#Crying at the discotheque

[selezione-innaturale]

POV: you're assisting at a diplomatic encounter between Craftworld Aeldari and Exodites on a Maiden World

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: April 1, 2020

Lyrics:

Downtown's been caught by the hysteria

The people scream and shout

A generation's on the move

When disco spreads like a bacteria

The lonely days are out

Welcome the passion of the groove

The golden years

The silver tears

You wore a tie like Richard Gere

I wanna get down

You spin me around

I stand on the borderline

Crying at the discotheque

Crying at the discotheque

I saw you crying

I saw you crying at the discoteque

I saw you crying

I saw you crying at the discoteque

Tonight's the night at danceteria

The joining of the tribe

The speakers pumping clear and loud

The way you move is our criteria

The DJ takes you high

And tears of joy baptize the crowd

The golden years

The silver tears

You wore a tie like Richard Gere

I wanna get down

You spin me around

I stand on the borderline

Crying at the discotheque

Crying at the discotheque

I saw you crying

I saw you crying at the discoteque

I saw you crying

I saw you crying at the discoteque

Songwriter:

Alexander Bard / Anders Hansson / Anders Wollbeck / Bernard Edwards / Michael Goulos / Nile Rogers

SongFacts:

👉📖

Homepage:

Sophie Ellis-Bextor

[principiumindividuationis777]

[nymdraws]

I saw you crying at the discotheque

[girlactionfigure]

Human Rights and Human Wrongs

URI KURLIANCHIK

“It’s impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means… Horror has a face, and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies.”

— Apocalypses Now

There has been a lot of talk about the "dehumanization of the Palestinians," so let's talk about this for a minute.

First of all, what does it mean? In plain English, it means Jews no longer have pity for Arabs who get hurt in the war they started to eradicate the Jewish people in the Middle East. This is mostly true. Even the eyes of the most gentle Israelis light up when they see a rocket hitting a Hezbollah launcher in South Lebanon or a building block used by the butchers of Hamas demolished in Beit Lahia.

It wasn't like that until recently. How did we come to this?

When I was a boy, Israel was a leftist country. We had huge peace rallies, the Oslo accords, all our war movies were of the insipid "shooting and crying" genre. We even had a subject called "peace" in school! People like me were viewed as crazy marginals (except back then, I also supported the two state solution, all civilized people did). To even suggest that not all societies wanted peace was seen as vulgar and uncouth. Nice people cried for the innocent dead on both sides. We could forgive the Arabs for killing our children but not for making us kill theirs. Etc… etc…

This euphoria of peace born out of the Oslo Accords was followed by decades of barbarism from the Arabs that eroded the pity reserves of the Jewish people. 

Yes, pity is a resource, and it's finite.

This wasn't the result of slanted reporting or anti-Arab propaganda. The media was firmly left-leaning and went out of its way to defend the Arabs after each new atrocity that was difficult to imagine was done by humans, and the widespread celebrations that followed. More and more, people asked themselves, “where is this peace partner? What kind of a society are we expected to live side by side with?”

Jews were torn to pieces with bare hands, baby skulls were smashed with rocks, little girls were butchered in their beds, children were massacred in schools, in discotheques, on buses. People were mutilated, castrated, crippled; not as collateral damage but meticulously, with sadistic precision, by an enemy that seemed to always prefer to go after defenseless civilians, that seemed to revel in atrocity.

And each time, the Jack the Rippers responsible for these horrors were celebrated as heroes by the Arab street and their progressive allies. No one stood up and said, "guys, there are laws even in war." No, when it came to hurting us, it was always, "by any means necessary." The laws were there to prevent us from protecting ourselves, never to protect us, and “resistance” often seemed like nothing more than an excuse to indulge in sadism.

Time after time, year after year, decade after decade; the Arabs produced images of horror that even the most progressive Israeli peacenik couldn't spin into anything other than what it was: the portrait of a savage society.

The change didn't occur at once. 

People first started voicing opinions that were outside the Overton window, only to be shut down in polite society. Then polite society started shrugging because it ran out of arguments.

Then October 7 came, the ultimate atrocity exhibition, the ultimate barbarity, recorded in vivid details and spread so ubiquitously there was no chance anyone missed it. Shocked and hurt, the Jews who still had pity learned that the Arabs and their progressive allies had no pity or even empathy for them.

"You made it up! You did it to yourself! It was only military targets!" and other forms of sadistic gaslighting were hurled smugly at a grieving nation. "Where are the 40 beheaded babies, haha? With or without baking powder, har har?"

The message was simple: "No matter what happens to you, you deserve no pity. Your very existence is a crime."

For many, this was the final straw. 

This was the moment their last shred of compassion for the enemy evaporated and their hearts became hard. Hearts of survival. Hearts of war. This is what the pseudointellectual farts mean when they talk about, “the dehumanization of the Palestinians.” The enemy finally managed to push Israeli society into not caring about the enemy. It took 40 years of hard word but we’re finally there.

Will this pity ever return, or have we finally transformed into a new kind of nation? I don't know.

What I do know is that when you treat someone without pity for decades, don't expect them to be compassionate towards you forever. 

Commit enough inhumanities and you'll be dehumanized.

[elfhchan]

CRYING AT THE DISCOTHEQUE...OF GONDOR OF COURSE!!!

[no-stupid-questions-official]

Is there a name for the music genre of the late 90s/early 2000s where songs had disco elements or a disco beat, but it still sounded very modern? (like in Crying At The Discotheque by Alcazar, Lady (Hear Me Tonight) by Modjo or Music Sounds Better With You by Stardust?)

-

[rottapoika]

i got tagged by @wolfdrill to put my spotify on repeat playlist on shuffle and make a poll of the first 10 songs! thank u this was fun <3 (sorry it took me a while i forgor)

i'm tagging @vinylchemist @dazaiconfused @alienvauvva @byrnedavid @glittertrail and literally anyone else who has spotify and wants to do this!! (no worries if not)

[omahasnakes]

1996: It gets Better. Or in some cases, retroactively worse.

I really honestly referred to 1996’s chart as a “palate cleanser”! Not “an absolute emotional minefield”? Not “you’re going to be crying in your car while listening to ‘Name’ by The Goo Goo Dolls”?!

I was excited when I wrote up to 2022 chart to report that fully 10% of the top 100 that year were Spanish-language tracks. But even back in 1996, we had two songs on the chart in Spanish: #98, the cringe classic “Macarena” by Los del Rio, and the number ONE song of the year, *squints at notes*: “Macarena- Bayside Boys Remix”.

My grasping claim at authenticity is that I first heard this song in Mexico City at a discotheque. I was the girl they pulled up onto a chair to demonstrate learning the basic dance movements- I assume it’s standard to choose the ugliest duckling for this honor? Later, when I was getting hit on less than my friends, someone offered me the condolence that it was just because I’m not blonde. They were right to offer up this worldly advice!

I count it among the saddest realizations of my adult life that when Darius Rucker says that the dolphins made him cry, he meant the football team. I had instantly conjured an adorable vignette where Darius goes to Sea World and the dolphins don’t scare him, exactly, but he is very startled when one comes out of the tank to nuzzle him. There are tears. A close second is the realization that Quad City DJs do not in fact rep the quad cities of Davenport, Bettendorf, Rock Island, and Moline.

Song of the Year: Is it reasonable to say anything other than Macarena? “You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morissette is on the chart, but I think it’s more correct to talk about it in the context of 1995. Still, it’s an all-timer. And Flea performed the bassline- listen to it now with that on your mind!

“California Love” by 2Pac, Roger, and Dr. Dre could be that Song of the Year candidate. This isn’t a 1996 memory by any means, but in 2014 I moved to Orange County, California from Maryland. I moved for my spouse’s job, and I moved not only without having my own job lined up, but completely sight-unseen. No one, myself included, had even considered that I should see the place I was moving to. Shortly after moving, my friends Nadia and Nathan visited, and I remember riding around LA in their rental car when this song came on. This was maybe the first moment after my move when I thought, yeah, this might be ok.

Song that may have actually aged well: “Missing” by Everything but the Girl

Forgotten Gems: “1-2-3-4 (Sumpin’ New)” by Coolio and “Woo Hah!! Got You All in Check” by Busta Rhymes. I wasn’t actually that aware of hip hop music in 1996. I was no longer listening to the Top 40 station (KQKQ Sweet 98 in Omaha) but instead was listening to whichever current iteration of the “alternative” station. We thought we were cool, but it turns out “alternative” was just exclusionary.

Similarly, the “Waiting to Exhale” soundtrack mostly left no trace in my mind, but I can also blame that on not being in the right age demographic. It’s all over the 1996 chart, though, and rightly so.

“Give Me One Reason” by Tracy Chapman and “Hook” by Blues Traveler: both of these songs bring back specific memories of trying to relate to my mother by offering her a current popular song that I thought she could find acceptable. She didn’t take the bait either time.

“Gangsta’s Paradise” by Coolio and L.V. The first R-rated movie I saw in the theater was “Dangerous Minds.” I lied and said that I saw “To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar” which somehow was more acceptable than a film about the power of teaching! I’m sure I was shifty about my lie, which was chalked up to premarital sex, but it’s definitely on brand in retrospect.

I’m including the video for “Ironic” by Alanis Morisette as a favorite iconic video from the 1996 chart, but it’s also a trap I’ve set to see if anyone will jump into the comments without reading the whole essay to push their glasses up and offer their opinion on which lyrics of the song do or do not embody the concept of irony.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jne9t8sHpUc

Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.

[blue-aconite]

hey fe! I just want you to know that I personally love all of your writing and I also have even more mad respect for you for standing your ground on why you don't want to write for certain characters! I think it's great, especially since fandom spaces can be so hostile to people who don't just bend to whatever people ask for. I will always love your writing endlessly and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your week! <3

brb crying at the discotheque

Oh my god, I really needed this. Thank you so much, this means everything, I'm so happy you like my writing! It makes it all worth it, you know? So thank you ♥️

I hope you have an amazing weekend and I am sending you lots of hugs (if you want them, no pressure)!

[strwbrrysauce]

@dilfbuck tagged me in some music stuff!! thank you evan!!! ♡

url song game

scotty doesn’t know ~ lustra

thnks fr th mmrs ~ fall out boy

roses are falling ~ orville peck

best of you ~ foo fightere

red wine supernova ~ chappell roan

red dirt road ~ brooks & dunn

you’re in love with a psycho ~ kasabian

super graphic ultra modern girl ~ chappell roan

alejandro ~ lady gaga

unchained melody ~ the unrighteous brothers

choke ~ i dont know how but they found me

everything has changed ~ taylor swift

6 songs on repeat

love me anyway - chappell roan

crying at the discotheque - sophie ellis bextor

the shoop shoop song - cher

little talks - of monsters and men

girls in bikinis - poppy

plug in baby - muse

here are some no-pressure tags!! 💖

@murdockbuckley @gaylicense @criminally-obsessed @theotherbuckley @thetangycheesemanwithaplan @who-is-riley

[miss-conner3]

Which of MK's clones does he trust the least and trust the most with his kids?

The answer might surprise you (owo)

But the least reliable, according to the most popular MK clones, would be the Delivery Boy and the Artist, and the most reliable would be Porty, despite what one might think.

Delivery Boy, although his exterior is big and somewhat slow, there is a slight threat that he might eat the children, both unconsciously and not. MK doesn't usually take him out to take care of the children, but when he does, he makes sure to finish whatever he is doing to return home quickly. It's not going to happen that Delivery Boy swallows any of the children with rice... although he has never shown any sign of wanting to do that.

As for the Artist, he can take care of the children decently, but if MK leaves him with them all day, when he returns, he will find the whole house painted and will have to deal with the occasional argument with the children about why they should erase "their works of art" from the walls. This improves as they get older, but the influence of the Artist to explore his art is too much temptation for the youngest, especially when it comes to Mao and little BaoBao.

Meanwhile, Porty, who is the craziest and has a history of involving a bunch of clones to go against MK in the past, is the one who is closest to the children and with whom his "father side" awakens (something he will never admit). Porty has a certain resentment towards them, but like MK, he can't help but love and care for them, although, of course... in his own way.

The only rule that Porty has is that as long as he doesn't take them out to a discotheque, he is free to have "mini-parties" at home while MK is not there, although later he has the obligation to order everything with or without the help of the children. This depends on how late it is for them.

I would say that with those three MK he manages most of the time, although these did not become relevant until after the break with the mother. During that time, MK created a clone that took over the task of caring for the children in his absence. And that turned out… as well as you could imagine XD

The children baptized this clone as “Pops” due to the event that unmasked him as one of the MK clones. This fulfilled perfectly the role of replacing MK by taking care of the children without their noticing, taking care of them like a loving father who only has his children in his heart; he was too perfect to last.

The problem didn't come from a rebellion against MK (like Porty did), but rather the kids, who were getting used to MK's powers during this time, somehow ended up blowing it up by accidentally dropping a bookcase on it. This caused them to panic, believing they had killed their own father, and call Mei, who, to her credit, didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

After that event, MK had to make a list of his abilities and give a long talk about them to the children so that no other such incident would happen again.

As for Pops, MK continued to invoke him regularly to take care of the children, only now they know that he is a clone.

I expatiated, but hey, that's my answer haha XD

[ariel26c]

How are you doing? It's my first time asking a question and I'm a little nervous. For a long time I feel the desire to be the most beautiful woman in the world, I really feel that it will happen but I want to inspire other people. Recently I met the law, I even challenged myself that I would go out to a discotheque and although it seems an impossible desire, all the people in the disco would be hypnotized by my beauty. But then I thought, how could it happen? It's hard for all the people to get their attention on me. Because of the music and different reasons. Sometimes I get a little self-conscious because I would like to receive messages from agencies and beautiful guys asking me out, but then I feel less or have limitations and sometimes I feel like crying and get frustrated. On the other hand, I was thinking about having a physical beauty that is unreal, but I wonder how it would be possible? I don't know, how to stay in the state and the visualizations. Thank you for reading me, I feel much better to receive support, I appreciate your help and the help you give to all people.

The key to being perceived as beautiful is knowing that you’re beautiful. When you know that you’re beautiful so will other people. A physically attractive person can be attractive on the outside but when you don’t have the confidence and energy to go along with it then you won’t leave that much of an impact on people.

Envision yourself as the beauty that you desire to be. If you can create a scene of you walking into the disco and leaving people in awe of your beauty. Repeat this scene in your mind as much as possible. If you decide you’re attractive and your beauty is ethereal then that’s true. If you can’t visualize that’s fine too. Know that everyone is you pushed out. People reflect how you see yourself and how you see others. Even if you don’t feel confident it’s okay b/c confidence is a skill and you’ll soon master it. Just decide you’re beautiful.

Think as if you were the prettiest person in the world. Be a little cocky inside your head. Don’t be afraid to compliment yourself and tell yourself how happy you are to be someone so beautiful. Give yourself the compliments you want to hear from others.

No matter how you feel about yourself, simply decide. The more you tell yourself something the more you’ll start to believe it. Decide you are the center of attention. The music and other factors don’t matter. You’re the one that is shining the brightest in the disco. Stick to the story of being an ethereal beauty. No matter what the 3D shows you. You are beautiful. You’re the most beautiful person in the world. Discipline yourself into sticking to that story.

Trust me that if you persist in this story you’ll be successful. Just like in the movies where people have their jaws on the floor when they see the main character will happen to you in real life. You are beautiful and enough.

[midnightnautilus]

Wilbur Cross/Wilford Warfstache Fic

Summary: Wilbur Cross finds an anomaly in the Black and White.

Funny little crossover I thought I’d post!

Amongst all the errands and cavorting around Wilbur Cross had to do these days, there were times where he could just stretch his legs and take a break. More than he could say then the hours of the job he used to have, anyways.

Go figure, he thought, grinning to himself as he pulled out a lawn chair with a flat back from the void and propped it up in the ground of the Black. Wilbur took off his jacket and put his arms behind his head as he laid down. The thrum of energies that coursed through the void were nice background noise, and he’d even gotten used to the screaming and wailing.

Maybe he could rile up one of those Sniggles enough to go get him a brewski, make themselves useful.

“Damien?”

Wilbur blinked. That voice was new. He craned his neck up, his spine popping as it did so. Wandering through the void was someone he’d never seen before, which he didn’t particularly care for. Nowadays with the help of the Lord in Black, Ol’ Wiley could usually smell a timeline and their baggage on a person.

Still, must have just been a cult member of some poor bastard that wandered into a summoning circle. He certainly had the looks of one of Nibbly’s disciples, dressed from head to toe in glitzy, glittery pink. Even his mustache was tinged a bright bubblegum.

A far cry from a hooded figure, but it takes all kinds to make a reality.

The figure squinted at Wilbur with puzzlement. “Wait just a tick…you’re not Damien. Suppose he wouldn’t be just lying around, anyways.”

Wilbur couldn’t suppress a laugh. He hopped up to his feet to more closely examine the fresh meat. “Well now, aren’t you a big stretch of taffy! I don’t think I���ve met a ‘Damien’, but tell me…do you know where you are?”

This was usually the part where the victim stuck in the Black would realize their scenario and break down, but this guy just shrugged and ignored his last sentence. “Ah, well…he’s around here someplace, that rascal. Might see you later…or earlier…it all depends…”

“Oh no sunshine, you’re not getting away that easily.” Wilbur wasn’t sure what this guy’s MO was, but he wanted to find out before the guy disintegrated. He grabbed one of his suspenders as he walked away, which stretched for about 10 feet before he stopped.

That did it. The mustached man turned around. Annoyed, he yanked the suspender out of his hand.

“Hey! Hands off the merchandise, pally! I’ve gotta be camera ready in 2 hours! Or…two days?” The guy seemed as addled about time as a Spankoffski, muttering to himself about minutes and months. “In any case, it’s common courtesy!”

Wilbur leaned on a non-existent counter, staring down this man like a humorous display in a fashion show. “Pretty big talk from a guy who looks like he just stepped out of a discotheque.”

The man strolled up with a wry smile, apparently alright with the ribbing. “Well, aren’t YOU the clever canary, Mr. uh…”

He peered over to what Wilbur thought was his bare neck.

“Hey, doll, my eyes are up here…and my goods are a little lower,” Wilbur interrupted, hoping to at least get a night out of whatever this encounter was.

“Mmm…uh…John Macnamara? In the military, I see! I used to know…someone in the military, can’t exactly remember which—“

“Wh—-no!” Wilbur’s eyes darted down to find a dog tag around his neck. A remnant of a man he no longer was. How did that get there? He swore he threw it away.

He yanked it off his neck causing the chain to break and threw it behind his back. “My name’s Wiley, if ya must know. And you better ask all your questions now,” he growled defensively before regaining his composure. “before you bite the dust.”

“MhMMMMMM!” The man’s eyes glinted with mischief before getting out a sparkly pen and notepad from…somewhere. “Seems like a bit of a BREAKUP then, eh?” He questioned Wilbur with the air of a teenage gossip. “Some sort of estrangement happen with that little jewelry? Perhaps a—”

As he tried to zone out any of what this mush mouthed weirdo was saying, he looked at the pad of paper. Much too big to fit in a pocket. He rolled his eyes. Of course this fucker had the gift. He’d probably be dead by now if he didn’t. Whoop dee doo.

“Funnily enough, I’m also a Wil— Wilford Warfstache, at your service! You may have heard of my show and this pathos piece just might—“

Wilbur had enough of this guy. He yanked him up by his collar and narrowed his eyes, speaking in a low hissing whisper.

“Listen up, jellybean. Gift or no gift, unless you pledge your soul, you’re gonna DIE HERE. Which sounds better? Being at the mercy of a god…or becoming one?”

His eyes narrowed and glinted a bright green, his menace lacing his usual jovial tone.

Wilford blinked and responded almost admonishingly. “Now what did we say about the merchandise? Jesus, I’m gonna have ta get this PRESSED—“

Without warning, Wilbur sliced through the air with a shining obsidian-colored blade, scratching across the man’s clothes.

Wilford fell to the ground. He groaned with frustration before whipping out a Magnum pistol and firing three shots before Wilbur could blink.

The bullets didn’t hit - the Black made sure of that - but they knocked Wilbur flat on his back with shock, making him out of breath he didn’t know he had.

Wilford cringed at the sight of his destroyed shirt and sighed. “To think, I was gonna have you on for an interview.”

He strolled away, calling out, “Well, I’ll be seeing you, Wilson!” before disappearing completely.

Wilbur got up to his feet and looked around. “It’s Wil—“ But the man was nowhere to be seen.

Where in the fresh hell was that guy?

Had he died already?

And where the hell did he get a gun?

[rightearring]

Hi!! do you have any song recommendations?

hi :3 yes i do! i really love what can a lover do by team dresch. butch baby’s EP stoned butch blues fucks severely. i’m a huge scissor sisters fan + one of my faves is backwoods discotheque II. home and little birds both by neutral milk hotel always hit home for me, judas by the reverent marigold always makes me cry. on a more electric note i love tobre’s new EP delivery photo! i will stop there but know there is more lmao

[lordendsavior]

alcazar’s crying at the discotheque ran so that camila cabello’s crying in the club could walk