#DOA A Right of Passage

[fuckyeahfightlock]

Punk Rock Cool Kid Required Viewing Batch 2

DOA: A Right of Passage Breaking Glass The Decline of Western Civilization

(I'm rewatching all the "required viewing" films of my alterna-teen years) Notes on these three films below the cut.

DOA: A Right of Passage (1980 dir. Lech Kowalski)

Picking up pretty much where Don Letts's The Punk Rock Movie leaves off, DOA is a documentary about punk (in the form of the Sex Pistols, specifically) arriving in America circa 1978. Live performances from the Pistols' legendary 12 day, 7-city tour (mostly in the deep south, including Atlanta and Dallas) make up the bulk of the live performances here, and they are explosive. Sid Vicious can't play, Johnny Rotten is fed up, and America is just not ready. It's a real thing of beauty.

~*~*~ Returning to Hyperbole Corner to confirm my earlier assertion Johnny Rotten was the only real punk. Sid on stage bleeding from the nose makes him look like poseur of the millennium; John makes intimidating eye contact with the audience and sings "Anarchy for the USA, it's coming some day, maybe!" We mean it, man. ~*~*~

There's some good insight, from uppercrust Londoners giving their opinions of punk/s, into the class divides that made punk necessary. One London city council (or something) member asserts that young people need to "do their duty" rather than complaining about their lack of opportunity for upward mobility; it's a telling choice of phrase.

And of course, there's the famous interview with Sid and Nancy, where Sid is nodding out in his swastika t-shirt, dropping lit cigarettes on the mattress, while Nancy pleads with him to "please wake up!" and offers to make him "a cuppa cawfee," then forgets she's not wearing a bra when she changes her shirt on camera. Best not to talk about it.

Other live performances in the film are significantly less impressive, including X-Ray Spex, Generation X, and Dead Boys, but this one was better than I remembered and it made punk feel VERY relevant to 2025 America. I wanna be An Ar CHYYYYYY!!!!! It's the only way to be.

Breaking Glass (1980 dir. Brian Gibson)

This film is superficially a story tailor-made for me, where an uncompromising singer-songwriter forms a partnership with an ambitious but inexperienced music manager, they put together a band, which starts to get a following, but the "big break" of signing with a major label and big-name producer turns sour as the band breaks up, the singer is molded into the greyscale version of herself to maximize profits, she becomes hooked on drugs. loses her true love, and it all ends with a laser-lit stadium-stage musical number and the despair of having compromised one's soul to get what you thought you wanted. (I wrote a similar screenplay in college, of a too-fragile-for-stardom rock star lady's tragic spiral; love this trope.)

Hazel O'Connor, who wrote all the songs for the film, stars as Kate, a kooky new-wave singer with catchy, sometimes political, new wave potential-hits. The music in this film is really, really good. Pure new wave, with O'Connor's powerful yet quirky vocal style front and center. The soundtrack album is top shelf and I'm going to buy a copy.

The sad truth, though, is that this movie does a lot more telling than showing, rushing through the career and romance arcs to get to the musical numbers, which are plentiful. Every performance fits into the film, but some of them could have been shorter in order to spend more time really getting to know and like the characters. There are a lot of pretty touchy emotional situations here (a fan is murdered at one gig-turned-riot, for instance), but viewers have to be willing to just go along, as there is not much actual emotional depth to any of it. Apparently the UK original had an ending where Kate has a breakdown and ends up in a psych hospital; the US version I watched ends after the performance of "Eighth Day," but had an interesting audio-montage over the end credits that suggested a different but equally dismal scenario for Kate.

I really like that it has authentic New Wave fashion/hair/makeup because it was made in 1980--no neon-lycra interpretation of it looking back from years in the future--and it doesn't pretend to be punk. Phil Daniels (Quadrophenia) and Johnathan Pryce (too many to list, he's got Tonys, Oliviers, Oscars, and a knighthood) are notable co-stars as manager Danny and heroin-addicted saxophonist Ken. Totally worth the $4 I paid to rent this on Amazon; I'm glad I got to see it again.

.

The Decline of Western Civilization (1981 dir. Penelope Spheeris)

Penelope Spheeris is one of my personal pantheon. Her complete dedication to the people and scene she so deeply loved drove her to create not only The Decline of Western Civ and its two sequels, but also to later cast real Los Angeles punk kids in her film Suburbia because "I couldn't turn actors into punks, but I could turn punks into actors." She turned down the chance to direct This Is Spinal Tap because she didn't wish to make fun of the music scene and folks she loved so much. That's what we call integrity. And she's a woman in a male-dominated industry, staying true to her vision. She made a punk rock western starring Jon Cryer (Dudes) and directed Wayne's World. I wrote papers about her in film school; I admire her unreservedly.

So with that said, what a bunch of unremitting cockwombats the Los Angeles punks were. You want racism? How about opening the film with a live performance of Black Flag's "White Minority". . .sung by a brown kid named Ron Reyes (oh the irony!)? The number of homophobic slurs in this film cannot be counted. A series of talking head interviews reveals many punks' penchant for getting in fights with Black, Mexican, and gay people, just for the fun of it. The wall of silence that greets Alice Bag Band is clearly at least in part because Alice is a woman in a dress and heels. The most exciting, truly punk-feeling set comes at the end of the film, from FEAR, but singer Lee Ving's relentless stream of homophobic abuse, trying to get a rise out of the audience, is cringe-inducing. I hated almost everyone in this movie on a personal level; what horrible kids. On the other hand, we sure have come a long way in a generation, so that's something, I guess. It makes The Decline of Western Civilization, which I have always lauded as Must See TV for anyone who wants to call themselves a true punk, by a director I respect so very much, a film I would happily recommend everyone just take a pass on.

And let's take a minute to talk about Darby Crash of the Germs. Presented in the film alternately as the soft misunderstood baby who cooks eggs, reads books, and is gentle with his pets; and the blackout drunk/took whatever pills were around because of stage-fright, stumbling-and-slurring poet laureate of the L.A. punk scene, Darby Crash was an adolescent loser who decided he was going to be America's Sid Vicious, became a sad caricature, and play-acted his way into a lethal overdose at a very young age. Maybe Darby Crash was a sweet guy, or a smart guy, or a guy with some songwriting chops, but who could really tell, as he fell off the stage and slashed himself with broken bottles--all of this while standing next to Pat Smear, a serious musician (still alive! "only poseurs die, you asshole," as Steve-o says in SLC Punk!). Darby Crash was King Poseur, in my book, and I couldn't even feel sorry for him. He chose that. All of it.

One saving grace here is the live set from X, real punks (which is me saying a mouthful because I don't like X--I've always thought of them as country music) with real talent. I learned to tattoo myself from the scene of the band in their apartment giving each other stick-and-poke tattoos. "Beyond and Back" has one of my favourite lines of any song ever, "now it's five to twelve/shut up and smoke", "Nausea" is a bluesy, dare I say goth-ish? punk lament, and "Johnny Hit and Run Paulene" makes the most of the John/Exene dyad that's been the heart of X's music forever. "We're Desperate" is the fucking punkest performance in the film. I can see why my friend Allin married three women who look like Exene Cervenka; she was gorgeous as hell. It's kiss or kill. . .

FEAR's "Let's Have a War" is another nihilistic anthem for modern times ("there's too many of us/let's have a war/give guns to the queers/let's have a war/it can start in New Jersey/let's have a war/the enemy is within"), and "I Don't Care About You," and "I Love Livin' in the City" are undeniable. But damn, those guys hated gays and women.

There's also a stark difference in the London punks and the Los Angeles punks vis a vis violence. Even the dancing in L.A. is violent--in London they pogo'd, just jumping up and down, maybe gently bumping into each other. In L.A., they moshed, true slamdancing that was pretty much a brawl. Isn't it just like America to take righteous anger and turn it into indiscriminate rage.

[msfantasy-anime]

Sorry, I’m … married!

Monkey. D Luffy x Reader

Summary: An overly zealous marine by the name of Shimoi Zappa is enraptured by your beauty and just will not take no for an answer. Your final rejection comes in the form of a blow to his face which earns you a bounty and DoA wanted poster.

A/n: not my best, but I’m setting up the story to pushing Y/n into the straw hat crew for future adventures.

Part III

It’s been long since you parted ways with your ‘husband’ and the straw hat pirates on the docks that day.

Despite his incessant pleas, to join the crew. You were adamant on having a your own adventure. You weren’t quite ready to give up your freedom to serve in a wanted pirate crew, the world government chasing you until you are caught.

Piracy was always a dream of Sabo, Luffy and Aces, but yours was just to explore the world.

Despite all your reasonings, the tearful parting left you feeling unsure if you made the right decision. The New World is far more dangerous than the redline ever could be, maybe joining a strong and rambunctious pirate crew would’ve actually led to even greater adventures.

You continued to contemplate, your eyes glazed off into the distance sunset horizons as the merchants ship that granted you passage is offloading supplies onto a marine base island.

The captain of the merchants ship encouraged you to explore the island, but the marines on an isolated training island is begging for trouble. All of the officers are hyped up on self-importance, they’re all itching to prove their self worth by dominate any and all around them regardless if it was warranted enough. You’ve traveled enough to know that there are just as many corrupt marines as there are good marines. But you have truely had your fill for a life time and avoid them where possible.

It’s better to just stay nice and close to the ship and leave as soon as humanly possible.

Unfortunately, your train of thought comes to a crashing holt when you feel the intense sensation of being watched.

Springing from your seat, you turn around quickly, to see the creeping figure of a marine, slinking up behind you.

“Oh dear, oh my, what a sight you are.” The tall creepy marine exclaims, his cheeks blushing. “I knew you’d look pretty considering how gorgeous you look with just your back turned! My name is Shimoi Zappa. May I have your name miss?” The marine swoons. His flirtations make your stomach sink.

“Errrrrrm… it’s Y/n.”

“Y/n?! What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He swoons yet again, making you wildly uncomfortable.

“Gee, thanks.” You dead pan, looking towards the merchants ship, begging silently for help escaping this weird encounter.

“Please Miss, my heart has never yearned for another like it has for you. Please do me the honour of becoming my wife!” With one knee to the ground, he snatches your hand and places a weirdly wet kiss along your knuckles.

“UGH! No, thanks anyway.” You try to add politely on the end, whipping the back of your hand.

Falling completely onto his hands and knees, he begins to sob hysterically into the ground. “No?! Why?!” He sobs once again, grabbing your hips pushing his teary eyes into your abdomen, making your squirm in discomfort.

“Sorry, you see I’m…” Your mind reels in search of the perfect answer that won’t offend the creep whilst also strongly reaffirming your unavailability. “Im married!”

“This cannot be, this can’t be! Where is this husband of yours.” He asks, looking around, as if a man would pop into immediate view. Your jaw clenches in irritation, why couldn’t he just believe your words?

“Well, he’s off exploring the world-“

“Without you?! What kind of husband abandons his wife like this?! He mustn’t be a good husband if he leaves you alone out in this world full of creeps.”

“Right…”

“Please reconsider leaving that useless husband of yours and marry me instead.” He begs once again, grabbing your hand once again and giving it a pleading squeeze.

“Listen buddie, shut up about my husband. He’s a great man. Someone as vile as you will never understand.” Your usual amicable nature goes flying out the window. The overbearing flirting was one thing, but no one will ever disrespect Luffy to your face and live to tell the tale.

All commonsense goes flying out the window as you hand a devastating heavy hit to his face, knocking him out instantly.

“Hey Luffy! Come and look! There’s a new pirate bounty out.” Brook exclaims excitedly.

Luffy launches himself with bountiful energy, keen to see his new bounty. Only to be faced with the non other than your bounty.

Monkey. Y/n 100,000,000 berries. Dead or Alive.

“Hahaha! She said she didn’t want to join because having a bounty would make it hard to travel- but the dumby went and got a bounty anyway! Hahaha!” Luffy cackles. “Huh? Hey, did you guys notice that Y/n has my last name? That’s weird- I wonder why they did that.” Luffy questions scratching his head.

“100,000,000 million berries! What did Y/n do?!” Nami asks Brook in horror.

“The article says that Y/n was visiting the marine training island on a merchants ship when she punched a marine after talking poorly of her husband Monkey. D Luffy.” Luffy’s cackle continues until it comes to an abrupt halt.

“What island was she on again? Let’s go pick her up on the way to Big Moms.” He announce with a wide toothy smile.

“Great, maybe we can also steal some food while we are at it.” Nami agrees, returning back to the helm.

[thegorydamnreaper]

Okay wow! Lots of amazing ideas, thank you all!

In true demokratic fashion, let’s put it to a vote:

The Passage of Stains idea is actually something I’ve already got a piece cooking for, so it’s left out from this poll 😉

Also shoutout to the Pliny party idea, because it’s cool af and I’ve started & discarded 3 different wips trying to get it right 😭

Question for the Howlers

What is a scene from the series that you guys would want to see that I haven’t drawn yet?

I want to try out some more dynamic pieces, but I’m not sure what to pick 🤔 Any ideas are welcome!

[theunderestimator-2]

Johnny Rotten under ‘the-Sex-Pistols-manager-&-notorious-evil-mastermind’ Malcolm McLaren’s spell with Steve Jones looking like he’s starting to get the feeling he’d be cheated, during the band’s first -and last- US tour in Jan. 1978, in a still off Lech Kowalski‘s early-`80s documentary “D.O.A.: A Right of Passage” .

(via)

[great-master-airplane]

Not a WIP Wednesday but another bit of DoA fluff from the follow-up of  Dates and Delusions

“Can I… ask a question?”

Fyodor hummed, low and considering, and Sigma felt the tickle of goosebumps along his arms as the sound settled into him. “That depends,” Fyodor replied after a moment. “Do you really want the answer?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. Sigma pursed his lips, trying hard to think, but he just couldn’t. They were both too close. His thoughts scattered with each fan of breath that Nikolai sighed into his hair, and Fyodor’s eyes felt so heavy.

Those eyes weighed on him, both encouraging and frightening, and Sigma nearly looked at him. He wanted to see what expression burned in those violet eyes, if they held any fondness for him at all, but he feared how his heart would break if they didn’t.

Dazai had told him to just ask where he fit in their lives, but Sigma was terrified of the answer. He wished his heart would stop feeling as though it might wilt within his chest, starved for something he didn’t know how to ask for.

But Nikolai felt so warm, and Fyodor’s gaze felt so comforting. Nothing could touch him while they were both here, nothing but his own doubts, and his doubts were far louder than whatever solace he wished he could lean into.

“I—” Love you. I love you, and I love him, and I want to be a part of you both if you’ll have me.

“Sigma.” Fyodor reached forward to tuck away the lavender strands concealing his expression. Icy fingers brushed Sigma’s cheek, sending a jolt of surprise through his veins when he realized what he’d almost admitted.

“I—” Sigma swallowed his words, the thousandth confession he’d wanted to tell, and took a deep breath. “I should probably start cleaning up the kitchen.”

Fyodor didn’t say anything. Sigma didn’t expect him to, but he almost wished he would. He wished that Fyodor would force the words out of him, help him ruin the little haven he’d found for himself before even this became too unbearable.

Sigma unhooked Nikolai’s fingers from his sweater much easier than he would have hoped. Nikolai’s arm dangled over the side of the sofa, fingertips twitching briefly, and Sigma could see flour caked around his nails. Nikolai’s hair looked soft and fluffy, inviting. Sigma gave in to the urge to reach out and tuck a tuft of it behind his ear. Nikolai murmured in his sleep, satisfied, and his mouth curled up at whatever pleasant dream he must have been having.

Probably Sigma’s reaction to the messy kitchen. He thought of Nikolai’s tittering laugh, his somewhat malicious grin as he left a whirlwind of chaos and cake batter strewn across their kitchen, and Sigma smiled. Unbidden, fond, and the pain in his chest lessened for a fragile, fleeting moment.

Then Sigma stood up to step away from them, and the ache returned tenfold. Colder than Fyodor’s fingers and bitter, bitter like acid on his tongue that he could barely stand to swallow. He was almost grateful for the mess that awaited him, if only to have something to distract him from the urge to just sit back down and ask Fyodor to pretend that he’d never tried to leave.

Sigma could still feel the presence of Fyodor’s gaze on his back as he made his way to the door. He nearly glanced back, curious to see what sort of expression Fyodor wore, but he decided against it. He doubted that he could have read anything worthwhile from Fyodor’s face, but to Fyodor?

To Fyodor, Sigma was nothing more than a page from a book, one that he’d perused again and again until he’d surely memorized the passage that was Sigma. Learned every word of him, consumed his every secret despite Sigma’s best attempts to hide them between his lines, but he still kept those discoveries to himself.

Why? Was he trying to give Sigma the chance to come to terms with how he felt on his own? Or did Fyodor never breach the topic because it didn’t matter to him? Because he had what he truly wanted right there in his lap, snoozing the afternoon away in a cocoon that only offered enough room for two?

Fyodor’s gaze bore into his back, knowing and calculated. Reading him, again, and Sigma wondered when he’d finally grow bored of studying the same page so often.

[oneofusnet]

Digital Noise Ep 177: End of 2017 Cleaning House John and Chris take on a massive pile of Blu-Ray and DVD titles to clean out through December's releases and get ready for even more goodness in 2018.                                 read more on One of Us

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 18: High-Key Want A Three-Headed Dog

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative." Percy said.

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given us in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong. I had mine mixed up in there in case mine was rigged, Percy insisted upon it.

Annabeth put her hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

"Don't worry Percy. We'll do this."

He looked at us, and smiled.

He slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

Percy read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," I said.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

Percy looked at me for support.

"We want to go the Underworld," I said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" I asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

I nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."

"All four of you?" Charon asked. We nodded. I could see Annabeth wanted to face palm.

"Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." Annabeth set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash we'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

We were so close.

Then Charon looked at Percy. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy said. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," Annabeth insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." I said staring at him.

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," I said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

I stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off."

He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy said.

"Ha."

I could feel we weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," I said. "I never knew you could look cool dead."

I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me... they were dead.

Percy grabbed hold of my hand. Annabeth took my other free one. I knew she wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.

I could hear Percy muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one we had come to confront.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

I'm not sure what I was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" Percy asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"Harsh," Percy said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." Percy said. "We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff."

"Humans." I said rolling my eyes, "What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized I was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds and Mrs . Rudolph would be licking her lips with anticipation.

"But if he's a preacher," Percy said, "and he believes in a different hell... ."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, about fifty feet in front of us, standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, and had three heads.

"I thought he would've been a mastiff."

"Same..."

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think ..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," I said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to Percy. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" I asked Grover.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

Percy took the big stick out of his backpack—a bedpost we'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus—Alpo commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants.

"Hey, Big Fella," He called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

"Good boy," he said weakly.

Percy waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. Percy had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Fetch!" I threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well... he's hungry."

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were.

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" Annabeth called again.

I don't know why but petting this gigantic three headed dog would have made my bucket list complete. I walked up to Annabeth with Percy and Grover panicking behind.

"I want to pet him. Cerberus sit!"

"Sit!" Annabeth yelled.

Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

I said, "Good boy!"

Annabeth threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" I ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at me. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.

She turned toward the two. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

Percy said, "But—"

"Now.'" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

"You should go too. I wouldn't mind."

"How are you sure he'll follow you?" Annabeth laughed.

"I had a dog you know. Real sweetheart. Pretty sure he'll be as cute."

Grover and Percy inched forward warily.

Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

"What about you guys?" Percy asked us as we passed her.

Annabeth looked at me and nodded. "Y/N wants to pet him," she muttered. "I think she can handle him."

Grover, Annabeth and Percy walked between the Cerberus's legs.

I was tempted to make Cerberus sit to be honest.

When made it through. I said, "Good dog!"

I held up the tattered red ball. The ball was tattered and this is going to be the last trick.

"Cerberus, could you get closer to me?" I called hesitantly. All three heads leaned down.

Oh gods... Oh gods... I'm going to pet him... I reluctantly touched his head. His head leaned to my touch. "Good boy." I cooed petting each his head. He whimpered on my touch.  "Okay boy." I leaned my head against his middle one.

I threw the ball. The good boy's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, I walked under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"Bucket list solved." Annabeth and I fist bumped.

"How did you do that?" Percy looked at Annabeth and I, amazed.

"Obedience school," Annabeth said breathlessly, "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman... ."

"I had D/N you knew that." I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. "I promise I'll play again!"

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at Percy's shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth and I stopped.

We turned to face the cutie which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

The monster whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I promise we'll come back." I turned to the others. "Let's go."

Grover and Percy pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"

"No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

I wasn't sure about that. I thought maybe Annabeth and I had both had the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while.

I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. I pulled Annabeth closer as she wipe a tear from her cheek as we listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance,.

"We'll come back..."

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[skeletal-kitt]

I’m going go on a little rant here about Trials of Apollo and try to peace some things together.

In the last Magnus Chase book the Ship of the Dead Magnus gets a call from Annabeth and she mentions that she and Percy are in Northern California for college implying they’re at Camp Jupiter and also that they got some bad news once they got up there. I’m thinking Percy and Annabeth were there when Caligula’s forces attacked the camp the same night Jason died and when Apollo and Meg show up with Jason’s coffin to do burial rights and that was the bad news Annabeth was refering to with Magnus. Most of you probably already knew this but I’m just now figuring this out.

Nico would’ve known that Jason or Piper were going to die a few days before it happend but he had a strong sense that it would be Jason. So he obviously tells Chiron about this and asks for a quest to Camp Jupiter to tell them about Jason and do burial rights and all that. But Chiron refuses because it’s to dangerous out there with the emperor’s forces. So Nico leaves a note on the Hades cabin door about where he’s going and and embarks on the quest alone. He finds an entrance to the labyrinth a passage to the underworld exits in California at DOA Recording Studios and makes his way to Camp Jupiter from there. He arrives the same day as Leo. They warn the camp about the prophecy the battle at the Tiber about Jason or Piper dying-most likely Jason.

Reyna somehow gets a hold of Hylla and tells her about the battle so the Amazon’s are there. Amazons spread the word to the Hunters so Thalia is there. Romans Greeks Amazons Hunters all fighting together are a force to be reckoned with. They win the battle and start celbrating. In the middle of the party Nico collapses and has a vision of Jason saying his last words: sitting atop Temptest telling a broken and bloody Apollo to “Remember!” Piper is there in the background betaen up and screaming. A large man in Captains uniform impales Jason with a spear from behind. Jason leans down and gives his last orders to Temptest: get Piper and Apollo to safety. Then Jason’s face down on the floor and gets run through with the same spear and he’s gone. Nico tells the others and for a few hours they’re all enraged. They tear up the battle field even more. After the adrenaline wears of they all sit together and talk about Jason’s greatest moments.

Two days after the battle Apollo and Meg show up in Pipers jet with Jason. Every one of Jason’s closest friends are there: Thalia Reyna Hazel Frank Dakota Gwen Leo Percy Annabeth Nico. Everyone but the two most important people in his life: Piper who’s halfway to to Oklahoma with her dad by now and Leo who’s probably already back at the way station.

(I just really want Nico and Thalia to be at the funeral along with Jason’s other friends and also to help fight in the battle. I really want Piper and Leo to be there too but I know Ricks not going to let that happen.)

[teenybeanielinguine]

Outlander Season 5 - A Girl Can Dream

 It’s been a little over two weeks since the Season 4 finale... and DAMN, the withdrawal is hitting me hard.  I’ve rewatched all my favorite scenes, re-read all my favorite passages, and scoured Tumblr for every piece of fanfiction available.  But nothing seems capable of filling the Outlander-shaped void in my heart.

Since I clearly have nothing better to do (not true; there are A LOT of other things I should be doing), I’ve decided to grace you all with my unsolicited thoughts (no need to thank me).  Season 5 has no announced release date, but I’m not known for my patience, so I’m hopping on the crazy train a little early.  Destination: The Fiery Cross. (Spoilers ahead.)

About The Fiery Cross

I’ve read quite a few posts that label Drums of Autumn as the pivotal point in the series.  I respectfully disagree.

DoA felt like the next step in a gradual evolution.  It’s true that Bree and Roger gained their independence from the J/C plotline in DoA, but DG had been prepping us for this divergence for quite a while.  Claire was our only narrator in Outlander, and while she remains the only 1st person POV, other characters have been quietly adding their voices to hers.  Roger joined her in Dragonfly in Amber, followed by Jamie and John Grey in Voyager, and we finally get Brianna in Drums of Autumn (that’s RIGHT: in the main books, we hear Roger’s POV before we ever hear Jamie’s).  Because of these constantly expanding POVs, DoA just felt like a natural progression, rather than a huge departure from the status quo.

The Fiery Cross, on the other hand, feels like a turning point.  Not only is it the first book to not get a newly added POV, but the story starts to get a little... unpredictable.

All of the books have a fair amount of twistiness and unpredictability, but our characters have pretty clear goals in each installation so far: get back to the stones, save Jamie from Black Jack, prevent the Rising, prevent Culloden, make Brianna believe the truth, find Jamie after 20 years, rescue Young Ian, establish the Ridge, warn Jamie and Claire about the fire, rescue Roger...  I know I’m generalizing here, but you get the point.  Our heroes all have clearly defined end goals, and they’re putting all their energy into achieving them, despite the twists and turns that DG throws their way.  The characters may not always succeed, but you, the reader, always know where the story is headed.

By the start of The Fiery Cross, the goals are a little broader, more nebulous.  There may be unrest in North Carolina, the American Revolution may be looming in the distance, but basically the Fraser family just wants to live in peace on the Ridge.  That’s it.  No daring rescues, no dramatic reunions; they just want some peace and quiet.  Of course, they aren’t going to get it, because this is Outlander-verse, where Murphy’s Law is on steroids.

So the Frasers play it by ear, taking on every new challenge as it comes.  There is no clear path forward, they just have to react as best they can to the events around them.  In consequence, the reader gets a series of smaller meandering stories, with the distinct feeling that something bigger is happening in the background.  I personally love this, because I have no clue what’s going to happen next, so when something big happens, it takes me completely by surprise.  And you get to see the characters just exist in day-to-day life, which is the best.  Some of the characters still have personal goals (spoiler alert: Stephen Bonnet definitely did NOT die in that explosion), but the pursuit of those goals isn’t driving the story nearly as much as in past installments.

This is all to say that, while Season 5 is going to have to hit some major plot points, there is (in my opinion) a fair amount of breathing room for interpretation, and lots of fun to be had.  I’m fascinated to see the show tackle this new challenge.

My Wish List for Season 5

When I say “wish list”, I don’t mean to imply a series of demands.  I have no creative control over the adaptation, and I’m not listing these wishes in the vain hope that someone on the production team will notice.  This is just for fun, and I will be perfectly content if none of these make it into the show.  Also, not all of these are pulled from the book; some of them are just things I would love to see.

So here are my top ten wishes, in no particular order:

Roger the Fangirl.  In the midst of all the Roger-hate this past season, the OL fandom has forgotten one crucial fact: Roger is the ultimate J/C shipper.  This romantic idiot is the whole reason that Claire went back in time to find Jamie!  You’d think Jamie’s fists would have beaten the ship right out of Roger, but if last season proves anything, it’s that Roger doesn’t give up easily.  He’s gonna keep shipping like his life depends on it, and there are some really cute moments in TFC where he fangirls over how adorable Jamie and Claire are together (also, Jamie is going to become his new idol).  I suppose it would be unrealistic to hope that he and Murtagh form a fan club next season...?

Brothers and Sisters.  Am I the only one who wanted to scream when Brianna and Fergus were right next to each other in the Wilmington jail and they didn’t acknowledge each other?  By the end of S4, we don’t even know whether Fergus and Marsali know about Bree’s existence (I mean, Fergus helped capture Bonnet, but he and Marsali didn’t say a word about Bree), and that frustrates me to no end.  The books skipped over the getting-to-know-you stuff too, which is crazy considering that they are siblings (adopted or not)!  I would kill for a scene where Jamie and Claire are struggling to explain why they have a fully-grown daughter, as well as some bonding time between siblings.  Bree and Marsali are definitely going to get along, cause badass women stick together.

The Snake Bite.  The snake bite incident (aftermath included) is one of my favorite sequences in TFC.  It brings Roger and Jamie closer together, it shows the courage of the Fraser women in a crisis, and it rallies the entire Ridge community in their worry for Jamie.  I suppose it’s sadistic of me, but I loved watching everyone freak out when they thought Jamie was going to die or lose a leg.  And then the 20th century women come to the rescue!  An entire episode dedicated to that whole plotline would be amazing.

Grannie and Grand-da.  Claire and Jamie are not only adorable as grandparents, they’re relatable AF.  They might love their new grandson to pieces, but that’s not going to stop them from being honest about the realities of childcare.  Jamie in particular is hilarious; he builds an entire house at top speed to get away from the screeching baby (and his newly reunited parents), and then he compares Bree unflatteringly to the white sow (not to her face, of course; see Chapter 30 for a good laugh).  I’d love to see that side of Jamie and Claire next season.

Wolf’s Brother.  We might have said a tearful goodbye to Young Ian in the S4 finale, but we haven’t seen the last of him.  My guess is that he’s going to make a dramatic reappearance in the S5 finale, but I really hope we see him before then.  Showing Young Ian’s time among the Mohawk would give Outlander a chance to showcase the amazing First Nations actors that appeared in S4 (Braeden Clarke, anyone?) as well as explore how Ian slowly blends his Highland upbringing with Mohawk customs.

Claire the Science Nerd.  So far all of Claire’s medical expertise has been utilized in life-or-death situations, but establishing a medical practice on the Ridge gives her the opportunity to geek out over plants and experiment in reproducing 20th century medicine in the 18th century.  Over the course of TFC, she gives genetics lessons, performs two tonsillectomies, and produces penicillin (among other things).  This passion for her craft is one of the reasons I love Claire so much.  And her nerd moments aren’t always serious: one of my favorite scenes in the book features Claire and her microscope giving Jamie a hilarious lesson in reproductive biology.

Fraser’s Ridge.  We didn’t get to see much of the Ridge community in S4, although Jamie did allude to the farmers who contributed the grain to make whisky.  The community is comprised of a growing array of Scottish immigrants, and the drama they bring to Claire and Jamie’s lives wavers between amusing and disastrous.  I don’t think the show will have time to explore the entire cast of characters, but I’m hoping to see Thomas Christie and his children introduced, at least.  I’ve always found Tom Christie a strangely compelling character; his children, on the other hand, are nothing more than a necessary evil.  I also really hope we meet the twins, Josiah and Keziah Beardsley (Lizzie’s story is about to get really interesting).

The MacKenzie Bloodline.  Despite all the time-traveling she’s been doing, Claire has yet to meet any of her ancestors (that we know of...  DG might be holding out on us).  Roger, on the other hand, is not going to be so lucky (if you’ve read all eight books, you’ll know that Roger runs into his ancestors A LOT).  By the end of S4, I’m not sure Jamie is aware that his daughter is married to Geillis Duncan and Dougal MacKenzie’s descendant, but I wanna be there when he and Murtagh find out (a perfect opportunity for some good dialogue and tension).  And while Roger may be able to explain his ancestry to Jamie and Murtagh (both of whom are fully aware of the existence of time travel), he’s not going to be able to give the same explanation to Jocasta.  In the beginning of TFC, there’s a really great conversation between Jocasta and Roger where Jocasta is kinda fishing around for clues about Roger’s family.  Roger, of course, can’t tell her that he’s actually her great-great-grandnephew (give or take a few ‘great’s).  My hope is that the show includes some version of this conversation and continues to play around with Roger’s MacKenzie heritage (and all its implications).

Future Talk.  With three time-travelers in the family, there’s bound to be some discussion of the future.  Especially with the tension mounting in North Carolina and Murtagh aligning himself with the Regulators.  I am yearning for some deep discussion between Jamie, Murtagh, and the travelers about the events to come.  I have a hunch that either Claire or Bree has already informed Murtagh about the American Revolution, based on a comment he made to Jocasta about a “different ending”, but I want to see it actually played out on screen.  The interplay between the characters who know the future and those who don’t is fascinating to me, and I want more of it.

Jamie the Protector.  Jamie’s protective instincts have had some disastrous consequences this past season, but he is going to redeem himself next season.  Early on in TFC, Jamie claims Roger as the “son of his house”, and he proceeds to stand by that claim throughout the book, especially in the aftermath of Roger’s wrongful hanging at the hands of Governor Tryon.  This time, Jamie’s protective feelings aren’t going to result in a beating, though it’s a close call.  I love this shift, from Jamie beating Roger to Jamie protecting/avenging Roger; it’s a very satisfying development.

Bonus: Geese.  Brianna and Roger may have a child together, but they have never lived together as a married couple.  They also don’t have very much experience being in a serious relationship (S4 showed us that they really don’t know how to argue properly).  However, they have both grown up quite a bit since their hand fasting, and you get to see them learning how to coexist in Chapter 33 of TFC.  It’s a great scene, where Roger’s just come back with the militia, and he and Bree have a meaningless fight because she hasn’t had it easy since the militia left.  But they resolve their argument peacefully as Bree vents her frustrations to Roger and gives him a drawing of some geese as a Christmas present.  A really wonderful everyday moment.

There are, of course, more things I’d like to see, but these are my favorites.  I thought I’d list them out now, since this is going to be a LONG Droughtlander, and I am sure to get obsessed with something else eventually (the new A Discovery of Witches show looks promising).  Also, I’m going to temporarily forget about Season 5 if Bees comes out first.

What are your wishes for Season 5?  If you choose to respond, please be kind and respectful.

[peepeethepissking]

FILM NOIR REC LIST

THE MUST SEE’S—DETECTIVE NOIR:

[‘44] Laura: Follows a cop investigating the murder of a well loved socialite as he questions the people closest to her—notably an esteemed writer that helped advanced her career, and her fiancé, a fellow socialite with a poor reputation. The lead is very endearing and the film pulls off one of the most natural twists I’ve ever seen in a whodunit. My only real complaint is that the romance felt a little rushed, but it’s a small price to pay for an otherwise delightful movie.

[‘44] Murder, My Sweet: It’s unsurprising that this is a good film, because it’s based on a book by Raymond Chandler, one of the founding fathers of the hard-boiled detective genre that paved the way for film noir. Humphrey Bogart notably plays the same character, Philip Marlowe, in the Big Sleep. This is one of few films that I think really successfully utilizes an in-media-res frame. It follows Marlowe through two intertwined jobs—a search for a thug’s old girl and the truth behind a jewelry fence. I was surprised with how well it handled the two simultaneous storylines without letting them become too confusing.

[‘46] The Big Sleep: As the above film, this is based on a Raymond Chandler book. This is the only time Bogart depicts Philip Marlowe, and he’s considered one of the best depictions of Marlowe to ever hit the silver screen. This one doesn’t handle it’s plot quite as delicately as Murder, My Sweet, and I honestly ended the film with…a lot of confusion. But even so, it’s a very fun watch, and it feels like a true noir classic. It starts off with Marlowe getting a job from a sickly old colonel to poke around a gambling debt his daughter has acquired, and it follows Marlowe poking his nose in all kinds of businesses he’s not welcome in. [this notably has been recommended by kevin vibert himself!]

[‘47] Out of the Past: I’m not sure what it is, but this is by far my favorite noir I’ve seen, to date. Poor Jeff Bailey gets an unwelcome reminder of his dark past as an amoral P.I. one day after he’s reestablished himself as a small town mechanic. Cornered by an old client that’s much too powerful, he takes on one last job while trying to protect his new life, and his new love. It’s half flashback half real time, but it handles that quite well. My biggest complaint is that the ending is pretty far from what I had wanted, but it’s all for the sake of art, I suppose.

THE MUST SEE’S—TRADITIONAL NOIR:

[‘45] Mildred Pierce: This film starts with a murder, and then within the frame of an interrogation tells the story of Mildred Pierce’s life after divorcing her first husband. This film doesn’t quite feel like a noir—it’s brightly lit, it features a female lead and no real “fatale” character, the murder isn’t really the focus of the film—but when you look at the real “message” of the film it lines up with the traditional noir pretty neatly. It’s about the disillusionment of capitalism as a fix-all, it’s about how heartbreaking unconditional love can be, it’s about how hard life will always be for some people. It’s a very frustrating film to watch because of how poorly Mildred Pierce is treated, but it’s a very cathartic film to watch because of how transparently realistic it is.

[‘46] The Blue Dahlia: This one’s a real classic, but I personally can’t decide if it was outstanding or forgettable—which I’ll grant, to have that strong of a discrepancy, it must’ve done something right. It’s a trope that we haven’t seen otherwise on this list, the unreliable memory of a freshly grounded war veteran. You get the facts immediately, with an opening scene that shows one of the gang is just a little troubled from his time overseas. It’s a whodunit that follows a mostly ensemble cast after the ‘lead’ runs out on his wife, then finds out she’s been murdered. What really makes this film worth watching is the end scene, which of course only works at all because of the groundwork laid in the first hour of the film. It keeps you on the edge of your seet with an unreliable narrator kind of confession and then whips you around and wraps everything up with what really happened in like, ten minutes. It’s absolutely dizzying and a real explosion of an end.

[‘50] In a Lonely Place: Another delightful Bogart movie, because, well…I like Bogey, what can I say. This film doesn’t really feel like a noir until you get about halfway through, and everything starts to build up and gain tension. It has a very satisfying ending for a film that almost feels like it isn’t about anything. I’d say it’s especially worth watching because of Miss Jeff Donnell’s absolutely wonderful performance as the-best-friend’s-wife. As far as the plot, it follows a screenwriter that happens to be the last person to have seen a murder victim alive, and is therefore a suspect in the muddy case. It does a great job of making you doubt every character, and the truth of the murder is successfully withheld until the very end.

THE B-SIDES:

[‘47] Crossfire: This one’s split between being a police procedural and a veteran noir, but I think it follows the vets around more than the cops in the end, so I’m putting it here instead of under “detective.” Fair warning—this film deals with antisemitism, and the central murder is revealed to have been a hate crime (don’t worry, though—the overall message of the film is that we shouldn’t judge our fellow man before we get to know him). We follow Sgt Keeley while the police question him and try to find his best friend, the prime suspect in a recent murder. Played by Robert Mitchum, notably the lead in Out of the Past, Keeley is a breath of fresh air—as all of Mitchum’s characters seem to be. He’s charmingly a sort of father figure to the other soldiers, and you find yourself rooting for his friends simply because their his friends. This film has probably the weirdest setup for an arrest I’ve ever seen, and I doubt it would hold up in court, but it’s a classic noir ending, nonetheless.

[‘47] Dark Passage: This movie is just incredibly fun to watch, because it’s such a product of it’s time. It has some of the goofiest filming decisions I’ve ever seen in an A-Lister! The beginning is shot in first person, through the eyes of the lead. It feels like playing a dating sim, almost. It’s made very sincerely, though, which really carries it through the humor, and makes it very fun and strangely light hearted. It follows a man wrongly convicted of murder as he escapes prison and tries to find out who framed him, with the help of a local fanatic that followed his trial and believes he’s innocent. Bogart is delightful to see in such a strange role, and Lauren Bacall has an incredible performance that would’ve just felt insincere from anyone else.

[‘49] D.O.A.: This movie follows a guy as he tries to find the man that fatally poisoned him. It’s an interesting twist on the whodunit where the “murder victim” himself is the one trying to find out whodunit. It uses a flashback frame in order to start immediately with that “who’s been murdered?” – “Me!” twist, but beyond that shock value, the frame is really unnecessary. This one’s would’ve been much more fun to watch if the main character wasn’t such a dick to women. The answer to “who did it and why” was also…a lot more confusing than it had to be, which left the end feeling a bit muddled. As a side note—here DOA stands for “dead on arrival.”

[‘53] The Big Heat: Follows a cop as he investigates a suicide that should’ve been an open-and-closed case. The closer he gets to the truth, the more trouble he gets into—and before long, it seems he’s gotten himself wrapped up in a world of crime that infiltrates even the police station, and the men in charge will do anything to keep his nose out of it. This one’s really classic, and it conforms so well to the genre that it almost feels forgettable—but it’s the fact that it is so true to the genre that makes it worth watching.

NOTABLE ABSENCES:

[‘44] Double Indemnity: I watched this movie in three separate parts because I fell asleep each time I tried to finish it. It’s a kill-the-husband-so-we-can-be-together type of movie, and it’s also notably an insurance adjuster film instead of a detective film. This one’s a real classic that almost everyone says is a must see, but personally I thought all the tension was killed by the unnecessary flashback frame. If nothing else, this one is worth watching because it’s absolutely dedicated to the well known tropes of the noir, but for me that just wasn’t enough.

[‘46] Gilda: Gilda was almost a good movie. Glenn Ford did an incredible job acting against his typecast—this time portraying a charming crook that got his job running an illegal casino by counting the right man’s cards. The movie was just too unorganized, though. It’s a sort of 3 act show that just goes further downhill the longer it goes on. There’s a couple of song-and-dance scenes that feel all but thrown in simply because Rita Hayworth does indeed know how to sing and dance, and the end kind of blows up in its own face without a proper set-up. It’s cinematically a beautiful movie, but I was disappointed by how messy the plot ended up being for something with so much hype.

[‘58] Touch of Evil: Allegedly the last classic noir made in the true film noir era. I watched about a third of this film before calling it quits, which I will admit, is rare for me—I like to suffer through to the end just incase there’s that one scene that makes a movie worth it (see the Blue Dahlia, for example.) This film is about “marijuana, murder, and police corruption,” and it takes place in a California-Mexico border town—which is a big part of what made me quit out. It felt tired and cliché in way that was just a little too close to racist, and I found myself without a real reason to root for the main characters.

as I continue watching noirs, I will update this here to include new recommendations, my watch list, and an “honorable mentions” section

[themusicsweetly]

I take it by the comments that J seeing Brianna pics the first time on the show wasn’t as it was in the books, not as emotional. I haven’t read the books but I did read the scene on DOA where J meets B. To me that didn’t read as too emotional which I surprised by. And I don’t remember the C & B meet (I cant remember the chapter to read again) but those scenes just seemed low key to me. Am I wrong? Thanks.

Hey there, Anon! Thanks for dropping by.

You’re correct in saying that that photos scene was definitely different in the Show!Universe than it was in the Book!Universe. I won’t get into that because I know here are some strong feelings about it, mine included lol.

The initial meet between Jamie x Brianna in Drums of Autumn, though, is heavy. I wouldn’t say it’s not emotional, but it’s different than the photos scene. In the DoA scene, Jamie doesn’t “fall to pieces” when he sees her as he does in Voyager. It probably seems like a quieter scene simply because of the shock of it all – it is emotional, it just happens to be all the emotions at once. Jamie is lost for words and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, while Brianna is preoccupied with assessing him and comparing him with the mental image she formed of him when she learned of his existence. But when they break, they break in the most beautiful way.

I’d say the most emotional bit of this scene will be the first time Brianna calls him “Da.” That’s definitely what I’m looking forward to.

“You can… call me Da,” he said. His voice was husky; he stopped and cleared his throat. “If – if ye want to, I mean,” he added diffidently.

“Da,” she said, and felt the smile bloom easily this time, unmarred by tears. “Da. Is that Gaelic?”

He smiled back, the corners of his mouth trembling slightly.

“No. It’s only… simple.”

And suddenly it was simple. He held out his arms to her. She stepped into them and found that she had been wrong; he *was* as big as she’d imagined – and his arms were as strong about her as she had ever dared to hope.

The reunion between Claire and Brianna is very similar, though it does bring a bit more levity into the scene. For as short a passage as it is, it’s also one of my favorite. All three of them together as they should have been from the beginning. There’s much of the same shock and blurting lol, but there’s just so much happiness there.

“Sasseanch.” My heart early stopped at the sound of Jamie’s voice. I spun toward it, relief being rapidly overcome by annoyance. What did he think he–

For a split second, I thought I was seeing double. They were sitting on the bench outside the door, side by side, the afternoon sun igniting their hair like matchheads.

My eyes focused on Jamie’s face, alight with joy – then shifted right.

“Mama.” It was the same expression; eagerness and joy and longing all together. I had no time even to think before she was in my arms, and I was in the air, knocked off my feet both literally and figuratively.

“Mama!”

I hadn’t any breath; what hadn’t been taken away by the shock was being squeezed out by a rib-crushing hug.

“Bree!” I managed to gasp, and she put me down, though she didn’t let go. I looked disbelievingly up, but she was real. I looked for Jamie, and I found him standing beside her. He said nothing, but gave me a face-splitting grin, his ears bright pink with delight.

“I, ah, I wasn’t expecting–” I said idiotically.

Brianna gave me a grin to match her father’s, eyes bright as stars and damp with happiness.

“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!”

“What?” said Jamie blankly.

It’s going to be so, SO beautiful and satisfying to see these scenes played out in the show, even more so because I know Caitriona, Sam, and Sophie are going to bring them both to a whole new level. As much as I will also love the first half of the season and just seeing Jamie x Claire establishing Fraser’s Ridge, the second half of the season will be equally amazing!

[gjxerxesworld]

The Long Journey of Paulina Kothe

Augusta Paulina Matilda Kotes is listed as my maternal great grandmother in my nephew Richard’s extensive family tree and genealogical tables.  Richard is our family historian and has done extensive genealogical tables for our family which is the Crane – Cure family (plus another generation back the Carty and White families) I got curious about this lady with a very German name and sought to find out more and in particular where her grave might be.  

Between 1855 and 1872 several ships mostly from the port of Hamburg brought about 2000 immigrants from Germany to Tasmania. These early settlers were mainly fruit-growers and market-gardeners. In the 1870s Germans and Danes were enticed by the Tasmanian Government to come by offering them assisted passages and free land. Most of them were Lutheran, establishing a Lutheran congregation in Bismarck (now Collinsvale) near Hobart.

Now tracking her down has been elusive and a lot of it results in how she or registrars/clerks transcribed her name in English.  Her immigration records (if I am right) list her as either: Pauline or Paulina Kothe single DOA 21/8/1870 in Hobart on the ship Victoria from Hamburg. aged 20 and occupation farm servant.  She hails from a German town called Cöslin also spelt Köslin  (now in Poland with the name Koszalin)

After the cessation of convict transportation in 1853 and the advent of the Victorian gold rush which denuded the state of labour a system of recruiting labour from Germany, in particular, passages were paid for in return for two years labour. In 1870 the Government of Van Diemen’s land sent a Mr Frederick Buck to Germany to sign up German labour to come to the colony.

Paulina came with a family known as the Hohne family in 1875, they, including Paulina, went to Frederick Mace’s property Brockley Estate on the banks of the Prosser River. The area was known then as Prosser’s Plains (now known as Buckland) Mace took over the estate in 1861.  The estate was a large user of convict and indentured labour. The Mace family still have property in the area and the estate still exists and offers an accommodation option for travellers.

  So, Augustus Hohne age 35

Auguste his wife aged 31

Johann -age 7 -son

Paulina  -5 daughter

Augustus 1 .5 son

Paulina Kothe – aged circa 20 (foster daughter). It’s possible she may have been an orphan or abandoned.

 Kothe is a common surname in Prussia and north-east Germany When she was born it was part of the Prussian Empire and remained part of Germany until 1945 when it was ceded to Poland.  Now in trying to track down her birth records I did note in the old Prussian territories there was a large amount of intermarriage between Slavic (largely Polish) and German peoples. It is possible this lady has some Slavic blood.

Her first husband happens to be a Charles Thorp. She married him on 9/3/1874 and if I am reading the marriage certificate right it was in a Congregational Church ceremony in Richmond. It makes sense as that church is very close in doctrine to the Lutheran Church and Paulina and the immigration records show her and the Hones religion as Lutheran. Actually, a schism in the Lutheran Church and Roman catholic opposition led to the immigration of many Germans and Danes to Australia principally the Barossa Valley in SA and areas of SE Queensland.  Some also came to Tasmania as I have previously outlined

Now the marriage to Thorp on 9/3/1874 did not last long; and she was in Franklin marrying George White in March 1875 and son Arthur George White is born 4/10/1875 which meant it was a ‘’shotgun’ marriage- and I say this non judgementally after all in those days with no support for unmarried mothers and it had a giant stigma attached– marriages were often imposed on couples where the spouse found herself “with child”. That means Arthur was conceived just after Xmas 1875 – the times are exceptionally tight between her marriage to Thorp and her marriage to White remembering to shift abode in those times wasn’t just a matter of hopping in a car and driving from Buckland or parts nearby to Franklin, especially a young unescorted female. It is significant that Augusta Hohne is a witness to her marriage in Franklin probably meaning she gave ongoing support to Paulina. Perhaps Thorp died suddenly; there is probably a story there we will never know, and I am reluctant to join the dots ,publicly, at least

Now there is a marriage record of her marrying George White at Franklin in 1875 she was 27 and White was 45. She is now listed as Pauline Cootee, which is either an attempt to anglicize her name or just a misspelling or a phonetic interpretation of Kothe.  White died at Franklin aged 63 of heart failure. Now she remarried in 1889 and used the name logically enough, Paulina White.She (re-)married a Frederick Johnston (born 1847) in Hobart in 1889.

Now there were children from her union with White at least a son Arthur John White born in Franklin) who ended up in Strahan as early as at least 1898 as that was the date he married in Strahan.  Now George’s previous wife Elizabeth (nee Tapp) and their son George Henry White both had relatively early deaths, at ages 39 and 24, respectively. They are buried together at St Johns Church Franklin.

An aside (All roads  lead to Strahan).

I was born in 1948 and lived at Strahan in my early childhood. I would return for a few years after that to stay with my grandmother and grandfather at their residence at Pontifex Street in West Strahan.  Like a lot of people, I have a strong almost mystical connection with Strahan. Strahan really was then a quiet village unlike the nondescript group of houses that make up todays modern Strahan village.  It was a long journey by road from Hobart and there was no direct road link from the Northwest until the opening of the Murchison Highway in late 1963.  There were more horses than cars for human transport in the Strahan of my childhood! Paulina’s son Arthur John White seems to have made his way to Strahan no later than 1896 where he married Theresa Gates. I am glad Paulina got to live in Strahan and she married there (twice) and her daughter Matilda Paulina Johnston was born in Strahan on 29/7/1896. (perhaps she moved to Strahan with her husband to be near her son.)  Some personal circumstances, perhaps ill- health forced her back to Hobart for the last few years of her life. The Strahan magnet also enticed her other son Frederick Augustus Thorpe to live and die there.  He is buried with his wife and his half-brother my great grandfather Arthur John White in the quiet little Strahan cemetery overlooking Macquarie Harbour. In an odd twist of fate the half-brothers married sisters (Teresa and Ethel gates). Around this time the other side of my family the Crane family were arriving in Strahan from Sandfly, where the Crane family is still represented. There is even a Cranes road in Sandfly. My grandfather Jim Crane was one of those unique Tasmanians who was a Huon Piner.

 The birth extract of lists the mother of Matilda Paulina Johnston as  Paulina Matilda Cotta!  So many variants of her name make working backwards in time most difficult.

An aside (Luck of the Whites)

Elizabeth and son George Henry White both had relatively early deaths, at ages 39 and 24, respectively and it serves as a segue into my late mother’s view that the White family was beset by tragedy- Uncle Jimmy White (James Kitchener Andrew White) was brought up by my grandmother as he lost his parents at an early age. A couple of them drowned at sea (they were fishermen). I visited Jimmy on his death bed at Peacock Hospice in North Hobart days before his death. He was barely conscious but indicated to him by pointing to my large nose we were related. His blue eyes momentarily sparkled in recognition. He was a serious comedian and was offered a job in a circus as a clown. My grandmother was a stern old lady as I remember but Uncle Jimmy was the only person who could make her laugh. He would smoke at the Pontifex pictures in Strahan and when the usher shone the torch had a method of concealing a lit cigarette in his mouth for a short time. Pauline herself seems to have had her share of misfortunes having had 2 or perhaps 3 husbands die on her prematurely.

Johnson died in 1896 – his death was registered in Zeehan.  She remarried the next year to a John William Hollis at Strahan (17/07/1897). Research on both sides of my family show 2 things. Firstly, single women ventured to immigrate to Tasmania through the lure of work as servants, nannies, farmhands – the “better life” theory, perhaps? In fact, as men outnumbered women almost immediately after the start of white incursion into Tasmania, to lessen the imbalance and to attract good domestic servants, the ‘Bounty System’ was introduced in 1831 for women between 15 and 30.

Secondly, they quickly married ‘’locals which included both emancipated convicts and free settlers often many years their senior and given the uncertainty of the times I venture to say out of the need for security not necessarily love. The fact they quickly remarried after the death of a spouse again demonstrated the need for security, remembering there were no social security nets in those days.

Although seemingly a Strahan resident she was buried at Cornelian Bay upon her death in 1919 ; now why she didn’t get buried at Strahan is an enigma. She names her daughter in law (Maud May Johnston) as executor of her estate. I assume she lived in Hobart as her husband Leslie Charles Johnston, who was either her son or step-son, was it seems a Hobart resident as he owned no 1 Short St Glebe when he died. Maud Johnston may have arranged this final resting place.   Nice symmetry she entered Australia through the port of Hobart and is buried there. I found her grave in Section DD plot no 60.(C of E section) – there is a non-legible headstone; time has obliterated the original headstone She may have lived with her son and daughter in law. (Leslie Charles & Maud May Johnston) In her will her husband John Hollis is listed as being in NSW – he may have travelled there to find work as a carpenter.  Her will is very close to her death – perhaps she got very ill and had to go to Hobart where there was better medical care. Or her daughter in law nursed her as she got progressively sicker. She notated her will as making a mark indicating she was either literate or too ill to sign.

I would venture to say her true maiden name was Paulina Matilda Augusta Kothe. My first visit to her grave was on a sunny winter’s day and she lies at rest close to the river with splendid kunyani/Mt Wellington looking down on her and adjacent to the beautiful cliffs of Cornelian Bay. I whispered a few words in German to her. 

[gotham-ruaidh]

I've always wondered who the "Daddy" is Brianna calls for when giving birth in DOA. Logic says Jamie who is by her side at her insistence the whole time, but she's always reserved that name for Frank.

"Daddy!" Brianna reached out blindly, flailing as a contraction took her unaware. Jamie lunged forward and caught her hand, squeezing tight.  

  "I'm here, a bheanachd, I'm here."  

  She breathed heavily, face bright red, then relaxed, and swallowed.

-- Drums of Autumn

I’d like to think she’s calling out to both of her fathers. Why wouldn’t she want both of them with her, in that moment? Jamie knows she refers to Frank as “Daddy,” and yet he responds to her in this passage. Because he’s right there with her. And his presence - his response - soothes her.

Let me add that I think it is absolutely beautiful how Jamie is present with Brianna and Claire in this moment. He couldn’t be there for Faith - or for Brianna - but I so, so love how he was there for Jem. And how Brianna didn’t mind one bit.

[blainerollins]

361 Capital Weekly Research Briefing: March Madness…

March 13, 2017

How is your bracket doing? Before the ACA Repeal and Replace plan hit the court last week, it already looked like its odds of passage were longer than Mount St. Mary’s chance to win the Men’s NCAA Basketball Tournament on April 3rd. We all know that this is just the first pass in a long negotiation, however, you had to think that the odds were immediately stacked against it when no one wanted to put their name on it. Many supporters started to hedge on its ability to pass immediately while some GOP’ers came out against it right away. As we wait for the Congressional Budget Office (CBO) to score it and calculate what it will do to the budget, we are already counting the individual winners and losers in the market. Without a forced larger pool of insureds, the quality of the pool will decline as younger, healthier people leave coverage. Thus, remaining insureds should have higher prices. For those who leave because they can’t afford insurance, the individual hospitals and health care systems will need to figure out how to pay for the uninsured or absorb the losses. And if you live in a state who expanded Medicare, then you can expect your taxes to rise very quickly to pay for the Federal Government assistance (which will stop in 2019). Lots to think about in this first version, but given all the politicians, voters and special interest groups who are against it, you have to think that the final version will look very different.

Meanwhile, the financial markets are watching this first game closely and continuing to hedge their post-election bets. It makes sense that if the ACA Repeal and Replace gets delayed, or even arrives DOA, then everything else will get pushed back. It seems like the Republican Administration should have started with some easier moves (like Infrastructure and Tax Reform) to help put Americans back to work and clear up business uncertainty. But maybe this was all inside an episode of ‘Game of Thrones’ or ‘House of Cards’ which I forgot and will all work out. But for now, the credit markets are acting worrisome, bank stocks have paused and infrastructure plays are rolling over. Meanwhile, it will be a very busy week of new data and info coming from every part of the globe: elections in the Netherlands, the FOMC meeting, new economic data (CPI, Retail sales), Bank of Japan meeting, Bank of England meeting, some debt ceiling hike talk, the CBO score of ACA Repeal and Replace in addition to the storm scheduled to whack the East coast. Have fun trying to keep one eye on the tape and one eye on the basketball game.

No one is rushing to put their name on this new piece of landmark legislation…

The grounds for the right’s opposition is that the House bill would replace Obamacare with a “new entitlement,” albeit one funded almost entirely through cuts to an old entitlement (Medicaid) and which would provide such meager benefits as to be useless to large numbers of its purported beneficiaries.

What makes this revolt so confounding to the party leadership is that the House bill, while too liberal for the party’s right flank, is also almost certainly too conservative to pass the Senate. Senators Lisa Murkowski, Cory Gardner, Rob Portman, and Shelly Moore Capito signed a letter yesterday opposing the bill’s repeal of the Medicaid expansion. A fifth, Dean Heller, has raised concerns about protecting Medicaid. Susan Collins and Bill Cassidy have proposed a much more moderate replacement bill, which has also been co-sponsored by Capito and Johnny Isakson. Additionally, Lamar Alexander, Jeff Flake, and Lindsey Graham have urged caution and deliberation — all of which run counter to the leadership’s strategy of ramming a bill through as quickly as possible in order to enable the passage of a big tax cut later in the year.

That makes 11 Republican senators who have, in some form or fashion, expressed reservations about the party leadership’s preferred health care strategy. Even assuming the three senators who object to the law from the right — Ted Cruz, Rand Paul, and Mike Lee — can be corralled, Trumpcare seems to be very far from corralling the necessary 50 Senate votes. And this is before the Congressional Budget Office produces its score, which will probably show millions and millions of people losing coverage, and may possibly also show the deficit blowing up.

(NY Mag)

However, the House did legislate these new bike lanes for all GOP Senators who live in states that expanded Medicare…

(@_youhadonejob1)

Even the fiscally responsible have their knives drawn on this one…

Of course, in hindsight, Democrats were perfectly right to want to keep Americans from hearing about what had been done to the health-care system; when voters did find out, they didn’t like it. And that, in turn, offers clues to why the Republicans’ bill is so bad.

There is no sensible thing that you can do to our health-care system that will not offend huge numbers of voters. Thus we got Obamacare, a program which, to a first approximation, 0 percent of Democratic policy analysts would have put forward if asked to design a rational program to extend coverage and improve health-care delivery. It was a gigantic Rube Goldberg contraption, deliberately complicated and opaque to avoid openly angering any important constituency, and arguably, fatally flawed for that same reason.

Now that Republicans have their turn in the spotlight, they’re resorting to all the same tricks: the secrecy, the opacity, the long implementation delays (the better to get a good score from the Congressional Budget Office, and oh, yes, also, get them past the next election before voters meet their program). The inability of either party to make a principled stand for sensible policy is a problem, a very big one. And Republicans sure haven’t fixed it.

(Bloomberg)

This is increasingly alarming…

Corporate loan growth has frozen as companies wait for direction out of D.C. on tax reform, capex changes, interest deductibility, etc.

(WSJ/Daily Shot)

I have always pointed to credit as being one of the most important thermometers for the equity market…

While we have had a flood of new corporate bonds hit the market (about $15b last week), we also saw some significant redemptions from the large junk bond ETFs. This is not a healthy sign and should make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

To read the full 361 Capital Weekly Research Briefing, please click here

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[phgq]

Senate leaders buck 2-year probation period for workers

#PHnews: Senate leaders buck 2-year probation period for workers

MANILA -- Senate leaders on Monday expressed their opposition to the proposal seeking to extend the maximum period of probationary employment from six months to 24 months.

Senate President Vicente Sotto III said the proposal practically goes against the move to end contractualization.

“It needs a considerable amount of study,” Sotto said in a message to reporters.

For Senate Minority Leader Franklin Drilon, the proposal may not even merit the review of the chamber.

“I will oppose its passage. If the House passes it, consider it DOA (dead on arrival) in the Senate. Hindi ito makatarungan. Hindi makatwiran (It is not fair. It is not reasonable),” Drilon said in a separate message.

Earlier, Senator Joel Villanueva said the current six-month probationary period is enough for employers to assess their new employees.

“Applicants go through a battery of tests and a series of interviews to determine their fitness for the job. The six-month probationary period is the window of opportunity for employers to vet if the skills of the applicant meet their requirement,” the chair of the Senate labor panel said in a statement.

“It is up to the employer to set performance indicators to determine if the applicant is the right fit for the job. It is likewise the responsibility of the employers to check the progress of their employees to make sure they meet their companies’ standards,” Villanueva said.

The senators were referring to House Bill 4802 that was filed by Probinsyano Ako party-list Rep. Jose Singson Jr.

The proposed measure seeks to extend the probationary employment period to up to two years to give employers a longer time to evaluate their employees for regularization.

The Department of Labor and Employment has already expressed its opposition to the bill.

Labor Secretary Silvestre Bello III said extending the probation period "violates the workers’ right to security of tenure."

The Cabinet official also warned that the proposal might even “encourage illegal contractualization practices.” (PNA)

  ***

References:

* Philippine News Agency. "Senate leaders buck 2-year probation period for workers." Philippine News Agency. https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1083756 (accessed October 22, 2019 at 01:38AM UTC+14).

* Philippine News Agency. "Senate leaders buck 2-year probation period for workers." Archive Today. https://archive.ph/?run=1&url=https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1083756 (archived).

[racingtoaredlight]

Opening Bell: December 21, 2018

Yesterday included such an intense flood of news stories, all of them front page above-the-field in their own right, that it is difficult to know where to start. Generally speaking, the resignation of a cabinet level official—especially one with the clout and seniority of Secretary of Defense—is probably the most significant; though the list of high-ranking Trump administration officials who have left office in less than two years is so long that it reminds one of the opening crawl in a Star Wars movie. Late yesterday, President Donald Trump announced via Twitter that Secretary of Defense James Mattis, a retired four-star Marine general, would leave office at the end of February. Shortly thereafter, the text of Mattis’s resignation letter were publicized, indicating that Mattis was not leaving office out of choice, but rather out of policy differences with the president. Mattis’s letter amounts to a widespread rejection of Trump’s entire approach to foreign policy. The departure of Mattis, and the prospect of Trump nominating someone who more closely resembles Trump’s skepticism of the international order and America’s role in it—which in a previous generation was referred to as “isolationism,” caused a wave of near-panic to erupt among Democrats and conservative Trump critics.

The departure of Mattis, an ardent believer in America’s place—both militarily and diplomatically—on the international scene, along with the abrupt announcement by the White House by Trump had ordered the immediate withdrawal of the U.S. military from Syria—first claiming that ISIS had been defeated, but then followed by an assertion that dealing with ISIS was the problem of Syria, Turkey, Iraq, and Russia—exacerbated feelings towards the sudden pivot in Trump’s foreign policy. The withdrawal of the approximately 2,000 troops in Syria was quickly followed late yesterday by an announcement that half of the 14,000 American troops in Afghanistan would also be withdrawn. The problem with these announcements is not the withdrawal of troops. There is, and has been for years now, a cogent argument for reducing the American military footprint in Middle East and of finally winding down American involvement in Afghanistan. The campaign to contain ISIS has turned into a proxy war in Iraq and Syria to counter Iranian and Russian influence in the region; an extension of the “Great Game” geopolitics of the 19th century and the worldwide chess moves between East and West during the Cold War. Afghanistan is a different story. The United States military has had a presence in Afghanistan so long—over 17 tears now—that some recent military casualties there have been suffered by soldiers who were barely one year of age when the U.S. first intervened in the fall of 2001. The problem is the procedure, the method by which the Trump administration goes about these withdrawals. There is, so far, little reasoning given for either withdrawal, let alone a plan for either a phased or a rapid withdrawal. If Donald Trump cannot articulate a reason for the withdrawals, then his motivation, at this point in his presidency, is suspect. And there is nothing to suggest that Trump has closely considered the consequences, either intended or unintended, of such moves. This fuels the level of discomfit among Trump critics and proponents of a salient American presence on the world stage.

In what would normally be the story driving the news cycle, it appeared this week that Congressional Republicans had spending measure in place which the president would sign and which would fund the operations of the federal government through early February. This measure provided no funding for a border wall, despite Donald Trump’s insistence that $5 billion be appropriated for immediate construction of a wall—in fulfillment of a campaign promise—which then prompted the president, after criticism from his base (notably, Ann Coulter) to refuse to sign any spending measure which did not include at least some spending on border wall construction. Despite being in the minority—for only a few more weeks in the House—Congressional Democrats are emboldened by the president’s recent televised gaffe in which he pledged, bragged even, that he would take responsibility for any government shutdown. In the past, Democratic leaders, especially Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-NY) have been willing to compromise on funding for a border wall, but Trump has always demurred. Now Schumer and Speaker-designate Nancy Pelosi are refusing to vote for any measure which includes border wall funding. Late yesterday, House Republicans inserted language providing border wall funding and the spending bill passed, albeit with over 30 members absent. Word is, however, that members of the Senate, of both parties, are uncomfortable with how the border wall language was inserted so late in the process and many consider the spending bill DOA in the upper chamber.

Normally, the passage of a bipartisan criminal justice reform bill would be the signature legislative achievement of an administration, especially a Democratic administration. Instead, this package of reforms, which target jail time and provides job programs for non-violent offenders. For an administration that has largely been construed as playing to the viewpoints of its white and rural base, this would and should be a landmark bill, paraded before the media as an example of how an administration can work beyond base politics. But this administration has exhibited some of the poorest message control of any modern presidential staff, and so, given all of the above, it should not be surprise that, within the context of this week, this bill is now a mere footnote to the week.

Violent crime is at record-level lows throughout the country, unemployment is at its lowest level in two decades, inflation remains low, and the economy is humming, even if wages are still tracking behind GDP growth. And yet drug abuse remains endemic, especially opioid based drugs. In Philadelphia’s Kensington neighborhood, the largest outdoor drug market in the United States persists, despite two coordinated, well-organized city programs to drive addicts out of the city’s poorest neighborhoods and efforts to move them into recovery shelters and to establish safe-injection sites. This is a fascinating deep dive into an open drug community, which has a structure and expectations, and how this marketplace functions alongside neighborhood residents who loathe their new fellow residents. What is notable about this piece is that it is not a meditation on drug policy in this country, or even in Philadelphia, it is a simple examination of what life is like in a homeless, drug encampment in one of the nation’s largest cities. It is worth reading.

2018 marked the 100th anniversary of the end of the First World War. The war, quite correctly, is noted often as a significant splice between the old war and that of the 20th century; kingdoms and empires which existed prior to the war were split into polyglot republics afterward. The First World War undoubtedly set the stage for the Second, which in turn provided the basis for which the world has existed ever since; American involvement with Western Europe in contradiction to Eastern Bloc nations. As American power has allegedly waned, it is tempting to compare it to that of the British Empire before and after the First World War and to Britain’s approach to both the First and Second World War. This is a subject which has attracted academics for decades, as the article notes (and which I could, if I had the time, expend thousands of words on for a hagiographic post). The primary criticism of British strategy by American brass in the 1940s was that the British were too reliant upon peripheral operations, with a marked reticence to engage in direct operations. This argument has often ignored the direct involvement of large British field armies in Europe and other places, something which this post touches upon, along with the role of the Royal Navy.

In popular movies, the professional safecracker is usually a thief-for-hire by other professional burglars; think Don Cheadle in Ocean’s 11 or Billy Bob Thornton in Bad Santa. Such individuals, notwithstanding the adherence to explosives or the drunkenness, actually exist and, if they have a reputation for promptness and discretion, are in demand in the square world of safe-cracking deceased grandparents and forgetful bank officers. Geoff Manaugh of The Atlantic followed around a professional safe cracker in Southern California for six months and the industry, through small, is as busy as it ever was.

It has become common, especially in this day where craft breweries have reached widespread popularity, to deride American lagers as tasteless, flavorless brews for the unsophisticated masses. Putting this aside—Miller High Life has its place alongside one of my own personal local favorites, Lakewood Lager—there is a reason that lagers are the preeminent American beer, and it has to do with German immigrants, the American climate being markedly different from that of Britain, and the Civil War. Rather than try to summarize, I invite you to read this thoroughly enjoyable, and informative, piece on why we drink what we drink.

Finally, any good political handicapper should be bound by their predictions of the previous year and to account for those that went right and, especially, those that were completely wrong. The University of Virginia’s Center for Politics does just this in their 2018 year end review.

Welcome to the Winter Solstice.