#also i think such a good way of showing the rise of the nazis grip on society especially the youth by making moritz

[shittywriterbrain]

can't believe that all of babylon berlin season three's themes are absolutley devastating, gereon's and lotte's personal life falling apart, the rising power of the conservatives and the nazis and the inevitable crash of the stock market waiting to happen. meanwhile the overarching crime plot is motivated by the dumbest criminal rivalry and some annoying little guy with comic book villain attitudes. what

[f1ghtsoftly]

Why not field candidates from far left parties and try to build coalitions with working class conservatives? That seems like the lost sensible option here. 50% of Republicans are for a ceasefire right now and there are plenty of social issue most left and right leaning people agree on if we package/market it correctly. Consistent, strong, mobilization of the working classes is the only path out of this political less-the Democrats are not doing what they need to do and things will get worse and more desperate. Trump was in a lot of ways a reaction to the lack of action Obama took on a huge number of social issues, Reactionary forces will continue to get stronger if we keep electing the Democrats.

I understand there is a serious risk of splitting the vote but if foreign policy+domestic economic issues are not being addressed by the Dems or the Republicans, we can not only use this to our advantage-but we truthfully don’t have much of a choice anyhow.

In Weimar Germany, the Social Democrat’s (SPD) and the Communist party (KPD) could not work together and this is widely regarded as a reason the Nazi’s came to power. However, this was often because the SPD did not show up for labor, did not provide social welfare, and participated in the vilification of Communists, a vilification the Nazi’s would then capitalize on in order to seize control of the government.

I really like the way this article lays it out, it is mentioned much earlier

Domestic economic and foreign policy issues need to be addressed in order for us to move forward. If our vote is so critical to the democrats-then they need to start making concessions and we all need to pressure the democrats to start making concessions. Or we will continue to be ruled by a “lesser” of two evils who lets 11,000+ people be slaughtered in front of the whole world.

I also don’t think most people think far enough ahead to be conciously accelerationist but I agree with you, the thought leaders on the far left may very well be and I also agree that’s bad-but I think ignoring the frustration of the public at the Democrats, currently allowing us all to watch the slaughter of tens of thousands online in the middle east is an impulse we should mobilize for good-not to grip onto the status quo that was responsible for getting us into this mess in the first place.

I'm convinced that the "don't vote for Democrats!" far lefties want Christo-fascists to rise to power throughout the US government.

Why do they want that? Well, they're accelerationists. They want a real fascist enemy in power. That way they can justify organizing armed rebellion and gang wars against right-wing militias. And we'll all lose everything in that conflict. Hastily organized left-wing gangs won't win against a Christo-fascist empire. But some far left men will find a place to fit comfortably within the empire. They'll make a name for themselves as terror gang leaders. And that's very trendy and aesthetic these days because there's prostitution, money, and glory involved. And you can put your face on posters and fashion yourself as a revolutionary icon. And for many left-wing men, that's the dream. They want their faces on t-shirts.

The other option is to use our democracy to keep Christo-fascists out of office. If we do that, our government will sink back into a moderate centrist status quo. Wrangling that type of government is a very different task. It takes civic engagement and law and reading and writing policy. Most left-wing men don't see the glory in that kind of battle.

[rinadoesstuff]

Secret Soldiers

Chapter Fourteen

Georgia, Camp Toccoa, 1942

The next morning, Maggie woke up with an unusual smile on her face. The night before had been different but a good different. Though she wasn’t planning on falling asleep with her shoulder resting on George Luz’s shoulder, she was glad she had. The moment had shown her that she could trust the men, they’d allowed her to sleep even though she had been vulnerable in that moment. Although she hadn’t expected them to do anything untoward, they hadn’t seemed like the type, the thought was always in the back of her mind when it came to all men.

Letting out a yawn, Maggie checked the time on her watch that was still sitting on her wrist and realised she still had almost an hour before breakfast that morning. The sun was slowly rising, some light peeking through her window into the small bunker she lived in. Deciding now would be a good time to grab her mail, Maggie quickly changed into her OD’s and made her way toward the mailroom. 

As she had thought, Maggie didn’t pass anyone on the way over - most of the men would still be asleep, getting as much in as they possibly could. She didn’t know how long they had been up the night before but they had all been playing poker still when Maggie had woken up. Although she offered to walk back over alone, George had insisted he make sure she got back safe. 

Wanting to build that bond up even more with the men, Maggie allowed him to walk her over. It had been a nice feeling, not any hostility between the two as they walked to her small ‘home’. She was hoping that the men would be kinder to her, let her join in with their laughs a little more. 

Entering the mail room, she had a quick conversation with Rice before he went to grab her mail. She had two letters, one with the SOE seal imprinted on the back and one she recognised as Camilla’s handwriting. Bidding Rice goodbye, Maggie left the mailroom and tucked her letters into her pocket. She wasn’t usually one for a cigarette but Maggie took one from her pocket, stuck it between her lips and lit it. 

The nicotine rush was one she needed, still feeling the tiredness from the night before. As she took a drag, she noticed a group of soldiers coming her way. Standing off to the side so she wasn’t in the way, Maggie tried to work out if she knew them. The faces weren’t familiar, they could have been from one of the companies she hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. 

As some of the men went into the mailroom, one of them came over toward Maggie with a small smile on her face. “Bum a cigarette, Lieutenant?” Maggie gave the man a look, raising an eyebrow as she grabbed her pack and tossed it at him. 

“Do I need to give you a light as well, private?” She wore a lazy smile as she took another drag, the soldier laughing gently as he leant against the wall beside Maggie. He grabbed his own lighter, showing it to Maggie with a grin before lighting his cigarette. There was a silence before Maggie spoke. “Which company are you with, Private?”

She turned her head gently to look at the man, significantly taller than she was. “Dog company, ma’am. You’re with Easy, right?” Maggie nodded, taking a final drag of her cigarette before dropping it into the ‘butts’ bin beside her. 

“I best be off, have a good day,private.” The man gave a lazy salute, making Maggie smile gently. Even though the man had no idea who she was, he hadn’t seen her as just a woman. He had treated her as an officer and even a friend, giving Maggie the smile that she now wore as she headed back toward her bunker. She had a bit more time before breakfast, giving her the chance to read the letters that had been sent to her. 

Settling down on her bed, Maggie opened the one from the SOE to begin with. 

Agent Walters,

With intel received, we are pleased with the progress you have been making with the US airborne. We have received some more intelligence about the plan of attack for the US airborne however you do not have the clearance for us to tell you. All we can tell you is that there will be another operative in the future, when a move of base is pushed ahead. There is not a lot we can tell you except we wish you luck and hope the two of you will work together before joining this war alongside the US troops. 

GodSpeed, Agent. 

Agent Frost, SOE.

Dresden, November 1942

The snow from the previous day wrapped the city of Dresden in a beautiful white one could only describe as almost magically but the blonde woman had something different on her mind. Looking down at the watch on her wrist, Claire let out a yawn before hiding her bare hand again in the warmth of the pockets of her coat. “I definitely have to sleep more.”

“You have absolutely no reason to complain, Clara.” Despite his own obvious lack of sleep, Hans was quick to respond. Leaning against the brick wall, the man let out a groan as he closed his eyes. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to get through my classes without falling asleep.”

“Well,” Claire started as she pulled her blue scarf further up into her face. “Maybe you should take a break from going out so often at god forbidden hours.” 

“Yeah, just wait until you see what we did. It was worth it.” With a proud smirk on his face Hans rubbed his hands together in an attempt to get some warmth. “You’ll like it.”

Just humming in response, Claire shifted her gaze up towards the window on the third floor of the building they stood in front of. She freshly falling snowflakes made her task of making out movements on the other side of the window quite a bit harder but nevertheless a quickly moving shadows caught her attention. “Does Ilse know? You know, what happened a few nights ago?”

“Yeah I stopped by last night and spoke with her about it. She thinks it’s pretty amazing but don’t worry, she swore not to tell anyone.”

Nodding, Claire turned back to Hans with an unsure smile on her lips. “Alright, uhm, thanks for still trusting me. It means a lot.”

“Considering that you kind of held a gun pointed at me, I took the best chance by avoiding making you mad.” They both knew that it wasn’t meant to be serious but Claire couldn’t help herself and as a response she smacked Hans against his shoulder. The man only chuckled as he playfully rubbed his arm. “Oh you know that I love you too much not to trust you.”

Hearing this, a big smile formed on Claire’s lips. It was by no means the first time that she heard this from him and usually she knew that it didn’t mean much but weirdly enough this time it felt like more. She was about to respond but a door falling into its lock behind them caught both of their attention.

“Sorry that I’m late. My alarm didn’t go off.” Ilse had a hint of pink on her cheeks as she hurriedly closed her jacket. After a quick exchange of glances the brunette woman pulled her bag a little closer to her body. “Did I interrupt anything?”

When no response came from neither Claire nor Hans, Ilse just nodded in a dismissive manner and interlocked her arm with Claire’s just like they always did. It felt so normal to them by now that just like usually they started walking and chatting away, leaving Hans to follow them looking almost like a lost puppy. 

Due to their lateness today, Claire expected the promenade leading up to the university buildings to be rather empty but the closer they got, the more they had problems passing the groups of students. 

Claire reached behind herself and grabbed Hans’ hand out of fear of losing him in the mass as Ilse also tightened her grip. Not being able to see enough, the blonde woman stood on her tiptoes. After her eyes scanned the walls of the entrance her gaze fixated on the formerly well visible swastika on the right side of the wooden entrance doors. Half of it was broken out of the stone and it has been over painted in a thick black while a certain word was written right next to it.

Letting out a gasp, Claire quickly got down on the heels of her shoes again. Looking at Ilse and her desperate tries to see past the crowd all while having a curious look on her face, Claire was quick to realise that Ilse had nothing to do with this.

The brunette gave up after a few more tries to see something and instead looked at Claire expectantly. “Vive la révolution?” After not receiving an answer Ilse turned to Hans who wore a proud smirk on his lips “Are we starting one?”

Hand just pulled the two women closer to him as he leaned down so only they could hear his voice. “What do you say, Veritas? Are we starting one?” 

With a mischievous grin, Claire turned from Ilse to Hans. “We are starting one.”

With a sudden burst of pride flowing through her, Claire squeezed Hans’ hand as she turned back to the large letters painted on the wall.

Veritas

It was her name. 

Now the Nazis know who they are up against.

• • • • • •

Taglist:

@wexhappyxfew @pierrespandas @trashgoddess600 @junojelli @kmorecoffee @vintagelavenderskies @order-of-river-phoenix @adamantiumdragonfly @happyveday @alrightnicelighter @easy-company-tradition @keoghans @ultralillylove @pxpeyewynn @pinkesfaultier @madstertb

[kob131]

https://itsclydebitches.tumblr.com/post/635993185636827136

The first slide that ISN’T a summary and we have serious issues.

The two examples given do NOT reflect on Ironwood’s viewpoint or actions. They’re one off mentions by OTHER characters. IRONWOOD is not reaching out to people here, Ruby and Ozpin effectively are. And Ruby and Ozpin are big on the whole ‘team up!’ thing (to the point Ruby tried to talk RAVEN into joining them.)

So? This is Volume 2, long before Ironwood faces the negative events than change him as a person. Acting like he’s the exact same person then and now is disingenious is a VERY extreme degree.

Glynda: Trouble sleeping?

Ironwood: (Looking back, gripping his shoulder with the other hand.) Arm was acting up.

Glynda: Of course, so logically, you got out of bed, dressed yourself completely and decided to gaze menacingly out into the distance. (Approaches all the way to his side, then looks at him concerned.) What's wrong?

Ironwood: I've trusted him for years. We both have. I just... I can't help but feel like he's keeping us in the dark.

Glynda: Don't be ridiculous! You know very well that we are not the ones in the dark.

Ironwood: (Laughs humorously.) That makes it worse! I refuse to believe that a man that I've trusted for so long would act so... passively.

Glynda: (Puts a reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder.) You're a good person, James. You've always done what you think is best for the people, even against strong protest. It's admirable. But it's high time you stopped talking about trust and started showing it. (Drops her hand as they stare into the distance together.) Ozpin has experience that the rest of us lack. And I think that's something worth remembering.

This is the full conversation. Which is rather important given how much it emphasizes that Ironwood looks up to and respects Ozpin...who we all know is about to get cut off from his allies.

Skipping through a LOT here as it’s just a bunch of ‘Hey look! Ironwood’s being nice!’ along with tangents. I’d love to address them all to prevent any accusations of manipulation but I’m not repeating myself: Ironwood being nice is not a contradiction of what he will do (in fact, one can very well see that his empathy is a FACTOR in his decision).

‘Being cautious’. That is an important statement here. Because ‘being cautious’ would also include going for the decision that’s guruanteed to save a few people rather than the decision that MIGHT save a lot of people (a ‘safe bet vs. gamble’ if you will).

Ironically here, OP just displayed how Ironwood’s actions are consistent with his previous ones.

The man whose allies weren’t hacked?

Also note how this DOESN’T have anything to do with the actual argument at hand. It’s not about showing an inconsistency with Ironwood: it’s about making the character look good. It’s a tell from the OP that what they SAY they’re arguing for doesn’t match the actual ACTIONS. OP is not upset that Ironwood is inconsistent- She’s upset that Ironwood is being portrayed NEGATIVELY.

So you’re saying we should throw away all our tech based on the work by Nazi scientists because we disagree with how it was originally used? You try to call hypocrisy here and yet fail to address the distinct difference between the intention/moral implications behind tech and how it’s actually used.

Not to mention how a lot of this is fucking bullshit. Like the army point was about how bringing his army to Vale was a bad idea due to putting people on edge...and then the Grimm attacked, which pretty much made that a non-issue. Or how about the objection of the Aura experimenting wasn’t actually condemning Ironwood? Or how they sympathize with Ironwood and still CONDEMN his actions? Or how the Penny thing flat out wasn’t said?

My pattern senses are also tingling. Specifically the ‘manipulation’ part.

Now it’s all about arguing how Ironwood is actually totally and factually right, as if this isn’t a story.

Issue?

‘In This Story’. AKA The OP has already argued from a meta standpoint but is now trying to argue as if the story is real.

There’s also the complete disregard for the CONSEQUENCES of Ironwood’s actions.

Ironwood brings an army? Gets hacked, turns on the citizens, wrecks Vale and Atlas’ reputation is shot.

Ironwood doesn’t tell the truth about Penny? She gets used as a lynchpin in Cinder’s plan.

Ironwood closes off the border? Atlas’ reputation is further shot and it gives reason to Team RWBY to question him.

Ironwood doesn’t include the council? Their trust in him is dead and they get in his way.

Ironwood doesn’t help Mantle despite their fear, distrust and dislike of Atlas and the very real threat of Grimm? Helps Robyn rise to power who in turn openly distrusts him and conflicts with him, making things harder and causing a rift with his allies.

Fucking hell, a lot of Ironwood’s mistakes are REPEATS of his past mistakes, like his unilateral action in a team effort or him excluding people. Not to mention his preaching of Ozpin’s morals then proceeding to trample all over them and expect everyone to follow him. Stuff that OZPIN got punished for in the previous Volume and Ruby and co. got punished for in the SAME Volume as Ironwood.

He was never portrayed as power hungry. He’s STILL not portrayed as power hungry.

I’ll go ahead and destroy this entire slide show with one quote from one episode, a quote you seem terrified of given how you completely gloss over it despite addressing literally EVERYTHING ELSE with Ironwood.

Volume 4 Episode 11 ‘Taking Control’

Ironwood: (sighing heavily) Winter is one of my best. If she's telling me there's a threat in Mistral then I am not going to take that news lightly. She's been there for weeks, people are mobilizing, sudden spikes in weapons and Dust trades. Someone is about to make a play and I do not trust Leo to stop them.

Weiss is listening outside.

Jacques: You've never trusted anyone other than yourself!

Ironwood: (shouting) And for good reason!

Weiss covers her mouth with her hand as she gasps at the sound of Ironwood slamming his fist onto the desk.

Ironwood: If Oz had just listened to me from the start...

Jacques: You need to get a grip.

Ironwood: That's exactly what I'm doing. Our people need protection. By this time next week, the Kingdom of Atlas will be officially closing its borders. No one in; no one out. Without the council's permission.

Jacques: You mean, without your permission?

Ironwood: And if that becomes the case, I would think you'd want to be on my good side.

Suddenly your whole narrative fails apart. because here we see the core of how Ironwood became who he was-

The sorrow at his failure at Beacon.

His paranoia confirmed.

His belief that his way is the best.

All things he displayed before then- Now worsen by perceived failure. All thrown out into the open for the audience to see. All things he repeated in Volume 7, worsened AGAIN by betrayal and Salem’s arrival.

You can call out all you want about the good things Ironwood has done and how he’s ‘right’- it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t disprove what he showcased here. His empathy in fact would MAKE IT WORSE because he feels responsible for people’s lives so he can’t hesitate to save them. Like say, hesitate to listen to a person whose lied to him or a perceived obstacle *cough* Oscar and Slate *cough*.

He’s not a deconstruction of a cold hearted dictator or a sudden evil villain.

He’s a deconstruction of the Well Intention Extremist trope, showcasing that his intent matters not in the face of his actions and the flaws he fails to overcome. He’s a depressingly real person (I’ve certainly felt like him before) but that doesn’t justify his actions or make him right,

And no woobie pandering will change that.

[sweetsmellosuccess]

The Best (and Worst) Films of 2019

In many ways, 2019 served as a crucible, and no more so, at least cinematically, than with the venerable superhero flick. After a deluge of big studio films on the subject of capes and spandex (the MCU includes 22 films since the 2008 release of Iron Man; the nascent DCU, running it fits and starts has seven), we saw the explosive close-out of the previous “phases” with Marvel’s Avengers: Endgame; as well as the rise of pseudo art-house comic book film, Joker, in the same bloody year.

The talk on Film Twitter  —  the living definition of ‘tempest in a teacup’ —  was all about those films, and Martin Scorsese’s now legendary take down of the genre by referring to the super hero films, collectively, as  “theme parks.” But in truth, there were many, many other films that came out during the year, some of them utterly brilliant, some of them ridiculously awful. Here are my picks for both, with some of what I wrote about them at the time in my review.

10. Avengers: Endgame

“There are so many small but noteworthy details -- opening the film with Traffic's "Dear Mr. Fantasy"; the name drops, and special shout-outs to comics' fans; the small character beats that allow each protagonist more than just a quip or two; the closing credits, which give singular notice to the stars who have been there from the beginning, and wisely do not use the signature Marvel trick of teasing out the next film, which gives the series, at last, a sense of real closure, if only temporary -- the film feels as if it has been created and calibrated with the utmost care. For a film destined to break the bank no matter how shoddy they might have made it, Marvel has poured enough genuine soul into it to earn its inevitable bounty.”

Full Review

9. Her Smell

“In some ways, the film takes on a sort of Raging Bull aspect, Martin Scorsese's classic film about a boxer's rise and fall, only to turn the ending on its head. In Scorsese's picture, we see Jake LaMotta, now fat and retired, attempt to break into showbiz as a comedian, the scenes draped in cutting sardonicism. Perry gives Becky a much less punishingly ironic turn, but instead a hero's journey, venturing away from the abyss into something a good deal less grandiose and realized.”

Full Review

8. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

“It's also a film about the versions of the stories whose ideas lend depth and valor to our otherwise nondescript lives, the things we hope make us the heroes of our own narratives. In this way, Jimmie's story is conflated with that of the city itself, and the palpable sense of loss he feels about his family's house is mirrored in the city's own loss of identity.”

Full Review

7. Under the Silver Lake

“Mitchell fairly stuffs the film with portents, symbols, and runes, some real, some imagined. Squirrels mysteriously fall dead at Sam's feet, a parrot in his courtyard keeps calling out something he can't decipher, a dog killer stalks the neighborhood, and graffiti strewn about the area calls out to him. Films are always encoded with symbolic meaning, utilizing visual language to instill emotion and establish significance for the audience (think of Spielberg's girl with the red coat in Schindler's List, or James Dean's red windbreaker in Rebel Without a Cause), Mitchell's film gives us so many options, almost everything can be read symbolically, which perfectly captures the paranoia his character feels, and the pointlessness of trying to make sense of it at all.”

Full Review

6. Marriage Story

“Noah Baumbach’s latest film, about the dissolution of married couple – played extraordinarily well by Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson – will no doubt get comparisons made to Bergman’s brilliant Scenes From a Marriage. But whereas that 1972 film concerned the relationship itself, its highs and lows and metamorphoses, Baumbach’s film is much more about the logistics, legal and otherwise, of ending a very much shared life together.”

Capsule Review

5. Midsommar

“Viewing Aster's films is a bit like walking into an art installation -- quite literally, as he populates his frame with stunning compositions and art-focused mise en scene, as with the beautifully designed wooden structures of the compound, or the exquisite murals and art displayed on the building's walls (a huge shout-out to his production designer, Henrik Svensson, and the art directing crew) -- but, as with Hereditary, behind all the sumptuous, hand-crafted beauty, there is a cruel, brutal core of humanity's continued savagery. If art represents the best sort of impulses of humankind, in Aster's hands, it becomes yet another facade, hiding -- or in this case, exemplifying -- our instinct for vicious barbarity.”

Full Review

4. Parasite

“By the end, as it swerves inexorably into blood-soaked violence, the film reveals to be a bit of a con itself, drawing us in with its enticing humor, then opening up into a much darker vision, before ending on an emotional note of surprising vulnerability. Through it all, Bong shows a mastery of odd tones, from the opening comedic salvo, to the final emotional beats.”

Capsule Review

3. Uncut Gems

“It’s one of those pressure-cooker films, where the steam builds more and more intense as Howard gets in and out of trouble through his ability to constantly shift the playing board. There’s a scene about midway through, with various aggrieved characters coalescing at once in his office, as he’s trying to have a speaker phone conversation with his doctor, that’s so stressful, you will want to avert your eyes and remind yourself of the exit signs.”

Capsule Review

2. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

“It's also an unexpected joy to watch the nonchalant swagger of Pitt match up with DiCaprio's more high-strung ministrations. Two of the biggest film stars alive playing mostly washed up TV actors may stack the irony, but both of them settle in so well into their characters, you can't help but admire the result. Rick is a dude whose ego has gone from tumescent to shriveled -- he parks his car miserably in front of one of his own old movie posters -- but beneath all his hubris and despair, he actually has a lot of talent. As always, it's pure joy to watch Pitt smoke up a screen, a middle-aged Redford speaking every line with a sinfully breezy smile, whose confidence extends around him like the golden hue of his deep suntan.”

Full Review

1. Knives Out

“More than the plot itself, an ingenious and kinetic thing that's as satisfying as a hot bowl of soup on a raw and windy day, there's the sense of joyous chaos from the cast. Those scenes where the family is all together, in the drawing room and continually at each other's throats are so delicious, they should come with a napkin. The interplay between vets like Shannon, Johnson, Curtis and Collette is filled with fractious energy, the characters revisiting age-old disagreements ("Your kid's a brat!" -- "Your kid is a Nazi!") with sadistic glee. Even when they band together, in moments, against what they believe to be a common enemy, it's clear the harmony between them is more Iggy and the Stooges than Beach Boys. In short, Johnson has devised a perfect ensemble of dreadful characters and set them all against one another in a narrative fishbowl filled with lye.”

Full Review

Other Worthy Mentions:

Amazing Grace, American Factory, Apollo 11, Bacurau, Birds of Passage, Charlie Says, Cold Case Hammarskjöld, Dark Suns, Dark Waters, Ford v Ferrari, Greener Grass, In Fabric, John Wick 3, Jojo Rabbit, Luce, Midnight Traveler, Ms. Purple, Pain and Glory, Rewind, Something Else, Terminator: Dark Fate, The Farewell, The Hole in the Ground, The Irishman, The Lighthouse, The Nightingale, The Report, The Souvenir, The Vast of Night, This is Not Berlin, Us, Varda by Agnes, Vitalina Varella

Best Upcoming Releases of 2019

The Personal History of David Copperfield

The Burnt Orange Heresy

Bad Education

First Cow

The Worst Films of 2019

5. Greta

“In short, Jordan turns Greta into a Michael Myers-esque boogeyman, everywhere and no place at once, almost a phantom, but for her high heels and French condemnation. In this way, the filmmaker loses his grip on his material.”

Full Review

4. Ma

“Apart from a truly absurd script, director Tate Taylor's film performs ungainly political gyrations -- asking us to root against a survivor of sexual abuse and humiliation for trying to gain (albeit misplaced) revenge on her attacker. Sort of a rape-revenge thriller set upside down, such that nothing makes any ethical (or emotional) sense. It quickly becomes an awkward mishmash of impulses, wanting to provide cheap scares while fostering a deeply schizoid sense of sympathy, while managing to fail mightily at both.”

Full Review

3. The Dead Don’t Die

“Jarmusch's proclivities have always leaned toward such lightly affecting material -- as if the act of actually generating emotion is somehow vulgar and unseemly -- which has also endeared him to his faction of fans. For everyone else, though, it doesn't leave much to look at. Filmed without fanfare (albeit with a few more special effects than usual, and a kind of cool splattering of sand-like mist when the zombies are beheaded), and with the intensity knobs all turned down to their lowest setting, he continues his sous vide-style of filmmaking. Whether you like the dish he's serving, or want to throw your hands in the air and go somewhere else for dinner is all in your temperament. Whatever you choose, you can be certain the same menu will be available the next time you venture back.”

Full Review

2. Dark Phoenix

“The clearest loss, however, is with the story itself -- its legacy struck deep in Marvel lore -- once again being studio nitpicked, and focus-grouped to within an inch of its life. If Endgame audaciously proved a superhero movie could rise toward an emotionally satisfying arc, this failed attempt proves the opposite is also true: Chronic incoherence, even if spread out among a multitude of titles over 20 years, just feels like a soulless money grab. Adding to the sense of this film's slapdashery, the trailer features lines and moments unused in the actual cut, which is never a good sign.”

Full Review

1. Lucy in the Sky

“The film is meandering and pretty much pointless, a major flaw that Hawley himself indicated in his introduction (“we work as hard on the bad ones as we do the good ones,” he told the audience in an example of supreme foreshadowing. Portman does her best, but the film sputters pretty hard, and is never able to justify itself.”

Capsule Review

Other Dishonorable Entries:

The Aftermath, The Curse of La Llorona, Gemini Man, Glass, Hellboy, Joker

Inexplicably Overrated: Joker, The Dead Don’t Die

Biggest Welcome Surprise(s): Ford v Ferrari, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Most Bitter Disappointment(s): The Lodge, Wounds

Film That Critics Got Wrong: Waves

Best Film I Saw Last Year, Period: Scenes From a Marriage

[nautiscarader]

Wars in the Stars: The Elevation of Skywalker - thoughts

So, I’ve had more than 24 hours to think about Star Wars episode IX, The rise of Skywalker, and here are my thoughts (spoilery). I should also point out, I come here as a Star Wars noob, so be warned.

It’s a mess. But at the same time, I think it’s a visually stunning and emotional one. That doesn’t automatically make it good, but the more I think about it, overall balance of my reactions is positive. There are parts of this that will divide the audience, and they might go down in history as the next midi-chlorians, I kid you not. What I’m saying is, prepare for the shitstorm, Internet. Or rather Sith-storm...

The movie starts with a lot of exposition and catching-up. Unfortunately, this takes away some of the mystery - information about Palpatine is told right in the crawl, so it lost all the subtlety laugh from the trailer, and the pacing of the first act is ridiculous. That being said, I don’t think it’s bad, it drives you in, but from purely narrative standpoint, it could use an explanation.  

Palpatine steals the show, again, and his story is clearly the most interesting, as it dives into the nature of Siths at whole. It turns out that Palpatine was indeed alive, he crawled back to a planet of the Siths, were - and here’s where the weird part begins - he set up a whole mad scientist lab to grow more siths, including Snoke. And build a new fleet of ENORMOUS destroyers, each equipped with death star cannon. He lures Kylo there, announcing that his Last Order will be destroying every Resistance planet in a day, and he needs to bring him Rey. 

That leads me to question: where did Palpatine find time to build this enormous armada? Because, in the movie, it was shown almost as if he had poofed them out of shadows with some sick Sith magic. I guess it is true, you have a lot of time during the retirement...

And meanwhile, thanks to Kylo’s fight with Rey, we also learn of Rey’s lineage... because it turns out that she is.... DUMBLEDORE’S LONG-LOST BROTHER!

Wait, no, wrong movie.

She is... sigh.... Palpatine’s grandaughter.

Yeah, this subplot really disappointed me, as it invalidated the ENTIRE idea of Rey, as shown in FA and TLJ. She was supposed to be nobody from nowhere. The message that you can achieve greatness regardless of your birthright was amazing. And now, we know it was for nothing, because Rey is the opposite of Nobody. People were speculating she was Luke’s daughter, because they were desperately trying to validate her powers, as they were unable to accept that it can be just a random person. Are we gonna learn that this broomstick boy from the end of TLJ also has some connections? Maybe he’s count Dooku’s great-grandson? Or Yoda’s cousin twice removed?

At the same time, though, Palpatine’s plot really drawn me in, as it questioned whether Siths can die at frikking all. It looks more like they can keep amassing more and more power from killing each other, Highlander-style. At first, I thought that Palpatine having a son kinda contradicted the Sith’s rule of two, as it is pretty much guaranteed that the pupil will kill its teacher, but then I remembered that way back in the prequels, Palpatine was taunting Anakin to kill him, almost wishing to die. We learn that he created Snoke, purely so Kylo can destroy him. There was also the fan theory that it was Palpatine who created Anakin, and at this point, it is almost guaranteed that he did that. So it turns out that Palpatine was playing an insanely long game. Why? because she wants Rey to take the Sith throne.

Speaking of Kylo Ren, he gets a redemption arc he didn’t deserve IMHO. He does help Rey, but his previous actions speak much much louder, making him an angry neo-nazi edgelord. And what drags him to change? His mother, connecting with him via Force, kinda like Luke did in TLJ. This, btw, saps Leia of her life. So, yeah,a single “Ben” is enough to make him realise “Oh shit, I shouldn’t have turned right and create a neo-nazi empire. My bad.” 

He does however, help Rey. In fact, he saves her life, just like she saved his before, utilising the healing powers we’ve seen in Mandalorian that was shown before its natural Saturday release window JUST so the writers can say “it’s been established!” (a whole 48 hours prior to that). And... after he brings her from the dead.... they kiss.

Yeah, not a fan of that either. I was oblivious to Reylo, as the protagonist/antagonist ships always happen, but I have to admit that their interactions, and joined actions, especially in TLJ kinda showed me why people like it... why would they overlook the fact that he, again, HAS A NEO-NAZI EMPIRE, is beyond me, though. Still, after they kiss, he dies, so, there’s that. 

There were a lot of throwbacks to the original trilogy, which will undoubtedly make a lot of fans happy, and will make equal amount of them rage by raising another “it’s a ripoff” argument. 

The humorous elements, though sparse, were great. I also loved the few interaction moments between Rey, Finn and Po, especially one quarrel they had, which kinda encapsulated their team relationship.

And I would lie if I said that the huge final battle didn’t make me smile. It was enormous, it was satisfying, it made me grip my seat’s arms, as the fat could switch at the very last second. It was Star Wars, plain and simple. 

So, yeah, despite its many, many flaws I begrudgingly give it a thumbs-up, but it is damn close to the down one. Out of all of the three new sequels, this is certainly the weakest for me. Which is a shame, because as I said, it has raised a lot of very interesting ideas I wish were established or planned, and then developed earlier. Which is weird, given that now the movies are in the gloved-hands of a corporation that has...

 Yeah, I had to add it. Again, Palpatine’s back, yo for his final performance, and he’s the best. 

[clarasimone]

Just before leaving my Iphone in a friggin’ taxi

I cannot believe this: my life is on that IPhone... Have alerted the taxi company (I HOPE I lost it there), am frantically awaiting news by my fiend’s phone... My Knight wants to go on a rampage but I need him by my side ;-)... It’s so bizarre to be able to see most of the pics I took this evening because they had time to make it on the cloud and then on my computer. So, from me, to you, the red carpet and screening of Terrence Malick’s testament film A Hidden Life :

Needless to say, I risked my reputation taking Jorah’s pic from inside the Grand Palais LOL I was seated front row (They show us the remaining of the red carpet on the big screen while we’re inside) What follows is from before and after but selfies are now forbidden while on the red carpet, a good thing because frankly it was becoming surreal the last few years...

Love this pink trail I was hypnotically following :-)

Here’s a pic from the film, a true masterpiece, so moving ! @myloveiainglen, it’s even better than Days of Heaven !!

I was able to capture the director’s proud reaction during the 10-minute long ovation after the film (he’s so modest, he didn’t walk the red carpet coming in, only his two leads did)

his actors, as shown on the big screen during the ovation

Coming out of the Grand Palais, I took these amazing pics of the moon with my Knight but they’re not (yet ?) appearing on my macbook/Icloud :-(

God I hope I get my phone back...

Here is the Los Angeles Times piece of the film. It just flabbergasted me and everyone there... It’s a deeply spiritual film.

https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/movies/la-et-mn-cannes-terrence-malick-hidden-life-20190519-story.html

Cannes: Terrence Malick’s ‘A Hidden Life’ is a return to form and a spiritual call to arms

In the eight years since Terrence Malick won the Palme d’Or at Cannes for “The Tree of Life,” his magisterial drama about childhood’s end and the spirit’s awakening, the standard critical line is that he has become an artist lost in the wilderness, stranded in an artistic limbo of his own making.

His most recent features — “To the Wonder,” “Knight of Cups” and “Song to Song” — are wispy, fragmentary tales of romantic ennui and moral drift, full of visual beauty but absent a comparable sense of transcendence. I admired them more than many of my colleagues did, though it would be disingenuous not to admit that I, too, was left wondering if this great and singular filmmaker would ever give us another movie to love.

I wonder no more. Sunday marked Malick’s return to Cannes, and it felt like a homecoming in more than one sense. His extraordinarily beautiful and wrenching new movie is called “A Hidden Life,” a title that quotes from “Middlemarch,” though one that could easily be misinterpreted as a reference to this famously press-shy auteur himself. But it also sounds an echo of “The Tree of Life,” which may be more than mere coincidence: If that 2011 film was Malick’s most personal and autobiographical work, then this one feels like a decisive return to roots. It’s at once a linear, almost classically structured drama and an exploratory, intensely romantic work of art.

“A Hidden Life” tells the story of Franz Jägerstätter, a peasant farmer from the Austrian village of St. Radegund who was imprisoned and executed in 1943 for refusing to fight for the Nazis. It’s the writer-director’s second World War II picture, after “The Thin Red Line,” except that here not a single shot is fired. The focus is entirely on Jägerstätter and his family, his growing discontent as Austria falls into Adolf Hitler’s grip and his heroic, ultimately fatal decision to become a conscientious objector.

After some brief archival footage of Hitler at the height of his powers, the movie settles down in St. Radegund, whose rolling green pastures and mist-wreathed mountains may constitute the most astonishing vision of earthly paradise Malick has given us, which is saying something.

You will recognize some familiar sights and sounds: the babbling of a brook, the rustling of wind in the leaves, the orchestral blasts of Bach, Beethoven, Handel and Dvorak on the soundtrack. And you will settle into the movie with a sigh — or perhaps a groan, depending on your persuasion — as Malick immerses us in yet another blissfully idealized evocation of family life.

Pushing plows, threshing wheat and taking care of livestock is hard work, but Franz (a haunting August Diehl), a man of joy and contentment, also loves chasing and playing with his wife, Fani (Valerie Pachner) and their three young daughters. But the family’s deep ties to the land and the surrounding community are disrupted when their fellow villagers take up the call of “Heil Hitler,” submitting freely to the grip of a murderous totalitarian regime. When a local bishop urges Franz to submit as well, he makes a decisive break with the church — though not, crucially, with God, whom he continually presses and wrestles with in prayer.

I am still wrestling with “A Hidden Life” myself, and imagine I will continue to do so long after its eventual release. The lengthy middle act, in which Franz finds himself called up for military duty and imprisoned after refusing to fight, feels lumbering and oppressive, which may of course be entirely the point; the claustrophobia here is physical and spiritual. Given the ensemble cast, which includes the late Bruno Ganz in one of his final roles, I wish that Malick had simply committed to shooting entirely in German, rather than a mix of German and English. (A particularly nagging choice: The Nazis are often heard barking in German, while Franz and Fani’s mellifluous voice-overs are in English.)

But the conviction of this movie would speak forcefully in any language. “A Hidden Life” is both an intense portrait of Christian devotion in practice and a damning study in how religious institutions, among others, can align themselves with evil. Malick sees no contradiction between these two truths; for him, sincere doubt and serious belief have always gone hand-in-hand. When a character murmurs, “To follow Him is insanity” — the first and not the last time the movie quietly broke me — you register fully what it might mean, and cost, to obey a doctrine of peace in violent times.

Malick may be making the same movie he always has: a gorgeously expansive cinematic poem that is forever carving out fresh emotional tributaries, but which always cycles back to the despoiling of Eden, the fear of violence and mortality, the calm acceptance of the unknowable. But if his camera is still given to flurries of ecstatic movement, it also seems more stationary, more grounded than usual, as if the director were pausing to gather his thoughts and clear his throat. He has an awful lot to say.

At its simplest level, “A Hidden Life” exists to disprove the snarling Nazi soldiers we hear telling Franz that his act of protest is meaningless and that no one will ever remember him. (They have admittedly already been disproved, thanks to the scholarship of Gordon Zahn and Thomas Merton, as well as a 2007 papal declaration of Jägerstätter as a martyr.) But it is also a call for moral vigilance in any era, the present one very much included: It is hard to watch this movie and not think of the rise of far-right and nationalist movements across Europe, or the Trump administration’s chokehold on evangelical Christianity.

That particular charge may be implicit, but it’s also unmistakable. Unless you are allergic to near-three-hour running times, there is nothing particularly difficult or elusive about “A Hidden Life,” nothing too cosmically elevated or metaphysically overreaching, to cite some of the dismissals frequently leveled against this director’s work. If we understand pretension as an attitude that leaves no room for humility, then is there any filmmaker working today lesspretentious than Terrence Malick, any artist more generous and unassuming in the way he exalts the beauty of the everyday?

Just as importantly, in our era of ever-expanding options and decreasing patience, is there an audience still willing to accept that challenge and see that beauty as he does? Even when tarnished, Malick’s legend looms large at a festival like Cannes, where he can be dismissed as a scourge and hailed as a god, but where he will never elicit an indifferent response. He deserves an equally impassioned reception when this imperfect, wise and entirely heroic movie comes out of hiding.

[haberdashing]

Three’s A Crowd

Into the Spider-Verse fic. Noir’s relationship with Ham becomes complicated when he grows attached to a man from his own dimension.

Inspired by this text post.

on AO3

Spider-Noir was surrounded by a group of Nazis who seemed intent on cornering him in a dimly-lit alleyway. It was a battle of one against several, and every time he punched out the lights of one Nazi, another one would rise up and take a swing at him.

A pretty typical evening for him, really.

A few blows landed with more force than he would have liked, but he could handle it. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before. He’d probably have half the details of the fight forgotten by the next morning.

What Noir hadn’t expected, however, was for a nice-looking man in a suit to see what was going on and join the fray rather than walk on by and pretend he hadn’t seen anything.

As the stranger reached into his pocket and slipped on a pair of brass knuckles, Noir wasn’t entirely sure which side the other man would be on. He hadn’t noticed his Spider-Sense increase upon the man’s appearance, but given that it was nearly overwhelming him as it was, that didn’t mean much. Noir watched the stranger carefully, ready to take him on if need be-

And watched as the stranger delivered a solid left hook into the jaw of one of the Nazis.

Noir nodded slightly in approval, and without sharing a word, the two men began to work together to tackle the threat in front of them.

Noir could have handled the fight himself, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t deny that it was nice to have a bit of help all the same. It meant a few less hits landing on him, a few less aches and pains he’d have to contend with throughout the night.

As the fight drew to a close, with all of the Nazis that had attacked Noir left unconscious, webbed into immobilization, or both, Noir turned towards the stranger that had fought alongside him.

The man extended a hand in his direction. “I’m John.”

Some small part of Noir wanted to reciprocate the gesture, to tell John his own first name, but the rest of him knew better than to share such important information with someone who was practically a stranger. Information like that always came with a cost, and even if this John really did mean well, it would be better for everyone involved if he knew as little as possible about Noir’s true identity, just in case.

“Spider-Man.” Noir took John’s hand. His grip was firm, but not overly so; his hand was warm, but not sweaty. The man knew how to give a good handshake.

John looked into Noir’s eyes- or, rather, the eyes of his suit- as he deadpanned, “Never would have guessed.”

Noir didn’t laugh, but the tips of his mouth did curl ever so slightly upward.

After they were reunited, after they had obtained a means of inter-dimensional travel that didn’t come with the risk of their cells violently glitching and dying in the process, the other spider-people had started to refer to their group as the “Spider-Family”, or “Spider-Fam” for short.

Noir wasn’t so sure he bought into that idea.

Okay, so Miles, Gwen, and Peni would be the kids of this supposed family, which made some sense to him, even as the three protested that they were mature and capable and didn’t need to be babied by the older members of their group. And Noir supposed that he could see Peter B. as the brother he’d never had, in a way.

But Noir’s feelings about Spider-Ham weren’t familial in the slightest.

They were... different.

The two had never outright talked about it, had never put a word to this strange attraction between them, but when it came time to rest the two always ended up side by side, body pressed into body, the feeling warm and soothing and right.

John had a knack for showing up when Noir was in the middle of a tough fight. If he hadn’t known better, Noir could have sworn that the man had a Spider-Sense of his own.

The second and third time they bumped into one another, they shared a table at a local coffee shop afterwards.

The fourth time the two met, they rented a hotel room nearby, though they both returned home well before dawn.

But it wasn’t until the fifth time that Noir and John came face-to-face, after Noir invited John up to his apartment, that the two really got a chance to talk.

Noir let loose a few things. That his name was Peter (though John still preferred to call him “Spidey”). That when he wasn’t Spider-Man, he was a private eye. That he was lonely. That last one almost felt like a lie, after he had gotten to know the other spider-people better, gotten to know Ham better, but loneliness had been ground into his soul for a long time now, and a handful of meetings with kindred spirits from other dimensions wasn’t enough to change that.

John let loose a few things, too. That he was a Chicago native, having moved to New York City only a few months prior to their first meeting. That he’d never gotten this close to another man before. That he was a radio host.

Noir listened to John’s radio show whenever he had the chance, in between hunting down bad guys both as a private eye and as Spider-Man. The man was talented, that much was for sure. Despite everything, John’s show always managed to make Noir laugh.

But then, that was what had first attracted Noir to Ham as well- that the pig could make him laugh.

He had gone so long without laughing, before.

“Noir? Hey, Noir!”

Noir snapped to attention. They were in Gwen’s dimension, now, in the middle of a movie marathon- horror films, mostly, as Halloween was quickly approaching.

(Halloween wasn’t a holiday that Noir particularly cared for; it was hard enough tracking down bad guys when they were the only ones wearing masks.)

Noir should have been enjoying himself, should have been focusing on the movies and on the other spider-people and on how Ham was squeezed in between himself and the wall, but his mind kept drifting elsewhere. And now, apparently, Ham at least had noticed.

“What is it?” Noir asked.

“What pizza toppings do you want?”

Oh, that was all. Somehow that wasn’t what Noir had been expecting. “I’ll eat whatever everyone else wants. I’m not picky.”

Noir almost went on to mention why he wasn’t picky, how he had learned too well how it felt when money was tight and having food on the table might as well have been a minor miracle, how to him food was just fuel and he would eat anything put in front of him just the same, grateful to have any food at all- but they didn’t need to hear all that. He didn’t need their pity.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Ham rested one arm across Noir’s shoulders. “You’ve been acting kind of weird today, Noir.”

“Weirder than normal, you mean?” Noir didn’t have to turn around to tell that the voice was that of Gwen, her voice muffled by the potato chips she was shoveling into her mouth. Neither Noir nor Ham deigned to dignify her comment with a response.

“Penny for your thoughts, mister tall dark and handsome?”

Noir’s face grew hot as Ham finished his sentence. That was about as blatant as Ham’s flirting ever got, at least when the others were around.

And then Noir remembered what, exactly, he had been so distracted by in the first place... or rather, who had been so distracting.

Ham deserved to know. It wasn’t fair for him to be carrying on with another man behind Ham’s back, Noir knew that. But Noir also didn’t want to get into it while everyone else was around, didn’t want to derail an evening’s entertainment with discussion of his love life.

Noir made a decision, one that he knew he might live to regret.

“...nothing. It’s nothing.”

Noir and John were side by side in Noir’s bed. Noir was getting tired, though he’d never admit it. It had been a long day, and a long evening as well.

“Pity what the world’s coming to these days.” Noir said.

John nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“I’m glad somebody does, at least. Just look at what’s happening in Germany- look here in America, even, Nazis taking to the streets-”

“At least we’re doing what we can to shut them down here.” John replied. As Noir murmured his agreement, John continued, “It is scary, though. And it’s personal for me- I mean, my wife is Jewish, and she’s wonderful, I-”

“Your... wife is Jewish.” Noir repeated.

It took a moment for John to realize what exactly he had just said, for his eyes to grow dark with emotions Noir couldn’t quite place. “Oh, that sounds bad, doesn’t it...”

“Your wife is Jewish.” Noir stood up and started to throw his clothes back on, his mind racing. He was disappointed in John, sure, but more than that, he was disappointed in himself. He was a private eye, for God’s sake, he made his living off of noticing details that others would overlook, and yet he hadn’t realized that he’d been sleeping with a married man.

“Spidey- Peter, it’s not what it sounds like, I can explain-”

“I think you should go, John.”

John stood up, but made no motion to put his clothes back on or to head towards Noir’s apartment door. Instead, he took a deep breath, then let it out before saying, “Annie and I have an... understanding.”

Noir’s eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself.”

“Before we got married, we each chose one celebrity that we could sleep with if we got the chance, regardless of our marital vows. She chose Gary Cooper. I chose Spider-Man.”

“You’re joking.”

John didn’t waver even slightly. “No. For once in my life, I swear, I am not joking. Scout’s honor.” John made a gesture crossing his heart before adding, “Granted, I don’t think either of us were expecting to actually take advantage of it...”

“Have you told her? About... about us?”

“I have, yes.”

“What did she say?”

“That I owe her a ticket to Hollywood.”

Noir couldn’t help but laugh, despite the circumstances. It was ridiculous, really. It was just ridiculous enough to be true. “I’ll help pay for that ticket.”

“I’ll let Annie know you said that. She’ll probably get a kick out of it.”

Silence loomed in the room as Noir picked his next words carefully.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely forthright with you either, John. There’s somebody else in my life, too.”

John’s eyes widened. “Really? Because your apartment screams bachelor to me...”

Noir wasn’t sure whether to take John’s comment as an insult, or an attempted joke, or a mere observation. Nevertheless, he pressed forward with his speech. “Well, he doesn’t live here. He doesn’t even live in this dimension, actually. His name is Peter, too, and he... he’s a pig. A talking cartoon pig. With spider powers like mine. Because he used to be a spider.”

John laughed. Noir hadn’t had the opportunity to hear John laugh much. It was a beautiful sound. “Now, Spidey, I’ve never heard you joke like that before-”

“I’m being deadly serious right now.”

John’s laughter died as abruptly as it began, replaced with a look of pronounced befuddlement.

“It’s a bit of a long story...”

The next time their group of spider-people got together, as they sat together on a rooftop in Peter B.’s dimension, Noir pulled Ham aside and cleared his throat before speaking.

“We need to talk.”

“Well, I’m always glad to talk to y-”

“Let me clarify. We need to talk, alone. I don’t want the others to hear.”

“Got it.”

The two swung over to another building before facing one another.

“There’s somebody else.” Noir’s voice was low, almost a whisper, partly because he didn’t want the sound to carry over to where the others were sitting, partly because he felt like saying it too loudly would make it seem that much more real.

Ham didn’t share the same mindset; his response was as loud as his usual speech, or perhaps even slightly louder. “Another spider? Well, I-”

“No, not another spider. Just a-” Noir faltered for a moment, and when he resumed talking, he couldn’t look Ham in the eye. “-a man. A nice man, who I’ve grown... close to, over the past few weeks.”

“From your dimension?” Ham asked.

Noir looked back at Ham and blinked a few times before answering. He had anticipated a number of possible questions from Ham, but that hadn’t been one of them. “Yes, from my dimension.”

“See? I knew your world couldn’t all be as doom and gloom as you made it out to be.”

“Is that a joke?" Noir’s voice grew louder with every word. Part of him knew that if he spoke too loudly, the others would hear; part of him didn’t really care at this point. “Is this all some big joke to you?”

“No!” Ham protested. “But- you’re not- is this your way of telling me we’re through?”

Noir held one hand against his temple. “Well, I- I care about you, but I care about him, too, and if I have to pick one of you I don’t-”

“You don’t have to pick.”

Noir let his hand fall to his side as he looked at Ham. “What?”

“You heard me. You don’t have to pick. Just because you care about one person doesn’t mean you can’t care about someone else. That’s not how it works.”

“So you’re- you’re fine with me being with... someone else?”

“Sure.” Ham paused for a moment before adding, “As long as he’s fine with it, too.”

“He- he is. We had a talk about it.”

“Man, would I have loved to be a fly on that wall.” Ham muttered just quietly enough that Noir wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to have heard it. In a normal voice, Ham added, “So, tell me about this new beau of yours.”

“His... his name is John, and he’s a radio host...”

John wasn’t usually in Noir’s apartment in the middle of the day, but then, that wasn’t going to be the most unusual thing about this particular meeting of theirs.

“When is he going to get here?” John asked.

“Any second now.” Noir replied.

Indeed, it was only a matter of seconds before Spider-Ham materialized out of thin air at Noir’s side.

Before Ham and John could utter a word to one another, Noir introduced the two. “Peter, meet John. John, meet Peter.”

The two extended their hands at roughly the same time, though John had to crouch down to complete their handshake.

“Pleasure to meet ya.” Ham said.

“Likewise.” John replied. A moment later, he added, “Now what is all of-” John pointed in the general vicinity of Ham. “-that?”

“Color. It’s color.” Ham clarified. “Specifically red-” Ham pointed at his mask- “And blue.” Ham pointed at his legs. “I know, you’re not used to the stuff.”

“You can say that again.”

As the two talked, Noir tried and failed to suppress a laugh.

Both Ham and John looked over at Noir.

“What is it?”

“It’s not that funny, is it?”

“No...” Noir replied. “It’s- the same voice. You two have the same voice.”

“What are you talking ab-”

“No, that can’t be-”

“Oh my God we have the same voice.”

Noir wondered if the voice similarity was part of some greater connection between the two. He tried to remember if any of the Peter Parkers- which Ham wasn���t, as he was Peter Porker, and from what Ham had explained regarding his origin story, he hadn’t even started out with that surname- had shared a voice. His voice wasn’t the same as Peter B.’s, that much Noir knew, but did it match that of the Peter from Miles’ world, the one who had died trying to stop what had both endangered the rest of them and brought them all together? Was Spider-Woman Gwen Stacy’s voice the same as that of the Gwen Stacy that Peter B. had alluded to before, but never seemed to want to talk about?

Noir didn’t know the answers to these questions off-hand, but nevertheless, it felt like two pieces that he had struggled to fit together in his mind for so long were finally fitting into place.

And, perhaps more importantly, both Ham and John had joined in Noir’s laughter, and the two were sharing jokes now, and...

And it had all worked out, somehow.

He had two sources of laughter in his life now, and it seemed that both of them were here to stay.

Perhaps he was ready to start making up for lost time.

[fiddler-unroofed]

I don’t hate Kyman.

Give me Cartman living to get a rise out of Kyle, saying every slur in the book and doing every act in his power to get him feeling humiliated and angry.

Give me Kyle trying to shrug him off but instead getting drawn back into their toxic bickering time and time again, trying to finally wipe that smug look off of Cartman’s face– and always failing.

Give me Cartman slowly developing feelings for Kyle, but not normal feelings of affection so much as a twisted, warped sense of ‘I want him. I want him to belong to me. I want to be the only one to make him miserable, I want him to be under my control, I want to have him where he can’t escape. I want him.’

Give me Kyle trying to go out, get on with his life, meet girls (and maybe guys?) and be happy but being unable, even then, to talk about anything but Cartman, how annoying he is, how mean he is, that thing he said yesterday and implied today and argued the day before. He hates him to such a point that all his thoughts revolve around him.

Give me Cartman trying to push Kyle’s friends away from him, picking up on Stan’s possible feelings for him and making sure to split them apart whenever they try to spend time together. Make him jealous, but too spiteful to show it– 'i didn’t drag kahl away when you tried to talk to him, stan, you just came at a bad time. maybe you should try again in a week.’

Give me Kyle thinking he can’t be in an abusive relationship because he’s not in a relationship, he’s just friends with Cartman. Make him try to lower the amount of time spent around him, but failing because it seems at every turn there’s Cartman, ready to pick a fight about his heritage or his beliefs or his hair or some other random shit that Kyle shouldn’t really care about but does. Make him blind to how desperately Stan and the others are trying to reach out to him– 'what? yeah, we can meet up. later though, cartman is doing (insert dumb scheme) here and i need to stop it first’

Give me Cartman’s schemes getting more and more ridiculous, and Kyle flaring up more and more at them each time. At this point, it’s less about the scheme itself, and more about the attention Kyle gives him from it.

Give me Kyle finally fooling around with Cartman once or twice, then hating himself for it for days.

Give me Cartman in those days gloating that Kyle is off-limits, leaving him to drown even further in his hatred and loneliness.

Give me Kyle feeling that he’s thrown his life away for someone he hates more than life itself.

I don’t hate Kyman.

I ship Kyman.

I'm not saying it's healthy. It's far from healthy. Shipping to me is also a matter of wanting to see more of something, wanting to see characters interact. It doesn't mean I approve. And in terms of Kyman, I ship it for the dynamic, the dysfunctionality, the fucked up one-sided-ness that makes for a great story-- even though not a strictly healthy one. (Also, in case anyone tries to twist these words against me: I will never support those who ship pedophilia with this excuse, that's a whole other can of worms)

I ship Kyman as a kismessisitude. And even then, a shaky one at best.

And that's not the only way I ship it!

See, I don't mind the small rays of functionality shining between all the fucked-up-ness. In fact, I actively want to see them.

I want to see Cartman giving Kyle his coat, or Kyle feeling bad after one of their arguments has gone too far, because that's what makes it so damn gripping. It doesn't have to be all fights and yelling and hatred. There can be good moments too. They're friends, after all. They're allowed to have good moments.

However.

From the moment you give me Kyman cuddling together, eating chocolates from a box and cooing to each other how much love they share.

Or Cartman calling Kyle a filthy Jew and making it out to be a cute petname.

Or any kind of pure™ and wholesome™ Kyman, with no hints as to how dysfunctional the relationship between a well-meaning Jewish character and a literal fucking Nazi is.

Then… well…. no hate, everyone has a right to write as they will, but……

[rndyounghowze]

Hollywood Fringe: Third Time's A Charm

#disclaimer This is part 3 of a #sponsored collab between RnD and Theatre Asylum. We have been compensated for space and promotion on the blog. Everything we say about a show is our own opinion and Theatre Asylum does not know what we’ll write in advance.

By RnD

The Reichstag Is Burning

It seemed like a jukebox musical in cabaret drag. It’s very well done with great set design, sound design, and elaborate costumes. I have to say that on one hand the callback to Kabarett was very interesting. On the other hand there is only a tenuous connection to the words outlining the rise of The Third Reich on the screen and the songs being sung. If all of a sudden the projections had dropped out this would become a cover band concert. She also risks nothing from doing this. Who is going to argue against her viewpoint that the Nazis are bad?

Check them out here.

Nature vs.

The thing that drew me in was the central question of “who really is your friend when the chips are down”. The comedy is on point and the plot is all neatly tied up in a little bow. What took me out was the stale characterizations. If you’re going to go for camp go all out. If you’re going for drama then go full steam ahead that way. You can’t stay right there in the middle. Dana says it’s reminiscent of a few Tik Tok sketches that they have seen. Lastly it doesn’t dive into the racist and sexist history of IQ tests as it probably should.

Check them out here.

Authenticity

Before the pandemic we reviewed a crap ton of high school musicals. We think this would be a great play for kids so that they can play someone their own age facing real life problems. The one thing that I would ask the writers of this musical would be to sloooow doooown. In this excerpt of a two act play there was a song every minute or so. We didn’t have time to stay in one song and get it stuck in our head thus making us beg for an album or have a need to see the show again. I would beg them to define which songs are our tent poles and work them until we can recognize them if you only hummed the first four bars. Let the rest be the best dialogue and gripping plot that we have ever seen.

Check them out here

Happily Ever After

This was the first show where we felt that the performer was playing both to the in-person audience and the digital audience. Diana Elizabeth Jordan was a very generous storyteller and I only wish that we had a close up shot to see her more clearly. It was an amazing choice to use Zoom to allow the audience to see both camera angles of the onstage performance and the ASL interpreters. As accessibility advocates we are always ecstatic to see a performance that provided accessibility without making us feel like we were second class citizens.

Check Them Out Here.

Hot! :(

How can you resist such a rocking good time!?! We absolutely love that Kirschenbaum played to the camera. They were one of the closest performers that we have seen the whole festival. Then we have to talk about their excellent musicianship. Ricky personally loves someone that can rock both the guitar and the bass equally. However with this show it’s come for the rock and stay for the story. It’s a very touching performance you won’t want to miss.

Check Them Out Here

[imaginesebastian]

Remedy

A/N: I wrote this one before I even started this blog and decided to post it for y’all. It’s in Bucky’s perspective, which I’ve never posted in beforeeee, so I hope you like it? (It’s like a year old yikes) It’s still a bucky x reader, just not in the readers pov. so yah.

Warnings: Cussing, a little tiny bit of smut, and I think that’s it. 

“Harder!” Stark yelled, causing me to groan. “I’m punching as hard as I fucking can, it’s unfair that you’re using your glove!” 

“Bucky, your arm is metal. You should be able to punch a hole through the damn thing.” Tony was showing absolutely no mercy today, and I couldn’t fucking stand it. Everything about him annoyed the hell out of me, and the fact that we were paired for training just frustrated me even more. 

I clenched my fist as tightly as I could and swung forward with as much force as I could muster, sending the punching bag off of the chains that held it to the ceiling and taking Tony down with it. 

“Was hard enough?!” My voice ached as I yelled, causing everyone else in the training gym to stop and look at us. 

Tony groaned, “I don’t know, you were a little slow on the draw and you could’ve-” 

Steve was quick to rush to my side, everyone’s eyes still on us. “Go cool down.” 

“What?” I protested, my eyebrows furrowing and my jaw dropping. 

Steve gave me a look, that look, that made me sigh. “I’m going for a walk.” 

Without another word, I walked out of the building and into the hot and crowded streets of New York. 

I didn’t mind Tony. In fact I was grateful for him allowing me to stay with everyone, and not leaving me in shitty apartments here and there from state to state or country to country. 

The fact that I had a permanent home was the most mind-boggling thing, something that I never thought I would have after escaping the grasp of HYDRA. It was a place that I knew I could be safe at, and nothing was after me anymore. 

However, he still wasn’t the warmest welcome, which I don’t blame him. After everything that happened between him and Steve, they managed to work it out. Still there was some bad blood between us even though I tried my hardest to make it work out. I live with the guy, but it’s extremely difficult. He’s extremely difficult. 

I stopped walking, leaning against the wall and slipping my back down it. My head fell into my hands as I avoided the curious looks of people walking by. Of course metal arm reflecting the sun into their eyes was absolutely no help. 

“What’s got you down, stranger?” A voice spoke up, breaking me out of my pity puddle. I glanced up, the figure standing in front of me with the rays of the sun shining just behind her head. 

My breath got caught in my throat and suddenly I wasn’t able to think straight. She was so. . . gorgeous. Her eyebrow was raised in question, a crooked, friendly smile on her face. 

“Uh- uhm, nothing. It’s just something. . .” 

The woman sat beside me, mimicking my position and blowing her bangs out of her face. “Well, if it’s nothing but it’s also something, it’s gotta be bothering you pretty badly.” 

“I’m just cooling down.” I muttered, almost forgetting why I was so angry in the first place. All negativity had left my mind and she was suddenly enveloping every thought I had. 

Her eyes squinted at the sun, “You can’t do that in a hundred degree weather outside,” she stood and dusted off her pants, “Come, we’ll eat frozen yogurt and talk about our problems.” 

Her hand reached out to me and again the rays shined from behind her head. 

I took her hand and felt her pull me up, “Nice arm.” 

“Thanks, it was a gift from the Nazis.” 

She paused, her eyes wide before she began laughing loudly, causing people in the street to turn to us again. “Oh man, that was a good one.” 

I chuckled nervously, following her as she pulled me down the street. 

“Where are we going?” I asked after a minute, realizing I had completely forgotten. She turned around with a smile on her face, “To cool down.” 

We rounded a corner and she pulled me into a small store, air conditioning blasting into my face as soon as I entered the building. It felt much better than the humidity of outside. 

“What kind of frozen yogurt do you like?” She asked. I shrugged my shoulders, unsure of how I got into this situation in the first place. 

“I’ve never had frozen yogurt.” 

She rolled her eyes, almost as if we had known each other for years. Like she knew that I was going to say that. 

She grabbed two bowls and handed one to me, walking towards the wall that was full of levers and machines. The flavors were labeled above the dispenser, “This is some future shit.” 

“Right?” She giggled, reaching for the mint flavor, as I filled my own with classic vanilla. 

When we sat down, I suddenly realized I had no clue what to talk about. I slipped the spoon into my mouth and felt the coolness melt onto my tongue and I almost moaned in pleasure.

She sat across from me, a grin on her face, “you enjoying that?” 

I nodded enthusiastically, taking in the bright colors of the restaurant. It’s so... different. So happy. I wasn’t sure if it was the colors that was rising my mood, or if it was her. Either way, I felt a lot better. 

“So, what’s your story?” Her lips were painted a bright red, her eyes surrounded by black eyeliner that somehow brightened the color. 

“My story is unbearably long and tragic.” I explain, a small smile on my face as I wanted to get off of this subject as quickly as possible. 

“I’ve got time.” She whispered. 

I shook my head, “Some other time.” 

She crinkled her nose adorably, sticking the spoon into her mouth and adjusting the small bag that hung around her shoulder and rested on her hip. “Lame.” 

I laughed, loudly. Something that was so genuine that I didn’t think it could happen again, at least for a while. The way the word left her lips and the smile that spread across her face made it fascinatingly funny. 

“What about you,” I settled my laughter slightly, “what’s your story?” 

“I’m not even sure I have a story.” 

“You can’t ask me for my story and then claim you don’t have one!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in exasperation and seeing her shrug in response. 

She collected her hair and slipped it into a messy bun, fanning herself, “Lets go swimming.” 

“I know a place.” 

Soon enough, I was leading her towards the tower and into the building. I kept her as quiet as possible, as to avoid any of the rest of the people living here. Eventually we made it to the elevator and I pressed the button to the floor the pool was on. 

I didn’t want to answer any questions that Steve or anyone would throw at me. After earlier, I didn’t want to see any of them. 

It was nice to be with someone who I didn’t know anything about. It was exhilarating to know that this person could be anyone, and she could have the most amazing life with adventures around any corner, or she could have a boring life, and seeing me was an opportunity for fun. 

Either way, I was certainly enjoying. 

I took her hand and lead her to the pool room. 

The only lights that came into the room were from the windows, and the water sat still while I closed the door behind us.

“Do you live here?” 

“Oh shit, swim suits!” I exclaim, panicking and realizing I’d have to go upstairs anyway. 

“We don’t need them,” a smirk rested on her face, “unless you aren’t wearing boxers?” 

She slipped her shirt over her head and revealed a black bra. I gulped, watching her slip her pants off. I locked the pool door, making sure that nobody could get in. 

“Come on, live a little!” she dived into the pool, resurfacing quickly and padding around softly in the water. 

I slipped my clothing off and was left in just my underwear. She swam towards the edge where I stood, wiggling her finger for me to jump in. 

Suddenly, I was unsure. What if someone walked in and saw us? How would I explain how I got into this situation? I don’t even know her name but I’m so infatuated with her that I don’t want this day to stop. 

She rolled her eyes, “There’s this giant volcano in Yellowstone. It hasn’t erupted in over six-hundred thousand years, and the pressure has been building up for so very long.” 

“Your point?” I questioned, sitting on the edge and dipping my feet into the water. 

“When it erupts, it’s going to kill us all. It could erupt now, or in a thousand years. Either way, debating about what could go wrong just isn’t worth it,” her hands rested on my knees, “live in the moment because everything else is uncertain.” 

Before I could respond, she tugged on my feet and pulled me into the water. 

I resurfaced quickly, pushing my hair out of my face and splashing her. She was absolutely right. Fuck overthinking. Fuck what anyone thinks, I’m just happy she’s here to get my mind off of everything. 

She giggled, swimming away and kicking water at me in the process. Her make up was now smeared and her hair stuck to her head but for some reason she was just as appealing as ever. 

“Come back here!” I yelled, swimming quickly beneath the water and grabbing her leg. 

I pulled her towards me and swam back up, meeting with her face. 

Even in the slightly darkened room, I could still see how bright her eyes were. 

Without thinking about it, my lips were on hers. 

She willingly grabbed my face in her hands, being sure to kiss me back as hard as possible. 

Her legs wrapped tightly around my waist and I rested my hands on her hips while walking backwards towards a wall. 

She wasted no time in pulling at my hair and moaning softly into my mouth. 

Everything about her was so sexy and I was so unbelievably turned on. I could feel my cock begin to stir in my soaking boxers, the feeling of her hips grinding down onto me not helping me in the slightest. 

I wondered if she could feel it. If this was her goal, she certainly succeeded. 

I hadn’t had sex in ages. However, she was something else. Nothing had turned me on this much in a very long time. 

I took her bottom lip between my teeth and kneaded her ass in my hands simultaneously. This resulted in her grip tightening around my body. 

“I don’t want to go any farther if you don’t.” I said into her mouth, feeling her move to spread kisses across my neck. 

“Live in the moment.” She whispered, sinking into the water and before she could get any further, I heard the door knob jiggle and keys clank. 

I pulled her up in a panic just in time for Bruce to walk through the door. 

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. She giggled and swam behind me to hide her body, while Bruce stood at the doorway with a raised eyebrow. 

“Who’s this?” He questioned, and my mouth went dry. 

“U-uhm, this is-” I paused, realizing I was about to have sex with a woman that I didn’t even know the name of. 

“(Y/N). Nice to meet ya.” I turned and looked at her face, seeing her with a friendly grin. Her name was gorgeous.

Bruce reached for towels in the corner of the room, walking them towards us and leaning down to pat my shoulder, “Tony is on his way down. They’ve got security cameras down here.” 

I heard (Y/N) giggle and hop out to wrap a towel around herself. 

Bruce walked out of the room with a chuckle. 

I shrugged my shoulders, “Live in the moment?” 

She pressed her lips against mine, “Always.” 

[rose-savestheday]

So... Remember like a month ago I promised I would write all the prompts? It’s been a month, but I promised, didn’t I? So... here it is for @starcrossedcherik. I’m so sorry, I’m a terrible procrastinator, there is no excuse for that. This prompt to me, personally, is really hard to write, but I hope I can make it up for you, with this or not.

----------------

When they first met at the Bibliothek, Charles was busy cramping a cartful of newly arrived hardcovers into the confined spaces of the top shelves. Much to his dismay, there really is nothing Charles can do about his rather humble frame. Raven outgrew him by a head when he was 16, and never skipped a chance of teasing him mercilessly about this negligible juxtaposition with his peers. After all, it'd been a long day, and Charles had been weary, and The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany really shouldn't be that hefty.

He actually could have counted on his grip quivering a tad and the petrifying monstrosity of a book dropping onto someone's feet, in retrospect.

But not a 6 feet stranger who carried skinny jeans and turtleneck like they were destined to fit perfectly to the exsquisite line of his muscle (no one should look that good in turtleneck), with a husky German accent that was all but obscene pairing with the small pained sound at the immediate impact with the edge of the spine (is that what pain supposed to sound like?).

And certainly he couldn't have counted on that same stranger with an oddly attractive name (an r rolled out at the tip of his tongue, a hard k calloused down his throat) asking him out on a date after 3 and a half months of glaring flirting (Moira's words, not his) and his grinning to himself like some feather-brained teenager at a disturbing frequency (again, courtesy of Moira).

Today is their 6 month anniversary. Charles doesn't really keep track, but he was bid goodnight with a text that coloured his dream with infinite warmth and a tether of giddiness (May I be permitted to bring you a surprise tomorrow evening, in celebration of this day 6 months ago, an angel descended and forever altered the scheme of my humble existence?).

He spends the day wondering what the surprise can be. Erik's pretty amazing with surprises. He once showed up at the library out of the blue, with a dog-eared copy of The Light Between Oceans with a bona fide autography of (the M. L. Stedman himself!) that got Charles squeaked shamelessly like a hawk and raised several eyebrows.

("Oh my God Erik! How do you even get this???"

"Patience, also many thanks to my lucky star," a toothy grin graced his ridiculously handsome face, and Charles wanted to kiss him so badly.)

He has been fidgeting in front of his wardrobe for a good one hour. Should he dress up, or is it better to keep it casual? It's been 6 months, for many people that can't even be qualified for a milestone. Yet, Erik is special.

Charles isn't good with relationships, he has had enough experience to come to terms with the harsh truth. No one will ever be loving enough to listen to his rattling on genetics when looking as if it were the most compelling thing he has ever heard, or be engaging enough to actually debate with him with conspicuous zest on the grounds of their different perspectives on the society (Charles is a fool with too many ideals for his own good, Erik once said, not without fond).

Erik is special, and Charles thinks he might be the one for him. He wants nothing more than to be as much for Erik.

He heaves a sigh, and grabs the navy tux in the shadow, the one he sets aside for those special occasions that hardly ever come.

*

Charles is on the verge of nodding off on his book when the doorbell rings. He raises abruptly, smooths out the small creases on the surface and round the edge of his suit and quickly runs a hand through the thick hair that has now grown slightly long around his neck. He should get a haircut soon, though Erik makes it knee-weakling clear how much joy he derives from playing with the (soft) strands that fall over Charles’ ear and eyes disobediently all the time.

The bell rings again, uncharacteristically impatient.

“I’m coming, just a sec.”

He opens the door, and is greeted with a rough-looking man that is certainly not Erik. The man himself is of relatively short stature, yet it doesn’t make him any less intimidating. The muscles practically ripple underneath the threadbare leather jacket that looks too small on those beefy arms, which can easily snap Charles’ neck like a stick. He has a hairstyle that Charles would describe as wild, with two side of his mane peaking that gives the impression of some kind of animal. Clamped between his teeth a burn-out cigarette and an unintelligible grunt. Charles stands dumbfounded for a moment.

“Charles Xavier?” the man speaks.

“Yes? I’m sorry, have I got into any trouble because I’ve already had Moira cover my shift-“

“What’re you babbling on ‘bout kid? Get in the car. I’m behind schedule.”

“Pardon? Sir, I don’t think-”

The man glares at Charles with what can only be boredom, like he’s making up his mind whether or not to just hoist him up and be done with it, “Erik Lehnsherr? 6 months?”

Charles looks at him incredulously, and decides - rather foolishly after sparing himself roundly 3 seconds to sort his rationality out - to follow the stranger into the sleek black limousine that looks entirely out of place in front of his dainty apartment.

Charles climbs inside the limo, and is momentarily taken aback by the opulence within. Unlike the conventional cars, this limo has long, handsome lounges attached to one side of the cabin. On the other side, a glass tank of sorts, contained within bottles of vintage of some couture brands Charles didn’t even know exist. Stainless windows on all sides afford all points of view on the streets, mirroring the myriads of lights that illuminate the interior with light just little more than feeble. He has once or twice briefly envisaged the luxury. Los Angeles is inevitably no stranger to splendour; even though Charles is not one for this sort of lifestyle, his curiosity, still, is involuntarily piqued.

Spacious as the limo is (why would anyone spend that much money on a kidnapping? More importantly, why would anyone want to kidnap him?), Erik is nowhere to be seen and Charles begins to regret his impulse the moment he feels the slender piece of art start rolling. He sits self-effacingly at the far end of the lounge, trying to enjoy the view while making sense of the situation. Not owning a cellphone can come off as a hassle at times, he has to admit.

What is Erik doing this time? A limousine doesn’t seem his fashion. As far as Charles knows, Erik, isn’t keen on attention. He avoids crowded venues, and almost always wears sunglasses in public and rarely takes them off unless at Charles’ insistence. Even so, it makes him so tangibly uncomfortable that Charles has had to learn to comply with concealing those gorgeous blue-green-grey eyes (“It’s unfair to the world, Erik.”).

The road becomes more packed with every street they pass. At intervals, Charles catches sights of men and women in French coats and bulky cameras. It is after the limo turns right into E 4th Street that Charles realises their destination. The Long Beach Art Theatre, as far as his limited scope of knowledge on the media goes, this is one of the city’s red carpet venues. There is one taking place right now, what does Erik want here?

“Sir,” Charles tentatively addresses the grumpy man, who hasn’t uttered a word throughout the entire drive, “Is Erik waiting for me here?”

He raises one eyebrow and glances at Charles’ reflection in the mirror with the kind of look that makes him feel like a bug tainting the purity of his backseat, “Yes.”

At that, the limo comes to a halt. Almost immediately, the grumpy man hops out and opens the door. Before Charles can mentally prepare himself, a round of shutter clicks swarms into his ears like a thousand crickets, accompanied by an ocean of blinding flashes. People are screaming, cheering, chanting someone’s name, all over the place as though the world is made of but noise at that very moment. He can see just as much as his ears can perceive nothing. So staggering is the scene that Charles almost gives in to the urge to withdraw into the guarded shadow of the limo.

If not for a steady hand that gently takes his and helps him regain his balance.

The grip feels all too familiar, Charles looks up, and sees that gorgeous pair of blue-green-grey eyes look at him anxiously, without sunglasses.

“Erik?” he squints, not quite believes in his vision.

“Liebling, are you alright?” Erik pecks on his cheek, a hand rubs lightly on his back, warm, reliable.

Erik, in a black suit that adorns the lean frame of his body, making him look like a perfect work of sculpture. He should be in a museum, so that humanity can forever cherish the existence of such beauty. But at the same time, Charles also wants him to be his and his only.

“I’m… What is this, Erik?” He asks, still a little dazed. His hearing is gradually recuperating, and Charles realises the over-enthusiastic voices are screaming Erik’s name. That favourite sound of Charles’, at the top of the exuberant, fanatic teenagers’ lung, “They’re… Are they your fans?”

“Liebling,” he shoots a reassuring smile at the paparazzi, “I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to tell you about this for months. I just haven’t got the nerves.

“You are… You are special to me, Charles. You are beautiful, and passionate, and bold in your own way. You don’t care about the fanfare. I have never felt this way for anyone and I don’t want to ruin that, I don’t want to ruin us,” Erik’s gaze is fixed upon him, apologetically, expectantly.

Erik is a celebrity, mayhaps an A-list one at that, judging from all this clamour.

Erik says he’s special to him.

Erik feels the same way for him.

Erik is scared of losing him.

Charles’ lips stretch into a smile, his eyes soften, “You wonderful idiot,” he wraps his arms around Erik’s neck, “Who says it’s going to ruin us? You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

That toothy grin that Charles loves so dearly brightens his face, and their lips meet. The kiss is soft, endearing. He can hear people cheering and the clicks denser.

“Happy 6 month anniversary,” Erik whispers into the kiss. He smells like Charles’ morning tea.

“Happy 6 month anniversary.”

[bountyofbeads]

It wasn’t just Ilhan Omar — Trump disparaged 8 women during his speech in North Carolina

By contrast, he said nice things about zero.

By Aaron Ruper | Published July 18, 2019 2:00 pm | Vox | Posted July 18, 2019 | VIDEO on Website

President Donald Trump, amid a rant about Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-MN), a Somali refugee turned Congress member, promoted his fans to break out into chants of “send her back!”

He also went after each of the four members of the so-called “Squad” — which in addition to Omar includes Reps. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY), Ayanna Pressley (D-MA), and Rashida Tlaib (D-MI) — with whom he’s been embroiled in a public feud since he posted racist tweets last Sunday asking them to “go back and help fix the totally broken and crime infested places from which they came.”

Trump’s naming of these women in particular is no accident. They symbolize the rising power of progressive women of color in America. Though they are all from very liberal districts, something even House Speaker Nancy Pelosi likes to point out, they represent a deep fear among the conservative base: that their grip on power is slipping to the AOCs and Ilhan Omars of the world.

Trump also went on to speak negatively about four other women. In fact, he didn’t have a single positive thing to say about any of the eight women he brought up on Wednesday.

He’s making what some would say is a risky bet. Though polling shows that a large majority of public disapproves of his racist statements about the Democratic congresswomen and that he’s more unpopular with women than with men, he knows that it could also fire up his base to turn out. Trump seems to believe that stoking the grievances of white voters is what got him victory in 2016, and he’s hoping to do it again in 2020. His speech in North Carolina indicates just how key white men are to his strategy.

The proof is in Trump’s words: “So these congresswomen, their comments are helping to fuel the rise of a dangerous, militant hard left. But that’s okay because we’re going to win this election like nobody has ever seen before,” he said Wednesday night.

Trump attacked each member of the Squad

After bashing Omar with remarks that were reportedly read off a teleprompter, Trump took aim at Tlaib for using the f-word during a MoveOn event in January in which she was recorded saying about him, “We’re gonna impeach the motherfucker!” Trump characterized her comments as evidence that Tlaib doesn’t love America. Omar and Tlaib are America’s first two Muslim congresswomen.

“That’s not nice, even for me,” Trump said, alluding to Tlaib’s comments. “She was describing the president of the United States and the president with the big, fat, vicious — the way she said it, vicious — f-word. That’s not somebody who loves our country.”

Trump then accused Ocasio-Cortez of conducting “outrageous attacks against the men and women of law enforcement ... she said essentially Nazis are running concentration camps” at the border. But Trump’s characterization of AOC’s comments was misleading — she did describe migrant detention centers as “concentration camps” but never compared border agents to Nazis.

Trump went on to accuse AOC of describing “contemporary America ... as garbage.”

“Garbage. We’re garbage. Remember ‘deplorables’? I think that’s worse,” Trump added. This too was misleading — AOC never compared Trump or his supporters with garbage, though she did say during an appearance at South by Southwestearlier this year that “this idea of like 10 percent better from garbage, is, shouldn’t be what we settle for.”

Trump even went as far as to mock AOC’s name: VIDEOS ON WEBSITE

AOC is a popular figure in conservative media, often mentioned far more on Fox News than the actual House speaker.

Trump also went after the fourth Squad member, Pressley, saying she “thinks that people with the same skin color need to think the same.” He suggested that she sympathizes with antifa, alluding to a recent incident where Pressley refused to answer a question from a right-wing reporter who demanded she denounce antifa in a hallway near the Capitol.

After attacking each congresswoman individually, Trump wrapped up that portion of his speech by taking shots at them collectively and reiterating his admonition that they should consider leaving the country: VIDEO ON WEBSITE

So these congresswomen, their comments are helping to fuel the rise of a dangerous, militant hard left. But that’s okay because we’re going to win this election like nobody has ever seen before. And tonight, I have a suggestion for the hate-filled extremists who are constantly trying to tear our country down — they never have anything good to say — that’s why I say, “Hey, if they don’t like it, they can leave.” Let them leave. Let them leave! They’re always telling us how to run it, how to do this — you know what? If they don’t love it, tell them to leave it. I don’t know. And now watch, I’ll go back tonight — “Oh, sir, that was so controversial. Sir.” No, I’m just saying it’s their choice. They can come back when they want. But you know, they don’t love our country. I think in some cases they hate our country. And they’re so angry.

But Trump’s attacks on women on Wednesday night weren’t limited to Democratic congresswomen of color.

Elizabeth Warren was a major target too. Hillary Clinton, in an unusual twist, was not.

Trump attacked a number of the front-running contenders for the Democratic nomination for president, including Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders, but his most vicious attacks were reserved for Elizabeth Warren, whom he repeatedly referred to with his now-familiar “Pocahontas” slur.

“Pocahontas is gaining a little bit because we probably used the ‘Pocahontas’ a little bit too early, but that’s okay, we will bring it out of retirement very soon,” Trump said, alluding to Warren’s rising standing in the polls.

Later, he added: “I was driving her crazy. So she went out and hired a guy to check the blood. I’m sure he had a lot of fun doing that. He checked her blood and found out that many, many, many, many, many, many years ago, there could’ve been somebody. And he could’ve been Indian. And then the Indians got together and they said, ‘We don’t want her! We don’t want her.’”

Trump was referring to Warren releasing her DNA test last year, which indeed drew some criticism; many are justifiably uncomfortable with tracing one’s race to DNA. Nevertheless, Native Americans are not a monolithic group, and while many did criticize Warren’s effort to claim Native American heritage, others support her.

In a departure from his typical speeches, Trump only mentioned Hillary Clinton and Nancy Pelosi in passing. But he didn’t have good things to say about them. He mocked Clinton for falsely believing she would win North Carolina in 2016, and criticized Pelosi for objecting to his characterization of MS-13 members as “animals.”

Trump also mentioned German Chancellor Angela Merkel in an unflattering context, suggesting he needs to hector her to pay her country’s bills.

“There was a recent poll — Germany likes Obama better than Trump. A lot better. I said of course, because I’m making them pay their bills,” Trump said. “I’m saying you got to pay. I say, ‘Angela, Angela, you’ve got to pay, Angela!’ Obama would go in, make a speech, leave. I go in, make a speech, I say, ‘Let me speak to Angela. Angela you’ve got to pay your bills, you’ve way behind.’”

There’s a method behind the ugliness

It’s worth remembering that Trump went out of his way to insert himself into a feud between House Democratic leadership and the Squad. His Sunday tweets admonishing them to leave the country weren’t in response to anything in particular, other than his desire to make himself part of the story.

Trump clearly views racist attacks as a winning strategy. On Wednesday, Axios, citing sources close to Trump, reported that Trump views his attacks on Omar and company as a way to motivate white grievance voters to go to the polls next year.

“He hopes he can crank their turnout even higher, especially among older, white evangelicals. He knows most of those voters are unlikely to ditch him, no matter how offensive his comments,” wrote Axios’s Jim VandeHei and Mike Allen. “He watches Fox News and knows AOC, in particular, is catnip to old, white voters, especially men.”

But even if he’s counting on white men, he still pays lip service to women.

“You know, it’s interesting with women. So women want to have strong military protection. They want to have strong borders. They want to have strong law enforcement. They want to have great education. They want to have low taxes for their family, not high taxes,” Trump said during his speech on Wednesday. “They want to have all the thing that we talk about — why wouldn’t they want Trump more than anybody else? The other side is going to go the opposite way. And they did in the last election and we’re doing a lot better.”

What Trump didn’t mention is that women voters favored Democrats by an estimated 7 points and turned out at historic rates in 2018.

[hellofastestnewsfan]

In 2018, black voters are finding out just what the hell they had to lose.

Nazis and Klansmen march openly and proudly, and hate crimes appear to be on the rise. Police killings of people—especially black people—remain largely the same year to year, and this iteration of the Justice Department has largely abdicated any federal responsibility in reducing brutality. An infant-mortality crisis is tightening its grip on the most marginalized communities, and across many economic metrics—from evictions, to generational wealth, to segregation—disparities are either stagnating or trending in the wrong direction. Fifty years after the Kerner Commission’s report said the country was “moving toward two societies, one black, one white—separate and unequal,” the prophecy has been all but fully realized.

As Americans head to the polls in primaries this year and prepare to do their civic duties this fall and in the fall of 2020, the 50 years of backlash against civil rights that helped fulfill that prediction might either be ratified or repudiated. Yet, in the middle of a nationwide conversation of diner visits and coal-miner profiles in service of understanding people who voted for President Trump and this regime, there’s been remarkably little analysis of the demographic that voted against him almost entirely. What drives and motivates black citizens to vote, and is simply being anti-Trump enough to get them out this fall?

A new poll due to be released by the independent political organization BlackPAC sheds light on the motivations of black voters. Conducted by former Obama and DNC pollster and strategist Cornell Belcher and his firm, Brilliant Corners Research & Strategies, the poll of 1,000 black voters in the battleground states of Missouri, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Michigan, North Carolina, Illinois, and Florida aims to “examine the factors essential to a Democratic wave in the 2018 elections,” according to a memo from BlackPAC. But it accomplishes much more than that,  providing valuable insights on the role of race and racism of Trump’s presidency, and the partisan destiny of the country even beyond 2018.

The poll finds black voters in dire self-reported straits. Over half of those surveyed believe the economy is getting worse, and over 40 percent believe they are falling behind economically. Only one in 10 black voters in the survey sample believe they are getting ahead economically, and that sentiment holds broadly across age and education groups. Over three-quarters of all black voters believe the country is generally heading in the wrong direction.

That directionality is reflected by what black voters see as a trend of increasing racism over the past few years. Eighty-nine percent of black voters believe racism in the country has gotten worse since 2016, the same proportion believes racism is prevalent in America, and over half believe that one of the key shifts in American politics has been a renewed attack on black Americans.

Of course, many of those perceptions are linked to Donald Trump, who in this sample faces an 84 percent disapproval rating, and whom a similar amount of black voters think is racist. But the overall perception of a country spiraling into a new nadir of racism is also reinforced by personal experiences with racism. Eighty-one percent of all black voters say they experience racism, with 40 percent saying they experience it often.

Interestingly, racial and economic indicators all have geographic skews, and rural black people are much more likely than their urban or suburban counterparts to experience racism and express distress about the economic outlook. But, according to Belcher, in the age of Trump that relative gap is narrowing, not widening.  “It is an interesting time,” Belcher said. “Because I think if we had done this poll eight years ago, I think we would see more bifurcation between urban, rural, and suburban voters.”

“What we’re seeing is a greater mobilization across geographies in the black community,” Belcher continued. Essentially, what the poll data pick up is that across different levels of geography, across class and income, black people as a whole are both economically and socially destabilized, a state that will have major ramifications in how black people respond to politics.

These findings echo those of some other recent polls. A November poll from Winthrop University found that three-quarters of all black Southerners said that minorities in the country were under attack. CNN/ORC polls from August 2017 find that the majority of black voters believe they are discriminated against by police, courts, banks, and workplaces, a result with which an NPR/Robert Wood Johnson Foundation poll from October roughly agrees. A December Pew Research poll shows that overall views of race relations are approaching a low not seen since the Los Angeles riots in 1992, with barely over a quarter of black Americans saying they believe race relations are generally good.

Those perceptions are all tied deeply to racial sentiments of economic success and opportunity. Another Pew Research poll found that only 17 percent of all black Americans believed they had already reached the American dream. A Gallup-Healthways Well-Being Index poll from February 2017 brings everything into full view: It finds that while black people are consistently more optimistic than white counterparts about their future economic status, black people also are much less likely to achieve those lofty goals, and often report lower current status on the American economic ladder.

All of the evidence points to a unique interplay of economic and racial factors that form a continuum of disadvantage for black voters. “It’s increasingly clear that you can’t separate these two messages,” said Adrianne Shropshire, BlackPAC’s executive director. “While all of the economic issues are deeply felt and are enormous concerns to black voters … the issues around racial justice are in some cases more important.” According to Belcher, the increasing likelihood of black voters to experience racism and see it as a major structural impediment is one of the biggest shifts in voter outlook across demographics over the last 10 years. A quarter of all black Americans said they did not experience racism in a 2008 Center on African American Politics and Society poll, and Barack Obama’s election that year marked a spike in racial optimism among black voters.

Perhaps fittingly, there’s been a corresponding major shift in attitudes among the electoral inverse of these black voters: white Trump voters.

While the “economic anxiety” among working-class white voters that became a meme after the 2016 election does have a certain amount of explanatory power, strictly-defined economic pressures have trouble explaining why whites across classes voted for Trump. But more nebulous “cultural” pressures seemed to be better predictions of a vote for Trump. According to a 2017 analysis of a post election survey by The Atlantic and the Public Religion Research Institute, fear of change and a desire to protect the American way of life were the factors most tightly tied to a vote for Trump among working-class white voters. And as my colleague Olga Khazan notes, among white voters who switched from Obama to Trump, the key indicators weren’t changes in wages or economic opportunity, but a desire for their demographic groups to dominate, and a belief that anti-white discrimination is rampant.

Those voters were the story of 2016; it’s likely black voters will be the story of 2018 if the “blue wave” of Democratic wins manifests. The recent victory of Democrat Doug Jones in Alabama’s special election for its open Senate seat is still the guiding light. In that election, in which BlackPAC also provided critical support in black organizing and outreach, major surprise gains in black turnout buoyed Jones’s win against Republican Roy Moore, whose candidacy sagged under multiple allegations of sexual assault and abuse of minors. In the aftermath of that race, black organizers and activists who’d worked for weeks to turn out rural counties in Alabama’s “black belt” said their energy didn’t really come from Jones or from Democratic support, but as a community-wide response to “the resurgence of this white conservative overtly racist rhetoric,” symbolized by Trump and Moore, according to Selma grassroots activist LaTosha Brown.

But BlackPAC’s poll indicates that the road ahead for Alabama-like victories will be difficult for Democrats. Black millennial interest in the midterm elections sits 20 points behind that of their elders. And while Democrats tend to view young black voters as “get out the vote” voters, or those who are already expected to vote for the party if they can be encouraged to get to the polls, the data suggest that these voters increasingly identify as and behave like true independents. “They see themselves as being persuadable,” Shropshire said. “They want to be approached.”

And they want to be approached with concrete solutions to specific racial disparities, not just generic anti-Trump talk. In the BlackPAC/Brilliant Corners poll, across income, geographic, and age groups, black voters see “fighting to end racism and discrimination” as the most important electoral concern, with school funding, access to affordable health care, and fighting for the poor as the next-most-important issues. While it might be expected that those issues might continue a natural affinity between black people and Democrats, black voters are increasingly skeptical of the Democratic ability and commitment on racial-justice issues, with 40 percent of all black voters believing that Democrats aren’t better than Republicans on ending discrimination or protecting black people from hate crimes, and over half of all black voters believing the opposition party isn’t better than the GOP at eliminating voter-suppression laws.

While it’s unlikely that any significant number of these black voters will ever vote Republican, their ability to stay home or vote for third-party candidates has real ramifications for electoral politics. The delicate balancing act central to Democratic politics has involved building an incredibly fragile coalition of people of color, college-educated and urban whites, and just enough blue-collar and poor white people in swing states. A common instinct to manage this act is to lean on a sort of generic economic appeal, one that will get enough black voters on board without scaring away whites prone to “cultural anxiety” with too-ambitious racial-justice agendas. This instinct assumes that racial justice is a zero-sum political game, an assumption that—given increasing chafing about civil-rights policies from white voters—might have some merit to it.

But in the age of Trump, Shropshire and Belcher tell me that generic appeals to economics aren’t going to cut it for black voters. There is a deep sense among the black voters polled that the president himself is a both a symptom of and a major driver of a uniquely new wave of American racism, one that appears to already be touching their daily lives. And their experience with that daily fact of racism appears to be primed to change the mandate of the party that for decades has considered itself the aegis of civil rights.

“It’s fighting for these issues, but also fighting for these voters,” Shropshire said.

If the reasoning for white voters who rolled the dice on a Trump presidency in 2016 was social desperation—that they looked ahead to a future in which their children might fare significantly worse than them—what does that reasoning say then for black voters and the politicians seeking to represent them? The data suggest that in order to win the necessary black votes, Democrats will have to tie themselves to the mast of a truly anti-racist campaign. Otherwise, it is Democrats who will have a lot to lose.

from The Atlantic https://ift.tt/2rsAqbD

[republicstandard]

Fight For The Future: Nationalism, White Identity, and the Genocidal Left

Ever since Donald J. Trump won the election, the Left has been trying to come to grips with it all. Why did so many people reject the One True Narrative? Why is America so full of evil racist meanies?

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Beyond the standard leftist bogey of racism, they seem to be genuinely concerned with the rise of nationalism in the United States, and to some degree more broadly in the Western world.

I’m fond of joking that to the Left, anyone to the right of Elizabeth Warren is a racist, even a neo-Nazi. And to be sure, whenever the Left try to brand anyone or anything as racist, they’re using a Kafka-trap: branding someone racist generally has the effect of putting that person and their defenders on the defensive.

We should not lose sight of how very sinister this can be. If you doubt this, consider what happened to James Watson, co-discoverer of the molecular structure of DNA with Francis Crick.

Nationalism, for the Left, is integrally related to the bogey of racism—at least when practiced by Western Whites. Both constitute in-group preferences on the part of White people.

And now we come to the double standard. As I recently pointed out, black nationalism merges rather handily with far-left entitlement and theft.

On that note, I somehow managed to stumble across this fawning review of Black Panther by racial grievance-huckster Shaun King. Here, have a few paragraphs—consider it your daily dose of cancer:

“But let me close by talking about the movie. Nothing like it has ever been done before. Not just with a Black superhero, but with several Black superheroes. Black Panther had a whole cast of beautiful Black brilliance. Black scientists. Black Presidents. The style. The technology. The color.”

I enjoy a good fantasy as much as the next person (and probably more, since I actually write high fantasy), but you have to take a moment to appreciate the sheer hypocrisy of the left. Black expression of identity and in-group pride=Good. White expression of identity and in-group pride=Bad.

“But it’s even deeper than that. There is a movement we call Afro-Futurism, where we imagine a Black way of life free of White supremacy and bigotry. Black Panther, I think, is the first blockbuster film centered in the ethos of Afro-Futurism, where the writers, and directors, and makeup and wardrobe team all imagined a beautiful, thriving Black Africa without colonialism.”

And if it was historical reality instead of childish racial wish-fulfillment and piss-poor fantasy worldbuilding, a movie about Black Africa without colonialism would feature mud huts, iron-tipped spears, and malaria.

“Wakanda showed us our families in one piece. No war on drugs. No mass incarceration. No KKK. No lynching. No racial profiling. No police brutality.”

And all of those things are 110% equivocal, with no differences between them at all. War on drugs? KKK! And the modern social ills are all the fault of Whites, and in no way reflect disparities in the rates of crime, police encounters, or welfare dependence.

But if we’re being honest, the Left is not simply the side of black identitarianism and nationalism: they’re happy to shill for globalism when it’s convenient to do so, i.e. whenever it can undermine group identity and cohesion for Whites.

An example of this very phenomenon recently presented itself on my Audible:

Let’s break some of this down a bit:

“A lot of us don’t see ourselves in our bookshelves, our libraries, or our bookstores.”

It’s almost as if identity matters or something.

“Our bookshelves tend to be disproportionately White and disproportionately male and do not represent who we are in this country or who we are becoming.”

There’s so much to unpack here. Could it be that a bookshelf that is disproportionately White reflects a civilization that has also been White? And I say “has also been White,” because as he points out, “we” are becoming something else.

Disproportionately male? What is the right proportion of male authors? Should we expect a 50-50 breakdown between men and women? (Should we expect men and women to have the same priorities, statistically speaking?).

He complains about history, and then goes on to make a very interesting demand:

“Our bookshelves need to look like the future and not the past; they should be brimming with writers of color, women of color writers, indigenous writers, immigrant writers, women writers, LGBTQIA writers.”

Don’t you love the idea that Whites, and especially White men, are the past? This is nothing more than a demand for the diminution, demonization, and erasure of White racial identity, and especially of White males.

This is, again, the central leftist hypocrisy on nationalism, and the identity politics that provide the basis for nationalism: it’s perfectly okay for _everyone except for Whites, particularly White males. _

Now, if you’ve been following my work since the beginning, you’ll recognize this as our old friend, the Great War of Coalitions. More specifically, it’s the Left’s central coalition strategy: demonizing Whites, and especially White men, is how they recruit coalition partners (the Rainbow Nation brigade referenced by Junot Díaz above) and reward them through the welfare state, which actually works out pretty well for White leftists.

Of course, for this strategy to really work as intended, the target needs to not be able to fight back. And this is why leftists have to deny Whites any legitimate identitarian interests, particularly if they are to continue the globalist project of flooding Europe with migrants and fake refugees.

Now that we’ve identified the problem, what’s the solution? We have a leftist anti-White coalition that is designed to appeal to non-Whites, immigrants, women, and sexual minorities. If you are in any one of those groups, do you have to join the coalition?

On the other hand, we have everyone from moderate leftists and classical liberals to right-wingers such as yours truly who reject said coalition. If you are White, and particularly if you are White and male, is it necessary to go full Richard Spencer?

I submit that the answer to each of the above questions is a resounding No.

The way out of this coalitional struggle that the Left have foisted on us will not be easy, but a good start would be to offer a better-quality and more honest dialog on racial identity race relations. I see plenty of encouraging signs of this already.

A few principles for a more honest dialog might include the following:

1). Admit that many people have racial and other in-group preferences��and that’s okay.

People should not be demonized for expressing a preference to live in neighborhoods with people whom they perceive to be like them. Nor should they be demonized for expressing concern for persecuted national minorities in other countries, groups they again perceive to be like themselves, and trying to fast-track them to safety.

2). Recognize and reject racial grievance hucksterism.

The Left gets a lot of mileage out of grievances against Whites. We have to recognize this for the poisonous, contemptible strategy that it is, a tactic which in turn fosters resentment among Whites.

I’m hardly original here for pointing out that leftist anti-White rhetoric has done a fantastic job of creating the very bogey they now despise – the alt-right.

3). Be honest about real racial issues – and try to find common ground.

A significant part of my red-pilling experience on racial issues was the recognition that the left consistently fails to confront the truth about race and crime, race and welfare use, and the pernicious effects of leftist policies – usually chalked up to a supposed ‘legacy of slavery.’

We need to be honest about these and many other issues because they dynamite the entire narrative of “White privilege,” an intellectually malformed and morally perverse narrative which functions to demonize and delegitimize Whites.

4). Commit to Western and national identity.

We should unequivocally assert the validity of Western civilization, of national identity, and of nationalism over globalism.

Whatever else may be said about White, Western civilization, it has uplifted the entire world. As I recently pointed out with regard to the ongoing and accelerating White displacement and White genocide in South Africa, Whites elevated that country from mud huts and iron-tipped spears to automobiles, the internet, and pizza. Would a bit more gratitude, and a bit less resentment, really be too much to ask?

It is true that the West is the historical civilization of Whites. This in no way means it cannot include others now. What it does mean is that we need a better foundation for race relations, one which is not based on an intellectually and morally bankrupt, perverse doctrine which delegitimizes Whites.

We also need immigration control. It should not be controversial to suggest an end to the massive importation of the Third World into historically White, Western lands.

On the plus side, my own sense of this is that the backlash to the left’s crazy anti-White narratives seems to be growing. I suspect this is a good foundation for finding common ground and advancing the dialog in a more productive direction.

Other principles can and should be added as needed, along with refinements of the four principles suggested above.

It will not be easy to reform race relations and shift the conversation about identity in a manner that discredits leftist propaganda and hypocrisy. Still, it is worth doing, and my own sense of this is that the pushback against the Left seems to be growing (the Trump election being a notable example).

In this struggle, the hypocrisy, hysteria, and entitlement of the Left are working against them. They have become the embodiment of petty tyrants and bullies, hiding behind the comfort of institutions and the longstanding hegemony of their Narrative, all too often afraid to confront opposing ideas.

The only vision of race relations on offer from the Professional Left is the one promoted by the peddlers of grievances, half-truths, and the toxic racial blood libel of “White privilege.” It is a vision for hysterical, entitled children who need to lay their own grievances, inadequacies, and insecurities at the feet of the ever-present, ever-evil and oppressive forces of society.

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Isn’t it time for the adults to take back the conversation?

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[londontheatre]

Between the 28th July 2014 and the 11th November 2018 there will be a lot of celebrations of events that occurred one hundred years ago. The Great War started with a pointless assassination in 1914 and ended four years later, with the deaths of over nine million combatants and seven million civilians, in an armistice that laid the foundation for the rise of the Nazi party and WWII. Every family in the UK was touched by WWI and even now, a century later, its influence is still there. For writer Tom Stuchfield researching his family genealogy, WWI became a very personal voyage of discovery, and the fruits of his work can be seen in his production The Cavalry Behind You at Theatre 503.

The Cavalry Behind You is not a play, it is a spoken story of six people and their time in the war to end all wars. There is Austrian soldier Volker (Chris Born) who promises his Italian wife Isabella (Olivia Hanrahan-Barnes) that he won’t kill anyone as he goes off to war. Spencer (Tom Stuchfield) is English but goes to fight for France, leaving his French born wife Mathilde (Julia Kass) at home with his sister. Spencer’s former school ‘friend’ Dixon (Guy Clark) is a junior officer in the English army. And finally, as the Americans join the war in 1917, Sgt Wilkinson (Max Roberts) leaves his father behind and makes the journey from the USA to Europe. Two married couples and two single men whose lives would never have come together if it hadn’t been for war.

As well as writing and playing in The Cavalry Behind You, Tom Stuchfield also directs the piece. Set on a black stage with six lecterns, each cast member wears the uniform or clothing appropriate to their character, and I have to say that I was really impressed with the very authentic costumes. Somebody has obviously done some intense research to get the uniforms, helmets, and accoutrements just right. And you really got the feeling that the writing had been equally as well researched. I was really fascinated with the notion that the Americans had sent a group of soldiers over simply to be seen. Other elements that I really enjoyed were the interaction between Volke and ‘Gunner’ and Mathilde and her sister-in-law. Some excellent writing and acting.

However, I think the show was slightly too long at around two and a half hours including interval.The writing and staging were so good that I was fully gripped by the six atmospherically lit figures telling their stories on the stage so, the interval and a return to ‘normality’ actually felt intrusive. I would have preferred to see the performance straight through. Still, that is a personal niggle and, listening to conversations around me during the interval, the first half had really provoked a lot of interest.

All told, The Cavalry Behind You is a fascinating glimpse into an age that, while being a century ago, is still relevant today. Human stories of an inhuman war bring the reality to life in a way that a documentary never could. Looking back now, I have to say that, surprisingly, my favourite character was the Austrian Volker – whose story is possibly the most profound of the six, and the one I had least sympathy for was the American Wilkinson who irritated me from the start and didn’t get any better when he hit Europe.

So, finally then. The Cavalry Behind You is a well written and acted piece that covers a difficult subject in a very non-judgemental and fair way. It is emotional and intense and kept me hooked from start to finish and is definitely recommended. One final thing for the author. If you ever publish the script as a playtext, please let me know as I would really love to get a copy.

Review by Terry Eastham

A soldier lies breathless in the mud of the Somme, and cannot bring himself to fire another shot. In the mountains of Austria, a man swears he’ll never fire one. Leaving his wide in England, a volunteer stalks a man he has sworn to destroy. A wife endures a life of loneliness and slavery, and a son leaves the father who hates him. A young girl fills shells with gunpowder, and the war stumbles madly into its fourth year. Six stories, and a million things that can kill you.

About the company The Cavalry Behind You has been developed from And The Horse You Rode In On, which the team performed at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2014, which was shortlisted for the NSDF Best New Play. Earlier this year they presented The Wives of Others at OSO Arts Centre to sell-out audiences.

Cast Chris Born, Olivia Hanrahan-Barnes, Julia Kass, Tom Stuchfield, Guy Clark and Max Roberts

Creatives Writer/Director – Tom Stuchfield Producer – Laura Sedgwick Lighting and Sound – Johannes Ruckstuhl

The Cavalry Behind You By Tom Stuchfield 3rd & 4th July | 7:45pm Theatre503 | 503 Battersea Park Road, London

http://ift.tt/2um1zwN LondonTheatre1.com