#and recently i took her to the asian market and she made those statements TO THE ASIAN CASHIER | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mulanxiaojie · 5 years ago

Link

The high-profile remake, with an all-Asian cast, a PG-13 rating and a politically-charged star, was always going to pose major risks. Then the coronavirus upended its entire release plan.

Liu Yifei, star of Disney's live-action remake of Mulan, lives in Beijing, but she is originally from Wuhan, epicenter of the coronavirus. In January, the 32-year-old actress left China for Los Angeles to begin press for the film, weeks before the virus' outbreak, which has now infected more than 77,000 people, killed more than 2,500 and wreaked havoc in her home country. She says she doesn't have any family or close friends personally affected by the disease — she left Wuhan when she was 10 — but the epidemic has added an impossible-to-foresee variable to her film's March 27 worldwide release.

Liu pauses when asked about the outbreak. "It's really heavy for me to even think about it," she says. "People are doing the right thing. They are being careful for themselves and others. I'm so touched actually to see how they haven't been out for weeks. I'm really hoping for a miracle and that this will just be over soon."

In China, Liu is a household name, nicknamed "Fairy Sister" for her elegance and beauty. Modeling since age 8, she broke out in the 2003 Chinese TV series Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils, a commercial hit in China and the highest-rated Chinese drama in Taiwan at the time, and hasn't stopped working in film and TV since, earning fashion partnerships with Adidas, Shiseido and Armani along the way.

Disney and director Niki Caro selected Liu from more than 1,000 aspirants from around the world to star as Hua Mulan, the Chinese heroine who disguises herself as a man to fight in the Imperial Army in a film carefully designed to appeal to Western and Chinese audiences alike. But now there's a question of when Mulan will be released in China. With the coronavirus shutting down all 70,000 of the country's theaters since Jan. 24, it's unclear — and more unlikely every day — that multiplexes will reopen in time for its planned release. (Several high-profile U.S. films, including Universal's Dolittle and 1917 and Searchlight's Jojo Rabbit, saw their February releases scrapped.) "It certainly has worldwide and global appeal, but there's no denying that this is a very important film for the Chinese market," says Comscore analyst Paul Dergarabedian. "It's a huge blow for Disney if it doesn't release in China." Disney president of production Sean Bailey says he's "looking at it day by day."

Of course, this puts added pressure on the $200 million budgeted film — the priciest of Disney's recent live-action remakes — to perform in the U.S. and the rest of the world. Liu, who is enveloped in her own storm of controversy based on a political social media post about the Hong Kong protests, says she is trying hard not to think about all that. "It would really be a loss for me if I let the pressure overtake my possibilities," says the actress, who learned English when she lived in New York as a child for four years with her mother, a dancer, after her parents' divorce.

Even before the outbreak of the virus, Mulan — the first Disney-branded film with an all-Asian cast and the first to be rated PG-13 (for battle scenes) — would have marked one of the studio's riskiest live-action films to date. While the original 1998 Mulan was a critical and commercial hit, garnering a Golden Globe and Oscar nomination and grossing more than $300 million worldwide ($475 million today), it faltered at the Chinese box office. Part of the reason is that the Chinese government stalled its premiere for nearly a year because of lingering anger over Disney's 1997 release of Kundun, Martin Scorsese's Dalai Lama movie that dealt with China's occupation of Tibet. By the time Mulan reached theaters in late February 1999, most children had returned to school after the Chinese New Year holiday and pirated copies were widely available. For the new film, the plan was to counter piracy by releasing the movie in China the same day as the rest of the world, a strategy that's no longer possible.

The film also has tested the ability and tolerance of Disney — which aims to be ideologically neutral — in managing global political fallout. In August, Liu stirred up a major controversy when she reposted a pro-police comment on Chinese platform Weibo (where she has more than 66 million followers) at the height of the violence in Hong Kong. Her action was seen by critics of the Chinese government as supporting police brutality; soon after, the hashtag #BoycottMulan started trending on Twitter. Liu, who has American co-citizenship from her time in the U.S., was harshly criticized around the world for supporting oppression.

"I think it's obviously a very complicated situation and I'm not an expert," she says now, cautious in the extreme. "I just really hope this gets resolved soon." When pressed, Liu, whose answer seemed rehearsed, declines to say much more, simply repeating, "I think it's just a very sensitive situation." (Bailey also deflects when asked: "Yifei's politics are her own, and we are just focused on the movie and her performance.")

"Most Chinese celebrities choose to avoid posting such political statements because of the risks to their careers internationally," says Dorothy Lau, a professor at the Academy of Film, Hong Kong Baptist University. But though Liu's post drew criticism globally, some experts believe the political drama could actually result in more support for the film in China. "At the time, the government came out in various publications supporting the film very strongly," says USC professor Stanley Rosen, who specializes in Chinese politics and society. "There's a real impetus on the part of the Chinese government to make this work. I'm sure the government is going to try to show that the boycott has had no effect." And while her comment might still anger filmgoers in Hong Kong, where the recent live-action Aladdin took in $8 million, that market is tiny compared to the mainland (total 2019 Hong Kong box office was $245 million compared with China's $9.2 billion). "Most people outside Hong Kong have likely forgotten about this controversy," says Rosen. "But the Chinese government does not forget these things."

The fact that this version of Mulan is a large-scale war epic inspired more by the ancient Chinese ballad than the original animated film may also help win fans in Beijing, but the choice carries its own significant risks: The film needs to satisfy Chinese audiences raised on the legend while not disappointing a generation of fans in Asia (and elsewhere) for whom the animated film is foundational. "People would come in to audition and would say, 'Sorry, I know this is really unprofessional, but before I start, I just want you to know, the animated movie was the first time I saw someone that looked like me speak English in a movie theater,' " says producer Jason Reed. "The stakes couldn't be higher."

Mulan also represents a leap of faith in the film's director, Caro, whose previous two films boasted budgets of about 10 percent of Mulan's (The Zookeeper's Wife and Disney's 2015 sports drama McFarland USA were each in the $20 million to $25 million range). Caro, 53, was not Disney's first choice. Before hiring the New Zealand filmmaker, the studio targeted directors of Asian descent, including Taiwanese Oscar winner Ang Lee (he was busy promoting Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk) and Chinese helmer Jiang Wen. Still, Caro showcased a knack for representing cultures outside of her own with her 2002 debut Whale Rider, which follows a young Maori girl who wants to become chief, a role traditionally reserved for men.

The feminist story of Mulan resonated deeply with Caro. "When I first started wanting to be a filmmaker, there was so little precedent for women doing this [big studio] work," she says. She has now directed the most expensive live-action film by a woman, joining only a handful (Kathryn Bigelow, Ava DuVernay and Patty Jenkins) who have helmed films costing more than $100 million. "Patty changed the game with Wonder Woman. It was like a shot of adrenaline for me as a filmmaker," says Caro, who assembled a mostly female-led crew, including cinematographer Mandy Walker, costume designer Bina Daigeler, makeup designer Denise Kum and first assistant director Liz Tan.

To those still upset that an Asian filmmaker didn't get the job, Caro responds: "Although it's a critically important Chinese story and it's set in Chinese culture and history, there is another culture at play here, which is the culture of Disney, and that the director, whoever they were, needed to be able to handle both — and here I am."

Soon after Caro's hiring, rumors about the movie began to swirl online. Years of studios centering Asian movies around white protagonists (from Scarlett Johansson's Ghost in the Shell to Matt Damon's The Great Wall) meant the threat of whitewashing loomed large. An early report online claimed that the first draft, penned by Elizabeth Martin and Lauren Hynek, featured a white male protagonist.

"This is the first time I've been on a big touchstone movie with the internet what it is today. And I had a Google alert set, so I'd see these things, 'Oh, there was originally a white male lead, or they're casting Jennifer Lawrence,' and they were all just made up," says Reed, who adds that there may have been two non-Chinese characters in the initial script, but both were secondary roles.

The rumors may have been unfounded, but the fallout was real: The Lawrence-as-Mulan story sparked a 2016 petition, "Tell Disney You Don't Want a Whitewashed Mulan!" drawing more than 110,000 signatures.

Ironically, as that rumor swirled, Caro struggled to find an actress to play Mulan. The global hunt began in October 2016, when Caro sent a team of casting directors to each continent and virtually every small village in China. They were looking for an actress who could play Mulan across three phases, from a young woman unsure of her place to a soldier masquerading as a man and, finally, as an empowered warrior. She had to be fluent in English, handle the physical demands of martial arts and deliver the more emotional moments with Mulan's family. "She's a needle in a haystack, but we were going to find her," says Caro. "It's impossible to make this movie without this person."

Though the studio cast a wide multinational net, Bill Kong — a veteran Chinese producer known for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Monster Hunt who was brought on as a producer on Mulan — advised Caro that in order for this film to play well in China, not just anyone of Asian descent would work. "The first thing I told her was, 'Hire a Chinese girl. You can't hire a Japanese girl to do this,' " he says.

Actresses who made it past that initial audition were brought to Los Angeles, but, after vetting several promising candidates for months, Caro decided to start over. (The search dragged on for so long that Disney delayed the original November 2018 release date.) Eventually, Liu, who had been unavailable during the first pass because of a TV show in China, was able to audition.

"I was determined that whoever played Mulan was not going to be fragile and feminine," says Caro. "She had to pass as a man in a man's army." So the director and a trainer put Liu through a 90-minute physical assessment, with extreme cardio and weight exercises. Other actresses fared less well. "Boy, did they flame out," says Caro with a laugh. But Liu "never complained once, never said, 'I can't.' She went to her limits."

With Liu, Disney also found an actress who could speak English, was familiar with martial arts from her TV work in China and, most importantly, was known to the Chinese market.

While Liu spent three months training for the role in New Zealand, Caro finished up her own extensive research. She took multiple trips to China and spoke to dozens of experts — including the world's foremost specialist on Tang dynasty military strategy. She also studied the 360-word Chinese poem The Ballad of Mulan, which first told the young heroine's story. The legend, which originated in the fifth or sixth century CE, is a tale as familiar in China as the story of Joan of Arc or Paul Bunyan in the West, and it's been adapted many times into plays, operas and films.

"I certainly wasn't aware of how deeply important it is to Mainland Chinese — all children are taught it," says Caro. "She is so meaningful that many places I went, people would say, 'Well, she comes from my village.' It was wonderful to feel that profound connection — but also terrifying."

As soon as the first trailers rolled out, so did the grumblings about factual inaccuracy, like the choice to situate Mulan's family in a tulou, a traditional round structure that housed several clans. These homes were mostly present in southern China, in what is now Fujian province (Mulan is said to be from the north), and would not have existed at the time she lived.

"I told [Caro] to not be too concerned about the historical accuracy," says Kong. "Mulan, though very famous, is fictional. She's not a historical person."

Disney tested the film thoroughly with Chinese audiences, including its own local executives. In an early version, Mulan kissed love interest Chen Honghui (Yoson An) on a bridge when they were about to part. "It was very beautiful, but the China office went, 'No, you can't, that doesn't feel right to the Chinese people,' " says Caro. "So we took it out."

Caro and the writers, Amanda Silver and Rick Jaffa (the husband-and-wife team behind Rise of the Planet of the Apes and Jurassic World who rewrote the original script), also had to consider the passionate fans of the 1998 film. Most Disney remakes, like Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin and The Lion King, have remained loyal to the tone and structure of the animated source material while adding a new song or character. Departing from that formula wasn't a swift decision. "We had a lot of conversations about it," says Reed. Ultimately they wanted "to tell this story in a way that is more real, more relatable, where we don't have the benefit of the joke to hide behind things that might be uncomfortable and we don't break into song to tell us the subtext."

They swapped the musical numbers and funny animal sidekicks for a large-scale war epic in which Mulan takes her father's place in the Imperial Army. "It's a woman's story that has been told for centuries but never by women, and we felt like it was really time to tell that story," says Silver. The question is whether Generation Z and millennials, who fell in love with these animated tales as kids and helped boost Aladdin to its $1 billion global haul, will embrace the direction. "To be honest, we really go by our gut and what creatively excites the team here," says Bailey. "I think it shows that there can be different approaches to these [movies] that have validity."

When word leaked that Mushu, the silly dragon sidekick (originally voiced by Eddie Murphy), would not be included, some fans expressed disappointment on social media. But the character's disappearance makes sense in the Chinese context. "Mushu was very popular in the U.S., but the Chinese hated it," says Rosen. "This kind of miniature dragon trivialized their culture."

Unlike its Marvel-branded films, Disney live-action movies must appeal to significantly younger audiences. Yet Caro wanted to make a real war movie. "You have to deliver on the war of it," she says, "and how do you do that under the Disney brand where you can't show any violence, gratuitous or otherwise?" She took advantage of the film's stunning locations, like setting a battle sequence in a geothermal valley, where steam could mask the fighting. "Those sequences, I'm proud of them. They're really beautiful and epic — but you can still take kids. No blood is shed. It's not Game of Thrones."

Disney's past live-action performance in China is a mixed bag. Both The Lion King ($120.5 million there) and Jungle Book ($148 million) enjoyed strong showings. Aladdin earned only $53 million, while 2017's Beauty and the Beast took in just $84 million (though it earned $1.3 billion worldwide).

Of course, the expectations for Mulan in China are much higher. "They will eventually release it in China," Dergarabedian notes. "It's just a matter of when and what effect that might have." Some analysts forecast that the film could match the success of the Kung Fu Panda series. The third movie, released in 2016, earned north of $144.2 million and became the country's biggest animated film ever. It was praised for being a Hollywood film that understood and showed respect toward the Chinese culture. Panda, however, had the advantage of being a Chinese co-production, which guarantees a larger share of the market — an advantage Mulan doesn't have.

Caro thinks about the film's fate there in more than simply financial terms. "Of course it's vitally important that it succeeds in China," she says, "because it belongs to China."

#mulan #live action mulan #disney #chinese #article #interview #china #liu yifei

16 notes · View notes

easyfoodnetwork · 5 years ago

Text

I’m Through Being Silent About the Restaurant Industry’s Racism

Alexandra Bowman

As a Black server and diner, I’ve seen how racism in the restaurant industry plays out on both sides of the table

This is Eater Voices, where chefs, restaurateurs, writers, and industry insiders share their perspectives about the food world, tackling a range of topics through the lens of personal experience. First-time writer? Don’t worry, we’ll pair you with an editor to make sure your piece hits the mark. If you want to write an Eater Voices essay, please send us a couple paragraphs explaining what you want to write about and why you are the person to write it to [email protected].

A few weeks ago, I watched my tattoo artist, Doreen Garner, post an Instagram video about the racism in her industry, and saw Brianna Noble get up on her horse and demand change in the equestrian world. They inspired me to go on Facebook to address the racism where I work: the restaurant industry.

As I wrote in my Facebook post, the restaurant industry is extremely racist: Its racism is inseparable from the history of dining out in this country. Restaurants here flourished after the Civil War, a period when Black people in the hospitality sector were still technically working for free due to the widespread adoption of tipping, which allowed employers to avoid paying their workers. Racism literally shaped the restaurant landscape, too: Here on Long Island, where I live, the racist practice of redlining prevented Black restaurateurs from obtaining business loans or leasing buildings in particular towns — and thus denied them the same opportunities as their white counterparts.

The effects of such discrimination have been everlasting — something that I have learned firsthand as both a Black server and diner. In the six years I worked in restaurants, I never saw BIPOC (Black, indigenous, and people of color) in management, or even a Black bartender; most people of color were forced to remain in the back of house, or as bussers and runners in the front of house. And as a diner, I’ve seen how the industry’s culture of discrimination plays out from the other side of the table, too.

I began working in restaurants in 2009, while attending grad school. The first place I served was a corporate Southern-themed steakhouse on Long Island; not long after I started there, a coworker was fired for using racial slurs about a Black family who was dining with us. The restaurant’s owner individually apologized to every Black employee, and the swiftness of his actions assured me that racism would not be tolerated. The following year, I began my career in fine dining at a popular seafood restaurant on Manhasset Bay. The staff was mostly BIPOC, and included several Black females. This restaurant had its issues, but during the two years I worked there, diversity was not one of them.

But when I returned to the industry in 2018, after a six-year hiatus, I discovered that my previous experiences were anomalies. One evening, while I was training as a server at a farm-to-table restaurant, I asked the trainer how she made recommendations. “Well, they’re Asian, so I recommended the octopus because Asians eat weird food,” she said of the table we’d just served. “Excuse me?” I replied sternly. She tried to backpedal, saying something about how “Italian guys” also loved octopus.

Months later, I caught one of the managers and two servers discussing the treatment of Black people as it relates to our work ethic: The manager implied that there were times we were treated better than we deserved because of our skin color. The two servers looked shocked, but neither corrected her. Being the only Black employee and server of color, I quit immediately. But that evening, the restaurant’s owner and I had an honest conversation. She advised me to not let ignorant people affect my wallet, and she had a point: I was broke and living in my mom’s guest room. So I stayed. But, in hindsight, I should’ve demanded that this manager be fired. Although she was eventually let go, it was for her inferior management skills, not her continued racist antics.

Although the guests at that restaurant usually treated me with respect, I was degraded on several occasions. One evening, while I was recommending wine to a table, one of the diners, a white man, winked at me and said, “the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. Am I right?” There was so much I wanted to say, especially to his wife, who just laughed nervously. Instead, I recommended the tempranillo and walked away. Who could I tell? If a manager wouldn’t be checked, how would a guest?

I stayed at the restaurant for a year and a half. Shortly before my departure, one of my customers, a senior citizen, grabbed me. “You know what they say about Black women?” he whispered in my ear. “You taste like chocolate.” He then attempted to kiss me. I pulled away, but I didn’t want to hurt him — I could already imagine the headline: “Black Server Abused Elderly White Man at Long Island Restaurant.” So again, I walked away. But this time, I cried in the hallway while my coworker consoled me. Others seemed to think I was overreacting, as if the customer had complimented me. I didn’t have the energy to point out that Black women are neither a fetish nor a fantasy, and that the sexual harassment we often experience is linked to the ways we’ve been hypersexualized throughout history.

Most recently, until the pandemic began, I was working as a server and marketing consultant at a new Long Island steakhouse. Three of my coworkers were equal-opportunity racists who made derogatory comments about everybody: from the Latinx staff members to a table of Black people, no one was off limits. Almost everyone who worked there was aware of it, but the attitude was one of “You know how this industry is.” One time, when I defended some guests whom one of these coworkers presumed were Jewish, he asked if I was a “Black Jew.” In response, I referenced “First they came...” and expressed that I stand up for everyone, and then politely told him to shut the hell up. He did, but continued to be openly racist towards me — the restaurant’s lone Black employee — and the Latinx bartender.

When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices.

While the restaurant’s clientele was generally kind, there were still the middle-aged white men thinking they were Tupac, telling me I was the prettiest Black girl they’d ever seen. And the white women who felt the need to be “down” when I approached the table. “Hey girl!” one of them told me. “Your makeup is on fleek. We’re trying to get lit.” Know that I am laughing at you, I thought. You sound like Len from 30 Rock. You are 45 years old in a Talbot’s pant suit. Please stop.

When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices. It is debilitating to constantly defend yourself while remaining professional, and exhausting to become a representative for the entire community. One elevated pitch in your tone may verify a stereotype. And so for your own self-preservation, you learn to ignore it and not react. No matter the profession, we’re conditioned to be silent.

But as a patron, I do not have the same restraint. I always inform the manager. When I do, I’m sometimes offered a discount or a free round of drinks. I appreciate that, but still wonder: Did they hear me or were they just trying to appease me?

Because ignorant servers have tells. The finger across the neck, signaling that you do not want me in your section. The “couldn’t care less” attitude when greeting my table after making me wait for 10 minutes. The interactions with me in comparison to the white people next to me. We all have bad days as servers. But I am one of you, and I know the difference between a bad day and bad behavior. And so I’d ask you to recognize that your low tip is not a derivative of a guest’s skin color, but often, the result of your behavior toward them because of their skin color.

And to my fellow Black female servers, especially those in fine dining, remember you are worthy and your integrity is priceless. I am broke and tired too, but change is no longer a request — it is an ultimatum. Many servers are currently in a position of power; as restaurants try to reopen, employers are struggling to staff up. So before you literally risk your life by returning to work, make sure your professional environment is safe from health risks and racism.

To non-Black restaurant owners, I’d ask you to be introspective. Acknowledge that you benefit from a problematic system, and that your restaurant isn’t immune to racism. And if you still haven’t developed and posted a Black Lives Matter action plan of solidarity, do so. I am empathetic to the fact that you recently took a hit from COVID-19, but racism is also a deadly virus. You cannot plead for pandemic support by posting “We’re all in this together,” but choose to remain silent now. Diversify your staff. Schedule a mandatory team meeting to discuss racism and how to personally combat it — and explicitly state that it is immediate grounds for dismissal. If you have BIPOC staff, reassure them that they are protected and supported; keep in mind that you are legally liable when employees, and guests, engage in discriminatory practices. And remember: The Black dollar is strong. It is imperative that we are appreciated and welcomed at every place of business.

I gave similar recommendations to my most recent employer. As his marketing consultant, I urged him to write a statement of solidarity; as one of his servers, I demanded that my racist coworkers be fired, and a meeting be held to discuss racism at the restaurant. Yet again, my concerns were dismissed and overlooked. But this time, I am through being silent.

Lauren Allen is an experienced marketing specialist in the live entertainment and food hospitality sectors.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2ZLs4vY https://ift.tt/3eeV7NA

Alexandra Bowman

As a Black server and diner, I’ve seen how racism in the restaurant industry plays out on both sides of the table

When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices.

Lauren Allen is an experienced marketing specialist in the live entertainment and food hospitality sectors.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2ZLs4vY via Blogger https://ift.tt/2ZcBvFu

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

0 notes

balarouge · 5 years ago

Text

Russia supplying state of mind music for Property impeachment dramatization|CTV Information

WASHINGTON-- For all the speak about Ukraine in your home impeachment questions, there is actually a character standing merely off-stage with a dominant role in this particular story of worldwide case: Russia.

As has actually thus commonly been the case since U.S> > President Donald Trump took workplace, Moscow supplies the state of mind songs for the unfurling political dramatization.

"Along with you, Mr. Head of state, all streets result in Putin," Residence Audio speaker Nancy Pelosi announced recently, as well as except the very first opportunity.

The impeachment examination is actually centred on charges that Trump attempted to push Ukraine's new forerunner over the summer months to uncover dust on Trump political rival Joe Biden, standing up USA army help to the Far eastern European nation as take advantage of.

In her testimony just before the Property impeachment panel last week, mediator Marie Yovanovitch suggested that the head of state's activities played in to the hands of Vladimir Putin, whose federal government has backed separatists in a five-year-old battle in asian Ukraine.

Yovanovitch, a 33-year professional of the State Division understood for fighting nepotism in Ukraine and in other places, was actually ousted from her setting as ambassador to Ukraine after Trump and also his allies began attacking her as well as claimed she was bad-mouthing the head of state.

Her ouster, she and numerous Autonomous lawmakers claimed, essentially gained Putin.

"How is it that foreign shady rate of interests can control our government?" Yovanovitch talked to Property private investigators. "Which nation's interests are provided when the really shady practices we've been actually criticizing is made it possible for to prevail? Such perform undermines the USA, exposes our good friends and expands the field for caesars like President Putin."

After pair of days of public statement as well as the launch of 1000s of webpages of records from witnesses who've consulted with private detectives responsible for shut doors, Democratic and also Republican legislators seem to be even further entrenched in their partial corners concerning whether the president abused his electrical powers.

Trump inquired Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskiy to accomplish him a "a favour" and check out Biden as well as his child Hunter's company dealings in Ukraine. All at once, Ukraine was actually waiting for virtually $400 million in U.S. military help.

While Democrats point out the demand to explore the Bidens embodied a quid expert quo, Trump urges he was actually within his liberties to ask the nation to explore shadiness. Democrats, making an effort to make their accusations a lot more easy to understand, have now chosen preparing the president's actions as an issue of bribery, which, as Pelosi took note, is actually discussed in the Constitution.

Seeker Biden offered on the panel of a Ukrainian gas provider concurrently his papa was leading the Obama administration's polite transactions with Kyiv. Though the timing elevated issues among anti-corruption advocates, there has been no documentation of misdeed by either the former vice-president or even his child.

Trump has dismissed the impeachment proceedings as a "joke" that refuse him and Republican legislators justice.

A crucial ally on Capitol Hill, Rep. Devin Nunes, R-Calif., directs the impeachment questions as a continuation of the Democrats' "amazing failure of their Russia scam."

"In the blink of an eye, our experts're inquired to merely fail to remember Democrats on this board wrongly professing they had much more than inconclusive evidence of collusion in between Head of state Trump and also Russians," Nunes claimed.

Democrats, for their component, are trying to lighten the limelight on their concept that Trump is carrying out the bidding process of Putin.

Russia, a historic enemy of the United States, possesses regularly became a philanthropist of Trump's activities, states Rep. Ted Stead, a The Golden State Democrat.

In his July telephone call with Zelenskiy, Trump drove discredited details that hackers in Ukraine-- rather than Russia-- meddled in the 2016 vote-castings.

Last month, Trump abruptly relocated UNITED STATE Exclusive Powers coming from north Syria at Chicken's prompting and also as result produced a protection vacuum for Russia to fill up.

Trump possesses also frequently disparaged and also recommended taking out coming from NATO, the military collaboration that has actually worked as a defense to Soviet as well as Russia aggression due to the fact that it was created after Planet Battle II.

"It's crystal clear that the Trump administration diplomacy is disorderly and also incoherent along with one exception: A number of his actions benefit Russia," Lieu mentioned.

Both in open hearings and also closed-door testament, Democrats have actually sought to highlight issues that Trump's foreign plan often helps Russia.

The issues about Moscow hang around even after unique attorney Robert Mueller's almost two-year examination in to Russian obstruction in the 2016 election dogged Trump for much of his 1st phrase and also brought about the conviction of five campaign agents or even close associates of the president.

Mueller, a previous FBI director, performed certainly not crystal clear Trump of misdeed when he ended the probing neither did he declare the head of state dedicated misdoing.

"If Putin doesn't possess something on him, he is actually performing all this for some bizarre reason," pointed out Rep. Mike Quigley, an Illinois Democrat that sits on your house Intellect Committee.

In her testimony before impeachment investigators last month, Fiona Hill, till July the Russia analyst on the National Safety Council, supplied a zealous precaution that the United States' failing protection to conspiracy theory concepts as well as nepotism exemplifies a self-inflicted situation and also provides the country prone to its opponents.

"The Russians, you know, can not generally make use of bosoms if there are actually certainly not bosoms," she claimed. "The Russians can't manipulate shadiness if there is actually not shadiness. They can not capitalize on alternative narratives if those different narratives are actually certainly not on the market and acquiring credence. What the Russians do is they exploit factors that already exist."

Various other witnesses, featuring Representant Assistant of Condition George Kent and also Emissary William Taylor, the behaving main Ukraine agent, additionally proved that Russia was actually the chief recipient of Trump's decision to stand up army aid to Ukraine.

"Our holding up of safety and security devices that would certainly visit a nation that is fighting hostility from Russia for no good policy cause, no great substantive main reason, no great nationwide protection cause is inappropriate," said Taylor.

U.S. diplomats likewise stressed that the grip on the security help will diminish Zelenskiy, whom they saw as an agitator in a nation that has frequently withstood tumult propelled through native corruption.

"I assume the signal that there is dispute as well as concern concerning the U.S. assistance of Ukraine delivers the sign to Vladimir Putin that he may make use of that as he seeks to work out with certainly not merely Ukraine but other nations," Kent mentioned.

This content was originally published here.

0 notes

ecotone99 · 6 years ago

Text

[MF] The Case-File of Detective John C. Prufrock

The Case-File of Detective John C. Prufrock[1]

Apathy is a solution. On a particular weary and teary afternoon, Detective John Prufrock sat in his favourite chair, and mulled over the day’s evidence. It wasn’t a menial task per say, but it wasn’t as tedious as he remembered. Alas, a year had passed since they first discovered the body. Desecrated, mangled, and violated in every way imaginable -- And, I do mean in every way imaginable -- it happened to be the worst this precinct had seen in recent memory. Despite such a despicable crime, however, Prufrock failed to find any ounce of conviction that may have once remained. He was exhausted, detached, and seen enough depravity over the last thirty years to make any men senseless to the horrors of living in a bitter, modern world.

“Prufrock!” a monotone voice called out from across the precinct – too dull too know.

“Got a local tip about the Marjorie Murder.”

“From who?

“Some Chinaman on 13th street. Said he saw a pretty blond walking alone around there during the night of the murder. Said he saw a man who couldn’t stop looking at her.”

“What a surprise, a man caught staring at a pretty blonde? Must be grounds for murder.”

“The captain said you’re checking it out.”

“If we checked out every tip from a marriage-less, middle-aged man in the Chinatown area¾”

“Who said he was marriage-less?”

“They all are.”

The man with the monotone voice shifted visibly in place.

“The captain said you’re checking it out anyway,” the man with the monotone voice softly spoke. “All leads are worth checking out at this point. At least, that’s what the captain said.”

Prufrock sighed, and then leaned back against his chair. A moment passed.

“I guess we’re headed out then,” he finally retorted. “Christie!”

From the opposite end of the precinct, a broad jawed and solid figure whirled out from behind his cubicle.

“What?” Detective Alfred Christie replied with a yawn. He hadn’t drunk his morning coffee yet.

“We got a new tip on the Marjorie Murder.”

“From who?”

“Chinaman down on 13th Street.

“Christ, why do we have to check out ever-single anonymous tip—”

“Captain said we’re checking it out.”

“Fine,” Christie grumbled, “We’ll check it out.”

And so, the two perfectly acceptable detectives -- clothed in their muddled trench coats and well-kept badges -- strolled down the nearest stairwell, and then departed from the precinct.

…

The afternoon drizzle cascaded alongside the driver-side window. On the windshield, droplets of rain sputtered and fluttered and trembled against such weighted forces of rainfall.

“I swear we’re just going to hear what’ve we always heard,” Christie rambled, “I saw a man who looked suspicious, and because he looked suspicious that means he was the one who did it.”

“That may be true, but we still have to uphold the law,” Prufrock recited, “It’s our job to serve and protect.”

“Bullshit. You just don’t care anymore because you’ve got your eyes set on next week’s paycheck.”

Prufrock said nothing. He gazed outward at the bustling city. A film of fog covered it with a murky layer of gloom. It was as if the mere idea of a happy thought would send this city hurling over its edge with no means to repair itself. Fuck, why was it always raining here? Cyclists weaved in and out of the swarming vehicles. Looming skyscrapers stretched towards the stratosphere. Local vagrants camped out at the curbside looking for a handout. God, he fucking hated traffic.

“I mean let’s look at the facts,” Christie went on, “The victim had no friends or family, nobody knows her prior whereabouts to the night of the murder, and the statement we took from the pimp is circumstantial. Let’s face it Prufrock: this case is going nowhere.”

“And if it was your little girl?”

Christie straightened up from his hunched over position in the passenger seat.

“I wouldn’t care. She’s not my daughter,” Christie coolly replied.

“But she is someone’s daughter.”

“And who gives a fuck, Prufrock? At the end of the day if someone doesn’t get loved

enough as a child, and then turns to working the streets because of it? So be it. Is it a sad story? Yes. But is it our problem? Absolutely fucking not.”

“…I suppose it’s not then.”

“You got that damn-right.”

The vehicle slowly swerved around the corner. Prufrock let the wheel slide between his finger-tips.

“So, how’s Terri,” Prufrock inquired.

“She’s doing better, at least, I think she is,” Christie replied, “She has some sort of art-show coming up next week, so things seem to be looking up.”

“What’s the exhibit supposed to be about?”

“Raymond Carver. Some sort of novelist, or something like that.”

“Short stories,” Prufrock dryly replied, “Carver wrote short stories.”

“Huh, well who would’ve thought it: you’re educated,” Christie retorted. “Take the next right.”

Detective Prufrock calmly hit the blinker and merged into the next lane.

“All I care about is if she’s happy,” Christie continued, “If she’s happy creating art then that’s fine by me.” A moment passed; finally, Christie began to laugh. “I guess it also means better sex in the long-run.” he said, with a chuckle.

“So chivalrous of you”

“What, should a man not know what he wants?

“And what do you want then Christie?”

Christie, for a moment, paused.

“For her to be happy of course,” he finally declared.

The police car eventually pulled up to a soiled curb. Outside: all the beauty and squalor that could be found in ethnic restaurants and neon streetlamps; seedy alleyways and thick accents; empty apartments and rusted street-signs; Chinatown.

“Shall we get on with it?” Christie asked,

Prufrock simply nodded.

…

“Can you describe the suspect in detail?” Christie questioned, “What did he look like? Any definable or noticeable features? Hair, piercings, anything that first comes to mind?”

The Chinamen stared at Christie with a blank expression; he was boggled and bug-eyed. It was the type of expression you see on an Asian child sitting on a mechanical helicopter that shakes when you put quarters in it.

“About your height,” The Chinamen spoke with a thick accent, “square jaw, well-built, dark hair.” The Chinamen maintained direct eye-contact with Christie. “Caucasian.”

Christie sighed.

“Thanks, you’ve been a really big help.”

Detective Christie closed his notepad, and then ambled to Prufrock, who took cover from the rain near-by under the awning of a local-fruit market.

“Anything?” Prufrock grumbled

“Nothing.” Christie replied

“Well, what did you expect? We all look the same to them.”

“He’d probably say you’d think the same thing of him.”

Christie sullenly glanced over at the Chinamen; he stared at the two detectives from the safety of his noodle shop. It was probably his first experience with police where he didn’t end up in handcuffs and in the back of a car –– to serve and protect, I suppose. In the distance: a sunset, which cast a perfect pinkish hue that shone proudly against the concrete.

“We should head back to the precinct. It’s getting late.” Prufrock yawned.

Christie took one last look at the fire red, gas-blue, and ghost-green streetlamps that illuminated the soiled street; beautiful, but haunting.

“I suppose we should,” Christie eventually said.

…

The clock read fifteen past nine; it was time to punch out and head home.

“Prufrock, we’re headed to Tapley’s,” Christie yelled with one foot already out the door, “Care to join?”

Next to Christie, there were two slender-police women: a brunette, new to the force, whose startling chocolate eyes already had most of boys talking amongst themselves seeing as to which one of them could fuck her first (Prufrock’s money was on Christie.) And then, of course, there was Kelley: the precinct’s very own whore. She wore, as usual, that petit red dress of hers which made us all swoon.

But Prufrock did not give either of them the slightest look. His attention, rather, was fixed on the neighbouring lights of the skyscrapers looming outside the window.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you guys there,” he said.

“Sure, you will,” Christie retorted, as he promptly left with his two female companions for the night.

“Most of those lights are shining into empty-offices with nobody in them,” Prufrock thought to himself as he stared at the skyscrapers. It was a depressing thought. Everyone in those empty offices had gone home for the day. They were home with their family and friends; they were home with their friends and family.

Prufrock whirled out of his chair, galloped across the floor, and opened the filing cabinet. He began to sift through the pages of the coroner’s report:

“Victim: Marjorie Summers

Victim’s description: Blonde, Green eyes, 5’8

Time of Death: 3:00 am

Last known whereabouts: Wanda’s Strip-Club.

Cause of death: multiple blunt force injuries as well as internal bleeding.

External Examination: Twenty-five-year-old Caucasian female beat to death. Pronounced dead on arrival. External examination concluded multiple blunt force injuries to both head and torso, as well as repeated blows to both stomach and groin. Tissue damage and lacerations found near vaginal region. Possible traces of semen…”

Prufrock frowned. The last person to see her was someone who didn’t even know her; it seemed a futile endeavour. Why waste precious time and resources searching for an individual who may or may not exist? And then he thought of it: could it possibly be him?

Oh, it must be the Chinaman! It must be the marriage-less and the morose! It must be a man without any passion or life! It must be someone with no will or desire to go on! It must be him!

…But was it? Or was it simply these pallid walls--they looked somewhat padded if you looked at them from the right angle --that called to Prufrock?

Prufrock sat at his desk alone. The wooden boxes littered with paperwork were stacked neatly on the shelves. A flower Prufrock liked to take care of was dried and withered on the window-sill. The precinct was decorated with cubicles, and a low hanging-roof. A musky smell was palpable to the nose. The walls were porcelain, grey, and pallid. He had once wished to go away from here -- somewhere far away. He had once wished to know the smell of wet-concrete and its splendour as he and his son would play catch on an autumn day. He had hoped for a light, kind, bouncy, everything is “fine” LA wife. He had once hoped for these things.

How had his life filled to the brim, and emptied so soon?

Prufrock shut the coroner’s report, and then stared out at the skyscrapers; apathy is a solution. The lights dimmed and the precinct darkened. The shouts and honks heard from the street below, sang him to that urban lullaby. They sound like a beach; they sound like the mermaids singing each to each. And Prufrock, lost in his beautiful deliriousness, drifted off slowly, ever so slowly, to sleep.

He slept in silence.

…

A boney hand nudged his shoulder.

“Prufrock?”

Prufrock’s eyes fluttered open. Bearing directly over him was Christie. Christie’s dress-shirt was wrinkled. Christie reeked of whiskey and some other ungodly smell and Prufrock could not put his finger on what it was.

“Slept at the office again?

“Just resting my eyes” Prufrock quipped. Christie laughed. But the moment passed, and it was soon replaced with a somber and serious mood. Prufrock looked up at Christie, and then stared directly into his mysterious and striking and emerald eyes.

“I know who did it, Christie. We got him.” Prufrock said.

“Who?” Beads of sweat began to form upon Christie’s forehead.

“The Chinamen. It has to be him.”

Christie shot Prufrock an incredulous look. Then he crossed his arms over his chest.

“What makes you so sure, Prufrock?”

“The statement we took from the Chinaman doesn’t line up with the victim’s time of death.”

Christie cast another disapproving glance in Prufrock’s direction.

“I don’t how to explain it…but, every bone in my body says its him.”

Christie sighed.

“…You sure it’s not because you don’t like the Chinese?”

“What? I love the Chinese! I’m not letting race influence my judgement if that’s what your implying…”

“Could’ve fooled me, Prufrock.”

Prufrock stared at his partner in disbelief. How could he accuse him of such vile sentiments? Racist? How could a guy like me be racist?

“Listen to me Prufrock,” Christie finally interjected,” Take the day off. Captain called in sick. He won’t know a thing.”

“But…” Prufrock stuttered. A fury of emotions he had never felt before swelled in his heart and stomach. His face was flushed crimson. His hands clenched into a ball, ready to smash anyone or anything into a brilliant, pulpy mess. And then Prufrock began to raise them¾ with his mouth just as ready to protest¾ and when it was finally the moment to strike… Nothing. It was not worth fighting over.

“Fine, I’ll go home.” Prufrock eventually said.

Christie smiled, and his muscles--which were quite taut initially--began to relax.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Christie replied in turn.

And so, Prufrock swung his jacket around him, put on his coat, and then departed from the precinct. From the window, Christie watched as Prufrock stepped out of the rain and into the cruiser. Christie smiled. He enjoyed the fact that this city nurtured apathy as if it were a virtue.

…

As he was perched up against the edge of the passenger seat, Prufrock peered out the window. Besides the fire red, gas blue, and ghost green streetlamps, a lonely apartment stood tall at the end of the block. But there was no Chinaman to be found. There was only the sad spectacle of homeless bums picking up water-logged cigarette butts off the pavement. They were desperate for a light, any light, that could fill their lungs with a new breath of life; they wanted to feel alive.

But Prufrock did not care. His attention, rather, was fixed on the door of the lonely apartment that stood tall at the end of the block. Where was that china-fuck? With his slant eyes, and blank expression, and shrivelled ball-sack skin, where could that Chinaman be? He had nowhere to be. Where the fuck was he? He will come. He must come. God, please let him come.

But no one ever came. And poor Prufrock, for the next few hours, remained perched at the driver-side widow, searching for his precious Chinamen. He had lost the moment that would never come again. The toppling moment of clarity where you saw your whole life laid out in front you, inch by inch, detail by detail, and understood it absolutely. The toppling moment of clarity where you pulled on the universe’s threads, and it unravelled for you willingly. The toppling moment of clarity where you understood your place in humanity’s story, and knew you were loved. What was my story? Did I have a destiny? Or was I always meant to be this bitter and lonely and sorry excuse of a man?

…Ring…Ring…Ring. Prufrock’s phone buzzed in his pocket. A moment passed; then, he finally picked up his phone.

“Hello?” Prufrock said, as crystalline wetness flowed down his cheeks.

“Where are you right now? a disembodied voice answered; the voice belonged to Christie.

“I don’t know.” Did I ever know?

“Well, my wife and I were wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner? I know you’ve had a rough couple of days recently, and it looks like you could use the company?

Prufrock glanced at the pack of bums who continued to search for a dry cigarette.

“…Sure. When should I come over?”

“Around seven, eight o’clock is fine”

“Ok. I’ll see you around then.

Prufrock hung up the phone. He put the key into the ignition. He turned on his blinker, and then merged onto the street. The scenery of Chinatown with all its beauty and squalor could be seen in his rear-view mirror.

Prufrock never looked back.

…

The mahogany door swung open. In the doorway, a slender blonde stood. Her hair was neatly tied up, and she wore a pristine white blouse. On any day of the week, she was quite the catch -- Prufrock just loved those emerald green eyes of hers.

“You must be John,” She sweetly said, “Alfred has told me a lot about you.”

“Hopefully not too much,” Prufrock replied, “I’m afraid you husband hasn’t give me the same pleasure.”

She let out a tender laugh; she’s absolutely-beautiful.

“It’s Terri,” she said.

Prufrock rested his weight against the door frame “It’s a pleasure to meet you Terri,” he replied. The two stood in silence in the doorway. Terri twirled her fingers through her hair. After a while, she gestured towards inside.

“Well, come on in then,” she said, “Please, hang your coat up and put your shoes on the rack.” Prufrock did as he was told, and then shut the door behind him. He quietly observed his surroundings: immaculate furniture, fur rug, artisanal paintings¾ a home of culture. John took one last look of the living room, and then strolled into the kitchen. At the dinner table, Christie read a frayed paper-back; it was titled: What We Talk About When We Talk About Love.

*“*I didn’t know you read.” John quipped. Alfred titled his head upward to look at John. Then he stood up from his chair.

“Only to keep up with my wife’s latest pursuits”, Christie replied, as he walked over to Terri who waited patiently for him. He clasped his arm around her waist, nuzzled her neck, and then both of them posed. Cute. Terri tilted her gaze to the floor, and then back up again. A moment passed; finally, she spoke:

“I’ll leave you two be. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.” Christie nodded in agreement.

“That sounds good, Hun.”

And so, while Terri prepared dinner, the two men talked at the dinner table. They talked about all sorts of things: life, sports, politics—the things that made dinner with a colleague enjoyable. In the meantime, Terri chopped all sorts of vegetables onto the cutting-board. She chopped Carrots. Chop.Chop.Chop. She chopped onions. Chop.Chop.Chop. Her eyes welled up with salty tears. Finally, she sliced a tomato in half; its scarlet juices spilled out onto the cutting board. Some of the seeds also spilled out with the juices. Terri neatly cleaned up the entrails, and then proceeded to take care of what was cooking in the oven¾ roast beef, to be exact. As she continued to monitor the oven, the two men still talked about all the important things. And after nearly twenty minutes of the same process, it was finally time to eat.

“Alfred, can you clear the table? Terri called out, while holding a silver platter in hand.

“Of course, Hun.”

And so, Christie cleared the dinner table. Terri ambled to the dinner table as well. She placed the silver platter--which had a myriad of savoury delicacies --on the far end of the table. Christie continued to set up the cutlery: silk napkins and porcelain plates. And Prufrock awkwardly stood in place, his thumbs in his pockets.

“John, would you be a dear and get something to drink?” Terri gestured towards the corner of the room. “The liquor cabinet’s just over there,” she said. Prufrock strolled over to the liquor cabinet, and then picked out a bottle of gin. When he was finished, he walked back over to the dinner table. And once everyone else had finished their individual tasks, the three of them all sat down, each of them ready to enjoy a good meal.

They dug readily into their food.

“So, John are you married?” Terri said, while cutting a juicy chunk of meat.

“No wife unfortunately.” John replied.

“Not even a special someone?” Terri smiled sweetly at him.

“Once upon a time.” John said. He wiped his mouth with the silk napkin, staining it. “No women around these parts anymore.”

“That’s a shame” Terri replied.

Christie cautiously observed from his seat. He cupped his hands over his chin, and then leaned forward with his elbows. A very precise movement. The once gentle drizzle outside had transformed into a heavy downpour. The once sputtering and fluttering and trembling droplets now plopped loudly against the sidewalk, disrupting the serenity of the dining-room.

“So, tell me Teri. Christie says you have some sort of art-show coming up soon?

“Yeah, I do,” she replied. “It’s an exhibit on Raymond Carver.”

“Christie was telling me earlier.” Prufrock turned his attention to Christie. “I saw you were reading Carver before I arrived. I didn’t know you read,” Prufrock chuckled. Terri laughed too. Christie sat in silence. With his knife, he gnawed away at the roast beef; it was difficult to cut through.

“Yeah, I was reading what we talk about love” Christie softly replied, while still staring down at his meal. He set down his utensils for a moment. Then he looked upward to gaze at his wife. “I’m enjoying it so far.”

Christie reached across the table and touched Terri’s cheek with his fingers. She let out a half-smile, and then she returned her attention back to Prufrock. She remained fixed on Prufrock.

“How do you know Carver?” she asked.

“I took Literature in college.” Prufrock replied.

“Oh, so you didn’t always dream of being a detective?

“I would’ve preferred to have read detective stories than experience the real thing.”

Terri laughed. So did John. Christie sat in silence. A moment passed; eventually, Terri smoothed the rumples that had formed on her blouse. Then she sat up straight in her chair. And shortly afterward, she edged closer to Christie¾their knees touched.

“So how long, have you and Alfred been married?’ John eventually asked.

“Not long. Alfred used to be married before we met each-other.

“Really? Huh, I didn’t know that.”

Terri reached out for her husband. He gently picked up her hand.

“Even with his heart broken, he still had the heart of a romantic.” With his fingers, Christie encircled her wrist. Then he held her.

“Terri and I weren’t married then, and my first wife had the house and kids, the dog, everything, and Terri and I were living in this house here,” Christie stared deeply in to Terri’s eyes. He put his hand on her warm thigh and left it there.

“She saved my life,” Christie declared.

The couple inched closer to each other. Prufrock thought about this. He thought about all of this. This charade, this image, this lie they presented.

How could a man resist? Prufrock downed the last bit of gin remaining in his glass.

“But how do you know its love?

Terri tilted her gaze to the floor. Christie let Terri’s hand fall to her side.

“Well I mean how could it not be? Christie replied, with a stutter.

“Christie, what do any of us really know about love? You say you love your wife, and I don’t doubt it. And Terri you probably love your husband too. Christie loves Terri, and Terri loves Christie. But you must account for the fact that before you met each-other, you must’ve loved other people. Fuck, Christie you married someone before you met her. And you probably loved your first wife back then, just as much as you love Terri now. You probably loved your first wife more than life itself… I know I sure as hell loved the girl that used to be in my life. I did. I know I did. But all I remember of her now is the memory of hating her. That’s what sticks with me. I remember wanting to bash her fucking brains in with a club. So I could watch the blood pool out from her pretty skull, and be content knowing she wouldn’t bitch at me anymore…what happened to that love? Was it love? Because honestly, I don’t know.”

Terri stared at her plate. Christie’s hand reached out for Terri’s -- their hands never met.

“I’m sorry it seems I’ve had a little too much to drink”

Christie said nothing. A moment passed; finally, he spoke:

“It’s alright.”

Prufrock fingered the ice-cubes in his glass. Then he looked up at Christie and Terri. They were mere inches away from each-other; they couldn’t be farther apart.

“Ah, I remember the story now” Prufrock said, “the one by Raymond Carver you were talking about. It’s the one with the cardiologist, right? I think his name was Mal or some¾

“Mel.” Christie interjected.

“Right. How silly of me.”

…

“She’s allergic to bees,” Mel said. “If I’m not praying she’ll get married again, I’m praying she’ll get herself stung to death by a swarm of fucking bees.”

“Shame on you,” Laura said.

“Bzzzzzzz,” Mel said, turning his fingers into bees and buzzing them at Terri’s throat. Then he let his hands drop all the way to his sides.

“She’s vicious,” Mel said. “Sometimes I think I’ll go up there dressed like a beekeeper. You know, that hat that’s like a helmet with the plate that comes down over your face, the big gloves, and the padded coat? I’ll knock on the door and let loose a hive of bees in the house. But first I’d make sure the kids were out, of course.”

He crossed one leg over the other. It seemed to take him a lot of time to do it. Then he put both feet on the floor and leaned forward, elbows on the table, his chin cupped in his hands.

“Maybe I won’t call the kids, after all. Maybe it isn’t such a hot idea. Maybe we’ll just go eat. How does that sound?”

“Sounds fine to me,” I said. “Eat or not eat. Or keep drinking. I could head right on out into the sunset.”

“What does that mean, honey?” Laura said.

“It just means what I said,” I said. “It means I could just keep going. That’s all it means.”

“I could eat something myself,” Laura said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungry in my life. Is there something to nibble on?”

“I’ll put out some cheese and crackers,” Terri said. But Terri just sat there. She did not get up to get anything. Mel turned his glass over. He spilled it out on the table.

“Gin’s gone,” Mel said.

Terri said, “Now what?”

I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.[2]

…

Prufrock stared at the passage. Unwavering and unyielding, Prufrock rested his cold eyes upon those pulsating words. It was as if the longer he looked the longer he would feel their tortured content -- that primitive and painful ecstasy, which always seemed to escape him.

“Christie called in sick today.”

Near the doorframe to his office, the man with the monotone voice stood.

“Said it’s pretty bad.” The man with the monotone voice went on, “Said he won’t be back for a while.”

Prufrock, for more than a moment, said nothing. He simply gazed at the case-file sitting on his desk.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Prufrock quietly replied.

“Don’t mention it.”

The man with the monotone voice began to walk away. A moment passed; finally, Prufrock rushed to the door-frame.

“Hey, um…” Prufrock called out; What was his name?

“Yes?” the man with the monotone voice replied.

“What’s your thoughts on the Marjorie Murder?”

The man with the monotone voice shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s been what, over a year now? I don’t think it’s worth losing anymore sleep over.”

“Why do you say that?”

The man with a monotone voice let out a deep breath. In fact, it was probably the most attention Prufrock had ever paid him.

“Everybody looks the same these days,” he said, “Squint your eyes hard enough I bet you can’t tell the difference between you and me.”

Prufrock stood in silence and thought about this.

“I suppose that’s true,” he finally replied.

The man with a monotone voice gave Prufrock a little nod, and then disappeared in to the precinct. Prufrock never saw or heard from him again. Perhaps this man with the monotone voice was never there at all -- an apparition, who simply appeared and disappeared when needed. Alas, these troubling thoughts were too much for poor Prufrock. He need not know all the complexities of this world, and the uncertainties that lay behind its grey-curtain. “Apathy is a solution,” he thought to himself. And so, naturally of course, Detective John C. Prufrock sat back down in his favourite chair, and closed that cankerous case-file, forever -- After all, next week’s paycheck was just around the corner.

submitted by /u/CJ_Forrester [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2GtbM1j

#Blogger #Story

0 notes

clusterassets · 7 years ago

Text

New world news from Time: Women in the Philippines Have Had Enough of President Duterte’s ‘Macho’ Leadership

As Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte prepared for his State of the Nation Address (SONA) on Monday, his third since assuming power in 2016, protesters took to the streets in and around Manila. Police expected around 40,000 protesters against his administration and 40,000 in favor of the controversial leader.

Among those anti-government protesters are women’s rights activists, who have increasingly been speaking out against the Duterte administration. Since taking office in June 2016, the 73-year-old leader has ordered soldiers to shoot female rebels “in the vagina,” made inappropriate comments about his female Vice President’s legs, joked about raping Miss Universe, and equated having a second wife to keeping a “spare tire” in the trunk of a car.

“When he says these things, he’s sending out a message to all men out there that ‘I get away with it, so you can,'” says Inday Espina-Varona, a 54-year-old journalist and one of several co-founders of the #BabaeAko movement. Translated as ‘I Am Woman,’ the social media campaign began in May after Duterte declared that the next Chief Justice of the Philippines could not be a woman.

For some, the Philippines’ position in World Economic Forum’s top ten countries in the world for gender equality merely masks deeper cracks in society. The country of 103 million may have had two female presidents, but Duterte has nevertheless managed to capitalize on a deeply-entrenched strain of misogyny. Just as women across the U.S. have come together to protest President Donald Trump’s comments, including his boast about grabbing women by the pussy, women in the Philippines have now mobilized to call out sexism in the Duterte administration.

Both veterans and newcomers to the Philippine women’s rights movement took part in Monday’s march in Manila, along with several other rights groups in their own version of a SONA. “We knew we had to get together to answer him,” says 55-year-old actress May Paner, another co-founder of #BabaeAko. Under the hashtag, women across the Philippines uploaded videos of themselves to social media platforms calling out Duterte’s sexist rhetoric. Among them were high-profile female leaders, including Congress representatives, former Solicitor General Florin Hilbay, and a former cabinet member of the Duterte administration, Judy Taguiwalo.

That did nothing to stop Duterte, who kissed a married woman in front of an audience of overseas Filipino workers on June 4 in Seoul, South Korea. (Although the woman later said that there was “no malice” in the kiss, the stunt was condemned by politicians and women’s rights groups as an abuse of power.) The kiss prompted the women’s movement to take to the streets eight days later, with some calling for his resignation.

“That kiss has been framed as a playful gesture of a father to one of his children, which resonates with many women who feel they have to tolerate this behavior as it is more costly to point out,” says Sharmila Parmanand, PhD candidate in Gender Studies at the University of Cambridge. “There is still this very overt sexualization of women, and the infrastructure to combat sexism is struggling against a political culture that is still very patriarchal.”

Although a recent McKinsey report also showed that the Philippines leads the Asia-Pacific Region on gender equality in the workplace, many women still say there’s a long way to go more generally. “We have to look at what type of gender equality are we talking about when there are all these festering pushbacks against the status of women in Philippine society,” Maria Tanyag, research fellow at Monash University’s Gender, Peace and Security Department in Melbourne, tells TIME. The Catholic Church wields a strong influence in the country, where abortion and divorce are still illegal. Activists are pushing to raise the country’s age of consent up from 12 years old, which is the lowest in Asia, and despite the passing of a landmark reproductive health bill under the previous administration, observers say the country’s sexual education framework still falls short. And a series of blunders in the past year illustrate broader underlying sexist attitudes, including a marketing campaign run by San Miguel beer that was criticized for promoting rape culture, a callout for game show contestants with “sexy legs,” and a police-issued rape prevention poster that advised women not to “dress provocatively.”

To his critics, Duterte’s sexism has emboldened others. The president has not shied away from using gendered insults and threats, particularly against female critics both in the Philippines and abroad. Vice President Leni Robredo, a political opponent of Duterte, has slammed his “tasteless” remarks about her legs and “short skirt.” Senator Leila de Lima, a strong critic of the drugs war, filed a lawsuit against Duterte in 2016, alleging sexual harassment and slut shaming after he alluded to owning a sex tape of her and her driver. The President has even made lewd comments about foreign representatives, such as a United Nations representative whom he derided as a “daughter of a whore” after she investigated extrajudicial killings as part of the country’s war on drugs.

“It was really that impact of Duterte coming into power and making terrible statements about women that fueled my fire. I saw that there was something that needed to be done,” says Mich Dulce, a co-founder of Grrrl Gang Manila, a feminist collective created in March 2017. It holds regular safe space meet-ups for women and girls in the Philippine capital on themes such as ‘Feminism 101’ and ‘Toxic Masculinity,’ tied together with music performances, demonstrations and talks in local schools and workplaces about the barriers women face. “It’s just like Trump, where people who didn’t care before are looking for ways to make a change,” says 37-year-old Dulce, who also fronts an all-women feminist punk band called The Male Gaze. “We are not the only group or collective that came out of that time—it’s part of a whole conscious collective, where we are all reacting to the same things,” agrees fellow co-founder Marla Darwin.

#BabaeAkoSaSONA 💪💪💪👩🏻👩🏻👩🏻 pic.twitter.com/xfVNp8EC8E

— Mich Dulce (@michdulce) July 23, 2018

Official from the administration have dismissed criticisms of sexism and misogyny as “over-acting” and taking Duterte too seriously. Presidential spokesman Harry Roque has used this defense of Duterte’s behavior multiple times, imploring critics to “not take the words of the President literally, but of course, we should take the President’s word seriously.” Another top aide has condemned the #BabaeAko movement as “clearly political,” and Duterte himself has batted away backlash against the incident in Seoul by saying critics were “just jealous.”

Duterte is not the first strongman leader in Philippine politics, but his comments reflect something deeper about his style of government and the kind of leader he wants to be. For many Filipinos, President Ferdinand Marcos’ dictatorship and brutal rule through martial law in the 1970s remains a fresh memory. And today, Duterte has Southeast Asian ‘strongman‘ compatriots in the form of Cambodia’s Hun Sen and Thailand’s Prime Minister Prayuth Chan-ocha, as well as Russian President Vladimir Putin and U.S. President Donald Trump further afield. “We are seeing the exaggeration of masculinity to serve a purpose to legitimize certain foreign and domestic policies,” Tanyag tells TIME, speaking of this broader trend.

Indeed, Duterte’s macho leadership may have a more pragmatic basis, particularly regarding the war on drugs—arguably the centerpiece of his domestic policies. Philippine authorities say 4,500 drug suspects have been killed since July 2016, although human rights observers estimate that the number is closer to 12,000. “There is this macho mindset of the war on drugs being justified because it protects women and children,” Parmanand says, calling this rhetoric “benevolent paternalism.” In fact, the drug war has had a major impact on women and children, whether because of losing family members or facing financial difficulty due to lower family incomes as a result of extrajudicial killings.

Beyond the drug war, Dutete’s leadership has displayed hallmarks of “hypermasculinity” elsewhere, Tanyag says. In May 2017, the southern island of Mindanao was placed under martial law after ISIS-backed militants seized the city of Marawi. Despite the government declaring victory over the extremists in October, Duterte was granted the power to extend martial law in the region for a further year the following month, with critics arguing against increased powers for the military. According to Tanyag, this kind of reaction from the president shows that he “prioritizes violence, domination and aggression” in his leadership.

As Duterte’s leadership becomes a major cause for concern, women of all ages have come together to protest. “His actions are reversing so many of the gains we had worked so hard for,” says Teresita Quintos Deles, one of the country’s most prominent civil society advocates and chair-convener of EveryWoman, a coalition of women’s rights organizations from across the Philippines.

Speaking ahead of Monday’s march, Deles sounded energized, looking forward to marching with women from all sections of Philippine society. “I thought I had fought the fight of my lifetime already,” Deles says, referring to her activism for women’s rights and peacemaking after the ouster of President Marcos and under the leadership of President Aquino. “I didn’t think I would have to do this again at the age of 69, but we are back marching in the streets again, and the happy thing is that is it intergenerational.”

Members of Grrrl Gang Manila, as well as the #BabaeAko founders are also marching, with supporters wearing purple and fuchsia to mark the traditional colors of the Philippine women’s movement. “Young Filipinas are taking up action and recognizing that yes, there is a thread that criss crosses the generations, and that sisterhood is real,” says Deles. “More and more people are saying that this can’t be the end of our story.”

July 23, 2018 at 07:10PM ClusterAssets Inc., https://ClusterAssets.wordpress.com

#Time #world #news #ClusterAssets #ClusterAsset #Cluster Asset Inc.#ClusterAssets Inc.

0 notes

latestnews2018-blog · 7 years ago

Text

The turmoil of Stan Lee: What’s going on?

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/the-turmoil-of-stan-lee-whats-going-on/

The turmoil of Stan Lee: What’s going on?

After the death his wife, the 95-year-old Marvel icon has found himself in the middle of a fight over his finances and legacy

Stan Lee, the Marvel Comics maestro and co-creator of Spider-Man, X-Men and Black Panther, lives in a world of heroes and villains. But these days, it can be hard to tell which is which.

Few creators have left as profound a mark on popular culture. According to The-Numbers, a box office data site, films featuring Lee’s superheroes have grossed more than $24 billion worldwide. He has a huge Twitter following, and admirers have included Federico Fellini, Ronald Reagan and George R.R. Martin, the author of Game of Thrones.

“Stan is right up there with Walt Disney as one of the great creators of not just one character, but a whole galaxy of characters that have become part of our lives,” Martin said. “Right now, I think he’s probably bigger than Disney.”

Yet at the summit of Lee’s career, storm clouds have gathered. The last year has brought an unsettling mix of tragedy and scandal, including the death in July of Joan Lee, his wife of almost 70 years; suspicions that millions of dollars have been siphoned from his accounts; even gossip reports that a former business associate stole his blood to sell to fans.

Last month, The Hollywood Reporter published an investigation that said Lee, 95, is the victim of “elder abuse,” partly at the hands of his 67-year-old daughter, Joan Celia Lee. The Daily Beast reported that Lee, who is said to be worth around $50 million (Dh183.64 million), was “surrounded by a panoply of Hollywood charlatans and mountebanks” and being “picked apart by vultures.”

A radio talk show in Orlando, Florida, even aired a rumour that he is being “held captive” by handlers who “have him basically locked up in the house.”

But on a recent visit to Lee’s home in the Bird Streets, a celebrity enclave high in the hills of West Hollywood, California, the man himself said otherwise. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” Lee said, chuckling and sounding like a 95-year-old teenager. “Nobody has more freedom.”

He also defended his daughter, known as JC, against claims that she has been physically abusive and a financial drain. “My daughter has been a great help to me,” he said. “Life is pretty good.”

A HOUSE IN DISARRAY

For four decades, Lee has lived in a relatively modest two-story house in the middle of what has become some of Los Angeles’ most valuable real estate. Dr. Dre is a neighbour, and Leonardo DiCaprio lives down the block, on a street where houses can list for north of $30 million.

The house is a time capsule of late 1970s Hollywood. “My wife, she’s the only person in the world that I would know of who would put a big mirror on top of a big mirror,” Lee said. “And when she was here, she had so many paintings, all over. Most of them have left now. My daughter took a lot of them, and a lot of them have gone elsewhere.”

It’s the vagueness about what has “gone elsewhere” that has some of Lee’s friends so worried. Since Lee’s wife died last year, his household has been thrown into disarray, with three factions of once-trusted aides vying for control. Lee’s current gatekeeper is Keya Morgan, who has ousted former staff. A former memorabilia dealer from New York, Morgan moved to Los Angeles as the executive producer of the mobster biopic Gotti and now describes himself as a “producing partner of John Travolta.”

Sitting at Lee’s side, he was dressed in a black suit and tie, black bowler hat and dark sunglasses, which he lowered on his nose to see indoors.

In February, Morgan called police to the house to physically remove Lee’s longtime road manager, Mac Anderson, known as Max. Anderson was accused of, among other things, attempting to bribe a nurse to make statements that Lee was being held hostage. “He got into a big fight with Stan and Stan’s daughter” and was fired soon afterward, Morgan said.

Reached by phone, Anderson declined to comment.

Also out was Jerry Olivarez, a Hollywood publicist who briefly obtained power of attorney over Lee’s affairs last year, during which time more than $1 million left the Marvel creator’s accounts. That included a $300,000 check made out to Hands of Respect, a novelty company owned by Olivarez and Lee that makes a $10 lapel pin advocating racial harmony.

In unrelated matters, $1.4 million may have vanished in a series of wire transfers, and a Chanel handbag full of cash may be missing from the house, according to Morgan. Also, a trove of Marvel memorabilia, including character sketches and figurines, is the subject of disputed ownership between Anderson and Lee, as reported by The Hollywood Reporter.

Lee may be a creative genius, but he isn’t a financial one. “I’ve been very careless with money,” he said. “I had a partner or two who, since I’m not a money counter — I let them take care of keeping track of the money we made,” Lee said, as he sipped a bottle of mineral water to soothe his raspy voice. “Lately, I have found out that a lot of the money we made is no longer available for me. I don’t know where it is, but a guy, and maybe one or two others, have found a way to take it.

“So, I feel bad about it, and of course we have a lawyer trying to get it back again,” he said. “But money isn’t worth losing your cool about, you know?”

SUPERHERO FACTORY

The child of Romanian Jewish immigrants, Stanley Lieber was born in New York City in 1922. He was hired in 1939 as an assistant at Timely Comics, the not-especially-promising division of a pulp magazine publisher that would eventually be renamed Marvel. Following a staff exodus the next year, the newly rechristened Lee (an alias he adopted to save his real name for the great novels he aspired to write) was appointed its editor.

His greatest streak of inspiration began in 1961, when Lee was almost 40 and thoroughly disenchanted with his career. With artist Jack Kirby, he created the Fantastic Four, a hit he bested the next year by inventing Spider-Man with artist Steve Ditko. Among the enduring characters he created over the next decade with those artists, and others, are the X-Men, Iron Man, the Hulk, Thor, Doctor Strange and, in 1966, Black Panther: an African warrior-king whose recent film adventure has grossed more than $1.3 billion.

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce black characters a little sooner,” Lee said. “I tried to create an Asian superhero, I tried to create a South American superhero. And at that point I also was thinking it’s ridiculous that we don’t have a black superhero.”

Asked if contemporary comics and films could be doing a better job of representing women and superheroes of colour, he replied, “yes,” but expanded: “You can’t force anything on the public. But if you do a black hero or heroine and you see that it’s well-received at the newsstand, then you’d be an idiot not to come up with more stories like that. Everything depends on the marketplace.”

Yet Lee may have underestimated his own value in the marketplace. While he has made exponentially more money than any of his Marvel co-creators, he only ever collected a paycheck, and does not receive any continuing royalties from the films based on his characters.

In 2005, he received a one-time payment of $10 million from Marvel, to settle a provision in his contract that had entitled him to 10 per cent of the profits from television and film adaptations. Four years later, Disney bought Marvel for $4 billion; it is unclear whether Lee was able to reap any benefit. (As Marvel’s chairman emeritus, he still receives a salary, reported to be $1 million.)

And while his personal appearances (including charging fans $120 for an autograph) are a lucrative source of income, later-life attempts to create wholly owned superhero properties have foundered. Stan Lee Media, a digital content start-up, crashed in 2000 and landed his business partner, Peter F. Paul, in prison for securities fraud. And Lee is embroiled in disputes with POW! Entertainment, the company he started in 2001 to create new shows, including “Stripperella,” a cartoon starring Pamela Anderson.

POW! was sold last year to Camsing International, a Hong Kong-based company seeking to clone Marvel for the Asian market. Lee says he has not been paid, which the company denies. “Mr. Lee has been paid and continues to be paid by the company,” said Shane Duffy, the chief executive of POW! “Statements like this only heighten our concern for Stan’s well-being.”

As part of the escalating fight, Morgan and Lee’s daughter entered the POW! offices on Santa Monica Boulevard on the night of March 14 and removed items they say belong to Lee. They triggered a silent alarm, prompting POW! to file a police report.

The Beverly Hills police subsequently dropped the burglary investigation, but the fighting continues. “They’re acting as if they bought the company and everything on the four walls belong to them,” said Lee, sounding downcast. “So, another lawsuit.”

AN OSCAR FOR STAN LEE?

Outside the bubble of legal drama and personal strife, however, Lee’s creative influence remains at an all-time high. “There’s no doubt that Stan, in terms of American popular culture, he’s one of the giants of the 20th century,” Martin said. “Spider-Man and Iron Man; the X-Men — they’re still as viable as ever.”

From the floral sofa in his sitting room, Lee is a font of highly entertaining stories from the glory days, even if some of them sound taller than his 1962 creation Giant-Man. Like the time Picasso was so taken by Joan Lee’s beauty that he approached the couple in a New York restaurant and sketched her on their tablecloth. “We ran home to tell my father about what happened,” Lee said. But, “in our excitement, we had left the drawing in the restaurant. We never found it!”

Or the time when DiCaprio told Lee that he had written the president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, lobbying for Lee to receive an honorary Oscar for his numerous cameos over the years. (Lee appears in nearly every Marvel movie, including Black Panther, in which he plays a gambler in a South Korean casino.)

DiCaprio also wants to portray Lee in a film about the Marvel creator, according to Morgan, who accompanied Lee on a recent visit to DiCaprio’s house. (A spokesman for DiCaprio would not confirm this account of their conversation.) The thought of a biopic starring DiCaprio gave Lee pause. He looked out over the pool, to the canyon beyond, and pondered being portrayed by an Oscar-winning actor.

“I don’t know if he could capture the essence of me,” he said, after a moment. “We have to talk about that.”

0 notes

orbemnews · 4 years ago

Link

South Korea’s Answer to Amazon Debuts on Wall Street SEOUL, South Korea — The small white delivery trucks zip down streets all over South Korea. The uniformed workers send photos of safely delivered packages to impatient customers. Workers can move so fast, their employer promises, that it calls the service “rocket delivery.” The trucks and the operation belong to Coupang, a start-up founded by a Harvard Business School dropout that has shaken up shopping in South Korea, an industry long dominated by huge, button-down conglomerates. In a country where people are obsessed with “ppalli ppalli,” or getting things done quickly, Coupang has become a household name by offering “next-day” and even “same-day” and “dawn” delivery of groceries and millions of other items at no extra charge. The company, which is sometimes called the Amazon of South Korea, is set to get a big endorsement on Thursday from Wall Street. Its shares are expected to begin trading in an initial public offering that will raise $4.2 billion and value the company at about $60 billion, the second-largest American tally for an Asian company after Alibaba Group of China in 2014. On Wednesday its shares were priced at $35, according to a person close to the company. Coupang may need the money. South Korea’s big conglomerates, called chaebol, and others are building their own delivery networks as Coupang plans its expansion. It faces other issues, too, such as growing concerns about working conditions after the death of several Coupang warehouse and delivery workers that some relatives and labor activists blamed on overwork and poor labor practices. For the moment, Coupang is South Korea’s biggest e-commerce retailer, its status further cemented by people stuck at home during the pandemic and those in the country who crave faster delivery. “I won’t go so far as to say I can’t live without Coupang, because there are so many other online shopping options available here fiercely competing with each other, and some of them can be as fast as Coupang or cheaper,” said Kim Su-kyeong, a Coupang shopper and mother in Seoul. “But Coupang has branded itself so well it’s the name that first comes to my mind when I think of shopping online.” As Bom Suk Kim, who started Coupang in 2010, likes to say, “Our mission is to create a world where customers wonder ‘How did I ever live without Coupang?’” Mr. Kim, 42, ran an unofficial and short-lived Harvard alumni magazine in the United States before returning to his birth country to revolutionize its e-commerce industry. Coupang’s rapid growth was driven by a combination of daring entrepreneurship and branding. The company’s name is a mix of the English word “coupon” and “pang,” the Korean sound for hitting the jackpot. In an industry where most delivery workers drive around in nondescript trucks wearing drab jackets, Coupang’s fleet of full-time drivers — known as Coupang Men, but recently renamed Coupang Friends — wear bright uniforms and cruise around in branded, company-issued vehicles. “Coupang has grown fast by meeting two most important needs of customers: cheap prices and fast delivery,” said Ju Yoon-hwang, a professor of distribution management at Jangan University. “Coupang also offers more goods than competitors, so consumers believe they can find anything on Coupang.” Only a few start-ups — like Naver, South Korea’s dominant web portal and search engine, and Kakao, its leading messaging app and online bank — have been as successful as Coupang. But Naver and Kakao are both listed in South Korea. Mr. Kim took Coupang to Wall Street aiming to court bigger investors and a higher valuation that would allow his company to eclipse its rivals back home. South Korea is one of the world’s fastest-growing e-commerce markets, projected to become the third largest in the world this year, behind only China and the United States. Its volume, valued at $128 billion last year, is expected to reach $206 billion by 2024, according to Euromonitor International, a market research company. And it is ideal for e-commerce. About 52 million people live in the country, a vast majority of them in densely populated cities. Nearly every home has high-speed internet, and people pay taxes and gas bills with smartphones. Long before e-commerce arrived, South Korea already had a vibrant delivery culture. Families placed phone calls to get their food delivered around the clock. Dry-clean workers climbed stairs in apartment buildings to deliver freshly pressed clothes. Motorbike couriers ferried documents, flowers and whatnot from one district to another. Coupang’s first rivals were eBay-style marketplaces where customers found sellers. Deliveries were made by third-party logistics companies that contracted with independent couriers. Deliveries could take several days. When Coupang began its “rocket delivery” service in 2014, it set off a price and delivery war. It has since built its own network of logistics hubs, with 70 percent of the population now living within seven miles of a Coupang logistics center, according to the company. The company says it uses machine learning to predict demand and stockpile goods at warehouses. It also runs its own fleet of 15,000 full-time Coupang Friend couriers. It has also doubled its work force to 50,000 in 2020, becoming South Korea’s third-largest private-sector employer. It plans to create 50,000 more jobs by 2025. Analysts said Coupang has borrowed from Amazon’s playbook by seeking to become a dominant market force before turning a profit. The company’s revenues almost doubled last year to $12 billion. But its massive investments in its logistics network, made possible by the funding from foreign investors like Japan’s SoftBank and its Vision Fund, has kept it in the red. Its annual net loss ballooned to $1 billion in 2018 before narrowing to $475 million last year. It recently introduced Coupang Eats, a meal-delivery service, and Coupang Play, a video streaming app. But unlike Amazon, Coupang doesn’t have other businesses, like cloud computing, that can easily generate the cash needed for big expansions. And rivals are putting up fierce competition. Some of the chaebol, the family-controlled conglomerates that dominate the economy, are expanding their e-commerce business, especially Lotte and Shinsegae, which operate the country’s biggest department store and shopping mall chains. So is Naver, which is already an e-commerce giant. As competition heats up, superfast delivery is quickly becoming the new norm, weakening the novelty of Coupang’s “rocket delivery” service. Coupang has also faced scrutiny over its labor practices. Former Coupang workers and labor activists accuse the company of exploiting its warehouse workers in its mad rush to turn around orders as fast as possible. As the number of workers doubled, the number of people who suffered from work-related injuries or illnesses at Coupang and its warehouses jumped to 982 in 2020 from 515 in 2019, according to government data. “Coupang is an inhumane company that treats its workers like slaves or machine parts, squeezing them until the last drop,” said Park Mi-sook, whose son, Jang Deok-joon, died of a heart attack last October, shortly after returning home from an overnight shift at a Coupang warehouse. His death was ruled a work-related incident, and Coupang has since apologized. Coupang has denied mistreating its workers. Last year alone, it said, it invested $443 million in the automation of its warehouses and increased its warehouse work force by 78 percent, to 28,400, to make its workers more efficient and lessen the workload. “What has made Coupang’s rocket delivery possible was its massive employment and investment,” the company said in a statement. And it continues to pitch itself as an essential service for busy South Koreans. In a letter to potential investors, Mr. Kim put forward an example of a quintessential Coupang shopper: a working mother who, late at night, realizes she has forgotten to go shopping, and then places an order online through Coupang. “When she opens her eyes, it’s like Christmas morning,” wrote Mr. Kim. “The order is waiting at her front door.” Source link Orbem News #Amazon #answer #Debuts #Koreas #South #Street #Wall

0 notes

easyfoodnetwork · 5 years ago

Quote

Alexandra Bowman As a Black server and diner, I’ve seen how racism in the restaurant industry plays out on both sides of the table This is Eater Voices, where chefs, restaurateurs, writers, and industry insiders share their perspectives about the food world, tackling a range of topics through the lens of personal experience. First-time writer? Don’t worry, we’ll pair you with an editor to make sure your piece hits the mark. If you want to write an Eater Voices essay, please send us a couple paragraphs explaining what you want to write about and why you are the person to write it to [email protected]. A few weeks ago, I watched my tattoo artist, Doreen Garner, post an Instagram video about the racism in her industry, and saw Brianna Noble get up on her horse and demand change in the equestrian world. They inspired me to go on Facebook to address the racism where I work: the restaurant industry. As I wrote in my Facebook post, the restaurant industry is extremely racist: Its racism is inseparable from the history of dining out in this country. Restaurants here flourished after the Civil War, a period when Black people in the hospitality sector were still technically working for free due to the widespread adoption of tipping, which allowed employers to avoid paying their workers. Racism literally shaped the restaurant landscape, too: Here on Long Island, where I live, the racist practice of redlining prevented Black restaurateurs from obtaining business loans or leasing buildings in particular towns — and thus denied them the same opportunities as their white counterparts. The effects of such discrimination have been everlasting — something that I have learned firsthand as both a Black server and diner. In the six years I worked in restaurants, I never saw BIPOC (Black, indigenous, and people of color) in management, or even a Black bartender; most people of color were forced to remain in the back of house, or as bussers and runners in the front of house. And as a diner, I’ve seen how the industry’s culture of discrimination plays out from the other side of the table, too. I began working in restaurants in 2009, while attending grad school. The first place I served was a corporate Southern-themed steakhouse on Long Island; not long after I started there, a coworker was fired for using racial slurs about a Black family who was dining with us. The restaurant’s owner individually apologized to every Black employee, and the swiftness of his actions assured me that racism would not be tolerated. The following year, I began my career in fine dining at a popular seafood restaurant on Manhasset Bay. The staff was mostly BIPOC, and included several Black females. This restaurant had its issues, but during the two years I worked there, diversity was not one of them. But when I returned to the industry in 2018, after a six-year hiatus, I discovered that my previous experiences were anomalies. One evening, while I was training as a server at a farm-to-table restaurant, I asked the trainer how she made recommendations. “Well, they’re Asian, so I recommended the octopus because Asians eat weird food,” she said of the table we’d just served. “Excuse me?” I replied sternly. She tried to backpedal, saying something about how “Italian guys” also loved octopus. Months later, I caught one of the managers and two servers discussing the treatment of Black people as it relates to our work ethic: The manager implied that there were times we were treated better than we deserved because of our skin color. The two servers looked shocked, but neither corrected her. Being the only Black employee and server of color, I quit immediately. But that evening, the restaurant’s owner and I had an honest conversation. She advised me to not let ignorant people affect my wallet, and she had a point: I was broke and living in my mom’s guest room. So I stayed. But, in hindsight, I should’ve demanded that this manager be fired. Although she was eventually let go, it was for her inferior management skills, not her continued racist antics. Although the guests at that restaurant usually treated me with respect, I was degraded on several occasions. One evening, while I was recommending wine to a table, one of the diners, a white man, winked at me and said, “the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. Am I right?” There was so much I wanted to say, especially to his wife, who just laughed nervously. Instead, I recommended the tempranillo and walked away. Who could I tell? If a manager wouldn’t be checked, how would a guest? I stayed at the restaurant for a year and a half. Shortly before my departure, one of my customers, a senior citizen, grabbed me. “You know what they say about Black women?” he whispered in my ear. “You taste like chocolate.” He then attempted to kiss me. I pulled away, but I didn’t want to hurt him — I could already imagine the headline: “Black Server Abused Elderly White Man at Long Island Restaurant.” So again, I walked away. But this time, I cried in the hallway while my coworker consoled me. Others seemed to think I was overreacting, as if the customer had complimented me. I didn’t have the energy to point out that Black women are neither a fetish nor a fantasy, and that the sexual harassment we often experience is linked to the ways we’ve been hypersexualized throughout history. Most recently, until the pandemic began, I was working as a server and marketing consultant at a new Long Island steakhouse. Three of my coworkers were equal-opportunity racists who made derogatory comments about everybody: from the Latinx staff members to a table of Black people, no one was off limits. Almost everyone who worked there was aware of it, but the attitude was one of “You know how this industry is.” One time, when I defended some guests whom one of these coworkers presumed were Jewish, he asked if I was a “Black Jew.” In response, I referenced “First they came...” and expressed that I stand up for everyone, and then politely told him to shut the hell up. He did, but continued to be openly racist towards me — the restaurant’s lone Black employee — and the Latinx bartender. When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices. While the restaurant’s clientele was generally kind, there were still the middle-aged white men thinking they were Tupac, telling me I was the prettiest Black girl they’d ever seen. And the white women who felt the need to be “down” when I approached the table. “Hey girl!” one of them told me. “Your makeup is on fleek. We’re trying to get lit.” Know that I am laughing at you, I thought. You sound like Len from 30 Rock. You are 45 years old in a Talbot’s pant suit. Please stop. When you’re the only Black employee at a business, you realize that you’re an exception to its discriminatory hiring practices. It is debilitating to constantly defend yourself while remaining professional, and exhausting to become a representative for the entire community. One elevated pitch in your tone may verify a stereotype. And so for your own self-preservation, you learn to ignore it and not react. No matter the profession, we’re conditioned to be silent. But as a patron, I do not have the same restraint. I always inform the manager. When I do, I’m sometimes offered a discount or a free round of drinks. I appreciate that, but still wonder: Did they hear me or were they just trying to appease me? Because ignorant servers have tells. The finger across the neck, signaling that you do not want me in your section. The “couldn’t care less” attitude when greeting my table after making me wait for 10 minutes. The interactions with me in comparison to the white people next to me. We all have bad days as servers. But I am one of you, and I know the difference between a bad day and bad behavior. And so I’d ask you to recognize that your low tip is not a derivative of a guest’s skin color, but often, the result of your behavior toward them because of their skin color. And to my fellow Black female servers, especially those in fine dining, remember you are worthy and your integrity is priceless. I am broke and tired too, but change is no longer a request — it is an ultimatum. Many servers are currently in a position of power; as restaurants try to reopen, employers are struggling to staff up. So before you literally risk your life by returning to work, make sure your professional environment is safe from health risks and racism. To non-Black restaurant owners, I’d ask you to be introspective. Acknowledge that you benefit from a problematic system, and that your restaurant isn’t immune to racism. And if you still haven’t developed and posted a Black Lives Matter action plan of solidarity, do so. I am empathetic to the fact that you recently took a hit from COVID-19, but racism is also a deadly virus. You cannot plead for pandemic support by posting “We’re all in this together,” but choose to remain silent now. Diversify your staff. Schedule a mandatory team meeting to discuss racism and how to personally combat it — and explicitly state that it is immediate grounds for dismissal. If you have BIPOC staff, reassure them that they are protected and supported; keep in mind that you are legally liable when employees, and guests, engage in discriminatory practices. And remember: The Black dollar is strong. It is imperative that we are appreciated and welcomed at every place of business. I gave similar recommendations to my most recent employer. As his marketing consultant, I urged him to write a statement of solidarity; as one of his servers, I demanded that my racist coworkers be fired, and a meeting be held to discuss racism at the restaurant. Yet again, my concerns were dismissed and overlooked. But this time, I am through being silent. Lauren Allen is an experienced marketing specialist in the live entertainment and food hospitality sectors. from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2ZLs4vY

http://easyfoodnetwork.blogspot.com/2020/07/im-through-being-silent-about.html

#EasyFoodNetwork #ComfortFoodRecipes #EasyRecipes #GoodFood #BestComfortFoodRecipes #TastyFoodv

0 notes

newstfionline · 8 years ago

Text

San Francisco Asks: Where Have All the Children Gone?

By Thomas Fuller, NY Times, Jan. 21, 2017

SAN FRANCISCO--In a compact studio apartment on the fringes of the Castro district here a young couple live with their demanding 7-year-old, whom they dote on and take everywhere: a Scottish terrier named Olive.

Raising children is on the agenda for Daisy Yeung, a high school science teacher, and Slin Lee, a software engineer. But just not in San Francisco.

“When we imagine having kids, we think of somewhere else,” Mr. Lee said. “It’s starting to feel like a no-kids type of city.”

A few generations ago, before the technology boom transformed San Francisco and sent housing costs soaring, the city was alive with children and families. Today it has the lowest percentage of children of any of the largest 100 cities in America, according to census data, causing some here to raise an alarm.

“Everybody talks about children being our future,” said Norman Yee, a member of San Francisco’s Board of Supervisors. “If you have no children around, what’s our future?”

As an urban renaissance has swept through major American cities in recent decades, San Francisco’s population has risen to historical highs and a forest of skyscraping condominiums has replaced tumbledown warehouses and abandoned wharves. At the same time, the share of children in San Francisco fell to 13 percent, low even compared with another expensive city, New York, with 21 percent. In Chicago, 23 percent of the population is under 18 years old, which is also the overall average across the United States.

California, which has one of the world’s 10 largest economies, recently released data showing the lowest birthrate since the Great Depression.

As San Francisco moves toward a one-industry town with soaring costs, the dearth of children is one more change that raises questions about its character. Are fewer children making San Francisco more one-dimensional and less vibrant? The answer is subjective and part of an impassioned debate over whether a new, wealthier San Francisco can retain the allure of the city it is replacing.

Many immigrant and other residential areas of San Francisco still have their share of the very young and the very old. The sidewalks of some wealthy enclaves even have stroller gridlock on weekends. But when you walk through the growing number of neighborhoods where employees of Google, Twitter and so many other technology companies live or work, the sidewalks display a narrow band of humanity, as if life started at 22 and ended somewhere around 40.

“Sometimes I’ll be walking through the city and I’ll see a child and think, ‘Hey, wait a second. What are you doing here?’” said Courtney Nam, who works downtown at a tech start-up. “You don’t really see that many kids.”

There is one statistic that the city’s natives have heard too many times. San Francisco, population 865,000, has roughly the same number of dogs as children: 120,000. In many areas of the city, pet grooming shops seem more common than schools.

In an interview last year, Peter Thiel, the billionaire Silicon Valley investor and a co-founder of PayPal, described San Francisco as “structurally hostile to families.”

Prohibitive housing costs are not the only reason there are relatively few children. A public school system of uneven quality, the attractiveness of the less-foggy suburbs to families, and the large number of gay men and women, many of them childless, have all played roles in the decline in the number of children, which began with white flight from the city in the 1970s. The tech boom now reinforces the notion that San Francisco is a place for the young, single and rich.

“If you get to the age that you’re going to have kids in San Francisco and you haven’t made your million--or more--you probably begin to think you have to leave,” said Richard Florida, an expert in urban demographics and author of “The Rise of the Creative Class.”

Mr. Florida sees a larger national trend. Jobs in America have become more specialized and the country’s demography has become more segmented, he says. Technology workers who move to San Francisco and Silicon Valley anticipate long hours and know they may have to put off having families.

“It’s a statement on our age that in order to make it in our more advanced, best and most-skilled industries you really have to sacrifice,” Mr. Florida said. “And the sacrifice may be your family.”

In 1970, a quarter of San Francisco’s residents were children, nearly twice the level of today. The overall demographic picture of San Francisco is a city with more men than women--103 for every 100 women--and with no ethnic majority. Whites make up slightly less than half the population, Asians about one-third and Latinos 15 percent. The black population has markedly declined and stands around 6 percent.

A report released on Tuesday by the San Francisco Planning Department said the building boom in the city, which for the most part has introduced more studios and one-bedroom apartments, was unlikely to bring in more families. For every 100 apartments in the city sold at market rates, the San Francisco school district expects to enroll only one additional student, the report said.

Mr. Yee, the supervisor, is urging his colleagues to hold hearings next month on the issue of children.

“For me it’s part of the fabric of what a city should have,” he said. “It makes us all care more.”

A few recent initiatives have sought to make the city friendlier to families. San Francisco is the first city in the United States to require employers to offer six weeks of fully paid leave for new parents, a law that came into effect this month.

The city has also invested millions in upgrading parks, according to Phil Ginsburg, the general manager of the city’s Recreation and Parks Department.

“We are trying to do our part to send a very strong message that San Francisco is an awesome place for kids,” Mr. Ginsburg said. The city has increased its offerings for summer programs, many of which were fully enrolled last summer.

Yet even those with the means to stay find themselves looking elsewhere when children come along.

Liz Devlin, a senior manager at Twitter, which like other technology companies offers generous parental leave, took 20 weeks off at full pay when her second child, Jack, was born in 2014.

Living in a three-bedroom apartment in the Marina district, Ms. Devlin said, she considered San Francisco a “phenomenal place to raise kids.”

But last July when the energetic Jack turned 2, she and her husband decided it was time to leave.

“In terms of cost of living, space and schools I think it’s definitely attractive for people to look outside the city,” said Ms. Devlin, who moved across the Golden Gate Bridge to Marin County.

Those who make it work in San Francisco speak of the compromises.

Jean Covington, a San Francisco resident who works as a public defender in Contra Costa County, said she noticed a “pilgrimage” of her friends out of the city when children reached school age. When she decided to stick it out, she was confronted with what she described as a bewildering public school selection system governed by an algorithm that determines where children in the city are placed--sometimes miles from home.

When her daughter turned 5, Ms. Covington applied to 14 public kindergartens, but her child ended up being placed in another. She chose a private school instead, along with the strain on the family budget that it entailed.

“Everyone starts off with the same dreams: ‘I’m going to make it work in the city, and I’m going to be the family that sticks it out,’” Ms. Covington said of her friends. “And suddenly the one bathroom in their flat becomes two or three too few. And the school system is too daunting.”

San Francisco’s public school system has around 53,000 students, a sharp drop from 90,000 in 1970.

The decline is a reflection both of families leaving the city and wealthier parents sending their children to private schools. Around 30 percent of San Francisco children attend private school, the highest rate among large American cities.

More than 10 private schools have opened in San Francisco since 2009, according to a tally by Elizabeth Weise, a journalist who writes a blog on the subject.

Opinion is divided on whether having fewer children in the city is something San Francisco should worry about.

Mr. Florida, the expert in urban demographics, said a lack of children made a city “a little bit more of a colder or harder place.”

Mr. Lee, the software engineer, said he loved San Francisco--the weather, the food, the friends he has made. But the city, he said, feels somewhat detached from the life cycle.

“It’s similar to when you go to college and you are surrounded by people who are in the same life stage or who have the same attitude about what their priorities are,” Mr. Lee said. “That’s all you see: people who are exactly like you.”

#San Francisco #children in San Francisco

0 notes