#Wisconsin Principles

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Your letters: Writer defends Yee Leng Xiong's character, actions

"In no way does the candidate conjured by the Wisconsin Principles advertisement resemble the Yee Leng Xiong many of us know and respect." - Sarah Rudolph of Wausau

Dear editor, While highly tempting, becoming immune to the falsehoods bombarding us in campaign advertising can only make us complicit. A television ad attacking Yee Leng Xiong, running to represent Wisconsin’s 85th in the State Assembly, strikes me as too pernicious to go unchecked. This ad is funded by a political action committee calling itself Wisconsin Principles, not Xiong’s opponent,…

[robertreich]

The Case Against RFK Jr.

RFK Junior is not who you think he is.

It pains me to say it, but he is a dangerous nutcase.

He claims to want to heal America, but his vision for our future is tainted by his endorsements of hateful conspiracy theories – and the fact that he is being funded in large part by donors aligned with Donald Trump.

It’s time to lift the curtain on a campaign based on false, irresponsible, and self-contradictory claims.

RFK Junior repeatedly promoted a right-wing conspiracy theory that chemicals in the water are turning people gay or transgender.

He suggested COVID-19 was a bioweapon, mysteriously designed to spare Jewish people.

[RFK Jr.: “COVID-19 is targeted to attack Caucasians and Black people. The people who are most immune are Ashkenazi Jews and Chinese.”]

He’s spent years spreading anti-vaxx lies.

And in his 2021 book, RFK Junior alleged, with no plausible evidence, that Dr. Fauci performed genocidal experiments, sabotaged treatments for AIDS, and conspired with Bill Gates to suppress information about COVID-19.

These are not the words of someone who is serious about leading – let alone healing – this country.

As someone who once worked for his father, RFK, and admired his uncle, JFK, I’m disturbed to see RFK Junior speak this way.

RFK Senior would never have suggested that a deadly virus was targeted at certain races. And as president, JFK signed the Vaccination Assistance Act in order to, “achieve as quickly as possible the protection of the population, especially of all preschool children.”

If not for his illustrious name – and role as a potential spoiler – RFK Junior would be just another crackpot in the growing pool of fringe politicians.

It’s no coincidence that he shares top backers with the likes of Donald Trump and Marjorie Taylor Greene — or that Trump allies Roger Stone and Steve Bannon encouraged him to run in the first place.

But the Kennedy brand is political gold, and it could pull away just enough sympathetic voters to tip the race toward Trump.

Democracy won by a whisker in 2020. Just 44,000 votes in Arizona, Georgia, and Wisconsin decided the outcome. If RFK Junior — or any third-party candidate — peels off just a fraction of the vote from Biden, while Trump’s base stays with him, they will deliver a victory to Trump.

If Junior had any respect for the principles his father fought and ultimately died for, he would withdraw his candidacy. Immediately.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Many of Harris’s mistakes were similar to those Hillary Clinton made in 2016. Like Clinton, Harris cozied up to billionaire donors. Mark Cuban, for instance, said he was delighted that Harris was abandoning Democrats’ commitments to progressive principles and letting the business community propose the policies it wanted. Like Clinton, Harris and Tim Walz made hubristic campaign stops in solidly red states like Texas and Kentucky rather than spending the final days laser-focused on crucial battlegrounds. Like Clinton, Harris emphasized celebrity endorsements while failing to successfully court unions. (Most notably, the Teamsters declined to endorse her after she refused to pledge that she wouldn’t break a national railway strike.) Like Clinton, Harris focused too much on the danger of Donald Trump (which is very real) and not enough on the reasons why she would be good at being president herself. Most importantly, like Clinton, Harris ultimately decided upon a strategy of trying to woo moderate Republican voters away from Trump, reasoning that it didn’t matter if doing so alienated progressive voters and the Democratic base. Chuck Schumer, speaking of Hillary’s 2016 strategy, infamously promised: "For every blue-collar Democrat we lose in western Pennsylvania, we will pick up two moderate Republicans in the suburbs in Philadelphia. And you can repeat that in Ohio and Illinois and Wisconsin." In fact, they just lost the blue-collar Democrats and didn’t pick up the Republicans! In 2024, Harris, too, aggressively touted endorsements from Republicans, promised to put a Republican in her cabinet (she even cited that as the answer to what she would have done differently from Biden!), and went so far as to praise and embrace Dick and Liz Cheney! The strategy was an abject failure. Because she wanted to appease both Republicans and progressive voters, Harris had to further indulge her weakness for speaking in meaningless word salads, since taking stances that were meaningful could have alienated one of these constituencies. Trump, who is canny about portraying himself as more anti-war than Democrats, correctly pointed out that an endorsement from the hawkish Cheneys should be a badge of shame, not honor. (Specifically he said Cheney is “"the King of Endless, Nonsensical Wars, wasting Lives and Trillions of Dollars, just like Comrade Kamala Harris. I am the Peace President, and only I will stop World War III!")

[...]

The lesson to Democratic leaders in 2016 should have been that Bernie Sanders had been right, that the party had betrayed working-class voters and would be doomed if it could not effectively counter Trump’s pseudo-populist appeal with a visionary alternative. (See the excellent analysis in Thomas Frank’s Listen, Liberal.) Unfortunately, the lessons weren’t learned then, and it doesn’t seem like they’re going to be learned now, either! MSNBC anchor Joy Reid is already insisting that Kamala Harris’s campaign was “flawless” (because she got “every prominent celebrity voice”), and pundits like Jill Filipovic are saying things like, “this election was not an indictment of Kamala Harris. It was an indictment of America.” (Good luck ever winning with the slogan “You’re the problem, America!”) USAToday’s Michael Stern says that instead of talking about “where the Harris campaign went wrong” we should talk about “where the American people went wrong.” The Harris campaign itself is blaming unspecified “obstacles that were largely out of our control.” 

6 November 2024

[justinspoliticalcorner]

JoJoFromJerz's Are you f'ng kidding me? Substack:

Facts: January 6th was not a regular tourist visit, it was not legitimate political discourse, it wasn’t peaceful or patriotic, it wasn’t perpetrated by the deep state, the FBI, Antifa, drag queens or furries. Those who attacked the Capitol are not “heroes”, “patriots” or “warriors”, and Ashli Babbitt is not a martyr. It was a violent and deadly domestic terror attack intended to assuage the battered ego of a madman loser which was fueled by a perpetual proliferation of lies and conspiratorial propaganda in an effort to stop the certification of the 2020 election.

Which. He. Lost. It was incited by Donald Trump, perpetrated by HIS rabid cult, and it claimed the life of Ashli Babbitt because she CHOSE to threaten the lives of members of Congress and she was stopped in that effort by a police officer’s bullet. No matter how many times MAGA tries to rewrite the events of that day, no matter how they water it down, downplay or diminish it, we still have the truth. We still have what we saw with our own eyes, what we heard with our own ears, we can still see the physical scars and we can feel the emotional trauma the officers on the ground that day carry with them as we speak. January 6th was a very dark day for this country. It’s not a matter of comparing it to any of the other dark days we’ve walked through or endured. There’s no definitive list of the worst days we’ve ever known.

There was a physical attack on the citadel of our democracy, and it was horrific, but it was the intentional and deliberate attack on the bedrock principles of our Democracy itself which has forever scarred this nation. Yes, we ultimately prevailed that day. The attack was thwarted. The physical threats were put down, and the rioters were jailed. Unfortunately however, the more insidious side of the goal of that day has not yet succumbed to the efforts to squash it. Quite to the contrary, those behind the attack are more determined and more emboldened than ever. Their objectives are the same, even if their tactics and language have changed. They are still coming for our Democracy. They are still seeking to destroy what it is that makes this little experiment of ours so uniquely special.

Former Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker (R) posted on X that “voters are long over January 6th.” Walker is wrong, as lots of voters aren’t “over” that day.

[separatist-apologist]

Traitors Never Win

Summary: When Feyre Archeron's father promises she'll marry notorious crime boss Rhysand Moreno, Feyre will do anything to get out of the arrangement…including framing him for murder.

Rhysand isn't about to let her go so easily.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Now I get to write nessian

Rhys knew he was on borrowed time. 

Never more so than when Cassian and Azriel crossed into Wisconsin to track down the newly reunited Nesta and Elain. The sisters were officially out of custody and it was only a matter of time before someone went to check on Feyre. Rhys was no closer to making her his wife that morning than he had been when he met her. 

It occurred to him that he could force her.  Drag her home, tie her up, gag her, and call someone willing to overlook her distress. He wanted a more auspicious start for them rather than repeat his own mothers marriage. She’d never been happy with his father despite his fathers obsession with her. 

Rhys rolled to his side where Feyre lay, her back facing him. Gently, he ran his finger over the soft ridges over her spine and considered his next move. He needed her—and refused to give her back. He was out of options, though.

For the two of them, it was now or it was never. If he told her, though, Feyre would dig her heels in. Stubborn to a fault, Rhys believed she’d refuse to marry him on principle, even if she wanted him. It had to be a conclusion she came to on her own, even if he manipulated her into thinking she wanted it.

Staring at his phone, Rhys reread the message Cassian sent that morning.

Get home if you can. Koschei is on our trail and if he’s found us, he’ll find you. 

Oh, no doubt he was sending one of his little soldiers out to Rhys. It was fucked up and he knew it…but maybe a little danger was what Feyre needed. Just enough adrenaline to see him clearly, make a decision she wouldn’t normally, and see it finalized before she could change her mind. Rhys could keep her distracted with his body if she agreed, trapped in a rose colored haze for the next few weeks.

And then it would be too late. There was no divorce for them. 

Besides, if that didn’t work he could always just get her pregnant, assuming she wasn’t already. He’d been too nervous to ask if she was using birth control, unwilling to admit any part of his fucked up plans. He’d been poking around her cabinet looking for them—but maybe she used an insert.

Maybe he ought to stop obsessing over her body, he reminded himself. Everything was fine—case and point, Feyre was naked in his bed and he hadn’t had to force her to do it. And while she had kicked him in the stomach once, she’d also flipped herself onto her stomach and raised her ass in the air when she felt his cock pressed against her tailbone.

And he’d take it.

“Hey, pretty baby,” he whispered, brushing his lips against the back of her neck. It was fun to see goosebumps rise on her shoulders, to feel her stir against the morning light pouring through the windows. “Are you hungry?”

Feyre was always hungry—if Rhys didn’t know what she wanted, he could always start with food. 

“Do you ever sleep in?” she mumbled.

“Would you like to?” he questioned. Rhys loved to be up early, with a cup of coffee in one hand while he sat outside and watched the sun rise. It reminded him that he was alive and Rhys knew too well how much a gift that was. Especially for someone like him, forever hunted. Even then, Rhys could feel Koschei getting closer and closer.

Not the man himself, of course. He’d let people like Hybern do the work for him, venturing out only if everyone around him failed. If he hadn’t been so focused on Feyre, Rhys would have been working on drawing them out and setting his little traps.

Maybe he still could. 

“Yes,” Feyre interrupted, unaware of the slant of his thoughts. “Until at least noon, but maybe all day.

“A whole day in bed?” Rhys practically purred, trying to imagine it. In his daydreams, they were somewhere tropical and isolated, surrounded by warm water and open skies. 

Feyre rolled onto her back, making him painfully aware of her perky breasts staring up at him. “Yeah, Rhys. You never spend a day just rotting in bed?”

“No,” he admitted. He got up, he went to the gym, and he went to work—always in that order. Even when he was sick, Rhys thought it was better to get up and power through than to stay in bed doing nothing.

Still, if Feyre was in his bed, the thought of nothing suddenly seemed exceptionally appealing.

“Never?” she questioned, blue eyes focused on his face.

“I could be tempted,” he told her, trying—and failing—not to look at her naked breasts. 

“Today?”

This was what he needed—Feyre, inviting him to stay in bed with her where the activities were fairly limited and he was positive she’d have sex with him at least once.

“Why not,” Rhys agreed, sliding his phone onto the table next to the bed. 

Feyre settled among the pillows once she’d reached over the edge of the bed for his shirt—he was letting her wear them despite losing access to her body, if only because he liked the sight of her in his too big shirt.

She wore it like a dress, drenched in his scent. There was something primal about it, he decided. Rhys liked the way she looked in his clothes, his bed, his everything. 

“What now?” Rhys questioned, hoping she was going to let him slip beneath the blanket and have his wicked way with her. 

Feyre considered his question. “Now we just…lay here. We could watch something, or—” “Or we could talk,” he suggested. Feyre raised her brows.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“No. I like the sound of your voice,” Rhys admitted. “Tell me about your life.”

“What part?” she questioned.

“All of it,” Rhys said, greedy as ever. “Tell me all of it.”

Feyre balked a little—did he want to know about being a baby, she wondered? Yes, he’d declared. Start from the beginning, tell him everything. And Feyre, for her part, did. It wasn’t linear, but she told him stories about her life while Rhys listened, absorbing it all. He did get up to make breakfast, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and nothing else while Feyre trailed after him.

She was less prickly that morning, answering his questions when he asked. And Rhys had a thousand questions—a million, really—that he wanted answered. He brought the food into the bedroom, tempted to feed her fruit from his fingers though he abstained. No need to ruin what was turning into a perfect day.

“Why did you kill him?” Rhys heard himself asking later in the day. She’d danced around her father, omitting him from most of her stories. 

Feyre drew her knees to her chest, back resting against the wooden headboard. “I was angry,” she admitted. “I’d been angry for a long time.”

“Why?”

She grew silent for a moment, contemplating her feelings. “I guess…after our mom died, he just became something of a shell. He was spending money recklessly, he was making decisions without telling anyone…”

That explained her anger about their engagement, he supposed.

“All he wanted to do was hole up in his office. He left everything else to me and my sisters and we just…we weren’t accustomed to taking care of his household. Elain was taking care of him and Nesta was just so mad all the time which caused us to fight…I was just tired. And when he came home and he informed me he’d decided to marry me off, I guess I just snapped.”

“You know, I was at home when I heard the news he was dead,” Rhys told her, wondering if she cared about him at all. Feyre looked over, eyes bright again. 

“Were you angry when they told you what I said?”

Rhys smiled. “No. I had a good laugh about it, though. If I was going to kill your father, I would have done a far neater job.”

“Were you? Going to kill him, I mean?”

“No. His debts would have killed him eventually without any help from me. I was merely a bandaid for his bigger problems. If you wanted him dead, you should have come to me.”

“And what? You would have done it? Just like that?” she asked skeptically, snapping her fingers to illustrate her point.

“Just like that,” Rhys agreed easily. 

“Why me? Why not Nesta or Elain?”

Rhys couldn’t even remember what they looked like. He just shrugged. “Would you hate me if I told you that you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen?”

“No,” she replied with the pinkest cheeks he’d ever seen. “I’m starting to think its not possible to hate you.”

“I’m growing on you,” he said with a grin.

“Like a fungus,” she agreed. “You should hate me, you know.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why. If I were in your position, I might have done the same.”

“I don’t think I’d be so forgiving,” she informed him, looking over to drink him in. “I don’t know if your face is that tempting.”

“What about the rest of me?” Rhys questioned, running a hand down his bare torso. “Maybe I should have sent you a picture of my cock—”

“That would not have helped!”

“You don’t know that,” he replied good naturedly. “It’s a nice cock.”

She didn’t argue, and Rhys didn’t push her. He knew the truth and besides, there was no point in ruining what was shaping into being a perfect day. She was in his bed, telling him about her life and for once they weren’t arguing or snapping. It was a little peek into the life he wanted—domesticated Feyre purring in his lap like a house cat. 

“I didn’t plan it,” she finally said, eyes glazed with memory. “It just happened.”

“I don’t judge you for it,” Rhys told her, unwilling to admit that he couldn’t remember everyone he’d killed. 

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. I wasn’t thinking about you at the time. I planned to turn myself in—”

“Foolish,” Rhys hissed, immediately frustrated by the thought. Even with all his money and influence, Rhys didn’t think he could have kept her from prison. 

Feyre offered him a small smile. “You sound like my sister.”

“You did the right thing,” he praised, not wanting her to feel an ounce of guilt on his behalf. “They’ll never tie me to it.”

“I said you did it,” Feyre reminded him.

Rhys tapped her nose with the tip of his finger. “You didn’t see me, little love. And just as soon as Azriel gets back, there will be no evidence tying you or me to that death.”

“Why do you say that?” Feyre asked, her face paling.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said quietly. “The less you know, the better.”

“I thought we were equals—”

“We would be if you were my wife,” Rhys shot back before he could stop himself. Feyre crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing. 

“Why? So I can’t testify against you—”

“So I don’t have to testify against you,” he snarled, suddenly furious. “You committed the crime, Feyre—not me. And one of these days some overzealous agent looking for a promotion is going to reexamine the scene, the evidence, and who was standing in that house that day and they’re going to realize what you’ve done.”

She took a breath. “They won’t.”

“They will,” Rhys replied. “Trust me—putting away a mobster is the dream of every cop. They write your names in books for that kind of take down. They’ll be looking for me…but they’ll find you. And then they’ll send some nervous, sweaty asshole to my door offering to look the other way if I tell them what happened when I tracked you down. That’s a tempting offer, Feyre.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

Rhys didn’t think about it. “If I have to. Though, I’d prefer you willing.”

Feyre stood abruptly, her face unreadable. “I need a minute.”

“Take your time,” he replied, climbing out of bed himself. He let her walk toward the back of the cabin, assuming she was going to his office to think. Let her think about the day she’d sat on his cock while he worked, he thought sullenly. Rhys went to the living room so he could stare moodily out the window. 

Nothing ever went the way he imagined. It was hard to celebrate fucking her when she didn’t like him or trust him. Would he blackmail her into being his wife? Rhys wanted to be the kind of man who would say not…but he knew he would. He knew if he couldn’t get her to agree in the next two days, he’d be tying her up again and threatening to turn her in.

“Rhys?” Feyre’s voice asked from behind him. He twisted to look at her, stepping to the left to keep balance. 

“Ye—”

The glass behind him shattered and something threw him forcefully to the ground as Feyre screamed, arms up over her head.

“Get down!” he roared, terrified another bullet would silence her. He’d been shot, he realized—though rather than hitting him dead center, he’d been shot through the shoulder. It wasn’t ideal, but it was workable. 

Someone was coming—Rhys could hear boots crunching against snow. Twisting, he turned to make his way to Feyre only to find she was gone. Fuck. Now he had two problems—a killer at his front door and a runaway wife out the back. He didn’t have time to grab a gun before the door kicked open.

He knew the bitch standing in front of him. He’d recognize that bottled red hair from space—Amarantha.

“Rhys,” she said, flashing him a vicious smile. “You’re getting sloppy.”

He forced himself to his feet, refusing to die on his knees. “Your aim is as good as it's always been.”

Amarantha shrugged, gloved hands holding her rifle firmly. “You know, I usually love our banter but today I just don’t have time. You’ll forgive my—”

A shot fired, sending Amarantha flying to the ground like a doll who’s strings had just been cut. Rhys looked up to find Feyre, barefoot and pantless, standing in the doorway holding a gun. He expected to see fear—or maybe shock—but all he found on that beautiful face of hers was grim determination.

“A friend of yours?” Feyre questioned, dancing back into the house in an attempt to avoid the snow. 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Rhys replied. Feyre came to him, stepping over Amarantha’s body like it didn’t exist. 

“You’re hurt,” she said, reaching out to touch the blood before pulling back. 

“I’ll survive,” he replied, grateful adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay. This was what he’d wanted, right? A little danger to soften her? Maybe not like this—Rhys had assumed they’d have more of a warning and less bullets coming at them.

Still.

“We need to go,” Rhys told her, steering Feyre toward the bedroom. He’d kept her clothes from that first night specifically for this reason. He couldn’t drag her naked across the country, afterall. Rhys pulled out the jeans, t-shirt, and jacket before tossing it to the bed. 

“What about your arm?” Feyre asked, gun still in hand. “Shouldn’t we dig it out?”

“You’re a doctor now?” Rhys asked, hating that he needed her to do this for him. Feyre shrugged.

“I’ve done it before. For my dad, I mean.”

“You’re a good girl, Feyre,” he murmured, wishing he had the time to bend her over the bed. Rhys could still fuck her, injured or not. In fact, he thought the sight of his blood smeared over her tits would send him into a frenzy. “My good girl.”

“I thought she killed you,” Feyre whispered as Rhys sat on the edge of the tub. “I thought…”

“I’m fine,” he told her, heart thudding in his throat. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yeah,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Rhys couldn’t take his eyes off her while she worked, swallowing his pain so he didn’t upset her. Maybe, in another life, Feyre would have been a doctor—she certainly had a soft touch. She managed to get the bullet out in one go while he was lucky it hadn’t shattered into a million little pieces.

His arm burned by the time Feyre got to suturing, and all he wanted to do was lay down. Dried blood coated his upper half and stained his shorts, the towel beneath his feet, and likely the white tile, too. 

“Can you stand?” Feyre whispered, brushing her fingers against his jaw. 

“Of course,” he lied. “Go get dressed.” But he couldn’t. Rhys wobbled the moment he tried, flinging out his hand to hold the wall so he didn’t fall backward. His whole body trembled from the dull, throbbing pain from his wound that seemed to echo in his skull.

He didn’t know how long he stood there. Only that Feyre returned, more blur than woman, and led him out. 

“You can go,” Rhys whispered as he collapsed to the bed, too heavy to move. His eye lids were iron, unwilling to open once they’d shut. “You should go.”

The blackness ate away at him before he heard what she said in response. 

And then he was lost.

FEYRE:

Rhys was a big man. 

She’d never really thought about it before he’d collapsed onto the bed, shirtless and bloody. A dull roaring filled Feyre’s ears as panic threatened to consume her. They couldn’t stay—someone else might be coming. So Feyre forced herself to swallow her fear so she could dress him in a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. She packed him a few things, unsure what he’d want to wear when he woke, and then began the arduous task of dragging his muscular body out to the car. 

She did it, though. She put him in the back, her guns in the front, and then herself in the car. “We did it,” she said with a grin, turning toward the road with unrestrained glee. His car had a navigation system and after she thought she was far enough from the cabin, Feyre quickly typed in her destination. 

And then she drove. It was strange to be in a car again—for the last five years, Feyre had biked everywhere she went. Tamlin had kept her isolated, perhaps to her benefit at the time. Now, though, Feyre finally felt uncaged. Free, somehow. 

Feyre drove through the night without stopping, terrified that she was being tracked at first. After she was certain she wasn’t, Feyre worried about leaving Rhys’s unconscious body in the back of her car. The last thing she needed were the cops pulling them over and realizing who they were. 

Sheer will alone would keep Rhys from dying. 

He was a predictable man. Rhys woke with a start just before the sun began to rise, peering first out the window before looking between the seats at her. 

“You’re still here,” he rasped. Feyre smothered her smile.

“Did you think I’d leave you to die?”

“Expected it, actually,” Rhys replied with a grimace. “Where are we?”

“Nevada,” Feyre replied with a grin. 

Rhys blinked. “Why?”

“Oh, are you coy now?” Feyre half teased. “Why else would I be here?”

“Feyre—”

“I realized something,” she interrupted, uninterested in his attempts at nobility. It was too late now. “When you were down and I thought you were dead, it occurred to me that I didn’t want you dead. I want to keep talking to you, Rhys. And I know this whole situation is a mess, but I think I might be falling in love with you.”

“Oh, thank God,” he panted, resting his chin on the seat of her chair. 

“Plus, I figured this was the only way you’d agree to take me home.”

“You know me so well, darling.”

“Now it's your turn,” Feyre murmured, needing a distraction from the decision she was about to make. “Tell me about your life.”

Rhys settled back against the seat with a soft groan and began to talk. Feyre half listened, mind occasionally wandering to her sisters. She could bring them all back together…though what would they say when they realized the last five years had been for nothing? She trusted them not to betray her, but didn’t trust they wouldn’t shun her.

Nesta, at least. 

“What happened after your sister died?” Feyre questioned, wincing at the story of how she’d been shot in the back after his mother had been executed by a rival family.

“Dad went berserk,” Rhys murmured, eyes dark. “He wanted revenge which made him reckless. He died to a bullet, to…and I took over.”

“That must have been hard.”

Rhys shrugged. “Not as hard as you’re imagining. I miss my family, but I was groomed for this. Work is easy.”

“The last five years have been easy?” she questioned.

Rhys smiled. “Frustrating, I suppose…but I found you, didn’t I? Was it all worth it, Feyre?”

“Yeah,” she replied, unsure if that was true or not. There was no reason to give him the satisfaction of being right. “I’d do it all over again.”

Rhys liked that answer, murmuring something about foreplay. It was the perfect time to stop, get a marriage license, and then have a quick, quiet courthouse wedding. Rhys swore up and down he didn’t want anything flashy or big which suited Feyre more than fine. She hated to be the center of attention. 

“I want to fly home,” Feyre whispered to him later that night when they were alone, pretending like neither one of them wanted to peel the other out of their clothes. “And I want you to tell your friends to let my sisters come home.”

“What else do you want?” Rhys asked her, fingers laced with hers as he kissed her fingertips.

“If you ever step out of this marriage, I’ll have your balls.”

Rhys chuckled. “I think that’s reasonable.”

There was no question if he needed to issue the same threat. Feyre wondered if Rhys was merely willing to tolerate her indiscretions or if he merely assumed she never would. Feyre knew Rhys well enough to assume if he ever caught her, he’d execute the unlucky man without sparing a second thought. 

It should have bothered her and yet it didn’t. Maybe, she thought, she was just as messed up as he was. Maybe worse, because Feyre found herself rolling over to look at him.

“How is your shoulder?” she questioned.

“Fine,” he lied, eyes sharp with hunger. 

“Oh? I guess you don’t need me to take care of you, then?” she asked, sliding her leg over his waist. Rhys swallowed.

“You ah…could check,” he said. Feyre straddled him, pushing the hem of his shirt upward over his chest before gently pulling it over his head. She was careful with his injured shoulder, removing that sleeve last so he didn’t have to raise it over his head. 

Rhys merely watched, eyes wide while he waited to see what was about to happen. Perhaps this was the moment Feyre would pull out her knife and kill him. Feyre didn’t have a knife on her and the guns she’d stolen were hidden in the hotel room they were staying in, far out of reach.

She merely kissed the wound.

“You can be sweet when you want to be,” Rhys breathed, his good hand resting on her hip. 

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Why not?” he replied, arching her neck as she pressed a kiss against the hollow of his throat. 

“I want to see you live to old age, which means keeping you sharp.”

Rhys sucked in a shuddering breath, relaxing as she crawled down his body. It felt good not to pretend anymore—to just give in to the life that had always been waiting for her. Maybe she’d regret this in another five years.

But maybe not. 

She didn’t right then, as she licked a path down his stomach toward the erection she knew was waiting for her. Rhys seemed to be perpetually aroused and today was no exception.

“Feyre,” he breathed as she pulled his cock from his shorts. “Come back here—”

“Stop talking,” she ordered, just before licking a stripe up his shaft. Rhys moaned, lifting his hips in the air. It was tempting to stop and ask him how often he’d fantasized about this. She didn’t. He’d tell her when they finished, if only because Rhys loved to talk more than he loved anything else. He told her his every thought, sometimes as he was thinking them.

Feyre liked that about him.

“Is this what you want?” she whispered, teasing the blunt head with her tongue.

“Yes,” he all but pleaded. 

Feyre took him in her mouth like she’d done the first time, though she wasn’t hanging upside down. Stretching her jaw to accommodate him, Feyre watched through half lidded eyes to gauge his pleasure. In turn, Rhys watched her. He gathered her hair up in his hands, wincing from his wound. It clearly wasn’t painful enough to stop him and Feyre wasn’t going to demand it of him, either. 

She wanted to make him feel good, easing her own mind after the day she’d had. She hadn’t told him how she’d had to drag him out to the car, assuming he understood how he’d gotten there. It didn’t make the experience any less harrowing.

Feyre worked on taking him deeper, until his cock was lodged in her throat as she softly gagged around him. Rhys swept his thumb over her jaw before moving his hand to her throat as she took him again, feeling himself through her skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered, keeping his hand loosely wrapped around her. He should have let her continue given how much he was obviously enjoying himself, but he didn't. Rhys tugged her, pulling her mouth off his cock so abruptly that strings of saliva came with her.

“Rhys,” she protested as he lifted his hips, trying to line himself up with her own body. 

“Please,” he said in response, finding his target. Rhys slid into her with a fluid motion, both hands on her hips to guide her. “Take off your shirt.”

It was all she was wearing. Feyre had become used to wearing Rhys’s shirts and rather liked it, though she’d never admit it. In that moment, Feyre was happy to comply. She tossed her shirt to the floor as Rhys’s hands slid up her body to cup her breasts. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby. Do you know that?”

Feyre only moaned, rocking her hips against him. While Rhys tried to touch her everywhere all at once, Feyre merely dug her nails into his broad chest and continued moving against him. Every time Feyre and Rhys met, her clit brushed against his skin causing her to tighten around him. 

“You feel so good,” Rhys whined, arching his back. “This is my pussy now.”

It was an absurd thing to say and only a man like Rhys could pull it off. Rising up so Feyre was fully in his lap, Rhys pressed them chest to chest.

“You’re my wife,” he whispered against her neck. “Tell me you love me.”

“Rhys—”

His teeth grazed her throat. “Say it.”

“I love you,” she gasped after a particularly brutal thrust that left her brainless. Rhys kissed her, hands bracing her ass so he was doing most of the work. Somewhere in the very back of her mind, Feyre knew his arm must have been killing him. 

Gripping the back of his hair, Feyre pulled Rhys back just enough to force him to look at her. “Now you.” He moaned, “I love you.”

That was enough to send them both careening over the edge, gasping and kissing long after her orgasm had faded. If they had neighbors on either side, they had surely heard everything…and would hear more as they night went on. Who needed sleep, anyway? 

Who needed anything at all, beyond the man in front of her.

“Rhys?” she murmured, chin resting on his uninjured shoulder. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything. Just name it.”

“Take me home.”

Rhys smiled, face pressed to her hair. “You got it, baby.”

[thesickleandthepen]

If any of you have seen the news recently, you may know about Trump's plan to drastically alter the Department of Education (DOE from this moment forward). Speculations from the left say that there is a good chance Project 2025 ideas could be enacted with the shutdown or alteration of the DOE, while the right says it will be good to give power back to the states.

However, to me, all this looks like is the first attempt at control, by getting to our youngest and most impressionable members of society. For example, if the DOE is shut down and educational power is given back to the states, like the right suggests, this only spells destruction of intelligence and critical thinking.

After all, book bans have been an issue for a few years already, and several states such as Wisconsin, Arkansas, and Iowa teach Creationism in their schools. Now, they do also teach evolution as well, but the point is this; evolution is a well understood scientific principle, with intense detail available about many evolutionary line, including our own. Creationism is a crackpot idea supported exclusively by the Bible and nothing more; no actual physical evidence suggest anything about Creationism is true. We know the Earth has been around for far longer than the Bible suggests, we have evidence that animals evolve over long periods of time and change in response to environmental stimuli.

Some say it's good to teach both to encourage critical thinking, but in this case, that line of thinking doesn't work. A majority of America is populated by Christians, be they Protestant, Catholic, or whatever else. Many of these doctrines support Creationism as the only possible way we exist today, which is a blatant lie. Who do you think a kid will believe, the teachers and parents they trust who tell them that Creationism is fact, or the one teacher teaching evolution who may have and express doubts of their own?

The destruction of the DOE will lead to situations like this, where the state, or even federal government, will willingly tell falsehoods in schools to keep our children stupid and ignorant, unaware of the lies they are having shoved down their throat. It will be the first step in building an authoritarian state, run by the worst kind of people, who will make sure you know nothing and have your rights stripped form you without a word lest you or your family suffer the consequences. This is wrong, deeply wrong, and something we need to try and avoid at all costs. If you feel the need, homeschool your kids if this happens, teach them the truth of the world and society. Don't let them, or yourself, be manipulated by those who wish you harm. As human being with consciousness and thought, you can think for yourself and understand the truth, you can spread the truth. Don't listen to the government, at least not for the next four years. The government, and any government tied to Trump and the Republican party, is your enemy, and will stop at nothing to kill your soul and leave you in a hellish state of intellectual limbo.

Don't be tricked. Be yourself, remember the truth, no matter what they try.

[steelbluehome]

Hell yeah! A politician finally said it! The electoral college is bullshit! Every vote should count!

(Of course he isn't talking about this election, but if they win, maybe every election from now on!)

The Guardian

Tim Walz calls for scrapping of electoral college to decide US presidential race

Kamala Harris’s running mate urges popular vote system but campaign says issue is not part of Democrats’ agenda

Robert Tait in Washington

Wed 9 Oct 2024

Tim Walz, the Democratic vice-presidential nominee, has called for the electoral college system of electing US presidents to be abolished and replaced with a popular vote principle, as operates in most democracies.

His comments – to an audience of party fundraisers – chime with the sentiments of a majority of American voters but risk destabilising the campaign of Kamala Harris, the Democratic presidential candidate, who has not adopted a position on the matter, despite having previously voiced similar views.

“I think all of us know, the electoral college needs to go,” Walz told donors at a gathering at the home of the California governor, Gavin Newsom. “We need a national popular vote. We need to be able to go into York, Pennsylvania, and win. We need to be in western Wisconsin and win. We need to be in Reno, Nevada, and win.”

He had earlier made similar remarks at a separate event in Seattle, where he called himself “a national popular vote guy”, while qualifying it by saying, “that’s not the world we live in.”

The statements refer to the apparent democratic anomaly whereby US presidential polls are decided not by who wins the most votes nationwide but instead by which candidate captures a majority of 538 electoral votes across the 50 states, plus Washington DC.

The votes are distributed broadly reflective of each state’s population size, so populous California, for example, has 54 electoral college votes, while tiny Rhode Island has just four. However, rare cases of US presidents winning the electoral college while losing the popular vote tally do happen, notably in recent times George W Bush in 2000 and Donald Trump in 2016

The concerns over the electoral college system crystallise the reality that next month’s contest between Harris and Trump, the Republican nominee, will come down to the outcomes in a small number of battleground states, where polls show them running neck-and-neck.

Most surveys indicate Harris having a small but consistent nationwide lead. Yet even if these are borne out on polling day, Trump could still return to the White House by winning enough swing states to reach the 270 electoral votes needed.

That scenario is feared by Democrats since it would repeat the outcome of the 2016 election, when Trump beat Hillary Clinton thanks to the electoral college despite winning nearly 3m fewer votes across the nation.

Walz’s comments are eye-catching because he was chosen as Harris’s running mate because his homely, plain-speaking style was judged as appealing to working-class voters in three of the most important battleground states, Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin.

It is not the first time that Walz, the Minnesota governor, has advocated ditching the electoral college.

Last year, he signed legislation that added Minnesota to the National Popular Vote Interstate Compact, which would force states to award their electors to the national popular vote winner if enough of them agreed to do so.

In the absence of that, only a constitutional amendment could alter the current electoral system.

Harris-Walz campaign officials stressed that abolishing the electoral college was not part of its agenda.

“Governor Walz believes that every vote matters in the electoral college and he is honored to be traveling the country and battleground states working to earn support for the Harris-Walz ticket,” Teddy Tschann, a spokesman for Walz, told the New York Times.

The comments were seized on gleefully by Trump’s campaign, which is generally believed to have an advantage in the present system.

“Why does Tampon Tim [Trump’s derisive nickname for Walz] hate the Constitution so much?,” the Trump campaign posted on its official X account.

The comment overlooked the fact that Trump himself has been accused of calling for “terminating the constitution” in support of his lie that Joe Biden and the Democrats stole the 2020 presidential election.

Research published last month by Pew showed 63% of American voters favouring electing the president by the popular vote, although support was greatest among Democrats, while a small majority of Republicans favoured keeping the electoral college.

Harris said in a 2019 appearance on Jimmy Kimmel Live that she was “open to the discussion” of changing the current system, saying the popular vote had been “diminished”. But she has avoided more categorical statements on the subject.

In a 60 Minutes interview on CBS that aired on Monday, the vice-president said she had recently told Walz that “you need to be a little more careful on how you say things.”

[uwmspeccoll]

Wood Engraving Wednesday

In the summer of 1997, Wisconsin/Minnesota wood engraver and fine-press printer Gaylord Schanilec conducted an interview with socialist-inspired commercial printer Ernest Morgan (1905-2000) at Morgan's North Carolina home. Schanilec's three-day visit with Morgan eventually resulted in this book, Ernest Morgan, Printer of Principle, with the text transcribed from the interview and handset in Poliphilus and Blado italic types, and printed in an edition of 226 copies on Mohawk Superfine paper in 2001 at Schanilec's Midnight Paper Sales in Stockholm, Wisconsin.

Along with actual and facsimile examples of bookplates and printed ephemera by Morgan, Schanilec includes four of his own original color wood engravings, shown here. He writes:

Ernest Morgan was ninety-two years old when I visited him. The stories of his exploits were polished by years of telling. . . . He was bubbling over with ambitious ideas and schemes, but seemed frustrated that age had robbed him of the ability to carry out many of them. Still, he carried himself with elegance and grace. Above all, he was proud to be a printer. Ernest Morgan died in his home on the morning of October 1, 2000.

View other posts on the work of Gaylord Schanilec.

View more posts with wood engravings!

[pharaohstranssportation]

Pharaohs Transportation: The Ultimate Milwaukee Limo Service Experience

In the vibrant city of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, luxury transportation has a new name: Pharaohs Transportation. Known for its commitment to excellence, Pharaohs Transportation stands out as a premier provider of limo services in Milwaukee, offering a blend of sophistication, professionalism, and comfort that’s hard to match. Whether for corporate travel, weddings, special events, or airport transfers, Pharaohs Transportation ensures that every ride becomes an experience to remember.

In this article, we’ll take a deep dive into what makes Pharaohs Transportation’s Milwaukee limo service a top choice for discerning clients. We’ll highlight the unique features, benefits, and aspects that set this service apart from the competition while considering SEO principles to ensure this content ranks well and reaches those searching for luxury transportation in the Milwaukee area.

Why Choose Pharaohs Transportation?

1. Unmatched Luxury Fleet

Pharaohs Transportation takes pride in maintaining a fleet of high-end luxury vehicles. For those seeking a refined experience, the company offers a wide selection of limousines, including stretch limos, executive SUVs, and even party buses. These vehicles are meticulously maintained, featuring plush interiors, cutting-edge technology, and plenty of space to ensure maximum comfort.

The key to their success lies in their attention to detail. Whether you’re traveling for business or leisure, every vehicle in their fleet is designed to provide passengers with a luxurious, smooth ride. When searching for a "Milwaukee limo service," Pharaohs Transportation stands out by offering vehicles that appeal to both corporate executives and families celebrating special occasions.

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At the heart of Pharaohs Transportation's service is their team of professional chauffeurs. Every chauffeur is carefully selected, background-checked, and trained to offer superior service. From their impeccable attire to their dedication to punctuality and discretion, the chauffeurs ensure that clients receive a first-class experience from start to finish.

Whether you're attending a business meeting or arriving at a glamorous event, Pharaohs Transportation’s chauffeurs are well-versed in Milwaukee’s roads, ensuring a seamless journey. Their professionalism and customer-centric attitude have earned the company a reputation for excellence in Milwaukee’s limo industry.

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One of the standout features of Pharaohs Transportation is its ability to cater to a wide variety of client needs. From corporate transfers and airport pickups to weddings, proms, and special events, Pharaohs Transportation customizes its limo services to match the unique requirements of each client.

For business professionals, the company offers executive limo services, which provide a sleek, professional mode of transportation for meetings, conferences, and corporate events. These services include airport transportation to and from General Mitchell International Airport, ensuring that you or your guests arrive in comfort and style.

For special occasions like weddings, anniversaries, or birthday parties, Pharaohs Transportation goes the extra mile to make the day memorable. Their luxury wedding limo services in Milwaukee are designed to add elegance to the occasion, with options like decorated vehicles, red-carpet arrivals, and even champagne for the ride.

4. Milwaukee Airport Transfers

One of the most sought-after services from Pharaohs Transportation is their Milwaukee airport limo service. With Milwaukee being a key travel hub, General Mitchell International Airport sees millions of travelers every year. Pharaohs Transportation understands the importance of timely airport pickups and drop-offs, offering a hassle-free experience for both local travelers and out-of-town guests.

Their airport limo service includes real-time flight tracking, ensuring that your chauffeur is ready to greet you upon arrival, regardless of any delays or changes to your flight schedule. Their streamlined airport transfer service helps clients avoid the stress of parking or dealing with traffic, providing a smooth, comfortable ride to your destination in style.

A Customer-Centric Approach

Pharaohs Transportation is built on a strong foundation of customer satisfaction. In a market where clients have many choices, the company goes above and beyond to ensure that every passenger feels like royalty. This starts from the moment you book their service. Whether you book online or through their customer service team, the process is straightforward and stress-free.

Here’s a closer look at how Pharaohs Transportation delivers a superior customer experience:

Easy Online Booking: Their user-friendly website allows clients to book their preferred vehicle and customize their travel experience. The platform is designed with SEO in mind, ensuring it’s easily found when potential customers search for "Milwaukee limo service" or "luxury transportation in Milwaukee."

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Personalized Service: Every client is unique, and Pharaohs Transportation’s approach reflects that. From customized amenities to tailored travel routes, the company works closely with clients to deliver a personalized limo service that exceeds expectations.

Key Benefits of Pharaohs Transportation's Milwaukee Limo Service

Comfort and Luxury: From plush leather seats to ambient lighting and climate control, every detail inside the vehicle is designed to provide the utmost comfort for passengers. Whether you’re traveling for a few minutes or a few hours, Pharaohs Transportation ensures a first-class experience.

Safety and Reliability: With a commitment to safety, Pharaohs Transportation maintains its fleet in pristine condition, ensuring every vehicle is safe and reliable. The company is fully licensed and insured, giving clients peace of mind throughout their journey.

Punctuality: Pharaohs Transportation is known for its commitment to punctuality. Whether it’s a business meeting, a wedding, or an airport transfer, you can count on them to be on time, every time.

Local Expertise: Pharaohs Transportation’s chauffeurs are experts when it comes to navigating Milwaukee. Whether it’s avoiding traffic, taking scenic routes, or knowing the best drop-off points, they use their local knowledge to ensure a smooth ride.

SEO Benefits of Choosing Pharaohs Transportation

From a digital marketing perspective, Pharaohs Transportation leverages SEO best practices to ensure potential clients can easily find their Milwaukee limo services online. With the increasing demand for luxury transportation in the area, having a strong online presence is essential for reaching customers who search for phrases like "Milwaukee limo service," "airport limo Milwaukee," or "wedding limo Milwaukee."

Pharaohs Transportation's website is optimized for key terms related to limo services in Milwaukee, ensuring they rank highly in search engine results pages (SERPs). This, combined with their stellar reputation and exceptional service, helps them stand out in a competitive market.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

From the first appearance of man upon the earth, down to very recent times, the words "stranger" and "enemy" were quite or almost, synonymous. Long after civilized nations had defined robbery and murder as high crimes, and had affixed severe punishments to them, when practiced among and upon their own people respectively, it was deemed no offence, but even meritorious, to rob, and murder, and enslave strangers, whether as nations or as individuals. Even yet, this has not totally disappeared. The man of the highest moral cultivation, in spite of all which abstract principle can do, likes him whom he does know, much better than him whom he does not know. To correct the evils, great and small, which spring from want of sympathy, and from positive enmity, among strangers, as nations, or as individuals, is one of the highest functions of civilization.

—Abraham Lincoln, address given before the Wisconsin State Agricultural Society, in Milwaukee, WI, Sep 30, 1859

[Robert Scott Horton]

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 1/5

Book Blurb:

Most Anticipated by: LGBTQ+ Reads, Southern Living, Autostraddle, Goodreads Hollywood glamor meets “‘Tis the Damn Season” in this irresistibly buzzy sapphic romance, perfect for fans of Alexandria Bellefleur and Casey McQuiston.

Katie Price is known in every living room in America. A small-town Wisconsin girl who became an A-list star, she rarely makes it home, but this year is different . . . Little does she know it will lead her straight into the piercing blue-eyed gaze of Wil Greene.

A lot has happened in the decade since those cold Wisconsin nights when Wil and Katie drove around in Wil’s Bronco senior year. Since then, Wil's law career hasn’t taken off. Her father passed away. And what started as a personal challenge—kissing a new person twice a week, every week—has made her a growing sensation, but her life is still stuck in phase one. Through the years, the two have never left each other's thoughts and desires, but now suddenly, they are back in each other’s lives. Their reconnection is instantaneous, and the passion is palpable...but can it stand the test of time?

Review:

A sapphic celebrity romance between two childhood best friends who get a second chance when they reconnect as adults. Wil and Katie grew up as best friends because both their moms were life long best friends... until Katie went to LA to get her chance to become ab actress. While Katie became an actress, Wil remained in their hometown of Wisconson and has gone viral on Tiktok where she kisses random people. When Katie returns home for Christmas both of them reconnect and pick up where they left off all those years ago. Yet Katie is still dealing from the aftermath of her toxic abusive past relationship and Wil is dealing with the grief of losing her father. Can they both work past their problems and find a way to be together or was this second chance never meant to be? Unfortunately this one was a miss for me. I really wanted to like it but found the actual book to be so hard to read. There were so many instances where I just wanted to DNF this book but pushed myself to finish it just on the principle of finishing books. The romance between the two characters just didn't feel believable and I just didn't really care all that much. I adore sapphic romance stories and a friends to lovers with a touch of celebrity romance sounded right up my alley... only it just missed with the execution. The first 20% of the book was fine but then it began to drag and slog a bit more with every chapter. The book was just boring unfortunately. If you like sapphic romances with second chances, I'd say give this a go, maybe you'll have a better time with it than I did!

Release Date: June 11,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and St. Martin's Press | St. Martin's Griffin for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[mightyflamethrower]

It will take legions of Winston Smiths to stuff down the memory hole all the video documentation that Kamala Harris is a Marxist kook profoundly hostile to the basic principles that define America.

Letting these people consolidate power will not work out any better here than it did in Russia. The body count will not be lower.

And Kamalala wants equity of outcome regardless of an individual's talent or the effort put in to reaching their goal.

No worries, media. If you want to interview a vice president, our next one is willing to answer questions:

Both Vance’s and Harris’ planes landed in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, around the same time as both candidates hit the campaign trail in the swing state. Vance took the opportunity to address the reporters waiting for Harris and called on the Democrat to answer more questions from the press. “I figured I’d come by … hopefully it’s going to be my plane in a few months,” Vance said pointing back at Air Force Two. “I also thought you guys may get lonely because the vice president doesn’t answer questions from reporters and hasn’t for seventeen days.”

Vance offered the no doubt “weird” opinion that it would be good for the media if Que Mala “actually ran a real campaign instead of one from her basement with a teleprompter” like Biden did in 2020.

Instead of abandoning his unit like Tim Awalz, Vance confronted America’s terrorist enemies in Iraq. Likewise, instead of hiding like Heels-Up Harris, he faces a press that is hostile to him rather than servile.

[petervintonjr]

"I'm not going to be the teacher. We're going to learn together. You're going to teach me some things, and maybe there are a few things I might be able to teach you, but I don't consider myself a teacher. I just feel that I'm here to learn with you. We'll learn things together."

As an adult educator myself, I couldn't help but be drawn into the fascinating life and philosophies of Bernice Violanthe Robinson. Born February 7, 1914 in Charleston, South Carolina --a day that saw snowfall in Charleston for the first time in more than a century. Robinson's mother, Martha Elizabeth (née Anderson) Robinson took this as a sign that her daughter would spend her life "disturbing the elements." Martha was herself sister to Septima Poinsette Clark's mother (see Lesson #74 in this series), and Bernice's own principles would similarly coalesce around the twin premises of education and citizenship, much like her famous cousin.

In 1929 Bernice moved from South Carolina to Harlem, New York with the intention of becoming a musician, but after a period in the famed garment district, her talents as a seamstress took prominence and she graduated from Poro School of Cosmetology. In 1947 she returned to Johns Island, South Carolina to care for her ageing parents, and with her professional talents was able to open her own salon --a form of economic independence not available to Black women in most other careers. At the time beauticians were traditionally well-regarded amongst civil rights workers, not only because they were known and respected in a community, but also because of their almost-stereotypical role as "the good listeners," and that as self-employed entrepreneurs were less prone to backlash from punitive employers. By all accounts a socially engaging and affable personality with an easy talent for friendly first impressions, Bernice joined the NAACP and made good use of her salon as a "hub" for local activism, and made many contacts and acquaintances.

In 1956 Robinson attended a workshop hosted by the Highlander Folk School (an organization that itself certainly merits its own course of study); her cousin Septima Clark also attended. Ostensibly the topic was about desegregation but over the course of the session the focus turned to civic literacy and educating would-be voters. Bernice expressed an interest in helping to better educate the people of Johns Island but lamented her lack of professional teaching credentials. Clark countered by suggesting that her cousin was the ideal candidate for such a role precisely because she lacked such a credential; that she was perfectly suited to the task because of her lack of formal training --no preconceived notions.

Thusly "voluntold," Bernice threw herself into her new calling; in five months (!) she developed lesson plans, curricula, and distributable materials that would lead to SCLC voter-registration workshops in communities well beyond Johns Island; eventually catching on in Charleston itself. The growth of these first Citizenship Schools in turn fed into the enthusiasm and the missions of CORE, the Freedom Riders, and the SNCC --all of which reinforced one another as they continued to educate and motivate scores of citizens who had never before stepped into a voting booth.

As an adult educator, Bernice also adhered to the principle of never stopping learning: in 1967 she completed a University of Wisconsin correspondence course in community development, and also found time to secure an additional degree in interior design. Robinson stepped down from her behind-the-scenes SCLC role in 1970, having quietly developed what amounted to the most successful and widespread literacy campaign in modern American history. She pivoted to developing curricula for the South Carolina Commission for Farm Workers (SCCFW); and then in 1972 --in what I can only assume is the inherent desire of the adult educator to yet again try something new and different-- she ran for Congress.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Robert Tait at The Guardian:

Tim Walz, the Democratic vice-presidential nominee, has called for the electoral college system of electing US presidents to be abolished and replaced with a popular vote principle, as operates in most democracies. His comments – to an audience of party fundraisers – chime with the sentiments of a majority of American voters but risk destabilising the campaign of Kamala Harris, the Democratic presidential candidate, who has not adopted a position on the matter, despite having previously voiced similar views. “I think all of us know, the electoral college needs to go,” Walz told donors at a gathering at the home of the California governor, Gavin Newsom. “We need a national popular vote. We need to be able to go into York, Pennsylvania, and win. We need to be in western Wisconsin and win. We need to be in Reno, Nevada, and win.” He had earlier made similar remarks at a separate event in Seattle, where he called himself “a national popular vote guy”, while qualifying it by saying, “that’s not the world we live in.” The statements refer to the apparent democratic anomaly whereby US presidential polls are decided not by who wins the most votes nationwide but instead by which candidate captures a majority of 538 electoral votes across the 50 states, plus Washington DC.

The votes are distributed broadly reflective of each state’s population size, so populous California, for example, has 54 electoral college votes, while tiny Rhode Island has just four. However, rare cases of US presidents winning the electoral college while losing the popular vote tally do happen, notably in recent times George W Bush in 2000 and Donald Trump in 2016. The concerns over the electoral college system crystallise the reality that next month’s contest between Harris and Trump, the Republican nominee, will come down to the outcomes in a small number of battleground states, where polls show them running neck-and-neck. Most surveys indicate Harris having a small but consistent nationwide lead. Yet even if these are borne out on polling day, Trump could still return to the White House by winning enough swing states to reach the 270 electoral votes needed.

That scenario is feared by Democrats since it would repeat the outcome of the 2016 election, when Trump beat Hillary Clinton thanks to the electoral college despite winning nearly 3m fewer votes across the nation. Walz’s comments are eye-catching because he was chosen as Harris’s running mate because his homely, plain-speaking style was judged as appealing to working-class voters in three of the most important battleground states, Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin. It is not the first time that Walz, the Minnesota governor, has advocated ditching the electoral college. Last year, he signed legislation that added Minnesota to the National Popular Vote Interstate Compact, which would force states to award their electors to the national popular vote winner if enough of them agreed to do so.

Minnesota Gov. and VP candidate Tim Walz (D)’s call to abolish the Electoral College is so based.

[daydream-cement]

Cold Dead Heart Ch. 7

Marilyn Thornhill x OC (Rowan Ali)

Authors Note: love you guys :D

“No, I’m sorry. I won’t be able to come this weekend. I have a conference that I have to go to, but I should be able to take a call if you can call me…” You sat in your classroom with your feet propped up on your desk. It was impossible to hide your smile as you chatted with Marilyn on the phone. Most of your conversations had lost their awkwardness, rather you felt a deeper relationship building between the two of you.

“I might be able to, but I’m not sure. I’ll talk around and see what the rules are. I’ll let you know on Thursday when I call.” Marilyn was the happiest you had heard her be since you had started communication again. As of late, she seemed hopeful for the future.

“Sounds great.” You shrug, switching your phone to your other ear.

Marilyn hadn’t had the opportunity to attend the conference with you all when she taught at Nevermore, “Who’s all going to the conference?”

“Pretty much the whole staff. Larissa isn’t making Mr. Bauner go. I guess he is taking a principled stand against having fun or something.” You vividly remember fighting with him in the teachers lounge a few days ago because he has been so annoying about how ‘The conference has no value’ and “It’s just an excuse for teachers to party’. He was an absolute buzzkill which was strange because werewolves were typically fun.

“How is Larissa?” Marilyn asked quickly, unable to contain herself. You didn’t have to think about it all too much as Fern had just walked into your classroom carrying your lunches. Fern even went so far as using your favorite cup with the curly straw that you loved so much.

You decided to tease Fern with your words, making sure you were loud and overzealous enough to catch your best friend’s attention, “Oh, she’s good. She’s been all distracted by some lady recently.”

“Who?” You were all too focused on the cocking of Fern’s head and her trying to mouth ‘What are you talking about?’ to truly listen to what Marilyn was saying to you.

“Ah, some small town kid from up north, eh?” You put on your best, most-offensive upper Wisconsin accent that Fern hated so much. Instead the short blonde in front of you giggled and handed over your liquid lunch before she tapped her wrist, trying to let you know that you were going to be late for a staff meeting.

“Rowan-“

“Sorry, I gotta go. Fern is distracting me right now. Apparently there is a meeting we actually have to go to.” You laughed into the receiver as Fern gave you another annoyed look before spinning around to walk back down the stairs of the observation tower. You knew that there was no way that Larissa was going to start that meeting without Fern there, so you both could be as late as you wanted.

“Rowan, wait-“

“I’ll talk to you Thursday!” You spoke quickly and hung up the phone, jumping up from your chair to half-jog after Fern, blood in hand.

When you caught up to her, she turned her face to you, giving you an inquisitive glance, “Who was that?”

You started down the stairs with Fern at your side and quickly came up with a lie that would stick with you months from now, “Oh… Just some florist that I’ve been seeing.”

———

This weekend’s conference had been just as much of a party as you anticipated. Even though you had been desperately pining after Marilyn, there was no harm in innocent flirting with a gorgon or two. The most exciting thing to come from last night was Fern finally sealing the deal with Larissa. You could hear Fern all the way from your room last night, a fact in which you teased her relentlessly with that day.

You felt your phone buzzing in your pocket as you chatted with Fern, you were both headed towards a 2 o’clock presentation. When you pulled it out, the call was from the correction center: Marilyn was calling. You stop in your tracks, causing Fern to stop as well, she glanced back at you in confusion, “All good, Ro?”

“Yes, I have to take this call. Go ahead to the presentation! I’ll catch up with you later.” You spun on your heels, hitting the accept call button, and pushing the phone up to your ear, unable to hide your enthusiasm, “Hi!”

“Hey, fangs. How’s the conference going?” You loved that little nickname she had for you. Honestly, you loved that she had a nickname for you as, in your mind, it meant you were one step closer to something more romantic with Marilyn.

“It’s going. As you know, the parties have been absolutely wild and I might have learned a couple things too.” You meandered slowly, a wide grin gracing your lips as you began to fill Marilyn in on some of the juicy gossip from the conference, “Yeah, Fern totally got laid last night. I think Vlad got stoned last night. Weed stoned, not gorgon stoned. Either way, I’m not talking to him because he didn’t share.”

“I’m glad you are becoming a better professor.” She teased, sarcasm dripping from her beautiful voice.

“Oh, you know it. How have the past couple days been, red?” You took a seat in an armchair outside the auditorium Fern had entered, crossing your legs and sinking into the cushions, ready to listen to Marilyn talk.

“Good… I’ve been feeling better. My psychiatrist has been working through creating a diagnosis for me and then there is potential for me to get medicated… to help regulate everything…” Marilyn had been progressively getting better at discussing her journey in seeking help.

Now most times when you discussed it, she spoke about it freely with no anger and no tears which made your dead heart swell with pride, “That sounds fantastic… I’m really proud of you.”

“I- Thank you…” She couldn’t deny that she was shocked to hear your words. Marilyn couldn’t remember the last time someone had told her that they were proud of her.

Rather than dwell on the sappiness of the moment, you changed the subject, hoping to continue the conversation Marilyn and you had been in the middle of when your call ended on Thursday, “No problem, red. Now, tell me, how did that book you were reading turn out?”

-------

When you finally arrived home from the conference, there was a letter from Marilyn waiting for you in your mailbox. You ripped it open with excitement likened to that of a child on Christmas morning, as your eyes start scanning her wonderful handwriting you realize this letter was not for you:

Dearest Larissa,

I know that you haven’t been reading my letters, but I must keep trying. I know that you are trying to move on from me. I feel as though you are ignoring the chemistry we have. Those nights we had were so much more than a fling. I know you felt it as well.

My love for you is like the shifting tides. Each time I am reminded of what we could have, I feel myself being drawn to you once more. I’m begging and pleading with you, Larissa. Give me another chance.

I will continue to apologize for my actions until I can earn back your trust and affection. Tell me what I must do to earn you back.

I promise you that I am getting better.

All my love, Marilyn

Just when you thought that the two of you were destined to be together…

It was all over, all at once.

Link to Chapter 8

[nodynasty4us]

From the July 24, 2023 item:

Most states don't matter. If the Green Party gets even 5% of the vote in California, it won't flip the state. But it is on the ballot in Wisconsin, Michigan, and North Carolina, where siphoning off even 2% from Biden could result in a Trump victory. This puts the Democrats in a bind. If they move to the left, then they can neutralize the Green Party, but lose votes to No Labels if it gets on the ballot in many states. If they move to the center, they may neutralize No Labels but lose more votes to the Green Party. Joe Biden has been around the track a couple of times so he understands the problem, but he also knows there is no easy solution (other than to try to block both No Labels and the Green Party from getting on the ballot in as many states as possible). In principle, the Republicans have the same problem. They could bleed votes to the Libertarian Party on the right and to No Labels on their left.... But the situation is not symmetric. Many Trump supporters would walk over broken glass barefoot to vote for Trump. They won't defect....