#became a propaganda machine for

[professorfcknmoriarty]

Big week for Capes

[mourningmaybells]

americans making fun of "i shall return" really puts into perspective how different philippine history is taught. i was taught to admire him for saying that (until everything broke down because of him it's a long story, look into The Death March, Philippines Independence while ur at it i guess etc), meanwhile everyone in 70s american media is treating it like "sure baby of course he'll call you back" from a hot guy you met at a bar. who will definitely call you later. i prommy

[brandyschillace]

The Forgotten History of the World’s First Transgender Clinic

I finished the first round of edits on my nonfiction history of trans rights today. It will publish with Norton in 2025, but I decided, because I feel so much of my community is here, to provide a bit of the introduction.

[begin sample]

The Institute for Sexual Sciences had offered safe haven to homosexuals and those we today consider transgender for nearly two decades. It had been built on scientific and humanitarian principles established at the end of the 19th century and which blossomed into the sexology of the early 20th. Founded by Magnus Hirschfeld, a Jewish homosexual, the Institute supported tolerance, feminism, diversity, and science. As a result, it became a chief target for Nazi destruction: “It is our pride,” they declared, to strike a blow against the Institute. As for Magnus Hirschfeld, Hitler would label him the “most dangerous Jew in Germany.”6 It was his face Hitler put on his antisemitic propaganda; his likeness that became a target; his bust committed to the flames on the Opernplatz. You have seen the images. You have watched the towering inferno that roared into the night. The burning of Hirschfeld’s library has been immortalized on film reels and in photographs, representative of the Nazi imperative, symbolic of all they would destroy. Yet few remember what they were burning—or why.

Magnus Hirschfeld had built his Institute on powerful ideas, yet in their infancy: that sex and gender characteristics existed upon a vast spectrum, that people could be born this way, and that, as with any other diversity of nature, these identities should be accepted. He would call them Intermediaries.

Intermediaries carried no stigma and no shame; these sexual and Gender nonconformists had a right to live, a right to thrive. They also had a right to joy. Science would lead the way, but this history unfolds as an interwar thriller—patients and physicians risking their lives to be seen and heard even as Hitler began his rise to power. Many weren’t famous; their lives haven’t been celebrated in fiction or film. Born into a late-nineteenth-century world steeped in the “deep anxieties of men about the shifting work, social roles, and power of men over women,” they came into her own just as sexual science entered the crosshairs of prejudice and hate. The Institute’s own community faced abuse, blackmail, and political machinations; they responded with secret publishing campaigns, leaflet drops, pro-homosexual propaganda, and alignments with rebel factions of Berlin’s literati. They also developed groundbreaking gender affirmation surgeries and the first hormone cocktail for supportive gender therapy.

Nothing like the Institute for Sexual Sciences had ever existed before it opened its doors—and despite a hundred years of progress, there has been nothing like it since. Retrieving this tale has been an exercise in pursuing history at its edges and fringes, in ephemera and letters, in medal texts, in translations. Understanding why it became such a target for hatred tells us everything about our present moment, about a world that has not made peace with difference, that still refuses the light of scientific evidence most especially as it concerns sexual and reproductive rights.

[end sample]

I wanted to add a note here: so many people have come together to make this possible. Like Ralf Dose of the Magnus-Hirschfeld-Gesellschaft (Magnus Hirschfeld Archive), Berlin, and Erin Reed, American journalist and transgender rights activist—Katie Sutton, Heike Bauer. I am also deeply indebted to historian, filmmaker and formative theorist Susan Stryker for her feedback, scholarship, and encouragement all along the way. And Laura Helmuth, editor of Scientific American, whose enthusiasm for a short article helped bring the book into being. So many LGBTQ+ historians, archivists, librarians, and activists made the work possible, that its publication testifies to the power of the queer community and its dedication to preserving and celebrating history. But I ALSO want to mention you, folks here on tumblr who have watched and encouraged and supported over the 18 months it took to write it (among other books and projects). @neil-gaiman has been especially wonderful, and @always-coffee too: thank you.

The support of this community has been important as I’ve faced backlash in other quarters. Thank you, all.

NOTE: they are attempting to rebuild the lost library, and you can help: https://magnus-hirschfeld.de/archivzentrum/archive-center/

[meyhew]

noah schnapp changing his tune re: his zionist views is so fucking rancid. “my views have been misconstrued, i actually wish for peace for everyone and hope we can lend each other grace moving forward” no actually u became a propaganda machine for the zionist entity, helped generate consent for genocide by spreading heinous lies, and shut out anyone who tried to tell u otherwise. now ur probably in trouble with the suits and have an agent holding a gun to ur head to be more palatable so u want ppl to be nicer and still won’t denounce zionism. fuck u. i hope u fade into obscurity and are only remembered for saying zionism is sexy while laughing and celebrating the deaths of thousands of innocent people

[ahaura]

i saw someone point out the frequency with which liberals back social justice movements... how, for instance, when ferguson happened under obama it was not popular and there were many, many liberals who found the blm movement, in a sense, "in violation of [liberal] sensibilities" (when liberalism as a rule does not challenge the status quo, only maintains it and sees any call for revolution or real change as disruptive or 'bad for optics' and therefore not acceptable) but then when trump became president and he opposed blm a lot more liberals decided that the blm movement had merit because they viewed it from a team-sports perspective rather than a worldview based on morals and an understanding of the systems in place in the U.S. - that it was more comfortable for them to operate from a "trump bad" basis rather than "the american justice system and the police are inherently white supremacist, which are inherently, automatically, and always violent"

+ that, if trump was president while israel is carrying out its genocide, liberals would have NO problem denouncing israel and demanding for a ceasefire because they're comfortable operating from the 2-party system basis, NOT from a framework based on material conditions or factors or any acknowledgement or analysis of imperialism, colonialism, or capitalism. but because biden is a democrat, and democrats are supposed to be "the decent party" "the lesser evil" "more respectable" when, in functionality - in real practice, they don't want to disrupt the status quo. (internally, maintaining systems of white supremacy and capitalism; externally, furthering U.S. imperialism by maintaining hegemony and continuing the practice of exploitation and extraction of labor+capital+resources from the global south)

which is why we're here, a month into a genocide, and liberals are so cowardly and gutless that, in the face of our democrat president allowing and funding the genocide of palestinians in order for the U.S. to maintain its military base in the middle east, liberals IMMEDIATELY jump to "well, you HAVE to vote for him still, because trump will be worse!" and go "well im powerless there's nothing i can do", immediately folding like a wet paper bag in the face of the american empire rearing its ugly head in the most blatant, naked way in years, instead of thinking "this is unacceptable, i should pressure my elected officials and do everything i can - be it combating propaganda, contacting my congresspeople or senators, protesting, or engaging in direct action - to ensure this stops as quickly as possible".

there are liberals STILL IN MY NOTIFICATIONS who go "well you'll be electing a fascist if you vote for trump" not realizing that YOU CAN'T SIMPLY VOTE FASCISM AWAY. (which is not to say you should vote for republicans; that's not what i'm saying. none of us have said it.) we're pretty much already there. it's 2003 all over again, with the patriot act and all. the american war machine is pumping out racist, orientalist, pro-colonial, pro-genocide propaganda on behalf of the ethno-state america and its allies have backed since the so-called state's inception. people are being doxxed, fired, harassed, and attacked for visibly supporting palestine/opposing israel. islamophobic hate crimes are on the rise; a 6 year old boy was murdered not one month ago, an arab doctor in texas was stabbed to death. antisemitism is on the rise as well, thanks to the conflation of antisemitism with anti-zionism (which nazis have and will attempt to co-op in order to 'justify' + then act on their antisemitism, racism, and genocidal worldviews). our government is silencing people, brutalizing protestors, and arming and funding an ethno-state committing genocide - everything that would have been called fascist if it was under trump. but because it's a *democrat* liberals place "vote blue no matter who" and "optics" over the extremely basic moral stance that "genocide is wrong and people have the right to self-determination, autonomy, and life". arabs and muslims are already so dehumanized in the west that liberals (whether they consider themselves liberals or not) consider it an inconvenience to talk about the ongoing genocide that is happening with the blessing of OUR government. in this they expose their selfishness, the shallowness of their morals, their chauvinism, and their racism/orientalism/islamophobia/et cetera.

for example, if you see israeli troops waving a gay pride flag and the israeli state touting its support of gay people while said iof soldiers are murdering men, women, and children en masse every single day and you somehow????? think that because gay people are the ones doing the killing or a state claims to support gay people is doing the killing is ok then 1) you have fallen for pinkwashing propaganda and 2) that you find the murder of palestinians, or any people, permissible by a colonial force that uses causes liberals may genuinely care about in order to disguise, whitewash, or "lessen" the severity of the injustices it does unto usually black and brown people outside of the U.S., then you are just as bloodthirsty and depraved as anyone you would personally assign those descriptors of.

once again, it goes back to resorting to a team-sport understanding of the world rather than approaching it from a material one.

[choas232]

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

Part two of Chatty g/n! reader x Steb

Summary:

You’re in love with Steb. Big deal. Your plan? Repression. In which Steb tries to be as obvious as possible and you try to be as oblivious as possible.

No use of Y/N, neutral terms and they/them is used to refer the reader. Set after Jinx’s colour explosion thing (which my friends lovingly refer to as Piltover’s first pride parade.)

CWs: Profanity.

Word count: 3.1k

Part One: G/N Chatty reader x Steb

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

You’re in love with Steb. Big deal. Your plan? Repression.

Denial has aided you in all that it can. For small moments, you allow yourself to believe that you were wrong. There is no admiration to be found, there is no affection, and there is certainly no love. Until he opens a door for you, places a hand over your chair, brushing your shoulder, to peer at your work, offers to grab you a coffee when he sees your eyebags, likely not knowing he is the cause.

You have done everything you can. ‘Feeling your feelings’ and ‘Changing your mindset’ like the self-help book you borrowed from your local library haven’t helped you, to your avail, leading you to the third and final option; running from your problems and ignoring him.

It’s easy enough.

When you first became an Enforcer, you certainly did not know how much paperwork the work included. Propaganda posters scarcely talk of office hours, and healthcare benefits, you find. Now, you thank whatever cruel gods for the blindness of your youth, holing yourself in your office, hunching over sheet after sheet and ignoring the aching of your heart.

You’re such an idiot.

It’s only on day three of this monotonous cycle, hiding from him, working, working, working, that something snaps you out of your routine.

Flowers.

You emerge from your office, stumbling to the coffee machine, when a cleared throat startles you out of your daze.

In his angular, nice— fuck, normal looking hands, a bouquet. Of wildflowers, you think. Colourful and bright, the kind that grow just outside of Piltover. Daisy-like white flowers, long slender stems with bulbous pink shapes hanging from them, dangling purple bells, and neat blue flowers with heart shaped petals.

“Oh. Hey.” You greet, before somewhere in the haze of your mind— something falls. Flowers. Why does he have flowers? Are they a gift? Who for? You open your mouth to voice this— but no. You must not. Avoidance.

But the flowers.

Okay. Casual time. “Those are pretty. Where’d you get them from?” He blinks, clearly unexpected by this train of conversation, maybe by how casual and suave you’re being right now.

You move past him— turning your back on his big, wide surprised eyes, his rolled up sleeves, his angular, large hands wrapped around the brown paper holding the bouquet—okay,that’s enough of that train of thought— and get to work on precuring some wonderful caffeine. Caffeine to help the fog of your treacherous thoughts, leading you down paths you very much do not want to go down.

“You know, there’s a place near my house, in walking distance, that I go past when I go the shops to pick up groceries. Always smells really good. Maybe I should pick some up for my house?” You turn to gauge his non-verbal reaction, but for whatever reason, he looks mightily distressed.

“What’re they for, anyways?” What. Not, who. ‘Who’ implies you were thinking about him giving them to people, and flowers are typically a sign of romance, and that you care who he gives flowers, and that is not on your brain right now. Definitely not.

His expression moves at a pace you can’t match, going from confused, to disappointed, to pained, his gills fluttering, the monochromatic yellowing light of the office lights hitting them, the glint drawing your betraying eyes.

Almost uncertainly, he points to— what for a second— looks like you.

“The office space? It is getting slightly grim in here.” You, too loudly, laugh, semi-startled from the jolt of your heart. God. Imagine that. You. Him giving you flowers. You try not to.

He, very slowly, nods.

“Great. Well than. I’ll. Uhm. Try to leave you to it?” After a too long pause where he simply unreadably stares at you, you turn on your heels and make a break for your office space.

You, like a fool, assume the last of the issue. A vase appears in the communal office-space, filled with flowers.

The next day however, he invites you to lunch.

It’s late afternoon, and you’re in the midst of packing up your office’s clutter when he raps against the door with his knuckles. Through the blinds you purposely have kept closed, you make out his tall, wiry frame, one hand fixing his, of course, already perfect hair. You quickly try to fix your own appearance, hoping a dull dragging of your fingers through your hair will perhaps make you not look like you’ve been hit by a semi-truck.

“Come in!” You call out, trying not to let him hear the betraying shudder of your vocal cords, dull from misuse. You need to call a friend or something. Talk about anything at all, at least for a couple hours. You feel like you’re going crazy.

He gently pushes the door open, surveying your small, cluttered room. His nose disapprovingly wrinkles at the mess, but he says, or implies, nothing. A small kindness. What are you to say? Sorry boss, I’ve been stuck up on getting over the massive, fat crush I have on you, and your hands, and how gently you cradled my head in the pipe in the ground, and how your finger brushed my lip and how I felt something crawl out of where I had shoved it down.

God, this love is eating you from the inside.

He looks better than usual, a fact you scold yourself from noticing. His shirt is neatly ironed, the sleeves rolled up as if to taunt you. The tightness of his office clothes compared to the bulky, bullet proof frame of his enforcer uniform makes you, for a brief, blinding moment, miss it deeply. Though, you doubt it would make much of a difference. You’re too down bad, a phrase you now understand.

His black tie is perfectly straightened, though he moves to straighten it again as he braces for whatever he is to say, and with surprise, you note the bobbing of his throat as he moves to verbally speak. “Would you like a break from your work? Perhaps get something to eat?” There’s a forced casualness to his tone, adding a clunky layer of misshapenness to his tenor; you have only ever heard him speak in sparse, important moments, yet he tries to be relaxed now.

“…Sure.” Him speaking has thrown you off. Not only is his voice remarkably attractive, it also signifies something you feel you’re missing. You can’t just ask him why he’s speaking though. That would be rude. (You did threaten to eat him last week, in your stint in the underground after you ran out of food, and than thought nothing of it. Your brain is outstandingly good at finding the worst moments to cram you full of social anxiety.)

You can’t deny this offer. You skipped lunch, for starters, or at least, that’s the excuse you tell yourself, when in reality, your heart, from deep within it’s place in your chest, reaches up to puppet the strings of your vocal cords. “Uhm, there’s this really good place close-ish to here? A noodle bar. It’s cheap, relatively good for you, I think, but you know how it is. You never know. I went there last week with Miranda, and they had this really good item on the menu… she ordered it and I ended up probably eating more than her… haha.” You make the noise nervously, more of a phonetic mimicry than a laugh.

He nods, politely.

“Is anyone else going?”

Slowly, he shakes his head, waiting as if to gauge your reaction.

Well. That’s off. Usually Maddie would tag along, or another coworker. One to one… perhaps she’s just occupied? Ever since your stint in the underground ended in disaster, captain Kiramman has been seeing her fairly frequently, or she’s been caught up in other business. (Fuck. You miss the underground. You’d never thought you say it, but you miss Vi, and her terrible Zaunite food, and you miss Loris’s calm, and you miss Maddie and you miss Kiramman, even when she had a stick up her arse about finding the blue-haired Zaunite girl. You haven’t seen Loris since then, and Lord knows where Vi is.)

“Cool. Well. Off we hop, then? Let me just clean this up…” You move to clean, turning so he doesn’t see your flushed cheeks. Cool? Off we hop? OFF WE HOP? Genuinely, what is wrong with you?

He doesn’t care about your verbal failure, nodding again, his hands instinctively resting clasped behind him, shoulders straight.

Picture perfect even as you fall apart.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

You’ve missed your chats, as it turns out. Well. Is it really chats if only one of you is doing the talking? You think so, because the kind of awareness, care in his eyes, the way he almost hangs off every word, has you stumbling over your tall tales and stories.

The look in his eyes, half-lidded, is worse, devastating to your poor heart. Very rarely do people listen to you, you think, even when you were a sullen, quiet child. That’s fine. They catch every second word, the gist of it, and if you speak thrice as much, they’ll get thrice as much of the little they catch, right?

But he listens, to all of it, for better or for worse.

For worse, you think. Your heart is beating out of your chest. It’s hot in the outside area you’ve chosen to sit at, an ornate bench half cooled by shade on a narrow porch area, decorated with sweet-smelling flowers. The heat is insufferable, in Piltover. The high houses trap it, and it is suffocating, or maybe it just feels that way because every so often he moves to keep his sleeves rolled up, brush strands of hair falling back into his face.

He’s slightly hunched over, across from you, so much so you’re almost eye-level. It’s a very calculated move, from his usual perfect posture. He doesn’t fidget. Just listens. When it comes to ordering, he points to the dish that he wants— inwardly, you wonder about the schematics of him, almost mermaid eating a fish— and order for the both of you, including some water.

“It was nice of you to buy flowers for the office. Everybody’s been on edge recently, with Kiramman’s new job, and the attack, and all that trouble down in the undercity.” You tell him, when it becomes apparent there’s only so much of dodging the topic you can do.

He hums. You swear his eyebrows furrow, just for a second, as he looks away.

“Ah. Sorry to bring it up. Politics and all that can wait, huh?” You heard he was injured at the attack, and misinterpreting his source of discomfort, you change the topic, but in the dizzy mix, stumble into perhaps the worst topic your brain can hurriedly think off. “Soooo…. Our time in the underground, huh?”

He blinks, looking up, and than nods.

“How was it? For you?”

Tugging a notepad out of his pocket, this calms you, the normalcy of it, he writes, quickly, in messily stencilled letters. You threatened to eat me.

“Ah.” Dammit. “I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t remember that.” You awkwardly push out, but he’s writing more.

You almost got yourself killed, than us killed, and lost our supplies.

“Ah. Sorry?” Double dammit. Guilt begins to prickle low in your gut. You did do that.

You also saved us.

He smiles. It’s terrible, the smile, one like you’re in on something together. You do not understand it. He smiles, and it is terrible. He smiles, and you are suddenly co-conspirators, privy to something you are blind to.

Your food comes, and you eat silently, trying not to think about the smile.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

There’s only so much silence you can pry out of shoving noodles in your mouth before your patience snaps.

The food is delicious, creamy, brothy, the herbs tangy and fragrant, but even that doesn’t stop how suddenly hyperaware you are of how small this table is, how mindful he has to be not to knock his long legs against yours.

Just as you think you’re finally free from it, the suffocating stillness, The waitstaff moves to clean your bowls up. You smile and thank them. They smile at you too, a knowing smile, a smile like they’re in on it. “Enjoy your date.” They say to you both. Steb nods to them as they move back indoors, balancing the bowls in their arms.

Date. Wait.

You feel as if you may be missing something.

Steb doesn’t say anything, which seems like a no-brainer, except now he’s watching you, eyebrows slightly furrowed, pouty lips pressed against one another. Waiting. Waiting for what? You to make a joke, haha, we’re not on a date. How silly, right? You tosay nothing, move on?You to ask about it? Are we on a date? Surely not?

Your options are dwindling as each second ticks by, slowly your gaping mouth and shocked look slowly becoming less and less socially acceptable.

Quick. Think fast.

“So, uhm, how was the food?”

You get the feeling you shouldn’t have said that.

He nods his head non-committedly, reaching up to rest his chin in the palm on his hand. You’re not really sure what to make of the action, except now you can see his forearms, and it’s making you feel a little crazy. “Mine was uhm… good.” You stutter. He nods, something warring in his mind, before he reaches to pick up the neat little notebook, hastily scribbling something down.

You clutch the little scrap of paper he rips out to hand to you. You have a collection of them, in the drawer of your office, reminders and praises and greetings, mundane and simple yet delightful for you. You think you would die if he ever found out, and even though your mission of repression is a strong one, you don’t have the heart to throw them out. (It’s not lovey-dovey. It’s just practical. What if he says something important and you miss it?)

The message, this time, isn’t delightful.

I’m sorry if I am making you feel uncomfortable.

“No? What do you mean?”

I didn’t know whether you understood the flowers were for you or you were implying you were uncomfortable with receiving them. If so, I’m sorry I pressured you to come out with me.

“Sorry? What?” He gives you a moment to rub your brain cells together, rereading the note, looking up at him, and than looking back down.

“The flowers were for me?”

He nods.

Calm down. Flowers don’t need to be romantic. He probably just noticed you were acting stressed and got them to calm you down! This isn’t special! “Uhm. Thank you. Sorry for… you know.”

He blinks, once. He blinks again. He ears jerk, up, than down, his lips falling open to reveal a narrow slit of flesh, his front teeth. It’s not quite a pained grimace, he’s far too reserved in his actions for that, but you think it’s the closest you’ll get.

He moves forward suddenly, grappling for the notepad, and you flinch at the sudden movement.

This is what I mean. I can never tell what you’re thinking. Just say the words, and I’ll cool any and all advances on you at once. He has underlined at once, several times.

He must think of you illiterate with the amount of time you spend rereading the words. Advances is a word that implies… but surely not? Maybe he’s worried about being pushy. But you like it when he’s pushy, berating you for your recklessness, your injuries, his careful orders when you find yourself stationed under him, how much he cares. That sounded a little too down-bad, but you like it when people are clear with you! Yeah. Why are you thinking about that, right now? You should stop. You should reply.

This conversation would probably be easier if you weren’t constantly at war with yourself.

“Oh. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, ahaha…”

He looks vaguely annoyed, now for a brief flash, his ears sliding down, before he quickly pushes the expression down. His ears do not follow.

I am trying to court you. He writes, a hand stressedly messing through his neatly slicked back hair.

Words escape you.

“What?” You say, dumbly.

“I am trying to… romance you.” He says, out loud, and now he well and truly must think you can’t read. You hate to make him think of you deaf too, because the pained look he expresses as he hastily scribbles down, Please don’t make me repeat that, is perhaps the only think keeping you from short circuiting.

“Oh.” You say, instead. “Uhm… thank you.”

Fuck. “I mean. Not thank you. Yay?” You hope, very deeply, the waitstaff comes back and smashes your head in with the noodle bowls.

His expression is less agonized, but only just. Yay? He writes. Is that good?

“Yeah.” Oh God. Why can’t you speak? Why can’t you think of something to say? Aren’t love confessions supposed to be easy, ish, once you’ve gotten past the confession bit? Isn’t this the part where you start making out or something? That was a terrible train of thought to go down, because now you’re thinking about making out with Steb, and it’s just—

“I uhm. Like you too. Were the flowers, like, to… confess to me?” Why would you say that? That was not suave. Thatwas not cool. You probably shouldn’t have said anything.

Yes. Steb writes.

“Woah.” He relaxes, maybe only because you’re so hard to take seriously it’s hard not to. His hair is still slightly messed up from how he had been gripping it, a fact you would have probably taken pride in, any other trouble-making day, but not this one. “I— sorry. I’m processing this information. Very slowly.”

He hums. Take your time. You get the feeling he is teasing you, and you get the feeling you might be smiling, a fact which is mortifying, and means you probably are smiling, giddily, like a fool. You’re smiling, and you’re not saying anything. You’re smiling, and you’re silent. In comparison, he’s been more talkative in the last three days than he is in perhaps a month.

You soak it in.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

Notes:

Maybe it really is Piltover’s first pride parade…

People who asked to be tagged in part two (tell me if you’re uncomfortable with this and I will apologise profusely and remove you) ; @nixxie15 @flooftoof @mintballoons thank you for the kind comments!!

[utilitycaster]

I said this late last night but actually, I was serious: I really do feel like the stasis bubbles are ultimately at the core of Ludinus's attitude towards Aeor, and the fact that he doesn't seem to have focused on them at all is the key to understanding his agenda.

I don't believe the stasis bubbles are a lost cause. I think there's certainly failure points, ie, I think if one does not go about this with utmost care then yes, the people within will rapidly age or wither to dust and be lost. But I don't think a successful release of the Aeorians in these bubbles is impossible within the canon of Critical Role. I think it is very, very difficult, but I think it could be done.

Ludinus doesn't seem to have focused on this at all - not even a half-assed attempt. He's gone for a literal moonshot, connecting with something he didn't even know existed and destroying Molaesmyr in the process. To his limited credit I think it's entirely likely he didn't know about these stasis bubbles until Aeor excavations began about 60 years ago, but I don't think Aeor became his focus until he realized he could strip it for parts: both for its technology, and as part of his propaganda machine.

Ludinus's grudge against the gods began with the end of the Calamity, in his own youth, in those final battles, and we know that he was already studying mages like Laerryn and using the harness to extend his lifespan while he lived in Molaesmyr. He may very well have known about Aeor, but his goal was to kill the gods. He only just saw what was in the Occultus Thalamus now.

Aeor is a useful tool to him, and it's a better tool to him if he can act like it's lost forever and everyone is dead. Aeorians only help him if they're doomed corpses. If he cared about the deaths of the people of Aeor and the culture of the city, why let his general repeatedly target FCG, one of its only current survivors? Why shut down the researchers from Uthodurn and the Dynasty in the past 7 years? Why push towards this Thalamus even as his army falls to Dominox when the stasis bubbles are just outside? Are those collapses Essek noted just the ravages of time, or was he destroying the city even further?

He doesn't really care about Aeorians in the slightest. He wants to kill the gods, and treats this mass slaughter and cultural destruction of Aeor as a boon that fell into his lap so that he can say "look what they took from you" to the world that he's been ravaging and slaughtering his way through himself for the past few months (and, on a slower but no less violent scale, the last millennium). The second he lets one of the Aeormatons brought back by D speak? Or brings back one of the thousands of Aeorians who could, perhaps, survive and come back and even revive that lost knowledge? Well, then it's not lost forever at the hands of the gods now, is it, and that makes for bad press, and we can't have that now, can we, not when we're about to crack open the moon and eat the gods! Sorry that a phoenix killed your family and no one could resurrect them, but you know how it is. Let bygones be bygones, unless they're his trauma and his trauma alone.

Any claim that he cares about Aeor is a lie. He cares for himself and no one else. He loves that Aeor is gone because it's always been gone to him and, like any fossil, is only good as fuel for his own agenda. And we and Bells Hells are about to see a glimpse of life in the city that's more convenient to him when it's dead, and he thinks that's going to help his cause.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Giorgio Perlasca

Giorgio Perlasca was an Italian fascist and emissary of Benito Mussolini who had a change of heart and used his diplomatic status to save 5,218 Hungarian Jews from the Nazis.

Born in Como, Italy in 1910, as a young man Georgio became a fervent believer in fascism, believing it was the best system for achieving societal safety and prosperity. Dedicated to fascist ideology, he joined the Italian army to fight prime minister Benito Mussollini’s war of aggression against Ethoipia (the Second Italo-Ethiopian War, 1935-37). Italy invaded Ethiopia and sent leader Haile Selassie into exile in 1937. Still a committed fascist, Giorgio pivoted straight from Ethiopia to Spain, where he fought on the side of Franco’s Nationalists against the defenders of the Spanish Republic. 

Giorgio went back to Italy in 1938, and that’s when his world was rocked and his personal belief system made a 180 degree turn. Just as he was returning to his native land, the Nazi-allied fascist government adopted the Italian Racial Laws, which persecuted and segregated Italian Jews and African immigrants from the Italian colonial empire. The first law banned Jews from working with the public or attending college. Books by Jewish authors were burned. The next set of laws confiscated Jewish property, prohibited them from traveling, and finally arrested and imprisoned them. Italian newspapers were filled with vicious anti-Jewish propaganda and hideous caricatures.

Giorgio Perlasca, the man who’d spent the last decade fighting for fascism, was horrified. Perhaps he’d been in north Africa and Spain for so long, he wasn’t aware of the extent of Nazi persecution of the Jews. He’d joined the fascists because, young and naive, he thought they had answers to societal problems. But he never signed up for the Nazis’ “final solution.” He believed in human rights, freedom and tolerance and therefore realized he had to reject fascism.

Ironically, just as he was rejecting Mussolini’s ideology, he was rewarded for his service by being granted diplomatic status and sent to Budapest to represent the interests of the Italian government. As an emissary, Giorgio’s most urgent mission was traveling throughout Eastern Europe to purchase large quantities of meat for Italian army soldiers fighting on the Russian front. Despite his political shift, he remained committed to what he felt was honorable work procuring food for Italians who’d been drafted into the army.

On September 8, 1943, Italy surrendered to the Allied forces. Diplomats like Giorgio had a choice to make: pledge allegiance to Mussolini, or join the Allies. Giorgio switched sides and instead of returning to Italy he was arrested and detained with other diplomats sympathetic to the Allies. After several months in captivity, he used a medical pass to leave the facility. He went straight to the Spanish embassy, which was being run by Angel Sanz Briz*, a diplomat who was secretly saving Hungarian Jews. Sanz Briz enabled Giorgio to claim asylum as a veteran of the Spanish war. Giorgio called himself “Jorge” (the Spanish version of Giorgio) and as a nominal Spaniard, was untouchable by the Nazi-allied Hungarian authorities since Spain was officially a neutral country.

Giorgio Perlasca during the war.

Giorgio immediately teamed up with Sanz Briz to save Jews from the Nazi death machine, which was systematically massacring the Jews of Hungary at shocking speed. He later said, “I couldn’t stand the sight of people being branded like animals… I couldn’t stand seeing children being killed. I did what I had to do.” Giorgio convinced diplomats from neutral countries to shelter Jews in their embassies and homes. He created “protection cards” that identified Jews as being under diplomatic guardianship and therefore impossible to arrest. In November 1944, Sanz Briz was transferred from Hungary to Switzerland, and he urged Giorgio to go with him. However, instead of traveling to a safe country, Giorgio put his own life at risk by staying in Hungary so he could continue saving Jews from the Nazis.  

The Hungarian authorities got wind of what Giorgio was doing, and they used Sanz Briz’ departure from the country as an excuse to order the Spanish embassy building and residences to be emptied and shuttered. In response, Giorgio made a bold move. He announced that Sanz Briz would be returning shortly, and he’d been appointed consul-general in the meantime. This bought him enough time to continue saving Jews, providing them with sanctuary and vital supplies. He also issued fake transit visas based on a 1924 law giving Jews of Sephardic heritage Spanish citizenship. The law had expired in 1930 but Giorgio managed to keep that part secret. 

In December 1944, Giorgio stood up to high-ranking Nazi officer Adolf Eichmann – architect of the genocidal “Final Solution” – who was about to force two Jewish children onto a freight train headed to a death camp. Swedish rescuer Raoul Wallenberg later described watching Giorgio boldly defy the vicious Eichmann and rescue the Jewish boys.

Around this time the Nazi-aligned Hungarian government known as the Arrow Cross set up a squalid ghetto in Budapest for the city’s 60,000 Jews. As “acting Spanish consul-general” was privy to top-secret information, and he learned that the Arrow Cross was going to liquidate the ghetto – which meant murdering the men, women and children who lived there. Giorgio demanded – and got – a private hearing with the Hungarian interior minister Gabor Vajna. He threatened the high-ranking government official with severe repercussions against the “3,000 Hungarians” currently living in Spain. Unless the government backed down on destroying the ghetto, those Hungarian expats would be harshly punished financially, legally and professionally. The fact was, there were nowhere near 3000 Hungarians in Spain and the real number was a fraction of that. That bold threat, combined with a promise to help Vajna and his family escape the advancing Soviet army, prevented the Budapest ghetto from being liquidated, saving thousands of lives.

After the war, Giorgio Perlasca returned to Italy where he lived a quiet life as a businessman, married and raised a family. and didn’t tell a single soul about his heroic actions during the war. Meanwhile, a group of Hungarian Jews saved by Giorgio searched for him for decades. They knew their rescuer as a Spaniard named Jorge and it took 42 years for them to finally locate him. In 1987 Giorgio’s wife, children and community were utterly shocked to learn that this unassuming man had saved the lives of a documented 5,218 Jews and probably many more. The famous rescuer Oskar Schindler saved a quarter as many people as Giorgio Perlasca did.

Once Giorgio’s heroism was known, he became famous in Italy and a source of national pride. Giorgio Perlasca was the subject of a bestselling biography, “The Banality of Goodness,” which was made into a popular movie. He received many honors, including Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem, the Wallenberg Medal, the Hungarian Star of Merit, the Spanish Knight Grand Cross, the Italian Gold Medal for Civil Bravery, and many others. Noted Israeli composer Moshe Zorman wrote an orchestral piece, “His Finest Hour,” about Giorgio. There is a statue of Giorgio Perlasca in Budapest and a high school named for him, and he was featured on an Italian and an Israeli stamp. 

Giorgio died in Padua, Italy in 1992. 

For saving thousands of lives, and proving that people can change, we honor Giorgio Perlasca as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[pennysperfectpolls]

Blorbo Adoption Poll Finals!!!

This is where we decide who tumblr’s collective son is

“Tails” miles prower (Sonic)

Rob (the amazing world of Gumball)

Propaganda under the cut

“Tails” miles prower (Sonic) Propaganda

tails is just so . cute.. abd autism. ok so

he's 8 years old and he really really likes inventing and just machines in general. he's basically a little brother to sonic so i mean if you want to lump them together that's perfectly okay :3 anyways he's surprisingly smart for an 8 year old. he has GOT to be super fluffy. and we can see that in the movies, he certainly is!!!! he can fly a plane. he's very friendly. he has no alive and known parents in most canons (i say most because there is like. one canon where he has parents who are seen and alive)

here's some bonus propaganda if you want to group him together with sonic:

okay so first of all. you can NOT separate the brothers

but also sonic is the adhd to tails' autism. tends to come up with stuff on the spot, impatient, etc... he's really cool. he's so funny sometimes!!! also he has literally unparalleled amounts of tboy swag. hates bullies. god please i love these silly lil animals i might need to cut this off before i autism out too much so ywah

 Rob (the amazing world of Gumball) Propaganda

To put it simply, god doesn’t like Rob. Bro really said “mmmyeaa this one is kinda boring” and sent him into the void (literally). Miraculously he got out, but his home, familly and basically everything he cared for is gone. Not to mention he became physically deformed in the process. This 13 year old little boy is now homeless without a purpose. And no one seems to be concerned for him. Please give this boy a home, he needs some good parents to take care of him and a nice cup of hot chocolate.

[cinderellaenjoyer]

Something about Indina and Kristen's cameo in the movie being in a PROPAGANDA play. Something about that combined with the fact that Indina playing Elphaba in the past. Something about how had she chosen a different path Elphaba could have become just as much a Proganda machine as Glinda became

[hotvintagepoll]

Don Knotts (The Incredible Mr. Limpet, The Ghost and Mr Chicken, The Reluctant Astronaut)—Just look at him. He’s just a lil scrungly guy. Also he started entertaining as a ventriloquist, and there’s nothing scrunglier than a ventriloquist. In all seriousness, Don Knotts’ career is singularly unique. His speaking voice was iconic, and he used it to his advantage and played it up – see also the included YouTube link to his small role in No Time for Sergeants [link]. He not only played second fiddle comedic character roles, but also played leading comedic character roles. He didn’t need a sidekick for his movies but he could *be* the sidekick if needed. That’s key to Scrungly Little Guy™ behavior, in my opinion. Knotts undoubtedly influenced many comedians and sitcom characters in both his lifelong film and TV career – and I do mean lifelong, as his final role was in 2006, the year he passed away! In the 70s, he became a frequently used actor in live action Disney comedy films for kids like The Apple Dumpling Gang and appeared in many children’s programs. Knotts was said to be one of the nicest guys in Hollywood, which is important for Scrungly Little Guy™ lore.

Gert Fröbe (Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang)—if you only know my man gert from his role in goldfinger, you're in for a surprise when you see him in comedy roles! he truly shines in them bringing a silliness that plays off his big size and cartoonish use of his own accent. he also helped hide a jewish family in wwii which i think is very cool of him (he was a nazi earlier in life but renounced it)

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Don Knotts:

TBH, I was first introduced to Don knotts in things like three's company, the og Scooby-Doo cartoons, and later on that Disney chicken little movie. He's probably most remembered from his time on the Andy griffith show. But just look at him! Don't you just wanna put him situations?

When you say scrungly his face is just what immediately pops into my head

Don Knotts plays in most if not all of his filmography someone who is kinda dull-witted, afraid of his own shadow, or kind of cowardly. He is the scrungliest of scrungly people!  

Gert Fröbe:

[nshtn]

I love writing Wesker with a little touch of what he seems to hate so much... humanity.

The one core aspect of his persona is that he was manufactured - abused - created.

The Executive Training School intended to produce sets of controllable psycho-sociopaths - a class worth. Human beings, more complex than tools, rarely turn out how they are meant to - neither Birkin nor Wesker were controllable.

Lisa Trevor was a threat and an intimidation tactic as much as she was an experiment - "this will be you if you don't do what we say", essentially.

Wesker, Birkin, and Alexia were all groomed (literal) under the Doctrine, meant to take over in Spencer's stead when he passed (and meant to fight for the position).

Birkin's hate for Alexia was an intentional machination of Spencer. Wesker was intended to experience it towards Birkin eventually, but ultimately did not.

There is only so much death you can voyeur - unwillingly, willingly, it doesn't change the outcome - until you are no longer empathetic to it.

He's a victim of an insurmountable magnitude of intentional happenings whose scale approaches the Truman trope.

His natural, base inclination is not violence.

Birkin had a much higher kill count than he did in the beginning of his arduous and terrible journey, one that they had both started with the desire for a positive change even after they grew up watching their peers picked off like carrion by Marcus.

Wesker's comment to Birkin after the murder of Marcus is that he does not feel anything - good or bad - and that Marcus was "just another monster".

In RE4, he is more than willing to let people solve his own problems without directly, violently interfering to reach his goals. Only when they require violence does he portray it - his first suggestions aren't needlessly cruel ("ring the church bell", "take advantage of the distraction [Leon] is causing", "use [Leon] to clean up Saddler").

When Wesker initially became suspicious of the Arklays, and he looked upon what he perceived was Spencer's goal, he found the idea of it completely revolting even at its' smallest scale. But he could not flee.

The Arklays were meant to produce a viable strain that Spencer could then himself perfect after shedding the Arklays as a testing ground; it was intentionally set up for the event of Raccoon City to occur, but it was not intended for it to occur at the time that it did.

Spencer admits that he - and Project W as a whole - were raised intentionally to produce tools who would become eugenicists in a similar fashion.

Eventually that bitter lie becomes so numb to Wesker's tongue that it begins to taste sweet. "A lie repeated twice is truth" is a known and very evil propaganda tactic employed by cults and fascists - it is called the 'illusion of truth' in psychology, the curse of familiarity.

He was not born evil, and he's a broken dichotomy of a person who is fundamentally incompatible with life.

[theredqueenandthebloodwyrm]

I see we’re just reposting things without sources for some reason?? I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it’s because the tweet used the magic word “Zionist” which is taken to be “irredeemably evil and vile person”. For context, the context which that tweet purposely left out (and yeah I’m going to say it’s fucking purposeful) is this article by the NPR. Inside this article the allegedly pro-Palestine posts on social media were fucking videos of the Hamas on October 7th. So, yeah if you’re reposting antisemitic stuff (blatantly antisemitic too), fuck you.

The images that came out of Israel on October 7 were brutal and graphic, and the images coming out of Gaza for months now are constant, also brutal and horrific. All this violence is being shared on social media, and as KQED's Lesley McClurg reports, that's affecting the mental health of Americans with loved ones in Gaza and in Israel. A warning - this story contains descriptions of violence. LESLEY MCCLURG, BYLINE: Some of the footage Shoshana Howard (ph) saw on social media months ago still haunts her. A video appears to show a Hamas fighter pulling an Israeli hostage from the trunk of a jeep. CNN aired a clip of the video. (SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING) UNIDENTIFIED PERSON: Her face is bleeding, and her wrists appear to be cable-tied behind her back. MCCLURG: It looks like blood is seeping through the back of the woman's sweatpants. SHOSHANA HOWARD: And that broke me - and then seeing friends calling it liberation. MCCLURG: Howard, who is Jewish, couldn't believe people she knew were writing comments online that, to her, felt inhumane and anti-Jewish. HOWARD: That's when I started to have night terrors, and I was ending my days going into my closet and just would cry. MCCLURG: She couldn't stop thinking about her cousins living in Israel. As the days passed, it became harder to focus on her life and work in Oakland. HOWARD: Like, I just was so fragile. MCCLURG: And then recently, she felt shamed by a friend who told her her grief doesn't matter when so many Palestinians are suffering.

Is it “making the argument” to point out the hypocrisy of saying the Houthis (a terror organization) are protecting international laws and human rights when there’s documented evidence of Houthis perpetrating slavery, diverting humanitarian aid, and so on? Or you know, is it providing necessary context that readers might want to know?

And the comments below that tweet are awful (with a few exceptions rightfully pointing out accuracy of said community note and how slavery is in fact bad).

Antisemitic Tweet #1: This is what all community notes have become now. Total Zionist propaganda machine.

Antisemitic Tweet #2: There's been an influx of "community notes" that are clearly just people trying to protect the narrative.

Antisemitic Tweet #3: It's like the Israeli Bot accounts that change the community notes to favor Israel.

Already reblogged multiple posts explaining what's wrong with the Houthis with sources attached, so linking those now to save space (rather than adding ten different links).

This? This is what you say on October 7th, 2023?

Shaun: Lot of reaping being condemned by the sowers today. Shaun (cont.): I'm talking about politicians who stridently oppose all options except those which lead to violence and then act shocked violence occurs. Their condemnations of violence are worthless while they ignore their hand in the apartheid causing it.

October 7th was an attack against civilians where hostages were taken, people were murdered, people who advocated for peace were harmed, killed, and so on.

I also noticed a tweet not too far down from that one which said the following:

Lots of people in these comments very mad that Palestinians aren't being victims of occupation in the right and proper way.

No, people are mad about civilians being massacred and taken as hostages by a terrorist organization. The lack of empathy is something.

[quixtrix]

dolph was always meant to be doomed; something of an analysis

i'm on my third rewatch of captain laserhawk, and on this one i've been focusing more on the little details that you don't get on your first or even second time watching it. i've noticed little things, such as pey'j helping and then going on to shield a hybrid who's dressed similarly to jade in the third episode. but i've also noticed bigger things, such as alex and dolph.

keep in mind that this show is just filled to the brim with political messaging, it was purposefully designed that way. so when someone mentioned on here that alex was an accelerationist, it explained a lot. we don't know much about alex in terms of his backstory, we only know he helped dolph after dolph attempted to mug him and they ended up falling in love. it's also implied that alex and dolph have been repeatedly reported on the news as terrorists more than we've seen, with rayman referring to them as being the usual suspects when the kaiju attack happened, despite dolph literally not even being there when alex did that shit. they're known to do this shit, and we know alex is a charismatic guy. it's not too far fetched to say once or while dolph was falling in love with this gayass white saviour saint that alex talked him into this shit for alex's own purposes. because yes, he has a cause, but he's also a bit in over his head, maybe with power. he's aware of the power he has over dolph, how he actively uses the 'i love you' card multiple times when they're together and when they're not together. he just had a bit too much confidence in his hold over dolph, but to be fair, alex, you were topping some indulgent mob boss for your cause (because let's be honest of course your sources would be tight if they were being fucked for it) then continued fucking said mob boss and got caught with your dick out by your ex who you think you can get back with. alex uses people as tools, he just doesn't put his shit in the right places at the right times.

i'm getting off track, but the point i'm getting to is that alex most definitely saw dolph, a man who clearly has some jacked up eden tech smacked onto his twink ass, at his lowest, and picked him up like a shiny new toy. he was always going to use dolph. but how come dolph is so easy to use? he's starved for kindness. he's the stray dog that comes up to you at restaurants to act all nonchalant because 95% of the time he gets neglected, but the second he gets offered scraps, he shows how hungry he is. we don't know much about his childhood, and what we do know is under the lenses of literal eden propaganda. we do however know how people get like underneath the hand of eden.

everyone say thanks to rayman, who concidentally, is dolph's foil. both of them worked under eden as their lap dogs, one as a propagandist and the other as military, but dolph had gotten out of the hold the propaganda had on him while rayman's barely shaking it off. both of them are also portrayed as poor little tragic immigrants and the impoverished stand ins both in universe and story wise. they're the feel good picking yourself up american dream stories that people can feel inspired by or feel proud about the country with. dolph had a photo with a kid holding a doll of him. before he became ex military, he was definitely the guy they paraded around as a previous lost cause that eden helped. red, who's as political as his assigned colour, bitches about identity politics in that one off line for a reason. he also jus hates brown people fr he kicked me down a flight of stairs

now we can assume that dolph had picked himself up out of the propaganda machine somehow. he realised he was used and he didn't want that shit. he's attempting to get himself his own life, for fucks sake. he jus happened to get lead on by the wrong guy, which then lead him to get used by eden AGAIN. this time not only in a physical way via soldier work, but emotionally too, with sarah easily manipulating him with what? a sob story and helping him out, maybe being friendly with him along the way.

he wants a normal life. he wants a goddamn normal life. he jus continues to be selected as a tool.

you can see how fucking starved he is for kindness. you ever think about the fact that in his dream life, he sees jade and pey'j? he knew these people for less than a week, yet they get a place in his dream life. most notably, jade gets a speaking role in his dream life. the only other person who speaks, besides marcus, is alex, someone who had known him and shown kindness to him. jade has also shown kindness to dolph. she's the friendliest face there in the ghosts, being the first one to check on dolph when he wakes up, offers an explanation to him, and also makes an effort to include him in her little shenanigans with the video and all!! dolph was all emo alpha wolf and all, but despite his constant cold shoulder, she was kind!!

there was someone who was more than kind though; bullfrog. because bullfrog actively looked out for dolph, despite his constant pushback against bullfrogs advice whenever they weren't separated. and in the end, it's bullfrogs kindness and compassion that hits dolph the deepest. dolph gets out of his depressive state to go back for bullfrog. he cares about people, he goes out of his way to do shit for the people who show him the slightest bit of kindness. he backed up sarah after one good conversation with her to marcus for fucks sake. dolph is just a guy who keeps getting used though. he's so loyal to anyone who looks his way that it's a fatal flaw that ends up with his head blown up. he's a shakespearean tragedy at the moment. i hope in the potential season 2 that he gets to have more moments where he gets to be his own person. not defined by an organisation or a person or a cause, but what he chooses to define himself by. he's on his way there. he jus deserves to be allowed to live for himself. after all, he has already met his end of that story. he can make a new one.

anyways if u reached the end of this im down to discuss this :D i also did get a few points from other people on here, but let me know what u think nd all

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dan Rather at Steady:

The morning after the election, I was talking with a friend who said something that made me pause: “The American people aren’t buying what the Dems are selling.” At the time I acknowledged the notion but filed it away for closer inspection, once the shock wore off.  Vice President Kamala Harris and the Democratic Party were selling hope and freedom, upholding the rule of law, saving democracy. What’s not to buy? With the benefit of lots of discussion, reading, watching, and thinking over the past 17 days, it became apparent that that analysis is incomplete.  It isn’t that the American people didn’t buy what Harris was selling; they didn’t know what she was selling. The increasingly powerful right-wing media championed her opponent’s message while distorting hers. And millions of Americans bought it. 

As The New Republic editor Michael Tomasky wrote, “It wasn’t the economy. It wasn’t inflation, or anything else. It was how people perceive those things, which points to one overpowering answer.” The right-wing media now controls the agenda.   For those of us who grew up on a steady diet of truth-telling, it’s gut-wrenching to see this mega misinformation machine grow into a multi-headed monster.   Perhaps it shouldn’t come as a shock. Gallup says trust in the media is at an all-time low. The most trusted news source according to YouGov is … The Weather Channel. Couple that with exit polls showing people who consume a lot of news from traditional sources voted overwhelmingly for Harris. 

If you only read The New York Times or watch CNN or so-called legacy networks such as CBS News, you might be surprised to learn there is a vast right-wing media ecosystem that goes well beyond Fox News. Founded in 1996, Fox is the granddaddy of the far-right media but has since been joined by Newsmax and One America News Network. This media universe also includes Sinclair Broadcasting, which owns hundreds of radio and TV stations — reaching 40% of the viewing public — and newspapers, including the recently purchased Baltimore Sun; iHeartMedia, which dominates right-wing talk radio and podcasting; Trinity and Bott Radio, two massive Christian broadcasting networks; social media platforms like Trump’s own Truth Social and X, owned by Trump bestie Elon Musk; and a multitude of hugely popular far-right podcasts.  Collectively, these various and varied media outlets have been feeding growing audiences a constant diet of disinformation for years. They have been fighting and winning an information war Democrats didn’t seem to know existed. The 2024 election may have been the inflection point when the right-wing media’s influence finally eclipsed the mainstream media. That is a major reason a convicted felon won with just under 50% of the popular vote.

The landscape is changing at light speed. Today, traditional media is not where most people get their news. Not so long ago you had to pick up a morning newspaper or turn on a television at a specific time to get news. Now “news” is available 24-7, from hundreds of sources, in tiny bite-sized portions, often without the benefit of context or even fact-checking. Right-wing outlets peddling half truths have learned how to navigate and thus dominate this new landscape. It is important to note that this battle is being waged between right-leaning media and mainstream media. The combatants are not two ideologues. One group is pushing a hard-right agenda, and the other is striving to report and expose the truth. The social media landscape mirrors this reality. On the right, you have Truth Social and X. On the left, not much. In reaction to the misinformation rampant on its sites during the 2020 election, Meta-owned platforms like Facebook and Instagram removed most political content.

An excellent read from longtime CBS News journalist Dan Rather on how right-wing media propaganda being fed to millions of Americans without any real fact-checking of lies is what led to Donald Trump become a Presidential candidate in the first place, let alone win twice.

[professor-doc-emeritus]

possible readings of the admech:

1 - admech rituals don't work and aren't necessary. imperium tech largely works based on a combination of dumb luck, ork-esque psychic gestalt fields generated by humanity's collective belief in it, and the efforts of the handful of heretic priests who worked all this out and now do all the imperium's actual IT/maintenance work in secret. The majority of the imperium, and the adeptus mechanics itself, still believe in the rituals wholeheartedly.

2 - admech rituals do work and are (mostly) necessary, but only because they are obfuscations of actual technical work, e.g. the application of sacred oils and incense is just an elaborately ritualized method of getting rusty old machines lubricated regularly, binaric prayers work because they actually contain bundles of voice commands to activate onboard error handling programs in most Dark Age of Technology artifacts, and "machine spirits" are just ancient and ornery onboard AIs that take pity on the occasional tech priest asking for help. This status quo is an unintentional side effect of millenia of collective trial and error; virtually all members of the admech genuinely believe in the cult mechanicus & are unaware there's any material benefit to their rituals.

3 - same as the above, except the admech are (or at least used to be) in on the ruse. The rituals do work, for the above stated reasons, but are deliberately designed to be as mysterious, impenetrable, and terrifying as possible. The people who made them didn't believe in the omnissiah, and sufficiently well-informed members of the admech don't either, often foregoing their rituals entirely when in private or in a pinch. The median admech member understands the basic principles of technology FAR better than they let on, and the cult mechanicus in general exists as part of a massive conspiracy meant to keep humanity at large ignorant, and the control of technology exclusively in admech hands, which they use to their own nefarious ends. This fact used to be common knowledge within the faction itself, however the heresy era split, the subsequent millenia of conflict, and their own overzealous propaganda have all eroded their collective memory. The truth is now only known to its highest ranking and longest-lived members, and is doled out on a need-to-know basis to a select few. This is why most tech priests that feature in the books and video games unironically believe in the omnissiah: they haven't yet been told the truth.

4 - admech rituals do work and are necessary, and the spiritual aspect of it is at least partially true, but this is only because the omnissiah is actually a manifestation of Mag’ladroth the Void Dragon, C'tan god of technology and Aeldari god of oblivion, a shard of which was defeated and imprisoned beneath the surface of mars by the emperor. This shard, either intentionally or unintentionally, influenced and warped the collective psyche of the mechanicum of mars until they became the admech we know today. Their apparent control over technology is the result of some combination of their proximity to the shard giving them aspects of its power, intentional siphoning of the shards power by the mechanicum, the shard itself lending them power as part of a long-term plan to corrupt & use the imperium as a means of revenge against the necrons that shattered it, and the Emperor's defeat of the shard granting him its domain over technology. It's this domain the Emperor won that allowed humanity to expand out and conquer the stars without their tech getting corrupted by the warp, and why technology made by other species and the machines-making-machines-that-make-machines (i.e. the men of iron) fall to the warp faster and more often than human technology

5 - the admech are just batting a thousand and are right about pretty much everything.