#And sanaa they’re present and with us still

[rotzaprachim]

the problem in a nutshell is that both zionism and antizionism aren’t hypothetical ideologies that can be easily defined as a sentence so much as messy continuums of ideas that have, when implemented on a state level, lead to the suffering, oppression, and displacement of hundreds of thousands of people and now diasporas in the millions. The problem is that neither exists as a morally pure ideology separate from what it has been shown, over the last couple decades, to be in the practical sense as an implemented ideology.

The problem is that when many Palestinians say Zionism is an inherently racist ideology that will lead to nothing but their displacement and national destruction they have good reason to believe exactly that, because that’s what Zionism, as an implemented ideology on the national level, has shown itself to do.

The problem is that when many Jews say Antizionism is an inherently antisemitic ideology that will lead to nothing but the censuring of ALL Jews, regardless of their ideology, as evil Zionists and their displacement and national destruction they have good reason to believe exactly that, because that’s what antizionism, we an implemented ideology on the national level, has shown itself to do.

i don’t think you can *two sides* the current state or situation, but you can ABSOLUTELY *two sides* these ideologies as contributing factors to Why We’re In this Situation especially as crackdowns in the name of both ideologies are leading to censure and ethnic tensions and outright violence globally. The thing is that I fundamentally do not believe that Jewish and Palestinian futures and liberations are incompatible. But I do think there is a global level of outright gaslighting millions of people as being “paranoid extremists” for believing that ideologies that have been enacted to hurt them for decades will continue to do so. If you want to fight extremism you have to be honest about what’s been done in the name of *your* ideology to begin with.

[the-daily-dreamer]

“The Stark’s are villains!” - A deep dive into the validity of a Dany stan claim: Part 1

“Manipulators”

“Schemers”

“Back Stabbers”

“Oath Breakers”

“Hypocrites”

“Xenophobes”

“Power-Hungry”

“Murderers”

“Selfish”

“Willing to kill everyone to get what they want”

“Ned would be ashamed”

“They’re the new Lannisters”

Villains

The Dany stans have really started a movement that the Starks are the new Lannister. The new villains of the show. They’re selfish, powerhunry, racist, conniving characters. The lowest of the low. This is obviously utter nonsense.

But for the sake of something to do, I thought I’d take a deep dive into the actions of the Starks and see if they really are all these terrible things (or..if Dany stans just don’t understand words and what they mean) and how their precious queen stacks up! This’ll be a long post so I’ll break it into two parts. Analyzing the Starks (part 1) and then analyzing Daenerys herself (part 2).

Disclaimer: This is part 1, which focuses on the Starks. I will mainly be focusing on Jon and Sansa since they are the most vilified Starks by Dany stans. Arya is mentioned, but not much.

Manipulators: a person who controls or influences others in a clever or unscrupulous way.

I assume Dany stans are making the arguments that the Starks are manipulators because 1) Sansa “manipulates” Jon and Dany into...doing something??? D stans never make it clear, and 2) Jon “manipulates” Dany into fighting for the North.

1) Sansa manipulates Jon and Dany. Where?!? Sansa is completely open with Jon. She makes her opinions clear, not to manipulate Jon but to continue having an open and honest relationship with her brother/cousin. She understands that they all need each other. Sansa is not being vocal because she jealous or petty or any of that bull. She’s being vocal because she’s a leader. She’s in a position of power. She needs to be heard, just as much as any other lord or lady present at a meeting. Jon is never manipulated. He is being told the truth. When it comes to Dany...Sansa never really manipulates her. The only scene I can imagine would be even close to manipulation is the “What about the North scene”. I even say so myself that Dany is easily manipulated and receptive to Sanaa’s praise and thanks. But that means Sansa’s only manipulation is complimenting Dany in hopes of persuading her to free the North, which never happens ans doesn’t work. So Sansa doesn’t manipulate but rather stroke Dany’s ego and butter her up, in hopes of getting on her good side. If that’s manipulation then oh boy do I have news for you! DANY DID THE SAME THING TO SANSA AND WAS FAKE NICE TO GET WHAT SHE WANTS!

2) Jon manipulates Dany. I so desperately want this to be true. Unfortunately, the show was unclear on Jon’s motivations. Personally, I don’t think what Jon did was manipulation. He never tricked her or lied about anything to her to get what he wanted. He was open and honest. He told Dany that the others were coming and begged for help. Where is the manipulation? Asking for help by using dragon glass and dragons to defeat a literal horde of ice zombie that will kill everyone? If that’s manipulation, then every person that has ever asked for help is a manipulator. Even Dany says that Jon manipulated her into coming to the North, but there is no basis for that claim. He was ready to leave her castle and prepare for the battle, she kept him there. He didn’t use her affection against her. Jon simply asked for help. If Dany chose to go because she was “in love” or something, that’s on her. The other instance I could see for Jon manipulating Dany is the parentage reveal, but again, Jon never uses anything against Dany!

In short, the Starks didn’t manipulate Dany. They had autonomy. Just because they didn’t agree with your fav doesn’t mean they manipulated her. They are not unfairly controlling her. They are giving their opinions and council. She makes her own decisions.

Schemers: a person who is involved in making secret or underhanded plans

I love this one. The Starks are schemers now lol. They have a grand on to dominate the world and kill everyone. I have to laugh.

I assume the rhetoric of this comes from the scene in which Arya and Sansa tell Jon they don’t like Dany. That would be the closest thing to scheming the Stark girls do. The thing is...they never make plans to kill Dany, they never make plans to usurp Dany, they don’t do anything. They tell their brother/cousin that they don’t trust Dany or like her. And with good reason! They want independence! But telling your family you don’t like or want someone as your head of state is not scheming. Telling your family your opinion is not scheming.

The other instance would be Sansa telling Tyrion there’s another. Again, that isn’t a scheme. Unfortunately, the show left out a lot of personal involvement, so I can’t be sure what Sansa’s motivations or ideas are. But here’s the thing, she couldn’t have known what would happen after telling. To be a schemer you need to have a plan, know what will happen every step of the way. Pull strings. Littlefinger was a schemer because he planned everything out. Sansa didn’t have a plan beyond, get the North freedom. I can see the justification that this is still scheming because she tells Tyrion; however, I don’t believe it. Because Sansa didn’t know what would happen after.

And even if it was scheming, it’s not villainous. Her plans are for freedom for her country. She is pushing independence, which her people have fought for and declared over and over again. She is protecting her nation’s interests, not just her own. That’s heroic. Rob did the same thing. He made plans and “schemed” to win independence. But it was against the Lannisters, so to D stans it was ok. Sansa’s actions, if you perceive them as schemes, were still lined with noble intentions and were heroic for her people.

So whether you think it was a scheme or not, it doesn’t matter. Sansa was right to do it.

Backstabbers and Oath Breakers: Backstab - to attempt to discredit (a person) by underhanded means, as innuendo, accusation, or the like. Oath breaker - Someone who breaks an oath.

I’m clumping these together because they work hand in hand. This one has validity, so I won’t completely say no. But it’s an interesting question.

I assume this comes from broken promises, right? I’ll admit that Sansa did break her promise to Jon. She did tell a secret she promised to keep. But that wasn’t an oath. Oaths are more serious than promises.

Oath - a solemn promise, often invoking a divine witness, regarding one's future action or behavior

Promise - a declaration or assurance that one will do a particular thing or that a particular thing will happen

Sansa promised to not tell Jon’s secret. She did not swear an oath to Jon. She broke her promise, which I’m sure everyone has done.

Jon never promised Dany he wouldn’t tell his sisters. So that isn’t a broken oath. He did swear an oath that she would be his queen...and guess what! He didn’t break it!!!! Dany was his queen until her very end so no oath was broken.

So on the oath front - The Starks are clear

Backstabbing? Simple. Yeah. It happened. Jon killed Dany and Sansa spread Jon’s secret. That falls under the category of undermining. However context is important. They did it for the right reasons. Jon killed Dany because she was crazy! She killed an entire city! Murdered hundred of thousands and planned to keep going! Sansa did it to keep her kingdom free. So were they backstabbers....? Yeah...kinda. But they needed to be in order to defeat the villain and threat.

Hypocrites: the contrivance of a false appearance of virtue or goodness, while concealing real character traits or inclinations, especially with respect to religious and moral beliefs

I’m not spending time on this. They weren’t hypocrites. The Starks never feigned morality with underlying evil. They were open and honest at all times. And no...Sansa being polite back to Dany is not hypocrisy. Next!

Xenophobes: a person having a dislike of or prejudice against people from other countries.

This one kills me. I have to laugh. There’s no evidence! THE STARKS ARE NOT PREJUDICED AGAINST IMMIGRANTS! If the Stark girls were prejudiced against immigrants...they would hate Dany because she came from another country. And that would be it. They would hate the unsullied because they came from another country. They would hate because people come from other countries.

But they don’t! The Starks dislike Dany and her army because they are invaders who are trying to take over their country. They are oppressors coming in. There is no fear or hate of immigrants, there’s fear of oppression.

To say the North is xenophobic to Dany and her army because they come from another country, is to say that India was xenophobic towards Britain because they came from another country. The stupidity of it all!

Power-hungry, selfish, and willing to kill their people to get what they want: 1) power-hungry - having a strong desire for power 2) selfish - lacking consideration for others

1) How are the Stark’s power hungry? Jon never asks to be King. He hates being king. He takes back Winterfell because that is his family’s home. Sans never accepts the Lord’s invitation to overpower Jon. She stays behind Jon wholly and isn’t seeking to become queen. She takes back Winterfell because it’s her family’s home. And neither want the iron throne. Sansa wants Jon to have the throne, but that’s so he can grant independence. Neither one of them seek out power. It’s given to them because they show that they are capable leaders.

2) Both Jon and Sansa put others needs before their own. Jon is searching for a way to defeat the others. Sansa is searching for a way to feed her people and help them through winter. Sansa is also seeking a way to give her people the independenc they have fought for. Neither of them is thinking about their own gains. They are concerned about everyone else.

3) Willing to kill others for their own gains. I’m added this in because I hear this claim a lot. But again, Jon and Sansa do not kill people to get ahead. They do not let people starve or be killed be zombies. They do not kill the Lords of houses who did not support them initially. They do not kill to get ahead. There’s no evidence. Next!

Murderers:

You got me there! They do commit murder. They killed people. Everyone in the show except Gilly, Little Sam, Bran, and Rickon have killed people!

But let’s look at the kills they made in the last seasons, shall we?

1. Ramsay Bolton - Sansa fed him to his dogs After he lost the battle of the bastards. He was a murderer, sadist, rapist, and torturer. He raped Sansa, killed her brother, tortured her family friend, and was in control of her home unjustly. Deserving? ABSOLUTELY!

2. Little Finger - Sansa had a trial and asked him how he pled (guilty or innocent) for his crimes. His throat was slit by Arya. He was a manipulator, murderer, schemer, abuser, and cause of her fathers death + marriage to her rapist! Deserving? ABSOLUTELY

3. Daenerys Targaryen - Jon stabbed her in the stomach after she burnt down Kings Landing, murdered almost the entire population by burning them to death, and let her soldiers pillage the city and rape and murder the survivors of her fiery destruction. She was a mass murderer, abuser, destroyer of a city, and a tyrant. Deserving? ABSOLUTELY

So yes. You win. The Starks, like everyone in the show, are murders. Because they killed people before. And each one of them had it coming.

Ned would be ashamed and The New Lannisters:

This’ll be quick.

no

NO

NO

No. Ned would be proud of all of his children for coming back to one other and taking back their homes. He would be proud of them surviving their abusers. He would be proud that they continued the quest for independence after Rob. He would be proud they protected the North and defeated the others. Ned Stark would be proud of his children and nephew and would not prefer Dany.

No. They aren’t the new Lannisters. They haven’t done anything like the Lannisters. That’s a false comparison, and it’s stupid.

__________________________________________

Let’s redo the list. Shall we?

Manipulators - Nope! Dany did everything on her own

Schemers - Not really, and if they were then it was justified

Backstabbers - Kinda? Again justified! Against a mass murderer!

Oathbreakers - Nope! Broken promises? Yes. Oaths? Not once.

Hypocrites - Nope!

Xenophobes - Nope! Anyone who thinks so doesn’t understand the word or oppression

Powerhungry - Nope! They don’t want power, and if they do they don’t seize it unjustly.

Murderers - Yep! But they only killed Dany (mass murderer and tyrant), Ramsay (rapist, murderer, sadist, and stealer of their home), and Little Finger (manipulator, muderer, and schemer).

Selfish - Nope! They worry about others

Willing to kill everyone to get what they want - Nope! They don’t kill anyone to get what they want

Ned would be ashamed - Nope! He’d be proud

The New Lannisters - Nope! They’re not!

__________________________________________

I know this post is long, but if you’d like to see part 2 here’s the link!

[diarrheaworldstarhiphop]

Hodeidah, Yemen (CNN) – Saudi Arabia and its coalition partners have transferred American-made weapons to al Qaeda-linked fighters, hardline Salafi militias, and other factions waging war in Yemen, in violation of their agreements with the United States, a CNN investigation has found.

The weapons have also made their way into the hands of Iranian-backed rebels battling the coalition for control of the country, exposing some of America's sensitive military technology to Tehran and potentially endangering the lives of US troops in other conflict zones.

Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, its main partner in the war, have used the US-manufactured weapons as a form of currency to buy the loyalties of militias or tribes, bolster chosen armed actors, and influence the complex political landscape, according to local commanders on the ground and analysts who spoke to CNN.

By handing off this military equipment to third parties, the Saudi-led coalition is breaking the terms of its arms sales with the US, according to the Department of Defense. After CNN presented its findings, a US defense official confirmed there was an ongoing investigation into the issue.

The revelations raise fresh questions about whether the US has lost control over a key ally presiding over one of the most horrific wars of the past decade, and whether Saudi Arabia is responsible enough to be allowed to continue buying the sophisticated arms and fighting hardware.  Previous CNN investigations established that US-made weapons were used in a series of deadly Saudi coalition attacks that killed dozens of civilians, many of them children.

The developments also come as Congress, outraged with Riyadh over the murder of journalist Jamal Khashoggi last year, considers whether to force an end to the Trump administration's support for the Saudi coalition, which relies on American weapons to conduct its war.

In 2015, Riyadh launched a coalition to oust Iranian-supported Houthi rebels from the country's capital and reinstate the internationally recognized government of President Abdu Rabu Mansour Hadi. The war split the country in two, and with it came the weapons -- not just guns, but anti-tank missiles, armored vehicles, heat-seeking lasers and artillery -- all flooding into an unruly and complex state.

Since then, some of America's "beautiful military equipment," as US President Donald Trump once called it, has been passed on, sold, stolen or abandoned in Yemen's state of chaos, where murky alliances and fractured politics mean little hope for any system of accountability or tracking.

Some terror groups have gained from the influx of US arms, with the barrier of entry to advanced weaponry now lowered by the laws of supply and demand. Militia leaders have had ample opportunity to obtain military hardware in exchange for the manpower to fight the Houthi militias. Arms dealers have flourished, with traders offering to buy or sell anything, from a US-manufactured rifle to a tank, to the highest bidder.

And Iran's proxies have captured American weapons they can exploit for vulnerabilities or reverse-engineer for native production.

                                           'Do you have American guns here?'                            

In the narrow, ramshackle streets of Taiz's historic district, weapons shops lie tucked between women's clothing stores.

Arms markets are illegal in Yemen, but that doesn't stop them operating openly in this large, mountainous city in the country's southwest.

To one side hang veils, abayas and colorful dresses for sale; to the other are pistols, hand grenades, and US assault rifles available on special order.

In one arms market, sweets were displayed among the ammunition. "Do you have American guns here?" CNN asked. "The American guns are expensive and sought after," the weapons trader replied, in an exchange captured by undercover CNN cameras.

In another of the city's markets, a very young-looking boy handled weapons like an expert. Men joked and chewed khat, a commonly used drug, and the atmosphere was casual. But these shops don't just take individual orders, they can supply militias -- and it's this not-so-hidden black market that in part is driving the demand for hi-tech American weapons and perpetuating the cycle of violence in Yemen.

Once the intellectual heart of the country, Taiz is now a tinder box that set off a war within a war last year, when the various militias backed by the Saudi-led coalition turned their guns on each other.

Amid the chaos of the broader war, al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) made its way to the frontlines in Taiz in 2015, forging advantageous alliances with the pro-Saudi militias they fought alongside.

One of those militias linked to AQAP, the Abu Abbas brigade, now possesses US-made Oshkosh armored vehicles, paraded in a 2015 show of force through the city.

Abu Abbas, the founder, was declared a terrorist by the US in 2017, but the group still enjoys support from the Saudi coalition and was absorbed into the coalition-supported 35th Brigade of the Yemeni army.

“Oshkosh Defense strictly follows all US laws and regulations relating to export control," the firm told CNN.

And there are deadlier forms of weaponry that have made their way into the city. In October 2015, military forces loyal to the government boasted on Saudi- and UAE-backed media that the Saudis had airdropped American-made TOW anti-tank missiles on the same frontline where AQAP had been known to operate at the time.

Local officials confirmed that the airdrop happened, but CNN's attempts to conduct further interviews were blocked and the team was intimidated by the local government. A local activist joked that the weapons had probably been sold on.

Graveyard of US military hardware                            

At a graveyard of discarded US-made military hardware near the flashpoint port city of Hodeidah, it becomes clear that the Alwiyat al Amalqa -- the Giants Brigade, a predominantly Salafi, or ultra-conservative Sunni, militia -- is a favored faction.

Nearly half a dozen Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAP) vehicles sit side by side, most bearing stickers with the insignia of the Giants Brigade.

One even has the export label on it showing it was sent from Beaumont, Texas to Abu Dhabi, in the UAE, before ending up in the hands of the militia. The serial number of another MRAP reveals it was manufactured by Navistar, the largest provider of armored vehicles for the US military.

The armored all-terrain vehicles are built to withstand ballistic arms fire, mine blasts and improvised explosive devices (IEDs). “It’s the vehicle that every crew wants when they’re out in the field,” Navistar’s website says. The firm declined to comment on this report.

Recipients of US weaponry are legally obligated to adhere to end-use requirements which prohibit the transferring of any equipment to third parties without prior authorization from the US government. That authorization was never obtained.

The Saudi coalition did not respond to multiple requests for comment. A senior UAE official denied “in no uncertain terms that we are in violation of end-user agreements in any manner.”

The Giants Brigade is a “part of Yemeni forces,” the official told CNN, adding that the group was under the direct supervision of the UAE and, therefore, the equipment was in the “collective possession” of the coalition.

The US Department of Defense, when asked specifically about the Giants Brigades, said it had not given Saudi Arabia or the UAE permission to hand over US weaponry to other factions on the ground.

"The United States has not authorized the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia or the United Arab Emirates to re-transfer any equipment to parties inside Yemen," Pentagon spokesman Johnny Michael told CNN. "The US government cannot comment on any pending investigations of claims of end-use violations of defense articles and services transferred to our allies and partners."

Iran is ‘assessing US military technology closely’         

Because a majority of American troop deaths in Afghanistan and Iraq are caused by IEDs, it is critical that knowledge of MRAP vulnerabilities does not fall into enemy hands.

But it's already too late.

In September 2017, a Houthi-run TV channel broadcast images of Mohammed Ali al-Houthi, the de facto rebel leader, proudly sitting behind the wheel of a captured US-made MRAP in the capital Sanaa, as a crowd chanted "death to America" in the background.

CNN obtained an image showing the serial numbers of a second American MRAP in the hands of another senior Houthi official last year in Hodeidah.

The vehicle was part of a $2.5 billion sale to the UAE in 2014. The sale document, seen by CNN, certifies that "a determination has been made that the recipient country can provide the same degree of protection for the sensitive technology" as the United States.

MRAPs like these, captured on the battlefield, have been probed by Iranian intelligence, according to a member of a secret Houthi unit backed by Iran known as the Preventative Security Force. The unit oversees the transfer of military technology to and from Tehran.

The member of the force, speaking to CNN anonymously out of fear for his safety, revealed that Iranian and Hezbollah advisers have already gotten their hands on the armored vehicles and other US military hardware.

"Iranian intelligence are assessing US military technology very closely," the source said in an audio interview done from Sanaa. "Listen, there isn't a single American weapon that they don't try to find out its details, what it's made of, how it works."

IEDs are now mass-produced in Yemen by Houthi forces on a scale only previously achieved by ISIS, according to a report published by Conflict Armament Research.

The group tracks weapons and their supply chains in conflict zones, and has found IEDs containing Iranian components in Yemen.

Hiram Al Assad, a member of the Houthi Political Council, confirmed to CNN that the MRAPs were still in Houthi hands but denied the existence of the Preventative Security Force.

Iran has not responded to a CNN request for comment.

Human cost of conflict                            

The flood of US weaponry is fueling a conflict that has killed tens of thousands -- among them children on school buses and families fleeing violence -- and pushed millions more to the brink of famine.

Two-year-old Rehab is so severely malnourished that her chest has collapsed into a deep dent at the center of her tiny body.

There are an estimated 200 cases of malnutrition like hers in the village of Tohta, a frontline area surrounded by artillery and mortar positions on the Red Sea coast near Hodeidah.

A few months ago, the local clinic was shut down due to political disagreements over funding. But Dr. Fatma Ibrahim won’t give up.

She conducts house-to-house visits every week, and as soon as she steps into the street, worried parents flock to her.

“Look, look,” one father demands as he shows the doctor his skeletal 14-month-old girl, Roula. Ibrahim gently examines her, but soon it's time to move on to the next baby.

For a young man, joining a fighting faction is one of the few means of finding employment in a poor country with little infrastructure and a barely functioning economy.

At the same time, too many powerful political figures and key armed actors in the region have been prospering greatly from the conflict and, as a result, they lack the incentives to agree to a peace process that would threaten their financial gain.

The US is by far the biggest supplier of arms to both Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, and its support is crucial to the Saudi-led coalition’s continuing war in Yemen.

US lawmakers are trying to pass a resolution ending the Trump administration’s support for the coalition. But there is scant evidence that the White House wants to listen, despite evidence that the actions of a key US ally may be making Americans less safe.

In the wake of the murder of Jamal Khashoggi murder last year, Trump said it would be foolish for the US to cancel multi-billion dollar arms deals with the Saudis. "I don't want to lose all of that investment being made into our country," he said.

[doomonfilm]

Review : Native Son (2019)

Call it an embarrassment of riches, but there are way too many streaming services out there to keep track of.  It’s a full time job knowing what’s streaming where, and more importantly, what exclusives or unique projects are showing up where.  That’s why, during a recent dig through the HBO app to find the latest episode of Game of Thrones, I was stunned to see Richard Wright’s Native Son in movie form.  Not only was I unaware that the book had been adapted to a film, but it appears to have also gotten a modern day update.  So, with no knowledge of what I was getting in to, I decided to dive in. 

Bigger Thomas (Ashton Sanders) is a young Chicago native with dreams and aspirations of bigger things.  Though deeply involved with is family, his community, and his girlfriend Bessie (Kiki Layne), Bigger struggles to fit in on a sincere level, choosing instead to wear his difference as a badge of honor.  Bigger is given the opportunity to become a driver for Henry Dalton (Bill Camp), his blind wife Peggy (Barbara Sukowa), and his daughter Mary (Margaret Qualley).  As Bigger attempts to navigate the conflicts that arise on both sides of his new experience, issues continue to arise to the point that he loses focus in a way that threatens to jeopardize his life forever.   

Rashid Johnson makes some wonderful choices in the adaptation of this seminal piece of work, chiefly the choice to drench Bigger in the Afropunk aesthetic to show how he fails to fit into either world he inhabits.  Chicago also serves as a proper setting for the story, as it has both the dangerous and the alluring at its core, providing the sense of two worlds.  The modern update is woven so seamlessly into the story that many may not realize it is an adaptation, and one that’s true to the original, with the update fitting so well that even the name Bigger relates to Biggie Smalls and so on.  At the root, the story examines the story of a man attempting to hold in the inevitable explosion that the world expects from him, at times even seemingly trying to force the reaction.  Bigger, therefore, finds himself living life with his guard up to both sides of his world, as he constantly deals with the dual-sided coin of white microagressions and black peers viewing him as a sellout.  Bigger miraculously, however, manages to maintain his humanity, even when his hand is forced, and especially when his back is against the wall.

Native Son serves as a reflection on poverty, opportunity, and what lengths those who want to better themselves are willing to go to.  Bigger represents those with a long term state of mind in a short term predicament, where stability is in direct opposition to easy money, and the temptation of the quick fix clouds judgement.  The film itself is an emotionally taxing one, where the presentation of the story allows us to feel the weight of Bigger’s problems as if they’re ours.  Despite this heaviness, Bigger is still forced to wear a mask to keep up appearances, foolishly being asked to prove he hasn’t changed in spite of his given opportunity.  This runs parallel with the recognition that Bigger’s seemingly singular job opportunity also includes manual labor and the babysitting of a young adult, the latter of which puts him into having to deal with racial debates and posturing.  Mary also provides a different realm of temptation that Bigger is mostly able to avoid, but when the situations hit extreme things go horribly wrong.

The episodic nature of the film (complete with title cards) makes the film play out like both a living, breathing book and an emotional checklist for Bigger’s state of mind.  The nature of this update/adaptation is incredibly smart, and so natural that without context, many would probably think the film is an original.  Bigger’s costume design, in particular, is incredibly strong, making him stand out among the rest of the inhabitants in the world of the film.  The inclusion of the film Sweet Sweetback’s Badass Song plays as symbollic to Bigger (and most black men’s) struggle in trying to find respect and stability in a crazy world.  The soundtrack is amazing, mixing hip-hop, punk rock, soul and classical music effortlessly, and further driving home Bigger’s natural diversity as a character.  The time-lapse shots used help to punctuate all of the tension that Bigger faces.

Ashton Sanders brings a measured, cautious approach to his performance, never fully letting his guard down for anyone, and letting it down the most when around his family... the presence of dignity he exudes carries him through the early experiences, and tears him apart at the most drastic times.  Margaret Qualley and her playful exuberance, in tandem with her knowledge of self and ‘the help’, creates a bright spot that becomes a sense of danger when foreign elements enter her system.  Nick Robinson and his sense of duty/righteousness makes him the innocent of the film, even though his ideas make him one of the more forward-thinking characters.  Kiki Layne brings a sense of support to the table for Bigger, though not at the expense of her needs.  Sanaa Lathan also provides support, though hers is of the unconditional nature, in her motherly role.  Bill Camp brings an attitude of understanding an opportunity, being trusting with no clue of what is in store for his character.  Appearances by Stephen Henderson, Lamar Johnson, Jerod Haynes, Barbara Sukowa, Elizabeth Marvel, and a brief appearance from David Alan Grier rounds out the cast.

It honestly took me way too long to come around to watching this film, but I’m glad that I finally did.  I’m curious about future Ashton Sanders performances based on this one, and I will certainly be encouraging others to watch this beautiful and intense piece of art.

[abigailcherubin]

Discussion Leader Presentation

“The Dramaturgy of Film Form,” Sergei Eisenstein,

According to Sergei Eisenstein, cinema is, first and foremost, montage. In the “The Dramaturgy of Film Form,” he asserts that conflict is the fundamental principle of every work of art. He believed that the duty of an artist was to contribute to the creation of a new society by raising the consciousness of the masses. He embraced the film medium as the most effective tool in achieving this goal.

Akin to the early Marxist idea of dialectic,  at the center of the artist’s construction is the principal of the dialectic, a conflict between individual elements that create meaning larger than, and different from, the sum of these elements. He believed that cinematic meaning is not inherent in the image itself but is constructed by the process of montage. “But in my view montage is not an idea composed of successive shots stuck together but an idea that DERIVES from the collision between two shots that are independent of one another,” he writes.  

He believed that the task of art to reveal contradictions of being; to forge the correct intellectual concept, to form the right view by stirring up contradictions in observer's mind and through the dynamic clash of opposing passion.

Love & Basketball (2000), Gina Prince-Bythewood

Sypnosis:

Love & Basketball

tells the story of two childhood friends bonded by the shared love of basketball. The film spans roughly thirteen years of friendship and follows the development of the relationship between childhood sweethearts. By the time they enter their senior year of high school, Monica and Quincy realize they’re in love with each other as they both decide to play basketball for USC. The film uses gender equality issues in sports as a source of tension for their romance — the girls’ games in high school are sparsely attended in comparison to the boys’ games; and in college, the women adhere to a stricter curfew, while the men’s team has the adoration of their entire campus. Later, Quincy’s love of the game is tested when he’s betrayed by his father, the sole reason he became a basketball player. Quincy doesn’t quite understand the of-the-moment struggles that his girlfriend faces. Her options to have a career playing ball professionally means she’ll have to live outside of the country since the WNBA is not yet an option for her. That divide is what ultimately ruins them by the third quarter of the film. The only thing Monica loves more than Quincy is basketball — it’s what she’s good at and it’s the thing that keeps her focused. She’s unlike her sister, who takes after their stay-at-home mother, both sticking to the traditional lines of who a woman should be. InLove & Basketball, the actual love story between Monica and Quincy come in second to the love a female athlete has with fulfilling what seems to be an impossible dream — thriving in a field dominated by men.

In the “Dramaturgy of Film Form,” Eisenstein argues that art is always conflict because of its social mission. “It is the task of art to reveal the contradictions of being,” he writes.  Art is dialectical because it’s subject is dialectial too. Monica is a woman but doesn’t uphold what society deems as “womanhood.”  She was a woman who wasn’t delicate, but rather, could hold her own on the court and trash talk with the best. Yet, could still fall in love with the boy next door. She is arrogant and isn’t transparent with her feelings towards Quincy.

In the opening sequence, Monica is dressed resembling society’s depiction of a boy and fools young Quincy to invite her to play ball with them. In the following shot, she takes off her hat and reveals her long, flowing hair. He is a she. The juxtaposition of the two independent shots emphasizes the reaction of the boys. More importantly, it created the dynamic effect in the apprehension of the whole: the gender hypocrisy in sports. This hypocrisy will always be a factor not only in sports but in their relationship, something the two characters must confront as they grow up together on and off the court.

Monica’s road to stardom is more arduous than that of her male counterpart. In comparing the careers of the two would-be professional athletes, the scene juxtaposes the seemingly enchanted life of a blue-chip athlete with that of an aspiring star. It subtly underscores the difference between the facilities and the density and energy levels of the crowds. The collision between these independent shots was the true meaning of montage according to Eisenstein. They are juxtaposed and explodes into a concept in the way could not have achieved had it been edited in another way. It drives the narrative forward.

One of the defining moments in Monica and Quincy’s relationship comes before the injury but after he finds out that his father has been cheating on his mother. It eventually leads to Quincy breaking up Monica because he goes to her for comfort, but she has to focus on her game. It’s important to point out that Monica isn’t insensitive about it, though. She is willing to be there for Quincy, but Quincy is forcing her to choose between two things she loves. The second basketball sequence in the film is a reverse of the first sequence. This time Sanaa is thriving on the court while Quincy struggles. It is the first time we see such a thing. This sequence provides a higher order that would not have been revealed in succession shots. Quincy doesn’t understand the trials she faces as a female athlete, and he doesn’t seem keen on ever getting the point. He expects her to put him first. basketball becomes the catalyst for their breakup, highlighting Monica’s undying commitment to it and Quincy’s growing distrust of it.

The Devil Wears Prada (2006), David Frankel

Sypnosis:

Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) is a recent graduate at Northwestern University with big dreams of becoming a journalist in New York City. Despite ridiculing the shallowness of the fashion industry, she lands the job “a million girls would kill for”: personal assistant to Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), Editor-in-Chief of Runway. Andy has to put with Priestly’s humiliating treatment and unimaginable demands in hopes of getting a job as reporter elsewhere. At first, Andy struggles with her job and fits in poorly with her catty coworkers. Despite everything, she will consider the experience a challenge, drastically changing her clothes and self-image. She finds herself working 24/7, leaving her private life hanging by a thread. As she is whisked away to Paris facing all the glamour that could be hers, Andy is forced to make a decision about where she wants to be in her life.

In the opening sequence,  Andrea ‘Andy’ Sachs (Anne Hathaway) gets herself dressed in the morning for a job interview to become Priestly’s assistant. She brushes her teeth, confidently throws on a hideous sweater, eats an onion bagel, and rides the subway. Shots of Any are juxtaposed with that of the “the other girls,” that old standby film trope of women who care about their appearance too much. They meticulously do their makeup. Their clothing is chic, their boyfriends are hot, and they hail a taxi to work. Andy’s actions are matched with the other women. For example, the women are seen putting on lingerie while Andy puts on briefs. This degree of incongruity heightens the intensity of the spectator’s impression. This sequence highlights a concept that will resonate throughout the film: Will Andy compromise who she is for the person the fashion industry expects her to become?

The sequence “Gird Your Loins!” shows Miranda arriving at the office early and how frantic the office becomes as a result. The juxtaposition of Miranda’s ease with the office evokes the deep power structure in the office. This fear of Miranda is prominent throughout the entire film. Priestly tosses her handbag and coat onto Andy’s desk every morning without looking at her. She puts down her employees so much so that they quake in fear when she shows up to work. Priestly shows little to no concern for the wellbeing of her underlings, as is highlighted by her reaction when her fashion assistant Emily gets into a car accident.

Andie’s awful sweater is soon replaced by a series of glorious ensembles. While in Paris, Andie is seen applying mascara in the mirror. The following shot shows Andie, pre-Runway. What follows is the reaction shot that according to Eisenstein, creates the dynamic effect in the apprehension of the whole The conflict between these directions creates the dynamic effect in the apprehension of the whole. It showcases Andie’s internal struggle of her values and an uncompromising bottom line of self.

Discussion Questions 

1. In what ways have you seen the idea of montage evolve from Eisentien to present day? 

2. Should an artist, particularly a filmmaker, be obliged to create art imbued in conflict? Are there instances where this has been the case? 

3. Eisenstein writes that its the task of art to reveal the contradictions of being? What does this mean to you? What other films have embodied this notion?

[hottytoddynews]

The sun beams down on a mosque in Sanaa, Yemen. Photo by Paul Crutcher

“There’s a guy here who says he went to Ole Miss,” Mark said.

Mark was a Department of Defense (DoD) civilian employee stationed at the U.S. Embassy in Sanaa, Yemen, in 2013. Mark Shafer, retired submarine driver. A burly, bearded, blunt and highly efficient man with the unblinking stare of a wolf, who moved planes, vehicles, equipment and personnel in and out of country by day and told the most hilarious stories of antics on the high seas your stomach muscles could stand around a blazing fire by night, all while savoring a cigar in the cool mountain air of almost 8,000 feet up.

“His name is Tripp,” Mark said.

“Tripp,” I repeated. “Well, of course it would be Tripp,” I thought to myself. “It’s Mississippi. We go in for names like Tripp.”

I found Tripp later and knew he was “Mississippi” before he spoke. Another big man like Mark. Big sideburns. Big hair. A big chest and even bigger legs. Walked all wide-legged, as if he’d just dismounted a horse after a long day’s ride.

And that smile. Jesus. You can’t describe it. Ear-to-ear? No. Doesn’t cut it. It was bigger than that. It was bigger than anything else he possessed. Bigger than his laugh. Bigger than his face even. It leapt out at you like an attacking big cat in one of those nature shows.

And those deep green eyes came at you with the big smile and just held you in place, the cat to its prey. When he did speak, I had to suppress a laugh. Not because he sounded funny, but because he sounded “home.” I had been away from home since joining the FBI in 1997. On occasional visits to Oxford and Holly Springs, I always noticed how strange the voices were to my forgetful ear. The longer vowels, the bouncing syllables, the doubled-up inflections when a single spike of a note would have killed the word and moved on, like they do in the North, where the sense of hurry is ever-present.

I soon saw that Tripp McCullar was a very busy fellow as an Army Green Beret at the Embassy, with duties that kept him hopping from dawn into the night. But Tripp was never in a hurry, and that big smile was never diminished. Watching Tripp in action, I often recalled the admonition of a beloved firearms instructor at the FBI Academy at Quantico, Virginia, who said, “Smooth is fast.”

“Let’s say you got a hot date with you in your pickup truck,” the instructor would tell a class of New Agent Trainees as he schooled them on how not to pull a trigger. “You got a cup o’ dip sittin’ on the dashboard. You got a speed bump comin’ up. You go over that speed bump fast, you gonna spill that cup all over your date’s lap. You’re done. So you take it smooth.” 

Tripp never spilled the dip. Tripp was smooth.

A marketplace in Sanaa’s Old City, the oldest inhabited city in the world. Photo by Paul Crutcher

Well, there was that one time. Tripp and I were the honored guests of a tribal sheikh in Yemen. There we were, sitting cross-legged on the gorgeous carpets in the sheikh’s home as our host served us big round plates of freshly baked flat bread oozing with wild Yemeni honey, the best in the world. As a Green Beret, Tripp had needed to learn more than one foreign language. Before tackling Arabic, he had taken on Turkish, and sometimes he got the two tongues twisted.

“This is great BAL,” he told the sheikh with emphasis, using the Turkish word for “honey” instead of the Arabic one. The trouble was, the way Tripp pronounced it, with his Mississippi drawl, “BAL” came out a lot closer to “BOL,” which is the Arabic word for “urine.” The sheikh and his entourage roared laughing and had to push themselves away from the feast to dry their eyes. When I told Tripp what he had said, his red face looked like the lights on a Christmas tree next to his big green eyes.

“Boy, you’re a long way from Oxford,” I whispered into Tripp’s ear.

Sanaa, Yemen and small-town Mississippi have more in common than some might think. Photo by Paul Crutcher

Tripp immediately gave me a gift that day when we met in the hall of the Embassy in Sanaa. It was an Ole Miss lanyard, the kind you attach to your Embassy security badge and show to the guards when you enter through the gates. Red and blue with the big “M” and the cursive “Ole Miss” repeated down the strand. I never took it off while on duty at the Embassy. I carried it home with me to Virginia in 2015. I took it back to the Middle East on a tour in Oman later that year, on another one in Saudi Arabia, and then back again to the U.S.  I still wear it today. I’ll wear it for as long as I am working anywhere.

Tripp graduated from Ole Miss in 1997. I finished in 1983. I never asked, but it seemed like he had grown up needing to work. He had a job at the Oxford Airport. He had a job as a “house boy” at an Ole Miss sorority, where you got your meals for free. He made money playing gigs in a band in Oxford.

I didn’t need to work. I played the guitar for fun. I served as a “house boy” for fun.

Tripp was a soldier – and a soldier’s soldier at that. He had been places and done things most people could not relate to, including me. I never served. Tripp had that quiet confidence about him, “something conservative and guarded,” as Tom Clancy put it in “Rainbow Six.” I always admired men like that and wished I had been one of them. The guys who walk into a room and seem to have all the answers, even when they don’t. The guys men follow into battle.

Photo by Paul Crutcher

Despite the difference in our ages, and the differences in who we were and how we got to where we were, we bonded over two things we had in common: Ole Miss and our shared love of the Arabic language and culture. “Man,” Tripp said to me once, “what are the chances of two dudes from Ole Miss meeting up in Yemen and both speaking Arabic?” I admitted they were small. 

But then again, maybe not. The thing is, both Mississippi and Arabia are tribal. In Mississippi, it matters who your mother and father were. You’re not just you. You’re so-and-so’s boy or girl. It matters if you have children. In the Arab world, a man is called “Abu,” which means “father of.” A woman is called “Om,” which means “mother of.” Tripp’s mother died in 2009. He used to tell me about what a beautiful lady she was.

It matters what family you come from. “McCullar? Ohhh. He’s from the Batesville McCullars.”

It matters where you worship. It matters that you grew up saying “sir” and “ma’am,” and that your children have grown up saying “sir” and “ma’am,” too. Old people aren’t “old.” They’re “elders.” There’s a respect which abides in that word, and that cannot be removed.

In Yemen, in Arabia, those things matter, too.

Paul Crutcher in 2014

Tripp turned me on to a movie made in the early 2000s called “A New Day in Old Sanaa.” We watched it one night at the Embassy. It’s a love story about a well-off boy from the Old City of Sanaa, which is said to have been built by Noah’s grandson and parts of which pre-date Moses. He sees a peasant girl dancing alone in a dimly-lit street one night from his window high above the gingerbread facades. The boy is engaged to a girl from his social class, a beautiful and proper girl with a dowry and a name. He wants to leave it all and run away with the dancer, and he promises the dancer he will come for her, but in the end he conforms and honors family and tradition, the unspoken, unseen things he can’t escape.

As I watched the movie, I thought of Faulkner’s line from “Light in August,” where Byron Bunch says, “A man will talk about how he’d like to escape from living folks. But it’s the dead folks that do him damage. It’s the dead ones that lay quiet in one place and don’t try to hold him that he can’t escape from.”

Tripp and I talked for hours around fires, playing Led Zeppelin tunes on beat-up old acoustic guitars, and remembering places that were part of our Oxford pasts: The Hoka Café, The Gin, Taylor Grocery, and Vaught-Hemingway Stadium. Even the Oxford Airport where Tripp worked was also a fixation of mine, and one of my earliest memories.

My grandfather, J.D. Williams, was in his last years as Chancellor at Ole Miss when I was just a few years old in the 1960s. I remember visits to “J.D. and Nana” (his wife, Ruth Williams) at the old Chancellor’s House just off Sorority Row. I loved getting to stay up at night in my bedroom at the Chancellor’s House and watch the Airport beacon slice the big black sky in wide, sweeping beams of faded light, circling back on itself, repeating and dying again. I used to look at that beacon and imagine all the far-off places J.D. had been. J.D. was always traveling. Like Bilbo Baggins in “The Lord of the Rings,” he was always off on another adventure. It was from him that I got my wanderlust, my desire for the open road that led to Germany, Saudi Arabia, Oman and Yemen, and, like the Airport beacon circling back on itself, to Ole Miss and Tripp McCullar.

Tripp married late, and, of course, when he did marry, he married a girl from a foreign land, a shockingly beautiful girl he met while on tour in another one of the ancient world’s inscrutable capitals, a place where history is measured in millennia, and everything else is just details.

I’ll never forget watching Tripp’s massive frame bolting through a heavy Embassy door and into the Yemeni night. He had just received word that his wife was going into labor. She delivered twins. A couple of years later, Tripp posted his daughter’s picture on Facebook, and someone who knew his mother commented on how the girl looked just like her, especially the swept-back mane of hair. He agreed. 

Tripp is now with the National Security Council at the White House.

“Om Tripp” is smiling down, brother.

Paul Crutcher is a Supervisory Special Agent with the FBI living and working in Virginia. He was in Yemen from 2013 – 2015.

The post Top Stories of 2017: Two Ole Miss Alumni Forge Bond in Faraway Yemen appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

[meditationklaus]

The Smart Yogi’s Guide to Landing Your Ideal Yoga Travel Job

There was a time when I had no idea how to find a yoga job. None. I was clueless. Until I decided to train as a yoga teacher, I’d followed the usual path that included education and employment. I used specialist recruiters to search and secure the right position, and when it was time to move on, I’d repeat the process. Easy.   I was used to a salary, without any gap. A lump sum of money that got deposited into my bank account, monthly. So when I chose to become a teacher, I’d never experienced being self-employed.

We All Have to Start Somewhere

At almost 30, I was starting again. In the beginning, it was a hustle AND a hassle. I had to take any chance that came my way.

Although I’m grateful for all the experiences I’ve had, not all of them were great. In fact, some were a complete disaster. Mis-understanding, miscommunication, high expectations, and low pay were all part of those early years as I tried to navigate my way towards my ideal yoga job.

I’ve learned to deal with some of the uncertainty. But the truth is, I also realized that the time comes when you need to be creative, clever and considered when chasing opportunity. I discovered, as a yoga teacher, that curating the right contacts and having a portfolio of useful, professional assets in your arsenal helps.

Finding the perfect yoga job came sometimes feel overwhelming. The route to connecting you with the right opportunity, less clear. But the industry is changing fast, as demand for good quality yoga teachers in locations all over the world increases. Ensuring you are well prepared will help you to land the right opportunity when it comes along.

Guide to Landing Your Ideal Yoga Travel Job

If you’re still on the hunt for your ideal yoga job, here’s a little something I put together that will hopefully help you in your job hunting and career as a yoga teacher.

Create Your Ultimate Yoga Travel Job Wishlist

To define your wish list, you have to consider what is important to you. Ask yourself the following:

How far are you willing to travel and for how long?

What kind of environment would you like most, ie. beach or mountains, isolation over bustle, hot or cool climate?

Do you specifically want to teach or would you consider another role within a retreat center or spa, such as retreat manager, host, chef, etc?

Do you need to get paid or would you consider a work exchange or being a karma yogi?

Once you have a clearer vision of your ideal yoga travel job, hold it in your heart and refer to it while job hunting.

Develop a List of Go-to, Reliable, Online Resources

Unlike when I began teaching, there are now a few fantastic websites that help connect yoga employers with prospective yogi-employees. A couple of my favorites are:

YogaTravelJobs – A yoga-specific platform that lists yoga travel jobs all over the world. From free to a small annual fee, you get your own yoga passport, can create your own profile, save your preferences, and join the online community. YogaTravelJobs lists paid positions and volunteer jobs.

Facebook Groups – There are yoga jobs ALL over the world on Facebook! Join this group and keep your eyes open for people posting opportunities that excite you.

Build Your Network

As you travel and teach, talk to people about what you do and stay in touch. You’ll be surprised what doors may open for you over time.

Own and Invest In Your Own Website

…and I mean really own it. In our digital age, having a half-arsed, homemade website won’t cut it. If you want the good jobs, you need to get used to presenting yourself professionally and attending to the business end of being in the yoga business.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be expensive, but investing time in getting this valuable asset right is more than worth it. If you are not tech savvy, save up to have something simple designed and built properly, or use an online website builder like Heek to help you. It will pay off in the long run.

Keep your web content clear and concise. Don’t labor your personal story and ensure the primary focus is on what you have to offer others.

Create a Yoga CV

Update your CV to include your yoga experience and training. If you did a different job before becoming a yoga teacher, highlight any transferable skills that complement your teaching.

Present Yourself

Not all of us are comfortable in front of the camera, but people like to see you before they buy into you. Have a few yoga snaps handy that say something about you, your teaching style, and/or your approach.

Some employers will ask you for a video of you teaching, especially if they’re recruiting you remotely. So use your phone or a GoPro to capture one of your classes, post it on Vimeo with password protection and if someone asks, it’s ready and waiting to be watched.

Writing your own blog or using Instagram can also help build recognition and credibility as a yoga teacher.

Collect Testimonials From Previous Students

Prospective students and employers alike will appreciate recommendations from an impartial party, as these are often perceived to be more trustworthy. So start gathering testimonials from students and previous employers to include in your CV and on your website.

Finally, good luck. 90% of success is always down to careful and considered planning. Prepare now and you will put yourself firmly on the path towards your dream job.

Image credit: Sanaa Jaman

The post The Smart Yogi’s Guide to Landing Your Ideal Yoga Travel Job appeared first on DOYOUYOGA.COM.

[hottytoddynews]

The sun beams down on a mosque in Sanaa, Yemen. Photo by Paul Crutcher

“There’s a guy here who says he went to Ole Miss,” Mark said.

Mark was a Department of Defense (DoD) civilian employee stationed at the U.S. Embassy in Sanaa, Yemen, in 2013. Mark Shafer, retired submarine driver. A burly, bearded, blunt and highly efficient man with the unblinking stare of a wolf, who moved planes, vehicles, equipment and personnel in and out of country by day and told the most hilarious stories of antics on the high seas your stomach muscles could stand around a blazing fire by night, all while savoring a cigar in the cool mountain air of almost 8,000 feet up.

“His name is Tripp,” Mark said.

“Tripp,” I repeated. “Well, of course it would be Tripp,” I thought to myself. “It’s Mississippi. We go in for names like Tripp.”

I found Tripp later and knew he was “Mississippi” before he spoke. Another big man like Mark. Big sideburns. Big hair. A big chest and even bigger legs. Walked all wide-legged, as if he’d just dismounted a horse after a long day’s ride.

And that smile. Jesus. You can’t describe it. Ear-to-ear? No. Doesn’t cut it. It was bigger than that. It was bigger than anything else he possessed. Bigger than his laugh. Bigger than his face even. It leapt out at you like an attacking big cat in one of those nature shows.

And those deep green eyes came at you with the big smile and just held you in place, the cat to its prey. When he did speak, I had to suppress a laugh. Not because he sounded funny, but because he sounded “home.” I had been away from home since joining the FBI in 1997. On occasional visits to Oxford and Holly Springs, I always noticed how strange the voices were to my forgetful ear. The longer vowels, the bouncing syllables, the doubled-up inflections when a single spike of a note would have killed the word and moved on, like they do in the North, where the sense of hurry is ever-present.

I soon saw that Tripp McCullar was a very busy fellow as an Army Green Beret at the Embassy, with duties that kept him hopping from dawn into the night. But Tripp was never in a hurry, and that big smile was never diminished. Watching Tripp in action, I often recalled the admonition of a beloved firearms instructor at the FBI Academy at Quantico, Virginia, who said, “Smooth is fast.”

“Let’s say you got a hot date with you in your pickup truck,” the instructor would tell a class of New Agent Trainees as he schooled them on how not to pull a trigger. “You got a cup o’ dip sittin’ on the dashboard. You got a speed bump comin’ up. You go over that speed bump fast, you gonna spill that cup all over your date’s lap. You’re done. So you take it smooth.” 

Tripp never spilled the dip. Tripp was smooth.

A marketplace in Sanaa’s Old City, the oldest inhabited city in the world. Photo by Paul Crutcher

Well, there was that one time. Tripp and I were the honored guests of a tribal sheikh in Yemen. There we were, sitting cross-legged on the gorgeous carpets in the sheikh’s home as our host served us big round plates of freshly baked flat bread oozing with wild Yemeni honey, the best in the world. As a Green Beret, Tripp had needed to learn more than one foreign language. Before tackling Arabic, he had taken on Turkish, and sometimes he got the two tongues twisted.

“This is great BAL,” he told the sheikh with emphasis, using the Turkish word for “honey” instead of the Arabic one. The trouble was, the way Tripp pronounced it, with his Mississippi drawl, “BAL” came out a lot closer to “BOL,” which is the Arabic word for “urine.” The sheikh and his entourage roared laughing and had to push themselves away from the feast to dry their eyes. When I told Tripp what he had said, his red face looked like the lights on a Christmas tree next to his big green eyes.

“Boy, you’re a long way from Oxford,” I whispered into Tripp’s ear.

Sanaa, Yemen and small-town Mississippi have more in common than some might think. Photo by Paul Crutcher

Tripp immediately gave me a gift that day when we met in the hall of the Embassy in Sanaa. It was an Ole Miss lanyard, the kind you attach to your Embassy security badge and show to the guards when you enter through the gates. Red and blue with the big “M” and the cursive “Ole Miss” repeated down the strand. I never took it off while on duty at the Embassy. I carried it home with me to Virginia in 2015. I took it back to the Middle East on a tour in Oman later that year, on another one in Saudi Arabia, and then back again to the U.S.  I still wear it today. I’ll wear it for as long as I am working anywhere.

Tripp graduated from Ole Miss in 1997. I finished in 1983. I never asked, but it seemed like he had grown up needing to work. He had a job at the Oxford Airport. He had a job as a “house boy” at an Ole Miss sorority, where you got your meals for free. He made money playing gigs in a band in Oxford.

I didn’t need to work. I played the guitar for fun. I served as a “house boy” for fun.

Tripp was a soldier – and a soldier’s soldier at that. He had been places and done things most people could not relate to, including me. I never served. Tripp had that quiet confidence about him, “something conservative and guarded,” as Tom Clancy put it in “Rainbow Six.” I always admired men like that and wished I had been one of them. The guys who walk into a room and seem to have all the answers, even when they don’t. The guys men follow into battle.

Photo by Paul Crutcher

Despite the difference in our ages, and the differences in who we were and how we got to where we were, we bonded over two things we had in common: Ole Miss and our shared love of the Arabic language and culture. “Man,” Tripp said to me once, “what are the chances of two dudes from Ole Miss meeting up in Yemen and both speaking Arabic?” I admitted they were small. 

But then again, maybe not. The thing is, both Mississippi and Arabia are tribal. In Mississippi, it matters who your mother and father were. You’re not just you. You’re so-and-so’s boy or girl. It matters if you have children. In the Arab world, a man is called “Abu,” which means “father of.” A woman is called “Om,” which means “mother of.” Tripp’s mother died in 2009. He used to tell me about what a beautiful lady she was.

It matters what family you come from. “McCullar? Ohhh. He’s from the Batesville McCullars.”

It matters where you worship. It matters that you grew up saying “sir” and “ma’am,” and that your children have grown up saying “sir” and “ma’am,” too. Old people aren’t “old.” They’re “elders.” There’s a respect which abides in that word, and that cannot be removed.

In Yemen, in Arabia, those things matter, too.

Paul Crutcher in 2014

Tripp turned me on to a movie made in the early 2000s called “A New Day in Old Sanaa.” We watched it one night at the Embassy. It’s a love story about a well-off boy from the Old City of Sanaa, which is said to have been built by Noah’s grandson and parts of which pre-date Moses. He sees a peasant girl dancing alone in a dimly-lit street one night from his window high above the gingerbread facades. The boy is engaged to a girl from his social class, a beautiful and proper girl with a dowry and a name. He wants to leave it all and run away with the dancer, and he promises the dancer he will come for her, but in the end he conforms and honors family and tradition, the unspoken, unseen things he can’t escape.

As I watched the movie, I thought of Faulkner’s line from “Light in August,” where Byron Bunch says, “A man will talk about how he’d like to escape from living folks. But it’s the dead folks that do him damage. It’s the dead ones that lay quiet in one place and don’t try to hold him that he can’t escape from.”

Tripp and I talked for hours around fires, playing Led Zeppelin tunes on beat-up old acoustic guitars, and remembering places that were part of our Oxford pasts: The Hoka Café, The Gin, Taylor Grocery, and Vaught-Hemingway Stadium. Even the Oxford Airport where Tripp worked was also a fixation of mine, and one of my earliest memories.

My grandfather, J.D. Williams, was in his last years as Chancellor at Ole Miss when I was just a few years old in the 1960s. I remember visits to “J.D. and Nana” (his wife, Ruth Williams) at the old Chancellor’s House just off Sorority Row. I loved getting to stay up at night in my bedroom at the Chancellor’s House and watch the Airport beacon slice the big black sky in wide, sweeping beams of faded light, circling back on itself, repeating and dying again. I used to look at that beacon and imagine all the far-off places J.D. had been. J.D. was always traveling. Like Bilbo Baggins in “The Lord of the Rings,” he was always off on another adventure. It was from him that I got my wanderlust, my desire for the open road that led to Germany, Saudi Arabia, Oman and Yemen, and, like the Airport beacon circling back on itself, to Ole Miss and Tripp McCullar.

Tripp married late, and, of course, when he did marry, he married a girl from a foreign land, a shockingly beautiful girl he met while on tour in another one of the ancient world’s inscrutable capitals, a place where history is measured in millennia, and everything else is just details.

I’ll never forget watching Tripp’s massive frame bolting through a heavy Embassy door and into the Yemeni night. He had just received word that his wife was going into labor. She delivered twins. A couple of years later, Tripp posted his daughter’s picture on Facebook, and someone who knew his mother commented on how the girl looked just like her, especially the swept-back mane of hair. He agreed. 

Tripp is now with the National Security Council at the White House.

“Om Tripp” is smiling down, brother.

Paul Crutcher is a Supervisory Special Agent with the FBI living and working in Virginia. He was in Yemen from 2013 – 2015.

The post In Faraway Yemen, Two Ole Miss Alumni Forge an Unforgettable Bond appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

[hottytoddynews]

The sun beams down on a mosque in Sanaa, Yemen. Photo by Paul Crutcher

“There’s a guy here who says he went to Ole Miss,” Mark said.

Mark was a Department of Defense (DoD) civilian employee stationed at the U.S. Embassy in Sanaa, Yemen, in 2013. Mark Shafer, retired submarine driver. A burly, bearded, blunt and highly efficient man with the unblinking stare of a wolf, who moved planes, vehicles, equipment and personnel in and out of country by day and told the most hilarious stories of antics on the high seas your stomach muscles could stand around a blazing fire by night, all while savoring a cigar in the cool mountain air of almost 8,000 feet up.

“His name is Tripp,” Mark said.

“Tripp,” I repeated. “Well, of course it would be Tripp,” I thought to myself. “It’s Mississippi. We go in for names like Tripp.”

I found Tripp later and knew he was “Mississippi” before he spoke. Another big man like Mark. Big sideburns. Big hair. A big chest and even bigger legs. Walked all wide-legged, as if he’d just dismounted a horse after a long day’s ride.

And that smile. Jesus. You can’t describe it. Ear-to-ear? No. Doesn’t cut it. It was bigger than that. It was bigger than anything else he possessed. Bigger than his laugh. Bigger than his face even. It leapt out at you like an attacking big cat in one of those nature shows.

Paul Crutcher shot this photo of Sanaa’s gingerbread houses set against the Yemeni mountains around 2008 or 2009. Photo by Paul Crutcher

And those deep green eyes came at you with the big smile and just held you in place, the cat to its prey. When he did speak, I had to suppress a laugh. Not because he sounded funny, but because he sounded “home.” I had been away from home since joining the FBI in 1997. On occasional visits to Oxford and Holly Springs, I always noticed how strange the voices were to my forgetful ear. The longer vowels, the bouncing syllables, the doubled-up inflections when a single spike of a note would have killed the word and moved on, like they do in the North, where the sense of hurry is ever-present.

I soon saw that Tripp McCullar was a very busy fellow as an Army Green Beret at the Embassy, with duties that kept him hopping from dawn into the night. But Tripp was never in a hurry, and that big smile was never diminished. Watching Tripp in action, I often recalled the admonition of a beloved firearms instructor at the FBI Academy at Quantico, Virginia, who said, “Smooth is fast.”

“Let’s say you got a hot date with you in your pickup truck,” the instructor would tell a class of New Agent Trainees as he schooled them on how not to pull a trigger. “You got a cup o’ dip sittin’ on the dashboard. You got a speed bump comin’ up. You go over that speed bump fast, you gonna spill that cup all over your date’s lap. You’re done. So you take it smooth.” 

Tripp never spilled the dip. Tripp was smooth.

A marketplace in Sanaa’s Old City, the oldest inhabited city in the world. Photo by Paul Crutcher

Well, there was that one time. Tripp and I were the honored guests of a tribal sheikh in Yemen. There we were, sitting cross-legged on the gorgeous carpets in the sheikh’s home as our host served us big round plates of freshly baked flat bread oozing with wild Yemeni honey, the best in the world. As a Green Beret, Tripp had needed to learn more than one foreign language. Before tackling Arabic, he had taken on Turkish, and sometimes he got the two tongues twisted.

“This is great BAL,” he told the sheikh with emphasis, using the Turkish word for “honey” instead of the Arabic one. The trouble was, the way Tripp pronounced it, with his Mississippi drawl, “BAL” came out a lot closer to “BOL,” which is the Arabic word for “urine.” The sheikh and his entourage roared laughing and had to push themselves away from the feast to dry their eyes. When I told Tripp what he had said, his red face looked like the lights on a Christmas tree next to his big green eyes.

“Boy, you’re a long way from Oxford,” I whispered into Tripp’s ear.

Sanaa, Yemen and small-town Mississippi have more in common than some might think. Photo by Paul Crutcher

Tripp immediately gave me a gift that day when we met in the hall of the Embassy in Sanaa. It was an Ole Miss lanyard, the kind you attach to your Embassy security badge and show to the guards when you enter through the gates. Red and blue with the big “M” and the cursive “Ole Miss” repeated down the strand. I never took it off while on duty at the Embassy. I carried it home with me to Virginia in 2015. I took it back to the Middle East on a tour in Oman later that year, on another one in Saudi Arabia, and then back again to the U.S.  I still wear it today. I’ll wear it for as long as I am working anywhere.

Tripp graduated from Ole Miss in 1997. I finished in 1983. I never asked, but it seemed like he had grown up needing to work. He had a job at the Oxford Airport. He had a job as a “house boy” at an Ole Miss sorority, where you got your meals for free. He made money playing gigs in a band in Oxford.

I didn’t need to work. I played the guitar for fun. I served as a “house boy” for fun.

Tripp was a soldier – and a soldier’s soldier at that. He had been places and done things most people could not relate to, including me. I never served. Tripp had that quiet confidence about him, “something conservative and guarded,” as Tom Clancy put it in “Rainbow Six.” I always admired men like that and wished I had been one of them. The guys who walk into a room and seem to have all the answers, even when they don’t. The guys men follow into battle.

Photo by Paul Crutcher

Despite the difference in our ages, and the differences in who we were and how we got to where we were, we bonded over two things we had in common: Ole Miss and our shared love of the Arabic language and culture. “Man,” Tripp said to me once, “what are the chances of two dudes from Ole Miss meeting up in Yemen and both speaking Arabic?” I admitted they were small. 

But then again, maybe not. The thing is, both Mississippi and Arabia are tribal. In Mississippi, it matters who your mother and father were. You’re not just you. You’re so-and-so’s boy or girl. It matters if you have children. In the Arab world, a man is called “Abu,” which means “father of.” A woman is called “Om,” which means “mother of.” Tripp’s mother died in 2009. He used to tell me about what a beautiful lady she was.

It matters what family you come from. “McCullar? Ohhh. He’s from the Batesville McCullars.”

It matters where you worship. It matters that you grew up saying “sir” and “ma’am,” and that your children have grown up saying “sir” and “ma’am,” too. Old people aren’t “old.” They’re “elders.” There’s a respect which abides in that word, and that cannot be removed.

In Yemen, in Arabia, those things matter, too.

Tripp turned me on to a movie made in the early 2000s called “A New Day in Old Sanaa.” We watched it one night at the Embassy. It’s a love story about a well-off boy from the Old City of Sanaa, which is said to have been built by Noah’s grandson and parts of which pre-date Moses. He sees a peasant girl dancing alone in a dimly-lit street one night from his window high above the gingerbread facades. The boy is engaged to a girl from his social class, a beautiful and proper girl with a dowry and a name. He wants to leave it all and run away with the dancer, and he promises the dancer he will come for her, but in the end he conforms and honors family and tradition, the unspoken, unseen things he can’t escape.

Photo by Paul Crutcher

As I watched the movie, I thought of Faulkner’s line from “Light in August,” where Byron Bunch says, “A man will talk about how he’d like to escape from living folks. But it’s the dead folks that do him damage. It’s the dead ones that lay quiet in one place and don’t try to hold him that he can’t escape from.”

Tripp and I talked for hours around fires, playing Led Zeppelin tunes on beat-up old acoustic guitars, and remembering places that were part of our Oxford pasts: The Hoka Café, The Gin, Taylor Grocery, and Vaught-Hemingway Stadium. Even the Oxford Airport where Tripp worked was also a fixation of mine, and one of my earliest memories.

My grandfather, J.D. Williams, was in his last years as Chancellor at Ole Miss when I was just a few years old in the 1960s. I remember visits to “J.D. and Nana” (his wife, Ruth Williams) at the old Chancellor’s House just off Sorority Row. I loved getting to stay up at night in my bedroom at the Chancellor’s House and watch the Airport beacon slice the big black sky in wide, sweeping beams of faded light, circling back on itself, repeating and dying again. I used to look at that beacon and imagine all the far-off places J.D. had been. J.D. was always traveling. Like Bilbo Baggins in “The Lord of the Rings,” he was always off on another adventure. It was from him that I got my wanderlust, my desire for the open road that led to Germany, Saudi Arabia, Oman and Yemen, and, like the Airport beacon circling back on itself, to Ole Miss and Tripp McCullar.

Tripp married late, and, of course, when he did marry, he married a girl from a foreign land, a shockingly beautiful girl he met while on tour in another one of the ancient world’s inscrutable capitals, a place where history is measured in millennia, and everything else is just details.

I’ll never forget watching Tripp’s massive frame bolting through a heavy Embassy door and into the Yemeni night. He had just received word that his wife was going into labor. She delivered twins. A couple of years later, Tripp posted his daughter’s picture on Facebook, and someone who knew his mother commented on how the girl looked just like her, especially the swept-back mane of hair. He agreed. 

Tripp is now with the National Security Council at the White House.

“Om Tripp” is smiling down, brother.

Paul Crutcher is a Supervisory Special Agent with the FBI living and working in Virginia. He was in Yemen from 2013 – 2015.

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