#Commerce Fox

[universe-gods-and-goddesses]

Giants pt.2

Yoshio= Commerce Fox

Satoshi= Youth Fox

Ayaka= Mercy Fox

Takara= Genocide Fox

Akira= Spirit Fox

Minori= Misfortunate Fox

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The long, bloody lineage of private equity's looting

Tomorrow (June 3) at 1:30PM, I’m in Edinburgh for the Cymera Festival on a panel with Nina Allen and Ian McDonald.

Monday (June 5) at 7:15PM, I’m in London at the British Library with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Baroness Martha Lane Fox.

Fans of the Sopranos will remember the “bust out” as a mob tactic in which a business is taken over, loaded up with debt, and driven into the ground, wrecking the lives of the business’s workers, customers and suppliers. When the mafia does this, we call it a bust out; when Wall Street does it, we call it “private equity.”

It used to be that we rarely heard about private equity, but then, as national chains and iconic companies started to vanish, this mysterious financial arrangement popped up with increasing frequency. When a finance bro’s presentation on why Olive Garden needed to be re-orged when viral, there was a lot off snickering about the decline of a tacky business whose value prop was unlimited carbs. But the bro was working for Starboard Value, a hedge fund that specialized in buhying out and killing off companies, pocketing billions while destroying profitable businesses.

https://www.salon.com/2014/09/17/the_real_olive_garden_scandal_why_greedy_hedge_funders_suddenly_care_so_much_about_breadsticks/

Starboard Value’s game was straightforward: buy a business, load it with debt, sell off its physical plant — the buildings it did business out of — pay itself, and then have the business lease back the buildings, bleeding out money until it collapsed. They pulled it with Red Lobster,and the point of the viral Olive Garden dis track was to soften up the company for its own bust out.

The bust out tactic wasn’t limited to mocking middlebrow family restaurants. For years, the crooks who ran these ops did a brisk trade in blaming the internet. Why did Sears tank? Everyone knows that the 19th century business was an antique, incapable of mounting a challenge in the age of e-commerce. That was a great smokescreen for an old-fashioned bust out that saw corporate looters make off with hundreds of millions, leaving behind empty storefronts and emptier pension accounts for the workers who built the wealth the looters stole:

https://prospect.org/economy/vulture-capitalism-killed-sears/

Same goes for Toys R Us: it wasn’t Amazon that killed the iconic toy retailer — it was the PE bosses who extracted $200m from the chain, then walked away, hands in pockets and whistling, while the businesses collapsed and the workers got zero severance:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/business/wp/2018/06/01/how-can-they-walk-away-with-millions-and-leave-workers-with-zero-toys-r-us-workers-say-they-deserve-severance/

It’s a good racket — for the racketeers. Private equity has grown from a finance sideshow to Wall Street’s apex predator, and it’s devouring the real economy through a string of audactious bust outs, each more consequential and depraved than the last.

As PE shows that it can turn profitable businesses gigantic windfalls, sticking the rest of us with the job of sorting out the smoking craters they leave behind, more and more investors are piling in. Today, the PE sector loves a rollup, which is when they buy several related businesses and merge them into one firm. The nominal business-case for a rollup is that the new, bigger firm is more “efficient.” In reality, a rollup’s strength is in eliminating competition. When all the pet groomers, or funeral homes, or urgent care clinics for ten miles share the same owner, they can raise prices, lower wages, and fuck over suppliers.

They can also borrow. A quirk of the credit markets is that a standalone small business is valued at about 3–5x its annual revenues. But if that business is part of a large firm, it is valued at 10–20x annual turnover. That means that when a private equity company rolls up a comedy club, ad agency or water bottler (all businesses presently experiencing PE rollup), with $1m in annual revenues, it shows up on the PE company’s balance sheet as an asset worth $10–20m. That’s $10–20m worth of collateral the PE fund can stake for loans that let it buy and roll up more small businesses.

2.9 million Boomer-owned businesses, employing 32m people, are expected to sell in the next couple years as their owners retire. Most of these businesses will sell to PE firms, who can afford to pay more for them as a prelude to a bust out than anyone intending to operate them as a productive business could ever pay:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

PE’s most ghastly impact is felt in the health care sector. Whole towns’ worth of emergency rooms, family practices, labs and other health firms have been scooped up by PE, which has spent more than $1t since 2012 on health acquisitions:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/17/the-doctor-will-fleece-you-now/#pe-in-full-effect

Once a health care company is owned by PE, it is significantly more likely to commit medicare fraud. It also cuts wages and staffing for doctors and nurses. PE-owned facilities do more unnecessary and often dangerous procedures. Appointments get shorter. The companies get embroiled in kickback scandals. PE-backed dentists hack away at children’s mouths, filling them full of root-canals.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/17/the-doctor-will-fleece-you-now/#pe-in-full-effect

The Healthcare Private Equity Association boasts that its members are poised to spend more than $3t to create “the future of healthcare.”

https://hcpea.org/#!event-list

As bad as PE is for healthcare, it’s worse for long-term care. PE-owned nursing homes are charnel houses, and there’s a particularly nasty PE scam where elderly patients are tricked into signing up for palliative care, which is never delivered (and isn’t needed, because the patients aren’t dying!). These fake “hospices” get huge payouts from medicare — and the patient is made permanently ineligible for future medicare, because they are recorded being in their final decline:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

Every part of the health care sector is being busted out by PE. Another ugly PE trick, the “club deal,” is devouring the medical supply business. Club deals were huge in the 2000s, destroying rent-controlled housing, energy companies, Mervyn’s department stores, Harrah��s, and Old Country Joe. Now it’s doing the same to medical supplies:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

Private equity is behind the mass rollup of single-family homes across America. Wall Street landlords are the worst landlords in America, who load up your rent with junk fees, leave your home in a state of dangerous disrepair, and evict you at the drop of a hat:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/16/die-miete-ist-zu-hoch/#assets-v-human-rights

As these houses decay through neglect, private equity makes a bundle from tenants and even more borrowing against the houses. In a few short years, much of America’s desperately undersupplied housing stock will be beyond repair. It’s a bust out.

You know all those exploding trains filled with dangerous chemicals that poison entire towns? Private equity bust outs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/04/up-your-nose/#rail-barons

Where did PE come from? How can these people look themselves in the mirror? Why do we let them get away with it? How do we stop them?

Today in The American Prospect, Maureen Tkacik reviews two new books that try to answer all four of these questions, but really only manage to answer the first three:

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2023-06-02-days-of-plunder-morgenson-rosner-ballou-review/

The first of these books is These Are the Plunderers: How Private Equity Runs — and Wrecks — America by Gretchen Morgenson and Joshua Rosner:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/These-Are-the-Plunderers/Gretchen-Morgenson/9781982191283

The second is Plunder: Private Equity’s Plan to Pillage America, by Brendan Ballou:

https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/brendan-ballou/plunder/9781541702103/

Both books describe the bust out from the inside. For example, PetSmart — looted for $30 billion by RaymondSvider and his PE fund BC Partners — is a slaughterhouse for animals. The company systematically neglects animals — failing to pay workers to come in and feed them, say, or refusing to provide backup power to run during power outages, letting animals freeze or roast to death. Though PetSmart has its own vet clinics, the company doesn’t want to pay its vets to nurse the animals it damages, so it denies them care. But the company is also too cheap to euthanize those animals, so it lets them starve to death. PetSmart is also too cheap to cremate the animals, so its traumatized staff are ordered to smuggle the dead, rotting animals into random dumpsters.

All this happened while PetSmart’s sales increased by 60%, matched by growth in the company’s gross margins. All that money went to the bust out.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/antoinegara/2021/09/27/the-30-billion-kitty-meet-the-investor-who-made-a-fortune-on-pet-food/

Tkacik says these books show that we’re finally getting wise to PE. Back in the Clinton years, the PE critique painted the perps as sharp operators who reduced quality and jacked up prices. Today, books like these paint these “investors” as the monsters they are — crooks whose bust ups are crimes, not clever finance hacks.

Take the Carlyle Group, which pioneered nursing home rollups. As Carlyle slashed wages, its workers suffered — but its elderly patients suffered more. Thousands of Carlyle “customers” died of “dehydration, gangrenous bedsores, and preventable falls” in the pre-covid years.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy/opioid-overdoses-bedsores-and-broken-bones-what-happened-when-a-private-equity-firm-sought-profits-in-caring-for-societys-most-vulnerable/2018/11/25/09089a4a-ed14-11e8-baac-2a674e91502b_story.html

KKR, another PE monster, bought a second-hand chain of homes for mentally disabled adults from another PE company, then squeezed it for the last drops of blood left in the corpse. KKR cut wages to $8/hour and increased shifts to 36 hours, then threatened to have workers who went home early arrested and charged with “patient abandonment.” Many of these homes were often left with no staff at all, with patients left to starve and stew in their own waste.

PE loves to pick on people who can’t fight back: kids, sick people, disabled people, old people. No surprise, then, that PE loves prisons — the ultimate captive audience. HIG Capital is a $55b fund that owns TKC Holdings, who got the contract to feed the prisoners at 400 institutions. They got the contract after the prisons fired Aramark, owned by PE giant Warburg Pincus, whose food was so inedible that it provoked riots. TKC got a million bucks extra to take over the food at Michigan’s Kinross Correctional Facility, then, incredibly, made the food worse. A chef who refused to serve 100 bags of rotten potatoes (“the most disgusting thing I’ve seen in my life”) was fired:

https://www.wzzm13.com/article/news/local/michigan/prison-food-worker-i-was-fired-for-refusing-to-serve-rotten-potatoes/69-467297770

TKC doesn’t just operate prison kitchens — it operates prison commissaries, where it gouges prisoners on junk food to replace the inedible slop it serves in the cafeteria. The prisoners buy this food with money they make working in the prison workshops, for $0.10–0.25/hour. Those workshops are also run by TKC.

Tkacic traces private equity back to the “corporate raiders” of the 1950s and 1960s, who “stealthily borrowed money to buy up enough shares in a small or midsized company to control its biggest bloc of votes, then force a stock swap and install himself as CEO.”

The most famous of these raiders was Eli Black, who took over United Fruit with this gambit — a company that had a long association with the CIA, who had obligingly toppled democratically elected governments and installed dictators friendly to United’s interests (this is where the term “banana republic” comes from).

Eli Black’s son is Leon Black, a notorious PE predator. Leon Black got his start working for the junk-bonds kingpin Michael Milken, optimizing Milken’s operation, which was the most terrifying bust out machine of its day, buying, debt-loading and wrecking a string of beloved American businesses. Milken bought 2,000 companies and put 200 of them through bankruptcy, leaving the survivors in a brittle, weakened state.

It got so bad that the Business Roundtable complained about the practice to Congress, calling Milken, Black, et al, “a small group is systematically extracting the equity from corporations and replacing it with debt, and incidentally accumulating major wealth.”

Black stabbed Milken in the back and tanked his business, then set out on his own. Among the businesses he destroyed was Samsonite, “a bankrupt-but-healthy company he subjected to 12 humiliating years of repeated fee extractions, debt-funded dividend payments, brutal plant closings, and hideous schemes to induce employees to buy its worthless stock.”

The money to buy Samsonite — and many other businesses — came through a shadowy deal between Black and John Garamendi, then a California insurance commissioner, now a California congressman. Garamendi helped Black buy a $6b portfolio of junk bonds from an insurance company in a wildly shady deal. Garamendi wrote down the bonds by $3.9b, stealing money “from innocent people who needed the money to pay for loved ones’ funerals, irreparable injuries, etc.”

Black ended up getting all kinds of favors from powerful politicians — including former Connecticut governor John Rowland and Donald Trump. He also wired $188m to Jeffrey Epstein for reasons that remain opaque.

Black’s shady deals are a marked contrast with the exalted political circles he travels in. Despite private equity’s obviously shady conduct, it is the preferred partner for cities and states, who buy everything from ambulance services to infrastructure from PE-owned companies, with disastrous results. Federal agencies turn a blind eye to their ripoffs, or even abet them. 38 state houses passed legislation immunizing nursing homes from liability during the start of the covid crisis.

PE barons are shameless about presenting themselves as upstanding cits, unfairly maligned. When Obama made an empty promise to tax billionaires in 2010, Blackstone founder SteveS chwarzman declared, “It’s a war. It’s like when Hitler invaded Poland in 1939.”

Since we’re on the subject of Hitler, this is a good spot to bring up Monowitz, a private-sector satellite of Auschwitz operated by IG Farben as a slave labor camp to make rubber and other materiel it supplied at a substantial markup to the wermacht. I’d never heard of Monowitz, but Tkacik’s description of the camp is chilling, even in comparison to Auschwitz itself.

Farben used slave laborers from Auschwitz to work at its rubber plant, but was frustrated by the logistics of moving those slaves down the 4.5m stretch of road to the facility. So the company bought 25,000 slaves — preferring children, who were cheaper — and installed them in a co-located death-camp called Monowitz:

https://www.commentary.org/articles/r-tannenbaum/the-devils-chemists-by-josiah-e-dubois-jr/

Monowitz was — incredibly — worse than Auschwitz. It was so bad, the SS guards who worked at it complained to Berlin about the conditions. The SS demanded more hospitals for the workers who dropped from beatings and overwork — Farben refused, citing the cost. The factory never produced a steady supply of rubber, but thanks to its gouging and the brutal treatment of its slaves, the camp was still profitable and returned large dividends to Farben’s investors.

Apologists for slavery sometimes claim that slavers are at least incentivized to maintain the health of their captive workforce. This was definitely not true of Farben. Monowitz slaves died on average after three months in the camp. And Farben’s subsidiary, Degesch, made the special Zyklon B formulation used in Auschwitz’s gas chambers.

Tkacik’s point is that the Nazis killed for ideology and were unimaginably cruel. Farben killed for money — and they were even worse. The banality of evil gets even more banal when it’s done in service to maximizing shareholder value.

As Farben historian Joseph Borkin wrote, the company “reduced slave labor to a consumable raw material, a human ore from which the mineral of life was systematically extracted”:

https://www.scribd.com/document/517797736/The-Crime-and-Punishment-of-I-G-Farben

Farben’s connection to the Nazis was a the subject of Germany’s Master Plan: The Story of Industrial Offensive, a 1943 bestseller by Borkin, who was also an antitrust lawyer. It described how Farben had manipulated global commodities markets in order to create shortages that “guaranteed Hitler’s early victories.”

Master Plan became a rallying point in the movement to shatter corporate power. But large US firms like Dow Chemical and Standard Oil waged war on the book, demanding that it be retracted. Borkin was forced into resignation and obscurity in 1945.

Meanwhile, in Nuremberg, 24 Farben executives were tried for their war crimes, and they cited their obligations to their shareholders in their defense. All but five were acquitted on this basis.

Seen in that light, the plunderers of today’s PE firms are part of a long and dishonorable tradition, one that puts profit ahead of every other priority or consideration. It’s a defense that wowed the judges at Nuremberg, so should we be surprised that it still plays in 2023?

Tkacik is frustrated that neither of these books have much to offer by way of solutions, but she understands why that would be. After all, if we can’t even close the carried interest tax loophole, how can we hope to do anything meaningful?

“Carried interest” comes up in every election cycle. Most of us assume it has something to do with “interest payments,” but that’s not true. The carried interest loophole relates to the “interest” that 16th-century sea captains had in their cargo. It’s a 600-year-old tax loophole that private equity bosses use to pay little or no tax on their billions. The fact that it’s still on the books tells you everything you need to know about whether our political class wants to do anything about PE’s plundering.

Notwithstanding Tkacik’s (entirely justified) skepticism of the weaksauce remedies proposed in these books, there is some hope of meaningful action. Private equity’s rollups are only possible because they skate under the $101m threshold for merger scrutiny. However, there is good — but unenforced — law that allows antitrust enforcers to block these mergers. This is the “incipiency standard” — Sec 7 of the Clayton Act — the idea that a relatively small merger might not be big enough to trigger enforcement action on its own, but regulators can still act to block it if it creates an incipient monopoly.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

The US has a new crop of aggressive — fearless — top antitrust enforcers and they’ve been systematically reviving these old laws to go after monopolies.

That’s long overdue. Markets are machines for eroding our moral values: “In comparison to non-market decisions, moral standards are significantly lower if people participate in markets.”

https://web.archive.org/web/20130607154129/https://www.uni-bonn.de/Press-releases/markets-erode-moral-values

The crimes that monsters commit in the name of ideology pale in comparison to the crimes the wealthy commit for money.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Edinburgh, London, and Berlin!

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/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farbenizers

[Image ID: An overgrown graveyard, rendered in silver nitrate monochrome. A green-tinted businessman  with a moneybag in place of a head looms up from behind a gravestone. The right side of the image is spattered in blood.]

[liberalsarecool]

When you elect Republicans, you 100% get corruption.

Politicians, judges, Presidents.

All the Right Wing institutions support the corruption: Federalist Society, RNC, FOX, Heritage Foundation, Chamber of Commerce, Koch Brothers.

The evidence is manifest.

[triscribeaucollection]

Daughter

(/SLAMS a new Time Traveler General Leia fic on the table for Whumptober)

My second cousin, once removed.

That was how Padmé introduced her, to fellow Senators, to Jedi and clone troopers, even to Palpatine himself, mere hours before his dramatic death. In the chaos that followed, very few eyes gave the matronly woman at Padmé’s side so much as a second glance.

Their mistake.

“We’ve received word from Onderon,” Sabé called out, on the other side of the sitting room. “Steela Gerrera and Lux Bonteri confirmed their attendance at the peace talks.”

Padmé hummed, flicking through her list of accepted invitations, refusals, and undecided systems who could potentially be swayed one way or the other. With the losses of Grievous, Dooku, and now the puppetmaster Sidious, the Confederacy had fairly quickly fallen apart; the Banking Clan, Commerce Guild, Techno Union and others only able to hold off from profit-driven in-fighting for so long. With the facade of their ‘dedication’ to the cause collapsing in upon itself, more and more Separatist worlds were deciding they would, perhaps, like to come back to a Republic eagerly tearing itself free of corruptive influence.

Nearly two hundred Senators and lesser politicians had already been ousted from their positions on charges of accepting bribes, engaging in fraud, and colluding to grant more extravagant emergency powers to the Chancellor.

Padmé, her handmaidens, and their unexpected savior remained hard at work to ensure the continued momentum of their successes.

At least until a chirp upon her comlink indicated the arrival of a guest.

“No need,” Padmé told the others as she stood, halting a shuffle to hide incriminating datapads out of sight beneath blankets and within bags of personal hygiene items. “It’s only Bail and Fox.”

Sabé, Dormé and the rest relaxed, returning to their tasks. Only the oldest woman in the room remained tense, sharp gaze following Padmé while she hurried to the main door.

As one of the strongest candidates for Chancellor, Bail needed to remain under armed protection at all times. Fortunately, dressing inconspicuously and being accompanied by an aggrieved Commander Fox counted - at least as far as Bail himself was concerned. Fox, on the other hand, began grumbling under his breath the moment they cleared Padmé’s external security and entered the apartment foyer. “Can’t wait until morning, or a proper escort, no, he needs to come visit now in an unarmored speeder-”

“I’m afraid I’ll need to donate quite a few cartons of pastries to the Guard offices tomorrow,” Bail murmured, smiling even as he slipped off his dark cloak. “And possibly a new caf machine.”

“Three caf machines,” Fox huffed. “The shinies keep trying to experiment every time you send another one.” He rolled his eyes quite dramatically, after pulling off his helmet.

A year before, opening up and airing his annoyance so clearly in front of non-clones would have been unthinkable for the commander. It delighted Padmé each and every time she was allowed to bear witness to the easing of that wall, as well as its latest, near total collapse; the removal of whatever influence Sidious was exuding over the Coruscant Guard seemed to have done wonders for lifting a weight off Fox’s shoulders, and his inhibitions at the same time.

Which wasn’t to say the man didn’t still perform his job admirably. A hint of sound drew his eyes instantly towards the doorway to the living room, fingers twitching towards holsters before they went still.

“Leia,” Padmé said, even before turning around. “May I present Guard Commander Fox? And Bail you know, of course.”

“Of course,” the woman replied, voice dry, one brow raised ever so slightly. “Commander. Senator.”

Fox let out a soft grunt, flicking his gaze back and forth between the two women. “...resemblance is definitely stronger, when you two aren’t in uniform.”

‘Dressed up’, others might say, but Padmé felt the word uniform had the right of it, when she needed to step into the role of Naboo’s representative and carry the expected image thereof. Leia, for her part, had spent most of the past several days in a much less eye-catching series of dark grey and blue outfits: just elaborate enough to pass muster as Padmé’s relation and assistant, with plenty of concealed pockets for weaponry, but otherwise quite plain. With their hair hanging loose and both in practical sleepwear, however, Fox certainly had the right of it.

They looked like mother and daughter.

Only, in reverse of the actual family tree.

“I realize this may be futile, considering whom I’m asking,” Padmé murmured, looking at the woman who would have been her child in another life. “But would you two consider helping me convince her to take a break before she burns out?” Despite her gentle tone, the words caused annoyance to flicker across Leia’s face, and something in how she tipped her chin- adjusted her stance- reminded Padmé viscerally of Anakin.

From battlefield to Separatist space to Coruscant, Leia had maintained a whirlwind of activity, removing major players from the board and only briefing pausing to actually introduce herself to others. In the week since Padmé met her, she didn’t think Leia had taken more than four or five hours rest each night, too focused on assassinating Palpatine and setting the rest of their political purge in motion. Even since successfully killing the Sith, she’d remained intent on continuing to work, to restore the Republic before it could finish falling apart.

Fox, who substituted spite for sleep and drank at least six cups of caf per day, only snorted.

Bail proved more useful.

The tall man stepped forward, reaching, and like a planet drawn to its sun, Leia came closer as well to grasp his hands. “However the election results turn out, I will be returning to Alderaan for a few days afterward. Would you consider accompanying me?”

Leia froze. It took a long moment for her jaw to flex, for the question to creep out, “Are you- certain?”

“I’ve already sent a coded message to inform Breha about you,” Bail answered, equally quiet. “She’d like to speak in person, whenever you have time for a call.”

Motion rippled through the woman, too large for a tremble, too subdued for a shudder. Her eyes darted towards Padmé, who smiled. “The console in my chamber is triple-encrypted. No one will interrupt you.”

Several more seconds passed, before Leia jerked her head in a nod. She held herself so rigidly, so constantly, a general poised over her battlefield holotable, never ceasing in her planning and commands and constant self-control. For an instant, though- for an instant, holding onto Bail’s open hands and sagging ever so slightly, Padmé saw instead a girl who’d lost too much, too fast, and desperately hoped to get even some small measure of it back.

When the two Organa senators went to place their call, Fox let out a deep breath and sagged in place himself. “Alright. Maybe that was worth coming out here in the middle of the night.”

Padmé hid a grin, threading her arm around his and carefully towing the commander along to join her handmaidens. “I wonder, if you stay involved with Bail and Breha, whether or not Leia will agree to come intimidate your shinies out of experimenting with the caf machines?”

“Ha.”

[darkmaga-returns]

10 shocking stories the media buried today.

The Vigilant Fox

Nov 13, 2024

#10 - Tucker Carlson calls for an IMMEDIATE repeal of the 1986 Vaccine Injury Act.

This would strip Big Pharma of its liability shield, making them accountable for injuries caused by their products.

In fact, Carlson called the vaccine enterprise, particularly the COVID vaccine, a “scam.” Here’s why:

1. “You convince politicians to force the population to buy your product.”

2. “Anyone who complains gets fired.”

3. “You can’t be sued.”

“How is it that there’s this one category that’s exempt from the risk [lawsuits] that all the rest of us who are involved in any kind of business face every single day?” Carlson asked.

“I have liability insurance on my house in case the UPS guy slips delivering a package from Amazon. But somehow, Albert Bourla [CEO of Pfizer] and all the other creepy, creepy billionaires who run these disgusting pharma companies are in no danger of being sued because their corrupt pals in Congress in 1986 gave them blanket immunity? Let’s tear that down immediately,” Carlson urged.

To the argument that vaccines “can’t compete” without blanket immunity, Carlson countered, “Well, why don’t you just make a safer vaccine then? How’s that sound? Why don’t you face the same risk [lawsuits] that every other person who conducts any other kind of commerce or lives in this country faces every single day?”

He demanded, “Let’s see the numbers right now,” highlighting that the government has access to vaccine data that it’s hiding from the public.

“If somehow you’re being prevented from knowing, then you can be absolutely certain that crimes are being committed,” Carlson concluded, “because why else would they be hiding it from you?”

[thel1m1nalspaces]

The Liminal Spaces

The Liminal Spaces

A liminal space is defined by the fact it is an in between place. Not quite here here or there. This can be transitions in life, transitional or transformational things or places. A space between where you've been and where you're going.

Liminial Spaces: Stairways Airports Hotel Lobbies Parking lots Waiting rooms Break rooms Elevators Trains Bridges Abandoned buildings

Liminal Space Character: Cloak and dagger Alice from Alice in wonderland Neo the matrix Coraline Harry Potter Dr Strange Loki Scarlet Witch Ghost Rider Raven The flash

Liminal life transition: Divorces Deciding on a partner Graduation Puberty Menopause Having a child Literally transitioning Job loss Break ups Periods

Liminal times: Midnight Noon Equinoxes Solstices

Liminal Weather: Fog Overcast days Land meeting sea Fall Spring

Liminal Feelings: Surrealness Nostalgia Bittersweet Conflicting emotions

Liminal space animals: cats Bats Butterflies Dogs deer pigeons rats hedgehogs rabbits and hares swans sparrows ravens squirrels Owls Frogs Snakes

Liminal Deities: Hekate (Hekate (Hecate) was the goddess of magic, witchcraft, divination, the night, liminal spaces,the moon, ghosts and necromancy, crossroads, doorways, boundaries, and has dominion over the earth, skies and ocean too. She can be linked to herbalism, and shes a protector of the home, and family.)

Hermes (Hermes is known as the god of travel, commerce, communication, and thieves. He’s also the messenger of the gods, boundaries and transitions.)

Janus from Roman mythology, the god of beginnings, gates, transitions, time, duality, doorways, passages, and endings.

Persephone from Greek mythology, who moves between the underworld and the living world.

The Morrigan from Irish mythology is a war, death, liminal spaces, destiny, fertility, and motherhood

Brigid the Irish Deity of liminal spaces, fire, healing, poetry, childbirth and children, warfare, crafts, wisdom,

Dionysus Greek god of wine, festivity, and theater, and is also known as the god of vegetation, fertility, and insanity

Hermod is the messenger of the gods and is known for his speed, communication, and bravery in norse mythology

Odin from Norse mythology, who can travel between worlds.

Anubis from Egyptian mythology, who guides souls to the afterlife.

Chiron from Greek mythology would transport souls but was also known for being a teacher, healer and oracle

Closed Practice Liminal Deities (Idk much about these so feel free to add more and or correct me)

Papa Legba from Haitian Vodou, who stands at the crossroads between the human world and the spirit world.

Baron Samedi from Haitian Vodou, who’s the guardian of the cemetery and the afterlife.

Nabu from Mesopotamian mythology. He's the god of wisdom and writing, and he acts as a bridge between the mortal world and the divine through knowledge and communication. It's like he stands at the boundary between human understanding and divine insight.

Veles from Slavic mythology He's the god of the underworld, waters, and magic. Veles often crosses between the realms of the living and the dead, making him a classic liminal deity. He's also associated with cattle, wealth, and poetry, which adds even more layers to his role.

Ellegua from Yoruba mythology, often worshipped in Santería and other Afro-Caribbean religions. He's the orisha of the crossroads, communication, and doors. Ellegua is known for being a trickster and a protector, and he plays a crucial role in opening and closing pathways between the human and spiritual worlds.

Anansi from African mythology, the trickster and storyteller who often moves between worlds.

Inari from Japanese mythology, a deity of rice, fertility, and foxes, who bridges the human and spiritual realms.

Ereshkigal from Mesopotamian mythology, the queen of the underworld.

Kali from Hindu mythology, who represents both destruction and rebirth.

Ganesha from Hindu mythology, the remover of obstacles, often invoked at the beginning of new ventures.

Tlazolteotl from Aztec mythology, a goddess of purification and transformation.

[justinssportscorner]

Lisa Needham at Public Notice:

Donald Trump and JD Vance spent the 2024 election spewing the most rank transphobia, a tactic that should have made them pariahs but instead helped win them the presidency. Even though they haven’t taken office yet, their victory seems to have emboldened Republicans like Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton to go all out in their attacks on trans people. Trump’s transphobia is often focused on trans athletes, and Paxton is following his lead by suing the NCAA in Texas state court under the state’s Deceptive Trade Practices Act. His allegation is that the NCAA is somehow swindling Texas sports fans by allowing trans athletes to compete in women’s sporting events. Texas’s Deceptive Trade Practices Act prohibits false, misleading, or deceptive acts in commerce. According to Paxton, the NCAA is misleading sports fans by advertising women’s sporting events when there are actually “biological males” competing. Or, as the lawsuit explains, the NCAA is “lead[ing] consumers to believe that they are purchasing goods and services associated with biological sex-based sporting events.” While rightwing weirdos might be attending NCAA games because of their deep desire to associate only with “biological sex-based sporting events,” the rest of the world watches women’s sports because they enjoy watching them.

The complaint rolls out four more counts, each fixating on a different bit of language from the Deceptive Trade Practices Act. At root, they’re all the same accusation: the NCAA is deceiving consumers by referring to women’s sports because it allows trans athletes to compete in some events. Of course, for people not consumed with a fixation on genitals, the term “women’s sports” includes trans women, because they are women. It only makes sense if you first grant Texas’s transphobic premise that there is no such thing as a trans woman playing a sport — only a “biological male” who has invaded a women’s team. Ostensibly, this lawsuit is just about stopping trans athletes from competing in women’s sports in Texas (or outside Texas if a Texas team is involved). But what it really represents is a chance for the state to spread its transphobia across the country.

Everyone knows that the GOP has made transphobia one of the centerpieces of its messaging, with the explicit goal of running trans people out of public life altogether. They’ve particularly fixated on trans women athletes, declaring that it is their deep love for the sanctity of women’s sports that drives them. So, it’s not surprising that Republicans have been demanding that the NCAA entirely ban trans athletes from competing.

But here’s the thing. There are roughly 510,000 NCAA athletes. And, according to the president of the NCAA, there are fewer than 10 trans athletes total. Even if all of these efforts to “protect” women’s sports were in good faith, this would still be a solution in search of a problem. Needless to say, these efforts are not in good faith, which is why, for example, the state’s complaint won’t even use the term trans woman or trans athlete, instead calling them men or “biological males.” It’s why there are dozens of paragraphs about athletes who are not trans, are not NCAA athletes, and are not even American athletes, like Caster Semenya and Imane Khelif. Invoking Semenya, a South African runner, and Khelif, an Algerian boxer, is a favorite tactic of transphobic right-wingers, sending the not-so-subtle message that they will police the gender of anyone they deem insufficiently female.

[...] The state wants the court to permanently bar the NCAA from allowing trans women to compete in women’s sporting events. In the alternative, they’ll take forcing the NCAA to stop using the term “women” for sporting events where trans women can compete if the event is in Texas or involves Texas teams. As far as protecting the sacred womanhood of sports, or whatever it is Paxton is pretending he is doing here, this lawsuit is entirely unnecessary. Texas already bans trans athletes from participating in collegiate sports in the state. But that’s not enough for Texas. It wants to reach into other states — states that may have laws that protect trans people — and impose a trans athlete ban if there’s a Texas team playing.

Texas’s culture wars-obsessed weirdo AG Ken Paxton (R) files a frivolous lawsuit against the NCAA over phony claims that the organization is “deceiving” people by using the term “women’s sports” when a trans woman is competing. This lawsuit is about eliminating trans people from public life fully and not a darn thing about “protecting” the “sanctity” of women’s sports.

[coven-of-genesis]

Italian folk magic - animal correspondences & symbolic meanings

In Italian spirituality and folklore, there are various animal correspondences and symbolic meanings. Here are a few examples:

The wolf is a common symbol in Italian folklore and is often associated with strength, cunning, and loyalty. In some traditions, the wolf is also seen as a protective spirit and a guide through the wilderness.

The snake is associated with both positive and negative symbolism in Italian spirituality. On one hand, the snake can represent wisdom, transformation, and healing. On the other hand, it can also represent deception, danger, and evil.

The fox is often seen as a trickster figure in Italian folklore and is associated with cleverness, adaptability, and quick thinking. In some traditions, the fox is also associated with the god Mercury and represents communication and commerce.

The owl is associated with wisdom, intuition, and the mysteries of the night. In some Italian traditions, the owl is also seen as a symbol of death and the afterlife.

The bear is a symbol of strength, courage, and protection. In some traditions, it is also associated with the goddess Diana and represents fertility and the power of the natural world.

The horse is associated with freedom, power, and nobility. In some traditions, it is also associated with the goddess Epona and represents fertility, abundance, and the protection of travelers.

The bee is a symbol of hard work, community, and the sweetness of life. In some Italian traditions, it is also associated with the goddess Venus and represents love and beauty.

The cat is associated with independence, mystery, and intuition. In some traditions, it is also associated with the goddess Bastet and represents protection, fertility, and the power of the feminine.

The boar is a symbol of courage, tenacity, and strength. In some traditions, it is also associated with the god Mars and represents protection, fertility, and the power of the warrior.

The rooster is associated with vigilance, courage, and the dawn. In some Italian traditions, it is also associated with the god Apollo and represents prophecy, music, and the power of the sun.

[lboogie1906]

Attorney Sophia Angeli Nelson (January 5, 1967) is an author, journalist, lawyer, and political strategist. She was born in Munich, where her father served overseas in the Army. She was raised in Somerdale, New Jersey, and attended San Diego State University. She became the first African American elected as an Associated Students Executive Officer. She graduated from SDSU with a BA in Political History. She graduated from law school at American University Washington College of Law.

She won the Republican nomination for Congress from the First District of New Jersey but had to withdraw because of illness. She worked as a senior counsel at the nationally ranked law firm, Holland and Knight LLP. She worked as a freelance reporter and became the first White House correspondent for Jet magazine, covering the historic 2008 presidential campaign of Senator Barack Obama. She served as a senior committee staff counsel in the House of Representatives as well as director of congressional and public affairs for the US Chamber of Commerce.

She released her first book, Black Woman Redefined: Dispelling Myths and Discovering Fulfillment in the Age of Michelle Obama. She has contributed to columns in the Philadelphia Inquirer, Washington Post, USA Today, and Essence Magazine. Her experiences and expertise in law, politics, and corporate America made her a well-known speaker sought-after by such corporations as JCPenney, Kimberly Clark, Time Warner, and Oracle as well as the National Basketball Association NBA. She has spoken at universities, law firms, and national organizations, including the National Urban League and Essence Jazz Festival. She has made television appearances as a political commentator on major networks like CNN, MSNBC, FOX, and World News with Diane Sawyer as well as radio appearances on the Tom Joyner Morning Show and Michael Baisden Show.

She continues to write and remains a high-profile speaker. She is a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #alphakappaalpha

[rebootgrimm]

Brands that are Pro-Israel under cut!!! Boycott them!!

Accenture

AccuWeather

ActionIQ

Ahava

AirBnB

Alaska Air

AllianceBernstein

Allianz

Amazon

Amdocs

American Airlines

American Eagle

American Wire Group

Amwell

Apollo

Apple

Aramis

ArentFox Schiff

Ariel

Atlassian

Authentic Brands

Aveda

Avery Dennison

Axel Springer

Bain & Company

Bank of America

Bank of New York Mellon

Baskin Robins

Bath & Body Works

Baupost Group

Bayer

BBC

BCG

Bioventus

Blackrock

Blackstone

Black & Decker

Bloomberg

Bobby Brown Essentials

Boeing

Bosch

Bounty

Bristol Myers Squibb

Bumble and Bumble

Burger King

Cadbury

Caltex

Capri Holdings

CareTrust REIT

Caterpillar

CeraVe

Chanel

Chapman and Cutler

Cisco

Citadel

Citi

Clinique

CNN

Coca-Cola

Comcast

Condé Nast

CV Starr

Cytokinetics

Davis Polk

Dell

Deloitte

Delta Air Lines

Deutsche Bank

Deutsche Telekom

DeviantArt

DHL Group

Disney

Donna Karan Cosmetics

Douglas Elliman

Dove

Edelman

Eli Lily

Endeavor

Energizer

Estée Lauder

EY

Facebook

Fanta

Fiverr

Forbes

Ford

Fox Corp

Gamida Cell

GE

General Catalyst

General Motors

Genesys

Gillette

Goldman Sachs

Google

Hardee’s

Hearst

Henkel

Herbert Smith Freehills

Hewlett Packard

Hewlett Packard Enterprise

HP

HubSpot

Huntsman Corp

H&M

IBM

Insight Partners

Instacart

Instagram

Intel

Intermedia

Interpublic Group

Intuit

Jane

Jazwares

Jefferies

Johnson & Johnson

Jo Malone

JP Morgan

Kate Spade

Kenon Holdings

Kit-Kat

KKR

KPMG

La Mer

Lays

Lego

Lemonade

Levi Strauss

Lifebouy

LinkedIn

Lipton

Live Nation Entertainment

L’Oréal

MAC Cosmetics

Maggie

Major League Baseball

Mango

Manpower Group

Mars

Marsh & McLennan

Mastercard

Mattel

McDermont Will & Emery

McDonalds

McKinsey

Merck

Merck KGaA

Meta

MeUndies

Microsoft

Milo

Morgan Lewis

Morgan Stanley

Motorola

MRC

Nasdaq

National Basketball association (NBA)

National Geographic

NeoGames

Nescafé

Nestle (and anything that stems from them)

Netflix

NFL

Nido

Nike

Nokia

Novartis

Nvidia

Okta

Omnicon Group

Oracle

Oreo

Origins Natural Resources

Palantir

Pampers (Procter & Gamble)

Paramount Global

Paul Weiss

PepsiCo

Perishing Square

Pfizer

Philips (66)

Pillsbury

Prescriptives

Progressive

Pringles

Puma

PVH

Raytheon

Regeneration Pharmaceuticals

Related Companies

Revlon

Ribbon

Riskified

Sabra Hummus

Sales Force

SAP

Sequoia Capital

Seyfarth Shaw

Siemens

Signal

Simons Property Group

Skydance

Snickers

SodaStream

Sony

SoulCycle

Sprite

StagWell

Starbucks

State Street

Stila Cosmetics

Subway

Sweet Green

Synovus

Tang

Tesla

Teva Pharmaceuticals

Thermo Fisher Scientific

Tieks by Gavreli

Tide

Toblerone

Tommy Hilfiger Toiletries

Tory Burch

Tribe Hummus

Troutman Pepper

Twin

UBS

United Airlines

Universal Music Group

UPS

UpWork

US Chamber of Commerce

Verizon

Victoria’s Secret 

Vim

Volkswagon

Volvo

Vontier

Wall’s

Walmart

Warby Parker

Warner Brothers Discovery

Wells Fargo

WhatsApp

Winston & Strawn

WiX

WWE

Zara

Zoff Davis

Zoom

[universe-gods-and-goddesses]

Grandchildren pt.2

ryan= Weapon Serpent

Toshi= Glory Fox

Jun= Secret Fox

Yoshio= Commerce Fox

Satoshi= Youth Fox

Ayaka= Mercy Fox

Takara= Genocide Fox

Akira= Spirit Fox

Minori= Misfortunate Fox

Nadia= Rainbow Angel

Khonis= Blizzard King

[odinsblog]

No one loves Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman more than America’s elite. In recent years, we’ve seen leaders, investors, and celebrities hold out a Saudi exception to human rights in the service of a blurry concept of national interests that requires the U.S. to constantly compromise its values in service of an autocrat. And so MBS has been welcomed back into the establishment fold, and he won over Washington. And now he’s taking a victory lap.

When Saudi Arabia convened a 2018 summit in Riyadh, businesspeople shielded their name tags from view, sheepish about seeking MBS’s money just days after journalist Jamal Khashoggi’s murder. But the stigma has apparently worn off, and big names in finance, tech, media, and entertainment showed up at the Miami edition of Davos in the Desert.

The entire conceit of the conference is that Saudi Arabia can be abstracted from MBS, who is hardly ever mentioned yet remains the unspoken force behind the events. The host, the Future Investment Initiative Institute, a mouthful, is essentially the crown prince’s personal think tank. Session after session offered platitudes and ruminations on the least controversial ideas ever—AI is going to change the world! Climate is important! Sports bring people together! The two-day gathering was titled “On the Edge of a New Frontier,” itself a sort of redundant name. (Isn’t a frontier an edge?)

Yasir Al-Rumayyan, governor of a major sovereign wealth fund that’s currently under Senate investigation, led the proceedings. The Public Investment Fund that Al-Rumayyan runs is the conference’s founding partner and powers its lavish events. That Al-Rumayyan has $70 billion in annual investments to dole out is enough to draw out financial titans, curious entrepreneurs, and former Trump officials.

Jared Kushner, who had grown a beard, was talking about his theory of investing, without noting that MBS’s sovereign wealth funds had reportedly contributed $2 billion to his Affinity Partners. Steve Mnuchin, who similarly snared $1 billion of Saudi funds for his Liberty Strategic Capital, wore a suit and dress sneakers and talked about Israel as a tech hub. Mike Pompeo, in a tie, said that U.S. leadership in the world requires a “stability model” that involves working with “like-minded nations,” though “they’re not all going to be democracies.” Little wonder he rushed U.S. arms to Saudi Arabia as secretary of state as part of an end run around Congress.

Doing business with Saudi Arabia has become so normalized that the CEOs of major corporations and investment firms showed up in droves. There was Accenture’s Julie Sweet, Blackstone’s Stephen Schwarzman, and Thiel Capital’s Jack Selby. David Rubenstein—the billionaire who has played host to President Joe Biden at his Nantucket estate—spoke alongside his daughter Gabrielle. (This year, the Biden administration didn’t send an emissary, but the deputy commerce secretary, Donald Graves, attended in 2021.)

Journalists have kept a distance from Saudi Arabia after the dismemberment of Washington Post columnist Khashoggi, but in Miami the moderators included CNN’s Bianna Golodryga, Fox’s Maria Bartiromo, Bloomberg’s Manus Cranny, and The Wall Street Journal’s Gerard Baker.

MBS has especially used boldfaced names to rehabilitate his standing post-Khashoggi, his crackdown on women activists, and the destructive Yemen war. In Miami, there was a fireside chat with failed Senate candidate Dr. Oz. “Saudi Arabia is, I think, doing some wise investing and shifting mindsets by trying to leapfrog, in some cases, where the West is,” Oz said.

For Gwyneth Paltrow, it was just another fun public event. She spoke about how Goop had “built meaning” for its fans, in conversation with entrepreneur Moj Mahdara, a former adviser to Hillary Clinton. It was particularly incongruous when Paltrow discussed bringing more women to the cap table to fight the patriarchy.

Rob Lowe had some advice for Riyadh’s efforts to break into Hollywood and create its own film industry. “My view is there’s no reason that Saudi shouldn’t be the leader in IP in the same way they’re attempting to be the leader in sports and everything else,” Lowe said. “You need to have someone who can communicate: Why Saudi, why now.”

For all of the glitzy stage management and slick social media branding, at many moments there were fewer than 50 people watching the livestream on YouTube. But what mattered more were the opinion leaders, financiers, and tycoons in the room.

Big Tech was there, too, with Google’s Caroline Yap and Dell’s Michael Dell. Nothing was quite as obsequious as last year’s gathering in Miami when Adam Neumann, Marc Andreessen, and Ben Horowitz—all beneficiaries of Saudi Arabia’s financial largesse—gushed about how MBS is like a “founder,” except “you call him, ‘His Royal Highness.’”

(continue reading)

[beardedmrbean]

The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) didn't report a staggering $7 billion in award-level obligations and outlays during fiscal year 2022, according to an inspector general audit released this week.

The EPA Office of the Inspector General (OIG) determined that the agency underreported its award-level outlays by $5.8 billion, or 99.9%, and its award-level obligations by $1.2 billion, or 12.9% during FY22, the period between October 2021 and September 2022. The agency further failed to report any of its Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act outlays and under-reported its coronavirus pandemic-related outlays.

"The lack of complete and accurate reporting also led to taxpayers being initially misinformed about the EPA’s spending, and policy-makers who relied on the data may not have been able to effectively track federal spending," the OIG report concluded.

In response to the audit, House Energy and Commerce Committee Chair Cathy McMorris Rodgers, R-Wash., blasted the EPA and called for increased transparency into its activities. 

"It’s outrageous and unacceptable that the EPA cannot keep track of its spending or inform Congress — and the American people — of how it is using taxpayer dollars," McMorris Rodgers said in a statement Thursday. "This eye-opening report only further highlights the need for more transparency at the EPA."

"It also raises questions about whether the agency is incapable of managing its record-high budget or if the agency is attempting to hide the amount of taxpayer dollars it is spending to advance the administration’s radical rush-to-green agenda," she added. "The Energy and Commerce Committee will continue holding this administration accountable for its actions that are driving up costs across the board and hurting Americans."

MICHIGAN DEMOCRAT SIGNED NDA INVOLVING CCP-TIED COMPANY, DOCUMENTS SHOW, CONTRADICTING HER PAST CLAIMS

The EPA ultimately corrected its FY22 figures in May 2023 as a result of the OIG audit while making configuration changes a month later. Overall, the inspector general made five recommendations which it said the agency agreed to make.

The report, meanwhile, comes as the EPA both manages a massive green energy fund and continues to request a larger budget. The Inflation Reduction, Democrats' massive climate and tax bill passed in 2022, created the $27 billion Greenhouse Gas Reduction Fund, which in turn establishes a national green bank to fund green projects nationwide.

HOUSE REPUBLICANS OPEN PROBE INTO BIDEN ADMIN FOR OPENING PUBLIC LANDS TO FOREIGN OWNERSHIP

And the White House is requesting that Congress approve a FY24 EPA budget of more than $12 billion, a record level. Republicans have aimed to reduce the EPA budget to about $6 billion, which would be the agency's smallest budget since the early 1990s.

"The Biden administration is using EPA as a pass through for taxpayer dollars to fund left-wing groups that aim to get Democrats elected, not improve the environment," Mandy Gunasekara, a Heritage Foundation visiting fellow who served as the EPA's chief of staff during the Trump administration, told Fox News Digital.

"A failure to report $7 billion is absurd and unacceptable, but also symbolic of how Team Biden operates: prioritizing their political goals over the needs of the American people," she continued. "I’m glad Chair Rodgers is monitoring this and hope the committee brings forth the agency’s Chief Financial Officer to account for this serious oversight."

The EPA did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

[cha-melodius]

Firstprince + Versailles for your fandom fest!

Congrats on your milestones!

(Versailles was such an interesting choice! A different palace? I got it in my head to write a historical AU, so you get 1785 Versailles and rival ambassadors to the court of France. I hope you enjoy!)

chamel’s fandom fest info | read all the fics

Lessons in Foreign Diplomacy

(firstprince, 5.3k, E; read it below or on AO3)

It had only made sense when Congress had sent him to Paris in 1784 to negotiate a large number of treaties with various European states. Alex is damned good at negotiating, and getting a good outcome for these agreements was vital to the continued success of their new republic. What he was not as pleased about is the missive from Washington a few months later assigning him to succeed Franklin as Minister to the Court of Versailles. Don’t get him wrong, living in Paris is— well, it’s pretty great, actually, but he’d still rather be back in Philadelphia, helping govern the country he worked so hard to liberate. Alex knows he’s helping shape U.S. foreign policy, and that’s important too. Much of the work he does is extremely rewarding.

What he despises are the times when the King and Queen decree that he come to the palace at Versailles for some inane weekend of fancy balls and dinner parties and lawn games. He daren’t refuse, though; Louis’ support in the war was instrumental, so Alex has to go pretend to be delighted no matter how distasteful the trappings of the monarchy are to him. The gatherings never fail to make him feel utterly out of place, full of the kind of European nobility and extravagantly wealthy people who look at him as some kind of shabby, poor, charity case from across the sea.

Then there’s the British Ambassador, Henry Fox-Mountchristen. He’s new in the position, just like Alex is, and a Duke of somewhere or other—Alex tries not to pay attention, honestly. All he knows is that any representative of the British government is automatically his enemy. The fact that he’s a noble on top of it is just icing on the cake. Alex had met him first at one of these fancy parties; he’d made no attempt at hiding his disdain, Henry had looked down his nose at him, and they’ve loathed each other ever since.

Annoyingly, he’s very good at his job. In the year that Alex has been working out trade deals and new commerce treaties, Henry has been there representing British interests in the negotiations, and is usually the only one in the room who can go toe-to-toe with Alex. He is constantly getting in the way forcing Alex to settle for less than he’d hoped for (except for that one time when he actually helped Alex negotiate a better deal with Portugal by tying their terms to Great Britain’s, which— Alex still doesn’t know what that was about).

Even more annoyingly, he’s hotter than the fucking sun.

It’s kind of ironic that, in a lavish, opulent court full of lithe young women in low-cut gowns, the one person Alex can’t tear his eyes away from is the Brit wearing frocks that are about as boring as you could get away with at Versailles. It’s those fucking cheekbones, and those piercing blue eyes, and those full lips that Alex kind of wants to bite. Alex’s frustrating desire—as shocking as it had been to recognize—absolutely does nothing to soften his feelings toward the other man; if anything, it just stokes his anger. Why the fuck did it have to be him?

Tonight, Alex is at one such fancy party, drinking too much champagne, dancing with beautiful women, and glaring at Henry from across the room. He is, as always, wearing a stupid powdered wig that makes him look absurdly pale (Alex refuses to wear one, of course, and his appearance never fails to cause a stir even when he’s wearing ridiculously ornate silk coats and waistcoats, though he suspects it’s just as likely because of how brown he is). Henry’s dark blue coat, finely embroidered with silver thread, is downright subdued in comparison to the flash surrounding him, but every time he moves the embroidery catches the light and he shines.

It is so irritating.

Alex watches as he stands off in a corner, drinking champagne and blatantly ignoring the obvious flirting of many hopeful ladies looking for a dance. It’s absurd, really—not that he draws that much attention, because just look at him, but that after nearly a year of this he still hasn’t managed to get the stick out of his ass. Alex despises everything these parties represent, and he still manages to attend them without acting like he’d prefer to be put in the stocks.

Drinking plenty of the free-flowing wine and cognac usually helps with that.

He’s not even really aware of his feet carrying him over to Henry until he’s standing next to the other man. Alex doesn’t even look at him, instead staring out at the ballroom floor where the guests are dancing increasingly haphazard waltzes as the night stretches on, though he sees Henry tense out of the corner of his eye.

“So is there something wrong with your feet, or do you think you’re just better than everyone?” Alex asks eventually.

Alex hasn’t turned his attention away from the room, but Henry’s face snaps toward him. “I beg your pardon?”

“They say you’re the most eligible bachelor here, and you haven’t danced with anyone tonight.”

“Watching me that closely, are you?” Henry returns dryly. Alex has to bite down on a protest that he wasn’t because, well. Trying to deny it would just make him sound like a petulant child. When he doesn’t respond, Henry continues, “None of them interest me, and I wouldn’t wish to… lead anyone on.”

Alex huffs out a scornful laugh as he finally turns to face him. “So you are that conceited, got it.”

“That is not—”

“You just said that no one in this room interests you,” Alex interrupts before he can finish. “You do understand how that sounds, right?”

Henry stares at him for a long moment, a piercing look in his eye that Alex wants to turn away from. He doesn’t, though.

“I didn’t say that no one here interested me,” Henry says, his voice a low rumble, barely audible above the din of the party, that makes something flare hot and bright low in Alex’s gut.

“I— what?”

“You know, I think I’ve rather had enough festivities for the evening,” Henry announces in his usual clipped cadence. “Good night, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. Do try not to cause another international incident tonight?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Alex spits automatically. That was one time, and it wasn’t an incident anyway. Marie Antoinette thought it was fucking hilarious.

Alex knows for sure that Henry’s had plenty to drink himself when the corner of his mouth twitches and he quips, “Another time, perhaps,” before he strides off, leaving Alex gaping as he tries desperately not to imagine exactly what that would entail.

~~~~~

Despite the sheer amount of alcohol he consumed the previous night and how late he was up, Alex wakes fairly early the next morning. He knows from experience that the rest of the court won’t show their faces until much later today, which means he can enjoy the solitude of the empty gardens as he strolls along finely graveled paths between carefully manicured hedges and sculpted trees. He lets his feet carry him aimlessly, trusting that he’ll be able to find his way back eventually and not really caring that much if he ends up late to some stupid event.

He’s certainly not expecting to encounter anyone else out here.

The quiet crunch of footsteps on gravel alerts him to the other person’s presence somewhere beyond the next turn. He could walk the other way, keep to himself and avoid the intruder on his thoughts, but he doesn’t. Alex keeps moving forward as the other footsteps approach him, until they meet at the juncture of two hedges, a statue of a cherub marking the intersection.

Henry.

He’s wearing a light blue coat with almost no decorative embroidery, which is subdued and boring and also makes his eyes shine with the pale, icy, breathtaking blue of the sky in midwinter. Without a wig, his golden blond hair looks absurdly soft as it flops over his forehead, and Alex catches himself wondering what it would feel like between his fingers before quickly closing the door on that. Jesus fuck, he’s got to stop thinking these things.

Especially since it’s clear Henry doesn’t care for his company either. The corner of his mouth pinches and his posture goes rigid, as it always does when he sees Alex, and for a moment Alex thinks he’s going to just keep walking. He does stop, though, inclining his head minutely in stiff politeness.

“Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

“Ambassador,” Alex returns, because he refuses to use Your Grace. “I hadn’t expected to meet anyone else out in the gardens this morning.”

“Yes, well,” Henry says in an odd tone. His eyes skitter away across the landscape and he tips his chin slightly. “Only part of this bloody place that’s tolerable, aren’t they?”

Alex blinks several times, sure he didn’t just hear that. Henry’s member of the aristocracy, born to this kind of bullshit; Alex never really considered that Henry might detest the opulence and artifice as much as he does, even though, looking back, it should have been obvious from the way he comports himself.

He’s not entirely sure what to do with this information.

“I’m glad to see you upright after your indulgences last night,” Henry adds, as if to prove he’s still a prick.

Alex opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get anything out, a rumble of thunder cuts him off. The clouds have been thick all morning, but now they’re downright menacing, heavy and dark and foreboding of a storm. The kind of clouds that impress upon you a desire to get under cover with some speed; too bad they’re deep in the middle of the garden and Alex has no clue where the nearest shelter is. Hardly a moment later, a few fat drops of rain splatter down onto his shoulders and head. Henry turns a frown up at the clouds as dark spots appear on his pale coat.

And then the sky fucking opens.

It’s a pounding, torrential rain, the kind that soaks through layers of fine wool and linen within minutes so that you lose all hope of staying even a little dry. Still, one hardly wants to stand out in it. Alex spins aimlessly, wondering which way to run, when he feels a tug on his elbow and Henry is calling, “this way,” over the din.

Apparently, blindly following his bitter enemy is a thing he’s doing now.

They run, even though they’re both already drenched, and before too long they emerge from the woods next to a small octagonal building overlooking a lake—the Belvedere, sometimes used as a lounge when the Queen entertains guests out at Trianon. At the moment it’s empty save for a collection of couches, and they stumble in, dripping liberally all over the marble floors. Alex wastes no time before stripping off his coat and tossing it onto one of the lounges, silk pillows be damned, and he’s got his waistcoat halfway off when he hears a strangled noise from behind him.

“What are you doing?” Henry asks, a scandalized expression on his face. It’s irritating that even now, when he kind of looks like a wet dog with his blond hair plastered against his head, he’s still breathtakingly beautiful.

“Not particularly interested in standing around in soaking wet wool,” Alex huffs. At least if he gets his outer things off, his shirt might dry a bit while they wait out the storm. It’s not like he’s getting fucking naked.

Which is definitely not something he’s thinking about now.

“Apologies if I’m offending your delicate sensibilities, Your Majesty,” Alex sneers as he drapes his waistcoat over the back of the couch.

Henry’s cheeks have gone decidedly pink, and when Alex turns toward him fully, he looks away, crossing his arms over his chest and staring fixedly at the opposite wall. Outside, the rain continues to pour down, surrounding them with a dull hiss as it pounds on the roof and lashes against the windows.

“What is your grievance with me?” Henry asks eventually, sounding nothing so much as tired.

Alex stares at him. “Is that a joke? I’m American. Maybe you heard, we fought this whole war against you—”

“Not against me,” Henry interrupts firmly.

“Fine, your country. It makes no difference.”

“It bloody well does!” Henry snaps. He turns away again, pressing his lips into a thin line as he stares out of one of the windows. “Did you ever think to ask me what my views were on American independence, Mr. Claremont-Diaz?”

“What?”

“Of course not. You just assumed.”

“You’re a representative of the British government. Why wouldn’t I assume?” Alex thinks it’s a fair question. He knows Henry was a member of parliament before he became Ambassador. His family is exceedingly well-connected and highly placed in the government. It feels like a pretty fucking safe assumption.

Apparently not, though.

Henry gives him a withering look. “Oh, and I’m sure there was no dissension in the writing of your little Declaration, then?”

Alex bristles at ‘little Declaration’, but Henry unfortunately has a point. “Fine,” he grits out. “What’s your opinion on American independence, Ambassador?”

“I wasn’t the only one in Parliament who spoke against the prospect of an expensive and bloody war,” Henry says evenly, staring out the window again. “A few even genuinely believe in the principles of self-governance, as it turns out. We’ve had to be… cautious in expressing ourselves, of course. I happen to feel strongly that people should have a say in their own lives,” he adds, and somehow it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about government anymore. He lapses into silence, letting the sound of the rain fill up the space between them. Then the corner of his mouth tugs into a tiny smirk. “Thought we should have cut you lot loose ages ago, actually. Much more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Hey!” Alex exclaims, but it also shocks a laugh out of him. Which is… weird. He stares at Henry, trying to make all of this new information fit into a portrait he now realizes was startlingly incomplete. He thinks, a little distantly, that he kind of needs a whole new painting. “I’m sorry for assuming,” he says eventually. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re always a prick to me.”

“You hate me, Alex,” Henry says flatly, his mouth going tight again, and something inside Alex turns over at the use of his given name. “Am I supposed to merely smile through the insults?”

Alex can’t help but wince. He wraps his arms around his waist, which he blames on the chill and not the way he’s feeling a little too vulnerable at the moment. Spring’s warmth seems to have abandoned them today, and the cold stone of the Belvedere is doing nothing to help, nor is the way his damp shirt is clinging to his skin.

“I don’t hate you,” he admits quietly. He has a lot of conflicting feelings about Henry. Somehow hate has never been one of them. “I wanted to, but I don’t.”

“I’m not certain that’s better,” Henry says, an obvious wariness in his voice. 

Alex doesn’t really know what to say. He hugs his arms a little tighter around himself and shivers.

“For Christ’s sake, this is why you leave the wool on,” Henry huffs unexpectedly, and a moment later he’s crossing the room and grabbing Alex’s discarded coat. He stands right in front of Alex and reaches around him so that he can drape the coat over Alex’s back. “There,” he says as he tugs the fronts close by the lapels, then reaches up to smooth his hands across Alex’s shoulders.

It’s only then that Henry seems to notice their proximity, or the way he’s still holding onto Alex. Their eyes lock together, and a bolt of heat shoots down Alex’s spine that has nothing to do with the coat. A flush of pink blooms across Henry’s cheeks and his lips part slightly as he inhales, and then he starts pulling away, which is the very last thing Alex wants.

“Henry, wait,” he murmurs as one of his hands reaches out to snag the front of Henry’s coat almost of its own accord. Henry freezes. “Don’t… don’t go.”

Alex thinks of all the times he’s caught Henry staring at him with a look he couldn’t quite read. Of the way that Henry had said I didn’t say no one here interested me only last night. He looks searchingly up into his blue eyes now, dark and slaty in the low light, full of both trepidation and something like hunger.

“I can’t…” Henry starts, but his voice trails off. He lets himself be tugged in closer, his eyes dropping to Alex’s mouth. “We can’t,” he whispers.

“Fairly certain those aren’t words that are allowed in the Court of Versailles,” Alex quips softly.

He takes a step backward so that he’s leaning against the back of the couch, hoping that Henry will follow when Alex pulls him along. He doesn’t really want to think about the relief that surges through him when Henry does, nor how it feels when Henry lets Alex pull him so close that their hips are pressed together. One of his thighs slots between Alex’s, and Alex inhales sharply at the contact.

“Alex, please,” Henry murmurs tightly, his face tipped down toward Alex’s. Alex can’t tell if it’s please yes or please don’t.

“Shhh,” Alex hushes. He lets his grip go slack, but Henry doesn’t pull away. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”

Henry closes his eyes and lets out a shuddery exhale, then he sways forward until their foreheads meet. Their noses press together, and Alex breathes in deeply, filling his senses with Henry. Who turns out to smell like wet wool—which is admittedly not great—but also like the cologne he wears and also something that reminds him of the spring air. Alex nudges forward, tipping his head slightly, until finally Henry closes the narrow gap between their lips and presses their mouths together.

Alex had always thought that if he were to end up kissing Henry, it would be rough and rushed. A battle, as much as their verbal sparring matches had always been, each of them trying to gain the upper hand. He never once imagined it could be like this, soft and syrupy slow, a languid give and take. One of Henry’s hands is clutched almost possessively at the nape of Alex’s neck, the other curled carefully around his jaw, and he takes his time mapping out Alex’s mouth as the kiss gets deeper and more heated, like he’s trying to commit it to memory.

It’s a lot to take in, so Alex stops trying; he lets it wash over him, soaking into his bones as thoroughly as the rain had done. His chilled fingers move to Henry’s waistcoat, fumbling with the slippery buttons until he finally gets it open. He slides his hands underneath it, onto the dip of Henry’s waist, his hot skin searing through the thin linen shirt against Alex’s palm. Henry groans at the contact, his hips rocking forward against Alex’s, and the movement makes the depths of their mutual arousal all too clear.

Alex drops a hand to the front of Henry’s breeches and cups him through the wet fabric, which draws another ragged please from Henry’s throat as he presses into Alex’s palm. That one, at least, Alex is sure of. He flips them around so Henry’s pressed up against the back of the couch, then pulls back just enough to reach the buttons holding his fall-front breeches closed. Too many fucking buttons, actually, but he gets them undone, and then he’s tugging out the long tails of Henry’s shirt and dropping to his knees as he finally, finally gets a hand around Henry’s cock.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he says without really meaning to, but it’s worth it for the way that it makes Henry shudder and tip his head back as he thrusts into Alex’s grip.

Henry’s knuckles are going white where his hands are tightly gripping the ornate scrollwork carved along the top of the couch, and Alex prises one off to bring it to his head instead. Henry’s fingers twine into his damp curls in a way that makes a hot jolt of arousal lance through Alex, and that’s new information he’s absolutely not going to think about later. Alex licks his lips in anticipation as he works his hand up and down the shaft of Henry’s cock, thumbing over the crown and grinning at Henry’s moan when he rubs at the sensitive spot on the underside.

“Have you ever—” Alex starts, though he can’t quite make himself say it. “With another man?”

Henry lets out a soft puff of laughter before he opens his eyes and looks down at him. “More than a few times.”

There’s something indescribably attractive about Henry’s confidence, in the idea that he’s experienced in something like this, but it does absolutely nothing for Alex’s nerves. He must not manage to keep them off his face, because the smirk on Henry’s lips softens.

“You haven’t,” he says. It’s not really a question. Alex just shakes his head, and Henry’s hand slides down to thumb tenderly along the edge of his jaw. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Alex says firmly. “I want you.” He swallows. Works his hand on Henry’s cock again just to see the way his eyelids flutter. “Want to feel you on my tongue. Want to taste you.”

“Christ, Alex,” Henry groans. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Not just yet,” Alex says, then wraps his lips around Henry’s cock and slowly sinks forward.

It takes him a moment to get used to it, the weight on his tongue, the taste of his skin, the stretch of his jaw muscles as he moves. He carefully catalogs Henry’s reactions, every gasp and moan and shiver as he swirls his tongue or twists his wrist around what he can’t quite take in his mouth. Henry slowly falls apart under his ministrations, and it’s so unbelievably arousing that Alex is aching in his own breeches, unsure if the curses spilling from Henry’s lips in his posh accent or the way he says that’s good, Alex is doing it for him more.

Then Henry’s fingers close more tightly around his curls as his gasps reach a crescendo, which Alex only later realizes might have been intended as a warning; at the time it just makes Alex moan and try to take him deeper, and then Henry is spilling onto his tongue with a breathless, delirious laugh.

Henry’s chest is still heaving when he hooks his fingers into the front of Alex’s shirt and drags him up into a searing kiss. It’s hard and deep, Henry licking into his mouth and biting down on his lower lip, and it’s all Alex can do not to whimper into it. He’s never had a kiss that felt this all-consuming, like he’s been ignited from the inside and he doesn’t even care if it burns through him and leaves nothing but ash.

He barely realizes what’s happening when Henry grabs his hips and pushes back, manhandling him over to some kind of chaise longue that he only becomes aware of when his calves hit the edge of it and he collapses backward onto the seat.

“Hey, so, uh,” he says as Henry climbs over top of him, a predatory glint in his eye that absolutely does not make Alex’s cock throb. “When you said you weren’t not interested in anyone at the party…”

“Was I talking about you?” Henry finishes, giving him a look like it’s a stupid question.

Look, Alex knew it was a stupid question before it finished leaving his mouth. Still.

“Well, I dunno, maybe you have a list or something.”

Henry stops inches from his lips and glares down at him. “No, you rebellious miscreant, it’s only ever been you,” he says, then kisses him so thoroughly that Alex might actually forget how to speak.

Which is probably the point.

~~~~~

They’re seated next to each other at dinner that evening, which is probably Marie Antoinette’s idea of a joke. A day ago, Alex would have been annoyed beyond belief. Now, though, he knows what Henry looks like as he slowly comes apart. Now he knows what Henry’s lush lips look like wrapped around his cock.

What a difference a few hours makes.

Henry is standing stiffly next to his chair when Alex saunters up, his face perfectly composed in rigid formality as he inclines his head. “Good evening, Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

“Your Grace,” Alex returns, pitching his voice to convey just the right balance of insolence and provocation.

Something flashes in Henry’s eyes, probably meant as a warning, but also suggesting that he might enjoy hearing it in a very different context, and also that he’d really like to drag Alex off into the nearest cupboard and do terrible things to him. Alex certainly understands the impulse. It’s been less than six hours since the Belvedere, and Alex still wants him so intensely that it’s nearly a physical ache. His fingers itch to reach out and touch, to tug that stupid wig off his head, to press his thumb to the corner of Henry’s mouth. Fuck.

Instead, he puts on his politician smile and turns to greet the person sitting on his other side, who turns out to be some Spanish princess. She does not seem very impressed with this arrangement—typical for royalty, really—but warms a bit once she realizes she can speak Spanish to him rather than the obligatory French. Alex and Henry spend most of the dinner seemingly ignoring each other and talking to the other guests seated around them. Seemingly, because Alex actually uses the cover of the table to variously press his knee to Henry���s, or hook their ankles together, or slide a hand high up onto Henry’s thigh and squeeze. The latter he does when Henry’s attention is turned away, and it makes Henry choke on his wine and direct a vicious glare at him, which Alex marks down as a victory.

Sometime during the third course, they find themselves both at liberty when the rest of their dinner companions become thoroughly wrapped up in other conversations. Henry is quite clearly trying to ignore him, which Alex just as obviously cannot allow to stand.

“Did you mean it?” Alex asks, his voice low but casual, so as not to draw any attention from those around them.

“What?” Henry asks as he slants a look toward Alex.

“When you said maybe I could fuck you another time.”

Henry’s fork slips out of his grip and clatters to the plate, and several sets of eyes turn toward him. His eyes are wide as he stares at Alex in shock, but there’s also something undeniably heated in his gaze. “You are, without a doubt, the worst person I’ve ever met,” he says flatly, loud enough to be overheard.

Alex can’t quite suppress his grin. It draws a few titters of laughter and whispers from the surrounding guests, most of whom are well aware of Alex and Henry’s mutual enmity. When nothing further comes of it, though, they return to their conversations.

“So is that a no?” Alex asks eventually, still smirking.

Henry glances around, but no one seems to be paying them any attention. “Come to my chambers tonight,” he says crisply, as if they were going to be meeting about policy, “and we shall discuss the matter further.”

~~~~~

They don’t truly revisit the conversation until much later, when Henry is splayed out naked on top of the silk bedding and Alex is two fingers deep inside him. Well, they did cover the obvious question, but:

“The worst person you ever met, huh?” Alex says, pressing the words against the inside of Henry’s thigh.

“Are you really bringing this up now,” Henry huffs, exasperated.

“I dunno,” Alex says. He twists his fingers to reach the spot he’s discovered that makes Henry gasp and tremble. It’s been an enlightening experience so far. “What you really think of me seems relevant.”

“I think,” Henry gets out tightly, “that you’re stubborn—”

Alex bites down on the tender skin at the crease of his hip.

“—opinionated—”

A slow lick up the length of his shaft.

“—arrogant—”

A hot breath, ghosting over the crown.

“—uncouth—”

Alex curls his fingers, and Henry whimpers as his spine arches up off the bed.

“—and if you don’t get inside me right now, I’m going to stonewall all of your treaty negotiations for the next month.”

Alex laughs softly as he withdraws his fingers and climbs up the bed, seeking out the oil to slick himself up. “Oh, well then, how could I refuse?” he returns, grinning at the look of desperation on Henry’s face when he teases the head of his cock at his rim. “You’ve got a real honeyed tongue there, sweetheart. Know how to make a boy feel special.”

Henry gets a hand behind his neck in an iron grip and drags him down into a kiss, digging his heels into the back of Alex’s thighs until Alex is sinking into the tight heat of his body. It’s a lot more intense than he thought it would be, and he makes an embarrassing punched-out sound at the sensation of Henry utterly surrounding him.

And that’s before Henry releases his neck, looks up at him with his face impossibly gorgeous and undone, and murmurs, “I also think you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

It’s too much, like the first kiss in the Belvedere was too much; Alex knows how to handle the verbal sparring, the familiarity of traded insults, even in the middle of sex. He doesn’t know what to do with the strange twisting in his chest at Henry’s words, with the knot that’s lodged in his throat. They’re not— this isn’t—

He lets Henry pull him into another kiss, lets the give and take of their bodies quiet his spiraling thoughts, until there is only Henry’s hands in his hair, and the cut of his teeth against Alex’s lip, and the roll of their hips together in perfect, earth-shattering harmony.

~~~~~

Alex needs to go. He needs to get out of this bed, get dressed, and go to his own chambers. It’s not as though people stumbling out of others’ apartments is an unusual sight in the palace during one of these weekends, but if he were to be seen leaving Henry’s—

Well. The rumors wouldn’t stay quiet for long, of that he’s certain.

Instead he curls a little closer against Henry’s side, presses a kiss to his shoulder. That’s probably too much, too, but Henry just hums softly, a small, blissful smile curving his lips. Somehow, Alex thinks he’s even more beautiful in this moment than he’s ever been before.

“So,” Alex says eventually, “when we get back to Paris…”

They both live there, not even that far away from each other. They could…

He doesn’t know what. Have some kind of sordid, illicit affair? What would that mean for their lives? Their occupations? It’d be messy. Dangerous. A terrifically, catastrophically stupid idea.

A little crease forms between Henry’s brows as he frowns, and for a moment Alex fears that he’s misread everything. Maybe this was never supposed to leave Versailles. Alex doesn’t know what’s even possible for them to have outside these walls, but he also doesn’t know how he’s meant to go back to what they were before now that he’s had this.

“It seems to me,” Henry says carefully, “that there should be ample opportunity for… improving diplomatic relations when we return?”

There’s a beat of silence before Alex can’t choke back the laugh bubbling out of his chest any longer, and the smile that’s been slowly pushing its way onto Henry’s lips finally breaks free. Then they’re both dissolving into giggles, and Alex is grinning like an idiot when Henry pulls him into another lingering kiss.

Yeah. Worst idea he’s ever had.

[knightofchariot]

Lenormand meanings

German Traditional – Lenormand Meanings

01 The Rider: a message, news, something or someone incoming.

02 The Clover: good luck, small luck. An opportunity. Can indicate happiness.

03 The Ship: travel, distance, trade or commerce. Can show leaving something behind.

04 The House: home, family, property.

05 The Tree: health, deep rooted, long-standing (can be intertia or boredom), karmic (but positive).

06 The Clouds: confusion, anxiety, lack of clarity.

07 The Snake: a woman; intelligence, detour, backstabbing. Context is important.

08 The Coffin: illness or ending. (First in pair, I tend to see illness; second in pair, end).

09 The Flowers (Bouquet): gift, surprise, invitation. A very positive card.

10 The Scythe: danger, pain, sudden, severing or cutting. Can be a tool.

11 The Rod (Whip): discussion, arguments, strife. Can be a writing tool, or related to verbal communication.

12 The Birds (Owls): Meetings, a phone call, gossip, a couple. Anxiety like a flitting bird.

13 The Child: child, new beginning.

14 The Fox: wrong, deception, deceit. Crafty person. Sometimes work, where cunning is needed. Context matters, and I tend to read it depending on surrounding negative or positive cards.

15 The Bear: Man, person in authority; courage, strength, fortitude. Could represent a large income.

16 The Stars: hopes, dreams, spirituality or esotericism; positive, maybe successful; beware head in the clouds.

17 The Stork: Change, movement, birth. Usually a change for the better.

18 The Dog: A man. Friend, partner, companion. Loyalty, trustworthy.

19 The Tower: A large building. Government, authorities, school. Isolation, being alone.

20 The Park: public places, the public, meeting, party, social gatherings.

21 The Mountain: obstacles and delays; blockage. Can be a “shield” between two cards. Standing alone; remote.

22 The Crossroads (Roads, Ways): decision is needed; at a point of indecision. Multiple (usually two).

23 The Rat: loss, theft, illness. An “eating away at” someone or something.

24 The Heart: love, emotions, feelings.

25 The Ring: marriage, commitment, contract and partnership.

26 The Book: secrets, the unknown; books and written documents; education, training.

27 The Letter: written communication (letter, email, text message), newspaper, paper-like documents (such as a diploma or will). Could be news.

28 The Lord (Man): The male consultant; male significant other for a woman; important male in the querent’s life.

29 The Lady (Woman): The female consultant; female significant other for a man; important female in the querent’s life.

30 The Lily: sexuality, family, maturity, the “zen factor”; a catch-all card in German tradition.

31 The Sun: Victory, success, masculinity, energy, warmth, day time

32 The Moon: Emotion, intuition, femininity, dreams, imagination, night time, artistic talent, fame and recognition.

33 The Key: the “yes card” of the deck. Destiny, solution, success. Meant to be.

34 The Fish: money, cash flow, the financial or economic significator. Water. Drinking.

35 The Anchor: work, one’s job. Stability and security.

36 The Cross: Pain, grief, a burden. One’s “cross to bear.” The sense of destined or karmic; suffering that is inevitable or must be. Not a happy card.

French Modern – Lenormand Meanings

01 The Rider: a message, news, something incoming.

02 The Clover: good luck, an opportunity. Second chance.

03 The Ship: travel, distance, trade or commerce.

04 The House: home, family, property.

05 The Tree: health, deep rooted, karmic (but positive), spiritual.

06 The Clouds: confusion, lack of clarity.

07 The Snake: Big problems (as opposed to the Mice). Trouble that is seen, obvious or out in the open.

08 The Coffin: Ending, transformation.

09 The Flowers (Bouquet): A very positive card. Happiness, beauty.

10 The Scythe: Decisive, decisions, sudden, cutting. Can be a tool.

11 The Rod (Whip): sexuality, arguments, passion, recurring, physical activity.

12 The Birds (Owls): Verbal communication, a couple.

13 The Child: child, something small. Childlike or naive.

14 The Fox: Job, work, sneakiness.

15 The Bear: Money, food, nutrition, person in authority,  strength.

16 The Stars: hopes, dreams, directions, possible success. Being “a star” in a field of expertise.

17 The Stork: Change, movement, birth. Usually a change for the better.

18 The Dog: Friend, partner, companion. Someone known. Loyalty, trustworthy.

19 The Tower: A large building. Government, authorities, school. Isolation, being alone. Arrogance.

20 The Park: public places, the public, meeting, party, social gatherings.

21 The Mountain: Delays of a lengthy nature. Standing alone; remote.

22 The Crossroads (Roads): decision is needed; at a point of indecision or a crossroad in life. Multiples. Two or maybe more.

23 The Rat: Small problems, stress, anxiety, excitement. Industriousness. An “eating away at” someone or something.

24 The Heart: love, emotions, feelings.

25 The Ring: marriage, commitment, contract and partnership. Payments, solutions.

26 The Book: secrets, the unknown; books and written documents; education, training.

27 The Letter: written communication (letter, email, text message), newspaper, paper-like documents (such as a diploma or will).

28 The Man: The male consultant; male significant other; a male figure.

29 The Lady (Woman): The female consultant; female significant other; a female figure.

30 The Lily: The “zen factor”. Peacefulness, age, longevity.

31 The Sun: Victory, success, masculinity, energy, warmth, day time, electricity. Ego (think Leo).

32 The Moon: Emotion, intuition, femininity, dreams, imagination, night time, artistic talent, fame and recognition. The arts. Psychism.

33 The Key: the “yes card” of the deck. Meant to be. Karmic inevitability. Positive solution.

34 The Fish: Business. Independence.

35 The Anchor: Stability and security. Something anchored, old. Suggests a solution, one that can be arrived at with perseverance.

36 The Cross: Pain, grief, a burden. Sadness and depression. One’s “cross to bear.” Often not a happy card. Religous; religion.

[eaudrey35]

Walz faced another accusation of misrepresentation in unearthed, blistering letter: 'Remove any reference' | Fox News

Faux News just stop. U continue to reach and grasp at straws when it comes to Tim Walzs.