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trivialbob · 1 year ago

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Yesterday Sheila and I rode bikes on an 18-mile loop we like through Minneapolis. It took us three hours.

Two miles im my front tire popped. I have no idea what I ran over, but the tire was flat before I came to a stop.

Luckily I had tools, a pump, and a spare tube. It's been a while since I changed a tube. This time I accomplished the task in under five minutes, barely getting my hands dirty.

With that taken care of we re-started the ride. The Minneapolis Greenway is in better shape that previous years. The path has been repaved and re-striped. No tents were set up along the way.

When we got off the Greenway we went to one of my favorite local bike shops, Hub Bike Coop. Sheila pet the dog that was in there; I looked at bikes and bought two new tubes for spares (one for each of our bikes).

Years ago I put a Hub Bike Coop sticker on my old Corolla. Matt ended up with that car. The Hub sticker and another for the University of Wisconsin remained on the car while Matt lived in New York, Connecticut, and New Hampshire. It's a Corolla, so despite being nearly two decades years old I like to think that little blue car with my two stickers is still banging around somewhere on the east coast.

From the bike shop we pedaled south to Venn Brewing. An Australian Shepherd and three other dogs were inside. Sheila pet all of them. For her drink she ordered a Fruited Plains: Grapefruite Wheat. After taking a sip of it, I ordered the same thing. Wow, what an excellent beer on a warm day while biking.

Then we headed south and east to Lake Nokomis. There's a concession stand there where we've ordered beer before. Yesterday we saw a sign posted by the counter stating no beer and wine sales.

The place had been serving alcohol illegally for 12 years. Someone finally noticed that there isn't sufficient "covered seating" to allow beer and wine sales. Good thing after a dozen years of alcoholic chaos someone put an end to that madness and pulled the liquor license.

Still thirsty, we headed west along Minnehaha Parkway to Chicago Ave. Then it was just two blocks north to the Town Hall Tap. Sheila had a blood orange lager while I went with the Masala Mama IPA.

We sat at a table on the front sidewalk and split an appetizer. People watching was decent. Sheila, however, thought it was "people talking." She had nice comments for everyone who walked by.

"Oh I like that dress you're wearing." The woman in it was flattered and chatted with Sheila briefly.

"That's a cool tattoo." That woman also stopped to talk with Sheila, explaining how there was still a lot of coloring to be added to it and what it was going to look like. The tattoo parlor two storefronts away.

"Those are nice sandals. Are the straps a light auburn brown, or is that a darker eggshell (free range, not grocery store egg)?"

Now do you understand why it took us three hours to complete the loop?

Next door to Town Hall Tap is a theater. An old movie projector sits in front of the building. A theater employee told me it had been in use there from about 1945 to 1965.

Next to the theater is the Creekside Supper Club. As Sheila talked to everyone walking down Chicago Avenue, I went over to check the supper club's menu. Next time we are in that neighborhood I want to eat there. Maybe I can also find out how that woman's tattoo coloring is coming along.

Finally we paid our tab. Sheila said goodbye to all her new friends and acquaintances. Then we rode more of Minnehaha Parkway over to Lake Harriet where the car was parked. We thought about getting a beer at the Lake Harriet concession stand (which apparently does have sufficient covered seating). But after seeing all the bike shop and brewery dogs, we wanted to get home to our dogs.

At home we swapped two bikes for three Aussies and went to our local brewery. Sheila went to get us a beer. Oliver, Sulley, and Ella would not stop staring in the direction she went. Sheila always comes back, but they don't trust me on that.

The food truck on site served pizza. We didn't want any. The dogs had other ideas.

#grapefruit wheat #excellent day of biking and beer drinking

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spaceorphan18 · 8 months ago

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Book lady gets a book question - is there anything recently released or coming out soon that you’re looking forward to?

Okay, yes, book lady would like to talk about books! Believe it or not, I do actually read more than X-Men and Agatha Christie, lol.

Omg, my TBR is so long... Here's what's at the top of the list (in no order):

The Busy Body by Kemper Donovan : It's a dream assignment. Former Senator Dorothy Gibson, aka that woman, is the most talked-about person in the country right now, though largely for the wrong reasons. As an independent candidate for President of the United States, Dorothy split the vote and is being blamed for the shocking result. After her very public defeat, she's retreated to her home in rural Maine, inviting her ghostwriter to join her.

The Cautious Traveller's Guide to the Wastelands by Sarah Brooks: It is the end of the 19th Century and the world is awash with marvels. But there is nothing so marvellous as the Wastelands: a terrain of terrible miracles that lies between Beijing and Moscow. Nothing touches this abandoned wilderness except the Great Trans-Siberian Express: an impenetrable train built to carry cargo across continents, but which now transports anyone who dares to cross the shadowy Wastelands.

The Decagon House Murders by Yukito Ayatsuji : Students from a university mystery club decide to visit an island which was the site of a grisly multiple murder the year before. Predictably, they get picked off one by one by an unseen murderer. Is there a madman on the loose? What connection is there to the earlier murders? The answer is a bombshell revelation which few readers will see coming.

Murder Your Employer by Rupert Holmes: Who hasn't wondered for a split second what the world would be like the object of your affliction ceased to exist? But then you've probably never heard of The McMasters Conservatory, dedicated to the consummate execution of the homicidal arts. To gain admission, a student must have an ethical reason for erasing someone who deeply deserves a fate no worse (nor better) than death.

Everyone On This Train is a Suspect by Benjamin Stevenson : When the Australian Mystery Writers’ Society invited me to their crime-writing festival aboard the Ghan, the famous train between Darwin and Adelaide, I was hoping for some inspiration for my second book. Fiction, this time: I needed a break from real people killing each other. Obviously, that didn’t pan out.

Less by Andrew Shawn Greer : PROBLEM: You are a failed novelist about to turn fifty. A wedding invitation arrives in the mail: your boyfriend of the past nine years now engaged to someone else. You can’t say yes--it would all be too awkward--and you can’t say no--it would look like defeat. On your desk are a series of half-baked literary invitations you’ve received from around the world. QUESTION: How do you arrange to skip town? ANSWER: You accept them all.

The Inheritance Trilogy by NK Jemisin : Yeine Darr is an outcast from the barbarian north. But when her mother dies under mysterious circumstances, she is summoned to the majestic city of Sky. There, to her shock, Yeine is named an heiress to the king. But the throne of the Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is not easily won, and Yeine is thrust into a vicious power struggle.

Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson : It has been centuries since the fall of the ten consecrated orders known as the Knights Radiant, but their Shardblades and Shardplate remain: mystical swords and suits of armor that transform ordinary men into near-invincible warriors. Men trade kingdoms for Shardblades. Wars were fought for them, and won by them.

Sandman by Neil Gaiman : In PRELUDES & NOCTURNES, an occultist attempting to capture Death to bargain for eternal life traps her younger brother Dream instead. After his 70 year imprisonment and eventual escape, Dream, also known as Morpheus, goes on a quest for his lost objects of power. On his arduous journey, Morpheus encounters Lucifer, John Constantine, and an all-powerful madman.

In a Great Green Room by Amy Gary : The extraordinary life of the woman behind the beloved children’s classics Goodnight Moon and The Runaway Bunny comes alive in this fascinating biography of Margaret Wise Brown. Margaret’s books have sold millions of copies all over the world, but few people know that she was at the center of a children’s book publishing revolution. Her whimsy and imagination fueled a steady stream of stories, book ideas, songs, and poems and she was renowned for her prolific writing and business savvy, as well as her stunning beauty and endless thirst for adventure.

How to be Perfect by Michael Shur : Most people think of themselves as “good,” but it’s not always easy to determine what’s “good” or “bad”—especially in a world filled with complicated choices and pitfalls and booby traps and bad advice. Fortunately, many smart philosophers have been pondering this conundrum for millennia and they have guidance for us. With bright wit and deep insight, How to Be Perfect explains concepts like deontology, utilitarianism, existentialism, ubuntu, and more so we can sound cool at parties and become better people.

Okay, that's a ton of books, but I have about fifty-ish that I own and haven't read yet. Because I have a problem...

Also -- the sequel to House on the Cerulean Sea and of course Gail Simone's run on Uncanny X-Men.

#books #so so so many on my tbr #book recommendations

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intheshadowofwar · 1 year ago

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3 July 2023

Oh It’s A Lovely War

Amiens 3 July 2023

By the end of 1917, time was running out for Germany. Russia may have sued for peace, but the United States had entered the war, and Generals Hindenburg and Ludendorff, now effectively dictators of Germany, knew that numbers would soon inexorably favour the Allies on the Western Front. Ludendorff needed one last masterstroke - a decisive battle to destroy the French and British before the Americans could arrive.

The great offensive - Operation Michael - was aimed at Gough’s Fifth Army, still exhausted from the hell of Passchendaele. On the 21st of March 1918, after a sudden and violent artillery and gas attack, German stormtroopers smashed into the Fifth Army, and although their losses were massive, they attacked with such force that Fifth Army gave way. For a moment, as Haig scrambled to plug the gaps in his line and Fifth Army’s command and control disintergrated, it looked Germany might actually win the war.

It is here, in the popular narrative, that Australia stops them at Villers-Bretonnaux. In reality, there were two battles here that sometimes get conflated into one. At First Villers-Bretonnaux, British and Australian troops managed to halt the German offensive just short of the town. This wasn’t the only place where the BEF had managed to blunt Micheal - Arras held, and while the Germans had taken Albert, they had advanced little further. It was however the final nail in the coffin for any German effort to take the vital railway hub at Amiens. The Germans made a second attempt on the 24th of April and briefly captured the town, but were repulsed by a counterattack the following day. The popular idea here is Chunuk Bair in reverse - the British ‘lost’ the town and the Australians ‘retook’ it. In fact it wasn’t so simple - two Australian and one British brigade took part in the counterattack, alongside French Moroccan troops to the south.

It was a significant victory, but it didn’t stop the Germans completely. Ludendorff launched more offensives throughout the spring (including towards Hazebrouck, which was defended by First Australian Division and several British divisions.) Against all of them, the Allies held, although the fighting was hard and the cost was appalling. The cracks in the German strategy began to show - more and more American troops were being moved in front of them, and more and more of their best men were being killed. The end of the Spring Offensives came at the Second Battle of the Marne, in which chiefly French but also British, Italian and (for the first time in significant numbers) American troops decisively stopped Ludendorff’s last throw of the dice. No one country can claim credit for this - stopping the Spring Offensives required the full effort of every major participant in the Allied order of battle. It was a team effort.

Some people don’t seem to understand that, and sadly they’re often the people in charge of commemorating the war. Which brings us back to Villers-Bretonnuex.

Our first stop today was Adelaide Cemetery, just outside the town. If the name seems familiar, it’s because I’ve mentioned it before, although it seems like years ago now; this was where the Unknown Soldier was exhumed. Today, his former spot is marked with a special inscription, but otherwise the plot has the same shape of tombstone as everybody else. One might lament that he’s been removed from a peaceful plot in France to the hustle and bustle of Canberra - if, of course, they didn’t know that Adelaide Cemetery is sandwiched between a major road and a railway line, so he probably would find the AWM more peaceful.

We went from there to the Australian Memorial outside Villers-Bretonneux. John Monash Centre aside - and I swear, we’ll get to that soon - this is beautiful site, nestled amongst rolling hills and endless fields of wheat. To get to the main monument, you pass between two cemetery plots, as if the graves are lined up on parade - these are largely Australians, but there’s also a lot of Canadian and British soldiers who lost their lives in the battles around Amiens in mid-1918. You pass through two flag poles - French and Australian - and reach the main facade, in which the names of Australia’s missing in this sector of the front are carved. In the middle is a tower - it still bears the scars of the war that followed the war to end all wars.

Visitors can climb the tower, where they can get a commanding view of the countryside. You can see the town itself, and the distant shapes of other strategic features - for example Le Hamel, which we’ll talk about at the end of this log entry. Even if you’re not interested in military minutia, the view is amazing.

It was as we left the tower that one of the most curious and strangely moving episodes of this tour occurred. As I walked down the front steps, I saw a man with a bugle in British service dress - the uniform of the British Tommy - and an officer trudging up to our position. Somehow, in the middle of France, I had encountered some reenactors. It turned out there were seven of them - three men in Welsh Guards uniforms, a Highlander, a nurse, and two members of the Royal British Legion. They’d been deputised by an Australian family to pay tribute to one of their members lost in France during the war.

Suddenly, we were conscripted into this odd little ceremony. We gathered around - the bugler sounded the Last Post, there was a minute’s silence, and then two of us left a wreath in the tower as the Highlander played his bagpipes. It ought to have been very silly, this memorial service with these men in old uniforms, recorded on an iPhone for a faraway family. And yet I teared up. I don’t know why this got me, but I think part of it is the spontaneous nature of the event. These guys were from Wales and England. They had no obligation to pay one of our men this heed - and yet they did, and they went to such effort to do it. We even sang the national anthem together - I can’t remember the last time I actually sang it.

We interrogate forms of remembrance a lot on this course - it’s kind of the point - and we did have a little discussion of this a bit later. Sometimes I feel we as historians can be a little too cynical about this sort of thing. I don’t know if crossgeneration or surrogate grief is something that can be quanitified, but it was real for them, and I think that’s what really mattered.

And then we went into the Sir John Monash Centre. And oooooooh boy.

Remember how I said the museum at Peronne didn’t meet my expectations? Well, this exceeded my expectations, and it did so triumphantly. I expected that this would be bad, but what I got was a nearly heroic example of utter shitness. It crosses the line into utter inappropriateness, speeds right across the world like the Flash, and crosses the line a second time. I’m almost impressed.

First of all, everything - everything - is digitally integrated. You actually have to install an app onto your phone andhave headphones plugged in (or rent them for three euros) to understand anything that goes on here. You then walk up to screens - it’s almost entirely screens, like a sale at Harvey Norman - and press the number of the screen - except if its already playing, the recording just picks up where it already was, which is often halfway through the video. If the screen is out of order, well, no content for you. The inevitable question, of course, is how would you interact with this if you were blind, or deaf? I guess being deaf is just un-Australian.

And the content? I will be fair here and say nothing is technically incorrect, or at least nothing I was actually able to view and hear. My problem is more about what the museum doesn’t say. Monash’s somewhat indifferent career commanding 4th Brigade is neatly glossed over. So too is the Hindenburg Line battle of 29 September, and don’t worry, we’ll get to that. Every other combatant in the war is a footnote, which gives the impression that Monash and the Australians are personally winning every major battle of 1918. Then there’s the language - Australian units withdraw, while British units are shattered. All this is underlined with dodgy, overacted dramatisations and a tactical war that uses 3D models to showcase the battles of Fromelles, Polygon Wood, Amiens and St. Quentin - all rather badly posed, and all looking like they came out of a pre-alpha version of Battlefield 1.

Then there’s the experience. The experience is what this whole thing is built around - the brilliant idea to have a light and sound show right beneath the graves of the dead, giving the visitor a feel - as if that’s possible - of what the Villers-Bretonneux and Hamel battles were like. I actually managed to get a session where I was the only oneside when it started (the door shuts while it’s playing.) I am truly thankful I was. When the government commissioned historians to plan this, they outright said that they wanted visitors to feel ‘pride with a touch of sadness.’ It would probably be difficult for audiences to feel such emotions if they were sharing a room with a university student pissing himself laughing.

Yes, this is conceptually appalling to me - but it’s also so silly that I couldn’t help but laugh, and laugh hysterically at some points. After opening with British troops fleeing Operation Micheal, literally screaming and crying - I’m surprised the director showed enough restraint to stop himself from staining all their trousers with wet patches - a sinister German voice who’s probably meant to be Hindenburg but sounds more like Major Toht from Indiana Jones declares his intention to destroy the British. The viewer is ‘gassed,’ which feels more like sitting in a smoking room at Hong Kong Airport. Then come the brave, steely-faced Australians, counter-attacking alone into Villers-Bretonneux. They get into the Beastly Hun with their bayonets. Some die and it is Sad. One kicks in a door and hip-fires his Lewis Gun into three Germans Rambo-style whilst going “AAAAAAAAAAA” - and then I don’t know what happened for the next ten seconds because that scene was so ridiculous I started cry-laughing.

Then we move onto Hamel, and here comes the great hero, Monash. He points at maps. He walks next to tanks. He stares heroically into the distance. There are no other generals, or even other officers - there is only Monash. (I could almost feel the ghost of Pompey Elliot swearing up a storm next to me.) Monash unleashes his vague powers of tactics upon the Beastly Hun, and the Australians go in. The Germans all have gas masks and therefore have no faces, making it okay to kill them. The sound of artillery forms the drum beat of a Hans Zimmer style musical track as the battle goes on. There’s tanks. There’s explosions. There’s strobe lights. There’s another bloke hipfiring a Lewis Gun and going “AAAAAAAAA.” There are no Americans. Americans don’t exist. And then, because the director suddenly realised that this is meant to be a site of commemorative diplomacy, a brave Australian soldier waves a French flag. Monash has won the war.

If I tried to come up with a satirical depiction of Australian history, I honestly couldn’t beat this. It is sublime in its idiocy. I want this on DVD. I want to show all my family and friends. This might be the best First World War comedy since Blackadder.

Don’t get me wrong, I think this is very offensive and it shouldn’t be anywhere near a cemetery, let alone under it. But at some point, you just have to laugh.

Now there’s one big problem with the Centre, apart from everything else, and that’s the name. John Monash fought a lot of key battles in the Australian Corps’ history. Villers-Bretonneux was not one of them. I do wonder if there was another option here, to focus not on Monash but on Harold ‘Pompey’ Elliot, a superb brigadier who was haunted by his experiences of the war, and whose life was tragically cut short by the consequences of PTSD. At very least, he was actually there and played an important part in the battle.

The Sir John Monash Centre is not the best museum in France - in fact, it’s not even the best Australian war museum in Villers-Bretonneux. That laurel belongs to the French-Australian Museum in the town itself, which we visited afterwards. This is in the top story of the local school, which was rebuilt after the war with subscription money raised by Victorian schoolchildren. To this day, there’s a sign above their courtyard - ‘DO NOT FORGET AUSTRALIA.’ The museum is very small and very intimate, although perhaps a little scattered - it’s clearly a labour of love, a collection of a few treasured relics, models and artworks that connect this small French town with a country on the far side of the world. The assembly hall, which the staff kindly let us go into, is decorated by wooden carvings of Australian animals made by a disabled Australian veteran after the war. This probably cost a fraction of the Sir John Monash Centre, and is probably maintained by two staffmembers and a goat, but it is worth infinitely more than that supposedly ‘world-class’ installation.

Sadly, this museum doesn’t get many visitors anymore - all the tour groups want to go to the glitzy new thing down the road. So here’s my advice - go to the Australian Memorial by all means, but skip the Centre, unless you want a quick laugh. Come here instead. You won’t regret it.

The main teaching for today ended at Heath Cemetery, where we discussed some Aboriginal soldiers’ graves that we’d actually found out about at the aforementioned museum. It’s hard to find Indigenous soldiers - as Aboriginal people were banned from the armed forces, those that passed as white were hardly going to write what they were on their enlistment forms. It’s led to a significant part of the AIF’s history being obscured - but today, it’s being reclaimed as families find their veteran ancestors, dead or alive. In fact, one of the few things I liked about the Centre was an art installation of two emus made from (imitation) barbed wire - a symbol of these men who died so far from Country under an unfamiliar sky, with no Southern Cross to guide them home.

We headed back to Amiens, and most of the group alighted here, but a few of us - the cool members of the group - went back out to the memorial at Le Hamel. This is a curious memorial, but I don’t hate it - it’s basically a big slab in the middle of a wheatfield with the Australian, American, British, French and Canadian flags flying above it. (This is where the Red Baron was shot down, and as the Canadians still think they got him, they get to have a flag.) Plaques on the path to the memorial describe the course of the battle fairly well (although I feel they do a bit of an injustice to the Tank Corps, which are never mentioned by name.) Once there, you have a pretty good picture of the fields leading to Le Hamel, the town that Monash famously captured in ninety-three minutes on the 4th of July 1918.

Hamel was a great achievement, but it needs to be put into context - this was a local action in preparation for the real offensive at Amiens in August. Here Monash also performed very well, but so too did Currie and the Canadian Corps, and Sir Henry Rawlinson in overall command. (The British III Corps advance was less impressive, but still outstanding by Western Front standards.) Between Hamel, Amiens and Mont St. Quentin, Monash more than earned his reputation as an outstanding commander. But he wasn’t infallible, and now I can finally talk about 29th September 1918 and the St. Quentin Canal.

Monash and the Australian Corps were meant to be the main force here. IX Corps (remember them from Suvla?) were to swing south in a secondary role, while III Corps, whose commander had just been sacked, was mostly left out. By this time, Australian Prime Minister Billy Hughes was insistent that the Australian divisions be taken out of the line for a rest, and this had already happened with the 1st and 4th Divisions. Monash and Rawlinson had managed to hold onto the 2nd, 3rd and 5th Divisions for this final action against the Hindenburg Line, but had had to replace the other two with the 27th and 30th US Divisions. These troops were nowhere near as experienced as the men they’d replaced, but Monash’s plan doesn’t seem to have accounted for that, and he used a strategy he’d used to great effect at Amiens - send two divisions in first, then leapfrog them with fresh divisions once the first wave had taken their objectives.

The Americans performed about as well as could be expected, and their bravery was in no doubt, but they didn’t know how to properly clear out the German trenches that they were advancing over. Inevitably, when the Australians came in, they ran into German strongpoints that had been temporarily suppressed, but not destroyed. This resulted in heavy casualties and bogged down the advance. A frustrated Monash took days to pound through, and with the benefit of hindsight, he really should have altered his plan to account for the greener troops - instead, he and Rawlinson, somewhat unfairly, blamed them.

All this was probably academic, because while the Australian Corps was pounding along, the Hindenburg Line had already been broken. Remember how I said that I didn’t think Mont St. Quentin was the greatest military achievement of the war? I define military achivement differently to Rawlinson. Taking a position against all odds is definitely impressive, but carrying out an operation so effectively that your troops don’t really need heroic daring do is quite another, and this was what happened on the IX Corps front in the south. The 46th Division at Bellenglise - as standard and normal a division as any - had swept across the St. Quentin Canal in perfect concert with their artillery, capturing an intact bridge and the village. For the loss of 800 casualties they captured over 4000 men, and tore a gaping hole in the Hindenburg Line that the following 32nd Division was able to exploit. This, in my opinion, was the outstanding military feat of the First World War - because so much was gained for such (by Western Front standards) a cheap cost. Rawlinson rightly shifted the main axis of his advance south to support it, and after a few more days of hard fighting, the Australian Corps was finally taken off the line for a well deserved rest. The war would end before it could return.

Well, that was a digression and a half. Tomorrow we leave Amiens, heading down into the Somme for the last big day of battlefield touring, and then onwards to the City of Lights itself.

Oh, one last story before I forget - our professor dug this up while looking through Monash’s correspondence for a history of Melbourne’s Shrine of Remembrance. Towards the end of Monash’s life, he began to think of what he ought to leave for Australia. As a war hero, he thought, he needed to leave them an example to look up to. As he was making arrangements for his legacy, he noted particular papers that he needed dealt with properly, as a matter of national importance.

So, shortly after he died, someone gathered these papers - I think his executor. As John Monash was buried in his modest grave, marked only with his name and eschewing his many honours, this person took them somewhere safe - perhaps an incinerator, or a bonfire in the bush. I can imagine this person, a tear in his eyes, a bugler playing the last post, as he was forced to consign a major piece of Australian history to the flame.

But duty called, and this man would obey. And therefore, with a heavy heart, he destroyed General Sir John Monash’s enormous collection of pornography.

#first world war #western front #amiens #Sir John Monash

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notoxymoronic · 2 years ago

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Reality TV and Social Media

Upon reading and analysing the article by Deller, titled “Chapter Six: Reality Television in an Age of Social Media” from the journal titled Reality Television: The TV Phenomenon That Changed the World, I gained insight into the ways in which social media has changed the nature of fame and self-presentation online, in regards to reality micro-celebrities.

It argues that social media has allowed for the rise of microcelebrities - which could include individuals that use social networking sites to build their own personal brand (Dellar 2019), and can be defined as internet celebrities on a small scale in a specific niche (Funn & Falkof 2021). Microcelebrities are seen as a type of digital performance that combines visual techniques of corporate branding with internet distribution technologies (Dellar 2019).

The article also distinguishes between microcelebrity and online or internet celebrity, which are those who have achieved a certain level of fame beyond their immediate niche. Like reality TV stars, these online celebrities are perceived to have remained in touch with their amateur roots, and they are expected to maintain a sense of authenticity in order to appear genuine to their audience (Dellar 2019), although many microcelebrities from Australian Reality TV appear to have a hard time saying no to brand deals, and only the successfully transparent few are able to filter through sponsorships that align with their core values, at least in my experience on platforms like Instagram.

Celebrities and micro-celebrities can use social media to bypass traditional media platforms and communicate directly with their fans, which in the case of reality TV stars have it well, as they are particularly a more accessible branch of celebrity, so fans may feel more likely to try to reach out to them in a more meaningful way, in the hopes that their favourite reality star might notice them. However, this also opens up a door to a more negative side, where “trolls” or haters can inflict negativity and even cast death threats to these microcelebrities, as they may feel that they are more likely to get a reaction from them, especially since they are more accessible than traditional celebrities (McLaren 2021).

The article also notes that some celebrities use social media primarily to promote their own brand or to drive audiences to other sites of stardom, such as magazine interviews or TV shows (Dellar 2019). Many have even tried to start their own networks, podcasts, small businesses and health brands as a result of their rise to reality TV fame, usually something related to the niche-ness of the character tropes that they exampled on their relevant TV shows and thus capitalising off of that.

So while social media can allow for self-expression, self-presentation, self-promotion and marketing, it in turn opens these stars up to a larger discourse regarding the authenticity of their character/brand, essentially “holding up a mirror to human behaviour and interaction”, which is a confronting thought for anyone that has stopped to think about it (Dellar 2019).

References:

Deller, Ruth A, (2019) Extract: 'Chapter Six: Reality Television in an Age of Social Media', in Reality Television: The TV Phenomenon That Changed the World (Emerald Publishing).

Dunn, C, Falkof, N, (2021), You've Got to Be Real: Authenticity, ‘Performativity and Micro-Celebrity in South Africa’, Front Sociol Journal, National Library of Medicine online, https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8138309/

McLaren, B., (2021), ‘Trolling After Reality TV: ‘It’s Worse Than I Could Have Imagined’, Grazia Magazine, https://graziadaily.co.uk/life/tv-and-film/married-at-first-sight-love-island-trolling-reality-tv/

#MDA20009 #week 4 #microcelebrity #reality tv

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blooms12 · 2 years ago

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If you’re looking for a florist in Jackson, don’t trust the other national flower delivery sites to send your gift in a box. Instead, choose Gordon Hill Flower Shop for the best flowers and dazzling gift baskets! Our flowers are professionally arranged and handdelivered, so your special someone will always receive the freshest blooms. Visit our flower shop today and see for yourself!

Payment Options

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#box hill florist #florists in mitcham #florists ringwood #mitcham florist #flowers melbourne #florists ferntree gully

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the-firebird69 · 2 years ago

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Watch "Này thì múa nữa đi nào #shorts #mma" on YouTube

This is what Mac can do, but our son says and daughter then it seems he broke there stingy suffocating hold in America and that's where I was coming from and next door and the guy and he decked Jeff that's who it is and he can't stand him either. And really put him down in seconds that's what he's trying to do and you sort of sees it now and these people are being assholes all the time. So he's getting confidence up and he will start taking over these ships over there and the death stars again and more so and the Vader will start hitting and use it as a threat and it'll backfire as it does here when he threatens us and then the dual will be on, we think later tonight and today Vader hits two or three more sites. and the duel tonight, and Mac goes away and yeah it's my Tommy Allen and he is a character if you don't see him and he wipes himself out partially a big chunk of Gone stay and wipes himself out Trump wipes himself out all three or four is complete assholes including Dan and AKA Dave wipe themselves out trying to grab Mac and the max see it and they didn't have this s*** this guy is completely out of control. And they get very weak and then Stan has the fight with the emperor and was Luke first and they don't have an understanding and they never did and he tosses the emperor over who survives and for some reason the rebels hit him. Fully and Sherry orders his death and says he knows about Captiva and aint yogurt and now she didn't say the second part. And decimates his clan completely decimates it and starting on Trump goes after him very hard since you're responsible for it and orchestrate it cuz you're an idiot and she's doing that the max are attacking Trump to get him out of here so we hit your places we hit your headquarters and pull your dog s*** out all day long and hear you you're still sitting here you told me to get out of here and he won't leave so they clean out Florida every night there's only two or three days away if that and they clean it out every night of every warlock there is the a****** just keeps coming back so we go after all of them again globally to clean them out of Australian New Zealand and they leave to go there they find hot spots and eliminate them and after another week they completely disappear for the most part and that's actually after Guantanamo Bay they're completely defeated that's coming up too and there's a big huge War over as a cocaine and the more like carried it and the max are beating them up and there's a war over the top roots and the tunnels and an extra beating them up and stuff and the max are tired of it and using it and they're stopping them pretty soon they'll be done and our son will have more security here

Thor Freya

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sageduille · 3 years ago

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Madoka Magica Rambles

Honestly (and pardon me if this is a controversial opinion) I always found it Off when people say that the girls in Madoka Magica were “Punished for having hope/wanting their dreams to come true.” I do understand the argument and I understand the source! Since the release of Madoka Magica there have been a lot of Genuinely fucked up magical girl shows, Magical Girl Site is the first one that comes to mind. eugh. But I don’t exactly think it’s fair to blame Madoka for that, it got popular and caused a shift, yes, but if it weren’t Madoka it would have been some other show. Anyways! From the perspective of someone who has been a fan of the show since I was probably way younger than I should have been, I was around 11 when I first watched it, and even younger when I first Heard of it (it was a damn playground rumour for christs sake!) its English dub aired on ABC3 late at night, for not Australian people it’s uhh... Basically just one of those standard tv broadcasts, was mostly targeted towards and kids and teens. So yes! I was exposed to Madoka at a young age, and while yes maybe I was a little too young I still hold it very near and dear for what it’s done for me, I struggled a LOT through my younger years, from about 13-16 I was in a constant loop of life throwing shit at me that no kid should have had to go through, I’ll spare the specifics for obvious reasons but just know it was a shitshow. My reason for bringing this up is that Madoka Magica was a source of comfort through those times, horrible things happened to the cast, yes, but please note that they were not “Punished” they were USED! They’re little girls going through horrible things because those “wiser” than them believe that’s how it needs to be, that in order for things to continue (in the case of Madoka the whole universe) girls needed to be thrown into an endless battle where their only choices are to keep fighting or succumb and lose yourself, and inevitably a lot of them have lost themselves, or died no death anyone should be able to, forever destined to be a missing persons case. Because that is what the system demands of them. But the important thing is that despite everything, Madoka tries her best to remain soft, she doesn’t let the traumatising things she experiences harden her up, she makes mistakes, she fumbles, but she remains hopeful and gentle and soft throughout it all, contrast that to Homura, although she means well the sheer amount of trauma she went through left her cold and blunt, this isn’t to say that Homura isn’t deserving of help, or she is lesser because of this, she too is the victim of a vicious cycle that is the magical girl system. Madoka does not tell you to never have hope, nor does it tell you that things will never get better, that you’re doomed to suffer in an endless battle filled with nothing but sadness and cruelty. It tells you that despite everything you’re going through, everything you’ll GO through, to remain hopeful, to love, to remember that people will be there for you, and maybe, if you keep fighting, you’ll be there for someone too. In the end Madoka wishes to end all witches before they’re born, because she too, knows what it’s like to suffer.

#madoka magica #pmmm #magia record #long text #analysis #maybe?#sage rambles #apologies for grammar mistakes! Just felt like ranting

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writingwithcolor · 4 years ago

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Space based story with prison camps: problematic parallels?

Trigger warnings:

Holocaust

Unethical Medical Experimentation (in the post and resources)

ivypool2005 asked:

I'm writing a sci-fi novel set on Mars in the 25th century. There are two countries on Mars: Country A, a hereditary dictatorship, and Country B, a democracy occupied by Country A after losing a war. Country A's government is secretly being puppeted by a company that is illegally testing experimental technology on children. On orders from the company, Country A is putting civilian children from Country B in prison camps, where the company can fake their deaths and experiment on them. (1/2)

My novel takes place in one of the prison camps. I am aware that this setting carries associations with various concentration camps in history. Specifically, I'm worried about the experimentation aspect, as I know traumatic medical experimentation occurred during the Holocaust. Is there anything I should avoid? How can I acknowledge the history while still keeping some fantasy/sci-fi distance from real experiences -- or is it a bad idea to try to straddle that fence at all? Thank you! (2/2)

We are far from being the only people to have suffered traumatic medical experiments..

--Shira

TW: Unethical Medical Experimentation (in the post, and all of the links)

Medical experimentation in history

Perhaps without intending to, you have posed an enormous question.

I will start by saying that we, the Jewish people, are not the only group to have unethical, immoral, vicious experiments performed on our bodies. Horrific experimentation has been conducted on Black people, on Indigenous people, on disabled people, on poor people of various backgrounds, on women, on queer people... the legacy of human cruelty is long. Here are some very surface-level sources for you, and anyone else interested to go through. Many, many more can be found.

General Wiki Article on Unethical Human Experimentation

US Specific Article on Unethical Human Experimentation

The early history of modern American Gynecology is largely comprised of absolutely inhumane experimentation, mostly on enslaved women (with some notable exceptions among Irish immigrant women)

An Article on Gynecological Experimentation on Enslaved Women

I also recommend reading Medical Bondage by Deirdre Cooper Owens

The Tuskegee Experiment

First Nations Children Denied Nutrition

Guatemala Syphilis Experiment

Unit 731

AZT Testing on Zimbabwean Women

Project MKUltra

Conversion Therapy

Medical Experiments on Prison Inmates

Medical Interventions on Intersex Infants and Children

Again, these are only a few, of a tragic multitude of examples.

While I don't feel comfortable saying, as a blanket statement, that stories like this should never be fictionalized, it feels important to emphasize the historicity of medical experimentation, and indeed, medical horrors. These things happened, in the real world, throughout history, and across the globe.

The story of this kind of human experimentation is one of immense cruelty, and the complete denial of the humanity of others. Experimentation was done on unwilling subjects, with no real regard for their wellbeing, their physical pain, the trauma they would incur, the effect it would have on families, or on communities. These are stories, not of random, mythical "subjects," but of human beings. These were Black women, already suffering enslavement, who were medically tortured. These were Indigenous children, who were utterly powerless, denied nutrition, just to see what would happen. These were Black men, lied to about their own health, and sent home to infect their spouses, and denied treatment once it was available. These were Aboriginal Australians, forced to have unnecessary medical procedures, children given brutal gynecological exams, and medications that were untested.. These were inmates in US prisons, under the complete control of the state. These were prisoners of war. These were pregnant people, desperate to save their fetuses, lied to by doctors. These were also Jewish people, imprisoned, and brutalized as part of a systematic attempt to destroy us.

The story of medical torture, of experimentation without any meaningful consent, of the removal of human dignity, and human rights, is so vast, and so long, there is no way to do it justice. It is a story about human beings, without agency, without rights, it's the story of doctors, scientists, and the inquisitive, looking right through a person, and seeing nothing but parts. This is not some vague plot point, or a curiosity to note in passing, it is a real, terrible thing that happened, and is still happening to actual human beings. I understand the draw, to want to write about the Worst of the Worst, the things that happen when people set aside kindness, and pick up cruelty, but this is not simply a device. This kind of torture cannot be used as authorial shorthand, to show who the real bad guys are.

On writing this subject - research

If you want to write a fictional story that includes this kind of deep, abiding horror, you need to immerse yourself in it. You need to read about it, not only in secondhand accounts, and not only from people stating facts dispassionately. You need to seek out firsthand accounts, read whatever you can find, watch whatever videos you can find. You need to find works recounting these atrocities by the descendants, and community members of people who suffered.

Then, when you have done that, you need to spend time reflecting, and actively working to recognize the humanity of the people this happened to, and continues to happen to.

You have to recognize that getting a stamp of approval from three Jewish people on a single website would never be enough, and seek out multiple sensitivity readers who have personal, familial, or cultural experience with forced experimentation.

If that seems like a lot of work, or overkill, I beg you not to write this story. It's simply too important.

-- Dierdra

If you study public health and sociology, it is often a given that the intersection of institutional power and marginalized populations produces extreme human rights abuses. This is not to say that such abuse should be treated as an inevitability, but rather to help us understand, as Dierdra says, how often we need to be aware of the risk of treating our fellow humans poorly. Much of modern medical history is the story of the unwilling sacrifices made by people unable to defend themselves from the powers that be. Whether we are talking about the poor residents of public hospitals in France during the 18th century whose bodies were used to advance anatomy and pathology, to vaccine testing in the 19th century, to mental asylum patients in the 20th century who endured isolation, lobotomies, colectomies and thorazine, one can easily see this pattern beyond the Holocaust.

Even when we shift our focus away from abuse justified by “experimentation”, we have many such incidents of institutionalized state collusion in abuse that have made the news within the last 20 years with depressing regularity. Beyond the examples mentioned above, I offer border migrant detention centers and black sites for America, Xinjiang re-education sites and prisoner organ donation in China, Soviet gulags still in use in Russia, and North Korean forced labor camps (FLCs) for political prisoners as more current examples. I agree with Dierdra that these themes affect many people still alive today who have endured such abuses, and are enduring such abuses.

More on proper research and resources

Given that you are going to be exploring a topic when the pain is still so fresh, so raw, I think you had better have something meaningful to say. Dierdra’s recommendation to immerse yourself in nonfiction primary sources is essential, but I think you will also want to brush up on many established works of dystopian fiction featuring themes relating to state institutions and the exploitation of vulnerable populations. While doing so, read about the authors and how the circumstances of their environments and time periods influenced their stories’ messages and themes. I further recommend that you do so both slowly and deliberately so you can both properly take in the information while also checking in with your own comfort.

- Marika

#holocaust #holocaust tw #prison camps #oppression #tragedy exploitation #torture tw #resources #death tw #abuse tw #asks #history

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the-a-word-2214 · 4 years ago

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A.L.F.

summary: the A.L.F. are on the move and stumble upon a lost girl on their way to finding Okja. Inspired by the events of the movie Okja.

pairing: Jay x reader

word count: 1,543

warnings: language, fluff, possibly sensitive subjects, mentions of kidnapping and neglect, mentions of medical equipment

soundtrack: Annie’s Song- John Denver

The grime under your fingernails had started to become unbearable. The gnawing feeling of the zip ties around your wrists was enough for you to want to scream.

There should be a village coming to look for you, but alas, no one was coming. Your own father had sold you in exchange for the last bit of food that he could find at the market. So here you were, alone and dirty thirty days later in the deepest of basements. In Korea. You were beyond dirty, your once colorful blue hair now faded as your roots peaked through.

Your ribs were now showing, you’d dropped about ten pounds in the span of a month. To say you were exhausted would be an understatement. Just as you went to poke at the stale bread that was left on the dingy floor, a commotion could be heard upstairs. Murmuring and screams of pain sounded as a smoke bomb was dropped next to the door of the basement.

A “thunk” knocked against the door as it was broken open with a hefty shove. Five mysterious figures in masks surrounded you as you cowered towards the wall. They took off their ski masks as an authorative figure bent down to be eye level with you. The tight suit pants intrigued you as you looked over his figure.

His kind and inviting eyes mystified you as he gave you the smallest of smiles. “We are the Animal Liberation Front, we’re here to save you.” His voice came out hushed and gentle as he sliced the zip ties around your wrists with a knife. He handed the knife back to a girl with red hair before he scooped you up and carried you away.

The next few moments were a blur as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Your thoughts wavering as you tried to understand what was happening. Your blood pressure dropped rapidly as they fed an IV through a bag and hooked it up to your arm. The hands that once held you before now cradled your head as he lead your eyes up to his.

“It’s going to be alright. I’ve got you.” You heard him say just before you drifted off into the blackness of your subconscious.

———————————————————

You awoke to a pounding headache and a new sensitivity to light. The room around you was unfamiliar, a hotel room. The same five bodies from before were surrounding you, their appearances all different from one another.

The kind man from before was next to your bedside, his warm hand over yours. “My name is Jay. This is Red, Blonde, Silver, and K.” He pointed to each individual as he spoke.

“You’re the Animal Liberation Front.” Yes. That was it. Your memory, although a little foggy, hung onto the words that he said before you drifted into unconsciousness.

A hint of a smile plays at Jay’s lips as he gives you a confirming nod. “Yes, that’s correct. And you are (Y/N) (L/N). You lived with your father before you were kidnapped, is that correct?”

Tears swelled in your eyes as you looked towards the floor. “That’s not right, h-he sold me. He sent me to Korea in exchange for food.” Your voice wavered as you uttered the words that you denied in your mind every day.

Silver and Red looked to the ground after hearing your story. It was unfathomable that a father could do that to his only child. It was your reality though, and you could only grow from it.

“We’re really sorry, (Y/N). Although, we have a proposition for you. Show her Jay.” This was the first time that you’d heard blonde speak, he was evidently Australian.

Jay shows you images of past missions on an iPad. The sight of them reclaiming helpless animals makes your heart beat twice as fast. You’re snapped back to reality when Jay stops speaking. “Hm? Yes?”

A soft chuckle passes his lips as he hands the iPad back to K. “We want you to join us. We stop animal abusing corporations like Mirando along with many others. Our credo is set in stone and our mission is clear; save the planet, one animal at a time. So, what do you say? We will only begin your initiation if you agree.”

Before he can get another word out, you’re agreeing. “Yes, I’ll do it. I want to join you.” This was new, exciting, enticing. Their cause was noble, no one could deny that.

That was all it took, suddenly Jay was pulling you into a hug, the smell of his strong cologne intoxicating. You slightly chuckled before pulling away, the kind gesture made you realize how touch starved you were.

———————————————————

That leads me to your current predicament, shaky hands gripped the edge of a skyscraper as you dangled over the ledge. Blonde and Jay had their hands outstretched to you, they slowly began pulling you up. It was beyond terrifying but apparently that’s what it took to initiate someone into the A.L.F.

Your breaths were heavy and fervent as you stood atop the ledge and walked into the hotel room where you all were staying. The suit-clad man was who you clang to first, his intelligent mind and calm demeanor drew you in like a magnet. He was your boss first and foremost, secondly, he was your friend. An ally to turn to when things went wrong.

This newfound love made your heart swell with joy as you wrapped your arms tighter around Jay.

Your affection was interrupted just as a group known as the Black Chalk infiltrated the room, tear gas was misted into the air as batons were swung left and right, hitting your teammates.

“No!” You cried as you reached out for them just as a blow hit the back of your head. Your vision blurred once more as you grabbed onto Jay’s hand. He grabbed onto it, intertwining your fingers as he is struck down as well.

With the last bit of strength that he has, he pulls you towards him and dashes out. A limp to his step but he is able to run away nonetheless. With you in his arms like you once were all those years ago, he takes off down the street until he reaches a waiting truck to take you both to safety.

You catch glimpses of your team in handcuffs as the door slides down. With bated breath, you slink down the wall. Your eyes drift to the gaping wound on Jay’s stomach, blood begins to pool at the site. His eyes drift closed as you catch his head in your arms, moving him to your lap.

You let out an inhuman sound, a horrid sob. “K! We need help now!” You screech at him as he immediately gets on the phone with what you assume is a medic. You look down to the man that you’re so desperately in love with and stroke his hair away from his face.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Jay. I need you. I love you.” You press a gentle kiss to his slick forehead.

———————————————————

You never leave his side as the medic works, she makes quick work of an IV and begins to also work in a blood transfusion while she orders you to put pressure on the wound. All you can do is nod as you heed her commands.

Once she finishes, she checks his vitals before K drops her off and you drive to another hotel room. It’s as if the constant places that you called home kept constantly changing. Hotel room after hotel room, it was always what you woke up in.

The A.L.F. was a gratifying yet tiring job. One of the rewards of it was meeting and having Jay by your side. He made even your darkest day brighter, while also being a constant reminder of your team’s main goal.

You and K help your superior into the hotel room, your friend leaves the two of you alone for some privacy.

Your movements are careful as you ease him onto the bed. His eyes are as calm as usual, they hold a sense of nervousness for once though.

“I heard you.” He mutters as he looks at your hands, the nail polish on your nails chipped and worn down.

“Hm? Heard me when?”

“In the truck, I heard what you said. You told me that you loved me, that you needed me.” His lips curl upwards as his eyebrow quirks up.

You can’t help the blush that makes an appearance on your cheeks. “I did say that. You’re right.”

“Well, did you mean it? I have to know. You know how I feel about you, Blue.” The nickname rolls off his tongue with ease. An affectionate gesture recalling the color of your hair. His voice wavers as he reaches his hand out to touch yours, brushing his fingers lightly against the top of your hand.

You look to his hand and take it, enveloping it in your own. “Yes, I do.”

He smiles even wider and pulls you into a soft kiss. Your lips brushing against each other’s clumsily before you both become sure of yourselves.

This was the start of something beautiful, you just knew it was.

#paul dano #okja 2017 #okja #jay #jay x reader #red #silver #blonde #animal liberation front #Alf #red okja #silver okja #blonde okja #jay okja #k #k okja #jake gyllenhaal #is this self indulgent? yes #paul dano x reader

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jasperstjames · 3 years ago

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It was a light scoop day for Jasper St. James.

He hadn’t been back in town for all that long by the time he’d realized that every couple of months, people liked to take a break from the drama and simply concentrate on continuing to exist. It was the eye of the hurricane period, the months-to-years stretch between earthquakes where everyone began to wonder if they’d finally ended for good. Gravewood was consistent, the town’s drama hangovers occurring with enough regularity that Jasper knew he was about due to shake things up again.

But no one was biting.

That was how he’d ended up prowling the street that morning, looking for news in any place he could find it. Hanging around La Bodega, hesitating around the Mayor’s Office, and eventually landing around the entrance to Marie’s.

He’d just decided that he was probably more likely to get gossip from eavesdropping on the brunch crowd when he opened the door and almost crashed right into Hope Kang.

He hadn’t allowed himself the full disaster moment, the very sight of the girl thankfully having him freezing in place, but at what cost? Because he’d been stopped mid-step. In the middle of the doorway. Like some weirdo.

What was he supposed to do? Or say?

When he’d stumbled upon her on the (now beloved) chat site they both frequented, he’d recognized her instantly. It had also caused a level of panic within him the level of which being arrested at Taylor Swift’s abode hadn’t even managed to rouse (he was feeling some of that again in that moment).

He knew Hope Kang. He had all sorts of ideas in his head of what she was probably like, built up after years of avoiding her from the moment their hands had touched when he borrowed her pencil in the sixth grade. He kept loose tabs on her on Facebook, followed her from his finsta, knew enough to piece things together... he’d sent flowers to her house (anonymously and directed at the family as a whole) when her brother had passed.

It was not stalker behavior.

He had not at all been looking for Hope when he’d hit his low point and ended up legitimately just tipping girls to have someone to talk to. What he’d been after was a semi-to-fully nude therapist, someone to hear his problems and then never see him again. He’d stumbled across a few who had been pretty decent before fate had brought them together.

By that point he’d had to add a little more than a hat to his disguise. He’d lowered his voice, taken on an Australian accent, added glasses, and kept himself in low lighting at all times, his computer screen functioning as close to a ring light as he was going to allow in order to protect his identity.

She therefore didn’t know that the mysterious man who had legitimately poured out his heart and soul to her was Jasper St. James. And at the rate they were going, she never would. He’d asked to meet up several times, but chickened out last minute. By the time he’d worked up the courage to reveal himself at the ski lodge, the universe had prevented it from happening by plunging that place into an unreachable darkness.

How could one not take that as a sign?

But that didn’t mean that he could gracefully dip out of their public encounter. Not when she’d already turned to look at him. He had to make things seem... normal.

So, he spoke up... at a slightly higher pitch than normal, just in case. His body finally allowed him to resume a normal range of motion too.

“Hope Kang! As I live and breathe. How long has it been since we had a chat?”

@hopekang

#* hope #( this is so long but... so necessary )

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missoneminute · 3 years ago

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That anon who asked how lockdown is going in Australia got me thinking that many folks don’t know now how bad it’s gotten here.

TLDR: The Australian government screwed up the vaccine rollout and we have an unvaccinated population in bonkers level lockdown and a vaccine shortage.

Right now we are in lockdown since late June due to a Delta outbreak and the highest infection numbers we’ve ever had since the start, which are still low by international standards but very high for us. We’ve been told lockdown won’t end till we reach 80 percent vaccinated - we are at 20 percent now, among the lowest in the western world. There’s a critical vaccine shortage because our government failed to place orders for Pfizer when they could have, largely for cost saving reasons as the Astra was cheaper. They have lots of Astra but advised against anyone under 40 getting it due to multiple blood clot deaths here. People under 30 weren’t eligible for any vaccine at all until recently. They have since changed the advice to push Astra for those under 40, which as you can imagine lots aren’t keen on. The government has been stripping people who have Pfizer appointments - which have months long waiting lists - of their Pfizer vaccine and offering Astra instead, or nothing at all, at complete random. People in rural areas had their appointments cancelled so the shots could be taken by the cities instead. The waiting lines at most major vaccination hubs are five or more hours of people crammed together in barely distanced lines. And at the end of that you might not even get the shot you signed up for. Most folks don’t want the Astra because the health advice abruptly changed seemingly just to use up their supply. There’s no other vaccine on offer and the current wait time for Pfizer is till October for most areas. In order to book an appointment, you have to check every single clinic in your area one by one and fill out forms as you go, a process that takes as much as four hours. At the end of this you’re unlikely to find a slot before October. Not to mention the government site is riddled with bugs and the pages just fail or list appointments that don’t exist. We have some Moderna coming in a few months and the Pfizer supply is trickling in but there’s just not enough. We have an unvaccinated population being ravaged because of the complete failure of the vaccine rollout. Many predicted this would happen. We were largely Covid free for many months because we have the toughest border restrictions in the world and for no other reason. We just closed down to the world and even the states closed their borders to one another. We have two week quarantine just to travel between some states. You currently need a permit to even leave Sydney city. Pfizer hoped to use Australia as a shining example of how to do the pandemic right and offered them up a bounty of vaccines early on. Instead our government decided to save a few bucks and turned them down, ordering just 5 million doses for 25 million people. We have police and army patrolling the streets fining or arresting people for being outside without an excuse. Many Australians are stuck overseas and not being allowed to return. It’s also almost impossible to leave the country, even dual citizens of other countries are being prohibited from leaving - this happened to a good family friend who tried to leave for the USA. She’s an American citizen and they just said no. She’s stuck here, and she’s one of many. Many cases also of people being kept from loved ones as they die from terminal illness in hospital - my brother-in-law is among them, he was stopped from seeing his father on his deathbed after a stroke. He never got to say goodbye and he wasn’t granted a state travel exemption till it was too late. Also cases of people who have come here from other countries to see dying loved ones and had to say goodbye over FaceTime because they were locked in quarantine hotels for two weeks as their loved ones died. And then after that trauma, those same people are being stopped from leaving Australia and returning back overseas until they provide proof they are an overseas resident, such as utility bills. I’m not a conspiracy theorist, I support the vaccine and I support masks and even lockdowns. But Australia has become an example of both extreme overreach and complete and utter mismanagement, and what’s going on here is criminal. I know I’m rambling but what’s going on here is hard to describe and fills me with despair.

#australia #lockdown

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years ago

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What drove this country crazy after the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on 9/11? Was it how vulnerable we had been shown to be, that a group of 19 men armed with nothing more than box-cutters could bring the entire country to a halt? Was it that the attack was aimed primarily against innocent civilians, with nearly 3,000 killed at the Twin Towers alone? Was it that with the 19 hijackers dead in the suicidal attacks, we didn't seem to have anyone to retaliate against? Was it that we had no grasp whatsoever on understanding why our country, the freest and most democratic ever, was hated so much that they would attack us?

I remember how disconnected things felt for days, even weeks, after the attacks. Travelers outside the country didn't have a way to get home because flights had been canceled. People stranded in cities they were visiting within the country couldn't find cars to rent, there were so many trying to get home. Everyone seemed to feel a need to gather with families and friends and hunker down, as if another attack could come at any moment.

The country's leadership was frozen, stunned. Remember the photos of George W. Bush as an aide leaned over his shoulder and whispered the news into his ear? He was the president of the United States, and he looked scared to death. In fact, he was rushed from the school he was visiting in Florida to Air Force One, and his plane took off on what amounted to a flight to nowhere as his administration tried to pull itself together and decide how they would respond. It wasn't until hours later that Air Force One landed at Barksdale Air Force Base in Louisiana and Bush hurriedly addressed the press in a windowless conference room, vowing to "hunt down and punish those responsible for these cowardly acts." Three days would pass before the president was flown to New York to appear atop the rubble of the World Trade Center at what became known as Ground Zero to take a bullhorn and make the pledge that would launch the country on a trajectory that has yet to change: "I can hear you!" he shouted to the workers at the site, "The rest of the world hears you! And the people — and the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon!"

A collective madness ensued. A great scrambling began to protect us against … well, against what? Box-cutters first and foremost, it seemed, as a new regime of inspections began at airports everywhere. The initial panic over the hijacked flights would lead to the establishment of the Transportation Security Administration and the Department of Homeland Security, a kind of domestic department of defense which proceeded to put us on what amounted to a wartime footing within our own country that persists even today. How many times have you had to throw a set of fingernail clippers into a bin at airport security because a TSA agent was defending us from terrorism? How about removing your shoes because a lone lunatic made an unsuccessful attempt to blow up an airplane with a "shoe bomb"?

The entire paranoid regimen under which we still live 20 years later grew out of a supposed "war on terror" begun after 9/11 that has never ended. It took a decade to find and kill the actual terrorist who ordered the attacks on 9/11, but in the meantime two shooting wars were launched, only one of which had even the slightest connection to the terrorists who attacked us. There was an elemental problem: The war on terror wasn't against an enemy, it was against an idea, and ideas don't die when you hit them with bombs and bullets.

And so, without a readily definable enemy who could be seen and shot and killed and defeated, which is what wars are usually for, lies were substituted. We were buried with lies, and not just any lies. They had to justify the movement of hundreds of thousands of troops and the expenditure of trillions of dollars in treasure and the loss of thousands more American lives than died on 9/11 and countless more lives — enemies, civilians and, my goodness gracious, even a few real flesh and blood terrorists.

Sept. 11, 2001, was when the Big Lie was born. Or should we say, Big Lies, because they came fast and furious. By now they are known to be so completely without any basis in reality, so wholly bogus, that they hardly bear recounting. Weapons of mass destruction? Connections between Iraq and its government and leaders and the terrorists who attacked us on 9/11? Ha!

And then came new Big Lies to support the earlier Big Lies: that we were "winning" the war on terror. How many times were we reassured that all those lives and all those dollars were not being pissed away for nothing? How many times were we reassured that we were rebuilding the countries that hadn't needed rebuilding until we attacked them? How many times were we told of the miraculous training of the Iraqi and Afghan armies? They even invented a new word that I never learned in the classes I took in military history at West Point, a word to describe the magic bullet that was going to win both wars: the surge. If only we sent 10,000 or 20,000 or 30,000 or 50,000 more troops, we could win the mythical war on terror.

"Shock and awe" was a lie. "Taking Baghdad was a lie. The army of Iraq just went away. The "surge," each and every one of them, was a lie. "Winning" was a lie, every single time the word was used. Every. Single. Time. The Afghan army was a lie. It didn't even bother surrendering to the Taliban. It just went … poof. The Afghan "government" was a lie. It too went poof. The Iraqi government is a lie. Everything we have done to win the war on terror for two decades, 20 long years, has been a lie. We wasted trillions of dollars that could have been spent to, I don't know, feed hungry children in Arkansas? Pay for health care for poor families? Send kids to college? Reduce our dependence on fossil fuels and save our planet?

We wasted all those lives, American and Afghan and Iraqi and German and Australian and Polish and every other soldier from every other NATO country who died fighting "terror." And we killed hundreds of thousands of Afghan and Iraqi people for nothing.

For nothing.

The biggest Big Lie of them all was that it had meaning, that we accomplished something, that we somehow won the war on terror. Terror hasn't gone away. Hell, we're growing it ourselves now, right here at home.

I'll tell you another war we lost, maybe even a bigger and more important war than the war on terror. We lost the war on truth. And we were warned. Oh yes, we were warned. Take Donald Trump's first Big Lie right after 9/11 as just one example. He claimed — I hope you're sitting down for this — that he could see from his office window in Trump Tower crowds of Muslims across the Hudson River, several miles away, on the roofs of buildings in Jersey City, cheering as the World Trade Center fell.

Remember that one? It was such a patently outrageous lie that it zoomed right past without anyone noticing as the rest of the Big Lies hit one after another.

But Trump got away with it, and he learned from it. Oh, yes. He learned how the Big Lie worked. He learned from watching Bush get away with lying about WMDs, and he learned from the Big Lies that we were winning in Iraq and Afghanistan. So he started trying out other Big Lies of his own, like the one about how Barack Obama wasn't a citizen of the United States, that he had a fake birth certificate, that he was a "secret Muslim." Remember when Trump was all over the TV for days and days claiming that he had sent detectives to Hawaii? All we had to do was wait and he was going to reveal the "truth" about Obama.

He got away with his "birther" Big Lie, and he learned something that he has used ever since, something that helped him drive us into the ditch of the pandemic he lied about for a year, something that has helped him transform an entire political party, the Republican Party, from one of two normal political parties in this country into an authoritarian cult.

He learned that if he told Big Lies that were big enough, and if he repeated them enough times, that he could get away with it, just like Bush got away with lying about WMDs to get us into Iraq. And his party, the Republican Party, learned right along with him. Look at what they are doing right this minute about the insurrection he incited against the Congress of the United States in his naked attempt to overturn the election he lost. Donald Trump and the Republican Party are on a campaign to deny that it happened. They are trying to make a case that it wasn't Trump supporters who attacked the Capitol, it was somebody else, and those who were arrested are political prisoners facing false charges … and on and on and on.

The legacy 9/11 has left us is that there is no common set of facts we can agree on about anything: Not about the COVID pandemic and masks and vaccines; not about the climate change that has killed hundreds and left town after town burned to the ground or under water and destroyed by tornadoes and hurricanes. We cannot agree that votes counted amount to elections won or lost. We cannot even agree on the common good of vaccines that will save us, that science is worth studying, that learned experts are worth listening to.

The lies that followed 9/11 have torn us apart as a nation and put our democracy in peril. That's our legacy: Lies are now considered by an entire political party to be legitimate political currency. A man who has told so many lies we have lost count of them is now a legitimate political figure supported for the highest office of the land by one of our two political parties.

Lies began tearing us apart after the attacks on 9/11, and we have not regained our footing as a nation. The question hanging over us now is whether we ever will.

Lucian Truscott

#terrorism #articles #Lucian Truscott #Big Lie #Salon #9/11 #War on Terror

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lichenaday · 4 years ago

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The Reprehensible Racism and Ableism of Ernst Haeckel

So I have been avoiding this topic for quite some time even though it has been pressing on me. I believe that lichenaday should be all about the joys of lichens! But recently I have seen a resurgence of fascination with the illustrations of Ernst Haeckle, and I think it is important that people be informed on the darker side of science history to be more aware of where it still exists in the present. So if you prefer to skip this topic because you don’t have the emotional energy for it, go right ahead. I don’t blame you. CW/TW: Racism, ableism, eugenics, abuse of power, violence against infants, etc.

Ernst Haeckel (1834-1919) was a German naturalist, zoologist, anatomist, artist, and unfortunately, eugenicist. You may have seen some of Ernst Haeckel’s beautiful illustrations floating around the internet. Most of them are from his book Kunstformen der Natur (1904) (Art forms of Nature):

He is relevant to this blog for his contributions to the field of lichenology.

I myself have relogged the above image to this page before.

I have seen a lot of folks talking about buying these prints, getting tattoos based off them, and buying his books. But before you do that, you should know: ERNST HAECKEL WAS A SOCIAL DARWINST, ABLEIST, RACIST, AND EUGENESIST!

He believed in creating committees in charge of weeding out and killing off the undesirables of society in order to perfect humanity. Some of these ideals related to the right to euthenasia for individuals suffering with terminal illness, but these beliefs went well beyond that. An actual quote from his book Die Lebenswunder (1904) (The Wonders of Life):

“What good does it do to humanity to maintain artificially and rear the thousands of cripples, deaf- mutes, idiots, etc., who are born every year with an hereditary burden of incurable disease? Is it not better and more rational to cut oil from the first this unavoidable misery which their poor lives will bring to themselves and their families?”

And if you want to argue, “OK, but he was a product of his time, this belief was not uncommon,” he says in his own words that this viewpoint “oppose[s] the current prejudices and traditional beliefs” of his time. He is trying to persuade the masses to think like this, and received push back in his own time for not just holding, but spreading and ADVOCATING FOR these beliefs.

Along with his rampant ableism, he was also a practitioner of scientific racism (using shoddy scientific “evidence” to justify the superiority of certain races above others). He believed and CIRCULATED THE BELIEF that the inferior races would die out, and the “highly developed and perfect races” would thrive. Gross. Just one actual quote from a myriad of horribleness from his book Natürliche Schöpfungsgeschichte (1868, Vol. 2 1914) (The History of Creation):

“At the lowest stage of human mental development are the Australians, some tribes of the Polynesians, and the Bushmen, Hottentots, and some of the Negro tribes. Language, the chief characteristic of genuine men, has with them remained at the lowest stage of development, and hence also their formation of ideas has remained at a low stage . . . . All attempts to introduce civilization among these, and many of the other tribes of the lowest human species, have hitherto been of no avail; it is impossible to implant human culture where the requisite soil, namely, the perfecting of the brain, is wanting.”

Not only are these theories WILDLY scientifically inaccurate, but also morally and socially reprehensible. And they are as much a part of his cannon as his beloved illustrations. Ernst Haeckle wanted these ideals spread just as much (if not more) than his pretty little drawings.

Why does it matter? Why can’t we just appreciate his pretty drawings and move on? Because, people STILL BEILEVE AND SITE THIS SHIT. The contribution of these and similar beliefs are still circulated among modern eugenicists and Nazis and social Darwinists. And I figure there are other people out there like me, who when they learn about all this, feel less inclined to praise his art. I refuse to let his pictures go by without informing folks who maybe don’t want to celebrate a man who spread such horrendous false science, and like, just straight up pure evil.

Sorry, I know this is barely lichen adjacent. But I am a scientist attending graduate school in Germany, where I became aware of his infamy. And I hate bad science--especially bad science used to oppress others. It is an affront to the profession, and I believe it is our job as scientists to alert others to the existence of bad science and bad scientists, be they modern or historical.

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