#English Military Cemetery

[girlactionfigure]

After more than 100 years IDF soldiers of the 188th Brigade raised an Israeli flag over one of the graves of a Jew buried in the English Military Cemetery in Gaza and performed the kaddish prayer.

[sgiandubh]

OMG! I can practically see her pulling at her pearls in indignation and fury! I wonder how many wet dreams he rejected her to result in this anger 🙃🙄😜 https://www.tumblr.com/maximumwobblerbanditdonut/747779411400671232/public-intoxication-sh-was-invited-to-the-landcon?source=share

Dear Pearl Clutching Anon,

This woman is the worst mythomaniac and the most pathetic know-it-all of the entire fandom. Mark me: probably a sock account of one of the Mordor sopranos, who'd like to play it cool otherwise. She is an impostor, pretending to be a Scot. But her grammar and spelling recurrent mistakes point to anything else but an English native speaker.

Prized and praised as she is by the dim-witted, she is living proof of the fact that you cannot reasonably and endlessly pretend to be an expert in hair implants, cocktails/bartending, audiovisual production, copyright, alcohol sales and pretty much everything in between. To me, she is at her most pathetic when she pretends to analyze the legal intricacies of the French regulations applicable to public alcohol tasting events.

What happened, in fact, at the Landcon 6 whisky tasting?

Ok. So, this was announced by the French organizers on March 5th and presented as a limited audience event, priced at 350 euros.

This idiot's comment is absolutely priceless:

She would be surprised to find out that, unlike the US, there has never been any Prohibition decreed in France (Hell would have frozen). Even more interestingly, the only venues where French law specifically prohibits alcohol tastings and sales are enumerated very clearly in regulations far above her intellectual abilities:

The main idea is that you cannot sell/organize alcohol tastings in public health venues (hospitals, clinics, etc), rehabilitation clinics (d'oh!) - both for alcohol and drug addictions -, schools, youth summer camps, sports arenas, swimming pools or any other public or private sports venues.

(Source: French Public Health Code, https://www.dalloz.fr/documentation/Document?id=CODE_CSPU_ARTI_D3335-1&scrll=CSPU022225&FromId=CODES_SECS_CSPU_TALPHA)

To these limitations, the French national professional organizations add, as best practice, the following: churches, cemeteries, prisons, military barracks, railway/public transport facilities (including depots).

(Source: Vin & Société's Guide juridique de la dégustation/Tasting Legal Guide - https://www.syndicat-cotesdurhone.com/upload/article/file/202103guidejuridiquedeladegustation-60658bb9468b4.pdf)

To my knowledge, Landcon's venue was neither a cemetery, nor a church (the latter could be, however discussed: wee & lame joke, btw). And for that poor woman's information, you would not need an exemption, but a permit, or licence. In current French law, there are four such sale permits, ranked from I (soft drinks, such as Orangina) to IV (all drinks, including spirits). The fabled Licence IV (also the name of a beloved 90s French kitschy music group, LOL) is now impossible to obtain and if you want to have one, you have to buy the venue (cafe, nightclub, bar, bistro, restaurant or buvette) that had it issued first, many moons ago.

That problem solved, we would have to further analyze the type of event hosted by the Landcon. Was it a tasting or a sale, according to French regulations?

If it was a tasting, no licence is needed. If it was a sale, you might need a temporary licence, granted by the Mayor, provided you have notified them at least 3 months before the event. These are also famously hard to get and very sparingly granted, too.

Because tastings are an exception, they are strictly defined by French regulations as 'free alcohol consumption' and their regulations are excruciatingly detailed. Procedures and limitations vary according to the type of event: sports, tourism promotion, markets and fairs, public gatherings or cultural events (which is the one that seemed the closest to our situation). But a cultural event-cum-tasting would have to be completely free of charge (no paying access tickets), in order to be exempt from any legal obligation. This was not the case, as we know there was a rather steep, 350 euros fee, to be able to attend it:

(Source: Vin & Société's Guide juridique de la dégustation/Tasting Legal Guide - https://www.syndicat-cotesdurhone.com/upload/article/file/202103guidejuridiquedeladegustation-60658bb9468b4.pdf)

That new activity was certainly not a tasting, as defined by French law. An amateur could then conclude, that S's event was, in fact, a disguised sale and that he is either a sinister fool or a filthy conman.

The trouble is, French legislation tolerates one single, overruling exception to everything I wrote above: sale by the producer of said alcohol. It is to be found (or rather interpreted - and it has been so by myself AND the French professional organizations), in the Code Général des Impôts/ French Tax Code:

To avoid a tedious legal translation, the idea is that if you do not sell your own produced booze, you are automatically considered as a stockist/trader and as such, subject to alcohol sales' regulations. If the Landcon organizers would have sold/promoted Laphroaig, for example, they would have needed the permit. But hosting a paying tasting event organized by SRH, promoting SRH's whisky and which profits entirely belonged to SRH is a sale by the producer, as defined by French law, not needing a permit:

(Source: Vin & Société's Guide juridique de la vente/Sales Legal Guide - https://fgvb.fr/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Vin-et-Societe-Guide-juridique-de-la-vente-19042021.pdf)

So: even if the tasting event was, in fact, a sale, French law allows a producer to sell his own alcohol, for promotion purposes as a side event, with no further need to obtain a permit. And this is exactly what their legal team rightfully advised them to do and completely what I would advised them to do, too.

That woman is so often and in so many ways completely wrong, that she is absolutely ridiculous. She (and also her other Big Friend) should perhaps stop pretending to be whatever they are not. Infantilizing, bullying and snarling at people does not help with their credibility.

Such women are genuine Frauds and absolutely despicable. People spend years fucking their eyesight in law school and we do not joke about interpreting and reading legalese. Ever. But to see idiots pretending to know just because they fucking used Google for ten minutes is just infuriating: it took me two hours to find the exception and another two to write this comment.

I hope this long, tedious answer was helpful, Anon.

[i-am-aprl]

IDF soldiers of the 188th Brigade performed the Kaddish prayer for the fallen Jewish soldiers of World War 1 at the English Military Cemetery in Gaza.

Doesn't the presence of these well-maintained cemeteries, which seem to be cared for, refute the claim that the Palestinians and the government that administers the Gaza Strip call for the killing of all Jews and disdain Jewish religious beliefs?

Would those cemeteries still exist if, for example, Hamas was equal to ISIS?

جنود الجيش الإسرائيلي من لواء 188 أدوا صلاة الكاديش على أرواح الجنود اليهود الذين سقطوا في الحرب العالمية الأولى في المقبرة العسكرية الإنجليزية في غزة

أليس وجود تلك المقابر بحالة جيدة وبشكل يوحي بأنه تم الاعتناء بها يفند الادعاء بأن الفلسطينيين والحكومة التي تدير قطاع غزة تدعو لقتل كل اليهود وتزدري المعتقدات الدينية اليهودية؟ هو لو كانت حماس فعلاً مثلا داعش كانت ستظل تلك المقابر موجودة؟

[lostinhistory]

Heritage News of the Week

Discoveries!

Archaeologists suggest ‘woodhenge’ was built between 2600 and 1600BC on similar axis to English stone circle

Man's brain turned to glass by hot Vesuvius ash cloud

Nearly 2,000 years after a young man died in the Vesuvius volcanic eruption, scientists have discovered that his brain was preserved when it turned to glass in an extremely hot cloud of ash.

New Pompeii excavations reveal frescoes depicting a mysterious ritual

A downright bacchanalian frieze has just been unearthed in Pompeii, one so large it spans three walls of a massive banquet room.

From destruction to discovery: Ancient Greek tombstone discovered in Libya after Storm ‘Daniel’

The Libyan Antiquities Authority has officially confirmed that an ancient artifact uncovered in the torrents caused by Storm “Daniel” in the city of Shahat is a Greek tombstone made of limestone, located in the northern cemetery area.

'Nailed-head ritual' in Iron Age Spain was more 'complex than initially thought,' severed skulls reveal

An analysis of the origins of seven severed skulls with nails through them shows that some people treated this way in Iron Age Spain were local while others came from afar.

A new study hints at the origins of an ancient Easter Island script

The language could have predated the arrival of the Europeans.

Archaeologists reveal a 3,000-year-old gold processing complex

Archaeologists from the Supreme Council of Antiquities (SCA) have completed a two-year project to uncover a 3,000-year-old gold processing complex at Jabal Sukari, southwest of Marsa Alam City in Egypt’s Red Sea Governorate.

Ancient DNA reveals mysterious origins of the Huns who sacked Rome

The origin of the European Huns, a nomadic group that helped topple the Roman Empire, has been shrouded in mystery — until now. A new study of ancient DNA from fifth- to sixth-century Hun skeletons suggests they were a motley crew of mixed origin with a few connections to the Xiongnu Empire in Mongolia.

Neanderthal 'population bottleneck' around 110,000 years ago may have contributed to their extinction

A study of the inner ear bones of Neanderthals shows a significant loss of diversity in their shape around 110,000 years ago, suggesting a genetic bottleneck that contributed to Neanderthals' decline.

New insights into Inca pilgrimages to volcanic peaks

Archaeologists have examined the ritual landscape the Inca used during their pilgrimages to perform capacocha rituals on volcanic peaks.

Royal mosaic house found in Pergamon

Turkish archaeologists discovered a large and elaborately decorated Roman-era building at the site of Pergamon in Izmir.

1,800-year-old mini portrait of Alexander the Great turns up in surprising location

Today, Alexander the Great is widely considered antiquity’s preeminent military commander. As it turns out, his battleground fame was so far flung that, even 500 years after his death, Alexander was being venerated in lands untouched by his blistering campaigns.

Over 7,000-year-old traces of life discovered in Ratina Cave on Šćedro Island, Croatia

Recent archaeological excavations on Šćedro Island, located south of Hvar, have unveiled significant findings that challenge previous understandings of the island’s prehistoric past. The Ratina Cave, a site of interest since the early 20th century, has revealed evidence of human activity dating back to the late Neolithic period, approximately 3000 years earlier than previously believed.

20,000-year-old evidence of ancient 'vehicles' discovered in New Mexico

Ancient footprints and drag marks at White Sands National Park in New Mexico suggest the earliest known Americans dragged wooden travois-like vehicles.

Medieval church discovered beneath Eschwege car park

Construction works to transform a former car park into a public space has revealed the remains of a medieval church.

150,000-year-old stone tools reveal humans lived in tropical rainforests much earlier than thought

Researchers have discovered that humans lived in tropical rainforests 150,000 years ago, around 100,000 years earlier than previous evidence suggested.

Oldest example of writing in northern Iberia

Archaeologists uncovered a small inscribed object at the Iron Age settlement of La Peña del Castro that bears evidence of one of the oldest examples of writing ever found in northern Iberia.

Researchers uncover stories of Black Londoners who escaped slavery

The untold stories of Black Londoners who escaped slavery in the capital and joined free communities in the East End have been uncovered by researchers who draw comparisons with the Underground Railroad in the US.

Museums

Amid ceaseless attacks on LGBTQ+ rights, art institutions have a responsibility to center and support their queer and trans staff and visitors.

Stonewall National Museum says its financial future is shaky

The Stonewall National Museum, Archives & Library in South Florida claims that state and federal anti-LGBTQ policies have siphoned off the institution’s operating budget and scared off corporate investors, leaving the museum in financial peril.

“Exhaust all options”: City council holds hearing on Brooklyn Museum layoffs

Museum workers and union representatives urged the institution to explore alternatives before cutting nearly 50 full- and part-time staff.

Buffy Sainte-Marie removed from Canadian Museum for Human Rights exhibit

Buffy Sainte-Marie has been scrubbed out of an exhibit at the Canadian Museum for Human Rights because of questions surrounding the folk singer and activist's claims of First Nations identity.

First Leonardo da Vinci museum in the US coming this fall

The Colorado museum will focus on the artist’s engineering endeavors, bringing his drawings, text, and experiments to life through interactive models.

Horn heist: B.C. train museum gets railroaded by targeted thefts

Pictures of priceless horn found circulating on a Discord server in the U.S. prior to theft

Repatriation

The Metropolitan Museum of Art has repatriated a 7th-century bronze head donated by a former trustee head to Greece following a review internally of it’s provenance records. The museum’s researchers concluded it was likely illegally removed from the Archaeological Museum of Olympia in the 1930s, though details of the removal aren’t known.

Nigeria works to reclaim Benin Bronzes, with a change of custodian

The country’s National Commission for Museums and Monuments will now be responsible for retrieving and housing the looted works, according to Reuters. This is a shift away from the 2023 presidential decree that named the Oba of Benin, the traditional ruler of the Edo people, as their rightful owner and custodian.

Ancient artifacts worth $2.2m recovered by Manhattan DA’s office will be returned to Greece and Italy

The Manhattan District Attorney‘s Office recently announced the recovery of two groups of ancient artifacts which would be returned to Greece and Italy.

Heritage at risk

Experts worry for the future of vital preservation programs as the US State Department reviews its policies.

Odds and ends

Howard Carter's luggage is still covered in the sand of the Valley of the Kings, according to a local antiques expert.

This First Nation is recruiting its members to do archaeology and prove their oral history is true

Chipewyan Prairie First Nation has taken part in archaeological digs in its territory for several years now, according to Shaun Janvier, director of Chipewyan Prairie Industry Relations, who says the work proves what the community's always known.

Edward II: Did a gay love affair spark a 14th-century royal crisis?

A new revival of Christopher Marlowe's pioneering play about the 14th-Century King of England puts the spotlight back on his relationship with his male "favourite" Piers Gaveston.

Is there graffiti of a legendary film star under the Lincoln Memorial?

A sketch hidden on concrete walls for over a century may depict early film star Theda Bara.

We stan a goth queen

‘We’re being treated as grifters or terrorists’: US federal workers on the fear and chaos of their firings

An educator, archaeologist and scientist were among the thousands of government workers culled by Musk’s agency

[film-classics]

Constance Bennett - The Hollywood Fox

Constance Campbell Bennett (born in New York City on October 22, 1904) was an American actress born to an aristocratic family of actors of English and Spanish ancestry. She glided through Hollywood with a sprite-like lightness and definite air of style and sophistication, receiving the moniker, "The Hollywood Fox."

The eldest of three daughters of actress Adrienne Morrison and actor Richard Bennett, she attended the Chapin School in New York along with her sisters Joan Bennett and Barbara Bennett. She was first Bennett sister to enter motion pictures, appearing in New York–produced silent movies before a meeting with Samuel Goldwyn led to her Hollywood debut in 1924. She took a hiatus during a brief marriage, but resumed it after her divorce.

In the early 1930s, Bennett was frequently among the top actresses due to hits like Topper (1937). Her contracts with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Warner Brothers, and RKO made her a big star in Hollywood, and her cutthroat contract negotiations earned her the sole female spot among Hollywood’s poker-playing elite comprised of top movie moguls.

By the 1940s, Bennett was working less frequently in film but was in demand in both radio and theatre, and she also formed her own production company, Constance Bennett Pictures, which produced two films. Nonetheless, shrewd investments made her a wealthy woman, even founding a cosmetics and clothing company, called "Fashion Focks."

Shortly after Madame X (1966) was completed, Bennett collapsed and died from a cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 60 in Walston Army Hospital at Fort Dix, New Jersey. In recognition of her military contributions, and as the wife of John Theron Coulter, who had achieved the rank of brigadier general, she was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

Legacy:

Won the Photoplay Awards - Best Performances of the Month in April 1925

Was the highest-paid actress in Hollywood during the early 1930s

Founded the Constance Bennett Cosmetics Company and a clothing company called "Fashion Frocks" in the 1930s

Formed her own production company, Constance Bennett Pictures, which produced two films: Paris Underground (1945) and Smart Woman (1948)

Made smart business investments, including holding stocks in the historic Arrowhead Springs Hotel

Awarded military honors for her role in coordinating shows flown to Europe for occupying troops (1946-48) and the Berlin Airlift (1948-49)

Nominated as the Hall of Fame: Actress Award in the 1978 Photoplay Awards

Has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 6250 Hollywood Blvd for motion picture

[ryololart]

Tex's Backstory and Meeting Simon for the First Time

Warnings (all listed here)

Summary: Her childhood roughly and meeting simon

The border from Mexico to The United States is 1,951 miles long running from the Gulf to California. The main point of crossing lies at Ciudad Juarez and El Paso. It is the busiest border with over 300 million people crossing each year. With only three public ports of entry, 650 million dollars a day of goods have to travel through each day. 

Living near the border as a child was an experience to say the least, I saw the horror stories that showed up on the news. From drug deals, children separated from their parents that were jsut  trying to seek asylum, and cartels warring with border control. I saw too much blood as a kid. I knew the familiar sinking of red into the sand and how it smelled when it got hot in the sun. I watched as politicians came and went, claiming they cared and then locked people in cages like animals. I resented the government just as much as I needed them because the stories of deals gone south were just as true as the military coming to build the walls .They told you never  pick up hitchhikers, or stop for a lone car, that’ll be the last thing you ever do. Gunpowder was a familiar smell on Route 90. 

Some of my best friends growing up were immigrants from south of the border, they taught me Spanish, and told me their stories. Carlos was from El Largo, he and his brother were running from the Cartel their father was a part of. He lived down the street in a shack that had been empty for years. They broke in and fixed it up enough to not look suspicious. I had taught him how to replace shingles on a roof and how to put bars over the windows to keep kids from throwing rocks through them. However, his brother sold coke from over the border to make ends meet when he couldn’t get a job. He didn’t speak enough English and skin was too dark. They both died in a train accident when the rival cartel came and blew it up. We lit candles and left flowers at their door. Maia’s family were from Guatemala seeking a better life for her and her five siblings. They walked the entire way only to be made to sleep outside the fence for a half a year while their papers were being processed. Her little sister Nina died from heat stroke that summer. I remember the look on their mother’s face when she got into Sanderson. I had brought the lunch to my brother’s group at the Border Patrol Station where they all huddled together, cups of water in their hands they clung to like they had never seen it before. Outliving your child was one of the worst things to happen to a parent, and the gruesome way little Nina went out made me want to throw up. The desert isn’t kind to those who are fragile and yet she made it, but the government is what failed them. Liana and Marcus were two kids in my class whose family were deported and the two were left behind. They would sleep in the church pews and beg on the streets for money. Those two often stayed at my house when Mason and Papa weren’t home. They were my best friend’s growing up. Liana with her witty attitude and ability to stand up to anyone, and Marcus would throw fists to protect the other Mexican kids in town. They were stronger than I was, always had more grit even when they had nothing to lose. They kept each other going, and some days they kept me going too. 

I grew up in the small, poverty-stricken town of Sanderson, Texas with a population of a little over 600. We have one clinic, a train station, a gas station, a courthouse, two places to eat, a corner store, a library, a highschool, a cemetery, a disgusting motel, and a bizarre museum. It was the classic small town in the middle of nowhere, but at the same time in just the right place for trouble. There was one major place in town, the US Border Patrol Station where people came and went frequently. We were right on the train line coming from El Paso that brought everyone here. It was how the town made the little money we had. Asylum seekers spending what small amounts they had only to get stuck and have to stay for a while. Each week a few families would get off the train and walk the mile out to the UBPS. A few stores and businesses would hire the immigrants but they were unfairly underpaid and coerced into doing the jobs no one else wanted. 

My oldest brother, Mason, was a guard for the UBPS. I wish I could say he was a good man, but he wasn’t. He did things I don’t know if I can even stomach speaking of. Just hearing the door creak open, the shuffle of hard military boots on the weak floorboards, and the disgusting sound of his chirpy voice would make me climb out my bedroom window. I’d rather sleep in the truck bed in the heat of the summer than sleep in the same house as him. He often brought women home from the border only to kick them out on their own the next day. Mason wasn’t even handsome, he just offered that he would help them get on their feet if they paid with their bodies. Sometimes they were single mothers of families desperate for help. He wasn’t gentle either, I often saw them struggling to leave. heading back to the UBPS in the early dawn, covered with bruises. He often would make bets with his other guard friends on whether a kid would cry when they were separated from their parents. Often those kids were taken and never seen again. Trafficking ran rampant during these times. He killed some of them, the ones without papers, the people no one would remember. He would leave what drugs he had that day on their bodies to be found by the dogs. 

Mason is why I can’t stand dogs. He had this mutt, Cargo, vicious thing. He would often neglect him, push him to anger, and reactivity. I felt for him, he was just a dog, a loyal pup who wanted to be loved. Although none of us could get close enough for that without teeth in our arms. He nearly took my finger once. His barking would lead to my hands over my ears, and he often made me sprint inside to avoid him. Ethan and I had to keep him out back because he tried to bite Lucas.

 Mason was very ill, mentally. My friends would avoid him when they came over, hell I avoided him. He was awful to my other brothers and I. When he died in the early 2000s I didn’t flinch, god, I cried in relief. We all took a shot that night, in celebration of that war being fought and won. 

I think my father was the main reason Mason ended up like that. Papa was a cruel man, an alcoholic addicted to cocaine. However, that seemed to be the trend in the Thomas household. I knew he was home by the smell of the burnt rubber and chemicals. When he couldn’t hold a job, which was most of the time, he was doing various odd jobs. He never brought home enough cash to keep us going, especially with the bills from the clinic. He hit us frequently, put a hole in my door more than once, crashed the family’s only car, gave my brothers and I drugs to get us to leave him alone. He was never a father, just a man who abused us and slept on our couch. 

I used to keep my hair short back then, so he couldn’t grab it. Although Mama hated it. She always said she wished I’d kept it long, she only had one baby girl and didn’t need another man in the house. After that I let it grow back out and kept it stuffed up in a cap. She was my world, the only person in my life I was certain I would always love, someone that would never hurt me. Until she got ill. Mama suffered from various forms of mental illness but the worst was her postpartum depression after Lucas was born. I tried not to blame her, I knew how hard it was to live with my father. Hell she married him and had four kids. I did what I could to forgive her knowing it wasn’t her fault, but I was eight when she tried to kill our baby brother and then herself. Left him in the running bathtub while holding my father’s shotgun under her chin. I got him out of the tub while Mason pried the gun out of her hands. 

She faced the worst violence from my father. We all knew it and tried our best to keep him off her. The police had come and taken him away several times but once he got out he just did it again. There was nowhere to go, we had no money, no savings. All of it was spent on drugs. When she died I was thirteen. All the abuse my father had done to her slowly became pushed on to the kids. He had beaten us and screamed at us before, but it was because we weren’t meeting some of his unreasonable expectations. Now it was violence just to be violent. I watched Mason beat the living snot out of him several times and I myself got him on the ground during a few fights we had. Everyone knew my father in the town, knew what he was doing, but it was the 90s, you kept your mouth shut and kept going. What were you to do? Call child services? They would have just laughed into the receiver and hung up the phone.

We lived on 1st street, the farthest one north in town. We took our bikes everywhere because our truck was always broken. I guess that was where I learned I was good with my hands. That house was where I learned that anything could be done with a little bit of physical pushing. I fixed our fallen-through floorboards, collapsed roof, and holes in the walls. I was the one who pulled out and shot the rattlesnake who managed to get into the pipes. I got the truck working when we needed to rush Ethan to the hospital when Father almost beat him to death after he flushed his drugs. I fought Mason when he would bring girls home and force himself on them. I pulled the dog off of Marcus when he tried to jump over the fence to escape the cops. I changed every single one of Lucas’s diapers. I buried Mama with my own money I earned at the hardware store working hours upon hours to get us out of debt. 

Not everything in that house brought me misery however. It’s where my Mama raised me to be a good daughter, her daughter. It’s where we threw Liana and Marcus a birthday party for the first time ever. It’s where Ethan and I raised Lucas to be a good man, who would end the cycle with his own family. It’s where my team stayed when our base was overrun with a cartel and we needed safety. It’s the home I carved it into and goddamn I will die with the blood rotted into the wood. It was where I grew up, for better or worse, I am here now. 

I joined the military as soon as I was old enough. I was promised 20k, 10k before bootcamp and 10k after. The Air Force had set up a base in Val Verde Park just west of Ciudad Acuna. It was called Laughlin Air Force Base. It was two hours from my house and I needed to get away for awhile, find a little peace. When they cut my hair to my shoulders I buried the ends next to my mother. I buried her little girl I was so I could become the woman I was now. I hope she’d be proud of the soldier I have become, because it was in her honor and her sacrifice. She paid the dues and I will carry out the call. The oldest daughter of a broken family’s oath. 

The Air Force stripped me down to my skin and rebuilt me with armor in the fashion of strength, resilience, intelligence, grit, and confidence. It wasn’t that I was lacking these things, but they brought them out as weapons to attack not defend. It was so much different then the guards I grew up with. Their slimy attitudes and total lack of regard for human life. There were the good ones, the one who did it because they genuinely wanted to help, but those are the ones who died quickly. Mercy is a virtue. It is a spark that can be snuffed with a gust of wind just a little too powerful. The only way to feed that into a flame is to fuel it with those who surround you. If they’re the same scumbags who raped, killed, and maimed kids for fun they ain’t gonna be no help to you. 

I was a part of the 47th Maintenance Directorate. I worked on equipment and facilities worth more than the entirety of Sanderson. We worked on Jayhawks, Texan IIs, Talons, and more. I was in the T-38 Aircraft Maintenance Division, mostly focusing on crash recovery. I spent most of my days fixing broken aircraft, assisting in landing, and coordinating movements. Other times it was me, my truck, a radio, and a sandwich sitting in the desert looking for a downed aircraft. It was a good job until the cartels started targeting the base in the late 90s. Those days I had a rifle added to the list. We often fought for ground in the small town and found ourselves doing what we could to defend. One day we had to flee due to a bomb threat and my team and I huddled in my house back in Sanderson when we had nowhere else to go. Lucas loved it, got to hang out with all these cool military men. They taught him some games and songs we learned in bootcamp. Got him to do some exercises and called him “their little man”.

My team were some of the best people I had ever met in my twenty-eight years of life. There were forty of us in the directorate, but only six in my division. Martinez, Cruz, Halcón, Dino, Vaho, and I. Officially my name is Sergeant Master Evangeline Mae Thomas. My initials spell out EMT which no one could stop laughing over as I am the last person to have that as a job occupation. I fix machines, not people. I once couldn’t get a tourniquet on a dummy and the name stuck for a while. 

I fit in there. The barracks became my second home with people I trusted. Martinez was the oldest of seven, had a family to feed and parents to retire. He joined like me, at 18, and rose up through the ranks to get the higher pay grades. I don’t think I had ever seen him slack a day in my life. Cruz and Dino are two twins from over the border, who joined the military to get citizenship. The two are hardwired for trouble but taught me everything I knew about being a technician, just don’t leave an open can around them. Halcón was the best pilot I have met. It was like the console was in his mind and he could control it with his thoughts. He safely would fly damaged and out of control planes back to base after issues being found mid-flight. Not a single thing shook that man. Vaho was our rookie, tough guy from Louisiana. He earned the name Vaho after flying on little-to-no gas without checking with any of us. A little hostile around the edges but give him a cig and he’ll soften like a kitten. 

Papa died in 2003, was drunk and drove into a powerline on Route 90. Took them a few days to find him and his body was already being picked to shreds by the crows. Fitting end for a man plucked the strength of all the people who surrounded him. We didn’t even bury him, let the police do what they wanted. He didn’t deserve to be buried next to my mother and her grave by the spiny star foxtail flowers she loved so much. Mason died the year after, shot in a border crossing gone wrong. His men brought me his gun and I told them to keep it. His funeral was a party, not celebrating his life, celebrating his leaving of us and the destruction he caused. Ethan and I looked at each for the first time with peace in our eyes. 

Ethan was the family member I was closest with. Two years younger than me we grew up as my family’s backbone. We were the two who looked the most alike too, with our straw blonde hair, hazel eyes, and tanned skin from working in the sun. We raised Lucas ourselves when my mother couldn’t and my father wouldn’t. Mason contributed a little bit with the money to keep our house but otherwise he was blowing the paychecks on pleasure. I got a job during my school years to try to provide something. The local hardware store needed someone to do the busy work and labor the owners were too old to do now. Twelve year old me would take the four dollars an hour they were willing to give me. Ethan spent his time making sure Lucas was taken care of in only ways he could. He was the one pulling Mason and my father apart and I was covering Lucas’s eyes in the corner. We had to kick the two of them out many times and when we couldn’t, I stood on the pegs of Ethan’s bike, with Lucas on my back, down to the church. 

My family never were faithfully religious. Sure we went to church for service, but so did every other family in Texas. I think my mother was the only one of us to have any faith in the higher power. I often heard my mother begging God to help her when she thought she was alone in a room. The church wasn’t a sacred place to us, it was somewhere to get away from the horror. Sit in the pews and listen to the priest preach things we know he didn’t mean. He was in my living room doing a line with my father after church on Sundays. He also was notably horrible to the Mexican kids in my town. Liana and Marcus had to hide when they slept there because he would chase them out with a cross. Calling them “dirty mutts”. He never bothered learning Spanish either so when my town started calling him “El hombre que se Cago en Dios” he had no idea we were saying “the man who shits on god.” My town is what it feels like to say the word “blasphemy”, dry and drawn-out. 

I hated Cornell, I swore he looked at my mother a little too longingly somedays.  My mother was gorgeous. Her long dark hair, gentle light eyes, soft smile that could make anyone feel a bit lighter in there. step. She was the definition of grace as her name implied. I threw a bottle at Cornell once when he got too close, and sneaked a hand under a table towards her. The other men at the table didn’t blink twice, but I knew it was wrong. I could feel daggers being shot at me from the eyes of the same men whose hands that touched me like that. He hit me pretty hard after that but Mason didn’t like that. Not that he cared whether I was hurt or not, just that Mason and him really hated each other. I don’t know what happened between the two of them but he was always so tense around him. After he hit me Mason took him out back and beat him in an inch of his life. We weren’t allowed to go to church after that. Tore Mama up but I managed to steal a rosary from my teacher at school and left it hanging on her door.  I don’t know how Ethan and I got Lucas out of here. He now lives in Helotes with his girlfriend Carol, and their daughter, Joyanne. I remember when he came home from school telling us he got a girl pregnant. I had grabbed the phone book searching for the planned parenthood clinic up north, ready to spend my last paycheck on gas to get them there. However they were determined to keep it at just seventeen. At this point Mason had died about three months before so we turned his old room into a nursery. Painting the dark walls that smelled like cigarettes white had to be some kind of karma. Carol got kicked out by her very religious parents and ended up living with us. I made sure to take the chainsaw I fixed up from the dump and cut their mailbox off its post at noon that next day. Not too much damage but enough to make my point in broad daylight. We went from a family of six to three to five. They finished their senior year with their newborn and ended up both getting into Texas State University. With the little money they saved up, a loan, and Ethan's and I’s salaries of a year we got them to get out of Sanderson. They are both finishing up their degrees soon and Joy is almost four. She looks just like her mother, dark hair, big golden eyes, freckled cheeks, and a laugh that could make anyone smile. 

Ethan is a teacher at the local high school. He runs the music department and is the music teacher. It doesn’t pay great but that is what I’m for. He always had a knack for music, taking music sheets and history of the classics from the library. Often we would have to pay for them because Papa would rip them up and throw them at us but we made do. It made him happy to have music. I got him a CD player for his sixteenth birthday with some of my signing bonus. Let him pick out a few CD’s after a trip into San Antonio. I always regret not trying harder to let him have a chance at being a kid. We all deserved a childhood and out of all of us, he spent that time fighting for his. We have done what we could do to keep the house up and running, all our bills on time for the first time in almost 20 years. 

Despite our attempts we still succumbed to the Thomas family illness of addiction. My father used drugs to shut up as kids. I had been smoking, drinking, and taking pills since I was barely 8. I hid it better than my siblings did, I didn’t want the two younger boys to see their sister struggling as much as I did. Ethan really had a rough time in his late teens with cocaine as it helped him get through the long days with Lucas and work on his own. However in a small victory we managed to never let Lucas get his hands on anything, Carol and him are clean. Now we do our best to stay away from drugs but it's hard when all you have done for 20 years is numb the pain. There is no therapy, no doctor, no one who can help you in this wild west. I have been on my own since day one and no doctor is gonna fix this. The desert is cruel. It makes you do things you promised you’d never do. The night, the fights, the scrapping up for just another hour of life pushed humans to the limit. Such a place was not made for us and you did the best you could with what you had.

My mother had been taking xanax for years, she did her best to hide it from my father so he wouldn’t steal them but one day I found it and mistook it for painkillers. I have been trying for twelve years to stop but it’s better than weed and alcohol. It gets me out of my head. I’m on a river, floating, watching the birds go over me. There is no noise, no movement, just languid water pushing me in the river. I can sleep, I can think, I can rest. Each thought that awakens just boards a leaf and goes downstream never to be seen again. It’s my way of coping, even if it kills me. 

I took too much when I was 20, Owens, my commander, found me on the floor in my room completely out of it. My eyes wouldn’t focus, couldn’t move the muscles around my mouth to form words, my bones were like jelly. He had to carry me to the med wing because I would just slump over. He tried to put me in rehab after that but I wouldn’t go. He couldn’t send me home either because I was the sole breadwinner at the time and that was a death sentence. Instead he chose to keep a closer eye on me and I got better about hiding it. I tried to stop it but it was hard when it was so beautifully numbing. The world was so cruel and after so many years of blinding white grief I needed to take the edge off.

Liana and Marcus finally managed to get a trailer and live in The Park at the east edge of town. We had found it up north a bit in the middle of nowhere. The thing was run down and beat up. The insides are full of mold and dry rotted wood. All the old plush walls and seats had fallen apart and become deflated. We tore the entire inside out and replaced the wood. I had some extra furniture from the barracks and some we found at the flea market and spiced the inside up a bit.  Liana works for the US Border Patrol Station trying to help kids crossing the border. She gets in contact with families who need to immigrate but are having a problem moving everyone. She’ll work with them to get the kids over and get them a placement until their parents can join them. Marcus joined the Marines right out of high school. He got stationed in the Middle East and I haven’t seen him for awhile. Letters he has sent me says he is well, fighting away from the frontlines. Desert storm has been hard on all of us and I couldn’t imagine being out there. We see each other when we can but life takes you down different paths. Maia moved out of Sanderson not too long ago, headed up to Oklahoma with a boy. I haven’t talked to her in 10 years, as soon as she could get out of Texas she did. I don’t blame her. Texas will eat you up and spit you back out. It’s one big rattlesnake's nest and one wrong step you are dead.

 When I was 19 in bootcamp we had a kid from the north come to train with us. He had never been to Texas. Didn’t understand that it’s not a place, it’s an entity. The desert is not forgiving to those who are foreign. We stumbled across a Western-Diamondback Rattlesnakes nest, I and the others knew to avoid but he stepped right into it. It was like every noise nature that could produce sound, sounded out at once. Cicadas, crickets, birds, coyotes, they all called out to the maker. I watched his blood sink into the desert sand. It poured from his eyes, nose, ears, any hole he could flow out of it. He twitched, calling out for his mom in short grumbles, the whites of his eyes popped out of his sockets as he convulsed. Then he was still, the world was still. Commander carried him back and was the one to call his mom. My heart flinched as it was the same way I cried for my mother when she died. The longing, the need, the love with nowhere to go. This is the land of free, free from tyranny not consequences. Watch your step. 

When I got the call a few mornings ago to head to base because a missing British soldier had crawled across the border, I was bewildered. A man from the north crossed the desert. Not just crossed, but pulling himself across the sand with his scarred hands. I sat in his hospital room in Val Verde Regional Medical Center being told the story he could conjure up to the guards at the gate. I got in contact with the British Embassy to phone his commander, and it turns out Major Vernon was MIA. I just fell down the rabbit hole, learning whatever I could about this man. His name was Simon Riley, 28, from Manchester, England. Oldest brother of two, past jobs included a butcher job for three years, and then 6 years of service joining right after 9/11. He had originally been KIA but after this discovery it was revoked.

He was cut up real good, several long lasting injuries that didn’t heal right. Slowly patching up scars all around his mouth and face, a huge hook-like cut on his chest and just general torture looked. His eyes were bloodshot and the gray in the middle appeared as a soft blue. His skin was ghostly pale for a man who crawled across the Coahuila Desert. He was very weak, and couldn’t stay awake for longer than a few minutes. 

Finally after a few days he woke up. Sitting up in the hospital bed he looks small for someone who is so tall. His face is constantly scanning the room as if someone is going to reach out and get him. He is shell-shocked to his core as if he was prey. However, there was this anger in his eyes when he was awake. It was white and hot, flashing in front of me when our gaze met. For someone who could barely move, his fury could move mountains. I recognized that anger, it’s what got me through eighteen years in that house in Sanderson.

“Well look what the cat dragged in all the way from Mexico,” I say as I push the curtains to his room open. He flinches and pulls at the cuffs keeping him in the bed. A groan escapes his lips as his muscles fight against his quick movements. “Now don’t hurt yourself there lad. Your identification says you are a lieutenant all the way across the Atlantic. Mr. Riley, how you ended up in my neck of the woods, safe to say I don’t want to know. How you crossed that desert in the middle of winter, I don’t want to know. We already contacted the commanding officer above your clearly dead Major Vernon. We will get you home as soon as you heal up a bit. Till then you are my responsibility, Soldier. Name’s Sergeant Master Evangeline Mae Thomas, my boys call me Evan.” 

[scotianostra]

On 15th June 1996 Sir Fitzroy MacLean, the Scottish soldier, diplomat, politician and author, died.

Fitzroy Maclean was a British diplomat who was one of the first Westerners to explore Soviet Russia. He was a founder member of the SAS, and later liaised on behalf of the allies with the Partisans in Yugoslavia.

Before World War II Fitzroy Maclean served as a diplomat at the British embassy in Moscow, from where he made several notable journeys to Siberia, the Caucasus and Soviet Central Asia.

During the war he served in the SAS and was also involved with the Free French forces in Iran. In 1943 he was dropped by parachute into German-occupied Yugoslavia as Winston Churchill's personal envoy and Commander of the British Military Mission to Tito and the partisans. He recorded some of these experiences in 'Eastern Approaches', a classic memoir, which has sold more than a million copies.

McLean wrote many other best-selling books and in addition to serving as Under Secretary for War in the post-war Churchill and Eden governments. Diplomat, soldier, statesman, traveller, writer - a true modern hero - Sir Fitzroy was often put forward as the model for his friend Ian Fleming's 'James Bond', a distinction he neither accepted nor denied.

Fitzroy Maclean died while he was visiting friends in the English village of Hertford having just completed a swim at the age of 85!!!, he was stricken by a heart attack and died instantly, I think he would rather have gone that way rather than faded away. . He was returned to the location of the family home in the village of Strachur, Argyll County and was interred in the cemetery of historic Parish Church.

There’s a great article about the man here https://warisboring.com/fitzroy-maclean-fought-the-nazis-blew-up-forts-and-met-a-king/

[thebibliophilevigilante]

Under the Red Hood

Name: Jason Todd

Alias: Robin, Red Hood, Batman, Arkham Knight

Hair Color: Onyx with a tuft of white streaked through his bangs

Eye Color: Teal

Powers and abilities :

Peak Physical Condition: By matching his former mentor in combat he has proven that he is physically superior to most Olympic athletes, just as Batman is. His strength, reflexes, stamina, and endurance are roughly comparable to that of Dick Grayson, though his litheness is not.

Master Martial Artist: Jason is a highly skilled combatant trained by Batman. Although he was always more of a brawler as Robin, following his resurrection, he gained more training and demonstrated himself to be far more skilled than before. This is shown when he fought his former mentor and Nightwing to a standstill, when Jason held his own against the Green Arrow in a sword fight, and when he overpowered Tim Drake at Titans Tower.

Skilled Acrobat: In his training as Robin, he had been taught acrobatics and gymnastics routines.

Skilled Swordsman: Jason has been shown to be skilled enough to hold his own against the Green Arrow in a sword fight until he ultimately lost.

Skilled detective: Jason has shown some skill as a detective most notably in Outsiders#44 and #45.

Multi-Lingual: Taught by Batman, Jason is fluent in several languages having spoken English, French, German, Italian and various others with Russian being his weakest.

Polymath: After be adopted by Bruce, Jason received excellent education and tutoring from both private tutors and Bruce thus, has deep knowledge in many subjects, including Science, Math, Medicine, Geography, Criminology, World History and English. If you ask him his favorite, it would definitely be English/Literature.

Intermediate Bomb assembly and Diffusal: Taught by a world renowned bomb expert in Russia, Jason is able to assemble and defuse a wide variety of conventical explosive devices, from improvised to military grade designs. It is yet to be determined whether or not he can diffuse Nuclear devices, in contrast to Batman and Damian’s demonstrated ability.

Vehicular Driver: Jason has driven a variety of vehicles from cars and boats, to being trained in the Middle East by an ace pilot to fly helicopters. His main vehicle of choice is a motorbike.

Strength Level: peak for a 6-foot, 225-pound young man with rigorous physical exercise.

Equipment: His Red Hood costume consists of charcoal-colored cargo pants, a charcoal-colored Kevlar chest plate, a cognac leather jacket, and of course, his iconic red helmet that modulates his voice. His weapon of choice would be his Beretta, but he has other tools in his arsenal as well. Batman was always known for being a walking armory, and Jason learned from the best.

Weaknesses: None…not like he’d disclose, anyway.

((Information gathered from Batman Wikia))

Main Background: Jason Peter Todd was born on August 16, 1986 to Catherine and Willis Todd. Willis was an alcoholic, abusive husband and father and eventually went to jail because of it along with the fact he used/dealt drugs and was a hired hand for Two-Face. Catherine was a drug user herself, and was eventually given an overdose (theory is by the Joker to get Jay out of his house or something along those lines). Jason thought her dead and lived on the streets of Gotham, until one dark night. He was stealing the tires off the infamous Batmobile when Batman caught him and took him under his wing. Jason eventually became known as the second Robin and remained such until he was 17. He found out Catherine was still alive somewhere in the Middle East, and he set out to find her. It turned out to be a cruel trap his mother was in on with Joker. Jason was beaten with a crowbar to within an inch of his life and then trapped with his mother, until the place exploded. He died of asphyxiation due to smoke inhalation that day, April 27, 2003.

Grief-stricken and heartbroken, Bruce had him buried at the cemetery on Wayne Manor. The only problem was, Jason wasn’t really dead. He had to claw his way out of his own grave, bleeding, wet and dirty. He ran away until he came across this bakery, breaking in to grab himself a loaf of bread due to the overwhelming starvation. That’s when Talia al Ghul, master assassin daughter of Ra’s al Ghul, found him and took him to the Lazarus Pit where her own father bathed to remain youthful. Jason was completely healed…physically. The Pit was a gift and a curse, giving him new life but warping his mind. He trained under the al Ghuls and the All Caste for several years, learning the ways of the master assassins before returning to Gotham and taking up the mantle of Red Hood.

[a-room-of-my-own]

There's been a bit of news coverage about the 80th anniversary of D-Day here in the US, and I was wondering how it's covered in France.

Since it's unlikely there will be any surviving veterans to tell their stories for the 85th or 90th anniversaries, it's important to record their stories and commemorate the sacrifices of those who fought and died that day while there are still survivors.

I couldn't find an English transcript of Macron's speech, but when I compare Biden's speech with King Charles', Biden's comes off as very political by involving Russia's attacks on Ukraine. I don't disagree with the sentiment, but time and place! Especially since there are still surviving veterans of D-Day in the audience.

I think the difference is because the United States is only 248 years old, and WWII, in general, has become foundationally important to our national myth. In the US national story, WWII started because the US refused to intervene in Europe's affairs but it eventually got so bad that we had to swoop in and save the day world. WWII has became so important to US identity that both the left and the right use it in their rhetoric: The right generally focus on the atrocities committed by belligerent dictators in allusions to the Holocaust, and the left focus on the authoritarianism of domestic politicians. The Invasion of Normandy is seen as the day that we stepped up to our 'responsibility' of being the world's police superhero.

I think that US politicians use D-Day and the associated imagery as a platform to reaffirm their commitment to this national story and the ideals they feel that story represents, which is why Biden felt it was appropriate to call out Russia during a memorial at a cemetery and Charles and Macron did not (at least I'm assuming Macron did not).

In comparison, France has over 1,100 years of shared history and identity. WWII was obviously horrific and the Nazis needed to be defeated, but was D-Day itself a drop in the bucket of French history?

Compared to all the other battles of WWII by Free French forces and members of the Resistance, how is D-Day seen in modern France?

I’ve been living at the office these last few days so I didn’t watch the news but usually it’s rather positive. And it’s definitely not seen as something akin to an anecdote, on the contrary I think everyone is still extremely grateful. It’s really presented as our allies swooping in to save us.

Even if historically, if you look at the cold facts, the US and UK pretty much intended to occupy France, change its money and put a candidate they had chosen as the new president - all that didn’t happen basically thanks to De Gaulle - the average soldier didn’t know that and that’s not why he fought. And first thing first, the UK and US still had to kick the Germans out and then move as quickly as possible towards Germany or all of Europe would have been in the USSR.

At the end of the day, what the American and English soldiers did was extremely brave and for most of them selfless. And as much as it hurt our collective pride, we do still very much need the US. Europe is still a conglomerate of small, old sovereign nations in a world that is increasingly globalized.

Russia is comprised of many different people, so is China, so is India. In Europe, the EU’s jurisdiction is already seen as too heavy. We’re literally unable to speak with one voice. Nobody recognizes Ursula Von der Leyen as our president for example. And we don’t have an army or a way to associate our armies under one command.

When you look at what’s happening in Ukraine, it’s basically Europe, as an entity, being unable to defend its borders and needing heavy military aid from the US to stall the Russian invasion. The fact that Putin wants to bring back the USSR should worry us but we’re too busy with our own internal affairs.

The problem isn’t that the US acts as the world’s police per se but that the world savior mythology was used to invade and destroy sovereign countries, or to interfere in local politics to the point of supporting dictatorships that made thousands of victims.

[officiallordvetinari]

Here are 10 (more) featured Wikipedia articles. Links and summaries are below the cut.

Black American Sign Language (BASL) or Black Sign Variation (BSV) is a dialect of American Sign Language (ASL) used most commonly by deaf African Americans in the United States. The divergence from ASL was influenced largely by the segregation of schools in the American South.

Cai Lun (Chinese: 蔡伦; courtesy name: Jingzhong (敬仲); c. 50–62 – 121 CE), formerly romanized as Ts'ai Lun, was a Chinese eunuch court official of the Eastern Han dynasty. He is traditionally regarded as the inventor of paper and the modern papermaking process.

The Cock Lane ghost was a purported haunting that attracted mass public attention in 1762. The location was a lodging in Cock Lane, a short road adjacent to London's Smithfield market and a few minutes' walk from St Paul's Cathedral.

The indigenous people of the Everglades region arrived in the Florida peninsula of what is now the United States approximately 14,000 to 15,000 years ago, probably following large game. The Paleo-Indians found an arid landscape that supported plants and animals adapted to prairie and xeric scrub conditions. Large animals became extinct in Florida around 11,000 years ago. Climate changes 6,500 years ago brought a wetter landscape.

James William Humphreys (7 January 1930 – September 2003) was an English businessman and criminal who owned a chain of adult book shops and strip clubs in London in the 1960s and 1970s. He was able to run his business through the payment of large bribes to serving police officers, particularly those from the Obscene Publications Branch (OPB) of the Metropolitan Police.

The London Necropolis Company (LNC), formally the London Necropolis & National Mausoleum Company until 1927, was a cemetery operator established by Act of Parliament in 1852 in reaction to the crisis caused by the closure of London's graveyards in 1851. The LNC intended to establish a single cemetery large enough to accommodate all of London's future burials in perpetuity.

The Order of Brothelyngham was a group of men who, in the mid-14th century, formed themselves into a fake religious order in the city of Exeter, Devon. They may well have been satirising the church, which was commonly perceived as corrupt.

Phan Đình Phùng (Vietnamese: [faːn ɗîŋ̟ fûŋm]; 1847 – January 21, 1896) was a Vietnamese revolutionary who led rebel armies against French colonial forces in Vietnam. He was the most prominent of the Confucian court scholars involved in anti-French military campaigns in the 19th century and was cited after his death by 20th-century nationalists as a national hero.

The Tottenham Outrage of 23 January 1909 was an armed robbery in Tottenham, North London, that resulted in a two-hour chase between the police and armed criminals over a distance of six miles (10 km), with an estimated 400 rounds of ammunition fired by the thieves. The robbery, of workers' wages from the Schnurmann rubber factory, was carried out by Paul Helfeld and Jacob Lepidus, Jewish Latvian immigrants.

Volubilis (Latin pronunciation: [wɔˈɫuːbɪlɪs]; Arabic: وليلي, romanized: walīlī; Berber languages: ⵡⵍⵉⵍⵉ, romanized: wlili) is a partly-excavated Berber-Roman city in Morocco situated near the city of Meknes that may have been the capital of the Kingdom of Mauretania, at least from the time of King Juba II.

[squadron-goals]

The End

28 November 1917 (Postcard showing Sollingen)

In spring we want to look for cowslips in this meadow, dearest! We can roam around there all day without encountering annoying people. How I look forward to it! Now I'm waiting for your new picture, but even more for the day when I see you again myself. 29 November 1917

My dear heart! Now just a quick warm morning greeting! The squadron is already waiting for me. I'm coming to you tonight with a real letter. Your Erwin

On his second ascent on the afternoon of November 29, 1917, Erwin Böhme achieved his twenty-fourth aerial victory beyond enemy lines over Zillebeker, near Ypres. Soon after this engagement he was surrounded by an enemy squadron and fatally shot. The English buried him with military honors in the cemetery near Keerselaarhoek. The Pour le Mérite that had been awarded to him lay among the unopened mail that was waiting on the squadron leader's desk for his return.

RIP Erwin Böhme

[girlactionfigure]

#DidYouKnow David “Mickey” Marcus was a colonel in the United States Army in 1947, when David Ben Gurion asked him to recruit a military adviser to design the future State of Israel’s army. Not finding anyone suitable, Marcus volunteered to do it himself. The army permitted this so long as Marcus disguised his name, so he became “Michael Stone.”

Marcus was Israel’s first general and designed the command-and-control structure of the army, adapting his American experience in the Second World War. In 1948, he built the “Burma Road,” an alternate route from the coast to break the siege of Jerusalem.

Marcus was fatally shot 75 years ago, on June 10, 1948 by an Israeli soldier on guard duty. Marcus did not know much Hebrew, and the soldier did not know English, resulting in tragic confusion when a password could not be provided as Marcus returned to his base at night.

He was buried at the military cemetery at West Point, the only soldier interred there who was killed while fighting for a foreign army.

Marcus was portrayed by Kirk Douglas in the 1966 Hollywood film Cast a Giant Shadow. This image is from the Life in Israel Coloring Book published by the Ktav Publishing House (New York) in 1949 and is part of David Matlow‘s amazing collection showcased weekly at Canadian Jewish News (The CJN).

You can hear David in conversation with Steven Shalowitz on Jewish National Fund - USA’s podcast, #IsraelCast. It’s available wherever you get your podcasts and at jnf.org/IsraelCast.

David has assembled 75 of his treasures in a new book to celebrate Israel’s 75th birthday. It is available for free download at https://herzlcollection.com/75-treasures

Humans of JNF

[wannabedjs]

2003 was an eventful year...Went on a reality tv show ("Anything for Love") which never aired, studies abroad in Guadalajara Mexico, visted Mexico City, and Cuba . A key new chapter in my life. Fairly quickly after starting my job at UCH in 1998 it became quite evident that there was a disconnect between the providers/staff who only spoke English and the sizable patient population that only spoke Spanish. The sole translator was Dr. Michel Choncol, a renal fellow from Venezuela. I've always felt that the monolingual culture of the USA was a disadvantage. Having only taken a couple Spanish classes in high school, I had near zero Spanish skills. I decided to start the process to learn spanish. Taking classes a couple times a week at Colorado Free University and then enrolling at CU Denver into classess for no credit. Over a period of 3-4 years I advanced my spanish vocabulary to hold simple conversations. I knew if I wanted to accelerate my learning I needed to have a dedicated period of immersion. I'd been talking about this plan for a number of months, so when I proposed the idea of taking a 2 month immersive 'sabbatical' in Mexico to my boss and coworker, it was received with support. As a student at CU Denver I was able to enroll in an study abroad program down to Guadalajara, Mexico. Guadalajara is the LA of Mexico (Mexico city being the NYC) and is located in the state of Jalisco (home of tequila, puerto vallarta, mariachi music, and dozens of large scale murals). I lived with a family that had 2 other 'renters" in their central Gudalajara home. One of the other renters was a Japanese guy who didn't speak English and worked as a sushi chef and was a lucha libre on the side.

Wonderful experience as I learned more in 6 weeks of class than I did in the previous 3-4 years of classroom studies in Denver. (The key was not hanging out with the other native English speakers, most of whom were from England. The movie, Y tu mama tambien, had a sizable impact on most of them wanting to learn Spanish). I regularly hung out with the family's young 20ish old daughter and her boyfriend, Diego, who I was pretty sure was part of the cartel. He owned a couple "bars" which were just fields of land where they served cheap beer and had hip hop music. He even had a young dog named "Sixty" (for 69..yep. no lie).

Weekend trips included a memorable evening in a cemetery in Michoacan for noche de muertos. Straight out of Coco.

I had 2 weeks at the end open for travel and full immersion traveling to Spanish speaking cities. Half way thru my time in Guadalajara, I started planning an excursion to Mexico City then Cuba. Mexico City was as lively as advertised and my prep for Cuba seemed rather simple. No US banks in Cuba and they accepted cold hard cash from the USA.

So entering Havana with enough cash to make it for a week vacation in Havana and the beach town Varadero. Loved Havana and a highlight was walking up to the Interior Ministry government building thinking it was maybe some fancy hotel. It has a massive Che Guevera face on the outside with the tag line "Hasta Victoria Siempre." Now I should have researched the area where I was at, but looking over at the building I thought it said "Hotel Victoria Siempre.'....common mistake...one that you realize quickly as you begin walking toward it and fully armed military guards start walking towards you telling you to leave. I was like "Bet!" and high tailed it for some mojitos and grub far away from the plaza.

Varadero is the old Copa Cabana area. Like Vegas, but frozen in the 1960s. Massive hotels (previously casinos) just vacant. I was staying at an all inclusive type hotel with beautiful beaches with many european tourists. Most were topless which made it very difficult to read on the beach. One of the nights the hotel arranged for everyone to go to a nightclub which was all you can drink (For like 20 bucks) and had a full on cuban band with dancers. Kind of like an old supper club, but without food. It was fantastic, the 10+ piece band threw down cuban salsa/conga for hours. Towards the end of the show they invited the crown onto the large stage to dance. So here we are just getting down on the stage (the Italian gals with tops on just didn't look the same..hahaha) and they show ends at like 10ish. Within minutes of them stopping the place goes straight US hip hop club. With the 1st song being "In Da Club"...a very current song at the time.

If that wasn't memorable enough, I had everything planned. for the last 24 hours of my trip. Bus trip to the airport in Havana was scheduled and and I decided to spend the rest of the cash I had on gifts. Cigars, t shirts, foods, random wooden statues, etc. So I get to the airport and check in my bags with plenty of time before take off. As I approach the customs check point, I see that there is a $25 departure fee to leave the country. Again cash only. Problem was I only had like 5 bucks. Now I like to believe I'm relatively calm and collected when it comes to stressful situations. I find it rare that you end up in situation without a solution. Well, this was one of those situations . I had a moment where I was like "Fuck, I don't have a clue how I can make this work?" Then the master plan hit. The Cuban embargo that has kept the country frozen in time circa 1960 also has kept technology away. Common electronics are extremely expensive. SOOOO. I take out my yellow sony-disc man and walk around the airport waving it saying "se vende! Se Vende!" It took a good 30 min, but a dude came up with $20 and I sold him the discman...which got me out of the country. I still have the flight ticket with the PAGO $25 stamp on it.

2003 - peak meet me in the basement rock n roll

The comeback after the post grunge rock-rap (see Woodstock 99) boy band era. Was it all post 9/11?

Elefante, white stripes, broken social scene, strokes, TV on the radio

But also an electro-rock-punk scene w the rapture

No need to listen to- GREATS

OutKast: Speakerboxxx/The Love Below (Arista)

The White Stripes: Elephant (V2)

Radiohead: Hail to the Thief (Capitol) - saw at red rocks

BSS- you forgot it in people

Basement Jaxx: Kish Kash

Postal service- give up

Yo la tango

Belle and sebastian -dear catastrophe

RH factor - hard groove

Erykah badu - world wide

50 cent - get rich or die trying

Sandra Collins - march essential mix w pete tong from Miami winter music fest

Revisits and new finds

Four tet - rounds

- his debut (?) and maybe my fav. Less Asian/Indian influenced

Caribou- up In Flames.

early release with few great tracks.

Elefante - loved them back it 03 and still solid 2000 era rock n roll

Strokes - room on fire. Just the same music as this is it..but who cares? It’s great!

Rapture- Echos. an early release of the budding electro-punk-rock-dance scene (mainly from NYC). 2-3 banging tracks

Tv on the radio- young liars EP 1st

Audio bullys- ego war. Can’t believe this didn’t get on best of lists. A blend of house, punk, British hip hop, and beats. We Don’t Care is one of best tracks of the year.

Decemberists - her majesty. Still catchy and an enjoyable listen. Very 03-y

M83 - really out there with full synths, but a couple tracks which lead to his take off w “Dreaming” almost a decade later

Pernice brothers- these guys! Discovery of the week. Indie/folk/country rocky with a coolness and sincerity . Lyrically stellar

Massive attack 100th window

Death cab- transatlanticism

- was a late comer to DCFC and really didn’t listen to this record til 08ish. Can see why they have a large loyal fan base. My question, ya think they’ve made more money off tv shows and movies that have their music than off their records? Last song end like the 1st begins . So can start anywhere and the album flows if on repeat

New Pornographers: Electric Version (Matador)- catchy pop-indie rock. I probably would have been really into them had I given this record a couple listens back in 03

Massive attack - 100th Window. The OGs of trip hop! F/u to mezzanine from 98’. That alone made this a must listen to. Still their signature sound that resonates through me the same as in 03’. A truly night record. Not many of those in 03

Randomness

Wrens - pitchfork #1. Not good

Jeff Buckley - live at sin e rerelease as 2 CD set. He will always be a part of my musical journey. Maybe the largest part w regards to memories over years and stories

- NYC house of neon(?) during interview for job at montefore

- house sitting for Bud Carlsen (a subconscious influence to me going to CO). and making late night pancakes listening to his music

- late night music!

- heading to Memphis to search for his body with Angela Angstman and Allison

Lots of great music I didn’t get to…

Bad plus

Arab stap

Mad lib invaded blue note

British sea power

Cursive

Ted Leo and pharmacists

Jay z black album

The neptunes - clones

Constantine’s

Memomena

My morning jacket

Kings of Leon

Mogwai- happy songs for happy peeps

Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Fever to Tell (Interscope)

The Shins: Chutes Too Narrow (Sub Pop)

Lefty deceiver

PK

[kovarski]

Caleb Hawthorne

Age: 58

Age at death: 41

Ethnicity: Black American

Languages: English

Krewe: None

Caleb is a veteran in who is employed at the San Francisco National Cemetery, working nights as a caretaker and landscaper. He’s always been drawn to the location since even before he died and was reborn, as he has ancestors buried here going back to the civil war, as well as comrades from his time in the military, and takes the presentation and upkeep of this location very seriously.

He works alone, uninterested in joining a krewe and doesn’t have any interest in being a part of an Sin-Eater “culture.” As far as he’s concerned, as the only major Cemetery within the city limits it’s his duty to keep other Sin-Eaters away.

Will be very distrustful and possibly hostile upon first meeting; has had negative interactions with sin-eaters coming to this location in the past with bad intentions towards the ghosts and their remains (Possibly Elliott or members of the Seven Thunders). If the Krewe needs to talk to a ghost here or access their remains, he will probably be an obstacle they have to deal with.

Caleb survived a lot in his life before the Bargain. An abusive parent, abusive spouse, a military tour and combat. Yet it was the smoking that did him in.

He developed lung cancer and suffered horribly for months, slowly growing weaker until he hovered on death’s door, only to be offered a reprieve by a creature from the other side. He still smokes even after his miraculous recovery

During his time in the military, sometimes he would have dreams about his comrades the night before they died.

His Geist is an emaciated figure that is indistinguishable from the shadows, except for its luminous eyes. It communicates with a slithering hiss that makes the back of his throat burn with bile.

[betaworn]

𝐈 . . . 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! name - isaac lahey age - 25 sexuality - bisexual date of birth - july 14th place of birth - beacon hills gender - cis male pronouns - he/him current location - beacon hills languages - english and small amounts of spanish

𝐈𝐈 . . . 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 ! good habits - loyal, friends before all. bad habits - fearful, trauma in the past leading to denial and lack of trust hobbies - running, reading books. fears - loss of friends and abandonment

𝐈𝐈𝐈 . . . 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 ! faceclaim - daniel sharman height - 6"2 hair colour - brown eye colour - green scars - from past trauma

𝐈𝐕 . . . 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! parents names - johnathan lahey & corin lahey parents relationship - mother died when he was young siblings names - camden, brother.

𝐕 . . . 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 !

Isaac lived with his father, Coach Lahey. His brother, Camden, was killed in combat in while serving in the US military. Isaac's father was abusive, locking his son in an unplugged chest freezer in the basement for long stretches. The abuse led to Isaac developing claustrophobia.

Mr. Lahey ran the Beacon Hills Cemetery where Isaac also worked. After being trapped in grave by an overturned backhoe, Derek Hale rescued Isaac.

After a fight with his father the next night, Isaac sought out Derek and received the bite, becoming a werewolf.

After the death of his father at the hands of the Kanima, Isaac moved in with Derek.

Unlike the other pack members, Isaac would question Derek's choices and motives as a leader. Their relationship became strained after The Alpha Pack attempted to get Derek to kill the remaining members of his pack, including Isaac. In a misguided attempt to keep him safe - Derek threw Isaac out of his loft. Homeless, Isaac moved in with Scott McCall and his mother.

After Allison's death and the defeat of the Nogitsune, Isaac left Beacon Hills with Chris Argent to heal himself emotionally from Allison's death.

Since then, Isaac travelled with the inheritance money he had from his father. He met a pack in New Orleans, the Labonair pack, and spent some time with them before returning to Beacon Hills.

[whitepolaris]

A Truly Upright Hoosier

John Pleasant Burton was truly an honorable, upright Hoosier pioneer. He was born July 8, 1758, in Richmond, Virginia, of a well-respected family and served as a private in the Revolutionary War. In 1826, at the age of sixty-eight, he came to Lawrence County with his wife, Susannah, and a large family-three children of their own, plus six orphans. Here he was given a land grant in recognition of his service in achieving American independence. With such a large clan and substantial holdings, the Burtons would soon become one of the founding families of Lawrence County.

Indeed, the History of Lawrence County, written in 1854, notes of the Burtons:

The family is represented in all the professions from the pulpit to the school room; in civil office from Road Supervisor to Governor; in the military from private to Major-General. In religion they are principally Baptists, and are honorably represented in all the benevolent institutions. A majority of them are members of the Masonic Order. Most of them vote Democrat. They are remarkable as a sociable, peaceable and respectable family, and the ladies are especially noted for their beauty and social and moral attainments.

John Pleasant Burton deserves much of the credit for developing Lawrence County. He came to the area when it was largely unsettled, and he was responsible for much of its growth and prosperity. However, it is one odd anecdote of Burton's death that was reserved his place in Hoosier history.

Shortly before Burton's seventy-ninth birthday, he became gravely-ill. Calling his children to his bedside, he gave specific instructions regarding his funeral. He was to be buried with the full rites of the Masonic order, of which he was a long-time member. Further he would not be buried in the family plot at the Burton Family Cemetery but three quarters of a mile away near the grave of his daughter-in-law. And finally, it was his adamant wish to be buried standing up, in a grave eleven feet deep.

To modern sensibilities such a request probably seems bizarre. Yet throughout the nineteenth century several people of note were buried in an upright position. Revolutionary War hero George Hancock, an aide-de-camp to George Washington and a member of Congress was buried standing up Ellison, Virginia. The famous English poet Ben Jonson, is buried in Westminster Abbey standing up-in order, in his words, to save space. A more evocative reason for being buried upright was given by Texas pioneer Britt Bailey, who reputedly stated in his will, "I will be buried standing upright facing west. I have never lied to man in this life and I'll be damned if anyone can come by and say, 'there lies Britt Bailey.'"

John Burton's reason for his unusual entombment is unknown. However, it is known that his wish was honored. Newspaper accounts of the time indicate that as many as five thousand people attended the funeral, some coming by wagon from fifty miles away. The large group followed the black-draped wagon bearing Burton's mortal remains to the grave site, where his coffin was slid to its extraordinary grave. The marker placed over the grave states only the name of the deceased, the dates of birth and death, and the fact that it was his request to be buried standing up.

Over the years, the area of the grave has become a bit of a tourist attraction, with families coming to stand by the only known grave of a Hoosier buried in an upright position.