#Century of Progress Homes

[ajl1963]

Deco Doings - April, 2024

Spring by William Welsh, 1930. Image from Pinterest. Here are some wonderful Art Deco events to enjoy this April. Bard Graduate Center Sonia Delauney: Living Art (In Person Exhibit)      February 23, 2024 – July 7, 2024, 18 West 86th Street, New York, NY      Center Hours: Tuesday: 11:00 AM – 5:00 PM; Wednesday: 11:00 AM – 8:00 PM; Thursday – Sunday: 11:00 AM – 5:00 PM Box, 1913. Oil on wood. 20…

[treasuresfromthearchives]

The Ladies' Home Journal 1899-01

[nachobsns]

hi i saw your ask to applesauce and i just wanted to say im so proud of you for pulling yourself out of the radicalization pipeline, that takes true strength and bravery

thank you :) it’s tough because those spaces are excellent at conditioning people who have no involvement with the conflict whatsoever into a very absolutist “you must be thinking and talking about this issue at all times, otherwise you are a Bad Person who supports Bad Things and deserves to Die” mindset but really any “peace activist” whose “solution” relies on the complete demonization and dehumanization of another group of people does not care about peace or activism at all and i’m much happier now that i’ve stopped giving antisemitic bullshit any sway over my life. obviously does not absolve me from the harm i caused by being a part of it but i’m glad that i no longer am

[hometownhistorychicago]

In the late 1930s, Frank Lloyd Wright designed what would be the largest prairie-style home of his career. "Wingspread" was the name chosen for the sprawling complex built near Lake Michigan for the president of the , who also hired Wright to design his company's headquarters. A young John Lautner supervised the construction of this stunning structure which has been beautifully maintained and now functions as a conference center.

Photo: The Johnson Foundation.The Modernist Collection

[news4dzhozhar]

H.Res.888 - 118th Congress (2023-2024): Reaffirming the State of Israel's right to exist. | Congress.gov | Library of Congress

The manipulation and weaponizing of words now on a Federal level is truly mindblowing to me. Legally requiring to say all the talking point that Israel repeats when they can't debate the actual issues. Equating things with antisemitism as a law is going way too far.

If you're interested to see who voted for and against it, here is the link below. AOC for example voted for it.

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[margraviate-of-headcanonburg]

I’m somewhat of a ‘location scout’ in another fandom of mine and I loved this post so much it made me search through Pinterest for an hour and a half, finally declaring Mapperton House as the IRL doppelgänger of the British fam countryside estate

(along with the ‘work house’ in London and the ‘family/friends house’ outside but nearby, I can see Arthur also having a real cottage-cottage up north in yorkshire for just him and Fran relaxation)

Hey I have this headcanon about where Arthur would probably live.

I can imagine that Arthur probably has 2 homes back in England. The first is a cottage out in the English countryside, probably in Berkshire or Surrey, someplace that’s removed from the urban sprawl of London but not too far out from civilization. This may have been an estate a long time ago but now it’s just a quaint cottage that houses some relics and memorabilia that he owns throughout the centuries. He usually prefers to stay out here to get away from the hussle of his job, and is a pretty private place of his. No one outside of his immediate circle, which I think includes Francis, his brothers, Alfred, Matthew, and other close friends like Port, have ever been to this place. It’s very special to him.

The second place he owns is actually based on the neighborhood I stayed in when I was visiting my cousin in London last year! He also owns a flat in North London that he uses when he has to report in for work for the both the Prime Minister and the King when he’s needed. I can imagine him living in this area of North London called Hampstead (my cousin who lives in London lives here and it’s this very pretty and charming little neighborhood), which has these Victorian flats with nice gardens in the back. I took a ton of pictures when I was in London last year and they’re below. But I can imagine him staying out in his garden, sitting at a table, drinking tea and reading the morning papers. Hampstead also has this massive park called Hampstead Heath that I imagine he likes to go on walks whenever he’s there. I can see him and Francis going on many walks through the neighborhood and through the Heath when they are in London.

And honestly Francis loves both places! He thinks the London flat is charming and exciting to be at. Although he teases London in front of Arthur, deep down he loves the city’s vibe and culture. But he also loves going to Arthur’s cottage. There’s something so relaxing about being away from work out in the countryside - especially for Francis since he only owns an apartment in Paris.

Sorry for the rambling, I just had a lot of thought on this, I hope you don’t mind! But here are some pictures I took while I was in Hampstead last year!

Ahhh I LOVE THIS 💖 I can definitely see him having a home in the city and one in the country because there are two Arthur's in my head: the stuffy London gentleman and the grumpy countryside grandpa. Like it’s so easy to imagine him dashing down the steps of his town house to catch the tube to work wearing his tweed suit and a bristling scowl, briefcase in hand, leather satchel over his shoulder.

But at the same time, city life definitely overwhelms him sometimes and it is just as easy to picture him in his plaid pyjamas, dressing gown, and slippers; night cap set to a jaunty 30 degree angle; and a woolly blanket over his lap as he falls asleep in his William Morris armchair in front of the TV at 8pm (although lets be honest this would happen regardless of his geographical location, but there is something so peaceful and idyllic about the countryside that makes this hit different. And actually, if he were in the city, he would be falling asleep at his desk on top of a pile of paperwork…)

Sometimes I imagine his only residence to be a cute little cottage but I can’t quite let go of the image of him squashed into a tube carriage, headphones in - probably listening to Queen - and, despite the grotesque glower, he is in his element. It also makes a lot of sense for him to live somewhere closer when going to work (low-key shuddered at the word king but hey ho) but he is a quaint little cottage guy at heart.

<3

As for Franny, of course he has his Paris appartement with an unparalleled view of the Eiffel Tower, and he spends a lot of time there (work, meetings, dates with Arthur/Alasdair) but I also imagine him having a beautiful Provençal country house in which he spends most of his time. Just like Arthur, I think Fran has two sides: the chic, sophisticated fashionista of Paris, and the equally chic and sophisticated fashionista of the countryside asdfgsfghj. I just like to imagine him in his moderately sized bastide, sipping wine on a deck chair in the sun, working on his tan, and falling asleep with a book on his lap.

And of course he is always inviting his close friends around for dinner, including Arthur and his brothers as well as Al and Matt, among a few others! And when he is not living there, I think he would let friends/family/people he trusted stay there gratis. And tbh it is a big house and I don’t imagine he would enjoy rattling around in it alone very often so he always has someone round to keep him company be that platonic or romantic...

Like just imagine all the summers he and Arthur would spend there. Fran is in his element here, but Arthur? Well, he gets uncomfortable when the temperature breaches a modest 25 degrees. He will burn as red as a tomato even with factor 50 and Francis will laugh and poke fun at his sun-dried boyfriend but will ultimately look after him very well ❤️‍🩹

Also since we are here, this is the car he drives.

[mariacallous]

For the first time since World War II, one of Prague’s most historic synagogues has held a Jewish worship service.

Kol Nidre, the introductory service of Yom Kippur, took place in the Klausen Synagogue on Friday night, ending a hiatus that lasted more than 80 years and encompassed both the murder and suppression of Czech Jewry.

Originally erected in 1573 and rebuilt after a fire in 1694, the Klausen Synagogue is the largest synagogue in Prague’s Jewish Quarter and once served as a central hub of Jewish life. It’s known as the home of several prominent rabbis and thinkers, from Judah Loew — a 16th-century Talmudic scholar also known as the Maharal of Prague — to Baruch Jeitteles, a scholar associated with the Jewish Enlightenment movement of the 18th and 19th centuries.

But for more than 80 years after the Holocaust decimated Czech Jews, the Klausen Synagogue held no services.

That was until Friday evening, when about 200 people poured in for a service led by Rabbi David Maxa, who represents Czechia’s community of Progressive or Reform Jews. That community was joined by guests and Jewish tourists from around the world for Yom Kippur, according to Maxa. He saw the moment as a sign of Jewish life resurging in Prague.

“It’s quite remarkable that there is a Yom Kippur service in five historic synagogues in Prague,” Maxa told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

Under German occupation in World War II, the Klausen Synagogue was used as a storage facility. Although the Nazis and their collaborators killed about 263,000 Jews who lived in the former Czechoslovak Republic, they took an interest in collecting Jewish art and artifacts that they deemed valuable enough to preserve. The Jewish Museum in Prague was allowed to continue storing those objects, and the synagogue became part of the museum’s depository.

After the war, there were not enough survivors to refill services in the synagogues of Prague. The country became a Soviet satellite in 1948, starting a long era in which Jews were often persecuted and surveilled for following any religious practices. The last Soviet census of 1989 registered only 2,700 Jews living in Czech lands.

“During Communist times, it was very difficult to relate to Jewish identity,” said Maxa. “People who visited any kind of synagogue were followed by the secret police, and only after the Velvet Revolution in 1989 did it become possible for people to visit synagogues without the feeling of being followed and put on a list.”

After the end of communism, some synagogues returned to use by the few Jews who still identified as such. Two of the six synagogues that still stand in the Jewish Quarter now are in regular use as houses of worship.

But the Klausen Synagogue, which was added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 1982, remained part of the Jewish Museum, hosting exhibitions about Jewish festivals, early Hebrew manuscripts and Jewish customs and traditions.

Museum director Pavla Niklová said returning the synagogue to use for Yom Kippur happened almost by accident. Maxa was asking if she knew about a space large enough to host his growing congregation, Ec Chajim, for the holiest day in the Jewish calendar — its own space, which opened four years ago about a 20-minute walk away, could not accommodate the crowds expected for Yom Kippur.

Since the museum had just taken down its exhibition in the Klausen Synagogue after 28 years, she had an answer. The clean, empty space was ready to be refilled with Jewish life.

Visiting the synagogue just before Yom Kippur, Niklová said she was awed to see the building returned to its original purpose. She hopes that it will continue to be used for large services.

“I felt like the synagogue started breathing again,” she told JTA. “I believe it was a good move to take down the old exhibit, and now we can start anew.”

For many in Prague’s Jewish community, which is largely secular, Yom Kippur is the single most important service of the year. Even Jewish families that suppressed religious practices under Communism often passed on the memory of Yom Kippur, said Maxa.

Maxa founded Prague’s Progressive Jewish community in 2019, responding to a growing number of people who sought to explore their Jewish roots. The community currently has 200 members and adds about five more every month.

“Often, I meet people who simply want to learn about the culture, tradition and religion of their grandparents,” said Maxa. “They say, my grandmother and grandfather were Shoah survivors — can I come and learn more about Judaism? We offer a wide range of activities, including of course regular services, but also educational courses to help these people reconnect with the tradition.”

Maxa, who himself grew up in Prague with little connection to his Jewish roots, wants to revive some of the rituals that threaded through Prague’s pre-war Jewish world — including a tradition of organ accompaniment in the city’s synagogues. On Friday, Jewish organist Ralph Selig performed during his service.

Like many of his congregants, Maxa’s family history intertwines with the losses of the last century. His father came from Prague and survived the Holocaust. He does not know if his father visited the Klausen Synagogue, but he knows it was a familiar part of his world.

“It means a lot for me that the tradition was not exterminated, and that this is coming back, even to a place where no services were held since World War II,” he said.

[reasonsforhope]

"Nouabalé-Ndoki National Park in Brazzaville, Republic of Congo has a lot to celebrate.

The park, which celebrated its 30th anniversary on December 31 of 2023, also shared an exciting conservation milestone: 2023 was the first year without any elephant poaching detected.

“We didn’t detect any elephants killed in the Park this year, a first for the Park since [we] began collecting data. This success comes after nearly a decade of concerted efforts to protect forest elephants from armed poaching in the Park,” Ben Evans, the Park’s management unit director, said in a press release.

Nouabalé-Ndoki National Park was developed by the government of Congo in 1993 to maintain biodiversity conservation in the region, and since 2014, has been cared for through a public-private partnership between Congo’s Ministry of Forest Economy and the Wildlife Conservation Society.

Pictured: Nouabalé-Ndoki National Park. Photo courtesy of Scott Ramsay/Wildlife Conservation Society

Evans credits the ongoing collaboration with this milestone, as the MEF and WCS have helped address escalating threats to wildlife in the region. 

This specifically includes investments in the ranger force, which has increased training and self-defense capabilities, making the force more effective in upholding the law — and the rights of humans and animals.

“Thanks to the strengthening of our anti-poaching teams and new communication technologies, we have been able to reduce poaching considerably,” Max Mviri, a park warden for the Congolese government, said in a video for the Park’s anniversary. 

“Today, we have more than 90 eco-guards, all of whom have received extensive training and undergo refresher courses,” Mviri continued. “What makes a difference is that 90% of our eco-guards come from villages close to the Park. This gives them extra motivation, as they are protecting their forest.”

As other threats such as logging and road infrastructure development impact the area’s wildlife, the Park’s partnerships with local communities and Indigenous populations in the neighboring villages of Bomassa and Makao are increasingly vital.

“We’ve seen great changes, great progress. We’ve seen the abundance of elephants, large mammals in the village,” Gabriel Mobolambi, chief of Bomassa village, said in the same video. “And also on our side, we benefit from conservation.”

Coinciding with the Park’s anniversary is the roll-out of a tourism-focused website, aiming to generate 15% of its revenue from visitors, which contributes significantly to the local economy...

Nouabalé-Ndoki also recently became the world’s first certified Gorilla Friendly National Park, ensuring best practices are in place for all gorilla-related operations, from tourism to research.

But gorillas and elephants — of which there are over 2,000 and 3,000, respectively — aren’t the only species visitors can admire in the 4,334-square-kilometer protected area.

The Park is also home to large populations of mammals such as chimpanzees and bongos, as well as a diverse range of reptiles, birds, and insects. For the flora fans, Nouabalé-Ndoki also boasts a century-old mahogany tree, and a massive forest of large-diameter trees.

Beyond the beauty of the Park, these tourism opportunities pave the way for major developments for local communities.

“The Park has created long-term jobs, which are rare in the region, and has brought substantial benefits to neighboring communities. Tourism is also emerging as a promising avenue for economic growth,” Mobolambi, the chief of Bomassa village, said in a press release.

The Park and its partners also work to provide education, health centers, agricultural opportunities, and access to clean water, as well, helping to create a safe environment for the people who share the land with these protected animals. 

In fact, the Makao and Bomassa health centers receive up to 250 patients a month, and Nouabalé-Ndoki provides continuous access to primary education for nearly 300 students in neighboring villages. 

It is this intersectional approach that maintains a mutual respect between humans and wildlife and encourages the investment in conservation programs, which lead to successes like 2023’s poaching-free milestone...

Evans, of the Park’s management, added in the anniversary video: “Thanks to the trust that has been built up between all those involved in conservation, we know that Nouabalé-Ndoki will remain a crucial refuge for wildlife for the generations to come.”"

-via Good Good Good, February 15, 2024

[propertyofwicked]

you're gonna go far - ln

♬ so pack up your car, put a hand on your heart. say whatever you feel, be wherever you are...

warnings: angst. thats kinda it icl

masterlist the playlist

at 16, had anyone asked y/n where she saw her life now, she probably wouldn’t have expected to answer that she was still watching lando’s career in motorsport blossom into a legacy. not that she didn’t imagine him being successful, it was just hard to comprehend that the boy who fell asleep in the back of his dads car on the way back from a karting race would one day be one of the most successful formula one racers on the 21st century. the boy who wiped sweat from his forehead, his other hand shaking as he raised the flowers he held up and mumbled a quick “will you be my girlfriend?”

and when lando got his first break in racing, y/n was there, cheering the loudest, her eyes shining with pride.

at 18, the two laid together, having late-night conversations about their futures, promising to support each other no matter what. lando was progressing in his career, working closely with mclaren, y/n was looking at universities, dreaming of what she would spend the rest of her working life pursuing.

and at 20, moving into the flat had been a dream come true. lando's career with mclaren soared. he became a household name, known for his skill and charisma on and off the track. y/n was always there, cheering him on, even when she couldn't be at the races in person. and the two found solace in returning to their little flat, cooking together, being surrounded by each other in every aspect.

but at 22, she did not think that she would be sat in their home, hands tightly gripping a mug between her hands, the sun casting a golden hue that spread softly throughout the flat.

the distance between them had grown. the long hours, the constant travel, and the relentless demands of the sport started to take their toll. y/n felt it most on the nights she was alone in their flat, the silence a stark contrast to the roar of engines and the cheers of the crowd. she tried to fill the void but nothing couldn't mask the loneliness that crept in.

lando's absence became more frequent. their once lively home felt emptier with each passing day. phone calls and video chats couldn't bridge the gap, and y/n found herself missing the little things - his laugh, his touch, the way he made her feel alive. she tried to stay positive, reminding herself of his dreams and the promise she had made to always support him.

the air was thick with unspoken words as they stood in the kitchen. the flat was filled with a tense silence that neither of them knew how to break - it was like this any time he came home recently. lando seemed restless, his eyes avoiding hers. finally, he broke the silence.

"i'm planning on moving to monaco," he said matter-of-factly, his voice steady but lacking its usual warmth, "it's the best move for my career, to be closer to other drivers and in a better position to travel to races."

y/n felt her heart clench, a wave of numbness washing over her. she couldn’t reason with him, she didn’t want to. understanding that their relationship had been unravelling for a while. she had become an afterthought, a part of his past that didn't quite fit into his future.

"i understand," she replied softly, her voice void of emotion.

lando looked at her, his expression a mix of relief and regret. he stepped closer, reaching out to touch her arm, but she pulled away gently.

"it's okay," she whispered. "i know you're gonna go far. this is the best decision for you career," she said, echoing his previous statement, void of any ability to fight this.

and across the following weeks, as lando packed his things, y/n watched from a distance, feeling detached from the life they had built together. the memories of their laughter, their dreams, and their love seemed like distant echoes. she moved through the days like a ghost, mentally distanced from everything around her, unable to talk to anyone about the emptiness growing inside her.

she missed the way he would come home and wrap his arms around her, the way they would stay up late talking about their dreams. she missed the feeling of being loved. they hadn’t even discussed the break up, or the fact they had even broken up - “im moving to monaco” was a weighted sentence, a statement that had no place for her.

when the day came for lando to leave, y/n stood by the door, her eyes dry and her heart heavy. he hugged her one last time, and she held on just a moment longer, savouring the last trace of lando in her life.

"take care," she murmured, almost coldly, before stepping back and letting him go.

as the door closed behind him, y/n felt a hollow ache in her chest. she knew lando was destined for greatness, but the price had been their love. she sat down in the empty flat, the silence now a testament to what had been lost. she wandered from room to room, each corner filled with memories of a time when they had been inseparable.

their friends noticed the change in y/n, the way her laughter no longer reached her eyes, the way she seemed to be merely existing rather than living. they tried to reach out, to offer comfort, but she couldn't bring herself to talk about the emptiness she felt. she painted smiles on her face, but inside, she was numb, unable to process the loss of the person who had been her world.

as months went by, y/n threw herself into her work, hoping to find solace in the one thing that had always been constant in her life. she worked hard, she improved, but every achievement felt hollow without lando by her side. she watched his races on tv, feeling a mix of pride and sorrow. he was going far, just as she had always known he would, but he was doing it without her.

standing on the balcony of their flat, looking out over the city they had once explored together, the lights of london stretched out before her, a reminder of the dreams they had shared. the city looked the same, the lights still cascaded through the rows of buildings, the cars still sped through the streets at all times of the day. how could she be angry? he was achieving his dreams, she was doing the same. it wasn’t fair to keep him here against his own volition.

it wasn’t fair, but it didn’t make it any easier. it didn’t stop her from hurting, thinking about how easily he’d left her behind in search for something greater. she took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to move on, let go of the past, find a new path.

with a heavy heart, y/n too began packing up the flat, each item a reminder of the life they had built together. she carefully wrapped up the photos, the mementos of their time together, and placed them in boxes.

when the flat was finally empty, y/n stood in the doorway, taking one last look at the place that had been their home. she knew it was time to close this chapter and start a new one, to find her own path, even if it meant doing it alone. as she locked the door behind her, she whispered a silent goodbye to the life they had shared, knowing that lando was destined to go far and that she had to find her own way, with or without him.

[marzipanandminutiae]

It feels like this post is from a secret universe where everyone likes brutalism, and OP is expressing a top-secret unpopular opinion

As opposed to this universe, where 95% of people, regardless of politics, would happily destroy it with heavy artillery and dance around the smoldering wreckage

(you are so right, op. The phrasing is just fascinating me)

okay the thing is brutalism is meant to last and allow for low cost structures that will persist with low maintenance costs etc and for this i respect it. but as someone who has had to work in brutalist buildings. nothing destroys your will to persist more profoundly than having to navigate a brutalist building day after day. basically what i'm saying is we can get weird with it we can innovate we can come up with alternatives that do not make people feel like caged animals

[mostlysignssomeportents]

America’s richest Medicare fraudsters are untouchable

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/13/last-gasp/#i-cant-breathe

"When you're famous, they let you do it": eight words that encapsulate the terrifying rot at the heart of our lived experience, a world where impunity for the powerful trumps the pain of their victims.

"Populism," is shorthand for many things: rage, despair, distrust of institutions and a desire to destroy them. True populism seeks to channel those totally legitimate feelings into transformative change for a caring and fair society for all. So-called "right populism" exploits those feelings, using them to drive a wedge between different groups of victims, turning them against each other, so that elites can go on screwing the squabbling factions.

The far-right parties that are marching to victory through a series global elections are different in many ways, but they all share one trait: they appeal to mistrust of institutions, claiming that the government has been captured by elites who serve them at the expense of the governed. This has the benefit of being actually true, and while the fact that far-right parties are owned by these government-capturing elites might erode their credibility, the fact that so many "progressive" parties have stepped in to defend the institutional status quo leaves an open field for reactionary wreckers:

https://www.politico.com/blogs/2016-dem-primary-live-updates-and-results/2016/02/hillary-clinton-donald-trump-slogan-219908

Why would voters turn out to support a "Department of Government Efficiency," run by a bully whose career has been defined by abusing the people he is in charge of? Maybe they're turkeys voting for Christmas, but they also have personal, traumatic experience with government departments that protected the abusive corporations that preyed on them.

Today on Propublica, Peter Elkind tells the incredible story of Lincare, the nation's leading supplier of home oxygen, a repeat-offender fraudster and predator that has made billions in public money without any real consequences:

https://www.propublica.org/article/lincare-medicare-lawsuit-settlements-oxygen-equipment

Lincare has been repeatedly found guilty of defrauding Medicare; in this century alone, they have been put on probation four times, with a "death penalty" provision that would permanently disqualify them from ever doing business with the federal government. In every case, Lincare committed fresh acts of fraud, but never faced that death penalty.

Why not? Lincare is far too big to fail. In America's bizarre, worst-in-class, world-beatingly expensive privatized health care system, even public health provision (like Medicare) is outsourced to the private sector. Lincare has monopolized oxygen, a famously very important molecule for human survival, and if it were disqualified from serving Medicare, large numbers of Americans would literally asphyxiate.

Lincare clearly knows this. Too big to fail is too big to jail, and too big to jail is too big to care. They are the poster children for impunity, repeat offenders, multiply convicted, and still offending, even today. Lincare has been convicted of fraud under the administrations of GW Bush, Obama, Trump and Biden, and they're still in business.

What a business it is! Elkind takes us to the asbestos-poisoned town of Libby, Montana, where more than 2,000 of the 2.857 population suffer from respiratory diseases from the open-pit mine that operated there from 1963-1990. The elderly, dying population of this town rely on Medicare and Medicare Advantage oxygen concentrators to draw breath, and that means they rely on Lincare.

That means they are prey to Lincare's signature scam: charging Medicare (and 20% co-paying patients) to rent an oxygen concentrator every month, until they have paid for it several times over. This is illegal: under federal rules, patients are deemed to have bought their oxygen concentrators after 36 months and contractors are no longer allowed to charge them. Lincare doesn't give a fuck: the bills keep coming, and Lincare patients who survive long enough have paid the company $16,000 for a $799 gadget.

When Brandon Haugen, a local Lincare customer service rep, noticed this and queried the company's home office in Clearwater, Florida (home to Scientology and the Flexidisc), he was given the brushoff. After multiple attempts to get company leadership to acknowledge that this was illegal, he quit his job, along with his colleague and childhood friend Ben Montgomery. Between them, Haugen and Montgomery had 14 children who depended on their Lincare paychecks. Despite this, they both quit and turned whistleblower, with no job lined up. Eventually, Lincare paid $29m to settle the claim, with $5.7m to the whistleblowers and their lawyers. For Lincare, this was part of the cost of doing business and the fraud rolls on.

Lincare doesn't just defraud Medicare, they also have a high-pressure commissioned sales force that has repeatedly been caught defrauding Lincare customers – overwhelming sick, poor, elderly people. Patients are pressured to accept auto-billing, then Lincare piles medically dubious gadgets onto their monthly bills, as well as useless, overpriced "patient monitoring" services. Customers with apnea machines are mis-sold ventilators by salesmen who falsely claim these are medically necessary.

Salespeople illegally auto-shipped parts and consumables for Lincare machines to patients, then billed them for it. To satisfy the legal requirement that they telephone patients before placing these orders, sales agents would call patients, put them on hold, then part the call until the patient hung up.

Salespeople are motivated by equal parts greed and terror. Make quota and you can get up to $8,000 per month in bonuses. Miss that punishing quota and you're out on your ass (which is why one salesperson ordered a medically unnecessary ventilator).

Lincare also habitually ignores requests to pick up medically unnecessary equipment, because so long as the equipment is on the patient's premises, they can continue to bill for it. As one Ohio manager wrote to their staff: "As we have already discussed, absolutely no pick-ups/inactivation’s are to be do[ne] until I give you the green light. Even if they are deceased." Execs send out company-wide emails celebrating regional managers who have abandoned pick-ups, like a Feb 2022 "Achievement Rankings" email that touted the fact that most regional centers had at least 150 overdue pickups.

Lincare represents a deep, structural rot in American society. They are too big to punish, and too powerful to regulate. A 2006 law meant to curb oxygen payments was gutted by industry lobbyists. Today, Congress is weighing legislation, the SOAR (Supplemental Oxygen Access Reform) Act, which will allow Lincare to bill the public for hundreds of millions more every year, raising rates and eliminating competitive billing. The bill is supported by patient advocates who are rightly interested in getting oxygen to patients who have been locked out of the system, but the cost of that inclusion is that Lincare will be even more firmly insulated from its corruption.

The Trump Administration will doubtless crack down on some of America's worst companies, and the furious voters who elected the only candidate who campaigned on the idea that America was rotten will cheer him on. But Trump has made it clear that he will select the targets of his administration based on whether they are loyal to him or stand in his way, without regard to whether they harm his supporters:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/12/the-enemy-of-your-enemy/#is-your-enemy

Companies like Lincare, repeatedly caught paying illegal kickbacks, know how to play this game.

Image: p.Gordon (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Smoke_bomb_with_burning_fuse.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[treasuresfromthearchives]

Woman's Home Companion 1901-01

Cover art by Karl J. Anderson

[daycourtofficial]

I got cursed like Eve got bitten - part II

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand’s Sister!reader | WC: 2.3k

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

Previous part | Next part | Masterlist

Being labeled as ‘tainted’ had a few perks.

The best perk was that no male in the camp wanted your hand in marriage nor sought you out in any way. They behaved as if you were diseased, avoiding you at all costs outside of the tavern you worked in. 

It worked well for you - even the most handsome of males and females in your village did nothing to make you feel any sort of attraction.

You had lived in your village for a century, the familiar homes and people doing little over that time to ever make you feel a part of the community. You had always considered leaving, but your village was rather progressive with allowing you to run the tavern the barkeep had left to you when he died a few years prior, and you knew you wouldn’t have nearly as good luck in any other village.

You had been working in this tavern for nearly seventy years when the previous owner died, leaving the entire place, including the apartment upstairs, to you. At first several of the males of the village had been upset before quickly realizing you would just refuse to serve them their only source of alcohol at any sign of tension.

You lived over the bar and most of your patrons were the males of your village, which allowed you little access to the females. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them - they all seemed fine, several were even friendly when you lived in a smaller shack. Some part of you found it incredibly difficult to connect with them, every attempt you made to develop friendships with them were quickly sabotaged by your own inability to follow up. 

You felt guilty every time you did it, but something inside of you rang out wrong, wrong, wrong. So between your lack of interest in being outside of your bar and the very close knit group of friends you had (approximately no one), not much really tethered you to this village.

You had heard rumors throughout the day from the other women that the High Lord had been snooping about the village. You hoped so - perhaps he could see first hand how little the armies beneath him respected him or his policies, how they sneered and called him a variety of names, their favorite being some variation of ‘wingless pointy eared bastard’. You weren’t sure why the nicknames bothered you so much - you had no attachment to the High Lord, nor had you ever met him nor had a desire to do so. 

It just gnawed on some part deep inside of you.

Thoughts of the High Lord quickly dissipated as you spent the afternoon pouring drinks and serving tables. The males of your village found you unmarriable and a potentially bad omen for females everywhere, but they did enjoy the alcohol you cured.

You’d take their money over their acceptance any day.

The door opened, the chill from outside coming in as you looked up briefly to find a beautiful male in the doorway, his pointy ears and violet eyes giving away his identity immediately.

You put down the glass you were drying, focused instead on the male who stood in the doorway, unmoving as he looked toward you. Something about his gaze felt so familiar - he looked at you with fondness and longing, and it was starting to upset you. You began turning to go back to the task at hand when a second male appeared from the High Lord.

He was taller, his eyes deep, rich hazel pools of warmth. He had some slight freckling across his strong Illyrian nose, some of them reaching down to the sharp jawline you were sure could cut paper. The male the High Lord brought was clearly Illyrian, his large frame making that abundantly clear. Yet he had these wisps of black shadow that circled him in a frenzy, leaving trails of smoke in their wake.

The sight of him knocked the air from your lungs - he was stunning, perhaps the most gorgeous male alive. His downturned eyes and long eyelashes gave him a perpetual look of sadness that just made you want to kiss the corners of his eyes.

You widened your eyes at the thought, where did that come from?

You bowed slightly towards Rhysand, the movement spurring him into movement away from the door. It was not a deep bow, but just enough for it to count. The High Lord made a slight face, one you couldn’t discern. Shock at such a display of nonchalance in his elegant presence, you presumed.

“High Lord.”

You moved around the bar, walking toward them. You really didn’t have time to cater toward him and the male with him. You weren’t even sure what the two of them were doing so far out in Illyria. The tavern was full of patrons, all looking toward the two males who just entered. You felt their gazes on your back making your scars tingle.

“Do you have a table you’d prefer us to be at?”

The High Lord’s voice was soft, his eyes unmoving from you as he asked. His question caught you off guard, making you eye him suspiciously. Why was he speaking to you like this? The males of your village often completely disregarded any preferences you might have, and they were absolutely unnoteworthy in the grand scheme of things.

Why was the High Lord addressing you at all?

You eyed him warily before you pulled out a chair from the table in front of you, the wood scraping the floor. You tapped your nails on the top of the table before moving away to tend to your other patrons, all of whom had their gazes fixed on the High Lord and his companion, several of them openly sneering at the pair.

You really, really didn’t want a brawl to break out in your pub. 

You tended to the other tables, your feet swift across the stone floor as you tried to ensure even the most unpleasant of males was content with your service. The whole night your eyes never strayed too far from the High Lord and his companion. Their eyes never strayed from you either, their gazes were piercing as you flitted about, feeling their eyes with every movement.

You got back to their table, and you hadn’t been able to really look at the High Lord’s companion until you faced him. He was sitting down, his long legs closed and tight beneath the table, as if he were incapable of allowing himself to linger for too long. Sitting down made him look even more massive - he was nearly as tall as you are in the chair.

His wings were massive behind his back, the black leathery skin seemingly connected to his shoulders with the way the wispy black shadows that followed him curled on his skin. They looked antsy, an occasional wisp darting a few inches away before being pulled as if some invisible leash were keeping them back.

But him. Your heart stopped at how beautiful he was up close - his hazel eyes betrayed nothing, but golden flecks inside of them sang to you, desperate for you to keep looking at them. Your gaze flickered down to his hands, and your breath got caught in your throat at the deeply scarred tissue. 

The male flexed his hands before hiding them beneath the table, his eyes still on you. 

Despite their disappearance, you couldn’t help but continue to look at where they had been, the sight of them floating around in your mind, the image burning inside of you. You cleared your throat, looking between them. “Can I get either of you some wine?”

The High Lord looked to his companion before nodding his head, the silent male doing the same before you turned around, heading back to the bar. You hadn’t heard or seen them speak to each other, but you’ve seen them staring at each other this whole time, lost in thought. Their faces gave nothing away, but perhaps the High Lord had an additional consort to the High Lady. The male was quite pretty, despite his inability to speak or look anything other than strained.

You headed behind the bar, popping the cork on a fresh bottle of wine. Pouring two glasses, you dropped them off before tending to your other patrons. The night went by in a blur - several males gathered at different tables, hunched together, voices low. Everyone in the tavern spent the evening paying attention to the High Lord and the male with him, discretion be damned, but no one approached either of them. 

They sat silently at their table all night, making their way slowly through the one glass of wine you poured. The night moved on, patrons of the tavern making their way to the door, each one stopping to gawk at the High Lord. You came back from the store room to watch the door close behind the last of your patrons, save for the High Lord’s party of two.

He pulled another chair out and brought it to their table, leaving space for you to sit before he tapped his own nails against the wood. You watched his violet eyes assess you at his invitation - the way you stood there, eyes moving in uncertainty until finally you dropped your rag at the bar, taking the seat he offered. He looked at you, something twinkling in his violet eyes. 

“I’m Rhys, this is Azriel.”

The High Lord pointed to himself before nodding towards the male who made no movement at the acknowledgement. His arms were crossed over his chest, eyes almost squinting in assessment, as if he tried hard enough, he could see right through you.

“We wanted to speak with you privately.”

His voice wavered just slightly - he seemed confident, but every time he spoke to you, he had to suck in a breath as if preparing himself.

“What does this pertain to?”

Rhys took a deep breath, his eyes trained on yours. “I will cut this short. We know you are an empath.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. It became hard to control your face, but you tried to remain neutral. He kept speaking, but the words all muddied together, your brain unable to pick up the different syllables and words. Your eyes briefly roamed over the bar again, ensuring no one was still in the building. When you looked back, Azriel had been tracking your eye movement.

“I am unfamiliar with what you speak of, I don’t know what an empath is.”

His violet eyes were so much like your own as his gaze pierced into yours. His face adopted a sense of familiarity as he looked at you. “We both know that’s bullshit.” He sighed, taking another sip from his glass. Azriel still hadn’t spoken, but his eyes never left you, tracking all of your movements. Your ears roared, uncertain how they had known you were an empath and what they were going to do to you now that they knew. You surveyed the room, trying to get a sense of anything you could use against them to get to the door.

Would the males of your village help if you were able to make it outside? Would they stand up to your High Lord? Or would they leave you, the tainted goods that you were?

You stiffened, your jaw going rigid as you quickly assessed your options. You schooled your features, looking toward the High Lord in challenge. He merely shrugged before scooting his chair back, the wood making a high pitched noise as it rubbed against the floor beneath. “Fine, if you wish to pretend you do not possess such powers, we will be going.”

You almost missed how wide Azriel’s eyes went, back to their normal size in the blink of an eye. A trick of the light, perhaps. The two stood, Rhys nodding to you before turning, Azriel lingering behind in contemplation. He looked at you as if he might say something, his first words of the night. Your voice stopped him before he could, your eyes looking back to the High Lord. 

“Why are you looking for an empath?”

The High Lord turned back to you, his mouth slightly quirked in amusement. A predator assessing their prey. And you had put yourself directly in the predator’s path. 

“We wanted to help train an empath, keep them safe while we help them develop their powers.” 

He took a few steps toward you again, now standing next to Azriel. The silent male just watched the exchange as if he were taking notes.

You cleared your throat. “What would such training entail?”

“Daily training with the High Lady. Practicing techniques. Learning the scope of these powers. It would be difficult, tiring work, as no one has seen an empath for a very, very long time.”

His voice got softer by the end, a melancholic lilt to it. 

“And in return?”

“In return, I sleep soundly knowing one of my enemies did not get an empath in their ranks. And that a wingless female has some control over her powers.”

There it was.

He choked briefly on the word. Wingless. 

The word came from his mouth like venom, Azriel visibly flinching in the wake of it. You had kept your eyes on Azriel since the motion, your eyes moving over his icy exterior, taking in every part of him. His body screamed hypervigilance, his muscles not even twitching in your presence until Rhys had said it.

But his eyes screamed with need. They were practically hypnotic the way they called to you. Something about them felt so familiar, the brown ring around his iris melting into green, strokes of warm gold bridging the gap in color. They were beautiful eyes. Something stirred in you at them - a deep sadness, an impossible weight in your chest leaving you stranded.

But buried somewhere amidst the grief and despair in his eyes laid a small drop of hope that was so strong it nearly consumed you.

Perhaps that is why you agreed to go with them. 

A hope induced decision.

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Thanks for reading ❣️

[tiredneutron]

Terrans

Humanity.

Listen well, for this is a tale of warning and of caution.

When humanity was first observed, many of the council thought they should be eradicated. A tumultuous and violent species who revelled in the destruction of their own kind. It was a close thing, but the council voted and humanity was allowed to develop - under the condition that none were to contact them until they were deemed ready.

Humanity never gave us the chance to do so.

They progressed their technology in timeframes yet unseen. They went from discovering electricity to landing on their own moon in a matter of decades - doing so with primitive technology, but it was a feat nonetheless.

From there they developed their own world - the space around their home planet Terra became a field of haphazard signals and messages, a bombardment of signals that interfered with our observational machinery. Due to this we weren’t ready when humanity ventured into the stars truly for the first time. They blasted themselves out of their atmosphere with controlled explosions of all things, their technology was nowhere near discovering antimatter coupling yet. Despite this they reached the edge of the quarantine zone within a matter of years, and we were discovered.

Despite our initial thoughts, humanity reacted very differently to us than expected. They didn’t wage wars on us, didn’t lay claim to our planets. They met us with unrestrained joy at finding others in the universe. They told us of their numerous attempts to reach out to us, and showed us some of their works of fiction that depicted how they imagined us (though they seemed to hide some others for reasons we couldn’t ascertain).

Humanity was welcomed into the stars, and they became commonplace. Their biology was baffling and their behaviour bizarre, but we accommodated them and they taught us how to work with them.

Centuries passed, and though the initial explorers were long gone, humanity had become a part of the council as low ranking members. Their species had become mostly peaceful, lowering their internal wars to less than skirmishes. Humanity’s violent and cruel nature seemed to have been tempered by the stars.

We were wrong.

From beyond the councils borders, beyond the observable space in the void, a threat appeared. They blasted through our sensors and demolished our border colonies in hours. Our intel on them was near zero due to the ferocity they annihilated our kin.

They reached the inner borders of the council, and the elder members prepared for a bitter battle. To our surprise, humanity asked to join the defence. They told us that their kin had settled on some of the border colonies, and that many had lost loved ones. We allowed humanity to join our last fight, even if we didn’t expect them to affect the battle.

We were wrong.

Many of my comrades who survived the battle have sleep terrors to this day. Not of the void settlers, but of the humans. The cruelty and viciousness we thought had disappeared from their culture came back with a vengeance. Who we had seen as scientists and farmers for centuries, comrades we had known for decades - they showed us that monsters don’t come from the void.

The void settlers never stood a chance. The council was barely able to get in formation before the battle was ended. If the void bringers tactics were ferocious, then the Terran’s were monstrous. For every ship they lost, every life they sacrificed, the void settlers lost a battalion, a planet’s worth of lives.

This loss brought the void settlers much shame and anger. They made a mistake that haunts me to this day. They used their speed to reach Terra before the council could relay to the humans the threat. Humanity watched as Terra split, as trillions of their families and non-fighting members were eradicated.

The fighting ceased. Humanity seemed to have frozen. Their fleets stopped dead in space and their communications went silent. Where humanity had been surrounded by wavelengths and frequencies that interfered with some technology still, the space around them became eerily silent, as though the death of the planet had killed even those off world.

The void settlers continued their attack on the council and disregarded Humanity. No need to worry about a broken opponent… Right?

They were wrong.

The Terran’s weren’t dead, or even broken. It was later revealed that the freeze had been due to grief. Humanity had lost its home world, but worse than that it had lost its peaceable citizens. The ones who should have been safe from the conflict.

All of humanity had watched, and all of humanity had grieved. But they were not broken.

The void settlers learnt this very soon.

Humanity descended on them in ways that made the last defence seem like a diplomatic discussion. We though we had seen the worst of humanity in our early observations. WE. WERE. WRONG.

Humanity has a saying “Hell hath no wrath like a woman scorned”, but the council has adapted it: “The void hath no wrath like a Terran without a home”.

The void settlers were routed from every planet they had taken. They retreated to the void leaving behind their technology and supplies, not even taking the time to recover some of their teams. But the humans didn’t stop.

In a move that the council had forbidden for millennia, the humans flew into the void. The entirety of the Terran race disappeared into the blackness beyond space and wasn’t heard from for longer than we had known of them.

The council mourned their losses, but viewed their final act as something done out of the madness of their loss. The Terran’s were remembered as warriors, as fighters, but also as family. They became known to those of us who’d seen them fight as “The angels of Death”.

I never expected to see a Terran again, assumed that the void had devoured them and their destructive grief with them. But one day a vessel I was onboard, tasked with assessing possible colonies to rebuild in the border planets - it detected something.

The frequencies and wavelengths of data that had only ever been human in nature. They were coming from the void.

The council watched as humanity emerged unexpected for the second time.

The flagship docked with our observation vessel, and the leaders came aboard to see us. I vaguely recognised the captain. Their features so slightly similar to the grief driven warrior we’d watched descend into the void. We asked what had happened, and the captain responded with the most chilling visage I had seen since the first footage of the void settlers. Their baring of their teeth was savage and joyous. So similar to the expression we saw at first meeting, yet so distorted. In that moment I saw what could have happened if the Terran’s had waged war on us.

“We won.”

[devildomwriter]

You Go Antiquing Together | Lucifer x Reader

Antiquing was one of your favorite things to do. You were obsessed with history and elated at the idea of owning things centuries old. Each time you went, you’d stare at something for hours, wondering just what it might have been through and if only it could talk, the things it would tell you it’s seen.

Lucifer decided to come with you today and wasn’t entirely impressed; in fact, he seemed a little confused.

“Lucifer, look at this silverware; it’s two hundred years old!”

“Only?” He asked, studying the fine silver.

You glared at him, “stop saying only, each time I show you something. I get it; you’re old.”

He glared at you and huffed, turning around to look at the old grandfather clocks when something caught his eye.

“A typewriter?” He asked, confused.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, that’s a pretty old model.”

He paused, and you waited for him to say something before nudging him, “uh…something wrong, Lucifer.”

“But these only just came out….”

“W- ahahahaha!” You started laughing at him, and he blushed and walked away from you.

“You don’t need to laugh. I was simply surprised how fast your generation moves on from one thing to the next,” he sighed.

You grabbed his arm, consoling him, and he refused to look at you stubbornly.

He could be so dramatic sometimes.

“Hehe, I’m sorry I laughed at you, Luci. You surprised me, is all. I’m human, and even I have a hard time keeping up with what’s new.”

He raised a brow looking at you.

“Shouldn’t you slow down…you’re rushing history, progressing as fast as you are.”

“Are you worried about us or something?” You asked, amused.

“About humans? No. About your home, yes. I remember the older days when new things were rare and so exciting, and now humans forget things so easily they wind up here in antique shops…” he sighed, recalling years long before you were born.

He continued to stare into the distance, and you decided to try your luck and tease him to lighten the mood.

“You’re just mad you’re the oldest antique here.”

He gave you a look and flicked your forehead.

You didn’t make any old man jokes after that and laughed to yourself when he seemed confused that something so “recent” was hundreds of dollars due to being so old.

You did stumble upon some old records, but none of them were cursed, which disappointed him.

“Next time, we’ll go antiquing in the devildom. I’ll show you things that are actually old.”

“You’re gonna show me a bunch of mirrors?”

“That’s it; you’re being punished as soon as we get home.”

“The fun kind, or—“

“___!”