#that or she’s offended that as an American citizen she might be included in We

[carsonjonesfiance]

What are we even saying here? He clearly means the US Government and Congress in particular when he says “we”! Are we saying he should take personal responsibility for every US bomb sent?

#I don’t want to be like ‘she means it’s (((his))) fault specifically’ but I fail to see another interpretation #that or she’s offended that as an American citizen she might be included in We #also why are you biting the head off of your biggest proponent in Congress? that seems counterproductive!!!

[thekatebridgerton]

Is it bad that I don't want Sophie Beckett to be a POC? It's because putting a POC in a Cinderella story (which Sophie and Benedict's story is), opens up to the dangerous white savior trope with the rich white man saving the oppressed POC working woman. I cannot think of any way to carefully handle that and still stay loyal to the books. But that doesn't mean Sophie has to be an english actress. If the show makes Sophie Irish, the show can still address the same issues about working women in Regency England with added historical accuracy - as we all know the British were beyond horrid d*cks to the Irish for centuries. And that's an understatement.

I’d like to point out that Nicola Coughlan is Irish. And that I do love the implication of the Featheringtons might Irish roots. Hopefully her Irish heritage will get brought up in the show next season. Your question does makes me wonder how well Nicola would have played Sophie if she’d been casted opposite Luke Thompson tho. 

Now put on your seatbelt anon you're about to hear a rant.

First of all let's get this out of the way, I am in no way opposed to seeing a black Cinderella on Bridgerton. One of the best Cinderella's in cinematic history was a black woman, which was Brandi in Roger and Hammerstein's. And Brandi's Cinderella is so great, beautiful, flawless in the way she played it that surpassing her has been the challenge of every Cinderella that came after including Lily James.

If someone like Brandi played Sophie, Bridgerton would rise so high, because there's something about a black woman not putting up with oppression any longer and quite literally giving Benedict the dressing down he deserves, that would be so cathartic for me. You wouldn't even notice the white savior trope because she would kick it out of the way with the force of her performance. The way the actress plays the role has a lot of power into how the character is perceived. Take Gugu Mbatha-Raw in any role ever. Most notably in 'Belle'. when she's on screen, the depth she gives to her performance makes white people look like they're not even trying. 

If Bridgerton did cast a black actress as Sophie, unless the actress was anything short of spectacular, her performance would be compared to Brandi. Because Brandi set the standard for POC Cinderella scenes.

Now let's leave aside that Benedict is a classist duck to Sophie for a moment. And focus on the fact that Sophie Beckett has arguably the most tragic backstory out of the four Bridgerton wives. Kate, Penelope and Lucy at least had families who gave a thought to their happiness. Sophie didn’t. Her backstory is going to hurt regardless of who plays the role, it’s literally written that way. 

Which brings us to my rant, if you examine the amount of times the Cinderella trope has been used in a movie or tv and cross reference that with the amount of times a non-white actress played the role, you start to see a disturbing trend. Which is this: when not performed by a white actress, Cinderella is performed by an actress of South American/Latino descent. Most recently Selena Gomez, Sofia Carson and Camilla Cabello. And Dania Ramirez in that season of OUAT I didn’t watch.

As a Latina myself if you think the slavery implication in the white savior trope is bad when Cinderella is played by a black actress then it's just as bad when it's performed by a Latina. People don't talk about it that much because Latina skin can pass for white under a certain tan booth light. But make no mistake, the implication is there. 

Hot take: Actresses with South American/Latino heritage, aren't all born to play the role of maids or any other type of oppressed citizens. Despite what Jlo made Hollywood think in Maid in Manhattan. In fact neither are black women. Bridgerton at least got that right when they cast a POC as Queen Charlotte.

If you cross reference the amount of times Cinderella has been played by a black woman in movie/tv and you get 1, which is Brandi, the Cinderella who set the bar really high. 2 if you decide to count Rags where Keke Palmer plays the prince (which I don’t count) but it’s worth mentioning. 

Rant ended back to Sophie and Benedict.

Now, with the exception of the casting of Daphne, ( which I think could have gone better, because Phoebe’s performance was lackluster compared to costars like Nicola Coughlan, Ruby Barker and Sabrina Bartlett) Bridgerton casting has always been really successful. I personally love who they picked as Kate and Edwina. From what I can see in the recent clips, Simone Ashley can give a lot of depth and nuance to Kate. 

I hope that they do the same for the casting of Sophie and bring in an actress who can portray Sophie as someone who refuses to be the victim and has never lost hope. Which is the beauty of Sophie’s character. Personally I’ve never seen an Asian Cinderella in western tv, if they cast an actress with Asian, Pacific or Caribbean heritage, they would actually BE breaking ground and doing something that hasn’t been done before. Even another Desi actress would do well in that role.

 I’m the first to raise my hand in favor of more Asian representation in Bridgerton because we didn’t get any in S1 and for a show that’s supposedly so diverse that kinda bummed me out. And it would also have less racist connotations because at that historical point in time, the British (in my limited understanding) had a less oppressive relationship with Asians. At least compared to other cultures that they were actively suppressing, enslaving or destroying. 

I still trust that Sophie’s actress will be spectacular, and hopefully she might make me feel something beyond boredom towards Benedict and redeem him in my eyes. Because out of all the Bridgertons I care about his manpain the least in An Offer From A Gentleman. And I still cared about his manpain the least in Bridgerton S1 (regardless of how well Luke Thompson played the character.). 

Ps: pardon if I used racial terms that offended anyone here. In my culture calling a person Black, White or Latina, isn’t seen as an insult. So if any of you got offended, it was completely unintentional. 

#sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton #An Offer From A Gentleman #bridgerton diversity! #but done right #this needs to be said

[younevercantell]

Interesting thoughts

Psychopaths: the worst people that don't exist

Psychopathy is a popular but misguided and fundamentally dangerous idea.

Psychopathy - Distortion of a complex problem.

Modern psychologists such as Simon Baron-Cohen have realized that the concept of evil can only arise from cyclical thinking; evil deeds are done by evil people, so called because they do evil deeds. As a term, it has no explanatory power, and this is where the discussion ends. Instead, Baron-Cohen argues that these people are "psychopaths", capable of understanding the feelings of others, but with lower affective empathy, wholly indifferent to the plight of those they have offended. He contrasts these people with autistic children who cannot make sense of the inner lives of others, but are stressed when they can tell that the other person is in pain. The idea that psychopaths are still present among us, riding the subway and eating at our favorite restaurants, while at the same time being able to ruthlessly kill us, fire us from our jobs or make our lives miserable, is very seductive. This has spawned a vast number of books that attempt to characterize their "wisdom" or "test" of this supposed illness. Seemingly more convincing now are MRI studies that claim to show functional differences in the brains of psychopaths.

As enticing and popular as this idea is, I cannot help but find it completely unconvincing. Apart from the fact that this is a medicalization of the same hackneyed concept of evil, it does not give a true understanding of the very nature of heinous crimes. The Psychiatrist's Bible, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, does not include psychopathy as a diagnosis. The World Health Organization, the American Psychiatric Association, and numerous other professional bodies have also chosen to avoid using the term. Instead of the very real risk of stigmatizing people suffering from an often distressing mental condition with emotionally charged stigmas, they tend to use diagnoses such as "antisocial personality disorder". The far from useful description "psychopath" conjures up an ideal image of a person you would be desperate to help.

Psychopathy is not a mental illness, it is not a diagnosis. Psychopathy is a set of personality traits, including lack of remorse, callousness, indifference. Psychopathy is not a mental illness that falls under the so-called insanity defense. In cases of psychopathy, people use others in their lives to get what they want. Other people are pawns.

Another component of psychopathy that makes it so desirable and so inadequate is its ability to bring together entire groups of very different people doing very different things into one damn population. A Wall Street banker who fires employees without thinking about their families, an ex-partner who made your life miserable, and the architects of genocide may have something in common. As absurd as it may seem, it allows us to maintain the validity of our own choices without taking into account the complex perspectives of those we demonize. Confronting them as real people, with real problems, gives us a frightening feeling that we might be capable of the same thing.

The Holocaust, arguably the most horrific episode in human history, has defied psychologists for decades. How can so many thousands of supposedly sensitive, social animals do such cruelty to their fellow citizens? Political theorist Hannah Arendt offers insights that others have not justified. She sees the genocide as a chain of human events, from the cops rounding up the ghettos, to the train driver and signalman, all the way to the finale, when the man raises the hatch and lowers the Zyklon B canister. No one person performs any action that can be described as something more than ordinary, and yet together these actions create a tragedy. In an attempt to understand the thoughts of the death camp guards, Stanley Milgram performed famous experiments at Yale University, where he showed that ordinary volunteers would readily deliver a supposedly fatal electric shock to an invisible person, especially if they were told that they would not be held accountable. It's doubtful anyone here can be considered a psychopath. It seems more accurate that they made the all-too-human mistake of withholding judgment and conforming to cultural and societal norms.

If this is convincing for heinous crimes involving many, then what about those committed alone? The ruthless killer seems to act in the same way. For a number of reasons during development, they were forced to abandon compassion and dehumanize those around them. Once your victims are no longer human but faceless beings, no amount of suffering can sway you, and no action will be too terrible. Some subgroups of these people may indeed have neurological signs, but they deserve our compassion and our unrelenting desire to understand and heal, not our fear and disgust.

Therefore, psychopathy as a concept is quite dangerous. It tempts us into believing that people who do truly terrible things are doing it for motives we could never support. This puts us beyond the ability to do the same and reduces the control we have over our own actions. This prevents us from always remembering that there really is evil in the world, but the people who commit it are the same as you and me.

References:

Arendt, Hanna "Eichmann in Jerusalem: An Account of the Banality of Evil", Penguin.

Baron-Cohen, Simon "Zero Degrees of Empathy: A New Theory of Human Cruelty and Kindness", Penguin.

Article author: Gabriel Gavin (neuroscientist at University College London (UCL) working on neural networks).

#Being mentally ill is not a choice #being violent is a choice. #psychopathy #Reminds me of Tom calling Loki a psychopath #real psychopaths are terrible people #loki is not a psychopath #loki #loki series negativity

[hereidinathoreauwrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV), Come From Away - Sankoff & Hein Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Joan Characters: Zoey Clarke, Joan (Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist), Annette (Come From Away), Beulah Davis, Beverley Bass, Claude Elliott Additional Tags: Crossover, Angst and Tragedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, two people end up stuck together somewhere and oops they're in love, Developing Relationship, mentions of 9/11, the author is clearly just mashing together two things they very much enjoy and seeing what happens, Zoey and Joan are closer in age, college!Zoey, Gander (Come From Away), References to Come From Away Summary:

For Zoey, it was a return home from a study abroad program, back for her final semester at San Francisco State. For Joan, it was a business trip meant to fix her marriage from imminent destruction.

But when history crashed across the world on that fateful day, their lives were thrown together as they took refuge in Newfoundland and tried to cope with tragedies personal and global.

ZEP and Come From Away crossover. Because I said so.

She just wanted to get home.

Zoey Clarke tripped on her way to her seat, nearly smacking an angry-looking dark-haired first-class woman in the face. Mumbling an apology for the near-mishap, Zoey darted towards Economy, face burning.

It had been six months. Six glorious months of baguettes, and croissants, and the view across the Seine, and coding with her French classmates in two languages until the early hours of the morning. But she was finally going back home to California.

Zoey finally settled into her seat (an aisle seat) and threw her backpack into the overhead. She carefully tucked her computer case under the seat in front of her.

She’d barely settled herself before the cabin address began.

 “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard this American Airlines flight 846 nonstop service from Paris to Los Angeles. My name is Captain Bass. We have an estimated flight time today of roughly 11 and a half hours and we are due to arrive in LA at 2pm local time on Tuesday, September 11th. Please sit back and enjoy your flight.”

Zoey closed her eyes as they taxied; nervous but a small part of her relieved.

She’d be home soon.

***

Meet you in LA.

Joan Bennett scowled at the SMS on her phone screen. That’s it. That was all he’d been able to muster up. Skipping out on their anniversary in Paris entirely for some stupid reason. He hadn’t even called.

She sat back in her seat as the cabin address came on, eyes already closing as the standard pre-flight information was given.

LA was his last chance. If Charlie couldn’t buck up and actually give a damn about their marriage this time she was going to…

Joan pursed her lips, resolve faltering. You’d be all alone. Despite his many, many shortcomings, Charlie was still a warm body alongside hers (on the nights he was actually home). He was still a partner in this unfriendly world. And the thought of being without him…

She drifted into an uneasy sleep as they took off towards America. Towards the man she didn’t know how to love.

 “L…ladies and g…gentlemen…p..please, please fasten your seatbelts and put your tray tables up…we are preparing to land.”

Zoey blinked awake, confused. Were they in LA already?

Glancing around, she saw several others looking just as confused as she was. Zoey glanced at her watch. It had barely been five hours since they’d left Paris.

“What’s happening?” She asked the man next to her.

He just shook his head.

Zoey tightened her seatbelt and sat back, heart racing as the plane began a slow descent. She glanced over her neighbors and saw a tiny strip of land surrounded by vast ocean.

They weren’t falling. But something about this just didn’t quite feel right.

***

The plane touched down and Joan stared out the window. This wasn’t LAX. It was some rundown airport surrounded by trees.

“Where the hell are we?” She demanded.

“Newfoundland.” The flight attendant informed her, seeming distracted. “Nothing to worry about madam.”

“Any idea when we’ll be on our way?”

But the woman didn’t answer her. She vanished into the cockpit.

Joan heard hushed voices and some kind of chatter on the pilot’s radio.

She frowned and pulled out her cell phone.

As she dialed a number, she glanced out the window again.

It was then that she registered the dozens of other planes lined up in haphazard rows. And the long line of cars beyond the airport, stretching out along the winding country road.

What was going on?

***

Seven hours later, Zoey felt like she was losing her mind. She’d tried to ask the flight attendants questions or chat with her neighbor but no one seemed to know anything or be willing to share if they did. No one around her had a phone so she couldn’t even call her parents to let them know about the delay.

Her unease had only grown when the captain announced that complimentary drinks were going to be provided. Alcoholic drinks.

In Zoey’s limited experience, businesses only gave alcohol away on holidays and during the shittiest of circumstances. She doubted it was a holiday in…wherever-they-were Newfoundland.

As her fellow passengers got drunker, they got louder. And the plane only got hotter and more stifling.

An hour after the drinks, someone finally cracked open the airplane door. It did little overall but something was better than nothing at this rate.

Zoey couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to move. She needed to plug herself into her code and block out all this madness.

Her neighbor had joined the drunken revelry at the back a half hour ago. Scooping up her computer, Zoey wriggled out of her seat and made her way towards first class. There might be more leg room up there at least. And it was further from the drunk singing.

***

Joan wanted to kill somebody. They’d been sitting on the ground for over seven hours by this point, not including the five hour flight beforehand. And still, no one was telling them what was going on.

At least the free vodka was taking some of the edge off. But if she didn’t get off this plane soon, she was going to lose her mind. Or strangle a flight attendant.

“Excuse me…?”

Joan turned and saw the klutzy redhead from earlier pointing at the empty seat beside her. “Do…do you mind if I sit here? I need to get some work done and the back of the plane is filled with a lot of singing drunk people.”

Joan eyed the stranger, seizing her up. She was younger than Joan by maybe a decade and looked even younger in her bright shirt. An even brighter cardigan was tied around her waist. Her smile was soft and hesitant, like she was afraid to offend or even exist.

Joan shrugged. “No, of course not.” She was way past the point of caring. They were stuck in a plane in the middle of nowhere. Not like things could get much worse.

The woman took Charlie’s empty seat, giving Joan a soft smile.

“I’m Zoey.” She was clutching a laptop like it was a lifeline. That was the only reason Joan engaged with her.

“Joan.” She replied.

“H…how are you doing?” Zoey asked, her face pinching in concern.

Joan sighed. “Wish I knew what was happening.” She bit her lip and swigged the rest of her vodka miniature. “And worried about someone who was flying today…I wish I could tell him I’m in…Iceland!”

“Newfoundland.” Zoey’s face immediately fell as Joan rounded on her at the correction. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to correct you!” The young woman gave a sheepish smile. “I’m hoping you’re one of those people who laugh when awkward people say stupid things.”

Joan couldn’t help but smile. “It’s fine. Don’t mind me, I’m just frustrated.”

Zoey nodded and Joan had to admire her empathy, especially under these circumstances. “Where were you coming from?” Zoey inquired.

“London.”

Zoey tilted her head, interest apparently piqued. “Really? You dont have an accent!”

Joan laughed. “I’m not from there…I’m…just working there. I haven’t developed the accent yet.” She gestured at the laptop. “How about you? What are you working on?” She normally wasn’t one for small talk, especially with strangers. But there was literally nothing else to do at this point so why not? Besides, Zoey wasn’t the worst option on the plane. Not by a long shot.

Zoey blushed and placed her laptop on the tray-table. It was a fairly expensive model but a few years old and clearly well-loved. “I’m actually a student.” She admitted. “Senior at San Fran State. I was coming back from a semester abroad in Paris. I’m studying computer science with a minor in languages.”

“Really?” Joan found herself turning towards the young woman, actually interested. What were the odds? “What are you going to do with that?”

Zoey gestured at the computer. “I’m working on my thesis: a piece of software for instant translations on emails and instant messages. I’m starting with English to French but hopefully I’ll be able to expand it.”

Joan was intrigued. “Well…this may be your lucky day…” She smiled. “I work for Google.”

Zoey’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

The next two hours flew by. They talked about everything: job prospects at Google, the finer coding points of Zoey’s software, life in London, and dog breeds. For a time, they were both able to put aside the trepidation and frustration of the long wait inside the plane.

They only stopped when the captain turned on the intercom and the voice of the president filtered through the plane.

 “My fellow Americans…”

They listened in confusion at his words: talk of victims and brave Americans rescuing their fellow citizens. Joan bit her lip, worry starting to creep in. What had happened? From the sound of it, some kind of natural disaster or explosion. But there was no way to get information while they were stuck here. Her phone was dead and anyway, there was…no one to call.

Joan turned to Zoey and was startled to see the younger woman trembling.

“Hey…” She gently touched Zoey’s shoulder, unsure if the action was welcome. “Hey, you okay?”

The younger woman smiled in gratitude but it seemed forced. “Joan…I know we just met…but…” She swallowed hard, seeming like she was looking for words. “I just…I’m all alone and I dont know what’s happening and…”

Joan touched her shoulder once more. “It’s fine.” She assured her. “I’m…alone too. You can stick with me until we figure things out.”

Zoey seemed relieved.

***

Joan briefly lost track of Zoey during the madness of disembarkation. The younger woman had slipped back to her seat as they heard they were leaving, needing to grab her bag. For all the long hours they’d been stuck, once word came down that they were finally getting off, leaving took very little time.

Joan was ushered down the aisle before Zoey reappeared. They finally left their plane and were herded through the darkness into the airport.

Joan swore it was older than she was - probably a relic from the Cold War…or World War II. Thankfully, they didn’t spend long inside.

The local soldiers guided them towards a line of school buses; keeping some flights together and splitting others up indiscriminately.

Joan glanced around as she shuffled along, wondering where Zoey had gotten to. Wondering if the vibrant young coder had fallen out of her life already. It was a shame if she had…Joan had rather liked her.

She followed other passengers from her flight onto a bus and claimed a seat about halfway down. It was cramped and squeaky. But at least it wasn’t a plane. She sat there for 20 minutes, one hand on the other half of the seat in a halfhearted attempt to save it.

But just as every other seat on the bus filled up, a familiar redhead climbed aboard. Joan’s heart jumped.

“Zoey!” She stood and waved to her, guiding her towards the empty seat. “I thought we’d lost you.” She was very glad she hadn’t.

Zoey shook her head, clutching her bag in one hand and her laptop case in the other. “No…No I just needed to get an emergency prescription filled….” Her eyes widened and she shook her hands. “N…nothing serious! It’s not like…I’m going to go crazy because I…I’m off my meds…” The younger woman deflated slightly. “I…I’ll stop talking now…”

Joan chuckled. “It’s fine.” It was…kind of endearing actually.

Zoey settled next to her. “Did you find out about your husband?” She asked. “Was he flying today?”

Joan stiffened. “Do you mind if we just dont talk about that?” She had called Charlie moments after they first landed. The conversation had barely lasted a minute before her battery died. He was safe. And he didn’t seem to care about…whatever had happened or wherever she was. But Joan was more concerned with her utter lack of relief about that revelation. Maybe once she knew just what the hell was going on, she would actually feel glad that he was safe. But right now…

“How about you?” She asked Zoey, finding she was genuinely interested in her companion’s state. “Did you manage to get through to your family? In San Francisco?”

Zoey’s face fell. “No. The pay phones were all out of order…and no one had a cell phone…I just…I just wish we knew what was happening!”

Joan was filled with a resolve so intense that it erased all thoughts of her husband. “I know. I’m sorry.” She squeezed Zoey’s shoulder, utterly unconcerned at how quickly that action had become commonplace for them. “I’ll help you find a phone as soon as we get…” She glanced up, out the bus windows and into the darkness surrounding them. “Wherever we’re going…”

Zoey smiled in thanks. They didn’t say much for the rest of the bus ride. But neither did anyone else.

***

The bus took them to a school gymnasium. Hundreds of gym mats, air mattresses, and army cots had been laid out in long rows along the floor. Some had pillows or blankets but most did not. Joan was glad she’d grabbed her airplane blanket but this still looked terrible. Were they really going to be staying here overnight? Surely they could find a better hotel. She’d gladly share with Zoey if it got them both out of here.

A woman greeted them as they ambled in, identifying herself in a thick accent as Beulah, a staff member of the school. She directed them to grab a spot for themselves and that once they were settled, they could come back into the cafeteria and watch the news on several old television sets.

As eager as she was to know just why the hell they were here, Joan decided she’d rather have first pick of the beds.

Through it all, Zoey clung to Joan’s side. She took the air mattress next to Joan’s, tucking her computer between their beds. Joan waited for her while she carefully covered the case with her blanket.

Then they went into the cafeteria.

It seemed like everyone from their flight and beyond was there, crammed into the space, trying to get a glimpse.

Joan managed to push her way through to the front, Zoey trailing behind her.

Then they finally saw.

They all stood there in front of the TVs, taking it all in in stunned silence.

Smoke, steel, dust. A plane appearing out of nowhere and…

Joan couldn’t look away. She felt…lost, untethered. Any sense of safety she’d had the privilege of ignorance about was shattered forever.

The same footage was on an endless loop, like some kind of cruel flipbook. It should have been a movie. But it wasn’t.

When the first tower fell, a collective gasp went up around the room.

Without thinking, Joan reached for Zoey’s hand. The younger woman was pale and trembling but she gripped Joan’s hand so tightly she felt her tendons re-arrange. In that moment, Joan was so glad the coder had chosen to take Charlie’s seat.

This was a history-defining moment. And all they could do was assure the other that in this moment when they could do nothing, when they were stranded thousands of miles away from all the chaos and death, they were not alone.

Some time later, after someone had turned the news off in frustration, Zoey finally let go of Joan’s hand. She turned away and pushed her way out of the crowd, towards the hallway.

“Zoey?” Joan followed her, unwilling to let her out of her sight again.

She found her collapsed against the wall. The young woman looked shaken, like her world was crumbling.

Joan kneeled beside her and placed her hands on her shoulders. “Zoey, what is it?” She asked, as gently as she could.

Zoey shook her head and swallowed. “My…my brother, David…is in law school in Manhattan…” She looked up, face pale. “What…what if he was there?”

Joan didn’t have an answer for her.

Zoey looked down. She wasn’t crying, it was more like…helplessness. Or a despair so deep it had rendered her unable to move.

Watching her, Joan felt the true weight of their situation settle heavily on her shoulders. They were stuck here in wherever Newfoundland, while there…people were dead, people were dying, the wreckage was burning.

It could have been any of them.

She could have been in the towers, visiting on business like she had been a year ago. The terrorists could have hijacked their flight and flown it off-course. Zoey could have been in Manhattan, visiting her brother. Zoey’s brother could have been on the ground.

They couldn’t do anything…couldn’t call people, couldn’t go home, couldn’t seek revenge, or help the wounded.

Zoey gave a tiny sound, something like a gasp but fainter, more vulnerable.

Joan fixated on it. It was something. Something she could do.

Maybe if she could just help this poor girl find out about her brother, everything would somehow be okay.

***

Zoey barely slept.

It felt like every time she closed her eyes, she was seeing smoke engulfing New York City streets she had walked a mere year before. The sounds of people screaming and sirens blaring echoed in her head. The creaking of her air mattress sounded too similar to the crunch of concrete.

Finally, she gave up. Wrapping herself in Joan’s airplane blanket, she staggered towards the gym doors and forced one open. A blast of cool Canadian air whipped past her, bringing her body back here, back to this strange place. Far away from there. Far away from David.

Wherever he was.

Her lip trembled as she thought of him. When was the last time she’d called? The last time she’d said she loved him? When had she last heard him laugh? Why hadn’t she cherished those moments?

The cold had stopped helping.

Now it was inside her. It was consuming her.

***

As dawn broke, a woman named Annette brought Zoey a cup of coffee. She was sitting in a chair by the edge of the room, exhausted and still lost in horrible thoughts about David. Joan was nowhere in sight, having slipped out early in the morning for unknown reasons. Zoey missed her.

“Mornin’ hun.” Annette greeted, “you hungry? We got breakfast down in the cafeteria.”

Zoey shook her head. Her stomach was empty but the thought of food nauseated her. And the televisions were still on in the cafeteria.

“Well then, do you need to change?” Annette asked, “I can get you some clean clothes if you want.”

Zoey almost refused but then she realized that these were the same clothes she’d put on the day before yesterday, underwear and all. Suddenly, it felt like they were melding into her skin. She nodded and Annette patted her on the hand before getting up to grab her a change of clothes.

It was a relief she hadn’t known she needed. But at the same time, the strangeness of it just made her miss home even more. And think about how far away she was from David and from San Francisco.

Zoey had just finished putting on the fresh underwear, slightly too big jeans, and was pulling on a plaid shirt that clashed horribly with her hair when Joan finally returned.

The older woman cocked her head at the outfit but all she said was: “Is your hair different? You look good.”

Zoey chuckled, fingering the hasty ponytail. “Thanks. It’s just super unwashed…” She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling like a different person. “Are we leaving?”

Joan shrugged. “No one seems to know.” She was still wearing the same clothes from the plane and she was fiddling with something in her pocket. Her hair was also pulled back but into a severe bun that Zoey immediately envied. Zoey opened her mouth to tell her about the free clothes but Joan seemed preoccupied. She jerked her head towards the door Zoey had stood in front of the night before. “Zoey, come with me…”

Joan led her outside the building, one hand in her pocket, the other clutching Zoey’s tightly. Zoey followed, silent but alert.

As they stood in the chilly air, Joan finally pulled out her other hand.

A cell phone. A fancy, expensive, international phone.

Zoey gasped, eyes sliding from the device to Joan’s face.

“I finally got a chance to charge it.” Joan said, sounding apologetic. “I…I wanted to make sure you got to use it first, before I offer it to the others.” She held it out to Zoey. “Go on, check on your family. I’ll be just inside if you need me.”

Hands shaking, Zoey took the phone. Her stomach was in knots.

“Wait,” She called as Joan turned to go inside. “Stay? Please?”

Joan nodded. She took a few steps back, far enough to give Zoey some privacy but never letting her out of her sight.

Her heart thrumming, Zoey dialed the number.

***

Joan watched intently as the coder used her phone. Her eyes traced Zoey’s path as she spoke rapidly with someone on the other end. She folded her arms tightly as Zoey stopped pacing and her face pinched with sympathy as she saw the young woman place a hand over her chest.

After a few moments, Zoey hung up and made her way back to Joan.

She braced herself.

“He’s…he’s okay…” Zoey let out a shaky breath. “David he…he’s with my parents in San Francisco…he wasn’t in New York when it…” Her lip trembled, a single tear dripping down her face.

Unsure what else to do, Joan only held out her arms.

Zoey fell into her embrace, her small form shaking with relief as she sobbed.

***

The next two days were torturous.

There was nothing to do. Nothing but wait. Wait for a phone to be available in the hallway. Wait for the news to show the clips again. Wait for the word that they were leaving.

While knowing that her family was safe had taken some of the edge off, Zoey still found herself anxious, jumpy and unable to sleep. She stuck by Joan like a barnacle.

Joan seemed to notice and would try to distract her. On the second morning, after finally managing to stomach some food, they risked going outside for a walk and explored the town together. Joan had finally caved and accepted a gift of clothing from Annette. She was bundled up in a sweater that was far too large for her and jeans she constantly complained about. They talked more about Zoey’s thesis, about Joan’s favorite parts of London. Anything but the dark cloud hanging over the world.

For a brief moment, Zoey convinced her to open up about her husband and learned the sad truth: after 6 years of marriage, Joan was getting divorced.

Joan didn’t seem sad about it.

Some of the local kids invited them into a yard they passed and spent an hour playing with Zoey’s hair, putting her messy locks into braids and plaits. The youngest of them eventually convinced Joan to sit and receive a single sloppy braid. Zoey had to laugh at the ridiculous hairstyle. Joan did not take the braid out.

As they walked back to the school in the quickly dwindling sunlight, Zoey reached for Joan’s hand again. Joan took it without a second thought, her thumb rubbing Zoey’s hand soothingly.

It was a simple gesture. But to Zoey, it grounded her here.

She barely knew this woman. But she was here. And she was amazing. She’d spent all day just talking to her, distracting her from the horrible state of the world and the remote location they were stranded in.

Zoey hated to think that Joan would tire of her and leave her all alone again. She desperately tried to think of ways to pay the woman back for her attention and came up blank.

She didn’t want to be alone. And she didn’t want Joan to be alone.

But was that enough?

***

The following night, (after another day spent walking with Zoey, this time along the coast) Beulah invited them all down to the local Legion building for “some drinking and some fun.” Which was probably a good call: there had been several loud arguments over phones that day and even a brief fight between several of the passengers. Everyone was on edge and stuck in place. A little drinking could only help at this rate.

Joan wasn’t going to go; it didn’t feel right with everything that was happening. She didn’t want to celebrate: she’d finally decided that her marriage (it it had ever really been that) was over. She’d be going back to London alone if all this ever ended - to an empty flat and a demanding job and a cold bed. It felt wrong to be upset or even happy over such a thing when the world was still reeling from Tuesday.

But then Zoey piped up and said: “I’m only going if Joan is going!” and just like that, she was slipping on her borrowed shoes (heels only got a woman so far in this place) and following the crowd down towards the Legion building. As soon as she stepped inside, Joan knew it had been the right choice.

The night was insanity in the best way. Over 400 people from all over the world were celebrating together: drinking, dancing, even swimming in the river! And then the instruments came out.

Joan had never particularly cared for fiddles or accordions. But after two beers, she forgot that.

Lost with Zoey among the strangers from around the world, Joan forgot all about her aversion to dancing and her image: she tore up the dance floor with jig after mindless jig. Of course, the fact that Zoey was pulling her along and laughing and holding her hands certainly helped with that.

It was a new feeling for Joan: enjoying spending time with someone. And having someone enjoy spending time with her. Charlie had never seemed to care for their date nights, he more put up with them for the promise of sex.

But Zoey clearly enjoyed being here. And more importantly, she enjoyed being her with her. So Joan let loose.

As the night went on, the locals decided it was time for a ceremony.

“We needs a couple of volunteers!” Mayor Claude declared, “Who wants to be Newfoundlanders?”

Zoey snatched Joan’s arm and dragged her forward, not giving Joan enough time to bring her drink along. “Us!” Zoey cried, “we wanna be Newfoundlanders!!”

Joan, already a little tipsy and way too engaged in Zoey’s enthusiasm could only nod along.

Claude beamed at them. “Where are you two from?” He asked.

“California!” Zoey shouted, drowning out Joan’s murmured answer.

“What part of California are you from, ma’am?” Claude asked Joan.

“No! No!” Zoey waved her hands. “I’m from California.” She pointed at Joan. “She’s in England!”

Claude chuckled, “wait…now how does that work?”

“How does…what work?” Joan asked.

“Well how does your marriage work?” Claude inquired, “with one of you in California and the other in England?”

Zoey and Joan exchanged a quick glance, both of their faces red. Joan only just realized how close together they were standing. And in borrowed clothes and no makeup, the age difference between them seemed invisible to onlooking strangers.

“Uhhh...we’re, we’re not married…” Zoey told him. Joan was having trouble forming words.

Claude laughed again. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I thought you were…” He regarded them, seeming to read something in their embarrassed silence. “Well…” He raised an eyebrow at them, “would you like to be?”

Zoey’s face lit up. “Well why not?!” She cried. She seized Joan’s hand and lifted it up into the air. “Whoooooo!!!”

Logically, Joan knew it was the alcohol talking. Zoey herself had said earlier that she’d never had more than one beer at a time before and yet she’d watched the woman down two beers in quick succession that night.

Nevertheless, Joan, her face on fire and a stupid grin that she couldn’t justify on her face, went and got the woman two more beers.

The actual ceremony of becoming a Newfoundlander was a bizarre mix of local culture and sorority hazing.

Joan stuck by Zoey’s side as they sang a long upbeat song, tasted local food, and knocked back a horrific rum that burned her sinuses clean off.

But then came the cod.

It was a large, slimy thing that stared at them with big, dead eyes. Two local men were needed to hold it up.

And to Joan’s horror, the final part of becoming a Newfoundlander was kissing this dead fish.

“I’m not kissing a fish!” She declared.

“I will if you will!” Zoey promised, her face a pleasant shade of red from the alcohol. It was hard to dismiss that face. Joan eyed the thing distastefully as another volunteer puckered their lips and kissed the scales.

But they’d come this far…and it couldn’t be worse than kissing Charlie after sushi night, could it?

“Oh my god…” Closing her eyes, Joan pursed her lips and leaned forward. She pecked as soon as she felt something cool and slimy and darted back, retching.

It was worse. But only barely.

But when her turn came, Zoey balked. “I can’t do it!” She exclaimed, covering her face with her hands.

“Come on, I did it!” Joan protested, elbowing her forward. “Pucker up!”

“You gotta kiss a cod, it’s a vital part of the ceremony!” Claude insisted.

But Zoey backed off again, shaking her head and giggling. “I can’t do it!”

Claude chuckled. “Okay, I tell you what. I’ll make you a deal.” He pointed to the cod. “Either you kiss this fish…” His finger slid to Joan. “Or you kiss this English-woman that you’re ‘not married to’.”

Zoey didn’t even hesitate. In a single motion, she launched herself at the taller woman and wrapped an arm around her waist.

Startled, Joan could only catch her. Since she wasn’t wearing heels, their faces were mere inches apart. Zoey pressed forward. Their lips met and held in a glorious kiss. All around them, the room erupted in yips and cheers.

Zoey broke away after a second, grinning stupidly and completely red in the face. Then, as if nothing had happened, she grabbed Joan’s hand and pulled her back into the crowd of dancers.

Joan couldn’t stop looking at her the rest of the night.

***

The word finally came down early on Saturday: the FAA was going to open the airspace back up.

Captain Bass got in contact with their flight and informed them that they’d be leaving as soon as it was possible so they shouldn’t travel too far from their shelters.

Zoey managed to convince Joan to take one last walk with her. She’d heard about a nearby geologic marvel called the Dover Fault from Annette and thought it might be the perfect last hurrah.

They clambered up what felt like several thousand stairs carved into the cliff, panting and assuring the other that they were okay.

Finally, they crested the edge and gazed out from the overlook. The ocean crashed into the rocky inlet, scouring the ancient rocks.

“This is incredible!” Zoey called. She beckoned Joan forward. “Look! I can’t believe we’re here!” But as she stared at the gorgeous view, Zoey felt her smile start to slip away.

“I can’t believe we’re leaving…” She lamented. It all felt like a dream that was drawing to a close.

“…I don’t want to go…” Joan murmured.

Zoey turned back to her, “What did you say?”

Joan shook her head, smiling. “Oh nothing…I’m going to uh…” she held up her disposable camera that she’d purchased in town. “…to take some pictures.”

Zoey nodded. “O…okay.” She stood aside to give Joan a better shot.

She was a bit of a light-weight but Zoey remembered the night at the Legion in snatches: lively dances, delicious rum, and shouting that she wanted to be married to Joan. She remembered launching herself at Joan out of desperation to not kiss a slimy sea creature. She remembered her stomach and chest filling with fire as their lips met.

But Joan hadn’t said a word about it. Hadn’t even indicated that she remembered any of it. They continued with their walks and their discussions of technology and little things.

They didn’t talk about the kiss.

Zoey realized Joan was still pointing the camera towards her and took another step back. “No…stay where you are!” Joan called, eye still in her camera.

“Really? I’m blocking your shot!”

Joan smiled at her. “It’s perfect.”

The shutter clicked, capturing the moment in time.

Zoey felt like she should say something; tease Joan about her taking her photo or ask her if she had really meant what she’d said.

Staying here…it was a ridiculous idea. They were only here because of…because of the tragedy. They had lives of their own to get back to. But the more she thought about it, standing there on the chilly edge of a cliff on the edge of the Atlantic, going back to her life in California felt…empty.

Logically, she knew that once she was back she wouldn’t feel that way. Her family was there, and her friends, and her thesis that needed completion. There were things she loved and fulfilling work to occupy her time.

But Joan wouldn’t be there.

Zoey stared as Joan slowly lowered her camera, the device whirring to indicate it was out of film.

Joan would return to her incredible job in London, working long hours and finalizing her divorce. As the days returned to normal, she’d forget all about the redheaded college coder she’d briefly known in this place. Zoey knew she was unremarkable; a mere blip in Joan’s life. A chance encounter.

They stared at each other, standing on the edge of this chasm that marked a time when tectonic plates had unexpectedly crashed together and then separated forever.

Zoey never wanted this moment to end. If the world had stopped spinning right then and there, she would be happy.

***

They barely made it out before the hurricane made landfall. Pack-up was hasty and haphazard, with no one sure if they should keep the borrowed clothes and no one knowing how to thank the people of Gander for their incredible compassion and hospitality.

Joan and Zoey scribbled a hasty thank you across the wall closest to where their air mattresses had been. They wrote it in three languages: English, French, and binary code. Then it was back onto the buses and back to the ancient airport.

The winds were picking up and it had begun to rain as Captain Bass taxied the plane down the runway.

No one had cared about assigned seats for the flight back. Joan’s feet had followed Zoey into the Economy class and they had taken two seats in a row near the back. No one joined them in their row. Despite the utter lack of anything resembling personal space, Joan couldn’t have cared less. It was where Zoey was. And that was the only place she wanted to be.

As they picked up speed, Joan reached for Zoey’s hand but recoiled a second before she grabbed it. What was she doing? Trying to hold onto this moment? Trying to stop them from leaving?

It was too late now.

They were leaving. And she was going to return to a newly-empty life a continent and an ocean away from Zoey’s warmth and light.

The first hour of the flight was silent. Zoey kept opening her mouth like she wanted to say something but she never did. Joan didn’t know what to say. Or if she should say anything at all. Every possible thing she could say felt inadequate.

But as Captain Bass gleefully announced over the intercom that they had crossed back into US airspace, Joan glanced over at her companion. Zoey was crying, silently and intensely, as if she just couldn’t stop.

Joan immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned in, aiming for Zoey’s forehead to give her a comforting kiss.

But the plane jostled at the exact moment Zoey turned towards her.

Joan’s lips grazed the corner of Zoey’s mouth instead of her forehead.

Zoey gazed up at her, eyes wide and hopeful.

Her heart leaping, Joan shifted the angle of her mouth.

Their lips met again. And this time, they simply didn’t stop.

They kissed and canoodled for hours at the back of the plane. All around them, Joan was aware of cabin addresses and their fellow passengers drinking and sharing stories of their stay. But all she cared about was Zoey. Wrapping her arms around Zoey, playing with Zoey’s hair, kissing Zoey as often as she could. Zoey was real. These feelings were real. And like the Dover Fault, she would remain real no matter how long it was after they parted ways.

At one point, not long after Captain Bass had announced that they were now flying over California, a flight attendant paused alongside their seats, tongs ready to hand out hot towels.

“Cold towel?” She asked, smirking.

Blushing, Zoey hid her face in Joan’s neck. Joan couldn’t stop smiling.

***

But of course, they had to part ways.

There was a measure of relief among all of them as they safely touched down in LAX. If she was being honest, Zoey had been carrying a tiny knot of fear in her chest the whole flight home, a small part of her convinced their journey would end the same way as all that footage on the news.

But as soon as they were safely on the ground, that knot of fear became a hard ball of dread.

“So…” She faced Joan at the baggage claim, laptop clutched in one hand, the other hand clasped tightly in Joan’s. Zoey knew her family was anxiously waiting outside and that Joan had a connection to send her back across the Atlantic to London leaving soon.

But neither of them wanted to move.

“So…” Joan echoed, trying to smile but failing.

“So, you’ll call?” Zoey asked.

Joan squeezed her hand. “As soon as I get back.”

She leaned forward and pecked Zoey on the lips. Despite the hours of frantic making out they’d done on the plane and the drunken kiss at the Legion, it felt like their first kiss.

Joan smiled one last time and let go of Zoey’s hand.

And then Zoey was all alone.

***

Joan’s flight back to London passed like a dream. Since she’d been hastily rescheduled onto this flight (having missed her original days ago), she was stuck in Economy. And despite the fact that there were literally only six other people on the plane, she still was not permitted to move up to first class. But she hardly cared.

When she finally opened the door to her flat, she swore it had all been a dream.

Her belongings were still exactly as she’d left them, barely any dust to mark the passage of time.

So far away from New York, London bustled about as normal below her window, the fear still internal and existential for now.

But as she unpacked, Joan found the camera.

She dropped everything and ran out to find a 24-hour photo developer.

Within two hours, she held living proof that it wasn’t a dream.

Zoey, standing on the edge of the Dover Fault, her red hair flying in the ocean wind, her smile soft but fondly directed towards the lens.

Joan stroked the print, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

The flat was so empty.

***

“Hi.”

“Hey”

“How are you?”

“Good…my advisor says if I can finish my report by the end of November, I can graduate as planned.”

“That’s great!”

Zoey paused, unsure what else to say. She would call just before bed, knowing that it was about the time Joan woke up. But life got in the way and the calls had dwindled from a few per week to one per week when they were lucky. And even then, their conversations, which had flowed so effortlessly in person, barely lasted an hour before one of them had to go.

Zoey had found it increasingly difficult to remain optimistic the past few months. Everyone was just so afraid all the time. David had transferred from Manhattan to a California law school, not wanting to be so far away anymore. He’d refused to fly and instead carpooled across the country with his girlfriend Emily. Her parents spoke in hushed voices when they thought she couldn’t hear and her father increasingly watched the news over anything else.

Zoey found herself crying more often and thinking increasingly about how lucky she’d been. But that was always quickly followed by guilt. How dare she celebrate finding Joan and a small bit of happiness in the chaos when so many people were dead?

And while she didn’t feel alone, Zoey still felt unsettled. She’d told her parents about Joan but they still didn’t seem to get it. They hadn’t been in Gander. They hadn’t known the feeling of being stranded and yet feeling at peace amid all the horrors.

“Zoey?” She hadn’t spoken in awhile.

“I…I miss you.” Zoey admitted, her voice small. “I miss Newfoundland. And I know…I know we cant go back but…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. She couldn’t tell Joan how some nights she slipped out of her dorm room and walked to the pier just so she could close her eyes and imagine she was back in Gander, Joan’s hand in hers as they looked out over the ocean. She couldn’t say just how much she needed Joan here - as she had been at the beginning of this terrifying new world - to be at her side and talk to her, hold her hand and provide comfort in the darkness.

Joan listened intently, unsure if Zoey was crying or just at a loss for words. She wanted so badly to be there. Her life since Gander had been nothing but work. Endless hours at Google and a few spare hours with her lawyer. Her flat was starting to feel stifling.

She dreamed of Gander, of long walks with Zoey, of crashing continents and salty air. She longed for a warm embrace, for soft lips on hers. Her thoughts formed dangerous plans that had her terrified. Suddenly nothing of her old life made sense…and she cared nothing for it.

“J…Joan?”

Joan sighed down the line.

They couldn’t do this. It wasn’t going to work if they were a continent apart.

“Zoey…I’m going to move to San Francisco.” She said it softly, giving those dangerous plans more leverage.

Zoey’s breath caught. “Joan…”

She barreled on. “I applied for a transfer to the main Google office…don’t try to change my mind.” Joan beseeched her, knowing Zoey was about to protest. “The divorce papers are signed, my bags can be packed in a week. I’m coming to you. If you’ll have me.” Her voice was heavy with meaning. The kind of meaning that expected an answer.

Zoey let out a shaky exhale, clutching the phone cord tightly in her hand. “Yes. Yes Joan.”

***

 One year later

Joan gazed out over the bands of ancient rock. Now that she was really looking, she could see the bits and pieces that stood out: parts of another that had been left behind during an intimate collision.

“Remember the last time we were here?”

Joan turned to the voice, smiling. “Of course…” She wrapped her arm around the shorter woman, pulling her close as they stared over the Dover Fault. “I never wanted that moment to end.”

Zoey took her hand, finger rubbing the smooth plane of the brand new golden band around Joan’s finger.

“It didn’t.”

Because like the continents, when the world had crashed together in a moment of upheaval, they had found some small, beautiful thing to cherish from the chaos.

#zoey x joan #zoey's extraordinary playlist #come from away #crossover #angst and tragedy #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #the crossover no one asked for #the author is clearly just mashing together two things they very much enjoy and seeing what happens

[jewish-privilege]

As she cleans up the counter where the teenagers at her church’s Vacation Bible School ate their cookies and yogurt, Luba Yanko complains about the state of the country. President Trump is trying to act on Christian values, she believes. But from what she reads online, it seems that a certain group keeps getting in the way.

Trump, she says, “is surrounded by a Zionist environment with completely different values from Christians. It’s kabbalist. It’s Talmudic values. Not the word of God.”

In other words: It’s the Jews’ fault.

“Why do we have pro-abortion, pro-LGBTQ values, and we do not have more freedom to protect our faith? We are persecuted now,” Yanko says about evangelical Christians like herself. “[Jews] say, ‘We’ve got America. We control America.’ That’s what I know.”

...In churches across America, evangelicals say they don’t believe they can get unbiased facts from any traditional news outlet that Trump has branded “fake news” (though many are fans of Fox News). They watch TV networks other than Fox and read major news websites but don’t trust them. Instead, they seek news from alternative websites and YouTube videos in which fiery pastors decry Jewish influence.

...“I’m not in government. It would be like me trying to understand the insurance business,” [pastor Mark English at the Christian Life Center ] said, when asked about Yanko’s allegation that Jews control the government. “The government is so complex — I don’t think that any one group controls everything.”

He felt no need to address his congregant’s anti-Semitic beliefs, either one on one or from the pulpit.

Historically, evangelicals have thought of themselves as very good friends of the Jews, not as anti-Semites [...] But Christian theology has also gone hand in hand with anti-Semitism for centuries, dating back long before Martin Luther. To this day, some Christians believe that the Jews killed Jesus and that modern Jews should bear the guilt.

...[Daniel Hummel, a historian at a Christian study center at the University of Wisconsin] described the deep-rooted anti-Semitic beliefs among some evangelicals as both cultural and theological, with the cultural beliefs coming from their conservative neighbors and the theological beliefs dating to early Christianity, when Christians first started casting themselves as the new chosen people replacing the Jews.

“Some associations in certain conservative areas, with Jews being liberal, cosmopolitan, international and that being a threat to American Christian identity: You’re going to find those views, weirdly, right alongside expressing support for Israel,” Hummel said. “Someone like that would be vaguely or even strongly anti-Semitic but also pro-Israel.”

And politically, evangelicals find themselves sharing common cause with right-wing anti-Semites. They might have little else in common, but both groups are enthusiastic supporters of Trump. [...]

Deborah Lipstadt, a historian who is one of the foremost researchers on anti-Semitism, said she has noticed that politically conservative talking points echo the language common to anti-Semites much more often. She pointed to Sen. Josh Hawley’s (R-Mo.) speech at the National Conservatism Conference, in which he used the word “cosmopolitan” 12 times.

“This class lives in the United States, but they identify as ‘citizens of the world.’ They run businesses or oversee universities here, but their primary loyalty is to the global community,” Hawley said, referring not to Jews but to liberal elites.

“I’m sure most of the people who appeared there would say, ‘I’m a good friend of Jews,’ and they probably are,” Lipstadt said. “But if you took out the word ‘cosmopolitan’ and put in the word ‘Jew’ — it sounds like a traditional anti-Semitic trope … It’s the kind of thing that will attract the anti-Semites.”

At its root, this trope relies on a mistrust of major institutions, and a suspicion that Jews are manipulating them. ...

“There’s a theory that’s out and about, about the manipulation of news, fake news. And how you can’t trust judges. And you can’t trust big pharma, that’s why we shouldn’t be vaccinated … These kind of conspiracy theories [about manipulating institutions], for centuries, are just so connected to anti-Semitism that it’s hard to just ignore,” Lipstadt said. “It’s hard to say this is just by chance.”

Evangelicals are not inherently anti-Semitic, she noted. But they tend to share these conservative suspicions of the news media and of elites, and to view themselves as the victims of the elites — a worldview that predisposes some to align themselves with anti-Semites.

...Aryeh Tuchman, the associate director of the Center on Extremism at the Anti-Defamation League, points to several YouTube channels where pastors promote a mix of Christian theology and anti-Jewish animus.

TruNews, a nightly newscast with more than 18 million views on YouTube, bills its purpose “to offer Christians a positive alternative to the anti-Christian bigotry of the mainstream media.” Jews and Israel are a constant target for Rick Wiles, the Florida pastor who runs the show.

In the past month alone, Wiles has posited that sex offender Jeffrey Epstein might not have died but instead been spirited away to a safe house in Israel; listed the names of “Hollywood Jews” who produced the pulled-from-theaters satirical movie “The Hunt” and suggested that they actually want to hunt and kill white Christians; called the non-Jewish billionaire “Rabbi Warren Buffett"; said the government could take away guns from anyone who criticizes Israel; referred to Ivanka Trump, who is Jewish, as “Yael Kushner"; and more.

...For Wanda and Doug Meyer, like many other evangelical Christians across the country, these YouTube channels are their primary source of news. They turn to YouTube to understand events that seem vitally important to them, like policy in Washington that will impact their religious freedom at home in Brandon, Fla.

...“It’s right there on YouTube. You don’t hear it on mainstream media. We know Kenneth Copeland. We know Paula White. We know David Barton,” Wanda said. “Different ministers, that’s where we get our news. People who know what’s really going on.”

As they ate lunch after the service at their large evangelical church, the Meyers said they would like to someday visit Israel, which is religiously important to them. But they also watch a lot of videos online when they’re watching those pastors’ sermons. They believe, with total certainty, in what they hear, even when the information is false: that humans have nothing to do with climate change. That Muslims are trying to implement laws in U.S. states that would allow them to kill Christians with impunity. That a shadowy group, including wealthy Jews as leaders, meant to use Hillary Clinton to bring about “one world government.”

Wanda says they try to “stay up to date” on the “spiritual battle … financed by the Illuminati and the Rothschilds.”

After all, she trusts the source has a higher authority: “These are ministers we know, we respect.”

[Read Julie Zauzmer’s full piece at The Washington Post.]

#long post

[tcm]

Interview with Mark A. Vieira, author of Forbidden Hollywood: The Pre-Code Era (1930-1934)

Mark A. Vieira is an acclaimed film historian, writer and photographer. His most recent book, Forbidden Hollywood: The Pre-Code Era (1930-1934): When Sin Ruled the Movies is now available from TCM and Running Press.

Raquel Stecher: Twenty years ago you wrote Sin in Soft Focus: Pre-Code Hollywood for Harry N. Abrams. Why did you decide to revisit the pre-Code era with your new TCM-Running Press book Forbidden Hollywood?

Mark A. Vieira: That’s a good question, Raquel. There were three reasons. First, Sin in Soft Focus had gone out of print, and copies were fetching high prices on eBay and AbeBooks. Second, the book was being used in classes at the USC School of Cinematic Arts. Third, Jeff Mantor of Larry Edmunds Cinema Book Shop told me that his customers were asking if I could do a follow-up to the 1999 book, which had gotten a good New York Times review and gone into a second printing. So I wrote a book proposal, citing all the discoveries I’d made since the first book. This is what happens when you write a book; information keeps coming for years after you publish it, and you want to share that new information. Sin in Soft Focus: Pre-Code Hollywood told the story of the Code from an industry standpoint. Forbidden Hollywood has that, but it also has the audience’s point of view. After all, a grassroots movement forced Hollywood to reconstitute the Code.

Raquel Stecher: Forbidden Hollywood includes reproduced images from the pre-Code era and early film history. How did you curate these images and what were your criteria for including a particular photograph?

Mark A. Vieira: The text suggests what image should be placed on a page or on succeeding pages. Readers wonder what Jason Joy looked like or what was so scandalous about CALL HER SAVAGE (’32), so I have to show them. But I can’t put just any picture on the page, especially to illustrate a well-known film. My readers own film books and look at Hollywood photos on the Internet. I have to find a photo that they haven’t seen. It has to be in mint condition because Running Press’s reproduction quality is so good. The image has to be arresting, a photo that is worthy in its own right, powerfully composed and beautifully lit—not just a “representative” photo from a pre-Code film. It also has to work with the other photos on that page or on the next page, in terms of composition, tone and theme. That’s what people liked about Sin in Soft Focus. It had sections that were like rooms in a museum or gallery, where each grouping worked on several levels. In Forbidden Hollywood, I’m going for a different effect. The photo choices and groupings give a feeling of movement, a dynamic affect. In this one, the pictures jump off the page.

Raquel Stecher: Why did you decide on a coffee table art book style format?

Mark A. Vieira: Movies are made of images. Sexy images dominated pre-Code. To tell the story properly, you have to show those images. Movie stills in the pre-Code era were shot with 8x10 view cameras. The quality of those big negatives is ideal for a fine-art volume. And film fans know the artistry of the Hollywood photographers of that era: Fred Archer, Milton Brown, William Walling, Bert Longworth, Clarence Bull, Ernest Bachrach and George Hurrell. They’re all represented—and credited—in Forbidden Hollywood.

Raquel Stecher: What was the research process like for Forbidden Hollywood?

Mark A. Vieira: I started at the University of Southern California, where I studied film 40 years ago. I sat down with Ned Comstock, the Senior Library Assistant, and mapped out a plan. USC has scripts from MGM, Universal and the Fox Film Corporation. The Academy Library has files from the Production Code Administration. I viewed DVDs and 16mm prints from my collection. I reviewed books on the Code by Thomas Doherty and other scholars. I jumped into the trade magazines of the period using the Media History Digital Library online. I created a file folder for each film of the era. It’s like detective work. It’s tedious—until it gets exciting.

Raquel Stecher: How does pre-Code differ from other film genres?

Mark A. Vieira: Well, pre-Code is not a genre like Westerns or musicals. It’s a rediscovered element of film history. It was named in retrospect, like film noir, but unlike film noir, pre-Code has lines of demarcation—March 1930 through June 1934—the four-year period before the Production Code was strengthened and enforced. When Mae West made I’M NO ANGEL (’33), she had no idea she was making a pre-Code movie. The pre-Code tag came later, when scholars realized that these films shared a time, a place and an attitude. There was a Code from 1930 on, but the studios negotiated with it, bypassed it or just plain ignored it, making movies that were irreverent and sexy. Modern viewers say, “I’ve never seen that in an old Hollywood movie!” This spree came to an end in 1934, when a Catholic-led boycott forced Hollywood to reconstitute the Code. It was administered for 20 years by Joseph Breen, so pre-Code is really pre-Breen.

Raquel Stecher: What are a few pre-Code films that you believe defined the era?

Mark A. Vieira: That question has popped up repeatedly since I wrote Sin in Soft Focus, so I decided which films had led to the reconstituted Code, and I gave them their own chapters. To qualify for that status, a film had to meet these standards: (1) They were adapted from proscribed books or plays; (2) They were widely seen; (3) They were attacked in the press; (4) They were heavily cut by the state or local boards; (5) They were banned in states, territories or entire countries; and (6) They were condemned in the Catholic Press and by the Legion of Decency. To name the most controversial: THE COCK-EYED WORLD (’29) (off-color dialogue); THE DIVORCEE (’30) (the first film to challenge the Code); FRANKENSTEIN (’31) (horror); SCARFACE (’32) (gang violence); RED-HEADED WOMAN (’32) (an unrepentant homewrecker); and CALL HER SAVAGE (’32) (the pre-Code film that manages to violate every prohibition of the Code). My big discovery was THE SIGN OF THE CROSS (’32). This Cecil B. DeMille epic showed the excesses of ancient Rome in such lurid detail that it offended Catholic filmgoers, thus setting off the so-called “Catholic Crusade.”

Raquel Stecher: It’s fascinating to read correspondence, interviews and reviews that react to the perceived immorality of these movies. How does including these conversations give your readers context about the pre-Code era?

Mark A. Vieira: Like some film noir scholars, I could tell you how I feel about the film, what it means, the significance of its themes. So what? Those are opinions. My readers deserve facts. Those can only come from documents of the period: letters, memos, contracts, news articles. These are the voices of the era, the voices of history. A 100-year-old person might misremember what happened. A document doesn’t misremember. It tells the tale. My task is to present a balanced selection of these documents so as not to stack the deck in favor of one side or the other.

Raquel Stecher: In your book you discuss the attempts made to censor movies from state and federal government regulation to the creation of the MPPDA to the involvement of key figures like Joseph Breen and Will H. Hays. What is the biggest misconception about the Production Code?

Mark A. Vieira: There are a number of misconceptions. I label them and counter them: (1) “Silent films are not “pre-Code films.” (2) Not every pre-Code film was a low-budget shocker but made with integrity and artistry; most were big-budget star vehicles. (3) The pre-Code censorship agency was the SRC (Studio Relations Committee), part of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association (MPPDA)—not the MPPA, which did not exist until the 1960s! (4) The Code did not mandate separate beds for married couples. (5) Joseph Breen was not a lifelong anti-Semite, second only to Hitler. He ended his long career with the respect and affection of his Jewish colleagues.

Raquel Stecher: How did the silent movie era and the Great Depression have an impact on the pre-Code era?

Mark A. Vieira: The silent era allowed the studios the freedom to show nudity and to write sexy intertitles, but the local censors cut those elements from release prints, costing the studios a lot of money, which in part led to the 1930 Code. The Great Depression emptied the theaters (or closed them), so producers used sexy films to lure filmgoers back to the theaters.

Raquel Stecher: TCM viewers love pre-Codes. What do you think it is about movies from several decades ago that still speak to contemporary audiences?

Mark A. Vieira: You’re right. Because we can see these films so readily, we forget that eight decades have passed since they premiered. We don’t listen to music of such a distant time, so how can we enjoy the art of a period in which community standards were so different from what they are now? After all, this was the tail end of the Victorian era, and the term “sex” was not used in polite society. How did it get into films like MIDNIGHT MARY (’33) and SEARCH FOR BEAUTY (’34)? There were protests against such films, and there were also millions of people enjoying them. What they enjoyed is what TCM viewers enjoy—frankness, honesty, risqué humor, beautiful bodies and adult-themed stories.

Raquel Stecher: What do you hope readers take away from your book?

Mark A. Vieira: One thing struck me as I wove the letters of just plain citizens into the tapestry of this story. Americans of the 1930s wrote articulate, heartfelt letters. One can only assume that these people were well educated and that they did a lot of reading—and letter writing. I want my readers to read the entire text of Forbidden Hollywood. I worked to make it accurate, suspenseful and funny. There are episodes in it that are hilarious. These people were witty! So I hope you’ll enjoy the pictures, but more so that you’ll dive into the story and let it carry you along. Here’s a quote about SO THIS IS AFRICA (‘33) from a theater owner: “I played it to adults only (over 15 years old). Kids who have been 12 for the last 10 years aged rapidly on their way to our box office.”

#pre-Code #TCM #Forbidden Hollywood #pre-code films #interview #jean harlow #mae west #ginger rogers #Depression era #1930s #Raquel Stecher

[chiseler]

The Day They Busted Mencken

In 1922, Baltimore-based journalist, essayist, literary critic and gadfly H. L. Mencken wrote, “I am, in brief, a libertarian of the most extreme variety, and know of no human right that is one-tenth as valuable as the simple right to utter what seems (at the moment) to be the truth.” Toward this end he used his American Mercury magazine and other publications as platforms from which to wage his ongoing war against the more ludicrous expressions of self-righteous morality, in particular fundamentalism, Prohibition and censorship. He once described the Puritan mindset that so dominated the American Northeast as “the haunting fear that someone, somewhere may be happy,” and his post-mortem evisceration of Anthony Comstock (who had staged the most singularly effective and far-reaching censorship campaign the nation had ever seen) remains shockingly timely. But That’s another story.

Comstock had taken his fight against obscenity national with the conscription of the United States Post Office, lobbying for legislation that made the mailing of materials deemed obscene a federal offense (again that’s another story). But on a local level his New York Society for the Suppression of Vice was an extremely effective weapon when it came to cracking down on New York-based publishers, booksellers, book buyers, art galleries and theaters that displayed or sold material he found personally offensive. The NYSSV was so effective it spawned other bluenose organizations in other major US cities around the turn of the twentieth century, in which holier than thou citizens took it upon themselves to scrub their own communities clean of books and art they didn’t like. It wasn’t just Fanny Hill and pornographic stereographs they were after, but George Bernard Shaw, Oscar Wilde, Eugene O’Neill, and The Decameron. Among these tight-assed citizen vigilante groups, the most powerful by far was Boston’s Watch and Ward Society, formed in 1878 with the stated purpose of cleaning up corruption in local politics. Perhaps finding that a futile waste of time, in 1906 the leaders of the Watch and Ward Society shifted their focus, aiming their vigilance at any manner of artistic expression they deemed unseemly or that might undermine the upstanding moral virtues of the fine God-fearing Christians of Boston. They did this, with the cooperation of the local vice squad and the blessing of city fathers, by banning anything they found offensive and ordering the arrest of those responsible.  By the second decade of the twentieth century, no city in the nation could approach Boston when it came to banning things, and the term “Banned in Boston” soon became a big selling point in other American cities. If a book or play had been banned in Boston, you could almost guarantee hot diggity sales across the rest of the country.

But in Boston, The Watch and Ward Society—made up of citizens, not politicians, lawyers, or law-enforcement officers—wielded so much power that booksellers and publishers were terrified to cross them. If you bought or sold something they decided could corrupt the morals of your average eight-year-old girl, you could find yourself not only out of business, but in jail in short order.

In 1926, Mencken, well aware of the situation in Boston, decided to do something about it. Publishing essays lampooning our self-appointed moral guardians or condemning censorship in philosophical terms was all fine and good, John Milton and the Marquis De Sade had done the same thing, but what had it accomplished?  Plays were still being shut down, museums were still hiding artwork away in vaults and classic literature was still being banned. Better to take the war directly to the enemy. He began hatching a scheme which, if successful, would lead to a court battle he felt certain he could win. As he would later write in a 1937 article about the event, “{If} [Watch and Ward Society leader John] Chase were permitted to get away with this minor assault he would be encouraged to plan worse ones, and, what is more, other wowsers elsewhere would imitate him.”

The April, 1926 issue of the American Mercury proved irresistible to Chase and his minions. The essay arguing sex should be seen as a simple and pleasant bit of recreation to pass the time would likely have been enough to get the issue banned, as would have the ad for a book already condemned by the Watch and Ward Society. The clincher, however, was an excerpt from Up From Methodism: A Memoir of a Man Gone to the Devil, by Gangs of New York author Herbert Asbury.

Asbury was the  grandson of the first American bishop of the Methodist church, and in 1926, while a reporter for the New York Herald Tribune, he set to work on an intentionally profane memoir about his Methodist childhood in Missouri. “Hatrack,” the chapter he submitted to Mencken’s magazine, concerned a prostitute from his hometown who, despite being a devout Christian, found herself rejected by the church. As he tells it, she continued her life of ill-repute, bringing her Catholic customers to the Protestant cemetery to complete the transaction, and vice-versa.

Well, the piece resulted in the predictable shitstorm, and the April issue of The American Mercury was immediately declared obscene and banned by the Watch and Ward Society. Upon hearing the good news, Mencken contacted his lawyer, Boston-based attorney Herbert Ehrmann, and got on a train the next day.

The first thing they had to do, Ehrmann explained when Mencken arrived, was go to the Boston Health Department and meet with the Superintendent of Peddlers to obtain a peddler’s license permitting them to legally sell copies of the magazine in Boston Commons. That done, Ehrmann contacted Chase, asking him to meet Mencken at the corner of Park and Tremont, where Mencken would sell him a copy of the very magazine Chase’s organization had declared obscene a few days earlier. After that, Chase could feel free to have Mencken arrested if he so chose.

There was nothing accidental about the chosen meeting spot. The corner was home to the Park Street Church, where for nearly 120 years evangelical preachers had tried to terrify their congregations into lives of righteousness with fiery sermons about hell and damnation, leading the intersection to be dubbed “Brimstone Corner.”

Chase was understandably suspicious about Ehrmann’s offer. He was clearly familiar with Mencken, and was in all likelihood familiar with Ehrmann as well, a local who’d gained a national reputation as part of Sacco and Vanzetti’s defense team. Chase was used to everyone being terrified of him and doing whatever he said, but now here was this upstart journalist from Baltimore who, like all gentlemen of the Fourth Escape, was obviously up to some devilments. If nothing else, he was there to make trouble for Chase.

It’s unclear why, exactly, Chase agreed to participate in the publicity stunt. It reminds me in a way of Donald Rumsfeld agreeing to be interviewed on camera by Errol Morris. Maybe Ehrmann was simply that persuasive, or Chase was so blinkered he didn’t recognize it as a publicity stunt. An even sadder possibility is that, like Rumsfeld, Chase was convinced he could match wits with Mencken and come out on top.

In any case at noon on April fifth, a week after the magazine had been banned, Mencken showed up at Brimstone Corner, a copy of the American Mercury in hand. Word had spread about the public confrontation, and the streets were packed with onlookers, most of them, Mencken surmised, Harvard students. But instead of showing up himself as agreed, Chase instead sent his assistant to meet Mencken. Although the youngster assured Mencken he was a member in good standing of Watch and Ward, with all rights and privileges that came with the position (including the right to order arrests), Mencken was having none of it. He would only sell the magazine to Chase himself.

The assistant left, and some time later sure enough, the murmurings of the crowd announced that Chase himself had arrived, accompanied by a plainclothes officer and Captain George Patterson, Chief of the Boston PD’s vice squad.

Without much ado, Mencken offered to sell Chase the offending magazine he was carrying, and Chase handed over a fifty-cent piece. In a bit of showmanship, Mencken bit the coin to test its authenticity, and Chase ordered that the journalist be arrested.

Mencken was not billyclubbed or handcuffed. Capt. Patterson merely tapped him on the shoulder, and they made the four-block walk through the crowd to the precinct house in Pemberton Square, where Mencken was booked on a charge of possessing and selling obscene material.

The next day they went before a judge who, clearly no fan of the Watch and Ward Society, declared the April issue of The American Mercury was not obscene, and acquitted Mencken on all counts. Mencken then turned around and sued the Watch and Ward Society, accusing them of restraint of free trade. Again the judge was on Mencken’s side, going so far as to state that the banning of objectionable material was the job of lawyers and elected officials, not citizens.

Emboldened by these two victories, Mencken had the legal footing he needed to go after his real target. After the Solicitor General of the Post Office, ignoring the decision of the Boston judge, declared that issue of the American Mercury obscene, and therefore sending it through the mail a federal offense, Mencken filed suit against the U.S. Postal Service. It would have been a landmark First Amendment case and, had he won, it would have dealt a serious blow to those pinch-faced do-gooders who would tell us what we can and cannot read. That, however, would have to wait until Barney Rosset and Grove Press landed in court three decades later. Mencken’s suit was dismissed on a technicality, and that was that.

Even though in the years that followed the Watch and Ward Society would again shift their focus to more definable vices like gambling, books would continue to be banned in Boston at an  unprecedented clip until the time of Mencken’s death in 1956.

by Jim Knipfel

[l-enfer-c-est-les-autres]

just had a long argument with my roommate about how “violence doesn’t solve anything”,  “violence is never the answer, if we kill we’re just as bad as them, look at gandhi”, and “everyone has the right to live/no one deserves to die, even murderers/rapists/fascists/etc”, “if a woman’s being abused she can just walk out the door while the abuser is sleeping”, and how “there’s always jobs available nearby for everyone if you work hard enough, that don’t require transportation and are sustainable for you and your family and you magically qualify for and don’t require any luck”. she’s absolutely a good person, and generally well-informed, but this is where white, middle class privilege shows.

1. self defense IS NOT EQUAL to assault. there is no moral comparison, and those who argue this are brainwashing their victims into allowing themselves to be victimized, to not fight back, to roll over and make things easier for them. if it’s kill or be killed, the aggressors should absolutely be the ones to die.

2. no, i do not value the lives of murderers/rapists/fascists/etc as equal to that of their victims. if it’s kill or be killed, they should absolutely be the ones to die.  it’s not about the morality of the death penalty; in the USA, the ‘justice’ system is blatantly broken: prisons are for profit, black kids who smoke weed go to prison for 6 years while white rapists get 1 week of jail time, sexual predators and offenders become president. when the system not only fails to protect you, but is part of the oppression against you and your loved ones, fighting back is self-defense, and you should and must fight back with all the means at your disposal, including violence.

3. india rebelled violently against britain, there was violent armed conflict between indians and british, gandhi just became the figurehead of the movement, and there were other factors such as economics at play; it is total bullshit myth that india achieved independence solely through pacific protest. resisting and fighting against the depredation of a colonizing aggressor is self-defense.

4. sexism, classism, racism, fascism - there is a war going on. people, lots of people, especially the poor and POC, are dying every day, murdered deliberately and though the negligence of the government and the society that is supposed to serve and protect them. you cannot “vote them out” because a) in the USA, the popular vote DOES NOT MATTER, the electoral college chooses the president and most americans don’t vote enough at the lower levels of government to claim any measure of democratic power (not to mention the US has been an oligarchy since Reagan), b) the system is designed by the people in power so that they remain in power. the system literally CANNOT be fought from within. ex: a good number of dictators were originally democratically elected; then once in power they change the laws so the presidency becomes a lifetime office. corrupt governments - and all governments become corrupt over time because enough/too many humans are selfish, greedy, stupid creatures - are self-sustaining and will legalize evil and corruption. bribing officials and buying elections? legal in the USA. under the trump administration, getting rid of the EPA means legalizing known dangers to public health and safety such as toxic waste dumping. the water crisis in flint? perfectly legal for the government to do nothing for 5 years and let an entire city suffer without clean water and get lead poisoning (the citizens are suing the government for damages, but this will not undo their suffering or restore their health). this is why revolution is the only means of destroying corrupt government and restoring power to the people, and revolution is self-defense.

5. the rights we have today - women’s rights, equal rights, LGBT rights, children’s rights, human rights - our grandparents and parents absolutely fought and died for them, they did not wait around pacifically waiting for those in power to give them some, and too many of us today are still fighting for ourselves and others. suffragettes were imprisoned, assaulted, and had their lives ruined; martin luther king jr. was assassinated by the FBI only 50 years ago when my mother was a teenager (don’t let those black and white photos fool you into thinking it was further away than it really is), and countless others died protesting and fighting; the LGBT at stonewall rioted and physically fought the police for 5 days. so many of the LGBT+ community are still fighting today, and being harassed, physically and sexually assaulted, and murdered, and teenagers are especially vulnerable and often are kicked out of their homes and forced into homelessness. those in power never voluntarily relinquish, share, or give power, because it doesn’t benefit them; they have to be forced to do so, including through violent means, and this is self-defense.

6. no there aren’t magically convenient jobs for everyone everywhere, and it is nearly impossible to climb out of poverty. when you’re living paycheck to paycheck, losing a job for even a week can be enough to force you and your family into homelessness, and from there it’s nearly impossible to find work without a permanent address, a phone number, access to regular showers and food, and god forbid you need healthcare in america, etc. you’re disabled or it’s freezing winter outside? financial insecurity and homelessness is a death sentence. in france the gilets jaunes movement began to protest a tax on cars that would have crippled the working poor, because while it’s good in theory to reduce carbon emissions and save the environment, there is not the infrastructure necessary to replace those cars. in north america, you can’t go anywhere without a car; if you live outside the city or in certain neighborhoods there’s no public transportation or it’s unreliable, or what would be a 10min trip from my house to the grocery store would take >2h30 by bus because there’s a highway to go around, which is simply not doable: the more time i spend commuting, the less time i can spend working, sleeping, feeding myself, taking care of dependents, etc. in contrast, you could live without a car in most of Japan because they have amazing public transportation. fighting to maintain the means of self-subsistence is self-defense.

7. i asked her: have you ever had to worry about where you were going to sleep tonight, or whether you could eat? no, she hasn’t. how many homeless people do you know, when you’re talking about how you and your friends all managed to find work within bicycle distance of your house? none. when is the last time you or your loved ones were threatened and endangered, harassed, discriminated against, or killed by neo-nazis, mass shooters, the police, etc? never. (ironically, she agreed that World War II needed to be fought) . when confronted with bigots whose proudly self-professed goal is mass genocide of you and your people, fighting back and killing them to prevent them from killing you is self-defense.

8. nazis, school shooters, domestic abusers, ARE NOT MENTALLY ILL. the majority of them, and this is proven by many, many studies, don’t have mental illness, and ALL of them have VALUE PROBLEMS. as in, they don’t value the lives of POC and women, they hold as a core belief that they are less and deserve to be killed and treated poorly. “if a woman’s being abused she can just walk out the door while the abuser is sleeping”: even discounting the psychological effects of abuse (hopelessness, feeling of being trapped, dependence, fear of repercussions and punishment, etc) abused women usually don’t have any money or means of earning money; if they have children it’s even harder. women’s shelters will only let people stay for a limited amount of time, and an abuser can easily find out the address. i used to live by the only women’s shelter in the area, the gate was dented from all the men who would come and beat it, with their hands, baseball bats, ramming their cars into it, shouting and threatening; i’m sure that more than one woman was caught leaving and beaten even worse for the attempt, and they are often too afraid to ask the police for help, or the police refuse to help because they’re poor/uneducated/POC/don’t give a fuck/don’t believe them because the abuser is an upstanding pillar of the community/etc, or in the USA the abuser is often a cop. and if the police do show up, the abuser might not go to court or serve jail time, meaning he’ll be free to retaliate against the woman and children, and in many cases abusers retain parental rights over their children; even if a restraining order is issued, that doesn’t guarantee it will be enforced, and it will not prevent an abuser from harming the woman and children, only punish him for it after it’s too late. for the woman and her potential children, leaving means homelessness, starvation, immense psychological stress, and huge risk of retaliation up unto being murdered. so if, since she cannot resist or escape her abuser while he’s beating the shit out of her, she decides to take a kitchen knife and kill him while he’s passed out drunk, that’s self-defense.

yes, we can and must educate people, especially children, and yes this is the only way to bring lasting change on a societal level. but in the meantime, my roommate and her loved ones aren’t the ones suffering from chronic poverty, threatened and degraded by discrimination, being denied job opportunities and basic rights, or dying from completely preventable lack of food, shelter, and medical care, or being murdered because they and their lives are considered trash. no violence is not always the only solution, but sometimes it is, and sometimes it is the best solution.

obviously her understanding of the world is going to be heavily influenced by her experience of it. and the reality is, she’s blonde, thin and conventionally attractive, from an educated financially secure family, can afford to be vegetarian and buy high-quality food every day, and she can single-handedly pay her own university tuition (in canada) with her part-time job. but it’s easy for her to say that “violence is never the answer” when she has never, and likely will never, have to fight for her life, her rights, or those of people like her, will never have to defend her inherent worth to people who genuinely don’t care. and this is a good thing, because no one should have to do any of this, but it needs to be true for everyone. so repeat after me,

PACIFISM IS FOR THE PRIVILEGED.

THE LAW IS NOT JUSTICE.

CAPITALISM IS FAKE AND NON-SUSTAINABLE, IT IS A VIOLENT, SYSTEMATIC, MURDEROUS ATTACK AGAINST THE 99%. there is no reason other than the greed of the 1% for the way our society is currently structured or how resources are being distributed. jeff bezos is currently worth 165 billion USD. if you divided that equally among all 7 billion people on this planet right now, we would each have over 22 billion, can you wrap your heads around that? or let’s convert that into time, $1 for 1 second: if i earn 50k/year, i get to live for not even 14 hours; jeff over there will live for 5232 years. so yes, EAT THE RICH. it is horrifyingly evil to have that much money, knowing the only way to have that much is to make it at the expense of the vulnerable, off of slave labor and the exploitation of human suffering, and even worse to choose not to use it to improve the world around you and help your fellow man.

#rant #violence against women #capitalism #justice #human rights #gay rights #pacifism #white privilege #poverty #homelessness #self defense #revolution #jeff bezos #domestic violence

[theinsideoutmermaid]

Chapter 2: Nakia

Marvel high school AU

Words: 2467

***

The second hand of the clock had never moved slower, and Nakia’s foot had never tapped faster. She stared at the offending hand, willing it to throw off the soporific influence of 8th period AP Spanish. It wasn’t that Mr. Coulson was a bad teacher, exactly; he was just kind of bland and anyway, getting through any eighth period class when you had something exciting after school was like trying to swim through molasses. A lifetime ago, there had been two minutes left in class. Now there were thirty seconds. Nakia tuned out Coulson’s re-explanation of cláusulas con si and bounced her leg ever faster.

“Now remember, everyone: hubiera goes with habr—” Thankfully, the blaring end-of-school bell drowned out the rest of his sentence. Nakia sprang up, throwing her bag over her shoulder. She was the first student out the door of X108.

Weaving skillfully through the hordes of students filling the halls, Nakia forced herself to take several deep breaths. Her fingers still tapped a swift rhythm on the strap of her bag, but her mind felt a little less cluttered. It’s going to be okay, she told herself. Nakia paused in front of one of the hall bulletin boards while the sea of students continued to surge around her. There it was: her flyer.

She had put them up a week and a half ago, and she knew every word by heart, but she reread it anyway. Yep, all the right information. Today was supposed to be the easy part, the part where everything was out of her hands and she just had to wait and see who showed up. The hard part, technically, was planning out initial activities and asking the notoriously intimidating Ms. Carter to be the staff sponsor. Nakia had been only a little scared to approach Ms. Carter. She had had her for AP US History last year, and the teacher liked her and was also a fierce advocate for human rights. So, no, that actually wasn’t too hard. The real nerves came from awaiting the student response. LHS students were generally nice kids but also shockingly ignorant and complacent. They were good about supporting local charities and food pantries, and pretty much nothing beyond that. And that’s what I’m going to change, thought Nakia as she arrived at the door of Q124. She straightened her colorful skirt and headwrap and then marched inside.

So far the only inhabitants of the room were Ms. Carter, impeccably dressed as ever in a pantsuit, and Pepper Potts, president of the Student Council and Nakia’s best friend. Pep turned at the sound of the door opening, ginger ponytail swishing with the motion, and she grinned when she saw Nakia.

“Thanks for coming, Pep,” said Nakia, slinging her bag onto a nearby desk.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” In one look, Pepper seemed to discern everything that was going on in Nakia’s head. “And I’m positive that it won’t just be me. I heard Steve Rogers convincing the rest of the Boy Scout Bunch to come during lunch. And where Steve goes, Bucky Barnes follows, so you’re guaranteed at least two other members.”

“Rogers, huh? I guess this is the sort of upstanding thing that he would do,” Nakia said, feeling a little bit pleased.

“I always thought Steve was like a cartoon,” mused Ms. Carter, a smile playing on her ruby-red lips. “Not in a bad way, of course, he’s a wonderful kid. It’s just that he’s so all-American that you almost think he’s made up. Top it off with that hair and those eyes—”

“--And you’ve got a boy straight from a World War Two recruitment poster. I know exactly what you mean,” said Pepper, laughing. “I went to elementary school with him, and he was like eighty years old even then. He called all the teachers ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ and always looked so solemn.”

“He sat next to me in English sophomore year. He’s nice,” said Nakia. And cute, mouthed Pep. Nakia rolled her eyes.

Changing the subject, Nakia said, “I made a Powerpoint for today. Is it okay if I pull it up on your computer, Ms. Carter?” As Nakia logged into her account, the door banged open, letting in a small stream of students led by — Thor Odinson? No way. There was no way that Thor Odinson, the blond giant, the boisterous partygoer, He of the Bajillion Varsity Letters, was joining her Human Rights Club. And yet, there he was, dwarfing the tiny desk chair he had chosen as a perch. Following him were Steve and Bucky, plus Sam Wilson and Rhodey, rounding out the Boy Scout Bunch. Pepper chatted them up immediately, because she was a master of small talk that didn’t feel like small talk, and Nakia was left to her thoughts. Her thoughts were as such: Wild. Maybe she should have brought snacks.

She glanced at the clock. It was 3:25, ten minutes after school ended, so it was probably about time to start the presentation.

“Hi everyone,” she yelled, which was necessary because Thor spoke at volume level 30 at all times. They quieted and turned to look at her. “Hi. Um. I’d like to thank you all for coming to the first meeting of Human Rights Club. I wanted to start off today’s meeting with a presentation showing some of what we’re—”

But the door flew open again, and Nakia stopped her speech to look.

“Hi. . .” Standing in the doorway was T’Challa. He was smiling at her in a weird frozen way, and he hadn’t moved out of the doorway.

“Hi?”

“Oh!” He blinked and seemed to realize what he was doing. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I had to tell my coach that I was going to be late to practice, but I guess that made me late coming here, so. . . my bad.”

Nakia reassured him that he was fine. “We hadn’t really started yet. Please, take a seat,” she said, gesturing to the assembled desks and trying to ignore Pep, who was clearly trying to communicate something through intense eye contact.

“So anyway, I made this presentation to show some of what we’re up against as a Human Rights Club, and what we are obliged to do as citizens of the world.” She clicked the remote. “This is a picture of a mother and her child. The woman is crying because her husband, a fourteen-year resident of the US and well-respected employee at the local grocery store, has just been deported to Mexico. He was the breadwinner in her family, and with no other relatives in America, she has no way to either support her son or take care of him during the day while she works. Her name is Maria. There are hundreds, thousands of other Marias, dreamers in America who work hard and yet have their dreams stripped away.” Nakia could feel the power building in her voice. This was what she knew. This was what she was passionate about. This was her mission. By the end of the Powerpoint, her small audience was looking subdued and concerned.

“Well. I can see that I’ve made an impact on you. I need you guys to take that energy that you’re feeling and put it to good use. The world may look bleak, but there are so many good people in it, and so much we can do to help. I want Human Rights Club to have three main tasks: education, fundraising, and volunteering. Educating others is just as important as taking action ourselves.Yeah, Pep?”

Pepper, who had been raising her hand, cleared her throat. “I thought we might include one or two foreign or global organizations when we vote for The Drive this year. We’ve always chosen local ones before, and that seems so. . . small-minded now.”

“That’s really great, Pep!” The Drive was the school’s massive annual charity fundraiser, led by Student Council — and therefore, by Pepper, the president. The whole community got involved. Last year they had raised upwards of $200,000. “That kind of support for one of our charities would be. . . incredible.The only problem would be getting the student body to vote for it.”

“You need a good video,” said Rhodey, speaking up for the first time. “I’m pretty good at editing. Sam’s in my film class, too.”

“Show it in homeroom before the vote,” suggested Sam.

“I would vote for it,” said Thor.

Nakia smiled. “Thank you, Thor.”

“I think all you’d have to do is say you voted for it, and then we’ve got the rest of the football team in the bag,” said T’Challa, grinning. “Those people listen to you.”

“And you,” muttered Bucky. “What? It’s true. People like you. And Pepper. They’ll do it if you do.”

“Well, as StuCo president I can’t exactly show any bias, but I’m sure you boys can work some magic,” Pepper said.

“Do people even vote for these things?” interjected Sam. “I mean, I’ve never done those stupid surveys — sorry, I guess,” he said, shrugging at Pepper. “Kinda didn’t care because we’d be end up doing something nice or good or whatever no matter what I voted. Lotta people feel the same way, I’m pretty sure. Sorry. Again.” Pepper continued to look a little crestfallen.

“Well, that’s not right, is it?” said Steve, speaking up for the first time. “The Drive is supposed to be democratic. It’s supposed to represent a cause that we, as a school, feel passionate about. It just doesn’t work— it’s not authentic if people don’t put in their due effort.”

“Chill out, bro, this isn’t the United Nations.”

Ms. Carter, until this point, had been observing the proceedings with a small smile. “No, indeed, Sam, but I think Steve has a point. Let me just say this, at the risk of sounding pretentious or overly dramatic: At this point in time, our country is suffering from negligent and honestly rather lazy citizens. People say they don’t like the direction our country is headed, they don’t like the immigration policy or the trickle-down policies or what have you, but they refuse to do anything about it. I was shocked at how many of my own colleagues didn’t even vote in the last election. The students here do have opinions about causes, but are content to let that be it. There’s a general belief that regular people are powerless. It’s important to teach them — you — that your actions can be impactful. So Steve is right: we need teach students to contribute now in order for them to continue contributing in the future,” finished Ms. Carter.

“Why not do it on paper instead of on the computers?” suggested Thor. “Homeroom teachers can pass out slips to everyone and collect them at the end.”

Pepper chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I think that’s a good idea, actually. It’s easier to hold people accountable.”

“I guess I would feel bad handing in a blank slip,” admitted Sam. “It could work.”

“Well,” said Nakia. It was now 4:12, and she had planned to only go until 4:15. “This has been a really great first meeting. I want to thank you all again for coming. Honestly, this was a much better turnout than I could have hoped for, and you guys have some great ideas that make me really excited for the rest of the year! Pep, when’s the vote scheduled?”

“In two weeks.”

“That might cut it a little tight, but I think we can do it. We’ll choose our organizations next week, and then Rhodey and Sam — can I count on you for the video?” They nodded assent. “Awesome. Thor and T’Challa will be our promoters. Okay! See you next week everyone, and thanks again.”

Pepper stayed behind with Nakia while the boys filed out of the room. “Nice job, babe,” she said with a smile.

“Thanks,” replied Nakia, feeling a matching grin tugging at her lips, “and thank you Ms. Carter for sponsoring us.”

“It was my pleasure, Nakia,” said Ms. Carter, as she slid her purse onto her shoulder. “I think you have something amazing in the works.”

It was with a new spring in her step that Nakia followed Pepper to the parking lot. On the way, they discussed possible organizations, the logistics of a paper ballot — Nakia was also on Student Council — and the surreality of having Thor Odinson in her humble club. Pepper glanced up and stopped suddenly. Laying a hand on Nakia’s arm, she said, “You know what, I just realized I forgot something in my locker.”

“Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, go on ahead. See you tomorrow, love you!” Her voice was suspiciously bright.

“Bye,” Nakia called after her, watching the perfectly curled ponytail shrink into the distance. There has to be something up with h— oh, there we go. On one of the benches next to the front door was T’Challa, and he was staring right at her. There was no way to pretend she hadn’t seen him, so Nakia hitched an awkward smile of greeting onto her face and continued on her way to the parking lot.

“Nakia!” he said, standing up at her approach. She took a deep breath and stopped, wheeling around to face him. He’s really handsome, said the voice in her head that belonged to Pepper. Dammit, said the voice in her head that was her own. T’Challa had started to speak: “I, um, I just wanted to say that your presentation today was really. . . impressive. I had no idea you know so much about all that stuff, and it’s really cool how much you care. It shows.   And. . . it makes you. . . I think you looked really strong up there.” His face softened into a charmingly shy smile. Flustered, Nakia’s fingers flew to tug the edge of her headwrap. Her face was too hot.

“Thanks. . . um. . . I really have to go do, uh, homework now, so ummmm. . . see you next week, I guess,” she stuttered, and she fled from the lobby into the parking lot. Safely in her car, Nakia buried her face in her hands for a moment, then scrounged in her backpack for her phone. She pulled up her text thread with Pep.

Nakia: PEP CALL ASAP WHEN YOU GET HOME I AM THE MOST EMBARRASSING HUMAN BEING ALIVE

Pepper: ;) ;) ;)

Nakia: dont wink at me you witch

Nakia: I just ruined my life

Pepper: :D

Pepper: babe he liiiikes youuuuu

Pepper: but ok we’ll save it for facetime. u gotta tell me Everything tho.

Nakia: there isnt that much to tell but ok i promise. God im so pathetic.

Pepper: not too pathetic for TCHALLA the KING to have a CRUSH ON YOU

Nakia: stOP!!

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #nakia #pepper potts #tchalla #black panther #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #high school au

[spoiler2010]

The Wealth Of Nations and 21st Century Socialism

If we were to seriously consider the socialist prerogatives suggested by Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and her supporters in New York City, we would stand on Adam Smth's Wealth of Nations as a platform in refuting and ridiculing the notion that a capitalist nation such as America could change its historic course as a paradigm of free trade, division of labor and national productivity. Ocasio-Cortez supports progressive policies such as a government-controlled medical industry, tuition-free public college and trade school, federal job guarantees, guaranteed family leave, the abolition of the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement and the privatization of prisons. They would also be a revision of gun control statutes, and an energy policy relying on 100% renewables. She also plans to use Modern Monetary Theory as an economic strategy to provide funding and enable implementation of these goals. In this discussion we shall examine the absurdity of these goals and the historic and economic precedents that condemn these notions to futility.

The arguments against a government-controlled medical industry are overwhelming. For starters we must ask why the best and brightest scholars from around the planet come to America to realize their destinies. In most cases it is not the aesthetics of our modernized nation or its bill of rights. Rather it is the opportunity to be rewarded for their genius and the opportunity to find a rewarding career. A lifetime of contribution in socialist nations such as China and Russia provide little more than improved housing, extended social privileges and exponential material rewards. The State sets ages and rewards according to its need, and anything sought by the applicant exceeding the standard will be arbitrarily rejected by the bureaucracy. Once Cortez's State controls are in place, the engineers, technicians and physicians will head to greener pastures, in all likelihood the European Union or Israel.

Once the American medical industry has become lobotomized, the socialist government will join those at the international auction block seeking the cheapest prices for products and services. No longer will American citizens benefit from state-of-the-art equipment, the world's best facilities or the latest pharmaceutical discoveries or medical treatments. Those who have devoted their lives to research and development will not seek compensation according to a socialist pay scale.

Skeptics will do well to consider the medical industry in Canada or the government-controlled Veterans' Administration in America. Canadian patients find themselves shortchanged by voucher systems, unable to schedule appointments at overbooked facilities, or obtain needed products and supplies at local facilities. American military veterans find themselves in similar predicaments in the majority of cases. Legislation in certain states has provided out-of-network services for veterans that allow them to seek medical aid outside of the government system. Otherwise they find themselves victimized by identical State-run institutions on both sides of the border.

Tuition-free public college and trade school are also a socialist pipe dream. All scholars know that the upper-level paper trail starts with the thesis essay. At this juncture they know that their success is precipitated by their writing skills. On the doctorate level, they are required to submit an essay that is deemed worthy of publication. From thereon, their acceptance as an associate professor at a college or university will require them to publish on a regular basis. Here they realize that their work can earn money on the open market. Only in America can a scholar hope to bring his credentials from his homeland and possibly receive a million-dollar signing bonus.

Obviously every scholar coming to the USA cannot expect a major score just by accepting a position at a major university. Yet he can continue to publish and hope that his dreams will be realized. During that time, his track record at his workplace gives him the authenticity he needs in order to pursue his goals. This allows American colleges to reap the benefits as these unsung innovators await discovery. If these opportunities were not available, these pedants would seek broader horizons. An entry-level socialist wage would never attract the kind of scholar that American colleges do now.

            Let us digress to the dawn of man when primitive tribes of neanderthals were bartering as their villages expanded to where their proximity became too close to ignore. A tribal chief bringing a sack of potatoes to the border would expect his counterpart to bring him a bag of carrots of the same size. When a third tribe makes its presence known, they will accept his offering of wheat. Only the day comes when his offer shifts, and this is where socialism fails.

          The wheat offerer brings loaves of baked bread, and here is where the discourse changes. We now have the labor cost of the bakers who produced the bread. It is doubtful that the chiefs will reject the offer of bread, so now the bread chief will have the opportunity to name his price. And so it goes. The only option for a socialist system will be for the villages to join together to make the bread as equal a trading option as the produce. The bread chief would be a fool to agree. And only by violence could he be forced to submit.

As Adam Smith pontificates, there is no point where a sovereign body will acquiesce to their detriment. They will demand reciprocation for their contribution. Paradoxically, this is the opposite of what America has done since the turn of the century. We have given excruciatingly more in building empires and propagating democracy than any nation in history. The only reciprocations have been political: we expect our allies to vote our way at the United Nations and provide access to trade routes or staging areas for military operations. Only we have gotten less and less in return over the decades. Finally Donald Trump has come to collect some old debts. Cortez wishes to maintain the status quo for everyone but Americans.

Federal job guarantees will do nothing more than assure Americans of greater sub-standard government agency service than ever. Since the end of World War II, Federal and State agencies have been increasingly filled by those seeking job security and, in many cases, permanency. It has long been a standard maxim that, once acquiring a government job, one is set for life. The benefits are guaranteed for as long as the government exists. The starting pay is competitive; however, the annual raises leave much to be desired. As a result, most move on to the private sector in time. Those who remain do so for lasting job stability.

This results in an overabundance of workers unable or unwilling to achieve higher stations in life. Added to such ranks are unemployed workers conveyed directly into the application process. Many have failed in previous endeavors and were expecting to receive benefits before being siphoned back into the workforce. In both cases, their attitudes are reflected in their level of customer service. Most citizens needing government assistance will minimize their contact with such personnel, leading to a lighter burden for the agencies to bear.

This endemic philosophy of the bureaucracy has plagued the greater socialist nations such as Russia and China. Their citizens grow desperate in seeking government assistance only to find little or none forthcoming. It is little wonder why the black market thrives in such conditions, or unlicensed providers are able to flourish. We can also invoke Adam Smith's principles in citing the need for overachievement in the private sector. An enterprise that does not seek to compete or improve the quality of its products or services is doomed to failure. Workers who have no tangible interest in the success or failure of their employer soon become disenthused. Soon they grow mechanical in satisfactorily completing their daily assignments. If Americans are dissatisfied with government bureaucracy at this point, under Cortez it may well become far worse.

          Guaranteed family leave is a Pandora's Box that, included with socialist policies including pro-choice agendas, might well result in profligation by way of the most sinister of ulterior motives. It is well known that socialists in the US are advocating the most extreme policies, including the abortion option at any point up to the time of delivery. This disregard for the sanctity of human life is further reflected by discussion as to whether or not a mother and her physician could agree to withhold life sustaining treatment. In essence, this means leaving the newborn alone to die. This can be legitimized by any possibility of risk to the mother's health, either physical or mental. A woman fearing post-partum depression can exercise the right at will.

We cannot rule out the possibility of recipients taking advantage of this system. A female could well plan a pregnancy to be termed in advance, filing a claim for paid leave of absence. Most doctors will agree to recommend extended time off for the patient to recuperate. This conveniently allows one to carry the fetus up to a planned time, in which they can have the abortion before taking leave. 

The abolition of the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement seems to be in conjunction with the New World Order's objective of establishing a globalist system. Without a Federal enforcement agency in place to prosecute immigration law offenders, it overburdens an already overwhelmed bureaucracy. In essence, it creates a porous border system that has already been proven relatively ineffective in preventing the ongoing alien invasion. Repeat offenders routinely include drug smugglers, human traffickers and career criminals. According to Adam Smith, our inability to protect our workers and our industries of these hazards will inevitably result in unsustainable loss.

One of the greatest dilemmas facing agriculturalists is that of illegal immigration. For over a half century, farmers have been able to employ undocumented workers en masse to meet market demand and lower their operating costs. One factor is the reluctance of Americans to accept arduous labor jobs for minimum wage. Another is the economy of paying workers off the books in cash for a set price. Most workers are glad to receive enough cash to provide for their families, and the employer is relieved of having to comply with legal obligation. If the socialists succeed in disrupting the system, it may prove disastrous to the entire agriculture industry.

What Cortez and her associates fail to realize is one of Adam Smith's basic concepts. The merchant must always factor in his overhead costs in order to generate a reasonable market price. The labor costs, material costs and all other opportunity costs are taken into consideration. When the merchant is able to compete on the open market, it is reasonable to assume that his costs and prices are similar to those of his competitors. If his prices exceed those on the market, his options are extremely limited. He may find a remote area free of competition. He may rely on his reputation and customer allegiance for a short time. Other than that, he may well be forced out of business.

When the floodgates are open and aliens are granted citizenship status, they will be able to rely on equal opportunity laws to improve their wages. This will force agriculturalists into compliance, greatly increasing their labor costs. This would result in a reciprocal increase in prices, which is eventually passed on to consumers. If the farmer experiences a 25% rise in overhead, the cost of a basket of peppers may go from a dollar to $1.25. This may cause griping but little ado among customers. However, when the cost of a gallon of milk goes from $3 to $4, there will be wailing and gnashing of teeth across America.

Needless to say, it will be impossible for merchants to provide health insurance for field workers. This places an incalculable strain on the government-controlled health insurance system being promoted by Cortez. Millions of aliens may well apply within the first year of a socialist takeover. The impact on lower-class families depending on health care might well be catastrophic.

Regardless of the health care scenario, the spike in agricultural costs would have a ripple effect across the American economy. A rise in crop prices would create a surge in the livestock industry. Although cattle ranchers would not be immediately affected, the cost of pork and poultry would escalate along with the cost of feeding the animals. Even the fuel industry would feel the pinch as the increasing use of ethanol would be affected by a sharp rise in corn prices.

Abolishing the use of privatized prisons would have a seismic effect on the government budget as well. It is estimated that nearly 15% of US prisons are privatized, representing a 50% increase since the turn of the century. The number of unemployed workers would be the least of Cortez' problems. Of greater concern would be the number of prisoners that would be injected into the Federal and State penal systems. A recent estimate shows as many as 125,000 inmates would be displaced. 

The immediate problem would be the overcrowding effect as the prisoners are redistributed to facilities across the country. Most penologists would concur that overcrowding is one of the main contributing factors to prison violence. The quick fix solution offered by leftist State administrations over the decades has been an early release for inmates to reduce the prison population. Often this has been granted to violent felons who have demonstrated a pattern of good behavior. If this policy was extended to those showing borderline behavior, the possible consequences of releasing recividists could be grievous at best.

The revision of gun control statutes would pose a significant challenge to citizens' Constitutional rights. In cities such as Chicago and New York where regulations are among the strictest, it has been said that the only ones bearing arms are the cops and the criminals. For decades NYC had a law that provided for residents to possess rifles in their homes. The thought of a person having to bring a rifle to bear in the event of a home invasion is as comedic as it is pathetic. Gun permits are available, but the requirements are so stringent and the process so tedious that few even bother to apply. The bottom line is that the socialists want to remove as many firearms from citizens' possession as possible. 

What is perceived as ambiguity in the Second Amendment has been debated by pro-gun and anti-gun activists for decades. It seems inconceivable that no amendment has been made or a ruling by the Supreme Court to clarify the law.  The Second Amendment of the United States Constitution reads: "A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." Polemicists have been dissecting this poorly-worded sentence for over a century. To most, it seems clear that 'the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed'. To others, the 'well-regulated militia' is the key phrase, providing for those active in the militia to be scrutinized by authorities. 

Therein lies the conundrum. For National Rifle Association advocates, the right of all citizens to bear arms is inalienable. For anti-gun lobbyists, 'regulation' opens the door for arbitrary restrictions as determined by State (and eventually Federal) governments. Convicted felons and mental defectives have already been prohibited from owning firearms in many states. If the socialists ever seize power, there will assuredly be more categories and situations to follow.

When we view this from Adam Smith's perspective on a microcosmic scale, we see the inherent risks and perils with the socialist line of thinking. If a merchant, or a community of merchants, is subject to robbery and burglary that threatens his merchandise, his lives or property, there is an obligation by one and all to resist the predatory force. In the case of the American colonies being victimized by authorities, the option to resist becomes a matter of survival. It is hard to imagine Adam Smith standing alongside socialists in restricting the rights of merchants to defend their property.

This brings us back to a previous argument concerning socialists' position on open borders. Ranchers along the southern border have dealt with rampant trespassing issues as aliens have violated their perimeters and crossed their property. For these citizens, they may well have their lives and those of their family and their animals placed at risk by Cortez socialists. Do we doubt that traffickers facing lengthy jail time (until further alterations are made by Cortez) would not use deadly force to avoid capture? If these criminals sought to use private property as a shortcut to their inland destinations, the land would be repeatedly violated with no chance by the homeowner to interfere. They might reach out to ICE, but under Cortez, that option would no longer exist.

The energy policy relying on 100% renewables is something Adam Smith could not foresee. One of the major battlegrounds is West Virginia, where an area the size of Manhattan is being cleared for a solar energy plant. Thousands of acres of woodland are being chopped down to make room for this project. The elimination of refuge for wildlife is the least of the socialists' concerns. They feel it will create a milestone for other states on their path to clean energy. As for West Virginians, they are already being impacted by the streams and other bodies of water that are being polluted, diverted or dried up. Once the actual construction begins, they can only expect things to worsen. We know of the nihilistic maxim: one must destroy in order to create. Adam Smith would ask: what is it that the State has the right to destroy at the expense of society?

The bottom line as regards Cortez's Modern Monetary Theory is simple. The State's budget is dictated by the amount it invests in the public sector as opposed to the money it receives by means of taxation. If it spends more than it taxes, there is a deficit as is common for Republican administrations. This indicates that more money has gone to bank accounts in the private sector than to the Treasury. If it taxes more than it spends, a surplus is created. This is common among Democratic administrations as we last saw under the Clinton regime. Cortez has already announced plans to increase taxes in her New York dominion up to 70%. This may work well for NYC millionaires, of which only a small percentage of their income is taxable. But what of the rest of America that may disagree with socialist policy. Adam Smith may point to a quote from the American Revolution: taxation without representation is tyranny.

           In summation, history shows that a socialist government had never achieved a noteworthy stage of security and solvency. If millenials and illegal voters are able to carry Cortez down that slope, Christian Americans will be the ones to blame for the consequences. Let us hope that the Moral Majority will be able to save the day. Otherwise, Wealth Of Nations by Adam Smith may, like the Bible, be another prophetic book we chose to ignore.   

#American politics democratic socialism #alexandria ocasio-cortez #adam smith wealth of nations #christian america

[whatisonthemoonarchive]

While some continue to complain about the profound effects of indoctrination into the totalistic worldview of the Moon ideology,  it is puzzling that they seem  unconcerned about the  mind control and ideological indoctrination inflicted from all directions outside the Moon movement on society at large. After all, it is difficult to not notice that a massive world-wide combination of educational institutions, media, the entertainment industry, government agencies, computer companies,  the United Nations and its accredited non-governmental organizations (NGOs) are all involved in the indoctrination of the masses into a totalitarian, one world government ideology. Are the effects of indoctrination in the Moon ideology dangerous in comparison to the effects of indoctrination into the totalitarian one world government ideology?    When considering this, take into account that the totalitarian, one world government ideology promotes and facilitates various lifestyles and practices considered to be sinful according traditional Christian standards, whereas the Moon ideology, whether it be true or not, upholds traditional Christian morality and takes a hard line against sin.

The one world government indoctrination program begins in elementary school with a planned, step-by-step process of replacing the traditional family-taught beliefs, morality, Biblical values and world view with a new way of thinking designed to support the totalitarian world government agenda [see 'Brainwashing in America']   The techniques of brainwashing developed in totalitarian countries are routinely used in psychological conditioning programs imposed on American school children to bring about these results. These include emotional shock and desensitization*, psychological isolation from sources of support, stripping away defenses, manipulative cross-examination of the individual's underlying moral values, and inducing acceptance of alternative values by psychological rather than rational means.

The goal of education is no longer to teach the kind of literacy, wisdom and knowledge we once considered essentials of responsible citizenship.  It is to train world citizens--a compliant international workforce, willing to flow with change and uncertainty. These citizens must be ready to believe and do whatever will serve a  government determined 'common good' or 'greater whole'.  Educators may promise to teach students to think for themselves, but if these state educators continue what they have started, then tomorrow's students will have neither the facts nor the freedom needed for independent thinking.  Like Nazi youth, they will be taught to react, not to think, when told to do the unthinkable.

Are the effects of indoctrination into the Moon ideology really so dangerous in comparison to the effects of the ongoing state run indoctrination into the totalitarian one world government ideology?  

__________________________

*A common method used in training students to reject truth is emotional shock therapy which is described in the following example:  Ashley, a California tenth-grader, heard her teacher announce the following writing assignment: 'You're going to consult an oracle. It will tell you that you're going to kill your best friend. This is destined to happen, and there is absolutely no way out. You will commit this murder. What will you do before this event occurs? Describe how you felt leading up to it. How did you actually kill your best friend?'  Ashley became very upset. Why would her English teacher tell her to imagine something so horrible. 'I don't want to do this.', she told herself and long after she had told this to her parents, the awful feelings continued.

This method of emotional shock therapy has become standard fare in public schools from coast to coast. It produces cognitive dissonance -- mental and moral confusion -- especially in students trained to follow God's guidelines. While classroom topics may range from homosexual or occult practices to euthanasia and suicide, they all challenge and stretch a student's moral boundaries. But why?

'[Our objective] will require a change in the prevailing culture--the attitudes, values, norms and accepted ways of doing things,' says Marc Tucker, the master-mind behind the school-to-work and 'workforce development' program implemented in every state. Working with Hillary Clinton and other globalist leaders, he called for a paradigm shift--a total transformation in the way people think, believe, and perceive reality. This new paradigm rules out traditional values and biblical truth, which are now considered hateful and intolerant. (See "Clinton's War on Hate Bans Christian Values") All religions must be pressed into the mold of the new global spirituality.  Since globalist leaders tout this world religion as a means of building public awareness of our supposed planetary oneness, Biblical Christianity doesn't fit. It is simply too 'exclusive' and 'judgmental.'

Immersing students in imaginary situations that clash with home-taught values confuses and distorts a student's conscience. Each shocking story and group dialogue tends to weaken resistance to change. Biblical absolutes simply don't fit the hypothetical stories that prompt children to question and replace home-taught values. Before long, God's standard for right and wrong is turned upside-down, and unthinkable behavior begins to seem more normal than the Christian tradition that formed the basis of western civilization.

But it takes more than a twisted conscience to produce compliant world citizens. New values must replace God's timeless truths, as described in the following example:

 Matt Piecora, a fifth grader from the Seattle area, was told to complete the sentence, 'If I could wish for three things, I would wish for…'  Matt wrote 'infinitely more wishes, to meet God, and for all my friends to be Christians.'  Matt's wish didn't pass. The teacher told him that his last wish could hurt people who didn't share his beliefs. Matt didn't want to hurt anyone, so he agreed to add 'if they want to be.'  Another sentence to be completed began, 'If I could meet anyone, I would like to meet…'.

Matt wrote: 'God because he is the one who made us!' The teacher told him to add 'in my opinion.' When Matt's parents saw his work, they noticed the phrases that had been added to Matt's sentences and asked,  'Why did you add this?'. 'The teacher didn't want me to hurt other people's feelings,' he answered. 'But these are just your wishes…'  'I thought so, Mom.'  Matt looked confused. Later, the teacher explained to Matt's parents that she wanted diversity' in her class and was looking out for her other students. But the excuse didn't make sense. If the papers were supposed to 'express the students' diverse views,' why couldn't Matt share his views? Didn't his wishes fit? Or was Christianity the real problem?  'I try to instill God's truths in my son,' said Matt's father, 'but it seems like the school wants to remove them.'

 He is right. The old Judeo-Christian beliefs don't fit the new beliefs and values designed for global unity. The planned oneness demands 'new thinking, new strategies, new behavior, and new beliefs'  that turn God's Word and values upside-down and no strategy works better than the old dialectic (consensus) process explained by Georg Hegel, embraced by Marx and Lenin, and incorporated into American education during the nineteen eighties.  Directed group discussion based on the dialectic (consensus) process is key to the transformation. Professor Benjamin Bloom, called 'Father of Outcome-based Education', summarized it as follows:

'The purpose of education and the schools is to change the thoughts, feelings and actions of students.  ....a large part of what we call good teaching is the teacher's ability to attain effective objectives through challenging the students' fixed beliefs and getting them to discuss issues.'  Matt's last comment was especially threatening to the teacher. His statement, 'God made us' is an absolute truth. It can't be modified to please the group. Therefore it doesn't fit the consensus process -- the main psycho-social strategy of the new national-international education system designed to mold world citizens.  It demands that all children participate in group discussions and agree to: · be open to new ideas · share personal feelings · set aside home-taught values that might offend the group · compromise in order to seek common ground and please the group. · respect all opinions, no matter how contrary to God's guidelines · never argue or violate someone's comfort zone

First tested in Soviet schools, this mind-changing process required students in the USSR, China and other Communist nations to 'confess' their thoughts and feelings in their respective groups. Day after day, trained facilitator-teachers would guide these groups toward a pre-planned consensus. Opposite opinions or ideas -- 'thesis' and 'antithesis' -- were blended into ever-evolving higher 'truths'. Each new truth or 'synthesis' would ideally reflect a blend of each participant's feelings and opinions. In reality, the students were manipulated into compromising their values and accepting the politically correct Soviet understanding of the issue discussed. Worse yet, the children learned to trade individual thinking for a collective mindset. Since the concluding consensus would probably change with the next dialogue, the process immunized them against faith in any unchanging truth or fact. This revolutionary training program was officially brought into our education system in 1985, when President Reagan and Soviet President Gorbachev signed the U.S. - U.S.S.R. Education Exchange Agreement. It put American technology into the hands of Communist strategists and, in return, gave us all the psycho-social strategies used in Communist nations to indoctrinate Soviet children with Communist ideology and to monitor compliance for the rest of their lives. Today, American children from coast to coast learn reading, health, and science through group work and dialogue. Most subjects are 'integrated' or blended together and discussed in a multicultural context. Thus, fourth graders in Iowa 'learn' ecology, economy, and science by 'real-life' immersion into Native American cultures. They role-play tribal life and idealize the religion modeled by imaginary shamans. Seeking common ground with the guidance of a trained facilitator-teacher, they share their beliefs, feelings, and 'experiences' with each other. They might agree that 'there are many gods' or 'many names for the same god' and compare the exaggerated spiritual thrills of shamanism with their own church experiences. Which religion would sound most exciting to the group? The consensus would merely be a temporary answer in a world of 'continual change' -- one of many steps in the ongoing evolution toward better understanding of truth -- as defined by leaders who envision a uniform global workforce and management system operating through compliant groups everywhere.     http://www.inplainsite.org/html/mind_control_in_schools.html

[micahllucas]

How to Portray a Teen Mom

I managed to retrieve this post from the wayback machine, originally posted by effofrps circa November 2013.

-

Below is a guide on how to  Portray A Teen Mom. It is twelve paragraphs long and includes the following:

Possible Conflicts your character might face

The Growth of a child

Examples of situations your character might conquer

Information on raising a child.

DISCLAIMER: I’d like to say that I am not, a teen mom. This is not out to offend any one who happens to be a teen mom, and this certainly doesn’t  that all my info applies to all teen moms.

Being a teen Mom is no walk in the park. There are constant things you tend to struggle with. The stress of finding a job, the stress of raising a baby, or even carrying a baby, the stress of your parents  and the pressure from school.— Not to mention the constant judgement you face wherever you go.

SCHOOL: PEOPLE, FAMILY, RESPONSIBILITY

People: "You walk into school, four months pregnant and now you’re starting to show. You can hear the snickers and the mouths running faster than the speed of light. You can feel the eyes as they all fly down to your stomach. You can see the teacher’s surprise as they look at you with shock and concern. You can smell the judgment when you walk into the room.-What happened? You used to be the good girl, with great grades and amazing friends. A teacher’s pet. And here you are, talk of the school because he pressured you into something you thought you were ready for.  Now every one steers away from you, the stare at you and not even your best friend wants to be seen with you."

Let’s be real. Not every one is going to be a walk in the park. But that doesn’t mean they’re all going to be harsh judgmental bitches, either. There are some people, who indeed stick by their friends during the pregnancies and after; Some boyfriend’s who take responsibility and hold themselves accountable for their actions. Now, your character can have that mindset, that every one is against her because she’s pregnant at sixteen. But that’s not how it is in reality. Not every one will gossip about her like the latest news. Some nerdy girl that she doesn’t know might stop and help her with something in class, some Jock that’s typically a jerk might stand up and be very protective over her. The HBIC might actually have a heart for once. Typically, in any form of bullying, it’s the person we least expect. Media and Hollywood movies tend to make it the rich girl, the popular girl and in some cases that’s true. But Majority of bullying comes from some one the victim least expects. Like a best friend.

School Work- ” I don’t know what happened to Abigail. She used to have amazing grades but now… -I understand she’s got a kid to look after, but if she wants to do what’s best for both her and the baby, then she needs to pull it together.”

Not every teen mom can keep up with both school and a child, which is why some teen moms drop out of school. Babies, need lots of attention and care, which is hard to do whilst attempting to finish out school. At first, it’s kind of easy because newborns tend to sleep a lot. Waking up for a bottle, burping and a diaper change. Of course, you’ll have to play with the little one and spend some quality time with him, and then he’s out for the next nap which leaves you to finish your school work. But of course, you tend to want to get out and have some fun, right?

As the Baby grows, he’ll be spending more and more time awake, needing more of your attention, which of course will give you less time to work on school work. The home you had due today? Little Ethan had a fever and you had to take care of him all night? Think that’ll fly in class? Maybe once or twice, but that’s not going to work with him.

Although you now have a child, you’re still a teenager. You still want to get out, you still want to live life to the fullest. This is the prime of your life and you don’t want to waste it sitting around and burping a kid while studying for finals. Want to get out? Suck it up. You made the choice to lie in bed, you’re no longer a teenager. You’re a mother. You have responsibilities.

COMPLICATIONS WITH FAMILY

Family- “I love Abbie with all my heart, but there is no way I’m going to sacrifice my time and watch her kid everyday after school. I told her I’d watch Ethan from school to the end of volley ball practice. She’s been late twice and I’ve been late to work, my boss says he’ll fire me if I don’t get my act together. It’s not right.”

Your mother/father/sister/brother will not watch your kids for you everyday, for an unlimited time. That’s not fair to them, or to the child. Your family members will get fed up and they will confront you about it. Not only did it affect you and your image, but the whole family and those who know them. Your little brother Austin may get bullied because of it. You’re sister Audrey might be harassed by boys who think they’ll follow in your footsteps. You’re mom, Amanda and your dad Aiden might be considered bad parents and loose good job opportunities because of it.  So not only do they have to put up with criticism and ridicule on their own, because of your actions, but they also have to come home and watch your child for you. Do you particularly think that’s fair?

Deep down inside every human is selfish. Whether we admit it ornot, we all do things that give us pleasure. We all do things for OUR sake, rather than some one else’s. Some more than others, but regardless, it’s these selfish tendencies that make us happy. If we all continuously did things for other people, we wouldn’t necessarily be happy. So expect your character’s little brother to lash out and say he hates you because he can’t do the things he wants any more.  Expect your characters little sister to say that every one thinks she’s a whore because you decided to sleep around at a young age. Because it’s them letting out the anger and ridicule they go through everyday for your actions.  Now, some families  may not be like that. They might all be supportive, and caring. But in both families they still love you and the child, but they’re just releasing anger from the way your pregnancy as labeled all of them. Not that it’s your character’s fault. Though she does have to take responsibility, regardless if the sex was consensual or not. If they child was a result of rape, the mother can feel a form of hatred in her heart. Sometimes, a woman won’t be able to look at her child because she’ll remember what happened to her. The mother can go as far as harming or neglecting her child.

When raising a child, things can get a bit hectic. A child needs love and care. During the early stages of a babies life, it’s important to pay attention and teach them things. Especially because it’s the time that they learn the most. For instance, if a Pregnant Mother listens to the same song everyday, once the baby is born that same song can be used to soothe the baby to sleep or just to keep him or her calm. The reason why parents talk “Baby” talk to their children is because the children can memorize the variations of the human voice. (Rising pitch, falling pitch and circumflex.) Some people wonder why even though the baby is young (2-6 months old) they still watch cartoons. These cartoons allow the children to memorize useful information by song. My siblings are three and four years old and I have first hand witnessed their cognitive growth over the years. A song from “The Cat and the hat knows a lot about that” Or simply “The Cat And The Hat” Has taught them the colours of the Rainbow by song. The show “Daniel Tiger” has taught them how to clean up instead of the traditional Barney song.

RESTRICTIONS, PUNISHMENT

There are certain shows and company you want to restrict. Babies absorb everything. Foul language, scary movies can all imprint thing in your child’s brain. Which of course causes them to repeat bad words or have nightmares. You can try as hard as possible on preventing a child from being spoiled, however depending on the age, {specifically the terrible twos) they tend to be spoiled anyway. My little sister is currently going through the ‘Mine’ stage. Where everything bright and colourful is considered their’s. Of course, you can take the toys away and let them throw a hissy fit, but that doesn’t really help anything. Depending on your character’s beliefs, you can turn to spanking or tapping the hand. Or, the time out corner. But I can tell you this when it comes to punishments, it doesn’t work the first time around. In order for a child to learn something, they need to see it repeated over and over again until they understand.

PRICING: $$$$$$

A child is quite expensive. Americans spend $30 a month on diapers. An average UK citizen spends about £26 (34 american Dollars) per week on Nappies. In fact, Americans can count on spending around $2,448 per year  for diapers.  This doesn’t include baby formula, teething toys, clothing, high chairs, cribs, rockers, baby swings. — Things that can be found in an everyday parent household.

OKAY SO WOW. this got really long. I didn’t expect that. If there’s anything I didn’t cover that you’d like to see, just message me and I’ll see what I can do!

DISCLAIMER: I’d like to say that I am not, a teen mom. This is not out to offend any one who happens to be a teen mom, and this certainly doesn’t mean that all my info applies to all teen moms.

#writing #writing advice #writing help #write #writing research #writing reference #teen mom #teen pregnancy

[buzzdixonwriter]

Lena Horne, Barack Obama, and Donald Trump

Back in the Golden Era of Hollywood* white folks would point to Lena Horne as an example of how America wasn’t racist, America offered opportunities for everyone.

“Look at her!  She’s a movie star!  She appears in big movies!

“How could she do that if we were racists?”

Every society, no matter how stratified or hidebound, has space for a few socially approved outliers.

You can always afford one rigidly controlled exception to the rule, who can paradoxically serve as both a reassurance that there’s room for others and as an easily dismissed distraction should they arouse too much or the wrong kind of attention.

Lena Horne was an exceptionally beautiful singer-actress in a time and place where beautiful singe-actresses were the norm.  She appeared in dozens of major movies from big studios, and was well respected by her co-workers and peers.

And she was -- or rather the role she occupied in America was -- totally fake.

Ms Horne never had a substantial role or dramatic scene in any movie that did not feature a predominantly African-American cast.

The big budget musicals she appeared in, the ones aimed at mainstream audiences -- white audiences -- typically cast her as a specialty number:  In the middle of a big show within the movie, the camera would pan over to her standing in front of a curtain where she would belt out a show tune.

And white Americans would say to foreigners who criticized the US for its racism, “What about Lena Horne? Look at all the movies she appears in!”

She appeared as an appendix, a wholly superfluous addition whose presence or absence didn’t affect the film one whit.

Her musical numbers in mainstream (i.e., white) musicals were filmed and edited into the final picture so they could be cut out!

See, there were parts of the US that did not care for Ms Horne’s skin color one little bit.

And when her movies played there -- snip-snip.

Out she came.

That way no lily white audiences ever had to be offended that a n[FL play]er dared sully their lily white screen.

Why was she in there in the first place?

As a sop to the African-American community, to lure them into the theaters so they could have five minutes enjoying a performance by somebody who looked like them.

And to a lesser degree, as a sop to those few white Americans who, while not exactly “woke”, were at least stirring restlessly in their sleep.  “Hey, we can’t be all bad if we let a colored girl sing in a movie, can we?”

[SIDEBAR:  You wanna see what Ms Horne was capable of, track down Stormy Weather, an all African-American musical that I rank as the 3rd best movie musical ever made, trailing narrowly behind Singin’ In The Rain and The Band Wagon.]

Barack Obama was 21st century white America’s Lena Horne.

“Hey, how can we be racist if we elected a black president?” was white code for “We want you black people to shut up about the injustices you have suffered and continue to suffer.”

White America wanted Obama to be their Oreo:  Black on the outside but white on the inside.

They wanted him to champion white values and interests.

Not American values and interests.

White values and interests.

“Hey, we elected a black president…”

”…so we don’t have to do anything about the disproportionate justice meted out against African-Americans.”

“Hey, we elected a black president…”

”…so we don’t have to do anything about inner city communities that are still reeling from the effects of hundreds of years of dehumanization.”

“Hey, we elected a black president…”

”…so we don’t have to do anything about addressing the needs and concerns of people who have been deliberately and consciously excluded from the American dream.”

No, Obama was supposed to be the magic cure-all, the ultimate placebo that would get those pesky minorities to stop complaining so white folks could like their lives in ease and comfort and not have to worry about how non-whites were being treated.

Just stand up against that curtain, Barack, and sing…

But Barack Obama didn’t do that.

Barack Obama said, “Hey, we still have a problem if police accost an African-American in his own home and accuse him of being a burglar even when he can prove he lives there.”

And ya know what?

We do have a problem if that can happen.

Because in order to reach the relatively mild level of just getting falsely arrested by a police office who doesn’t believe your identity, we first have to undercut your basic rights as a human being and as a citizen of the United States.

We have to pre-judge you on the color of your skin, to assume you are intrinsically criminal and hence worthy only of suspicion and distrust.

We have to assume you are not educated enough to hold a job that would pay enough for you to buy the home we’re accusing you of burglarizing.

Many white people voted for Obama because they wanted to shut up minority critics.

And to their surprise and horror, Obama basically said, “No, they’ve got a point:  There still is a lot we need to work on to make this nation what is claims it wants to be.”

White people lost their shit over that.

Things got worse as the #BlackLivesMatter movement started.

White folks really lost their shit over that!

Most white people do not hate minorities…

…but they do fear them.

They fear minority crime, but not in the way one thinks.

White people are the biggest criminal threat to other white people.

Rather, they fear minorities because they ultimately fear a loss of status.

As I’ve noted previously, white identity defines itself by whom it excludes.

Barack Obama had one white American and one black Kenyan parent.

In the eyes of white America, that made him black.

And to many white Americans, it made him Kenyan as well.

White Americans define themselves by whom they exclude, never by whom they include.

Also as noted previously, despite its claims to be a classless society, America is very much a class-oriented society, one in which white people were guaranteed at the very least working class status by the simple fact non-whites were automatically regulated to lower class status.

When non-whites achieved skills and education that enabled them to climb out of their lower class status, they were only allowed to climb to higher status within their own communities.

An African-American lawyer might be able to plead a case in a white court, but only for a black client, never a white one.

Middle and working class whites feared losing their status; middle class whites feared slipping down to working class, working class feared becoming lower class.

Only if there was a built-in cushion, a concrete floor they were guaranteed they could not fall below, did whites feel comfortable.

(The astute reader will note this also applies to matters of gender, and orientation, and religion; we focus on race in this post because it’s the most obvious example, but it’s far from the only one.)

That floor was a ceiling for the minorities trapped below it, and the cracks that allowed some minorities to rise above it terrified whites who feared they’d slip through it.

Laws and customs and traditions and practices that kept minorities at arm’s length were the spackling that plugged those cracks.

Police and law enforcement and the judicial and penal systems were part of those plugs.

Minorities were treated more harshly, and penalized more severely, that whites who committed similar crimes.

Whites justified this by saying minorities were, by nature or nurture, more dangerous…more violent…more criminal than mainstream (read “white”) culture, and as such were inherently deserving of such treatment.

A white college student caught with a gram of cocaine would likely get A Very Strong Talking To by the judge and perhaps even have to perform some token community service, but a ghetto kid with a joint?  

Five to ten.

But as whites excluded more and more people from their group -- their own children and grandchildren from matings with non-whites -- the number and voice of minorities grew.

#BlackLivesMatter quite literally and explicitly means “Black lives matter as much as all other lives” but the white community couldn’t have that.

First they deliberately lied, and said #BlackLivesMatter meant “only black lives matter’.

I’ve said elsewhere that some people project so much they should really pay union dues to IATSE. #BlackLivesMatter is a response to the “only white lives matter” attitude found among too many people in law enforcement and the judicial system.

Second, whites claimed #BlackLivesMatter was anti-police (no, it only calls for the police to treat all persons with the same degree of courtesy and respect).

They framed that fake anti-police stance as a desire among the African-American community to wreak harm and havoc on innocent whites (though, as noted elsewhere, how innocent are you if you help maintain a system that harms others for your benefit?).

Nobody ever posted #AllLivesMatter or anything like it prior to #BlackLivesMatter making its first appearance, yet the sentiment found in #BlackLivesMatter can be traced back to the earliest calls for racial justice in this land.

Finally, whites promoted #BlueLivesMatter, a completely bogus straw man argument that places the lives and safety of the police above those of common citizens.

Whitey, please…

Being a police officer is a stressful and dangerous job -- though far from the most dangerous job in America (you wanna risk your life on a daily basis, become a roofer).

Being a police officer isn’t even among the top ten most dangerous jobs in America -- and most law enforcement on the job deaths are the result of traffic accidents (not surprising considering how much time the average officer spends on the road).

Being a police officer means one is entrusted with an awesome and terrible responsibility:  The authority to carry a lethal weapon and to use it against anyone the officer deems to be a clear and present danger to the lives of others.

That is absolutely an authority police officers should have…

…but not all police officers today are worthy of that responsibility.

There is nothing wrong or outrageous about African-American and other minority communities insisting the country’s police officers treat all people they encounter with the same courtesy and respect.

There will be people of all races and genders and ages who will respond to the police with defiance, perhaps up to and including armed resistance.

Fine, that’s why we give the police their authority to carry and use a weapon.

But they need to approach every situation based on what the person is doing at that moment and not whether whether they think or they fear the person may do them harm.

We are employing them -- in every sense of the word -- to put their lives on the line, and to risk their safety in order to preserve the public safety.

And most times, this means waiting until you know what the person you’re dealing with intends to do before acting yourself.

Frankly, if you’re inclined to shoot someone because you’re afraid they might do something, police work is not the career for you.

If unarmed, unresisting whites were treated as callously at so many unarmed and unresisting minorities are, if police gunned down a 12 year old white child without warning while playing in a public park the way they killed Tamir Rice, the white people in this country would go berserk and demand systemic changes top to bottom.

Which brings us to Donald Trump.

If Obama was the homeopathic placebo that white people thought would give them the “Get Out Of Racism FREE” card they longed to have, Trump was to be their purge to drive all the toxins they perceived out of the system and to restore them to their previous lost status.

Make American Great Again was their motto.

And yet when you asked them what that meant, it never referred to real measurable metrics such as changes in purchasing power, increases in productivity, spiraling health care costs, etc.

It always came back to re-establishing a mythical golden social order, where whites felt safe and secure in their (disguised) middle and working class status, and never feared dropping below the concrete floor that held so many others down.

Several years ago I wrote about the fast approaching year 2048.

That’s the year the census bureau projects the number of people identified as “white” Americans will drop to 49.99%.

The year the white majority vanishes…

…replaced by one large minority…

…but a minority nonetheless.

Knowing this day approaches, we will see more and more acting out by white people.

Uglier and uglier.

Sicker and sicker.

Deadlier and deadlier.

In a perverse way, we are lucky to have Trump now.

A competent racist demagogue could do far more damage.

He will taint the white political waters for at least a decade.

And that will shave white majority status ever narrower.

Remember, don’t feel sorry for whites; they are causing this by excluding their own descendants.

What they do to their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren will eventually be visited upon their own community.

The day they fear will finally arrive.

They won’t be anything special.

They’ll just be like everybody else.

E pluribus unum = “Out of the many, one.”

Maybe that will finally come about when there is no longer an arbitrary racial barrier to divide us by class.

 © Buzz Dixon

 * Well, post-WWII era Hollywood; the real golden era ran from the end of WWI to the start of WWII.

#race relations #white privilege #white supremacy #politics #government #Lena Horne #Barack Obama #Donald Trump #ethics #America #American values #BlackLivesMatter

[orbemnews]

The brazen arrest of a Belarusian activist has terrified dissidents all over the world In the weeks that followed, mass protests took place across the country with many believing that the poll was rigged. Three of the women who stood in opposition to Lukashenko disappeared from sight or fled the country in fear for their lives after the election. “No one can feel safe in Europe,” Franak Viacorka, an adviser to Svetlana Tikhanovksya, one of those opposition figures, told CNN earlier this week, speaking about the wider repercussions of Belarus’s forced downing of the Ryanair plane for the entire continent. Speaking from exile in Lithuania, Viacorka said in a subsequent interview that even in Vilnius, he had received death threats and made to feel unsafe. “There are no limits for this regime. I have a special application which sends a signal to my friends and family if something happens to me.” While skyjacking is in itself a very unusual act, this kind of transnational repression is increasingly common in a world where authoritarians are less afraid of consequences. “What’s more common is states using the institutions of other states in order to get to people,” says Nate Schenkkan, co-author of Freedom House’s report, Out of Sight, Not Out of Reach: Understanding Transnational Repression. “Authoritarian states might label someone a terrorist at home then recruit local law officials to have them detained and deported,” he explains. Schenkkan points to the case of Roohollah Zam, an Iranian activist who was lured from France to Iraq where he was subsequently kidnapped, taken to Iran and executed. “This case is important to note as he was also operating a Telegraph channel which allowed him to have an influential voice while overseas. The regime didn’t like that.” The report also highlights the case of Paul Rusesabagina, a high-profile critic of Rwandan president Paul Kagame. Rusesabagina’s family believes he was kidnapped from Dubai in August 2020. Schenkkan’s report explains that Rwanda’s government claimed they had “achieved his return through ‘an international arrest warrant,’ only for the authorities in the United Arab Emirates to deny that they had cooperated in the return.” This was claimed, the report says, to add some legitimacy to the abduction. Freedom House found that transnational repression is becoming a normal phenomenon, noting that many governments were using the same methods to attack their critics abroad. Those methods ranged from outright detention to online intimidation. Alarmingly, it concludes that the “consequences for transnational repression are currently insufficient to deter further abuse.” These trends of copycat repression and insufficient consequences have not gone unnoticed by dissidents elsewhere. And for many, the case in Belarus has stoked further fears. “With China and Russia arduously promoting authoritarianism, leaders have more confidence in committing human rights violations,” says Nathan Law, a Hong Kong human rights activist exiled in London. “I may now need to not only avoid going to countries where China has good relationships, but also taking planes flying over their territory,” he said, following the detention of Protasevich in Belarus. Law is one of the six activists in exile that Hong Kong police have issued an arrest warrant for under its controversial national security law, which claims worldwide jurisdiction and allows for extradition to the Chinese mainland. Why are the consequences so insufficient for egregious offenders? Tatyana Margolin, Eurasia director at Open Society Foundations, thinks it’s a cocktail of a rise in global authoritarianism and a growing indifference to those leaders from citizens of democratic nations. “We can safely say that the authoritarian tide has moved across the world, including in the US under Trump’s presidency,” Margolin says, pointing to Donald Trump’s perceived love of strongmen in countries like Russia and Saudi Arabia. “Citizens in the West are less bothered about the plight of migrants now, so are less compelled to have sympathy for people seeking refuge. This has led to immigration policies that make attaining refugee status harder and people easier to target,” she adds. Trump’s friends in Russia and Saudi Arabia have been guilty of some of the worst examples of transnational repression in recent years. The brazen behavior of the two Russian operatives believed to be behind the 2018 attempted murder of former Russian spy Sergei Skripal and his daughter in the English town of Salisbury is a good indication of how much Moscow cares about the consequences of these actions. The pair gave an almost mocking interview to Russian state TV shortly after being identified as suspects in the nerve agent poisonings, making light-hearted claims about being cathedral enthusiasts who were only in the UK to visit the historic town. The mountain of evidence against them suggests otherwise. Multiple Western nations, including the US, imposed sanctions on Russian companies and individuals, and expelled Russian diplomats in the wake of the Salisbury attack, though it’s unclear if these actions have cowed Moscow. “I don’t think the words safety or security apply to anyone who is opposition in Russia,” says Vladimir Kara-Murza, a Russian opposition politician who has been poisoned twice in Moscow in five years, told CNN last year. Vladimir Ashurkov, another opposition figure, says that the “situation with Roman Protasevich is probably every dissident’s nightmare.” Speaking from London, he adds that he has “no doubt that Russian security services are capable of conducting assassinations,” and expresses concern that Lukashenko “raised it to a new level with the usage of a hoax bomb” — a concern of many who fear that what one authoritarian leader gets away with, others emulate. The most reported incident in recent years was probably the murder of Saudi dissident Jamal Khashoggi in Turkey in 2018. Numerous reports have pointed the finger at the inner circle of Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, but no real action has been taken against Riyadh’s most powerful man. Then-president Trump was criticized for ignoring CIA findings that bin Salman personally directed the murder. Ali Al-Ahmed, a high-profile dissident based in Washington DC, says that he avoids traveling for fear of being “taken or killed.” “It happened to Jamal and it could happen to me,” he says, adding that traveling to other Arab countries is not an option because he fears being “captured and sold” back to the Saudi government. Al-Ahmed also explains that even with the security that should come with living in the US, he is still subjected to intimidation online. “People accuse me of being a terrorist, presumably to make Americans nervous of me and to build a case for having me arrested and extradited.” Despite authorities in the US knowing the kind of misery Al-Ahmed lives with, he says “we have to be realistic.” He says that even countries like the US and UK, which bill themselves as human rights defenders, have to have a “pragmatic” relationship with Saudi Arabia. “If they gain something from placing sanctions on MBS, they will. If they need to maintain a relationship, they will make a load of noise but will put sanctions on lesser figures,” he adds. What can be done to make Western governments care and act? For now, very little. The trend towards more inward-looking societies has existed for some time — and the coronavirus pandemic has done nothing to help. “We are moving towards a state-centric world view which has resulted in migration policies that are more interested in national security than refugees,” explains Schenkkan. This insular, nationalist thinking means it’s harder to make people care about things that happen to other people. Margolin believes that the Belarus arrest will be old news very soon. “There is outrage across the world, but how long will it last? It will be replaced by another story and things in Belarus will go back to normal. The international community must stand with the people of Belarus and ensure that doesn’t happen,” she says. The dire situation facing political dissidents living in exile is unlikely to improve soon. Until Western leaders make meaningful stands against countries like China, Saudi Arabia, Russia and many others, the benefits of capturing a political opponent for domestic reasons will outweigh the risk. And, unfortunately for the people this most affects, that won’t happen while so many of the world’s largest democracies place human rights below economic or strategic interests with some of the most oppressive regimes on earth. Source link Orbem News #Activist #arrest #Belarusian #Brazen #Dissidents #terrified #World

[thefilmsnob]

Glen Coco’s Top 10 Films of 2020

This has been the weirdest damn year for film--and basically everything else--we’ve ever witnessed. Theatres closed, re-opened, then closed again; dozens of films were postponed, and no one knew where to watch the ones that weren’t. I didn’t see nearly as many films as I usually do and, even so, the selection was relatively underwhelming. Nevertheless, there were still some good pictures released, so, as always, I’m sharing my top ten films of 2020 plus a bonus track...there’s always a bonus track.

#10b. (Bonus Track) Borat Subsequent Moviefilm: Delivery of Prodigious Bribe to American Regime for Make Benefit Once Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan

Director: Jason Woliner

Starring: Sacha Baron Cohen, Maria Bakalova

On the surface, Sacha Baron Cohen’s characters may seem utterly absurd and childish--and maybe they are--but, the genius behind them is their ability to reveal the ignorance of the people he encounters and make you question where the true absurdity lies. Cohen accomplishes this yet again, even if this sequel isn’t quite as fresh as its 2006 predecessor. Yet, in the United States of 2020, ravaged as much by asinine politicians, disgraceful racism and dangerous conspiracy theories as by the actual Covid pandemic, Borat is an entirely welcome presence. He makes all the right people look as wrong as they should, especially former New York mayor Rudy Giuliani who’s caught red-handed in a compromising position opposite a very young girl, thus exacerbating his epic fall from grace while reaffirming Cohen’s brilliance.

#10. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

Director: George C. Wolfe

Starring: Viola Davis, Chadwick Boseman

Despite my initial ambivalence, this movie has lingered in my mind for months and that’s always a good sign. Set almost entirely in one location, a 1920s Chicago recording studio, and focusing heavily on a group of musicians shooting the breeze in its basement while their demanding singer talks business with the big wigs upstairs, seemingly nothing much happens and, yet, everything happens; dreams are envisioned, pain is recalled, ideas are shared and, of course, music is made. Those elements are enhanced by the film’s stellar technical features from the production design, to the costumes to the hair & makeup. Yet, it’s the performers who steal the show, which is expected from Viola Davis but a pleasant surprise from Chadwick Boseman who, sadly, gives his final performance. The late actor saved his best for last playing a young trumpeter whose ambitions are constantly hindered by his inability to let go of his tragic past.

#9. The Way Back

Director: Gavin O’Connor

Starring: Ben Affleck

For those of you with the misconception that Ben Affleck is a bad actor, you might want to watch The Way Back in which he plays a former high school basketball star and current alcoholic who’s dealing with the death of his child and separation from his wife when he’s asked to coach his former team. Sure, this covers familiar ground, but it does so better than similar films, finessing the more predictable aspects, adding some welcome touches and treating the subject matter with the respect and seriousness it deserves. The basketball takes a backseat to the character drama here, so the film’s quality relies heavily on the performance of Affleck which might be his best to date; he makes his character’s inebriation so convincing you can practically smell the beer on his breath. And you hope to God he gets the help he so desperately needs.

Full Review: https://thefilmsnob.tumblr.com/post/613090953214001152/the-way-back-12-out-of-5

#8. News of the World

Director: Paul Greengrass

Starring: Tom Hanks, Helena Zengel

This is a film we need right now for several reasons, not least of which being we get to spend two hours with ‘America’s Dad’ Tom Hanks, a decent, honourable man playing another decent, honourable man in 1870 who encounters a strange young girl on the road near an overturned wagon and promises to return her to her remaining family. With Hanks’s character Jefferson Kidd traveling from town to town reading the newspaper for its citizens, this is also a timely film, stressing the importance of a free and fair press as opposed to the propaganda that saturated the Trump administration and his favourite news outlet. An unusually--yet refreshingly--straightforward and old-fashioned Western for 2020, its highlights include a climactic exchange between adult and child, made so effectively tender with such minimal effort by Hanks, as well as a meticulously crafted chase and shootout sequence at the halfway point, directed with optimal tension and clarity by the great Paul Greengrass.

#7. Nomadland

Director: Chloe Zhao

Starring: Frances McDormand

It’s about time we start including Frances McDormand in lists of greatest actors. In Nomadland, in which she plays a wanderer of sorts who’s lost her husband to cancer and her company town to a poor economy, her performance transcends labels like ‘realistic’ or ‘natural’ and arrives at a place that doesn’t feel like performance at all. She blends in seamlessly with a cast of real nomads playing themselves, living out of vans in the western US, as unconstrained by societal norms as the film itself is by conventional story arcs. We want to see this minimalist lifestyle, which includes seasonal Amazon warehouse gigs and long nights in a freezing cold van, as depressing or unfulfilling, but writer/director/producer/editor (Jesus!) Chloe Zhao dares us to admire both the freedom and sense of community formed among this nomadic subculture. Cinematographer Joshua James Richards also plays with our expectations, bathing the screen in soothing blues and purples, transforming the unremarkable landscape into a thing of beauty.

#6. Da 5 Bloods

Director: Spike Lee

Starring: Delroy Lindo, Clarke Peters, Isiah Whitlock Jr., Norm Lewis

In Da 5 Bloods, writer/director Spike Lee deviates from his usual urban American setting to explore the tropical forests of Vietnam, but his focus remains fixed on the African American experience, their plight and search for justice. His subjects are a group of Vietnam War vets who reunite in present day Ho Chin Minh City to retrieve a cache of gold bars left behind some 50 years prior, originally part of a political transaction, as we see in appropriately grainy 4:3 full screen flashbacks. The reason for this mission is more righteous than a simple payday, but Lee refuses to paint these complex characters with the same brush--there’s even a MAGA in the bunch!--nor does he oversimplify the film’s profound issues. A genre-defying work, Da 5 Bloods is a character study, social commentary, war picture and action/adventure flick all rolled into one with some truly shocking developments and one of the finest casts of the year. How Delroy Lindo was denied an Oscar nomination for his volatile performance is beyond me.

#5. Promising Young Woman

Director: Emerald Fennell

Starring: Carey Mulligan, Bo Burnham, Alison Brie

In one of the most unique films of the year, Carey Mulligan delivers a brave, bold and beautiful performance as Cassie, a woman with a tragic past who spends her weekends at the club pretending to be blackout drunk, only to shame and humiliate the sleazy men who try to take advantage. Writer/director Emerald Fennell does a masterful job at peeling back the layers of this dark revenge tale ever so gradually to reveal Cassie’s true motives while rebuking, not just society’s abhorrent offenders, but those enablers and silent bystanders who try to hide behind a flimsy shroud of innocence. Benefiting from one of the sharpest screenplays of the year and a fitting score, Promising Young Woman never ceases to ramp up the tension, a strategy that culminates in a shocking final sequence which is at once disturbing and satisfying. It’ll all leave you guessing until the final, brilliant shot.

#4. The Invisible Man

Director: Leigh Whannell

Starring: Elisabeth Moss, Aldis Hodge, Storm Reid

Originally conceived as part of the ill-fated ‘Dark Universe’--Universal Pictures’ planned movie franchise featuring its classic monsters--and starring Johnny Depp, The Invisible Man was drastically retooled and produced as a stand-alone film with a modernized story. And like so many horror projects of the last decade, it’s refreshingly inspired and well-crafted with a deeper purpose than merely spooking its audience, though it succeeds at that as well. Writer/director Leigh Whannell uses this movie and the fearless performance of the great Elisabeth Moss to examine abusive partners and their persistent hold on their lovers-turned-victims long after the relationship has collapsed. Moss is stunning as usual, portraying an already traumatized woman trying desperately to convince everyone she’s not going crazy as well, even though that’s exactly how it looks. Equally impressive is the restraint by the filmmakers who use the ‘invisible’ effects sparingly yet strategically, creatively and, ultimately, very effectively, making every scare plausible and entirely earned.

#3. Sound of Metal

Director: Darius Marder

Starring: Riz Ahmed, Olivia Cooke, Paul Raci

In a world in which people are complaining about losing their freedom because they have to wear a simple mask to save lives, it’s good to see a film that shows what real loss looks like. If you can’t imagine being a heavy metal drummer who suddenly goes deaf, writer/director Darius Marder spells it out for you in big, bold, sorrow-inducing letters. He’s aided by Riz Ahmed giving possibly the best performance of the year as a man who, on the surface, tries desperately to hold on to his life and passion while, deep down, he knows that’s impossible. Sound of Metal is a tender and heartbreaking yet hopeful story, but what’s even more effective than the film’s dramatic presentation is its remarkable sound design. At times, characters sign to each other amidst ambient noise. Other times, the sound is muffled as if we’re putting our ears up to a wall and hearing a fraction of the dialogue from the other side. And, less frequently, when Ruben’s condition is at its worst, we hear nothing at all. Just complete and terrifying silence…which speaks volumes.

Full Review: https://thefilmsnob.tumblr.com/post/647329085467574272/sound-of-metal-out-of-5

#2. The Trial of the Chicago 7

Director: Aaron Sorkin

Starring: Mark Rylance, Eddie Redmayne, Sacha Baron Cohen, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Jeremy Strong, John Carroll Lynch, Frank Langella, Michael Keaton, etc, etc, etc...

Aaron Sorkin could write about two accountants conducting a routine audit and make it absolutely absorbing. So, imagine what he does with a courtroom drama about the volatile situation surrounding the 1968 Democratic National Convention and the group of anti-Vietnam War protestors accused of inciting riots at the event. Now an accomplished director too, Sorkin organizes all the moving pieces involved with style and grace while deploying his famously kinetic dialogue. With those lines coming from the mouths of his stellar cast, it’s hard not to hang on their every word and be invested completely in their struggle. I could listen to Mark Rylance’s showstopping line-reading of the simple phrase, “No, he doesn’t!”, all day and never get tired of it. Among its many achievements, The Trial of the Chicago 7 deftly navigates heavy topics like police brutality, unpopular wars and a corrupt justice system, showing just how little things have changed in the last 50 years.

#1. Palm Springs

Director: Max Barbakow

Starring: Cristin Milioti, Andy Samberg, J.K. Simmons

Anyone who knows me may be surprised by this pick, but here we are. Nothing makes sense these days. We’re all as confused and anxious about life as Sarah and Nyles are at a wedding in Palm Springs. Despite what the title suggests, the film doesn’t follow a group of horny teens getting up to shenanigans in the famous resort town, but if I describe the actual plot in depth, I may spoil the fun. I will say these characters seem to be reliving the same events over and over again. What’s so impressive about this film is that, although it repeats itself, it never feels repetitive. The twists and turns, the absurd hilarity blended with bracing poignancy, ensure our unwavering focus on this briskly paced little gem. Yet, it’s the irresistible chemistry between the two leads, played by the equally irresistible Cristin Milioti and Andy Samberg, that forms the glue that holds it all together, whether they’re pulling off childish pranks, discussing their unusual sex lives or debating the very meaning of life. I’m telling you, this movie has everything: comedy, drama, romance, science-fiction (?!), J.K. Simmons, several weddings, an inflatable pizza slice, dinosaurs, a crossbow and colourful beer cans and summer wear that seem destined to become iconic.

[keepingupwithlinmanuel]

Lin-Manuel Miranda: ‘Hamilton is an insane idea, but the story works’

“Helen Mirren was one of the first people to see Hamilton,” recalls the 37-year-old Miranda, his voice urgent, conspiratorial. “She saw it very early and I said, ‘If we’re lucky enough to go to London, are they going to be bothered by King George?’ And she said, ‘Nahhh! We love it when you take the piss!’”

Miranda cracks up. “So I’m not worried,” he goes on. “I’m excited.”

...

If Miranda is feeling any pressure about the transfer, he isn’t showing it. On the morning we meet, in the offices of theatrical producer Cameron Mackintosh in Bloomsbury, he bounces into the room, wearing a T-shirt, jeans and running shoes, all blue. The ponytail and goatee he had on stage in New York have been clipped and it has the effect of making him look two centuries younger. Miranda is a prolific tweeter and he has provided regular updates on the new production since arriving in the UK in late November. After the first run-through, he wrote: “London, gird your heart. This company is not playing around.” A couple of days earlier, he gushed: “This company is so fuhuuucking good.”

None of the cast is a household name: Jamael Westman, one of a pair of Alexander Hamiltons, graduated from Rada last year and this is just his fourth credit. “It’s a similar mix of vets and newcomers as we had in our original company on Broadway,” says Miranda, who has no plans to step into Hamilton’s blouse and breeches in this run. “I can’t wait for London audiences to get in front of this show. I’m curious how certain things will play: there’s a couple of New Jersey jokes and I’m like, ‘That’s going to be huge…’” Miranda rolls his eyes.

...

From the beginning, Hamilton has had a political agenda if you scratch the surface. The first time Miranda performed any material from the musical in public was in May 2009, when he was asked by the Obamas to participate in an evening celebrating “the American experience” at the White House. When the approach was made, the expectation was that Miranda would sing something from his debut musical, In the Heights. This was a semi-autobiographical tale of growing up on a multicultural block in New York that had won four Tony awards, best musical among them.

Instead, Miranda tried out “16 hot bars about Alexander Hamilton”. There’s YouTube evidence of the performance and it’s clear that Miranda, who’d never met the president before, is nervous; well, as nervous as Miranda ever gets, which is not especially. Still, in his introduction to the song, there’s more “ums” than usual and even a little stammering. When he explains the concept, people, including the Obamas, giggle, not sure if they should take him seriously.

“Yeah, it was really scary and it’s a little bit like showing the ultrasound at five weeks,” says Miranda. “I had a lot of people look at me like I was crazy for a very long time. I mean, you can kind of see the reaction in miniature at the White House. I state what I’m going to do and everyone just laughs at me. And I go, ‘You laugh but it’s true!’ Just trying to keep my cool, because I’m also performing in front of the leader of the free world for the first time in my life. And then you see people get sucked into the story. Then their heads start bobbing. And that’s been the story of Hamilton: it’s been an insane idea but the story works. The story is compelling, it’s a human one. And yeah, that’s that.”

For a piece of art that was “the musical of the Obama era”, according to the New Yorker, the Trump years were always going to present some challenges. The aftermath of the statement to Mike Pence was especially uncomfortable. “When the president sends a tweet he’s also sending trolls and bots your way,” says Miranda. “It is a way of targeting, so we had to deal with death threats for several weeks and we had to wait for that kerfuffle to blow over. So we lived through it. There was a bit of a pendulum swing, right; we were beloved by the Obama administration; we’re really not beloved by the current administration.”

Did Miranda consider putting “Highly overrated: Donald Trump” on the Hamilton poster? “Haha!” he replies. “There are certainly those who would wear that with a badge of pride, but I would not trade it for the stress of those weeks. These are just not normal times. We have a president who targets people and goes after them and that’s really without precedent and scary, but that’s where we are.”

Miranda, though, does not shy away from a fight, either. When Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico in September, killing at least 500 people and destroying the electrical grid, he was furious at Trump for his inaction. While the president quickly offered reassurance and funds to Texas and Florida after the natural disasters that affected those states, he was much quieter about Puerto Rico, which is an unincorporated US territory. Nearly three months on, a third of the island remains without power. Miranda’s response was to tweet Trump: “You’re going straight to hell.”

“What does that tell the people of Puerto Rico about the person who is supposedly in charge?” he asks. “Those are 3.5m American citizens. So that’s when the rhetoric is heartbreaking: you know relief could come with one signing of the pen and it’s just not. Because he doesn’t care.”

Miranda, who has raised $2.5m for the relief effort from a charity song, also recently announced that he would be taking a production of Hamilton to Puerto Rico in early 2019. He did a similar tour in 2010 with In the Heights and it remains one of his proudest achievements. “I find it hard to talk about it without tearing up,” he says and it’s true, he looks like he might cry. “Growing up, I’d get sent to Puerto Rico for a month a year where I was the kid with a fucked-up Spanish accent who couldn’t really speak it well enough to hang with kids my age. I was like the weird exchange kid. I loved Puerto Rico, but I never felt at home with it. Then to have In the Heights be embraced in English, the way I wrote it, it closed some hole in me that I didn’t know was open.”

These are manic, sometimes confounding times for Miranda. Hamilton took the best part of six years to write but now life seems to be happening in fast-forward. So far, he has only been accepting offers “that are just so bonkers that you’d kick yourself for ever if you didn’t jump at the chance to do them”. These have included a pivotal cameo in the new season of Curb Your Enthusiasm and a six-month spell in London to shoot a lead role in Mary Poppins Returns, which will be released Christmas next year. The film is directed by Rob Marshall (Chicago) and stars Emily Blunt as the umbrella-wielding hero, as well as Meryl Streep, Colin Firth, Ben Whishaw and Emily Mortimer.

“Poppins was both incredibly hard work and sort of this joyous vacation,” says Miranda. “Because I had just been in Hamilton-mania in the States, it was starting to get to the point where I couldn’t ride the train without having a conversation about Hamilton. So the only sane response is to chop off all your hair and leave the country. I was really very anonymous here and that was a wonderful thing to reclaim, to ride the tube around and take my kid to Lady Di park. To sort of do normal things was wonderful, because it was getting weird. Like, famous-person weird.”

This is just the tip of it. The Weinstein Company had optioned the film rights to In the Heights, so Miranda is endeavouring to extricate himself from that. (“So monstrous,” he says. “I met Harvey several times. I knew he was never going to win a nice-guy competition, but I didn’t know about all of this other stuff.”) Miranda’s first child, Sebastian, was born two weeks before rehearsals for Hamilton started in 2014 and he revealed last week that his wife Vanessa Nadal, a corporate lawyer, is expecting their second. He would also like to start work on a new musical, but he probably just needs to lie in a pool to figure out what the subject is.

“You’re right,” he exclaims, “I should take more vacations, thank you! Yeah, that is the hardest lesson to take hold of: the good idea comes when you are walking your dog or in the shower or resting. And waking up from sleep. I don’t believe it’s an accident that on my first vacation from In the Heights, the best idea of my life shows up. So I have a couple of ideas, but I’m waiting to see which one grabs hold and doesn’t let go.”

Until then, Miranda will keep on doing what he’s done every day since Hamilton opened in New York in early 2015: field requests for tickets for the show. In London, it is sure not to be any different. Miranda made some good friends here when he was filming Mary Poppins Returns –Whishaw and the chef Yotam Ottolenghi among them – and he is excited for them to see the show. Otherwise, there’s only so much he can do. “People tweeting me, ‘I can’t believe I paid $2,000,’” he says. “I didn’t charge you $2,000! I don’t know why you paid that.”

What about the royal family? “Oh, I’ll give Prince Harry some engagement tickets, that would be an absolute treat,” Miranda smiles. “Obviously that would be an honour for us.” Let’s just hope he isn’t too offended by the portrayal of his great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather.

#lin manuel miranda #hamilton #mary poppins #puerto rico #articles #interviews #the guardian