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I just graduated college and took my capstone on propaganda. Not the just the history of it but also its evolution, how it works, and what makes the best propaganda.

With the ‘unbanning’ of tiktok and the inauguration being within a day of each other a lot of propaganda has been thrown at us. I want to share what is called “the ten rules of hate” from Matt Taibbi’s book “Hate: Inc: why today’s media makes us despise one another”, which was published in 2019.

To give some context for the ten rules, Taibbi says in this chapter (chapter two) regarding the news cycle, "after generations of doing the opposite, when unity and conformity were more profitable, now the primary product the news media sells is division."

But before I state the rules I just want to remind everyone PROPAGANDA OCCURS ON BOTH SIDES. Neither side is better than one another when it comes to propaganda, it is a necessity. I say this as a democrat who believes the next four years are going to be hell. Just today I saw propaganda from both sides, ironically fitting into these ten points.

THE TEN RULES OF HATE:

There are only two sides

The two sides are in permanent conflict

Hate people, not institutions

Everything is somebody else's fault

Nothing is everyone's faults

Root, don't think

No switching teams

The other side is literally Hitler

In the fight against Hitler, everything is permitted

Feel superior

What most people get wrong about propaganda is that its intention is not change your thought process immediately, no. The purpose of propaganda is to nudge you in a certain direction. Whether that be you seeing that trump unbanned tiktok and for a split moment you think 'maybe he isn't so bad' or seeing an instagram post from Path2Progress saying 'it's a dark day in America' and you get a tinge of fear.

I am making this post because I want you to be able to look at the media you are soaking up and be able to notice that people are trying to manipulate you. Of course, there are other points to propaganda that I did not get in here as I could write several papers on this subject, which I have.

And before anyone says in the comments, "but Trump is literally Hitler", I'm just going to point out that this cycle of calling people Hitler started long before Trump's presidency in 2016. Glenn Beck, who's a conservative commentator really began the "Your neighbor is literally Hitler" movement. In Taibbi's book he writes, "Beck was awesome at this. Al Gore was Hitler. Obama was constantly Hitler." I know must Democrats would not consider these men to be Hitler, but I use this example to demonstrate its use in years past on the other party.

I am going to leave you with a quote from one of the first books written about modern propaganda. It's called "Propaganda Techniques in the World War" and was written by Harold Laswell, then published in 1927.

“But by far the most potent role of propaganda is to mobilize the animosity of the community against the enemy, to maintain friendly relations with neutrals and allies, to arouse the neutrals against the enemy, and to break up the solid wall of the enemy.”

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If you’re an American federal employee and got an email saying “it’s ok to quit your job.” Do not, for the love of everything, quit your job. This is purely a scare tactic to get rid of as many people as possible without legal consequences.

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Fatherhood

pairing: daryl dixon x trans!male original character

warning: arguments, accidental outing, smoking, mention of drug use, nothing too heavy

summary: After tragedy and loss in the group, Daryl is tasked with taking a newcomer, Carmine, back to the house he and his son were holed up in on his way to search for Sophia. Normally, Daryl wouldn’t go out of his way to help a stranger, especially one he didn’t particularly like, but the man was a nurse. Not only that, but he was the nurse who looked after Rick 6 days a week back in Atlanta. And they would need him when they found Sophia.

Authors Note: this is chapter 4 of an ongoing fic focusing on a single father struggling through the apocalypse with his teenaged son (and also falling in love with a hick). you can find chapters 1-9 and updates at least every other Sunday on my AO3 (KW777).

"How long has this girl been lost?" Herschel asks, looking over the group wearily.

"This'll be day three," Rick said, his lips pursed and his hands in his pocket. Even before, Carmine knew that if you found a kid after 48 hours, it was a miracle.

"County survey map. Shows terrain and elevations," Maggie laid a map smooth on the hood of the car, and Rick allowed himself a small smile.

"This is perfect. We can finally get this thing organized. We'll grid the whole area, start searching in teams-" Rick began, before being cut off by Herschel.

"Not you. Not today. You gave three units of blood. You wouldn't be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out. And your ankle..." Herschel looked to Shane, "Push it now, you'll be laid up a month, no good to anybody,"

"Guess it's just me. I'm gonna head back to the creek, work my way from there," Daryl seemed to like it better that way. Carmine couldn’t blame him. The solitude of the forest was something he missed greatly.

"I can run back to the house we've been staying at. Get my things and leave some for Sophia with a note," Carmine pointed to a place on the map just past the creek.

"Not by yourself. With all due respect, we need you to come back," Rick said, looking at the man. Carmine frowned. He could handle himself, not that he looked it. He tried to stand up a little straighter.

"I'll take 'im along. We can search along the way," Daryl didn't like the idea, but he needed to make sure their doctor was alive, especially if they found Sophia.

"...Fine. I just need to say goodbye to my boy and grab my bag," Carmine fought the urge to roll his eyes. He had met men like Daryl many times throughout his life, and they always managed to piss him off before they even opened their mouths.

"Boy? That's a grown ass man, he ain't worried about where his daddy is," Daryl's tone was snarky, and he seemed to find Carmine’s concern ridiculous. Angelo was a big boy, but he was still a boy. His child. His anger flared.

"My son is seventeen. I'm sorry if you have some kind of daddy issues, but generally fathers talk to their children before they disappear and run off," Carmine snapped back, "I would appreciate it if you kept your parenting advice to yourself. Waste a little less daylight that way,"

With that, he turned and headed towards the house. His blood was boiling, and he didn't know if he could take a whole hike with the man. But he needed to get to the house, and more importantly he needed to be able to return to the farm. His navigational skills had never been the greatest. He opened the door to see his son sitting at the kitchen table, talking with Beth and Jimmy. He smiled, and briefly thought about the teenagers that used to crowd around his kitchen island and beg for something to eat.

"Hey, Ang. I'm headed back to the house, to grab our stuff. I just wanted to say goodbye," Carmine smiled at the three, "Sorry to interrupt,"

"By yourself? I can come with," Angelo said, immediately standing up. Carmine smiled a little bit.

"No, bud. Me and Daryl are going to go, search for their little girl on the way. I need you to stay here, make sure I've got somewhere to come back to," Carmine said, really meaning no way in hell are you going out there with that man.

"Are you sure?" Angelo raised an eyebrow at his father, clearly uneasy about the idea.

"Yes, son. I can handle myself just fine," Carmine smiled, and Angelo hugged him. He patted him on the back, "I'd better get out there, he just might take off without me. I love you,"

"I love you too, Dad. Be careful,"

And with that, he went to their room, emptying and grabbing his bag. He walked out to see Daryl talking to Rick.

"My point is it lets you off the hook. You don't owe us anything," Rick insisted, trying hard to read anything on Daryl's face.

"My other plans fell through," Daryl said plainly, before locking eyes with Carmine, "Let's move, Jersey!"

"Fuckin' gavone," Carmine muttered under his breath, before approaching, "Just keep your mouth shut while we do this. For my sake and yours," Carmine kept a hard stare on his face, and Rick gave Daryl a look.

"Whatever, man. Same goes for you," And with just a nod to Rick, Daryl started off. Carmine walked after him, keeping to his far side. They walked, not talking, for a long time. Carmine felt the silence eat away at him. Maybe he had been a little harsh, but he didn't really care. Okay, he did really care. Before the dead started to walk, he was a very sweet man. He still could be. But everything about this hick made his ears hot, and just as he was about to try and break the ice, a hand grabbed his bag.

Carmine fought the urge to yell, grabbing at his knife on his belt. Just as he managed to rip it from its holster, there was a bolt in the walkers skull. He looked at Daryl, debating on what to say for a second.

"Thank you," He decided on. Daryl simply grunted.

"Thank me by grabbing my bolt," Daryl said back, and Carmine obliged, handing it to him. They moved on wordlessly. They reached his house, the one he was staying at anyways, and the door was wide open. He couldn't fight the grief that flooded his face. What if everything was gone?

"I assume you didn't leave it like this?" Daryl said, looking at the building

"Not exactly," Carmine said after a moment, "I have to see what's left,"

"Whatever. Maybe Sophia stopped by," Daryl headed towards the door, and Carmine knocked on the wall with the end of his knife. A walker slowly moved towards them from the kitchen, and Carmine pulled out his knife. Daryl seemed content to let him handle this one, and Carmine did. The living room seemed untouched, but they never kept much there.

"We kept most of our things upstairs. We liked to stay on the roof at night," Carmine stated, looking towards the stairway, "You wanna search down here for any signs of your girl? It wont take me long to grab my things,"

"Yeah, but I ain't running up there to save your ass again," Daryl said, and Carmine took that as his cue to run up the stairs. He opened the door to their bedroom, looking around a bit. It was untouched. He let out a sigh of relief. He began to go about the room, grabbing their medical supplies and food first. He grabbed his and Angelo's clothes, the few that they had, and stuffed them into a secondary bag. He couldn't carry everything, but he needed some things from his old life. He carefully packed his bible, a half-carton of cigarettes, tucking a pack in his pocket, and his ipod that was long dead, but stored all of his favorite music. He always hoped they would find somewhere to charge it, somehow. He realized that something had been misplaced. Their family pictures. Then he remembered.

The dining room table. Angelo had spread them out, writing names on the back so they 'wouldn't be forgotten'. If Daryl sees that, his story falls apart and Carmine is fucked. He grabs the bag and runs down the stairs, only to see the redneck looking over them, one turned around in his hand. Carmine's breath was shaky.

"Can... I please have those?" Carmine felt more tense than he had in a long time. Of all of the people that could have found him out, Daryl was probably the worst option. But he didn't say anything, stacking the pictures up and sliding them over. Carmine placed them in his bag, "Thank you,"

"Nice pictures," He said, staring him up and down intensely. Like he was trying to figure out what he was seeing.

"Listen, man, I don't know what you think-" Carmine started, but was cut off.

"I don't think anything. Ain't my business. You wanna dress like a man and act like a man, that's your business. We ain't friends," Daryl seemed relatively unfazed, and Carmine was glad that he could realize that some things weren’t worth the argument.

"Can you please not tell anybody? The last thing anybody in that group needs is more agita," He ran his hands over his face, "I need this group. Not for me, but my son needs people other than me. He's..."

"I get it," Daryl said, finally looking away from him, "Ain't nobody in that group who's gonna care more than you do, right now. Only so many good people left, can't start getting too picky,"

Carmine was a little taken aback, but relaxed.

"Thank you," He said, before clearing his throat, "Do you smoke?"

"Smoke what?" Daryl raised an eyebrow at him, and Carmine's mind flashed back to the marijuana incident back on the highway, face flashing red.

"Just Pall Malls. I have half a carton. Do you want one?" He offered, flipping open the box on his chest pocket. Daryl was quiet for a moment, as if contemplating, before he held out his hand. Carmine placed one between his lips, lit it, and passed one to Daryl. Daryl lit his own, and they just stood there for a while.

"It's weird, smoking inside. I know the world is over, but..." Carmine trailed off, looking at the furniture.

"Never bothered to run outside every time I wanted a smoke," Daryl shrugged a little.

"I wanted to hide it from the kids. And I had nice white walls," Carmine said, smiling at a memory, "My son had an anti-smoking assembly at school, he was maybe ten. He comes home early on the bus, found me on the porch with one of these and started bawling. Going on about cancer and dying, real morbid shit. I quit, for about a week, then I just got real sneaky,"

"I never bothered to have kids either," Daryl said, "Never bothered me,"

"I didn't really decide to have them, but never in a second did I regret it. My kids, they're... He's my world now. If I didn't have him, I'd be lost. He's a good boy," Suddenly, Carmine felt guilt in his chest, "We gotta go search for this girl. Losing a child is one thing, but the not knowing..." Carmine trailed off.

"Let's get a move on," Daryl tossed his cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it, before heading out the door. Carmine shouldered his bags, and followed after him. The pair walked in silence, not feeling the need to say more than had been said. Daryl paused in the front yard, looking down at the ground. The small white flowers there always made Carmine happy. Daryl plucked a few from the ground, tucking them carefully into his pocket. Carmine didn't hate the man as he once did, but he couldn't get over his god-awful attitude.

They searched for another hour in the area, almost silently, before heading back to the farm

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Anaïs Nin, from diary entry featured in A Journal of Love; The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin