#And some blathering about the West

[amerasdreams]

Russia:

"Be absorbed by us, or we will kill you."

"You are our brothers, so we have to kill you to remind you of that."

This is the reason for their war. No sane person can support that. We have to defend Ukraine and the rational world from such violations of international law and expansion which is a close relative of Nazi Germany. As insupportable a reason, and as horrific of methods.

[anghraine]

Perhaps the most purely surreal aspect of the election, btw, is that it actually went pretty great in my state (Washington). I don't even mean standard West Coast results. Washington is sapphire this year.

Harris/Walz are running about 20 points ahead of Trump statewide—currently, they're further ahead here than in Oregon or California. They're winning in Whitman County in eastern Washington and came within a few of points of winning Spokane County. Clark County, which is adjacent to the border with Oregon and contains the Portland suburb of Vancouver WA, can be a lot "swingier" than Multnomah County just to the south (which contains Portland) and a ballot box was literally blown up there to screw with the election results. Clark County worked to get new ballots to everyone affected and Harris is not only clearly winning in Clark, but further ahead than Biden in 2020—leading Trump by nearly 10 points iirc.

One of the few politicians I truly like, my beloved governor Jay Inslee, is stepping down, and had endorsed his Democratic AG, Bob Ferguson. Ferguson is easily winning the state, though not leading as much as Harris is, which is a kind of nice change from so many Democrats (including pretty mediocre ones) doing better than her, even though I've liked Ferguson as AG.

I will say that Ferguson was running against what goes for a good Republican candidate these days—a "moderate" with ties to King County (Seattle) who was not the first choice of the vile Washington GOP, but beat out some far-right assholes in the Republican primaries. For part of the campaign, it seemed like Reichert (the Republican candidate) might be "normal" enough and local enough to conceivably eke out a win, but in the event, Ferguson is ahead by double digits.

Our Democratic senator easily held her seat and also ran ahead of Ferguson in counties like Whitman.

Inslee's acknowledgment of Trump's win includes zero congratulations or unity blather, but instead remarks that Washington State sued the first Trump administration 97 times and won 95 of those cases while he was still president, and we will do it again if we have to (these suits were of course driven by AG Ferguson, now our governor-elect).

For the first time in generations, Washington Democrats actually won every statewide elected office—there are nine of them and the margins of the victories vary a lot, but the GOP failed to win even one, and the state government remains a Democratic trifecta as well.

There were four deceptively-worded, Republican-funded, corporate bullshit initiatives on the state ballot this year. Three are already dead in the water. As Governor Inslee put it, "Washingtonians sent an unequivocal message that they want action on pollution and climate change. Washingtonians also made clear they want to preserve the equity of our tax system with the capital gains tax on the super wealthy. When they or a loved one need long-term care, they want the WA Cares Act to be there for them." Yup!

Marie Gluesenkamp Pérez (a current Democrat in the House) is still leading in the Trumpy WA-3 district, which redistricting only made redder than it was before (when her victory was considered one of the biggest House upsets of the year). She's about three points ahead still.

This may sound like bragging about my state and isn't really meant that way. It feels like existing in a weird capsule because we're still very much in the USA and affected by national politics and we have our own right-wing assholes, of course, but so much about the country we live in is decided thousands of miles away from here, in large part by people who don't seem to share even the most basic sense of reality with most people here. It is a very strange experience to feel so estranged from what's happening in so much of the country.

[ask-the-four-lords]

Dear Lady Dimitrescu,

While I am no noble, I’m certainly not a manthing, so here’s a list of reasons why I would be a perfect candidate to be Daniela’s spouse. (HUY SPOUSE??? exag na)

Though before I get into that, how was your day? Was it pleasant? Did something inconvenient happen? If so, please tell me about it before thinking about slicing me to ribbons..

So, anyways, I will be giving my reason then explaining, so if you’ll give me a moment of your time, that would be splendid.

Reason 1: The usual ‘I’m kind, empathetic, caring, etc.’ spiel. I have evidence to back this up because I’m the therapist friend TM (charot). I don’t have receipts but my friends can vouch for me, I swear. I’m open-minded and not easily disgusted by things, so I have no problem with being around death and all that.

Reason 2: My music taste. It doesn’t really count BUT it should, because who would want to be with someone who only listens to rap or drill? I have a diverse music taste, including: jazz, classical, broadway/west end, pop, and rock. It doesn’t say much, but it basically does. Music taste is a large part of someone’s personality, and music is a thing people use to express themselves, hence the whole thing.

Reason 3: I’m educated. Thankfully, I am, and although many are, I’m also educated in pretty niche topics, so yippee!! I can’t exactly delve deep into it as it’s a bit complicated so I’ll leave it at that.

Reason 4: My hobbies! I love reading, so I’m sure it would be a good match with Daniela. I can also write, albeit not that well to an extent, but I can be poetic when I am. I love performing, especially acting. It’s like an escape for me, and I’m good at it too, thankfully. I also love learning about niche topics, and it’s something I’d love to share with someone. I love photography, and taking pictures whenever I see something beautiful. No doubt my SD card would be filled with photos of Daniela. (it’s giving.. autism? jk) But if she’s willing to listen, I could go on and on about certain topics.

Reason 5, hopefully the last reason, though I can still give more: My personality. It goes without a saying that personality plays a big role in spouses and their compatibility, and I (firmly) believe my personality is fit for Daniela. Although I can also be quite energetic at times, I can mostly keep calm and a level head. As I said before, I’m not easily disgusted and I don’t have a weak stomach, so I can handle all the blood and the killings n stuff. I can be silly at times, and serious at some. It’s a perfect match, I swear. I’m not judgmental, and I’m extra lesbian so yea..

All in all, I’m not quite sure if you can make your mind with these. I desperately hope you won’t slice me to ribbons for even suggesting the idea, but please try to keep an open mind. As always, have a good day.

— K.D.

Oooh, I like this one far better so far. Some actual manners, *cough cough* Odysseus. Still, it's almost improbable I will give up Daniela to anyone, I will listen to this one. Well, my day was perfectly acceptable, this is also an acceptable stalling tactic as in the event I decide to "slice you into ribbons" there will be no running. Although something rather inconvenient did happen, that tragic un-babysat toddler Heisenberg tried to get Moreau to decide if my wine or his repellant moonshine whiskey was better. That blathering freak chose his whiskey, then again that does confirm how repulsive and classless he is...

To your first reason: Yes, yes, blah blah, I've heard it all before. Especially from that clown who couldn't even get national clown college certification although it's probably best you can handle the viscera.

To your second reason: Good, as you may know I was a jazz performer. I'm in support of jazz and classical as genres so good for you. And yes, the ribbon treatment would be inevitable in the event you did say drill or rap.

To your third reason: *sighs* it's something, at least you're not entirely a peasant.

To your fourth reason: And on and on you have went although you still seem a better candidate for my darling Daniela as of yet but she still most likely won't be married for another century, I imagine. Still, House Dimitrescu will only accept those with true talent, so on the off-chance you have that than that will assist your chances.

To your fifth reason: Well... I don't even know how to respond to that. Daniela will decide that in the event you get as far as meeting her.

In conclusion, you are the best candidate so far but it's still more or less improbable you'll receive my sweet, lovely Daniela's hand. And I will keep an open mind, although if you test me, even slightly, you'll find your mind far-far too open, my claws do have a habit of "opening minds."

[anthonybialy]

Take Sides Elsewhere

Bias in action is the core output of one industry that should grind to a halt.  Prosperity would increase.  Blatantly lying about the worst sort of conduct is how reporters dedicate themselves to truth.  Guardians of information tacitly align with Jew-hating lunatics whose response to marauders beheading any members of one particular religion they could find is to call for Israel not to exist.  You may notice a pattern.

Blather about occupation gets more than equal time.  The legitimately aggrieved party is not targeting civilians, unlike the demons they target.  If you want to know what Israel will be accused of doing, check what Hamas is actually doing.

Don’t start a war.  They’re bad for items and people.  And those assaulted might return the favor.  Righteousness is the key difference for anyone confused about cheering.  The best advice for avoiding civilian casualties is to not annihilate civilians.  Report that.

Somehow, the press gets more shameless.  New stories ask if Israel does enough for safety without noting where they’re aiming.  Oh, and very responsible broadcasters also leave out why the nation that lost numerous citizens for the crime of attending a music festival is responding in the first place.

The news is the place for fantasies.  Imaginary sob stories about who could be harmed if the prey fights back are the most shameful way to shame.  Copy and paste a paragraph noting collateral damage has been a component of every single conflict ever, including righteous ones.

Nuking Nagasaki for fun is our darkest moment.  Woke maniacs who don’t understand cause and effect think Harry Truman was just one of countless American presidents who should’ve been arrested for war crimes.  Disregarders or active cheerers of diabolical mayhem claim they resisted during the Fourth Reich that was the Trump administration.  Meanwhile, honorary Axis members would’ve condemned D-Day as an unnecessary escalation even if they enjoyed making others ration.

Taping asterisks to terror onslaughts is not the best way to achieve objectivity.  Liberal hacks who claim some stories only have one side mean pretending civilization is rendering Earth uninhabitable.  Attacking Charlie Hebdo got worse in the worst possible way when excusers of murdering artists accused them of putting of hate speech in their doodles.  Similarly, blaming cartoonists in Texas because of the religious figure they chose to draw was no way to defend the West, which was the point.  And asking why terrorists would hate America so much that they’d use planes as missiles was the all-time example that’s merely the most notorious moment of lame massacre justification leftists wish you’d forget.

The media applies the same tendencies to every situation.  Consistency by applying a formula does not necessarily equal super results.  Lying about Israel being an oppressive genocide colonizer is even worse than excuses for inflation.  Blatancy is so obvious that it looks planted, which means finally discovering the profession’s core mission.

The media is careful to avoid noting which religion has a terror problem.  It’s not the one with a functioning republic in the worst neighborhood.  Fighting back against barbarians doesn’t count.

Terror allies marching in support of their favorite team is shockingly normal.  Every Arafat-inspired rampager currently wreaking havoc on city streets and campuses just like their heroes would claim to oppose Nazis, by which they mean Ron DeSantis.

Praise for those demanding destruction is limited to liberalism’s pet causes.  Hamas Fan Club meetings might seem rather strident in their demands for that one Jewish entity to no longer be.  But Israel’s been mean about removing those trying to exterminate it, so there’s your balance.

Covering gatherings is about what’s not shown.  Hiding gets trickier with social media, which shows not only what correspondents refuse to cover but how the job can be done in the free time of people with worthwhile careers.  Very disinterested observers noted Black Lives Matter conflagrations were mostly peaceful aside from the flaming cities.  You may not be surprised to realize secret and open PLO admirers think America is a racist hellhole.

The same professional protesters uncannily also claim the country where they live sits on occupied land.  They never vacate, of course.  To very fair reporters on the scene, the important part is that nobody demands a flat tax.

The middle ground isn’t worth sharing with people who want you dead.  Treating the two-state solution as some sort of presumed necessary compromise only seems fair if you’re not checking if one Super Bowl participant slaughtered babies.  No super important anchors seem willing to inquire why the actually tolerant country should have to cede some of the land that’s either always been its property or that it won in previous wars from intruders to an invented group that elected Hamas.

It’s sort of a bad sign when it takes lying about a cause to make it appealing.  That’s coincidentally the only shot Joe Biden has at holding the title of president into his late 80s.  There’s totally not an invading army of uninvited American guests just because it seems to be happening, and if there were they would only be here to take advantage of job opportunities created by a booming economy and not the generosity of Democratic politicians with funds seized from productive people with valid paperwork.  Everything’s terrific despite what you notice, which is practice for acting like terror victim Israel is the terrorist.

The media shares truth about themselves by lying regarding everything else.  It’s easy for journalists to do their jobs, which is the field’s appeal.  Participants major in the easy college choice so they don’t have to spend full shifts doing math.  Their dedication to inserting their own deluded views means they’d selflessly rather spend extra hours making up tales of how they’re true than cover reality and head to Applebee’s for dollar margaritas a few hours early.  The only thing more mortifying than pretending a war on civilization has two valid factions is siding with pillagers.

[saint-starflicker]

Spring Awakening Fandom Tag

(By @winter-asleepening )

1. How were you introduced to the show?

2007(?) OBC sountrack on compact disk gift from a friend.

2. Seen a production live?

My honest answer is going to get me in trouble around Question 17, isn't it.

3. Dream role/character you relate to most

Ilse Neumann.

4. Favorite male character

Moritz.

5. Favorite female character

Ilse. Is that redundant with Question 3? Martha, then.

6. Deaf West Revival or Original Broadway Cast?

The OBC soundtrack got me through a very rough time in my life, but as far as the cast goes I'm going to say the Deaf West revival cast. I'm glad it was revived, I'm glad that cast is cast in that cast, and I'm glad they're the introduction for a new generation of Guilty Ones.

7. Favorite song

I love them all equally.

8. Least favorite song

...I don't care for Mirror Blue Night.

9. Favorite quote/line

I'm more of a melody person than a lyrics person.

10. Favorite TV performance

Deaf West Touch Me THEY TURNED INTO A BOAT

11. Favorite cast member(s)

I don't really play favorites with cast members, I just try to find what each new actor brings into the role.

12. Favorite cast member moment

I don't really follow the behind the scenes anecdotes either, but Jonathan Groff forgetting the lyrics to Left Behind except for "all things" is as inspirational as it is horrific to imagine going through. If he can get through that and live to tell the tale, then I can get through a bad day.

Also every time Michael Arden says, "All my best ideas come from [ Andy Mientus ]" is like d'aww they're cute together.

13. Do you write fan fiction?

In this fandom, no, I'm more of a reader.

14. Do you make fan art?

I could.

15. Do you cosplay?

Not really...I don't like the late 19th century fashions? I'm more of a Merveilleuse type (no bra no corset just Spirit Halloween chiton).

16. Don’t do Sadness or Blue Wind?

Those are two halves of a whole song!

17. Word of your body or the Reprise?

OBC I did not like the Reprise because even through the Discman (... that's a Walkman for CD's) I had the sense that it was a "comic relief" moment that relied on the existence of gay boys as the joke.

The Deaf West production kept a sense of respite and relief, and some comedy in the relationship dynamic between Ernst and Hanschen rather than playing on preexisting stereotypes...even though it didn't change a word of the script in that scene, which is amazing on a text analysis level like what happened who used the Captain Planet power ring with the power of heart in this scene, what sorcery is this?

So it depends, because the non-reprise Word of Your Body does a narrative job—Melchior haters can feel free to hate, but I can understand what the musical version was trying to go for with his character, and Word of Your Body was part of that.

Groff's Melchior came off more smarter-and-better-than-you but sort of giving up his pretensions in the process of seduction, and I can understand why that aspect might look appealing.

Doyle's Melchior doesn't have that "he's a ruthless boy but maybe i can change him"—I think he plays Melchior as more sad and desperate, and putting that energy into studying is how his Melchior thinks he gets a handle on his own feelings.

McKenzie's Melchior is an oafish, bookish 14-year-old boy trying to act smooth as he condescends to a Deaf girl. He has as much primal sexual energy as a newborn beagle puppy, which to be clear is none at all. I think that can be endearing, that he doesn't really know what he's blathering about in terms of life experience.

Wendla's a consistent constant performance-wise, all three versions I think balance out to a constant average...so it's really the Reprise that determines which one I like better.

OBC Reprise was very much worse than OBC Word of Your Body...but, Deaf West Reprise was a little better than Deaf West Word of Your Body and a lot better than the OBC Reprise. But I like the OBC Word of Your Body better than the Deaf West Reprise, at the same time that I like the Deaf West Word of Your Body an equal amount as the OBC Word of Your Body, contextualized comparatively being different than the chronological context that defines its vibe in an individual show's run time.

18. Touch Me or My Junk?

My Junk as a tune — but the Deaf West Touch Me did turn everybody into a boat, that was kinda cool.

19. Explain the song of purple summer.

Ilse recovered from her trauma and now owns her sexual identity, despite the history of everyone in her home and community doing their worst to her in ways that directly targeted that very intimate part of her. Her story is not the main plot of the show, but the fact that she survived and found personal definition means she now has her own voice on which to carry the wisdom of her life. That will be what heals and inspires others. Red or pink sunsets plus blue evenings make the sky in summer purple. At the end of the day, there still is beauty in living.

20. Explain the song of purple summer (wrong answers only)

Butterflies scatter ergot fungus while they fly around, so everybody thinks that everything looks purple this summer. The sky is purple. The rain is purple. The corn is purple. The horses are purple. The fungus is eating everybody's brains. They're all going to die.

[antaxzantax]

Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 21

I

Miller looked at the plans of the building. Marcus's labs in the basement, the staff and student quarters in the west wing, the lecture hall and library on the first floor...

"Miller?"

Marcus called out from the desk in his exclusive office. Finally, his boss had been able to realise his dream: a facility all to himself. He knew Spencer was the one who had granted his wish, but with a quid pro quo: Marcus would be the director. And so it was, to his regret, that he became the director of the facility that Ashford and Spencer ordered built on the outskirts of Raccoon City. But not only of the laboratory that Spencer gave him, but of something else that infuriated the Texan.

Ashford and Spencer were in the midst of a business expansion process whereby they turned Umbrella Pharmaceuticals into the Umbrella Corporation, a biomedical conglomerate with Umbrella Pharmaceuticals as the parent company and thus Ashford and Spencer as the outright owners. In a face-to-face meeting, Spencer told them that he had spoken to Ashford about the possibility of building some kind of training centre for company employees. He told them that this appealed to investors and set them apart from other pharmaceutical corporations that did not invest in this kind of project. Marcus seemed to ignore it at first, as it seemed like a typical political issue that he couldn't care less about. Or so they thought until, in an unexpected twist of fate, Spencer assured them, not suggested or recommended, that the training centre would be located in the same lab he was going to build for Marcus.

Marcus was obviously very angry. He threatened to shoot Spencer with his revolver, but the posh Englishman was smarter and, with a sharp tongue, swore to him on his ancestors that Marcus would not have to take care of the training centre at all, that all this would be handled by a admin office in Raccoon City and by a coordinator, namely Miller, Marcus's secretary. Miller made excuses with his doctorate, but it didn't work. Spencer would pay him for his PhD if that was enough for him to continue as Marcus' secretary. The end result was that, much to his chagrin, Marcus ended up accepting the position of director of the place, the uncreatively named Umbrella Training Facility, as the only requirement for dominance over the lab. Nominal director because de facto Miller would have to take all the managerial shit and deal with the incoming students. For the moment, he had been given a list of fifteen students, all of them fresh out of college and, except for a couple, rich kids whose parents were Spencer's friends and acquaintances.

"Yes?" replied the secretary.

"Have you prepared tomorrow's speech for me?"

Miller searched his folder.

"Yes, I have it here."

"Read it to me."

He cleared his throat. He hoped it was to his liking.

"Attention. This is Dr. Marcus speaking. Let's have a few minutes of silence to reflect on our company motto. Obedience brings discipline. Discipline brings unity. Unity brings power. And power brings life."

He finished.

"And that's it?" Marcus sounded surprised.

"Yes. Well. That's what you asked for: direct, concise and without wasting time."

The director turned around in his chair to look out of the window.

"It looks like a pamphlet signed by Orwell[1]."

"Spencer suggested it to me. It had to sound grandiloquent for the kind of students who would be coming."

"Grandiloquent," Marcus guffawed sardonically. "Grandiloquent..." He turned around. The chair mechanism squeaked. "Never associate with an Englishman if you don't want to be fucked with his courtly blather..." he spat haughtily.

Miller pocketed the paper. Marcus, visibly serious and irritated, stared at him. Uncomfortable, the secretary stood up, ready to leave. He still hadn't gotten used to his thesis advisor's sudden mood swings and inflexibility. It seemed that even having his own lab had not softened his temper. And from the xenophobic comment he'd just made, he figured he was having a falling out with Spencer. Be that as it may, he didn't care. He left the office with the plans, the speech and the list of students. It was the latter list that he pulled out for a final check. Alongside the first name and surname, the nationality and age had been included.

Akers, Akhila (F) United Kingdom. 23 years old.

Birkin, William (M) United States of America. Age 15.

Bronson, Gustav. (M) United Kingdom. Age 24.

Cipriani, Nina. 24 years old. Age 24.

Deschamps, Pierre (M) France. 24 years old. 24 years old.

Dunn, Myles (M) Ireland. 25 years old. Age 25.

Grigorescu, Saveli (M) United States. 24 years old. 24 years old.

Kapanadze, Nili (F) United States. 26 years old. 26 years old.

McCallum, Francis (M) United Kingdom. 27 years. Age 27.

Royce, Megan (F) United States. 24 years old. Age 24.

Scrivenor, Ravi (M) United Kingdom. 23 years old. Age 23.

Starek, Hilda (F) United States. 23 years old. Age 23.

Wang, Marit. (F) Netherlands. Age 24.

Wesker, Albert (M) United States. 17 years old. 17 years old.

Ziegler, Agnes (F) Federal Republic of Germany. 24 years old. 24 years old.

He hadn't interviewed any of them, that had been the responsibility of human resources, although he had been warned to be careful with minors for legal reasons. He had no idea what the fuck a couple of minors were doing there; only that they had been attached to him as his main responsible and supervisor. Marcus had washed his hands of it and so had the admin office. So it was his turn to be the sucker on duty. Anyway.

II

His parents were waiting for him outside with the car parked on the road. He took a last look at his bedroom: Star Trek posters and a periodic table, pictures of animals and sticky notes with formulas only he understood. And, of course, his first university degree: a degree in microbiology from Harvard University. Number one in his class and fifteen years old. Fifteen years old. No one would be able to beat that mark. He puffed out his chest as he retrieved the letter from Umbrella Pharmaceuticals from the disorganised bedside table. The letter stated that he had been accepted into a pilot programme for future executives of the company. They were confident in his talent and the bright future that awaited him. In fact, he had always wanted to be an astrophysicist. Ever since he was a child, travelling through space on the USS Enterprise was more appealing to him than spending idle hours staring at a molecule through a microscope. He realised, however, that physics was already saturated with towering figures and, if there was one thing that surpassed his desire to be something, it was his desire to be the best. And he would be the best because he felt he was the best.

He picked up the letter containing the invitation to the Training Facility and stuffed it into the unfolded, overflowing suitcase he had placed on top of his unmade bed. Mixed in were pants, shirts, a jacket, pyjamas, dress trousers and jeans, a pair of shoes, acne cream, a comb and many more books and notebooks. So that the container wouldn't burst, he had arranged the contents like a kind of chaotically designed puzzle. Without further inventory, he closed the suitcase and left the house. His parents were waiting for him at the porch entrance. Both wore proud but worried smiles. They had accepted his new dream of becoming a virologist despite the initial reluctance caused by his unexpected rejection of a large scholarship to study astrophysics.

"Ready?" His father, who had donned his lucky San Francisco Giants cap, ruffled his hair affectionately.

Their mother headed straight for the car. They followed her into the car. He sat in the back row of seats, his suitcase on the floor of the car and off to the side. His parents, in front, would take turns driving four hundred miles from Baltimore to Raccoon City. His mother started up. She increased the speed of travel. His inner voice said goodbye to the suburbs.

III

He raised his finger to hitchhike. The car passed him by. He sat down. Another car in the distance. He got up. Hitchhiked. Passed by. Sat down. A van. Pulled up. Hitchhiking. Passed by. Stopped. The van stopped on the roadside. He approached it with his rucksack over his shoulder. He approached the driver's window. A Mexican couple.

"Where are you going?" asked the driver, shouting over the thunderous volume of the music.

"Raccoon City."

"And where is that?" The driver paused the radio.

"In Ohio, by the Appalachian Mountains."

The driver took off his cap to wipe his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. The co-driver leaned over the dashboard to look at the hitchhiker.

"Phew," sighed the driver. The co-pilot said something in Spanish. The pilot refocused on the hitchhiker. "I can drop you off in a nearby city... That's a long way from where I'm going."

"Okay."

"Come on," the driver invited.

He opened the side door of the van. They were carrying timber, tools and cans of paint to renovate a house. He sat down in the available space between a toolbox and a couple of stacked cardboard boxes. He settled in, tucked in, with his rucksack on his legs. The driver released the brake and rejoined the road.

After a while of hellish cruising, with the radio thundering and the shock absorbers whipping his back, the co-driver rose from her seat and slid into the boot, sitting in the gap between the two seats. She was a young, dark-haired, dark-skinned woman. Her curly hair had been pulled back into a dishevelled bun.

"What is your name?" She hugged her legs, showing interest in the hitchhiker.

The hitchhiker didn't answer at first. The young woman, intrigued, introduced herself first.

"My name is Maria. And you?"

"Michael."

Maria settled back in her seat, stretching her back.

"And how old are you? I'm twenty-one."

"Eighteen."

"What were you doing here? Hitchhiking? Did they leave you stranded?"

"I don't have a car."

The driver turned up the volume.

"Where are you from? I come from Veracruz with my father."

"New York."

"Oh, and from what hood?"

The hitchhiker didn't answer and didn't want to continue talking.

"Downtown New York?" Maria persevered.

"Yes."

"Maria, help me here," the father ordered.

Maria crawled into the passenger seat. The pair began to argue in Spanish about what the hitchhiker could guess as the direction to take. The latter, with the other two debating in the background, leaned against the van door. He concentrated on ignoring the ambient noise.

The hitchhiker dismounted at a bus stop outside Stoneville. He reported to a nearby convenience store that the bus to Raccoon City would be coming in half an hour. He had five dollars to spare. Either he would eat or save it for transportation. He chose the second option. He sat on the bench by the bus shelter, his hood up and his hands hidden in his sweatshirt pocket. He clutched a concealed butterfly knife in his right hand. The backpack was on the ground and between his legs. He had forgotten his cap at home. He was hungry and thirsty. An elderly couple sat next to him. The old people were talking animatedly to each other.

Finally, he spotted the bus in the distance. He asked the driver if it stopped near the Umbrella Training Facility on the outskirts of the city. The bus driver told him no, that it did not stop nearby and that he would have to walk there along the road. He paid him and sat in the last row. It had started to rain. He took the letter of invitation from the back pocket of his jeans.

Dear Mr. Wesker. Your son, Albert, has demonstrated his unparalleled potential for... He didn't want to read any further. It didn't matter. That invitation would be his escape route.

Notes:

[1] George Orwell, author of 1984 and Animal Farm.

[bomberqueen17]

trissmiss

well it was shaping up to be not a very merry christmas, but the sun came out so we went out to shovel.

cut for photos and blathering

in my driveway, looking west toward the garage. [image: snow, a drift of at least five feet pressed up against a small white garage, nearly obscuring the door; the corner of a house, heavily-drifted, but a section of driveway scraped down to the pavement by wind.]

My driveway, looking east toward the road. I set about shoveling this drift, but it broke me and i gave up and only removed the left half of it, to clear part of the driveway to make a foot path. [image description: a drift coming around the side of a house, about four feet in height but quite thick, in front of a car with very little snow on it. Beyond that, a man in blaze orange snow pants is throwing snow onto a pile; he is up to his thighs in snow.]

Dude started out by the sidewalk. The street wasn’t plowed, so we figured ther was no point clearing by the road because when they came by they’d plow us right back in. (This is the horror that all of us in the snow belt know: when they plow the road, it throws a snowbank into your driveway.)

But after we’d been working for maybe an hour, we heard an engine, and looked and there was a town snowplow working on the cross-street a block up. We were very excited about this; I ran out to take a photo of it. But then imagine our shock and delight when it turned and came down our street next! Dude ran back in front of my car to get clear, and it came down the road in a glorious explosion of snow, operating at full speed-- Town of Tonawanda operates big highway plows so this guy was probably going 30-40 mph, flinging debris a good 20 feet either side. it’s the only way to deal with snow this deep and heavy.

Once plowed out, we focused our efforts on getting a pathway to the street.

[image: my partner, a six foot three inch man in orange snow pants, sits on a hunk of snow in a tiny passage he’s digging one shovel blade wide through a heavy snowbank. he looks tired.]

Once we’d dug out, we came inside, cleaned up, and then assembled our goods and hiked a quarter-mile down the street to dude’s mom’s house. Just over the border into the city of buffalo, no plows had been by but people were trying to dig themselves out.

[image description: footprints in snow in foreground, midground is the man in the orange snowpants carrying a shovel over his shoulder, background is a row of houses.] Note the cloud bank behind the houses: this is looking south. That is a lake effect front still dumping on south buffalo, which had been spared the worst of this storm but now is Getting It, though I think less severely.

Once at Dude’s mom’s house we unwrapped some presents and then made appetizers. These were what we’d planned to bring to a party on Christmas eve that got cancelled: Lil Smokies sausages wrapped in those Pilsbury crescent rolls that come in a tube.

[image description: pastries with tiny hot dogs sticking out of the ends of them, on a platter]

I’m pleased to report that I managed to wear the me-made dress I’d intended for Christmas after all; it traveled beautifully under my snow pants. Merino wool, baby.

[image description: the author, a fat blonde woman, is posing in front of a large mirror wearing a knee-length wool dress that’s quite tight-fitting through the bodice and flares a bit in the skirt. It is maroon-red with elbow-length sleeves.] That’s a Cashmerette Turner, modded to include side seam pockets.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Hello there! May I have Germany, England, and France with S/O who can be intimidating like Jade West (when Angered, they can be really violent and sadistic) but deep down they are actually caring and kind). They are being tough is actually a facade to protect themselves from as*holes.

Reader is going to be a nation in this, since I feel it makes the most sense for the scenario given.

Edits Made: 12 Dec 2022 spotted redundancies.

Also I’ve never watched Victorious so I’m sorry if the character traits you’re looking for may be off or absent. I really tried for a badass who takes shit from no one but has a heart of gold. But, I did read a Wikipedia page and watched one video to help me out with writing this. So yeah, enjoy lol.

TW: it’s a slight gore and blood is mentioned and there is cursing.

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿England 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

Arthur is a global superpower and that means he has had to become a gentleman who

can play rough when you have other opponents, pee-ons, and pawns all the while putting on a show of chivalry.

Originally you were a pawn of his that he intended on using during the midst of rising tensions between you and America on the brink of another proxy-war that would drag you and a few other smaller nations into their conflict.

You’re a medium sized nation with a major hand in the diamond business. Your nation is world famous for some of its creations such as designing and providing the crowning jewels for the Royal family for a few centuries. Along with the other royalty, dignitaries, diplomats, and celebrities. You really knew how to dazzle the upper echelons of society. Which is why to England you were a pawn considering you filled in orders for a lot of America’s top 1%. Which meant people in power would be angry if suddenly the main supplier of 60% of all the world's finest gems was annexed by the U.K. a ruthless negotiator that always managed to steal the finest trade deals for his own benefit.

Your other fortes involved innovative energy technology. Which is a growing industry worldwide and makes you and your nation much more of a valued commodity. That America and England WILL fight over to dominate you. Which is why England used his influence: social media campaigns boasting about the great diplomatic relations he has with you. It gets to a point where he is broadcasting almost daily about the special relationship that he has with you to a point where America notices and tries to pay back in kind.

“(Country name) has been invited to the Senate and Congress to discuss some legislation ….” England overheard America’s boss blather on and on about connecting ties and possibly working on some projects in the future. He sat in his study and gritted his teeth and he turned the television off and threw the remote to the other side of the room.

“Bloody bastard. He really needs to learn when not to mess around with other people’s things.” He reached for his phone and he didn't want to let you slip away. Two rings pierced his eardrum before you answered on the other end.

“Y/N it’s Arthur, I wanted to inquire about….” For some reason he hesitates to speak out the words that he actually wants to say. You break the train of thought he had going where it was trying to speed for honesty and stop at the heart of the situation.

“The bullshit show that America is putting on? I’m not amused and I’m going to be ignoring him. Because that’s what I know what's on your mind.” Ice filled your vocal cords. You didn’t need multiple superpowers meddling in your domestic affairs trying to dominate.

“How did you-” Trying to get coal back in to fire up the engines once again. But he moved too slow to deter you from continuing.

“The two of you are aggressive superpowers. Of course. Anyways I’m busy. I have a four eyed moron to keep at bay and prevent him from dragging me to his country for ‘negotiations’ and ‘offerings’. And just so you know now: I don’t want yours either.” Without another word you promptly hang up the phone not really giving Arthur a chance to even state his concerns. You knew he would be a pain in your side too if you didn’t distance yourself.

Arthur swallows his pride. He was actually going to be vulnerable in order to get what he wanted this time.

“Bloody hell.”

After two weeks of sleepless nights on England's end on how he can vocalize his feelings without having to use his power. Which he is accustomed to doing and it came naturally for him. That was a tactic he knew worked well. However he knew that would get him shot and leave your home with a few broken bones. At 3am on a Friday he decided to write it out, pick up some doves, and take a small private jet to (Country Name).

When he arrived in your land and laid down his heart and put up his hands when he was greeted by you with a pistol along with your guards.

“You’ve got 10 seconds to explain yourself when I explicitly told you I wanted nothing to do with you.” Your index finger is itching to pull the trigger to send a resounding message that you don’t fuck with (country name) and come out unscathed.

“Y/N please, love , listen. This isn’t about some petty proxy war between America and I…”

Your eyebrow raises with your finger lightly tugging down on the trigger.

“I love you actually.”

🇫🇷 France 🇫🇷

As an international fashion icon France was never really on your radar. You regarded him as nothing more than an acquaintance that was flashy. He sometimes wanted to be ‘friends’ with and/or mentor you as a fellow flourishing country. You simply brushed him off in the past and shot him a dirty look whenever he approached you. You were not amused by his antics.

However, France does not surrender when it comes to romance and he was determined to not let you become an exception to that. He didn’t. But it did mean that he’s been slapped, tripped down the stairs, nearly getting caught in the crosshairs of your flame thrower, and on Halloween you nearly decapitated him before he got a little too fresh with you.

“Your determination is really beginning to annoy me. Do you have a death wish of sorts? Because I’d be happy to oblige with your immediate execution.” You were currently wielding a battle ax that was polished and sharpened. It’s cool metal being graced by the bright sun rays piercing Francis’ precious baby blues.

‘Damn she really is ruthless.’

“Y/N listen. I know that… you have this whole stubborn facade going on for you but, I’m not trying to harm you or play with you, toy with your feelings or any of that….” His voice trails off into the frigid air that surrounds you. He drew in slow concentrated breaths and was trying not to choke on his words. That was a difficult task when your icy gaze pelted him with icicles. Your sustained silence allowed him to continue with a quaking voice. You were interested in what pathetic pleas he’ll hit you with.

“I just want to be nothing but good to you. Admire you. And have you in my arms each day when the sun fades.”

Stars, roses, and hearts were the only things you could concentrate on as it was the only things that filled your vision as you concentrated on the French man that was pouring his heart out to you. Thornless scarlet roses sprouted from his hands and a soft golden glow came from his heart. God was on Francis’ side this time. Time seemed to be frozen as a gold arrow was given to him with a sharp heart tip.

*God appears out of the deep blue hues of the sky with an elegant angelic bow that looks as if it was made from pure white feathers.*

“Take this my child. You’ll need to get through the thorny barricade that is her way of guarding her heart.”

Francis wipes a few tears from his eyes as he looks at you and your guards frozen in place. You looked like a terrifying goddess that he’d be a devoted follower of.

“Thanks, God.” He stands to his feet with pure determination and readies himself with the bow and arrow aimed directly at your heart. He sucks in a sharp breath and holds it to steady his aim. The twang of the arrow launching itself from the bow filled his eardrums. As it did so the bow poofed into a flurry of pearly iridescent feathers that swirled around him.

When Francis looked in your direction again your eyes had a far softer expression than the vicious scowl that you were wearing before. A light smile graced your lips instead as your eyes made contact with those azure irises.

‘Ah that smile of hers. I feel so many butterflies everytime.’

“I’m sorry Francis. What were we trying to discuss? I’ve lost my train of thought.”

Your life together is relatively peaceful for being nations. Ever since France started dating you he has been less inclined to fight Britain. Not just in wars, but even politically. He doesn’t even bother to try and clap back when Britain begins spouting nonsense about him on Social Media. He ignores it all because his moon was all that he needed.

However if anyone dare to be a dickhead to Francis, they’re in for a real bad time.

If France ever comes home to you and passively talks about someone being a bigot, or threatens him oh …. I’d be praying to God.

“I’m sorry that happened to you honey. How can I make it better?” As you place a kiss on his forehead after you swept some of his luscious locks from his face.

“Nothing my love. I just hate their behavior, that's all. No need to break some nation's neck, or castrate, or any of the mischievous things you do.” A massive cocky smirk spreads wide and long on the Frenchman's face as he pulls you closer to him by grabbing your waist as he looks up at you. A deliciously vexatious grin is on your face as he sees the fire alight in your eyes. Someone goin die tonight.

“Okay.” Confirming you heard him but you weren’t going to listen. There was hell to pay.

You’re extremely protective of Francis. You burn those with callous words with aerosol and flames. To those who lay their hands on him in a brutal way, you end their bloodline. If it’s a nation that wants to be in a war you join in with him and become his sole support.

🇩🇪 Germany 🇩🇪

As Germany was sitting on the bench press his attention wandered over to you lifting weights. You were doing weighted squats. You were fully immersed in the moment and you made your muscles work in unison. You concentrated on making sure your moments were precise so that you would have well defined muscles. You enjoyed the heat of battle on occasion but you did also love your peace and the ability to work on other more productive things than war.

Ludwig’ s mind meandered to how he actually managed to convince you to not continue with your plans to torment him and force him to reincarnate painfully.

“I’ve told you a dozen times: DON’T. CROSS. ONTO. MY. BORDERS. I’m classified as a reclusive nation for A REASON. And I’m stunned that out of all the nations YOU don’t get that.” You were barring your fangs and your voice was raised. You hated this man for invading (country name). You thought he of all people would have enough common sense not to bug you. I mean rules and regulations are his thing. But here he is in the forest caught in a bear trap that was hidden well.

“Ja. Ja. I know zhat. Ho-” You lean down over him making sure that your face aligned up with his. It was intimidating to the German and he wondered why in hell he decided to follow his bashful heart and didn’t follow his grounded mind.

“Then if you do…..WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE?” Ludwig flenched. He wasn’t used to being dominated by another nation. What made it worse is that his emotions were trying to figure out why sparks had hit his heart, his stomach felt airy, and his neither region felt stiff and was expanding. His brain wasn’t really able to come up with a plan that was feasible.

‘So this is what it feels like to be the unter Hund. I might have some apologizing to Italy to do once I reincarnate.’

“I… just.. Verdammit. …. Look I….” Ludwig was tripping over his words as he did his best to evade your piercing gaze that made all of the side effects of his emotions worse. He began to squirm a little and you stabbed your spear in the middle of his abdomen. You took pleasure in his pained grunt he let out.

‘Oh so he’s used to or has been trained to tolerate intense pain. Interesting. I wonder how much farther I can push this. However, Germany can’t be that stupid. Can he?’

Sucking in a sharp breath so he could force out his words.

“Okay…” Ludwig coughs up a little blood. “I deserved that. I should have at the very least sent jou a notice. But, I didn't, I'm sorry.” You didn’t respond, you simply stood over him expectantly. More coaxing with pain was no longer necessary. Crimson continued to spill from his mouth in massive gobs. “I ….” Trying to maintain himself from passing out. However that wasn’t an option. His vision became unfocused. Your pristine face no longer had a scowl but one of concern. Ludwig promptly passes out.

You let out a long sigh that filled the forest air. “Dammit. I have to help him revive or the international community will label me as the bad guy.” You grab your phone and send a mass message to your top surgeons and health care team. You knew you were going to have to kiss up to Germany if you didn’t want other bigger nations to condemn you and possibly invade (country name).

Germany came to a sterile hospital room that only he, two nurses, and Y/N were there, waiting for him to become conscious again. He avoids looking at Y/N for fear she may just get angry with him again.

You swallow your pride and disgust and finally break the constricting silence that was suffocating.

“So, you were saying? About why you were here.” Your leg was crossed over the other with arms crossed. It was like you were a teenager that had to admit that they were wrong and the realization of it was a difficult pill to swallow. Your eyes glazed over his muscular form and you noticed all of the minor injuries: cuts, bruises, and a broken left arm. But your facial expression was still stony and stoic.

“Oh ja, right uhhhhhh…..” His brain and heart still couldn’t get it together.

Ludwig’s cherry red cheeks gave away his motives that weren't hard for Y/N to pick up on.

Y/N rolls her eyes with mild amusement at the dangerous stunt he pulled.

“Look, let's just get you back to your country and agree that you won’t tell others.”

“On one condition leibling.”

Germany uses his persuasion to get you to consider letting him stay so that the two of you could get to know each other and maybe have a decent working relationship. You hesitate and Germany is persistent and eventually he convinces you to be in a relationship with him. Tying your nations relations together.

As a couple the two of you enjoy having routines together. You exercise together, train, and have weekly Wednesday and Saturday movie nights. You never expected that you could get along with a stoic work-o-holic like Ludwig but you found that he did have appeal attributes.

Alright I tried with this one lol. I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you were looking for.

[mvsicinthedvrk]

☃️ plotting / starter call for the (now-annual) winter market! ☃️

i mostly adjusted from last year, plus added my new characters! please LIKE this if you want to plot and i’ll shoot you a message (probably on discord) sometime this week; or you can REPLY if you just want to claim a starter with/without plotting. 

no starter cap, but there is a date cut-off, which is december *21. i’m not accepting new starter requests after that~

wei wuxian -- starters for: atlas kipling (hiddenangcls), marlene mckinnon (mcrcki), jester lavorre (circleofstarrs), vic weasley (drvcxrys), wen ning (coreofgold), benedict bridgerton (recklcssabandon), ???

last year, he was heavily involved in the snowball fight! he had a good time, but he doesn’t quite have that level of energy in him this year, so he’s probably going to be a little more chill-- but he’ll pitch in to help your character’s team in the snowball fight or snowman building competition if they need a hand. he’ll also be freezing his ass off in the ice bar. 

yuri plisetsky -- starters for: caitlyn kiramman (masqce), aj campos (wvsteria), five hargreeves (lcnelyhearted), victor nikiforov (irresistiibles), xiao lanhua (tragcdysewn), addison montgomery (hxartbreaker), doom (youllalwaysbemyporcelain), elizabeth swann (irongcld), lizzie midford (drvcxrys), albus severus potter (recklcssabandon), lan jingyi (coreofgold), ???

yuri was talked into offering FREE ice skating lessons at the ice rink. as a professional ice skater, he will help teach your characters how to successfully navigate the ice; however, he will not be very patient about it, so keep that in mind. 

orpheus -- starters for: blue (hiddenangcls), rosemary winters (mcrcki), seth gecko (hxartbreaker), jade west (strwbrrymccn), luke patterson (irongcld), annabeth chase (drvcxyrs), ???

orpheus is running a winter karaoke tent! as long as the song is festive or holiday-ish or winter-ish in nature, the lyrics will be loaded up on the karaoke machine. open for soloists, duets, small groups, whatever! if your character wants to show off their vocal skills, or just enjoy the festive music, drop by. if orpheus catches your character making fun of the singers, though, he’ll be sad and disappointed. 

wen kexing -- starters for: steve rogers (svnlvght), zhou zishu (youllalwaysbemyporcelain), emily fields (wvsteria), zhang chengling (coreofgold), ???

last year he mostly spent time painting ornaments and heckling hot santa, and will most likely be indulging in much of the same this year. he will probably also enjoy a carriage ride or two, and would gladly share the carriage with your character. 

xie lian -- starters for: josh washington (purelybilateral), shi qingxuan (irresistiibles), tylor tuskman (youllalwaysbemyporcelain), jinx (strwbrrymccn), hua cheng (coreofgold), ???

he may not celebrate these holidays but he really enjoys the warm atmosphere of people coming together to celebrate festivities like this. he’ll be bundled up by the bonfires or oo-ing and aa-ing over the creativity of the snowmen others have built. he might try building a gingerbread house, and after some bartering, he’ll probably be wrapped in a collection of 2-5 handmade scarves from the crafts stalls by the end of the week. **he will also be getting tipsy for the first time in his life, accidentally, due to poorly labelled mulled wine 

blathers -- starters for: missandei (wvsteria), jack kline (lcnelyhearted), zhongli (irresistiibles), jeon seol (youllalwaysbemyporcelain), qui-gon jinn (hxartbreaker), xiao xingchen (coreofgold), ???

once again, he will be getting as involved as possible, and with an enthusiastic attitude. if given the opportunity, he will talk to you about anything and everything he has recently witnessed at the market, and i imagine he’ll be spending a lot of time at the hot chocolate and sweets stalls.  

he xuan -- starters for: gu chan-seong (strwbrrymccn), stiles stillinski (recklcssabandon), ???

if you see a man dressed in all black seemingly consuming every edible item offered at the market within a one-mile radius, that’s he xuan.  

sha hualing -- starters for childe (masqce), nymeria (hiddenangcls), james sirius (svnlvght), diana meade (lcnelyhearted), luo binghe (coreofgold), ???

she wants to try everything, the ice skating, the snowboarding, whatever. she wants to crush the competition at the snowball fight. she will run your character’s sled over with her own, or possibly toss it in the street. she’ll be the fastest person in the polar plunge, even though that is not necessarily a competitive situation lol. she will (unfortunately) be documenting it all on tiktok, and she will also be hanging out around the ice bar. 

and then i have a small collection of characters who will NOT enjoy the market, either because they have zero percent festive cheer (most of them don’t celebrate christmas or the january 1 new year anyway) or because they are too stressed to properly enjoy a market like this, or some combination of the two: loid forger, liu qingge, dongfang qingcang, & chu wanning! but they’re still open for starters if you’re interested lol.  -- starters for: yor forger & loid forger (tragcdysewn), ???

[greyborn2]

First Lines!

Tagged in by @thana-topsy and oh gosh I do not know enough/have enough writer connections here to tag in more folks. Aaaaaa. Rules such as they are: Post the first line/paragraph of your current WIPS Gosh this was a hard one. Gave me an excuse to put the first paragraph(s, I got carried away.) down for the weird west fic I've got burning in my skull. Aside from that the only WIP I've got is Breath of Kyne, even though I'm technically several chapters deep in that. (And ended up burning through my word limit so I guess just one WIP it is! Another aaaa xD)

First page (like I said, got carried away) of the weird west fic (no name for it yet) - See, Junebriar was a witch hunter. One of the best in the northern counties by her reckoning. Though, ‘course, she only had her own reckoning to go off on that matter. The agency kept matters of a hunter’s record strictly private. To ‘discourage competition’, they said. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who’s on top. Stand around the agency hall long enough and folks would talk. They’d blather. Tell tales and stop trying to hide such things. Braggery did a good job of loosening lips, she knew that well enough. The rest? Well, they were green as fresh cut grass. They’d act as if bagging a dozen score witches and maybe a Dead Man or two was something worth bragging about. Junebriar… she knew better. She’d been at this since she was big enough to hold n’ shoot a gun, and that was pretty lil’ indeed. She wasn’t some short-horn novice. She was a hunter, and more importantly, she was a professional. In the literal sense of the word, too – was her profession dead and clear. She’d been in this game and would be in it still for the long haul. The other hunters, well, they didn’t like Junebriar much. Not least of all ‘cause she was a woman and there were still many, especially those that came from the far north-west counties, that thought hunting was a man’s game. That, and though they’d never admit, they just plain didn’t like her much. Management didn’t like folks talking ill of their top killer. Words carry meaning, and management didn’t want bad ones hanging over her head. She didn’t have time for idle talk or social calls. She’d once broken a man’s nose – Mayfield, his name was – in such a way that it had never been set right after. ‘Scarecrow’ they called her, as if that’d be a jab to her. Was on account of her looking half like one – all skin and bone and sinew under her dust worn clothes, her head as hairless as any scarecrow’s sack-skull. Words of menfolk stopped getting to her once she’d gone against such creatures that could put force behind their words.

[the-firebird69]

we have reason to believe he is messed wiht. yeh ok. tons owe him money nobody pays. the feds pay ss and it is an entitlement. we see they are threateinging him all the time. tons see why now and come here. and to stop them they are at all the sites and dug in they are not.

-they brought the food stuffs he forgot on the bus great good work. and learned this. john r had the busses moved to port charlotte. and forced bja there. and he lost today. twice no threee times it worsens and a good example of what he is up to. loses a lot and on purpose but rrealy there are limits and he is past it and we have seen it and yes cities and all tht. below ground yes. fell. and gone.

-- We use this as a example and the clans went through this and they pretty much got beat almost fully the only reason why they're around is they're actually useful to people and they were smaller than John Remallard is now and they took a much bigger beating and dealt out much harder blows and John realized hardly even defends himself from the empire proper. He is usually beat up or dead or worse and he says he doesn't care but he does and he keeps getting his **** kicked right now we are experiencing some strange weather where all the rain is being sucked into Florida from the east and the West Coast or no that's not it it's a E to west movement and it's a very strange thing but we are now in possession of several counts of a grand threats and threats of homicide and it is by John Remelard and it's on our son we are going to go after him he's not giving him a break in any way and we are going to go after him there's a good reason for it the guy does not stop harassing him he's in the Chinese food place blathering and he had some sort of implant and he should not be there at all and he was shot and he is a complete **** and you should see what he was doing he is going out before our son does sits down goes up before him sits down and he kept doing it and doing it saying he's threatening and people are saying we're gonna get you for that and we're gonna do this and as he's leaving they made a list of things are gonna do and I'll tell you one this guy is not responding to any of it and he's saying weird stuff it could be pot me **** it says we're not saying anything for them they're telling me what they're gonna do and I heard about it and you're a **** jerk and a loser do not follow me do not stalk me or they will kill you dead that's what they're doing. It doesn't have to do with the election as much as you think because you want people to believe that you want people to believe everything why don't you shut the **** **** and get away from me like a normal person you're freaking a wino or a street person so he stopped what he's doing it's not true he's trying to whine and complain and we said this is exactly what we're talking about we are not related to you we told you we are not related to you we told you to not do it if you do it you're gonna get hurt on top of what all those people are gonna do and he said I can't believe what I'm hearing he said who cares we say it everyday you get hit you see that metal thing in your head that's from yesterday when you didn't listen and he said what what do I have left I said whatever you have left you gotta get rid of and he said I can't comply then you will die stop talking get ready to die idiot and we said that and we believe it and we meet it.. So later on he starts blabbing and he was arrested and he got hit and he was hit a lot he got shot and he was down at the pizza place and saw Brad he was in the place someone said they got a beat on him and they started hitting him and they're up there now and they're down here going after him.

--- Now this guy is hearing that he's the rooster it's not exactly what he does nope but now his understanding he's out of control but we'll never trust him to do anything in any format that he used to now he's just rogue and random and he's going to pay we have a lot of stuff we're gonna do to this guy with what he's been doing here. More shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

and hellw eek did ok hs the pepto sneakers ihelped wiht he htanks me they say they are mne his and our son we hate them. and then this you hav her and so on and sarah ad the balloon shot jesus. now i love my husband and these jerks aree out of line no car no money and a job hatingand he is workigfor us. and doing it well. and thank you Zues

Hera

nd thank you Hera and it is timing yeh im here right after i arrive he is ther and the bus came back right awy and nice. and she lvoed the water needed it...and can take it no but ok others do yes ad she loves it.need this thank yo and good yes old school good

...

and we thank you nice gesture but yeh it is too hot and she neede it

is miley no

lol

bja

and ok you jerk it was nice good. and we drank together ice cold too not as usual and all here me he says ice cold less bacteria and even than whe you got the purified water and good they say purified. and it has some elements added back. adn i see it on th label yes. good water needed it badly. this rokcs i feel better seeit ok we always have a drink ad ok others may yes thank you if you thinkk of it i love it

short mac bja girl decent attitude yes me

fst though lol he doesnt care at all and he is the mark they alwayss sy it lol

hhaah good

bja

and we heard him one day good she can drive us too good

not john r is benched and for christ sake sit the fuckdown

mac daddy we invde then kick yoiu out

and good need it this place blows

trump

fun asshole you die tonight you shit

mac daddy

Olympus

[cyarskj1899]

Kanye West Hits New Low: Jewish People, You Need to Forgive Hitler!

By now, you’re probably aware that Kanye West is a dangerous bigot and a crazy person who says the most horrific things that pop into his mind for the amusement of his fellow Nazis.

Does he really believe the BS that spews from his mouth? Is he just starved for attention? Is he far more mentally ill than we previously realized?

We might never know for sure, but the answer is probably some combination of all three factors.

Take, for example, the interview he gave to Proud Boy founder and fellow Nazi Gavin McInnes this week.

The conversation, which was posted to the alt-right website Censored.TV on Tuesday, finds Ye at his most batsh-t, spouting the kind of rhetoric that one might expect to hear at a Klan rally.

“You can’t force your pain on everyone else.”

At that point, Kanye made what might be one of the most bonkers statements of his career, which is really, really saying something.

“Jewish people — forgive Hitler today,” Ye stated. “Let it go. Let it go. Stop trying to force it on other people.”

From there, Ye continued his insane blathering by boasting about his escape from something he calls the “Jewish slave train.”

“As soon as I didn’t play by what they wanted to use my Black voice for, they froze everything — in front of everyone,” he told McInnes.

“As soon as I signed that record label, I was already hopping on that Jewish slave train.”

At this point, even other alt-right psychopaths like Alex Jones have begun distancing themselves from Kanye.

“There’s a real creepy factor with this Hitler stuff,” Jones said Monday in an interview with Stephen Crowder.

“It’s like some homoerotic thing over Hitler … There’s this Hitler fetish. And no, I’m not into dudes in fancy peacock military uniforms — that, by the way, got 22 million Germans killed.”

Yeah, it’s not the most enlightened stance.

But we guess it’s better than all the hateful nonsense that’s been pouring out of Kanye’s mouth lately!

Sent from my iPhone

[daydreambelievcr]

"Ooh, the boys. Sounds like you're a part of a club, like the Hardy Boys or somethin'," she mused, with no way of knowing that she wasn't too far off, given Seojun's penchant for amateur sleuthing. A giddy feeling sweeping through her at the prospect of solid plans with the fighter, more than just sneaking in time together after her act, Valerie nodded. "Just lemme know, and I'm there. Wait, do you have my number?" she wondered, a little awestruck that they'd gone so long without exchanging contacts, relying solely on the string of fate to tie them together again and again. Surely, it was time to change that. "I don't think anyone's ever called me witty before. But I'm glad ya don't mind me talkin' your ear off. You're real easy to talk to." Assessing him with a curious look, Val raised a brow at the space ranger. Sure, maybe her first impression of Seojun was that he kept to himself, always at her shows all by himself. But that was a far cry from the version of him she'd grown to know over the last few months. "You sure you're not pullin' my leg with that one? 'Cause I don't think you're the quiet type. Or do you only talk this much to people you like? Either way, I don't mind." In typical fashion for the songstress, the latter question had slipped past her lips before she had time to consider the possible implications of her query. But she blew right past it, her heartbeat stuttering over his latest promise. "I'm doin' much better these days," was all that she offered, grateful that he didn't push too hard to know more. "But if I ever feel like that again... I'll call you right away. Then, I'll get to see for myself what a good dancer you are." Valerie wondered if Seojun knew how much it meant to her, idly curious if he would make good on all of the promises they'd made each other, and if there were any more he'd be willing to make in the future.

"I do know all the gossip at the daycare, but I don't have any favorites. Sorry to disappoint," she relayed simply. "They're all just so unique and bright in their own ways. I can tell ya some funny stories about 'em, though! Kids really do say the strangest things," Val offered as a compromise. "Yeah, we moved around a bit with the travelling version of the show, but our home base was still in West Virginia," she confirmed. At Seojun's musing, wondering if they could've met years prior, Valerie couldn't help the thoughtful expression that overtook her features. "We did stop in New Orleans, actually... that would've been somethin', huh? Maybe I could've taught you how to do a cartwheel. And I bet you were real cute as a kid," she jested with a tilt of her head, a genuine grin ever-present on her lips. "I appreciate honesty too, so you and I should get along swimmingly." Though her trust in her instincts had taken a hit in the last few years, Valerie had no reason not to put her trust in Seojun. They seemed to see eye-to-eye on a lot of the things that mattered most to her. "You listen to me all the time with no complaints, so please, blather away," she shot back, but try as she might to play it coy, Val couldn't keep the sincerity out of her voice. She wasn't sure where it came from, but a seed had taken root somewhere inside of her: she would happily listen to anything he offered to share, eager to learn all that she could about this young man. She tried not to inspect that feeling too closely not yet, at least. "If I had to pick just one to recommend to you, I'd have to go with the original Halloweentown. It's super cozy and one of my all time favorites. Have you ever seen Little Shop of Horrors? I reckon that'd be a good middle ground of the kinda things we both like—a musical comedy, but also a little spooky." When his tone shifted to something more akin to a purr, Valerie couldn't help the nervous laugh that bubbled automatically out of her mouth, a reaction certainly not helped by the cheeky wink thrown her way. It took all of her remaining chill to appear nonchalant about it. "Best behavior, remember? Otherwise, I might not leave you a tip. Which would be a real shame, when I was just talkin' about what a gentleman you are."

Eyes alight at the idea of being looked after by her companion, Valerie briefly wondered if that would apply to their interactions outside of the bar as well. But seeing each other away from the carnival was still a novelty to them both... so why would it? She shook the fleeting thought right out of her head and forged on. "Ya don't think havin' to keep an eye on me when I drop by would make your job more difficult? I wouldn't wanna stress you out if people tend to get rowdy," she wondered, a genuine inquiry. A full wattage grin flashing across her features at his cheesy question, the acrobat was charmed nonetheless. "Bring it on, partner. Now you have to make me somethin' extra special for my first visit. Really put your skills to the test," the blonde reasoned, a perfectly sensible way to test his prowess as a bartender. "You're feelin' threatened by me?" she blanched playfully, gesturing to her unimposing stature and flashy attire, a willowy and unassuming creature if there ever was one. "Deal. I hate when people let me win, anyways. It's patronizing," she agreed, the former starlet's smile as close to a smirk as it would ever appear. "I'll drink to that. To a long and beautiful friendship," she chirped happily, clinking her cup against his before taking a hearty gulp of her lemonade. "Oh, absolutely. Can't have dinner without dessert. A little sweet treat here and there never hurt anybody."

"Never. That stays between the boys and me." Seojun assured her. From their very first meeting, he could tell there was not a chance he would be inviting Valerie over for a scary marathon ( why was he thinking about watching scary movies with her in first place? — anyways ) and he was comfortable with that; maybe a change of pace wouldn't be so bad. Her big smile was contagious and he couldn't help but grin the same at the accepted suggestion. "Cool. I'll get us the tickets, then, and we can talk about logistics as the day approaches." He had to take a step back from the intensity in which he defended her against the unfair academic system; Seojun tended to get a little too much about his opinions, specially when they affected people he appreciated. "I meant that you're witty, you silly," a nickname copied from the girl's repertoire, "but yes, you do talk a lot. Although I definitely don't mind, I'm usually the quiet type but it never feels awkward with you because you always have a story to tell." He tilted his head curiously at the admission, a sneak-peak of something that was not entirely happy about her made him want to ask more, but decided he didn't want to overstep and ruin the night. "I get what you mean," he really did, "and I'm glad you've found things to keep yourself afloat." The idea of someone as joyful as her feeling so horrible as hopelessness pinched his heart which caused a little frown and an impulsive pout for an instant. "I'll show ya my moves but in exchange you'll share with me if you ever feel hopeless again, okay?" Seojun stated even after their pinkies were long separated.

"Since you spend so much time around kids, I need the gossip... do you have any favorite children at the daycare?" he questioned her with a smile. Seojun didn't have siblings and his family was exactly very large, so hearing her talk about her siblings like that made him a little jealous to be honest. It would have been nice to share the ups and downs of his success obsessed family with someone. "So you really moved around a lot aside of Cali? I'm sure you met a bunch of wonderful places and people on the way. Would've loved to see your show if you ever stopped in New Orleans, could've met you sooner." Oh. That slip made him stop to reconsider for an instant, but no biggie, right? The topic of religion squeezed his stomach tightly, but it also felt nice to be able to share this with someone; it hadn't been a topic he had touched with other friends, mostly because their conversations hadn't taken that route, but being able to share it with Valerie felt nice as well. "I appreciate honest people and sometimes it feels like people at church are not entirely honest," Seojun explained while definitely not including his parents in that group of people. But he smiled again as she insisted on hearing his thoughts. Ah, to be heard more at a loud Halloween party than at the stillness of his home. "You'll have me blabberin' about all the damn things I keep thinking about, not sure if I'd put you through such torture," he joked. "I'm not very familiar with those types of movies, but I'll watch them if you insist they're good. I trust your opinion on lighthearted stuff, since I usually go the whole opposite. Which one's your favorite, though? I know there's a bunch of Halloweentown ones." The change of atmosphere between them was really brief, but probably worth putting a finger on as a teaser of future encounters at the bar. "Oh, gonna be watchin', sunshine? I'll make it worth your while, then," the confident bastard even dared to throw a wink her way as punchline to his words, "Wouldn't dare to act any other way with you around since you've been nothing but the nicest to me." Seojun smiled.

"You will. That's for sure." Seojun assured her while taking another sip of lemonade. "But don't worry, I'll be behind the counter all night so stay close by and I'll keep ya safe and sound. Besides, I think you'll stick out in the best of ways... most people there just look and act shitfaced and upset most of the time so you'll be a refreshing sight. It would help to end my shift without my patience runnin' thin." Seojun now returned the soft nudge with a shoulder against her smaller body. "You gonna test my bartending skills? Then I hope you're ready for an explosion of flavors." So cheesy. Horrible cheesy maybe, but it was so easy to just say stuff like this when they were joking around like that. The fighter had to hide himself behind a long sip of the pink drink at the compliment of being sweet; heat up on his cheeks becoming kinda hard to explain, but it felt nice. He raised his hands— one still holding the glass— in surrender. "I was about to start a debate, but I feel slightly threatened, so I won't push further." he laughed. "But next time I won't let ya win so easily." Once the joking around had slowed down a little bit, Seojun nodded in agreement. "We'll keep it up for a good long while. I know it, so let's toast for a lasting friendship and many more embarrassing stories." He grinned while extending his glass towards her. "Sweets, huh? So are you the kind of person who has dessert after every important meal of the day?"

[bopinion]

2022 / 38

Aperçu of the Week:

"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."

(Albert Einstein in 1949)

Bad News of the Week:

"This is not a bluff." were the closing words of Russian President Vladimir Putin in a televised speech on Tuesday that made me sit up and take notice. For that is indeed how it works when one looks at the history of various statements made by this despot in recent years: macabrely, one would almost have to say that this man keeps his word. Unfortunately. A political wind egg who blathers a lot and does little would actually be preferable to me in this case.

What is it about? In essence, a declaration of war. And it's a declaration of war against the West. Just this week, referendums startet in the Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts on annexation to Russia. The Kherson and Zaporizhzhya regions, which are currently also dominated by the Russian military, immediately followed. If you look at the map, you can see a land bridge from Russia across the Donbass to Crimea. This peninsula can also serve as a reference for these questionable referendums and their foreseeable outcome. Because it was the same there in 2014: destabilization by Russian or Russian-backed military forces, referendum for annexation to Russia, from that point on de facto Russian territory. International law may see that as it likes.

And that is precisely the point: from the moment the Kremlin considers Donetsk, for example, to be Russian territory, in its reading Ukrainian defensive measures become an attack. Putin clearly says that Donbass must be "liberated." That it is a matter of "defending Russian territories." And how, "If the territorial integrity of our country is threatened, we will certainly use all means at our disposal to protect Russia and our people." Certainly! All means! At our disposal!

So I get chills down my spine on that one. Especially when Putin, in the same speech, reminds us of the nuclear potential of his armed forces: "(I) would like to remind you that our country also has various means of destruction, separate components and more modern than those of NATO countries." It doesn't help that some political analysts exult that the announced partial mobilization is an expression of growing frustration with the course of the war. German Chancellor Olaf Scholz even speaks of an "act of desperation." After all, we know from any animal documentary that a predator is most dangerous when it is wounded.

By the way: In Poland, the new school year began at the beginning of September. With a new, compulsory school subject: firearms training for all 8th and 9th grade students. This corresponds to the age of 15 and 15 years. Politicians said that this is the right "preparation for a possible defense case".

Good News of the Week:

Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban is the bully in the European Union's playground. He shuts down the media, dismantles an independent judiciary, imprisons opposition figures, embezzles EU funds - and yet always has a veto as get free card up his sleeve. And he went so far that the EU Parliament for the first time officially revoked a country's status as a democracy. So far, Orban has mostly gotten away with everything. The pocket size dictator has always been able to buck the European mainstream (which is designed for unanimity) and prevent any reform that would have regulated his personal power at home. Until now.

Because now the EU Commission is proposing to prosecute Hungary for violations of principles of the rule of law. There are two aspects to note: on the one hand, it is not a matter of an abstract fine, but of cutting payments from the common pot. After all, this amounts to 7.5 billion euros. On the other hand, because it is "only" the so-called EU rule of law mechanism, only a majority of 15 EU states (out of 27) is needed, which in turn represent at least 65% of the EU population. A feasible goal, which Poland - the willing aide-de-camp in the playground and itself frequently shaking the rule of law - cannot prevent.

According to the EU's anti-corruption agency, between 2015 and 2019, the percentage of irregularities in the use of EU funds was higher in no other member state than in Hungary. And that is enough for the Austrian (of all people!) EU Budget Commissioner Johannes Hahn now. By doing so, he is finally demonstrating his ability to act, which is otherwise so readily lost in the sluggish bureaucratic mills of Brussels.

And indeed: Hungary wants to give in and "settle the dispute with the EU." The government has "discussed and approved concessions," according to Orban's chief of staff Gergely Gulyas, and the corresponding laws are now to be passed by parliament in a fast-track procedure and enter into force in November. Just in time before the November 19 deadline to still avert the cuts. This would be a great sign that values are actually being effectively protected in Europe. Money makes the world go around - even in Budapest.

Personal happy moment of the week:

My daily gymnastic exercises in the morning - for mobility and agility due to chronic back problems - are starting to have an effect. I am still far away from being able to reach my toes with my fingers while standing, but today I was happy to have reached an important milestone of a floor exercise: I was able to touch the floor with my right hand while my right knee stays on the floor on the other side of my body and vice versa. That may be hard to comprehend for anyone younger or just less rusty than me, but for me it was a remarkable wow effect.

I couldn't care less...

...that Iran is now staging demonstrations chanting "Our people are awake and hate troublemakers!" or "Death to the U.S. and Israel!" as a counterweight to the "illegal gatherings" following the death of a 22-year-old in police custody. The tragic death of the young woman apparently mobilizes popular resentment against the encroaching regime strongly enough that all attempts to stop the protest, which has already claimed 50 lives, fail. Well done!

As I write this...

...I am listening to John Coltrane. Inspired by the series character Hieronymus "Harry" Bosch, who is passionate about jazz and even has his dog named after him. Coltrane delivers on point: interesting, dense arrangements that conjure up a wonderful atmosphere and stop just before it gets too experimental and discordant for layman's ears. Solid work. Very good.

Post Scriptum:

In the week ending, the General Debate of the 77th UN General Assembly took place in New York City, for the first time since 2019 entirely as a face-to-face events. 150 heads of state stand at the lectern for a week to promote such fine things as climate action, peace and the fight against poverty. But in the energy crisis, they are setting other priorities in their political actions. At least one can rely on UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres, who gave a blazing speech: "Our planet is on fire!" In every sense of those words. "Our world is in great trouble. (...) The rifts are getting deeper. Inequality is growing. The challenges are growing. (...) The most vulnerable (women and children) suffer the most." Unfortunately, this idealistic world president is left only with appeals. And has no factual influence.

[libraford]

Aaaahhh... I'm so sorry about not updating. Its been a weird week and I accidentally went to West Virginia, there was a thing with a trans man in a tux and then something about a tree with blood and patriotism in a riverboat town-

BUT ANYWAYS, I know I'm behind so I updated three chapters all at once to make up for it.

Things seem to be falling apart at the flower shop and there's only one person that seems to be looking out for Lou. Can they get it together in time for the big wedding on Saturday? Who is this stranger that seems to have arrived at the eleventh hour? Some mysterious third problem?

Can't wait for the thrilling conclusion? The full book is available in paperback and e-book!

Not sure what I'm blathering on about? Well, how would you like to read a book about cryptids, counterfeits, and petty crime for absolutely free? Prefer to read things in print? Well, we have that in paperback, too!

[darkarfs]

single moments from the Trump presidency that would have defined/ended any other politician’s career

- saying he could “buy Greenland” - suggesting it was a good idea to nuke hurricanes - saying there would be fewer forest fires if we just got rid of all the leaves - asking Trudeau if Canada had tried to burn down the White House - autographing pictures of shooting victims - when he kept talking about how they drop bowling balls on cars to test them in japan and no one could figure out where he could have even gotten the idea - when he suggested Seoul should just move away from the North Korean border - introducing West Virginia’s governor as ‘the largest, most beautiful man’ - when he tweeted SEE YOU IN COURT! right after an appeals court ruled against him. like. yeah man. they just did. - the time he didn't know how to close an umbrella so he just dropped it and walked away - fighting with the Vietnam vets over whether napalm or agent orange is used in the Ride of the Valkyries scene in Apocalypse Now and then when they insisted it was napalm, Trump said they disagreed with him because they didn't like the movie (The line is famously, literally “I love the smell of napalm in the morning.”) - using his position as the single most powerful person in the world to promote Goya canned beans - when he bragged about the crowd size at the hurricane shelter in coastal Texas (”what a turnout”) - signing Bibles. What. - thinking the F-22 is invisible to the naked eye - smiling and giving a thumbs up during a photo op with a baby orphaned by a mass shooting - putting a candy bar on a Minion’s head because he’s never interacted with a child before -  when he interpreted some stray comment about transparency in the process to mean his border wall should literally be transparent, so passersby are not beaned by bundles of drugs and cans being thrown over the wall - the time he talked about having to flush his massive dumps 10 times and then immediately tried to blame the dumps on his supporters - the fake Sharpee’d hurricane map, which he did solely to not appear wrong on television - suggesting that federal employees working unpaid during the gov shutdown should just “do a work around” at the grocery store if they can’t pay for groceries - the fucking eclipse thing - the fucking three-pointers with paper towels to Puerto Rican hurricane victims - when he told thousands of Boy Scouts a story about his rich friend's fuckboat and then complained about Hilary for the remainder of the speech - when the called the CEO of Lockheed Martin “Marilyn Lockheed” (her last name is Hewson) which was objectively funnier than “Tim Apple” - when he picked an argument with Baltic world leaders because he thought the Baltics were the Balkans - the first time his team had a meeting in the cabinet room they couldn’t figure out how to turn on the lights and ended up just having the meeting in the dark -  The time he said Andrew Jackson was "really angry that he saw what was happening with regard to the Civil War, he said 'There's no reason for this.'" (Jackson died 16 years before the Civil War, and he owned 150 slaves.) - told a 7-year-old boy there was no Santa Claus on Christmas - the team of staffers whose only job was to tape back together documents he had torn up because he’s just THAT used to destroying evidence, because they couldn’t get him to stop ripping them up, but legally, the documents had to be archived - when he said the Continental Army took over the British airports during the Revolution - no sanctions on Russian soldiers killing American soldiers - “I take no responsibility for this pandemic.” - when touring the damage the Louisiana gulf coast after Hurricane Laura (just a few months ago!), he started giving first responders autographed pieces of paper, which he told them to sell on eBay for $10,000 - when he thought "clean coal" meant that the miners dug it out of the ground and physically cleaned it - the goddamn fast food catering - trying to trick the family of a teen killed by a US diplomat's wife who fled justice into meeting her, Ellen-style - pushing the Prime Minister of Montenegro out of the way to preen - that time he called into Fox & Friends and ranted for so long that they politely but firmly kicked him off - hiring an Obama impersonator solely to berate him - having a button installed on his desk that let him order Diet Coke on a whim. And sometimes using that button upwards of 13 times a day. - that time when a kid handed him a hat to sign, and he signed the hat, but instead of handing it back, he just threw it into the middle of the crowd - autographing the guestbook at the Holocaust memorial, with an added “had such a great time!” - when he zoned out and wondered where a woman's dead relatives were DIRECTLY after she had said her mother six brothers were killed. (Actual exchange: “They killed my mother, my six brothers...” “Where are they now?”) - sending 2,000 soldiers to the border to stop “the caravan,” having their pictures taken, and then recalling them all. - consoling a dead soldier’s family by saying “he knew what he was getting into.” - when he said no one could climb over the border wall because there would be no way down, and then belatedly remembered rope - when he congratulated the Great Lakes on their "record deepness" - calling Elizabeth Warren “Pocahontas” at an event meant to honor Navajo code talkers  - “Shithole countries” - calling Baltimore “rat-infested” - tweeting “too bad!” right after Elijah Cummings’ house was broken into - calling the White House “a dump” a month into moving in, which led to first both him and Melania, and then just Melania by herself, staying in Trump Tower for almost 5 months, costing taxpayers around $100,000 a day - an entire quarter of his presidency spent on his own golf courses, costing taxpayers around $141,000,000, NOT counting the Secret Service detail (they were charged for rooms and golf carts, since these were Trump’s OWN golf courses) - using “Pocahontas” again to slur Elizabeth Warren while talking down to a Native American journalist - holding a rally in Pittsburgh and trying to woo the locals by ranting about how the statue of Joe Paterno, the accused pedophilia enabler who was coach of a rival sports team, should go back up - confusingly having bigger salt and pepper shakers than everyone else in his administration, because everything to him is a dick-measuring contest - when he said he would “run in and take care of” school shooters, to school shooting victims - appointing fucking DeVos, Miller, Pompeo, Mnuchin, Nunes - inciting a seditious white supremacist mob to make sure he’s president until he’s 85, resulting in 5 dead (for which I am constantly wondering...”really? FOR THIS GUY?”) - drafted a proposal to open 94% of previously protected American shorelines to offshore drilling - when he walked up the stairs to Air Force One with toilet paper stuck to his shoe -  at least 44 times in March, April and early May in which he downplayed the threat of the virus calling it “very well under control” again and again - when somebody asked him his favorite book and he pointed at a bookshelf and said “there are some over there” - meeting with the goddamn MyPillow guy to discuss overturning election results and declaring martial law - impeached twice, was golfing both times the vote went through - 70 pardons for known criminals (including Bannon), 70 sentences commuted, just to be a spiteful little toad - when he blathered on about how much he loved the queen, the totally hacked her off - when Hope Hicks steamed his pants as he was wearing them - getting mad-pissed at White House kitchen staff because they couldn’t recreate McDonald’s and it was too late to order  and I wonder how much I missed. I bet there’s a McSweeney’s article listing all of it.