the most important rebellions to be stuck at one place, surrounded with no escape.

"So we have the G.P.O, good, very good, but what about O'Connells street, Stevens green, The Liffey and the four courts?" The head commander asked the young man who still held his hand above his head, not moving an inch. "The areas are empty, sir! Either captured or escaped but the rest are at the G.P.O, sir!"

They're all where they were supposed to be, all in one place, no room to escape and they'll give in to this nonsense, they had no way to continue fighting against the British or loyal Irish. The undertakers or loyal Irish were against the rebellions, fighting against them at this very moment, all they had to do now is give themselves up to the English.

"Are there any women inside, lieutenant?" Any innocent woman that had been stuck inside the G.P.O that had been inside the building for the past five days, did not deserve the faith they may face in several minutes from now. The soldiers aligned outside of the building will not hesitate to kill anyone on the inside but the women didn't deserve it.

"There's women of aid and very little volunteers, sir! We believe that one of the fellow female friends of De Valera's help is inside the building. Her parents put her off name Madison Cassidy, but to the public she's known as 'Maddie', sir!" A woman so apparently known to the public but how? No woman that the commander has heard of went by that name or was 'known to the public', no woman has ever had the might or power to be so known in the streets of Dublin or the county of Leinster. "What do you mean 'known to the public', lieutenant?" "She's a public speaker, sir!"

A female public speaker? And that was apparently known to people. Absurd. An absolute absurdity. Some young girl, that he has never heard of decided to become a public speaker. What a joke! She should be scrubbing the dishes, washing the linen, taking care of the kids or cooking and not wasting her time over public speeches. And who would even listen to her? Some sort of female, trying to put her thought into a speech that is apparently supposed to motivate people to do something.

And she believes that's gonna work, but like the lieutenant mentioned, she did work with De Valera. "Bring her to me, nobody lay a finger upon her, understood?" "Yes sir!"

---------------

The gun shots echoed in your ears. It was a sensation as if your ears were violently and rapidly ringing, due to the awful noises that have been haunting your brain for the past five days. You've been in the G.P.O for so long and at this point, it felt like you haven't left in centuries.

You're hiding behind a big, destructed pillar at the moment, leaning your back against it, catching your breath. There was no way out, there was English all around the grand building and mostly everything inside was burning and what didn't make it better is the roof, it's too weak to hold more racket. Even if the English didn't manage to get you guys out, the roof looked like it was only gonna last two more days before swallowing all of you.

"Maddie!" Bradley's voice, called out as the rebel has been looking for you. Him and Jake have been shooting from further up front of the building and now you were unsure if to answer. You couldn't fight more, even though it was written in your blood to fight for the right of being an independent country. But now Leinster, Munster, Connaught and Ulster should forgive you but you've had enough.

"I'm here!" You call out from behind the pillar, Bradley immediately runs over to you, diving behind the pillar like you did as a shelter from not getting shot.

"We're giving up," he told you, those baby cow eyes never dropping your gaze, not even for a second. "What?" You couldn't believe it. You guys destroyed Dublin. The streets of your hometown were in ruins from this rebellion, just so you could give up. That was bloody nonsense.

"They got us surrounded, we have no choice but to give in." "Bradle-" He cut you off, he knew you'd argue or do some sort of disagreement but there was no other way. "I know Maddie, but we had a meeting upstairs and there's nothing we can do they have the four courts and Stevens green and the rest. We have to make it out alive and this is not a step towards that."

You look over the pillar to see men on your side fighting, tired wrecked and most likely depressed. They're not going to make it out alive if we don't give up but if we do they'll probably be shot, either way.

"BRADSHAW!" De Valera calls out, with his old, crispy sharp voice. Sounds like a snob but is the chief, the man everyone listens to and who is leading your group forward. He had to go, you wonder how or when they're going to give up but he lays a soft, delicate, quick kiss on your cheek and gets up and runs towards Jake to help. Jake looks like he had enough.

The building's broken architecture, dust has covered his body and he looks wrecked. He looked over at Bradley running and quickly yanked him behind to a standing pillar up front of the G.P.O. The military has brought in machine guns, full loads and everyone crouches down with full might trying not to get shot. You all were going to die, you knew it. Either shot now or shot later is how you're all going to end, just each had to decide what's best for themselves.

For a full ten minutes of nonstop shooting, the military guns stopped, waiting for a reaction out of the rebellion group. They were going to give up now, you knew it. Dev and the rest ran over to a soldier and wrapped a white flag around his shotgun and told him to head up front.

This is the sign of the rebellions giving up. This was the sign to signify that you guys had enough. One by one they leave the building and you get up from behind the fallen pillar and run to the exit. The second you reach behind De Valera, Bradshaw and Seresin you could tell they were going to give up and this was the end for them.

You stand behind them as the English General calls out orders, "FOUR STEPS FORWARD!" You all do as told. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" Anyone who held a gun or anything of that sort does as they're told. "NOW, TWO STEPS BACK!" And that was the last order till the round up.

---------------

An English General was calling out English rebellion names, one by one, dragging them out of the crowd by his ugly cane. "McDonagh. Thomas Clark." Both were dragged out of the crowd by the bloody officer. Each name was dragged out in his tongue and then the actionist was dragged out of the group, except one injured man, Connolly, who was lying down due to a leg wound and instead he was just kicked and carried away on the cloth stretcher.

"Get up, you Fenian swine. Now who else am I missing?" The general murmurs are loud enough for you to hear. He looks up and down the crowd and lays his gaze upon you. "Cassidy!" He calls out your second name and dragged you with his cane forward. Beside you stood the rest of your friends just like before and called out one more name before leaving. "De Valera!"

At that Bradley grunted and pulled a bit forward but Jake got a grip of him and pulled him back. "Brad, if we wanna make out of this shit hole alive, I'm sorry to say but we can't do anything about this," Jake says as he watches the officers drag you and Dev away. And murmurs lowly below his breath, "We can't do anything now."

---------------

They dragged you out of your cell. Death by the firing squad, you can see it so clearly now. Your own fellow friends, the 'Loyal Irish' are about to shoot you and cost you your life in just minutes.

As they drag you through the halls that are dim with no light, you expect happy memories to come but your mind stays dark and blank. You were dragged up as far as the outside where on the floor all you saw was blood from the last corpse that was shot and too heavy and invaluable to carry so just dragged like a worthless shit.

You were lined up against the wooden wall and you looked over to the soldier that was supposed to put a bag over your head but instead said, "Pray." That simple four letter word was a suggestion, a way that god would forgive you but the soldiers were gonna be pissed off more because you were catholic not some prodestant like the English tried, but you still say your prayers as a command. You do the sign of the holy cross and pray.

"I confess to almighty God and to you my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do.

Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault; therefore I ask blessed Mary ever- Virgin, all the Angels and Saints, and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God.

Amen."

And at that the same male officer who just two minutes back, barked at you to pray, gets handed a sack. The sack that was about to be thrown over your head, before one of the fellow Irish citizens on behalf of the English shoots you.

You wanted to scream but nobody would listen. You wanted to run but you wouldn't get far. You wanted to tell Jake and Bradley that you cared about them. You wanted Dublin and all of Ireland to be free again. At that thought the sack was thrown over your head and the big bang of the guns stopped your thinking for all….

----------------

'The fact that l was born in America might save my hide. Either way, I am ready for what comes. The Irish Republic is a dream no longer. It is daily sealed by the lifeblood of those who proclaimed it. And every one of us they shoot brings more people to our side.They cannot imprison us forever. And from the day of our release, Bradley, we must act as if the Republic is a fact. We defeat the British Empire by ignoring it. Now I hear the payers of our beloved friends, Macdonagh, Clark, Cassidy, each of them ended their last speech with Amen and to us that will stand for peace, yet so we shall still try to make it our peace and remember the men and woman in a way that no one ever has.'

That was the first and last letter from Dev and the way that your second name stood out to Bradley was significant. He loved the way you cringed when he said your full name and you crinkled your nose, which caused him to laugh uncontreablly, but now that's all gone.

"She's dead, Jake, they shot her," Bradley, tries not to break apart on the prison steps as he lets those words leave his mouth. The young woman that he admired, fought with was now easily put six feet underground due to a bullet. Such a short, beautiful life of a lady, wasted due to a firing squad.

"She died like she wished, Brad, she wanted to fight for her country and die trying," Jake lets out as he can't stop thinking about you just standing there, waiting for the bullet to pierce your skin. He wanted to cry, scream but he couldn't, not here or now. Bradley was the same he wanted to choke the next guard he saw because there's a chance that it was their bullet that hit you.

"She didn't deserve it, Jake. Not her. She fought but we dragged her into this." "We may have involved her into this, but nobody deserves this faith, Brad. Absolutely nobody."

Year 1918, May

"They let us out of jail so we can do our best to be put inside again," Bradley smirked as the two got of the train that has brought them out of prison sights into town. Shirt drive but freedom for the first time in two years. Final peace with no officers at your back or stupid cells and jail uniforms.

"Don't you see a certain paradox in that?" Jake looked over at his companion in a short shock and repeated. "Paradox." At that Bradley crumbles the piece of paper that he was reading and states like some dictionary. "A contradiction. An immovable force meets an immovable object kind of thing."

The two of them continue walking forward and see a young bride and groom saying their goodbyes to their family as the town was too small for them and they wished to see the world, explore. It brought sadness in both of the men's hearts thinking both about the lovely lady in their past. And sadly the main word of that sentence was past, because whatever hopes they had for her were over now.

"Look, isn't that a lovely picture?" It truly was. It's the kind of picture everyone wishes for and desires at heart. "Maybe we should settle down." Probably a smart thing. To find love in this hopeless place may have made it easier the get through in life and focus on the main goals in a different perspective. In a love kind of way. "Just the two of us?" The other friend joked causing the two to laugh.

"And him." Says Bradley while Jake looks to him in pure confusion. "Who?" Jake had no clue who his fellow friend was referring to and you could easily tell that by the expression on Jake's face. Bradley simply points at the car with two men standing outside. Tom and Sean the men they've fought the Easter Rising with. The two, were friends with Jake and Bradley and somehow we're still not chickened out to help them.

"How are you?" Bradley asks giving Tom a hug as the two have not seen each other since the line up. Tom smiles up at him, since he falls rather short in height and pats Bradley shoulders. "Well, as best as a rebel can be." With those words leaving his mouth, Tom turns to Jake giving him an equal hug as Sean quickly hugs Bradley. "Get in you two, we got a show to attend!"

"How did they know we we're here already?" Bradley wonders looking over his shoulder to find two of the loyal Irish that have been following him and Jake even since the two of them have left jail and entered the not so free freedom. They were gonna get chased down on every step they make every. Any plan will be tracked and this is not what freedom is supposed to be about.

"They know what we eat for breakfast Bradley. This is the bare minimum of their poxy power," answered Sean while driving on a country side road, filled with branches everywhere and no actual pathways for pedestrians. It was a quite Irish road; nothing close to being straight, it was filled by potholes and indents and it wouldn't even be defined as a road, it was just a bunch of loose gravel.

"Well there's only one answer to that. We find out what they eat for breakfast!" Bradley exclaims as Jake looked at his friend in pure confusion and a bit of terror. The terror of how had he managed to survive with the lad for so long. The two years in prison together and many years of friendship before that. People would call him mad if they seen that he survived that long with the crazy brunette. "You're a mad fucker, Bradley," Jake said shaking his head side to side.

"Yeah, but I'm the mad fuck you hang out with," said the brunette, laying his baby cow eyes upon his friends, spring green ones. The two of them are close. They've always been that way but some bond that they have will never be broken. No such thing on this world can interrupt their friendship.

"So are the two of you looking for anyone out the old leading squad?" Asked Sean, with a hint of suspense in his voice. Was there really anyone from the old leading squad left that wasn't shot, hung or killed in any kind of way. Bradley looked over his shoulder to see that the loyal Irish were still behind them, hunting them down like hawks for their pray, right on their heals, step by step behind them. "Well, who can we look for? Either shot or some other cruel way of getting put down into the poxy earth!" Said Jake as he was sitting down, in a kind of slouch, hand behind his head, leaning back with his old fashion cap over his eyes to block out the Irish sun that was barely ever showing at times.

"Ah, Maddie made a big fit out of it a whole while back. Pissed her off, it did! Several speeches and annoying the British that they bloody had to have a full law talk with her but she won!"

Maddie? As in their Maddie? Madison Cassidy? The woman that the two grew up with and who sadly lost her life to the firing squad in 1916? That can't be right. She gott shot, just like the rest. Full prayer ending and mad shit like tha'. This didn't make sense. It didn't add up. "As in our Maddie?" Exclaimed Bradley, thinking he's mistaken, he saw his dear friend get dragged out the line up and heard about her shooting. "Yeah. Don't you guys know Maddie? Madison Cassidy? She worked with De Valera, yeah she still does all the speech things." Answered Tom , expecting the two men to have met the young, independent, confident woman.

This shook the two men inside. They've heard and believed for the last two years the woman that the two of them shared interest for had died, cruelly, due to the firing squad. "We thought she died!" Jake said, he's still shocked. Once he heard that she is alive, he quickly sat up from his slouched position, rubbed his hands down his face and fixed his flat hat. "Nah, they wouldn't manage to put her down that easily!"

"We heard she got shot by the firing squad after the G.P.O!" This is what they have believed and hearing the news that she's been alive the whole time doesn't quite add up to the two men. "Nah, she's alive mate!"

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bondsmagii · 3 years

Text

This is definitely one of the… wilder stories here, but as always, I suppose people will believe what they will.

This will unfortunately require some backstory, but I guess you could say the long and the short of it is that I played at being God, and it. Well. Kind of sucked, actually.

So, the backstory. I’ll try to keep it brief. I grew up in a small country village about forty-five minutes away from Belfast, Ireland. There wasn’t much going on there, as you could imagine – just a standard rural Irish town, where the most exciting thing that might happen in a week was old Farmer Joe getting a new tractor or something. Anyway, I’m not sure how many of you know about Ireland’s rather troubled past, but for the most part I missed all that. I was born around the time things were finally settling down, and while my earlier memories are filled with bomb scares and low-flying helicopters and gunshots in the night, the distant sound of shouting and the acrid smell of smoke burning a little too close for comfort, by the time I hit my teenage years most of it had wrapped up. Of course, there was the occasional scare here and there, and I’m not saying my friends and I didn’t go out looking for trouble once we were old enough, but it wasn’t the same. I’m not saying that out of a sense of, I don’t know, regret or annoyance or anything. Now I’m older, I’m not so enamoured by the idea of that much violence. I’m just saying it wasn’t really a patch on the kind of violence that used to happened there – the kind of violence that fascinated my friends and I so much. It sounds bad, but really we were just kids being kids. Little boys everywhere play at war games. It just so happened that the war we were playing had happened in our own country. It’s difficult not to be obsessed, when you see the reflection of history on the faces of every generation around you. Even slightly older siblings would know all about it – it wasn’t something you asked your grandfather, distant war stories over some vague European country that you’ve only seen on a map in your Geography classroom. This was our street corners, our high streets, the road outside the house. Here the grass verge at the side of the road where the bodies were dumped; there the lay-by where over a dozen people were blown to pieces. It was awful, but we were children. We were enamoured.

Anyway. The only violence we got really involved in was the summer rioting that happened yearly, like clockwork. It sounds like a joke, but that’s how it goes. You don’t need to know the details, but suffice to say in mid-July every year, the city would light up like we were back in the 1970s. Localised, of course, and still nowhere near as drastic as it used to be, but enough to get a taste. Petrol bombs. Police lines. Armoured cars. Water cannons. Unrestrained summer fun, you could say. But that’s for a bit later.

I’m a writer. I have been since I was four years old. Generally speaking I’m a horror writer, but I’ve branched into historical fiction a fair bit over the years. Living in Ireland, growing up how I did, it was inevitable that I would develop a fascination for Irish history. I was always a very curious child, my head in books, chasing up stories that would keep me awake at night. I never knew any boundaries. I would go after answers with military precision, asking questions, going places I shouldn’t. Dangerous for anyone, of course, but in a country like mine, where crossing the road could quite literally lead to your murder? It was reckless. I was reckless. But that’s the thing about being that age. You think you’re invincible. You think you can do anything.

I was about fourteen or fifteen, at the height of this obsession. I believe I was fifteen when I wrote this particular story, but it’s difficult to say. It was part of a series, and I was going back and forth on it and other projects for many years. Here we finally get to the point of the whole story: I had developed an obsession with Irish history, as I said, and specifically the more “modern” history – from 1916 onwards, the Easter Rising, the War of Independence, all that. I was fascinated by the Irish struggle for freedom, and while age and hindsight has lessened my… enthusiasm for the violence, I do maintain a strong opinion towards the whole thing, which is not the point here so I won’t get into it. What I’m trying to say is that my stories reflected this enthusiasm, and were undoubtedly glorifying in nature, and also at that age I was more concerned with living the fantasy than doing the research, so it was all very self-indulgent. I’m sure anyone who wrote at that age knows what I mean.

My main character… well. I’m sure you know what to expect. He was—well. Me, really. In the way of all main characters at that age, and perhaps a little even as we get older, there’s a piece of us inside all our main characters. Sometimes a little piece, other times just a cooler and more badass version of yourself. Michael was that for me. I suppose that must is obvious; I wasn’t even trying to be subtle. My name is of course Miceál, which for those of you keeping track is the Irish form of Michael. I’m just grateful that I didn’t go as far as to give him my last name, too, but everything else was there. He looked like me, he held the same views and beliefs as me, he acted like me – or at least, he acted in the ways I liked to think I’d act, or how I imagined acting later that night in the shower, reliving the scenario again. He was the best kind of self-insert character, indulgent and fun and a good friend to me. I poured a lot of myself into him. I poured everything into him. He was a constant companion, something that became ever more important to me as my real life—well, went to shit. To put it mildly. I would sit in my room writing my stories, and Michael would go out there and fight the good fight, killing and bombing for good old Ireland, and then I’d shut my computer down and go to sleep feeling just a little better than otherwise.

I’m not afraid to say that I can be obsessive. I like to get into the heads of my characters; I like to know them as well as I know everything. Yes, Michael was me, but he was also a version of me who had done things I have never done. Sometimes I would try to imagine myself as him; wonder what it was like to see through his eyes. Wonder what a me who had done that would look like. Wonder what he would do in a situation. I asked myself that a few times; a lot of times. What would Michael do? I could have put that shit on a wristband. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I’ve always been a bit of a method writer like that. It was normal, until it wasn’t.

I first saw Michael on a hot July day, in Belfast. What we call the rioting season had come around; my friends and I were there to take advantage. Just at the sidelines, mind you – nobody wants to get a face full of water cannon, even on the hottest of days. Michael was in the thick of it though. Of course he was. I’d written him to be that way.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. At first I thought I must be seeing things, but the more I looked the more I realised he looked exactly like me. Only he was a little taller, a little fitter, and his hair looked different. His clothing was different, too; perhaps a couple of decades out of date, but looking at him I saw his clothing didn’t remain consistent. The changes were subtle – material, tone – but I noticed. Looking back, I assume it’s because I never did give a specific date for his story to occur in. Well, wherever he was from he was there now, throwing rocks with the best of them, skipping from stone to stone and hurling them at police lines with an easy swing that could only come from years of practise. When we had all finally cleaned out the area – soldiers coming, a helicopter, the kind of trouble you don’t want to toy with – I managed to catch up with him. He was talking to my friends. They noticed we were both there, but didn’t seem to realise we were two different people. The whole time we were all talking, I couldn’t take my eyes off of Michael. I tried, because I knew how obvious I was being, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t work him out. I couldn’t even trust that’s what I was seeing. And the whole time, Michael watched me back. I knew the look in his eyes. It was his smug little, I know something you don’t know look. Of course I knew it. I had made him like that. I had given him that look.

I didn’t see him for some time after that. Believe it or not, I put it out of my head. I mean, come on. It was probably some other guy that my friends knew. We were in Belfast enough, and Michael isn’t exactly an uncommon name. I put it out of my mind, but I was sure that sometimes, I saw him. I was sure I’d see him in Belfast, ducking down side streets or leaning in close conversation with someone I couldn’t make out. He was always watching me. Sometimes I’d feel eyes on me and know it was him, but when I looked around I wouldn’t spot him. On some occasions – and these were always the worst – I would feel his eyes behind my own. Like he was on the inside looking out, moving independently in there, a set of eyes swivelling around over my own. It happened most often when I was trying to write his story. As you can imagine, I was nervous to do so. The more I thought I saw him, the less I wanted to write, but I didn’t think that was a good idea either. I didn’t know what to do.

It was a sunny weekend just before school started back after summer that I finally resolved to do something about it. I didn’t even feel stupid as I booted up my old Windows 95 desktop and opened Word. Michael’s story was there, in 12-point font as I always wrote then, plenty of enthusiasm but a lot less technical skill. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, and then I typed.

Hello?

Nothing, of course. I deleted the word, wondering what I had expected. Feeling a little stupid now, I tried to think about where to go with the story. It was difficult to write now I had some kind of real person to assign to it all – what were the ethics here? How could I—

I won’t get into that. It would be a philosophical essay all of its own. I sat for a while wondering what to write, and then it hit me that the story had changed. The words Michael had spoken, in the paragraph that I had left off – they were no longer the words I had written. I forget what the original words were now, but they were something relatively simple; some response to another character, and I remember that another name was mentioned in it – the name of Michael’s in-universe best friend, Eamon. Now that name was gone, and the rest of the text had changed, too. Now the writing read something different entirely.

I thought you wanted to know?

I lied earlier. I said that age and experience and perhaps some more emotional maturity had led me to turn away from the kind of violence that fascinated me so much then, and I have no doubt that under normal circumstances it would have done. I had somewhat of a speed run, however; I turned my back on it because

I’m getting ahead of myself.

I had often wondered what it would be like to do what Michael did, of course. To kill and risk death for a cause, to face down prison, torture, exile. I had wondered what it would be like to commit those acts; how easy or difficult it would be to pull a trigger or push a detonator. I liked to think, in my foolish, idealistic teenage mind, that if it came down to it I could. Of course, I was in the very privileged position to not have to actually answer that question.

Michael, on the other hand, knew. And Michael was, if not me, than a product of me. Could it be possible that he could show me?

I ignored the message for several days. I didn’t know what to think. Truth be told I thought I was going mad. School started again and I got so busy that I almost, almost forgot about it – and then I opened the document by mistake one day, got into reading it over, laughing at my brilliant comebacks, you know how it is. And there it was again.

I thought you wanted to know?

Yes, I remember thinking. It stunned me – I remember that. I didn’t want to mess with this kind of stuff – I’ve always been a huge believer in the paranormal, always been cautious when it comes to fucking with that kind of stuff. I believe that magic like this, it requires intent. It needs you to be sure. It knows how you feel, true in your heart. So even when I ignored it again, even when I deleted the words and re-wrote whatever the original had been, even as I didn’t reply… I knew in my heart that my question had been heard by something. I could feel Michael’s eyes on me again, though now I wondered if it was Michael’s eyes, or something else entirely. It felt like a weight. Have you ever been in an old, old place, where you can practically feel the people who lived and died there; reach out and touch them? It felt like that. Like the weight of history was pressing down on me. I didn’t fall asleep easily that night, but when I did sleep was dark and endless.

I don’t know how long I spent in that state. In reality it was only seven hours; I woke up with my alarm. In that time period, wherever I was – because I was not living – I seemed to witness a hundred different lives. Over the course of Michael’s story I had him do all kinds of things; live all kinds of situations. I deleted things, changed others, added things in. I wrote what would now be called alternate universes. In that night I experienced them all. I know how it feels now. I know how it feels to pull a trigger; to watch the spray of someone’s life splatter a wall or a windscreen or the screaming backseat passengers of a car. I know how it feels to push the button, the one that sends a charge surging down a wire or flickering out over my head in an invisible wave of death, notifying the bomb, detonating the explosives. I know how it feels to sit in a hotel bar across a border, listening to the news, sipping a drink and feeling my heart beat in my chest as I add more numbers to the tally, more blood to my hands. I know how it feels to be shot, to be beaten, to watch a friend die, to kill someone who used to be – who still is, despite everything – a friend. I know how it feels to cough blood into my hands, onto the ground; to grip a wound that won’t stop bleeding; the blinding flash of an explosive detonating too soon and how the whole world seems to roar and how there’s a difference between the thud and slap of wet mud hitting the ground and the warmer, denser rain of something that used to be human. For days, weeks, years – I walked in Michael’s shoes, I lived his life, I committed every act.

I felt his pain. His fear. This hellish world that he lived in, created to kill and die and lose and fear, over and over. To meet his God and to finally, finally ask – why?

And what could I say? Because I wanted to know?

Well. Now I do.

#creeptastic #creepypasta #my creepypasta #writing #my writing #short story #fiction #can you tell i've been listening to tma lately?#anyway VERY tempted to record this seems i'm a decent voice impressionist and i have the right accent for the statement lmao

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fatehbaz · 4 years

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Hiroshima’s precedent: Uncanny sense of impending doom; Dublin’s Easter Rising; century-long trend towards cities and urban areas becoming sites of mass violence; origins of airplane and aerial bombardment as Euro-American tactic to subjugate nonwhite people and colonies; any person or any environment can be targeted, leading to “sense of impending catastrophe” and “perpetual trauma” as permanent conditions for all.

Many used the ... word bukimi, meaning weird, ghastly, or unearthly, to describe Hiroshima’s uneasy combination of continued good fortune and expectation of catastrophe. People remembered saying to one another, “Will it be tomorrow or the day after tomorrow?” One man described how, each night he was on air-raid watch, “I trembled with fear. ... I would think, ‘Tonight it will be Hiroshima.’ These “premonitions” were partly attempts at psychic preparation, partly a form of “imagining the worst” as a magical way of warding off disaster. -- Robert J. Lifton, Death in Life: Survivors of Hiroshima (1967)

Lifton’s [...] work on the survivors of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima focuses on the psychological aftermath of the bomb [...]. Yet Lifton also records an expectant, premonitory atmosphere in Hiroshima in the weeks before the bombing, a compound of past experience and immediate perceptions that, while inadequate to “encompass” the eventual experience of the bomb, cannot simply be dismissed as speculation that found an accidental correlate in the nuclear event. While no one in Hiroshima knew ahead of time what would occur on August 6, 1945, many had noted the city’s eerie exemption from conventional bombardment and speculated as to reasons for it. During the summer of 1945, a series of rumors circulated in Hiroshima [...]. All these rumors responded to the citizens’ impression that their city had been in some way singled out, and the term bukimi -- also meaning “ominous” or “uncanny” -- spoke to the suspended question of whether Hiroshima and its inhabitants had been singled out for preservation or annihilation. [...] But in the period of eerie suspension before the explosion, those who registered the nuclear uncanny in Hiroshima were also the first to experience a condition that [...] would become familiar to everyone living in a targeted city during the Cold War[...]. [I]nhabitants of Cold War cities [...] became accustomed to a more overt and permanent variant of the uncanny frisson felt [...] before the bombing [...].

Shortly before the Rising [Easter Rising, 1916], one of its leaders, Padraic Pearse, had imagined annihilation as a favorable alternative to continued British occupation: “My God, rather than go on living as we are, I would prefer to see Dublin in ruins” (Caulfield 47). Pearse was, at least partly, to have his way. Lobbing incendiaries and explosives through the roofs and windows [...], the British gunners gutted portions of the Dublin city center; during the week of the Rising, 500 people died [...].

The more frequent and extreme outbreaks of traumatic violence in everyday urban life [...], in the early-twentieth-century imaginary, the city had begun to host new forms of sudden mass death and severe physical destruction.

Cities had, of course, been sites of mass death before 1916. But the Easter Rising differed from nineteenth-century urban barricade fighting in the use, principally by British soldiers, of more precise and destrucctive weapons; fired from the ground, from rooftops, and from gunships in the Liffey, the new cannons, incendiaries, and machine guns rapidly reduced whole blocks of the city center to ruins. These emerging military technologies and strategies link the Rising to the Great War then raging in England and on the Continent, whose fields and cities had become proving grounds for new weaponry and modes of warfare. In Ireland and the Great War, Keith Jeffery writes that "Like the Western Front [the Easter Rising] became a war of attrition, and the lessons of the Western Front were taught again in the streets of Dublin.” [...]

Though the shelling of Dublin in 1916 reminded observers of Ypres, Louvain, and other European cities ruined in the Great War, it might as credibly have called to mind a different list: Canton, Kagoshima, and Alexandria. During the second half of the nineteenth century, British naval bombardments made rubble of these coastal cities [...]. The naval bombardment of undefended cities and civilians, particularly those in colonial territories, paved the way for the first airplane bombardments, in which the imperial powers of Europe dropped bombs on nonwhite, non-European adversaries and anticolonial forces. Italy pioneered airplane bombardment in 1911 by bombing Arab oases outside Tripoli; British planes bombed Pathans in India in 1915, Egyptian revolutionaries and the Sultan of Farfur in 1916, a Mashud uprising on the Indian-Afghanistan border in 917, and Somaliland and the Afghan cities of Dacca, Jalalabad, and Kabul in 1919.

Several years before the inhabitants of European cities experienced it, aerial bombardment had been established as a uniquely colonial nightmare. As Sven Lindquist has shown, the initial use of airplane bombs against colonies was foreseen and even fed by a racist fantasy pervading early-twentieth-century European science fiction, a fantasy of bombing subject races either into submission or out of existence. The willingness of several signatory nations to ignore Article 25 when bombing nonwhite soldiers and civilians made colonial towns and cities the first civilian spaces secured by the implied threat of bombardment from above.

In the world war [...] the brief tenure of aerial bombardment as an exclusively colonial technique ended when imperial powers launched the first bombing campaigns against the cities of other imperial powers, initiating a change that would later find its apogee in the nuclear condition: the reconfiguration of the major metropolis as target.

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Text by: Paul K. Saint-Amour. “Bombing and the Symptom: Traumatic Earliness and the Nuclear Uncanny.” Diacritics. 2000. [Italicized first paragraph/heading added by me.]

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