#But it results in me doing deplorable things like Backgrounds

[natsmagi]

trying to prep for femstars week rn so my activity might be a bit dead until then SO!!!!! have mugi wip

[ouyangzizhensdad]

On the importance of MianMian: musings on the differences between the novel and CQL (PART 2/2)

If you haven’t already, please read through part one first, otherwise this will probably not be very cohesive or comprehensible. There is also some bonus meta because I keep having thoughts about MianMian. 

In part one, I contrasted MianMian’s first appearance in the novel and the web series in order to show how MianMian’s characterisation and position within her society were established quite differently in both works. In this post, I will explore the domino effect of those adaptation choices, as well as consider how the two subsequent appearances of MianMian in the novel got translated into a visual format in CQL. Through this exercise, my goal is not only to illuminate the depth and significance of this minor character in the novel, but also to argue that the way her scenes were adapted in CQL ultimately reduced the impact of the character and excised many of the nuances put into her portrayal despite increasing her presence in the work. 

(although kudos to CQL for casting Ann Wang because I do not get tired of looking at her face: look at that smile 😳) 

The Servant’s Daughter Valued Jin Cultivator Standing up to a Room of Powerful Cultivators

In the novel, we meet MianMian for a second time after the Sunshot campaign has ended. Cultivators from the main sects and allied sects (including some who used to be loyal to the Wens!) are discussing at Jinlintai Wei Wuxian’s actions after he protected the Wens and set up residence on Mass Grave Hill. By that time, it appears her position in her sect, and even her sect’s position, has grown. We can speculate as to why (my personal take is that MianMian proved herself during the war and that her sect is one of the sect who pledged loyalty to the Jin and gained influence as a result). What is important is that she goes from someone who is so inconsequential she might have not even have been a disciple yet when we met her to someone who stands next to a sect leader (who we can safely assume in this context to be her sect leader). A lot is hinted about her character and what she experienced since we last saw her through that small and innocuous detail. 

Suddenly, a careful voice interjected, “It’s not killing indiscriminately, is it?”

Lan Wangji seemed to have entered a realm of zen that blocked all of his senses. Hearing this, however, he moved, looking over. The one who spoke was a young woman with a fair face, standing beside one of the sect leaders.     

I will not repeat here the entirety of her speech, which highlights the hypocrisy and the bad faith of the sects, and particularly the Jin sect’s unwillingness to shoulder any blame for their deplorable treatment of the Wens. Instead, I find important to highlight how the other cultivators present react to MianMian based on her positionality. 

First, MianMian’s opinions are undercut by the people present due to the fact that she is a woman. Her motivations for speaking out are reduced to the irrational ramblings of a maiden in love.

“You can stop arguing,” someone sneered suddenly. “We don’t want to hear the comments of someone who has other motives.”

The woman’s face flushed. 

“Explain things,” she said, raising her voice. “What do you mean, that I have other motives?”

“There’s no need for me to say anything. You know deep down and we know too. You fell for him back in the cave of the Xuanwu just because he flirted with you? You’re still arguing for him, calling white black no matter how irrational it is. Ha, women will always be women.”

The incident of Wei Wuxian saving a damsel in distress in the cave of the Xuanwu was indeed once a topic of conversation. Thus, many people realized immediately that this young woman was ‘MianMian’.

At once, somebody murmured, “So that’s why. Explains how she’s so desperate as to speak up for Wei Wuxian…”

“Irrational?” she fumed. “Calling white black? I’m just being considerate as it stands. What does it have to do with the fact that I’m a woman? You can’t be rational with me so you’re attacking me with other things?”

Then, when members of her own sect disparage her for speaking up, they suggest that her place in the discussion, in this palace of gilded power and privilege, is ultimately illegitimate or at the very least incredibly easy to render illegitimate.

“Stop wasting your time on her. That this kind of person actually belongs to our sect, that she was even able to find her way into the Golden Pavilion; I feel ashamed standing alongside her.

Many of those who spoke against her were from the same sect.

In this situation, not even her fellow sect members are willing to come to her defense or to give her the benefit of the doubt; she is to be shamed and separated from them, lest her actions reflect badly on their own standing. 

MianMian’s choice to leave her sect behind is meaningful because she is not privileged. She does not have anyone powerful in her corner to back her up. She does not have many options; people act like she should be glad to even have made it this far, and we can infer that she only achieved her current position due to her skills and hard work. It is also meaningful because she is making that choice while knowing that she’s giving up on the privileges of the social position that she has worked to achieve. The fact that she is giving up on something big is highlighted by the reactions of many cultivators after her departure, who think she will come crawling back to find once more the security and privilege of the position she left behind.

Saying nothing, MianMian turned around and left. A while later, someone laughed. “If you’re taking it off, then don’t put it on again, if you’re so capable!”

“Who does she think she is… leaving as she pleases? Who cares? What is she trying to prove?”

Soon, some began to agree, “Women will always be women. They quit just after you say a few harsh words. She’ll definitely come back on her own, a couple of days later.”

“There’s no doubt. After all, she finally managed to turn from the daughter of a servant to a disciple, haha…”

Beyond what it means for her characterisation and the themes explored in the novel, this moment is significant because there are clear parallels between how she is treated in that moment and how WWX is talked about for protecting the Wen remnants and, later, for ‘deserting’ the Jiang sect. In fact, just before MianMian speaks out, sect leaders call WWX a “servant” and the “son of a servant” when underlying the ‘nerve’ of his ‘arrogance’ toward the sects with his actions. 

One of the sect leaders added, “To be honest, I’ve wanted to say this since a long time ago. Although Wei Wuxian did a few things during the Sunshot Campaign, there are many guest cultivators who did more than him. I’ve never seen anyone as full of themselves as him. Excuse my bluntness, but he’s the son of a servant. How could the son of a servant be so arrogant?”

These passages are also reminiscent of the way WWX is discussed by cultivators celebrating his death in the prologue:

“That’s right, good riddance! If the YunmengJiang sect had not adopted him, educated him—this Wei Ying would have been a mediocre scoundrel all his life, nothing but riffraff…… what else could he be! The former head of the Jiang clan treated him as his own son, but what a son! [...]”

“I can’t believe Jiang Cheng really let this arrogant manservant live for so long. If it were me, when this Wei first defected, I wouldn’t have just stabbed him; I’d have cleaned house straight away. Then he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to commit all those deranged acts later. When it comes to these sorts of people, how can you even take sentiments like ‘same clan’, ‘same sect’, or ‘childhood loyalty’ into consideration?”

Due to the circumstances of their birth, even people who manage to achieve a higher position in society hold a tenuous grasp on the power and respect they have gained: their legitimacy is fraught. And even if they play the game right, the lines of legitimate belonging are always ready to be renegotiated by those in power. Despite the “few things” he did during the Sunshot Campaign that aligned with the interest of the sects, and despite being raised among the gentry in the Jiang sect and being perceived as a gongzi, WWX remains in the imaginary of the cultivators who see themselves as the legitimate holders of power as someone who needs to “remember his place”, someone who should be grateful and loyal as he has been “allowed” to raise in influence and be treated well in society despite being the son of a servant. And so when he stands against the interests of the sects, he’s not just betraying them: he betraying the social order which gives them legitimacy. This is directly tied to MianMian’s treatment in this scene. In the novel, MianMian is not only shamed and dismissed because she speaks out against the sects: it is also, if not primarily, because she did not, in the process, “remember her place”.

The scene as it is presented in the novel thus goes out of its way to set up a clear parallel between WWX and MianMian, not only in regards to their righteousness, but also in regards to how they are perceived and treated for being the children of servants. It also takes pain to underline the unfair treatment of women in that society. Moreover, if we’re only considering MianMian’s characterisation, it says a lot to see her have reached this level of importance in her sect despite her circumstances and then for her to let it all go. 

In CQL? You’ve probably guessed it; all of these nuances are evacuated from the text. On top of the fact that MianMian continues to be established as a valued member of the Jin sect, the scene is cut short and a lot of the censure sent her way is excised. There are no mentions of her ‘having made her way’ into the room of powerful people who are allowed have an opinion on the state of the world. No mentions of her low social background and no mocking that she will crawl back to her sect after realising she can’t make it into the world without their influence and support. No dismissal of her based on the fact that she is a woman, or suggestions that she is standing up for the YLLZ only because she is enamoured with him. The scene is turned into a pale shadow of its original.

Instead of these elements, we do get a gasp from JZX (which becomes a dangling plot thread because he does not stand up for her nor does he reach out for her even though she’s supposed to be his good friend, nor do we see him being conflicted about being unable to beyond his gasp) and MianMian telling JGS that she is leaving his sect, which I’ll admit is pretty baller. But it does not even come close to having the significance and thematic implications of the scene as presented in the novel. CQL!MianMian stands up against the organized smear campaign against WWX and the sects’ unwillingness to accept their faults, and is only disregarded for having spoken against them: not because of who she was while she was raising doubts about their evaluation of the right and wrong. And that is significant, because it undercuts the discussions the novel explores through so many other characters about the impacts of being considered inferior by others. 

The Travelling Rogue Cultivator who Stayed Home

Finally, in the novel, we meet MianMian once more when her daughter, Xiao MianMian, stumbles upon something she should not have seen while accompanying her parents on a night-hunt. The reason their paths cross is that, just like Wangxian, MianMian feels compelled to pursue night-hunts other cultivators disregard for their lack of glory in order to help the common people. This is her life mission as a travelling rogue cultivator: differently put, she goes where the chaos is. This set-up serves to highlight that MianMian and Wangxian are like-minded and share the same definition of what it means to be ‘Righteous’. 

He asked, “Did you come here to night-hunt as well?”

Luo Qingyang nodded, “Yes. I heard spirits are haunting a nameless graveyard on this mountain, disturbing the lives of the people here, so I came to see if there’s any way I could help. Have you two cleaned it up already?”

The night-hunt also serves to reintroduce the theme of deception and rumours, and the ways in which MianMian is a character who is not swayed by public opinions but knows how easily others may be.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji exchanged a glance. “This was a lie too. No lives were lost. We looked it up. Only a few villagers who robbed the graves were bedridden for a while after being scared by the ghosts, and another broke his own leg when running away. Apart from these, there were no casualties. All those lives were made up for dramatic purposes.”

“So this was what happened?” interjected Luo Qingyang’s husband. “That’s absolutely shameless!”

“Oh, these people…” sighed Luo Qingyang. She seemed as if she remembered something, shaking her head, “They’re the same everywhere.”

This is because in the novel MianMian is tied to many themes, and always in a positive manner. Like WWX, she represents the good that is stifled by an unjust  social order. She also represents the people who choose to defy and deviate from this social order to pursue a righteous life rather than trying to find vindication and power within that very social order (ie JGY or XY). Like the juniors, MianMian is a character that represents hope for the cultivation world, the potential for small but significant change. Like WWX and LWJ, she represents integrity in the face of the corrupting influences of power and politics, as well as the desire to protect the common people. Like Cangse Sanren, she represents the courage to make her own path in the world, and to marry for love with no considerations for social status or conventions, and the decision to becoming a travelling rogue cultivator. 

On top of all these great things this scene accomplish, it is also just incredibly cute. After their talk, their parting is described like such: “Soon, the group had gone down the mountain, and Wei Wuxian could only say goodbye to them with some regret, continuing on another path alongside Lan Wangji.”  Honestly, my ‘WWX and LWJ become Xiao MianMian’s shushus’ agenda is alive and well and I will not accept anything else.

In CQL, however, the reunion happens by pure coincidence. The scene is in actuality a mash-up between the reunion we have in the novel and another scene that takes place earlier, in which fugitives WWX and LWJ enter the home of strangers as they are looking for some water (and end up frolicking in hay). 

Simply by changing the circumstances and the setting of the reunion, something is lost of the thematic connection between WWX/Wangxian and MianMian, even though viewers still get told that MianMian is someone who night-hunts. Without entering into the specific debate of whether show don’t tell is the only acceptable storytelling strategy, I think it’s fair to say that it is more effective to run into MianMian as she is night hunting based on the same rumours of hauntings as Wangxian instead of seeing her get home, pull a sword willy-nilly after hearing something suspicious in her backyard and finally getting told that she was out night hunting. 

Moreover, having to recreate most of the beats of MianMian’s last appearance into this new context seems to have been quite confusing to the CQL production team, and seems to have breed, as a result, a lack of internal coherence to the scene (cut between the end of ep 43 and the beginning of ep 44), regardless of any of its other pitfalls as an adaptation. 

In the CQL version, when we meet the family on their way back to their home, Xiao MianMian had been running around and her father chastises her by telling her something along the lines of “Don’t run around, what if you had gotten caught by the YLLZ?”, thereby suggesting that MianMian’s husband believes what is said about WWX. To this, Xiao MianMian replies But Mom Says he’s a Good Guy Though. Obviously, the intent of the writers was to show that MianMian had never bought into the rumours about WWX. However, this exchange makes seemingly no sense if one thinks about it for longer than a second. It suggests that MianMian had never talked about this topic with her husband or that he had never heard her talk about the YLLZ with their daughter. Considering how dangerous the YLLZ is said to be, and that they were night-hunting while he was a fugitive, I don’t see how that would have not come up even if for some unlikely reason she had until then only talked about the YLLZ with her daughter. Of course, one could suggest that MianMian’s husband says this to tease their daughter, fully aware that the YLLZ’s reputation of swallowing children is a tall tale, but the tone is not quite right? And it does not jive with the fact that MianMian is not on board with defaming people: I don’t think she’d be okay with her husband knowingly using the myth of the YLLZ to scare their kid into obedience because it’s convenient to do so? A miss.

To make matters worse, when WWX later asks MianMian is she’s back from night-hunting, Xiao MianMian says that they are back from searching for the YLLZ. First, there is a clear lack of coherence with the previous exchange between Xiao MianMian and her father. And again, it’s hard to get to the meaning of that exchange: is it implying that MianMian was looking for WWX to offer him her help? She certainly doesn’t once she does meet him, so that appears unlikely or at least it’s a plothole/dangling plot thread. But why be looking for him, if she knows he’s not the monster the rumours make him out to be? Clearly, the writers wanted to tell the viewers that MianMian is a rogue cultivator, and figured that having her back from a night-hunt would be enough: but why this line by Xiao MianMian about searching for the YLLZ? Is it just the fancy of a kid, who makes up her own stories while her parents pursue other cases (especially since MianMian says she was looking for puppets)? But then Xiao MianMian does say that ‘we’ were searching for him...

I can’t figure it out. I find it even weirder that, when WWX asks Xiao MianMian whether she is scared of the scary YLLZ (although she’s literally just said moments before that she was not scared of him in her exchange with her father that WWX certainly heard), Xiao MianMian starts replying that she is not scared and MianMian cuts her, apologizing to WWX that he daughter is too young and naive. What is she apologizing for? How is her daughter naive for not being scared of the YLLZ? Or is she apologizing for her daughter suggesting they were searching for the YLLZ? If so, why cut her now and not when she suggested that they were searching for him? 

What’s happening in this scene?!

Also, even an attempt to keep lines as close to what they were in the novel ends up backfiring with the new context. In the novel, out night-hunting, MianMian asks “ 什么人” when she sees WWX come out from the direction of a graveyard (she has not seen LWJ yet). Knowing that she might suspect him of being a corpse or a spirit considering that it is night and that he is leaving a graveyard said to be haunted, WWX responds  “不管是什么人，总归是人，不是别的东西 “ (No matter who I am, I’m a person after all, and not something else). In CQL, when MianMian hears a sound in her backyard, she asks  “ 什么人” and, after LWJ comes out and is recognized by MianMian, WWX still responds (??) with a similar yet slightly different sentence: “ 不管是谁，反正是个人，不是东西 “ (No matter who I am, anyway I am a person, not a thing). This exchange in the context of the scene in CQL baffles me because: why would there be then an expectation that they would not be a person in this situation? Why would he say that after MianMian has seen and recognized LWJ, thus knowing full well that it is a person and not a spirit or a corpse? As well, why change “ 别的东西 “ (something else/different thing) for “ 东西 “ (thing) since MianMian’s question does not imply by itself that she thinks they are not people since she asks "什么人” (literally: what person?), making WWX’s statement that he is “not a thing”  completely come out of nowhere? And it’s so much more perplexing than his original statement that he is not “something else” from a human. 

I’m spending time on these two lines because I find them to be a sort of microcosm of some of the questionable adaptation choices made in CQL: at times the web series chooses to keep things from the novel even after changing the context in which these elements unfold without understanding how these no longer work within their new context. Yet, at the same time, it feels comfortable making what appear on the surface to be minute changes without thinking through the implications of them, and thus changing the point of these elements through these minute modifications. 

Aside from these elements which prevent this moment in CQL to give us a scene that is internally coherent, let’s further interrogate some of the adaptational changes made between the novel and the web series, and their impact on the themes and characterisation. 

One change that conflicts with the characterisation and the thematic discussion regards WWX inquiring about MianMian’s husband. Unlike in the novel, where WWX engages him in a little bit of chitchat and then feels forced by conventions to ask to which sect he belongs, CQL makes it seem as if it is an information WWX wants to ask because it’s literally the first thing he says to him, not even after a salutation or a “well met” (I will be magnanimous and believe that that choice to do so was for the sake of brevity and not because the preceding dialogue had not been written in the novel and the CQL writers couldn’t be bothered to come up with something). This, however, makes it look like WWX puts a lot of importance in knowing someone’s allegiance to a sect, which is the exact opposite of how he feels about it. 

She pulled the man up, “This is my husband.”

Noticing that they held no malicious intent, the man softened visibly. After some chatter, Wei Wuxian asked out of convenience, “Which sect do you belong to and which kind of cultivation do you practice?”

The man answered frankly, “None of them.”

Luo Qingyang gazed at her husband, smiling, “My husband isn’t of the cultivating world. He used to be a merchant. But, he’s willing to go night-hunting with me…”

It was both rare and admirable that an ordinary person, and a man at that, would be willing to give up his originally stable life and dare travel the world with his wife, unafraid of danger and wander. Wei Wuxian could not help feeling respect for him.

Of course, without WWX’s thought process provided to us in the narration, the implications of MianMian’s husband being originally a merchant are a little bit lost in CQL, even if CQL!MianMian provides that piece of information. Of course, CQL could have chosen to include WWX’s musings, since it does include in this very scene some voice-over thoughts earlier. It is a shame though, that it does not, since MianMian and her husband are clear parallels for WWX’s parents in that regard: his father also left a stable life to travel the world with his wife.

Although, to be fair, CQL!MianMian is no longer a rogue cultivator who travels the world, so it is not like her husband made the decision to travel the world with her. Indeed, by frankensteining the two scenes from the novel, MianMian is by default no longer a rogue cultivator who travels the world: she is a rogue cultivator, sure, in that she does not belong to a sect, but she is a rogue cultivator with a home she clearly needs to inhabit during the day, what with the fact that they raise animals (we see little chicks in the background and there are piles of hay), and who night-hunts close enough to her home to be able to come back home in the morning. Moreover, without the context of meeting MianMian at the same glory-less night-hunt as Wangxian, it is harder to express the idea that MianMian is someone who chooses, like them, to do so for the common good and not for any prestige or rewards. MianMian is no longer another cultivator who goes ‘where the chaos is’ and, in terms of positive female representation, it is truly a shame. After all, the novel frames this as a positive and admirable trait which we see in our two main (male) protagonists: to have a woman follow, independently, the same path as them is meaningful. 

Finally, instead of the scene closing with a regretful parting that hints at the sense of kinship between MianMian’s family and Wangxian, we get a truly (imo) patronizing ending. In CQL, their conversation is disrupted by threatening sounds. LWJ then instructs MianMian to stay in her home and protect Xiao MianMian while LWJ and WWX take care of things. So feminism..... such empowerment... To be honest, if CQL meant to change things and put MianMian in scenes where she wasn’t originally, why not have her go with Wangxian? Why not have her be there for the Mass Grave Hill Siege? Why not have her leave her daughter with her husband and let her be a badass? Instead, they conveniently check her out of the action after putting her directly in the middle of it. Instead of having MianMian be away from the sects and doing her own rogue cultivator thing as the events of the novels unfolded in WWX’s second life, explaining her absence, CQL reintroduces her just before an important moment but chooses to send her away once more, to stay home and protect her daughter, probably because they did not want to take the time and energy to figure out how and where she would fit into these scenes in which she had not be written in the novel. This is the kind of adaptational choice that makes me question why people consider CQL a more progressive work of fiction with regards to its treatment of female characters. 

Final Musings: sometimes, less is more

Does an increase to the number of appearances of a character shape their impact on the audience? Or, conversely, does it dilute their meaning within and their impact on the text? There is not a simple answer to that question. Certainly, repetition is in itself a literary device, and many readers need salient and blunt reminders to get a message across, the likes of: the important characters are the ones you see the most often. Likewise, having a character feature more often in a work can provide the necessary breathing space to explore more and in more depth their psychology, motivations, past, actions, etc. However, the simple act of increasing the presence of a character does not inherently increase their impact on a work of fiction nor does it increase the nuances and depths of that character. 

It is possible to adhere to a cynical or optimistic perspective regarding CQL’s decision to feature MDZS’ female characters more prominently. It is not hard to divine why the decision could have been made solely for the financial incentive of “pandering” to a female audience who dares to want to see themselves on  screen. Conversely, one can imagine a production team animated by good intentions, who simply want to give more limelight to these female characters. Whether purely motivated by a profit-based logic or solely well-intentioned, or at a vector of both motives, it is clear that the CQL production did not increase the screen presence of MDZS’s female characters out of a desire to tell a stronger, more effective version of the original story they were working with. And that is why the urge to quantify good representation will always end up failing us in my opinion.

While it can be productive to consider trends, it does not give us a better media landscape or better individual works of fiction; it does not necessarily give us more impactful or better written female characters. This type of analysis urges us to see female characters as female first, without truly attempting to understand their purpose and treatment within the story. While MDZS has fewer female characters, these characters showcase different personalities and occupy different positions within the social world of the novel; they have arcs and thematic resonance and they cannot be simply replaced by a “sexy lamp” without disrupting the plot completely. They are also often given a surprising amount of depth, if readers are willing to pay attention to all that is found in the text and in the subtext.

For such a long novel, MDZS is able to remonstrate a certain amount of restraint wrt its storytelling. The timespan it wants to cover is expansive, its cast of characters not insignificant, and the story it aims to tell is ambitious. It is easy to imagine a meandering version of MDZS where many more characters are present, including many more female characters, or where the existing female characters get an extended presence within the narrative. But would those female characters have been more impactful? Would the story told have been a better one? The way the CQL production team chose to adapt MianMian hints that this is not a done conclusion. 

(+ bonus MianMian meta)

[belit0]

Anonymous:

Can I have a scenario where Itachi takes care of his sick s/o who has a fever?

[I did it in a Itachi x reader situation because I thought you might like it better. If it is not to your liking, let me know and I can make you something different :)]

Itachi came home like any other day, on a quiet night that promises rest by your side. Being the captain of his ANBU team demands a lot from him, but one of his great motivations to execute his tasks with excellence and finish his duties as soon as possible, is to know that you are waiting for him. Being a highly sensitive person, and with unquestionable skills to read people, it didn’t take long for the Uchiha to realize that something was wrong with you.

He walked through the front door of your shared house, leaving his boots at the entrance, to walk back in his uniform to where you were. Standing in front of the mirror in your room, you watched your reflection, analyzing your face and cursing the most obvious symptoms of fever.

What your image brought back was a [Y/N] with a red face, a slightly trembling body, glazed eyes, skin bristling in the slightest breeze. Honestly, you felt really weak, and you had to cut back on your daily training to go home earlier than usual due to physical exhaustion and pain in your muscles.

When Itachi encountered this situation, he smiled weakly, and got down to business. He approached you from behind, and looked at you through the image in the glass. Even if he wanted to hug you or touch you, he wouldn’t, for in his mind is present the physical pain that must be tormenting you.

“[Y/N]… you should have called me if you are in this state.”

“It’s no big deal, Itachi, I can take care of myself you know.”

You turned around to face your boyfriend, and tried to keep your composure, even though your being begged for rest. A big hand landed on your forehead gently for a few seconds, measuring your body temperature. When he was satisfied with his rudimentary analysis, a worried look took possession of his features.

“You are really on fire. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Without the strength to argue, and knowing that he is right, you walked to the bed where Itachi tucked you in. He did not allow you to cover yourself too much, as the high heat of your body was supposed to decrease, and he forced you to keep the blanket around your waist.

“I’m supposed to have a mission tomorrow… this is a bad time to get sick.”

“It’s never a bad time for you to take care of yourself. I’ll take care of that, and the rest. Indulge me by resting.”

With that said, the Uchiha left the room and headed for the kitchen. There, he extracted some ice from the freezer and placed it in a deep pot. Inside, he put water from the tap, and a dishtowel, which soon soaked up the icy water. Going back to where you were resting, he placed the pot on the light table that was on your side. Before starting his work, he changed his ANBU uniform for more comfortable clothes.

After that, he sat down next to you on the mattress, took the wet dishrag from inside the pot and drained it so that no cold water would drip on the floor or bed. Gently and delicately, he placed it on your burning forehead. It didn’t take a second for your skin to feel the temperature contrast. He folded the edges of the fabric so that it would not wet your hair or cover your eyes, took the book he was reading at the time from his bedside table and waited.

When the rag lost the frozen sensation of ice, Itachi dipped the rag back into the pot of water and repeated the process. This action took place for an hour, until he gave up on this procedure as the results were not as expected.

Leaving his reading behind, he got out of bed again, and went to his wardrobe. From there he took a total of six socks, and put them together with the cloth in the pot. Then he went to the kitchen, and extracted more ice from the frezeer as the current one was beginning to disappear into the water.

Leaving off where it belongs, the Uchiha made sure that all the clothes were well soaked. He sat on the edge of your side, and with silent movements, uncovered your body completely. A sense of guilt overtook him as groans of discomfort came from within, making it clear that you were suffering at the time.

But the only thing he wants is to eliminate what ails you, what makes you feel bad, because he knows how it feels to be sick to that unbearable level, where the very sheet on your skin is a nuisance and no position is comfortable in your rest. As a man suffering from a hidden disease, Itachi knows that deplorable state where your body betrays you and makes you useless. Empathizing from his own experience, the only thing he can do for you is act as he would like you to act for him when one of his attacks catches him off guard, leaving him knocked out and out of breath wherever he is. But because of his own limitations, he is unable to reveal his poor health to you, and he faces that hell alone.

This does not mean that he lets you face this condition by yourself as well. No, this man is a great partner in life. Without wanting to wake you up, he places the new icy cloths on different key areas of your body, hoping to give a more concise fight to the fever. One on your forehead, two on your armpits, two on your wrists, and two on your ankles. More often than in his previous attempt, he dips the cloths and soaks them with new ice water, repositioning them in the hottest areas of your body.

After an hour of this routine, the frustration of the Uchiha begins to grow, as your condition does not improve. He feels helpless in the face of the fact that he can’t help you, and that you’re probably facing a lot of physical discomfort while he’s feeling quite normal. He completely abandons his first fighting strategy, and goes on to execute a more frontal and less pleasant plan for you.

The high temperature has put you into a feverish sleep for several hours, and Itachi takes you in his arms as gently as possible from the bed. Without squeezing your body in his grip, he allows the cloths that covered you from head to toe to fall across the room’s floor. A little hint of concern begins to show under his always calm face.

He takes you into the bathroom, where he sits you on the closed toilet seat to turn on the shower. Closing the door to prevent air from entering, he opens the water and regulates it to a temperature between hot and warm. When he is satisfied, he goes to you, and proceeds to strip you of your clothes until you are naked. There is no sexual connotation in his actions, since he knows your body from beginning to end like a map and it is not a strange situation to see you without any garments. By undressing himself too, he places your arms loosely around his neck, and makes your legs hold around his waist, thus carrying you underwater.

The first contact with it makes your body shiver and shake, rejecting the uncomfortable and almost painful sensation of the liquid on your feverish skin. A slight moan escapes your mouth before some tears do too, but Itachi is there to hold you back.

“Hold on to me [Y/N], it will be over soon I promise.”

The only sounds you manage to make are incoherent moans accompanied by tears because of the horrible sensation in your muscles and joints, making Itachi’s presence in the background. Disturbed by your pain, all you want is to escape the water that falls on you.

"I need you to hold on a little longer, can you do that for me?”

In the absence of a response, the Uchiha proceeded to lean over the taps with you in the air and regulate the water again. By turning the hot water off a little more, the temperature dropped, without becoming cold. The new sensation stressed your being even more, and you clung to him as your body shook under what seemed like a freezing cold on your boiling skin.

After a few long minutes, the sensitivity began to diminish, your limbs stopped twisting in your boyfriend’s grip, and some normality returned to you. Itachi noticed the change in tension and attitude in you, and rested his lips on your forehead to measure your temperature under water again. More satisfied with the result, he took you both out of the shower, laid you on the floor on your two feet, and wrapped you in a towel while placing one around his waist.

He carried you back into the room, as the exhaustion was clearly visible on your face after the stressful body experience, and sat you on the bed where he proceeded to dress you carefully. After that task, you crawled under the covers, and thanked him for the relief that slowly spread through your body.

” Shall I make you something to eat [Y/N]? You should get your energy back now that your body admits it.”

With a small nod, Itachi accepted your answer, got dressed again and went out into the kitchen. You forced yourself to stay awake in gratitude for your boyfriend’s unconditional care, and when the Uchiha returned with a tray of hot soup, your heart was filled with love.

Sitting on the bed and placing the tray on his lap, he proceeded to feed you slowly so that your body would not reject the food.

“…You know, [Y/N]… I think you passed it on to me…”

[bbq-hawks-wings]

hey! I've seen a bunch of posts on how HPSC is slightly corrupted and all, could you explain if you understand this? They're (die hard villain fans) usually using this as a justification to slam the heroes for raiding the army. I'm quite confused sorry

I’d be more than happy to, friend! I have a strong feeling it’s going to be a key detail in the story moving forward so it’s good to go back in reviewing everything we know now; plus, it gives me the perfect chance to offer up my theory that ropes in Aizawa, Midnight, and Present Mic. Buckle up, though, because this gets a little long.

The HPSC tells heroes what to do.

The Hero Public Safety Commission is a pocket of the Japanese national government in this universe, sort of like how the FDA is in America.

It’s important to note that HPSC is a separate entity from the heroes. They’re the ones giving out licenses, disciplining rouge heroes, overseeing hero training, acting as liaison between heroes and law enforcement, organizing cooperative efforts with multiple heroes across different regions, and managing the general image of heroes with events like the Hero Rankings Billboard.

Heroes have to obey directives given by the HPSC and hero schools have to align with guidelines set by the HPSC, but heroes don’t usually get a say in these decisions and often only get to complain about how things are done and are stuck doing it anyway. If someone is caught heroing without a license or not in hero uniform, you can be fined and/or jailed. If a hero doesn’t keep up with paperwork or runs off and does their own thing they can also be fined and have their license suspended. If a hero goes AWOL or completely flips out they can have their license permanently taken away and be jailed.

It’s actually even more important to note that way heroes are allowed to operate and answer to the government is actually closer in line to a militia than a police force. In fact, while heroes are allowed to make arrests and use their quirks, they are more restricted in what they can and can’t do on their own than the police. If a hero wants to work with other heroes on an investigation, they have to use the private network (administrated by the HPSC) or communicate in person. In the case with the Shie Hassaikai or looking for Kurogiri and the LoV where police cooperation was necessary to carry out the investigation and bring in the gang right away there was no choice but to be transparent with the HPSC.

However, the HPSC doesn’t have to be transparent with the heroes.

They require heroes to give up all their information to keep working as heroes, but they don’t have any accountability for themselves and have notably dodged scrutiny up to this point with public backlash almost always falling on the heroes who have little to no say in how they run things.

Starting back at the beginning of the series with the USJ incident, it understandably garnered massive media attention - it should have. Dozens of unknown, random two-bit villains poured into the most secure, prestigious hero school in all of Japan undetected and resulted in the serious injury of two teachers and could have included the students as well if All Might had not been there to fight and subdue the inhuman monster - the Nomu - who had up to that point had never been seen before.

It’s not unreasonable that UA initially got the blowback from this as it could have been chalked up to complacency causing a lapse in security that the HPSC absolutely wouldn’t have been accountable for. It’s treated like a one-off event and despite investigations going nowhere on it, it’s ultimately downplayed and checked out in the background while continuing with the Sports Festival in high spirits. However, things get worse.

After passing their semester exams the Hero Course first-years head off to do practical training in the mountains with a hero team named the Wild Wild Pussycats. Remember, because this is a hero training initiative between a school and a hero team, the HPSC is likely involved at least on some administrative level in regards to granting permission and securing the patch of mountainside to use even if this detail is not acknowledged in the series. Despite efforts to only include the staff, teachers, and heroes involved word somehow still gets out - resulting in more student, hero, and teacher injuries, and most importantly the kidnapping of one of the students.

This can no longer be swept under the rug. A lot happens in the secret hideout raid revealing lots of stuff with the plot, including All-for-One’s direct involvement, but it doesn’t add anything more to our notes besides the fact UA is once again blamed and heroes are thrown under the bus instead of the organization overseeing them.

Fast forward to the Provisional License Arc. This is the first time we see the HPSC acting explicitly. It’s noted that they passed significantly more students this year than previously. Yokumiru Mera, the tired proctor, is overworked. The HPSC has a reason to urgently pump more students into the “working force” now than it had before, though at the moment it’s written off as a result of All Might’s retirement.

During the Shie Hassaikai arc the only suspect detail we get is the fact that the raid on compound is inexplicably compromised, and somehow the yakuza knew the heroes and police were coming. We’ll come back to this and to the leaks in UA again later.

Skipping the remedial courses and school festival arc, we get to the Pro Hero Arc. Big lights, pomp and circumstance, and a massive powerful Nomu attack that nearly kills the freshly crowned #1 Hero. From this point forward, what we get of the HSPC is mainly through Hawks and his experience with him. After the fight, we get a flashback of the President of the HSPC herself telling him to ignore civilian casualties in his mission to infiltrate the LoV, that he has to do it solo, and that he can’t tell anyone. Briefly in the next chapter he says that despite his objections he can’t actually tell them no.

Hold up!

Did a government agency just tell a hero to secretly get in with the villains no matter what, and when he objects and asks whether he’s just supposed to ignore collateral damage in the process is told, “You can and you will”?! (That’s a verbatim quote from chapter 192.) I thought this agency was supposed to hep people and keep them safe!

We get smatterings of interactions between Hawks and the HPSC, and though we don’t get anything from there side we’re getting that every questionable or deplorable thing Hawks does or needs to get on the LoV’s good side is acknowledged and endorsed by the HPSC. “I’m in contact with the shady guy who loosed that monster in the middle of the city with no warning. He wants me to kill the other top hero who just recovered and to join the definitely-dangerous doomsday cult, and maybe THEN he’ll let me in on what’s going on.” Ok, sure. Nothing morally questionable about any of that...

Jump to chapter 267. Up to this point, this note about Hawks’ past has been hinted at, but is here finally confirmed with a chilling detail. Kids who enter hero work may get special coaching by their families when they’re young, but the threshold for entering formal government-regulated training isn’t until 14/15 years of age in the last few years of their education. Chapter 267 shows a little Keigo Takami no older than about 8, at best, being told by the HPSC that he doesn’t get to call himself by his own name anymore. From now on, he’s going to be a hero, and only a hero, and it’s going to long and hard. Back in 192, two mysterious figures promise the same boy, shown at the same age, that his family will be taken care of.

Whatever circumstances led Keigo’s family to end up in the situation they did, they accepted an offer from a government agency, the HPSC specifically - you can see their headquarters in the flashback - to take away their very young son, take away his identity (and implicitly his family), and groom him to be government tool for the rest of his life - a commitment he had no true say in and that he could not understand at the time.

And it gets worse.

Endeavor works with the HPSC regularly as all heroes have to, but his relationship with them and what they’ll let him get away with gets put into greater question the longer we look at it. He turned to eugenics to create a hero he couldn’t be and surpass All Might for the sole purpose of satisfying his own ego. He bought a girl from her family and forced her to have his kids, then subjected those kids to cruel training - passing over each one until he got to one he felt he could work with -, beat his wife as well, and some kind of action he was involved in lead to the death of his oldest son. While the domestic abuse could be hidden, the death of his child cannot. What’s more, shortly after (very shortly if timelines add up), his youngest son received a permanent burn scar on the heat-resistant side of his face and his wife was locked away in a mental institution for a decade.

And the HPSC never bats an eye. They could take away his license. They could call the police. They could have exposed him to the public or at least ordered an investigation. But they didn’t. On some level they knew, and they did nothing.

But it might be even worse.

I skipped over this detail chronologically, but it’s the linchpin for just how corrupt the HPSC might be if all this lines up. Looking at the Endeavor Agency Arc, we get a seemingly random confrontation with a guy called Starservant (chapter 243) who prattles off a prophecy about the Dark Lord returning and his Dark Stars conspiring against humanity which will bring the world to ruin. He calls out Endeavor specifically as the shining light that beckons the darkness, but this sounds an awful lot like the deranged wailing of some crazy old man, right?

Let’s jump over an entire series now to the spin-off serial Vigilantes. This series takes place in the same universe at an earlier point in the timeline of the main story - and take an extra little note that there’s an underlying subplot about unusual drugs meant to enhance quirks (that often result in mutating the user) and that someone may be using them to clandestinely run experiments on humans from the shadows. 

In chapter 59 we get flashbacked to Eraserhead, Midnight, and Present Mic’s childhood experiences at UA, and we’re also introduced to Oboro Shirakumo - their fellow classmate and dear friend. We get a few chapters establishing their relationships and their goals and dream for the future until chapter 63 where things make a drastic turn in tone. On what should be a routine hero training exercise as third-year seniors a giant, monstrous villain shows up and attacks while the UA kids are escorting a class of preschoolers around town.

In the scuffle, though Aizawa is able to single-handedly come out victorious, in the fight and debris Shirakumo is struck in the head by falling concrete as he tries to lead the children to safety and dies on the scene. Go back to main series, chapter 254-255, the villain Kurogiri is detained but the police are having no luck questioning him. They get a sliver of a lead and call in Present Mic and Eraserhead to interrogate him, and it’s confirmed that Kurogiri was a human experiment of Doctor Ujiko - the mad scientist bio-engineer responsible for the Nomu and outspokenly faithful servant of All-for-One - created from the corpse of their dearly departed Oboro.

Here’s the kicker, though, in Japan they don’t often bury their dead. Funerals next to never include an open casket - the loved one is cremated first, their ashes placed on an funeral shrine with their picture, and the loved ones mourn there. That means Ujiko needed to get to the body before it was cremated - which requires some fast work; but that’s not even the worst of it. Jumping one last time to chapter 270, Ujiko recognizes Mic as a friend of Shirakumo and boldly admits the entire time he was after Aizawa for his quirk.

That attack more than 10 years ago was premeditated. This goes back a long ways. How did he find this information - about their quirks and their movements and where to find them? How did Ujiko get the body out of the morgue without anyone catching him? Could it be the same way his fellow servants of All-for-One were able to get into the USJ? And the Training Camp? And the Yakuza raid? All-for-One has a lot of connections for his faithful servants to move about freely in this world of heroes despite every effort being take to stop them. 

Somehow, these shining lights can never seem to outrun the dark no matter how hard they try, as if there’s a conspiracy against them. But a conspiracy of that level would have to come all the way from the top! If you wanted to get poetic about it, you could even say the stars themselves are conspiring against us. But that old man was crazy, right? If he wasn’t crazy - if he was right at all - then no matter what way you slice it:

This is bad.

[ducktracy]

163. clean pastures (1937)

disclaimer: this is the third entry on the censored 11. while there are more cartoons out there that are just as vile, if not moreso, than the cartoons on this list, this is a good indicator of what we’re about to see. this review contains racist content, imagery, and ideals. i do NOT in anyway endorse any of the depictions here. they are gross and wrong. however, it would be just as wrong to gloss over them like nothing even happened in the first place. these cartoons need addressing. i hate reviewing these just as much as you hate seeing them, but these cartoons need awareness. PLEASE let me know if i make any mistakes or say something wrong or hurtful. it is NEVER my intention to do so, and i want my mistakes to be known so i can correct them and own up to them accordingly. thank you for your cooperation and understanding.

release date: may 22nd, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: the four blackbirds (vocal groups), danny webb (various), mel blanc (satan)

not a fun time in looney tunes history--the cartoon released right after this one, uncle tom’s bungalow, is another censored 11, so we have 2 back to back. nevertheless: phil monroe receives his first animation credit (he would have been only 20 at the time), one of my favorite animators. he traveled around quite a lot, working for friz, bob clampett, frank tashlin, chuck jones, and so on, even directing his own cartoon the iceman ducketh alongside maurice noble. the title is a parody of the 1936 film green pastures, and footage from this cartoon would be traced over in yet another censored 11 entry, bob clampett’s tin pan alley cats in 1943. many elements borrowed from friz’s 1934 goin’ to heaven on a mule, clean pastures chronicles the struggling economy of pair-o-dice, and what can be done to ensure hades inc. doesn’t prevail.

to give credit where credit is due, the opening montage is hardly anything less than impressive. harlem is bustling with night life, as displayed by the blinking neon lights of various clubs, ballrooms, restaurants, etc. the animation of a line of dancers is absolutely to be commended: very complex, very high energy, very fun with a lot of energy. stereotypes are, unfortunately, perpetuated as we see the hand of a man shooting craps and snapping in frustration as he misses his shot. another shot limited to just hands, this time preparing cocktails. the use of just hands, no faces or anything else identifiable, is certainly clever directing on friz’s part, adding an air of mystery and excitement. more dancing from a happy (and stereotyped) couple as we get a variety of overlays--the women dancing at the beginning, the couple dancing, and the word HARLEM in big bold letters for all to see.

more very clever animation as the HARLEM spins away, revealing the surface it’s on to be a globe: the earth. the earth gets smaller and smaller as we zoom out into space, complete with details such as shooting stars and other planets. the opening is wonderfully executed in approach and is undeniably very well thought out, though the stereotypes and content itself obviously cannot go unnoticed.

segue into a musical number provided by the four blackbirds, an original titled “half of me (wants to be good)”. the vocals are too wonderful and lovely to belong to such a nasty cartoon. i digress--a horizontal pan takes us further into space, where we spot a trail of empty milk glasses. a wonderful take on the milky way that only took me two watch-throughs to get. above the milky way are the golden gates themselves: pair-o-dice. pair-o-dice was referenced in the moral monstrosity that is goin’ to heaven on a mule, another friz cartoon from 1934.

hone in on a forlorn, elderly angel, saint peter himself, reading the newspaper: pair-o-dice preferred hits new low as hades inc. soars. sure enough, a glum glance at the stocks assert the newspaper’s credibility: the line representing stocks on the board literally goes out of bounds and onto the floor. saint peter checks his ticker tape: results are bleak. the underscoring song comes to an end as he decides to make a call.

and, of course, we are greeted with yet another insulting stepin fetchit caricature playing a trumpet. he’s more concerned about the foul notes he occasionally blats from his trumpet instead of answering the off-screen phone. saint peter on the other end loses patience, angrily pressing the buzzer in conjunction with the underscore. there IS some clever animation as the fetchit angel’s wings pick up the phone and tap him on the head. he answers and gives the affirmative (the whole time speaking in a cruelly stereotypical dialect), a sudden burst of energy prompting him to run to whatever task he needs to tend to.

friz certainly seemed to enjoy the lingering suspension brought on by this cartoon, with the introduction of the segmented hands gambling and pouring drinks and now the confidential phone call prompting the fetchit caricature to plummet down to earth off of a diving board. the animation is very fun, loose, and weightless, all things considered. while the fetchit angel plummets down towards the earth, saint peter places a pin on the globe in his office, right on the spot marking harlem.

more overlays of the bustling harlem nightlife we saw at the beginning, dissolving to focus on the fetchit angel peddling in the streets, trying to get more people to come to pair-o-dice, indicated by the sign on the platform he’s standing on: COME TO PAIR-O-DICE — BE CONTENT. to boot, there’s another sign à la uncle sam with the elderly angel pointing at the audience. “PAIR-O-DICE NEEDS YOU!”, as well as listing a number of commodities promised at the venue. most insulting on the list is the promise of watermelon. very tasteless, offensive, and deplorable. while the angel struggles to properly advertise, we’re met with an interlude of a random passerby tap-dancing. the synchronization between animation and sound at least provides some benefit.

another one of the passerby’s is mister al jolson himself (the blackface caricature of him, anyway. remember, jolson WAS white), singing “i love to singa” while he strolls down the street. as he mentions about wanting to sing about “a sonny boy”, a little ventriloquist puppet randomly plops down from the sky, right on jolson’s knee, the puppet greeting him “hello, stranger!” “sonny boy” was a popular al jolson song, whereas the “hello, stranger!” was taken from jack benny’s radio show. the same catchphrase and i love to singa song were both used in, of course, tex avery’s i love to singa just a year before.

as jolson wraps up his routine, he strolls into a nightclub (named the kotton klub :wince:), much to the fetchit angel’s chagrin: “you can’t go in there! i’m supposed to keep you out of those places!”

back to pair-o-dice, where saint peter and a variety of celebrity caricatures watch from above: fats waller, jimmie lunceford, cab calloway, and louie armstrong. cab calloway would be caricatured in a number of looney tunes cartoons, perhaps most memorably in porky at the crocadero, and fats waller would be rechristened as “cats waller” in tin pan alley cats, which traces over animation from this cartoon. as always, the caricatures are grotesque and one dimensional. there are so many other fascinating aspects to caricature, like fats waller’s eyes, and yet it’s always the lips that get the most exaggeration. 

what engages next is a wonderfully catchy musical number—as deplorable as this cartoon is, the music score is wonderful and doesn’t deserve to be in such a hateful cartoon. the celebrities all chastise saint peter for his poor business practices, and how rhythm in your soul, rhythm in your feet, etc. is the way to properly recruit more people. the patter song, the snappy, lilting tempo, the energy, it’s all wonderful and is certainly one of the better musical numbers we’ve heard in merrie melodies thus far. it’s a shame it has to be dampened by such grotesque imagery. the animation is rather nice though, all things considered.

the angels all go down to harlem where they play the big jazz number of the cartoon, “swing for sale” (this is footage from the cartoon itself, so be warned), on the platform the fetchit angel had just been peddling on, with cab calloway providing the primary vocals. calloway’s closeups and animation in general is very smooth, flowing, and fun, and the call and response aspect of the entire song between calloway and the angels is a lovely touch. the backup angels have their own soft interlude, gathering around a microphone, making the mouth trumpet noises present since the harman-ising days. 

fats waller provides a double piano solo, reused from goin’ to heaven on a mule where his angel wings play on the piano behind him. the close-up of waller after another scat solo from cab calloway would be recycled in tin pan alley cats.

after waller, calloway points to louie armstrong, who sings a few lines of the song and launches into a trombone solo. once again, the animation is very nice, thinking in technical terms. whoever does the celebrity impressions are quite good at them. a nice little detail is louie’s face turning purple and his eyes bulging as he pushes to get the notes out—i can only imagine the extremes this would be pushed to if the cartoon were made 5 years later. 

the song ends, allowing a transition to pair-o-dice, where the golden gates open to let the angels back in. a lovely up-shot of the gates, as well as the constantly moving background as the angels, still performing, traipse along the starry trail and prepare to enter. they’re not alone—a whole line of new recruits follow, wagging their fingers and dancing. the animation of the lead couple was reused from sunday go to meetin’ time, another deplorable freleng piece from 1936.

now, pair-o-dice is bustling. lovely choice on friz’s part to be looking inside pair-o-dice from outside the gates, the golden gates partially obstructing the view of the busy streets. angels line up to get their halos, distributed from a machine. saint peter contentedly places a NO VACANCIES sign on one of the doors, beaming with pride.

suddenly, a knock. he opens the little door window at the top to peer at his visitor. mel blanc’s gravelly voice grunts “may i come in?” saint peter disregards his own sign. “sure. there’s always room for one more!”

with that, satan himself marches inside, prim and proper, hands clasped together, providing a knowing side-eye to the audience as we iris out.

this cartoon is much livelier than the previous censored 11 entries, and its musical score is undeniably fantastic. with that said, this is a terrible, offensive, grotesque cartoon that parades a number of stereotypes and caricatures. it’s not in my place as a white person to decide what is racist and what isn’t, but this is a slight step above from the previous entry, sunday go to meetin’ time, which was just plain cruel. this cartoon is slightly more light-hearted, if that’s at all possible, but still lacks any sense or compassion. 

there are a few things that do deserve praise. the animation, again, in technicality terms, is very nice. lots of closeups, lots of flowing animation, lots of intricate hand movements. cab calloway’s animation during the big jazz number and fats waller’s animation playing the piano with his hands and wings are both to be commended. the music score is wonderful, fun, and lively, much too good for the cartoon it’s in. the layouts are also stellar, especially the scenes in pair-o-dice. but still, there’s no way in good conscience that i can recommend this cartoon. you’ll be fine without watching it. it’s certainly polished, but it still remains inexcusable. 

yet, like always, if you want to watch this for educational or historical purposes, here’s the link. obviously view this with discretion.

[arinaco]

Pidge - the heroine with Schrödinger problems

Translated and edited by @Nadezhda932

I think it's worth saying a few words about Pidge, because as far as it seems no one ever spoke about the problems of her character. Actually, even her creator, Lauren Montgomery, after the release of S8 with greatly changed original script began to insist that Pidge was fine and had no flaws. Although Pidge's problems were voiced by Keith in the first episodes of the series. This is absolute indifference to everyone who is beyond her personal circle of people, everyone she doesn't like or cares. “You can’t leave everyone to the mercy of fate for the sake of personal desires!” - says Keith, who, with all his teenage issues and egoism, is a very responsible guy (that very trait which will help him grow to the Black Paladin over time). “I really can!” - Pidge answers confidently.

Pidge is a supporting character, but her problem was announced almost immediately. Why? Because she is the favorite character of the main screenwriter, Lauren Montgomery. A good screenwriter knows that a hero without flaws and problems is of no interest to anyone. You know, there is an interesting point in that Lions (with the exception of White and Black) are in many respects opposed to each other. And if the first and most obvious coupling is Red and Blue, then the coupling of Yellow and Green is in the background and remains invisible, although it was also shown quite early. The Yellow Lion is a self-confident rock, a support for others. The strongest and most massive of all. If Blue is the one who consoles and wipes away tears (healer in game terminology), then Yellow, as a powerful shield, will take all the fire upon himself (tank). Do you need to be reminded of what happens if a healer or a tank falls in a game during a raid on Boss? It’s shitty, despite the fact that they have the lowest attack in the group.

The first appearance of Yellow is marked by the fact that he stands between the Blue and the enemy as a shield.

The Green Lion is ... an extravagant scientist, shallow and fidgety. This one will not protect anyone, but will crawl anywhere and achieve her goal. She doesn't have a powerful attack, but she has a trick. In game terminology, she would be called an assassin-horn, the most insidious class (that's who exactly from the ninja clan ...). He is an even greater loner than Red - who, although selfish, is held by Black, as his right hand. The Green Lion is on her mind, her motives are not always understood by others, but she doesn't want to be understood. 

It's funny that the paladins always used Green to sneak past the Galra imperceptibly

Paladins reflect their Lions. Hunk, despite his fears, immediately stood up for the inhabitants of Balmera, simply because if not him, then who? He is the person who is ready to stand up for the first comers if he sees that they need his help. It doesn’t matter: Galra, humans or some new unknown race. Hunk is a born negotiator, he knows how to understand people and is always ready to make contact. And Pidge is... his exact opposite. She was ready to abandon everyone who depend on her, for the sake of saving her father. What about establishing contact with strangers... it's not something that she can't do, she simply doesn't want to. She always says what she thinks, not caring how much it hurts others. Do you remember how she said to Allura something like: "Your father is dead, but my one is alive"? Can you imagine how painful it was for Allura to hear this?

Allura couldn't have done that. And it’s a pity, in S6 it would be very useful to her.  

And this is her problem. This is a problem for many children spoiled by their parents. After all, these are the roots of Pidge's behavior. Let's recall her childhood. Katie is a special girl from a special family: brilliant scientists, not like everyone else. Because of this, she had conflicts with her classmates - but on the other hand, the family itself nurtured and cherished her, assuring that it was good to be special. “You are exceptional and that’s wonderful" - they said. Forgetting that there's nothing remarkable in the inability to communicate with peers in a normal way. And that surely the conflict was not only one-sided - sorry, but Pidge isn't made of sugar. No wonder her entire company in the Garrison consisted of Lance and Hunk - VERY flexible and patient ones in communicating with other people. Blue and Yellow paladins, remember. But the problem was ignored, it was solved by stroking the daughter on the head. The girl was cherished, the girl was spoiled. The girl is a genius, which means that everything is excusable to her. The girl abandoned her mother without hesitation and fled, for the sake of the mythical opportunity to save her father and brother. Think about it: what it was like for this unfortunate woman? The husband and son went missing, and the daughter followed them. And not for a day, not for a week. For months and years.

Pidge didn't think about it. Pige didn't want to think about it. And this is a problem that remained unresolved. You know, a person’s character is revealed when he or she doesn't need to hold the face. When he or she isn't obliged to establish good relations, when this person is the master of the situation. And the authors directly showed us how deplorable the situation is with Pidge. Do you understand what I'm talking about? I'm talking about the very scene when the issue of giving of Lotor to Zarkon was being decided.

Stop the planet, I’ll come off... quiznak, it's all the same in the entire universe.

There is something very significant in that Lotor then stood in front of the paladins without a helmet, face to face. More precisely - eye to eye. Since this is very important. Stormtroopers in Star Wars, Galra soldiers in VLD series, and even quite real death row in modern China - they all have their heads covered. At least the eyes. Because it depersonalizes a person. No personality - no empathy. You can abstract from it, you can stop considering this man alive. He's not the same person as you, which means that there's nothing wrong with his murder. That's why the scene where an inanimate robot takes off his helmet and turns into a person with eyes - windows into the soul - is always very important in any motion or animated picture. He is now a person. He is alive. You need to step over yourself to raise your hand on him, and his death is no longer something insignificant for the plot. And now a little girl of 14 y.o. screams almost with foam at her mouth, demanding that this living person - completely dependent on the decisions of the paladins - must be put to death.

I need to say, the rest of the team was slightly shocked too.

Didn’t you have a jump in your soul? No thoughts about Christian values, psychological barriers to killing a person. Well, you know, about things that should seem to matter in our culture. I understand that Pidge wanted to save her father. But I absolutely can't accept how easily she was ready to kill Lotor, who completely depended on the mercy of the paladins and didn't show any aggression towards her. Like, "if I didn’t shoot him myself, but through third parties, everything is normal"? The hands ard clean and conscience too. After all, the latter snores sweetly. Of course, you can say about the enemy, and that there's no place for compassion, but you're the paladins, not unprincipled Galra. You're the good guys. Or not so good anymore? Even from a position of profit and simple logic, the Galra prince could bring much more benefit in war than a scientist with an industrially backward (from the point of view of the universe) Earth. But what benefit, what compassion we're talking about. "Give me dad back!" and that’s it. As a result, the paladins didn't even think of giving Lotor at least some (!) chance for the rescue. They didn't come up with at least some plan. They stupidly decided to give him to Zarkon, knowing that for Lotor this was a one-way ticket, and knowing that with a high probability Zarkon would deceive them - that is, Lotor's death could be in vain. Bayard was given to Lotor by Kuron, after Haggar ordered to activate the third phase. Haggar didn't want Lotor's death. And this is a big problem, actually. Because Haggar-Honerva herself showed how dangerous a brilliant, but unprincipled scientist is. But if Honerva became so because of quintessence, then Pidge is a direct result of improper upbringing. Alas, in this series this problem wasn't solved. Because the entire story arc of Pidge in S8 was cut out. What was this arc? The realization that not the whole world revolves around you. That not only your interests matter. That you can objectively be wrong with others, and you must be able to admit your wrong. Simply put, the Pidge's arc must be connected to two figures: The first figure is a figure embodying one-sided attachment for Pidge. Love without bestowal, as it often happened with the love of parents to Pidge herself. The second figure is an absolutely alien person for Pidge who is not in the circle of loved ones. Pidge was often rude with such people, and she must realize how wrong this behavior was. Who are these figures? I think the answer to this question is not difficult: Lance and Lotor. Pidge got used to the fact that all the people who are not indifferent to her revolve around her. In particular, Lance and Hunk. But in his chase for Allura, Lance began to move more and more away from his friends. They ceased to be Garrison Trio from the first seasons, who used to do everything together.

Nothing unites people like a joint escape from the cops... at least it used to unite.

For Pidge, this was very unusual. And very hard. Especially the moment when Lance, with the help of his "retinue", invited Allura on a date. Now they're not a company of friends - Hunk, Pidge and Lance. Now Lance is with Allura, and they're somewhere on the side. Pidge feels that for an important person she is now in second place. And she really has a hard time feeling it. She's used to take care of loved ones, and she continues to take care of Lance. But she has to personally face what you feel when your care isn't appreciated and remains unnoticed. When your love is taken for granted and never comes back. She's in the place of her own mother, whom she so easily abandoned, ignoring the fact that her mother might worry about her.

Does it hurt? Yes. But it's necessary. Alas, this part of the plot was never developed. There's nothing to talk about Lotor, remembering the events that I described above. Do you remember the paladins apologizing to him? No, you don't, because it never happened. And Lotor - oh, such a bad guy - forgave them and pretended that everything was fine, just an everyday matter. Lotor is used to the fact that people around him treat him like a piece if crap. He forgave the generals, forgave the paladins. He forgives everyone, what a vile bastard he is. But since the entire arc of justification or redemption - no matter - of Lotor was cut out, the whole arc of Pidge was cut out too, the arc where she realizes her wrong. There's no awareness of wrong - there's no rethinking of oneself as a person. No growth, no development. Pidge remained convinced that everything she had done was right. And it's just awful, because the children see it. They see and find something close to themselves in Pidge. And they see the message - yes, that’s right, that’s okay. Then these children will grow up and some of them will become not a small Pidge, but a big Haggar. And it won't be funny at all.  

[consequencesofargentdawn]

My experience as a Grim Gest member from 2017-2018

I don't necessarily want you to post this as the screenshots I have would not only eliminate my anonymity but also don't carry enough weight on their own to be really effective in showing their deplorability. However, I'm fine with you guys posting the one screenshot I linked if you want because it showcases the ridiculing of a previous member. That being said the image is from November 2017 so I don't know if you do. I moreso want to share my experience being in the Grim Gest from roughly November 2017- March 2018.

I joined their ranks because I'm incredibly fond of the undead in WoW, and for the most part had a lot of fun roleplaying with them. For all their OOC faults I do truly think that they're decent roleplayers IC. The first few months were fine. I got to know the active members and had a lot of fun, but after a while of being in the guild we got a new member who was rping a dark ranger. A lot of us really disliked him as he constantly used the "I'm a dark ranger" card to silence other guilds and members, acting like his character was more important. He constantly used anti-living godmotes in his rp, famously doing a Sylvanas banshee scream in a campaign that he said would "deafen any living who could hear it"  and as a result pissed off a lot of other horde members ic and ooc. A lot of us wanted him to tone it down, but Morsteth repeatedly defended the rp saying it was good and that he really liked the character. One day however (I forget what he did) the guy was removed from the guild as the officers persuaded Morsteth to kick him. Morsteth then decided to do a complete 180 on his opinions of him, and kept saying "I don't know what I was thinking that guy was awful" going as far as to eventually compile every cringey thing the guy had said ooc (shown below):

and posting it presumably in the vile PCU discord. I thought it was funny at the time but ultimately it was pretty much a character assassination of this guy.

Later on I noticed in their discord a lot of onesided political discussions taking place, one of which was on the topic of white privilege and black lives matter. I argued with Morsteth and co. about it for about a day and was essentially ganked over my opinion. Morsteth became pretty upset with the argument and stripped me of my roles, restricting me to typing in a "Toxic Lair" channel, telling me that he would talk to other officers and decide my fate once he was home despite having heard the "ooc is ooc and ic is ic"  meme. That night I received an apology from Morsteth telling me "Alright, basically it comes down to our personal argument and I think we both should have left it earlier, so it's not a one-sided thing so I don't really have a reason to "hate" you or ban you from the guild as you didn't do anything wrong. Just typed some mong stuff in my personal opinion." he even admitted to "blowing [the argument] out of proportions" and apologised for putting me into the lair channel. I was a bit sceptical of this and had been having a hard time irl, but eventually I said I would stick with the guild instead of leaving.

Afterwards a lot of the members were a bit quieter with me, I was ignored frequently and was feeling strange about the whole thing. During this period I became pretty depressed and started to talk to one of the high ranking but not officer members who had been in the guild for ages. He was pretty chill and offered me a lot of advice in dealing with things, and I refrained from talking about my sadness in guild chat, only speaking to this one guy on days I felt awful. Time passed as normal in the guild, but as it did I got a little more bored with WoW. Content had slowed down and my schoolwork was catching up with me so I had informed the guild that I would be more inactive as I had school stuff to deal with. I had also made the apparent mistake to gush about my excitement at the introduction of dark iron dwarves and void elves to the alliance, saying that I was going to make one. Over the next three months my sub died, and to fill gaps of boredom I played other games that I happened to own instead of wasting money on a sub I wouldn't fully use. After 3 months inactivity I was kicked which honestly is fair enough. I asked why I was removed and I was told that it was the inactivity and also because I was apparently becoming alliance in bfa despite never explicitly deciding to do that or saying I would. I explained that I wasn't intending to play alliance and that I had been busy as my exams were coming up, but Morsteth told me that I had been playing games that weren't WoW in my freetime, but in reality I'm prone to leaving the launchers open for games sometimes. I convinced him that I'd sub back in a week once my exams finished and I attended a few rp events and spoke in discord frequently.

Exactly a week after I was invited back I saw that Morsteth was insulting some guy by calling him a soyboy. I asked why he used that insult when there was little evidence linking soy with femininity or emasculation, cited a few credible sources and was met with "my brother works in chemistry and he says its uncertain if it does impact men or not". I naturally thought this defence was ridiculous and argued with him that he didn't have any credible sources, resulting in his enragement at the fact that I believed his brother wasn't knowledgeable about the chemistry of soy. I saw how the argument was going to go and decided to halt it, apologising for arguing with him and stopping the conversation, he hesitantly agreed and saw that we didn't need to argue about it. A few minutes later I spied a Morsteth is typing in the chat, and quickly typed something along the lines of "dude if this is a 3 page rebuttal to the argument that we stopped telling me about how I'm wrong I swear to god dude" and seconds after sending this he posted two paragraphs of soy information trying to disprove me. Likely consumed by rage at this point he quickly typed "ok that's it" and booted me from the guild. I pmed him saying "are you this pissed over a fucking argument? You wanted me gone a while ago, come on be honest dude" to which he replied "you dont see it yourself but ur basically an edgy teenage jerk that rly annoys people to no end while contributing nothing to the guild, so just please stay with elder scrolls online" followed up with "you are annoying dude not just to me". Then he blocked me, and I was incredibly upset. I was so annoyed that I had spent a year in this guild for it to be over because he couldn't man up and shake hands over a soy argument. In my anger, I made a video of the image with Why can't we be friends playing in the background and uploaded it to my channel, titling the video "The Grim Gest in a Nutshell". 

I was pmed later on by his lackey Seth (who I've seen on here being victimised by the guild, how ironic) who told me multiple times that I was the one in the wrong, that I was an idiot, that I was actively making the guild worse being in it and that I would never find a good guild again as I had messed up with the GG. This did nothing but piss me off further but I got over it after a long time. I left the horde as a whole and faction changed my undead to alliance, no longer wanting to play on a side populated by arguably deplorable people. I stayed in contact with one of their Officers who thought it was extreme for me to be kicked over the argument, he tried to convince Morsteth that it was a rash decision but told me that I'd probably never be invited back which I was fine with. I began rping on the alliance and managed to avoid a lot of drama in the next month before seth messaged me again.

I got a message telling me that I needed to take down my video immediately. Apparently when Morsteth tried to show another guild footage from a past pvp event he told them to search up the Grim Gest on youtube, and my video was the first to appear. I was told by Seth that if I didn't remove the video the Grim Gest alongside the other PCU guilds would mass flag every video on my channel (which I don't really care about). I told Seth that I didn't care at all, and if he wanted to flag me then he could go ahead. I messaged my officer friend who told me that Paingriever and Morsteth were attempting to compile all the dirt they had on me and make an equally defaming video despite me only posting a selfie into the discord and perhaps once or twice saying that I was depressed in discord, there was really zero dirt to find on me. I told Seth that if Morsteth wanted to talk to me he should do it himself, and got no response and remained blocked on discord by the baron. Eventually I was convinced by my officer friend that it was probably the right thing to do to move on and delete the video, but with all the utter bullshit I've seen on forums from Morsteth, alongside the COAD posts that showcase his idiotic shenanigans I felt like I had to get this off my chest. 

A final meme comes from a campaign I took part in, where some dwarves were swearing excessively IC. I almost fell off my chair when I saw several Grim Gest members saying that it was making them feel uncomfortable despite a long running meme in their discord being an emote that read "unsafe" being posted whenever someone swore, it was explained to me that they had a member who always complained that swearing made her feel unsafe, and after she left they used it sarcastically at any complaints made about swearing. 

In short; I utterly detest Morsteth and the rest of the PCU, these guilds are the reason that I don't rp undead anymore, which greatly upsets me as they remain my favorite race in the Horde. Perhaps once they mess up hard enough and are punished I might finally be able to play the race that I love, but that seems like an impossible future.

[wingletblackbird]

I loved these additions so much. I feel like my heart is still flailing. I hardly know where to begin.

I had heard rumours about that background to Indiana Jones, but seeing it laid out like that...Wow. And Lucas thought it would be "amusing." Try disturbing. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I supposed he could have been referring to audience reaction and wanting to explore something unsavory. Stories are a great place to explore difficult, ugly topics, but that's not really what happens here? Honestly, it just sounds like being f*cked up for the sake of it. And even worse....it's more okay because she came on to him??? That makes it worse. What has been this child's life that at eleven you could call her promiscuous? Ugh. Yes, brain bleach.

Regardless, it certainly confirmed for me my impression that Lucas is good at generating interesting ideas and worlds. However, he needs people to reel him in and think a little bit more about the implications. Like Lucas showing an Order that forbids marriage/commitment, because "attachment" is bad and then turns around and claims attachment isn't the same as love...I'm left to think he's just woefully ignorant of Eastern philosophies and how they work.

I mean, saying "[Anakin'd] have been trained to love people but not to become attached to them" if the Jedi had found him younger. Well....why would the Council expel him then for having a child with Padme then? For getting married then? If love and commitment is not the issue? If that is not what the Jedi mean in their view in the prequels of attachment? Healthy non-attachment does not forbid these things. Clearly, something's been warped somewhere.

When you look at what Lucas gave us, whether it exactly lines up with what he intended or not, it is not healthy at all. And that's what I am working with. Death of the Author and all that.

I read those articles you linked and they were fire. I've read some of Dr. Brin's commentary before and loved it for vindicating what I thought when I first watched Star Wars too.

Yeah, what you're describing is exactly the sexism I would expect in an Order that supports a hit and quit it policy. Such policies are skewed in such a fashion that men suffer way less than women do and it's deplorable. Seeing the plight of these women laid out is heartbreaking.

@fanfic-lover-girl speculated that abortions would run rampant in the Order as a result. I'm of two minds on that. I think there would be many female Jedi who would quietly get an abortion so as not to harm her career. However, I do not think it would be standard practice for the Council to use abortions to cover up the shame.

The Order doesn't forbid casual sex, after all. The baby would just be given up to the Order if Force-Sensitive, since, again, they need the numbers and Force-Sensitives are quite rare. The baby's name may even be changed to avoid any connection with the Jedi parent. If not Force-Sensitive, the kid is returned to the family, or given up for adoption. In the meantime, yeah, you're right, the female Jedi probably do get sent away to work with the Service Corps for awhile.

Also, there may well be a black mark placed on their record. I am not certain it would be simply for becoming pregnant per se, but rather there could be an investigation into if this pregnancy were the result of engaging in any long-term committed relationship. If so, that would be the black mark.

Heck, a female Jedi who finds themselves in that situation would have to quickly figure out if they are going to leave the Order to be with their partner, be forcibly removed from their partner and punished, (assuming they do not get expelled), or get an abortion to hide it all. Which is horrible in the extreme.

I genuinely feel so bad for Anakin and Padme. Also:

and the Jedi were apparently of the opinion that Anakin could screw Padme on the kitchen counter but staying for breakfast was some path to the Dark Side.

That made me laugh because it's true. It's so absurd. I want to bash my head against the wall.

Kudos to Expanded U and Legends writers for salvaging that trash fire [shmi and cliegg] into something a lot less squicky than what the film stated.

This. Just so much.

I don't know much about Legends Mandalorians, so I appreciate the extra insight. I think what you're saying makes a lot of sense. Also, the historic Jedi and Mandalorian rivalry may not have helped either.

And you are spot on about Obi-Wan's insecurities.

Love ‘em and Leave ‘em

Anakin: Falls in love with Padme when he’s assigned to protect her. Fandom: “He’s so selfish! Their relationship is so inappropriate and it stops him doing his job!”

Obi Wan: Hooked up with Satine as a teenager when on assignment on Mandalore and probably got her pregnant Fandom: “Obitine are the best couple in Star Wars and its so wonderful he has a son!”

This is a quote from one of @tragicfantasy-girl’s posts. It made me laugh, but I also wanted to point at the serious side of this too. There is a very important contrast here and I’ve been meaning to talk about this for awhile.

The Jedi Order forbids marriages but allows hook-ups. This is not a good thing. I I hope I don’t need to explain why “love ‘em and leave ‘em” should not be considered the gold standard for relationships. (Then again, the Jedi don’t approve of committed relationships so that’s fine to them, but it’s certainly not healthy.)

The above understanding also means that, while a Jedi cannot make a commitment to anyone, they can theoretically use them. In the worst cases, it can encourage objectification and/or abandonment in the interest of that they call “non-attachment.” And by abandonment, I don’t just mean their partner.

I think we see this very clearly in the contrast between Anakin and Padme and Obi-Wan and Satine. Anakin is undeniably attracted to Padme, and if physical attraction were all that mattered to either of them, that’s fine.

Anakin, however, for all his faults, is not interested in that. He respects Padme. We see this all throughout AotC. He honors her boundaries. He demonstrates admiration for her and the work she’s done. He supports her. He wants so much more than just to satisfy his lust.

Later, in RotS, when Padme tells Anakin she is pregnant, he supports her immediately. Scandal or no scandal, he won’t abandon her. He is going to be there for her and the baby no matter what. He seriously steps up where many men fail to. It’s quite admirable, whatever the Jedi say. There’s many a woman in a crisis pregnancy who has not had nearly so much support.

In comparison, we have Obi-Wan who honors the Jedi Code. He hooks up with Satine on a mission. I grant he seems to care about her, but the Jedi way means he will leave her heart-broken. Every relationship Obi-Wan enters into, he enters into knowing it will end. He’ll just abandon them. Where emotions are involved, and they tend to get involved, that’s no kindness.

And the implication is that Korkie is his son. Let’s assume he is. Does Satine ever try to contact Obi-Wan about this? Maybe she does. Even if she did, I doubt the message would ever reach him. People cannot simply contact the Jedi Order. Is she going to petition the Senate about her crisis pregnancy? Yeah, right. So, now she’s alone and pregnant. 

Then, even if he did know, what’s Obi-Wan going to do? If Korkie’s Force-Sensitive, he’ll just go to the Temple. And if he’s not, is a Jedi going to called up for child-support? Somehow I doubt it. How do you even begin to get a Jedi on the hook for that? See above about petitioning the Senate. How much do Jedi even make anyway? Probably just a teeny monthly stipend, if that. The Order provides for them after all. Is the Order going to provide for all the potential illegitimate children out there? Somehow, I doubt it, unless they have the Force and induct them into the Order.

And in the unlikely event that Obi-Wan both knows about his son and has to pay child support, Obi-Wan’s not going to visit that child. He won’t do more than maybe send one letter, if that, because attachment, especially to one’s biological family, is forbidden. Anakin can’t even visit or contact his mother in slavery. There’s no way Obi-Wan’s visiting his kid he’s never met who’s being raised in a decent environment. In fact, he doesn’t. And that’s the Jedi way. 

And if that’s the Jedi way, it is wrong. That is deeply, deeply messed up. 

And you know what else? The Force does seem to have a hereditary element to it. It would not surprise me if the Order promotes casual sex knowing that there will be unintended pregnancies, because that just means more Force-Sensitive kids for them. It’s not like having the Force is not significantly rare after all. They could use the numbers.

tl;dr It seems sad (and wrong) to me that a loving and committed relationship where people raise their kids together is seen as dangerous-you-are-headed-to-the-Dark-Side. But loving and leaving someone, abandoning your kids, and forsaking commitment/responsibility, especially if they don’t have the Force is noble-good-light-side. There is something very wrong with that picture. Even more so when the former is forbidden, and the latter is encouraged.

[vivi-tran]

Problematic Disclaimers

I am incredibly biased towards David Fincher’s work, and that in itself comes with a few other more specific disclaimers we’ll get into later on in this review.

This is a largely historical piece, taking place during the 1970s-80s. If you’re looking for groundbreaking representation for POC/LGBT+/female characters, you may be disappointed.

This show famously deals with the analyses of behavioral science, specifically in dealing with serial killers. This kind of subject matter can be tricky: it’s one thing to be intellectually fascinated by the psychological aspects of these cases, and another thing entirely to sympathize or rationalize these murderers. Mindhunter, of course, makes this type of tightrope act the centerpiece of their story. However, real life serial killers are depicted and dramatized in the show. This could ultimately play into the kind of dangerous romanticizations the show attempts to subvert.

I encourage audiences who correctly assess the character of Holden (Jonathon Groff) as a pretentious shithead to watch till the end.

You could probably make the argument that this series is riddled with ableism. Given, again, the historical background of these analyses, however, mental illness is not something assumed to be well understood in this context. But how we should approach mental illness in storytelling such as this is not my area of expertise, and I am open to anyone bridging that gap for me if I’m being too tone deaf in that respect.

Trigger Warnings

The only instance of gore that you see actually happen in real time is in the first scene of the first episode.

This show is about researching serial killers. There is blunt and often irreverent discussion about murder, gore, torture, masturbation, incest, pedophilia, and sexual violence. 

Even protagonists who are regarded as the “good guys” in this show are expected to put on a front in order to coax information out of their serial killer interviewees. Lewd, inappropriate, and disrespectful language is used in these contexts.

Some nudity and sex scenes. 

Drawings and photography of violent images from serial killers’ case files are shown.

Final Verdict: I loved this show.

As to be expected with a story of this subject matter, there’s a lot of ground to cover with disclaimers and triggers. This is exactly the kind of taboo audiences love to indulge in at a distance, telling each other that it’s the psychology of examining a serial murderer that makes these sorts of films and shows so exciting. But these dark and horrendous accounts, interesting as they may be to so many viewers, have to come with a certain amount of responsibility.

This is something I realized with a cold flush while in vacation in Los Angeles, perusing the Museum of Death. I examined a series of figurines modeled after a number of real life serial killers such as Charles Manson and John Wayne Gacy. I tried to imagine what kind of mindset drives a person to buy these kinds of collectibles, much less manufacture them for purchase. 

Putting such a far distance from these murderers and placing our attractions in the same realm as a hobby takes away from the true horror of what these criminals have done. There’s a line between wanting to learn more and becoming part of a subculture that turns monsters into celebrities. 

Luckily for us, that is exactly what Mindhunter addresses.

The story begins with bright-eyed bushy-tailed young FBI agent, Holden Ford. Ford, initially specializing in hostage negotiation, is discouraged by a recent failed case. Behavioral science calls to him, and in pursuing this trade he joins forces with FBI agent Bill Tench (Holt McCallany) and psychologist Wendy Carr (Anna Torv). Together they pioneer a new wave of behavioral science methods in order to better understand the way these murderers think, and, ideally, find them before they can take any more victims.

As I said before, engrossment in this field of study is, as I have come to recognize it, not uncommon. The rise of a show like Criminal Minds, a prime time television series dedicated to the analysis and capture of fictional serial killers, is a strong indication of this. Most of us would find it difficult to wrap our heads around the idea of somebody with such perverse and twisted desires to be as mundane as you or me. We form this distance maybe to avoid the other side of this obsession that the living can afford: that it could have been us. Because it is far easier to gawk at a monstrous form of evil, than to imagine ourselves as their victim.

Mindhunter attacks this line of thinking at its origins and its source. Based on a book by the same name that details the true events of real FBI investigations, the show uses fictional stand-ins to perhaps convey more dramatic representation of these ideas. But I haven’t read the book, so this is just speculation. 

I mentioned in the disclaimers that our supposed hero of this tale, Holden Ford, explicitly presents himself as an utter jackass. Nothing drives the point home harder than Ford’s development which sees his confident rise and his perplexing downfall. Like many rookies in your stereotypical crime story, Ford wants results. He wants to make a difference, and he wants to see the fruits of his efforts now. He thinks that by acting on instinct and asserting himself, he can change everything around him to his favor. This kind of brazen naivety is nothing new and also not inherently wrong. It’s Ford’s intentions, however, that complicate things.

“Why are you here, Holden?” “I don’t know.”

What starts out as a justified practice meant to stop serial killers in their tracks becomes a battle of the minds where Holden Ford manages to put himself on top time and time again. And yet, even after outmaneuvering and coercing valuable information out of several different murderers, Ford’s life crumbles around him. His long-term girlfriend leaves him, he is formally reprimanded by his superiors for his actions, he confronts the consequences to his impulsiveness, and a tell-tale press release puts an almost complete halt to his investigations. 

The first season ends as Holden Ford hits rock bottom. We realize, seeing him fall this far from grace, that by jumping through all these intellectual hoops in order to get the information he so desperately craves, Ford has played right into the hands of some of the most notorious serial killers in history. He’s in too deep. In his hubris, he placed himself so far above these murderers in his own mind because he believes what he is doing is for the sake of justice, that he actually sunk down to their level.

It probably isn’t too difficult to see this progression throughout the first season. We, as the audience, start out rooting for Ford. Yes! We should study these serial killers and put clearer terms to their behavior in order to catch these criminals early on in the game. Horrid as their crimes are, they are actual human beings and as such we need to understand what went wrong as well as when and where. And then Ford’s behavior becomes deplorable, cringey both in and out of interviews. The show poses the question: is it worth it to stoop so low so as to gather this information?

And in reverberating response, the show also answers in the same breath: no.

In some instances, we are drawn to resent characters like Tench and Carr when their bureaucracy stands in the way of Ford’s justice. But, ultimately, Ford becomes unhinged as he learns that by trying to locomotive his way into success, he has shrunk that distance I had previously stressed and learns he has never been fully in control. 

The moral comes effortlessly enough. And while he isn’t the sole director or writer for Mindhunter, we see this kind of thing a lot in David Fincher’s work: well-intentioned men being crushed by a weight they did not take the time to fully grasp in scope, all under the guise of something thrilling and grisly. Fincher’s most famous work, Fight Club, is perhaps one of the most widely misinterpreted pieces of film in cinematic history thanks to every knee-jerk reaction-having male who came out of those theaters wanting to start their own fight club or project mayhem. Fincher himself has advised his own daughter from associating with young men who romanticize the movie. Fincher takes on these topics all the time. I’m having trouble finding the interview that cites this, and I’ll update this post if I find it, but there has been a point in his career where Fincher has been accused of producing torture porn. But this brings me to the meat of what I love about this series.

Mindhunter is told masterfully. The most disturbing and action-packed part of the show is at the very beginning of the first episode when Holden Ford is trying to talk down a man at the forefront of a hostage situation. But, even then, the way the situation is presented is crude and somewhat sad - you immediately understand there is an inherent problem with how criminals with complex mental faculties are treated and handled from this opening scene. After that? The most unnerving images are shown in photographs and drawings, but never played out for the audience. In fact, when was the last time you saw Fincher play out half the gore he alludes to in his films aside from Fight Club? And thus we can be certain this show was not made for the serial killers, but for us. This is a cautionary tale. There’s no reason to show the whole terrible ordeal - just the effects.

At no point did I feel this series was dragging on either. You forget that what you’re watching is mostly comprised of dialogue. There’s no compulsion to show exploitive material. The characters and their responses compel the story forward. You don’t need a SWAT team to break down an unsub’s door and catch the perpetrator mid-dynamic-action. You’re already amongst some of the most ruthless real-life villains in our country’s history. Anything more than that would be jarring. This is not a show for the serial killers. This is a show for how we react to such a tragic brand of evil, or how we should react. It needs to be said because it’s important that we tell the difference.

In the disclaimers, I also mentioned there being little to no ample representation for POC/LGBT+/female characters. While I don’t necessarily retract that statement, I do need to point out that we are given two supporting female characters in the series who play a significant role in both the story and Holden Ford’s life. The first we see is Debbie (Hannah Gross), Ford’s long term girlfriend. Debbie is a smart, independent woman who is able to banter intellectually with Ford and initially finds his thirst for knowledge to be charming. Gross does a wonderful job with this character, but I felt she wasn’t fully done the justice she deserved, especially when she abruptly displayed disloyalty that was never actually addressed in one of the episodes. Had it not been for this scene, it wouldn’t be as obvious that she was probably just a placeholder made to show all the aspects in which Ford’s life was falling apart. 

More prominent than Debbie is Wendy Carr, a well-established psychologist as well as a lesbian. Carr is perhaps the better-written of the two female figures, being decisively driven by her own moral compass and toting the kind of calculating patience that Ford could have afforded to learn from. Torv plays the kind of character we never question, that we trust, that we know is making the most diplomatic calls possible. And even here, I am left wanting more out of her story, out of where she found herself towards the end of the first season other than just a ghost of Ford’s consequences.

Maybe it is for personal reasons that I felt the need to praise this show for distinguishing the difference between feeding a killer’s ego and not losing sight of what is truly important under these investigations. Maybe I am just a fanatic for whatever Fincher touches. And to be sure, it certainly does have his trademark cinematic touch - from seamless and compelling editing to the intense portraits of its characters. But, in any case, this show far exceeded my expectations in its mindful storytelling and is an important piece in a society obsessed with the grotesque.

[phantomthiievery-a]

{ just played through the “good” ending of persona 5 while my computer was updating and wanted to get my thoughts out there. this is mainly me overanalyzing the ending and making some notes about the protagonist’s characterization in it, because damn, that’s some good shit. }

So, it’s pretty obvious that this ending is the wrong choice, even for someone who’s playing the game for the first time. The endings in Persona 5 are less complicated, with numerous bad endings during the interrogation, and a simple choice defining whether you earn the “good” or “true” ending. Beyond that, the twist with Igor actually being the Holy Grail in disguise is made apparent once you see him levitate and hear his voice’s distortion. He presents the protagonist with a choice. Akira can allow the Holy Grail to revert the world to its former ways, full of distorted people who desire to be entrapped within Mementos...with a slight twist. The public will, from then on, adore the Phantom Thieves; their disappearance from the public’s cognition will no longer occur, and they will be revered as heroes despite the rumors about them. His other option is to rebel against that form of society, to erase the Holy Grail’s reign and thereby allow the public to regain their senses.

The “good” ending occurs if you pick the obviously incorrect response, to allow the Holy Grail to revert society to its distorted ways. This is where I find that things get interesting.

For one, Lavenza remarks that the protagonist truly is a “Trickster;” he’s even capable of turning her true master’s wish against him. He’s able to change fate to the extent that not even the attendants of the Velvet Room could foresee, and that’s particularly intriguing.

There’s also an option afterwards to revoke your claim that you want the former world restored. This is likely just a default sort of option that I shouldn’t look into, but I find the dialogue choices interesting. “It’s a good deal” and “Actually...never mind.” The first option is oddly confident, even though Akira himself is well-aware of the fact that society shouldn’t be left the way it was. This itself is apparent, particularly with his final line of internal dialogue: “Is that really how the world should be?”

Now, I’d like to get into reasoning here.

First of all, the “incorrect” decision implies that the Phantom Thieves will still exist and possess the ability to change hearts. That in itself is significant -- after all, their decision to erase Mementos in its entirety meant that they would need to disband. I’d say that this would be the primary reason for anyone to choose this ending, and that applies to Akira himself. He won’t lose his powers, meaning that he’ll be able to continue ridding the world of criminals and deplorable people. Beyond that, for once, the Phantom Thieves themselves would be world-renowned and considered just. Their approval would skyrocket like never before, and there would be relentless support for them. That would also mean that the arrest warrant for them would be lifted, granting them the ability to continue changing hearts without consequence.

Additionally, Igor states that Akira has given into his own temptations if he chooses this option; this implies that his offer was truly based on the desires of the protagonist himself. Considering that the Holy Grail is a God, it’s incredibly likely that he is omniscient, allowing him to make Akira a deal that he likely wouldn’t refuse ( although it would also allow the Holy Grail to continue ruling over people’s lives ). In fact, the protagonist’s only complication with that offer, based on his internal dialogue, is that society shouldn’t live that way. This is essentially a decision that takes humanity’s, and therefore Akira’s, selfishness into account. Choose an ideal life for him and his friends, or for the whole of society?

Finally, I’d like to remark about other content within this ending: the credits themselves, the lack of the other thieves’ appearances, the news reports, and Akira’s reaction to those news reports in Shibuya.

The credits themselves aren’t much; it’s just a plain listing of the names of people associated with the creation of the game, right? No cutscenes that you’d find in the true ending, just a black screen with scrolling text. My remark isn’t about that -- it’s about the background music. Instead of using the actual music for the credits, it actually uses the music that plays in the depths of Mementos. I feel as though there’s some substantial symbolism there. The depths of Mementos represents the core desires of humanity, for the loss of free will and the existence of the Holy Grail. This music’s utilization suggests that Akira himself has given into his own core desires; namely, based on my own interpretation of the ending, the desire to continue acting as the Phantom Thieves and be supported by a distorted society.

Now, the lack of the other Phantom Thieves in this ending was somewhat dismaying. For one, it could suggest that the others never returned from their disappearances -- meaning that they might even be dead, as far as the audience could know. The other reason for this could be that they did return, but disagreed with Akira’s decision -- that is, if they had memory of it. Of course, this could all be dismissed as laziness on the part of the game developers, but I’d like to think there’s more to it than that. 

Beyond that, it appears as though the thieves have been busy: there were changes of hearts being reported all over in the news, with cases adding up to over one hundred incidents. There is no possible way that this could have occurred with the Phantom Thieves’ doing, unless they somehow changed those hearts in Mementos within a day ( this ending still takes place on December 24th ). That means it’s possibly the Holy Grail’s doing, but there is another possibility. The effects of the Holy Grail’s regression of the world could mean that the world reverted to how it was just after the death of Okumura. The reporter states that the arrest warrant for the thieves has been revoked, and that implies that it had to exist in the first place -- likely after Okumura died, but before Akira was taken into police custody.

Finally, Akira’s reaction to the reports on the news is interesting. He turns away from the crowd, pushes his glasses up, and gives a devilish smirk. It’s the face of a man who caved into temptation and is overly pleased with the results, someone absolutely confident in their decision, though there’s also a sense of corruption to it. He’s gotten everything he’s desired, and is continuing his probation as though nothing has ever happened. It’s entirely possible that he recalls his decision, as well -- he appears as though he’s the one who won here, despite how he agreed to the offer that a God made to him. It’s as though the essence of his character as a sympathetic hero has vanished, and he gives off a vibe of malevolence. It’s eerie, yet intriguing, how much this decision appears to have changed him.

[privilege-archives]

EMMETT CLARINGTON ➝ FOURTH SIBLING

I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN

❖ FULL NAME: Emmett Alexander Clarington. ❖ PRONOUNS: He/Him. ❖ AGE: 21. (July 21st). ❖ BIRTH ORDER: Fourth. Twin to Third Clarington. ❖ GRADE: Sophomore. ❖ MAJOR: Music, specifically in Cello Performance, with a double minor in Piano and French Horn Performance. ❖ SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual. ❖ ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Panromantic. ❖ FACECLAIM: Nolan Gerard Funk,

I'LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME

(TW: DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, ATTEMPTED SUICIDE)

Despite the number of zero’s that reside in the bank account of his trust fund, Emmett Clarington is certainly not the type of person who you would imagine as a young man of privilege, wealth, and status. His own shortcomings are the result of an imbalance of chemicals in his brain that were of no one’s fault but arguably, his own. Emmett was born as a triplet to Evelyn Clarington via an extra-marital affair. For whatever reason, while his siblings were exploring their numerous and extraordinary talents and military prowess, Emmett never seemed to be able to leave his bed. His parents were frequently worried about him and his mental stamina, because he never was very social, active, or eager to do much. It wasn’t until Emmett attended a concert of his mother’s at age five that his true calling was born.

From there, something alive struck Emmett, and as he watched the spectacle before him, a new dream burst into his tiny mind. There, alongside his mother was a beautiful series of instruments, and Emmett wanted to do that, too. He wanted to make all of those beautiful sounds, but he didn’t know how. His infatuation festered on the violin, and he would walk around the house pretending to saw on one. His mother immediately noticed Emmett’s interest in the instrument, and had him enrolled in lessons the very next day. Emmett never got along with his father, as he always paled in comparison to Hunter and was the least athletic child– a failure of a son. His mother was the only person who understood his love and obsession with music, to the point of taking him backstage to concerts and allowing him to play for her onstage every so often. Even though Emmett’s nature was skittish, he never seemed fazed– as long as he had an instrument in front of him, his life was in check.

What was considered to be a childhood obsession and hobby quickly manifested itself into a lifelong pursuit. Music became Emmett’s one true escape from the world around him, in which he was finally free to let go of his own head and figure out what exactly it was that he was meant to do with his life. He threw himself into lessons of every kind imaginable: piano, cello, french horn, and violin. By far, his favorite became the cello. He didn’t study, he didn’t play any sports, he didn’t have any friends aside from his siblings, the daughter of his music teacher, and his instruments. He didn’t like reading and he absolutely deplored math. He struggled in school and was put in numerous programs at school to try and help him get better grades in his main subject areas. It was a lonely existence, sure, and despite how he struggled in school, Emmett became completely invisible to all, except those involved in the music program.

Emmett’s entire world came crashing down for the worse when, at the age of twelve, he was informed that his mother had died. There was no consoling Emmett– the boy had never been good with emotions to begin with, but losing Evelyn had turned his personality for the worse. Although he was only a child, he was immediately sent to an intensive therapy, and even lived with his grandparents for a year. Once he hit middle school, Emmett’s awkwardness and social isolation began to manifest themselves in signs of clinical depression, a stutter, and a generalized anxiety disorder. Emmett was quickly put into music therapy and other treatments. He takes regular medication for his problems and while he’s been doing much better for himself, he seems to always be nervous, fidgety, and unable to sit still. Despite the calm, chilled demeanor that Emmett exhibits for the world to see, his mind is a torrential downpour and his heart is never secured to anything other than music. Emmett’s panic attacks are frequent even despite the medication he’s on, and every once in a while he’ll decide to go off his medicine just to try and feel anything other than numb.

In an attempt to ignore his sheer loneliness and need to make something more of himself, Emmett found solace in serving as orchestra member and pit band player for the school musicals, marching band, and other events in high school. He played wherever he could, and when he wasn’t playing, he was practicing. There was never any reason for Emmett to make friends, as he made minimal social interaction throughout all of high school with those who were also involved in music. He had a plan, and that was that. He was going to get into Juilliard with flying colors, nail his audition, and be the first chair cellist for the New York Philharmonic. That was his dream, it was everything he’d been working for, and everybody said he was a shoo-in.

So you might imagine his surprise on the day that his rejection letter came in the mail, from not just Juilliard, but every other school he applied to. He’d been accepted into a community college nearby, and despite how his musicality was beyond compare, his school grades were simply too low to be admitted into a school of higher education. Devastated, without any hope for his future and unsure of what to do, Emmett made an attempt on his own life as a result of being rejected from these colleges, and was put into a mental rehabilitation hospital at the age of eighteen. From there, he began to heal. He went through tremendous behavioral and psychotherapy, learned how to control his thoughts and get a decent handle on his emotions. His own devastation became second to the fact that he wanted to make something better of himself, and be a person that he and his father could be proud of. Living in the shadow of his siblings had always taken a toll on him, and he no longer wished to be a burden on anyone, including himself.

Of course, the media had a field day with him, and despite how the Clarington family tried to shield him from the brunt of it, Emmett had become something of a child star, playing at all parties and events his parents paraded him to. The news that Emmett Clarington had not made it into Julliard, and was “taking some time to himself” hit all of the gossip rags, and Emmett did not have the mental stamina in order to handle it. He was exploited for his time in the hospital, considered a disgrace to his family, and the ultimate disappointment to his father. He went off the grid for a year, didn’t touch his instruments for six months, and focused mainly on himself. It was the worst and lowest period he’d ever had, but he got through it.

Emmett emerged from the rehabilitation center a year later perfectly willing to try again. He had so much more life to life, and Emmett would be damned if he didn’t at least try. After multiple rounds of auditions, a lot more rejections, and a lot of medication, Emmett finally was accepted into Pacific State alongside his siblings. Happiness is something fleeting for him, but Emmett is now well-adjusted and doing much better than he was previously. He’s excelling in all of his classes for the first time in his life, because he’s only taking things related to music. Even though he’s a poor student and still has his stutter from childhood, Emmett is finally feeling as if he can succeed, as he is nothing short of a force to be reckoned with within the music department, and right now, that’s all he can ask for.

BABY, THERE'S NO OTHER SUPERSTAR

Admittedly, Emmett isn’t much to look at. He hides himself behind a collection of loose-fitting plaid shirts and pullover sweaters. His jeans are usually worn-looking and he always has on a pair of beat-up converse when not in performance attire. Emmett wears thick, wide-rimmed glasses that he’s practically blind without. Physically, he doesn’t present himself as anything, as he’s much less physically fit than his brother. His posture is always very poor and he tends to keep his eyes on the ground when he walks.

YOU KNOW THAT I'LL BE YOUR PAPARAZZI

From a military background himself, Grayson Clarington was originally a military lawyer, though after his discharge, became a corporate lawyer to the stars. His late wife, Evelyn, before her passing, was a big name in the music industry. She could be likened to a more modern day Celine Dion, with global number one hits, tours and recognition.

[inhumansforever]

Mosaic #5 Review

spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers

The first chapter of Mosaic’s origin tale comes to something of a close in this terrifically written, beautifully illustrated, emotional gut-punch of an issue; from the creative team of Geoffrey Thorne, Khary Randolph, Thony Silas, Andres Mossa and Emilio Lopez.  Full recap/review following the jump.

Former National Basketball Association superstar turned Inhuman, Morris Sackett has seen the entirety of his old life come crashing down as a result of his transformation.  Terrigenesis has endowed Morris with the ability transfer his consciousness onto the neurological plain of anyone he touches, allowing him to essential possess that person and gain access to much of the their memories, skills and attributes.   Through his journey to try to understand what has happened to him and how his powers work, Morris has learned that his father, ‘Pops,’ has not been the guiding and loving parent he had initially appeared.  Rather, Pops has proven a cold and calculating opportunist who has used and manipulated his son to make himself rich.  

In the previous issue, Morris had occupied the body of The Amazing Spider-Man.  Borrowing Spidey’s impressive intellect, Morris was able to ascertain that he is indeed an Inhuman, that his powers and transformation has been the product of the mutagenic properties of the Terrigen Cloud awakening his latent Inhuman genes.  

Morris explores his powers further.  What he can do is not necessarily a psychic or telepathic possession, but rather the ability to invade consciousness on a neurological level.  And doing so has afforded Morris the ability to have greater control of his own neurological functioning… especially in terms of memory.  

Memories are never forgotten, they do not fade or corrode, rather they are only obscured by the creation of new memories.  Morris is able to use his new powers to navigate through the interfering obstacles of recent memories and recall with crystal clarity memories of his youth.  And in so doing he is able to recall an event from his early adolescence where he overheard his father having a discussion with another man.  

Morris had always assumed that this man was a talent scout for a high school or university who might want to recruit Morris for their school’s basketball team.  Overhearing their discussion more clearly, however, it is revealed that his father had something far more lucrative and nefarious in mind.  

Tests had been run on young Morris and the special abnormalities of his genome had been identified.  He did not possess the X-gene, but rather something else, something  that could possibly be utilized in the development of weapons and/or medical advancements.   It’s horrifying.  Pops was not trying to advance Morris’ career as an athlete… he was trying to sell his son off as a lab-rat!

Morris takes this terrible realization in stride, pushing down his sorrow and letting it become anger and determination as he utilizes Spider-Man’s body to break into the Brand Corperation’s headquarters in midtown Manhattan.  

There he finds several of the individuals he had previously possessed, the young man, Fife, his girlfriend’s assistant, Cece, even the paramedic, Kevin.  It seems that The Brand Corp. is keeping these people imprisoned all as part of an efforts to better understand Morris’ new powers.   Before Morris can free these prisoners, his body is assailed by a terrible sense of being electrocuted.  What is actually happening is that Mr. Busy is using a high-level defibrillator to try to bring back to life Moirris’ seemingly dead original body.  

All these time, Morris has been a disembodied presence, a kind of invisible wraith who is only tangible when he possesses the body of another.  He had not given much through to his original body, possibly assuming that he no longer had such a body.  

The electrical charges pull Morris’ consciousness out of Spidey and back into his original form, a monstrous being with a rather distinctive-looking tuning-fork-like glyph protruding from his forehead.

Back in his original body, Morris tries to fight off the Brand’s agents.  Yet he is weakened and clumsy in his true body and the Brand agents are able to use taser batons to subdue him (electricity, it would seem, may be one of Morris’ more pronounced weaknesses).  

Seemingly defeated, Morris’ body is loaded into a status chamber and prepped for relocation to one of The Brand Corp.’s research and development facilities elsewhere.   As they get ready for departure, Pops show up to collect his fee.  Morris will be dissected and studied, but Pops doesn’t seem to care as long as the check clears.  His own son… it’s deplorable and heart-breaking.  

Fortunately, Mousers hasn’t actually been incapacitated.  At the last moment he had leaped from his original body and possessed the body of one of the technicians.  In this body, Morris confronts his father.  Pops attempts to explain himself.  Life is all about the hustle and the grind, Pops essentially says.  You make money where you can and you look out for number one.  Sure Pops has betrayed his son, but he’s remained true to the basic lessons that he has always tried to impart on him… one gets ahead in this world by taking advantage of every sucker you can… even if it’s your own child.  

It’s terrible, but Morris is taken aback by the awful truth that all this is very much in-tune with how he had lived his own life up to now.  He never cared about his teammates or coaches, the various hangers-on in his entourage, his girlfriends and lovers.   He has been just as bad as his Pops… can he really blame his father for being true to his own philosophy.  

Mr. Busy, The Brand Corp.’s primary agent in this whole affair, takes advantage of Morris being so taken aback and strikes him with a stun-baton.  Another fight breaks out, but the Brand agents are no match for Morris and his body-switching powers.  He triggers a grenade to go off, engulfing the rooftop helicopter pad in a tremendous explosion.    Pops survives the explosion, but is left on the rooftop, circled by flames with no means of escape.  Possessing Busy’s body, Morris speaks his final words to his father.  He tells him to no longer call him ‘Morris.’ There is no more Morris, there never really was… only the shadow of a man that Pops had crafted him to be.  He’s done with his old name, done with his old life.  He is something new now, something different and, above all else, no longer his father’s son.

With this, Morris exits Busy’s body and flies off.  Spider-Man has woken up and rescues the prisoners held inside the building.  Sirens can be heard in the background.  Perhaps the fire department can get to the rooftop in time to save Pops, perhaps not…  Morris no longer cares.  For all intents and purposes, Morris no longer has a father…  Morris is no longer Morris…   He is Mosaic.

Whoa.   Really intense stuff.  It had been rather clear in the earlier issues that Pops was a tough and overbearing parent, but I had not expecting him to turn out as such a reprehensible villain.  It’s both saddening and kind of rage-inducing at the same time.  

Who is to say if this is the author’s intentions, but the whole matter made me think of the human-trafficking crisis occurring all over the world.  I’ve read these terrible stories of fathers or boyfriends essentially selling young girls into prostitution rings.  A modernized equivalency of the slave trade.  It all undermines one’s faith in mankind.  At the heart of such atrocities is cognitive ability to look at a fellow human being as an object.  To suppress the knowledge that a person has thoughts and feelings and just see them as a commodity. This is what pops does with his son.  He doesn’t view Morris as an actual child but rather an investment that he developed in order to sell off for a payday.  It’s an evil beyond words.   Pops’ whole rationale behind doing such a thing is this weird, street-level version of the survival of the fittest.  Whomever puts in the most work, the most grind, the most hustle deserves to be on top; and whomever gets used or hurt also deserves it because they were not smart enough, savvy enough to know that it’s every man for himself.  

Pops is pretty much a psychopath.  The primary feature of psychopathy is the inability to feel empathy; some cognitive impairment that disables the person from sympathize and commiserate with he feelings of other people.  It makes for an interesting contrast to Morris, who by way of his new powers is something of a ultra-empath.  He can actually enter the minds of others, experience what they experience, know what they know, and feel what they feel.  Morris can never be like his father because he has quite-literally walked in other peoples’ shoes.  

Who knows how the original Morris would have reacted to his father’s betrayal.  That original Morris no longer exists.  He is now a conglomerate of different thoughts and feelings intermixed with his own.  He is no longer who he was and has left behind his life, his body, and his name.  

Not for the feint of heart, but nonetheless highly recommended.  Five out of five Lockjaws.

[ostensiblyexistential]

This is an art blog. But this is not an art post. While I do use words artistically, this is not a piece of fiction or a work of poetry, but a personal post. While it may not be art, it’s certainly a catharsis, and in light of everything that’s been happening here in the US, this is a post I feel I need to make. I don’t have many followers, and many of the ones I do have I suspect are bots, so I doubt anyone will really see this, but still. This will be a long post. Please bear with me.

I dated a racist.

And I don’t mean just for, like, a few months and then when I found out he was so deplorable I left him. I mean for nearly 3 years.

“That’s disgusting.” Yes. You are correct. To write that sentence makes shudder. I want to vomit. I am disgusted with myself that this happened. But it happened, and I need to process that. I want people to know how someone could get herself caught up in something so awful. Why didn’t I leave? you ask. Ah, well, we’ll get to that. Sometimes it’s a bit more complicated, and not everyone can easily do the right thing by leaving…

First I want to talk about my background. Personally I think this is important, because context is, so I’d really like it if you read the next part, but if you are of the opinion that none of it matters, or, like, get bored half way through, please skip to the part where I tl;dr and read from there.

I am a white, cisgender, heterosexual woman, and as such, I have some privilege. I was born in Southfield, Michigan. I lived in Detroit, Michigan until I was 9. I attended a private school in Redford, Michigan for gifted children in the metro Detroit area. At least half of my classmates and friends, if not more, were black. At 9, my family moved to Dearborn, Michigan, which has a substantial Arab and Muslim population. I began public school in the 5th grade. In high school, I spent half of each day at a local community college campus taking advanced courses in math, science, and technology. This program pulled some of the best students from each of the three high schools in Dearborn. Again, at least half, if not more, of my classmates were Arabs. High school was post September 11th, just so you have an idea of the political climate of the nation during the entirety of my teens. At 18, after I’d graduated high school, I left Michigan and moved to Arizona, living and working in and around Phoenix, where I lived for the next 7 years. Many of my coworkers were Mexican immigrants or Mexican-Americans. I have absolutely no idea how anyone could think races other than white are less intelligent, or in any other way lower. I was surrounded by people of color my entire life; the concept that race makes someone less than is completely foreign to me, and so obviously and categorically false.

Tl;dr: I’m a white cis-het woman with all the privileges of the first three who’s been immersed in diversity her whole life.

So how did the topic of this post happen?

I didn’t know, not at first. In my experience, it’s kind of rare for someone to just straight up say, “Hey there, I’m a giant racist!” This is because I’m white. Racism is not directed at me, so I don’t know if someone’s racist or not until I actually see or hear it come from them. Our social circle was nearly non-existent and some topics just didn’t come up apparently, or when they did he stayed silent about them until one day when he decided not to be, but that wasn’t right away. Plus, in public, like many other racists, he hid this part of himself. When we went places, he wouldn’t make comments or disparage people. Not at first. That, to my horror, changed. But I’m getting ahead of myself; let’s go to when we met and go from there.

While in Phoenix, I worked as a server. At the last restaurant I worked at there, I ended up meeting someone who’d been sent to Phoenix for work. He was my last table for the day and somehow we ended up getting into a conversation that lasted beyond my work day. This… wasn’t normal for me. I really don’t like tables who are talkative, and would always try to find an excuse to get out of it without being impolite. But I couldn’t really find one, so I was kind of trapped. (In retrospect, the foreshadowing on that would be fantastic if it weren’t so personal and painful for me.) That was how it started out at first, but then topics ended up moving to things that I guess, you know, resonated with me, and I felt more comfortable.

We spent the next couple of days that he was in town together, getting to know each other. At the end of it, we decided to keep in contact. For the next year, we had a long distance relationship. We communicated every day. Once a month, we both took time off work and one of us would fly to see the other for a week. This was how I got to know him, and with hindsight, I believe that it was perhaps not the greatest way to really see someone, not the way we interacted. Our visits were isolated - we mostly spent the time together and didn’t go out very much.

After a year, we decided it was time to make things more permanent. Neither of us could sustain long distance, not financially, and it’s hard emotionally as well. It made more sense for me to move than him, so I did, across the country, and to a state where there’s snow, the exact thing I’d left Michigan to avoid. I’d spent a lot of my savings on these visits we’d been having, and used basically the rest of my savings to move. I took a year off work, so the meager amount of my own money I had when I first moved disappeared fast. Although he’d told me I wouldn’t have to work because he’d support me, that turned out not to be true, and I had to get a job.

He’d promised me a lot of things that didn’t come to fruition. He’d told me a lot of things about himself that simply weren’t true. Honestly, I don’t think he was lying on purpose, I think he just has really bad self-perception skills. The omissions, though, I’m not really sure about.

At around six months after I’d moved (so a year and a half into the relationship), I realized the huge mistake I’d made in involving myself with this man. I knew he wasn’t right for me, for more reason than one. He revealed his true self - an overt racist, an only slightly more subtle sexist, and an emotional abuser who wanted to control me rather than have an equal partner in the relationship. There were lots of small things that added up, and some bigger things that more than added up. I’d gotten myself into one of my own worst possible scenarios. I felt sick. I felt helpless.

He made his first racist statement somewhere around that time. It hit me hard. I was confused and upset. I did the only thing I could - I argued. I don’t mean screaming or crying, I mean I clearly and calmly corrected him. I thought maybe he was just misinformed and giving him real facts might change his perspective. He, on the other hand, argued back in a very aggressive manor. As a person who grew up in a home where anger and aggression meant violence, I cannot handle this type of thing. I went into panic mode, the situation escalated, and he wouldn’t hear me. I was devastated. For a while, I still tried educating him, still tried encouraging him to broaden his views. It never worked, and I think I knew it wouldn’t, but still, I felt I had to try. That was the right thing to do; it was the only thing I could do. At some point I stopped, because it always resulted in some kind of argument, and I couldn’t do it any more. This was a man who used racial slurs around me specifically because he knew how much they bothered me. He thought that was funny.

Although I knew this was wrong, both in a larger sense as well on a personal level for me, I felt I couldn’t leave.

First, I had no money. I didn’t get a job until after I’d come to the conclusion I would eventually need to get out of this, so I mean, I really had no money (spent it all to move, remember? Stupid stupid stupid.) The job I did eventually get pays poorly (minimum wage is not a living wage, but that’s another topic), and I only work part time. With things like groceries and car insurance to pay for, plus 3 cats to take care of, plus the fact that he dragged me out to do things frequently despite my not liking leaving the house and not being interested in the things we were going to but him insisting on me helping pay, I wasn’t capable of saving much. This was my biggest factor in not leaving. I wouldn’t have had anywhere to live, and I couldn’t have afforded to live on my own.

The other reason I didn’t leave was fear. He never physically abused me, and he never showed signs that he would. But he was constantly on edge, always agitated, and as a very empathetic person, I picked up on that. It made me uncomfortable. Anger and yelling, which he was prone to when upset, makes me physically afraid, even if it’s from a person I have no logical reason to physically fear. It’s a trigger and I can’t control that reaction. I had so much anxiety that if I confronted him about my problems and/or left him, he’d snap and I’d either be hurt or dead. Was that ever a real potential? I don’t know.

I lied to everyone around me and pretended my relationship was great, because I didn’t have a support system I felt I could rely on. What good would it have done? It just would have exaggerated my sense of failure without gaining any actual help.

We did, eventually, part ways, and I did have help, but it took me a year and a half after my first startling realization to get there. It was not an amicable break up. I don’t want to talk about the circumstances. They are personal, and it was a difficult time. But while I’m finally free of that disgusting person, I’m not free of my guilt. Perhaps my guilt is misplaced - I didn’t enter into it knowingly, and by the time I’d figured it out it was too late to do anything immediately - but it’s still there. I have a hard time coming to terms with being so close to something I find so abhorrent.

Although I’ve rarely taken part in political movements, my heart has always been, and will always be, the heart of a feminist and an ally. The best I’ve ever done is speak up when I felt I could, when people whose lives I care about were being attacked but who weren’t there to defend themselves. I know it’s not much, but it’s about all I have to offer.

I can’t attend the Women’s March on Washington. It’s just not a feasible journey for me. But I will be attending the sister march that’s taking place in Hartford, Connecticut. Donald Trump is a racist, a misogynist, every kind of -ist and -phobe, and unfit to be called a human being let alone President. Attending is not merely an act of contrition on my part for the relationship I was in with a racist. It’s more than that.

I will be attending for many more than myself and other white women like me. I will be attending for all the people of color he has disparaged, called liars and cheats and rapists. I will be attending for all the members of the LGBT+ community who fear for their right to love and marry who they want, to use what bathroom they want, to be called by the name that they want. I will be attending for every black and Arab and Muslim and Mexican and any other person of color I’ve ever known in my life, and for those I don’t know too. I will be attending for all the survivors of sexual assault. I will be attending for everyone who feels they are in danger or have been disrespected by Donald Trump and others like him. I will never speak over you or for you. But I want you to know that I’m right here beside you.

For anyone who’s actually reading this, even if it’s just the one person who I know will, thank you.

[justinjohn]

Mahogany.  1.15.17

I took the subway this morning with a homeless man.

 I know, bizarre. Normally, when the subway doors open, and I walk on and see a person talking loudly to himself (or openly to the rest of the car) with a grocery cart situated next to him piled high with plastic bags, my inclination is to either move all the way to the other end of the car, or to just exit and re-enter through another door altogether. You risk too much: unsavory smells, noise-factor, a possibly terrifying confrontation.

 But not at 6 AM this morning, in an otherwise sparsely populated subway car. I sleepily boarded with my luggage on the way to the airport and plopped down a few seats away from him, undecided whether my proximity to him was based on choice or lack of energy.

I strangely found some comfort in the man, dreads piled high on his head, bundled and tied with a plaid men’s flannel, wearing multiple pairs of pants, pontificating openly about something over and over again that sounded almost like chanting. He was, yes, ‘crazy’, but benevolently so. He seemed harmless, just lost in his own world, like I am much of the time, perhaps a little bit more so since he was talking to no one, but doing the same self-reckoning and trying to make some sort of sense out of this irrational world that I also do. His voice, of notable mention, was striking. It was what I can only describe as a rich mahogany wood, handsome, finished and reflective; it was reminiscent of a strong speaker I’ve heard on the radio before, like MLK or Jesse Jackson or something. Perhaps it was the darkness of the morning or the stiff silence of the subway car, but his voice cut through sharply and memorably. It was strong, distinctive, almost soulful, and its prayerful tones, though unsolicited, were in some ways, strangely soothing.

 From stop to stop on my hour-long ride into Queens to JFK airport, I watched people walk from the platform and start to enter the car before turning and walking into another, or employing my own trick, stepping into the car and walking to the other end to evade any unwanted affront. I don’t blame them. But as I listened to him chant while casually slurping on what appeared to be Go-gurt packet, I couldn’t help but to think of his life for a minute.

 What was he before this all happened? What was his life like? Assuredly he was born into a family that loved him, I imagine, or would at least liked to imagine. It can’t all have been bad, right?  Was he from New York? Did he go to college? Did he have brothers and sisters? I didn’t know him, but from my cursory deductions from his voice and harmless affect, I imagined him being a peaceful being, some sort of activist maybe one day thirty years ago somewhere, using that voice to affect change. I imagined that he, at one point, probably had a life of conviction, where perhaps he sang or spoke in church or taught or something that fit with this persona I’d created. I pictured him in his late teens, in some wild 70s patchwork bell-bottom pants sitting on a blanket on a green campus patch somewhere in the summertime, pontificating a little like this morning, but lucidly, cleanly shaven, with beautiful natural hair that wasn’t tied up into a bun with a button-down shirt, and garnering a little following. I wondered when he became crazy- was it sudden, or was it gradual, starting to slowly lose connection with conscious reality and speaking aloud at will and without prompt. I wondered if something happened. I wonder if maybe he was caught up with something he never meant, or maybe did something, which forever he regretted. Or maybe nothing happened at all, such that he never could get ahead.

He didn’t strike me as a drug addict- there was another story there, and while I’ll never know what it was, it saddened me because, well, no one cares. Routinely throughout the day in New York, homeless people beg for money on the subway trains, and I ignore them. If I had been in this very car going anywhere else at any other time of the day, I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about him, moving to a farther area of the car, being annoyed as I checked my Instagram that he was taking up the majority of a car with his heap of possessions, questioning what was inside the bags: plastic bottles or some other thing that homeless people collect. But because in that moment I had so little to distract me, I contemplated him.

 And I realized.

 No one chooses to be homeless. No one dreams of growing up to be living on a subway car. And yet we dismiss this group of people all of the time; chalk them up to being degenerates or people who without proper coping mechanisms, whose deplorable backgrounds had them arriving to this end from the start. And we walk past them or switch subway cars- reducing these people to an ‘inconvenience,’ a hindrance in the way of our busy lives with such great sense of purpose.

If there is one thing I have learned in the past six months after I quit my job, it’s that this way of thinking is a big crock of shit.

 There is no ‘destination.’ Life is not an ‘upward path’ with an apex at the top of of which you look over the edge, dangling your happy little legs, and take a deep breath, sighing, “Guess I made it..” That doesn’t exist. Like, if there’s an apex, in the way that life actually exists, I imagine that to be.. death? Like, nothing really fantastic is coming for you after 75, let’s be honest. Like, maybe you get your pension. You’re lucky if you make it through without a life-altering car accident, a divorce, battling cancer at least once, or forming a prescription drug or alcohol habit. If you haven’t, congratulations. You just got lucky. But none of us gets through life unscathed. We all struggle and cope differently. Some afflictions are quieter and more accepted than others: being addicted to work, obsessed with money or sex.

Some people have outlets to deal with their issues: some turn to the gym, some turn to alcohol, some write four-page narratives about life. It just is what it is.

What we see at face value are the ‘results’ of people, what life has dealt them up until that exact moment. We have no ability to surmise someone’s early life experiences other than the value of our own life-survival kit: stereotypes, which sometimes serve us well, and sometimes don’t. There’s nothing we can really do about this; it’s how we are hard-wired, but I suppose the point is this: we don’t become a certain way in a ‘vacuum.’ We are the product of our environment. Of each other. So we should probably take more interest in each others’ welfare.

 When we see a drug addict in the street begging for money, ostensibly to buy more drugs: is this fate his/her own shortcoming? What if the person was molested as a child? What if his/her parents abandoned the person? Would you have faired better? We all know what it’s like to need an escape from emotional trauma; some people find refuge in different things. However, because we only see the last slide of the ‘presentation’, so to speak, the person on the street corner begging for change, we just assume he/she can’t cope with their problems like ‘we’ can; they are broken, hopeless. Let me tell you something: no one chooses to be a drug addict. There is always a reason it has gotten to that dire place.

 And less: what if someone cheats on a spouse? We demonize them. What if that person’s spouse was cold and unaffectionate for the duration of the marriage? What if that person’s spouse married that person for vanity and that person was stuck in a loveless contract, and finally someone came along, perhaps by mistake, and made him/her feel like something for once in his/her life?

 And so it is with this homeless man. I think we all would like to assume he doesn’t want to work. That he’s probably lazy. Smokes a lot of weed. Why? Because that fits in the stereotype of what we’re taught about homeless people.

 I think as human beings we forget to understand context. We like rules. Endings. Grouping things.  Finished products. We think in terms of black and white, and sometimes, I think people fall victim to circumstance and context.  I’m just saying it’s not always so easy.  

 No one on this planet doesn’t try. There’s no one in this world who isn’t born a tiny, happy baby hoping for the best for themselves and for others from the start, only to be oftentimes struck by the complicated factors of life that can so swiftly either bolster one’s success or thwart one from reaching his/her full potential.  

But no one asks to be subjugated or downtrodden. There’s one who says “I give up” without a reason, no one who makes a mistake and continues to spiral because they want to, no one who opts to be ostracized by society. And yet we feel so obliged to judge.  

 You are not ‘chosen’ as much as I am not, but rather, I think we create these narratives in our lives so we feel meaning. So we don’t feel so aimless. And that is okay. What would life be without purpose, without a job to keep us busy forty to sixty hours a week, without this professional identity, without money or a home? I certainly knew whom I could ask in that moment. Instead, I watched him tether his cart to the subway pole with a piece of fabric and stretch out across the length of three seats and go to sleep.

 I think the point is that we are all just trying to survive this life and this world in the best way that we know how. Live our story however it is going to write itself. We are all struggling in some way. Whether it is with finding love or just finding ‘ourselves’, trying to incorporate a new baby or the death of a loved one, seeking to embrace marriage or just one’s own sexuality, deciding where to spend one’s money with no time and/or family, or trying to deciding where to find money.

 So, why are we so judgmental? Why are we so selfish? Look, what I’m trying to say is that we are all human and just trying to co-exist. It’s not about focusing always on the future when we have no idea how things will play out. And yet, we literally live in a world where we’ve killed off about 60% of the natural habitat for our own needs, cut health insurance for the poorest sectors of our society, and overlooking the rising temperatures of an already feverishly sick planet. I don’t know. Instead of trying to just get ahead, I wish we could work together more, to understand each other more, for one single mahogany voice to unite us in the silence. It’s a perception thing, I guess. And sometimes we think we have everything so figured out, and in other ways, we have no idea that we need glasses.  

Justinthecity.

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[rolandfontana]

Wrongful Convictions: What Really Matters?

A bundle of law review reprints arrived in my office recently, sent by Prof. Paul Cassell of the University of Utah’s law school: three articles, a total of 158 pages and 731 footnotes.

  Prof. Paul Cassell via Wikipedia

  With his articles, he has launched another sally in the long-running scholarly war over the rate of wrongful convictions in American criminal justice. His new calculation places the rate in a range of 0.016 percent to 0.063 percent.

Cassell’s calculations may or may not be accurate. The question is whether they are meaningful, that is, whether they contribute to preventing the next mistake. Our concern is not with compiling past wrongful convictions (or acquittals) in the aggregate; it is with avoiding them individually.

Editor’s Note: Prof. Cassell is a former Associate Deputy Attorney General, and a former U.S. District Judge in Utah who is considered a leading advocate of victims’ rights.

We can expect his opponents to reply promptly. (One study had estimated that the rate could be as high as 11.6 percent in certain rape cases; others have generally fallen between that number and Cassell’s.)

Cassell’s point seems to be that while wrongful convictions remain important as a matter of principle, they should be considered as “error costs”—the product of the likelihood that an error will occur and the price of the error if it does occur—and they therefore are not an urgent issue among the many other challenges of our justice system.

They are unlikely to the point of freakishness, and the cost of the errors that do occur can often be discounted because of the “moral blameworthiness” of many of the people wrongfully convicted, he appears to be arguing.

(Cassell sees “wrongful acquittals” in a different light: those are both frequent and costly, and our neglect of them is one expensive downside of our neurotic preoccupation with exonerations.)

I won’t join Cassell’s academic colleagues in disputing his arithmetic. I have neither the expertise nor the energy to join that battle.

But the practitioner’s life I’ve led does provide a perspective on the debate that might be worth recording, if only because it is so different from the combatants’ own.

Cassell’s numbers would seem to indicate that a mistaken conviction must be nearly impossible to contrive, and that avoiding a wrongful conviction is really rather an easy thing to do.

That’s not the way it feels to a frontline cop, prosecutor, or defender.

No one with two weeks’ experience in our shambolic urban courts will be very reassured by the claim that there is a 99.98 percent chance that their case is going to turn out OK.

I can’t help thinking of a client of mine named (let’s say) Bob Flinch. Flinch held up a liquor store, shot the owner, and then, on his way out, somehow managed to shoot himself in both feet. Collapsing under a stoop 30 yards down the street, he still had the weapon with him when he was arrested five minutes later and helpfully recounted events for the police.

Flinch was very diligent about staying in touch with me pretrial via telephone from the D.C. jail. (He opened every call with “How does it look?”) I did what I could, but Flinch was convicted.

Any system, operated by anyone, would convict Mr. Flinch. It is a little disconcerting to realize that when Cassell determines what fraction of prosecutions result in wrongful convictions, Mr. Flinch’s case finds its way into his denominator.

Cassell’s numerator—the number of officially recognized exonerations—makes fair-enough use of the numbers, but it uses the numbers we have rather than the numbers we need.

The fraction most of us are interested in when we assess the system’s functioning is the number of mistaken convictions (some revealed and many undetected) over the number of cases that might (unlike Flinch’s) have been subject to some doubt.

The academic antagonists are oriented to the ancient ideological tug-of-war between adherents of Herbert Packer’s Crime Control and Due Process Models: a zero sum contest between the suspect and the state.  One camp wants more official control of the population; the other wants more control of the officials. Both seek control as their goal, or as at least the indispensable precondition for other goals.

Frontline lifers (at least lately) have become less interested in control and more interested in the collaborative co-production of Safety. They have been forced to recognize that control is often illusory, always evanescent.

And so, practitioners value the lessons taught by the study of safety in aviation, medicine, and other high risk industries.

Frontline people will tend to see wrongful convictions not as single cause (say, eyewitness error events), but as complex “organizational accidents” in which many small errors and omissions, none of them independently sufficient to cause the disaster, combine with each other and with latent system weaknesses.

The practitioners know that many things have to go wrong before an innocent man is convicted, and they also know that many things would have to go right (e.g., he finds a lawyer, has the right sort of evidence, etc.) before a wrongly convicted man is exonerated.

Safety specialists teach us that there are many more errors than there are completed wrongful convictions, and many more wrongful convictions than there are exonerations.

A wrongful conviction isn’t “caused” by a Brady violation. The police had to get the wrong guy. The DA’s office had to hire the wrong assistant, goad him with the wrong incentives, and fail to train and supervise him. The defenders had to fail to develop the buried exculpatory material on their own.

A wrongful acquittal isn’t “caused” by the exclusionary rule. First, training on and observance of Fourth Amendment search and seizure requirements have to fall short, and the development of alternative sources of evidence has to be frustrated for the exclusionary rule to free a guilty man.

As John Jay College of Criminal Justice Professor Jon Shane has shown, even an apparently simple violation of constitutional procedure is a complex organizational accident.

A basic maxim of the safety experts is that the absence of accidents is not proof of safety.

Besides, one of the most basic maxims of the safety experts is that the absence of accidents is not proof of safety. The fact that we launched Space Shuttles with the same O-ring design successfully many times before the Challenger mission didn’t mean that it was safe to launch Challenger.

As Charles Perrow, one of the pioneers of the modern safety movement, put it, Murphy’s Law is wrong: everything that could go wrong usually doesn’t, and then we draw the mistaken conclusion that things are safe.

Counting outcomes and moving the needle towards “more” or “fewer” is absorbing for the professors, but it is not terrifically interesting for frontline actors, who are concerned with their own workmanship in the cases they confront, not with broad ideological “fixes.”

Whatever the fix, the cases will keep coming.

Criminal Justice and Human Error

Practitioners are bombarded with daily reminders that criminal justice, like all human endeavors, is subject to error.

The rate of fatal errors in medicine may be as high as the Academy of Medicine’s estimate of 44,000 to 98,000 annually, or it may be more accurately estimated at a lower rate, but no one argues against working at continuing quality improvement in patient safety.

What Cassell’s latest piece will show practitioners (if they happen to read it) is that neither Cassell and his allies, nor their opponents, will ever succeed in landing the knock-out punch each side seems to crave. The statistical raw materials are too fluid to provide the foundation for a clinching proof.

But if the scholarly antagonists can reconcile themselves to that conclusion there are learning opportunities for them here.

For example, although deriving an exact authoritative rate of wrongful convictions may be impossible, we do know something about their distribution—especially their racial distribution—and that may repay further study.

Prof. Jon Gould and his colleagues have shown that careful social science inquiry can teach us about the conditions that lead to wrongful convictions by contrasting those conditions with others influencing “near miss” outcomes in which mistakes are  intercepted before the conviction occurs.

Significantly, Gould and his co-authors directly enlisted frontline practitioners to collaborate in developing “strength-of-case” measures.

Further openings for scholarly (and law school clinical program) collaboration with the frontline actors are provided by efforts such as the National Institute of Justice / Bureau of Justice Assistance exploration of all-stakeholders, non-blaming, forward-looking “Sentinel Event Learning Reviews” that probe the sources of wrongful convictions (and, for that matter, wrongful acquittals) with avoiding repetition as their focus.

This is a team effort worth undertaking. After criminal justice mistakes, the system has to hold itself accountable for learning everything it can from the event.

The Harms of Wrongful Convictions

Wrongful convictions are “iatrogenic injuries.”  Like a scar after surgery, they are inflicted by useful treatment. The harms they produce radiate outward in concentric circles: to the exonerated, the original victims, and to the future victims whom the actual perpetrator will find while the wrongfully convicted man serves the real criminal’s time.

Those harms should be weighed before we act as well as deplored later on.

Cassell does list many of these harms. But there is one harm that recedes into the background in his accounting; one for which the difference between 1 percent and 5 percent may not ultimately be very important.

James Doyle

John Adams described that harm, arguing in defense of the British officers in the Boston Massacre trial.

Guilt and crimes are so frequent in the world, that all of them cannot be punished . . .But when innocence itself is brought to the bar and condemned, especially to die, the subject will exclaim, it is immaterial to me, whether I behave well or ill; for virtue itself is no security. And if such a sentiment as this should take place in the mind of the subject there would be an end to all security what so ever.

 James M. Doyle is a Boston defense lawyer and author, and a frequent contributor to The Crime Report. He welcomes readers’ comments.

Wrongful Convictions: What Really Matters? syndicated from https://immigrationattorneyto.wordpress.com/

[allofbeercom]

​Khizr Khan on being vilified by Trump: ‘The far right feels that their voice has been heard’

When the father of a Muslim American soldier killed in Iraq spoke at the Democratic national convention in July, he found himself under fire from Donald Trump. Since then, Khan has been bombarded with hate mail and even asked to run for office

As you look out from Khizr Khans home in Virginia, the Blue Ridge mountains sweep magnificently to one side. Monticello, Thomas Jeffersons idyllic estate, is a few miles in the other direction. And in between, still spiked into his neighbour Richards front lawn, is a plastic campaign sign that says TRUMP.

Maybe hes going to leave it up for the next four years, says Khan, with a smile that turns into a sigh. Shaking his head, he takes a sip of tea and reaches for a small box of chocolates.

It is a month since the man who taunted Khan and his wife Ghazala following their headline-making appearance at the Democratic convention was elected to the worlds most powerful office, and reminders of Trumps victory are everywhere.

But around the Khans living room, so too are mementos of having lived through much worse. Their late son Humayun stares down from one wall, handsome and steadfast in his army portrait. His posthumous Bronze Star and Purple Heart awards are nearby. Humayun, a captain who was killed defending his unit from a suicide bomber in Iraq in 2004, would have turned 40 this year. We miss him so very much, says Khan.

Still, Khan is shaken by Trumps win and a subsequent spike in hate crimes across the US. Muslim friends say their children are being bullied. A doctor from Long Island told him a new patient refused to be treated by her when he saw her headscarf. Hostility toward Muslims is more intense than at any time since Khan arrived in the US in 1980, he says.

The far right feels that their voice has been heard and they have a licence to commit these crimes, he says. I have seen the fear of immigrants heighten after turmoil in the past. But never to this degree.

Khan has taken advice from the police about securing his home. He advises the women in his family not to travel alone. He is furious at Trump for not doing more to help. These are your people, whom you have encouraged to commit these crimes, he says. You have a responsibility as a leader to end it.

Rather than move to calm the anti-Muslim fervour, Trump has made one of its most prominent advocates his national security adviser. Mike Flynn, a retired army lieutenant general who described Islam as a vicious cancer and said fear of Muslims is rational, will help Trump direct US military policy. Suggesting that Flynn is ill, mentally, Khan is deeply concerned about the implications for foreign relations.

Not that the appointment should be surprising. Having dismissed Mexican migrants as rapists and criminals in his first campaign speech, Trump told voters rattled by terrorist attacks in California and Paris that he would ban all Muslims from entering the US. He later proposed barring only those from countries compromised by extremism.

Khan doesnt expect Trump to actually implement the ban, nor a new registry of Muslims he also floated. These were more likely cynical ploys to get votes from the simple-minded people that fell for it, he says. But damage has still been done.

It was Trumps announcement of the Muslim ban last year that led a reporter to call Khan, who was quoted hailing his sons patriotism and sharply criticising Trump. Muslims are American, Muslims are citizens, he said. An aide to Hillary Clinton saw the article, and invited Khan to appear at Julys convention in Philadelphia. His six-minute speech, with Ghazala at his side, caused a sensation.

Khizr Khan gives a stirring speech at the Democratic convention in honor of his son, Humayun

You have sacrificed nothing and no one, he told Trump, who avoided serving in Vietnam because of alleged bone spurs on his feet. Waving a miniature US constitution that hed pulled from his jacket pocket, Khan asked Trump if hed even read the document. I will gladly lend you my copy, he said, to thundering applause. Khan keeps a stack of the booklets on a table beneath Humayuns portrait. Visitors struggle to leave without one.

Incapable of letting a slight go unanswered, Trump called Khan very emotional and suggested he didnt allow Ghazala to speak because of their religion. He moaned on Twitter: Mr Khan, who does not know me, viciously attacked me from the stage of the DNC and is now all over TV doing the same Nice!

Horrified Republicans disowned Trump. Khan said he had a black soul. The dispute was pencilled in as a chapter in the political obituary Trump seemed to be writing for himself.

Things turned out differently. As the results rolled in last month, the Khans were VIP guests at Clintons election night event in Manhattan, where Ghazala was treated as a rockstar by actual rockstars. A lady comes to Mrs Khan and says: Mrs Khan, can I take a picture with you?, he recalls. She pulled the hood on her hoodie down and it was Cher. Katy Perry and Lady Gaga did the same, he said.

But then, it all got quieter. Tearful supporters, who had been dancing in the aisles, traipsed out of the hall as the outcome became clear.

Khan, 66 and on a break from work as a legal consultant, has tried to stay upbeat by stepping up a speaking tour that grew out of his convention appearance. He has been preaching tolerance and pluralism to schoolchildren across the US. Never be disheartened, he tells them.

The packed schedule has exhausted him. Sniffing and coughing, he visibly drains over the course of our two-hour conversation. He is posing for photographs with a team of Japanese journalists as I arrive; an evening function beckons after I leave.

But he is energised by encounters while traversing the country as a recognisable face. Sitting in the eighth row on a recent flight home from Ohio, he was approached by two men sitting in first class. They shook his hand and offered him their seats. We voted for Trump, but we want to thank you, they told him. He politely declined.

As we speak, Ghazala, 65, is busy with one of their four grandchildren, who are between eight months and five years old. She and Khan were born in Pakistan and met at university in Lahore. They came to the US after a spell in Dubai, and live in a smart but unflashy four-bedroom house on a tranquil bluff a few miles outside Charlottesville. They have two adult sons, who advised them against getting involved in politics.

Sinking slowly into his sofa, Khan says the volume of abusive emails he received following the convention has declined, but he still deals with a couple of racist messages each day. He wont show the worst, saying he erases them. In one new arrival on his iPhone, though, a man named Scott Glover felt the need to gleefully remind Khan: Trump won the election and you, Hillary and the rest of the deplorable libs lost.

Rightwing websites including Breitbart News, run until recently by Trumps top adviser, went after the Khans with undisguised venom following the convention. One spurious story, based on a 33-year-old essay Khan wrote, claimed he championed sharia law. Another accused him of taking money from the Clintons. It was actually another lawyer named Khan.

Such was the vitriol that Clinton, who knows a bit about brutal media coverage, asked him when they met at a rally in New Hampshire: Oh my God, how are you putting up with all this? He told her it was worth it, and she assured him: Youre doing something good. He has no regrets about entering the political warzone: There comes a time when one has to take a stand.

Khan at his sons grave. Photograph: Brendan Smialowski/Getty Images

And much of the response has been cheering. Their dining room table is covered in fanmail from across the world. Letters addressed with only their names and Charlottesville now find their way to the house. Khan is particularly proud of one letter, which he pulls from an A4 brown envelope. Mayor of London, the header says.

As Salaamu Alaikum, meaning peace be unto you, the two-page handwritten letter from Sadiq Khan begins. Saying that he was deeply moved by the convention speech, Londons first Muslim mayor tells Khan it demonstrated the power of diversity, tolerance and liberty.

These great American values are also Islamic values, the mayor writes, and your determination to live by these values has inspired many Londoners of all faiths and backgrounds.

A bitter argument has broken out among Democrats since Clintons defeat about whether she spent too much time on these issues of identity and not enough appealing to struggling white males from the rust belt. Khan sides with those who dismiss this as a false dichotomy.

I am biased, he says, but sometimes a moral stand has to be taken, and its worth the cost. I am glad that she spoke up. I believe in equal dignity. We all have equal rights regardless of our gender or our preferences.

Nonetheless, Khan, a political independent who voted for both Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton, does think Hillary also failed to stress the dangers of Trumps wild economic threats against China to the farmers and factory workers of the midwest.

You will not be able to sell your soybeans if we have a trade war with China, he says. They will rot right here, and we will have the same people who voted Trump in standing outside the White House trying to throw him out.

He makes the case better than Clinton did, but has no interest in running for office. He reveals Terry McAuliffe, Virginias governor and a close ally of the Clintons, asked him to. But it would limit me, he says. Just let me speak. He is also, he notes, still not a Democrat.

It may be the tiredness talking, or the practised search for optimism of a parent who has lived through the worst possible grief. But Khan veers from despair about Trumps election to predictions that maybe it wont be as bad as it seems. We just have to hang in there a little longer, he says. When he moves to Washington, things will surely be different.

One thing hes sure about, though, is Trump needs to come off Twitter. Khan stays away from social media, having seen its perils. In his legal career, Khan specialises in electronic evidence discovery. In one case he worked on, a driver involved in a deadly 2007 vehicle crash was told by his lawyer to erase a Facebook photo showing him holding a beer and wearing a T-shirt that read I Hot Moms. But the other side had already downloaded it. The lawyer is now serving a five-year suspension.

Nobody is telling Trump the damage it can do, says Khan. He does not, however, offer his services as a consultant to the president-elect.

At a loss for many more words of his own, Khan unfolds a printout he shows his student audiences. It is a quotation by Elie Wiesel, the writer and Auschwitz survivor, who died in July. It is what he believes.

We must always take sides, Wiesel said. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Sometimes we must interfere.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/%e2%80%8bkhizr-khan-on-being-vilified-by-trump-the-far-right-feels-that-their-voice-has-been-heard/