#Arrant Construction

[arrantconstruction]

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[acermp100]

WAWA WEEK PART 2: THE WAWAING

26/3 - Exorcism: VESSELS

Reigen, Dimple, and Serizawa are out on a mission to take out something that's been affecting an old, abandoned industrial area.

Teen rating. Some depictions of animal abuse, hurt animals. Mild horror themes. More implied Seri/Rei cause I can't help it ok. 3k~ words

-------------------------------

Clouds shifted over the sun leaving the last bit of brightness lost amongst disused smoke stacks and broken power lines. Every building rose to the same five story height- wide glass panel windows at the top with mortar and brick for the walls, all cracked and stained with grease. Cheap, corrugated metal served as roofs which did little else but keep out the weather, though rust and time had ruined that as well.

“Great.” Reigen had just finished lighting a cigarette and was now looking up at the darkening sky, a line of smoke rising from his lips. “Let’s get this done before it starts to rain.”

What few bits of nature that remained had barely managed to cling on. Serizawa remembered a movie where some old building had been reclaimed and covered in vines with plants breaking through the rubble that covered ground. Not here. Dried, brown grass peaked out from between the edges of the concrete paths, and what little dirt there was hosted nothing but sickly brambles that barely reached up a few feet. Glass lay shattered alongside other random debris causing their path to wind despite the straight, gridded construction. Not a single bird or insect could be heard.

“I think-“ Serizawa paused, giving a distant stare toward the far building on their left. A weak gust of wind billowed up dust that was less dirt and more eroded concert and rust. “I think I sense something.”

“Ugh.” Dimple floated over with little arms flopping down from his gaseous form. “No you don’t.” He cast an arrant glace at Serizawa. “Stop trying to impress all the time.”

A blush. Serizawa turned away.

“Hey.” Reigen exhaled through both his nose and lips, smoke trailing up and fading into the cloudy sky. A stiff hand rose nearly slicing through the floating spirit. “I only brought you along to help us ID this thing. Not to sass my employees.”

“Yeah whatever.” Dimple floated up right behind Reigen’s head. “Guess I’ll just have to sass only you then.”

Serizawa rubbed the back of his neck, still avoiding any eye contact. He really had felt something ahead, just weak and hard to focus on. Then he heard it: some scratching on the stone as a shadow moved along the side of the building. His feet shifted against the dusty path and he put himself between his boss and the entity, one arm ready at his side and the other out to keep Reigen from walking any closer.

“Stand back, Reigen-san!”

The air grew tense in the silence with only a few rustling sounds. Then there came a hiss and pebbles flew up as a cat bolted from its meager cover and fled down the path they had just came from.

“Ha ha!” Dimple made an exaggerated flip in the air. “A cat! You’re all worked up over a stupid stray cat!”

Frowning, Serizawa lowered his arm while his shoulders drooped. The client had reported a terrible spirit here that could even claw through the brick walls and metal support beams. Wasn’t it good he was being more safe than sorry?

“Wait.” Reigen stepped forward, holding his own serious expression despite the false alarm. “Look, there’s another one.”

Another cat emerged from a hole in the building’s wall followed by a smaller kitten: one ginger and one a dark tabby. They wandered across the path into another broken wall before disappearing.

“Odd there’s even animals here.” Reigen brought up a hand to his chin in contemplation. “This wasn’t any kind of food processing plant or storage. All construction and industry. Not like they’d have rats to prey on.”

Serizawa took comfort in Reigen’s knowledge but still let out a long exhale. Stay calm and focused, your boss is counting on you. He peered up into the sky to gather a few ounces of clarity before looking around for any more animals. Not a tree in site yet a few sparrows were sitting on an exposed metal pipe. Maybe that’s what the cats were feeding on? But then what were they eating? He flicked a glance at his boss hoping he had some kind of answer.

“Welp.” Reigen gave a stretch, bringing his cigarette up for a needed drag. “I’m gonna call this one a false alarm.” He turned and exhaled the lung full. “This is probably just some old lady feeding strays that someone thought was a witch or whatever.”

“No.” Serizawa took a few steps away from the group, staring ahead. “I still feel something.”

Crows started to caw from atop the building they had been heading for. There appeared to be over a dozen. All three watched as they formed a perfect circle in the air.

“I do too.” Dimple floated over with his arms crossed.

Reigen brought his hands up. “Alright, so give us some intel on it then.” He gestured at the floating green cloud. “You said you would actually be of help on this job.”

“Can it, pink tie.” A roll of the eyes. “We’re still far away. I can’t magically see through a wall that’s like 100 meters in front of us.”

“Humph.” Reigen grumbled under his breath. “Um, Serizawa?” He looked over at the esper now glaring up at a crow perched on the roof just to their left. “What do you see?”

Dimple jerked back. “Shit!”

That crow. Its eyes looked different. And the beak: somehow it was smiling. He didn’t care if he was wrong again, he had to protect Reigen. His arm rose involuntarily with the palm open and out while his eyes narrowed. Energy focused from his chest to his fingers, forming a concentrated burst. The crow turned and raised its wings at the last moment, flying off with a cackling, mocking call. All that was left was a crater in the stone where it has stood.

“Shit.” Dimple repeated as all three watched the bird fly into the far building through a broken window. All the other crows followed.

“So- demon crow spirit?” A pointing finger towards the window in the distance. Reigen stood before Serizawa and Dimple with his arms posed against his hips for only a moment before he started gesturing once more. “Obviously it’s controlling them. Probably stole some shiny, expensive trinket from our client.”

Dimple sank in the air. “Not even close, dude.”

Reigen crossed his arms. “Ok then oh wise ass- Hey wait!”

He had to stop this. Now. It was far more powerful than he thought, able to hide its true abilities with so many other vessels around it. His shoes skidded along the ground as he turned and entered the largest hole in the wall. Upper right in a bird, along the ground in a rat, along one of the beams as a cat- Serizawa tried to focus but could only stand there with his aura fuming for something to target.

“Oi- hey new c-company rule.” Reigen had caught up and now leaned against the opening with a hand on his chest, breathing hard. The cigarette had been left behind. “No running off into a creepy wareho- oh fuck.”

Serizawa had already noticed. This is where all the plants were. Oddly sick flowers grew along the ground with thorny brambles and a few stunted trees clinging to dead leaves. Above, vines hung down and stretched across the ceiling blocking whatever light would have came in through the holes in the roof. And amidst this cursed greenhouse stood a number of dogs, cats, and rats; all staring over at their new guests.

“Yeah. I was afraid of this.” Dimple had enough sense to only peek inside. “It’s a common type of spirit: posses some living thing and drain its energy over time. Normally likes to feed off of one thing at a time then move on to another victim, but some- well.” There came a hiss from the cats joined by crow calls. “Some like to make a collection.”

Serizawa gritted his teeth, brow furrowed with fists at his side. Left, up, right. Stop moving. Stop hiding. I won’t let you hurt anything else.

“Ohh! More friends to play with!” The voice echoed with a cackle of a cawing bird. The rest flew up into the air forming a fluttering circle around the hawk at the center. “I’ve always wanted a human for my own!” Wings rose, the feathers rotted and falling off. “And you brought a little green snack too.”

“Welp, good luck guys!”

And there went Dimple, flying off through the hole. Reigen shifted until he was behind Serizawa.

“You got this. Take it out.”

Nodding, Serizawa waited for the spirit to make the predictable first move. Knowing it was only lingering in the hawk as a decoy, he kept eying the other animals for a shift in energy. There! A dog tried a lunge from a flanking position but Serizawa was able to turn and release a wave in counter attack. A whine as the poor creature flopped to the ground, its drained body no longer supported by the evil spirit.

“Ohhh you missed!”

A cat, then a rat. Serizawa kept his power in check as to not harm the animals, but it proved difficult with how weak they already were.

“And again! Oh you are so much fun.”

The spirit would concentrate in one while influencing others around it only to jump to another and repeat. This led to an odd hive mind of uniform movement: the creatures mouths all open and eyes wide, stepping closer and closer. A cat latched on to his leg. It was a little ginger like the ones he remembered seeing in an alley he hid in one day after school as a kid. Serizawa frowned.

“What’s the matter? Don’t want to hurt the little kitties?”

More cats were now clawing at his pants with rats and the larger dogs not far behind. Serizawa could feel Reigen’s retreat backwards and he panicked.

“No Reigen-san!” He took his boss’s arm and pulled him close. “Stay by me or you’ll just end up another vessel for it.” Realizing he had gripped too hard he released, meeting Reigen’s eyes. “I’ll protect you.”

Reigen for once had nothing to say, only a nod with a frightened gaze looking back. Gathering his energy around them, Serizawa released a sphere that started from his chest and swelled larger into a shield. Every animal that came in contact with it were pushed back until there was now an angry force of claws and teeth and feathers pounding against the barrier. At least they were not being harmed.

“So cute. Think you’re so clever.”

Serizawa glared as the voice seemed to come from everywhere.

“But you forgot something.”

He tensed, waiting for an attack. A screech as the hawk slammed against the barrier, body broken with unnatural eyes staring right into Serizawa’s. The voice came out as a twisted yell.

“I ALWAYS GET WHAT I WANT.”

The barrier flared for a moment before cracking, releasing a wave of energy. All the animals were now still, most fallen over, others confused and weak on shaking legs.

Serizawa scanned the warehouse in a long arc, checking every animal, every possible vessel. Suddenly a hand rested on his shoulder, causing him to jerk as he turned, mind only now catching up with reality as he stared, wide eyed at his boss.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” Reigen’s face was now pale with sharp teeth poking out from his lips. The words came out as a horrible, mocking hiss. “Did you like this one?”

“No- NO!”

Serizawa stepped back, watching as Reigen stumbled and fell forward, his movement like a child learning to walk. He couldn’t help it and rushed forward, trying to support him. The skin felt cold but there was still a heartbeat.

“Reigen-san!”

A twisted, inhuman face grinned back. “Mine now! So much better than dogs and cats!”

Without thinking, Serizawa gripped Reigen by the collar and lifted him up, pinning the body against the wall a few inches off the ground. His limbs trembled while his muscles clenched along with his jaw.

“Let him go. Now.” His voice came out low and steady in contrast to his frantic mind and raging aura.

Another smile. “You should be the one letting go.” A hand raised and rested on one of Serizawa’s tensed, shaking arms, the now clawed fingers trailing down his sleeve. “I like this one.” The neck lurched forward with a crack. Inhuman eyes glared back, the pupils shrinking to small black pinpoints. “So good luck getting me out with him still alive.”

The grip tightened as Serizawa raised Reigen up higher. His boss was still in there, lost, forced to a corner helpless only to watch. Ignoring the confident grin, Serizawa closed his eyes, blocking out any other stimulus save for the auras around him. The animals were weak but clinging. Dimple was still a far way off; powerless against something like this. And in the middle of it all hung Reigen’s energy. It was not yet weakened only entwined: the evil spirit’s tendrils weaved all around like some fungal infection. But there had to be a way. Like a tangled ball of yawn he had to be able to undo the knots.

“H-hey! How are you doing that?!”

The claws raked at Serizawa’s chest, ripping his suit up. Legs thrashed and lungs hissed in fruitless desperation. Amid the writhing he stood firm, focused as he carefully guided his aura between the monster and his boss.  The growling turned to a weary groan. Serizawa opened his eyes to color returning to Reigen’s face and the teeth and claws fading away.

He glared at the remaining bit of the spirit still clinging on. “You can’t have him.”

A burst of energy rose, sweeping up the wall originating from Reigen’s form. Both their suit ties and hair were blown up along with several stones and debris. The wall behind cracked. Screaming started, not from Reigen’s mouth but from inside him before the sprit was torn out, thrashing in the air one last time while Serizawa closed his anger around it. The wind stopped.

“Ugh.” Reigen slumped in Serizawa’s hold, head of messy hair against his shoulder. “Wha- what happened?”

At once Serizawa shifted his grip, guiding his boss down to the ground where he held up his chest and head. Gone was his intense stare with only concern looking down now.

“Are you alright?” Tears started to form as he realized his hadn’t prevented the spirit from draining some of Reigen’s life force. “Please be alright.”

“Feel like I woke up from a hangover.” Reigen tried to raise his head but instead just grumbled and brought a hand up to his forehead. It was only then he realized Serizawa was cradling him in gentle arms- their faces inches from each other. His fingers traced the claw marks on his employee’s suit. “Um. I think I definitely missed something.”

“Reigen-san!” Serizawa trembled before hugging his boss against his chest. “I’m so sorry! I messed up!” He was sobbing now as he buried his face in Reigen’s neck. “It was going to take you I tried to get it out but now you are hurt.” His arms hugged tighter. “I was supposed to protect you!”

“W-woah! Hey!” Reigen protested. “It’s ok big guy! I’m fine.” He pushed back a bit and tried to give some comfort. “Just a headache. So no worries.” A grin, cheeks blushing. “You did great.”

Serizawa’s tear filled eyes met Reigen’s and in their embrace, their lips grew closer, heat rising between them.

“Yeah dang. Even I can admit you did pretty good.”

Dimple floated over, causing Serizawa to drop Reigen in embarrassment.

“Sorry, Reigen-san!” He brushed off some of the dust on both of them, helping Reigen to stand.

A cough. “Where the hell have you been?” Reigen glared up at Dimple, cheeks still red. “Coulda maybe used a heads up or some support.”

“Sorry greatest psychic.” Dimple sneered back. “Best I could have done is maybe posses you first, but that thing was too powerful.” He picked at his nose, eyeing the dying plants twisted vines. “It would have just kicked me out.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Reigen coughed again. “Why did I even bring you?”

Serizawa frowned down at his boss. “Can you walk, Reigen-san?” He bent over him ever worried.

“Uh. Give me like five minutes.”

Dimple floated in between the two before they could make googly eyes at each other again. “You brought me because instead of researching spirits yourself, the two of you sit on the couch watching cute animal videos together during office breaks.”

Both looked away, clearly called out. One of the cats hobbled up followed by a dog. Despite the trauma they were happy to see humans. The cat gave a face rub against Serizawa’s leg. Reigen got to pet the dog.

“Huh. They seem to be way less um- dying? Than before.” Reigen stiffly rose to his feet as the dog wandered out of the building, tail wagging.

“Yeah. Should be fine. The thing kept them alive so they just need some food and rest.”

Dimple watched as the other animals scattered back to their own lives. The birds preened at their feathers before taking awkward launches into the air.

“We stopped it. So no one else will get hurt.” Reigen grimaced and faltered his first few steps.

Serizawa instantly wrapped his arms around his boss again. “Reigen-san. The rain is coming.”

Dimple was still ranting in the background. “What do you mean ‘we’? All you did was nearly piss yourself and get possessed.”

The two couldn’t hear him anymore. Reigen let out a sigh. “Yeah. We should get going. I can probably maybe make it to the bus stop.”

Serizawa gave a short bow of his head, one of his arm around Reigen’s back as the man held on to his suit lapel. “If you allow me, Reigen-san,” he paused for a moment to allow his brain catch up with his mouth, “I can carry you.”

Reigen blinked back. “A-Alright.” His voice snapped back into its confident prose. “But only this one time. This is an extenuating circumstance that requires advanced, unorthodox protocols to handle properly. I’ll have to amend the employee handbook to include more robust first aid and recovery instructions.”

Serizawa cracked a grin. How was he too weak to walk but able to fling his hands around like that still?

“Understood.” Another bow of his head as he support his boss’s weight under the knees and back, lifting him up.

He walked steadily, stealing a few glances down at Reigen who was struggling to keep his eyes open after the entire ordeal. A few drops of rain fell, their arrival producing little musical sounds as they hit the metal roofs. Dimple floated after, having long given up on anything getting through to them.    

[rake-rake]

@soulgathered

“My marriage was arranged, but my love… that is my own choice.” // din to vortigern

Courting.

As Dinadan's words echo through the silent walls, Vortigern idly wonders when he last truly spoke to the boy.

There was the day of his arrival, but after that, it’s difficult to recall any other meaningful exchange. They have interacted, certainly, yet words have not been shared—at least, not from Vortigern's side; the boy always seems to have something to say. Thus, it is clear to him that whatever Dinadan feels—or thinks he feels—is no more than an idealized image, constructed from naive assumptions and childish notions of what kind of man Vortigern truly is.

"What could a child possibly know of love?" His tone isn’t deliberately harsh, but his voice always carries the authority fitting of a king, an underlying command to it as if demanding a reply that is ought, "Nothing. Just as he knows nothing of the object of said 'love'. Arrant fool, speak no more of the matter and return to your own affairs. You are dismissed."

[weemsbotts]

Three Pistols, Two "Cowards”, and One Ghost: The Never-Ending Duel

By: Lisa Timmerman, Executive Director

On 09/24/1765, John Baylis died after a duel with John Scott. All the records from numerous sources agree upon this. However, the events have become so mired in folklore that sorting basic details, such as the cause, is complex and still unclear. Baylis died but not at the hands of Scott, instead, at the hands of Scott’s second. From “arrant cowards” to vengeful ghosts, we will descend into the quagmire and rescue as many facts as possible.

Dueling in early America was another imported custom from Europe particularly popular in the South where this “judicial combat” supposedly decided men’s personal honor. However, it became more popular in the 19th century with only a handful of duels recorded between 1620-1760. Legislatures increased the severity of the punishments and in 1779, Thomas Jefferson proposed that “Whoever committeth murder by way of duel, shall suffer death by hanging; and if he were the challenger, his body, after death, shall be gibbeted.” In 1810, Virginia passed the Anti-Dueling Act, making actionable "all words which from their usual construction and common acceptation are considered as insults, and lead to violence and breach of the peace”. While Virginia had stringent anti-dueling laws banning duelists from public office and outlawing “fighting words”, dueling continued until after the 1880s.

Rewind back to 1765. Some of the most detailed sources of the famed “Quantico Church Duel” come from Horace Edwin Hayden via Bishop Meade who claimed to have letters between Bullitt and Scott and a newspaper article documenting the duel and subsequent court case. Scott purportedly sent a copy of his challenge to Bullitt in which he noted to Baylis, “But as soon as I heard that you had dared to cast aspersions on the character of my Father (whose sacred function would have protected him from any but a wretch dead to every sentiment of virtue and honor), I no longer hesitate to call you to that account which your repeated insults to the best of men so loudly called for.” Scott’s father, Reverend James Scott, was well known in the area. Both the letters and the newspaper agree that Baylis had “superior strength”, and he wrote to Scott, “I shall forbear to use that low, base scurrility that you do, but tell you at once I shall meet you according to your desire armed with a pair of pistols and a small sword to give that satisfaction you have demanded.” As the second, Bullitt’s role was to try to reconcile the parties before and during (if the men missed the first shots), along with keeping an eye out for anything suspicious or tricky.

(Lee Lansing’s drawing of the entrance to Quantico Church & Dumfries Cemetery)

On the day of the appointed duel, the men and their seconds met outside Quantico Church in the Town of Dumfries. According to these same sources, Bullitt interrupted the duel for last minute reconciliation but instead began arguing with Baylis. “This behavior of Bullitt, however, had not the desired effect, for Baylis, resenting his interposition, proceeded to give him abusive language, asking him if he would take it upon himself, adding he would fight him anyway.” The actual duel was anything but mundane. After wounding Baylis in the groin, Bullitt approached him “…but observing Baylis to be getting up with his second pistol in his hand, stop. Baylis, as soon as he was on his feet, again fired at Bullitt, drew a third pistol which was concealed under his jacket, discharged it and then threw it at Bullitt, who, with a loaded pistol in his hand, generously refused to take the life of a man who had already received a wound of which, in about five hours, he expired.”

While the details of the event come mainly from Bishop Meade’s letters and an uncited newspaper (potentially the Maryland Gazette?), which referenced Bullitt’s testimony at his trial, HDVI does not have the primary sources to analyze. Over time, scholars identified an earlier court case where Sarah Scott, Scott’s mother, killed an enslaved person, Davy, linking the two due to Baylis’ presence and controversy in both. However, we do not have the court records of that case. As the duel certainly sparked interest, people poured through records trying to ascertain if Baylis insulted the Reverend’s ministerial content or if it could be indicative of something more. It seems probable it was the Reverend’s content. Other lore? Some sources suggest Bullitt fled to Kentucky – considering Bullitt held various political and representative positions for PWC, he probably was not leading a life on the run.

So, what can we say for certain? Bullitt shot Baylis and he eventually died. Did Baylis have three pistols on him resorting to throwing one at Bullitt? Was Baylis targeting the Scotts due to the earlier court case? Can you still hear and see figures skirmishing in Dumfries Cemetery as they reenact their deadly dance? We will hopefully be able to answer the first two questions in the future and let you decide the last one.

Note: Are you enjoying our blogs and free programs? Consider becoming a member and helping us continue to preserve and promote local history! From $10-$30 for the entire year, your membership comes with free tours, free research, and discounts to our popular programs. Click here for our seasonal offerings and here for membership & store.

(Sources: HDVI Archives: Bullitt & Bullet Files; Hayden, Horace Edwin. Virginia Genealogies. A Genealogy of the Glassell Family of Scotland and Virginia, Also of the Families of Ball, Brown, Bryan, Conway, Daniel, Ewell, Holladay, Lewis, Littlepage, Moncure, Peyton, Robinson, Scott, Taylor, Wallace, and Others, of Virginia and Maryland. Wilkes-Barre: E.B. Yordy, 1891; Drake, Ross. Duel! Defenders of honor or shoot-on-sight vigilantes? Even in 19th- century America, it was hard to tell. Smithsonian Magazine, March 2004, https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/duel-104161025/; The History of Dueling in America, PBS: American Experience: The Duel, https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/duel-history-dueling-america/)

[ryo-maybe]

the vs, the or, and the + for... three random ocs you have

You never quite get used to surprises in the Unterzee.

At times, you are certain - when you spot the strange things hiding in the corner of your eyes, and your first reaction is a placid arumph, or perhaps a deep exhalation. That’s when you think, ah, I’ve got you figured out now. I’ve seen all you had to offer, zee. The horrors, the oddities, the unfathomable and the unthinkable, all bunched up together in a pile of weary despondency. The first tidings of a serendipitous boredom, and like the old fool you are, you welcome them each and every time, almost grasping with feverish abandon at the threads that have unraveled from your oxymoronically positive flavor of cynicism. Finally, your trauma-laden mind-voice mutters to itself, at long last, I have tired of seeping from Madame Fear’s chalice. Or maybe you’ve simply begun the march to the wacky lands of the mad, but let’s be frank here... would you mind such a disappointing finale for your tale? A boring madness over the perdition of something bleaker? Perhaps. Anything, really, as long as it would mean relinquinshing the burdens of dread, of terror and bewilderment.

And yet here you are, captain Gregory Willard, with the celebrations of your newfound freedom from the highest peak of human emotion threatened by a perplexity most palpable. A wizened old veteran like you - a veteran of that thrice accursed Campaign of ‘68, of the Unterzee’s treacherous ways, of life! Too fatigued to feel, all too happy to substitute all the different ways of spelling the gasps in your personal vocabulary with a series of deadpan whatevers, or so you thought. Until you moored your dear, janky Lisafrey at Gaider’s Mourn and sat at a table like any other (or so, again, you thought), wishing no more than to waste the night away like one can only do at the Arrant Limpet - that is, reckless abandon and a significant lack of import for all manners of social constructs like etiquette and the likes of.

Plans, yours, utterly ruined by your accidental choice of company for the evening. The premise to your current predicament is an alcohol-reeking blur, the confidence in your emotional downfall all but lost, the cards in your hand too poor to even warrant so much as a bluff. Your partners in this game (which game? One you are about to lose, that much is certain), well…

“By my reckoning, captain Willard, it would be your turn.”

You follow the deep baritone which carries those words, too refined for the Limpet’s rustic atmosphere, back to its utterer. Beady eyes blacker than the zee stare back with all the politeness you can infer from the facial features surrounding them. It would be fairly easier, you reckon, to read the intentions written on that facial papyrus, were it not for the thick brown fuzz hiding the brunt of them from sight. There’s a noticeable lack of malice to be found, however, in that overgrown forest of follicles: of that much you are certain, and that is not merely a hunch born of long-storied experiences with beings too far removed from the complex net of visible emotions that are human visages. One does not speak so politely in a wretched scum hive like this without either a strong belief in the nobility of mannerisms, or suffering from a disquieting lapse in judgement. Your propension is for the latter, but it is a propension deeply marred by a grating sense of hypocrisy. After all, what right should you give yourself to accuse another of mental malaise, when you are the one playing - and losing, no less - a game of cards with a talking hamster clad in nothing but a dapper top hat?

“I guess it is, sir Reginald.”

The name drops off your scarred lips spontaneously enough to know you can trust them - better than the droplets of reason left in your mind which keep rupturing under the pressure of many a question, anyway. How does a hamster go about getting ennobled, exactly?

“Please, captain. As I have already said earlier, you need not concern yourself with needlessly elevating nomenclatures when referring to my humble self. Behind our cards, we are as equals. Differences in standing should matter little to adversaries in a bout of wit and intellect, or so I should believe.”

You should too, for it would benefit your sanity greatly to disregard the disparities you perceive between yourself and the wise rodent. That being the case, you nonetheless need a significant effort of will to tug your sights away from sir Reginald’s shining, hamster-sized monocle, and a stronger effort still to tug the ‘sir’ away from his name. You succeed in at least one of these, glimpsing at the cards held in your rugged hands. The fires of war have singed most of the feeling away from your leathery skin, and yet you can feel the misfortune seeping out of the worn-down paper. Your Queen of Spades seems to look back with dissatisfaction, for she sits in a reign of lone two’s and five’s. You relieve her from duty, filling both with relief when her back slams on the wooden table’s slightly damp surface.

“Ah, a magnificent reprise, captain. This shall prove a worthy challenge to our lucky Miss Maira.”

Maira, right. That would be the lady occupying the other seat. At least, she ought to be a lady, going by sir Reginald’s manner of addressing her. The baggy clothes cover her well enough to make one wonder; but it’s the mask which seals the mysterious deal. Although, who are you to speak about facial coverings, when your own ruined mug is mummified by generous application of many a roll of bandages?

“Mh.”

It’s barely a noise, enough to hint at a confirmation of the suspects seeded by the dapper rodent, and to plant the seeds of many more. The mask’s thick material is shaped in a mold that still rests fresh in your mind. A relic from the war, same as you, except preserved far better. The snippets of sound coming from the mouth it hides belong elsewhere though, in space as in time. A sound of youth, quiet and steeped in something which you confuse with stiffness and punctures your heart with a pang of envy. Not enough to suppress a hint of pity, and that, more than the talking hamster, reminds you of the humanity which, you ought to admit already, you’ve yet to have lost.

“Check and mate.”

On the topic of reminders, this one slaps your bandaged face harder than any melancholy elucubration, in true zee-like tradition. Your chin hangs beneath the silent crevice of your mouth, but it’s too late: Maira’s rook, which you had failed to notice until now, is swift and merciless to trample your former Queen. Sir Reginald’s applause celebrates your loss with an applause from his tiny paws, meaty nuggets lost in a sea of fur, the noise escaping them like that of a frenzied clock. He speaks his praises aloud, she answers them with a lack of care and most intonation beside the mere necessity of vocalization. Their banter is a dissonant tune, alternating the enthusiastic profoundness of the hamster’s voice and the subdued quietness of Maira’s. So unlike yours, an instrument out of tune played by the trembling hands of a senile coot.

“Well, I’ll be! Splendid, simply splendid, Miss Maira. Bold and dauntless, like the best of gamblers. I would inquire, if I may, as to where you learned such magnificent plays.”

“My father taught me.”

“Ah! A professional player?”

“No. A wasp.”

You fold. The cards, your arms, and in the general sense of the term. You come to terms with the persisting survival of the weakness called emotion and, you know what? You’re fine with that. Not all losses in the Unterzee cost a man his life or his fortunes. If the victim has to be the stubbornness with which you convinced yourself that you’d grown over your human fallibility, then you’ll gladly empty the pitcher in happy mourning. Yeah, it’s alright. The rest of the game unfolds in front of you in a series of increasingly less predictable twists and turns, witnessed between a drink of bitter draft and the other. Maira ends up doing good on her buggy father’s teachings when her triplet of tanks clutches a victory against sir Reginald’s flagship. You enter the next round refreshed by the combination of alcohol and almost childlike wonder. Being bereft of your hubris seems to have cleared a spot in your mind for whichever phenomenon is whispering this game’s strange rules to its participants, and you end up stealing a honorable draw from the dapper rodent after you both run out of Get out of Jail Free Cards. At the end of the night, your pockets have grown a tad lighter by virtue of making Maira’s fatter: she needs someone foolhardy enough to give her passage to Saviour’s Rocks and you a pair of able hands to help settle a score back at Mutton Island. Perhaps you’ll have better luck gambling on her skill with the sizeable gun-like assemble she lugs around strapped on her shoulder, than on a paltry hand of tressette. You part ways from sir Reginald with mutual promises of meeting again, and a  strong hunch that you might be able to trust the rodent’s over that of any top hat-less naked ape. Thus the night comes to an end, finding its conclusion in the mingling of footsteps, some familiar and others not so much, reverberating on the bridge of your dear, creaky Lisafrey.

You never quite get used to surprises in the Unterzee. And perhaps, despite it all, it might be for the best.

[michelgrimard-blog]

Le directeur artistique s'interpose et expose ...

Titre: Ça peut pas toujours être drôle! V2

.

Je précise, dictées interprétées venant de...

Avec ça, c'est super clair!

Ce qui est valable pour moi, l'est aussi pour d'autres, c'est universel.

L'intention dans ça, est la publication car pour la réalisation, c'est comme pour beaucoup d'autres, soit le résultat de choix rapides strictement esthétiques.

C'est le titre qui m'a sauté dans face!

J'ai tenté de me défendre avec une chaise mais il a gagné!

Un winner!

Le thème, c'est la moindre de mes préoccupations pendant la construction.

.

Le prochain post va tasser Tachisky sur la page 2, pis après ça devrait être une autre ''Actualités relatives''.

Oups! Y en faut plus!

SMS ... Tachisky ... Badieu ...Dadadidierdodu...Bob Bouette est sur mute!

C'est un seul Bob Bouette live par page.

Avec ça, je peux faire au moins 500 pages!

Rétro action du troisième bus de modèles dont il est question plus loin!

Les deux demi-cercles...c'est une capture sans modifications.

Un cachet d'authenticit��!

Rendu là, m'a re faire l'exercice des correspondances visuelles que je n'ai jamais pensées avant de penser à les faire...après la publication, donc du choix ''live''.

Mon choix est une expression d'identité souhaitée ou projetée ou malaxée ou décantée ou...Un choix rapide a donné cela...pourquoi?

Ou bien arrantes-toi avec ça!

De un, les sources sont uniques pour chaque personne car ça vient des liens et c'est combiné à l'action de choisir. Après, ce que j'en fais comme ici, chercher les liens directionnels, c'est une touche de plus pour affirmer le statut de création artistique.

Ready-Made Web, dans ce cas ... la référence initiale sur Facebook.

L'utilité que j'en fais, c'est ce qui donne le ton aux propos, génère un thème, gonfle l'égo du modèle et mon département du marketing, n'a que des éloges!

Un réalisateur fait un exercice semblable pour positionner ses personnages.

Je vais m'inventer un exemple pour illustrer. En plus de créer un gabarit de proportions pour un cadrage de caméra, ça peut même faire partie du scénario. L'objet clé du film a été trouvé dans une scène et par ''hasard'' les liens directionnels de l'environnement pointent vers lui ou le détache...incluant l'éclairage.

Probable que des super productions s'en servent avec autant de rigidité mais en général, c'est très intuitif! L'explication de ce choix des super productions, c'est qu'il y a trop de paramètres en jeux pour changer des choses majeures quand la scène est tournée.

Tout est déjà arrangé avec les gars des vues et dessiné au départ. Et si on ajoute les effets alpha sur fond vert, il ne reste plus grand chose qui peut bouger.

La marge de manœuvre sera de découper des plans dans cet espace synthétique avec des trucs convenus ou inusités et ces genres de gabarits.

Et focusser sur la direction d'acteurs incluant la gestuelle si ça doit correspondre à des liens directionnels.

Moi je fais ça avec plusieurs images.

.

'' Composition Nombre d’or Alfonso Cuaron drame film 'Roma' | par Gil Perez | Douleur moyenne (medium.com) ''

Suis pas un cinéphile pis j'ai jamais vu ce film!

Suis peintre!

Et ses douleurs moyennes ne sont pas les miennes!

.

Des plateaux de tournage, j'en ai fait quelques-uns comme peintre ou effets spéciaux. Juste assez pour voir la machine logistique derriere une scène tournée.

.

Regarder, c'est exclure tout le reste. Ne regarder qu'une chose ou un thème, c'est un environnement pour un aveuglement.

L'autre point, c'est plus tu vas vite et plus le cône de vision diminue. Dit autrement, relax stie, tu vois plus rien!

MG

[josefsenpuggaard37-blog]

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[ruki--mukami]

“There’s no need to stutter so much around me, Yui. Relax yourself. You’ve done no wrong in knitting a scarf for your master. Have you ever made any clothes for yourself, by any chance? We could wear them in the winter together—that way everyone will know you belong to me, especially if we match.”

When the girl proposed the idea he might fall ill, Ruki could only snicker in arrant disbelief. Each interwoven thread of the garment, made just for him, instilled an unexpectedly warm sensation in the depths of his undead heart. If he were human, it might just beat in thunderous pounds from the mansuetude fortification only she could construct.

“No, it’s not at all likely. Vampires don’t have weak immune systems like you humans do,” he said as he clutched her chin to enforce eye contact, steel-blues gazing into her refulgent rose jewels. “Eve truly is kind… Though I cannot help but wonder if you intended on receiving something grand in return. What do you seek exactly? You’re going to have to be more honest,” the Vampire neared her face, “and more inviting with how you tell me.”

"H-Hi Ruki kun, hope you are having a nice day!"

the blonde girl smiles and spreads out a scarf that she had been knitting for days.

"I made it for you."

"Hello, Livestock. So this is what you holed yourself up in your room for all these days... All this time, you knitted a scarf for your master. How truly infantile. Vampires do not capture heat the way humans would given our undead qualities and lack of circulation, but even so I commend you for your efforts. It would contribute greatly to my winter ensemble nonetheless."

Hesitantly grabbing the scarf his prey so kindly unified thread by every considerate thread for him, Ruki draped it around his neck loosely until the collars of his school uniform drooped from the weight above, careful not to crease the fabric.

"Hm... Not bad," he adjusted the accessory with a shrewd smile, "not bad at all. You have my gratitude, Yui. Perhaps I ought to reward you."

[derstheviking]

Lacan on Foreclosure and Repression

Lacan’s interest in psychosis predates his interest in psychoanalysis, his doctoral research project ‘Paranoid psychosis and its relation to the personality, was about a woman whom he calls “Aimée”, and was one of the first attempts in France to interpret a case of psychosis in terms of the total history of the patient and to show no psychic phenomenon can manifest itself independently of the personality. Aimée was a 38 year old railway clerk, with literary ambitions, who attacked one of the best-known actresses in Paris, wounding her with a knife. Her motive was a persecutory delusion that the actress and others had been spreading slander about her. Lacan called her case of paranoia “self-punishment paranoia” saying that in her literary works she attacks the ideal image of a woman who enjoys social freedom and power, the very woman she hoped to be by pursuing a literary career. The woman she envied, became her persecutor, and initially her persecutor was her sister, and then a woman friend who Aimée admitted to “I feel that I am masculine”. After her trial for the assault, and after her being found guilty, the persecutory delusion subsided and Aimée was no longer psychotic.

For Lacan, all psychiatric diagnoses fall into three categories which each describe a different way in which the subject relates to the master-signifier: neurosis (repression), psychosis (foreclosure), and perversion (disavowal). The master-signifier (e.g. commodity fetishism; “money refers to value as such, and all other commodities are thought of in terms of how much money one can get for them”) provides a point de capiton or quilting point around which other signifiers can stabilize. Repression as such that the neurotic experiences it, is distinguished by Freud as split between primal repression, which is something that was never conscious to begin with, an originary “psychical act” by which the unconscious is first constituted, and secondary repression, whereby some idea or perception that was once conscious is expelled from consciousness. Freud thought it was not the “affect” which was repressed, but the “ideational representative” of the drive. Expanding on Freud’s theory, Lacan says primal repression is the alienation of desire when need is articulated in demand, the repression of the first signifier. Secondary repression, for Lacan, is structured like a metaphor. There is also a third form of repression which always involves “the return of the repressed”, whereby the repressed signifier reappears under the guise of the various formations of the unconscious (e.g. symptoms, dreams, parapraxes, jokes, etc.). This is why Lacan says that the return of the repressed actually comes from the future, rather than the past, because before the repressed surfaces to consciousness, the unconscious is already under the grips of the repressed, expressing itself in unconscious manifestations, and therefore the symptom arises from the repressed unconscious material, and this is why “the return of the repressed” isn’t to be thought of as bringing back material from the past, but is rather an effect of the future dimension on the present moment in the form of symptoms and unconscious formations. We can distinguish between different types of “the return of the repressed” as a symptom formation, compromise formation, or reaction formation. For Freud, all unconscious material (existing as memory traces) is indestructible in the unconscious, and the repressed material appears according to the degree which it is cathected, decathected, or anticathected. The repressed material penetrates consciousness when a few conditions are present: first, when the cathexis of the ego is either diminished or is differently distributed, as happens regularly during sleep. Second, when instincts attached to the repressed become strengthened. And third, when a recent event produces impressions or experiences which are so much like the repressed material that they have the power to awaken it. All neurotic symptom-formations can be described as “the return of the repressed”. While neurotic symptom-formation can be designated as “the return of the repressed”, psychosis involves a more violent repudiation. Psychosis, on the other hand, is designated by the “foreclosure of the Name-of-the-Father”, which is a primordial signifier and master-signifier, that is repressed in the neurotic but is foreclosed in the psychotic. It is “the desire of the mother” that was the original master-signifier that was substituted with the Name-of-the-Father, the maternal metaphor with the paternal metaphor.

The primordial signifier of the Name-of-the-Father dates back to the most ancient times of humanity, the father was symbolically identified with the figure of the law as a process which unites desire and the law, and thus is differentiated from the role of the imaginary father which is an imago based on splitting between the good and bad father (what Slavoj Zizek referred to as “the reverse of the father…the “anal father” who lurks behind the Name-of-the-Father qua bearer of the symbolic law”). As Klein demonstrated, the function of the splitting of the ego during the paranoid-schizoid position, sometimes understood in papers today as “paranoid social cognition”, is both a mechanism to separate the good and the bad object, and continued with the mechanism of projective identification. Projective identification is similar to transference in that in the latter the imaginary father is projected onto the analyst, but with projective identification, a part of either the good self or the bad self (or both, in a state of ambivalence) is projected onto the analyst and identified with. This is not an imaginary relation like transference, but a symbolic relation of narcissism “which the subject sustains with the image and action of the person who embodies it” (Lacan). In objection to object relations theory, which focused on the dual relationship between the child and the mother, Lacan stressed the existence of the paternal function in three ways: the symbolic father as the figure of the law, the imaginary father as the composite of all the imaginary constructs the subject builds up in fantasy around the figure of the father, and the Real Father who is another real interpersonal subject who stands as the partner of the mother and has his own history, qualities, shortcomings, and psychic structure.

Lacan compares the French phrase ‘le nom de pere’ (the Name-of-the-Father) with ‘le non de pere’ (the no of the Father) and also with ‘les non-dupes arrant’ (the non-deceiving error) and puts forward their structural significance as signifiers. The mechanism of psychosis is uniquely ‘foreclusion’ or ‘foreclosure’ where the symbolic Father is missing from the symbolic order (Lacan indicates a difference in language use between psychotic and neurotic patients based on the foreclosure of the Name-of-the-Father).

Psychosis, according to Lacan, is not to be viewed as an abnormal pattern of behavior, and it can be shown how similar the behaviors of madness are to normal behavior. Lacan says that the delusion is not the “illness” of paranoia itself, but rather is the paranoiac’s attempt to heal himself, a substitute formation in the face of the breakdown of his symbolic universe. Lacan noted the “imaginary external world” of the psychotic, and noted the psychotic’s altered relation to reality. Following Freud, Lacan stated, “the problem lies not in the reality that is lost, but in that which takes its place.” In metaphorical terms, he discussed psychosis as a “psychic rent” or “gap” that appears in relation to the external world, and there is existence of the “patch” which the psychotic subject applies over this gap in the symbolic order, as his imaginary attempt to heal from the “interrogative gap” which opens up in madness, hallucinations, etc. “The function of the imaginary is precisely to fill this gap”, thus overcoming the subject’s division and presenting an imaginary sense of unity and wholeness. Lacan also uses the term ‘dehiscence’ which roughly means “gap” and designates a botanical term meaning the bursting open of mature seed-pods; Lacan uses the term to refer to the “split” which is constitutive of the subject, which Lacan understood as the “split of the subject” which characterizes all neurotic, psychotic, and perverse patients. Lacan also notes the “split” that occurs in causality, the “inexplicable gap” between cause and effect (causality can appear to become inverted in psychosis). And most importantly, the split that exists is between the subject and the Other, such that it is also true that a gap exists in the context of the relationship between the sexes, Lacan writes, “in the relation between man and woman…a gap always remains open”.

[wallpapernifty]

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[newstfionline]

Thursday, June 3, 2021

How the World Ran Out of Everything (NYT) We’re living in a material world. But we’re short on materials. For years, just in time manufacturing and stocking has been revolutionizing retail. By keeping inventories thin, major retailers have been able to use more of their space to display a wider array of goods. Just In Time has enabled manufacturers to customize their wares. And lean production has significantly cut costs while allowing companies to pivot quickly to new products. But during the pandemic, just in time turned into just short. It’s one of the reasons construction companies are having trouble purchasing paints and sealants. It was a principal contributor to the tragic shortages of personal protective equipment early in the pandemic, which left frontline medical workers without adequate gear.

One way companies are concealing higher prices: Smaller packages (Washington Post) Consumers are paying more for a growing range of household staples in ways that don’t show up on receipts—thinner rolls, lighter bags, smaller cans—as companies look to offset rising labor and materials costs without scaring off customers. It’s a form of retail camouflage known as “shrinkflation,” and economists and consumer advocates who track packaging expect it to become more pronounced as inflation ratchets up, taking hold of such everyday items such as paper towels, potato chips and diapers. “Consumers check the price every time they buy, but they don’t check the net weight,” said Edgar Dworsky, a consumer advocate and former assistant attorney general in Massachusetts, who has been tracking product sizes for more than 30 years. “When the price of raw materials, like coffee beans or paper pulp goes up, manufacturers are faced with a choice: Do we raise the price knowing consumers will see it and grumble about it? Or do we give them a little bit less and accomplish the same thing? Often it’s easier to do the latter.”

Genetically modified salmon head to US dinner plates (AP) The inaugural harvest of genetically modified salmon began this week after the pandemic delayed the sale of the first such altered animal to be cleared for human consumption in the United States, company officials said. Several tons of salmon, engineered by biotech company AquaBounty Technologies Inc., will now head to restaurants and away-from-home dining services—where labeling as genetically engineered is not required—in the Midwest and along the East Coast, company CEO Sylvia Wulf said. The fish are genetically modified to grow twice as fast as wild salmon, reaching market size—8 to 12 pounds (3.6 to 5.4 kilograms)—in 18 months rather than 36. The genetically modified fish has been met by pushback from environmental advocates for years. The boycott against AquaBounty salmon has largely come from activists with the Block Corporate Salmon campaign, which aims to protect wild salmon and preserve Indigenous rights to practice sustainable fishing.

Even after Madoff's death, work to unwind epic fraud goes on (AP) Epic Ponzi scheme mastermind Bernard Madoff is dead. But the effort to untangle his web of deceit lives on. More than 12 years after Madoff confessed to running one of the biggest financial fraud in Wall Street history, a team of lawyers is still at work on a sprawling effort to recover money for the thousands of victims of his scam. Their labors, which have already secured $14.5 billion of the estimated $17.5 billion investors put into Madoff’s sham investment business, didn’t cease with the financier’s death in prison in April. Ongoing litigation by Irving Picard, a court-appointed trustee for the liquidation of Bernard L. Madoff Investment Securities, and his chief counsel, David Sheehan, could potentially pull in billions of dollars more. “You don’t like to see anyone die. But in this case, it wasn’t going to have any impact on what we’re doing,” Picard told The Associated Press. “Our work goes on.”

In Brazil’s Amazon, rivers rise to record levels (AP) Rivers around the biggest city in Brazil’s Amazon rainforest have swelled to levels unseen in over a century of record-keeping, according to data published Tuesday by Manaus’ port authorities, straining a society that has grown weary of increasingly frequent flooding. The Rio Negro was at its highest level since records began in 1902, with a depth of 29.98 meters (98 feet) at the port’s measuring station. The nearby Solimoes and Amazon rivers were also nearing all-time highs, flooding streets and houses in dozens of municipalities and affecting some 450,000 people in the region. Large swaths of Brazil are currently drying up in a severe drought. But in Manaus, 66-year-old Julia Simas has water ankle-deep in her home. Simas has lived in the working-class neighborhood of Sao Jorge since 1974 and is used to seeing the river rise and fall with the seasons. Simas likes her neighborhood because it is safe and clean. But the quickening pace of the floods in the last decade has her worried.

U.K. reports no new covid-19 deaths for first time since March 2020 (Washington Post) The United Kingdom announced no new deaths Tuesday from covid-19, within 28 days of a positive test for the first time since March 2020, as that nation maintains one of the world’s highest vaccination rates. Infections in the U.K. are rising, however, and health officials warned that the crisis is not over. In the United States, deaths have fallen by about 10 percent in the past week. New deaths worldwide have also decreased in recent weeks, although the number of new cases has increased slightly.

EU COVID-19 ‘digital pass’: seven countries begin using new travel system (Euronews) Several EU countries have launched the bloc’s COVID-19 “digital pass” system for travel across the region, ahead of a full release planned for July 1. The European Commission says seven member states—Bulgaria, Czechia, Denmark, Germany, Greece, Croatia and Poland—have connected to the gateway and started issuing the first certificates. Other countries will follow suit when all functions are deployed nationwide, it added. The EU’s plan is for a single system to facilitate safe travel by verifying the pass holder’s coronavirus status—whether through vaccination, a recent negative test result, or proof of recovery from the virus. Brussels has also previously indicated that fully-vaccinated people from third countries should be able to visit the Old Continent with no quarantine requirement provided they were administered EU-approved jabs.

The Belarus Tolls (Guardian) In the 10 months since Belarusians bravely contested fraudulent elections, their autocratic president Alexander Lukashenko has launched the most widespread crackdown on dissent since the Soviet Union. Hundreds of political prisoners have been arrested, with journalists and activists specifically targeted. A 50-year-old protest leader sentenced to five years in prison mysteriously died after a year in custody. His body was returned to his family with his entire head covered in bandages. On Tuesday, another opposition activist stabbed himself in the throat with a pen during a court hearing in Minsk, after claiming investigators forced him to plead guilty or his family and friends would be arrested. It seems functioning democracies are becoming harder and harder to come by. Political economist and Guardian contributor Will Hutton writes: “From Minsk to Hong Kong, people power just isn’t working anymore. The West’s ineffectiveness in the face of the arrant use of torture, unlawful arrest, savage imprisonment without trial, and flagrant abuse of international law, even close to home in Europe, is among the bleakest symptoms of our times.”

Storm leaves 3 dead, displaces hundreds in Philippines (AP) A tropical storm has left at least three people dead and displaced hundreds of villagers in the southern and central Philippines, where it triggered floods and landslides, officials said Wednesday. Forecasters said the storm Choi-wan was southwest of central Masbate province early Wednesday with sustained winds of 65 kilometers (40 miles) per hour and gusts of up to 90 kph (56 mph). More than 2,600 people were displaced, mostly by floods, in 18 southern villages. About 20 tropical storms and typhoons batter the Philippine archipelago each year. The Southeast Asian nation is also located in the Pacific Ring of Fire, a seismically active region where volcanic eruptions and earthquakes occur frequently, making it one of the most disaster-prone countries in the world.

Iran’s largest warship catches fire, sinks in Gulf of Oman (AP) The largest warship in the Iranian navy caught fire and later sank Wednesday in the Gulf of Oman under unclear circumstances, semiofficial news agencies reported. Photos circulated on Iranian social media of sailors wearing life jackets evacuating the vessel as a fire burned behind them. State TV and semiofficial news agencies referred to the Kharg as a “training ship.” Fars published video of thick, black smoke rising from the ship early Wednesday morning. The Kharg serves as one of a few vessels in the Iranian navy capable of providing replenishment at sea for its other ships. It also can lift heavy cargo and serve as a launch point for helicopters. In April, an Iranian ship called the MV Saviz believed to be a Guard base and anchored for years in the Red Sea off Yemen was targeted in an attack suspected to have been carried out by Israel. It escalated a yearslong shadow war in Mideast waters between the two countries. The sinking of the Kharg marks the latest naval disaster for Iran. In 2020 during an Iranian military training exercise, a missile mistakenly struck a naval vessel near the port of Jask, killing 19 sailors and wounding 15. Also in 2018, an Iranian navy destroyer sank in the Caspian Sea.

The Libyan war’s lethal legacy (Washington Post) As Russian mercenaries fled the Libyan capital last summer, they left behind booby-trapped houses and yards. They attached explosives to toilet seats, doors and teddy bears, designed to detonate upon touch, Libyan deminers say. Most devious, perhaps, were the empty soda cans. Many young Libyans like to playfully crush them, and so the Russians designed the cans to explode upon pressure. “They studied us, even how our kids played,” said Rabie Aljawashi, the head of the Free Fields Foundation, a Libyan demining agency. “They know how we think.” Now, Libya demining teams are scouring the war-scarred landscape to rid it of this lethal legacy, and they’re finding troves of unexploded munitions left behind—both intentionally and unintentionally—not just by the Russian mercenaries, who had backed renegade Libyan commander Khalifa Hifter, but by earlier waves of conflict. Some of the ordnance dates to Libya’s Arab Spring revolution a decade ago, which led to the ouster and killing of dictator Moammar Gaddafi and left his massive stores of weapons in the hands of numerous militias. In Tripoli’s war-battered southern neighborhoods such as Ein Zara, deminers are also discovering unexploded shells and mortar rounds, including American ones, from Gaddafi’s arsenals.

Hunger in Tigray (Foreign Policy) More than 5 million people in Ethiopia’s Tigray region—more than 90 percent of its population—are in need of emergency food assistance, the United Nations World Food Programme said on Tuesday, as it appealed for a further $203 million in relief funds. The warning comes after U.N. humanitarian coordinator Mark Lowcock alerted the U.N. Security Council of the “serious risk of famine if assistance is not scaled up in the next two months.” Lowcock estimated “over 90 percent of the harvest was lost due to looting, burning, or other destruction, and that 80 percent of the livestock in the region were looted or slaughtered.”

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I aboriginal met Riyad Alkasem one afternoon in January 2016, aback I pulled up to a restaurant in a Tennessee band mall, tucked bottomward the artery from gun shops and allurement shops, below a assurance that said Café Rakka. This, I’d been told, was area I’d acquisition the best Arabic translator in Middle Tennessee. I’d aloof alternate from one advertisement cruise to the Syria-Turkey border, and I was gearing up for another. In between, I bare addition abreast my home in Nashville to advice me abode buzz calls to an Arabic-speaking source. A acquaintance at The Islamic Center of Nashville acicular me against Riyad.

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That day, we alleged my source, and I watched Riyad action aback tears as the three of us discussed the war disturbing afar his homeland, the bodies who believed they were affronted to anatomy a bigger Syria than the one Riyad had years beforehand larboard behind. Afterward, he took me to a table. We sat. He summoned two cups of amethyst tea and aerial plates of shawarma and baba ghanoush. Assuredly I asked the abandoned catechism on my mind: What was a restaurant called afterwards Raqqa, Syria—a burghal afresh accepted as the “de facto capital” of ISIS—doing actuality in Tennessee?

His acknowledgment unspooled over abounding hours that day and for several years afterward. Abundant of it centered on his accord with his adolescent brother Bashar. Amid them, they represented two adventures of immigration—those who leave home in chase of a brighter future, and those who leave because their aboriginal home has become unrecognizable.

In the years aback I met him, I accept alert accounting about Riyad for The Ringer. In the deathwatch of Donald Trump’s 2016 election, I wrote about Riyad’s clearing acquaintance in America. He’d collapsed in adulation with the country from a academy classroom in Aleppo, area he’d been agape by the American Constitution, by the means this country promised its bodies that they could authority base leaders to account. He confused actuality assured wonders—which he found, alongside bigotry, bouts of poverty, and an aching anxious for his aboriginal home. Still, in America he’d congenital a family, a business, a life. Alike afterwards Trump was adopted while able to accumulate bodies like Riyad from entering this country, Riyad still said, “America is the abandoned home I have.”

Then this April, I wrote about Riyad for The Ringer aback his apple afflicted yet again. COVID-19 was overextension beyond the country, adverse the restaurant business. I told the adventure of Riyad’s struggles to adjudge whether to accumulate his restaurant open, and about the adventures of his employees—many of them immigrants from Ecuador or Mexico or Jordan, all of them basic what Riyad calls, “my new tribe.”

In amid those two pieces, I wrote a book, out July 21, that tells the adventure of Riyad and his brother Bashar and their family. The Road From Raqqa chronicles Riyad and Bashar’s aberrant journeys out of Syria—and aback to anniversary other. While Riyad larboard Raqqa as a adolescent man, pulled by the affiance of addition nation, Bashar remained, anchored by the abundance of ancestors and home, until ISIS overtook the burghal and the American-led affiliation began to bomb it, banishment him to leave.

The extract below tells a allotment of Bashar’s story. It’s from a moment in aboriginal 2013, aloof afterwards Raqqa has collapsed from administration ascendancy into the easily of the rebels. Bashar has aloof sat bottomward to supper with his family, digging into plates of aliment and olives, tomatoes and cheese, aback all of a sudden, the ancestors hears a blast, and they feel the apple below them activate to shake.

Your aboriginal bombing could be anything. That was how Bashar came to anticipate of it in the years to come. Aback it hits, some allotment of the academician says it’s no added than a car blast aloof alfresco the advanced door. Or maybe a architecture actuality burst for new construction. The apperception tries to acquaint itself quick, abating lies.

This bomb accustomed loud and angry, abashed bank and apple and bone. Bashar froze. Beyond the table, his ancient daughter, Jenan, accomplished for her grandmother and yelped, while his adolescent daughter, Wajid, active her arch in the anatomy of her mother and screamed. The arena befuddled for addition breach second, and now Bashar’s wife, Aisha, was screaming, too, and for a moment Bashar and his mother let the abhorrence beat them, and now the girls saw that the adults were afraid, all of them, in a way clashing annihilation they’d anytime seen, and so their agreeable and arrant grew until it captivated the absolute room.

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After a few seconds, the allowance was abounding with dust, article annoyed advancement by the appulse of the explosion, ascent from the apple to the air and through windows and doors into their home, their eyes and lungs. They coughed. They wiped their eyes and their noses and coughed some more. And then, for a few seconds, silence. Now the apperception played catch-up, acumen that this was not some accident, not some fluke, but the babble of an apparatus advised to kill, article abandoned adjacent that had conceivably dead some added family, aggregate about some added table in some added home.

At atomic that was how it formed for Bashar. For his children, benightedness still served as an inhibitor of greater fear.

“What was that?” asked Jenan.

Bashar rushed to accord an answer. One of the lies the apperception tells now anesthetized from his academician to his aperture to his daughters’ ears. “They’re accomplishing construction,” he said, and this was correct; technically, there’d been architecture all over the burghal for months. “A architecture fell down.” The added adults nodded, and Jenan nodded too. It articulate comforting. It articulate true.

He absolved them from the table, beatific them with their mother into addition room. “Watch TV,” he told them. “Turn the aggregate all the way up.”

When they were gone, Bashar’s astronomic anchored her eyes on his. “So,” she said, “what are we activity to do?”

She knew already that they bare to strategize, that they lacked the affluence of spending addition additional overtaken by fear. But Bashar wasn’t abiding what to do. He was antagonism to action the absoluteness of what he’d aloof felt. His burghal was beneath attack, austere by its own government. Bashar knew it. This had to be President Bashar al-Assad’s Syrian Arab Army, bombing either to balance the burghal or aloof to get revenge. Bashar assumed, for the moment, that the bomb had abandoned a few anxiety from his doorstep. Abandoned afterwards that day would he acquisition out that it had hit a mosque, appropriate abutting to an old bastille that had been acclimated as a affair point for insubordinate soldiers, about a kilometer from their home. He affected they would wait, see how things developed, afresh adjudge how best to proceed.

“Remove your emotions,” his astronomic said. The attending on her face showed that she’d already done aloof that. “You charge to accomplish every accommodation wisely.”

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Bashar nodded.

“They are aggravating to anesthetize us with fear,” she continued. “Don’t let them.”

Soon they absent power. The lights went out. Bashar spent the afternoon abandoned in his study, belief abhorrent options while his daughters played, all of them aggregate calm in the dark.

So this was war. Finally, afterwards their burghal had remained peaceful two years into their country’s conflict, Raqqa began to acquaintance what its citizens had heard so abundant about. Living beneath a absolutism had been one thing. They’d connected ago abstruse how and aback to allocate the all-important bribes, how to accumulate their air-conditioned in a country area cronyism was adored and adamantine assignment generally ignored. Bashar had fabricated himself a adept of never adage the amiss thing, never aggravating the amiss person, befitting his complaints to himself. This was how he’d thrived in the country his brother Riyad had larboard behind.

Surviving a war, though, presented an altogether altered challenge. For so long, the war had seemed a abroad thing, accession abandoned in the tales of the internally displaced, the men and women from Deir ez-Zor and Homs, who’d been expelled from their homes and abounding Raqqa’s abandoned buildings, bringing with them belief of neighborhoods flattened, innocent women gunned down, accouchement who’d witnessed horrors that would leave them consistently changed. And now with the actual aboriginal bombing, Raqqa would abide these horrors too.

Bashar arrested in with accompany and neighbors. Most were afraid, some beneath so, but all absurd that anon the administration would acknowledgment to accost Raqqa. While his brother Riyad hated Assad and thirsted for revolution, Bashar’s animosity were added complex. He’d been blessed with his activity in Raqqa, alive as an advocate and adopting his family, alike beneath absolute rule.

That night added explosions arrived, this time in the anatomy of Scud missiles, bombs shaped like massive acicular pencils, launched from the arena and ripping holes through the sky. Canicule passed, and the battery continued. Sometimes the ancestors knew to be ready. Conceivably administration soldiers had been murdered in adjacent cities, afflictive anger. Or conceivably rebels had been inching their way against a administration stronghold, cartoon rebuke. Or maybe addition had apprenticed through the arid and apparent a Scud launcher acicular at their city. Phones rang. Men ran from home to home, shouting warnings: Take cover. Now.

They would blitz beyond the street, area their accessory had a basement that could be acclimated as a bomb shelter. They went time and again, whenever they heard the hum of an aeroplane overhead, until, afterwards two days, they absitively the apartment wasn’t account the hassle. Abide abundant bombs, run afraid abundant times, and eventually the agitation itself becomes exhausting. Sure, they could run. Or they could stay. But afterlife could acquisition them anywhere. It was amazing how bound alarm angry into resignation. In their homes, in their shelters, or in between—it didn’t amount area they were. As connected as their burghal remained beneath attack, any day acquainted like the day they could die.

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Bashar told himself the burghal would settle. Probably. Eventually. The administration would prevail, and he would aces up his old activity again, as an attorney. He would accomplishment the exams he’d been demography to adapt for judgeship, ascendance assuredly to the bench. If the administration didn’t succeed, though, afresh the new occupiers would acceptable anatomy new courts. And the way things were going, it looked like those courts ability be congenital absolutely about sharia law. Attorneys accomplished in Syria’s civil arrangement would be beheld as threats. It didn’t amount that Bashar was a adherent Muslim, that he spent his Thursdays in adherent brainwork aloof to adapt for his Friday prayers, that he’d lived a activity so pious that accompany generally teased him, nicknaming him “Sheikh.” None of that would amuse the fanatics, he knew. Nothing would. So for at atomic a time, he would accept to accord up his acknowledged practice. Canicule ago he’d been advancing to become a judge. Now he wasn’t alike an attorney. He had added identities, though. He was still a ancestor and a husband. He was still breathing. This was still a life.

And yet he had to accede that he ability be wrong. This activity ability abound untenable. If it did, he’d accept a few options. They could abscond for a administration stronghold. Conceivably Latakia, the Alawite-dominated burghal on the Mediterranean coast. Or maybe alike to Damascus, a burghal that had bugged him anytime aback he’d lived there while confined in the army decades ago. As a aftermost resort, conceivably they’d accept to abscond the country. He couldn’t brainstorm this, acquainted abashed to alike accede the possibility. Leaving Syria’s borders would beggarly giving up on a approaching for his homeland. But his brother Kasem had carved out a activity for himself in the Gulf, and Keith had activate assurance and aegis in Sweden. And afresh there was Riyad, all the way in America. He knew his earlier brother capital to accompany the accomplished ancestors beyond the Atlantic. He capital Bashar to assignment in his restaurant, Jenan and Wajid to abstraction in American schools.

Bashar could brainstorm this, sure. But for now they would stay. They would wait. They would adumbrate during bombings, and he would authority his daughters aback the missiles flew. This was their home. No government or insubordinate army could bisect the Alkasem family’s affiliation to this land.

It was accepting backward in the day. Dinnertime approached. Sometime afterwards that, he absurd one or two added bombings would come. He had been sitting in his den—his all-inclusive accumulating of books had consistently been his ambush for analytical thinking, actuality transported by stories, or artlessly biconcave into the adorableness of words. Now he stared at the words but did not apprehend them. Instead, he took a moment to allow his own agitation while assuming to read. His daughters would never apperceive the difference. But anon he smelled his mother’s affable and rose to acquisition out what she’d made.

On his way to the kitchen, he heard a beating at the door. He fabricated a move to acknowledgment but saw that his little sister had baffled him to it, scurrying out the capital aperture and into the courtyard, all the way up to the gate. Anon he heard a squeal, and for the aboriginal time in canicule it was a complete not of alarm but delight. Bashar poked his arch out the door, and afresh he saw him. Riyad.

This allotment has been agilely edited to fit the extract format.

From the book The Road From Raqqa: A Adventure of Brotherhood, Borders, and Belonging by Jordan Ritter Conn. Copyright © 2020 by Jordan Ritter Conn. Published by Ballantine Books, an banner of Random House, a analysis of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.

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The eBay addiction starts small. One night you’re affairs $3 buck-boost converters and bargain Chinese USB ability packs. The abutting affair you apperceive you’re spending bags on asleep instruments with no documentation. You’ve got the skills though, and if your bet that you can analyze and adjustment a 14 GHz real-time spectrum analyzer is right, you’ll be putting a arrant apparatus on the bank for a atom of the aboriginal $50,000 it cost.

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Même une fois que tous ceux qui portaient la vie avaient accès à une bonne éducation, à des capacités de haute technologie et à un ordinateur complet, cela ferait vraiment quelque chose de bien, si tout le monde tenait à lutter pour les mêmes emplois. Autrefois, cette méthode était celle des contremaîtres d’usine qui emmenaient souvent les bébés dans les rues et enseignaient en outre ce genre d’art. En retour, les enfants étaient à l'intérieur pour se marier, fournir des enfants, décider d'acheter une maison et améliorer leurs enfants. aller dans l'ordre au collège. Sans compter qu'un seul petit ami devait réussir à travailler. Certains d'entre nous devraient tolérer en mémoire que tous les membres du personnel américain étaient dans un cadre publicitaire puissant et fantastique qui a valu à Complete War un couple. Obtenez comment l'idée? Avant de réécrire vos jantes pour créer la page Facebook proprement dite, pour créer un compte Twittollower, pour transmettre via la dernière chaîne YouTube ou utiliser un autre moyen que celui-ci, il apparaît de plus en plus sur la scène spécifique de l'avenir, vous devez conserver un comprendre ce à quoi toute personne ou toute entreprise pense se rendre. Définissez vos attentes lorsque vous êtes en face de vous pour la plongée. Impôt saisonnier # 3: Les IRA peuvent couvrir certains frais, tels que le remboursement des dettes payées en même temps à une institution collégiale qualifiée, des tarifs d'assurance maladie ou une retraite anticipée ponctuelle, MAIS, tout le monde a qui peut gérer ces retraits spécifiquement à droite ou peut-être un vous serez particulièrement choqué à cause des impôts. Scannez avec le spécialiste en déclarations et / ou le conseiller en revenu. Donc, sans action, ce n'est pas vraiment une des méthodes exactes qu'il est possible d'entendre ou d'apprendre en se référant à n'importe où. Il est préférable de jeter un coup d'œil et de ne pas s'entraîner sans cesse avec plus de méthodes dignes de confiance, puis, dernier mais non des moindres, obtenir une application correcte, vous serez en mesure d'essayer de considérer le «point de vente de l'oie d'or». Il viendrait équipé avec patience et même un travail difficile. Le Golden Goose Superstar Homme Pas Cher roblème est donc que la majorité des victimes croient généralement que nombre de personnes portant ce problème sont: «puis-je entrer dans un ménage en dé Golden Goose Pas Cher arrant mon entreprise en particulier, utiliser Internet». Eh bien, cet article de valeur va donner des idées sur cette vérité quand il est fourni pour créer une entrée de conseils Internet pour la maison, en plus de la façon dont ils peuvent réussir avec cet outil. OPM vous fait toujours gagner du temps; cela vous permettra d’obtenir des choses juste avant de devenir autrement capables d’en faire. Cela vous permet de participer à des opportunités que vous êtes le propriétaire de ressources que personne ne pourra faire. Cela vous encourage à faire des choix que vous ne pourriez pas souvent faire. Le jeu demande à ces personnes moyennes plusieurs années, la plupart du temps, d’accumuler beaucoup ou de créer un problème commercial tout à fait contre leurs ressources. De l’utilisation de chaque pouvoir de l’argent d’une autre personne, la plupart des gens peuvent accélérer la construction de leur propre richesse ou notre propre croissance d’un professionnel. Il est important de noter que votre propre bâtiment d’influence personnelle n’est pas limité dans le temps à ce que vous avez réellement pu économiser et investir grâce à vos revenus. J'imagine que Bill a particulièrement eu une conversation avec moi alors que vous considérez qu'il saisit que le partenaire travaille loin de chez lui dans le monde des affaires de sites Web. Cependant, je n’annonce pas que j’ai définitivement ma propre entreprise, c’est-à-dire que j’ai terminé la rédaction de textes professionnels indépendants du confort de ma vie pour un autre couple au cours des années à venir, car nous connaissons assez bien le type d’opportunités offertes comme là-bas pour recevoir des personnes cherchant à utiliser le world wide web pour faire le travail de la maison.

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Literature on Liberalism

Liberalism has been presented as being identical to conservatism, yet more reactionary, like a mask for exploitation. Furthermore, there has been a lot of confusion as to what liberalism truly is. To help you navigate thru the values I believe are the base for more freedom, wealth and happiness in our society, I compiled this list with the classic literature that created the classic Liberalism.

Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679)

Main work: “Leviathan”, 1651 Known for: Among the earliest of a handful of writers to set out principles for liberalism. Because the natural state of man is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short,” liberty for an individual is tied to the power of a sovereign, administering through laws, within a commonwealth. His detailed construction became the foundation for numerous other works examining the proper role and structure of government.

John Locke (1632-1704)

Main works: “A Letter Concerning Toleration”, 1689, and “The Second Treatise of Government”, 1689 Known for: Expanded on Hobbes to provide the architecture for a modern liberal state. In “A Letter” Locke argues, contrary to Hobbes, for the state to tolerate different religious beliefs. In his “Second Treatise”, he echoes Hobbes’s view of the need for strong government, writing: “where there is no law, there is no freedom”. But, rather than endorse Hobbes’s all-powerful Leviathan, Locke thought that the system should separate those who make laws from those who execute them.

Charles de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu (1689-1755)

Main work: “The Spirit of the Laws”, 1748  Known for: Montesquieu devised the tripartite structure of government adopted by America. His monumental work provides guidance on how governments should be structured “by fallible human beings” to serve “the people for whom they are framed” with the most liberty that would be feasible. To accomplish this requires limits: “Liberty is a right of doing whatever the laws permit, and if a citizen could do what they forbid he would no longer be possessed of liberty.”

Thomas Paine (1737-1809)

Main work: “Common Sense”, 1776 Known for: In just a few dozen pages of argument, Paine creates the intellectual catalyst for the American Revolution. The work received immediate, widespread circulation in America and then in other countries. “Government,” Paine argues, “is a necessary evil”, inevitably restricting liberty. He attacked both hereditary rule and monarchy, proposing instead a government of elected representatives and a limited, rotating presidency.

Adam Smith (1723-1790)

Main work: “The Wealth of Nations”, 1776 Known for: Smith laid the intellectual foundation of modern economics, markets and free trade. His assertion that an “invisible hand” is at the heart of the market is among the most cited phrases in economics. But he also explored the division of labour, the benefits of trade, the mobility of capital, the rigging of markets by businesses and government, and public goods (notably universal education).

Olympe de Gouges (1748-1793)

Main Work: “Declaration of the Rights of Woman and the Female Citizen”, 1791 Known for: Gouges is often heralded as a founder of modern feminism. Her “Declaration” is a response to “The Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen”, drafted by the Marquis de Lafayette, Thomas Jefferson, and Honoré Mirabeau, which did not extend the natural rights of the citizen to women as well as men. Gouges was a prolific defender of free speech, women’s rights and political dialogue, as well as an abolitionist and pacifist. She was executed by guillotine for her support of constitutional monarchy at the beginning of Maximilien Robespierre’s “reign of terror” in 1793.

Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-1797)

Main Work: “A Vindication of the Rights of Woman”, 1792 Known for: Wollstonecraft’s treatise is considered by many to be the first feminist manifesto. Others grapple over whether her writings, which critique excessive emotion and female sexuality, are indeed feminist. “A Vindication” contains endless references to the paragon of rational thought, and a vehement defence of the importance of equal educational opportunities for men and women.

John Stuart Mill (1806-1873)

Main Work: “On Liberty”, 1859 Known for: Mill has become a reference point for liberalism. “On Liberty” is a defence of individual freedom with a caveat: “The only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others.” Mill views even a society under representative government to threaten liberty, notably, in a term he popularised, the “tyranny of the majority”. 

James Wilson (1805-1860)

Known for: Founding The Economist Magazine Our name originally included the phrase: “Free Trade Journal”. The Economist was an impassioned defender of laissez-faire while Wilson was editor, from 1843-59. In 1849 we wrote: “all the great branches of human industry are found replete with order, which, growing from the selfish exertions of individuals, pervades the whole. Experience has proved that this order is invariably deranged when it is forcibly interfered with by the state.”

Thomas Hodgskin (1787-1869)

Main work: “Labour Defended against the Claims of Capital”, 1825  Known for: One of Wilson’s deputies, Hodgskin had a far-ranging suspicion of intervention. “All law making,” he wrote, “except gradually and quietly to repeal all existing laws, is arrant humbug.” He argued that property rights are antithetical to individual liberty. Writing about capital, he said, “the weight of its chains are felt, though the hand may not yet be clearly seen which imposes them.” The book was praised as “admirable” by none other than Karl Marx—who used the chains metaphor rather more memorably in the “Communist Manifesto”.

Herbert Spencer (1820-1903)

Main work: “The Man verses the State”,1884 Known for: A lowly editor in the early years of The Economist, Spencer went on to become an intellectual rival of Marx. He is perhaps best known for coining the phrase "survival of the fittest." An influential thinker in many fields, Spencer writes: "The degree of [man’s] slavery varies according to the ratio between that which he is forced to yield up and that which he is allowed to retain; and it matters not whether his master is a single person or society."

Baruch (Benedict) de Spinoza (1632-1677)

Main political work: “Theological-Political Treatise”, 1670 Known for: A polymath beloved today but often reviled in his own time, Spinoza earned his living grinding lenses and his fame by changing how people saw the world. While accepting the existence of an absolute sovereign, he argued that freedom of thought, speech and academic inquiry should not only be permitted by the state, but were essential for its survival.

Alexis de Tocqueville (1805-1859)

Main work: “Democracy in America”, 1835 Known for: His study of America remains at the heart of ongoing debates over questions with vast importance, including how to ensure democracy and individual liberty coexist. His conclusion was that America’s success stemmed from devolving responsibility to the most local of all organisations, often voluntary, an approach now threatened by the centralisation of resources and authority in Washington, DC. See our briefing for more on the gloomiest of the great liberals.

Frédéric Bastiat (1801-1850)

Main work: “The Law”, 1850 Known for: “Everyone wants to live at the expense of the state,” Bastiat wrote. “They forget that the state lives at the expense of everyone.” He was an incisive debunker of flawed reasoning in support of government policies that come at the cost of individual freedom. His definition of “legal plunder” (if the law takes from one to give to another) remains a living sentiment for those who resist state expansion, as does his definition of what comprises good economic policy: it must be judged on not only what would be produced but what would be lost—the innovations and activities that do not occur.

Harriet Taylor Mill (1807-1858)

Main work: “The Enfranchisement of Women”, 1851 Known for: Though little was published under Taylor Mill’s own name, her second husband, John Stuart Mill, readily admitted the influence she had on him and his work. They were an intellectual duo to be reckoned with. Taylor Mill wrote anonymously or under a pseudonym on the nature of marriage, sex and domestic violence. She was a fierce advocate of women’s suffrage, writing along with her husband, “It is neither necessary nor just to make imperative on women, that they shall be either mothers or nothing.”

Salvador de Madariaga y Rojo (1886-1978)

Main work: A principal author of the Oxford Manifesto, 1947 Known for: Madariaga led a group of representatives from 19 countries in drawing up a charter laying out the fundamental principles of liberalism, as they defined it: a commitment to individual liberty, economic freedom, the free exchange of ideas and international coalition-building. Madariaga and his contemporaries worried that the death and destruction of the world wars were caused largely by the abandonment of these ideals. But he believed equality and liberty did not necessarily go hand in hard, writing in 1937 that “inequality is the inevitable consequence of liberty,” which may explain why “security” and “opportunity” were written into the manifesto as “fundamental rights”. 

Immanuel Kant (1724-1804)

Main works: “Critique of Pure Reason”, 1781; “Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Sketch”, 1795 Known for: Kant favoured republican governments over majoritarian ones. He worried that rule by majority could undermine the freedom of individuals, and called direct democracy a kind of “despotism” of the masses. He argued that lasting international peace could only be realised through a “political community” of countries committed to what came to be known as “Rechtsstaat”, or the constitutional state. Kant’s faith in the supremacy of law and the social contract seems to be derived from his thinking on moral philosophy. Kant says that free will requires individuals to “self-legislate”, or police themselves, so that they act morally. If we scale up that idea, then having political freedom means entire societies must do the same, preferably—if it were up to Kant—with a constitution.

Harriet Martineau (1802-1876)

Main works: “Illustrations of Political Economy”, 1832-1834; “Society in America”, 1837 Known for: Half-way between a novel and a political treatise, Martineau’s “Illustrations” argued that economics was the least understood science and the one most integral to the wellbeing of society. Initially a non-interventionist, Martineau came to believe that governments should intervene in the interest of curbing inequality—unsurprising conclusions if one considers her reputation as a feminist and abolitionist. Like Tocqueville, she made one of the first sociological studies of America.

John Maynard Keynes (1883-1946)

Main political work: “The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money”, 1936 Known for: The father of the economic theory that bears his name, Keynes belonged to a new breed of 20th-century liberal that believed in accomplishing collectively what could not be achieved individually. In his “General Theory”, Keynes lays the case for heavily guided capitalism and comprehensive economic planning by government. In a turn away from laissez-faire liberalism, Keynesianism became a central organising principle of developed economies following the Great Depression.

Ayn Rand (1905-1982)

Main works: “The Fountainhead”, 1943; “Atlas Shrugged”, 1957 Known for: Rand launched a brutal attack on the morality of a Western liberalism that criticises self-interest. “Atlas Shrugged”, a political screed presented as a romance, remains a staple of best-seller lists and perhaps the single most influential clarion call for anti-state individualism. Her uncharitable view of human frailty and the trials imposed by the unfairness of life makes her an incendiary figure on the left. But echoes of her writing are heard in the endless political obfuscation about causes and solutions. Her thesis, that a cynical pursuit of altruism undermines self-esteem, innovation, evolution and broad prosperity, resonates as—or perhaps because—public support for socialism grows.

Friedrich Hayek (1899-1992)

Main works: “The Road to Serfdom”, 1944; “The Fatal Conceit: The Errors of Socialism”, 1988; “The Constitution of Liberty”, 1960 Known for: Hayek was the person most cited by readers after the publication of our initial bibliography. This reflects how powerfully he continues to resonate in the political debate about government. Hayek was not an absolute libertarian, and he allowed for government to provide some assistance, but he remains a controversial figure on the left because of how marginal those concessions were. He argued that the expanded presence of the state created a corrosive force that ended in the loss of individual freedom and prosperity. The strongest antipathy to his views, however, may be found among his fellow economists, because he argued that information was too scattered for either a state or an individual to make realistic assumptions or centralised plans. Read more about Hayek in our series on great liberal thinkers

Isaiah Berlin (1909-1997)

Main political work: Two Concepts of Liberty, 1958 Known for: Berlin defined a crucial faultline in liberal thinking when it came to individual freedom. He recognised that the gulf between “positive” and “negative” liberty would lead to divergent definitions of liberalism—and indeed it has. Negative liberty is best defined as freedom not to be interfered with. Positive liberty empowers individuals to live fulfilling lives, even if that requires interference from government; for example, in the form of education provided by the state. But positive liberty is ripe for exploitation, Berlin reasoned, and may allow government to force its goals upon citizens in the name of freedom—enabling totalitarianism. 

John Rawls (1921-2002)

Main work: A Theory of Justice, 1971 Known for: One of the most influential political philosophers of the 20th century, Rawls used a thought experiment, “the veil of ignorance”, to make the case for a philosophy he dubbed “justice as fairness”. If you were dreaming up an ideal society, Rawls argued, but didn’t know what lot you would be dealt, it would be in everyone’s self-interest to ensure equality of opportunity and shared wealth. Today, the veil of ignorance is commonly used to argue for more redistribution, but Rawls noted an important caveat: that inequality in distribution was permissible if it benefited the least well off in society. That sentiment would be shared by many who resist the growth of redistributive policies that undermine economic vitality, and hence the opportunities of the most vulnerable.

Robert Nozick (1938-2002)

Main work: “Anarchy, State and Utopia”, 1974 Known for: Though they are both considered liberals, Nozick was the anti-Rawls. He found much to dislike in Rawls’s theory of redistributive justice, arguing that people owned their talents. Successes belonged only to the individuals to whom they were attributed, not to society writ large. Nozick’s small-government liberalism was echoed in the policies of Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan in the 1980s. Liberty, Nozick said, disrupts patterns. Justice cannot demand some preferred distribution of wealth. Read more on Berlin, Rawls and Nozick in our series of philosophy briefs.

Judith Shklar (1928-1992)

Main work: The Liberalism of Fear, 1989 Known for: Shklar viewed limited, democratic government as a necessary defence that shields people, especially the poor and weak, from the abuses of the state and its agents—such as the armed forces and the police. She saw freedom from cruelty and the division of powers as the twin pillars of her “liberalism of fear”. In her attempts to define this slippery ideology, she argued that a “liberal era” that truly upheld the notion of equal rights did not really exist in America until after the civil war. Liberalism, Shklar wrote, “was powerful in the United States only if black people are not counted as members of its society.” As a rebuke to critics who called her theory reductionist, Shklar asked why, in discussions of political philosophy, emotions must always play second fiddle to “causes”.

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Three Writing Rules to Disregard

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Three Writing Rules to Disregard

I have nothing against rules. They’re indispensable when playing Monopoly or gin rummy, and their observance can go a long way toward improving a ride on the subway. The rule of law? Big fan.

The English language, though, is not so easily ruled and regulated. It developed without codification, sucking up new constructions and vocabulary every time some foreigner set foot on the British Isles—­to say nothing of the mischief we Americans have wreaked on it these last few centuries—­and continues to evolve anarchically. It has, to my great dismay, no enforceable laws, much less someone to enforce the laws it doesn’t have.

Certain prose rules are essentially inarguable—­that a sentence’s subject and its verb should agree in number, for instance. Or that in a “not only x but y” construction, the x and the y must be parallel elements. Why? I suppose because they’re firmly entrenched, because no one cares to argue with them, and because they aid us in using our words to their preeminent purpose: to communicate clearly with our readers. Let’s call these reasons the Four C’s, shall we? Convention. Consensus. Clarity. Comprehension.

Also simply because, I swear to you, a well-­constructed sentence sounds better. Literally sounds better. One of the best ways to determine whether your prose is well ­constructed is to read it aloud. A sentence that can’t be readily voiced is a sentence that likely needs to be rewritten.

A good sentence, I find myself saying frequently, is one that the reader can follow from beginning to end, no matter how long it is, without having to double back in confusion because the writer misused or omitted a key piece of punctuation, chose a vague or misleading pronoun, or in some other way engaged in inadvertent misdirection. (If you want to puzzle your reader, that’s your own business.)

As much as I like a good rule, I’m an enthusiastic subscriber to the notion of “rules are meant to be broken”—­once you’ve learned them, I hasten to add.

But let’s, right now, attend to a few of what I think of as the Great Nonrules of the English Language. You’ve encountered all of these; likely you were taught them in school. I’d like you to free yourself of them. They’re not helping you; all they’re doing is clogging your brain and inciting you to look self-­consciously over your own shoulder as you write, which is as psychically painful as it is physically impossible. And once you’ve done that, once you’ve gotten rid of them, hopefully you can put your attention on vastly more important things. 

Why are they nonrules? So far as I’m concerned, because they’re largely unhelpful, pointlessly constricting, feckless, and useless. Also because they’re generally of dubious origin: devised out of thin air, then passed on till they’ve gained respectable solidity and, ultimately, have ossified. Language experts far more expert than I have, over the years, done their best to debunk them, yet these made-­up strictures refuse to go away and have proven more durable than Keith Richards and Mick Jagger. Put together. Part of the problem, I must add, is that some of them were made up by ostensible and presumably well-­meaning language experts in the first place, so getting rid of them can be a bit like trying to get a dog to stop chasing its own tail.

I’ll dispatch these reasonably succinctly, with the hope that you’ll trust that I’ve done my homework and will be happy to see them go. I’m mindful of Gertrude Stein’s characterization of Ezra Pound as “a village explainer, excellent if you were a village, but if you were not, not,” and no one wants to be that guy. Also, if you persist in insisting that these nonrules are real and valid and to be hewed to, all the expert citations in the world won’t, I know through experience, change your mind one tiny little bit.

An admission: Quite a lot of what I do as a copy editor is to help writers avoid being carped at, fairly or—­and this is the part that hurts—­unfairly, by People Who Think They Know Better and Write Aggrieved Emails to Publishing Houses. Thus I tend to be a bit conservative about flouting rules that may be a bit dubious in their origin but, observed, ain’t hurting nobody. And though the nonrules below are particularly arrant nonsense, I warn you that, in breaking them, you’ll have a certain percentage of the reading and online-­commenting populace up your fundament to tell you you’re subliterate. Go ahead and break them anyway. It’s fun, and I’ll back you up.

1. Never Begin a Sentence with “And” or “But.”

No, do begin a sentence with “And” or “But,” if it strikes your fancy to do so. Great writers do it all the time. As do even not necessarily great writers, like the person who has, so far in this essay, done it a few times and intends to do it a lot more.

But soft, as they used to say, here comes a caveat:

An “And” or a “But” (or a “For” or an “Or” or a “However” or a “Because,” to cite four other sentence starters one is often warned against) is not always the strongest beginning for a sentence, and making a relentless habit of using any of them palls quickly. You may find that you don’t need that “And” at all. You may find that your “And” or “But” sentence might easily attach to its predecessor sentence with either a comma or a semicolon. Take a good look, and give it a good think.

Let’s test an example or two.

Francie, of course, became an outsider shunned by all because of her stench. But she had become accustomed to being lonely.

Francie, of course, became an outsider shunned by all because of her stench, but she had become accustomed to being lonely.

Which do you think Betty Smith, the author of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, chose? The former, as it happens. Had I been Smith’s copy editor, I might well have suggested the second, to make one coherent, connected thought out of two unnecessarily separated ones. Perhaps she’d have agreed, or perhaps she’d have preferred the text as she’d written it, hearing it in her head as a solemn knell. Authors do often prefer their text the way they’ve written it.

Here’s another, in two flavors:

In the hospital he should be safe, for Major Callendar would protect him, but the Major had not come, and now things were worse than ever.

In the hospital he should be safe, for Major Callendar would protect him. But the Major had not come, and now things were worse than ever.

This is E. M. Forster, in A Passage to India, and I suspect you’ll not be surprised to learn that version 2 is his. For one thing, version 1’s a bit long. More important, version 2, with that definitive period, more effectively conveys, I’d say, the sense of dashed expectations, the reversal of fortune.

These are the choices that writers make, and that copy editors observe, and this is how you build a book.

One thing to add: Writers who are not so adept at linking their sentences habitually toss in a “But” or a “However” to create the illusion that a second thought contradicts a first thought when it doesn’t do any such thing. It doesn’t work, and I’m on to you.

2. Never Split an Infinitive.

To cite the most famous split infinitive of our era—­and everyone cites this bit from the original Star Trek TV series, so zero points to me for originality—­“To boldly go where no man has gone before.”

There’s much more—­much more—­one could say on the subject, but I don’t want to write about the nineteenth-­century textual critic Henry Alford any more than you want to read about the nineteenth-­century textual critic Henry Alford, so let’s leave it at this: A split infinitive, as we generally understand the term, is a “to [verb]” construction with an adverb stuck in the middle of it. In the Star Trek example, then, an unsplit infinitive version would be “Boldly to go where no man has gone before” or “To go boldly where no man has gone before.” If either of those sounds better to you, be my guest. To me they sound as if they were translated from the Vulcan.

Otherwise, let’s skip right to Raymond Chandler. Again, as with the Star Trek phrase, everyone loves to cite Chandler on this subject, but it’s for a God damn [sic] good reason. Chandler sent this note to the editor of The Atlantic Monthly in response to the copyediting of an article he’d written:

By the way, would you convey my compliments to the purist who reads your proofs and tell him or her that I write in a sort of broken-­down patois which is something like the way a Swiss waiter talks, and that when I split an infinitive, God damn it, I split it so it will stay split.

Over and out.

3. Never End a Sentence with a Preposition.

This is the rule that invariably (and wearily) leads to a rehash of the celebrated remark by Winston Churchill that Winston Churchill, in reality, neither said nor wrote:

“This is the kind of arrant pedantry up with which I will not put.”

Let me say this about this: Ending a sentence with a preposition (as, at, by, for, from, of, etc.) isn’t always such a hot idea, mostly because a sentence should, when it can, aim for a powerful finale and not simply dribble off like an old man’s unhappy micturition. A sentence that meanders its way to a prepositional finish is often, I find, weaker than it ought to or could be.

What did you do that for?

Why did you do that?

has some snap to it.

But to tie a sentence into a strangling knot to avoid a prepositional conclusion is unhelpful and unnatural, and it’s something no good writer should attempt and no eager reader should have to contend with.

If you follow me.

Benjamin Dreyer is vice president, executive managing editor, and copy chief of Random House. He began his publishing career as a freelance proofreader and copyeditor. In 1993, he became a production editor at Random House, overseeing books by writers including Michael Chabon, Edmund Morris, Suzan-Lori Parks, Michael Pollan, Peter Straub, and Calvin Trillin. He has copyedited books by authors including E. L. Doctorow, David Ebershoff, Frank Rich, and Elizabeth Strout, as well as Let Me Tell You, a volume of previously uncollected work by Shirley Jackson. A graduate of Northwestern University, he lives in New York City.

Excerpted with permission from the new book Dreyer’s English: An Utterly Correct Guide to Clarity and Style, by Benjamin Dreyer. Published by Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York. Copyright © 2019 by Benjamin Dreyer. All rights reserved.

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Three Writing Rules to Disregard