#and i said which chris smith there's two and she said the bald one and i said well yeah and she said his wife just died

[united-under-skyfall]

growing up in a small town is like. i want to get as far away from here as humanly possible and never look back. i've been sorted into homeroom classes with at least seven of the same kids from kindergarten through graduation and i don't know that we've ever talked longer than five minutes but i'd probably die for them. this would be a nice place to live for the rest of my life, i think. you know everyone in town by their family name even if you don't actually know any of them personally. i'm tired. everyone i know is tired. i hate it here. i never want to leave. we have nothing to do here and the boredom gouges tracks in my brain. i am personally offended by anyone not from here who says there's nothing to do here. everyone here knows too much about me. i know too much about everyone here. how does it feel to start from a blank slate? i would never know. there is a quiet, hidden sort of rage that everyone plants in their gardens. the lemonade at the market tastes like five-year-old laughter, the library smells like paper and the hot chocolate they used to make for events in the basement. the local history room hadn't changed since they installed it because there's nothing else to add, nothing else to know. i am tired. they're developing things and too much is changing too quickly and this has been the same unchanging neighborhood for fifty fucking years and now it's utterly unrecognizable from the place i knew barely a decade ago. i am never sure how much this change is a good thing, how much is too much. it feels like someone is peeling back my wallpaper skin when i'm not looking, painting different shades over what i thought should be there. i'm not the only person in this place but it feels strangely like they should have asked for my permission first, like i am part of its foundation, or maybe it's part of mine. (do we ask the bricks what they want the wall to look like, too?) we all share layers of the same memories that are slowly shifting and eroding, and you can see it everywhere you look, viscerally, physically. i think it is impossible to escape this place unless you are willing to bleed, and make bleed. it would be so, so easy to just disappear. the air feels fresher here than anywhere else, simply because it is the baseline my body has learned and my lungs have loved. i am so very, very tired. i think it's this place. i think i like it. i don't know. i don't know how to be anything else. i learned from brick and mortar, from pavement, from parks; buildings that served my mother as a child, graves no one visits anymore, trees older than my family line; everything sags, the colors washed out. they are tired, too.

[redcarpetview]

Highlights from the 2022 Academy Awards

Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith arrive on the red carpet of the 94th Oscars® at the Dolby Theatre at Ovation Hollywood in Los Angeles, CA, on Sunday, March 27, 2022.

     Written for The Austin Villager Newspaper By Naomi Richard

    The 2022 top Oscar® Award winners included CODA for Best Picture, Will Smith for Best Actor, Jessica Chastain for Best Actress, No Time to Die for Best Original Song, Encanto for Best Animated Feature, Jane Campion for Best Director, Ariana DeBose for Best Supporting Actress and Troy Kotsur won for Best Supporting Actor. For a complete list of all 2022 Oscar® winners visit https://www.oscars.org/oscars/ceremonies/2022.

     The night began with an amazing opening by hosts Regina Hall, Amy Schumer, and Wanda Sykes. They were beautiful, poised and incredibly funny throughout the ceremony.

           Things were going well during Hollywood’s first full in-person award ceremony for The Academy Awards since the COVID-19 outbreak. FAMU graduate, movie producer and television producer Will Packer made history by employing the first all-Black production team in Oscar® history along with the Chief of Staff of Will Packer Productions Shayla Cowan. In addition, Packer added three scores of music throughout the night and some of the industry's biggest musical stars performed including Beyoncé, Billie Eilish, Reba McEntire and Sebastian Yatra. What a great night for persons of color.

 Then, suddenly, the show took a turn…a very…bad turn.  

 A disturbing slap from Will Smith appeared to take place onstage during the Oscars® when comedian and actor Chris Rock presented the award for Best Documentary. Rock tried to add humor before announcing the award. Speaking to Jada Pinkett Smith, Will Smith’s spouse, Rock said “Jada, I love ya. G.I. Jane 2, can’t wait to see ya!” Then the cameras cut to Will Smith laughing while Jada Pinkett Smith rolled her eyes at the remark.

 Pinkett Smith has been transparent about her difficulty with alopecia (a hair loss that starts with one or more circular bald patches), so she did not appreciate this comment. The camera cut away as Will Smith walked onstage and smacked Rock. The entire award show’s audio was cut, but lip readers, as well as viewers in Japan and Australia, received the uncensored version of what happened next. Rock said, “Will Smith just smacked the sh*t out of me.” To which Smith replied, “Keep my wife’s name out of your f*cking mouth!” Smith said it more than once.

 "Richard Williams was a fierce defender of his family," a remorseful Smith said as he began his acceptance speech after winning Best Actor for his role in King Richard later in the show. He apologized to many people - including tennis stars Venus and Serena Williams, Richard Williams' daughters - but did not mention Rock in his apology.

 “What I loved was, Denzel [Washington] said to me a few moments ago, he said, ‘At your highest moment, be careful, that’s when the Devil comes for you,’” he recalled.

 The Academy has since condemned Smith’s action and its leadership has launched a formal review of the slapping incident. Smith has since apologized to Rock. There is something triggering and traumatic that occurs when two prominent Black men in America are involved in an unscripted altercation, live and on full display. This night will long be remembered, but mostly for the wrong reasons.

     Samuel L. Jackson arrives on the red carpet of the 94th Oscars® at the Dolby Theatre at Ovation Hollywood in Los Angeles, CA, on Sunday, March 27, 2022.

   Nevertheless, in an earlier non-televised portion of the ceremony, legendary actor Samuel L. Jackson received an Honorary Oscar® along with other movie industry veterans for their decades of film and humanitarian work. Actor Denzel Washington presented his esteemed colleague and friend Jackson at the black-tie event by noting he has appeared in 152 films that have grossed more than $27 billion at movie box offices over five decades. The award was presented during the 12th Annual Governors Awards on Friday night (March 25).

 While the “Will Smith incident” placed a damper over the televised production, we applaud all winners honored by The Academy.

                                                                                                                    # # #

[allyn211]

Coda for Chris, Will, or the Oscars?

Last night's Oscar ceremony should have been remembered for the history-making movie CODA. 

Instead, it will be remembered for the poor behavior of two grown men who should know better but apparently don't.

CODA is the first Best Picture winner to be from a streaming service (Disney +), the first starring predominantly Deaf actors to win Best Picture, and the second Deaf actor, Troy Kotsur, to win an Academy Award. Kotsur won Best Supporting Actor. (The first Deaf actor to win an Academy Award was Marlee Matlin, who won Best Actress in 1986 for Children of a Lesser God.) CODA is an acronym for Child Of Deaf Adult. The movie tells the story of the one hearing member (played by Emilia Jones) of a Deaf family who attempts to help her family's fishing business. 

The headlines could and should be talking about how CODA can give its audience a look into the world of the Deaf and of the challenges the Deaf and CODA's face. They could and should be celebrating that a film with predominately Deaf actors could get made, could get the attention of the Academy, and could win Best Picture. 

Instead, regular media and social media are screaming about the altercation between Chris Rock and Will Smith.

Rock, on stage to present the award for Best Documentary, joked from the stage that Javier Bardem had the hardest job that night because both Bardem and his wife, Penelope Cruz, were both nominated for Oscars, and "if she loses, he can't win!" Bardem was nominated for Best Actor for his role in "Being the Ricardos," Cruz for Best Actress in "Parallel Mothers". 

The audience laughed, and Rock quipped that Bardem was "praying that Will Smith wins!" 

Then he said, "Jada, I love you. GI Jane II, can't wait to see it." 

For anyone unaware, Demi Moore, who starred in 1997's "GI Jane," sported a shaved head for the movie. 

Jada Pinkett Smith, who was at the Oscars sporting a bald head, didn't laugh along with the rest of the audience . . . which included her husband, Will Smith. 

Who laughed at first.

And then who, a few seconds later, came onstage and slapped Chris Rock.

The following exchange happened: (transcription is mine from this video, posted by Guardian News on YouTube.) Rock:  "Oh wow.  Wow. Will Smith just smacked the [expletive] out of me."

(audience laughter)

Smith:  "Keep my wife's name out of your [expletive] mouth!"

Rock:  "Wow, dude."

Smith:  "Yes."

Rock:  "It was a GI Jane joke."

Smith:  "Keep my wife's name out of your [expletive] mouth!"

Rock:  "I'm going to, okay?  Oh -- oh, okay."

(audience goes silent at that point.)

Smith:  "That was the, uh, greatest night in the history of television."

(audience laughs).

Rock: "Okay."

I did not know until today that Jada Pinkett Smith has alopecia, an autoimmune disorder which causes a person's hair to fall out. She went public with it in 2018. That was the reason she was there at the Oscars with her bald head. While checking my facts for this blog entry, I saw her quote:  "Me and this alopecia are going to be friends." 

She is bald and beautiful.  (Me, I would probably be shopping for every wig I could find.)

Will Smith did win Best Actor for his role in "King Richard", the story of Venus and Serena Williams' rise to fame on the tennis court. He tearfully said that "love makes you do crazy things" in his acceptance speech, but offered no apology to Chris Rock.

Rock, as of this writing, has declined to press charges.

I'm sitting here, right now, trying to figure out what I can, or should, say to all of this. I stopped watching the Oscars several years ago, although I'm still curious about who won what. Several years ago, the theme of the Oscars was, "Let's go back to the movies!" I said in response: Hollywood, we'll go back to the movies when you give us decent movies to go back to! 

Hollywood has had its share of decent movies with great actors and actresses, writers, and story lines. 

But last night, we all got a glimpse of the ugliness that goes on behind the scenes.  

This isn't the first feud/fight between actors or actresses in Hollywood history.  It won't be the last. But if memory serves me correct, it's the first time such ugliness has spilled onto the stage on the night that Hollywood has picked to honor itself. 

And these are the people we're supposed to look to as role models? 

So, instead of what could be a healthy discussion about the challenges of Deaf people and their hearing children, what could have been an opportunity for a man to speak of his beautiful wife, we're now seeing the back and forth of, "It was staged!" "Chris Rock was out of line!" "No, he's a comedian!" "People have to put up with jokes." "Can't people take a joke anymore?" "Will was a real man, he got right up there and defended his wife's honor!" "Will should have settled it outside with Chris after the show!" "Will should have apologized to Chris in his acceptance speech!"  Maybe there will be a decent, healthy discussion about alopecia and the toll it takes on its sufferers.

Maybe, although I doubt it, there will be a decent, healthy discussion about how men should handle their anger in face of an insult, especially when it involves their wife or significant other. 

Maybe, there will be a decent, healthy discussion about the Deaf community and the challenges that Deaf and hearing members of the same family face. 

Forgive my cynicism, but I doubt it. Decent, healthy discussion went out the window about a decade ago and it's taken a steady downhill plunge since. 

Last night should have been about CODA.

Last night could have been about CODAs.

Instead, last night could have seen the coda of Chris Rock's career, Will Smith's career, and the Oscars as we know them.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

from Blogger https://ift.tt/dbD73mq via IFTTT

[clown-bait]

Paranormal Journeys (Pt8) Tortured

Update time! When we last heard of the trashpire she was in a bit of a sticky situation a new face arrived on the scene and somehow she lost a finger. Pennywise is not happy about any of this. Especially because he had to get help from his nemesis. At this point you should just get a pet tracker for your girl Pen she seems to get herself into trouble way too often.

Oh right and some music to go along with this chapter:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHQUfgq1seM

----------

Ch 15 Tortured

“Well, well, well if it isn't my favorite bitch! You know I was going to send you some Frontline for christmas since the last time I walked by your house I got covered in fleas.” Leech grinned through the ichor leaking from her face as the alpha werewolf Danielle walked into the barn and backhanded her already bruised face.

“Still making dog jokes even though you're the one on a leash? Leech I knew you were obnoxious but this is just pathetic.”

“H-harder mommy.” Leech whimpered through the sting of the she-wolfs hand.

“ugh and still disgusting.”

“At least when it rains I don't smell like wet dog!” The vampire called out as her rival turned away to Zander who had grabbed her arm as she passed.

“Wait you know her?”

“Unfortunately. I also know that the creature she's dating is the creature you've been looking for Zander”

“You fucked Humperdink?!” Leech shouted from behind them. The she-wolf turned to her in confusion.

“What?”

“She's been referencing Princess Bride for hours now.” Chris sighed.

“It's a classic! I’ve been trying to get Penny to watch it with me forever now. He liked Labyrinth though so not all hope is lost.”

“Yeah back to *ahem* Penny. The clown that was in the house thats what killed your sister and whats more disgusting she's dating it.” Danielle pointed at Leech who was raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“She's what now?”

“Ok listen its more than just dating, we’re a mated imprinted pair! Like- uh shit how did he describe it…ducklings? Violent sexual ducklings!” Leech called out to them in annoyance. The group grimaced and turned back to ignore her.

“Well, thats a mental image I never needed.” Rick said while rubbing his temples. Danielle regained her composure after cringing at the thought of what the clown and his vampire got up to when they were alone.

“Look I'm not going to explain it but you can help me stop it, using her as bait.” she said to the group while Leech yelled in shock.

“Oh my god you absolute bitch!!” the nosferatu spat and struggled in her restraints.

“She's just as evil as the creature its self so don't feel bad about anything I'm about to suggest but were going to have to torture her a bit for information.”

Chris and Zander both nodded, Rick hesitated but agreed when he saw the others eagerness to work together on this one.

“I am so not evil…..wait no yeah, yeah I am.” Leech snarked at them once again. Whatever it was these humans thought they could do to her she's had worse.

“Get something sharp and silver. Vampires cant tolerate it.” the werewolf grinned. Leech's smile faded as she heard a mirror shatter.

“Ah fuck.”

The werewolf cautiously approached leech brandishing the silver mirror shard in one hand holy water in the other. “Tell us how to get to the clown.”

“You'll have to kill me.” the nosferatu spat.

“Splash her.”

Holy water sliced into Leech’s abused skin fizzing and bubbling like acid. The vampire cursed and whimpered. Then she laughed.

“M-more” she panted and was struck with the water again.  

“Let's try once more how do I find the clown?”

“Have you checked the circus?”

“You're not funny”

“And you snack on milk bones.”

“Hand me the crucifix.” the alpha said to Chris as Leech hollered out to the group.

“Don't believe me? Check her purse! I’ve totally seen some in there!”

The she-wolf pulled out a large cross from a sheet. The nosferatu smiled.

“Oh! We’re gonna get rough I see. Well, we all know I like it rough!” Leech’s sneer turned into a wail of pain as she was brought to the floor. The cross pushing her down via searing internal agony until the thing started to catch fire in Danielle’s hands.

“Th-that it?” the vampire panted and rolled onto her back.

“If you wont tell us how to find him well make him come to us” Danielle sighed putting the cross away. Her prey was as stubborn as she was annoying time for a different tactic.

“He's going to wipe you from existence when he finds out you betrayed him.” Leech snarled keeping her voice low so the humans couldn't hear her. “Why are you risking this?”

“For power. I kill you and put your clown back to sleep, then for 27 long years the town is ours to do with as we please.”

“Always knew you needed to be put down.” Leech muttered.

The blonde bared her teeth and plucked a pair of old rusted sheep sheers off the wall. She turned to Chris who had been wearily watching her since she had entered the barn. “Here make yourself useful.” she called to him holding out the clippers. The ghost hunter took the sheers and looked at the blonde woman and then over to the chained monster on the dusty barn floor.

“You know I don't have any hair right?” the vampire called out from the background.

The she-wolf rolled her eyes and turned to Zander. “Z this thing on the floor? She can lead the creature to us, the thing that killed your sister we have to use her to make sure justice is done.”

“IT would come for her?” the lead ghost hunter asked.

“Oh baby you have no idea!” Leech flashed the room a devilish smile still trying to taunt her captors.

“Ew.” Chris grimaced

“Yeah ok someone help me grab her at least we can shut her up” Zander pulled on Rick’s arm who moved to restrain the nosferatu. Leech raised her eyebrows in amusement as she was thrown to the floor and held down.

“Uh Z? What am I cutting off?” Chris asked

“Well, she doesn't have any hair…. maybe a piece of her shirt?”

Chris and Danielle both shot Zander a questioning look, then gave the same to the vampire when she started laughing from her spot on the floor.

“HA pussies! Like Pennywise would risk everything for a piece of fabric! You gotta cut off something I’d miss!”

“Why are you encouraging that??” The she-wolf shouted completely dumbfounded.

“Honestly? Cause your attempts at being evil here are pretty lame.”

“wh-“

“Plus the guy you gave those scissors to doesn't look like he has the balls to do it anyway.”

“well yeah you're talking about amputating something here!” Chris shouted.

“Just cut off her finger Chris.” Danielle rolled her eyes growing tired and impatient.

“Yeah Chris do it! Bet you’ll bitch out!” Leech yelled and taunted again.

“Chris wait we don't have to do this!” Zander could smell the potential lawsuit from here. His little revenge plot has gotten way out of hand. He had never really expected to find anything and when he did he had just sorta been winging it till he met Danielle in that bar.

“Humperdink is a pussy you gonna let a guy like that control your life? Cut off my finger” Leech shouted again.

“I-“

“Chris I'm your boss listen to me” Zander pleaded.

“I dont-“

“what are you waiting for be a man DO IT!” Danielle shouted this time.

“Z, I cant-“

“HA! I knew it!” Leech called out triumphantly as if she had just won some kind of prize. Zander continued to shout at his teammate while Danielle motioned the ghost hunter to proceed. The whole thing was a bit overwhelming for him to say the least.

Chris looked at Zander who was now shouting orders at him, the woman he chose to sleep with instead of him and the insane bald creature on the floor.

“This is some real half assed torture you've organized here Danielle I'm kinda embarrassed for you. Seriously you should brush up on your technique cause- FUCK” something behind Leech landed on the floor in a wet thud. “Holy shit I didn't think he'd actually do it…….” the vampire said in a small shocked voice as her breathing rapidly began to increase. The barn was silent in shock, for only a moment nothing but a few splatter noises of thick ichor falling for Leech’s hand. Then the vampire gasped and lurched forward before opening her mouth to scream.

————————————-

Over all the eons he had existed today had to be one of the top ten worst days of pennywise’s immortal life. the clown led his nemesis down the corridors of his sewer preferring to travel this way and to keep the existence of his- friends is too strong of a word…..associates he has been forced to live with. Yes much better! The existence of his associates hidden.

The group didn't seem too  troubled over his mates plight anyway. Which infuriated the clown even when he showed them her severed finger they rolled their eyes. If they only knew of her condition! At least two of them would actually be concerned!

“Soooo…” the human behind him began to speak. Pennywise let out a low clicking growl in annoyance

“What”

“Now that we have this…truce..I have a few-“

“You get three.”

“Can one of them be how to kill you?”

“No.”

“All right then when did you grow feelings?”

“I didn't grow feelings.”

“That’s not what i saw back at the house”

the clown bared his fangs. “Next question.”

“You cant give me three questions and then refuse to answer them.”

“The only reason you're alive right now sheep boy, is because your grandfather was clever enough to build his farm somewhere I can’t reach. Which way?”

“Left. Are you controlling her mind how did this start?”

Pennywise laughed at that. “You think I wanted this to happen? I was quite content till Leechie ruined my life. She came on to me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“For all your snooping you sure don't know much. Humans, so moronic.” the clown grinned to himself. Mike chewed over the implications that someone could actually find this thing attractive enough to pursue it and even fall in love with it. Whoever or whatever Lucy Smith really was she must be sick in the head.

“What is she?”

Pennywise turned his head back and smirked as he walked. “Not human. Something much, much better.”

“Do you love her?”

The clown stopped cold. “That was three questions I'm not answering that.”

“You didn't answer it the first time. Do you love her?”

Pennywise stood still and silent. Mike couldn't see the clown’s ocean blue eyes or the slight quiver of his lip in the dark sewer tunnel but from the absolute stillness the librarian seemed to have his answer.

“We’re making another left.” Mike finally spoke up snapping Pennywise from his trance-like state. “I cant believe you of all people fell in love”

“Shut up Mikey.”

“Clearly she's had quite the effect on you.”

“I SAID THATS ENOUGH”

“The others aren't going to believe me when I tell them-“

Pennywise turned and roared in the librarians face. His fangs multiplying so much they no longer fit in his own mouth while his eyes bulged their alarming red and yellow. “NO! SHE STAYS OUT OF THIS” he practically spat bits of flesh into Mike’s eyes in his rage. It took a lot for the librarian to remain as calm as possible trying to remind himself that IT still needed his help and was desperate enough to broker a truce. He'd keep this bit of information for a later use, Pennywise may have a weakness after all.  As the clown turned back around still with those bulging glowing eyes lighting the sewer Mike sighed and boldly gave him one final jab to the ego.

“You definitely love her.”

“I hate your species so much” Pennywise mumbled and continued to blindly lead the way to the outer reaches of his territory.

——

They came to the end of the sewers greeted by the lush forest surrounding the town animals skittered away in fright at the sight of the creature that emerged from its domain squinting slightly in the light and sniffing the air.

“I don't smell her.” he snarled “Did you lie to me human?! I can find out yes I can! I’ll pluck out your eyes one by one and tear out your ears!” he sang and threatened the poor librarian who stood his ground and shook his head.

“No, I didn't lie. This is the back way to the farm a way only I know about.”

Penny snarled and huffed impatient and hungry from his walk. “Show me.”

“You have to promise”

“Yes, yes your life will be spared if she is unharmed.”

“No you have to promise not to kill anymore children.”

Penny bared his teeth at the librarian. He was close enough he could kill him now and search himself, it would take more time but he'd at least be rid of the little lighthouse keeper of those kids. The clown flexed his claws but paused when something crawled out of the river. A turtle hauled its self out onto a rock to dry in the last remaining beads of light in the setting sun something fluttered in the air around it landing on its shell and unfolding its pale wings. The moth sat on the reptile for a few moments before fluttering onto the clowns claw then out of his grasp forever off into the sky. A warning from his brother. Figures.

“This will not last.” Penny said at last.

“I didn't think it would. If it happens again, if you take a child I will call them back.”

“We have a deal then.” the clown grumbled. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place here. If Leech wasn't so vulnerable he could have said no and just gobbled his long time nemesis up but no. Things had to happen now at the cusp of everything important. He had little choice and he felt helpless and angry. For the first time he had something that made him happy other than food and his brother had to ruin his fun. First he’ll end the losers, then Maturin. He would see to it they all pay.

“Its just this way theres an entrance to the main barn through the cellar, I-I’d hide here when I was younger to get out of slaughterhouse work.”

“Couldn't take a life of a lamb could ya Mikey?” Penny sneered

“I raised them myself, its harder when they're your’s… but then again you wouldn't understand that would you.”

The clown snarled and let out a growl that was thick with offense. “I am learning.” was his answer as he pushed through the dusty wooden door. Mike chewed on the creatures words for a bit. What did that mean? The creature’s sense of urgency was starting to take on a much deeper meaning now as the librarian followed after him.

The cavern got darker and darker as they pushed forward Pennywise melting into the shadows despite his silver costume. Mike used a flashlight to keep track of the thing from his nightmares as it sniffed the dust filled air. Pennywise paused and inhaled deep a low gravely whine escaped his throat and he inhaled again as if the intoxicating scent was quelling an addiction.

“She's here.” he began “She's wounded.”

“Well, she is missing a finger.”

“Quiet human!” penny snapped and listened to the silent cellar.

His eyes flicked forward when he heard it. it was feint but ominous. Someone was singing and Penny knew the song well. She had been singing it non stop for a week now.  

Well you can't hold me

I'm too slippery

I do no sleeping

I get lonely

You can touch me

If you want to

I got poison

I just might bite you

Lie in circles

On the sunlight

Shine like diamonds

On a dark night

Ain't no mercy

In my smiling

Only fangs and

Sweet beguiling

Well the future he don't

Try to find me

Skin I been through

Dies behind me

Solid hollow

Wrapped in hatred

Not a drop of

Venom wasted

Well you can slip in

Try to find me

Hold your breath and

Flat deny me

It makes no difference

To my thinking

I'll be here when

You start sinking

The clowns posture relaxed in relief as he took in the siren call to him. He cocked his head to the side and grinned wide in the direction of the librarian who wasn't sure if it was wise to approach any further. Penny shut his eyes and sighed again.

“My Peachy.”

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

Who’s ready for carnage! Cause shits about to get fucked up in the next chapter. Some graphic skin removal, playing 70s rock music on muscle tendons someone might even get shot in the face! How exciting! Oh and you know the reveal of whats been going on with our trashpire. That too.

[exalnotaxel]

Agua Bendita, AZ

Prior to the 2016 Election, Chris and I wrote a short speculative fiction for a competition. We were to imagine a reality in which Donald Trump wins the election, and well... he won. So now I’m posting it to see the accuracy of our prediction. I hope that it’s not entirely accurate, but only time (and your voices) will tell. 

Agua Bendita, AZ by Chris L Smith & Exal Iraheta

I find myself in an unintentional town built from scraps, and broken backs. Three years ago this was only tumbleweeds and rocks, but thanks to Combover, people found themselves forced to make shelter near this bust of a wall. Long story short, the wall started strong, support from both sides, but then people got pissed. The cost started to fuck everyone over, and after one year, construction stopped; and these people were left stranded in the shadow of the relics of a failed wall. Things really went to hell.

The motel where I’m staying is a little thing, closer to the border than I would like to be.

“This is it,” a middle-aged, woman with graying hair, says to me as she opens the door to the room. A twin bed sits in the middle, facing a three drawer dresser made of particleboard and duct tape. The walls are a bright orange.

“What brings you all the way out here?” she asks.

“I’m writing an article.”

She looks me up and down, “Big city?”

“Yeah. The biggest.”

“Humph,” she says.

“How long have you been here?” I ask her, ready to find the first leg of my story.

She gives me a smirk, hands me the keys and closes the door after her.

“Thanks,” I say, hoping not everyone in this town is as skittish around outsiders.

The small window on the other side of the room adorns a mustard yellow curtain, I can’t tell if the yellow is intentional or a result of years of filtering second hand smoke. As I push it aside I can see a fence enclosing what looks like a skeleton. The skin of the beast has been stripped away like a sunken ship, left to be consumed by the very dirt it was meant to divide.

After a couple of aspirins chased by a shot of tequila, I make my way into town to take a look around. There is a cluster of houses stacked on top of each other like coffins, a small convenience store at the corner, a dive diner, a liquor store; the necessities I suppose. Two kids kick around a brick like a soccer ball, wearing presumably, their father's steal toed boots. Behind them sits a blue-eyed, bald, old man - his shoulders broader than I could ever wish for.

“If you’re looking for a construction job, you’re a few months too late,” the old man says. “Not that you’d be any good in those.”

I look down at my black loafers, fully covered in dirt. I don’t know why, but this makes me feel a bit embarrassed.

“No sir, mister....” I walk up to him and extend my hand. He takes it, a firm grip, gives it a tug and lets go. “I’m here to interview some of the locals, get a sense of—”

“Another goddamn story huh?” The man spits into a Coke can. “Well, if you’re looking to talk to someone, you should pay a visit to Maria Soledad. She loves getting her name in print.”

I clumsily reach for my phone to write down her name, but keep fucking up my damn code. “Is she the forewoman?”

“Nah. She’s a butch dike who probably wanted  to be a goddamn movie star.” He points off to the east. “You’ll find her up there.”

I finally jot down her name. “Well what about you? Why did you come down?”

He spits again, some of the tobacco spit mixture catches the rim of the can.

“The same reason 300 other motherfuckers moved down here. A goddamn contract.”

I turn to leave. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I ain’t give it to you.” He says with a satisfied smile.

The next day, I make my way down the fork at the end of the dirt road. I only have three days, three fucking days to come up with something. I figure, fine, I’ll talk to some folks, make a piece about desperate eccentric people. They have to be batshit crazy to stay in this town. Right?

A woman, probably around my age, beautiful tan skin, with obviously bleached blonde hair, waters a pathetic garden. She dunks a cracked plastic bucket into a 55 gallon water drum. Her small frame could easily be swallowed whole by the damn thing.

“Excuse me?” I say forcefully, making my voice friendlier, a little skill I acquired from my telemarketer days before being replaced by laptops.

“Oh my lord!” She says, keeping a steady foot on the ground. “You scared the bejesus out of me!”

Her voice is oddly comforting, maybe it’s the subtle hint of midwestern in her, but she reminds me of a relative, maybe my grandma.

“Not many people say ‘Excuse me?’ around here?” I say.

“Not unless they’re wrestling you over a glass of whisky,” she says, with a laugh.

I look behind her, to a small house with a stucco exterior which blends into the dirt and rocks that surround them.

“Lovely place,” I give a nod.

“Oh that? Ain’t it? Isn’t mine though, but thank you.”

“Oh.”

“I live over there, next to that tent park.”

Her sooty finger points towards a cream colored camper, probably ten years old.

“A camper huh? I’ve never been in one of those.”

She pauses and with a raised brow, “Aren’t you a little too young to be hitting on me?”

I can feel my face blush, but I’m sure my brown skin doesn’t show it. “Oh no, sorry. No, I was just trying to think of a compliment, but realized I didn’t have one about campers, because I’ve never been in one.”

She wipes her forehead and takes a deep breath. The dirt on her face leaves a dark mud streak.

A group of children run by, including the two boys from yesterday. They chase each other, tossing stones and rocks found by the wayside.

“Hey, if you little bastards don’t quit that I’m gonna sick Lenny and Carl on you!” she yells.

The kids freeze.

“That’s right, now get a move on.”

The eldest boy, probably around 12, gives her the finger as they run off. “Oh you little punk. Fuck you!” She gives it right back to him.

“Damn kids. I swear, parents get a whiff of money and suddenly you got desperate people, who don’t know what the hell a condom is, moving their illiterate asses down here.”

I take out my phone, and jot a few notes down. This gives her pause.

“Another reporter? Damn it. We’ve spoken to everyone about everything already,” she turns to leave.

“Wait, no, I mean, yes, I’m a reporter. I mean, my name is Travis,” I raise my hand in a weak wave. It makes me feel like a first grader. Now I remember, not grandma, teacher. “Look, I only have a couple of more days left here, and honestly I just need a few interviews, doing a sort of catch up piece, see where things are now, three years after Pumpkin-head in charge started this fiasco.”

“Where you from? Fox News, CNN... The Daily Show?”

“No, I can’t stand cameras.”

“Oh not the Huffington—”

“Look, this is just a small post, not even a blog worthy length. My editor thought it would be a great fucking idea, and well—”

“What the heck did you do? It must have been really terrible to be sent out here on assignment. In the three years since we scraped together this little town, they have not once sent out a reporter of quality. Not once. Each and every one of them did something stupid to get sent down here. Can you believe that? Your kind uses our town as punishment.”

I stand speechless. I could tell her about how I got super high at our office Christmas party. I could tell her how I got so drunk the night before the last presidential debates, I got kicked out and arrested for disorderly conduct. I could tell her, but what’s the fucking point?

“My name is Maria, I’m the one with a green thumb ‘round here.”  I look over to her sparse garden. “You try growing tomatoes in the g-damn desert,” she says, before motioning me to follow her.

She swings open the small door, followed by a gust of hot air.

“The space is small, but I make do,” Maria says, tossing some of her torn jeans aside from the entrance. “Excuse my mess, I wasn’t expecting company.”

I get an odd feeling in my head, as if my brain is working extra hard to take note of everything inside. The way she drapes her small window with a red scarf, giving the room a magenta hue. Her stacks of books, teetering on the edge of a two person kitchen table, only inches away from the sink that could probably hold three dishes.

“Do you mind if I record our conversation?” I say, trying my best to hide my judgement, but I’m sure it’s of no use.

“I don’t mind,” she says.

“So, before, you mentioned Lenny and Carl, are those other residents?”

She gives a boisterous laugh that catches me off guard. For a moment there, I question her sanity.

“Oh, no no,” she says, shaking her head. “Those are Simpsons characters, but I may have told those little turds they were escaped prisoners from the construction groups they brought down here from Buckeye, talk about story, that’s what you all should be writing about.”

“Prisoners? Working on the wall?”

“Yes!” She reaches into her single serve fridge and hands me beer. “Imagine, 300 of us, leaving lives behind to come down to this pile of shit to get some work, and what do we find? A chain gang, already here. I only saw two months of pay the entire year we built.”

The beer sizzles, some of the foam falls on my hand. I unthinkingly suck it up. “How long did that last?”

“Up until we started to fight back. I don’t care if the Mexicans or the 99 percent were paying for this damn wall, I just wanted to be able to pay for my kid’s lunches. They owe me about thirty-eight thousand, am I ever going to see that? Probably not.”

I look over to a small counter protruding off the sink. There are piles of documents, receipts, trash, but in the midst of all that, perfectly centered, is a single frame of two little girls.

“Those your daughters?” I ask her.

She nods, “Cindy and Vicky.”

“Wait, I thought - the old man said you were a lesbian.”

“It is 2019 Mr. Travis, ‘LESBIANS’ can have children you know.”

“Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant to ask about your spouse. Where is she?”

Maria goes silent for a moment. She takes a long swing of her beer.

“Well, up until two years ago, she was my wife, but laws change I suppose. Afterwards it was just fights, disagreements, and bitterness. You know how these things go don’t you? What are you like 32, 33?”

“36,” I say, sipping on my beer, fighting the temptation to chug the whole thing, and have a second.

“36? Were you married? Wife? Assuming you’re straight.”

I can feel my body for some reason swaying. “I am.” I say with an odd quiver. “Was married for a year. Divorced now. She was from Texas, not that that matters.”

“Well, what happened?”

“I guess the same reasons I find myself researching a fluff story here,” I say, wondering where that honesty came from. She must have slipped something in my beer.

“Well, Mr. Travis, at least you had a choice in the matter. Carey and I, well, the fucking country decided we were over.”

Maria drinks the rest of her can, and effortlessly crushes it with her hands. “But what’s the use in dwelling on that. The way I see it, I’m stuck here. I could move somewhere I suppose, but every time I get the nerve too we get told that work is about to start up again. I dunno. I guess I don’t have anywhere to go back to.”

“How do you afford living here if they—”

“I knew our conversation would eventually get here. I’ll tell you what, Mr. Travis, the wall may not be very profitable but women have always found a way to make it at the expense of lonesome men.”

I want to ask the obvious question, but something holds me back. I drink to fill the silence.

“I’ve got a few more question for you, Mr. Travis,” she says, “How long has it been since you’ve felt the warmth of a woman?” Maria reaches over and takes the can out of my hand.

I begin to panic and stand. “I think this will be enough.”

“Wait, don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t enjoy fucking men.” Maria takes another swig. “This town isn’t the innocent, pathetic little place the country thinks it is.” She looks at her phone stowed away in a cupholder. “About that time, why don’t you go and take a look. Really look. You’ll see what I mean.”

I leave the little camper behind, and make my way back to my rental car. As I sit with my key in the ignition, I soak in Maria’s words. I look around. The boys from before continue their chase a little way down the path. Out of a little box house, a girl, probably only 15, walks out with her bike, I don’t know why but something tells me to follow her. She doesn’t ride far, maybe about 15 minutes down to the construction site. The road turns to concrete, some of the few pieces of concrete I’ve seen all day, it leads into what looks like a motel. I figure it’s housing built for the workers. The girl drops her bike out front, walks to the farthest door on the right, and knocks. A man in his 50s, jet black hair, opens the door. He waits for her with a big smile. His heavy hand grazes her little face. She walks in and the door shuts behind her.

Is this it?

I turn my car around, my heart racing. A part of myself that I have ignored for years suddenly erupts. This pit in my stomach filled with anger, disgust, the shit of the world, overflowing as I rush to a halt at Maria’s camper.

She stands at the door waiting for me, smoking a cigarette. “This ain’t the first place like this, Mr. Travis. Three years, shit reporters.” Maria sits down on the small steps that lead into her camper. “So, what would you like to talk about?”

[pessimisticpleasure]

Sherlock, The Lying Detective, 10/10

Fair warning, this review will contain major spoilers as well as likely be fairly incoherent because I am still so blown away and this is my way of processing. Apologies.

How did the quality of Sherlock suddenly skyrocket? I thought for sure last week was a nail in the coffin and this week I was simply blown away by how much better the episode was. I’d been dreading it in the lead up, not wanting to watch one of my favourite shows be chipped away at any more but watching it everything seemed to click. Everything was just right in this episode, there were twists abound, the dialogue was so improved from last week, even Mary’s, and it seemed like new Sherlock I could really get behind, action with the crime solving and great characters we’ve loved since series one. 

I’m not going to do good and bad because I think I’d struggle to find anything about this episode I disliked and I’m enjoying this rare spurt of positivity, so instead I think I’ll just explore some of the elements that I liked

TWISTS - I love twists in a show as much as I love a key change at the end of a song. I like having my expectations subverted. and my perception of events challenged and Sherlock definitely delivered on that tonight. A clever show should be able to surprise the audience and this definitely did. I was, for want of any better terms, snatched bald when the therapist was actually most of the women we’ve seen this season, it was oddly creepy and so perfectly done and being fairly ignorant I hadn’t even noticed some of them looked similar. I may never trust the show again but it was probably worth it for the gag. of the reveal. I actually did call the ‘the other Holmes sibling is a girl’ way back when the first mention happened (I made up a whole character, in my head her name was Euphemia which is a weird coincidence considering her actual name is also Greek and starts with the letter ‘E’ but I digress), weirdly a lot of people wrote it off as a male sibling for whatever reason (my sister said it was because of ‘Sherringford’ but people started this thrid brother thing way back last series, didn’t they? Also I didn’t clock that was a name I assumed it was a place because I though A) it seemed like a silly name and b) it seemed unlikely to have two kids whose names began with ‘Sh’ in the same house). I did not however see her showing up within the last ten minutes of episode two being some crazy gun-wielding shapeshifter (okay I know she didn’t shapeshift but I swear they all looked really different!) It was so good, I’m not over how good it was in the slightest.

THE CASE - I was on the edge of my seat watching the case unfold this week. A serial killer is just more compelling than someone smashing some statues of a terrible former prime minister. I thought who had actually come to Sherlock’s flat was going to be the Big Question next week and I’m really glad they didn’t do it that way. I was also convinced that the father had killed Faith and employed a decoy which, while interesting, would not have had the same impact on a viewer. It’s good to watch Sherlock being fooled, he is human after all and a drug fuelled brain really isn’t going to work well at solving cases and I like that this episode was realistic about that.

MRS HUDSON - Please can we all take a moment to appreciate what a gift Mrs Hudosn is to all us all? I swear most of her lines in this episode needed a mic drop at the end. Also she drives an amazing sports car, called Mycroft a reptile and her lipstick was on point.  She’s slaying the game! I’d like to see her get a nice toyboy at some point to complete her all round awesomeness, just to be casually ushering out some Chris Hemsworth look-alike when John arrives one morning.

MARY - Last week I said I was glad Mary was gone because she seemed to be the root of the problems in the show, and I maintain that, alive Mary is an issue. Dead Mary who still whips her boys into shape from beyond the grave and is the sarcastic voice of reason however is an entity I am 500% behind. Dead characters if they return to shows are usually given the cheesiest dialogue and irritatingly forced emotional moments but Mary was spot on, and her presence really captured what they did well this episode. 

EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER - Watching people fake grieving is physically painful for me, I hate how over the top it goes because most of the time, somebody dying doesn’t elicit huge bursts of sobbing from people and throwing things, I would say grief is a more quiet anger and sadness which lies dormant until prompted to explode in outbursts which are never as dramatic or frequent as they are so often displayed in Hollywood. Tonight, Sherlock and John were both realistic in their grief, John’s especially was incredibly compelling, and yes, I know having the dead wife come back and talk to her husband from beyond the grave is incredibly cliched, but even the way that was portrayed felt nuanced, true to the show, and genuinely heartfelt rather than something trying to provoke emotion from the viewer. Kudos for that Steven Moffat (maybe he’s just a better writer than Mark Gatiss and he should just stick to being Mycroft? He wrote a terrible poem for the Guardian last week about how he hadn’t ruined Sherlock, I know I’m getting off track again but it really was awful...)

A DARK EPISODE - Sherlock is a pretty dark show because in the end, Sherlock is a very dark man. This is a man who consistently interacts with murderers, is a self-confessed sociopath, and who has deep rooted substance abuse problems. That’s not really happy stuff, and Sherlock works best when the comedic moments are interspersed with genuinely dark tones throughout the episodes that are true to that more honest side of Sherlock. Last week with the voice over and the ominous sharks and the assassin rubbish it was trying to hard to achieve this same dark tone. This episode went about it effortlessly and achieved it in a far better way. 

VILLAIN - Villains make heroes, and Sherlock episodes without a compelling villain often fall flat. The writers probably should have kept Moriarty around a while longer, but in his absence, Toby Jones was great in this episode. They’ve tried going creepy with the villains before with Magnussen last series but he never seemed to quite get off the ground, somehow managing to be both too obvious and too subtle at different points. Toby Jones struck a great note with his portrayal of Culverton Smith which was likeable at times, disturbing at others, and always really genuinely brilliantly acted and with the introduction of Euros it looks like we’re hopefully going to have a similarly compelling villain next episode. Also congratulations for making literally everybody in the world think Smith would be the main villain this series, we were all fooled (well I was). I think I might be too trusting to watch this show...

IRENE ADLER - John knows she’s alive. She texts Sherlock. He sometimes texts her back. Her ringtone is still amazing. She was mentioned and I’m just so happy. I know it means nothing and she won’t come back in the next episode no matter how much that would make my life and the three year wait worth it even more but please if that happens oh my god, I will actually cry.

FINAL THOUGHTS... All round incredible, completely turned my opinion of this new series round. If they were going to do action they should have started out with this, because honestly it just makes last week look even worse in comparison. Please don’t let this be where this series of Sherlock peaks. I would love nothing more than to have to come back next week and lower the rating of this episode because the next one’s somehow managed to blow it out of the water completely. Don’t let the standard slip, this is what I need in my life!

[mrmichaelchadler]

Thumbnails 1/14/19

Thumbnails is a roundup of brief excerpts to introduce you to articles from other websites that we found interesting and exciting. We provide links to the original sources for you to read in their entirety.—Chaz Ebert

1. 

"OUT 100: Emma González, Newsmaker of the Year": The phenomenal young gun control activist spoke with our own Monica Castillo for Out Magazine.

“Not everyone celebrated the arrival of a bold and confident queer Latinx woman on the national stage. Almost immediately after González’s first public appearances, trolls began attacking her online. In a Facebook post, Congressman Steve King’s campaign (R-Iowa) linked her to communist Cuba for wearing a patch of the country’s flag on her jacket. González, whose father is Cuban, defended herself and cited the elected official’s racist comments. ‘If somebody’s trying to challenge my Cuban identity, they are usually — if not obviously — racist,’ she said. ‘Look at the things he said, and what he called me. What he said was bottom-of-the barrel. He was not even trying. He went out of his way lots of times to call out various people and say things about minority groups.’ To González, identity is fluid and more encompassing than basic labels. ‘Identity to me means the way that you describe yourself when someone says, ‘Describe yourself,’’ she explains. ‘If I were to describe my identity, I would say that I am half Cuban, I’m bald, I’m bisexual, I’m 5-foot-2, I like to write, I like to partake in the arts, and I like to crochet. I would hope that if I were introducing myself to somebody, through those things, they would be able to get an understanding of who I am.’”

2. 

"Does Erasing Cyber-Reality Erase Our Actual Reality?": A personal essay evocative of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," penned by Emma Olsson for Eileen Kelly's excellent site, Killer And A Sweet Thang.

“I think social media provides us with this peculiar way of storytelling, and perhaps it’s narcissistic, but the story is our own. I want to one day be able to look back at those odd little squares and read their stories of a time when I was 19 and 20 and 21 and in love for the first time. They hold deep connections to a memory, but they don’t necessarily signal a longing for a person. At least not for me. Something about the mourning of deleted pictures feels like a parody of our times. It’s impossible to imagine this scenario outside of a modern, digital context. In a time when online and offline lives are rich enough to be distinguished from each other, the act of removing little pieces of evidence from this online space feels particularly jarring. A deleted photo translates into something much deeper in meaning, to the deletion of proof of our existence together. I’d always tried to hold myself to the doctrine that one day, after the hurt had softened, I’d be able to look back on photos and relive the memories with gratitude. That I’d be able to see the soft things, the beautiful and happy things, not only the sad. Photos are potent in that way, and I hoped (and still do) to feel neither removed from this person nor bound to him. I hoped to just feel grateful, and it hurt me to think that he didn’t feel the same. That he wanted to cut me out of his memory — even if just on social media.”

3.

"'What 'Moonlight' Gave Us Was the Confidence to Execute Our Ideas Without Fear': Writer/Director Barry Jenkins on 'If Beale Street Could Talk'": A wonderful interview with the Oscar-winning director conducted by Jim Hemphill for Filmmaker Magazine.

“We treat the sound the same way we treat the cinematography, which is with the idea that it should be a reflection of the main character’s consciousness. In terms of the cinematography, when Tish is remembering the more beautiful and tender times with Fonny, those scenes are overly lush and overly saturated because they function as memory — when we remember things, we don’t remember them as a documentary. There’s more light in the flashbacks, and much more shadow in the present-day scenes, where Tish and Fonny are in a kind of purgatory. As far as the sound goes, when I’m making a film, I’m not just considering the screen — I’m considering the house, the actual environment where the audience is going to watch the movie. One of the things we decided right away was that the voice-over narration in the film needed to be experienced in a different way than the dialogue, so if you’re sitting in an auditorium it feels like you’re inside her head. Her voice is coming from all around the room, whereas the dialogue is coming from the front channel, and it’s a very different effect. In other scenes we would stoke up the reverb and things like that, just to reflect what the characters are feeling.”

4. 

"Becoming parents completely changed who we are": A beautiful letter from Mary Barnes to her husband, published at Motherly.

“These are the parenting trenches. The baby years. These years can make or break us. And can I be so bold as to say: I think they're making us. They're making us learn how to communicate better. How to find common ground when we disagree about real stuff, like the ways we want to raise our children. We're invested in not only the outcome but the short term effect. We're a team. They're making us think about the future. Not just the fun stuff, but the difficult stuff like estate planning, life insurance, and college funds for the kids. They're making us challenge ourselves to provide our children with comfort and opportunities. We've always worked hard but the stakes have never been this high. You know I'm the optimist, the dreamer, while you consider yourself the realist—but I think we can agree on this: going through some of the tough stuff with you by my side has shown me that we are stronger than the tough stuff. We can get through it. We can get through anything. As long as we hold on to each other. Motherhood transformed me. Fatherhood transformed you. And having kids completely transformed our marriage. We'll never be who we were on our wedding day again. Time marches forward—only forward. I miss the carefree version of ‘us,’ but I love this version even more. Because we know what we're made of now, and in so many ways we didn't before.”

5. 

"Independent films screened at Oakton College's annual pop-up: 'The festival is all about broadening horizons'": Our contributor Donald Liebenson reports on Michael Glover Smith's indispensable festival for the Chicago Tribune. 

“Josephine Decker’s ‘Madeline’s Madeline’ that was screened during the film festival is the type of film that Smith says he envisioned when he launched the free event. ‘I wanted to show independent and experimental films that are exciting and a little bit challenging; movies that are different from what typically would play (at the local multiplex),’ Smith said. ‘The festival is all about broadening horizons.’ Smith, himself, is the author of ‘Flickering Empire,’ which chronicled the untold story of Chicago’s silent film industry, and the film blog ‘White City Cinema.’ He has also directed two film festival award-winning productions: ‘Cool Apocalypse’ and ‘Mercury in Retrograde.’ The filmmaker and instructor said he was inspired to start the ‘Pop-Up’ festival after inviting Harold Ramis’ wife Erica to speak to his student about a documentary she had produced on The Joffrey Ballet. ‘She is the daughter of the late film producer and director Daniel Mann, and she talked about growing up in that household, her life with Harold and being on his film sets,’ Smith said. ‘But it was in a classroom of 12 people, and I thought this was a conversation that should be held in an auditorium and open to the public.’”

Image of the Day

Chris Elliott is the latest amazing guest on Sam Fragoso's essential "Talk Easy" podcast, with illustrations by our Far Flung Correspondent Krishna Shenoi. Click here for the full conversation.

Video of the Day

Not only did Glenn Close's acceptance speech for her surprise win in the Best Actress (Drama) category for her brilliant performance in "The Wife" bring the Golden Globes audience to its feet, it could also very likely help the actress win her very first Oscar. And boy is she well overdue for one.

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