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written-on-the-trees · 3 years

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Do You Believe In Love At First, Or Should I Pass By Again? - Machine Gun Kelly Fan Fiction

Word Count: 2675 words

Warnings: None

Summary: Colson meets a woman in a venue bar who doesn't know who he is, and bad pick-up lines ensue.

Where else can you find this: Ao3 | Wattpad

Colson sat at the bar, staring into his drink.

He was feeling...maudlin. It was one of Dom's weird British words, but even without the man beside him, Colson felt it was appropriate, being in London and all.

And because he was fucking miserable.

Maybe it was just because he'd had a bit too much to drink, hadn't smoked, and had now drunk way too much for it to be a good idea to start now, but he felt like shit. He was on his own for once, and even though it was by his own decision, the empty feeling of being alone in a crowded place was starting to creep in. At first it had been fine, when he'd been riding high on the adrenaline of just being on stage, but an hour that adrenaline was starting to fade and he was starting to regret sending everyone on to party without him.

He was debating going to catch up with them versus just going back to the house they were staying at, when a short woman dressed in black sauntered up next to him. Goth chicks weren't usually his type, but she had enough of a figure to grab his attention. He turned in his seat to flirt with her, but to Colson's surprise she ignored him completely, flagging down the bar tender and ordering a drink without giving him a second glance.

Well, clearly she wasn't here to see me tonight.

Normally, he would've let it go...but tonight he needed a distraction, and charming someone who seemed indifferent to him seemed like the perfect diversion.

Obviously, it didn't hurt that the woman was good looking as fuck. Five foot something of curves poured into torn fishnets, a black leather mini-skirt, and a ripped black denim jacket over a white t-shirt with an interesting crying angel in a lightning bolt design on the front. She flicked straight, silky black hair over her shoulder after she ordered, revealing deep purple lips bisected by a shining silver ring that Colson instantly wanted to bite at, and heavily made up eyes that finally looked over at him. Her grey eyes slid over him, taking him in, and obviously finding him wanting if the vague curl of her lip was anything to go by

He probably shouldn't find that hot, but...he did.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her accent making her words seem all the more insulting...and Colson was still into it.

"Yeah, I was just wondering if your name was Google?" he smirked: "Because you're everything I've been searching for."

Grey eyes rolled heavenwards, a sigh escaping purple lips: "Really?"

Colson grinned: "I've got other lines, if you didn't like that one."

"Maybe I just don't like you."

The words were bitchy as fuck, so much so Colson actually winced...but it was still kind of hot, and he laughed even as he was wincing.

He wasn't usually into this mean girl shit, especially not when it was directed at him, but...apparently he really was a bit fucked up tonight. It probably would've been sensible to examine why that might be, but Colson wasn't feeling up to any kind of introspection right now. It seemed like a lot more fun to just try and get her to be mean to him again.

If he got lucky, she might keep it up all night.

"That's okay; I grow on people. I'm like mould."

That, at least, seemed to get an amused snort out of the woman, even if her expression was still a little guarded: "Your words, mate."

"Yeah? Speaking of words: are you a dictionary? 'Cause you’re adding meaning to my life."

Now the woman groaned, but the sound was playful, and there was a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, the guarded look melting away: "You need to stop."

"But I'm having so much fun." Colson grinned: "Pick-up lines are great. Try using one back, you'll see."

"I don't know. For some reason, I have been feeling a little off today..." she pulled a thoughtful expression, before suddenly smirking: "...but then you came along, and you definitely turned me on."

Colson burst out laughing, before taking another sip of his drink: "Nice. You got game, English, but I'm not sure you're up to my level yet."

"English? Alright, America." the grey eyed girl half-smirked-half-sneered, the expression mocking but not bitchy: "And I can assure you, if you want to play that game, you're going to end up calling me 'your majesty'. Because I fucking rule."

"That right?"

"Yeah, America. That's right."

Well, if that wasn't a challenge, Colson didn't know what was. And Machine Gun Kelly never backed down from a challenge. He didn't have it in him.

Even if this woman didn't know who he was, that would just make playing this game with her all the more fun.

Colson leaned towards English, a smile curling his lips: "Let's go, then. I’d say God Bless you, but it looks like he already did."

"Didn't need him to; I’m always on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?"

"You sure? You said you weren't feeling yourself today...wanna feel me instead?"

"You wish." she laughed, throwing her head back in a way that made her lip-ring glint in the dim light of the bar and exposed the bare skin on her neck, which Colson suddenly wanted to leave hickies all over...before getting distracted by the grey eyed girl's crooked smirk: "Did you know my lips are like Skittles - if you're good, you might just get to taste the rainbow."

"And here I thought it was the Pepsi that was making you look so-da-licious." Colson winked.

"Oh, America, clearly your brain isn't working properly...maybe it's because you're deficient in vitamin me."

"Speaking of vitamins, did you take your Vitamin D today, or did you need me to give you a hand?"

"How about we play Titanic instead. You’ll be the iceberg, and I’ll go down." English winked, and Colson lost it laughing.

She was overdoing it so much, he knew she wasn't actually flirting with him with that one.

The others might have been questionable in terms of whether she might be interested in him, but that one was just an attempt to knock him off his game - and it had been so unexpected that it worked. From the smug little smile on her face, she knew it too.

Colson didn't mind that he'd lost; it'd been fun going back and forth like he had, and now that she'd warmed up a bit this chick had a good energy; less bitchy, and more sarcastic. He liked it. He liked that she could match him; even if he didn't end up leaving with her tonight, he'd enjoy hanging at the bar with someone who could meet him joke for joke, or pick-up line for pick-up line, than he would fucking someone who was silent through half their interaction for whatever reason. Quiet women were never his type; he liked girls with attitude.

And this woman had it by the fucking boatload.

She was leaning back in her barstool, openly examining him, arms crossed over her chest and one leg thrown over the other. She was the picture of quiet confidence, all relaxed but still sitting tall. Some guys might be put off by her lack of fawning, but not Colson.

He just leant in again with his most charming smirk firmly in place.

"So, since you won, would you let me buy you a drink?"

"I've got one, thanks." she held up her glass of something - vodka and soda, if Colson was guessing by the clear colour - before taking a sip: "Why don't you tell me your name instead, loser?"

"Colson."

"Ah, shit. I was hoping I'd recognise it." she laughed: "You look kind of familiar, but maybe I just saw you in the crowd earlier."

He had walked through the crowd at one point...albeit in a hoodie and tucked between tWo security guards: "Maybe."

"That is literally the least convincing 'maybe' I ever heard." English rolled her eyes playfully: "But okay, Colson. I'm Rosie."

Rosie.

It shouldn't have fit her, a soft name for a woman that was anything but soft, but somehow it suited her. She owned it, wore it well. Just like she wore the blood red rose and black brambles tattooed on the back of her left hand...maybe that was why the name fit her. Beautiful in a prickly kind of way.

That certainly fit her.

Not that he was going to say that to her. Rosie, as bitchy as she had been to begin with, didn't seem like the kind of woman to take dubious accolades like 'prickly' as compliments, no matter how nicely they were meant. Colson got the sense the bitchy remarks at the beginning of their conversation had been attempt to shut him up and leave her alone. He'd gotten past that wall pretty quickly, but he was almost certain he could get pushed back outside it pretty quickly as well.

The more the spoke - about how he was finding London, about whether the UK or US did gigs better, about the band whose t-shirt she was wearing - the more Colson found himself liking Rosie. He'd already thought she had a good feeling about her, but the more he spoke to her the more that good feeling grew. She was a bit like Dom, in a way; less loud and energetic, but just as quick and just as unwilling to put up with anyone's shit, including Colson's. She didn't say anything, but she put out clear signs that she was not see him as someone she'd be interested in fucking tonight, and that if Colson tried to make that happen, he'd find himself alone faster than he could ask her to come back.

Colson respected that. As gorgeous as he still thought Rosie was - and as much as he still wanted to mark up her neck to let everyone know she'd let him do it, and bite at her lip ring while making out with her - he wasn't that kind of guy that pushed for what women didn't want to give him. Usually he was the kind to accept their denial and move on, but honestly he was having a better time just talking with Rosie than he had had in a while.

She just seemed to understand him, even when he was leaving gaps in his stories. He was just starting to tell her about Cassie, showing her his screensaver of him and his daughter together, about how frustrating it was that people didn't seem to trust him to parent his own damn kid, when a girl around Cassie's age appeared at Rosie's elbow.

"Hey Miss Barnes, the show's over. Grace's just queuing to go to the loo but she wanted me to go get our coats?"

Rosie turned and smiled at the kid, already fishing in her pockets for the little ticket stubs they gave out for the cloakroom here, when the kid turned to look at Colson. Her eyes widened, and she went a little pale, but when he smiled - because what the fuck else was he gonna do, glare at a thirteen year old girl who looked like she'd seen a ghost for no good reason? - she just dashed off with the stubs for the cloakroom clutched in her hand.

He was so busted.

Not yet, but as soon as Rosie was taking the kids home, they were going to tell her who she'd been talking to.

"Well, it looks like I'm going to have to go." Rosie announced, tone apologetic as she shrugged in a 'what can you do?' kind of way: "Downsides of chaperoning your niece and her friends to a gig, you're on their time-table."

"I would try and say something positive, but I struggle not giving in to one kid, let alone a bunch of them." he returned: "Maybe if you get a day that you're not on anyone else's schedule, you could give me a call? I'm in London for a few more days."

Rosie looked surprised, but she nodded: "Sure. You want my number?"

"I'll give you mine." Colson pulled a sharpie from the pocket of his jeans, scrawling his number on the back of one of his bar receipts: "I'd lose my head if it weren't screwed on, but my phones usually just as attached to me as my head is anyway."

And this way, if she didn't want to talk to him again, the decision was hers and hers alone.

Seemed fair, considering she wasn't going to know who he actually was until after he was too far away for her to turn him down to his face. Colson couldn't deny he would be pretty upset if he never heard from her again, but it would be better than him reaching out to her and her ignoring him. He had a fairly thick skin when it came to rejection - he had to, by now - but he was certain Rosie would prove an exception to that rule.

Best to give her his number and just hope she gave him a chance to explain why he had half-lied to her.

"Great. Speak to you soon, Colson." Rosie took the receipt and tucked it into the black purse that was slung over her shoulder.

Colson smiled, but the expression felt a little hollow: "Speak to you soon."

He hoped he hadn't just lied again.

MESSAGE FROM AN UNKNOWN NUMBER

So, I might've seen you in the crowd, huh?

Colson blinked at his phone for a few seconds, still half-asleep but for once not hungover or coming down, last night coming back to him in a sudden flash, cutting through the fog of sleep quicker than the lightning bolt on a certain t-shirt last night.

Rosie.

Unlocking his phone with fumbling fingers - not that he'd ever acknowledge that to anyone if they saw it - Colson rushed to respond to Rosie's text message, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he did:

If it helps, I did walk through the crowd at one point.

So you might of.

As opposed to recognising you from when you were on stage?

Yeah, seems likely.

I'm sorry?

There were a few minutes of no response, with Colson holding onto his phone and watching the chat screen, trying not to worry about what Rosie might be thinking.

Would she be thinking of the nicest way to let him down gently? Or maybe the harshest way to tell him to fuck off? Was she going to change now she knew he had a degree of wealth and fame? She hadn't seemed like the type...but he'd really only had one conversation with her. And that conversation had been just two people at a bar. Colson didn't think he was being egotistical when he worried him being Machine Gun Kelly could change things.

It's fine.

I probably wouldn't have told you if I was famous, either.

You telling me you're not a model? Damn, pretty sure I thought I recognised you from a magazine.

It must've been a museum.

Because you truly are a work of art.

Really, mate, you wanna lose this game again?

Colson sighed in relief.

She was still calling him 'mate', and she was still challenging him to play dumb games with her, just like last night. Finding out who he was hadn't changed shit.

He hadn't irreparably fucked anything up.

I'm not hearing any comeback, flower power.

Oh, it's fucking on now, America.

You must be a broom, because you just swept me off my feet.

Colson grinned, racking his brain for a good response as he hauled himself out of bed and headed down towards the kitchen to make himself a coffee. He was going to need it, to keep up with Rosie.

And he was almost unreasonably happy about that.

#The Trees Writes #Machine Gun Kelly imagine #Machine Gun Kelly fanfic #Machine Gun Kelly fan fic #Machine Gun Kelly fan fiction #MGK imagine #MGK fanfic #MGK fan fic #MGK fan fiction #Colson Baker imagine #Colson Baker fanfic #Colson Baker fan fic #Colson Baker fan fiction

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sgtpaine · 3 years

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The Left’s Revolution Dominates Every American Height, And They Don’t Know Why We Aren’t Cheering

Herein lies a glimpse into just what kind of knuckle-draggers the left thinks we are. They think patriotism means we’ll do whatever they say whenever they say it.

Christopher Bedford

AUGUST 10, 2021

“Rooting against Olympians, scoffing at Capitol police, broaching civil war — meet today’s conservative movement.”

That’s the opening of an article last week at Vox.com. You’ve probably heard of Vox. Their self-proclaimed, self-aggrandizing purpose is to “explain the news.” But when Vox’s condescending reporters start talking about conservatives, Christians, guns, or really anyone outside of a few coastal cities, they have a habit of sounding like Jane Goodall observing apes.

So, what’s their qualm now? Let’s let them explain it in their own words:

[There is a] rising tendency in the conservative movement to reject America itself. In this thinking, the country is so corrupted that it is no longer a source of pride or even worthy of respect. … Queer female soccer stars demanding equal pay, Black basketball players kneeling to protest police brutality, the world’s best gymnast prioritizing her mental health over upholding the traditional ideal of the “tough” athlete — this is all a manifestation of the ascendancy of liberal cultural values in public life. And an America where these values permeate national symbols, like the Olympic team, is an America where those symbols are worthy of scorn.

Worthy of scorn; imagine that. Underperforming and overpaid people who for a living play a game no one watches want to be paid the same as people who are better players and earn more viewers.

Rich athletes publicly spitting on their country, their flag, and the men and women who have died for it, so they can push left-wing lies.

An enormously talented athlete quitting on the brink of competition, and saying the problem was she wanted to compete only for herself, not for her coaches, her teammates, or her country.

These are indeed “all a manifestation of the ascendancy of liberal cultural values in public life.” They’re the fruits of a spoiled, privileged, narcissistic, and self-obsessed revolution that began in the late 1950s and has been fighting its way to power ever since. They have it now, and it isn’t simply confined to our sacred soccer ball kickers.

Sports is just the latest, but look at its sponsors: You can be a subpar professional athlete, but if you spit on the flag you get a lucrative Nike contract.

Remember that Nike ad, “Believe in something even if it means sacrificing everything”? It featured Colin Kaepernick. The only problem is, he didn’t sacrifice anything — he discovered he could be paid a lot more playing the American public than he could playing football as a backup quarterback.

Now, thanks to his fake bravery, he gets to decide if the first flag of the United States is permissible. He says it isn’t, because America wasn’t perfect 245 years ago — and Nike sanctifies that decision with a lucrative payout.

They don’t mind; Nike may still be headquartered in Beaverton, Oregon, but at heart they’re a Chinese company. That’s the People’s Republic of China: a godless slave state that uses forced labor to manufacture products and criminalizes dissent. That’s a country Nike respects, or at least one it cares about offending. Guess what: We don’t like that.

They’re far from alone. Silicon Valley was once a symbol of American enterprise: Young men working in their garages to harness technology and revolutionize our lives. Now Silicon Valley symbolizes the most powerful private companies the world has ever known — and they use that power to crush dissent, censor presidents and critics, and push left-wing propaganda. Turns out, when they do that we don’t like them.

We can go on. Blackrock sends its urchins to buy up affordable homes in growing cities to transform a society of homeowners into a society of servile tenants.

Mastercard and IBM build international databases for tracking humans so they can bar them from travel and commercial activity if they don’t take an experimental vaccine. Or, in MasterCard’s case, maybe they’ll ban you if they just dislike your politics.

Bank of America refuses to make loans to American gun manufacturers out of principle while making a $1 billion gift to Black Lives Matter, a racist, anti-American, anti-family, grifty riot squad responsible for dead police, murdered innocents, and burned-out cities. Huh — turns out we don’t like any of that either.

How about the Pentagon? Conservatives used to respect it because it won wars and embodied the finest of American values while doing so. But now the Pentagon loses wars, throws away lives, and wastes trillions of dollars while trashing those fine American values.

The military used to be a strict meritocracy. Now, they cut standards in the name of diversity. They used to demand that every soldier be fit and ready for war. Now, they slash the requirements for our troops’ physical performance and brag about maternity flight suits.

They teach weak and disgusting left-wing racism in their academies, they target Christians, they insult the middle-America conservatives who do most of the fighting and an overwhelming share of the dying in our armed forces. While our enemies run ads touting the manly virtues necessary to a warrior life, our generals run ads about having two moms. It’s not very intimidating. And hey, we don’t like it.

Ladies and gentlemen, we could all go on with example after example, but the point is this: The left got their revolution, the one they spent decades screaming and agitating for. They got their ideologues into the halls of power — not just the university halls, not just the halls of Congress, but all of them: Business, media, military, sports.

If there is an institution in your life and it’s not a good church, chances are that institution has implemented one policy after another pledging itself to the dogmas of the left. Now, the left is shocked — shocked — that we don’t like it one bit.

There was an America that we loved. It was an America of religious liberty and freedom of speech, and equality before the law. An America that loved what is beautiful rather than what is warped and ugly. An America that loved its founders and loved its children. An America that knew that whatever prosperity it possessed, it owed it all to the Almighty, and that it had a solemn duty to Him in return.

That was the America we loved. An America that hundreds of thousands of young men proved they loved more than life itself. We still love that America, and we’re not just going to cheer and applaud their active desecration of it.

Herein lies a great little glimpse into just what kind of knuckle-draggers the left thinks we are. They think patriotism means we’ll do whatever they say whenever they say it. “Drink your can of beer, sit on the couch, and cheer for sports. You like sports, don’t you, you ape? Come on, watch them on your 60-inch Chinese TV you bought at Walmart.”

“Buy our cheap, foreign products, do it now. You like free enterprise, don’t you? What’s more free than your boys and girls in the Navy guarding Chinese ships shipping Chinese products from Chinese companies to run-down American towns that were once industrial hubs?”

“You like cheap things, don’t you? I thought Republicans loved sports and business!”

“When Gen. Mark Milley says jump, you say how high. When he says you’re racist and you are showing white rage, nod along. When he says standards are overblown, and that diversity is our new strength, salute. Come on, don’t you support our troops?”

They don’t get it. They don’t get that we don’t honor and salute empty institutions and buildings! We don’t just bow down before the local magistrate’s hat on a stick.

They don’t get that a church is not just some building that can be made into a nightclub, it’s where we worship God — and it’s from his presence that it derives its meaning.

They don’t get that people watch sports for athletic excellence, good old American entertainment, and the thrill of cheering for the guys fighting for your team. No one watches sports to be condescended to, regardless of what uniform the athlete has on.

They don’t get that we respect the flag and the Americans who’ve fought and died for it and will again, but that doesn’t mean we stand and salute the Pentagon and all the foolish politicians in the brass.

They also don’t get that we’re not all 100 percent serious and miserable all of the time, like a couple of CNN anchors we could name; we still have a sense of humor. So yes, when a woman with an ugly heart says ugly things about America and then flops in a big soccer tournament, we’re going to chuckle about it. Maybe even laugh out loud. Maybe we will have that cold beer.

We’re Americans; we don’t resent success in sports, business, or military service. But as Helen Andrews of The American Conservative recently wrote, conservatives don’t resent the left’s success — we resent the ways they actively harm us. And we’ll never accept the rotten version of America they tell us we’re supposed to love.

America is worth saving. If you live in a major coastal city, leave it whenever you can and see that America. It can sometimes be hard to find — the left has warped it viciously. Today this country kills its children in the womb, celebrates decadence, and glorifies decay, but if Vox is onto anything it’s this: We are onto them. And we’re not buying it. And America lives on in our hearts.

There are a lot of problems in this country. We’re experiencing a secular elite trying to justify their existence in any way they can. Things are going to get worse before they get better, because they want things to and it makes them feel good.

But there’s no God at the end of this tunnel. Just as with drugs or money or sex, no amount of Black Lives Matter, climate change activism, and yard signs can fill the hole they’re feeling. The good news is, it won’t work; the bad news is, our experiment is delicate and badly damaged.

The work — going to school board meetings, running for local office, speaking up in our towns and our cities and our states — is hard work. We’re going to lose friends along the way, but we will lose this country forever if we don’t, so there’s really no choice at all, is there.

Christopher Bedford is a senior editor at The Federalist, the vice chairman of Young Americans for Freedom, a board member at the National Journalism Center, and the author of The Art of the Donald. Follow him on

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badbookopinions · 3 years

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A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins

I am not smart, but sometimes it’s nice to look on the Goodreads page for a book and realize I’m smarter than all those people. The point is that he's not supposed to be sympathetic or tragic, Goodreads people. It’s a deconstruction of privilege and the whole thing is an allegory, Goodreads people.

So, the long-unasked for President Snow prequel. He’s a teenager from a family reduced to 0.5% of their former glory, and in the tenth Hunger Games he’s been chosen to mentor a tribute. That tribute: Lucy Gray Baird, the girl from District 12, who entrances the Capitol with her singing and changes the Hunger Games forever.

In the most fascinating way, this book was a reflection on privilege. The Capitol teenagers that make up the core cast of this book are teenagers - kind, sometimes, and used to hunger and want like the people in the Districts are, and Coriolanus cares deeply for them: he’s grown up with them, so we get flashbacks to them all as children. And despite this, they treat the people from the Districts with this lack of compassion that’s staggering and deeply disturbing to see.

Coriolanus himself is reasonable, charming, and cares for those around him, and I was unnerved by him the entire time. Collins has this masterful way of slipping concerning little things in between lines of narration so that you don’t realize what he’s saying that freaks you out, just that he does.

Lucy was also fantastic - I think it was such an interesting choice to portray her so completely through Coriolanus’ eyes, so that you have no idea if she’s actually taken with the Capitol and her mentor sending her to her death, or if she’s putting on an act. Seriously - the fact that Coriolanus is like ‘it’s so sad that she’s going to die’ but never once thinks about trying to break her out of the Games is chilling.

I also loved seeing how the ritual of it all developed. These games are, honestly, lame, without any of the reality-show trappings added later. We see a bit of how they came to be and it was absolutely messed up and so interesting.

I will say that people saying story-wise this book isn’t as good are all correct. The plot is slow and the other characters are not well-developed at all.

Plot: not Collins’ best work. If this were any other writer, I probably would let it go, because while it’s slow it’s not unpleasant. But I’ve read the Hunger Games and Gregor the Overlander and I’ve seen a good plot-driven book the way Collins does it and I was expecting that, instead of this wandering. But the theme comes through so well and so interestingly I’m fine with it. An out-of-context spoiler: this book has a scene in which a young Black boy cuts down a bit of the flag to make a burial shroud for the other tributes, and the people from the Capital are horrified at the flag being damaged - this scene literally gave me chills.

Characters: most are pretty flat. They tend to be allegories or caricatures instead of real people - to put more focus on the theme at the centre, I know. I still found Dr. Gaul absolutely terrifying, and the two main characters are very well done. I thought it was so interesting how this book feels more light-hearted than the Hunger Games: these characters have fun and are unconcerned and crack jokes, which is horrifying to see amid such dark subject matter.

Setting: the music! This book expands on the concept of music as a form of revolution and a tool for change, and I loved it. I found a fantastic playlist of the songs Lucy Gray sings during the course of this song, because the large part of them are real folk songs. I also found the poverty of the Capital and the ways the games were before such interesting things to be discussed.

Prose: something was off about this. I think it’s that I don’t want Coriolanus to be talking like a teenager, and he does. Not as in referencing memes or something, but he’ll use words like ‘yuck’ sometimes, which not even Katniss does. While of course he does, because he is a teenager, it was unnerving and put me off.

Diversity report: Lucy is ambiguously brown, other background characters of colour, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it queer rep.

#a ballad of songbirds and snakes #suzanne collins #badbookopinions #dystopia #young adult #the hunger games #feels bad #music and musicians

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valdez-and-the-argo-crew · 4 years

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God!Percy Fic Chapter 1

Link to the prologue https://valdez-and-the-argo-crew.tumblr.com/post/190107559251/godpercy-fic-prologue

10 years went by all too quick, but of course I hardly noticed. The only thing that kept me aware of the passage of time was how many people I knew didn’t come back to camp, whether it be from quests gone wrong or by choice.

I’d kind of taken over Dionysus’s old job here at camp. Chiron thought it would be good for me, seeing as I was so hasty to accept immortality, I deserved some sort of time out. Some time away to learn to not be too quick to say yes. I’m allowed to leave, go do other godly things but what is there to do? So I just stay here and train heroes.

The gods had started claiming more of their kids these days, after two demigods confronted them at the end of some big quest they were on. Now we get a lot more diversity with the godly parents here at camp. Makes it a lot harder to choose teams for capture the flag apparently. The captains have to level skill with numbers, for example, the Hecate kids are great but there’s only 2 of them, versus the 15 or so Aphrodite kids.

Today, I’m teaching sword fighting to the Hermes cabin and the Nemesis cabin.

“Alright welcome to your first sword class of the summer.” I paused and looked around. I noticed a few confused looking kids glancing around. “It’s nice to see some old faces, but to those of you who don’t know me, I’m Percy, and I will be teaching you all about how no to die.”

That got a chuckle out of a few people. One young kid, maybe about 6 years old looked up at me. He was a new camper but he caught my attention. He had dark black hair, which made him stand out against his blonde cabin mates. Perhaps he just hasn’t been claimed

“Mister Percy?” He paused and looked around the arena. “Are we gonna use real swords?”

I smiled and pulled riptide from my pocket, pulling off the cap and tossing the sword up just a bit. I caught it and looked at the kid. His jaw had dropped and he was looking at the sword with dazed awe.

“We are absolutely using real swords.” I said. “Now, you older campers go find armor and help the newbies with theirs. Jacob?” I looked at the head counselor of the Hermes cabin, a 16 year old named Jacob Martinez. “Help the little ones get swords that are weighted correctly”

Jacob nodded and led the younger demigods to the armory in the back of the arena. I watched the campers scatter and find armor that fit. I looked down at riptide and remembered my first sword lesson with Luke in this very arena. It seemed like only yesterday he was just an 18 year old teaching me how to parry and block on my first day of camp.

Thinking of Luke made me think of Annabeth. We’re on okay terms these days, however we don’t really talk much. She stays the year at Camp Jupiter, which I had no clue existed until recently, because I guess they were our rivals until now. Someone needs to catch my up on all the godly things I should know, I’m starting to feel a little left out.

I laughed to myself, because I’m a funny guy who thinks funny things. Eventually, though, my thoughts shifted back to Annabeth.

Annabeth was supposed to come back soon, since the summer session had started here, but sometimes she got held up. I didn’t hold it against her if she was late because I was always just happy to see her.

“Alright, we’re ready, Percy,” Jacob called from across the arena as he finished fastening a kids chest plate. I looked at him, letting my thoughts about Annabeth fade away.

“Alright kids, ready?” I asked, getting an enthusiastic nod from the newbies and shrugs from the returning campers. I showed the new campers how to hold their blade, how to stand and how to swing properly. Soon the sound of metal glancing off armor filled the air as the lessons begun.

At the end of the day, after all the days activities, I went to walk by the beach while the campers ate dinner. I could smell the offering fire from here, though it wasn’t a godly thing, it’s just because it was really strongly scented. Only gods up on Olympus get the privilege of the offerings in the fire.

I dug my toes into the sand as I paced back and fourth. I willed the water to get my feet wet as I walked. It was calming in a sense, made me feel connected to the mortal world, even though it had always been an ability of mine to stay dry. Just Poseidon things, ya know?

The sound was still tonight, and the moon reflected beautifully on its surface. I had once been in awe of how my dad was the god of all of the earth’s oceans, but now... I can almost understand. I’m by no means a major god, and I don’t have much control over anything except water, but the world and everything in it made sense to me now, in a way it never had before.

I stopped pacing and just stared out to the horizon, letting myself relax for the first time in a while.

I was quickly pulled back into reality by a gentle tug at my sleeve. It was the young kid from the Hermes cabin from earlier.

“Oh hey kiddo.” I knelt down to his level. “Jamie, isn’t it?” He smiled and nodded. He had a little gap in between his front two teeth.

“What are you doing here, why you in the dining pavilion?” I asked. Jamie looked down.

“I’m homesick,” Jamie frowned.

I didn’t know how to respond. I’m not fantastic with little kids.

“I have an older brother named Percy back at home.” Jamie continued. He looked up at me. “So I wanted to talk to you because he’s like you.”

I was a bit caught off guard by the little boy’s sentiment. I ruffled Jamie’s hair gently and stood up. “Still, buddy, it’s dinner time. I know it sucks to miss someone at home but...You could get to know your new siblings here. I know Jacob, your head counselor, loves meeting new kids. Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

“Only if you sit with me!” Jamie said.

“I guess there’s no harm in that...” I said. I really didn’t know why the rules about what table we sat at mattered. Tradition, I guess.

Jamie beamed and grabbed my hand as he lead me through the dunes and back up the path towards the pavilion. Chiron gave me an odd look as I was dragged past the head table and towards the Hermes table. All I could do was shrug as Jamie tugged me away.

“Okay I’m back!” Jamie announced proudly to his siblings at the table, who evidently had no idea he’d been gone.

“I see you are...And I see you’ve brought back a guest.” Jacob laughed, looking at me.

I simply shrugged, not sure what to say.

“Percy reminds me of my older brother at home, the one who isn’t a half blood.” Jamie said, clinging to my arm. I wasn’t used to small kids being attached to me, metaphorically or physically like Jamie was right now.

“Well...welcome to our table!” Jacob laughed as he passed over a platter of various types of bread rolls and extra goblet for me. I asked the goblet for blue soda, and took a roll off the platter. I looked over at the fire, and considered throwing the roll in...but I’m a god too and I deserve this.

“So,” Jacob began, looking at the new campers. “How was your first day of camp half blood”

The new campers, especially the younger ones, started to go on and on about the camp.

“I almost died!” Exclaimed a girl excitedly.

“Not as much as I almost died!” A younger girl countered.

Jamie started recounting his day bit by bit, adding his own commentary on thing like the lake (“the water girls are pretty”) or the volleyball courts (“but why is there normal volleyball at a magic camp?”). It was funny to hear about the camp through the eyes of a six year old.

“I wish my god dad would claim me though. That must be cool.” Jamie sighed.

Even though I’d considered this fact, it was still strange to hear. Usually people get claimed before they even get to camp now. “You don’t know your godly parent yet?”

Jamie shook his head. Jacob smiled and hit his hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

“It shouldn’t be much longer, no need to worry,” Jacob assured. “The gods made a promise a few years ago to the demigods that bridged the gab between the Greeks and the romans. All of the kids like us are supposed to get claimed as soon as possible.”

“Wait...There are Roman half bloods too!?” Jamie looked wide eyed. “Do they live in Rome? I went there last year with my mom.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh you have no idea buddy. I once met a kid who followed the path of the Egyptian gods. Carter, I think his name was. And my friend Annabeth met his sister Sadie. There are all kinds of gods out there. Most of them live here in America, however.” I said. I took a sip of my soda as Jamie processed that information.

“That is sooo cool! I want to meet a god one day!” Jamie claimed excitedly. “I wonder what gods look like...”

Jacob shot me a look that Jamie couldn’t see, almost to say ‘Should we tell him?’

I shook my head in response. Only the year round campers knew I was a god, and there weren’t too many year rounders lately. It was just mainly the head counselors and a few stragglers that had nowhere else to go. I didn’t really want it being public that I’d given up all this to become selfishly immortal.

I turned back to the conversation, listening to one of the Hermes girls talk about how she got to camp last year. I tried to look like I was paying attention but I got lost in my thoughts, thinking about what I’d sacrificed 10 years ago.

I sighed and looked back out to the ocean beyond the borders of camp. The ocean was still calm, as it had been for a while. No impending threats, no freak storms... it did feel good not to have another world ending war.

I looked down at Jamie, who was still hugging my arm as he ate an apple. I could see how out of place was with these Hermes kids. They all had similar features to a certain extent, but Jamie was just not like them. He was also the youngest, by a year or two, probably making it hard to relate to everyone else.

He looked up at me and gave me a toothy grin before turning back to the rest of the demigods at the table.

Once dinner was done, I followed everyone out to the fire pit for sing alongs. I hadn’t partaken in any of these for a few years, but I figured I could let loose. I laughed and sang and watched the fire get brighter and brighter. I almost felt like a camper again. Almost.

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjoverse #pjo #percy jackson #pjo stuff #incorrect pjo quotes #percy and grover #pjo text post #percabeth #poseidon #annabeth chase #chb #chiron #camp half blood #rick riordan

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perfectlywisedelusions · 3 years

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A Diagnostic Almost-Essay On The Last Airbender Movie

The Last Airbender is one of the many bad book and/or anime adaptations that have plagued the 2000s. Like all of these rage-inducing two-hour long torture sessions seemingly designed to make fandoms crawl into a corner and cry, The Last Airbender was incredibly unfaithful to the beloved source material. But there are two differences that set this movie apart from all the other depressing studio flops-namely, the fact that the show was made in America, and the fact that the movie fails as a movie and an adaptation. It has always been a divisive factor among ATLA fans on whether or not the show is an anime. It’s made in the anime style, but it was also made in the US. Most anime adaptations that fail miserably can probably be attributed to the fact they were made by studio executives who would never want to watch the source material and as such completely miss the point of the original. For the Last Airbender, though, it was a massive hit in the US. M. Night Shyamalan said he took on the project because his daughter was a big fan. The show has a clear plot and tone, and it’s even in English to make things easy for the screenwriters. (Except that there were none. It was written by M. Night Shyamalan.) So how did a $150 million blockbuster manage to fail to successfully adapt a children’s Nickelodeon show? By putting M. Night Shyamalan in charge. Shyamalan had only really made horror movies, and his most recent ones had been less than successful. A struggling horror director whose trademarks are a bunch of characters staying in one location in a realistic setting as they undergo internal struggle and mounting suspense seems a great choice to direct a fun action adventure movie that relies on different locations in a fantasy world, right? Needless to say, Shyamalan was out of his depth, and it really shows in the movie. It starts out strong, with the Nickelodeon logo and the classic shots of 4 benders bending their respective elements against a red background. And then, rather than transitioning to the iconic opening narration, we get Nicola Peltz reading a bunch of exposition in the same manner than an embarrassed elementary schooler would read an essay in front of the class. And then, as if we weren’t tired of listening to this girl talking, we get voiceover from her explaining who the characters in the scene are and what they are doing. This does not go away. It is in the entire movie. You will become very sick of Nicola Peltz’s voice by the end of the movie, but you don’t notice it because you have either a.) turned the movie off and/or left, or b.) you are too distracted by everything else. If the incredibly amateurish opening exposition dump isn’t enough of a red flag for you, then the sight of our two main heroes should be. Avatar: The Last Airbender is a very diverse show, representing Japanese, Chinese, Inuit, and Tibetan cultures as well as others. The first shot shows white actors playing characters who are decidedly not white. It would be slightly more forgivable if the actors were decent. But they’re not. Nicola Peltz, who plays Katara, supposedly got the role because her father was big in the production of the movie. And the actor who plays Sokka, Jackson Rathbone, is perhaps best known as a background character in Twilight. Clearly, this movie has a high caliber for acting. When we eventually meet Aang, he is also white and played by Noah Ringer. Noah Ringer was cast as the lead role in a $150 million dollar film because he could do martial arts. He landed the lead in a blockbuster movie with zero acting experience. The awful acting is a lot like the Phantom Menace, except nowhere near as funny. Every single character in the movie acts strangely. One noteworthy thing about the show is that it develops every character, giving them realistic traits and flaws that allow us to see them grow as well as giving them lovable personalities. (Except Azula and Fire Lord Ozai. They’re just evil. But they’re really good villains.) In the movie, everyone just says their lines with varying degrees of emotion. (Or lack of it.) Things like character traits or, you know, personality, are completely forgotten about even though we need to see these things on screen. It’s not like they had to write a whole cast of characters from scratch. M. Night Shyamalan was literally given characters with traits, backstories, flaws, conflicts, and motivations-basically everything needed to make a movie. But he failed spectacularly. What’s really sad is that Noah Ringer is apparently really friendly, and played jokes on the cast offscreen. Sounds like a certain beloved character, doesn’t it? If M. Night Shyamalan had just let Noah be himself, we could have had a decent Aang. I mean Ong. Because not only are the character’s appearances and personalities butchered, their names are too. Aang, Sokka, Iroh, and even the word Avatar are all mispronounced. M. Night Shyamalan said that this was to be true to the Asian pronunciations of the name, which could be understood if he hadn’t whitewashed the cast. Not to mention the fact that the lore of the show is completely changed for no reason. This lore is very important in later seasons, but M. Night Shyamalan decides to just change it. After the initial rage over the blatant disrespect to the show, viewers may notice the incredibly rushed pacing. 5 minutes after finding Aang, Katara decides he is her responsibility, despite the fact she doesn’t even know his name. 2 minutes after that, they are best friends and traveling the world together. Then Aang gets captured without a fight and is taken to a camp designed to imprison people who can control rocks. This prison consists of low, naturally occurring walls made of rocks. After an amazing fight scene were six men do an intense dance to move a tiny rock very slowly toward one firebender, the movie, unfortunately, continues. They rush through one of my favorite episodes, the Blue Spirit, and what is a great fight in the show is, again, incredibly lame. Then our group of “heroes” make it to the Northern Water Tribe, and Sokka and the princess “become close friends right away”. Basically, rather than showing these two characters becoming friends, we are told exactly this line this by Katara. After exactly one scene together, which is really just exposition (again) Sokka and the princess fall in love. Then the bad guys attack, with drill helmets, another really dumb battle happens, a fish is made into fish sticks, and the princess, who we have known for literally five minutes, dies in a very moving scene because we all care so much about her. Then Aang makes a giant wave and lets it down gently rather than turning into Koizilla and the movie ends. And just as you are about to sigh in relief because it’s over, we see Azula in a cliffhanger because the creators of this abomination thought it was good and they were going to make a sequel. Then we get the best part of the movie, the end credits. The credits not only mean that the movie is over (thankfully) but the animation they added in isn’t bad. The movie is awful and no one likes it. It’s a bad adaptation and a bad movie. Either it’s the movie version of the Ember Island Players play or “there is no movie in Ba Sing Se.” There’s supposed to be a live action show on Netflix but the creators left and almost no one has any hope for it anymore. Long story short, this movie was doomed because they left out the most important character, the Cabbage Merchant. Although even he and his ill-fated cabbages could not have saved this movie.

#movie #avatar the last airbender #the last airbender #m night shyamalan #movie reviews #bad adaptations #anime

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girllovescomic · 4 years

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Winter Begonia episode 3

This episode opens with the audience waiting on our little divo. Minister Jin asks Boss Niu whether SXR has found a replacement for the violinist. If not, he will make good on his threat. Weasel Dengbao repeats what Minister Jin said to his dad, like the man was not sitting right next to the corrupt politician. The father replies if that is not exactly what he wants, to which Asian Crispin Glover bemoans that he is not that cruel.

Meanwhile, Fan Lian acting like the typical fan wants to know what to know what SXR will be playing. CFT like the good boyfriend he will become says that whatever his bae plays will be excellent. Can I have my own Er Ye?

Our pouty lips divo finally arrives on stage holding a Chinese violin. Everyone is intrigued, wondering if he can actually play the instrument. Daddy weasel Jiang explains that it takes hundred days to learn the dizi, a type of Chinese bamboo flute, a thousand days to learn the xiao (Chinese vertical flute) and ten years to be experienced enough to play the huqin/Chinese violin. I guess all these instruments are used in the opera. This worries Niu Bao Lan who clearly cares for our lil penguin.

But no worries, our boy is a musical genius and he showcases it by playing the violin expertly, much to the dismay of the Jiang pair. Fan Lian is obviously amazed by how talent his idol is, while CFT is all smiles and heart eyes. Like bro, can you be more obvious in your fawning over your crush? He confirms what SXR had told him about being a hero.

Looking at his bae with open admiration. Xirui share the wealth, sis!

Dengbao is clearly not happy that SXR will now be even more popular because of his prowess, but daddy tells him not to fly the white flag just yet. SXR must have a weakness and they will find a way to exploit it.

Indeed, they find a way to manipulate SXR’s self-righteousness and stubbornness by loudly giving away the slush fund to Minister Jin’s secretary.

It is obviously a trap to push the impetuous young man to make a major faux pas. Just as Daddy Jiang predicted, SXR decides to go back to the stage and sing an opera, as a laosheng (an older male role, something he hasn’t done in a while) about a corrupt Ming Dynasty minister who stole money from the empire.

The crowd is clued in of the opera’s implication, including Fan Lian. CFT, the opera novice, meanwhile is unaware of it and even claps thinking it is just a good performance. When Fan Lian explains it to him, he even more impressed at how gutsy his crush is.

Hero gaze activated. Anyone who touches bae will get the beating of his life. I swear his attention perks up whenever someone threatens his lil penguin!

Minister Jin tells his secretary to send some guys after SXR.. Our little divo is no slouch in the martial arts department and is able to escape. His dashing hero is waiting for him in the car and invites him to hop in.

Minister Jin is surprised that SXR was able to slip through his fingers, but decides to not pursue him all the way to the opera house, not wanting to waste time on someone so insignificant. Oh boy, if you only knew who is future boyfriend was! Talking about boyfriend, CFT praises his lil divo’s martial arts skills; of course, SXR boasts that he is skilled in both singing and kung fu, without a hint of humility. CFT asks if his little act was to his satisfaction and of course, Xirui answers in the affirmative. CFT lets him know that his act will have consequences since he drew the ire of a powerful man by exposing his bad deeds and this matter will not be let go. Xirui asks CFT what he should in that case. CFT tells him he cannot do it alone, he will need help and then explains why Minister Jin tried to embezzled the money. Apparently it is not really about the money, but about securing his position in Beiping against the juggernaut that is Commander Cao. Unfortunately this flies over Xirui’s head who is probably looking at Er Ye’s beautiful profile and thinking of a few operas he wants to sing for him. Or how lucky he has found such a sexy daddy. Oh, I wish I was in your place sweetie. CFT promises he will take care of the situation for him and offers food, which he seems to know it’s something his crush understands. Then they gaze into each other’s eyes with Er Ye smiling softly and holy shit, like the gaze actually last more than a second! How this past censorship, I will never know.

Xan Er Ye gaze at me like that too

We see Minister Jin acting like the pompous ass he is, walking down the street with his loot. Someone shoots at his hat, creating a diversion to take said loot, which he realizes too late.

Ohh so that is CFT’s plan, as we see his crew bring back the money. He tells them to send it to the anti-Japanese coalition. This little act sinks Minister Jin who is accused of corruption and loses his fight against Commander Cao without the latter raising a finger.

This obviously does not sit well with weasel Dengbao who complains, like the little bish he is, to his father. Apparently, Xirui found another opera house to perform; it’s a popular house that has hosted many big opera performers (jue’er). His father tells him that they may not have to lift a finger, others will do the heavy lifting for them in dealing with Xirui. He lets him on a secret about the so-called bad blood between Commander Cao and Xirui back when they were in Pingyang.

Weasel Cao decides they need to spill the tea about the situation

The next day, Xirui and his troupe come into the opera house and find Dengbao’s troupe, Longchun Troupe, in their space and the cattiness ensues. I swear, it feels like watching the backstage of a theater or Hollywood, where rival actors get in each others’ faces for some primetime.

Dengbao sneers, telling Xirui the opera house is now his territory. Whatever Asian Mr. World. There’s a staredown which is interrupted by the opera house manager.

SXR demands an explanation for basically reneging on their agreement. The manager tells them he has his reasons for doing so, but if they want to perform they can take the morning spot, which is basically relegating a rising star, like Beyonce, to be the opening act instead of the primetime act, which is a major downgrade.

Not only that, but it will be doing so until another performer, who is currently sick, returns. Best girl Xiao Lai tells SXR to find another spot to perform, offended by the obvious downgrade.

The manager lets them know that other houses will probably turn them down. It turns out that removing Minister Jin in favor of Commander Cao has made his previous encounter with the warlord resurface and no one wants to deal with this hot mess, in fear they will draw the wrath of Beijing’s new boss. SXR looks at Dengbao and I believe he realizes this was his doing.

He discusses the matter with sexy crush while eating a steak like a country girl at a fancy debutante ball. He tells CFT that the gossip is blown out of proportion; he doesn’t really have any feud with the commander. It turns out the commander wanted to keep the troupe as its personal entertainment, which goes against SXR wish of performing on stage. After all, the stage is everything for him. He refused to continue singing, which led the commander to threaten him with a gun. Our little divo showed his backbone, not flinching a tiny bit while feeling the cold barrel pressed against his head. . Xirui tells CFT that all the other things are unfounded gossips, there is nothing more between them. A sidenote, in the novel, SXR was actually Commander Cao’s boy toy, which drew Meixin’s jealousy, forcing SXR to hide in his room to avoid her. He left for the same reason. Like a good boyfriend, CFT shows his understanding of the situation, replying that no one else was there so people ran with the gossip. Xirui sees the people who believes the rumors as brainless, and I have to agree with him on this. Even in modern time, people will believe whatever they want to believe about celebrities without using logic.

Can we take time to see how beautiful Yin Zheng look here?

Sexy CFT agrees and even brings up the fact that if the rumors were true, SXR would have been six feet under. He knows his BIL very well. Unfortunately, this does not change the fact that people will believe the gossip especially if the parties involved do not clarify the situation. CFT offers to remedy the situation by inviting SXR to sing at his son’s first birthday, where the commander will also be in attendance to celebrate his political win. SXR is honored to come sing for the Little Master and would have done so even without the added benefit.

We see two people walking and I smell trouble. The woman seems taken by the environment surrounding her, as if it is the first time she sees such luxury. Her husband is very sweet and soft-spoken and you can tell he is very much caring towards her. They are even holding hands like a pair of teenage lovers. Hmmm...could this provide a parallel between CFT and his wife?

Fan Lian greets them and we find out it’s the rumored couple mentioned in the gossip about SXR when he was still in Pingyang. The woman is Jiang Menping, Xirui’s former senior sister and her husband, Chang Zhixin, is Fan Lian and Er Nainai’s cousin. They have come to Beijing because the cousin works in government. Apparently the mention of Shuiyun is persona non grata around Meiping. She looks a shy and pensive woman, a complete contrast to the childlike and wild SXR.

They come to visit Er Nainai and CZX is taken by Er Nainai’s son, doting on him, which seems to sadden Meiping. Er Nainai, after chatting incessantly about it until she notices Menping’s sad gaze. We learn she has been trying to get pregnant but her body is unhealthy or unable to produce children. CZX showcases how much of a doting husband he is, stating that he actually does not like kids at all, which is a sweet lie. He only wants her, nothing else. Sigh...will I ever find someone like this.

I digress...He adds that since he comes from a large family and had to deal with a lot of crying brats, he has grown to dislike kids. You can tell he is saying this to make her feel good and she knows, but she is grateful and bask in his love. Er Nainai notices the sweet moment and you can tell she wishes that Er Ye was that loving.

She gives Menping a pair of earrings as a wedding gift, which she could not attend. Menping feels the jewelry is too luxurious, which makes me think they are a frugal type couple, despite the high level job he has and his aristocratic background. Er Nainai apologizes for her faux pas earlier, which Menping assures her it is okay. CZX cannot stay a few moments away from his wife, acting all anxious as if she had disappeared. She reminds him that it has only been 30 minutes, but in his mind, it felt like a day. I may get diabetes from all that sweetness. He quickly notices the earrings. He tells Er Nainai that he notices everything about Menping, down to the details like new earrings. Oooh, the look of envy is all over Er Nainai’s face.

Is he for real??

We see Er Nainai trying out new earrings, obviously in the hopes that dashing CFT will notice. Oh sis, your relationship is not the same as your cousin. CFT comes in and thrown himself on the bed, fully clothed. He looks like he had a full day. She helps him out of his jacket and tries to draw his attention to the earrings. Oh sis, i am telling you that you are wasting your time. His heart eyes are not for you. He jokes that she looks chubbier (BRO!) and she pushes him back on the bed. He wants to know what has gotten in her to make her irritated towards him. She pouts and walks back to her dresser, obviously disappointed that he did not notice the minute change.

BRO! The last thing a woman wants to hear!

He’s like, okay fine, I am going to wash up, but by the way, next week is our son’s first birthday, so take care of the preparation, especially since my BIL will be coming for his big celebration. As he walks away, she mutters that she’s no better than a servant and takes off the earrings.

It’s the day of the Little Master’s birthday and Meixin is acting like a good hostess, guiding the servants and being the mistress of the house. Apparently, Er Nainai is still pouting in her room. One of the servants inform her the opera troupe is here and it is obvious that she has no idea who it is. By the way, let me pause again and talk about the fashion. Meixin’s dress and the mink she wears is gorgeous. Good lord the details in this show!!! Ok, so back to the program, she tells the servant to warn the maids not to go near the performers, again highlighting the prejudice carried against the performers, who were lower than even prostitutes. Sigh, hierarchical societies are bleh.

Meixin inquires about Er Nainai and right on cue, we see her, gazing into space, clearly still not over the fact that her husband does not pay full attention to her. Gurl, your marriage cannot be compared to that of your cousin! He married for love, while your husband married you for convenience. Even if you are in love with him, the same cannot be said about him! He still showers you with affection and care, some people cannot even find that!

Ugh, Meixin barges in and they have a little sister chat about the birds and the bees, the difference between men and women when it comes to love. Meixin wonders if she has a fever or something, and Er Nainai explains that she read an opera script (really sis?!) that claims if a woman has never or be loved, is she living in vain and I am sitting here, looking at myself, feeling forever alone...

Sis, way to twist the knife in my wound

Meixin dismiss this nonsense, telling that most opera scripts are fake to fool young girls (that sounds familiar) and that as an housewife, she has obligations to fulfill. Er Nainai insists the stories are real and brings up the real reason why she feels out of sorts.

Meixin is like, the hell girl, why are you bringing this nonsense up? Did my brother offend you or something? Er Nainai says no, but she feels Fengtai is not like other men, which Meixin tells her it’s a good thing.

Every men are not supposed to be the same and Er Nainai acts like she’s a little girl. Meixin explains that some men are verbose with their love, while others carried in their hearts. There are other men who sleeps around (hmmm is this a reference to novel Fengtai?) while others simply do not understand romance.

She thinks Fengtai is of the latter (maybe because he has not found the person to display his love to). Meixin reminds her of the type of man her brother is, someone who is bright and sensible, and she should be happy to have someone like this as a husband, instead of a gruff like Commander Cao. No truer words spoken, sis!

Oh SIS! I hope you never see your husband’s face when he looks at his chubby cheeks bae. You might be too mad to see such obvious display of adoration

Meanwhile Hot daddy CFT struts his stuff into the banquet area of his house, schmoozing to his guests. Mr Hao Lan, who I believe is the head servant of the household, urges him to go outside and wait to greet the Commander. CFT tells him not to fret, the man of the hour will probably fashionably late.

His mind quickly shifts to his bae and he inquires about the troupe. As soon as he finds out there are already in his home, he goes out to check. Oh boy, the man is enamored, completely unaware that his wife is having a heart-to-heart about their relationship.

He hears some of the singers fighting with their troupe leader, irritating Shang Lao Ban so much, he storms out. As soon as Xirui sees CFT, he is all smiles while CFT gives him his soft gaze that shows all the affection he has for our adorable divo. Oh, if Er Nainai had seen this, she would have blown a casket.

If I could find a man who looks at me like Er Ye looks at Xirui

He claims to come and get a look at his bae check the preparations, wondering if it was bad time since he overheard the arguing. Sis, you are here to gaze at your crush

SXR chuckles, dismissing the silly fight. Er Ye tells him that he has hired photographers and reporters to help with dismissing the rumors. The headline, according to him will read “Shang Xirui’s beautiful voice caused Commander Cao to light up and smile”. Geez can I get a hype man like this? SXR is grateful at all the support CFT provided and wonders how he is going to repay him.

Sigh...

Right at this moment, the man of the hour arrives with all the pomp. Lao Han rush CFT to the front door to greet the Commander. CFT reminds SXR that the rest is up to him to either fail or succeed in dispeling the rumors. SXR tells him not to worry and CFT replies with another one of his killer smiles. He runs to the door as Commander Cao steps out of the car. BIL tells him that he saw him running to greet him instead of waiting for him, all in jest.

They clearly have a good relationship. CFT even jest that he doesn’t have another elder sister to give away for marriage when Commander Cao brings out all the gifts. Not to be outdone in the hilarious department, Cao tells him about the gift he brought to his little nephew and I swear I am endeared by the gruff old man when he describes the noise made by the toy train.

Fan Lian is acting like the young master of the house, walking aimlessly towards the kitchen where he finds his cousins helping out. He’s like, what the hell are you guys doing? You are guests, not helpers! He tells them to go change and attend the banquet, hoping CXZ could rub shoulders with Old Cao for his career, but CXZ sounds like an honest politician.

Commander Cao and Fengtai are jesting again, and you really feel their relationship is not based on hierarchy, but one of affection. I think this is the first time I see a Republican Era drama that shows a warlord’s softer side. Is this show for real???? They are discussing the tense relationship between his son, Cao Guixi who is also a top member of the army, and him. Lol, he even calls him a son of a bitch, which makes CFT spit out the hazelnut out of his mouth. Apparently, the son is being ungrateful after his father gave him a golden ticket by sending him abroad, but he is turning out to be rebellious, even hanging out with sketchy people.

Unfortunately for the Commander, since it’s his only heir, he can’t do much to suppress the young master.

Oh, is the young master cause problem later?

Fengtai suggests that Commander impregnates his sister so she can give him another heir (no worries, this is said in jest) and he can shoot the current heir. Fengtai asks why the Commander is so sweet with him (hmm because you are so damn charming, who can resist you?) while so stern with his son. The Commander does not want to talk his son because the latter infuriates him. He then calls Fengtai using a feminized version of his name (Feng’er), which shows the kind of affection they have between each other. Awww...Fengtai playfully acts embarrassed, which only prompts the Commander to yell out the girly nickname. LOL, I cannot!

He then tells the Commander that he has brought Shang Xirui to perform for him, but if this offends him, he will send the troupe back. He informs him of the situation the opera singer has found himself because of their nebulous past, but it seems, based on the Commander’s reaction, to be water under the bridge. The Commander finds the gossip silly since he does not consider the lil divo as a worthy enemy. Relieved, CFT tells him that he will make SXR sing a great piece for him and even apologizes, but the Commander knows the lil divo is a stubborn child who does not bend over for anyone. The Commander requests a popular Shaanxi Opera called Qinqiang (I may actually make a post about the different operas). CFT orders the manager to inform SXR of the request.

SXR is not too happy about the sudden change, since he doesn’t have the right costume and makeup to perform this opera. Oof, any creatives reading this will understand his fretting. We like to be perfect when we deliver our art and any last minute inconvenience can throw a major wrench in our delivery.

Manager Han tells him it was a request from the Commander himself, so basically he has no choice. Despite having a well-know stubborn personality, SXR acquiesces, but he is not happy about it. He knows he has no choice but to please the Commander since his future depends on it Even his troupe member comments at this overbearing commander’s unfair request. SXR asks Xiao Lai if he should perform without all of his accoutrement, which best girl agrees.

He is going to need far more food than the dainty offering from la casa de Cheng.

She goes out to get something heavier, while Manager Han catches up with Meixin to let her know that her hubby is here. She spots Xiao Lai and you know trouble is a-brewing. She asks who that girl is as she looks familiar and learns which opera troupe was invite. Realizing the impending trouble since Er Nainai’s cousins are also attending the banquet, she ask the manager to quickly fix this messy situation.

Ooph, there are so many good moments in this episode, especially with SXR calling out the minister for embezzlement, showing CFT that despite being a dan, he is no damsel. We find out that he has martial art skills, which will probably be handy in later episodes. We also finally get a chance to see the Commander and more family dynamics on CFT sides. His relationship with this BIL is quite interesting and despite the obvious difference in status, they are quite affectionate with each other. I feel like I am watching a more Westernized relationship than a typical Asian one. Additionally, we get to see the much talked about Jiang Menping and her husband. Their relationship is again a very Westernized lovey-dovey relationship, that of love, not one of arranged marriage, which contrast immensely to Fengtai-Er Nainai’s relationship. This makes Er Nainai yearns for such devotion from her husband, which we know she will not get since a lil divo has bursted into the scene and crept up inside CFT’s heart. I feel for her, you can tell she has love for her husband, but she is equally naive when it comes to relationship and how to deal with men in general. She is after all a very conservative woman, who unlike her well-cultured husband, represents the vestiges of a fallen dynasty and society, that is still trying to hang on desperately. I sense trouble brewing between Xirui, the cousins and Commander Cao

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years

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SHOT A GUN??!? LEE OMG, now you have to tell the story cause i'm curious (same goes to ruined a surprise)

From this post, for reference for anyone seeing this who hasn’t scrolled my blog today lol

The ruined a surprise one was pretty tame, and actually has happened more than once. As a kid, I would be told not to tell my mum or another family member about a surprise being done for them for their birthday. But I always wanted to make folks happy, and that was such good news to give them, my tiny brain would tell me. So inevitably I would roll up to the Birthday Person like a week before their party and be like “wouldn’t it be cool if you had [surprise thing X] at your party? Wouldn’t that be the best?” And they would go “Is that thing going to be at my party?” and I would immediately start giggling and give away the surprise lmao. My family still doesn’t tell me surprise stuff in advance now, and tbh, that’s fair. Though I will say, I have halted my ruining of surprises lol.

Put the gun story under a cut for safety’s sake. TW for mentions of abuse mentions of rape, mentions of death, hunting (idk if it’s a trigger for anyone else, but it is for me, so I’m adding it here), and racism.

The gun story is...more lol. My ex-stepdad was a proper Midwestern racist, sexist, homophobic, redneck asshole who loved guns and the flag more than anything else (aside from himself, naturally) and as a part of trying to “bond” with me before he ended up proposing to my mum (after barely six months of dating! And she said yes! But that’s another tale) he tried to teach me and get me to use all the weapons he loved so much.

Now, the bow and arrow I legit did and do still love. I never get to use it now, but I have a bow and my arrows with their hunting tips, and refuse to get rid of them in case I ever get a chance to go to a range again and shoot some of those foam cubes (my fave targets to use.) However, he was not content for me to just use that, and he really wanted to take me hunting.

Few issues with that:

-At the time, I was a middle schooler campaigning against the wars in the Middle East, using what little platform I had as a kid to protest; namely wearing an actual peace sign necklace to school and challenging other kids to debates about the wars. My government and history teachers did enjoy me for that, though I will never forget the government class where they let me go up against the entire class in debate. In one corner, seventh grade me, against the wars and war in general while still respecting that at least some soldiers are people who want to do good and think they can do it by being recruited but also acknowledging that the military targets minorities of all kinds knowing they can be more vulnerable to wanting to help others, and the military can prey on that to recruit people. In the other corner, the literal rest of my class, who were all too happy to pile on me about things not even related to the debate, even the ones who admitted they were on my side of the debate, but chose to instead use this opportunity to yell at me.

-As a result of the above point and other things, I Did Not and Do Not like guns. Not comfortable around them for many reasons, and since that age have believed in gun control.

-Also a result of the above point, was for peace in general and was not a fan of hunting. As I grew, I learned that there are some cases where hunting is actually needed to cull populations so they don’t overrun areas, but seventh grade me didn’t know that, and just wanted all animals to be allowed to live without people like my then-stepdad hunting them. Tbh, they still should be able to live without my ex-stepdad hunting them, because he should not be allowed weapons of any kind.

So needless to say, I didn’t want to even hold any of his guns, let alone shoot one. I managed to actually avoid that bit until after they got married.

Then, he turned into someone completely different from who he had been when they were dating. The full story of how he was abusive and what we went through for five years isn’t something I’ll put here because this is already long, but all of that does play into why I did not want to go hunting with him (in a field, in the middle of NoDak, just me and him, no one else around for miles and no cellphones? Not cool, putting it mildly) and why I did not want to handle his guns.

Unfortunately for me, my mum insisted I wasn’t trying hard enough to help him adjust to having a child, since he had been a single dude, married only once before for about six months, with no kids. He had nieces and a nephew, but otherwise he wasn’t used to kids. Part of my making ‘a better try’ with him was to go hunting, and let him teach me to shoot.

So, we went out hunting a few times. Pheasant, and deer, and that was alright. I wasn’t thrilled to be out there, and I can still smell how his truck was just saturated in the scent of dead animal and I hated and still hate that scent burned into my memory, but I got through it.

It was in the backyard of our house with his makeshift (read: not all right for guns or bows, really shitty) range that it came to a head, and I got to fire a gun for the first time.

I still question why he gave me a pistol. You don’t really use a pistol to hunt deer, you know? And he could never tell us why he had so many extra pistols, since he did have his one for work as an officer at the Penitentiary, and it seems like that one should be enough. By the time we left him, he had two huge gun safes full of pistols and other guns, including weapons that by law no one should be able to purchase, but no one checks in on the two assholes meeting in the Wal-Mart parking lot who have trunks full of weapons they want to sell without getting in legal trouble.

But I digress. He showed me how to hold it, to make sure I’m always pointing down-range, to only point at something I intend to shoot. To always treat the gun as if it was loaded, even if I was 99% sure it wasn’t. I give him that, because that is decent gun safety, and he could have been really terrible and not taught me that.

Once he had me set up in front of a target, he told me to go for it, to expect the recoil (I was chubby, always have been, but I hadn’t started seriously lifting weights at that time, so my arms were really reedy and physically even that pistol’s recoil flung me back some.)

I shot, and I wanted to drop it and run inside. It was loud, and the smell of gun smoke and ammunition is unpleasant. I felt like I’d betrayed something inside myself in that moment. This was what the troops learned how to do, what people who hurt others knew how to do.

But my mum had been really mad at me for not being better to him (in retrospect and after therapy, I was fine, just being a kid in early puberty. My therapist says my mother should have stood up for me. I’m not in a place to assign blame like that yet, and maybe I won’t ever be.) So, I stayed put, and I shot a few more times.

He noticed I had tears in my eyes, and started to complain about “the peaceful pussy shit getting in the way of me being taught something important” and he told me I needed to stop crying right away. I’ve never been able to do that, and I cry all the damn time; if I’m really angry or sad or happy, my body responds with tears that give me migraines that are hard to turn off once started.

He got more angry, and told me I needed to learn how to do this because if I didn’t, what would I do if someone broke in? Would I let them hurt my mother? Rape her? Kill her? If he wasn’t there (and he often wasn’t, due to his job and his hunting trips) it would be up to me to save her, didn’t I care about knowing how to save her?

I argued that I didn’t think a gun was the answer to that situation, that self defense and what weapons are used during it was too much for me to discuss with him.

He started talking about the black family that had moved in down the street, about the friend I had at school who was Muslim, about how diverse (read: not that diverse, this is the mid-fuckin-west that has a long way to go re: diversity) our state was becoming. About all the things he was ‘so sure’ they and their families would do to us, to me, if given the chance. All incorrect and horribly racist things, but he didn’t care, because he was always right, in his mind. And I wasn’t allowed to call him out and say he was wrong, or at least that was what my mother would tell me.

“You like peace, so learn to help me keep it.”

Instead I told him that it wasn’t right to say those things, that no one was going to try and hurt us like that, and that the notion was ridiculous. Shouting, I told him I was more scared of him and what he might do with his guns than what anyone else would do to me.

He went very quiet, took the pistol from me (that I was still pointing at the ground, like he showed me) and told me to go to my room.

He stayed out the rest of the night shooting his various guns, only coming in to switch weapons or get more ammo, refusing to come in for dinner until I had finished mine and was away from the table. He didn’t speak to me for the next week, and as scared as I was of him, it was some small relief that he at least wasn’t yelling at me or asking me things that made me uncomfortable.

In a weird way, I’m glad I’ve shot one before. When I’m debating with people in my area about gun control and other issues, they instantly respect you more if you can say you’ve shot before. Otherwise, they talk over you and don’t want to listen to anything, no matter how nice or calm you say it.

At the same time, I recoil any time I hear anything like gunshots, and I can’t ever imagine using a gun again. Even if I was told I must, I don’t think I could. I’ll hold my bow and arrow, keep the bat I keep in my room at all times to ease my paranoia, but I can’t ever imagine holding a gun again.

#text post #ask box things #my bad that the second story is so long #but I haven't told anyone the whole story aside from my therapist #and this was cathartic #and probably explains some of my paranoia and PTSD to y'all as well lmao #bens-jawline

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awesomelephuoclocblog-blog · 4 years

Text

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https://lephuocloc.com/pixamattic-review/

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bountyofbeads · 4 years

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I Worked for Alex Jones. I Regret It. https://nyti.ms/2PiTeFr

This piece by former InfoWars "video reporter" (?) Josh Owens reveals all the insanity you'd expect but also the pathetic sadness of those who continue to enable, peddle, and profit from his malicious lies.

Confession is good for the soul, but I'm trying to get my head around the fact that the author continued to work for Alex Jones for several YEARS after the latter made his vile claims about Sandy Hook.

Josh Owens was drawn to #InfoWars while "vulnerable, angry & searching for direction"; after 4 years w/Alex Jones, he saw "virulent nature of his world." Read if you can stomach Jones' deeply disturbing behavior. This model has infected right-wing media.

Josh Owens is a seriously good writer. Too bad he didn't make the subject of this piece himself. Why was he angry, why did he stay with Jones so long, how did he feel as he did his work? These unexamined questions are the heart of the story, not how disturbed a plainly disturbed man Jones is.

"Owens admits that his personal mental and emotional issues led him to Jones. We should be glad for him, that he found the strength to recognize it, address it, and walk away from a bad situation. Owens shouldn't be vilified for his past mistakes, but celebrated for his return. Prodigal son, no? But forgiveness does not imply absolution."

"This can't be the end of the road. As he is responsible for a lot of anguish and grief. Is he even an accessory to murder? The pain that he enabled will live on in families for decades and become part of our national fabric. How does he intend to make amends? This written catharsis is a good first step, but it's only a first step. Is he the little girl in the airplane, seeing the world for the first time? What does he intend to do with this revelation, and fix the damage he has done?"

"At 23, Josh Owens quit film school to work as a video editor for Alex Jones. This is his account of the years he spent within the Infowars empire." /1

"At first, he found it easy to brush off Alex Jones’s fever dreams as eccentricities and excesses. But he eventually found that he had his limits." /2

"Once, at a private ranch, Owens said, Alex Jones picked up an AR-15 and accidentally fired it in the writer’s direction. The bullet hit the ground about 10 feet away from him, he recalled. Jones claimed he had intentionally fired the gun as a joke, he said."/3

“Over time, I came to learn that keeping Jones from getting angry was a big part of the job, though it was impossible to predict his outbursts,” he writes."/4

“There was a time when I shared his anger. In fact, I was still angry. But this is where we differed: I wasn’t angry with others; I was angry with myself. And once I realized that, it was easier to walk away”/5

I WORKED FOR ALEX JONES. I REGRET IT.

I dropped out of film school to edit video for the conspiracy theorist because I believed in his worldview. Then I saw what it did to people.

By Josh Owens | Published Dec. 5, 2019 | New York Times Magazine | Posted December 6, 2019 |

On Election Day 2016, I sat in the passenger seat of Alex Jones’s Dodge Hellcat as we swerved through traffic, making our way to a nearby polling place. As Jones punched the gas pedal to the floor, the smell of vodka, like paint thinner, wafted up from the white Dixie cup anchored in the console. My stomach churned as the phone I held streamed live video to Facebook: Jones rambling about voter fraud and rigged elections while I stared at the screen, holding the camera at an angle to hide his double chin. It rarely worked, but I didn’t want to be blamed when he watched the video later.

Four years earlier, Jones — wanting to expand his website, Infowars, into a full-blown guerrilla news operation and hoping to scout new hires from his growing fan base — held an online contest. At 23, I was vulnerable, angry and searching for direction, so I decided to give it a shot. Out of what Infowars said were hundreds of submissions, my video — a half-witted, conspiratorial glance at the creation and function of the Federal Reserve — made it to the final round.

Unconvinced I could cut it as a reporter, Jones offered me a full-time position as a video editor. I quit film school and moved nearly a thousand miles to Austin, Tex., fully invested in propagating his worldview. By the time I found myself seated next to Jones speeding down the highway, I had seen enough of the inner workings of Infowars to know better.

Before we left the office, Jones instructed me to title the video “Alex Jones Denied Right to Vote” when uploading to YouTube. He knew before we left that they wouldn’t let us walk into a polling location with our cameras rolling. I don’t think Jones even intended to vote. Rather, he hoped to turn this into a spectacle, an insult to him personally, another opportunity to play the self-aggrandizing victim.

“Look at this great city shot,” he said pointing out the window at Austin’s skyline. As soon as I pulled the camera off him, he reached for the white Dixie cup. Is this really how I’m going to die? I thought to myself, imagining the scene: Jones veering too close to the guardrail, ranting about George Soros and Hillary Clinton. Sirens echoing in the distance, flashing lights reflecting off oil-soaked pavement as he grabs the camera and utters his final words, “Hillary ... rigged ... the car.” His listeners would have believed it. Years earlier, I would have believed it.

Fortunately, there were no sirens or flashing lights, and I was relieved when “Vote Here” signs began to appear. A line stretched out the door of the polling place, in a local strip mall, by the time we arrived. As I expected, Jones was told multiple times that he couldn’t film at a polling place, and he decided to leave. Walking back to the car, still taking sips from his white cup, he began noticeably slurring his words. A friend of Jones’s who tagged along — for “security purposes” — offered to give me a ride back to the office. Jones revved his engine, tires squealing as he sped out of the parking lot.

I began listening to Jones’s radio show — the flagship program of what is now a conspiracist media empire with an audience that until recently surpassed a million people — in the last days of George W. Bush’s presidency. The American public had been sold a war through outright fabrications; the economy was in free fall thanks to Wall Street greed and the failure of Washington regulators. Most of the mainstream media was caught flat-footed by these developments, but Jones seemed to have an explanation for everything. He railed against government corruption and secrecy, the militarization of police. He confronted those in power, traipsed through the California redwoods to expose the secretive all-male meeting of elites at Bohemian Grove and even appeared in two Richard Linklater films as himself, screaming into a megaphone.

But it wasn’t the politics that initially drew me in. Jones had a way of imbuing the world with mystery, adding a layer of cinematic verisimilitude that caught my attention. Suddenly, I was no longer a bored kid attending an overpriced art school. I was Fox Mulder combing through the X-Files, Rod Serling opening a door to the Twilight Zone, even Rosemary Woodhouse convinced that the neighbors were members of a ritualistic cult. I believed that the world was strategically run by a shadowy, organized cabal, and that Jones was a hero for exposing it.

I had my limits. I can’t say I ever believed his avowed theory that Sandy Hook was a staged event to push for gun control; to Jones, everything was a “false flag.” I didn’t believe that Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama smelled like sulfur because of their proximity to hell or that Planned Parenthood was run by “Nazi baby killers.” But it was easy to brush off these fever dreams as eccentricities and excesses — not the heart of the Alex Jones operation but mere diversions.

Once I started working there, however, it became obvious that one was impossible to separate one from the other. Soon after I was hired, Jones’s Infowars-branded store — which sells emergency-survival foods, water filters, body armor and much more — introduced an iodine supplement, initially marketed as a “shield” against nuclear fallout. Still learning the ropes, I was tasked with creating video advertisements for the supplement, which he ran on his online TV show. One of these ads started with a shot of the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant as it exploded. I doubled the sound of the explosion, adding a glitch filter and sirens in the background for dramatic effect. Jones stood over my shoulder as I edited. “This is great,” he said. “See if you can find flyover footage of Chernobyl as well.”

Shortly after Jones began selling the supplements, someone posted a video on YouTube holding a Geiger counter displaying high radiation readings on a beach in Half Moon Bay, Calif. The video went viral, stoking fears that radiation from Fukushima was drifting across the Pacific Ocean. Jones saw an opportunity and sent me, along with a reporter, a writer and another cameraman, to California. We had multiple Geiger counters shipped overnight, unaware of how to read or work them, and drove up the West Coast, frequently stopping to check radiation levels. Other than a small spike in Half Moon Bay — which the California Department of Public Health said was from naturally occurring radioactive materials, not Fukushima — we found nothing.

Jones was furious. We started getting calls from the radio-show producers in the office, warning us to stop posting videos to YouTube stating we weren’t finding elevated levels of radiation. We couldn’t just stop, though; Jones demanded constant real-time content. On some of these calls, I could hear Jones screaming in the background. One of the producers told me they had never seen him so angry.

We scrambled to find something, anything we could report on. We tested freshly caught crab from a dock in Crescent City, Calif., and traveled to the Diablo Canyon nuclear plant in Avila Beach, asking fishermen if we could test the small croakers they caught off a nearby pier. We even tried to locate a small nuclear-waste facility just so we could capture the Geiger counter displaying a high number. But we couldn’t find what Jones wanted, and after two weeks of traveling from San Diego to Portland, we flew back to Texas as failures, bracing for Jones’s rage. (Jones did not respond to detailed queries sent before publication by The Times Magazine.)

Over time, I came to learn that keeping Jones from getting angry was a big part of the job, though it was impossible to predict his outbursts. Stories abounded among my co-workers: The blinds stuck, so he ripped them off the wall. A water cooler had mold in it, so he grabbed a large knife, stabbed the plastic base wildly and smashed it on the ground. Headlines weren’t strong enough; the news wasn’t being covered the way he wanted; reporters didn’t know how to dress properly. Once a co-worker stopped by the office with a pet fish he was taking home to his niece. It swam in circles in a small, transparent bag. When Jones saw the bag balanced upright on a desk in the conference room, he emptied it into a garbage can. On one occasion, he threatened to send out a memo banning laughter in the office. “We’re in a war,” he said, and he wanted people to act accordingly.

I also saw Jones give an employee the Rolex off his own wrist, simply because he thought the employee was mad at him. “Now, would a bad guy do that?” Jones asked as he handed over the watch. Once, when I went to interview a frequent guest of Jones’s, I was sent with a check to cover a potentially lifesaving cancer treatment. A few times I came close to quitting, and like clockwork, just before I pulled the plug, I received a bonus or significant raise. I hadn’t discussed my discontent with Jones, but he seemed to sense it.

Jones often told his employees that working for him would leave a black mark on our records. To him, it was the price that must be paid for boldly confronting those in power — what he called the New World Order or, later, the deep state. Once my beliefs began to shift, I saw the virulent nature of his world, the emptiness and loathing in many of those impassioned claims. But I was certain that after four years working for Jones, I would never be able to get another job — banished into poverty as penance for my transgressions, and rightly so.

When Jones wanted to blow off steam, we would travel to a private ranch outside Austin to shoot guns. Among other firearms, we would bring the two Barrett .50-caliber rifles he kept stashed in the office. Because we never missed an opportunity to create more content, we also brought along cameras to turn whatever happened into a segment for his show.

I remember one trip in particular. It was the summer of 2014, and I rode to the ranch in the back of a co-worker’s truck, surrounded by semiautomatic rifles, boxes of ammunition and Tannerite, an explosive rifle target. A few of us left early in the morning, arriving before Jones to film B-roll and load magazines; he had no patience for preparation. When he came hours later, after eating a few handfuls of jalapeño chips, he picked up an AR-15 and accidentally fired it in my direction.

The bullet hit the ground about 10 feet away from me. One employee, who was already uncomfortable around firearms, lost it, accusing Jones of being careless and flippant. This was one of the few times I saw someone call Jones out and the only time he didn’t get angry in response. He claimed he had intentionally fired the gun as a joke — as if this were any better.

I stood by silently, considering what might have happened if the gun had been pointed a little to the right. After a while the upset employee let it go, and no one brought it up again. We cracked open a few more beers, filled an old television with Tannerite and blew it up.

One weekend, a few people from the office went hunting at a game reserve. On the following Monday, I was handed a hard drive full of video files and told to edit them for Jones to air on his show later in the week. “There are clips in here that are pretty bad, things we don’t want to get out, so let me take a look at this before we upload it,” one of my managers said.

The first video I clicked on came from a cellphone. The camera pans across a blood-covered floor in what looked like a garage. Dead animals were scattered about: eyes lifeless, tongues hanging from their mouths, crimson streaks splashed on their fur.

In another video, a bison grazed quietly in the shade of a large tree; it reminded me of a tableau at the American Museum of Natural History. Then the camera panned over to Jones, maybe 20 yards away, holding what looked like a handgun. Jones began firing at the bison, tufts of hair flying with every hit. The animal remained standing as Jones shot round after round. Finally, the hunting guide yelled at Jones to stop and handed him a high-caliber rifle. Jones took a moment to make sure the cameras were still recording and fired a few more rounds as the animal finally collapsed.

I shared a large room with three other employees, and Jones often walked into our office after he wrapped for the day. His first question was always “How was the show?” If anyone said it was great — someone, if not everyone, always said it was great — his response was the same. “Really?” he would say, moving over to their side of the room. “Did you really think it was great? What did you like about it?”

Working for Jones was a balancing act. You had to determine where he was emotionally and match his tone quickly. If he was angry, then you had better get angry. If he was joking around, then you could relax, sort of, always looking out of the corner of your eye for his mood to turn at any moment.

Late one night, after an extended live broadcast, Jones walked into my office shirtless. This was normal; he removed his shirt frequently around us. He pulled out a bottle of Grey Goose from a storage cabinet and filled his cup. He stumbled into his private restroom, changed into a clean black polo shirt and stepped back into our office. “Hit me,” he said to an employee in the room. When the employee refused, Jones got louder, his face redder. “Hit me!” He kept saying it, getting closer each time. Finally, knowing Jones would never relent, the employee gave him a weak tap on the shoulder.

“Oh, come on,” he said, “hit me harder!”

The employee punched him hard in the shoulder. Jones grunted on impact, seeming to enjoy the pain. Then, it was his turn. Smirking, he planted his feet, reared back and lunged his body weight forward as his fist connected with the man’s arm. I could hear the dull thud of impact, then a wincing sigh. They traded a few more punches, each time seeming less playful. Jones became wild-eyed, spit flying from his clenched teeth as he exhaled. On his last hit, the sound was different. Wet. I thought I could hear the meat split open in the employee’s arm. Jones roared as he punched a cabinet, denting the door in. A few weeks later, I heard that Jones had broken a video editor’s ribs after playing the same game in a downtown bar.

Having aligned himself with Donald Trump during the 2016 presidential race, Jones might now be considered a version of a conservative, but his perspective is much more complicated than that. Infowars was like a lot of digital-media outlets, in that we reported on the things our top editor thought would go viral. But because our boss was Alex Jones, this was a peculiar process. Assignments were often handed down live on the air during his show. We were to have it playing throughout the office, always listening for directives. Ideas for stories mostly came from what other news outlets reported. Jones wanted us to “hijack” the mainstream media’s coverage and use it to our advantage. If it fit into the Infowars narrative, it played.

When I wasn’t at the office, I spent much of my time traveling for Jones. I inhaled the tear gas in Ferguson, Mo., during the Black Lives Matter protests, retching as I hid with protesters, corralled by cops in riot gear. I stood next to armed cowboys and ranch hands as they faced off against the Bureau of Land Management to retrieve Cliven Bundy’s cattle in Nevada. I had dinner with the leader of the Nation of Islam, Louis Farrakhan, at his home in Phoenix and spent a weekend at the compound of Jim Bakker, the televangelist who spent time in prison for fraud. Jones’s instinctual desire to distance himself from the mainstream led us to unusual and sometimes dark places.

In December 2015, the day before Jones interviewed Donald Trump, still a candidate at the time, on his radio show, I made my way to upstate New York on assignment, along with a reporter and second cameraman. We were sent to visit Muslim-majority communities throughout the United States to investigate what Jones instructed us to call “the American Caliphate.” After the California Geiger-counter debacle, we had meetings with Jones before trips in order to ascertain exactly what he wanted. If we “hit some home runs,” he said, we would get significant bonuses.

We landed in Newark at 12:30 p.m. on Dec. 1, 2015. The first stop was Islamberg, a Muslim community three hours north of Manhattan. It was founded in the 1980s by mostly African-American followers of a Pakistani cleric named Mubarik Ali Shah Gilani, who encouraged devotees of his conservative brand of Sufi Islam to establish small settlements across the rural United States. Gilani was suspected of association with the organization Jamaat ul-Fuqra, which was briefly designated as a terrorist group by the State Department in the 1990s; Gilani has denied any connection to the group. His followers in Islamberg had no record of violence, and some of them had denounced the Islamic State in an interview with Reuters earlier that year, saying they didn’t believe Islamic State members to be real Muslims. But unfounded rumors circulated around far-right corners of the internet that this community was a potential terrorist-training center. Jones, who thought the media consistently ingratiated themselves with Islamic extremists, believed them.

We pulled in, unannounced, to a dirt drive leading to the community, stopping at a flimsy cattle gate guarded by two men. The reporter, wearing a hidden camera, approached the entrance as we filmed the interaction from the vehicle. The men were calm and polite, if a little suspicious — reasonable given the circumstances. They denied our entry into Islamberg but took our number and told us we could return after they verified who we were.

It was only later, after listening to the audio from the reporter’s hidden camera, that I heard what he told the two men guarding the gate. “Basically, what we do is, we go around, and we do videos debunking claims of stuff,” the reporter said. “The word is, people say this is some kind of training camp, so we wanted to come in and get some footage and kind of put that whole rumor to rest.”

He gave them his real name — a name that, with a quick Google search, would lead back to Infowars, with its headlines like “Inside Sources: Bin Laden’s Corpse Has Been on Ice for Nearly a Decade,” “Special Report: Why Obama Brought Ebola to U.S. Exposed” and “VIDEO: ‘Demon’ Caught on Camera During Obama Visit?” Those headlines could be described by many words, but none of them would be “debunking.”

Because of the conspiracy theories about the place, Islamberg was a constant target of right-wing extremists. That April, a Tennessee man was arrested and later convicted of plotting to raise a militia to burn Islamberg’s mosque to the ground. Only days before we arrived, the F.B.I. issued an alert to law enforcement to be on the lookout for a man named Jon Ritzheimer, the leader of an anti-Muslim movement in Arizona who posted a video threatening violence against Muslims less than two weeks earlier. In the video, he brandished a handgun, saying: “I’m urging all Americans across the U.S. everywhere in public, start carrying a slung rifle with you, everywhere. Don’t be a victim in your own country.”

So the phone call we received later that night from a law-enforcement agent shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The officer who contacted us said he simply wanted to verify who we were after receiving a concerned call from someone in Islamberg. We told Jones about it, and he chose to believe the call was a veiled threat, an attempt to intimidate us into silence. To him, this verified that we were onto something. He even went so far as to include Michael Bloomberg, the former mayor of New York City, in the purported conspiracy, claiming he wanted to abolish the Second Amendment — and that somehow intimidating us would achieve that.

Jones told us to file a story that accused the police of harassment, lending credence to the theory that this community contained dangerous, potential terrorists. I knew this wasn’t the case according to the information we had. We all did. Days before, we spoke to the sheriff and the mayor of Deposit, N.Y., a nearby municipality. They both told us the people in Islamberg were kind, generous neighbors who welcomed the surrounding community into their homes, even celebrating holidays together.

The information did not meet our expectations, so we made it up, preying on the vulnerable and feeding the prejudices and fears of Jones’s audience. We ignored certain facts, fabricated others and took situations out of context to fit our narrative, posting headlines like:

Drone Investigates Islamic Training Center

Shariah Law Zones Confirmed in America

Infowars Reporters Stalked by Terrorism Task Force

Report: Obama’s Terror Cells in the U.S.

The Rumors Are True: Shariah Law Is Here!

Our next stop was Hamtramck, a Muslim-majority city embedded within Detroit that alarmists in neighboring communities called Shariahville. As we headed west, my phone vibrated, and a news alert appeared on the screen. There were reports that a mass shooting that week in San Bernardino, Calif., had been perpetrated by Islamic extremists, making it at the time the deadliest Islamic attack in the United States since Sept. 11.

I knew that when the details emerged, they would substantiate the lies we pushed to Jones’s audience. It didn’t matter if the attack took place on the other side of the country or if the people in Islamberg had no connection to the perpetrators in San Bernardino. Jones’s listeners would draw imaginary lines between the two, and we were helping them do it.

I quit working for Jones on April 7, 2017. When offered another job, an introductory position with a 75 percent pay cut, I jumped at the opportunity. Instead of giving two weeks’ notice, I left in three hours. Jones had gone home for the day, so I didn’t speak with him in person. I said goodbye to co-workers and managers, handed over my company credit card and hoped that would be the end of it. Two nights later, I received a call from Jones: “Let me tell you a little secret,” he said in his gravelly voice. “I don’t like it anymore, either.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I don’t want to do it anymore,” he said, “and I got all these people working for me, and you know, then I feel guilty. I don’t want to do it. You think I want to keep doing this? I haven’t wanted to do this for five years, man.” I sensed that he was pandering, but I couldn’t help thinking that for the first time since I started this job, Jones and I finally had something in common. Sure, there was a time when I shared his anger. In fact, I was still angry. But this is where we differed: I wasn’t angry with others; I was angry with myself. And once I realized that, it was easier to walk away. When I left, I tried to put myself in his shoes, to figure out why he said and did the things he did. At times I saw a different side to Jones, one that was vulnerable, desiring validation and acceptance. Then he would say something so vile and callous it became impossible to look past it.

Even though I was no longer beholden to Jones for financial security, I couldn’t be honest about how I felt. I was to blame for my actions, unequivocally, and yet I resented Jones for creating an environment of rage, fear and confusion that diminished discernment, increased self-doubt and left me feeling as if my brain had short-circuited. I wanted to say these things to Jones, but I didn’t.

He offered to double my pay, suggested I work remotely and even proposed funding a feature-length film of my own. I said it wasn’t about money and turned him down. To this day, I still don’t know why he wanted to keep me around. He said it was because he cared about me, but if I had to guess, I would say his main concern was losing control.

The next morning, he called numerous times, and then again that evening. I let the calls go to voice mail.

There wasn’t a single moment that persuaded me to leave, but there was a turning point: a moment that stuck with me long after it happened. I thought of it as I sat next to Jones speeding recklessly down the highway on Election Day, when I walked out of the office for the last time and when I decided to sit down and write this article.

It was early morning, and we were headed back to Austin after the trip that began in Islamberg. As we boarded our flight, I took my window seat close to the rear of the plane. An older woman wearing a hijab sat next to me. With her was a young girl, giddy with excitement, who bounced in the middle seat, holding a bag of pretzels. The woman leaned over and asked if I would let the girl sit by the window. “This is her first time on a plane,” she said. I agreed and moved my bag from under the seat.

I thought of the children who lived in Islamberg: how afraid their families must have felt when their communities were threatened and strangers appeared asking questions; how we chose to look past these people as individuals and impose on them more of the same unfair suspicions they already had to endure. And for what? Clickbait headlines, YouTube views?

As I sat on the aisle, the plane now lifting up into the pale blue sky, I glanced over at the little girl staring out the window in wonder, her face glowing from the light reflecting off the clouds. She was amazed, joyful, innocent, carefree and completely unaware of the world beneath her.

Josh Owens is a writer living in Texas. This is his first article for the magazine.

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arcticdementor · 5 years

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Ok, I'll do my best to try, because reading some of the galaxy brained takes about China and the Chinese government have cemented in my head the agonizing fact that most people prefer simple narratives and have little understanding of history, let alone an understanding of how history affects the present.

This will be long and requires some groundwork on explaining the modern Chinese mindset as a whole. Disclaimer: I am currently in Hong Kong, I hold British citizenship by birth and frequently do business with Chinese companies.

1) Big China and Collective Society.

This is something most people really don't grasp the scale of. To assign shared characteristics to fully one quarter of the human race would be broad enough to make those descriptors basically meaningless. Dividing sections of China along any non-geographical lines, economic lines, socio-political lines, this is all incredibly difficult. Despite a massively homogenous Han Chinese population, just looking at Chinese food culture would tell you just how freakishly diverse and different each section is. There are different dialects, accents, lifestyles all across China. When people say "China" it is often completely unhelpful when it comes to pinning down what they mean. For the sake of this discussion, we're assuming that we're talking about the type of Chinese person that the central government has taken pains to portray to the world. Which is, the middle class, consumerist, worldly and tech-savvy Han Chinese. Native of a Tier 1 city (e.g. Shanghai or Beijing).

Most Chinese people are aware of just how big the country is and how difficult a task it is keeping it all together, on a scale I've seen very few people outside of China appreciate. There is a real ethos of "tianxia", or the concept depicted in the Jet Li movie Hero (criticized for being state propaganda at the time, it was largely missed that most Chinese understand, if not support, this thesis). Chinese see themselves as sharing in a common destiny and collective group ethos. This can be traced back to Confucianism - a young person can have said to have "come of age" when they have fully adapted to and understood their role within a harmonious society. This both gives the common Chinese a shared purpose and skin in the game. They literally feel a stake in the collective power and status of their own country. This is not the flag-waving nationalism that the western nations consider passe, but a belief that China must hold together as a shared country and people.

…

Chinese pride is young, and very damaged. There is a sense of grievance and hurt pride that has never been resolved, and this is occasionally glimpsed in everything from their foreign policy to their mass market serialized literature. The reasons behind this can be traced back to a century of colonialism and rampant opportunism by the world powers during the 19th and 20th centuries. Chinese histories and memories are very long, and despite happening a few centuries ago this is very fresh in people's minds. An old joke about China's view of history has the Chinese waiting to see if the French Revolution is still a good idea. China has never forgotten that despite a massive population and huge amounts of territory it fell from being one of the world's oldest civilizations to becoming the "weak man of Asia", and their modern politics has mostly been about resolving this pride. There is a shared belief, or a hidden form of mass psychosis, that China has been denied its destiny as the foremost world power, either through treachery, the work of foreign powers, or other means. Even worse is the proof that the old rival Japan, a similarly impoverished nation, had managed to drag itself onto the stage of the world powers in the late 19th/early 20th century. This has caused some real complexes in the Chinese psyche.

Adding to this is the understanding of recent history. Coupled with historical understanding that ruling China is an incredibly difficult job and only people like the legendary Emperor Qin were able to unify the country in the first place, China collectively remembers the much more recent history of the Communist revolution, the Great Famine, the Cultural Revolution, and more. The fact that China's current financial power and global status is largely a result of Deng Xiaoping's market reforms and liberalism is besides the point - the defining thing that most Chinese in the older generation take away is that revolution led to some truly fucking heinous shit and a death toll enacted on its population greater than any ever seen in the history of mankind, and as a result they have no taste for another revolution. The government stays in power largely because the older generation are aware of just how much death is involved with a changing of the guard. There is also no promise that whatever comes to replace the government will be in any way better than what came before it. Sure, the kuomintang government were corrupt as sin, but was that really preferable to having everyone starve because nobody knew how to farm land for years?

…

It is no surprise that the most radical nationalist pro-Chinese are the young students sent overseas to study in western universities. The Chinese attitude towards these western academies is not great; they attend for credentials and status, but these places of study have become cultural battlegrounds and ground zero for showing Chinese students that the Western societies and arguments are fractured and impotent. Students are given courses and humanities curriculum that demonize western civilization and its achievements, and emphasize the breaking down of existing power structures. Of course this would lead to nationalist students violently attacking pro-Hong Kong protesters and demonstrations, as both sides consider each other indoctrinated suckers (and one sees the other as trying to destroy the power structure of the country). An attack on China and Chinese identity is both a dangerous attack on national and societal cohesion and stinging Chinese pride. They have been handed something that can be easily interpreted as an attempt by foreign powers to fracture the unity of Chinese society, cause chaos in their country, and stop China from achieving its destiny of world #1 power and subjugator of other nations.

…

Many people have asked me why Chinese people put up with their government being totalitarian, so many human rights abuses, this and that. Social credit system, organ harvesting. No end of horrible things we hear about Chinese government. The corruption. The dark things the CCP has done to consolidate its power. Tiananmen.

Well, the unfortunate answer is that China, as a collectivized group, wants to fuck over people who looked down on them, even if it means causing itself grievous injuries in the process. It's painful to admit, but the regular Chinese is perfectly okay with the Uighur death camps, even if the government goes to some length to pretend they don't exist. After all, surely they must be doing something to destabilize and weaken Chinese society if the government is putting them in death camps. Don't you know Uighurs can be unpredictable, barbaric, and violent? And if Chinese society is destabilized and weak, the Chinese people won't achieve our common destiny of being the #1 world power.

Chinese people don't care that there is anti-Chinese sentiment internationally. In fact, it even helps. It plays into the narrative that people hate China now because China is strong.

Privately, Chinese people will celebrate the NBA and Blizzard backing down in fear, because they equate this with power and respect. It is perfectly natural for the NBA to apologize for offending the Chinese government, because this is a display of strength. How will you be able to tell that you are stronger than someone, if they are not underneath your boot heel?

…

China has gone from largely a nation of rice farmers to modern state with terrifying speed. They are now the world leader in 5G communications technology, technological integration into daily life, the world's biggest consumer market. By every single metric, logistics, travel, entertainment, living standards, Chinese life has gotten better. And they are completely aware of this. Twenty years. Thirty years?

…

So there is an unspoken pact between the government and the people. In exchange for getting rich, the people have willingly given up their freedoms. Because you can't eat freedom. Many of the social problems in China are rooted in this short-term manner of business thinking; tomorrow, there may be trouble. Maybe the country would be in trouble. I'll never see this customer or client again. Why bother maintaining anything? If I can get a benefit out of cheating, why wouldn't I do it?

Chinese, especially the older generation, understand existential failure on a level the western nations don't. They don't take anything for granted, including the attitude of the government (and this has in fact driven a lot of asset flow out of China into other nations). They remember the Cultural Revolution, the societal madness that took hold when roving gangs of diehard Communists went around lynching people who wore glasses or owned books. They understand that the possibility of that shit happening again, or coming for them, is non-zero. So the attitude is to use every trick in the book to make sure that they come out on top.

…

There is a recurring belief from Americans that most Chinese are brainwashed by their authoritarian government, and if they only understood democracy, knew about the atrocities of the CCP, or were exposed to the taste of an All-American cheeseburger, there would be a great awakening and China would truly "become free". While certain elements of brainwashing and information control are most certainly true, there is a certain level of arrogance in this method of thinking.

For one, this viewpoint has completely ignored the possibility that China already knows exactly how cheeseburgers taste, all about the atrocities of its own government, and about democracy.

…

China's political and social state project has openly stated its intent to utilize and take advantage of what worked before, while adapting it to fit their own situation. Throwing away what doesn't work, surgically excising elements they consider dangerous or don't like. 'Socialism with Chinese characteristics'. 'China Dream'. These are adapted policies, methods, and ideals, refocused through the lens of the Party. Yes, they are stealing. They are also adapting.

Any good propagandist will tell you that the ideological battle is the first battle that must be won, and on this note America has failed utterly at defending democracy and personal freedom. This is not by Chinese design; rather, a combination of factors including financial inequality, changing demographics, chaotic governance, political point-scoring and media clickbait have done their best to demonstrate that American government is both unstable and spectacularly inept, and no longer believes in the values set down in the Declaration of Independence. America has considered the argument for democracy so thoroughly won that it has forgotten to defend it, or even the value of it. Into this void steps the Chinese government.

…

It is impossible not to watch. The US is the world's only really global power, and the current measuring stick by which all global powers are compared against. China wants what the US has, but is going to attempt to do so without the mistakes the Americans have made. After all, American empire is ending, or so everyone says. The bars are equalizing. America was a leader in space travel, so China will become a leader in space travel. America was a leader in world culture and entertainment, so China will become a leader in world culture and entertainment. America has a strong military, so China will have a strong military.

…

To leave with one last note, in the online kerfluffle surrounding Hong Kong's current situation, Chinese netizens think it's fair play to "support 9-11" and advocate for California seceding from the United States, as payback for a mistaken belief that the fight in Hong Kong is over independence. When confronted with the fact that edgy teenagers in America have been making 9-11 jokes barely a week after the tragedy and a non-zero amount of non-Californians in the US would also prefer it if California sunk into the ocean, they are legitimately surprised. The idea that this kind of independence would be preferred by both parties is almost completely alien to the Chinese, who wonder and are surprised at the fact that Americans apparently wish their country to be weaker.

#reddit #the motte #read the whole thing

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sparda3g · 5 years

Text

Kimetsu no Yaiba Chapter 170 Review

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Despite the absence of the manga, the anime has been stellar; keeping the manga fans hyped. The world has witness an incredible performance of that one particular episode. It’s a popular opinion to think how amazing it was, but for me, all I’m thinking is, “Wait until you’ll see this part.” Which part? Everything, and this chapter is no exception. The hype is strong and it will continue to grow.

The chapter’s cover shows the fans the progress from elsewhere. The good news is, Inosuke and Kanao are reuniting with Zenitsu. More good news is, Zenitsu is back up and running. Actually, that’s a lie; he’s being carried over. It’s not him without someone else babysitting him. Aside from that, it’s great to know everyone is slowly reuniting; hyping up the major battle. It’s possible for them to collide with Upper Moons, so we’ll see where this direction takes us.

For the first two pages, it goes over a grueling sequence of Tokito freeing himself. No dialogues; all display of agonizing pain. I cringed and felt the pain. His expressions are believable enough to know that is something no one wants to go through. I like the fact the sequence takes its time, rather than simply removing it like a leaf. Call it waste of time for those who wants content, but this is worth deciphering a character’s struggle.

As painful it was to watch, it’s also painful to learn that he’s on a death clock. Because of the blood loss, he won’t able to stand long enough to see the next day. Unless he becomes a demon or someone donate blood immediately, this could be his last fight. In short, his death flag is raised. I hope it’s only done for fear factor and not pull the trigger to write him off. It increased the tension, no doubt, I would want them to receive no death policy. Okay, not really, but I care too much.

Aside from fearing the worst, there’s an interesting setup for an interesting team inbound. With Tokito free at last, it’s time for Genya to get back up. He wants to consume Kokushibou’s hair, so he can recover. To think, a simple hair cut can lead to something. That’s a cool small detail. I could be wrong, but maybe he can gain a power boost. Whether he does or not, I’ll be happy enough to see him fight and bonus, alongside with his brother. I appreciate the sight of the two with the same resolve. It’s almost like fate. Both have similar developments, let alone in the same arc, so it’s a neat detail to see them match together.

After a long break, the hype resume with Himejima versus Kokushibou, but not without a very interesting detail on the Marks. Although the Mark could have been described as a super form of the series, there’s a drawback and a fatal one at that. Those who possesses the Mark, the Marked ones in short, will die before reaching the age of 25. That’s a heavy price. The worst part is, anyone can obtain it, not limited to the protagonist. Speaking of which, this is an alarming sign for Tanjiro. I don’t know if the series will go on longer, but this could serve as a time bomb if not trend carefully. It makes me wonder the reason behind this detail. One thing is certain, this gives Himejima a major death flag.

Although the Pillars could improve their Markings, it will only shorten their lifespan. In other words, there’s no way to remove the cursed fate. For Himejima though, the fact he’s using it at age 27 (I believe) is a guaranteed death; most likely at night. Good God. This battle is filled with Pillars and their death flags. Gotouge is trying to give fans a heart attack. The only escape is becoming a demon. Pour that blood on me. Regardless of the consequence, this doesn’t faze Himejima at all.

I love the pride and commitment he has as a Pillar. Kokushibou thought the sacrifice would discourage him, but he treats every day as his last, and understandably so. His logic is rather encouraging and inspiring. If a man knows being a Pillar can result your early demise, who would take the task half-hearted. Everyone signs their will, and whatever happens, happens. For Himejima, that’s what the pride of a human being is about, and a massive insult for those who belittles them. I remember a long time ago, I was skeptical of his character with his constant crying. Now, he’s a badass and has a very strong willed to do whatever it takes.

The action hasn’t resume and already I’m feeling tensed just by their words exchange. The last intriguing point is about the “exception.” The Mark is already explained to be consequential; however, there was an exception that not only lived past 25, but is still alive. This actually shook Kokushibou; proving Himejima was right. I honestly don’t know what he means by that. Is it someone we know? Was he referring to himself or Kokushibou? I don’t understand why would he be shocked though if he is already aware of himself. I feel like we need a better context to understand the meaning behind that line. If it’s the case of someone we don’t know, this could be huge. Either way, I’m really curious about this possible revelation. But first, the badass action returns.

It’s as tensed as ever. You are energized from their conversation and the action keeps you on hook with tensed sequences. I like how it even started. Kokushibou was the first to engage because he was frustrated by Himejima’s remarks. That’s how you one-up a demon; words that are harmful as cuts. As that wasn’t gripping enough, Sanemi stitches up his wounds, which is probably something he does every day, now ready to go back. But the hype build doesn’t stop there. He then activate the Mark. Pretty cool that his Mark is a fan; a simple yet effective design of Wind Pillar. By this point, I’m just fired up.

The action is slick with evasive maneuvers and teamwork. At one point, Himejima tries to sneak attack with the Ball coming towards behind him while Sanemi aims for a low attack. It was clever, but good God almighty, he is still clean with a small trim. How is this possible? The day he gets a scratch will be a New Year celebration. Maybe if he gets hurt, he will change side with Pillars and bring along a legion of his demons. Anyway, the cliffhanger is all kinds of hype. We saw a glimpse of teamwork; the last panel reassured that there will be more to come. That put a smile on my face.

This was a very intriguing chapter with a slice of tensed action. The lore behind the Mark was very interesting, though alarming for those who has it, especially Tanjiro. Himejima was a badass. The line about “exception” was confusing, but hopefully, we will learn what he really meant soon. The action was tensed with clean artwork, and Sanemi joining in added diversity. Not to mention, we have Tokito and Genya preparing for their return, which could lead to 4-on-1. For now, we have 2-on-1 to get hype over, and that’s good enough for me.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #chapter 170 #review #spoilers

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dragonprincefan · 6 years

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It’s one week until The Dragon Prince will be available for everyone on Netflix.

Haven’t heard of it yet? You’re in for a treat.

The Dragon Prince is a new animated series created by Aaron Ehasz (Avatar: The Last Airbender) and Justin Richmond (Uncharted) as the debut creation of their new story and play studio, Wonderstorm Inc. Adding to that prestigious team, we have Giancarlo Volpe (Avatar: The Last Airbender, Star vs. The Forces of Evil, Green Lantern: The Animated Series) as the Executive Producer for the animated series, and his experience in telling nuanced stories with complex characters is already shining through in the three episode preview.

Don’t worry. No spoilers here.

Let’s start out with the trailer if you haven’t already seen it.

youtube

I’ve seen a few people worried about the animation style, but having seen it in action, I can safely say there’s not much to worry about. An article over at Polygon did a good commentary on it, but it bears repeating. While there are a couple of moments where small details can seem a bit stuttering, they really are small moments (flags flapping in the wind in a wide shot, or a nod here and there) and easily overlooked or a matter of stylistic choice. The action, and there is so much action, flows smoothly and keeps you on the edge of your seat watching the interplay. (I could do an entire post on the creative weapon designs and will later.) The changing frame rate used in some scenes over others is put to good use, punching up some moments for extra effect.

The first three episodes introduce us to a world on the brink of war. There were originally six types of magic (Sun, Moon, Stars, Earth, Sky, and Ocean), but 1,000 years ago, a Human mage discovered Dark Magic. The horror of the newly invented magic caused the Elves and Dragons of Xadia to banish the Humans to the West, setting up a border guarded by the Dragon King, Thunder. In more recent history, the humans killed Thunder and destroyed the egg containing his sole heir, The Dragon Prince. This is what has brought Xadia and the Human kingdoms to the edge of war.

That’s the simple explanation. The one that makes the Humans out to be the unquestionable and unrepentant villains of our tale. However, life, and this story, are not such simple matters of black and white, and we quickly start to see that in the show as it presents the things that have happened thus far as shades of grey and a result of complex choices with wrongs committed on both sides. A lot of time is spent reinforcing that choices are rarely simple nor purely acts of good or evil and how violence can quickly become an unending cycle. It addresses honor and loyalty and how quickly it can become a mess when you start seeing the other side of a conflict as full people. The story is setting up complex and nuanced morality and views of history that I’m really excited to see where it goes.

It looks like family of various types is going to be a major over-arching theme of the story with step-siblings Callum and Ezran, the contrast of a more antagonistic but playful relationship between siblings Soren and Claudia, Callum’s complicated relationship with his stepfather, King Harrow, and Soren and Claudia’s relationship with their father. This is also set against Rayla’s relationship with Runaan and the other Moonshadow Elves and what is sure to be her burgeoning friendship with the two Human princes. I expect found family and other relationships not forged by birth to become increasingly important as the story continues.

Additionally, we have a beautifully diverse cast. King Harrow (Luc Roderique) is clearly a black man while his step son Callum (Jack DeSena) appears to be white and crown prince Ezran (Sasha Rojen) appears to be mixed. Despite initial screenshots of Rayla (Paula Burrows) and Runaan (Johnathan Holmes), not all of the Elves are pale skinned and white-haired. The crownguard is specifically stated to be comprised of men and woman, and we see a variety of skin tones and hair types of multiple genders. We even see a primary character with a visible limp who requires a cane much of the time. There was a lot of set up and introductions to get through in the first three episodes, and as we see our three leads (Callum, Ezran, and Rayla) traverse the world of Xadia, I expect to see even more visible diversity come in since it was stated as a specific goal of the crew during the San Diego Comic Con 2018 panel.

The writing itself walks a nice balance between those heavy themes of moral greys and smatterings of humor. The characters are quirky and believable. It would have been so easy to set up Claudia (Racquel Belmonte), Soren (Jesse Inocalla), and Viren (Jason Simpson) as purely antagonistic characters, but instead they aren’t. Viren’s motivations and loyalties are complex and you are left uncertain of what to make of him. Soren varies between clever and foolish, and while he teases, doesn’t seem to be genuinely ill-intentioned, helping as often as he jokes. Claudia too walks a fine line between airhead and genius with a fierce sense of caring and loyalty. Ezran and Callum are both young, and far more aware of the complexities of their world and position than they’re generally given credit for while still being kids who want to have fun and want the world to be simple. They’re all complex characters and seeing how they will grow and mature over the course of the story is exciting.

In just the first three episodes, The Dragon Prince has introduced multiple plot threads that promise a lot of potential and all threads that I’m fascinated to see not only how they end up, but how hey get to that ending.

If there’s one criticism to be had from the first three episodes, it is just how much happened. There’s a lot going on, a lot of nuanced motivations and relationships introduced, and a lot of world-building set-up. It could easily be overwhelming. I think they overall did a good job of parceling it out in small pieces at a time to prevent it feeling like you’re getting huge info dumps, and leaving you fascinated to learn more at the end of each episode.

Side note: Watch the credits for every episode, the illustrations change each time, and I feel like they show even more of a glimpse into the characters and cultures of Xadia.

I really believe this is going to be the new show to watch. A complex world full of nuance, adventure, magic, dragons, and elves that doesn’t let the fantasy elements overwhelm creating strong characters that I think everyone is going to be able to find one or more that they can personally identify with on some level.

All this is done while showing that the wider events of the world don’t leave children untouched no matter how much you try to protect them. With the themes that loyalty and honor, right and wrong, differ based on your position and perspective on the course of events while asking the questions of whether or not the ends justify the means and how you can end a cycle of violence makes it look like we’re in for some truly poignant story telling.

Remember how I mentioned that Wonderstorm is a “story and play studio”? That means this animated series is just the beginning of our introduction into a deeper world. While the wonderful team at Bardel Entertainment animated the series, the storytelling and direction comes from Wonderstorm which is also actively developing a connected video game. We don’t know yet what platform or play style to expect from the game, but we can probably safely expect it to be fully integrated with the story and world presented in the animated series, and the animation style of the show will translate very well into the 3D models of a game. Those seven different kinds of magic and various creatures and races create a lot of room for exploration in a game, and the history provided at the beginning of the first episode means games could be set at various places or times within Xadia, adding even more depth to the world-building.

I look forward to jumping into the truly immersive franchise the Wonderstorm team appears to be building, and I hope you all will too.

Remember to watch all nine episodes of the The Dragon Prince when they’re released Friday, September 14th. (Go ahead and add it to your Netflix list here.)

Join us on twitter to make #TheDragonPrince trend on September 14th. Starting at 2pm PDT, and going for at least an hour, make and RT posts with #TheDragonPrince in them. (Get your local time: link)

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hachama · 5 years

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Second Democratic Debate Analysis, pt. 1

Like last time, I’ve (finally) read the transcripts. I read the fact-checkers’ analysis. I have ranked them.

Also like last time, due to the size of the field, I’ll be splitting my analysis into four groups. This first one will be the Please Do Not Make Me Vote For Them group:

Good news! Due to candidates dropping out, it’s a shorter list!

Biden, Williamson, Delaney, Ryan, and Bullock

Under the break, I’ll be analyzing their debate performance, how effectively they represented themselves on the issues, and how much I hate them, in reverse order of preference. Let’s begin.

17) Bullock

Governor Steve Bullock did not make an appearance in the first set of debates, and now I know why. He is the Shirley Exception made flesh. “Surely no one would actually use our laws to hurt someone. Surely if someone is really a good person they won’t face terrible abuses. Surely not…” Stevie, these are things that are currently happening. These are facts.

Those who read my analysis of the first debates should know that I do not accept any luke-warm “healthcare choice” arguments, and Steve is full of those, too.

He’s very worried about other candidates campaign promises being unrealistic, and says that it’s important to listen to “real Americans,” as if democratic socialists and the majority of Americans who support universal healthcare aren’t “real” enough for him.

As if that weren’t enough, he also argues in favor of some of the abuses of immigrants, as a deterrent to immigration.

To his credit, he supports treating gun violence as a public health issue, including research by the CDC into causes, which could inform actually useful gun control policies. He wants to see Citizens United overturned, which is also good. But not good enough.

16) Ryan

Representative Tim Ryan has the distinction of being one of the candidates I hated entirely in this debate. I agreed with none of his points, and most of my notes contain profanity. He introduced himself as New and Fresh, playing on his youth (he’s 45. The average age of the democratic candidates is 54. There are 4 people running who are younger than Tim) without offering much substance.

He opposes decriminalizing the border. On healthcare he seems to think we can’t make healthcare better for everyone because then unions won’t have anything going for them which is just… He thinks letting businesses “buy in to medicare” is a good idea, and all I can hear is “privatize the social safety net and let companies decide whose grandma actually deserves to have proper care when she breaks her hip.”

I’m not saying Tim is evil. I’m saying he’s spineless and would let bad things happen because it’s too much work to stop them.

15) Delaney

Representative John Delaney joins Tim Ryan in the dubious category of “I hate you and everything you stand for.” The only reason he ranks slightly higher than Tim is because someone had to. Their scores were the same level of shrieking profanity.

John thinks that reminding everyone that he was the youngest CEO in the history of the New York Stock Exchange is a good thing, showing that he has absolutely no idea what democrats are looking for in a candidate. Surely, we should trust him! He sold his soul early and has abided by the contract for so long!

He is another candidate decrying “unrealistic” campaign promises. He reiterated his concern that Medicare for All would underfund the healthcare industry in America, he considers it an “extreme” policy proposal, and called it an “anti-private sector strategy.” Yes, John, because the private sector’s profit motive has been working so well, let’s all continue dying so that small groups of people can make lots of money off of the price of insulin. Fuck you.

14) Williamson

Marianne Williamson’s contributions were blessedly brief and infrequent. She supports public campaign funding, which is great, but she also spent an entire minute on “I have concerns” without once proposing a solution, referred to the American healthcare system as a “sickness care system,” which for me evokes concerns about chemtrails and chemikillz, and her opening statement evoked American Exceptionalism.

I’m so tired of Marianne Williamson.

13) Biden

Former Vice President, Former Senator Joe Biden was invited to comment on everything. As a result, I have over a page of notes just for him. The moderators’ bold strategy of checking in with Uncle Joe every time anyone said anything gave him opportunities to say a few things I agreed with, but ultimately was not enough to get him out of my lowest ranked category.

As he said in the last debate, Joe supports rejoining the Paris Climate Accord. This time, he said we need to “increase” the standard, apparently recognizing that solutions negotiated several years ago will not be sufficient now, and he wants to see an end to fossil fuel subsidies. These are good things I can agree with.

Joe is concerned by the treatment of immigrants seeking asylum, and the excessive wait times for their cases to be heard and the refugees either released or returned to their country of origin. His solution is to “flood the zone,” spend more resources to make decisions faster. This guarantees nothing except a reduction in detainees which, while generally positive, is less than half a solution.

The thing Joe said that I liked best was about the treatment of former-inmates after the completion of their prison sentences. Joe said that former-inmates should have access to public programs and benefits upon release. This would be a significant change from the current system, which continues to punish people long after their sentence is served. He also said that drug crimes should result in rehab, not prison.

Joe continued to use his association with Obama as a shield against criticism, which was worn thin before the first debate started. He evaded questions about Eric Garner, refused to answer questions about Obama-era deportations (with the added bonus of “what I said was said in confidence, you’d share it, but not me”), invoked American Exceptionalism in his opening statement, interrupted Cory Booker at one point, blamed all of our current political and social dysfunction on Trump, and thinks we should renegotiate the Trans Pacific Partnership.

The cherry on top of this shit sundae? He said the phrase “I have the only plan that (…)” I haven’t talked about this much, because it’s a little hard to express in text, but I have a very, very negative response to any claim to being the only person who can solve a problem. It’s bad when Trump does it, it’s bad when Biden does it, it’s an abuser’s tactic. “I’m the only one who loves you, I’m the only one who can help you, I’m the only one” is always a) a lie, and b) a red flag.

Granted, I was so far behind that some of Biden’s comments formed parallels I might not have seen when he initially said them, but some of the things he said about immigration were symptomatic of the same thought process that gave us that abominable rewrite of Emma Lazarus’s New Colossus. Biden, when trying to make a point about the strength of America being in our diversity, said that “we’ve been able to cherry pick from the best of every culture,” and followed it up with “anybody that crosses the stage with a PhD, you should get a green card for seven years. We should keep them here.” Not everyone who immigrates to the U.S. is going to have an advanced degree. Not everyone who immigrates to the U.S. is going to be “the best and brightest.” And that’s a good thing. There is a limit to the number of doctors and lawyers a society needs. Some immigrants are going to be nurse’s assistants and cab drivers, and we need them here, too.

Even with all of that, the worst of what Joe had to say was about healthcare. Joe thinks that limiting co-pays to $1000 per person is part of making healthcare accessible to everyone. He thinks your health insurance premium should be no more than 8.5% of your annual income. I did some math. For minimum wage, that’s almost $2500 for insurance, out of pocket, before anyone sees any benefit. After taxes, that leaves about $10k for a minimum wage worker to live on for a year. At $15/hour, $20k to live on. These are not reasonable numbers in most of the country.

#second democratic debate #politics #opinions and analysis

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mermaidylluria · 5 years

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Warning to all you mers on Tumblr out there: The purge has officially begun. My account just got flagged, and the only things I have on here are my own event photos (which are all family-friendly & fully clothed), and mermaid art (both classical and new, some of which has an LGBTQ focus- and may, at times, *gasp* in some cases feature kissing). So.. just as a heads-up, the whole Tumblog censorship hubub is a real thing. My hope was that in a page FULL of mermaids, it would be obvious what the space was about- that it was absent of pornographic or ANY kind of child-endangering content, n’ be subsequently left alone. But it appears that’s not the case. So now that we know mer art is going to be targeted (after all, “NEKKIT BEWBIES, ER MAH GURD!!”), I suggest we all get ready to either defend our posts (via disputing flagged content), participate in some kind of (peaceful, preferably meaningful & artful) protest, or just leave the platform all together. 'Cause this tells me that they're not only flagging classical art, they're also trying to eradicate LGBTQ content, and NONE of that is okay. Personally, I’m going to do all 3. Fight and dispute, while making preparations to move my space elsewhere. Where that’ll be I’m not sure yet, but if we loose, I want a place for my mermaid stuff to go, and the demigods at Tumblr better be aware, I’m taking my decently-well-known bellydance n’ other blogs w/me too, if I’m forced to leave.

And just for my personal 2 cents on the matter? Dear gods, not ALL of the internet has to be child friendly. XP Censorship like that happening on YouTube, Facebook & now Tumblr stifles creativity (look at channels like Glam&Gore, who can’t barely do SFX makeup anymore because she keeps getting demonetized), silences valuable artistic and minority voices, removes audiences for burgeoning creators (who, btw, may NOT be engaging in pornographic content in ANY way), and forces narrow-minded, puritanical standards of "decency" (which are by FAR the minority), over others' ability to operate successfully in that medium. This smothers decent, AWESOME things like art, science, expression and SO much more. XS See, it’s not about the p0rn. It’s about the CENSORSHIP. This is the internet. It was designed to dispense and SHARE information, ideas, inspiration, fun, etc. Not be a surrogate nanny for your kids. XS

ANNNNYWAY, if you want to read more about what is and is not allowed on Tumblr now, you can visit: https://tumblr.zendesk.com/hc/en-us/articles/231885248. (And be sure to read to the bottom, where users can find out how to appeal post & entire blog flags under the last 2 questions.) And if you have a mermaid blog where ANY kind of toplessness is involved, note that "female presenting nipples" is distinctly mentioned, which, as I'm sure lots of you already know, directly impacts classical AND modern art- one of the few things on Tumblr that can be shared WITHOUT a copyright, as well as a TON of mermaid art, classical and otherwise. XP

What does this mean? Well.. in simple terms, it means that stuff like Botticelli and Picasso are no longer welcome on Tumblr. It means that Reubens, Waterhouse and Rodin, if they have artistic interpretations of naked women in their work, cannot be shared on Tumblr. Even though their works are featured in international museums of the highest callibur, lauded all over the world as legends of innovation, vision, unparalleled beauty, & precision, expression & creativity, and world-famed for their social and economic value. Those.. are not welcome here now, apparently. Meanwhile, images & videos stolen from present-day & other modern hard-working artists, photographers, cartoonists, writers and other creators from allll over the world arrre hunky-dory. XP DaFUQ, Tumblr??? (At -least- they mention mis-attribution & non-attribution on their new guidelines now. That at least, is an improvement. X*)

But now.. let’s see how that’s directly affected my blog, shall we..? ‘Cause, as I mentioned before, I figured surely since I didn’t actually have any pr0n on my pages, I & other mer pages should be safe, right? BZZZZZZZT, WRONG. After getting this e-mail (pictured above), I went through my whole blog and found the 4 posts that were "flagged" as having adult content. *rolls eyes*

3 of them were reblogs &1 was an original post.

2 of those posts were queer-positive modern art.

1 was a photographic collection of pieces FEATURED IN "W" MAGAZINE,

And the last is a piece of classical style, queer-positive art. XS

One of the modern pieces doesn't even show nipples, just saggy bewbies COVERED with small seashells.

The other modern-style piece was a Rackham style drawing, where the tatas are but a mere suggestion of simple lines and dots.

One was shown in a INTERNATIONAL FRICKING FASHION MAGAZINE SPREAD, which was apparently suitable for SOMEONES' interpretation of public consumption,

and the last only shows suggestions & curvatures of breasts! (Showing the side and outer portions of the female chest, with no nipples. XP)

-And WHY AM I HAVING TO JUSTIFY THIS???? THIS IS ART. THIS IS NOT P0RN. Again I say "WTF, Tumblr????" XS

As you can see, 3 of my posts were reblogs, so I had no means of disputing those posts. (According to their new guidelines, the owner of the original post has to do that, and if they are found as having “inappropriate content,” there’s no further means of appeal.) But one of them, one of the very first posts I ever made in this blog, was an original, so I was able to refute its being deemed as inappropriate. FIrst, you have to go through allll of your posts to find.. whatever it is someone’s had issue with. (Whether it’s a person who’s flagged it or something chosen by Tumblr’s algorithms/keyword alert systems, I have no idea.) But they don't even bother to link you in your notification e-mail, so first you’ve gotta FIND what’s being flagged before you can repeal it. (I didn’t even know what I was looking for at first. They never specify. Would it be a tiny new icon near the Edit and Share buttons at the bottom? A wee little flag pointer, outside of the post itself..? Do I got to my posted page n’ try to find it? Or will it be in my Posts stream, & the whole post be red..? Who knows?) But eventually, after enough scrolling, I found what I was looking for. A big red bar across the affected posts. -And if it’s a post you can do something about, they give you a button to push on the designated "flagged" work, at the top right. After you hit the "dispute" button, you’re given a largely blank page. In the center, you get to choose between Dispute, Cancel or Learn More. No “tell us why you feel this should not be flagged, why it doesn’t violate our rules,” nothing. Nowhere to speak your peace. You just hit a button, and you’re done. You get no say, other than “I object, your honor!” NOT COOL, people. NOT COOL. You clearly don’t wanna hear the voices of your content creators, or, at least, enough to allow them to speak for the work they felt appropriate enough to post..

Reading this from another media source? Please don’t discount this issue if you don’t personally have a Tumblog. It doesn't really matter whether you use tumble or not, whether you think it's lame or not, etc. The problem is much, much larger than that, and it’s growing. This is another very large, social media platform that's being affected by censorship in the name of marketing- and thus, be child-friendly. They want the whole family to be able to come and see all the ads they wanna put here, and without that, they don’t make their money. So anything not child-friendly, even vaguely PERCEIVED as not child-friendly (by God only knows whose standards), is being wiped out from the whole platform. Don’t believe me? It’s happened on YouTube, on Facebook, and likely, many others. Do some googling and check it out for yourself. YouTube is a platform that’s being strangled by this phenomenon right this very second. There are videos on it. Go see. Now. ‘Cause if we don’t educate ourselves about this n’ do something to fight it, what’s happening to YouTube is our future. Not just here on Tumblr, but EVERYWHERE.

Big Brother isn't just watching, guys, he's stealing your open arenas for personal and creative expression, so he can better market to you & yer kids. He wants EVERYONE to buy his Stuff. And if the kids can’t see it here, they won’t ask mommy and daddy to go get it for them. So out classical art, and LGBTQ content, and mermaids go. Out the door. (Meanwhile, who do kids love?? UM.. MERMAIDS. HELLO!!! What should be educating them about history and the arts? UMM.. FINE ART, HELLO. Who teaches them about tolerance and diversity and SO MUCH MORE? Umm.. THE LGBTQ community! Who teaches them about what human bodies look like, and that it’s okay to have ANY kind of body? UM.. BODY POSITIVE ART, THANK YOU.)

We need to put the kaibosh on this somehow, now. Not just for Tumblr, or Facebook, or YouTube. We've got to find SOME way of letting the Big Boys know this is not activity we will tolerate. 'Cause the places to freely express ourselves are going to continue to diminish, get scarcer, and fewer.. until they're all.. gone.

ART =/= PORN, YOU IGNORANT, PURITANICAL, MONEY-GRUBBING FISHTITS. LEARN TO POLICE YOUR OWN CHILDREN, MORE EFFECTIVELY POLICE GENUINE CRIMINALS, AND LEAVE THE REST OF THE INTERNET ALONE. Please.

♥

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