#Bulgarian rock

[leatherjacketblesseddreams]

Наоколо умират птиците, ела ги съживи.

[ragingmusclesexual]

Fucking OBSESSED with CANNONBALL PECS AND HARD NIPS IN A TIGHT SHIRT. Hard. Massive. Huge.

[bulgara]

Pirin // Muratov Peak // Balkan // Bulgaria

[unaturalhistory]

My albums selection for the next cold week:

Utarm – Concrete God Of The Scorched Earth

Golem mecanique - Moloch

Six Dead Bulgarians - The Fracture

Various – Musica Venenæ Industrial Culture Music Volume 1

Post Scriptvm – Marginal Existence

Nurse With Wound – Salt Marie Celeste

Edward Ka-Spel – Khataclimici China Doll

Melophobia - holy bank

Lustmord - The Word As Power

Virgin Prunes – Hérésie

[versinalia]

"Тъмната вълна" by Bulgarian band На червено, off their 2009 album Тъмната вълна

Bandcamp

[13reasonstoeatthatcake]

@folkadot discuss and defend, degenerate

FOOD DISCOURSE: reblog with ur opinions on guacamole, olives, mango, hummus, tomatoes, and cannolis

[archaeologyinbulgaria]

Special Jubilee Exhibition Extended Due to Huge Interest in Startling Finds from 20 Years of Digs at Provadiya-Solnitsata Prehistoric Settlement – Europe’s Oldest Town

A poster for The Lords of Salt exhibition dedicated to the 20th anniversary of the archaeological excavations of the Provadiya-Solnitsata Settlement Mound in Northeast Bulgaria. Poster by the National Institute and Museum of Archaeology of the Bulgarian Academy of Sciences The special jubilee exhibition entitled “The Lords of Salt,” which was opened in June 2024 in Sofia, has just been extended…

[masterofhighschool]

You could say I visited my first ever gig yesterday :33

[heritage-harmony-records]

RELEASE ANNOUNCEMENT!!!

I am extremely happy to announce that Bulgarian progressive instrumental stoner / psychedelic / alternative rock act Oddplay have now made their first four albums available on Heritage Harmony Records along with their most recent album Inherited.

Each of these releases is an epic offering of instrumental rock, creating stunning and powerful sonic landscapes that truly immerse the listener. If you are looking for something to play while getting some work done, cooking or driving, then this is an excellent choice, however if you sit down and actually focus on the music you will realise just how much complexity is on display.

Listen to and order the albums at the links below or on the HHR Bandcamp (link in bio).

All sale proceeds go directly to the artist as always with HHR.

Bluff (2021):

Soundscape (2020):

Urban Shades (2020):

Wonderland (2020):

[mask131]

If you want to have a folk-authentic vampire... (2)

Here's more elements taken from various folklores, legends and historical "cases"! Another melting-pot...

Other conditions and events that predisposed one into becoming a vampire: being a "criminal" (by this understand - prostitutes, thief or pyromaniacs) ; a child dead before being baptized (overlaps with stillborn infant) ; to be born on a holiday day ; those born with a placenta colored red ; the "unbelievers" (by the Christian sense - in typical Christian xenophobia of old, Jews, Muslims and atheists were all considered "doomed" by default) ; those born with a tail (you know, when there's a sort of tail-leftover out of genetic defect) ; children who stopped being breast-fed THEN were breast-fed again ; people born on a Saturday or Sunday, and "bastards of the third generation", understan the illegitimate son of an illegitimate son of an illegitimate son.

Those who, after dying, had a cat, a bird, an "ugly/dirty" creature or even the shadow of one of those beasts passing over their corpse, are likely to turn into a vampire. There's also a strange legend about how homosexuals could turn into vampires - mixed with somehow how they also changed their gender every month due to their unnatural desires?

In Bulgarian folklore, a vampire starts out as a shadow. It is commonly thought that when someone who dies cannot access to the afterlife for one reason or another, their soul lingers on earth, wandering under the shape of a shadow. If they are not set free after forty days, they become a vampire as the shadow gains a skin and a sanguine system with blood (but the vampire lacks both flesh and bones). The vampire will then start drinking the blood of cattle, more rarely attack humans, and mainly visit their next of kin to frighten them regularly.

Remember when I said in Romanian folklore vampires had a short, furry tail? Well, while sometimes it is found by their back, like a regular tail, other times it is under thir left armpit.

While usually in vampire legends the undead leaves its grave every night and returns before the rooster's song, in some local variations the vampire only gets out of its tomb every Saturday, or during specific times of the year (for example they are sometimes said to get out of their grave on the eve of Saint Andrew' Day).

Vampires sometimes were said to wait for their victims by crossroads, attacking passerbies, wanderers and night-travellers ; usually they were dressed or wrapped in their own shroud.

Vampires were, as I said early on, confused with werewolves, and with the "nightmare beings" (night hags). But the vampire myth also overlaped with the witch myth. Witches and warlocks were said to become vampires after dying ; in some countries the local word for vampire has etymological roots with the denomination of witches ; and generally all the disasters caused by vampires were also commonly attributed to witches. Like them, they caused plagues and storms. Like them they caused sterility and famine by stealing the life-force of cattle and of plants growing in fields. Vampires were also said to steal milk, just like witches did: it was said they took the shape of cats to drink milk out of cow's udders, and once the milk ran out they tarted drinking the beat's blood. In Bulgaria, when priests distributed garlic on Easter mass, those that refused were considered to be either vampires or witches.

Some vampire variations in the Balkans/Silesia were said to each night go at the top of the bell-tower of the village and ring the bell: all those that heard the sound were doomed to die.

Other "local recipes" to prevent someone from becoming a vampire, or blocking an active vampire: piling up rocks on the grave, tie with ropes the hands or feet, to cut off the Achilles' tendon, or to place thorns under the corpse's tongue (it apparently prevents the vampire from sucking blood). Near the Aegean Sea is was a custom to place corpses suspected to be a vampire on a lonely rock by the sea - for vampires were said there to be unable to cross salted water (a belief which ties in with more common beliefs of inland Europe about vampires being repelled by salt, or unable to cross running water).

In Greek folktales, it was said one could only trust a vampire's word if they swore by their shroud.

In Bulgaria, men born on Sunday were said to have the power to identify and kill vampires - usually by stabbing them or shooting them until the undead lost all of its blood.

[quinacridonered]

Rings of Power Recap - Season 2, Episode 2

Durin Jr.: I miss fancy food.

Disa: At least we are not eating rocks.

Earth: *quakes*

Crop Illumination System: *dies*

Durin Jr.: We are now.

--

Elf Principal: Commander Galadriel?

Galadriel: Huh? 

Elf Principal: You wouldn’t be tripping balls in the middle of a military strategy meeting, would you, Commander?

Galadriel: I was but it won’t stop me from rendering an opinion. 

Elf Principal: What did you see?

Galadriel: Sauron eating Celebrimbor for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And a series of mid-day snacks.

Elf Principal: Nah. Eregion security is the stuff of legend.

Galadriel: So is Celebrimbor’s insecurity.

Elf Principal: Should have invited him to the Rings launch party.

--

Celebrimbor: Wash-resistant human?

Assistant: Still here.

Celebrimbor: Party invitations from Lindon?

Assistant: Not here.

Celebrimbor: Surely ’tis but an oversight, but just in case I’m going to try and invent the telegraph.

Murdered Messengers from Lindon: You go, dude.

--

Bulgarian Folk Choir: We are here to indicate mysterious Eastern Otherness.

Probably Not Saruman: Consider it indicated. Any news?

Resurrected Acolyte: No. Homeless Wizard kicked my ass.

Probably Not Saruman: Perhaps I should unresurrect you.

Minion: Permission to slaughter his hobbit friends?

Probably Not Saruman: That would diminish their hostage value, but give it a whirl.

--

Dwarven Mountain Communication Choir: LAAAAAAA!

Mountain: Nope.

--

Galadriel: Come with us to check on Celebrimbor.

Elrond: You’re interrupting my occupational therapy.

Galadriel: Talk to me, friend.

Elrond: Considering your other friends, it is a moniker I no longer desire.

Elf Elder: Channel your rage by exerting control.

Galadriel: That sounds kind of Sauronian.

Elrond: Just to be contrary, I’ll go.

Elf Elder: Good call, but promise me you’ll try yoga and meditation.

--

Homeless Wizard: I found a stick. Should my name be Stick Man?

Minions: Come with us and we’ll sort it out.

Homeless Wizard: *swears in Quenya*

Minions: Wheeee!

Hobbits: Wheeee!

Homeless Wizard: Field notes. Swearing in Quenya raises a hurricane. Will try to swear in Sindarin going forward.

--

Celebrimbor: Please leave.

Sauron: I have ring intel.

Celebrimbor: Please stay.

Sauron: Eh. I gather I’m not wanted.

Celebrimbor: If you tell me about the rings, I’ll give you dinner.

Sauron: They worked.

Celebrimbor: Was there a party?

Sauron: Yes, but they didn’t invite you because nobody likes you except me.

Celebrimbor: My next move is to get drunk on ancient booze.

Sauron: Or you could make some rings for humans.

Celebrimbor: Don’t tell me what to make.

Sauron: Guess we’ll do this the hard way.

Forge: *bursts into flames*

Divine Light: *illuminates all*

Angelic Choir: Do we have to?

Sauron: Sing, bitches.

Angelic Choir: LAAAAAAA!

Sauron: Have you considered accepting me as your personal saviour?

Celebrimbor: Holy shit, you clean up well.

Sauron: How ‘bout them rings?

Celebrimbor: Sorry, did you say something?

Sauron: *snaps fingers*

Celebrimbor: Ah! Yes! Rings! Circular objects made of metal! 

Sauron: I better tone it down if I want his brain to work.

--

Letter to Dwarves: Lord Celebrimbor requests your presence.

Murdered Messengers from Lindon: Funny how that one went through.

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

Recap for Season 2, Episode 1

[easterneuropeancrafts]

"In 6430 , here passed away God's servant Anton in the month of October (...)"

"В 6430 година почина раб божий Антон през месец октомври (...)"

The oldest Cyrillic inscription in the world, found in the Krepcha Rock Monastery, Bulgaria. 921.

On 24 May, Bulgaria celebrates the day of the Cyrillic alphabet, education and culture.

Bulgarian National Radio

[bulgara]

Kaliakra Cape // Black Sea Coast // Bulgaria

[qwimblenorrisstan]

DriftWood | BO6 & Reader

Main Chapter 1: Hidden

Chapter Summary: After Sevati found you, hidden in a rustic abandoned town down the road from the house her, Adler, Marshall, Case, Felix and Woods are sharing, you convince her to take you in. You must stay hidden, as she isn’t sure how the rest of the squad would react to you.

Warnings: Blood, injury, lighter, mentions of hypothermia, homelessness, nothing too bad

Word Count: ~ 2.6k

A/N: it’s here!! this is a point click sort of adventure, where there are visuals provided from the in-game house and you can choose what to investigate and do, choices will impact your “ending” or may give you certain endings. I’m trying to keep this series where you don’t need to have played the game to read this, but there are Easter eggs for those who have played the game. the reader is gender neutral but described to be around 12, anywhere within that age range.

Read this! It explains the system of this story. You will be confused if you don’t read it.

Series Masterlist

Sevati Dumas was freezing her ass off and did not care a single bit.

Everyone else, except Woods obviously, got to go run around the desert in Iraq while she was stuck here with an insufferable old bastard and a tech genius lacking any social skills?

All because of Marshall’s idiotic reasoning she hardly understood anyway.

She lived for violence. The adrenaline rush through her veins as she fired bullets or took down a target, the thrill of the hunt, the prospect of revenge was all she was here for. And her paycheck of course.

But to be held back just by him?

It made a different kind of fury boil in her veins, threatening to spill out if she didn’t reign her tongue in or check herself back. Marshall had the weight of the world on his shoulders right now, and a petty argument wouldn’t help.

Her boots crunched in the snow as she practically stomped down the little path that had led from the house down, and she was planning to go as far as she could without getting hypothermia. Or maybe getting it just to spite Marshall and his “manly” concern.

It was late October already, the New Year approaching quickly and threatening to overtake them. Late October meant wintertime in Bulgaria, apparently, as snowflakes fell in thick clouds, the wind pushing them around as it whipped against her.

The cold bit harshly at her hands until she shoved them in her pockets, continuing her walk down the hill-like land despite her visibility harshly going down every minute that passed. There was a thin layer of ice underneath the snow, from where the first layer had been, before being melted and frozen yet again.

And surely enough, as she took yet another angry step forwards, her shoe didn’t dig into the ice enough to stop her leg from slipping forward, and her ass from harshly slamming against the ice before her disorderly descent down the land began.

Twigs tangled in her clothing from nearby ice-covered trees, her hitting a few tree stumps on her way down, not to mention the occasional sharp rock between the snow, until with a final quick roll her head was slammed into something very solid, the back of her head had a warm substance slowly covering it, and her vision went black.

~

You’d heard the thud even from a distance, trekking through the Bulgarian wilderness wasn’t the most comforting experience, so you’d assumed it was an animal and promptly hid behind a frosty log.

However, when you heard no other footsteps in at least 10 minutes, or what you had assumed was 10 minutes, you figured it was safe to go investigate. A quick trip out from the little abandoned town you’d been staying in led you to a large rock, and more interesting than that, a woman lying passed out on it.

At first, you’d thought that it must’ve been someone drunk or a lost hiker, as you didn’t know why anyone would be out here so late, and by themselves as well.

Other than yourself.

You grabbed a stick from the crunchy snow, giving her s few pokes with it, and seeing she wasn’t moving. Carefully approaching, you gave her another little shove, and her head fell from the rock, revealing her very much bleeding head.

You hadn’t exactly been trained in first aid, but you knew an injury to the back of the head definitely wasn’t good. And maybe out of the kindness of your heart or a desire for anyone else to talk to other than yourself, you grabbed her, hooking your arms under and around her armpits, and started pulling.

She wasn’t light by any means.

Digging the heels of your shoes into the ground, you yanked her over and over, until finally her body started sliding a bit easier in the snow, and you pulled her to the little town that wasn’t far away. It might’ve just been adrenaline alone helping you pull her at that point.

The wind whistled by, buildings groaning as they were hit by it, resisting despite their feeble walls. The house you’d been living out of was one of the few ones to not be a pile of rubble, even then you’d had to use leftover scraps from garage doors to cover openings so the wind didn’t blow in. It kept the wind out.

Mostly.

A little trail of blood coated the snow from where you’d dragged her, but some snow had melted on impact with the warmth of her body, leaving her wound a bit cleaner than before.

Her clothing was torn in a few places, whether from a struggle or not.

Once inside the broken down house, you flipped her onto her stomach, taking a handful of snow and pressing it to the back of her head, wiping it away a few minutes later, and peering closer at the injury.

It didn’t look as bad as you’d originally thought it would be. Just a shallow cut from where she must’ve hit the rock the wrong way.

Taking hold of her shirt beneath the jacket, which felt dry rotted to you, you ripped a piece off and pressed it to her head, trying to keep a lot of pressure. It didn’t look like it would need stitches, which was a good thing, considering you didn’t have any, and even if you did, you would probably do her more harm than good.

It stopped bleeding briefly after pressing the cloth to it, and you kept it there, just in case, before checking the woman’s pockets for anything useful. Maybe an ID.

A lighter, that could work.

A few random coins.

A small tin of eye makeup?

You ended up only taking the lighter, as it was better than nothing.

You flicked the lid open, pressing your thumb to the little flint roller and rolling it, and after a few failed tries, the flame flickered to life, casting a small glow that reflected off of the walls.

Maybe you took your eyes off of the woman for a few moments, examining the flame, holding your hands around it one by one. You could never figure out how exactly to start a fire.

It would’ve saved you a lot of trouble your first few nights out here if you could’ve just brought some lighter fluid and some matches.

“Don’t touch that.”

A voice snapped, and as your head whipped to look at the woman, now fully conscious again, she snatched the lighter right out of your hand. She had an accent, you noted.

You wouldn’t admit it, but she’d startled you.

She was already trying to get up, her hand going to the back of her head where the cloth was when you grabbed her by the bottom of her jeans and pulled her back down. She cringed a bit when her butt hit the ground.

“You need to rest. You lost blood.”

It was a simple statement, but even the prospect of talking to someone again after what felt like years of isolation (that had only been a few days) made both anxiety and anticipation boil in your gut.

She raised a brow at you, not so much doubting your statement, just doubting you.

“It is not my first time losing blood.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, and the silent staring match started again.

After a minute or two she just sighed, fingers going to rub the bridge of her nose for a moment.

“Who are you? Why am I here?”

“You were unconscious on a rock. I saved your life.”

A beat of silence. A look of realization and maybe remembering crossed her face despite you not answering her questions directly, before she spoke.

“Ah.”

She took another breath in, examining her lighter as her breath out of her nose seemed misty due to the cold.

“I appreciate your help, but I must be going.”

She moved to get up again, but your question interrupted her. Her hand was closed tightly around the lighter and its little engraved dragon on it. You hadn’t missed the initials engraved into it either, a messy, scratchy “S+P” with a heart around it.

It was clearly dear to her.

“Where?”

You asked, getting up as well, following as she moved a piece of metal and crawled out into the snow, moving to walk away.

She paid you no mind, continuing to walk even as you followed her.

“None of your business. Now shoo. You are not welcome where I am going.”

“Why not?”

She let out an annoyed breath through her nose, turning to face you.

Her grip on the lighter loosened for just a moment, and as she opened her mouth to speak, you lunged forward with both your hands and pulled her fingers off of the lighter. A glimmer of surprise crossed her face before it turned to anger as she tried to wrestle it back, failing when you used all of your body weight to yank it, your grip slipping as the lighter went flying through the snow.

“You—“

Both of you scrambled for the lighter, her lunging for it before you pulled her away by her foot, snow, and ice cracking underneath both of you.

You managed to slip your fingers around it, crawling away from her, before getting to your feet and watching as she tried to run after you, before seeing what you were doing.

You held the lighter over the edge of a little cliff in the mountain, and if you dropped it, she’d never have a chance of finding it again in this weather or climate. Not to mention it was dangerous enough to even go down a cliff when there wasn’t snow, ice, and wild animals everywhere hunting for food desperately.

“Take me with you.”

A wild, desperate thing inside you wanted to stay wherever she was. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer out here, she seemed to know that too, despite not wanting to acknowledge it.

“I have told you, it will not be welcome where I am going.”

She warned, her eyes gleaming with something dangerous as she looked at the lighter in your hand. You let your grip loosen just a bit, watching as she stiffened.

“I can stay hidden. We both know I won’t survive out here. You want a child’s blood on your hands?”

The woman paused, seeming to consider it for just a moment.

“I already have blood on my hands.”

Your stance didn’t waver, though a bit of a chill, and not from the cold, went down your spine.

You waved the lighter just a bit, and she took a step forward.

“Just take me where you���re going. I won’t be a bother.”

Her eyes narrowed momentarily as she took you in. Young. Scrappy, by the looks of it you’d been here a while. But she recognized something in your eyes, a will to survive and adapt, something she’d often seen when looking in the mirror as an orphan living on the streets of Morocco.

“Fine. But I will have the lighter.”

You shook your head at that.

“I keep it till we get there.”

You watched as she appraised you once more, before sighing and nodding.

“Fine.”

~

Sevati had been slowly peeling the cloth off from the back of her head since the trip back to the Rook had started, the blood that had caked on it having stuck it to her head almost.

She was hoping that Marshall, Adler, and Case would already be gone, running off to Iraq for their mission, by the time she got back. It would make sneaking the feral 12(?) year old she’d picked up into the house a lot easier.

Glancing over at you, she noticed that you fidgeted with the lighter a bit. You were nervous, she could tell from your body language alone.

“Why were you out here, to begin with?”

Talking might calm you down some. She didn’t need you bolting, as she felt a tad bit responsible for you, considering you had probably saved her life.

You glanced warily over at her.

“Hiking. Got split off from my family.”

Both her eyebrows raised at that. More than a hint of doubt snuck into her tone.

“Hiking in the middle of winter?”

You didn’t reply to that. You both knew that you were hiding something from her, but considering that you’d both been at each other’s throats only a few hours ago before your long walk started, she didn’t exactly want to get either of you any more aggravated or on edge.

“Why were you out here?”

She bit a sarcastic reply back down as the large house came to view in all its run-down glory.

“I needed some air.”

You gave her a look that seemed judgemental, but she honestly couldn’t care less about it, considering you were just some small child she’d picked up along the way. She wouldn’t be surprised if you had lice.

A silence enveloped the both of you once again as she approached the house, going around the back and sliding a window open. There was a room around the back you could hop into.

“Stay here, I’m going to go inside, when you hear a knock on the window you’ll be fine to come inside.”

She said, giving you a stern look until you nodded, watching as she disappeared around the corner of the house. You crouched down by the window, waiting for the knock.

~

“The hell happened to you?”

Woods. The stubborn Cold War, Vietnam and countless other things she had no clue about veteran. Stubborn as hell despite being wheelchair bound, nosy too.

But he still cared.

“I slipped.”

She answered simply, giving the man in the wheelchair a look indicating to drop it, and he held his hands up in mock surrender, going back to the binder on his desk with various papers in it.

Felix was still in the little alcove area, sitting behind the computer, working on disks and whatnot. Gathering information, most likely. Or trying to crack disks open. Their own personal tech genius.

She managed to get by him unnoticed, walking over to the room on the right side of the house, closing the door behind her, and giving the window a little knock. She saw your head pop up over the window, and opening the window despite the little squeaks it made, she watched you crawl in.

You fell into the room, cringing at the impact, and the loud sound the impact of you against the wooden floorboards had made.

“Is everything alright in there?”

Felix’s voice asked from another room in the house, his German accent heavy but voice light.

“Fine. Just slipped, had snow on my shoes.”

She yelled back, helping you off of the floor, her hand grasping yours as she pulled you up.

“Ah. Don’t get the floorboards wet, they can mold.”

Felix replied. Sevati scoffed as she led you to a hallway, then down it to the left where a set of stairs met you.

“Stay down there. I’ll bring you food soon, but stay out of sight. Understand?”

You nodded, and she was about to leave, before pausing and remembering something.

“What’s your name?”

A flicker of hesitance passed through you, before you answered, telling her your name. She nodded and gave her name.

“Sevati Dumas. That’s my name.”

And just like that, the basement door was shut behind you. You began a slow descent down the stairs, trying to predict where the wood would creak, and avoiding those spots. You were only right half the time.

The basement was cold, but not colder than outside. Your hands were already beginning to thaw, and your cold body was warming up. You peeled your wet gloves off, laying them down on a table in the middle of the room. It seemed that there were two main rooms in the basement, just a large doorway separating the two.

OPTIONS:

Examine your surroundings

Wait for Sevati to come back—>

[witchofthesouls]

Besides American pop culture such as metal, is Miko a fan of the more traditional aspects of Japanese culture at all?

Hmm, this is a tricky question for me because I'm a born and raised American hapa. My half-Asian is Viet.

A lot of my thoughts for Miko were formed by conversations with a few Japanese exchange students, YouTube, Japanese language classes, online information, and what I would have liked to see from the show.

I'm going to be missing a lot of cultural context from a native perspective.

(That or I'm reading way too deep into this ask lol)

I really wish that we had more instances of culture clash or misunderstandings because it could have provided more depth to everyone by opening new dialogue and provided more context of the lore and character backgrounds.

As a character, Miko Nakadai comes off more like an American-born or as someone who's very comfortable in the U.S. from long-term exposure. Perhaps she has relatives in a different state? But then that opens more questions than answers. (It doesn't matter obsessed you're into a country or culture, the first hand experience is a shock.)

And it doesn't help she feels slap-dash in a way. She's vague in the sense that she has a lot of disconnected traits that don't really match up what we were given as viewers. It really isn't a surprise that she's a polarizing character.

Concept wise, the creators pulled a lot of inspiration from Harajuku fashion, so the colorful punk aesthetic does make sense in hindsight with the elements of Visual Kei and Kawaii. But that particular tidbit was released in the Transformers: Art of Prime book.

(As of now, it's nearly $5,000 on Amazon, but we have lovely people who may or may not share some pages online.)

It would have been so great if the show committed to the Japanese exchange student bit by giving more information about Miko's background besides her parents living in Tokyo. I know I made a comment about her parents are like Tatsu and Miku from Way of the Househusband, but that would have provided so much context on Miko's wildness and complete recklessness because the Vegas Effect can only explain so much. (It would make so much sense on how she went for the damn axe to wield against Soundwave! No hesitation from that girl!)

Shoot, even her favorite band, Slash Monkeys, is a Bulgarian rock band! There is nothing wrong with that, but give me/us a bone! Something minor, like a throwaway line about Japanese rock bands that did popular anime openings. (Y'all remember the grip the Big 3 had on our collective throats? Plus, the granddaddy of them all: Dragonball.) That could have built rapport, delved into cultural differences, and been a feel-good moment as the kids showed the 'bots different anime via movie night.

Bottom line, she confuses me on the same level as Orion Pax conundrum, so I just like doing things to make things make sense.