#anita among

[kampalaedgetimes]

Trending: Abdallah Tusiime Transferred to Parliament Security

On Tuesday, the Speaker of Parliament, Anita Among, lauded Tusiime for his exemplary service, directing his transfer to the Parliamentary Police Directorate as a gesture of appreciation, so that, in her words, “he can rest.” The speaker commended Tumusiime’s unwavering commitment to his role, describing him as a model officer. How did Abdallah Tusiime start trending? Earlier in October 2024, a…

[wirejames]

Anita Among’s Looting Vs Busolwe Hospital’s Needs

[trilzmedia]

Anti-gay law will be passed at whatever cost, says Speaker

Anti-gay law will be passed at whatever cost, says Speaker #TRilzNews #LGBTQ #AntiGayLaw

What you need to know: Speaker Among says the law is meant to shield Uganda’s culture and its sovereignty. Speaker of Parliament Anita Among has stated that the Anti-Homosexuality Bill, 2023 will be tabled and expeditiously processed at ‘whatever cost’. Ms Among made the remarks after the architect of the Bill, Mr Asuman Basalirwa, was unable to table the Bill for first reading on Tuesday…

[drdemonprince]

The data does not support the assumption that all burned out people can “recover.” And when we fully appreciate what burnout signals in the body, and where it comes from on a social, economic, and psychological level, it should become clear to us that there’s nothing beneficial in returning to an unsustainable status quo. 

The term “burned out” is sometimes used to simply mean “stressed” or “tired,” and many organizations benefit from framing the condition in such light terms. Short-term, casual burnout (like you might get after one particularly stressful work deadline, or following final exams) has a positive prognosis: within three months of enjoying a reduced workload and increased time for rest and leisure, 80% of mildly burned-out workers are able to make a full return to their jobs. 

But there’s a lot of unanswered questions lurking behind this happy statistic. For instance, how many workers in this economy actually have the ability to take three months off work to focus on burnout recovery? What happens if a mildly burnt-out person does not get that rest, and has to keep toiling away as more deadlines pile up? And what is the point of returning to work if the job is going to remain as grueling and uncontrollable as it was when it first burned the worker out? 

Burnout that is not treated swiftly can become far more severe. Clinical psychologist and burnout expert Arno van Dam writes that when left unattended (or forcibly pushed through), mild burnout can metastasize into clinical burnout, which the International Classification of Diseases defines as feelings of energy depletion, increased mental distance, and a reduced sense of personal agency. Clinically burned-out people are not only tired, they also feel detached from other people and no longer in control of their lives, in other words.

Unfortunately, clinical burnout has quite a dismal trajectory. Multiple studies by van Dam and others have found that clinical burnout sufferers may require a year or more of rest following treatment before they can feel better, and that some of burnout’s lingering effects don’t go away easily, if at all. 

In one study conducted by Anita Eskildsen, for example, burnout sufferers continued to show memory and processing speed declines one year after burnout. Their cognitive processing skills improved slightly since seeking treatment, but the experience of having been burnt out had still left them operating significantly below their non-burned-out peers or their prior self, with no signs of bouncing back. 

It took two years for subjects in one of van Dam’s studies to return to “normal” levels of involvement and competence at work. following an incident of clinical burnout. However, even after a multi-year recovery period they still performed worse than the non-burned-out control group on a cognitive task designed to test their planning and preparation abilities. Though they no longer qualified as clinically burned out, former burnout sufferers still reported greater exhaustion, fatigue, depression, and distress than controls.

In his review of the scientific literature, van Dam reports that anywhere from 25% to 50% of clinical burnout sufferers do not make a full recovery even four years after their illness. Studies generally find that burnout sufferers make most of their mental and physical health gains in the first year after treatment, but continue to underperform on neuropsychological tests for many years afterward, compared to control subjects who were never burned out. 

People who have experienced burnout report worse memories, slower reaction times, less attentiveness, lower motivation, greater exhaustion, reduced work capability, and more negative health symptoms, long after their period of overwork has stopped. It’s as if burnout sufferers have fallen off their previous life trajectory, and cannot ever climb fully back up. 

And that’s just among the people who receive some kind of treatment for their burnout and have the opportunity to rest. I found one study that followed burned-out teachers for seven years and reported over 14% of them remained highly burnt-out the entire time. These teachers continued feeling depersonalized, emotionally drained, ineffective, dizzy, sick to their stomachs, and desperate to leave their jobs for the better part of a decade. But they kept working in spite of it (or more likely, from a lack of other options), lowering their odds of ever healing all the while. 

Van Dam observes that clinical burnout patients tend to suffer from an excess of perseverance, rather than the opposite: “Patients with clinical burnout…report that they ignored stress symptoms for several years,” he writes. “Living a stressful life was a normal condition for them. Some were not even aware of the stressfulness of their lives, until they collapsed.”

Instead of seeking help for workplace problems or reducing their workload, as most people do, clinical burnout sufferers typically push themselves through unpleasant circumstances and avoid asking for help. They’re also less likely to give up when placed under frustrating circumstances, instead throttling the gas in hopes that their problems can be fixed with extra effort. They become hyperactive, unable to rest or enjoy holidays, their bodies wired to treat work as the solution to every problem. It is only after living at this unrelenting pace for years that they tumble into severe burnout. 

Among both masked Autistics and overworked employees, the people most likely to reach catastrophic, body-breaking levels of burnout are the people most primed to ignore their own physical boundaries for as long as possible. Clinical burnout sufferers work far past the point that virtually anyone else would ask for help, take a break, or stop caring about their work.

And when viewed from this perspective, we can see burnout as the saving grace of the compulsive workaholic — and the path to liberation for the masked disabled person who has nearly killed themselves trying to pass as a diligent worker bee. 

I wrote about the latest data on burnout "recovery," and the similarities and differences between Autistic burnout and conventional clinical burnout. The full piece is free to read or have narrated to you in the Substack app at drdevonprice.substack.com

[hicginewsagency]

Steering Parliament, The Fairness of Uganda’s Speakers of Parliament Under Scrutiny.

From left to right: Former Speakers Edward Ssekandi, Rebecca Kadaga, and the current Speaker Anita Among. Courtesy image. The role of Speaker of Parliament in Uganda has long been central to the country’s democratic processes. However, recent events and critiques have cast doubt on the fairness and independence of the individuals who have occupied this pivotal position. Former Speakers Edward…

[weewoow-20706030]

Omg omg omg omg ogm

[DC] rough …veryyyy rough sketches for a whole ass Anime opening I have in my head and started in December 😭🙏 I still have a minute left to complete but I wanted to show the beginning…I hope I have time to clean it up

Random stills below

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Xia Meng, also known as Hsia Moog or Miranda Yang (Sunrise, Bride Hunter)—For those who are familiar with Hong Kong's early cinema, Xia Meng is THE leading woman of an era, the earliest "silver-screen goddess", "The Great Beauty" and "Audrey Hepburn of the East". Xia Meng starred in 38 films in her 17-year career, and famously had rarely any flops, from her first film at the age of 18 to her last at the age of 35. She was a rare all-round actress in Mandarin-language films, acting, singing, and dancing with an enchanting ease in films of diverse genres, from contemporary drama to period operas. She was regarded as the "crown princess" among the "Three Princesses of the Great Wall", the iconic leading stars of the Great Wall Movie Enterprises, which was Hong Kong's leading left-wing studio in the 1950s-60s. At the time, Hong Kong cinema had only just taken off, but Xia Meng's influence had already spread out to China, Singapore, etc. Overseas Chinese-language magazines and newspapers often featured her on their covers. The famous HK wuxia novelist Jin Yong had such a huge crush on her that he made up a whole fake identity as a nobody-screenwriter to join the Great Wall studio just so he can write scripts for her. He famously said, "No one has really seen how beautiful Xi Shi (one of the renowned Four Beauties of ancient China) is, I think she should be just like Xia Meng to live up to her name." In 1980, she returned to the HK film industry by forming the Bluebird Movie Enterprises. As a producer with a heart for the community, she wanted to make a film on the Vietnam War and the many Vietnam War refugees migrating to Hong Kong. She approached director Ann Hui and produced the debut film Boat People (1982), a globally successful movie and landmark feature for Hong Kong New Wave, which won several awards including the best picture and best director in the second Hong Kong Film Award. Years later, Ann Hui looked back on her collaboration with Xia Meng, "I'm very grateful to her for allowing me to make what is probably the best film I've ever made in my life."

Anita Ekberg (War and Peace, La Dolce Vita)— I'm going to be frank with you. Every time I look at this woman, I lose my ability to form sentences.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Xia Meng:

Anita Ekberg:

“I haven't seen much starring her (YET) but the scene of her in the Fontana di Trevi in La Dolce Vita is some of the most jealous I've ever been of Marcello Mastroianni maybe and that's saying a lot. Cinema history. Historical.”

[hard--headed--woman]

"I had to fight to be myself and to be respected. I'm proud to say I'm a lesbian. I don't talk about it too much, but I don't deny it. I've had to confront society and the Church, which says that homosexuals are condemned. It's absurd! How can they judge someone who was born that way? I didn't learn to be a lesbian, nobody taught me to be the way I am. I was born this way. I've never slept with a man. I've never slept with a man. Yes, I'm a virgin and I'm not ashamed. My Gods made me this way"

- Chavela Vargas

Chavela Vargas (María Isabel Anita Carmen de Jesús Vargas Lizano) was a Mexican singer of Costa Rican origin, born in 1919 in Costa Rica and died in 2012 in Mexico.

She is considered a leading figure in ranchera music, which she sang with strength and emotion. Her voice, rough and warm at the same time, served her theatrical, passionate and human interpretations of standards from the traditional Mexican repertoire.

"And since I have to say it almost everywhere, I'll say it: my parents didn't want me. I suffered for it".

She has an extremely difficult and conflicted relationship with her family, who do not accept her in any way. As a teenager, she left her country and her family for Mexico. The young woman rejected and criticised the ultra-conservative society in which she lives. Once in Mexico, she began singing in the streets.

In the 1940s, she became friends with the painters Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, staying with them for a while and becoming Frida Kahlo's lover.

At the age of 30, she was noticed on Mexico City's Avenida Insurgentes by the composer and famous rancheras singer José Alfredo Jiménez, who became the author of her main hits. With his help, she performed in the cabarets of Mexico City in the mid-1950s before embarking on the road to success in Acapulco, an international tourist destination, where she sang at one of Elizabeth Taylor's weddings.

Chavela Vargas rose to fame in the 1960s and 1970s, touring the world. She became a well-known figure in ranchera song, to which she gave a new lease of life.

Dressed like a man, smoking and drinking like a man, carrying a pistol, "the lady with the red poncho, silver hair and brown flesh" as the Spanish singer Joaquín Sabina described her, is characterised by her red sarape.

In a television interview in 2000, she came out as a homosexual woman. This is where the text at the beginning of the post is from!

Chavela's career reached its peak from the recording of her first album (Noche de Bohemia) in 1961 until the end of the 1970s. This was followed by a long period of fifteen years, during which the singer, suffering from a heavy addiction to alcohol, interrupted her musical career, which she did not resume until 1991.

Encouraged by her friend, the director Pedro Almodóvar, who compared her to Édith Piaf, Chavela embarked on a world tour, performing at the Olympia in Paris and Carnegie Hall in New York. Among her most outstanding performances was Tú me acostumbraste by Frank Domínguez in Pedro Almodóvar's film Babel. Being a close friend of Pedro, she has appeared in several of his films, including The Flower of My Secret.

Following a final concert in Madrid on 10 July 2012 to present her album (La Luna Grande), she was hospitalised in the Spanish capital with serious respiratory problems. She died on 5 August 2012, aged 93.

I am sure you know at least one of her song, La Llorona !

In any case, Chavela was an immense artist who had a profound impact on music, and I'm delighted to have discovered her, or rather re-discovered her. I listened to some of her songs and they're amazing if you like that kind of music ! And please look her up yourself, she was such an interesting person, I couldn't talk about everything in this post or it would have been too long !

[brucewaynehater101]

DC Santa is a troll so when he knows he's going to die and he sends his powers to the young heroes he knows he's about to traumatize, he tweaks things just a little, he's got the time after all, he goes all over the world in a night, the comet is in slow motion to him, not that he'd move, and these little chaotic gremlins have been so good despite everything life has thrown at him and he really owes them quite a backlog of gifts

While Santa may go to apocalypse every year, he goes nowhere near Gotham

To Tim, Tim knows everyone's deepest desire with a look, this ability is especially effective in December. Tim becomes the master of picking out the best holiday and birthday presents

Cassie can speak and understand ALL the languages she comes across

People now automatically have some level of trust towards Greta, know that she's a nice person who would protect them to the best of her ability, had she stayed in the superhero community, she would have attained dick grayson levels of trust among the other capes

Kon has a sense of who's on the naughty list and who's on the nice list, makes it easier to steer away from creepers now who would take advantage of him since it's not like he has a grown up to help him figure that out

Bart is even faster and yet his metabolism is evened out a bit, he's less desperately hungry all the time, can get away with just snacks instead of eating an entire all you can eat buffet, though he's still capable of that, and he has even more of a sweet tooth than before

Slobo is capable of lifting even more than Lobo, the sort of strength and balance one would need to carry a sack filled with presents for the world, or the universe

Anita gets a knack for Christmas magic, the little illusions that bring a little extra joy to a person's life and when she and Tim collaborate they find they can put into motion butterfly effects, tiny actions that cause huge, joyous results, and Anita's gingerbread houses never rot

Cissie gets the anonymity, there are so many Santas but no one could ever tell you which one is real, in the future she never has to worry about someone connection her heroic past to her civilian present, except for her friends of course

I love this AU/hc so much, and how you included more than just the core four for it.

For Tim, I know he's absolutely using that power of his for no good. He uses it to make villains (and some Bats) cry when he mentions or even gets them their deepest desire. I am curious if the deepest desire is only for physical stuff or for the unattainable too (like I bet Dick would love to do a Flying Graysons routine with his parents one more time).

I love Cassie's cause she probably freaks the JL out when she starts speaking thr same dialect of an alien species no one has even heard of before.

Greta's is perfect. I hope she finds lots of use for it in her retirement. I would love a spin off of her just utilizing that power when she goes to college, gets a job, etc.

Kon's makes me want to cry. It's amazing for him, but the reasoning is so sad. I hope YJ is able to help him and that he's better able to take care of himself with this.

I like to imagine Anita's parents/kids looking up to her in amazement as her gingerbread house still stays standing after 5 months.

I'm glad Bart has more choice in his need to eat. Tim probably helps him by buying lots of food, but it's nice that Bart, in this AU, doesn't have to constantly be eating as much.

I don't know as much about Slobo (which is a damn right shame), but it seems DC did him dirty (something about him slowly dying and then sacrificing himself???). Anyways, I hope his strength helps him feel more reassured with himself and confident. I hope he can use it to uplift those he cares about.

Cissie's sounds great. There's tons of stories about the price of fame being a lack of privacy. With this, maybe she'll be able to have a normal life as well

[treason-and-plot]

It's been a while since Anita has been to the Prosper Room, and she's discreetly thrilled to spot several Notable Figures among the lunch crowd, including the Landgraabs and the Altos (What on earth is Vita wearing? You'd think with all their money she could afford to buy clothes that actually flattered her!) and someone she's sure once starred in the second season of The Real Housewives of Bridgeport. The barman also captures her attention.

"Oh my God, you and your barmen," says Renee.

"There's nothing wrong with looking," says Anita. "Although I'd love to go up there and ask him for a Screaming Orgasm."

"Stop it," says Renee.

"It's your fault for buying champagne. You know it always makes me slutty," says Anita. "And it doesn't help that Joël's always too tired to have sex lately-"

She's suddenly interrupted by a loud voice behind her.

"NEETS!" exclaims Roy.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Red-teaming the SCOTUS code of conduct

Tomorrow (November 18) at 1PM, I'll be in Concord, NH at Gibson's Books, presenting my new novel The Lost Cause, a preapocalyptic tale of hope in the climate emergency.

On Monday (November 20), I'm at the Simsbury, CT Public Library at 7PM

Last April, Propublica's Joshua Kaplan, Justin Elliott and Alex Mierjeski dropped a bombshell: Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas had been showered in high-ticket "gifts" by billionaire ideologue Harlan Crow, who subsequently benefited from Thomas's rulings in the court:

https://www.propublica.org/article/clarence-thomas-scotus-undisclosed-luxury-travel-gifts-crow

This was just the beginning: in the coming days and weeks, more and more of Thomas's corruption came to light, everything from the fact that his mother's home had been bought by Crow, to the fact that Thomas's adoptive son went to a fancy private school on Crow's dime:

https://www.propublica.org/article/clarence-thomas-harlan-crow-private-school-tuition-scotus

The news was explosive and not merely because of the corruption it revealed in the country's highest court. The credibility of the court itself was at its lowest ebb in living memory, thanks to the two judges who occupied stolen seats – Kavanaugh and Coney Barrett. One of those judges – Kavanaugh – is a credibly accused rapist. Thomas is also a credibly accused sexual abuser:

https://www.politico.com/news/magazine/2021/10/01/30-years-after-her-testimony-anita-hill-still-wants-something-from-joe-biden-514884

Then, this illegitimate court went on to deliver a string of upsets to long-settled law, culminating in the Dobbs decision, which triggered state laws that force small children to bear their rapists' babies:

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/06/09/health/abortion-bans-rape-incest.html

That was the context for the Thomas bribery scandal, which was swiftly joined by another bribery scandal, involving Samuel Alito's improper acceptance of valuable gifts from Paul Singer, another billionaire who brought business before the court:

https://www.propublica.org/article/samuel-alito-luxury-fishing-trip-paul-singer-scotus-supreme-court

This string of scandals and outrages naturally prompted public curiosity about the Supreme Court's ethical standards, and that triggered fresh waves of incredulous outrage when we all found out that the Supreme Court doesn't have any:

https://www.poynter.org/fact-checking/2023/why-doesnt-the-supreme-court-have-a-formal-code-of-ethics/

When Congress made tentative noises about providing minor checks and balances on the court, the justices erupted in outrage, telling Congress to go fuck itself:

https://int.nyt.com/data/documenttools/supreme-court-ethics-durbin/cf67ef8450ea024d/full.pdf

Chief Justice Roberts went on whatever the opposite of a charm-offensive is called (an "offense offensive?"), a media tour whose key message to the American people was "STFU, you're hurting our feelings":

https://news.bloomberglaw.com/us-law-week/roberts-defends-high-court-against-attacks-on-its-legitimacy

To the shock of no one except billionaires and Supreme Court justices inhabiting the splendid isolation from societal norms that is the privilege of life tenure, America didn't like this. The Supreme Court's credibility plummeted. A large supermajority of Americans – 79%! – now support age limits for Supreme Court justices:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/18/the-people-no/#tell-ya-what-i-want-what-i-really-really-want

Support for packing the Supreme Court is at an historic high and gaining ground, now sitting neck-and-neck with opposition at 46% in favor/51% opposed. Among under-30s, there's a healthy majority (58%) in favor of appointing more SCOTUS justices.

As Roberts' wounded bleats reveal, SCOTUS is very sensitive to its plummeting legitimacy. After all, the court doesn't have an army, nor does it have a police force. Supreme Court rulings only matter to the extent that the American people accept them as legitimate and obey them. Transformational presidents like Lincoln and FDR have waged successful wars against the Supreme Court, sidelining its authority and turning it into an unimportant rump institution for years afterward:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/26/mint-the-coin-etc-etc/#blitz-em

Now the Supremes are working their way through the (mythological but convenient) five stages of grief. Having passed through Denial and Anger, they've arrived at Bargaining, with the publication of the court's first "code" "of" "conduct":

https://www.supremecourt.gov/about/Code-of-Conduct-for-Justices_November_13_2023.pdf

It's…not good. As Max Moran writes for The American Prospect and The Revolving Door Project, the proposed code amounts to "security theater," a set of trivially bypassed strictures that would not have prevented any of the scandals to date and will permit far worse in the years to come:

https://prospect.org/justice/2023-11-17-supreme-court-objectivity-theater/

The security framing is a very useful tool for evaluating the Supremes' proposal. The purpose of a code of conduct isn't merely to prevent people from accidentally misstepping – it's to prevent malicious parties from corrupting the judicial process. To evaluate the code, we should red team it: imagine what harms a corrupt judge or a corrupting billionaire would be able to effect while staying within the bounds the code sets.

Seen in that light, the code is wildly defective and absolutely not fit for purpose. Its most glaring defect is found in the nature of its edicts – they are almost all optional. The word "should" appears 53 times in the document, while "must" appears just six times:

https://ballsandstrikes.org/ethics-accountability/supreme-court-code-of-conduct-hilariously-fake/

Of those six "musts," two are not pertinent to ethical questions (they pertain to the requirement for a justice to get prior approval before getting paid for teaching gigs).

When the code of conduct was rolled out, the court and its apologists pointed out that it was modeled on the ethical guidelines that bind lower courts. In the wake of the Thomas revelations, these guidelines were a useful benchmark to measure Thomas's conduct against. The fact that other federal judges would have been severely sanctioned or even fired if they had engaged in the same conduct as Thomas was a powerful argument that Thomas had overstepped the bounds of ethical conduct.

But as Bloomberg Law discovered when they compared the lower courts' codes to the Supremes' draft, the Supremes have gone through those lower court codes and systematically cut nearly every mention of "enforce" from their own draft. They also cut the requirement to "take appropriate action" if a violation is reported.

If you are a bad judge or a bad donor, all of this is good news. Nearly everything that it condemns is merely optional, which means that if a judge can be convinced to ignore a rule, they won't have violated the code. What's more, even widespread rulebreaking doesn't trigger an investigation. That's a very weak security measure indeed.

But it gets worse. The Supremes' code also omit key definitions found in the codes that bind the lower courts. The most important definition to be cut is for "political organization," which the lower courts define expansively as both parties and "entit[ies] whose principal purpose is to advocate for or against political candidates or parties." That definition captures "nonprofits, think tanks, lobbying firms, trade associations, grassroots groups" – the whole panoply of organizations whom federal judges must maintain an arm's length distance from in order to preserve their objectivity. Federal judges may not lead, speak at or donate to these organizations.

By omitting this definition, the Supremes open the door to involvement with precisely the kinds of PACs, thinktanks and other influence organizations funded by the billionaires who have benefited so handsomely from the judges' rulings.

What's more, the Supremes carve out an explicit exemption for speaking to "nonprofits, think tanks, lobbying firms, trade associations, grassroots groups," and to serving as a director, trustee or officer of "a nonprofit organization devoted to the law, the legal system, or the administration of justice and may assist such an organization in the management and investment of funds."

As Moran points out, this exemption would cover – among other institutions – the far-right Federalist Society, which satisfies all those criteria. That means a Supreme Court justice could sit on the board and raise funds for the FedSoc without raising any issues with this code – not even one of those squishy "shoulds." Nothing in this code would stop Clarence Thomas or Thomas Alito from accepting lavish gifts, private jet rides, or luxury tour buses from billionaires with business before the court:

https://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory/justice-thomas-267000-loan-rv-forgiven-senate-democrats-104303972

As Moran writes, these definitional vacuums are a well-understood class of weaknesses in ethics codes. Congress gets a lot of mileage out of this ruse – for example, by narrowly defining "lobbying" to exclude things that most people understand that term to mean, Congress engage in improperly close relations with lobbyists while still maintaining that they hardly ever talk to a lobbyist at all:

https://www.politico.eu/article/jeff-hauser-opinion-watergate-european-union-qatargate/

The same ruse goes for campaign contributions – if you want to accept a lot of campaign contributions that would fall afoul of ethics rules, just narrow the definition of "campaign contribution" until all the money you're receiving no longer qualifies.

Moran closes by calling on Congress to formulate a real, meaningful code of conduct for the Supremes, one that orders Supreme Court judges not to accept corrupting gifts and to maintain the arm's length neutrality that the rest of the federal judiciary is required to keep. Rather than this new code of conduct constituting proof that SCOTUS can be its own oversight, its gross deficiencies should put to rest any question about whether the Supremes can be trusted to regulate themselves.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/17/red-team-black-robes/#security-theater

Image: Senate Democrats (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:United_States_Supreme_Court_Building,_July_21,_2020.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[thelifeofchuckmovie]

Amy Adams, Tom Hiddleston and Elton John are among those who will be heading to Toronto this fall to premiere new films at the Toronto International Film Festival.

TIFF began to unveil the lineup for its 2024 fest on Tuesday, and premieres will include the Adams-fronted adaptation “Nightbitch,” the Elton John documentary “Elton John: Never Too Late,” DreamWorks Animation’s new film “The Wild Robot,” the coming-of-age film “Rez Ball” produced by LeBron James, the Korean drama “Harbin” and Mike Flanagan’s “The Life of Chuck” starring Hiddleston.

 “We know the TIFF audience has been eagerly anticipating what films will be coming to Toronto this September, and today’s announcement is a snapshot of what’s to come this year: a wonderfully wide range of titles that span genres and generations, with discoveries for everyone,” said Anita Lee, Chief Programming Officer, TIFF.

“Elton John: Never Too Late,” “Harbin” and “The Wild Robot” will screen as part of the Gala selection, while “Nightbitch,” “The Life of Chuck” and “Rez Ball” will all have their world premieres at the festival as part of the Special Presentation selection.

The dark comedy “Nightbitch” is based on the Rachel Yoder novel of the same name and stars Adams a stay-at-home-mom whose domestic life takes a surreal turn. Marielle Heller directs and Searchlight Pictures will release the film in December.

The Elton John doc comes from Disney+ and is directed by R.J. Cutler and John’s husband David Furnish.

The indie “The Life of Chuck” is seeking distribution and is based on the Stephen King 2020 short story of the same name, with Hiddleston starring in something of a dramatic change of pace for “Doctor Sleep” and “The Haunting of Hill House” horror filmmaker Flanagan.

“Harbin” stars Hyun Bin, Lee Dong-wook, Park Jeong-min, and Jeon Yeo-been, and “The Wild Robot” is coming off a rapturous debut of footage at the Annecy International Animation Festival. DreamWorks Animation and Universal will release the film in theaters on Sept. 27.

The 2024 Toronto International Film Festival runs from Sept. 5-15.

[mariacallous]

On May 16, the gaming and entertainment news site Dexerto tweeted an image from the forthcoming game Assassin’s Creed Shadows featuring one of its protagonists, the Black samurai Yasuke, in a fighting pose. Across scores of replies, some voiced optimism, others fatigue with Assassin’s Creed’s now 14-game-long run, and a very vocal few expressed frustration and anger that a Black person was at the center of the narrative.

“Gonna pass on the DEI games,” wrote one blue-check X user, referencing the acronym for diversity, equity, and inclusion. “Why Wokeism?” asked another. Comments full of racist and sexist language filled the thread.

A more articulate undercurrent of these reactionaries, across many online forums, had a more specific set of complaints. Some alleged the race of the real Yasuke was never known, others that he wasn’t a samurai but a retainer, and another claimed he was never in combat.

These were all fairly elaborate conclusions to draw about a guy from 1581 who’s been depicted as a samurai in Japanese media many times, including in the 2017 video game Nioh and Samurai Warriors 5 in 2021, as well as his own animated series on Netflix.

They also may have been the last bit of armchair history we got on Yasuke if the conversation hadn’t been sustained by a set of accounts looking to build yet another front in the online culture war, fueling what some have been calling Gamergate 2.0. Whereas the Gamergate of 2014 focused on trying to drown out feminist voices, and the voices of women of color, in gaming culture, this second incarnation seems focused on pushing back against diversity in games of all kinds. Yasuke just stepped in their path.

The resurgence of the Gamergate moniker came earlier this year in reaction to the work of Sweet Baby. Staff at the small consultancy received a wave of harassment this spring stemming from misinformation and conspiracy theories claiming the company was a BlackRock-backed outfit trying to force diversity into games. (It’s not affiliated with BlackRock and merely advises on characters and storylines.) As the controversy around Assassin’s Creed Shadows intensified, several posts mentioned Sweet Baby, even though company CEO Kim Belair says the firm didn’t work on the game.

“I think it just comes with the post-Gamergate (late-Gamergate?) territory,” Belair wrote in an email to WIRED. “To a certain kind of person, largely trolls, we're synonymous with their idea of ‘wokeness in games’ or a vague idea of ‘DEI,’ but it's ultimately reflective of the overall misinformation that fuels this campaign.”

Gamergate was not the first harassment campaign conceived in the bowels of 4chan and its affiliate websites, but it was perhaps their crowning achievement. The attacks against developers Zoë Quinn and Brianna Wu and media critic Anita Sarkeesian, among others, ranged from doxing to rape and death threats. Its tenets and tactics eventually proved valuable in bringing people into the burgeoning alt-right movement. Even Pizzagate and QAnon can, in some ways, be traced back to what was happening with gamers online in 2014.

“Gamergate was a recruiting ground, a pipeline to leverage the loneliness, discontentment, and alienation of young men—often white young men—into alt-right politics, extremist misogyny, and outright white supremacy and Nazism,” Thirsty Suitors narrative lead Meghna Jayanth told WIRED.

If the early days of social media incubated a cultural cold war, Gamergate turned it hot. Frustrated that they were no longer the sole demographic being catered to, Gamergaters saw “the growing visibility of women, not to mention their incomprehensible insistence that games cater to their perspectives as well, as an unwelcome intrusion in a space that does not belong to them,” Laura Hudson wrote in WIRED at the time. As a result, they wanted more than debate, they wanted blood—and nothing really stopped them from going after it.

Ten years later, aggrieved gamers are focusing on other forms of diversity and inclusion, which is how Assassin’s Creed Shadows’ Yasuke has become the latest point of contention.

While only so much can be truly known when it comes to history, accounts suggest Yasuke (the real one, not the video game character) was a man presumed to be from west Africa who served the Italian missionary Alessandro Valignano. He accompanied Valignano to Japan where he served Oda Nobunaga at the daimyo’s demand. Yasuke was presented with the trappings of a samurai: a house, servants, a sword. He would go on to be with Nobunaga, or near him, at the time of his death, before seeking his heir Nobutada and joining him in battling those responsible for Nobunga’s death, though unsuccessfully.

While Yasuke’s history is fascinating and mysterious, much of the fuss over him has concerned whether he was officially a samurai, a depiction that has shown up in media several times in and outside of Japan. Some insist that he may have instead been a retainer, page, squire, or sword-bearer. Others decrying his inclusion in Shadows said he looked gay.

“There is no easy way to separate the many threads of what we are seeing within the Yasuke backlash,” says Paula Curtis, a postdoctoral fellow at UCLA’s Terasaki Center for Japanese Studies. “There are legitimate complaints about the developers’ decisions regarding representation and historical engagement … There are also many discriminatory responses to the game that have been anti-Black, misogynistic, and politically motivated.” It’s important to note, Curtis adds, that Shadows’ fans and commentators, and the issues they’re raising, aren’t uniform.

When Japanese historian Yu Hirayama tweeted there was “no doubt” as to Yasuke’s samurai status, he was treated to a tirade of abusive replies in English, including one claiming he brought “dishonor to [his] family and Japanese history.”

Amid the backlash to Yasuke’s inclusion in the game—and specifically to his role as a samurai—Ubisoft, the game’s developer, issued a statement saying that while the company “extensively collaborated with external consultants, historians, researchers, and internal teams at Ubisoft Japan” on the game, “some elements in our promotional materials have caused concern within the Japanese community.”

Without saying specifically which aspects caused concern, the company added that it was taking this “constructive criticism” into account as it prepared for the game’s November launch, and apologized. (Ubisoft did not respond to a request for comment on this story.)

Jayanth believes the apology was a case of misplaced appeasement.

“The alt-right's fundamental drive is hatred of the ‘other,’” she says. “Even if we cleansed our games of women, non-white people, queer people—which is their ask, and one we absolutely should not give in to—they would turn to insufficiently ‘masculine’ depictions of white men. This movement exists only in opposition to some polluting ‘other,’ an enemy that must be manufactured if a real enemy cannot be found.”

Revisionist approaches to history have seen a rise in recent years, especially in the interest of enshrining an idealist sense of a traditionalist past as an ahistorically conservative utopia.

“You see this in the false assertion of a purely white Middle Ages or the denial of war atrocities in World War II,” Curtis says. “Bad-faith actors may cherry-pick historical sources in order to craft specific narratives, completely ignore sources that do not support their views, or appropriate historical symbols as rallying cries to their causes.”

The proponents of Gamergate 2.0 have veiled their scorn for Assassin’s Creed Shadows’ inclusion of Yasuke within concerns for historical accuracy. Much Like the Gamergaters of old, who insisted they were defending ethics in gaming journalism and not harassing women they felt needed to be put in their place.

Gamergate then, and Gamergate now, are both ultimately about the sensitivities around who saw representation and how, made disproportionately important by how disempowered and alienated modern people feel. As games have made room for a wider array of characters, the gamers at the center of the backlash have seen this progress as a form of persecution. Games are changing, and as much as those upset over Yasuke’s inclusion in Shadows want to push back, they may not be able to stop that.

“It's certainly been strange to see us tied to a ton of games we've never worked on simply because people perceive ‘wokeness’ or progressive ideas in them,” Sweet Baby’s Belair says, “but maybe it's indicative of a greater truth that Gamergaters miss: No external consultancy is forcing studios to make their products more diverse or more progressive. The change, whatever you think of it, is coming from inside the house.”

[jazzandother-blog]

Jazz critic Leonard Feather called her “the most important singer to emerge from the bop era.” Ella Fitzgerald called her the world’s “greatest singing talent.” During the course of a career that spanned nearly fifty years, she was the singer’s singer, influencing everyone from Mel Torme to Anita Baker. She was among the musical elite identified by their first names. She was Sarah, Sassy — the incomparable Sarah Vaughan.

El crítico de jazz Leonard Feather la llamó "la cantante más importante surgida de la era del bop". Ella Fitzgerald la llamó "el mayor talento del mundo para cantar". En el transcurso de una carrera que abarcó casi cincuenta años, fue la cantante de las cantantes, influyendo en todos, desde Mel Torme hasta Anita Baker. Formaba parte de la élite musical identificada por su nombre de pila. Era Sarah, Sassy, la incomparable Sarah Vaughan.

[hicginewsagency]

Ugandan Speaker: "Who told you that a Man should have Only Wife? "

Rt Hon Anita Among, Uganda Speaker of Parliament Uganda speaker Rt Hon Anita Among has attacked social media users who are criticizing the Kyabazinga of Busoga Gabura Nadyope ahead of his scheduled wedding tomorrow. Speaking in a fully packed house yesterday, Among who has just given birth to twins recently said, ” Leave the Kyabazinga alone, who told you that a man should have one wife alone?…

[thatbanditqueen]

Bless Your Heart

An Elvis-o-Ween One Shot

A response to the month-long writing prompt for Halloween/Fall

Summary: It's 1957, and Jan's dreams come true when she gets invited up from the gate to join Elvis' parties at Graceland. But not all that glitters is gold, and this new social circle may have a few angels and demons among them.

Warnings: No real smut, suggestions of sex, but there is a teensy bit of scary gore at the end.... so no minors and be forewarned. This was a new experience for me, I easily could have written about Elvis romancing ghost girlies all month, but I wanted to challenge myself. Not sure if it worked but... here goes nothing.

You can check out last week's Elvis-o-ween here:

Little Blue Toes

WC: 6.8 K

6:05 p.m. Thursday, September 19, 1957

Graceland, Memphis TN

The evening sun was slowly turning red when Jan hopped off the bus, and it burned orange circles into the back of her eyelids. She shook them away, distractedly nodding at the driver as she turned her attention to the crowd down the block. The rolling hills of Whitehaven were still a deep green in the fall, but Jan hardly noticed and clutched her purse as she got closer to the gate. She tried not to be too obvious as she craned her head to see Graceland from the back of the crowd. It looked smaller than she had expected, a grey matchbox on a hill in the dusky twilight. Jan told herself that she would have to come back on the weekend, now that she knew how easy it was to get here. Now that she knew, after reading that article in the newspaper, that his fans regularly gathered in front of the house. She could plan her trip out better than she had today. After reading the newspaper at lunch, she had impulsively jumped on the bus to Whitehaven after work.  Feeling a pebble in her shoe, she was gracefully trying to hop on one foot and shake it out when two shadows loomed over her.

“See, told you it wasn’t Susie. She’s too dressed up.”

Jan squinted up at the girls in front of her.

“No, uh, not Susie.” She straightened her skirt and hesitantly stuck her hand out, grateful for the excuse to talk to someone. “Jan.”

“Heidi.” The blonde announced and tilted to the shorter brunette next to her. “And Arlene.”

“Y’all regulars?”

“Oh yeah, we come here all the time.” Arlene gushed. “We’re just waiting for him to finish breakfast and give Travis the signal.”

Jan looked through the white wrought iron gate up at house.

“What do you mean, wake up and give Travis the signal?”

“Oh, well, he sleeps through the day. Has breakfast round 4 or 5. Sometimes he’ll come sign autographs at the gate, but -” Arlene leaned in toward Jan and her eyes twinkled. “Uh, well, when he’s in town he likes us to be here in case he wants to have some people up for a party. He has parties most nights. We’re kind of in his gang -  OW.” Arlene grabbed her rib cage and hit Heidi back. “Hey, what gives?”

“You shouldn’t be bragging, Arlene, cuz we can't bring her with us and now she’ll feel left out.”

Jan smiled politely, and tugged at the pearl button on her white, linen gloves. “It’s ok - I gotta catch the last bus back home anyway.”

Jan wanted to ask the girls what Elvis was really like in-person. Before she could, though, a loud gasp filled the air and she was pushed into them as the crowd jostled closer to the gates. A tall dark figure strode down the drive dressed all in white. White dress shirt, white sport’s coat, white pants. He looked like an angel. Jan was absolutely mesmerizing and dropped her purse watching his hair flop up and down with each bounce of his white loafers. The kids around her shouted out “Hey Elvis” and cheered, but she couldn’t say a thing. She could barely breathe as her tummy flip flopped watching his mouth form into a crooked grin. She vaguely heard the other girls chatting next to her.

“I wonder if Anita Wood is up there?”

“Nah, she’s down in New Orleans at a beauty pageant, he told me last night.”

“You’re so lucky you don’t have a mom who treats you like a child, Arlene. What I wouldn’t give to stay until 2 or 3.”

The gates opened, and Jan ended up right behind Arlene and Heidi in the semi-circle around Elvis. No one pushed or prodded to tried to sneak past the guard house. It was all very civilized, and a jovial atmosphere percolated between the open gates as Elvis went from person to person, signing memorabilia and teasing the folks he met. When he made it to Arlene, Jan watched in awe as he drew her to him and pecked her sweetly on the ear, asking if she brought him his favorite cigars like she said she would. Jan would give anything to be in his gang. She would bring him all the cigars and if it meant he would hug her and kiss her and tease her too. But when his blue eyes flitted over to her, she found that her mouth had gone completely dry and she couldn’t say a word.

“Who’s ya friend with the big brown eyes?”

“Oh, that’s Jan. It’s her first time here.”

Elvis’ smirk deepened. “Cat got ya tongue?” He winked, kissing the top of Jan’s glove. “S’ok, honey. I don’t bite.”  Then his teeth grazed over her knuckle. “Much.”

Jan felt the air hitch in her throat at the way he looked at her from under his eyelids. She no longer needed her hand. He could have it. He could have anything he wanted.

Elvis chuckled. “Why, you’re as shy as a mouse. Got anything for me to sign, lil mousy?”

Jan stuttered and fumbled about in her purse for something, handing Elvis the first thing she found. Her sweaty, monogrammed handkerchief.

“I didn’t know I was coming today.” She whispered slowly, and her voice trailed off as she watched Elvis wipe his forehead with her hankie and pocket it with a wink.

“S’ok, lil gal, bring something tomorrow.” Then he whispered into Arlene’s ear and moved on through the crowd.

Arlene snaked her hand through Jan’s arm and led her toward the house. “Elvis wants you to come up to the party with us.”

Jan squeezed Arlene with a giggle, smoothing her hand over her skirt as they walked. The house got bigger and bigger as they strode up the drive and Jan realized that the round curve of the hill created an optical illusion that made it look small from the road. But now she found herself in front of a grand, Neo-colonial mansion. Large, white columns flanked the front of the house, and two white marble lions stood guard at the entrance way. It was like standing in front of a magical castle. Jan felt that she ought to be wearing a silk, red evening gown instead of her belted navy shirt dress.

They did not enter the front door. Instead, Arlene led Jan around the front of the house towards the sound of music playing and people laughing on a patio surrounding a large, shimmering pool. There was a gay crowd of young people drinking pop and mingling around. Heidi adopted a hushed, intimate tone as she pointed out the others in the gang.

“That’s Lamar, he’s always eager to please Elvis and does anything he asks - and so is Alan - the shorter stout one. That skinny little creep is Gene, and that’s Mack, he usually drives us home. The guy next to him is Richard and that’s Frances, our friend, I’m not sure how she already got up here - “

“- is she going with Elvis?”

Arlene chimed in. “Well, he’s seeing a few girls. There’s a singer, Anita, who he steps out with pretty regularly. But me, Heidi and Frances, we’re just his friends. EP is a very physical person. Likes to love on all the gals. That’s just the warm, sweet kinda guy he is. Sometimes he’ll pull me on his lap, and give me a little kiss.”

“Lucky girl.” Jan murmured.

“Mmm.” Arlene answered. “I’d rather be friends with him than date him.”

 “Really? Why’s that? Don’t you find him attractive?”

“Of course, Elvis is the most!” Heidi looked at Jan as if she had questioned the existence of gravity. “But, well, once he goes all the way with a gal, he almost never wants to see her again. His dates come and go. But his friends, well, we’re forever.” Heidi exchanged a knowing glance with Arlene.

“Like Susie.”

Heidi clicked her tongue. “Pretty sure Anita’s got her knees sewn shut til she gets a wedding ring.”

“Well, I keep my knees shut too.” Arlene interjected. “I don’t even know why any girl would want to go to bed with Elvis when they can kiss him as much as they want. There couldn’t be anything better than kissing Elvis.”

Jan raised her eye brow, thinking of a hundred other things that she could imagine doing with Elvis. But she kept them to herself and smiled, hanging back to straighten the lines on her hose as the girls joined the party. She had just finished putting the right leg in place when she looked between her legs to find Elvis watching her. His cheeks flushed, and he bite his lip before walking over. All Jan could do was sigh as he grabbed her by the waist and introducing her to everyone around the pool.  His guests, his housekeeper, Alberta, and then his mother who was just about to go inside. Mrs. Presley hugged Jan tightly and thanked her for coming to visit them, adding in a high, chipper voice.

“I’m so glad my baby is making friends like you, I can tell you have a  kind heart, Janice. I really can.”

“Nice of you to say, Mrs. Presley ma’am. I like to think I have kind heart.”

“What’s this about a sweet lil ol’ heart?”

The two women turned to find a petite blonde in the doorway behind them.

“Oh Anita.” Mrs. Presley took the blonde’s hand. “I was just saying to Jan here, how glad I am to know her. She is a good, sweet girl. I’m so glad you get to meet her, I thought you were out of town. Can I get you some food.”

The blonde smiled and licked her teeth, her blue eyes looked Jan over with a cool smile. “Thank you ever so, Mrs. Presley, but I just ate and I’m fit to bust if I swallow another morsel.”

Mrs. Presley smiled. “Well, I just know you two will be thick as thieves. Be good little babies.” She hugged them together tightly once more before saying good night.

Jan could not stop herself from staring at Anita. Her platinum blonde hair shone in the silver light and her short, busty figure filled out a tight, pink wiggle dress. Her creamy white skin was so radiant Jan would have sworn it was glowing and the contrast made her luscious red lips stand out all the more. Some of Anita’s red lipstick had smudged around her mouth and on her front teeth, and Jan pointed to her own mouth to mime helpfully.

“Why, bless ya heart,  you really are the sweetest thang looking out for me. And you’re so pretty too. I could just eat ya up!” Anita squealed as she pulled out a compact and fixed her lipstick. “I cain’t tell you how many other girls would just let me walk around looking like a fool all night.”

“They’re probably jealous, I, uh, heard you’re Elvis’ girlfriend.”

Anita pursed her lips in a tight smile. “Sometimes I think everyone knows that ’cept him. Excuse me.”

Jan walked back over to where Arlene and some of the other girls were huddled around a bucket of pop watching Anita stomp over to where Elvis stood with his arm around a cute redhead while Lamar told stories about the drive home from LA.

Arlene handed Jan a Dr. Pepper. “I see you met Anita, I could have sworn she was supposed to be at a beauty pageant in New Orleans.”

“Look, I think she’s had her nose done.” Heidi gasped. “Or, well, something is different - she looks prettier than the last time I saw her. I wonder if there even was a beauty pageant. Maybe her plastic surgeon is in New Orleans.”

Jan looked at Heidi as she spoke. “You don’t like her very much, huh?”

“She’s too possessive, and she tries to chase us off. You should have seen her trying to convince Arlene that she should go back to Chicago.” Heidi kicked the pavement with her saddle shoe. “Too bad for her, Elvis wants us here. And I plan to hang around as long as I can.”

Just then, the record changed on the jukebox and The Five Satins song. “In the Still of the Night” began to play. Jan looked over and blushed when Elvis caught her eye staring at him. Yes, I plan to stick around as long as I can too, she thought to herself, looking down at her feet. The mischievous way Elvis raised his eyebrows at her made her feel funny and she couldn’t handle looking at him for too long without grinning like a mad woman.

The night went on and Jan’s whole body tingled from the heady mix of music, moonlight and raw, unadulterated exposure to Elvis under the stars at Graceland. Sitting out in the cool night air, caught between the twinkling night sky and the glimmering pool, Jan felt as though she had finally arrived. The evening had turned out to be more magical than she could ever have imagined. She hated to pull herself away, but she gave in at midnight and went to call a cab.

The kitchen was dim this late at night, illuminated only by the soft lights above the stove, and Jan finally found a phone book in a drawer under the cupboards. She was leaning against the counter, flipping through the pages when two hands startled her working their way around her waist. She glanced over her shoulder to find a dark mop of hair grazing her cheek. Then Elvis’ breath was warm on her ear.

“Looks like I caught a lil mousy.” He slowly turned her around to face him, grinning at the way she blushed. Then his eyes fell on the phone book and his lips turned into a frown. “Ain’t going, are ya lil gal? Why, it’s still early. Ain’t had the chance to learn all ya secrets yet.” He winked as he said this, and it made Jan’s heart melt.

She would have told him anything he asked. If she could talk, that is. It was difficult for to do that when she looked into Elvis’ earnest wide-eyed stare. She could hear the party out on the patio, there must have been over thirty people here who wanted to be near him. However, to look at his pouting lips and feel the needy caress of his thumb at her waist made Jan feel as though she was the only person in the world and she was letting him down by deserting him.

“I, um, I have to be at work at 7:30 tomorra.” She stuttered, staring at the floor just to be able to get the words out. “It’s time for me to turn into a pumpkin, I guess.”

Elvis rubbed her cheek. “Aw heck, I guess that’s s’ok. I’ll get Mack to drive you home.” He paused, eyelashes fluttering down for a moment. “But, uh,  you can’t leave before telling me a few of your secrets.”

“Like what?”

“Like, say, how old are you anyway, huh, lil mouse?” His thumb now rolled over her belt buckle, rubbing her stomach back and forth along the edge.

Jane’s face turned a bright, beet red as she stuttered out her response. “Um, I’m 18.”

“In school?”

She shook her head. “Just finished. I - I’m at Goldsmiths, in the steno pool.”

“Hate to think of these poor lil fingees, banging away all day.” Elvis took her hand, examining her fingers. “Didn’t even know a department store needed a steno pool.

“Um, well, uh - we’re in the business offices on the 18th floor. Most people, they, uh, they never see us.”

“That’s the only floor I wanna see, from now on. ‘specially if all the lil gals up there are as cute as you.” Elvis’ ran his hand through his hair, smirking at the way Jan blushed even harder. Their eyes were locked for a moment, and his forehead dropped on to hers as he murmured in a boyish voice.

“Sorry I didn't get to sign nothing for you, like ya wanted. Come back tomorrow?”

Jan nodded.  Elvis kissed her on the cheek and put her into Mack’s car, leaving her with a mouth stuck open in giddy disbelief the whole ride home. She pinched herself at least ten times to make sure she was really awake. That she had really been to Graceland and met Elvis Presley.  Then she fell asleep thinking of a pair of playful blue eyes glistening above her.

It was not long before Jan became a permanent fixture at Graceland. She would go home from work, change into a cocktail dress and take the bus to the Winchester Road stop.  Every time Travis or Vester let her through the gates she would shiver with anticipation for whatever the night would bring. It was more than just getting to be in the sunshine of Elvis’ affection, though that alone was something she lived for.  No, spending the evening at Graceland also meant trips to the skating rink, nights at the fairgrounds, bonfires, music, swimming or fireworks. It was like a never ending summer camp or a holiday resort, like the ones her cousins in New York told her about. And Jan never wanted to check out of this one.

During her days Jan would carry a little notebook around and write down clever things to say to Elvis that she thought would make him laugh, practicing them at her desk while she typed. She often was too shy to actually make these jokes. But she felt  more confident just having them ready when she went over. It was usually past midnight when she got home, but Jan just doubled her coffee, determined never to miss an evening at Graceland.

That is, until a big storm hit Memphis the following Saturday.

Jan considered taking a cab over, and called a few of the others to see what they were doing, but she couldn’t get through. The switch board operator told her the storm had knocked down several phone lines through town. Resigned to a night in, she had just made a kettle of hot tea and settled into watch Lawrence Welk when the phone rang and Frances told her Elvis was asking where she was.

The rain poured down on Jan’s cab all the way to Whitehaven. As usual, the curtains were all drawn for the family’s privacy, but tonight it made Graceland look more ominous and the exterior lights cast eerie shadows on a building with no visible life to the outside world.  Buckets of rain poured over Jan as she ran from the car to the door, and she stopped at the mirror in the entrance way to try and fix her face. She hated driving in the rain, even as a passenger, she was on edge the whole time and unable to relax until she got to her destination. It made her feel a bit off tonight, and then she felt silly for feeling off. Why, she could hear someone playing a Dean Martin song on the piano, the house was filled with enough music and laughter to block out the sound of the storm, and there she was, feeling like a stick in the mud. She shouldn’t have come. 

Jan was distracted from her thoughts of regret when she noticed that someone had put their cigarette out on the floor, staining the beautiful white carpet that lined the entry way. She had just bent down to pick it up when she heard Elvis’ voice, and looked up to see him leaning in the entryway with a few members of the gang.

“Silly lil mousy, scared of a few rain drops. Havta start calling you fraidy mouse.” He leaned his head back and the others joined in with his laughter. “Stead a fraidy cat, fraidy mouse.”

Jan’s eye twitched, and she looked into the mirror. She looked like a wet rat, not a mouse, and she felt like a silly child. She didn’t want to be here anymore.

“You’re not being fair, Elvis, have you even been outside today? I don’t have a car. And it’s a hurricane out there. If you thought about anyone other than yourself you’d know it wasn’t easy coming here.”

Elvis eyes widened and he jumped back as if Jan had slapped his face. “Not fair, huh? Don’t think of others, huh? I cain’t believe my goddamn ears. That’s all I do. You know all you have to do is call and I’d come get you.” His shoulders were back and his hands were at his hips as he roared to the ceiling. “Ain’t fair. aint’ fair. Well if you feel like that you should jus go on back home. No one wants you here anyhow.”

Jan could feel the tears welling up, and she ran past the staircase, through the kitchen and down to the basement so no one would see her cry. She had never seen Elvis loose his temper before. He could be cocky, teasing, oblivious, but now she knew what it was to feel the pummel of his brief, yet intense, bout of rage. Jan slammed her fists down on her knees, mad at herself for loosing her composure. She had immediately regretted what she said, and now she was sure that she had screwed everything up. Elvis would never let her come back. And the thought of loosing her membership in his special, secret club that she had only just began to experience brought forth another round of deep sobs.

Eventually, once she could breathe evenly without blubbering she found her compact and took a look and then promptly put it away. Her makeup was beyond repair. So instead, she began to think about how she could possibly leave without anyone noticing. Then she heard the floor squeak across the hall, and wandering toward the TV room to take a look. She stood in the doorway and looked around.

“Hello? Someone here?”

“Boo!” Elvis jumped out from the projection closet and grabbed Jan, eliciting a high scream that ricocheted through the rooms.

Elvis grinned and licked his thumb to clean off her runny makeup. “See, I was right. You really are a jumpy little fraidy mouse tonight. A pretty, silly, cute and wet lil baby mousy. Come on upstairs, honey, and let’s fix your face.”

Jan let herself slump into Elvis chest as he walked her up to his bathroom and sat her on the counter. Somehow Elvis had a drawer full of makeup, and she gave herself to him completely as he dried her hair and did her eye shadow.

“I’m sorry, Elvis. Bout earlier. I don’t know why I said that, you’re one of the most thoughtful people. It’s just. I’m just.” She sighed. “Driving in the rain and storms always scares me.”

“Aw, honey.” He rubbed her cheek, then puckered out his lips as a cue for her to do the same. “S’ok. Cain’t bare to stay sore at you. You know I ain’t gonna let nothing bad happen to you, baby. Next time, you call me and I’ll come get ya. You’ll always be safe by my side.”

Jan nodded as Elvis drew her to him, holding her tight as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. He began to get a goofy look on his face, as if he might kiss her on the mouth, when Mack knocked on the door and pulled Elvis aside.

“EP, George just called about a story in the evening paper. I gotta tell you, right away.”

Elvis nodded at Jan to go back downstairs, where she found the other guests exchanging hushed whispers and nervous glances. Walking through the various rooms, she finally found Arlene, Frances and a few of the other girls with Gladys on the back patio listening to the rain thump against the green metal awning.

“Oh Jan, we had to get some fresh air. It’s just too awful for words.”

“What is it Mrs. Presley? What’s happened?”

Heidi took her hand and pulled her into the corner.

“It’s Susie, the police found her body in the woods off the Nashville Road.”

Jan’s brow crinkled. “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. I never met her, but  -  but, ugh, how horrible. What happened?”

“They think she was attacked by animal.” Heidi leaned in closer to whisper in Jan’s ear. “Her heart was torn clean out of her chest. Mrs. Presley is very upset, she was over here all the time.” Heidi squeezed Jan’s hand. Tight. “She was one of us.”

The rest of the night was a blur. Elvis  asked most of the guests to clear out before gathering the gang in his bedroom, where he cried openly and asked Alberta to bring them a coconut cake. Then they sat around eating on the bed, sharing their favorite memories of Susie. Heidi left at midnight, and at three Jan looked over at Arlene and Frances and asked if they shouldn’t go to. Elvis’ soulful eyes looked over from where he was slumped across his bed.

“Aw, don’t leave me babies. I can’t bear to be alone.”

Frances. “What, a slumber party with all of us in your bed tonight? What will people think?”

“Fuck ‘em. Nah, people know y’all are good lil virgins, so who cares what they think.” Elvis’ eyebrows went up for a split second when Jan looked away at the word virgin. But if he thought anything of it, he kept it to himself.

The girls went into the bathroom to change in to some of Elvis’ pajamas shirts and get ready for bed. Jan cautiously asked if the others had ever slept over before.

“Oh yeah. A few times.” Arlene handed Jan her comb. “It’s all very innocent. You know Elvis, he hates to be alone. ”

Frances nodded, chiming in. “Yeah, hanky panky is the last thing on his mind. He’s proud that we’re good girls. And when he finds out someone isn’t -”

“Gosh I feel so bad.” Arlene looked at her self despondently as she finished rolling her hair. “I thought that was why Susie wasn’t coming back. I thought she had seduced him in a weak moment, and then he couldn’t bear to have her around anymore knowing she was fast.  Boy oh boy, I guess I was wrong.”

“You didn’t know, who would have thought she was dead? Honestly, your theory was the most logical explanation.” Frances rubbed Arlene’s shoulder as they consoled each other.

Jan smiled sympathetically, feeling very awkward because she wanted to share their grief but couldn’t, not really. She looked out into the bedroom at where Elvis lay in the center of his large mattress, staring off into space and wondered if he really banished girls after he slept with them. It seemed an anathema to everything she had learned over the last week about how kind and warm and instantly familiar and sweet he was with women.

Once they were ready for bed, the girls climbed in next to and Elvis he grinned a big crooked grin when Jan scuttled over to claim his right arm. The four of them cuddled in together, talking about Susie, and then musing about the things they wanted to do before they died. Arlene wanted to see the pyramids, Frances wanted to own a horse and Elvis said he wanted to go on a safari in Africa. When it was Jan’s turn, she murmured that this was her dream, to have friends who loved and embraced her so openly. And then she hid her face in Elvis’ chest, blushing as the others cooed over her.

The rain continued, and eventually the conversation moved on to happier topics, such as what people probably eat for dinner in heaven. Spaghetti and meatballs, if Arlene was to be believed. Every so often, Elvis would lean into and start kissing the side of Arlene or Jan’s forehead absentmindedly. Then Frances would claim she was left out and Elvis would make a big production of kissing them all. And then there would be another round of giggles and tickles and little kicks under the covers.

Jan wasn’t quite sure what time she fell asleep, but when she woke up she was nestled into Elvis armpit and the others were gone. Thick black curtains covered the windows and made it impossible to know what time of day it was from the sunlight, at least. Jan hoped it was Sunday morning but she suspected it may already be the afternoon. Pushing her cares aside, she leaned further into Elvis warm body and moving her hand over the cool silk of his white monogrammed pajamas, trying memorize exactly how this felt so she could play it back in her mind’s eye when ever she wanted

“Uh oh, looks like there’s a lil mouse in ma bed.”

Jan felt Elvis’ lips on her forehead, and turned to see his eyes dancing under half open lids. She let out a little snort as she pulled herself closer to him, savoring the cozy cocoon of sheets, blankets and Elvis that enveloped her.

“I wonder where the others are.”

“Probably downstairs stuffing their gob, if I know Arlene.”

Jan swatted Elvis playfully, and he chuckled, stretching his arm out around her with a yawn. She sat up to read the clock on the mantle, and thought of all the little things she had told herself she would do before work tomorrow. Elvis grabbed her pulled her back into his chest.

“Ughhhh, it’s almost 2 in the afternoon.”

“Huh, so, why hurry at this point?” He grinned and caressed her stomach, leaning on his side to hover over her.

“I’m glad ya here, lil gal. Glad we can comfort each other during hard times. An I’m glad you been coming over,  you one of my sweet lil girls now, Jan." He kissed her cheek, his lip spouting. "Now, you gotta promise you won't go on no dates when I’m outta town, it would break my heart.”

Jan nodded up, her mouth hanging open. “No, you can trust me Elvis. I won’t see anyone else.”

A lock of his black hair dangled over his forehead, and Jan flinched when Elvis’ hand moved over the low curve of her belly.

“Honey, you know you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about with me, though. I would never hurt you, or do anything wrong to you.”

Jan nodded. “I know - I just - I guess I’m just not used to being around men like this very often. But I like it. I like being around you.”

“Huh, well, that’s good. I don’t want you spending time with anyone else, lil mouse. You know I meant it when I say I’m glad all you girls are good lil virgins. You know I’m not like most guys, I respect you.” His fingers smoothed over the hair above her widow’s peak. “So you ain’t gotta worry bout that.”

Jan broke their eye contact and looked up at the dark blue ceiling.

“What - what is it, honey? Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed talking bout, should be proud that you’re a good girl.”

“I’m - I.” Jan hesitated and met Elvis eyes as she rolled over the pillow and looked into the mirror, watching his face as he nuzzled his chin into her from behind. He ran his fingers over her matching navy blue pajama shirt.

“What’s the word, lil mouse? You know you can tell me anything?”

Jan rolled back into him, murmuring into the white lining above his collar.

“I’m just afraid you won’t want me around anymore. You - the gang - spending time here. It’s the best part of my day. But I don’t want to lie to you, Elvis.” Her voice got even lower and she trembled. “I’m not a virgin.”

Elvis tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. “Ya not?”

Jan slowly shook her head. “But - but I’m not here to try to seduce with you.”

He let out a loud cackle.

“No? Don’t find me attractive, huh?”

“No, I do. It’s just that I know - I ‘ve heard. That is, they say once a girl goes all the way with you, she’s not allowed to come back.”

Elvis’ brows furrowed and Jan wasn’t sure if he was hurt or about to laugh again until chuckle rang out. “What? That’s the stupidest goddamn thing I eva heard. How would any of those lil hens know, anyway?”

“I - I - I don’t know, I never asked.” Jan’s voice trailed off as Elvis chuckled into her cheek as he kissed her.

“Well, don’ worry baby, I ain’t trying to take advantage of ya, virgin or not.” His hands roved over her sides as he looked deep into her eyes. “Man oh man, mousy gal, look so sweet and innocent though, never would ‘ave guessed.”

Jan felt a tingly warmth start to coil in her belly and she gasped as Elvis rolled his nose over hers. He moved closer, his hand roving under her pajama shirt and trailing under her bare breast.

“Thanks for not taking advantage of me, either way.” Jan muttered, slightly distracted by the nips at her ear and the succession of slow and firm kisses that followed on her neck.

“Naw, honey. Wouldn’t dream a it. Furthest thing from my mind.”

Jan didn’t know what would happen the next she arrived at the Graceland gate house, she half expected Uncle Vester to turn her away. But he waved her through, and she chided herself for being silly. Elvis was so kind and warm, she could never imagine him banishing her after what they had shared. He had been so sweet, so kind, so gentle. He had conjured a pleasure from deep within her that she had never experience before, and she felt as if she had only truly been with a man for the first time when she was with him. Still, as Jan walked up the hill to the house she vowed to resist the urge to experience that pleasure again. She didn’t want to loose her friendships with the other girls. And so, as she stepped in the door and removed her coat and gloves, she swore to herself she would never go all the way with Elvis Presley. Again.

Solemn oaths, however, are so very difficult to keep. And Jan found herself changing her mind the minute Elvis whispered in her ear to sneak up stairs and wait for him in his bed room when Mack went to drive the other members of the gang home. Heidi, Frances and Arlene said nothing, but Jan could tell they knew something was up. They must, have, she reasoned. Especially once Elvis started picking her up and dropping her off himself. Sometimes he would take her home alone, but when he picked her up most evenings he would park and honk outside her ladies boarding house with some of the other guys and ask if they had any available rooms for Lamar. Jan caught Arlene staring at her out of the corner of her eye all the next week, and then Heidi trapped her on the landing that Friday.

“Just be careful. ‘Member: keep your knees closed, that’s the only way to make it last now that you’re one of his girls.”

Jan’s brow furrowed “But we’re all his girls.”

“You know what I mean, Jan. Anita is coming back from New York in a few days, I hope you know what you are doing.”

Jan swallowed hard as she watched Heidi descend down the staircase. Had she just been a bed warmer during Anita’s absence? Was there a way to go back to how it had been at first, when the most she did in bed with Elvis was have pillow fights and tickling kisses? But then when he squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb along the side of her palm she was powerless to stop herself from answering his silent call and going to wait for him in his bedroom.

It was Sunday, Elvis was going back on tour the next day. It was her last night with him and Jan ran out of her apartment the second she saw the winged tips on the back of Elvis’ white Eldorado outside her window. She slid down the banister and jumped off the end, soliciting a humpf and a stern glance from the boarding house matron at the front desk. Jan giggled. She couldn’t help it. But her gait slowed when she noticed the single blonde bob in the driver’s seat.

“Why hey there, Miss Janice, how are you?”

Jan frowned and leaned into the car. “Looking for me Anita?”

The blonde’s a tight fake smile grew across her face. Jan couldn’t help but notice that she had bags under her eyes and the rosy color that had animated her creamy pink skin when they first met had faded. Anita no longer had that radiant glow, she looked sickly and pale. This didn’t seem to dampen her energy, and she giggled and patted the seat beside her.

“Come on, honey, thought we could go for a lil ol drive, have a lil ol talk.” She winked. “You know, girl to girl.”  Jan sighed and rubbed her neck, looking around as she considered what she should do. What was the worst that could happen? Anita might yell at her, she might start a scene with Elvis later. Maybe Jan could stop her from doing that, could talk some sense into her or even convince her she was wrong. So Jan took a deep breath and got into the car.

“How was New York?”

They made small talk as Anita guided her car around the block and drove further from the lights of downtown Memphis into the dark, black night. “In the Still of The Night” came on the radio as the Eldorado made its way through the outskirts of Memphis. After a while, Jan stopped trying to come up with things to say, and awkwardly started to suggest maybe they should get back, unless there was something specific Anita wanted to discuss. Anita turned again to smile, and pulled the car on to the side of the road. She shut off the engine and Jan suddenly felt a tremor of fear rise up her spine. An owl hooted out in the woods, off beyond the shoulder. Other than that, there was no one around.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Anita. I thought we were friends.”

Anita shifted in her seat to look at her directly, and Jan could swear she saw a flash of yellowish green in Anita’s eyes.

“Why you must think I was born yesterday, to be friends with a lil tramp that goes doing the hanky panky with my man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jan whispered, her voice stilted and unsure as she blinked at the ground. She shivered when Anita scooted closer along the front seat and leaned into Jan’s face, sniffing her cheek.

“Heavens to betsy, honey. I can still smell him on you.”

Jan began to mutter that was not even possible, but her voice trailed off and she swallowed hard in disbelief as she watched Anita’s mouth grow wider and wider and her teeth extend into a row of sharp daggers. Jan tried and failed to find the door handle, so instead, she opted to crawl out through the open window. Somehow Anita ran around the front of the car lightening fast and managed to tackled Jan to the ground before she could run. Her small body had the strength of ten men as she held Jan down by her shoulders on the cold dirt that lined the dark road.

“Please, please, I’ll stop, I promise. Cross my heart.”

Anita smiled down at Jan and her yellow eyes burned bright in the black night.

“Bless your heart, that’s just what I’m after too.”

Then, with a flash of her smile, Anita ripped through Jan’s chest with her teeth and devoured her still-beating heart in one gulp, savoring the way it throbbed down her throat. Jan’s screams echoed through the forest and down the Nashville road, but there was no human around for miles and miles to hear them.

Heidi, Arlene and the others looked for Jan at the gate over the following days and weeks. Once or twice, they thought they saw her walking down the street from the bus stop, but they were wrong.

“She must have slept with him.” Arlene explained, smoothing her skirt as they walked around the pool.

“I warned her, I said, once girls go all the way with him, they never come back.” Heidi tutted, looking across the patio and nodding her head at Anita. “Gosh, she looks even prettier than the last time. Must have had more work down when she was ‘at that job in New York.’”

“Oh fooey, to hell with Anita Wood.”

OK, but seriously, look at these photos from before and after she started dating Elvis. You cannot tell me Anita wasn't gobbling up the hearts of innocent gate girls when Elvis wasn't looking!

Happy Elvis-o-Ween.......

I am working on at least one more or two more Elvis-o-ween fics so let me know if you want to be tagged. For now just tagging randomly. So also feel free to tell me to fuck off.

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