#an action movie starring someone who isn't young or white

[babblingfishes]

god i don't normally give a shit about the oscars, but seeing Everything Everywhere All At Once sweep it...🥺

[zorilleerrant]

Fansplaining's latest episode is saying how there's a generational difference in woobification, and while I would agree, I don't think it's in the generation of the fan, it's in the generation of the media. because it happens to older people, even who don't usually do this, getting into very new media that isn't part of an established world, but you don't see it as much in very young fans who are getting into decades old fandoms for the first time.

I've had a theory about this for a while, and I think it's that there's a lot of woobification going on in the original texts for newer texts - including franchise texts, it's just easier to backfill stuff from earlier installments so it's not always as obvious - where all the characters are built like that or built to be looked at like that.

main characters tend to be a lot more flat and engage in a lot more black and white thinking, and then endings of novels and movies tend to be very unambiguous that either the good guy won and all is right with the world, or the bad guy won and everything is just as bad as it ever was. like even in Star Wars there was a huge fight to manage to include one line that indicated that the massively militarized government of The Rebel Empire was also engaged in trafficking and atrocities, despite the fact that like. they're America. the Rebels have always been America. but they have to be unquestionably perfect to be The Heroes.

then there's this weird trend with lady villains. like you see it with other marginalized people sometimes, the whole, oh he wasn't evil all along he was just black so he had no choice but to be aggressive, or the, oh, it's just a poor repressed gay guy and now he isn't violent anymore now that he came out. (people say this about people in real life and it's super creepy, but that's another conversation.) I can't tell whether this is just people blatantly having prejudices and not bothering to question them, or people attempting to be less prejudiced, not by making the characters heroes, but by saying their marginalization pushed them into villainy. (which is the same reason so many fans get attached to and excuse villains, except like... without bothering to think it through I guess.)

but the Lady Villain thing is that so many things seem to just go, oh she's a woman, she's not in charge of her own actions, she's not agentive in that way. a man forced her into it. she was traumatized from her body being assaulted. she just wanted to be a wife. she just wanted to be a mother. she can't hurt men really so it's okay if she hurts them. and it's not like this is a new phenomenon, but I feel like I see it more and more under the guise of feminism, in the original work and not just in fandom.

the big example I keep coming back to is Poison Ivy, where the current run - don't get me wrong, I love it, it's so well written - is entirely preoccupied by how she would never be what she is if she hadn't been assaulted by her professor, and her powers weren't her choice, and her ideas about what was ethical were just his brainwashed thoughts, and everything she is is actually his victory, not her own. and I get why that's a theme an author might want to explore, but at the same time, this is a character who in so many incarnations has absolutely nothing to do with a man. she invented her own magic powers, or they were an accident from her own research, and she had her ideas herself without anyone telling them to her, and she decided to be evil for fun. she weaponized their sexualization of her against them and used it to advance her evil plots. and now it's all put back in the frame of 'she's just a man's evil experiment there was nothing else she could've done'.

this combined with the weird woobification of Harley Quinn as someone who was simply kidnapped, tortured, and abused by the Joker with absolutely no choices of her own, and he taught her how to fight, and he forced her to be a villain, etc. ignoring the part where she was already a trained acrobat and a practicing doctor who engaged in inappropriate conduct with her patient. (which, of course, they declare the Joker only wanted Harley for her body, despite the fact that she was always pushing sex on him when he didn't want it, as far as they could get away with in a kids' show.) and then Harley and Ivy bond over asshole men deserving all the credit for everything cool about them???

and for people who have engaged with a lot more media this is clearly just a current trend in stories and it'll die down after a while, and you can make things more or less that in fanworks. but for people who are just getting into media through these extremely popular properties, it's shaping the way they think media should be - and since these are not only the most popular but also the most homogenized properties, they're trying to make other stories fit what they think the Regular Mold is. which probably means this tendency will become less both as the people doing it engage with more texts and as this black and white morality trend goes away again, but it'll still be a formative thing they think of as a Normal Story and that idea probably won't become less internalized.

[tim-shii]

lyrical smile, indigo eyes.

pairing: isagi yoichi x reader

tags: implied friends to lovers, fluff fluff, old fic aaa *hides*

the sky was dark, the stars plentiful and bright. speckles of white twinkling within the dark canvas above. sat on the hood of a navy blue chevrolet impala were two young adults, no more than late twenties. the mellow tunes of clair de lune resonating through the silent night. no words were exchanged between the two. in the midst of the comforting stillness, isagi turned to you, who sat beside him. his stare evidently intrigued.

“do you have something to tell me?” he kept his voice low, not wanting to startle you whose gaze remained on the stars. he observed your lips slowly form a grin. the image of a cheshire cat flashing in his mind as he rivets his eyes on you.

“stare any longer and i might melt.” you murmured slyly, not sparing a glance at him. you jumped down from the hood. dusting off yourself, you motioned for him to go down as well. your hand brushing off the dust off his shoulder. 

arriving at his dorm for their traditional friday movie nights. you offered to prepare the snacks, seeing as how isagi is always the one who makes meals for the both of you. isagi settled down on the couch, holding a can of cold beer as his dark blue orbs scanned through the list of movies on the monitor in front of him. deciding on a marvel movie, he leaned back on the futon behind him. unknowingly diverting his attention to the person sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for the popcorn in the microwave. 

isagi’s friendship with you goes way back. isagi being the clumsy person he is, bumped into a you, who's carrying a project you spent 4 weeks working on, resulting in the said project to topple onto the ground and the rest was history. 

throughout all the years of your friendship, isagi couldn't help but be wary of his best friend. he would often notice you admiring him from afar. you don't even flinch when he catches you in the act. you simply smiled at him, your smile having a hint of accomplishment in them. at one point, he's convinced that you liked him more than a friend. if you like someone, you'd do things to make them like you back. that was what isagi believed in. he waited for you to make a move but his actions were proven useless as you continued to treat him like every other day. the only thing he didn't notice was the warmth and fondness reflecting in your eyes whenever you caught sight of him.

it was a game of cat and mouse. a waiting which he hasn't got a clue on how the events will turn out. in this game of cat and mouse, no matter how big his stature is, he feels belittled as the mouse cornered in their relationship.

a nudge against his arm made him turn his head towards the perpetrator, seeing the person  he was just thinking about. as they watched the film isagi picked, you took note of his tensed figure. 

"...do you really have nothing to tell me?" isagi uttered, eyes fixed on the television.

"no. there isn't really anything i could think of. why? do you have something to tell me?" you sipped from the bottle of water, eyes also not leaving the screen.

amidst the silence in the room, he could feel his breath hitch. thinking back to all the times you were there for him. recalling the moments you spent every weekend just hanging out at each other's dorms. when you make herself at home in his presence, not bothering to keep a facade. he realizes that letting you go would be such a waste. he couldn't imagine a life without you. it took him years to come up to a realization. he knows you like him and he knows that you know that. you didn't bother with it because the pace they were going with is the one that you established. 

you stared ahead. not being able to focus on the movie because of the boy beside you. you wonder if your efforts were enough. giving him hints but not too much, not denying it when he questions their friendship. but not confirming anything either. 

getting lost in your thoughts, a hand slipping in yours that was settled on your thigh brought you back to reality. after seeing that you didn't reject his touch, a soft smile softly made its way to his face. happily he leaned his head on the crevice of your neck, snuggling closer when you leaned back on the couch. isagi brought your interlocked hands nearer to his face, planting a kiss on the back of yours.

yep. he definitely knows.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

[keeperoftinyarmy]

I was wondering if you could give me advice about something? It's a touchy topic but I'm at a loss on what to do. So I'm of mixed heritage. My mom is Afro Latina and my dad is of Irish descent. Appearance wise I look like my father's side but I'm extremely close with both sides of my family and identify as such. Unfortunately the way I look often has me shunned by poc online who see my profile picture and assume I'm 100% caucasian so I often have my opinions dismissed. That said, there's this controversy in the Enhypen fandom about one of the members singing a song with "n***a" in the lyrics and the assumption is one of them said "n***er" while singing the song. I don't hear that myself at all but now the entire group is being called racists. Now in my opinion, I have always believed there's a difference being being racist and being ignorant about certain things. I always look at the intent before labeling anybody anything like that. So I tend to give some room for people born in homogeneous countries who just might not be educated on what is or isn't okay to say even if it's part of a song lyric. I honestly don't think anyone said it and believe there's another explanation but when you try to express that opinion, anybody trying to explain that there are certain words in Korean that sounds like that disgusting word or explain that just because someone is ignorant about something, doesn't automatically make them a racist, you get labeled as anti black. Today I was told not to speak over black people when I was simply explaining what I just said above especially when it's not even clear who said what. I was also told to shut up if I wasn't black. I'm starting to believe international fans are just leaping to accusations and starting a bunch of trouble over something that's not even definite or starting trouble over the dumbest reason. People are just accusing these kpop stars of being racist when they're literally from a homogeneous country and not brought up learning about certain things. Even poor Taehyun from Tomorrow x Together was accused of being racist because he said he liked the movie "Get Out". I tried explaining that he's allowed to like that film and that it's absurd to call anybody who wasn't black that enjoyed the film, a racist. I was told to "stfu white girl"... I just feel like I'm not allowed to have a voice. I don't want to come off as insensitive but what can I do when poc are calling out kpop stars for being ignorant when they themselves are not stopping to consider the culture and environment Korean artists were raised in without seeming like I'm trying to speak over what black people are saying? I just feel racist accusations are out of control towards kpop artists and I just don't know what to say to my mutuals who are black who see my profile picture and feel I'm being anti black. (Also one more thing, I am not saying ignorance is a pass to continue to be ignorant. I'm just saying intent should be considered before calling someone a racist while also educating them on their actions)

Sorry for answering this so late I was on a mini summer vacation from social media.

I don’t know anything about the Enhypen situation but I know similar things have happened with other artists. Your points are all valid…this might not have been an intentional use of derogatory language. And this group is so young and just stepping out on the world stage, I hope if anything a teaching moment could come from this. But again I don’t know about it to really get into it.

It’s interesting you sent me this ask since identity as it reates to biracial/multiracial people is very personal to me. Now I get the importance of people who are directly impacted by a situation to have their voices heard because far too often those voices are drowned out or silenced by others who have no real understanding of the pain. But you have identified yourself in this case as being part of the group impacted. Your Afro Latinx half, I believe, very much gives you license to join the discussion. Your blackness should not be called into question because you physically look like your Irish side. You may not be in the same position as someone fully of African descent but, you are still part of the “community”. I don’t think it’s right for anyone to be boxed out of a race or culture because they are “half”. You have every right to share your thoughts and experiences …imo.

If your mental health allows, because I know how stressful it is to argue with people on the internet, but if you are up to it I hope you continue to chime in on issues that impact either of your sides. Someone is probably lurking on your account or on a thread that is feeling just as you are. Maybe your thoughts would give them courage to share their own and so on and so on…

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

Switching Lanes With St. Vincent

By Molly Young

January 22, 2019

Jacket (men’s), $4,900, pants (men’s), $2,300, by Dior / Men shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Rings (throughout) by Cartier

On a cold recent night in Brooklyn, St. Vincent appeared onstage in a Saint Laurent smoking jacket to much clapping and hooting, gave the crowd a deadpan look, and said, “Without being reductive, I'd like to say that we haven't actually done anything yet.” Pause. “So let's do something.”

She launched into a cover of Lou Reed's “Perfect Day”: an arty torch-song version that made you really wonder whom she was thinking about when she sang it. This was the elusive chanteuse version of St. Vincent, at least 80 percent leg, with slicked-back hair and pale, pale skin. She belted, sipped from a tumbler of tequila (“Oh, Christ on a cracker, that's strong”), executed little feints and pounces, flung the mic cord away from herself like a filthy sock, and spat on the stage a bunch of times. Nine parts Judy Garland, one part GG Allin.

If the Garland-Allin combination suggests that St. Vincent is an acquired taste, she's one that has been acquired by a wide range of fans. The crowd in Brooklyn included young women with Haircuts in pastel fur and guys with beards of widely varying intentionality. There was a woman of at least 90 years and a Hasidic guy in a tall hat, which was too bad for whoever sat behind him. There were models, full nuclear families, and even a solitary frat bro. St. Vincent brings people together.

If you chart the career of Annie Clark, which is St. Vincent's civilian name, you will see what start-up founders and venture capitalists call “hockey-stick growth.” That is, a line that moves steadily in a northeast direction until it hits an “inflection point” and shoots steeply upward. It's called hockey-stick growth because…it looks like a hockey stick.

Dress, by Balmain

The toe of the stick starts with Marry Me, Clark's debut solo album, which came out a decade ago and established a few things that would become essential St. Vincent traits: her ability to play a zillion instruments (she's credited on the album with everything from dulcimer to vibraphone), her highbrow streak (Shakespeare citations), her goofy streak (“Marry me!” is an Arrested Development bit), and her oceanic library of musical references (Kate Bush, Steve Reich, uh…D'Angelo!). The blade of the stick is her next four albums, one of them a collaboration with David Byrne, all of them confirming her presence as an enigma of indie pop and a guitar genius. The stick of the stick took a non-musical detour in 2016, when Clark was photographed canoodling with (now ex-) girlfriend Cara Delevingne at Taylor Swift's mansion, followed a few months later by pictures of Clark holding hands with Kristen Stewart. That brought her to the realm of mainstream paparazzi-pictures-in-the-Daily-Mail celebrity. Finally, the top of the stick is Masseduction, the 2017 album she co-produced with Jack Antonoff, which revealed St. Vincent to be not only experimental and beguiling but capable of turning out incorrigible bangers.

Masseduction made the case that Clark could be as much a pop star as someone like Sia or Nicki Minaj—a performer whose idiosyncrasies didn't have to be tamped down for mainstream success but could actually be amplified. The artist Bruce Nauman once said he made work that was like “going up the stairs in the dark and either having an extra stair that you didn't expect or not having one that you thought was going to be there.” The idea applies to Masseduction: Into the familiar form of a pop song Clark introduces surprising missteps, unexpected additions and subtractions. The album reached No. 10 on the Billboard 200. The David Bowie comparisons got louder.

This past fall, she released MassEducation (not quite the same title; note the addition of the letter a), which turned a dozen of the tracks into stripped-down piano songs. Although technically off duty after being on tour for nearly all of 2018, Clark has been performing the reduced songs here and there in small venues with her collaborator, the composer and pianist Thomas Bartlett. Whereas the Masseduction tour involved a lot of latex, neon, choreographed sex-robot dance moves, and LED screens, these recent shows have been comparatively austere. When she performed in Brooklyn, the stage was empty, aside from a piano and a side table. There were blue lights, a little piped-in fog for atmosphere, and that was it. It looked like an early-'90s magazine ad for premium liquor: art-directed, yes, but not to the degree that it Pinterested itself.

Coat, (men’s) $8,475, by Versace / Shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Tights, by Wolford

The performance was similarly informal. Midway through one song, Clark forgot the lyrics and halted. “It takes a different energy to be performing [than] to sit in your sweatpants watching Babylon Berlin,” she said. “Wherever I am, I completely forget the past, and I'm like. ‘This is now.’ And sometimes this means forgetting song lyrics. So, if you will…tell me what the second fucking verse is.”

Clark has only a decade in the public eye behind her, but she's accomplished a good amount of shape-shifting. An openness to the full range of human expression, in fact, is kind of a requirement for being a St. Vincent fan. This is a person who has appeared in the front row at Chanel and also a person who played a gig dressed as a toilet, a person profiled in Vogue and on the cover of Guitar World.

The day before her Brooklyn show, I sat with Clark to find out what it's like to be utterly unstructured, time-wise, after a long stretch of knowing a year in advance that she had to be in, like, Denmark on July 4 and couldn't make plans with friends.

“I've been off tour now for three weeks,” she said. “When I say ‘off,’ I mean I didn't have to travel.”

This doesn't mean she hasn't traveled—she went to L.A. to get in the studio with Sleater-Kinney and also hopped down to Texas, where she grew up—just that she hasn't been contractually obligated to travel. What else did she do on her mini-vacation?

“I had the best weekend last weekend. I woke up and did hot Pilates, and then I got a bunch of new modular synths, and I set 'em up, and I spent ten hours with modular synths. Plugging things in. What happens when I do this? I'm unburdened by a full understanding of what's going on, so I'm very willing to experiment.”

Coat, by Boss

Jacket, and coat, by Boss / Necklace, by Cartier

Like a child?

“Exactly. Did you ever get those electronics kits as a kid for like 20 bucks from RadioShack? Where you connect this wire to that one and a light bulb turns on? It's very much like that.”

There's an element of chaos, she said, that makes synth noodling a neat way to stumble on melodies that she might not have consciously assembled. She played with the synths by herself all day. “I don't stop, necessarily,” she said, reflecting on what the idea of “vacation” means to someone for whom “job” and “things I love to do” happen to overlap more or less exactly. “I just get to do other things that are really fun. I'm in control of my time.” She had plans to see a show at the New Museum, read books, play music and see movies alone, always sitting on the aisle so she could make a quick escape if necessary. But she will probably keep working. St. Vincent doesn't have hobbies.

When it manifests in a person, this synergy between life and work is an almost physically perceptible quality, like having brown eyes or one leg or being beautiful. Like beauty, it's a result of luck, and a quality that can invoke total despair in people who aren't themselves allotted it. This isn't to say that Clark's career is a stroke of unearned fortune but that her skills and character and era and influences have collided into a perfect storm of realized talent. And to have talent and realize that talent and then be beloved by thousands for exactly the thing that is most special about you: Is there anything a person could possibly want more? Is this why Annie Clark glows? Or is it because she's super pale? Or was it because there was a sound coming through the window where we sat that sounded thrillingly familiar?

“Is Amy Sedaris running by?” Clark asked, her spine straightening. A man with a boom mic was visible on the sidewalk outside. Another guy in a baseball cap issued instructions to someone beyond the window. Someone said “Action!” and a figure in vampire makeup and a clown wig streaked across the sidewalk. Someone said “Cut!” and Clark zipped over for a look. It was, in fact, Amy Sedaris, her clown wig bobbing in the 44-degree breeze. The mic operator was gagging with laughter. It seemed like a good omen, this sighting, like the New York City version of Groundhog Day: If an Amy Sedaris streaks across your sight line in vampire makeup, spring will arrive early.

Blazer (men’s) $1,125, by Paul Smith

Another thing Clark does when off tour is absorb all the input that she misses when she's locked into performance mode. On a Monday afternoon, she met artist Lisa Yuskavage at an exhibition of her paintings at the David Zwirner gallery in Chelsea. Yuskavage was part of a mini-boom of figurative painting in the '90s, turning out portraits of Penthouse centerfolds and giant-jugged babes with Rembrandt-esque skill. It made sense that Clark wanted to meet her: Both women make art about the inner lives of female figures, both are sorcerers of technique, both are theatrical but introspective, both have incendiary style. The gallery was a white cube, skylit, with paintings around the perimeter. Yuskavage and Clark wandered through at a pace exclusive to walking tours of cultural spaces, which is to say a few steps every 10 to 15 seconds with pauses between for the proper amount of motionless appreciation.

The paintings were small, all about the size of a human head, and featured a lot of nipples, tufted pudenda, tan lines, majestic asses, and protruding tongues. “I like the idea of possessing something by painting it,” Yuskavage said. “That's the way I understand the world. Like a dog licking something.”

Clark looked at the works with the expression people make when they're meditating. She was wearing elfin boots, black pants, and a shirt with a print that I can only describe as “funky”—“funky” being an adjective that looks good on very few people, St. Vincent being one of them—and sipped from a cup of espresso furnished by a gallery minion. After she finished the drink, there was a moment when she looked blankly at the saucer, unsure what to do with it, and then stuck it in the breast pocket of her funky shirt for the rest of the tour.

A painting called Sweetpuss featured a bubble-butted blonde in beaded panties with nipples so upwardly erect they actually resembled little boners. Yuskavage based the underwear on a pair of real underwear that she'd constructed herself from colored balls and string. “I've got the beaded panties if you ever need 'em,” she said to Clark. “They might fit you. They're tiny.”

Earrings, by Erickson Beamon

“I'm picturing you going to the Garment District,” Clark said.

“There was a lot of going to the Garment District.”

As they completed their lap around the white cube, Clark interjected with questions—what year was this? were you considering getting into film? how long did these sittings take? what does “mise-en-scène” mean?—but mainly listened. And she is a good listener: an inquisitive head tilter, an encouraging nodder, a non-fidgeter, a maker of eye contact. She found analogues between painting and music. When Yuskavage mourned the death of lead white paint (due to its poisonous qualities, although, as the artist pointed out, “It's not that big a deal to not get lead poisoning; just don't eat the paint”), Clark compared it to recording's transition from tape to digital.

“Back in the day, if you wanted to hear something really reverberant”—she clapped; it reverberated—“you'd have to be in a room like this and record it, or make a reverb chamber,” Clark said. “Now we have digital plug-ins where you can say, ‘Oh, I want the acoustic resonance of the Sistine Chapel.’ Great. Somebody's gone and sampled that and created an algorithm that sounds like you're in the Sistine Chapel.”

Lately, she said, she's been way more into devices that betray their imperfections. That are slightly out of tune, or capable of messing up, or less forgiving of human intervention. “Air moving through a room,” Clark said. “That's what's interesting to me.”

They kept pacing. The paintings on the wall evolved. Conversation turned to what happens when you grow as an artist and people respond by flipping out.

“I always find it interesting when someone wants you to go back to ‘when you were good,’ ” Yuskavage said. “This is why we liked you.”

“I can't think of anybody where I go, ‘What's great about that artist is their consistency, ” Clark said. “Anything that stays the same for too long dies. It fails to capture people's imagination.”

Coat (mens), $1,150, by Acne Studios

They were identifying a problem with fans, of course, not with themselves. It was an implicit identification, because performers aren't permitted to critique their audiences, and it was definitely the artistic equivalent of a First World problem—an issue that arises only when you're so resplendent with talent that you not only nail something enough to attract adoration but nail it hard enough to get personally bored and move on—but it was still valid. They were talking about the kind of fan who clings to a specific tree when he or she could be roaming through a whole forest. In St. Vincent's case, a forest of prog-rock thickets and jazzy roots and orchestral brambles and mournful-ballad underlayers, all of it sprouting and molting under a prodigious pop canopy. They were talking about the strange phenomenon of people getting mad at you for surprising them. Even if the surprise is great.

Molly Young is a writer living in New York City. She wrote about Donatella Versace in the April 2018 issue of GQ.

A version of this story originally appeared in the February 2019 issue with the title "Switching Lanes With St. Vincent."

[dog-day-morning]

THIS AIN'T LEGAL

Have you ever heard of absolute immunity? Federal officers who violate the Civil Rights of American citizens in an attempt to do harm with recorded video evidence of the violation in action or officers who willingly falsify a police report of a violent attack in order to frame the victim while the antagonist sits before a judge and jury perjuring herself with alligator tears before an all white jury with her blonde locks, and blue eyes, damn devil, and goes free while an innocent child spends 17 months behind bars. To say that Amerikkka is unjust is an understatement. Too many times Black people are dragged into a court that's already biased, having to face a judge, and jury who may have a vested financial interest in the private prison industry, but let's be real. The school to prison pipeline is not a myth, it's a bloody bruise on the face of Lady Liberty. Liberty, and justice for all never applied to the indigenous people of Amerikkka or any of the ADOS, and FBA citizens whose roots are entrenched in the Earth bleeding from a wound the wicked do not want to heal. The above mentioned scenarios actually happened to one of your own Amerikkka, and a child from the Middle East. It's funny that Amerikkkans appear to want peace seemingly always, but you're forever raising hell outside of your jurisdiction? Joe Biden is deporting Haitian refugees out of the country ASAP, while transporting inland, and giving amnesty to Afghan refugees, and South Americans even so far as to offer them free secondary education, and housing. The culture of Amerikkka is against a Black man ever rising up to experience the American Dream in a Taliban like Aristocracy or Totalitarian society that started centuries before Biden became president. He's not the answer to our problems nor is he the root of the issue. Amerikkka is a canker sore, and a blight that impedes the progression of a once dominant, but humble people. No one needs to preach of racial superiority and use terror tactics in order to justify a calloused approach to validate this viral disease that affects everyone with a modicum of common sense, decency, and compassion. Amerikkka was a Nation before Amerigo Vespucci set foot on these shores. Alkebulan was inhabited by some of the most brilliant minds, and still is before Scipio Africanus named the dark continent after himself, an albino. Ohhh the irony, and moral hypocrisy. Timbuktu, and the city of Alexandria were well established kingdoms in Alkebulan where Greek, and Roman scholars went to gather much needed knowledge because they were dumb as hell. Egypt is a mystery that none can determine for now. When the prophecy is fulfilled by the Father whom the Prophet Joel spoke thereof He would pour His Spirit down upon all flesh, the truth will set you and I free. And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions. What's impeding us from this prophetic word? Keep your thoughts to yourself. That's a luxury I haven't had since the age of stupid. Not wanting to call you out on the sins of your fathers, but you are just like him. I hope, and pray the Father fulfills His will in time before our hearts wax cold, too late. Amerikkka’s public enemy will not be our Black sons or daughters that are trying to follow the rules of man whose lawlessness has revealed itself to be an entire race of people. You create the laws, and break them leaving everyone with a bad taste in their mouth except those who profit from our pain. Chris Rock said this years ago. “The white man is the only one who profits from everyone's pain, especially a Black man’s.” you see how they treat us, and you have no inclination of what your future will hold for your people in the aftermath of the Zombie Apocalypse. I hate this form of pop culture rhetoric. There will be souls inhabiting these bodies that were once dead, and decomposing. God will deliver the dead from the sea, and He will deliver the dead from death, and hell.

Isaiah 26:17-21

17 Like as a woman with child, that draweth near the time of her delivery, is in pain, and crieth out in her pangs; so have we been in thy sight, O Lord.

18 We have been with child, we have been in pain, we have as it were brought forth wind; we have not wrought any deliverance in the earth; neither have the inhabitants of the world fallen.

19 Thy dead men shall live, together with my dead body shall they arise. Awake and sing, ye that dwell in dust: for thy dew is as the dew of herbs, and the earth shall cast out the dead.

20 Come, my people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut thy doors about thee: hide thyself as it were for a little moment, until the indignation be overpast.

21 For, behold, the Lord cometh out of his place to punish the inhabitants of the earth for their iniquity: the earth also shall disclose her blood, and shall no more cover her slain..

When our Lord Christ Jesus does this work how do you think those who've hated, and betrayed us for a season of sin will react in the oncoming horror set before mankind? God has placed us on the Earth for a purpose, not to suffer. I can't put the blame on Joe Biden or those who came before him for what this nation or planet has done, and is doing to us; psych!!! The God of our fathers will judge you according to your works which has wrought death and destruction. The wrath, and judgment Joe Biden, trump, and their people will incur, and experience is worse than any Stephen King novel or Jordan Peele, and M. Night Shyamalan movies can induce in your alleged, fragile psyche. I've told Jacob, and warned the gentiles of God's incoming judgment, but no ones willing to heed the words of an idiot savant. I'm guilty of many things by way of my woeful condition. I'm compelled to elaborate these truths to you as they become relevant at a particular hour. Watch out for your young children who may be a pain, but they're innocent, and they're yours. The world sees us as prey, a potential payoff for an organ harvest, and fodder for the wickedly unjust. This woman that they have been searching for these last 5 or so days in a National Park has this Nation all a buzz. Who is she? Do you know how many women of Jacob go missing everyday without any press from the media? We can blame them, but are they at fault? Hell yeah!!! Continue to read. Our people have been limited by those who control the information, the social media platforms, infighting within our own tried Black media organizations that have blessed us over the years who are left open to attack by oppressive censorship that purposely restricts what they can, and cannot reveal to the Black masses. I was amazed to find out in 2017 that Coretta Scott King, and her family successfully sued the US government over the assassination of MLK Jr.; that was in 1999. The Atlanta Black Star might have covered the litigation process, but I didn't hear a peep from anyone I knew or even hear about it on any news media platform, especially from the major media news networks. That's how they've Silenced the Lamb with threats, and bullying tactics. We've come too far to go back to Egypt. The only time I wanna hear mention of going to Egypt is if my Church takes a sabbatical to the Motherland, and my Apostle takes the trip with us to seek the truths that have been denied us. Reference Joel 2:28. Those who stay committed to this ministry will see beyond the veil. If you placed all of your faith in me or Apostle Johnson you have overlooked the reasons God led you to this Church, Elders, Evangelists, Prophetesses, Deacons, Ministers, and the entire Church family. He nor I can do anything without the will of the Father, and I’m stuck on dufus. Get yo tail back to Church ASAP!!! We place our faith in men who have let us down many times. Apostle has done much for me, but Jesus has done everything. God will do a good work in all of us. I want every man, woman, and child in this ministry to reap what they have sown; don't leave. When the sky turns black, and the heavens roll back, peeling back the clouds, that's when you will see or hear the Son of God coming for His faithful. Apostle has taught us of the temporal mental mindset many times. Evidently it’s true as many of us have forgotten his teachings. My mind went off on a tangent, excuse me, where was I ? BET is owned by Jews, who used to own us. They run the entertainment industry that Buck breaks our men, and you wouldn't believe what they do to black women, and children who are all looking for a way to display their talents in order to get wealth, and their name up in lights. Leroy has the talent, all Mr. Epstein can offer you is a bogus contract that rips you off in the end leaving you po, broke, and lonely with a busted a-hole. Those who beat the system at their own game wind up 6 feet deep. Why do you think they murdered Michael Jackson, Prince, Sam Cooke, and James Brown? Michael owned half of SONY BMI. Prince owned all of his Masters that his

siblings sold for pennies on the dollar. Sam was going to start his own label, and brother James who had a label, but the IRS falsely audited him several times forcing him to sell his label keeping Soul Brother number 1 from becoming the first billionaire recording artist decades before JZ did. THIS AINT LEGAL. All that glitters isn't gold people. Ask Mr. Goldberg who runs several porn studios in Silicone Valley California. They run the majority of that particular industry as well as recording, movie and TV production studios while controlling the financial institutions. The majority heads of the Department of the Treasury including the current, Janet Yellen have been Jewish. Not trying to be a dissenter, but someone’s getting screwed. It's the middle class, and our fat, Black… ? William Randolph Hearst made the movie Reefer Madness which was a propaganda film not because hemp was a gateway drug to other crap, hell a pack of cigarettes has killed more people than ten thousand blunts. Smoke a blunt, and 30 minutes later you wanna eat. Smoke crack, and 30 minutes later you're sucking d**k. Hemp can be used in a vast amount of ways that would’ve crippled Mr. Hearst’s other industries. You can use it as fabric for clothes that's stronger, and more durable than cotton. The hemp plant had more useful potential than the soybean, and peanut combined!!! Marijuana isn't a drug at all, it's an herb. The Egyptians used it to cure many ailments including cancer. If I were still on Instagram Mark Suckerberg would personally shut my page down himself… again. That's why I no longer use white run social media websites. Mr. Hearst's only interest in getting the government to make hemp illegal was to keep his financial, investment interests ever increasing. In the end it turned out to do more harm than good. Now that the government has managed to tax the herb, they've made it legal. Why in the hell are Black men, and women still serving draconian, archaic prison sentences for minor marijuana drug offenses that don't make sense to a mongoloid retard?!! Like I said: “THIS AINT LEGAL.” Babylon the Damned will fall on its pancaked derriere soon enough. Pray to God the Zombie Apocalypse runs right past your abode or get some pads from your son's football uniform in order to appease the dead in Christ who may want a ham sandwich or your daughter Becky. This too shall pass. Try lamb's blood? The closer I get to death or that visitation with someone I've been wanting to see for a long time because I can't see, the more these things come back to my remembrance. This is enough for today. Whatever God reveals to me in the next few days hopefully I’ll relate some of that information to you. I thank those for judging me as a simp, punk b**ch, p**sy a** n**gah, punk a** n**gah, sorry a** n**gah, faggot, and everything you project or judge according to your flesh. I have no secrets so what am I trying to hide? Get your house in order Jeff, your life may be required of you, and ya boy in the wheelchair. Still someone else's identity Yippie Yai Kai Yay mother!@#$%& 9/21/2021