#University of Minnesota Press

[uwmspeccoll]

A Cheerful-Sparrow Feathursday

Among the most cheerful birds in our neighborhood are the common House Sparrow (Passer domesticus) and the Dark-eyed Junco (Junco hyemalis). I wake up every morning with the House Sparrows on my porch telling me to chirrup! And as I walk to work, the Juncos flitting about close to the ground, with their white tail bars and their tiny chipping calls, just starts the day off right.

Both are sparrows, but the House Sparrow, a year-long resident here, is an Old World sparrow (family Passeridae), introduced into North America in the 1850s.The Junco is an indigenous New World sparrow (family Passerellidae). They breed much further north in summer, and while they do winter in our region, in Milwaukee I tend to see them only in spring and fall as they move through. For me, they are harbingers of the changing seasons.

The images shown here are from a 1930 painting by American nature artist Walter Alois Weber reproduced in Bird Portraits in Color by the American physician and ornithologist Thomas Sadler Roberts and published by the University of Minnesota Press in the 1934. The volume includes 92 color plates by five wildlife artists illustrating 295 North American species. 

The two birds in the upper left of this plate are male breeding adult and fall immature male Juncos; in the upper right are male and female House Sparrows; at bottom on the ground are female breeding adult and juvenile Juncos.

View other posts from Bird Portraits in Color.

View more Feathursday posts.

-- MAX, Head, Special Collections

[dustedmagazine]

Jonathan Cott — Let Me Take You Down: Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields Forever (University of Minnesota Press)

Whether you adore, loathe, or are indifferent to the Beatles, it seems fair to ask in 2024 what exactly could be left to say about them. Surely at this point the most written about, discussed, mythologized, demythologized, simply covered band (although to be fair, have they blown up on TikTok yet?), it’s understandable both that people would feel compelled to express themselves about the Beatles and that the rest of us might have our eyes glaze over in response. Jonathan Cott has more bona fides in this area than most, having written about and interviewed the band from the 1960s on (including an interview with John Lennon a few days before his murder), and he’s made two smart choices in putting together this particular book: narrowing the focus, and going in a more idiosyncratic, personal direction.

That focus is apparent from the title on down, and it’s a relief to see the scope reduced to two songs. Who needs another general overview of this particular band? (Yes, it’s good those exist in general, there will always be new, curious people as time passes, but it feels like that category is pretty densely populated at this point.) The Beatles are also one of the few acts that could conceivably sustain (in a financial sense) a whole book on one of their singles, even a double A side; even if one wished various other artists would get that kind of analysis, it’s hard to begrudge writers taking their chance to go so deep on one of their few chances to do so. But Let Me Take You Down is only partly a history of the two songs. The first section here covers, in 50 pages, the circumstances of the two songs’ creation, looking at the first period where the four members tried taking a break from the Beatles (and, in some cases, had existential crises about what not being a Beatle might mean), Lennon and McCartney’s artistic partnership/slight rivalry, the personal history that fed into both songs, and so on. It’s well done and moves briskly; someone who knew nothing about the Beatles would probably come away wanting to know more, and those already deeply steeped in the lore won’t feel their time has been wasted.

The second and final section here is nearly twice as long as the first; Cott, clearly a seasoned interviewer (with an impressive ability to either quote other myriad other works and authors out of thin air, or an impressive dedication to keeping potentially relevant quotations on hand to refer to), sits down with “five remarkable people” to discuss the single. Only two of them, Laurie Anderson and Bill Frisell, are primarily known as musicians. The three are the urban planner and Gramavision Records founder Jonathan F. P. Rose, Jungian analyst Margaret Klenck, and actor (and, more significantly for his section, noted Buddhist) Richard Gere. These conversations feel like they make up the heart of the book, and are where it will succeed or fail for most readers.

The tone throughout all five conversations is loose and friendly, with everyone involved engaging with the songs (lyrics, sound, historical context, personal context) deeply but informally. It’s worth noting that the median age of all six interlocutors is in the early 70s, and all come at “Strawberry Fields Forever”/“Penny Lane” from the perspective of people who were there at the time and who’ve been playing and thinking about these two particular songs ever since. Although Cott does have a bit of a thesis (based on James Hillman’s The Dream and the Underworld, with Paul as Zeus taking you “back” and John as Hades taking you “down”), he doesn’t impose it on any of the conversations and they all go in their own directions. Are these songs about depression? memory? love? the illusion of the self? all of the above? Let Me Take You Down’s most signal virtue is the way it might remind you of your own deep conversations with friends about music (Beatles or not), digging deeply into shared passions and volleying insights and theories back and forth.

The result is a book both small and scope but that goes to surprising places. If there are quibbles to be had, they’re along the lines of wishing “Penny Lane” got as much space from any of the people involved as “Strawberry Fields Forever” (but then again, isn’t the underworld something most of us find more fascinating, and easier to talk about, than our pasts?), and that the dense repetition of “said,” “explained,” “commented,” etc. might make one wish these interviews were presented in a more transcript-like style. Those small issues aside, the only big issue Let Me Take You Down really has is the obvious one, that most can answer for themselves instantly: in 2024, do you want to read another book about the Beatles?

Ian Mathers

[theeleventhsignofthezodiac]

Profit over Privacy, Matthew Crain, University of Minnesota Press, 2021

[winningthesweepstakes]

Sam and the Incredible African and American Food Fight by Shannon Gibney, illustrated by Charly Palmer

Sam and the Incredible African and American Food Fight by Shannon Gibney, illustrated by Charly Palmer. University of Minnesota Press, 2023. 9781517909659 Rating:  1-5 (5 is an excellent or a Starred review) 5 Format: Picture book, advanced reading copy (publication date 4/23) What did you like about the book? As Sam entered his kitchen after school, the Incredible African and American food…

[chalamet-chalamet]

Timothée visiting the University of Minnesota’s Marching Band on December 5, 2024. 💫✨

All photographs courtesy of Gopher

IG credit to umnmarch

[itsjamiefools]

What a night

[arcticdementor]

(link)

(@mitigatedchaos)

[nerdykeppie]

Today, rather than talking about some washed-up former orange juice hawker who is currently hopefully getting pies to the face for eternity, let's instead remember Thomas Lawrence Higgins (June 17, 1950 – November 10, 1994).

Often credited as the man who coined the term "gay pride," Higgins was the first person in MN to be granted conscientious objector status from the Vietnam War in 1969. He lost his job at the State Radio Services for the Blind for his association with Fight Repression of Erotic Expression (FREE), a queer rights group which eventually became the Queer Student Cultural Center at the University of Minnesota.

In 1980, Higgins and his friend Bruce Brockaway founded the Positively Gay Cuban Refugee Task Force, which sponsored gay Cuban refugees for US residency as they fled persecution in Cuba for their queer identities. Without sponsorship, the refugees were confined in camps; PGCRTF's sponsorship allowed them to move out of the camps and resettle in the US.

Higgins died due to complications from AIDS in 1994 & is buried in Roseville, MN.

Oh, and in 1977, Higgins pushed a banana cream pie in the face of some woman who tried to keep herself relevant after her singing career ended by trading in homophobia at a press conference where she was announcing her very literal "conversion therapy" centers. This incident and her homophobia are largely credited with effectively ending her failing musical career.

[imyimsorryy]

i bet you think about me

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: kidnapping, usual cm violence, kinda emotional cheating (not on each other), mentions of a hook up, angst —> fluff

no use of y/n

word count: 7k

“This isn’t working.”

It’s a punch straight to your gut. The words echo in your mind as you drive home, void of any emotion. The radio is muted, and the dull falling of snow does nothing to help your melancholy.

You love him, part of you always has. From the moment you stepped into the BAU, you knew he would ruin you. You just didn’t think it’d be like this—so close to the holidays you cherish.

Your phone rings from the empty passenger seat, you glance over, spotting Penelope’s picture flashing on the small screen. You ignore it, you aren’t in the mood to talk to anyone. The call ceases after a minute, but then the screen is lighting up again with a voicemail and a text message. You sigh, reaching over to press play on the message.

‘Hey babydoll, me and Prentiss are going Christmas shopping tomorrow, you in? Call me back, love ya.’

At least she doesn’t suspect the heartbreak you just experienced.

It had been a long case, the grueling cold of Minnesota only heightened everyone’s grumpiness. Christmas is in a week, everyone just wanted to get home to their loved ones.

Aaron had been snapping at you—and then when you separated from him and Derek to capture the unsub, he had snapped. He never yelled at you in front of the team like he did that day. You felt like a little kid again, being scolded over anything. You can’t get the pitiful face of JJ out of your mind.

You type a quick, ‘Sorry, I’m busy’ before throwing your phone back on the seat, redirecting your full attention to the road in front of you.

Your apartment is dark when you open the door, the bare walls and cold floor are what drive you to open the bottle of red wine stashed in your pantry.

The loneliness of it all—of having someone so tantalizingly close, and then losing it too much. His touch, his lingering glances, and whispered promises linger in your mind. The way his hand would brush yours while passing files or how he’d tap his knee to yours during a briefing; all of it is etched into your memory.

By the third pouring of wine you abandon the glass, opting to just drink it straight from the bottle. The TV plays a shitty reality show, you almost laugh as you listen to the rich snobs complaining about what to wear.

You lay your head on the back of the couch, and in the process of kicking your feet onto the coffee table you accidentally knock the glass over, spilling the remaining droplets of red wine and glass shards onto the light colored rug beneath you.

Normally you’d have cursed the universe for it, laughed a little, then cleaned it up. But now, you just stare at it. Broken and bloody—as dramatic as it sounds it’s how you feel at the moment, and you can’t bring yourself to get up and grab the broom.

You twist your body so you're laying down on the couch, and you fall asleep listening to the annoying voices on the TV and the smell of grapes.

You’re awoken to the sound of an incessant knocking on your front door. You’re not sure what time it is, but the sunlight peeking in through your blinds gives you enough clues to estimate.

You contemplate ignoring it, but then the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, it’s Aaron. Maybe he’s hurting the way you are, maybe he’s sorry. In the process of getting up you feel glass crack on your bare foot, followed by a searing pain and a red footprint when you step off of it.

The knocking still doesn’t stop, and you conclude that you have to answer no matter what, so you can at least make whoever it is patch your foot up.

Blonde and black hair are all you see in the peephole, of course they came to get you anyway.

“Hey sweets.” Penelope is far too happy for you to understand, your head is already pounding from your previous wine drunk state.

You open the door wide enough for them to come in, and Emily notices your pained expression, before casting her eyes downward. “Jesus, what happened?”

“I stepped on glass.” You stumble slightly, gripping her shoulder to hold you up. Emily looks around your living room. She notices the empty wine bottle, the stained carpet, the messy blankets thrown about the room. She turns her attention back to you as Penelope searches for a first aid kit. “Are you drunk?” Penelope laughs, Emily gives her a look.

You hear Penelope mumble something about profilers as she approaches you with bandages and tweezers.

You try to get out of Christmas shopping, but part of you can use the distraction. The holiday lights flicker on the street, the sunlight making it hardly noticeable, but you notice.

“Aaron, where are we going?” You laugh, his hands around your eyes causing you to lean into him to steer you. “Just wait.”

A few more feet and he’s finally removing his calloused hands from your eyesight, you open your eyes in awe at the sight in front of you. Christmas lights blind you, from every direction.

In the center of the festively lit town is a large Christmas tree, it’s one you would see in a cartoon with how comically large it is.

Different strings of lights shine brightly and he watches with a wide smile as you take in the site. You love Christmas lights, he’ll never forget when you two drove past a house decked out in them after a hard case. Your eyes had glistened with joy in the passenger seat.

You turn back to him with a smile that could make him faint, and then the whole park goes black.

You’re the first to laugh, the idea that he brought you here to show you the lights just for the power to go out as soon as you arrive makes you gasp for air next to him. He looks grumpy beside you, preparing to pull his badge out to make them fix it for you.

He’d have captured a star for you if it made you smile, but hearing your laugh beside him was enough to snap him out of his annoyance, instead focusing his attention on the beautiful sound coming from you.

He laughs then, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes so your noses are almost touching. “It was beautiful.” You whisper against his lips, he almost tilts his head back with how overwhelming your presence is.

It’s embarrassing, how much of a lovesick teenager you make him feel by just being near him.

“I’ll make them fix it.” He says in return, causing you to laugh again as you press your lips to his pout. “You’re sweet to me.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, instead he presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling away in order to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, there’s more to do.”

Penelope snaps in your face, jolting you out of the trance you found yourself in. “Hey, what’s wrong? You seem upset.”

“I’m fine.” You sniffle, wiping it with your glove. “Seriously, it’s just cold.” You try your hardest to smile, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes and you know Emily notices, but she doesn’t say anything as you begin walking ahead of them.

You don’t buy anything, your Christmas shopping is long out of the way. You do it every year, you get excited by the upcoming holiday and accidentally buy everyone’s gifts the first week of November.

Aaron had found it endearing, how excited you got at the idea of giving people gifts they’ll enjoy.

“Let’s go in here.” The universe must be out to get you, because the store Penelope turns into is the same one you and Aaron would frequent on your occasional days off. It’s filled with antiques and books, something he didn’t particularly enjoy looking at, but you did.

The day continues on, little things remind you of him everywhere you go. You curse yourself for being so miserable, for letting someone have this effect on you.

You sip a hot chocolate as the sky darkens, pushing the memories of him kissing the whipped cream off your upper lip out of your mind as you wipe it away with a small napkin that Emily hands you.

Penelope is talking to the woman at the booth, asking her all about where her outfit is from, when Emily sighs next to you. “What’s going on?”

You turn to her, a little shocked at her question. You ramble as you attempt to come up with a reason for your sour mood. “Please—I’m fine. What makes you think something’s wrong? Seriously Em—”

“You ramble when you lie.” Emily says as she lifts her paper cup up to her lips. “So, spill.”

You hesitate, you can’t say anything. Nobody on the team even knows about you and Aaron. You’d kept it a secret for a year and a half, you definitely weren’t going to give it up now.

“Did something happen…with Hotch?” It’s like she can read your mind, and you bite your tongue in order to not talk and reveal your lie. Then your eyes widen, remembering that you hadn’t told her about Hotch.

“Hey,” She says your name. “It’s okay, nobody else suspects anything.”

“I don’t…” You stop yourself from rambling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you guys, a few months ago. You know, he smiles more these days.”

You laugh bitterly at that, suddenly angry at her revelation. He wasn’t smiling when he broke your heart.

“Nothing happened Em. Let it go.” Your tone is clipped, and she puts her hands up in surrender, dropping the topic as Penelope approaches the two of you.

Once they drop you back off at home you flop onto your bed. A few seconds pass before you grab one of the pillows and scream into it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The next weeks are torturous. Christmas is spent on a case in Florida, it would have been bearable if Aaron were still yours.

He knows you hate it, a white Christmas is your favorite thing, and the humidity of Florida is the complete opposite.

Hot weather has never been your favorite, the past summer you would complain you were dying every time he forced you to run with him. He thought it was adorable, and the image of you tinged with heat and sunburnt cheeks was one of his favorite sights.

“Alright, let’s get to work.” The current case is a local one, something you’re very grateful for. Sleeping in your own bed is much better than being in a suffocating hotel.

He calls your name, his voice void of his usual softness for you. “I need your report from the Michigan case.”

“I’m working on it.” You say, trying to remain civil as he stares at you. His eyes would usually soften when your tone was like that, stressed. Now he just stares. “Is that all?”

He nods, his voice suddenly dry as he tears his gaze away from you. You shoulder past him out of the conference room, heading towards Spencer as he works the geographical profile.

“There’s something there.” Aaron isn’t sure where Dave came from, but his shoulders slump slightly at the older man’s discovery. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about Dave.”

“Sure Aaron.” He claps his shoulder as he walks past him, standing in the same spot you just had. “She’s good for you—after everything.”

Aaron has to fight his scoff, if only he knew how good you were for him. He has no idea that he’d already indulged, already had you for the entirety of a year, and then some.

“I’ll remember that.” His tone leaves no more room for Rossi to speculate on his life, and with that he’s walking out of the room in order to go look at the latest body with Emily.

If Spencer notices your sadness, he doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s become your thing lately, a constant frown decorating your features. “Hey pretty girl.” Derek could usually get you to smile, but lately even those attempts are futile. “Oh come on, nothing? Baby, I don’t remember the last time you shined those pretty teeth.”

“3 weeks and 2.5 days.” Spencer says without looking up from a spot he’s working on the board. “Jesus.” You mutter. You spin your chair to face Derek, mustering up a big smile.

“Here.” You grit through your teeth. “Okay, that’s creeping me out.”

“You wanted a smile.” You shrug, causing Derek to laugh as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We’re here for you, we all love you.”

This has you turning away from him. We all love you.

“Hey, I think I’ve got something here.” Spencer saves you from continuing your dreaded conversation with Derek.

The case seems to drone on forever, but once you finally find the unsub’s identity you grab your gun, preparing to retrieve your vest.

“You’re staying.” Aaron looks to you, his expression unreadable as you roll your eyes. “No, I’m not.”

“I need you here with Reid.” It’s bullshit, and you know it. But you don’t care enough to fight him on it, so you scoff before walking towards the small kitchen to get yourself some coffee.

Emily walks up behind you, placing a comforting hand on your back. “He’s protecting you.”

“Emily, don’t.”

“Why don’t you talk to him?” She persists, moving around you. “Don’t you need to go with them?” You ask, shrugging her off. She doesn’t say anything else, and you make a sour face at her pitiful expression.

Aaron spares you a glance as he leaves, your eyes meeting for a split second. But as quickly as the spark was there it was gone, and you're returning to the paperwork in front of you. He notices the shuddering breath you take, and the tired slump of your shoulders.

He wants to reach out, to console you. But he can’t, he can’t let himself do it because if he does he’ll never be able to leave you again. 

You’re gone once they get back, their killer in custody and the young girl he had kidnapped returned safely to her family. He rubs his hand across his forehead before heading up to his office.

Months ago you would have flashed him a pretty smile and the doe eyes that have him bending at the knees in order to get him to leave the papers and go home with you. 

“Aaron, come on, please.”

“I’ve got reports to do honey, just give me an hour. I’ll make it up to you.” You smile at him as you snake your arms around his waist, earning a warning glare from him. “Come on.” He shakes his head at you as he peels your arms off of him.

You sit with him for one hour, then two. After two you sigh, shuffling some of the papers out of the file and picking up a pen from the metal cup he keeps on the corner of his desk. He looks at you for a moment before going back to his papers, a fond smile remaining as he continues writing on the boring documents. 

Another hour passes when you finally stand up. You stretch your arms dramatically, pairing it with an overexaggerated yawn. He knows what’s coming, and before he has the chance to look up you’re wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your face into his hair. “I’m going to make some coffee.” You press a kiss to the temple of his head before jumping off of him in favor of the door. You turn around with a smile on your way out, one he reciprocates instantly. “Thank you.” 

You return with two cups of coffee in your hands, you kick the door closed with your foot. “I got donuts too.” You grin goofily as you place the navy blue mug down in front of him. “Black coffee, horribly plain.”

“You drink sugar with a side of coffee.” He smirks as you take a bite of your donut. “And you’ve got the worst sweet tooth I’ve ever seen.” You stick your tongue out at that before lifting the donut up to his mouth. He shakes his head. “Right, I forgot you’ve got to be in shape for your triathlon.” 

“You’re doing it too.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” You laugh before taking another bite of the chocolate donut. You look back down at the papers in front of you, careful not to get any chocolate onto the white sheets. You can feel his eyes on you, and you can feel your cheeks flush at his unmoving gaze. “What?” You laugh. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, his eyes still on your face. “You’re beautiful.” You smile at that, pulling your lip between your teeth as you avoid his gaze. “You know how to charm a girl, Hotchner.” 

“Only you.” He shakes his head as he lifts your chin with his thumb, rubbing it across your lip once you move your head towards him. It’s one of his favorite things, how easily you lean into his touch. You smile brightly at him as he leans in to capture your lips. 

His mind snaps out of the memory as he opens the door, the once warm office filled with your presence now bare and dull. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Jealousy is a green-eyed monster. It’s not something you believed in the past.

In high school when Jessica Blake flirted with your boyfriend in front of your face you didn’t even flinch. 

You didn’t want to believe that Aaron was dating again when Garcia mentioned it. But then Rossi started teasing him when he thought no one else heard, you heard it though. 

“You’re staring daggers.” JJ whispers in your ear. “What?” You turn, your tone more clipped than you intended. You soften as you face her, mumbling a sorry. JJ puts an arm around your shoulders, “I know you have a thing for him, maybe she won’t last long.”

He just finished his triathlon, the one that you were supposed to run with him. You had trained with him for weeks. Weeks of your life you spent doing something you hated just because he wanted you to do it with him, wasted. “JJ, I don’t have a thing for him.”

It should’ve been you kissing him at the finish line, instead it’s Beth. You haven’t met her, and really you shouldn’t be jealous.

“Aaron, I can’t run any more. I think my side is going to explode.” You huff, bending over at the waste to try and catch your breath.

He laughed from his spot ahead of you on the track. “I’m not joking!”

“I’m not laughing at you.” He lies, the smile on his face giving him away instantly.

He grows more concerned for you as you don’t move from your spot, instead you plop down on the ground of the indoor track. “Honey, we can go get some water, come on.”

You laugh as you stare up at him from your spot on the ground, causing him to shake his head. “I think you need to carry me to the car.”

“Come on you dork.” He pulls you up by your arm, placing a hand on your waist to stabilize you. You lean into him as you two walk out towards the locker rooms. “I’ll meet you back out here.” He takes his arm off of you, causing you to stumble dramatically.

“Go change, we can get takeout and you can pick the movie.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You giggle as you turn your back to him, heading into the women’s locker room to change into warmer clothes.

Once you’re finished changing you meet up with him again, taking his warm hand into your cold ones once the freezing air hits your skin. “I forgot my mittens.”

“I’m not surprised.” He chuckles. “So you should know to bring them for me, you know I always forget.” You pout, and he can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to your puffed out lips. “I’m horrible.”

The next time he forced you to go to the gym, he brought your mittens and a scarf to match them.

From your spot on the sidelines you can tell she’s a way to forget you. 

He won’t forget you anytime soon though, you can see it in the way his smile doesn’t reach his eyes even while he’s surrounded by people who care about him. You can tell by the way he still searches for you in the huddle your team has formed around him, and you can tell by the way his eyes lock onto yours from across the park. 

You decide to walk up to the rest of the team then, making sure to not look away from him. Beth talks to him, and you can tell he’s giving her incoherent mumbles as responses as he finally breaks eye contact to turn towards her. 

Derek wraps an arm around you. “Babygirl, out of you four, you may be the happiest one today.” He gestures to the very hungover women of the BAU, you had opted out of ladies night in favor of wallowing with a tub of ice cream. “And that’s saying something.” 

You look at Aaron after Derek says the last part, making sure he knows that the jab from Derek was his fault. He looks away, unable to bear the guilt you’re trying to seep into him. “I need something greasy and fried.” JJ says, breaking the silence that took over the group. 

“I need a drink.” You mumble to Derek, who smiles as he ruffles your hair. “We’ve missed you coming out with us, you know.” He says as you all walk towards the parking lot. Jack comes up next to you, and you realize then how you haven’t seen him in months. You smile, unable to be annoyed at him over his father’s doings. “Hey Jack-O.”

He smiles at you, tugging your hand to get you to pick him up. “How are you buddy?” 

Aaron watches as you hold Jack in your arm, and it physically pains him. He brushes it off as an ache from the swimming portion of the triathlon. That was your favorite part, your giggles as you splashed him with the pool water during training echo in his mind. 

He turns back to Beth, reminding himself this is who he needs. Beth is simple, uncomplicated. She doesn’t work a job that puts her life at risk daily. She smiles at him, completely unsuspecting of his yearning for another woman. 

But then he hears your laugh and he’s ready to drop everything for it. It’s the kind of laugh that even the greatest musicians couldn’t capture into a song. The way your lips curl and your head tilts back is a site that even the most talented of painters couldn’t put onto a canvas. 

“Hey, good job out there. I’m going to have to train more to beat that.” Beth jokes to him, once again regaining his attention. Beth is good for him, she even enjoys running as much as him. 

You set Jack down, and smile as he runs back towards Aaron. You hear him ask his dad to invite you over again, which you quickly tune out to avoid the awkwardness.

You miss her approaching you. “Hey, I’m Beth. Jack is over there singing your praises, I had to meet you myself.” She’s friendly, and you can see why Aaron likes her. You wish you didn’t hate her so much, she seems like she’d be a good friend. 

“Hi.” You smile as much as you can, reaching your hand out for her to shake. “Aaron told me you're great too, at the job.” At the job. “I’m sure he did.” Your response is light, but if anyone knew about you and Aaron they’d know there are layers to it. 

He watches as you interact, carefully watching your movements. At the restaurant when everyone is occupied in conversations he looks at you. You can tell what he’s asking without any words being spoken. You shake her head, rolling your eyes in annoyance. He wants to make sure you were civil with Beth. 

The next morning you roll over in bed, your hair splayed across the pillow as you listen to the sound of the shower in the bathroom connected to your room. In your sleepy and hungover state, half of you expects Aaron to walk out.

Instead it’s a man with strikingly similar features. It’s not him, but he was a good hook-up to take your mind off of him. You know you're using this random guy as a surrogate, and you know the psychology behind it, but you don’t care. 

“Hey baby.” The stranger leans down to capture you in a kiss, you duck to avoid his lips. They don’t feel like Aaron’s, you remember how chapped they were last night when he had kissed you. 

“I’ve got to work.” You slip under his arm in favor of the kitchen. “I made you some coffee.” You groan, annoyed at the fact that this stranger had rummaged through your kitchen while you were still asleep. “I’m not the biggest fan of coffee.” It’s a lie, and if the man was smart he’d realize it due to the vast selection in your pantry, but alas he is not the brightest. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, coming up behind you in the kitchen. “Look, please, let’s not do this. I have work in..” You check the time on the microwave clock. “30 minutes. Shit, you have to go.” You usher him towards the door, barely giving him a chance to grab his shoes. “Come on, you can be late once. Let’s go again.”

“Get out.” You roll your eyes. “Bitch.” He scoffs, but retreats down the hallway of your apartment complex. Once he’s out you set your security alarm before racing towards the bathroom. 

Five minutes is a new record time for you to be ready, you quickly grab a muffin and mug of coffee before leaving. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” You take a seat at the round table, conveniently the only one available is next to Aaron. “Dang mama, rough night?” Derek laughs from across from you, earning himself a glare. “Alright, let’s get started.” Aaron snaps, gaining the attention of everyone. 

Once everyone disperses from the room, in order to prepare to leave, Aaron stops you, placing a hand on your upper arm. You freeze, not turning to make eye contact before shrugging him off. “Sir, I need to go get my bag.” 

He says your name, causing you to turn towards him. You scoff when he doesn’t say anything. “Coward.”

“Excuse me?” He gives you the same stern look he gives to everyone, but there’s something else in his expression. “You’re a coward.” You repeat, pointing a finger to his chest. “I suggest you cover that..mark..on your neck, Agent.” He moves away from your hand. 

“That’s what this is about?” You narrow your eyes at him, if looks could kill he’d be a puddle on the floor at your glare. “It’s unprofessional, and distasteful for you to present yourself like that at work.”

“Get off your high horse Aaron. There’s barely anything there.” You adjust the collar of your shirt to make sure it’s fully covered. “You’re upset with me, when you’re the one who went and committed to someone else. I mean, you’re the one who ended this in the first place. Go to hell.” 

It was late when the team got back from Minnesota, and everyone was tired. Aaron couldn’t focus on that though, all he could see was the scar running across your cheek, and the bruise on your eye. 

“My office.” He doesn’t touch your shoulder like he usually does when walking past your desk. His orders are cold, and leave no room for argument. 

As soon as the door is closed he’s berating you. “I should suspend you. I should have you evaluated for being so reckless. You endangered the lives of everybody today, and that’s unacceptable. You got lucky out there today.”

He’s angry, you know it’s because you almost died, but he’s deflecting like always. You don’t respond, you know you did the right thing and it resulted in a young girl being saved. “This isn’t working.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“What?” You attempt to take his hand, he pulls back. “This. It’s over.” 

“Aaron,” You pull his face into your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes as he breaks your heart. “You don’t mean that, you’re angry.” He shakes his head, pulling away from the touch he usually craves. “Emotions have nothing to do with this, it’s a fact. We aren’t going to work. I’ll expect your case report on my desk first thing in the morning.” 

“You want to fight? I can fight, I can scream.” You sound pathetic, and you never thought you’d be begging a man not to leave you. But he’s different, he’s everything. “I don’t want to fight. I want you to go home and think about what you did wrong, Agent.”

“What I did wrong?” You scoff as you swing his office door open. You’re gone before he can realize what he just did, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of floral perfume in your wake. 

The unsub is kidnapping victims who look increasingly similar to you. Aaron can’t fight the unease in his chest as he stares at what he was doing to these women. It’s hard for his mind to not drift to images of it being you instead of them. He makes sure to pair you up with Morgan everywhere you go, already knowing that him being with you won’t do either of you any good. 

You were just stepping outside to catch your breath, it was dark out, but there were people around you, how much danger could you really be in?

You remember pulling your phone out, and you remember a searing pain in your shoulder, only registering that you’d been shot after seeing the silencer in the attacker’s hand. “Don’t scream, or he’s dead.” You don’t need to ask who, your mind immediately flashes with images of Aaron. 

Your hands are bound in the back of his van, you fight a black out as you take in your surroundings. He’s disorganized, he shot you and left a witness outside of a station. From the brief look you got of his face you know he’s young. “What do you want from me?” You ask, as calmly as you can muster in your bleeding out. “I–I need a doctor.”

“You’re not getting a doctor!” He shouts, turning around while driving to point his gun at you. “Then I need you to hurry, before I bleed out back here.” You move to get more comfortable in the cramped spot he put you in. “I know you don’t want me to die.”

“I read about you, I’ve been to all of your lectures and conferences, and you never noticed me!” You squeeze your eyes shut, Aaron has noticed you’re gone by now, you know he has. “I knew I had to get your attention somehow.”

Back at the precinct Aaron is reeling. The woman who had witnessed it was shaking in one of the chairs. “I didn’t hear the gun—but when I looked up she was bleeding and this guy was yanking her by the hair.”

He puts his hands over his ears, trying anything to avoid the thoughts that you could be dead, that the likelihood of you being dead is high. Derek pats him on the shoulder, a reassurance that does nothing to ease his mind. 

“What if this is about her?” Emily looks up from the file. “The women all look extremely similar to her, but he never kidnapped any of the previous ones.”

“But why shoot her?” Rossi asks, taking caution with his words as Aaron paces back and forth. “She—she just did a bunch of lectures at the ivies. Over our vacation last year.” Nobody questions how he knows that, but they nod. Derek pulls his phone out, dialing Penelope’s number. “Hello my furry friends. How can I be of service?” 

Derek fills her in on what happened, gaining a large gasp from the woman on the phone. “Garcia, we need to cross reference all of the people who recently attended her lectures across New England. Ivy leagues–Harvard, Yale, Princeton.”

“Yes sir.” She responds, tight-lipped, to Hotch. “And Garcia?”

“Yes sir?”

“You need to be more professional.” Derek shoots Aaron a look at that. “Come on man, she didn’t know.” 

Aaron doesn’t respond as he walks outside to investigate the scene where you were taken from. Your blood is pooled on the ground, bringing tears to his eyes. Dave comes up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Aaron quickly regains his composure, wiping the tears away from his face. “She’s strong Aaron. She’ll pull through.” 

“He shot her Dave.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t–I can’t lose her.” Dave doesn’t say anything to that, he knows Aaron will blame himself for the rest of his life if he loses another woman he loves. “She’s everything, we–we were fighting last time we talked.”

“Then let’s go in there and find her.” He claps Aaron’s shoulder before turning back towards the precinct. 

You gasp as he pushes the bandages to your arm. The bullet was through and through, thankfully. “I lost a lot of blood.” You say, trying to sound submissive. “Come on, take these off my hands and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“No, no.” He shakes his head, pushing the gun to his head. “Stop talking.” 

You shake your head, fighting back the tears threatening to surface. You have to be strong, the team will find you. “What–” You shift. “What’s your name?” He twitches at you moving closer to him. “Come on, you know mine. I like to know the name of the man I’m with.” You want to throw up at the thought of flirting with him, but it’s the way to gain his trust. 

“Paul.” You nod at that. “Ok, Paul. I remember seeing you at my lecture. I…” You twitch slightly as he turns the gun around on you. “I wanted to talk to you, but you were gone before it ended.” 

“You wanted to talk to me?” You’re gaining his trust, you can tell by the way he lowers the gun ever so slightly towards the ground. “Untie me Paul, we can have some fun. I want you.” You fight the shudder taking over your features as he smiles at you. 

He unbinds one of your hands, the other is still cuffed to the chair behind you. “This is all I can do for now.”

“Thank you.” You contemplate kicking him hard, but ultimately it’s a fight he would win due to one hand still being stuck behind you. You’ll wait, and get him to trust you enough to unbind the other one. 

“I’ve got a name.” Penelope’s voice is professional, a stark contrast to her usual bubbly mood. Aaron doesn’t feel guilty for what he said to her, his attention too focused on not breaking down in order to find you. “Paul Danver. He attended every one of her lectures, and even began making obsessive comments about her in various articles.” 

“So he’s a stalker. That doesn’t explain the torture to the victims. He doesn’t want to kill her, he wants her attention.” 

Aaron thinks for a moment, racking his brain. He was at your lectures, he sat in the back to avoid attention. “The one at Yale, she was asked a question about how we pick our cases. She–she avoided answering at first but when he pressured her more she said we pick the most urgent ones. He went to these extremes for our attention, he knew it would bring her here.” 

Paul runs his fingers over your skin. Your shirt was gone, he had ripped it off in order to care for the wound on her shoulder. “Paul, I think it’s time. Untie this hand and we can be together.”

You don’t expect him to actually do it, and you fight your sigh of relief when he does. You wait a beat after he’s done it, giving him a second to lean back. He smiles as he takes in your compliant state, before leaning forward again to kiss you. This is your chance, you bang your head into his face, sending him stumbling backwards. “You bitch!” He roars, racing forward with his finger on the trigger of his gun. You push the hand holding it towards the wall as he pulls the trigger, narrowly avoiding a shot to the head. “I’ll kill you.” 

You struggle for a moment, before getting the gun out of his hand and pointing it at his retreating form. “I don’t think you will, Paul.” Aaron’s voice rings in your ears as the team fills the room. Derek puts himself in front of Aaron, knowing he’s too emotional to be confronting Paul. 

“Get on the ground.” Derek growls. Paul complies after realizing there isn’t a way out of this. 

“Let’s get a medic in here.” Aaron says into his mic before striding over to you. He breathes your name as he stands in front of you. He takes his vest off immediately, then his jacket to clothe your bare form. “I knew you’d come.”

“Always.” He sighs as he wraps it around you. A tear falls from your eye before you wrap your arms around him. He’s hesitant, not wanting to further injure your bandaged shoulder. “Please hug me back Aaron.” With your whispered plea he’s reciprocating instantly, breathing into your hair. 

“I should have killed her!” Paul shouts as they drag him away. “Get him out of here.” Aaron says harshly as he pulls away from you. “Come on honey, we need to get you to the ambulance. Can you walk?”

The team doesn’t dare say anything to the term of endearment that Aaron used for you. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“I heard he broke things off with Beth.” David says to you one day while you're staring into his office. “Huh.” You make a noise without looking up from your case report. “Come on, go talk to him.” 

“Rossi, I’m working here.” You gesture to the paper, your pen has been unmoving for the past ten minutes, but he doesn’t need to know this. “You just got kidnapped, if now isn’t the time for a grand confession then I don’t know when is.” He retreats after that, heading back towards his office. 

The next day Aaron approaches you, muttering an quiet ‘my office’ just loud enough for your ears to pick up.

You smooth your sweater out as you stand, suddenly nervous at the thought of being alone with him.

The soft click of the door has him looking up, he almost seems surprised that you actually listened to him. “Yes?”

“Sit.” He gestures to the seat, at one point in time you’d have pulled it around to sit next to him. Now you sit on the edge, like you’re ready to jump up and escape at any time. “Agent, I think it’s in the both of our best interests to put our personal ties behind us. For the efficiency of our job, we should remain strictly professional.”

You scoff at his audacity, leaning back ever so slightly in your chair. “You want me to fight you on it. You want me to be the one who pieces this back together.”

He doesn’t respond to that, instead focusing his attention to the paper on his desk. “That’s all, I need your latest report as soon as you finish.”

He looks up slightly when you don’t make a move to leave, gesturing slightly to the wooden door.

“How’s Beth?”

He puts his pen down at this, finally looking you fully in the eyes. “She’s good.”

“Huh, I could have sworn Rossi said that she was old news.” You twirl a thread from your sweater around your finger. “We are still friends.”

“Oh, you can stay friends with her and not me?” You ask, leaning in closer to him. After narrowing your eyes you lean back in the chair again with a scoff. “Oh wait, I know why, you love me. Being friends with me would just be torture for you.”

“Agent.” His tone is warning. “Hit a nerve? I know you Aaron, I know you better than anyone. Did you tell her that you’re in love with another woman, or was the breakup mutual?”

“Enough!” He slams his hand onto the desk in frustration. “I love you, is that what you want me to say? You’ve almost died, twice in the past few months. Do you understand what that would do to me?”

Your eyes soften at his tortured expression. It’s full of many things—yearning, love, sadness. You stand then, and he prepares for you to turn around and walk straight out the door. Instead you shake your head, walking around to his side of the desk.

You place your hands on his face, cupping his jaw with one while the other moves towards his hair. He sighs, wishing you had slapped him instead. It would hurt less.

“Aaron, I love you.” You move his face so he has to look at you. His eyes are glossy, and tears brim them. “Aaron.” You whisper.

“I can’t lose you. I won’t recover.”

“I’ll be careful.” You smile as a tear rolls down your cheek. “Please.” You whisper, and that’s what causes him to break, the desperation in the singular word.

His hands find solace on your waist as he stands, wrapping his arms around your frame. He inhales the scent of your shampoo as you hug him back. “I missed you, so much.” His voice breaks as he speaks, it’s a side of vulnerable you’ve never seen from him.

You pull back slightly, smiling the smile that always has him putty in your hands. You lean in, pressing a light kiss to his pursed lips. “Kiss me.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, his lips are slotting into yours instantly.

You bite his lip lightly as you pull back, earning a throaty laugh. “Not here, I’m going to take you to dinner.”

“Always a gentleman, Hotchner.”

The team all watch with open mouths and shocked expressions as you and Hotch walk out together, hand in hand.

“Well it was a matter of time before they got together.” Derek shakes his head as he turns his chair back towards his desk.

“I thought they never would.” JJ admits. “They’ve been pining for so long.”

Emily smirks from her chair, toying with the pen in her hand. “They’ve been together for over a year.” She looks up at them, watching as their jaws drop even more. “Lousy profilers you all are.”

[mariacallous]

On Saturday, an Associated Press investigation revealed that OpenAI's Whisper transcription tool creates fabricated text in medical and business settings despite warnings against such use. The AP interviewed more than 12 software engineers, developers, and researchers who found the model regularly invents text that speakers never said, a phenomenon often called a “confabulation” or “hallucination” in the AI field.

Upon its release in 2022, OpenAI claimed that Whisper approached “human level robustness” in audio transcription accuracy. However, a University of Michigan researcher told the AP that Whisper created false text in 80 percent of public meeting transcripts examined. Another developer, unnamed in the AP report, claimed to have found invented content in almost all of his 26,000 test transcriptions.

The fabrications pose particular risks in health care settings. Despite OpenAI’s warnings against using Whisper for “high-risk domains,” over 30,000 medical workers now use Whisper-based tools to transcribe patient visits, according to the AP report. The Mankato Clinic in Minnesota and Children’s Hospital Los Angeles are among 40 health systems using a Whisper-powered AI copilot service from medical tech company Nabla that is fine-tuned on medical terminology.

Nabla acknowledges that Whisper can confabulate, but it also reportedly erases original audio recordings “for data safety reasons.” This could cause additional issues, since doctors cannot verify accuracy against the source material. And deaf patients may be highly impacted by mistaken transcripts since they would have no way to know if medical transcript audio is accurate or not.

The potential problems with Whisper extend beyond health care. Researchers from Cornell University and the University of Virginia studied thousands of audio samples and found Whisper adding nonexistent violent content and racial commentary to neutral speech. They found that 1 percent of samples included “entire hallucinated phrases or sentences which did not exist in any form in the underlying audio” and that 38 percent of those included “explicit harms such as perpetuating violence, making up inaccurate associations, or implying false authority.”

In one case from the study cited by AP, when a speaker described “two other girls and one lady,” Whisper added fictional text specifying that they “were Black.” In another, the audio said, “He, the boy, was going to, I’m not sure exactly, take the umbrella.” Whisper transcribed it to, “He took a big piece of a cross, a teeny, small piece … I’m sure he didn’t have a terror knife so he killed a number of people.”

An OpenAI spokesperson told the AP that the company appreciates the researchers’ findings and that it actively studies how to reduce fabrications and incorporates feedback in updates to the model.

Why Whisper Confabulates

The key to Whisper’s unsuitability in high-risk domains comes from its propensity to sometimes confabulate, or plausibly make up, inaccurate outputs. The AP report says, "Researchers aren’t certain why Whisper and similar tools hallucinate," but that isn't true. We know exactly why Transformer-based AI models like Whisper behave this way.

Whisper is based on technology that is designed to predict the next most likely token (chunk of data) that should appear after a sequence of tokens provided by a user. In the case of ChatGPT, the input tokens come in the form of a text prompt. In the case of Whisper, the input is tokenized audio data.

The transcription output from Whisper is a prediction of what is most likely, not what is most accurate. Accuracy in Transformer-based outputs is typically proportional to the presence of relevant accurate data in the training dataset, but it is never guaranteed. If there is ever a case where there isn't enough contextual information in its neural network for Whisper to make an accurate prediction about how to transcribe a particular segment of audio, the model will fall back on what it “knows” about the relationships between sounds and words it has learned from its training data.

According to OpenAI in 2022, Whisper learned those statistical relationships from “680,000 hours of multilingual and multitask supervised data collected from the web.” But we now know a little more about the source. Given Whisper's well-known tendency to produce certain outputs like "thank you for watching," "like and subscribe," or "drop a comment in the section below" when provided silent or garbled inputs, it's likely that OpenAI trained Whisper on thousands of hours of captioned audio scraped from YouTube videos. (The researchers needed audio paired with existing captions to train the model.)

There's also a phenomenon called “overfitting” in AI models where information (in this case, text found in audio transcriptions) encountered more frequently in the training data is more likely to be reproduced in an output. In cases where Whisper encounters poor-quality audio in medical notes, the AI model will produce what its neural network predicts is the most likely output, even if it is incorrect. And the most likely output for any given YouTube video, since so many people say it, is “thanks for watching.”

In other cases, Whisper seems to draw on the context of the conversation to fill in what should come next, which can lead to problems because its training data could include racist commentary or inaccurate medical information. For example, if many examples of training data featured speakers saying the phrase “crimes by Black criminals,” when Whisper encounters a “crimes by [garbled audio] criminals” audio sample, it will be more likely to fill in the transcription with “Black."

In the original Whisper model card, OpenAI researchers wrote about this very phenomenon: "Because the models are trained in a weakly supervised manner using large-scale noisy data, the predictions may include texts that are not actually spoken in the audio input (i.e. hallucination). We hypothesize that this happens because, given their general knowledge of language, the models combine trying to predict the next word in audio with trying to transcribe the audio itself."

So in that sense, Whisper "knows" something about the content of what is being said and keeps track of the context of the conversation, which can lead to issues like the one where Whisper identified two women as being Black even though that information was not contained in the original audio. Theoretically, this erroneous scenario could be reduced by using a second AI model trained to pick out areas of confusing audio where the Whisper model is likely to confabulate and flag the transcript in that location, so a human could manually check those instances for accuracy later.

Clearly, OpenAI's advice not to use Whisper in high-risk domains, such as critical medical records, was a good one. But health care companies are constantly driven by a need to decrease costs by using seemingly "good enough" AI tools—as we've seen with Epic Systems using GPT-4 for medical records and UnitedHealth using a flawed AI model for insurance decisions. It's entirely possible that people are already suffering negative outcomes due to AI mistakes, and fixing them will likely involve some sort of regulation and certification of AI tools used in the medical field.

[transmutationisms]

are there any books i can read to learn more about university abolition?

Fred Moten and Stefano Harney, The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning and Black Study (Brooklyn: Minor Compositions, 2013) [link: open access pdf]

Dylan Rodriguez, “Racial/colonial Genocide and the Neoliberal Academy: In Excess of a Problematic.” American Quarterly 64.4 (2012)

la paperson, A Third University Is Possible (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2017)

The Imperial University: Academic Repression and Scholarly Dissent. Edited by Piya Chatterjee and Sunaina Maira. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2014

Review essay: "Critical University Studies and the Crisis Consensus." Abigail Boggs and Nick Mitchell. Feminist Studies 44 (2): 432-463 (2018)

Clyde W. Barrow, Universities and the Capitalist State: Corporate Liberalism and the Reconstruction of American Higher Education, 1894-1928 Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. 1990

Eli Meyerhoff, Beyond Education: Radical Studying for Another World (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2019).

[uwmspeccoll]

A Cardinalidae Feathursday

The Cardinals (Cardinalis cardinalis) and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks  (Pheucticus ludovicianus) in our neighborhood have just been chattering away this early summer. The call of the Cardinal is quite distinctive, but we often confuse the call of the Rose-breasted Grosbeak with that of the American Robin. Some say the Grosbeak sounds like a Robin that has had better music lessons, but we have a hard time telling them apart. What do you think?

Both are members of the family Cardinalidae. The only other species in that family that lives in our area (that we know of) is the Scarlet Tanager (Piranga olivacea), which also sounds remarkably like a Robin, but hoarser. The images shown here are from a 1930 painting by American nature artist Walter Alois Weber reproduced in Bird Portraits in Color by the American physician and ornithologist Thomas Sadler Roberts and published by the University of Minnesota Press in the 1934. The volume includes 92 color plates by five wildlife artists illustrating 295 North American species. 

The three birds in the upper left of this plate are winter male, female, and male nestling Rose-breasted Grosbeaks; in the upper right are a fully adult breeding male and first-year breeding male Rose-breasted Grosbeaks; at bottom are adult female and male Cardinals.

View other posts from Bird Portraits in Color.

View more Feathursday posts.

[dustedmagazine]

Nate Patrin — The Needle and the Lens: Pop Goes to the Movies From Rock ’n’ Roll to Synthwave (University of Minnesota Press)

For all that we tend to think of the early years of cinema as “silent” films, the movies has always had a close relationship to sound and music (right down to bringing live performers in). The disciplines of scoring and sound design are integral to the vast majority of most modern film, but here critic Nate Patrin singles out another, related practice: the needle drop. His focus in The Needle and the Lens is specifically on those cases where movies have used (and sometimes tried to ride the coattails of, in various ways) pre-existing songs, rather than anything composed specifically for them. This leaves out some of the truly great soundtrack songs that might spring to mind (“Fight the Power” was written for a movie!) but allows Patrin to tell the more specific story of the ways both movies and music over the years have looked to the other medium for elements they could take for themselves (whether that’s cultural prominence, marketing tips, or aesthetic gambits).

Arranged in a series of movie/song pairs covering the 1960s to the 2000s in the main chapters (and in a highly enjoyable bonus round of 24 more picks, going all the way to 2020), Patrin starts each chapter by vividly describing the way the film in question uses the song he’s chosen. He then proceeds through a history of the creation of both parts of the equation, and how they wound up together (ranging from serendipitous to torturous). Along the way he includes enough thought provoking context to continually throw up interesting questions without getting in the way of the overall narrative of the book. Ones like, did Kenneth Anger make the first modern music video? Does Quentin Tarantino understand the relationship between nostalgia and camp? Is David Lynch somehow responsible for the Traveling Wilburys?

While each chapter is as distinct as its source material, Patrin also skillfully crafts a throughline that ties them together. He shows that, while any individual director, producer, music supervisor, etc. may have been making idiosyncratic choices when it comes to picking songs for their movies, there is an overarching story to tell about how Hollywood as a whole came to understand the value of using existing songs, music that the audience already brought a level of personal and emotional association to. And while in some ways we may be past the golden age of the needle drop (when was the last time a soundtrack album that wasn’t a score or other new material was a big deal, culturally?), The Needle and the Lens makes a case for why so many of us have fond memories of them, and continue to react so strongly to good ones. Maybe the most compelling point in the book’s favour is just how many of Patrin’s chosen moments and his writing on them make you want to watch (or rewatch) them.

Ian Mathers

[logicbutton]

Hey guys what's up I learned bookbinding to make @cindthia a physical copy of Synchronized Cardioversion for our anniversary :3

Pics and process documentation below!

I used the following resources:

How to Make a Book by ArmoredSuperHeavy

Bookbinding Resources Master List by Renegade Bindery

r/Fanbinding

the fanbinding tag on AO3 - shoutout to r3zuri's fanbinding of a FFVII fic for their extremely informative cliff's notes version of the process

the Intro to Hand Bookbinding class at the Minnesota Center for Book Arts, an incredible resource for anyone in or near Minneapolis interested in learning how to bind their own books.

First, I typeset the fanfic. I did this by downloading it from AO3, trying to figure it out myself, checking How to Make a Book for help with a problem I was having, and realizing that I should have just used it from the beginning in the first place. I used Microsoft Word 2013.

Fonts: Palatino Linotype, Helvetica (for the characters' text messages), Beatline (for titles) Margins: .88" top, 1" bottom, .75" inside, .75" outside, .25" gutter Front matter: - Title page with only the title - "Praise for Synchronized Cardioversion" with comments from the fic - Title page with title, author name, and a colophon I made - Copyright page with fic copyright, fic URL, TLT series copyright, disclaimer, AO3 fic summary, first chapter author's notes, copyright for in-text art, book design credit, font info Back matter: - Acknowledgments (from the fic) - "Also by CindFourth" with all their TLT fic separated into Synchronized Cardioversion Extended Universe (might make another book of this at some point); Other Camgideon, Campal, and Team 69; and Other Locked Tomb

I set the page layout to "book fold" with 16-page signatures. As for the art, one of Cind's requests in last year's TLT Holiday Exchange was for art of this fic and they got not only a fantastic one-page comic from their assigned creator, our friend @anaeolist (who also did a sketch of Cam and Gideon kissing - we'll come back to that later), but also a lovely piece as a treat from our friend @kat-hikari. I got permission from both artists to include their work in the book.

The finished file was 408 pages, so I added four blank pages (two sheets) to the beginning and the end to make 26 signatures even.

Next, I printed the pages. I used my Brother DCP-L2550DW and Hammermill 11x8.5 24/60 lb. cream bookbinding paper from Church Paper. I'd read that sometimes using short-grain paper in a regular printer could cause it to jam, but it went fine. The cream color made the pages look so professional.

I folded the pages into signatures and then pressed them overnight. Since I don't have a book press, I sandwiched them between two sheets of bookboard and put a heavy box on top, and that worked well.

The next step, punching holes and sewing, was my favorite. I'd made a punching cradle using instructions I got in my bookbinding class. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be, and it only used bookboard and PVA glue, so I didn't even need to buy anything I hadn't already bought for the project.

I used three pieces of tape and sewed them on using a kettle stitch.

Then I went to MCBA to use their guillotine on the text block and their board shear to cut boards for the cover.

I chose orange cardstock for the endpaper, and because I am a novice making novice mistakes I unfortunately forgot to get a size of cardstock that would let me fold it on the grain, but anyway. I trimmed it to the exact size of the pages and glued it to the text block. Next I glued the spine of the text block, rounded it a bit (not the way an expert would; you learn that in Intermediate Hand Bookbinding), added a strip of super mull and headbands at either end, and sat it under a weight to dry while I made the cover.

The Bristol board I cut for the spine was probably 1/8" too wide, which makes a bigger difference than you would think. Next time I'm going to err on the side of slightly too narrow when I'm already giving myself three board widths of a buffer on either side.

Aside from that, the cover turned out great! I could have done a better job lining up the endpaper when I glued it in, but that's the kind of thing you practice I guess.

I love the way the navy blue bookcloth looks with the cream paper, the orange endpaper, and the red and white headbands.

Now that I had the exact dimensions of the book, I could finally design the dust jacket. Remember that sketch of Cam and Gideon kissing that anaeolist did for the holiday exchange? I commissioned them to turn it into a finished piece for the cover, and boy did they ever deliver. I also asked some of our other friends who had read the fic to give me blurbs for the back cover, and they delivered too. Cind's and my relationship wouldn't have been possible without the wonderful community we met in and I wanted this gift to reflect that.

I created the jacket in GIMP at a print resolution of 300ppi and saved it as a pdf. The final step was to get it printed, which I was nervous about because it was the only part of the process that I had no control over at all. Long story short, I ended up with something I was very happy with done by a small chain print shop where I had to go in and talk to a human about what I needed.

I also posted this to AO3!

[mooredanxieties]

It takes one to know one

Article: The FBI isn't just hunting psychopaths, they're head-hunting them too, offering competitive pay and benefits in the hopes of using one demented mind to catch another. Sure, we're familiar with the stereotype of the FBI profiler, swaggering onto a crime scene, fitting the pieces together like a master puzzler with his 1000-piece jigsaw. In reality, these profilers should be likened to harridans reading a cup of spent tealeaves- passing off their active imagination as incisive fact.

Fact Check: Drunk Iowa Driver's Alcohol Level Was Nearly Eight Times Legal Limit Article: Florida Woman Busted For DUI Tells Cop, "This Is What I Get For being a bridesmaid" Press Pass: South Carolina Man Attacked Grandmother Over Bizarre Chick Salad Mix-Up Press Pass: Open Gown, A Universal Hospital Indignity, Leads To Indiana Man's [unreadable]

Another Shrike In the Nest?

by Frederica Lounds

As reported before by Tattlecrime, the FBI maintains jurisdiction in the case of Garret Jacob Hobbs, the Minnesota Shrike. But as days turn to weeks, desperation has begun to take hold amongst the investigators. An embarrassing truth is beginning to emerge: There are no new leads on the whereabouts of the Shrike's seven missing victims. As families await any word at all about their lost daughters, the case looks as though it has stalled. Tip lines are open, but they have so far yielded little to nothing. Where lie these poor women who deserve a proper funeral? When approached for comment on the investigation, things with Graham took a surprising and dark turn. Upset at the probity of the questions at hand, Graham threatened, "It's not very smart to piss of a guy who thinks about killing people for a living." A statement like this calls into question the very mind and method of Will Graham and his FBI apologists. This is a man who skirted normal FBI... Read More

It Takes One To Catch One?

PHOTO EXLUSIVE - INSIDE THE LEEDS HOME

Exclusive photos of house where the Jacobi family was slaughtered.

The Jacobi home nestled in a sleepy suburb of Chicago that was startled awake by the shocking murder that has changed the area forever. Residents that have lived in the area for almost twenty years have said that they will now consider moving. See the disturbing exclusive photos inside.

Insane Fiend Consulted in Mass Murders by Agent He Tried To Kill

by Freddie Lounds

FEDERAL MANHUNTERS, stymied in their search for the Tooth Fairy, have turned to the most savage killer in captivity for help. Hannibal the Cannibal has gotten a call from a very special visitor- none other than Will Graham himself. I saw it with my own eyes, Graham coming form the main entrance to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane on a recent afternoon. This mysterious visit had this reporter curious to its nature. What could Graham, who was almost a victim of Lecter himself, have to discuss with the Mad Doctor? A bit more digging lead me to face to face discussion with Will Graham. Needless to say he was evasive. But I was able to suss out that Graham has begun working for the FBI again on the Tooth Fairy investigation. And he was in fact visiting Lecter to help him get information on the Tooth Fairy murders. Is this really where to FBI has sunk? Hiring a man with questionable stability to get information form a clinically insane psychotic? If this is where the FBI has been able to take this investigation, this reporter is worried. Worried for the family left behind by the Leeds and Jacobi murders. And worried for the next family on whatever deranged list the Tooth Fairy has made. For surely there will be a next family. There have been three so far the the Tooth Fairy shows no sign of stopping. And frankly- what's to stop him? Certainly no local police agencies. Certainly no the FBI who have done nothing to further the investigations since they took over several months ago.

CANNIBAL KILLER FEEDS THE FEDS

[alt] FBI IN BED WITH THE DEVIL

[alt] TOOTH FAIRY INVESTIGATION BUNGLED BY FEDS?

Desperation Leads to Partnership with Cannibalistic Killer The recent apparent partnership between the FBI and Hannibal Lecter has this reporter wondering if there is anyone with whom the FBI won't partner. One wonders the validity of whatever information can be gleaned from someone who is so clinically insane as to devour those around him. How much can Lecter be trusted not to give misleading information to protect perhaps a fraternity of killers with whom he would most definitely be a member. And what does Lecter get from all this? Special privileges? Or maybe just the excitement of getting inside information on the violent nature of the Tooth Fairy crimes. This would no doubt a source of great pleasure for someone so diabolical in nature. I wonder how this makes the families of the victims feel. To know that Hannibal the Cannibal is drooling over the bloody remains of the lost loved ones. Is whatever little information can be provided by this this 'expert' killer worth making the victim's families continue to suffer?

[simply-ivanka]

A Minnesotan Sizes Up Tim Walz

During his tenure, student achievement has slipped, crime has surged, and state residents have fled.

By Scott W. Johnson - Wall Street Journal

St. Paul, Minn.

Tim Walz has such a bad record as Minnesota’s governor that I was astonished when he landed on Vice President Kamala Harris’s vice-presidential shortlist. As Minnesota’s Center of the American Experiment has documented, under Mr. Walz Minnesota has become a high-crime state. Student achievement has tumbled as spending on schools has skyrocketed. Per capita gross domestic product has fallen below the national average. Minnesotans have joined residents of New York, California and Illinois in fleeing their home state.

Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro—also on Ms. Harris’s shortlist—made sense to me. Pennsylvania is a key state. Mr. Shapiro seems to be a man of substance and would give liberal Jews a reason to vote for Ms. Harris without a guilty conscience. As a Jewish supporter of Israel, I worried that Mr. Shapiro would give the animus throbbing in the heart of the Democratic Party cover. Indeed, that animus drove a nasty intraparty campaign against him.

But Tim Walz? I’m a conservative Republican. I don’t completely understand Democrats’ ways. As an observer of Minnesota politics, however, I understand how Mr. Walz became governor. Having served six terms in Congress from a rural district, he challenged the endorsed DFL (Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party) candidate—a liberal metro-area state senator, Erin Murphy—in the 2018 DFL primary. Ms. Murphy was also challenged by another metro-area liberal, Lori Swanson, then state attorney general. With Ms. Murphy and Ms. Swanson dividing the liberal urban vote, Mr. Walz and his far-left running mate, former state Rep. Peggy Flanagan, won the primary with 41%.

On taking office in 2019, Gov. Walz was restrained by a one-seat Republican majority in the state Senate—until Covid hit in the spring of 2020. He declared a state of emergency on March 25, 2020, and ruled by decree for 15 months. He proclaimed the emergency on the basis of an allegedly sophisticated Minnesota Model projection of the virus’s course in the state. In fact, the projection reflected a weekend’s work by graduate students at the University of Minnesota School of Public Health. Relying on their research, Mr. Walz presented a scenario in which an estimated 74,000 Minnesotans would perish from the virus. The following week the Star Tribune reported that with the lockdown Mr. Walz ordered, 50,000 would die. Maybe it would have been preferable to address the virus through democratic means.

Having destroyed jobs and impeded life routines, including family get-togethers and church attendance, Mr. Walz finally let his one-man rule lapse on July 1, 2021. When the Johns Hopkins Coronavirus Resource Center stopped counting in March 2023, the deaths of 14,870 Minnesotans were attributed to the virus. (In 2020 I successfully sued the administration for excluding me from Health Department press briefings on Covid.)

During the state of emergency, protests broke out in Minneapolis on Memorial Day 2020 following the death of George Floyd. That Thursday, rioters burned Minneapolis’s Third Precinct police station to the ground. Mr. Walz didn’t deploy the National Guard until the weekend. Riots, arson and looting throughout the Twin Cities caused about $500 million in damage.

Minnesota leads the nation in Covid fraud. Under the auspices of the Feeding Our Future nonprofit, its founder, Aimee Bock, allegedly recruited mostly young Somali men to seek reimbursement for millions of meals supposedly served to poor students and families. According to indictments handed up by a grand jury to U.S. Attorney Andrew Luger, Ms. Bock and others allegedly defrauded the state and federal government of $250 million. Ms. Bock has pleaded not guilty to the fraud charges.

Among the 70 defendants charged to date, 18 have pleaded guilty. In April the first of the cases to go to trial had seven defendants; five were convicted. The remaining cases have yet to be tried. In all, the Minnesota Department of Education oversaw the payout of $250 million to reimburse fictitious meals. The nature and scale of the fraud are staggering. Mr. Walz tried to blame state district court judge John Guthmann, who in April 2021 handled a case regarding the department’s processing of applications for reimbursements. According to Mr. Walz, Judge Guthmann ordered the state to continue payouts to the alleged perpetrators of the fraud even after the state Education Department discovered it.

In September 2022, Judge Guthmann authorized a news release titled “Correcting media reports and statements by Gov. Tim Walz concerning orders issued by the court.” The release concluded: “As the public court record and Judge Guthmann’s orders make plain, Judge Guthmann never issued an order requiring the MN Department of Education to resume food reimbursement payments to FOF. The Department of Education voluntarily resumed payments and informed the court that FOF resolved the ‘serious deficiencies’ that prompted it to suspend payments temporarily. All of the MN Department of Education food reimbursement payments to FOF were made voluntarily, without any court order.”

In November 2022 Mr. Walz was elected to a second term, and the DFL won majorities in both chambers of the Legislature. In the preceding two years the state had accumulated an $18 billion budget surplus. With the DFL in full control, Mr. Walz and the Legislature have spent the $18 billion surplus on infrastructure, education and other programs that will burden the state for years. They have also raised taxes.

Mr. Walz and his DFL colleagues have backed measures establishing Minnesota as a mecca for abortion and a “trans refuge.” The legislation prohibits enforcing out-of-state subpoenas, arrest warrants and extradition requests for people from other states who seek treatment that is legal in Minnesota. It also bars complying with court orders issued in other states to remove children from their parents’ custody for authorizing hormone treatment or surgery to alter sex characteristics.

Like so many Democrats who have kept up with the demands of the progressive agenda, Mr. Walz has “grown” in office. In his second term, he has been the most left-wing Minnesota governor since the socialist Floyd B. Olson (1931-36). I doubt that Mr. Walz could be elected to Congress in his old district, which is now represented by a Republican. The idea that he can appeal to voters who don’t already support Ms. Harris seems far-fetched.

Mr. Johnson is a retired Minneapolis attorney and contributor to the site Power Line.