#Private Schultz

[rwpohl]

[robertreich]

It’s Time to Roast Starbucks For Union Busting

Starbucks should be getting publicly roasted for union busting and refusing to even negotiate with unionized workers.

You see, if there’s one thing I love more than coffee, it’s unions. Because unions perk up pay.

And if there’s one thing I hate more than corporations who try to bust unions, it’s having to make my own coffee every morning.

I may be known for a lot of things, but making a good cup of coffee isn’t one of them.

I was thrilled to hear about workers in Starbucks’ stores across the country exercising their right to unionize.

A cup of solidarity brewed by a unionized barista? What could be better than that?

Definitely not me being my own barista.

Starbucks is a multibillion dollar company. Its new CEO will start with a pay package estimated to be worth over $28 million dollars. That’s roughly 800x the pay of the workers who actually brew and serve the coffee the business is built on — and who barely earn a living wage.                                            

That’s why those workers have begun to unionize.

Since December 2021, Starbucks Workers United has won union elections in more than 300 Starbucks stores, covering more than 8,000 workers and counting.

And most of the union campaigns in individual stores won by overwhelming margins, gaining more than 70% of the total votes — and in parts of the country where private sector unions rarely win.

The Starbucks union campaign has inspired young workers across the country and breathed life into a U.S. labor movement that has been stagnant for decades.

It’s been so successful that Starbucks briefly brought its former CEO, billionaire Howard Schultz, out of retirement to bust the union, and still refuses to even sit down at the bargaining table.

That’s why I’ve been boycotting Starbucks.

As part of its campaign to tamp down further unionization, Starbucks corporate has fired scores of pro-union workers, closed stores that have unionized, threatened to withhold wage and benefit improvements from stores considering unionizing, and packed stores with outside managers to undermine organizing efforts.

The National Labor Relations Board, which oversees all union elections in the U.S., has issued more than 93 complaints covering 328 unfair labor practice charges against Starbucks — and ordered reinstatement of at least 23 fired workers so far.

Yet Starbucks is unwilling to change its anti-union ways — even though Schultz was grilled in front of Congress 

Starbucks claims to be a “progressive” company.

But based on the way it’s broken labor law and put unionized workers in the percolator, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Now is an opportunity for all of us to make our voices heard and to tell Starbucks to stop UNION BUSTING and bargain in good faith with Starbucks Workers United.

And it’s time for Joe Biden, who calls himself the “most pro-union president in American history,” to send a powerful message: we won’t tolerate union-busting by Starbucks or any other corporation — including Elon Musk’s Tesla and Jeff Bezos’s Amazon.

Otherwise, my boycott will continue — and perhaps you’ll consider joining me.  

If we want to brew a future where workers have power and dignity, then we need to show solidarity with unions…

And stand up to corporate bullying.

[zepuckinghockey]

NHL Wedding Season 2024

We're back again for another summer of NHL weddings! If you'd like to see last year's, check out this post.

If you see something wrong or someone missing, let me know! I'll continue to update this list until September when the weddings fizzle out. I appreciate the replies, reblogs, and asks with corrections and additions ❤️

6/7/24: Adam Larsson: (private wedding, no idea)

6/19/24: Jake Evans: Brendan Gallagher, Joel Edmundson, Tyler Toffoli, Nick Suzuki, Joel Armia

6/22/24: Max Jones: Trevor Zegras, Jacob Bryson

6/26/24: Adam Fox: (looked to be just family)

Josh Anderson: Nick Suzuki, Max Domi, Nick Foligno, Seth Jones, Cam Atkinson, Scott Hartnell

6/29/24: Ryan Pulock: Matt Martin, Noah Dobson, Casey Cizikas, Oliver Wahlstrom, Adam Pelech, JG Pageau, Josh Bailey, Mat Barzal, Anthony Beauvillier, Cal Clutterbuck, Bo Horvat, Simon Holmstrom, Pierre Engvall, Mikey Reilly

Jake Oettinger: Mason Marchment, Tyler Seguin, Ty Dellandrea, Wyatt Johnston

7/3/24: Mason Marchment: Jake Oettinger, Tyler Seguin, Ty Dellandrea, Brandon Montour, Mike Carcone, Owen Tippett, Sam Reinhart

7/6/24: Nic Hague: Cody Glass, Owen Tippett, Zach Whitecloud, Alec Martinez, Shea Theodore, William Karlsson, Keegan Kolesar, Nic Roy

Brendan Gallagher: Cole Caufield, Nick Suzuki, Carey Price, Jeff Petry, Chris Wideman, Tanner Pearson, Nate Thompson, Philip Danault, Christian Dvorak, Jake Evans, Sam Montembeault

7/7/24: Adam Fox 2.0: Ryan Reaves, Kevin Rooney, Will Cuylle, Vincent Trocheck, Jacob Trouba, Barclay Goodrow, Alexis Lafreniere, Blake Wheeler, Jimmy Vesey, Jonathan Quick, Ryan Lindgren, Braden Schneider, Sammy Blais, Ryan Donato, John Marino

7/10/24: Elias Lindstrom: (haven't seen any NHL guests)

7/11/24: Jared McCann: Jordan Eberle, Yanni Gourde, Vince Dunn, Jamie Oleksiak, Jaden Schwartz, Matty Beniers, Will Borgen, Kailer Yamamoto, Justin Schultz, Andre Burakovsky, Ryan Donato, Darnell Nurse, Brandon Tanev

7/13/24: Jack Campbell: Tyler Toffoli, Jake Muzzin, Kyle Clifford, Evander Kane

Alex Carrier: Frederick Gaudreau, Mathieu Joseph, Jimmy Oligny

Pierre Engvall: Simon Holmstrom, Owen Wahlstrom

Andrew Mangiapane: Johnny Gaudreau, Rasmus Andersson, Mikael Backlund, Noah Hanifin, Erik Gudbranson, Mack Weegar, Troy Stecher, Jonathan Huberdeau

Kyle Connor: Zach Werenski, Evgeny Svechnikov, Connor Hellebuyck, Tony Calderone

Eetu Luostarinen: Niko Mikkola, Lundell Anton, Aleksander Barkov

Tyler Madden: Alec Turcotte, Akil Thomas

Zack MacEwen: (haven't seen any NHL guests)

7/18/24: William Carrier: Mathieu Joseph

7/19/24: Kaapo Kahkonen: (haven't seen any NHL guests)

7/20/24: Jamie Benn: Tyler Seguin, Joe Pavelski, Jordie Benn, Jason Robertson, Roope Hintz, Joel Kiviranta, Miro Heiskanen, Esa Lundell, Ben Bishop, Luke Glendenning, Ty Dellandrea, John Klingberg

Alex Killorn: Yanni Gourde, Pat Maroon, Brandon Hagel, Nikita Kucherov, Victor Hedman, Zach Bogosian, Anthony Cirelli, Luke Schenn, Ryan McDonagh, Tyler Johnson, Blaine Gabbert, Cam Brate, Andrei Vasilevskiy

Thomas Chabot: Josh Norris, Brady Tkachuk, Tim Stutzle, Mathieu Joseph

Sebastian Aho: Teuvo Teräväinen, Jesperi Kotkaniemi, Seth Jarvis, Antti Raanta, Nino Niederreiter, Jesper Fast, Jani Hakanpaa

7/22/24: Michael Bunting: Mitch Marner, Auston Matthews, John Tavares, Jake Muzzin, Morgan Reilly, Fred Anderson, Wayne Simmons, Alex Kerfoot, TJ Brodie, Kyle Clifford

7/26/24: Jake Lucchini: (haven't seen any NHL guests)

7/27/24: Connor McDavid: Leon Draisaitl, Darnell Nurse, Zach Hyman, Evander Kane, Cody Ceci, Evan Bouchard, Vinny Desharnais, Brett KUlak, Connor Brown, Ryan Mcleod, Derek Ryan, Stuart Skinner, Philip Broberg, Warren Foegele, Devin Shore, Kyle Turris, Luke Gazdic, Zack Kassian, Patrick Maroon, Sam Gagner

Carter Verhaeghe: Matthew Tkachuk, Aaron Ekblad, Evan Rodrigues, Stolarz, Ryan Lomberg, Nick Cousins

8/3/24: Travis Sanheim: Travis Konecny, Scott Laughton, Shayne Gostisbehere, Joel Farabee, Morgan Frost, Tyson Foerster, James Van Riemsdyk

Connor Ingram: (haven't seen any NHL guests)

Cody Glass: (haven't seen any NHL guests)

8/4/24: David Pastrnak: Taylor Hall, Tukka Rask, Patrice Bergeron, Brad Marchand, Zdeno Chara, Charlie Coyle, Hampus Lindholm, Jeremy Swayman, Linus Ullmark, Torey Krug, David Krecji

8/9/24: Alex Tuch: Shea Theodore, Zemgus Girgensons, Tage Thompson

8/10/24: Tyler Johnson: Yanni Gourde, Ondrej Palat, Mathieu Joseph, Ryan McDonagh, Alex Killorn, Pat Maroon, Reese Johnson, Adam Gaudette

8/17/24: Cale Makar: Gabe Landeskog, Nathan MacKinnon, Erik Johnson, Bo Byram, Darren Helm, Andrew Cogliano, Josh Manson, Kurtis Macdermid

Zachary Sanford: (haven't seen any NHL guests)

Mike Amadio: Zach Whitecloud, Ben Hutton, Brett Howden, Nic Hague, Nic Roy

Andrew Copp: JT Compher, Tyson Jost

Ryan Johansen: Colton Sissons, Luke Kunin, Roman Josi, Matt Duchene, Dante Fabbro, Cam Atkinson, Ross Colton, Miles Wood

8/23/24:

Roope Hintz: Tyler Seguin, Esa Lundell, Patrik Laine,

[eretzyisrael]

The New York Post reports:

The Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR) will be forced to open its books and reveal its sources of funding after a defamation suit it filed against a former employee completely backfired.  US Magistrate Judge David Schultz ruled Monday that CAIR’s donors, funding sources — potentially including foreign ones — and any assets owned by the group are all within the “scope of permissible discovery” as part of former chapter leader Lori Saroya’s lawsuit against the controversial Muslim rights group. 

What happened was that Saroya was a senior member of CAIR and even a member of its board of directors. She resigned from CAIR in 2018 and then started posting about how awful the organization is, accusing it of discrimination, harassment, retaliation, union busting, financial mismanagement, lack of board oversight, board incompetence, creating a hostile work environment, negatively portraying Muslims, making mistakes on legal cases, receiving foreign funding, and withholding money it owed her.

CAIR sued her for defamation. When the judge asked CAIR to amend the lawsuit to specify what she said that damaged the organization, CAIR dropped the case.

But then CAIR issued a press release accusing Saroya of cyberstalking, as well as claiming that the judge ruled in their favor before they dropped the case and that Saroya's lawsuit had no merit. In that press release, CAIR said the only reason it dropped the case was "Lori’s attorneys were using the discovery process to overwhelm our chapters, drain their resources, and even demand the names of CAIR supporters who have donated to us, among other private information that anti-Muslim groups have long wanted to acquire. We would never risk letting the community’s information fall into the hands of Lori or anti-Muslim groups. "

This opened the door for Saroya to sue CAIR - and, significantly, to force the group to open its books to see exactly what CAIR said it didn't want the world to see, where it gets its funding from, since CAIR accused her of lying about their getting money from known terror-linked organizations. 

It's also funny that CAIR is accusing Saroya of being anti-Muslim. There is a website set up by Muslims that discusses CAIR's ethical and legal lapses and general sketchiess.

This is going to be fun.

[fireinthefireproofvault]

Choose Your Fighter, Ladies...Or Perhaps Gentleman 😉

Colonel Robert Hogan

Strengths: ★ Smooth bastard ★ Absolute fiend on the drums ★ Good kisser ★ Knows all the best date spots ★ +1 to arguments because nobody's arguing with a man with brown eyes. Whatever you say beautiful. Weaknesses: ★ A little manipulative ★ Assumes he knows what you want, may or may not be correct Special Attacks: ★ Giving you the illusion of control with his suggestions ★ Somehow making you weak with just a little tease or one-liner ★ Utilizing Little Shit special ability set in private times Corporal Peter Newkirk

Strengths: ★ Amusing you with his magic tricks ★ Pickup lines ★ Good with his hands ★ Those baby blues ★ Persuasion ★ Can sew ★ Arms Weaknesses: ★ Wandering eye ★ Can be a lil sexist sometimes Special Attacks: ★ Always calling you 'love' ★ Uses Safecracker special ability to either hide you little gifts to find or alternatively hide things of yours so he can feel important and helpful when he finds it Sergeant James Kinchloe

Strengths: ★ Intelligent ★ Level-headed ★ Looks ★ +2 argument buff. One for competency and also whatever you say beautiful ★ Pro boxer ★ Electronics expert ★ Bass player ★ Plumbing skills Weaknesses: ★ Some people have a hard time dating someone smarter than them ★ Dry humor can debuff those with the autism special ability Special Attacks: ★ Jack of All Trades special ability means he's sort of OP ★ Great joke/impression timing Corporal Louis LeBeau

Strengths: ★ Excellent cook ★ Great with animals ★ Can sing ★ Can sew★ A romantic ★ Ready to kill nazis at any time ★ +1 argument buff. Whatever you say beautiful Weaknesses: ★ Reaching top shelves ★ Easily provoked into fights Special Attacks: ★ Simping ★ Bilingual special ability means he says all kinds of poetic things to you in English and French ★ Learning to make all your favorite things Sergeant Andrew Carter

Strengths: ★ Chemistry whiz ★ Would be a gentleman toward you ★ No shortage of conversation ★ Cutie pie ★ Learning to knit ★ Likes you for you ★ Will blow up anything you ask him to Weaknesses: ★ Social cues ★ Sensory overload ★ Sarcasm Special Attacks: ★ Autism special ability grants great sincerity and dedication ★ Sharing his special interests and culture with you Sergeant Richard Baker

Strengths: ★ Tall, dark, and handsome ★ Electronics expert ★ Plays the bass ★ Can reach the top shelf for you ★ +1 argument buff Weaknesses: ★ Screen time ★ Backstory Special Attacks: ★ Good at learning what you like and remembering it ★ Seems like he would be good at carrying people bridal-style Colonel Wilhelm Klink

Strengths: ★ Passionate lover ★ Will enjoy the finer things with you ★ Genuinely cares about you ★ Buys you jewelry ★ Tries to act tough but in reality will do anything to make you smile Weaknesses: ★ Easily manipulated ★ Eyesight ★ Violin Special Attacks: ★ Dominant tendencies ★ No escapes from Stalag 13...or his love! Sergeant Hans Schultz

Strengths: ★ Sweetheart ★ Very complimentary ★ Family man ★ Knows the best food and drinks in every spot in town ★ Crafts toys and trinkets ★ Gives great hugs

Weaknesses: ★ Married but if he wasn't would be 100% yours ★ Athleticism ★ Easily bribed Special Attacks: ★ Simping ★ Turning a blind eye when you ask him to ★ Calling you "baby" General Albert Burkhalter

Strengths: ★ High-ranking officer ★ Considers his wife the number one authority in Germany even over the Führer ★ Can get you into exclusive places ★ Probably Nimrod ★ Amusing burns Weaknesses: ★ Literally married but if he wasn't would say how much better off he'd be if he was. Ask him why, it's about a 50/50 if it'll be sweet or a little sexist. ★ Bit of a temper Special Attacks: ★ Being handsy ★ Making a Wednesday night feel like a Saturday night (and that's an order) Major Wolfgang Hochstetter

Strengths: ★ Influence ★ Enjoys dancing with you even if he's still learning ★ Won't let anyone push you around ★ Everyone else with brown eyes got the buff so he gets it too I guess. +1 Weaknesses: ★ A literal nazi ★ Loud ★ Kinda married to his job Special Attacks: ★ Stepping on your feet when you dance ★ Attempts a more awkward version of Klink's passionate lover act thinking he can do it better ★ WHAT IS THIS MAN DOING HERE Colonel Rodney Crittendon

Strengths: ★ Eagerness ★ Gentlemanly ★ Rocks a stache ★ Will wrap his scarf around you when it gets cold ★ Makes you laugh Weaknesses: ★ Unbalanced charisma to intelligence stat ratio ★ Impulsive Special Attacks: ★ Judo (he takes 'special attack' literally) ★ Insists he's a legendary ballroom dancer and intends to prove it with you ★ Chivalry

[scholarlycoffee]

WIP INTRO: NEON VIOLET

The light-leaks and scratches on the old film flicker over her face, masking her reflective white eyes. The video kicks back and loops. “My name is Nettie Schultz and I have died three times,” she repeats. 

Blurb: On the island of Tombedel, no one dies. At least, no one stays dead.

After separating from his wife of over twenty years, London-based private investigator Abe Tannen visits the exclusive medieval island of Tombedel during their Saint Martin’s Day celebrations, but his much-needed vacation takes an unexpected turn when a man is murdered in his hotel: the first person to actually die on the island in over 1,000 years.

With the local law enforcement unprepared to handle a real murder, the investigation falls to Abe, who enlists the help of an eclectic group of ghosts.

When the investigation leads them to begin uncovering the island’s long-buried secrets, Abe and his team find themselves in far more danger than they could have anticipated. After all, there are far worse fates than death.

Setting: Tombedel, a mysterious medieval island off the coast of England. November of 2025, but also 1983 and 1934 and 802 AD and 509 AD.

Genre: Adult, sci-fi mystery

Series: 1 of 2

POV: 3rd person present tense, multi-pov

Vibes: glitter-smudged faces, foggy coasts, chainmail under t-shirts, crystal balls, ancient church towers, neon lights, dimly lit labs, tape recorders, ren faires, crumbling castles, rundown pubs, cable-knit sweaters, old magicks.

Soundtrack: Seventeen Going Under - Sam Fender / I'm Set Free - The Velvet Underground / Night Shift - Lucy Dacus / The Body Electric - Hurray for the Riff Raff / Yuri-G - PJ Harvey / My Darling Faye - Songs for Moms / Vampire Empire - Big Thief / The Killing Moon - Echo & the Bunnymen

Word Count: Planning

[truefandemonium]

Hi sweetheart!! Your number 1 fan here 🤗

Can I request for a fic where King and reader have a very special relationship where both of them love each other, but they never admitted their feelings. One day she gets shot and King freaks out, almost crying and finally admits his feelings for her. The rest is up to you, love! Hope you like it, hun. Sending lots of love 🤗💖

Thanks so much again for the request! Sorry this one took so long to come out 😭 I hope this one is as good as the other you requested! I struggled a little bit with some of the emotional scenes but hopefully it fits what you were wanting to see!! Much love!!

“For Every Moment”

[Dr King Schultz x Fem!Reader] (Mature)

TW: Blood, violence, strong language, innuendo

Tags: fluff, angst, love confessions, soulmates, possessiveness, tending to wounds, kissing, bed sharing

5,285 words

…

You always wondered if King felt the same way about you as you did him.

The flirting, mostly from you, so it happened, was nice. As were the gentle touches— which lingered longer in the dark of campsites and after private interactions in tavern hallways. On long rides across desert landscapes, you would find King’s eyes wandering to land on you— his gaze rarely left your face, and you wouldn’t expect anything else from such a self-proclaimed gentleman. However, there was once when you’d been down at the river washing yourself and had forgotten to warn neither King nor Django, and the men happened upon you half nude.

Django couldn’t have cared less, stripping down and taking his own corner of the undertow to bathe in, not giving you a second glance, while King turned a shade of red you’d thought was reserved only for tomatoes, and after taking a prolonged look of shock at your breasts, turned tail and fled back to the wagon. He couldn’t even look in your direction the rest of that day, keeping his chin tucked into his chest and hat pulled low over his brow to avoid your eyes.

You’d found the whole thing quite funny, if not slightly embarrassing on your behalf, but King refused to speak of it again, shying away from the mere mention of the occurrence.

Which was why it made this whole thing so damn confusing. Did he love you or didn’t he? Perhaps in Germany, the men were simply more prone to shows of romanticism. You shake your head to yourself as you lean forward and stir the beans in the pot over the fire with a wooden spoon. Maybe you’d never know what was going on in King’s head. Either way, you’d enjoy his company until your last breath, and happily.

“Something on your mind, frauline?” King’s buttery voice breaks into your thoughts as you sit back down on the log in front of the fire, and you panic for a moment, watching him out the corner of your eye as he approaches and takes a seat across from you.

“No, nothing,” you say, wondering how to breach the subject plaguing you. Debating whether or not you should at all…

“You have the look of a kicked pup, my dear,” the man purrs, his tone so convincing and gentle. “You’re certain there is nothing I can do to ease your burden?” You just want to melt when you hear him speak— like a glass of whiskey; making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

But you shake your head again, suddenly choked at the thought of telling him your true feelings for him. “I’m fine, King— really.” The lie is obvious, and you regret it as soon as it leaves your lips, noticing the way the scorn hits King like an arrow to the chest.

He practically winces as he nods. “My apologies— I do not mean to pry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, wrestling with yourself. You pull the pot off the fire and nod your thanks as King stands and holds out two small tin cups for you to scoop the food into cautiously. “It’s just…” You stop as Django returns from where the horses are tied several yards away, the thickness returning to your throat.

Django instantly senses your odd behavior, his eyes narrowing as he takes one of the tin cups from King’s outstretched hand. You blink at him, silently pleading for him to give you and King space, and thankfully, he picks up on your desperate expression.

Poking a spoon into his cup of beans, Django glances between you and King with a sniff, grumbling, “Need some air. I’ll be… over there.” He jerks his head sideways and starts off into the desert, and you instantly feel a twinge of guilt, alongside relief.

King, confused, opens his arms wide, gesturing to the wide open space around you. “You have all the air of Texas, dear Django!”

The ex-slave just waves one hand above his head, calling as playfully as you ever hear him, “Not with what you two got hangin’ in it.”

You flush at his words, and King’s gaze flicks back to you, his green eyes wide. “Oh?” he says, clueless, which only makes you burn further, setting the pot down after dishing your own helping. “I didn’t realize we had things to discuss,” he says slowly, sitting back down, his eyes still glued to you. As he sees your expression, suddenly teary eyes and red face, his own gaze changes; softens with realization. “Oh,” he adds in a near whisper, swallowing.

“Frauline,” he says gently, the firelight casting shadows across his worn face. “I do hope you know that you can always speak to me.” He tries to joke, adding with a stressed chuckle, “I cannot promise that my advice will be all that helpful, but—”

“No, see— King, that’s the problem,” you sigh, dropping your head into your hands. “I… I can tell you anything— everything. And I do. But you—” You look up and see the way his brow is furrowed, confusion clouding his gaze. You say gently, “You don’t tell anyone anything at all, King. Not even me.”

At that, he smiles ruefully, even the small gesture making your belly tighten. “Ach, mein lieb,” he sighs softly, “I am an old man. I do not expect a girl like yourself to be a confidant, and that is not something you should ever feel is required of you—”

“But I want to be,” you argue. King seems taken aback, even leaning up from where his forearms had been resting on his knees to look at you.

“Y/N,” he says slowly, as if explaining to a child. “I need you to know this: I love you.”

Your heart stops in this moment, and you’re sure if physics weren’t against you— you’d be floating right up into the stars above your head.

King continues, gesturing to the dark desert where his partner has just disappeared to, “Just as I love our dear Django. You two are my closest compatriots— dare I say friends.” At that, he smiles, and you feel your chest begin to constrict, sadness creeping up your throat and threatening to steal your breath away. Friends, right. Nothing more. But as quick as it had appeared, King’s smile leaves again, in lieu of his expression growing deadly serious. “And that means that you are both at a greater risk for being the targets of unhappy acquaintances of bad men I have a duty to dispatch. I enjoy your company— and always have. But I will not allow myself to be the reason either of you get hurt.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you try to reason, simply wanting to hear him admit that he likes you more than he’s letting on.

“Then what—” King’s words are cut off by Django’s sudden and panicked return from the desert; the fellow bounty hunter practically sprinting to your side, eyes huge and breathing heavy.

“Damn rattlesnake ‘bout bit my ass up,” he pants, jerking one thumb over his shoulder.

“You what?” King asks, clearly having been so focused on snapping back at you that he hardly heard his friend.

Django frowns, saying in a choppy, disdainful tone, “A rattler, King. Almost bit. My ass. The hell up.” His brown eyes flick between you and King, trying to gauge the tension there. “You two done bickerin’, then?”

King looks at you, his gaze managing to still remain confused even after your outburst. “I did not think any bickering occurred, Y/N—?”

You stand up without looking at him, pushing your half-eaten tin cup of beans into Django’s hands. “I’m not hungry. Goodnight, Django.” You turn slightly and mutter, “Night, King.”

As you make your way toward the horses to acquire your bedroll, you don’t see the way Django shrugs and sits down to begin digging into your leftovers— nor how King watches you go with a broken expression. There was so much he wanted to say… he just didn’t know how.

Little did you know, this was the first time in King’s life he’d found himself speechless.

…

“Dammit fuck, King, he’s getting away!” Django curses, his burning eyes glued to the form of the desperado booking it across the sandy desert.

King smiles, his silver beard catching the sunlight beating down from above, his green eyes shimmering as he watches the horse gallop with his bandit rider atop him.

“Django, my boy— patience is one part of bounty hunting you need to learn sooner than later,” King tells him, his tone stern but affectionate.

“Yeah? Well I’d rather pop this sumbitch a bullet right up his ass before he has time to tell all his buddies that somebodys are skulkin’ around up in the desert,” Django barks back, seething.

“That ‘somebodys’ ‘d be us, right?” you ask, sitting placidly on the wagon, playing with Fritz’s reins.

King speaks before Django can annoyedly answer you. “I was going to let you figure it out yourself but since your common sense has seemed to have deserted you at this time, I will explain.” King leans over Fritz to stare at Django and say slowly, “We are missing two of three outlaws. That one—” King points toward the disappearing shape of the man on the run without looking away from his partner. “—will lead us directly to the other two, that we are looking for.”

Django’s eyes flash with understanding and he curls his lip in a growl.

“Do you understand now, why we are going to simply follow him instead of impulsively putting a bullet in his brain?” King asks him.

The other man glowers for a moment before responding. “Yeah, you don’t gotta be so con-sendin’ ‘bout it,” Django snarls, hopping atop his horse and clicking his tongue to steady the beast.

King just smiles. “I prefer the term patronizing, but yes, condescending works, too. I will continue to use that tone until you learn to trust me,” he says, and Django nods ruefully. “You know I only have either of your best interests at heart,” King reminds you both, getting onto the wagon beside you. With a grin, he adds, “And money, of course. You really think I’d sabotage a bounty for my ego?”

Django rolls his eyes, lips twitching up into a smirk as he replies, “With you, doc— can’t never be too sure.”

King chuckles, the sound making butterflies take off in your belly, and you distract yourself from his utter perfection by handing the reins off and awaiting departure.

“Ready, my dear?” King asks you, and you swallow, nodding. You want desperately to bring up the talk last night— but you can’t. You just wish you could poke around in his mind until finding the honest truth behind his affection for you.

But before you can even try to see past his gaze to find out the intention behind his words, he’s telling Fritz to giddyup and flicking the reins commandingly. You try not to watch the side of his face as he calmly drives the stage, his brow unfurrowed and a soft smile playing on his lips.

You wonder how he can be so unbothered by everything— when you feel like your very world is crumbling without knowing how he feels about you. You force yourself not to dwell on it. Getting into a deadly situation while stuck in your own head could spell disaster, and you need to be the lookout for your two partners.

After a considerable time following the tracks of your runaway bandit, you arrive in a near-ghost town, streets empty and buildings falling apart. No wonder the trio chose this place to hideout, they’d never be suspected to be found here.

King pulls the wagon up to a tree down the street from a saloon, where he glares and points out a familiar horse to Django, accompanied by two others. The two men dismount and begin muttering to each other, guns on their hips ready to go while you look on in awe. No matter how many times you see it, you’re still in wonder of their ability to work together like a machine, producing bodies of bad men like it’s nothing, and then profiting from it.

You wait atop the wagon behind Fritz until King turns to you and orders, “Stay on the wagon, alright? If you hear two or more shots, and neither me or Django comes out— take his horse to the nearest town, about ten miles that way, and get the sheriff.”

“You’re scaring me with that kinda talk,” you tell him, hating the moments that he gets so serious about collecting bounties. Most often, Django and King make jokes and promises for grand sleeping arrangements in hotels before going to do a job. But every once in a while, King gets a twinge of anxiety, and makes you promise not to try and avenge his death in the scenario he’s killed by his own target.

King chuckles softly, now, dipping his head. “I’m sorry, frauline. I do tend to catastrophize things. I will be out in six minutes, how is that?”

You smile. “Make it five.”

“I’ll make it two if you both shut up in the next ten seconds,” Django interrupts, narrowing his eyes at the saloon down the dusty street.

You and King fall silent, and changing one last (what you hope is meaningful) glance before the two hunters depart from you, and you wring the hem of your dress in your sweaty fist as you wait for them to return.

You watch with a knot in your stomach as they disappear one after the other into the saloon, your eyes finally wandering away from the door and coming to rest on the wagon seat you’re sitting on.

Your heart stutters at the sight of King’s crumpled paper sitting there, right next to your clenched fist. You scramble to pick it up and read it, recognizing it as the arrest order from the judge for the three men inside the saloon with Django and Dr King Schultz.

Shit. King needs this paper, he always takes the judge’s order with him on a job! Panic floods you, and you stand up, hurrying off the wagon and down the street, heart racing.

You’ll be quick. You’ll simply appear with the order, make sure it’s in King’s hand before racing back out— nothing more.

You reach the saloon and get close enough to hear voices. Fear grips you at the sound of arguing.

“You’ll never get all of us, you son of a bitch!” someone yells, and you hear the bang of a bullet being fired as the saloon doors burst open. A stranger races out and collides with you as scream, your head hitting the hard ground with a smack.

The world spins as more sounds ring out, and suddenly you’re being dragged to your feet by a man’s strong hand. An arm winds itself around your throat, too tightly for comfort, and when your eyes focus again, you see Django and King standing in shocked horror just outside the saloon.

The man holding you against his front calls, “Let me and Jake go and you can have the girl! Or else—” You suck in a gasp as you feel the cold barrel of a revolver dig painfully into your side, and you struggle against his hold.

You see King’s eyes fill with fury and pain at the sight of it, his fists flexing at his sides. Django, contrastingly, is calm and still as he stands before you, analyzing the situation with a careful eye. It seems like the first time that Django has ever been the collected one, compared to King.

“William—” King says slowly, but you can hear the way he’s nearing his breaking point. “Let the girl go, she is not part of this—”

“She sure as hell is, now!” the man holding you screams, and you wince as the gun prods you again. You finally notice now, another man standing only a few feet away, unarmed. He looks between all of you fearfully, malice radiating off of him.

“King, shut the fuck up,” Django hisses, not taking his eyes off the man keeping you in a tight chokehold. Panic begins to set in and you start to thrash in his grasp.

“Hold still, you bitch—!” the man grunts, his hand moving to cover your mouth. You shriek as his nails dig into the flesh of your cheek, and you strain, rearing back to elbow him hard in the stomach.

“Leave her alone!” King screams, his eyes huge and filled with terror as Django’s jaw clenches.

“King!” the other man yells, lifting his gun and letting off two rounds in quick succession. But you hear three.

The first man— Jake— drops to the earth in a moment, his corpse sprawled out and bloody.

You feel William’s hand slowly release your face, the marks his nails left already beginning to sting as blood pricks at the surface.

And then you feel the heat in your belly. Warm— no, hot. And wet— you glance down and blink a few times at the growing stain of crimson just below your ribs, on your left side. You don’t even feel the pain until you tip over.

The world must stop for a moment, or maybe you do, because when you open your eyes again, King is there, clutching you desperately to his chest as he leans over your body.

“Ach Gott, mein Gott, nein, nein,” King whispers, his green eyes traveling across your face and body, tears pricking at the edges of his vision as he takes it all in. The blood leaking from your side, the pale skin of your face, growing paler by the second. “Please, no,” he begs in a breaking tone, his hands firmly holding you.

“King—?” you manage to croak, your hand slipping upwards and finding purchase around his coat collar. You grip it like a lifeline, your pounding heart beginning to stutter. “Don’t go—!”

“I’m here, frauline,” he tells you, his eyes never leaving your face. “I’m staying right here, I swear it.”

“It— ah— it hurts,” you whimper, the pain now ripping through you like a whirlwind.

“I know,” King says, his normally smooth voice breaking a bit. “I know, and I am so sorry, mein Liebling.”’

“Don’t be,” you cry, emotion starting to choke you. “I— I should have—”

“No, schiesse, Y/N, this is not your fault,” he says, stopping you. He shifts you in his arms so your chests are nearly flush— you can feel his heart hammering his ribs as he speaks. “I should not have let you get close enough for this to happen. Curse every moment I let pass without telling you… I should have just told you last night—”

“Told me…?” For a moment, the pain is gone. All you feel is a sudden rush of hope. Of affection.

King has never cried in front of you. This time is no different. But he gets damn close. His voice shakes and his verdant eyes grow wet with unshed tears as he confesses at long last, “That I love you.”

He shuts his eyes now, the tears dropping to land in his beard. The last thing you feel like doing is crying, however. Even with your gaping wound, you feel like you could dance. You’re lighter than air.

But King isn’t finished. He shakes his head to recenter himself and chokes out, “More than love, Y/N— I adore you. I crave you. Do you have any idea how long I have waited— longed to hold you?” His hand, calloused, yet surprisingly clean, and oh-so gentle, comes up to push a strand of hair from your sweat-slicked temple.

You shiver at his soft touch and decide to throw caution to the wind. If this is to be your last moment alive, you’re going out taking what you’ve always wanted.

Still holding tightly to his collar, you pull hard, half yanking him down to your level and half lifting yourself to reach him— and slam your lips against his.

The world erupts in butterflies and sun bursts of every color and magnitude. King’s lips against your own feel so right; interlocking with yours in an explosion of warmth and taste and comfort. His tongue finds yours, and you let out a soft whimper into his mouth, startling him to pull away in concern.

He pants, his cheeks already a quiet rosy red and his eyes wide and glittery with affection as he gazes at you in silent wonder.

You wish you had more time, more energy, but your strength is waning. In lieu of another kiss, you manage, “King— I’ve always loved you, too.”

King blinks in apparent shock, an almost disbelieving chuckle pulled from his chest as a smile tugs the corner of his lip.

But he has no time to say more, because then you hear the scuffle of boots on sand and suddenly Django is there, too. He crouches low and inspects your body with a scrutinous gaze— though you can tell how desperately he doesn’t want you to know he’s scared.

“I need to see how bad it is,” the man says, almost to himself before looking up at you. You thank the heavens he isn’t mentioning the atrociously dramatic confession you just received, nor the equally impulsive kiss. “I gotta lift up your skirts, girl,” Django says sternly, his brown eyes pinning you in place as you hang in King’s arms.

King’s grasp on you tightens defensively for just a moment before he returns to his senses and nods briskly. He looks deep in your eyes before laying you down on your back in the sand and ripping off his coat to cover your soon-to-be-bare legs.

You hardly notice as Django carefully but urgently pulls the cotton layers of your dress above your hips, then a bit further to reveal your belly (thank goodness you weren’t wearing a corset), because your eyes are intently glued to the way King’s white shirt sticks to his shoulders and chest, sweat making the cloth form to his muscular body as he watches Django study your wound. You wish you could see past his vest, too, but now is really not the time to ask for a strip tease.

You blink your thanks as King lays his coat down over your legs— not scandalous, as you’re wearing bloomers that reach your mid thigh, but still more than you’ve ever been exposed to either of these men (aside from the aforementioned fateful incident at the river).

Django mutters something for you to prepare yourself before laying his hands on your side and checking the size of the shot. You cry out, and King’s hand instantly finds yours, letting you squeeze him as the pain subsides.

You open your eyes after a moment and are surprised to see Django smiling, teeth flashing and everything. He looks at you and smiles wider. “You're one lucky bitch, you know that?” Without waiting for an answer, he pulls your dress back down over your legs and uses King’s coat to wrap tightly around your injured waist.

“She’ll be just fine, we jus’ need a doc to stitch her up…” you hear Django telling King over you as you begin to drift off. The loss of blood has made you sleepy, unsurprisingly, and although it seems a bad idea, you just can’t help closing your eyes, just for a moment…

…

You wish you could remember the ride here— wherever you’ve ended up. You’re certain King held you the whole way while Django drove the wagon. Maybe you’re completely wrong, but the presence of a snoring Dr. King Schultz at your bedside confirms your suspicion that he hasn’t left your side since you were shot.

Speaking of which…

You shift with a wince and look under the covers to prod at your side curiously. It hurts, of course, but whatever drug they gave you sure has helped with the pain. Your head swims pleasurably, though perhaps that’s the after effects of your kiss with King.

You lie back down on the considerably cushy pillow and turn to gaze at the sleeping form of your beloved King Schultz. His body cocked sideways so he’s facing your bed, coat off, hat in his lap. His head rests on the back of the chair, brown furrowed deeply above his scrunched-shut eyes.

You decide to risk waking him from his gorgeous sleep and slide your hand upward to cup his bearded jaw.

As your fingers brush the stubble along his throat, King snaps awake, snorting gently as his hand snatches your wrist in an instinctive defensive response. His wide eyes pin you before recognition seeps in, and he softens his grasp on your wrist, bringing his other hand up instantly to gently cradle your palm.

“Y/N,” he breathes, sitting up and never taking his eyes from you.

You smile shyly, feeling bare beneath his gaze. Not that you'd exactly protest. King’s own lips turn upward as he stares at you.

“How do you feel?” he asks you concernedly, his hold soft and warm and strong. His grip doesn’t waver, like now that he has you, he’s not ever going to let go. And you want to bask in the safety of it forever.

You nod. “I’m alright, King. I’m doing just fine…”

King chuckles, in that way that reminds you of the way he broke down when he held you in his arms only yesterday. “My dear— you nearly stopped my heart with that little stunt of yours.”

“Stunt?” you echo, giggling at how suddenly nonchalant he sounds about the ordeal. Though you know he’s only trying to keep the conversation light.

His brows raise, and he plasters a mock-serious expression on his worn face. “Well, yes— didn’t you do that to get my attention?”

“You wish,” you snort, pumping his hands up and down once weakly with your own.

King smiles, warm and sweet, like honey. It’s contagious, it seems, because soon so are you.

“Y/N, truly— what possessed you to leave the horses yesterday, mein frauline?” King’s eyes grow genuinely serious, now, and you feel a twinge of guilt at the memory.

“I don’t know… I thought I was helping— it’s all so silly, now…” You hang your head, and King tuts gently, moving one hand to slowly lift your chin with his knuckle.

“We don’t need to discuss it if you don’t wish,” he tells you.

You argue, “No, I do! There’s— well, I’m afraid to ask you, but I need to know…”

The man before you blinks worriedly. “Anything.”

You feel a familiar sting at the back of your throat, tears threatening to choke you, but you force the words out around the lump. “Was it true?” You blink until your vision is clear again and continue, “What you said to me yesterday.”

King blinks, too, his eyes huge as he swallows thickly. You watch the bob of his throat and focus on the way he exhales softly, weighing his reply.

“It was a very tense moment and in tense moments I tend to say and do things that—”

“Was it true or wasn’t it?” you demand, pulling your hand out of his grasp, and you see the hurt enter his gaze instantly. You pin him with your burning eyes, not as furious as you’re desperate to hear him say he meant every word.

You sigh in relief as he stands from his chair to loom over your prone body, bringing his once-bloodstained hands up to cup your face. His eyes bore into yours as he mutters with a tone so deadly it makes your bones chill and alight simultaneously, “My dear, it was all true and more.” King’s green eyes flick across your face, studying every inch of you as he whispers, “If you were not so recently injured— and of course as long as thou doth not protest—” He momentarily smirked at his own quip before returning straight-lipped. “—I would take you apart in this bed right here and now. You deserve to be adored, mein leibe, every moment of every day.” Your breath stutters at his words, soaking up the sudden tears teasing the edges of his vision as he croaks out, “I was a fool for waiting this long to speak my truth, and for that— I offer my deepest apologies.” Without waiting for you to reply, King presses in to lock his lips onto yours. You gasp just before his teeth click against yours, his kiss firm and passionate, and speaking volumes. This kiss says you’re his, now. This kiss says he wants you, too.

You melt into it, arms wrapping around his shoulders and inadvertently toppling him off balance, dragging him down toward your body. He slams one hand down on the side of your head to keep himself from landing his weight on your injury, and you smirk playfully up at him through your lashes.

You take in the sight of his cheeks pink, his breathing heavy, hair falling in soft waves into his eyes as he hovers above you. You whisper, “I could get used to this.”

King sucks in a breath, embarrassment obvious in the way his face turns even redder, and he scolds gently, “Not until you are better, frauline.”

“I’d feel better if I wasn’t all alone in here,” you admit, and King’s brows raise again. You demonstrate your point by scooting to accommodate him and he pushes himself up and off of you, noticing the new space at your side in the bed. You lift the covers and pat the mattress, even, driving it home.

“Ah,” King realizes, his mannerisms screaming barely contained want as he wrings his hands. “I don’t think the nurses would be so keen—”

You shrug. “You kill thieves and murderers for a living,” you remind him, “and you’re scared of a few nurses?”

“I suppose you’re right.” King grins at your cheekiness and opens his arms wide. “Well, who can resist those charms of yours, you gorgeous devil?”

You giggle in victory as King kicks off his boots and pulls his suspenders down to hang at his sides as he takes the space next to you.

You sigh happily as you feel his body come flush to yours, and you’re quick to pin him with one arm draped over his belly, which softly heaves with each breath. “You’re perfect,” you whisper as you study his profile, fondling his beard with your curious hand.

King laughs softly. “My love, I don’t think you know what perfect means.” He turns and does his own fondling of your face, once again trailing his palm along your jaw. “Unless you have been studying your reflection in the mirror.”

“Don’t ever leave me,” you beg, suddenly, and King's eyes flicker with compassion and longing.

“Y/N,” he promises, leaning his head gently against your own. “I will do no such thing as long as I live.”

“And you’ll love me forever?” you ask hopefully.

Your heart thrums as a wicked, beautiful smile spreads across King’s face, nothing in his eyes but desperate devotion to you. “I swear, I’ll make up for every single second I ever let you doubt my affection for you, Liebling.”

With that, he kisses you once more, unlike the other times. This time it’s soft and tender and full of hope. It’s a promise. A promise that nothing will ever keep him from you again.

…

[soon-palestine]

Do you have a source for that Washington Post tweet with the list of billionaires funding that bill to change public opinion regarding Palestinian genocide. The one that included higher ups at Dell and Starbucks etc? I don't doubt it but I'd like to get more info and googling is NOT helping rn

according to the wp article :

it's a what's app chat group , here is te quote :

"People with direct access to the chat log’s contents supplied them to The Post. They shared the information on the condition of anonymity because the chat’s contents were meant to stay private. Members of the group verified the chat’s existence and their comments."

but the article included those names :

A group of billionaires and business titans working to shape U.S. public opinion of the war in Gaza privately pressed New York City’s mayor last month to send police to disperse pro-Palestinian protests at Columbia University, according to communications obtained by The Washington Post and people familiar with the group.

Business executives including Kind snack company founder Daniel Lubetzky, hedge fund manager Daniel Loeb, billionaire Len Blavatnik and real estate investor Joseph Sitt held a Zoom video call on April 26 with Mayor Eric Adams (D), about a week after the mayor first sent New York police to Columbia’s campus, a log of chat messages shows.

The chat was initiated by a staffer for billionaire and real estate magnate Barry Sternlicht

[..]

The messages describing the call with Adams were among thousands logged in a WhatsApp chat among some of the nation’s most prominent business leaders and financiers, including former Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz, Dell founder and CEO Michael Dell, hedge fund manager Bill Ackman and Joshua Kushner, founder of Thrive Capital and brother of Jared Kushner, former president Donald Trump’s son-in-law.

[article link]

[good-old-gossip]

American business leaders and billionaires set up a Whatsapp group to shape public opinion on Israel's war in Gaza and urged New York City's mayor to use police to disperse a pro-Palestinian protest at Columbia University.

The contents of the Whatsapp group were reported by the Washington Post on Thursday. The group was set up on 12 October, days after Hamas's surprise attack on southern Israel, to "change the narrative" on Israel, including by conveying "the atrocities committed by Hamas... to all Americans".

Among the business leaders in the group were the CEO of Starbucks, Howard Schultz, Dell CEO and founder Michael Dell, and Joshua Kushner, a financier and brother to Donald Trump's son-in-law Jared Kushner.

The contents of the chat were supplied to the Washington Post by unnamed people with direct access to it. Last month, members of the chat, including billionaire Len Blavatnik, held a Zoom call with New York City Mayor Eric Adams, at a time when a pro-Palestinian encampment was taking place at Columbia University in the city.

Some members of the chat offered to pay for private investigators to help police during the protests.

According to the Washington Post, a member of the group wrote on the chat that such an offer had been accepted by Adams. New York's police denied using private investigators to manage the protests.

The Whatsapp group had over 100 members, and was titled "Israel Current Events". It was set up by real estate tycoon Barry Sternlicht, who was not directly a member of the chat but participated through a staffer.

The staffer said in October that the group's mission was to help "win the war" of public opinion in the US, while Israel worked to "win the physical war".

Source - https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2024/05/16/business-leaders-chat-group-eric-adams-columbia-protesters/

Without Paywall -

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Alana Goodman

CHICAGO—The longtime leader of the Anti-Defamation League, who now serves as director emeritus, expressed concern about Jews being forced to meet in "secret locations" at the Democratic National Convention due to security threats and anti-Semitism.

"I know in my heart that in the future, it will be better, for Jews in America, then [sic] it is today. But I fear it will never be the same," said Abraham Foxman in a Twitter post on Wednesday.

"After 50 years fighting anti-Semitism in America, I could not have imagined a time Jews would have to meet in secret locations in Chicago at DNC."

Foxman, a Holocaust survivor, served as director of the Jewish civil rights organization from 1987 to 2015. The ADL is now run by Jonathan Greenblatt, a former Obama aide, who has steered it in a much more partisan direction.

Foxman’s comments come as Jewish groups holding events on the sidelines of the convention have kept their meeting locations a closely guarded secret.

The Jewish Democratic Council of America held panel discussions with former U.S. ambassador to Spain Alan Solomont and Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz (D., Fla.), but attendees were required to register before receiving the location. Private security and metal detectors were present at both events.

The Israeli-American Council only disclosed the location for its "Hostage Square" discussion to attendees a few hours before it started, the Times of Israel reported on Wednesday.

The security concerns appeared justified. On Tuesday, pro-Hamas agitators disrupted a DNC event with hostage families hosted by Agudath Israel of America, an Orthodox Jewish group. The protesters shouted, "Zionism has got to fall" and "Shame on you" at attendees. Dozens of anti-Israel protesters were also arrested after clashing with police near the convention Tuesday night.

Jewish Democratic leaders acknowledged the concerns about anti-Semitism at the DNC but also downplayed the divisions within their party.

Wasserman Schultz, speaking at a JDCA event on Thursday, said she had "angst for over a week over what the reaction would be" when the parents of Hersh Goldberg-Polin, one of the eight Americans being held captive by Hamas, spoke at the DNC on Wednesday.

Wasserman Schultz said there was a lot of "hype about how many protesters there were going to be," and she felt relieved when there were no disruptions from the audience.

But Democratic politicians have also seemed reluctant to mention Israel’s war with Hamas and the Oct. 7 attacks on the convention stage. None of the prominent Jewish Democratic speakers—including second gentleman Doug Emhoff, Senate majority leader Chuck Schumer, and Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro—mentioned Israel or the hostage crisis in their remarks.

The only speakers to broach the subject were Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D., N.Y.) and Minnesota attorney general Keith Ellison, who are aligned with the left-leaning anti-Israel movement. Both politicians called for an Israeli ceasefire.

President Joe Biden briefly acknowledged the anti-Israel protests in his speech on Monday, saying the activists "have a point."

[rwpohl]

primorsky boulevard, aleksandr polynnikov 1988

[milfdollyparton]

July

Mary Oliver, from “Hum Hum”, A Thousand Mornings / Khalil Gibran, from Beloved Prophet: The love letters of Khalil Gibran and Marry Haskell, and her private journal / Eli McMullen - Night Feels, 2020 / Unknown, (n.d.) / Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score / Benny de grove in photo de charme: le guide des techniques professionnelles de l'eclairage - roger hicks + frances schultz (1994) / baronegan, “was told by a security guard i was not allowed to take this photograph,” 2017. / Simone Weil, 'Void and Compensation' (in Gravity and Grace, trans. Emma Craufurd) / ryebreadgf, 2023

[scotianostra]

On April 7th 1934 Ian Richardson was born.

A great classical actor, he was best known to TV viewers as the Machiavellian Urquhart in House of Cards, in his golden years at the Royal Shakespeare Company from 1960 to 1975, he played a long line of leading roles, television and film later brought Richardson wider renown.

Born as Ian William Richardson the only son and eldest of three children of Margaret and John Richardson in Edinburgh, Ian was educated at Balgreen and then Tynecastle schools, he thentrained for the stage at Glasgow’s College of Dramatic Art, with lightning speed, Richardson, at the age of 24, found himself playing Hamlet. Two seasons at Birmingham were followed by a swift transfer in 1960 to neighbouring Stratford where Richardson became a vital component. of the Royal Shakespeare Company where we was one of the founders.

After leaving the RSC, Richardson became a somewhat nomadic figure, turning up on Broadway as Higgins in My Fair Lady.

For a while he was on the dole — one morning he was even scrabbling round Covent Garden collecting fruit and vegetables. He also suffered a nervous breakdown, as a result of which he was sent to a nursing home run by nuns in Regent’s Park; after three weeks’ treatment he had recovered sufficiently to return home. I suppose it was his time unemployed that took him into a more regular career on the small screen.

From the late 1970′s onwards, he carved out a prosperous career in TV and film. Of course he had already made many TV appearances before now but audiences were peaking just at the right time for the wider public to appreciate his acting skills.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Private Schultz, Porterhouse Blue were the type of programmes I was watching Richardson in, he also played Sherlock Holmes and Dr Joseph Bell in shows about the detective. Then of course there was House of Cards and the brilliant portrayal of the anti-hero Francis Urquhart. He won the BAFTA Best Television Actor and nominations for the following two series.

In June 2006, he was made an honorary Doctor of the University of Stirling. The honour was conferred on him by the University’s Chancellor, fellow actor Dame Diana Rigg.

His final film appearance was as Judge Langlois in Becoming Jane, released shortly after his death.

During the last 15 years of his life he appeared five times on television acting opposite his son Miles Richardson, though this was usually with one or the other in a minor role

[sgtgrunt0331-3]

On February 23, 1945, the iconic photograph of six United States Marines raising the second U.S. flag atop Mount Suribachi during the Battle of Iwo Jima, was taken by Associated Press photographer, Joe Rosenthal.

Three of the six Marines in the photograph—Sergeant Michael Strank, Corporal Harlon Block, and Private First Class Franklin Sousley—were killed in action during the battle. The other three Marines in the photograph were Private First Class Ira Hayes, Private First Class Harold Schultz, and Private First Class Harold Keller.

The photograph has come to be regarded as one of the most significant and recognizable images in all of World War II.

(Photo by: Joe Rosenthal/AP)

[vampiricgf]

I keep seeing a concerning amount of videos of people going "why are we even boycotting starbucks" "the starbucks boycott is stupid" and really they're just exposing themselves for not doing adequate research on a movement they chose to participate in

like it is not the fault of protestors or movement organizers that you choose not to investigate on your own, especially at a time when misinfo is rampant across all platforms and we know we cannot take things at face value anymore. and there's zero excuse when you're filming a video on a phone that has search function capabilities you don't even need a desktop or a laptop to find that information if you're really committed to looking for it

there's also a lot of people saying boycotts are performative activism when that is, historically, not true. boycotts, at their core, are meant to be strategic that is why organizations like bds publish lists specifying where people should focus the bulk of their attention and as we've seen with mcdonald's boycotting does have a significant impact because they have suffered massive, massive earnings losses since it began. a boycott is intentional action, it's not simply a moral stance

and I've seen people confused because starbucks does not have stores in israel but that is not the point and has never been the point. Howard Schultz, the largest private investor for starbucks as well as the former CEO, is a well documented zionist and has even invested in cyber security startups located in israel. his investments alone call into question starbucks' standing on zionism and their private support of isreal. then there is the union busting, that has been extremely well documented over just the last ten years alone. and finally, bds did not specifically target starbucks initially but gave their support to the boycott later, they did not call for that boycott to start with

but you would know that if you did even cursory research into the boycott in the first place

[djuvlipen]

I grew up along Romania’s Black Sea coast. My father was the first in his family to graduate from university, and my mother went to a vocational school. Being educated was unusual in our Romani community. My parents raised me with a deep sense of justice and dignity. They told me to be proud of being Roma, while non-Romani people told me there was something wrong with me.

My parents still preserved some aspects of traditional Romani culture: They were obsessed with me maintaining my virginity and being a “good woman.” In many Romani communities, women get married as teenagers. Those who attend school often drop out before high school because they get married, or to care for their younger siblings and perform household chores. Others leave school out of fear of the racism they would face.

Romani women aren’t a monolith. But we all contend with patriarchy and marginalization both inside our culture and from the outside world. The contradictions I have witnessed led me to ask questions and eventually, to discover feminism and to fight for equality. Along this path of activism, however, I learned that I had to define my own understanding of what it means to be a feminist within my Romani identity.

Romani people have endured centuries of injustice across Europe, as an ethnic minority, yet we have a long history of resistance. By the late 1990s, I had graduated from university, gotten married and become a mother. I was also an activist in the Romani movement. I started to wonder what elders meant when they said that we struggled for our “rights.” I learned about the discourse around the universality of human rights. As Romani people, did we really believe in human rights? Or did we only believe in human rights when it came to our rights, Romani people’s rights? What about everyone else? And who is in the position of power to define Romani rights? I debated these questions with my soul mate and fellow Romani activist, Nicolae Gheorghe.

At the same time, I began to question the condition of women and girls in our community, and why we were treated differently from the boys and men around us. Even when I joined the Romani rights movement, I was expected to behave in certain ways that men defined. They determined who was a “good” Romani woman activist. Some Romani male activists tried to monitor my sexuality and called me a “whore” when I had a relationship with a man when I wasn’t married. It was the verses of our beloved Polish Romani poet known as Papusza (whose real name was Bronislawa Wajs) that brought me comfort. She wrote about the Holocaust and of being a woman defying constraints and traditional roles for women, for which she was ostracized by the community. Where were women’s rights within the discussion of Romani rights?

Then came feminism. I met Debra Schultz the American Jewish historian, who could see all these questions burning inside me. She bought me the first books about feminism that I read, including works by thinkers such as Simone de Beauvoir. But I really fell in love with the work of Black feminists Angela Davis and bell hooks, whose book, “Ain’t I a Woman” became like a bible for me. And later, I met law professor Kimberlé Crenshaw, who introduced me to the concept of intersectionality between race and gender. Finally, the way I saw the surrounding world and my Roma world became clearer to me.

Feminism gave me the lens to question the world’s power dynamics, from private spaces to international politics. Despite this intellectual awakening, I still went on to face horrible racism when I met white feminists, who said they didn’t see the point of including Romani women in feminist agendas when there was already an existing Romani rights movement. When there was a spike in racism against Romani people in Europe around 2005-07, I reflected on how to practice a feminism that did not erase my Roma identity and that did not reinforce the oppression of my community.

Neither of the two social movements that I have moved between — feminism and Romani struggles — wanted Romani women’s concerns to be highlighted unless those in charge got to decide how to portray such issues. Every social movement has its prejudices, I learned.

So, what is Romani feminism? To me, it means I have the freedom to choose what version of a Romani woman I want to be. Romani feminism is the force that makes it possible for our communities to grow and to challenge others around us. Our feminism reminds us that the greater Romani movement should not only be about how to get into the structures of power, but how we should never forget the local communities, and the people. We should be close to our people at the local level, in their daily lives, while challenging both racism and sexism.

We Romani feminists reiterate pride in being Roma by constructing and reconstructing through archive, memory and art, the possibility for the next generation to practice a new identity, without the burden and control that our ancestors faced. Our work ranges from creating collaborations such as the Roma Women’s Initiative, a group of female Romani leaders across Europe, to providing social services to Romani women who continue to face harassment, racism and other challenges. We are creating our own ways to help each other.

Some may call me a pioneer, or a traitor for splintering the Romani rights movement. For others, I am not radical enough. But after three decades as a Romani feminist, I am still acting against “anti-gypsyism,” manifesting the love of my people, crying out loud with pain when I feel and see how others hate us.

Nicoleta Bitu is a Romani feminist activist and scholar based in London.