#banks of the ohio

[reality-detective]

Chase Bank building explodes in downtown Youngstown, Ohio; People are missing under the rubble 🤔

[demolition-queen]

Once upon a time, the whole world pitied them, felt sorry for them, and condemned the brutality they experienced. Movies and songs were made. The genociders and Hitler were cursed.

But now, at this point, they have become even more despicable than the Hitler they once cursed. They turned into monsters cursed by everyone in the world with a conscience...

[emmarosela]

NO BAD VIBES 🍒🍓💦💦💦💦

[mysharona1987]

Elizabeth Banks right now:

[chemicalarospec]

listening to "Banks" by Lincoln for the first time in a loooong time bc it's on my old "Is it love? (of course it's not) (mostly)" playlist and christ there's a lot going on in it but one thing is. wow. this song is so gay sex

[thekeypa]

“We can uplift the struggle of the Palestinian people without minimizing the people of East Palestine, Ohio.”

[nando161mando]

BREAKING: Chase Bank building explodes in downtown Youngstown, Ohio; People are missing under the rubble.

[middleland]

Coleman's Fish by Mark Knoke

[murderballadeer]

two of my favs in the murder ballad poll are about to be completely eviscerated this round i fear

[columbuscartitleloan]

Get Quick Title Loan Quotes Online in Ohio | Columbus Car Title Loan

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[tomorrowusa]

Republicans are like 4-year-olds who just learned a bad word and can’t stop saying it.

All Republicans do nowadays is scream “WOKE!” whenever they see something they don’t like. It’s true that woke is a dumb sounding word – that may be why most progressives haven’t used it much since this SNL fake commercial from 2017.

The Trump administration indulged in an orgy of deregulation which led to disasters like the four recent derailments in Ohio to the recent failure of the Silicon Valley Bank (SVB). Screaming “WOKE!” is their way of evading responsibility without having to provide explanations for their deregulation policies.

As soon as it was clear that Silicon Valley Bank would not survive the weekend, conservative influencers and Republican politicians had a culprit in sights.

Wokeness.

“They were one of the most woke banks,” Representative James Comer, the top Republican on the House Oversight Committee, said during a segment on Fox News.

The governor of Florida, Ron DeSantis, also spoke to Fox about the collapse of the bank, and he also blamed the bank’s diversity programs. “I mean, this bank, they’re so concerned with D.E.I. and politics and all kinds of stuff. I think that really diverted from them focusing on their core mission,” he said.

 Being Republican means you never have to back up your claims.

It is unclear whether these conservatives are working from the same memo or just share the same narrow obsession. Regardless, there is no evidence that D.E.I. or any other diversity initiative is responsible for the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank. It is nonsense. And while it shouldn’t be taken seriously on its own terms, this deflection is worth noting for what it represents: the relentless effort to mystify real questions of political economy in favor of endless culture war conflict.

The real story behind the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank has much more to do with the political and economic environment of the previous decade than it does with “wokeness,” a word that signifies nothing other than conservative disdain for anything that seems liberal.

The failure of the SVB was essentially caused by poor bets by the bank.

“Flush with cash from high-flying start-ups,” my newsroom colleague Vivian Giang explains, Silicon Valley Bank “did what most of its rivals do: It kept a small chunk of its deposits in cash and it used the rest to buy long-term debt like Treasury bonds.” As long as interest rates stayed low, those bonds promised safe returns.

Interest rates did not stay low. To fight inflation and reduce the price of consumer goods, the Federal Reserve raised interest rates seven times in 2022. With each increase, Silicon Valley Bank lost money on its bonds. Worse, the interest rate surge affected venture capital firms and the entire world of tech start-ups, harming the bank’s portfolio as those companies shed value and reduced deposits. Clients started to withdraw money to meet their liquidity needs, and last week, in order to fund these redemptions, Silicon Valley Bank announced it had sold $21 billion in bonds, at a loss of $1.8 billion. The bank then let it be known that it would sell $2.25 billion in shares to cover the loss.

Worried clients began to withdraw more money, which spooked investors, a development that pushed more clients to withdraw even more money. (Peter Thiel’s Founders Fund reportedly called for its start-ups to pull their cash while they still could.) On Friday, as the bank run gained steam, California’s financial regulatory agency announced that it had taken possession of the bank and placed it under the receivership of the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation.

Remember how in the aftermath of the Bush financial collapse of 2008 the Obama administration under Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner initiated stress tests on banks to see if they were financially viable? Donald Trump and the GOP 115th Congress did away with those tests.

It’s not as if no one thought this collapse could happen. “The failure of Silicon Valley Bank is a direct result of an absurd 2018 bank deregulation bill signed by Donald Trump that I strongly opposed,” Senator Bernie Sanders said in a statement on Sunday. Senator Elizabeth Warren made a similar point in an essay published in The Times on Monday, in which she also mentioned the failure of New York-based Signature Bank in the immediate aftermath of S.V.B.’s collapse: “Had Congress and the Federal Reserve not rolled back the stricter oversight, S.V.B. and Signature would have been subject to stronger liquidity and capital requirements to withstand financial shocks.”

You’ll never guess which Florida congressman voted for bank deregulation.

[I]f you want to understand the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank, you have to understand the political environment that led Congress to loosen regulations on regional banking institutions. You have to understand the interests involved, the ideologies involved and the personalities involved, like DeSantis, who voted for the deregulation bill as a congressman.

😮 😳 🙀

The people who blame “wokeness” for the collapse of a bank do not want you to understand or even think about the political economy of banking in the United States. They want to deflect your attention away from the real questions and turn it toward a manufactured cultural conflict. And the reason they want to do this is to obscure the extent to which they and their allies are complicit in — or responsible for — creating an environment in which banks collapse for lack of appropriate regulation.

Yep, as a House member, Ron “Choke on Woke” DeSantis voted to weaken safeguards on the banking system. If he keeps screaming “WOKE! WOKE! WOKE!” constantly then he thinks he won’t have to answer for his vote back in 2018.

So if you hear GOP MAGA zombies and others on the far right screaming “wokeness” about some disaster, don’t argue with them – they don’t care anyway. Just scream back, “DEREGULATION!” instead. Put them on the defensive. Nobody wins by playing defense 100% of the time.

[leaves-and-spines]

Newark Trust Company Bank Matchbook

Newark, Ohio

[rabbitcruiser]

Clouds (No. 863)

Pittsburgh, PA

[aromantisk-fagforening]

Spotify Wrapped 9. December

[laikahh]

lincoln enjoyers how r we feeling abt baby take my acid.

[naomixhill]

10 October 2014

Written 8 years ago...

It’s my birthday, but it never feels like my birthday anymore.

There is something intrinsically saddening about driving alone down High Street in the dead of night. I thought this to myself as I pulled into Monte Carlo while trying to avoid the waves of people running around in the city lights; some would go to bars and then onto a stranger’s bed, citing their sin on their inhibitions; others would go out to a night of fine dining, go home to read a book, maybe catch up on the news. I, however, was on a mission. C and I had just gotten off the phone, and I was to bring over a glass of red wine and bold cigars. 

When I walked into the cigar shop, I was greeted by two foreign men, one Syrian by birth and the other Middle Eastern. The Middle Easterner quickly came to my aid as I began peering through the selection. “It’s not everyday we see someone like you in here, miss. Is there something I can help you with?” He asked with a boyish, excited tone. I lowered my voice, and asked for Henry Clays. Not surprisingly, they ran out earlier in the day. My luck has always been blessedly good. 

I prowled around the aisles, until the Middle Easterner motioned for me to follow him to the back. Once there, he handpicked two cigars (both $36 each), and handed them to me. “I think you will like these,” he smiled. I took them, asked him to find me a good corresponding wine, and met him at the cash register. He threw in another cigar for free after looking at my ID, which told him today was my birthday. 

After retrieving the goods, I quickly ran out to my car, trying to avoid the terrible rain, and drove to C’s. He had parked in such a way that it allowed my car, and my car only, to fit in a parallel spot directly outside of his house. As I pulled up, he was dutifully sitting outside on the porch smoking  a cigarette. He looked sad. He has looked sad for a while now. 

C and I made small talk, and then called out his roommate to join us. The three of us smoked cigars; I drank wine and the two boys drank dark, dry beer. It became increasingly evident that C had been drinking all day, the more we all talked. The two of them were engaged in discussion regarding the upcoming case competition at Michigan, but every once in a while there were casual slip-ups, and inappropriate questions and comments made in my direction: clear indicators that they weren’t just drunk, but really drunk.

By 1 a.m., C and I were grinding up against one another in his bed. “It’s your birthday, so you know I’m going to need to give you the best sex of your life, lady,” he told me. I was on top, then he was on top, then we were going at it from the side and every position in between; but he was sloppily drunk, and I was still too sober and hurt from another disappointing celebration. 

Still later in the evening, C’s second roommate arrived home with a good looking friend. He was a blonde, very tall, computer science major from Purdue University. “Only in town for the weekend, just trying to ease my mind before our second round of midterms,” he told me. It wasn’t too long after soft introductions that C’s roommate asked if I would like to participate in a threesome with some Pi Phi sorority girl. “Come on, have  a little fun, birthday girl,” was a reoccurring statement throughout the evening. 

Eventually, the second roommate convinced C - who was nearly falling asleep - and myself to go to the bars with him and his friend. So at a very late 2 a.m., there we were. I was getting drunker, C was blacked out, and the other two were hitting on beautiful women all around. At the top of the staircase of Ethyl, I saw M from the investment club. I tugged on C’s cuff, and screamed for him to text M to meet us. He obliged, and within just a few minutes, M came down to visit.

C told M to keep an eye on me, and that he would be back in no time at all. A half hour may have gone by before he returned, but the entire time M and i spent in conversation. He told me more about Jordan, about weapons trading, about all of the things he did that I so desired to know about. He was in the process of plugging my number into his phone as C arrived, and with that, C sharply said, “M, what the fuck are you doing, man?” which caused M to very sharply put away his phone in shame. M has always been subservient to C, and may love him more than anyone in the world. Nonetheless, my attraction toward M is strong, borderline inappropriate, and it was the happiest portion of my night. 

C at this point was no longer himself. “Guys, let’s go smoke a fucking cigarette, I need some air,” he told us. So we all went out to the balcony of Ethyl and smoked. It was there that C told us the news. It suddenly made sense why his sadness had been so pervasive, why his smoking had gotten so heavy and his words had become sharper than usual. 

"My mother has stage three cancer. She didn’t tell any of us that it came back. She is going to die in two month’s time at the best, the doctor thinks sooner." 

Drunk and confused, I began to cry for him, and ask, “why didn’t you tell me this? I would have been there for you.” M, meanwhile, tried to comfort C, telling him, “Look man, she is going to fight this out. They told my father he was due to die weeks ago, but he’s still kicking it, he is still fighting. Don’t doubt her, C. She will hang in there for you.” 

C raised his voice, and didn’t hear a word of M. “I even bought my parents a fucking house to retire in, out in North Carolina. She is going to fucking die before it’s even ready. She’s going to fucking die.” 

I started to feel faint at this, and began wobbling. An incredibly strong urge to throw up became apparent, and C could see the familiar look all over my face. “Look K,” he said, “I’m going to call you a taxi. I see some of my friends at the back of the bar anyway. I’ll be home soon, okay?” He pointed at M to keep an eye on me, again. He did. 

When C stormed off, M grabbed my face and pulled it closely to his own. “K, you are so sad.” I shook my head and said it was nothing compared to what C must be feeling, but he contradicted me. “No K, it’s something else. You are always a sad girl, and I don’t think anyone really notices. But just know you are incredibly sexy, obviously intelligent, and you don’t need to take shit from anyone, not even C.” He smiled and pressed his nose up against my cheek. My hormones went completely out of control, and I almost considered kissing him. Thank God, senses prevailed. 

The taxi came within minutes.  It brought me back to C’s house, and with his keys, I unlocked the door. I undressed myself and waited in his bed. I tried to sober up from everything that had just happened, but simply couldn’t. I cried until I could no longer produce tears. And then I waited. And waited. But C never showed. 

Perhaps at 4 a.m. I awoke to C coming home from the bars. He sat down at his computer and began working on his stock pitch for the case competition. Even if drunk, it was all he could think about; anything to clear his mind from the painful realities of the present. I tiptoed up behind him, and hugged him from behind. I came around to his chair, still undressed from earlier, and straddled him. I tried to kiss him, but was softly rejected. So I then kissed his cheek, his forehead, and down to his shirt buttons. I had decided now was the time to tell him I loved him, that I would be there for him through all of this, that we could take off time from school to go see his mother or do whatever it was he needed to do. But rather, as my knees began to inch toward the floor, and my mouth began to progress towards, he stopped me. He pushed me up, and told me to go to sleep. 

I protested, and he told me more firmly. “Go to fucking sleep, K, it’s late and I don’t want to do this right now.” I began to straddle him once again, but he knocked me off. “Just go to bed.” 

I slid onto the floor from the force of his push, and trying to get up, I stumbled down the stairs. He didn’t turn around. At the bottom of the staircase, I assessed my bleeding knee cap and banged up arms. C came to the edge of the top of the staircase realizing what happened and apologized, saying “I”m sorry this is all my fault, I didn’t mean to-“ 

But I was already gone before I could hear a full response.

I jumped into my Ford Focus, still too drunk to drive, far too sad, and drove home. Happy 21st birthday to me.