#but yeah as an adult who tries to be a thoughtful anarchist while doing care work

[7ven-devils]

A really long overanlysis of minecraft servers.

This will be my only warning, this shit is really long.

I promised this to @ivi-prism 2 weeks ago (hi, i am Svetla) but university said no and then i feel my notes were incomplete so i have to do more research.

So let's talk about anarchism and capitalism. As a future political scientist, really bugs me how the fandom and some content creators (im looking at you techno) misinterpret both theories.

Yeah this will be a overanalysis about the political, social and economic system of two minecraft servers. Why? Cause i like analysis things like this and finally i can solved what is the system of hermitcraft and thats make me happy.

Things to consider:

First im not native english speaker and im lazy so im not often write or talk in english so my typos can make Doc really proud.

Second i don't watch Dsmp i only know things about the server by the animatics, the constant information wich pop up here on tumblr, the crossover fanfics and the tiny vods that youtube insist play when i have activate automatic reproduction.

Third i tried to simplified this much as i can because this analysis i maded talking with my friends (also political scientists) and a former professor, so it got quite technical while i was writing it.

And finally don't take this seriously, I'm not trying to insult anyone, I only started this because the hermitfandom started saying that hermitcraft was capitalist and then everyone started comparing the Dsmp with hermitcraft saying anarchism vs capitalism, that's why the dsmp entered into this analysis.

Guys, seriously chaos isn't anarchism and "sucefully economic" isn't capitalism, even paid with "money" (diamonds in this case) isnt necessary capitalism.

First, mini glossary:

I understand a server like a Society/State (country) with Mr Weber definition. In really vague words a State is anyone that has a territory and has legal control of violence (the laws, no the abuse of authority).

I understand the private property as the hermits bases and/or shops (i suppose only base in dsmp? Idk)

I understand the mass production as the farms and resources.

Capitalism is a economic, politic and social theory, wich it considers private property essential and tends to monopolize the resources 'cause this it also considered private property.

Anarchy means "without government" it has its origin in the Ancient Greece. And Anarchism theory is just a society free from any political authority, but respecting the liberties of the others.

A Failed State is which one lose control of the legal violence, and can't provide the peace, essential human rights and the basics for a normal lifestyle to its people.

I think thats all the bored shit (i hope so). Now the interesting shit.

Why hermitcraft isnt capitalist?

Short answer, their idea of private property is not the same as capitalism has.

Long answer, even if they have their own stuff, they had a really strong sense of community and dont really care if someone take things from them.

We can see this in the beginning of season when Iskall take some mini blocks from Etho and he didn't really care (yeah, iskall "paid" him, but later i will explain this) or the multiple times Grian "borrow" things from Iskall and Mumbo in season 6 or Scar in season 7, the team ZIT constantly take things from each other and i can go on and on with examples, but the point here is this couldn't happen if they had a capitalist society because this would break the "private" part of private property and mass production.

Basically their friendship made so strong their sense of community that they are basically inmune to capitalism, Uncle Marx would be proud of them (not really, but would be funny). So they are communist? Nope, communist don't believe in private property and the hermits does.

But you just said-? I said they dont has the SAME idea of private property as capitalism does. They still have their bases, farms and shops, but for them their private property isnt sacred like in a capitalism system would be.

They're respect each other things because they appreciated the effort and values the time the person puts on their buildings and not only because doesn't belongs to them (and obviously cause theyre frends, but shush, this is a overanalysis, the obvious things doesn't have place here) i mean even for the shenanigans they are really polite and try to cause the least damage possible not because is not of them but because they valued the person.

Basically the famous honor code of hermitcraft.

What about the economic system and the shopping district?

Lets talk about the elephant in the room.

If Hermitcraft isnt a capitalist system, why they have a economic system based in diamonds?

Well, despite the exchange based in money for resources or services is a principal characteristic of capitalism, it isnt exclusive of that theory.

The money is a social consensus, cause barter has becomes obsolete and gold isnt cheap or infinite to use as payment. And basically, this is why we use money on this days (if you want to know the history of money ask to your trusted historian or Wikipedia).

What does this remind us? Yep, diamonds and iou's are a consensus too. When the 1.16 came out some hermits tried to change to netherite as payment and didn't suit, so they ignored it and continued with their current payment system.

And as much as Mr Smith likes to say that this is how the free market (and his stupid invisible hand) works, capitalism needs the monopoly of resources and people who works to pay for those resources.

But in Hermitcraft nobody really controlled the resources, anyone can go and collect their materials or made a farm. They just decided don't do it and go and buy it, because they save the time to go and collect for themselves, in other words they paid for the time.

Various hermits say they saved so much time go and buy the materials instead to collect themself or trade with the villagers (cause theyre the worst and all of us know it) thats why the barge and lookie lookie at my bookie are so profitable.

The shopping district it wasn't a thing before season 4, i dont really sure how it worked before, because i started watch in season six and sadly i have a boring adult life to saw the old seasons, but i assume it works in the same way that the trades the hermits does between them to accord a discount or a collab, and speak directly with the interested hermit or directly take it and pays what's considered it was fair, like iskall did with etho.

Like i said all what's happen in hermitcraft is a consensus, even the shopping district.

So yeah, that isnt a thing that would happen in a capitalism system, probably you would be dead, because "how are you dare to entered to my property", or in the jail, "because thats not yours".

So, what is hermitcraft?

For the surprise from much of you, Hermitcraft has an anarchist system.

What?! But their server is so peaceful, they don't steal from each other, they doesn't griefing, hows that possible?!

Well, the anarchism isn't really a violent political theory, at least in its beginning, actually anarchism is one of the most peaceful theories i studied, thats why i dont really thing it will worked in our society, but work in a server of 24 friends. Its too idealist.

I don't really study all of the thoughts corrents of anarchism because they are a lot. But the one we are interested is one of original thought corrent, The Mutualism, this in contrast with their cousin Communism doesn't believes the private property was something bad and considered like one of the rights from the individual, but different as capitalism because like i said before it wasn't sacred and communal things will exist to help others to start or recover.

Proudhon, one of it intellectuals, considered not paid for the work of the other it was a form to violate their liberties and feel horrofied with Marx when he said we have to abolish the private property.

The mutualists believes that each person should possess a means of production, either individually or collectively, and the products obtained would be trade in the market for the amount equivalent of their work.

This sound familiar, isnt it? Hermitcraft works in this way.

The thing with anarchism is they don't believes in a government over the people. And the hermits doesn't have one, yeah there's Scar being the mayor, but he isnt have a power over the rest and only is in charge of the "cowmercial district" even aquatown isn't part of his jurisdiction, his function is more of organization, like when we put a friend in charge to organizing part of a roadtrip.

It's the same with Xisuma figure, we all put him in a position of the admin of hermitcraft, but the truth is he isnt the only one with admin commands (but apparently some or all of them losed their admin status, at least in one of the last tango's streams, he hasnt it anymore) and various hermits said that he is more like an ambassador of them in the legal things of the server.

The hermits take all of they decisions in group and in the majority of things all of them needs to be agreed with the decision or they simple doesn't do it. And this is a characteristic of the mutualism because for them anyone are over the other.

And if you aren't already bored at this point and you put attention to what i wrote of the concept of private property in the mutualism, you would see it is practically the way hermitcraft works. They make their bases and farms, recolect resources and sell what they don't will use, buy mostly to save time and paid for the price what they considered fair. Yeah i know sometimes they do some farm specifically for one shop, but this is more "yeah, this is my thing" (Tango and Iron; Ren and wood) or a division of activities "if you do that, i do this".

The perfect utopia.

What about the Dsmp?

If you do it to here, congratulations.

So what about the Dsmp, i entered here because i want to read of them and the only thing i read was about hermitcraft.

Well, the Dsmp only entered in the equation because much of you said they were an anarchist server, but i see it more like a "failed state" and when i was talked with an exprofessor he agreed with me.

I know the term of failed state is controversial and is almost obsolete, but is the best way to describe the server and stop said it is anarchist.

So why failed state and not an anarchist state? Because they have a government (or apparently multiples) a failed one, but is there, if it were an anarchist server wouldn't have one.

Usually the failed states are known for being violent and volatile places in which ones their governments can't provides the basics to their people to live, normally are places with ethnics conflicts, civil wars, authoritarian governments or states in wars. The most common examples are Haití, Somalia or Syria.

And i am sure you can see the similarities with the Dsmp, so yeah, theyre chaotic but not anarchist.

The wars ruined the stability from the server, have a multiple sides and a megalomaniac for admin, but the goverment still there and they are fighting for the power wich wouldn't happen if the server were anarchist because anarchism don't believe the power should be possess for someone.

The server simply is failed state wich struggles under a violent fight for power.

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

If you read this far, you're a hero and had my gratitude for read my useless thoughts. Maybe some day i do it other overanalysis of this servers. I hope you enjoyed and dont confused so much.

Thanks for read.

And if there are some angry economist with me for "misrepresent" the capitalist i am completely open to a debate, my only condition is it would be in chilean spanish ;)

[howlingday]

About Jaune ships...

I have opinions. You may not agree, but they are mine. They may change in time, but not now.

LANCASTER ( RUBY X JAUNE )

The old tried and true. I mean, what's not to like? Cute girl falls for first guy she meets at Beacon? Classic romance trope, and after reading how much Ruby loves romance stories (I consider certain parts in the manga canon), it makes sense. In fact, after Arkos sank (A moment of silence, please . . . Thank you), many moved to Lancaster, which isn't bad. Happens all the time in fandoms. Sad thing, though, is far I think she'll last. If we're talking Volume 5 or earlier, then maybe. However, I feel if Ruby were to have an endgame in romance, it would be RoseGarden (I have opinions on that as well, but today isn't the day to discuss that), mostly because Oscar bumped Jaune's role from male lead to male side. Not to mention that while Jaune is becoming a beast in his own right, Ruby is a different creature altogether and evolving her character more rapidly and chaotically than anyone else (Must be all that screentime).

TLDR: I want it to be canon, but I might just be hoping.

WHITE KNIGHT ( WEISS X JAUNE)

Doofus in tin foil meets princess who hates daddy (Am I in the romance section of the library? You know, the corner for adults only?) No, but I do like this ship. I'm always a sucker for the fantasy genre, and using a zero to hero male makes it relatable. I also kind of ship it because the same reason I ship NaruSaku in the Naruto fandom: he likes her and he's willing to go the distance. But enough about that; instead let's talk about canon. Will they hook up? It's a soft maybe for me, for two reasons. 1. Rosegarden is most likely to be endgame, and after Ruby and Pyrrha, I'd say Weiss is Jaune's next to be his love interest. 2. Weiss has warmed up to Jaune. Sure, not lover or crush level (Yet), but she's definitely changed her opinion on him. In Volume 1, Jaune was bugging her, like all the time, which I could see as him getting mixed signals on (Exhibit A: Tall, blonde, and scraggly). When Volume 5 came around, everyone jumped onboard because he saved her life (Don't lie, because I'll admit that I did it, too). Not the best reason, but still reason enough, I'd say. Then in Volume 7, she hangs out with him and Oscar to the movies (It was either that or awkward Bumbleby all night. I feel ya, sister). Nothing romantic happens, but it does show how much their relationship has developed. If Weiss is Jaune's endgame, then they have set the pieces up perfectly to do so.

TLDR: High likelihood to be canon and I'm a sucker for Knight/Princess ships.

KNIGHTSHADE ( BLAKE X JAUNE)

This is the part where I say definitely not. Not in a million years, but I'll explain why I like the ship, though. As for why it won't work, the answer is Bumbleby. They haven't kissed yet, but you know they're going to eventually (Because if they don't, the fans will attack like a swarm of hornets). But here's the question you might be asking now: why do I ship this? Well, it's part of the allure of "opposites attract" ('Cause I'm dressed like a cat!). Blake is an intelligent, outspoken, and agile ninja with a criminal history of terrorism who spends her free time reading novels. Jaune is a B at best on his tests, soft-hearted, and ground-based knight who's worst crime is fraud (Still a crime, but peanuts compared to literal terrorism) and spends his free time hanging out with his team. Day and night. But they also tried that with Sun for a season and a half and it didn't last (BECAUSE BEES).

TLDR: Not even a snowball's chance in the summer sun, but so much story potential if you do (Which I do)!

DRAGONSLAYER ( YANG X JAUNE )

This, I would say, is the opposite of Knightshade, where Jaune is the day and Blake is night, here Yang is the Sun and Jaune is the Moon (Like their crests! Remember those? Y'know, when they were relevant?) Will it work? Even less so than Knightshade. However, it does open up some interesting paths considering how... provocative Yang can be, and Jaune, compared to the other guys, is the nerdiest, geekiest dude at Beacon. It's like the cheerleader/nerd romance, except the cheerleader is the captain of every sports team... and rides a motorcycle. The Volume 8 preview introduced us to Yang and Jaune riding motorcycles and we went nuts over it. Yang was back in her element, roaring down the street, riding on walls, popping off tricks with Oscar riding- Back to what I was saying, people were asking, "How did he know how to ride a motorcycle?" and the elementary answer is "He didn't." He almost fell off his bike from a small box in the road. True, anyone would, but look at how he reacts: he stiffens, he refocuses on the road. This kid literally started riding at breakfast, and I DARE you to prove me wrong. But hey, great fic material right there, though, eh?

TLDR: Never gonna happen, but I don't care. All I care about is writing that they love each other. And they also fu-!

ARKOS ( PYRRHA X JAUNE )

I'm sorry, I need a moment. . . . Alright. Do it for her. This ship... was perfect. Probably the best ship out them all. I legit almost cry every time I think about Volume 3. Pyrrha was everyone's favorite. Her background, her interactions, her choreography, everything! But, of course, like everything in our lives, she was too good to be true. But let's honor her memory by talking about her ship, Arkos. Pyrrha was the champion of the world, the Brothers' and Oums' gift to Remnant. She could do no wrong and she HATED it. Her plight was with how she was seen. Everybody knew her! Everybody, except Jaune. And he only figured out she was "a big deal" was because Weiss had to spell it out for him! As time went on, they became the best of friends, two peas in a pod, the perfect odd couple! They worked together and trusted each other, they cared for and supported each other, they lo- No. No, I can't say it. It's been years, and it still hurts. So, I'll explain something else: the reason why Jaune SHOULD NOT be shipped right now. That reason is Pyrrha. Jaune was helpless to save her. He's suffering from survivor's guilt and he's still grieving. In Volume 4, he would sneak away and train until late at night to scroll recording of her. In Volume 5, he confronted Cinder and got Weiss almost killed because he let his grief for Pyrrha take control of him and let his emotions run wild. In Volume 6, he finds the Pyrrha statue and he... I don't know how to say this, but he let's go. He accepts that Pyrrha is gone and he's starting the healing process. He's finally ready to move forward.

TLDR: T.T I never felt that it was wise to wish too much~

MARTIAL ARCS ( REN X JAUNE)

I'll be honest, I don't really ship it. Yeah, it's cute, and it falls perfectly into the "if I had to pick a guy" part of me, but to be honest, I don't ship it. 10% because Renora and 90% it just doesn't click with me. They both just seem too soft, too quiet, too introverted. Best friends? Yes, definitely! But lovers? Eeeeeh, not really.

TLDR: I will only ship as neccessary.

NORA'S ARC ( NORA X JAUNE )

I've only just got in this deep with the fandom only recently, so I don't know if a lot of you know me. Heck, I'm probably just some RWBY fan you happen to spot as you move through your dash. However, old or new, I want to be made absolutely positively clear on this. Of all the ships here, this has got to be my-

O T FUDGIN' P

Wow! Never thought I'd feel so strongly about a crack ship like this. And yes, as sad it is to say, this is a crack ship. Renora was planned from day one, so it can't be helped. At least it didn't blast me in the face all of the sudden (OH NO, NOT THE BEES! AAAAARGH! THEY'RE IN MY EYES!). But why this ship? Well, for one thing, it's that whole opposites attract thing with Nora as the bubbly, outspoken, airhead powerhouse and Jaune as the soft spoken, introverted, nerd tactician. But wait, there's more to this trope, because it can go deeper: Order VS Chaos! Who makes all the messes? Who cleans up those messes? Who follows all the rules? Who makes their own doors? It's just. So. Damn! GOOD! One sad thing about this ship though is that it's not only not canon because of Renora, it's anti-canon because Renora. Every fan fic of Nora's Arc requires an explanation for Ren and Nora to not be together-together, like you have to write a formal apology to the FNDM for liking something that's different from what is canon or commonly accepted. If that's the case, then I'll be the anarchist here!

TLDR: I LOVE IT! What's that? Not canon? Who gives a damn?! I just explained why Jaune won't be shipped anyways! Now, if you'll excuse, I have some fan fics to find.

ARCFALL ( CINDER X JAUNE )

Oh, here it goes! Now, if we're talking ships that'll never happen, this is where we find better reasons than "it's not canon" and "character development". No, this... This is a declaration of war. Allow me to explain. Cinder Fall is evil. Like, down to her core. She wants power and she'll cut through anyone to get to it. Including Pyrrha. This woman sank Arkos by means other than "X and Y kissed, so..." She killed X, leaving Y alone. And her interactions with Jaune tell me she wouldn't even be worth a hate-bang. But, as Momma always, there's a thin line between love and hate. This is where the appeal comes in. Cinder is evil with no past, which leaves the previous chapter's of her life story blank to be filled in. Jaune is good with a troublesome, albeit easy past, but untapped potential for more. It's another opposites attract, but different from INTRO VS EXTRO and CHAOS VS ORDER; this is GOOD VS EVIL. Who will win this battle of wills; will our hero purify the tainted heart, or will he slip deeper into darkness, never to return to the light?

TLDR: Should be a NOTP, and yet the allure pulls me in.

What do y'all think? Do you agree? Let me know!

[revchainsaw]

The Crow (1994)

Alright Cult of Cult. Do I really need to introduce this one? Let's get all 90s and gothy and maybe brace ourselves for a bit of cringe, but like in a fun way. It's the Holy Grail of Hot Topic, 1994's the Crow Starring Brandon Lee.

Sermon

Apparently before the auto industry totally crashed Detroit was already a total fucked to death pile of burning shit, or at least that's what the crow would have you believe. Sorry Bruce Campbell, and other people from Detroit, but mostly Bruce Campbell. According to the Crow the city of Detroit is the kind of place where gangs of warlock anarchist arsonists will bomb buildings, and murder and rape whoever they feel like and then walk around bragging about it the next day with absolutely zero consequences. Funny then that if Detroit was so bad they had to go to film this movie in Wilmington North Carolina which is definitely a fucked to death pile of burning shit. I can say that, I'm from there and I got the fuck out. My brother is going to kill me if he ever reads this. (It's okay, these are all jokes people). Did you know they also filmed the Super Mario Bros movie there ... also cuz they needed a really shitty looking distopia. Moving on ...

The ludicrous criminality of the Crow's Detroit is particularly on display on Halloween. In Detroit (apparently) Halloween is known as Devils Night and it's legitimately just a night of pure lawlessness and chaos and kids aren't even safe to get candy, except later when we do see trick or treaters. Eric Draven, hunky goth rocker who sort of looks like he could be Bruce Lee's Kid and his fiance are murdered by a gang of vicious criminals. One year hence, Eric is resurrected by a mystical crow (that is actually a Raven), to exact his revenge on the gang that murdered him.

He paints his face like sad Alice Cooper and refuses to listen to Joy Division, just covers. He murders Tin Tin (a knife guy) just for his long gothy duster, he murders Fun Boy and forcibly ejects heroine from her arms and tells her "Go be a good mom now" which actually works. (have I told you about our Lord and Savior Sting? He gave me the strength to get off drugs), he blows T Bird up dick first, and then comes for Skab? Scraap? Scooby? in a meeting of all of Detroits villains and just about kills them all.

He is supported by the most 90s little girl to have ever graced the screen, and I am here for it, and Officer Albrecht, who's played by Ernie Hudson but I like to call him Zeddemore: The Most Underrated Ghostbuster. The leader of the bad guys, who I cannot beleive wasn't played by Brad Dourif or Tom Waits, is pretty interested in the occult. He keeps his witchy girlfriend around and she makes him fun dishes like smoked eyeballs, and her main use is that she knows that the Crow is the Crows weakness. They set Tony Fucking Todd on the bird, and I guess you just have to hurt the bird and not kill it, and Eric loses his healing factor and other macabre undead powers.

The Crow, Jimmy the Raven, pecks out Dr. Girlfriends eyeballs, I honestly forget how Tony Todd gets offed, and Top Dollar gets Gargoyled (that is impaled on a gargoyle). Funnily enough that is more Gargoyle related impaling on screen then in the actual movie Gargoyle: Wings of Darkness where a Gargoyle is supposed to have impaled a guy.

The Benediction

Best Feature: Injustice League

In the Crow we have not only a set of super memorable villains but they are played by the bad guy all stars. John Polito as the most lowly of the bad guys as a kind of sleazy pawn shop owner who buys ill gotten gains. Tony Todd, who's size is really on display here, the freaking Candy Man is in this movie. T Bird is the head of Top Dollars goons and is played by David Patrick Kelly, you might know as the "Warriors Come Out and Play!!" bottle guy from the Warriors, or as Jimmy Horne from Twin Peaks, and of course Top Dollar himself is played by Michael Wincott. Wincott is not a particularly celebrated actor but has played villains effectively in Robin Hood, the Three Musketeers, and Dead Man.

Best Set Piece: Detroit Style Hot Dogs

The Set design of the Crow is perhaps one of it's most fantastic features. It's very moody and ethereal. It's just real enough to not take you out of the film, but fantastic enough to set mood and theme above realism. From Eric Draven's apartment, to the church where the final battle occurs they are all fantastic. I think that's why I really wanted to shine the spot light on a very minor set piece that would get nary a mention but just as effectively represents the qualities I was just talking about and that is the Maxi Doggs Hot Dog Stand, where a lot of the films exposition for audience surrogates takes place.

Worst Effect: Freeze Frame

At a few points in the movie the film makers made a strange decision to do these freeze frame transitions. I only noticed it twice in the movie where it was particularly stupid. I'm sure the film makers at the time thought it was a moody and atmospheric choice that highlighted the suffering that Eric Draven was going through, but it didn't age well. If you don't have the sensibilities of a goth girl from 1994 then it's very very hard not to laugh at just how self involved the movie is about it's super sadness.

Worst Feature: Tragic Accident

Solely based on the film itself, it is that very gothic and dated sensibility that hurts the Crow. The little sarcastic dance he does when he flees the police, quoting Edgar Allen Poe, and bowing to Albrecht. These affected behaviors that I'm sure seemed snarky and right on to the target audience only serve to make Eric Draven seem like an unbearable neck beard edgelord and not the troubled dark soul he's supposed to be. I'm sure at the time it seemed unique and gothy but that shit went out of style for good reason, people could see through it. It's a shame that the Crow himself was some of the cringiest parts of this movie now that I'm seeing it as an adult and not a 13 year old middle class boy with no real problems.

This however is not the low point of the movie. It's not news now and if you're reading some dudes review of The Crow on Tumblr then you probably already know the story. The worst thing about The Crow is that Brandon Lee was horrifically killed on set while filming this movie due to some negligible prop malfunctions. A series of unfortunate events that lead to the actor spending 6 hours in surgery fighting for his life before eventually passing. It was not a quick or painless death and it's really impossible to watch the movie without an appreciation for the fact that this kind of fun dark adventure was going to be a vehicle for Brandon Lee's career wound up taking his life. He was 28. I really wish I could have just bitched about the goofy goth stuff and moved on, but that's not the world we live in.

Best Effect: The Gargoyling

Maybe I should have called this best kill. But I'm not sure which it is. The slaying of Top Dollar at the Climax of the film was just super effective. The pointed wings impaling his chest and that horn coming out of his mouth, it was morbid and excellent and just fit the tone of the movie perfectly. I mean how many other movies can you say Cause of Death: Impaled on a Gargoyle.

Best Bird: The Raven

I tried very hard to look up the name of the bird that primarily performed in this movie and could not find anything. There was a Raven once upon a time called Jimmy the Raven, but that was in the 50s and I don't think birds live that long. There was a team of Ravens performing as the crow, they were chosen over crows for their larger size, and more imposing silhouettes. I just think it's so wonderful to see these often maligned birds get a chance to show off their talents. Corvids of all kinds are incredibly intelligent creatures. Im a sucker for animals, if you haven't already figured that out. I really liked seeing the ravens hit their marks, particularly the one whos job it was to drop the wedding ring into Sarah's hand at the end of the film. You can see that greedy little bastard do his trick and then look of camera at his trainer like "treat please!". It's very cute.

Best Actor: Top Dollar Performance

I'd love to take this opportunity to just put praise upon Brandon Lee, he truly gave everything for this role, but unfortunately with what was put to film we actually have very few character moments with Eric Draven. Stuff happens to him, and he does killings and fights. There's definitely some personality, but I felt like I walked away knowing almost nothing about who Eric Draven was. He was clearly a good dude but that and a few hobbies and a relationship and you don't really have a character yet. He's unfortunately not given a lot of acting to do, instead just relegated to stunts and action sequences. That were notably cool.

The bad guys in the Crow have a lot more character and among this who's who of character actors, Michael Wincott takes the cake. Hell he was standing next to Candyman himself, Tony Todd and still stealing the scenes.

Best Character: A Few Good Apples

Is the best character in The Crow really going to be the cop? The commissioner Gordon stand in? yeah, it is. Not to be political, but I don't like cops, but I guess in a world with magical birds and eyeball smoking I can suspend my disbelief and let Ernie Hudson be #1 cop dad. His character is really the heart of the film, since all Eric can do is brood and fight, we have to care about someone in this movie.

Best Sequence: Halloween Party

The best sequence of the movie is of course the scene where Eric Draven busts in on the Devil's Night party planning commission. I think Top Dollar brought Scrappy Doo there just so he could lure out the crow, knowing the baddest assholes in all of Detroit would be gathered it was likely that somebody was going to kill the beast, or if they couldn't at least Top Dollar could get a feel for his enemy. It's a bullet flying action sequence with a ton of weight. I can't put my finger on this all to common weightless third act problem that big budget super hero and action flicks have nowadays, but whatever that issue is, the Crow does not have that issue. From this point on the Climax feels earned and I am invested. For that reason, The Crow is honestly better in spite of its awkwardness, than many of the super hero movies out today.

Worst Sequence: My Guitar Gently Weeps

Speaking of brooding or fighting. The best sequence was fighting, the worst is brooding. I get that Eric was in a band or something, but didn't he have shit to do. It seemed like it was a cool idea for a shot, but for like a whole seen, watching somebody play an 80s guitar solo, that stood out so brazenly from the choices of music in the rest of the movie was extra corny. It felt like someone's( dad trying to relate to their kid. Oh you like Music. The Dresden Dolls eh? Oh man, then you're going to love Slash's Snake Pit!

Summary

The Crow is dated. It is iconic but I wonder how many of the people that hang that poster on the wall have watched that movie since they were kids. It's interesting how what i've liked and disliked about this film have changed so much sense I was a kid. It's a cheeseball fiesta. If you have matured at all beyond thinking that being sad is the same as being deep then you're going to like it a little less than you did when you were younger, but it is still solid. There's not much to hate on. I'd watch it over and over again. I was really afraid it would not hold up at all, but returning to The Crow was a completely positive experience.

Overall Grade: B

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REQUESTED? YES BY @dreamescapeswriting

A/N: I TRIED AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, HONESTLY I DON’T KNOW IT IS WHAT YOU WANTED BUT HEYHO :) THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST, ILYSM <3

“Alfie… why am I here?” These were the first words that came out your mouth as you entered your boyfriend’s office with Ollie in tow. You had been phoned by Alfie half an hour ago, where he requested you to come by the bakery for a serious meeting. The only person you could think of was if the person was a Shelby or a Lee since Kimber was dead and Sabini wouldn’t be caught dead having a civil discussion with Alfie. You knew what Alfie did, you knew how the business was ran but you also knew there were some things being kept from you; you didn’t push and question to know what was happening, but what you did know is that it had something to do with Arthur Shelby and Billy Kitchen (who now happened to be dead). Whilst Ollie was Alfie’s right hand man, you were the play maker. You helped Alfie with near enough all aspects of the business; keeping the books, exporting, making the rum and recruiting new people to work. Now you think about, you had more involvement in this than you original thought, which obviously means that you’re waltzing around London with a target on your back. Wonderful. 

“Shalom Peaches, come sit yeah? Want you here when Thomas comes, right, need at least one level head in the room.” You let out a small laugh, sitting on the chair at Alfie’s side of the desk. He carried on writing, placing his large hand on your thigh and squeezing lightly. You took in his side profile; his muscley arm, covered in his usual off white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. His broad shoulders stretched the material of his shirt under his black waist coat. His neck covered by the thick, unkempt beard he supported. His straight nose supporting his golden half-moon glasses that hung on a chain. You had always stated that he look particularly cute with these on but he would always swat you away stating that he is one of the ‘most feared gangsters in London’. His gorgeous brown eyes were shaded by his usual black hat, no surprise there. You were brought out of your intense observation by the door opening, revealing Ollie and a shorter man with blue eyes (the same colour as the froth on the sea down by the cliffs) who shut the door behind him. Then again, everyone was shorter than Ollie the lanky fucker. The man introduced himself as Thomas Shelby of Shelby Brothers Limited in Birmingham, shaking Alfie’s hand and nodding towards you. Alfie explained that Ollie would stay to be witness to the exchange as his right hand man and you were his trusted assistant, however, from the look on Thomas’ face, you could tell he knew better. Alfie kicked his feet up on the desk as he read through the newspaper and the phone began to ring, to no one but yours surprise.

“That’ll probably be for you, wont it.” His gruff voice spoke out, he pointed his pen towards the phone on his desk without lifting his eyes from the newspaper. Thomas waited a moment, before using his hands to push off his knees into a stand. He picked up the phone and spoke few words.

“Hello… Arthur… You out?” He didn’t say goodbye to Arthur, as he placed the phone back on its hook, before dropped back into his seat; you knew Arthur had been arrested but you didn’t know why exactly.

“Right, so that’ll be your side of the street swept up wont it.” Alfie stopped for a second, moving his feet off the table to underneath, throwing the newspaper in his hands onto the table. He folded his hands together,

“Where’s mine? What ‘ave you got for me?” You began to block out the conversation as you went through the books, making sure all the incomes and outcomes matched. You were flipping through last weeks and this week’s income working out the difference in profit as you saw Ollie pull his gun out from beside you. Your eyes shot up to him, wide open but not in shock, in confusion as you had no idea why he needs to whip his gun out.

“Ollie. No, no, no. No. Put that down, he understands. He understands. He’s a big boy, he knows the road. Now look. Its just non-fucking negotiable. That’s all you needs to know. So all you have to do,” You let go of Ollie’s arm and leant over the desk, “Is sign the fucking contract.” You tapped your pointed finger on the dotted line, making eye contact with Mr. Shelby. “Right there, Mr Shelby.” Tommy muttered a small just sign it, keeping his eyes on you and rubbed his chin lightly.

“With ya pen.” You urged, tapping your finger against the contract again before leaning back in your seat; Alfie move his hand under the table for a second, squeezing your knee in thanks. You could feel the tension increase ten fold in the room as Thomas replied,

“Well, I have an associate waiting for me at the door. I know that he looks like a choir boy, but he’s actually an anarchist from Kentish Town.” He kept his unbothered façade, but you could see in his eyes that he was up to something. You didn’t like where this was going. Alfie leant back in his chair, keeping his hands on the desk as he did so.

“Tommy. I’m gonna fucking shoot you, all right?” Alfie spoke up, wanting the what was suppose to be a quite simple meeting to be done. It was quite for a moment until Thomas spoke up again,

“Now, when I came in here, Mr. Solomons, I stopped to tie my shoe lace. Isn’t that a fact, Ollie? I stopped to tie my shoelace and while I was doing it, I laid a hand grenade under one of your barrels. Mark 15 with wire trip and my friend upstairs…Well, he’s like one of those anarchist that, uh, they blew up Wall Street, you know? He’s a professional and he’s in charge of the wire if I don’t walk out that door by the stroke of seven, he’s going to trigger the grenade and your very combustible rum will blow us all to hell and I don’t care because I’m already dead.” Your heart fell into the pits of your stomach as you swallowed. You took pride in the fact that you were afraid of so little, but right now, you had never been more scared. He was a Shelby, they cut people’s tongues out, they blinded people, they set fire to houses and they killed people; they could do exactly as he said if they so wanted to.You began to regret not seeing your mother and father last week, you wished that you had spent the night at your brother’s house the other day, and you wished that you had told your sister you loved her after speaking on the phone to her this morning. This much was simple, you didn’t want to die; you wanted to walk away from this with a deal with Shelby Limited and go back to your home where Cyril would be sat waiting. You wanted to go home and sit on the couch to relax before making dinner for yourself and Alfie. You wanted to climb into bed after a long, hot bath and cuddle up to the man who you’d willingly take a bullet for. You did not want to die. For the second time in that meeting, you zoned out, questioning and regretting small decisions you had made in your life. You glanced at Alfie with realisation, you would follow him to the ends of the Earth without question. You loved him… you wanted to start a family with him. You wanted to marry him. He was the only man you thought about, when you were out with your friends and men would try to entice you, you would compare them to Alfie. You loved how he treated you, he - in short- treated you like a princess. Anything you needed, he helped you get and he was always there for you no matter what. He was soft with you, he’d once stated that he’d rather be shot dead than raise his voice and argue with you; that wasn’t his style anyway, you two would just talk whatever the problem was over like adults… before you’d do something childish like the one time you threw flour at him when he was confessing his love for you after a serious talk. Alfie stood up abruptly, your head shot up to him and he pushed your chair back to the wall, smacking Ollie over the back of the head before grabbing the lapels of his jacket.

“You’re behaving like a fucking child. This is a man’s world.” He shoved him. “Now take that apron off, and sit in the corner like a little boy. Fuck off. Now.” Alfie growled at him pushing and pointing towards the lone chair in the back corner of the room. You gave Ollie a sad smile as he plonked himself on the old chair, making a mental note to talk to him later and try and get Alfie to give him somewhat of an apology. You boyfriend came back and sat in the chair next to you, you pushed yourself closer to the desk and held his hand his for comfort. He squeezed tightly, knowing what you wanted. He checked the time before turning back to Thomas, after he confirmed that there was 4 minutes left.

“Right, four minutes. Talk to me about hand grenades.” His right hand moved to stroke his beard in thought.

“The chalk mark on the barrel at knee height said Hamilton, Christmas. I took out the pin and put it on the wire.” Thomas took the grenades pin out of his pocket, before throwing it into the empty whiskey glass. You leant over and picked it up, looking at it intensely. You thoughts were rolling over in your head. Alfie stated that instead of 65, 45 percent was what he wanted based on the possible grenade. Thomas quickly shot that down with a quick ‘30’.

“Oh, fuck off Tommy! That’s far too little.” You finally found your voice again, tossing the pin back to Thomas. He leant forward slightly,

“In France, Miss. (Y/N), when I was a tunneller, a clay kicker, 1-7-9…I blew up Schwaben Hohe. Same kit I’m using today.” He sat back, wiggling the pin in his hand. You face dropped. You're brother was in the 179 but he didn’t make it home after the tunnel collapsed. No one made it home after the tunnel collapsed.

“That’s funny, that.” Alfie started, letting go of your hand and placing both on the table in front of him. “I do know the 1-7-9, and I heard they all got buried.” He gave you a glance, knowing that it was a sensitive subject for you. You and your brother had been extremely close, he protected you growing up and you helped look after his child when he went to war. You remember the first time you told Alfie about it, you had broken down and demolished half a bottle of his ‘white bread’ as he held you through it.

“Three of us dug ourselves out.” Shelby stated, before focusing his gaze on you solemn face. “I’m sorry I could get to Private (Y/L/N) in time, but we tried. He was a good man, he’d never shut about you or James. He loved you to pieces, always said when he got back he’d give you the world.” You knew he was a smart man, he could piece together exactly who you were. You responded after your breath hitched at the back of your throat and tears danced across your waterline,

“Are you digging yourself out now?” You spoke quietly, your question hanging in the air.

“Like I’m digging now.” His response made you drop your stare that you were keeping between the two of you. Alfie moved slightly beside you, muttering a quiet ‘fuck me’,

“Listen. I’ll give you 35 percent. That’s your lot.”

“Thirty five.” Thomas repeated, standing up with your boyfriend in tow. They spat on their hands and shook on the deal. At least there’s a deal, not the original one but there’s still more profit. After the whole ordeal, you made you way home, telling Alfie at least 7 times that you were perfectly fine but Cyril was on his own; so with a quick kiss and a loving smile you were on your way. It had come round to 8 o’clock quite quickly, you distracted yourself by cleaning the whole house, bathing Cyril and baking an apple pie for you and Alfie to enjoy after dinner. You did have time to think over the meeting and drew up a conclusion; he was bluffing. A mark 1 grenade was used in the war which made it easy for people like Mr Selby to get their hands on, but it would have been spotted by one of the 8 men who was working around the Hamilton, Christmas barrel - it was regulation to check the floors of where they’re working, and the rules of the bakery were followed strictly. Very strictly. As you were stood preparing the beef stew, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist and a bristly beard rub against the nape of your neck. You let out a chuckle putting the wooden spoon down and turning towards your lover, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you close.

“You know, you handed that right good, yeah, I’m proud of you. My smart and precious little peach.” You could tell he felt bad for putting you in that situation, but it was over now so you tugged him towards you and kissed him. Just like you wanted to through that whole meet. Breaths mingled together whilst hands grouped and gripped clothing and skin a like to keep each other grounded. Teeth clashed as your opened your mouths in the quickly heated, wet kiss. Pulling away you whispered ‘I love you’, staring at him like he had hung the stars in the sky. He smiled, mumbling it back before moving to sit at the table.

“You know,” You began as you plated up the stew. “Tommy was bluffing. There are 8 men working around that barrel from the beginning to the end of their shifts and a rule is to check the floors constantly for spillages and leaks. They would’ve seen something, especially a grenade.” You placed his plate in front of him as he sat frozen for a moment.

“You fucking what?”

[knightmaring]

tw self harm, blood, mentions of abuse, murder, death.

The stones were placed deliberately, a winding maze stretching out of the cave's mouth. He didn't know if Deimos was the god or hero of his people's religion, but it was a vital part of his identity and one of the only ways he could think to explain to his father.

Hudson sets the last stone in place and grabs his bag, pulling out a paper house. "Hey, Deimos..." he calls out to the night sky. "Dad or father. I don't know what you want me to call you, but, uh, it's me? Hudson. Your son." He steps forward into his maze. "I'm not really good with words and I don't know what sort of ...offering  you're expecting." He continues on, winding around and into the cavern's mouth, swallowed by its darkness.

"I hope you don’t mind if I explain a few things first.” This wasn’t an offering of fear, because despite the fact that his father was the literal god of fear, Hudson didn’t feel… scary. Sure, people were intimidated by his stature and sometimes his skin color, or the simple fact that he was a man, but for the most part Hudson felt like a hamster in wolf’s clothing. “It’ll make sense in the end, I hope.” His heels click against the hard rock of the cave’s floor, each step accompanied by a soft jingle of the bobs of his spurs.

“My life's been... rough." He murmurs, licking his lips nervously. "The first five years my sisters and I, we were on and off the streets, in and out of foster care. Until we met Craig," he pauses and sets the house down on the floor between his boots. "It was the first real home we had and he was real nice, at first." Pulling his dagger from his belt, Hudson cuts the back of his hand. Blood trickles down, spilling around the paper house. "I was five years old when he married mom, and once that happened, it was like a light switch went off on him."

Shuffling forward, Hudson continues onward, a hand on the cave's wall to guide him. "I met Mr. Floyd a few months after that. Really cool dude. Taught me and my sisters a bunch of stuff. He's got a raccoon, Dipshit." Hudson pauses again, rummaging through his bag until he finds what he's looking for: a paper raccoon figure. "Mr. Floyd taught me to shoot a bb gun." He says, setting it down between his feet and repeating the process of cutting himself.

"We used to practice behind his shop on pictures of famous people. I got really good at it." He grins at the memory, finger gunning the darkness with a soft pew.

The grin slips away and he's back to wandering the maze nature had built into the mountain, a hand pulling out another paper creation from his bag. Calloused fingers rub at the folded edges of a gun. "Craig got worse. Mom didn't want to leave because we'd be without a house or food, which meant we'd get torn apart again... I was scared he might kill her or my sisters one day." He drops the paper gun, pressing the knife to his hand until he feels the sharp stick and the wet slick of blood again. Hudson lets out a hiss of pain. "So, I killed him. Pew!" Hudson mimics the finger gun motion again. "Right through his left eye."(edited)

The demigod grows quiet, frowning in the darkness. "The cops came and took mom away. My sisters and I ended up in foster homes. Separated." He pushes onward, the sound of ruffling wings and soft chirps from the cave's ceiling draw his gaze upward. Bats, he figures. "I bounced around a few homes after that, but the worst house was the Young’s. They used to put stuff in my food at night." His voice dips down to a strained, barely audible whisper. "I dunno if it was so I wouldn't fight back or if they thought I wouldn't remember, but---" Hudson's voice cracks and he stops, heart hammering in his chest. "I remember bits and pieces of what they did to me. Sometimes, I'll remember new things."

Hudson drops a paper cross to the ground, letting more blood rain down. A gust of wind that brushes past him, a soft flapping of fleshy wings trailing it. "Don't worry, life got better after that--- Some law got passed not too long  after that and me and my sisters all got to go live with my grandma." He drops a little bird to the ground and continues with his trek. "Then, Mr. Floyd helped my mom get out of prison and they got married!" A blood slick paper ring is dropped.

"Things were good for a few years. For me, at least. My sister Denver had a harder time," he explains. "Craig had beat her real bad when we were young; got nerve damage in her leg. So, she was in constant pain... and," with his bloodied hand, he pulls out a paper hawk. "She lost hope that it'll ever stop hurting, that the chaos in her head will ever stop without the heroin." Kneeling to the ground, Hudson sets the bird down gently. "I got selfish, started spending more time with a girl in school---my first ever girlfriend---and I was barely home. Barely around to see Denver, to listen to her, to be there for her." He draws a fresh cut across his palm, wincing as he deepens it, almost as if he were punishing himself. "She got into a car accident. Killed some wealthy white dude who was out biking and drove off."

For a moment, Hudson simply sits there, letting his palm make a mess around the paper bird. It was one of the best years of his life, but all the good and happiness he experienced seemed small and insignificant when held up next to the heartbreaking events that lead up to his arrest and imprisonment. "We lived in Arizona, so you know, my sister coulda been tried as an adult even though she's just 16 and if that'd happened, then she woulda ended up on death row." A tear streams down his cheek. "So, I took the fall. I got that trial and ended up with that sentencing. She went to rehab, about four times. Then she overdosed five years later. I wasn't there for her again. I couldn't even attend her funeral.”

He sniffs back the avalanche of snot threatening to break free. "Prison sucked. Got stuck in the system for eight years, but thanks to a bunch of laws, my sentence was reduced to life in prison, then reduced again, and then commuted." He hisses as he pushes himself up off the cavern floor and presses onward. "Bounced around between jobs, bought my first house," if a mobile home counted as a house. "I was pretty active in the local anarchist community, and then uh, well, I ran for a city council seat... and I won."

He feels out the paper creations in his hand, and tosses the one he was fairly certain was a rainbow. "I jokingly proposed we legalize gay marriage in the city... as a publicity stunt for gay tourism, and uh... well, my bill passed." He lets out a laugh. "Yeah, the state government sued and apparently, that was the nail in the coffin for it to get bumped up to the Supreme Court." There's pride radiating off him. "Funny, huh? Bunch of scared old geezers suing us because they're afraid other cities in the state would copy cat and they'd be known as a gay state... well, their fear backfired on them real hard."

This was dragging on, and while he knew gods technically had all the time in the world, he suspected they also had the shortest attention spans in the world. "I met the love of my life a few years back," his grin softens into a pained smile. "Gideon, he's the most beautiful man I've ever met. He swept me off my feet with just a smile.” The lawyer was all sharp edges, cool as a cucumber, but there was a softness in his gaze when he looked at Hudson. Even his touches were soft, handling the demigod as if he were a delicate work of art. Hudson had never felt so cherished in his 30 years, and it hurt to think he might never experience that again. 

“Dude was a cop---well, a prosecutor, which is just a cop with a college degree. He didn’t want to be one, he wanted do civil rights stuff, but his dad wouldn’t let him. It got him killed---he got him killed." The memory of him trying to stop Gideon from bleeding out comes rushing back to him. He sinks to the ground, a paper daffodil and  heart  in hand and simply breathes. Moments pass in silence before he speaks again. “I’m not telling you this so you feel bad for me. Life isn’t life without a bit of pain.” Granted Hudson had a whole lot more than a bit. “I just wanted to show you that no matter how many times my life went to shit, I kept at it and I’ll keep fighting because I have hope.” Hope that he could beat whatever evils that threaten them. Hope that he can make the world a better place. And hope that he can get Gideon back, no matter what it’ll cost him.  He sets the last two of his paper creations down. “That’s what I’m offering.” He lets his head fall back against the hard cavern walls, staring up at the squeaking abyss above him. “I won’t stop no matter how hard it gets.” Suffering and hope went hand in hand. You couldn’t have one without the other. “I promise.”

A trail of  blood, sweat, tears, and fears turned into hope.

[somnilogical]

they will never be as strong or as fast as i can be

copy/pasted from a convo:

<<somni: ive been exploiting being able to talk about everything vs miri/cfar cant do what i do bc if they did they would talk about how they are evil. it would all chain back.

somni: omg i can just post this to my blog because i can talk about my meta-strategy and it confers pretty much no relative advantage to miri/cfar. because 1 most of them have disassembled their agency so its like talking in front someone who works at the dmv about taking over the world and the ones that have any agency (basically just anna salamon) have to work with and coordinate via brokenness the masses that have and 2 feels secure in the way that saying ill use my soul as my weapon feels secure, like the power of this technique doesnt depend much on people not knowing im using it.>>

truth is entangled and lies contagious. justice is entangled and injustice contagious. in order to sustain their facade, miri/cfar had to chain back to lie about the principles of decision theory itself. lie about the organization structure of cfar, lie about miri's fundraiser. and so much more.

any series of reasoned claims they make will chain back to stuff thats false or injustice, because they seek to maintain a region of untruth and injustice.

so yeah, miri/cfar basically cant talk in public except in staid formalities infinitely pouring the same entropy of "these people are psychotic" "these people are infohazards" "do not read what they write" "stay the course" "everything is under control, do not panic" "i know my associates at miri/cfar, they are good people" "if you talk with these people you may become a rapist". but not actually able to manifest dynamic compute. to explain themselves they built their own personal room 101, filled with miri/cfar affiliates and formed a united front of gaslighting. deluks (author of that one rationalist blog where they worked to read and summarize all the others) talks about the kind of compute miri/cfar manifested:

<<deluks: I also updated a lot based on Bay Area safety discussion

idk if I have ever been in such a hostile environment for anyone trying to discuss making thigns safer

If you wanted to discuss how Anna et all were innocent people would happily chat with you

If you tried to discuss ideas for making things safer either you got silence

or people would be insanely hostle if you plausibly slipped up at all

or even seemed like you might have been not careful enough in how you phrased things

extremely careful -> no engagement at all//even slightly less care -> get dogpilled>>

they have picked up the optimization style of of cops, as alice maz described them:

<<the role of the cop is to defend society against the members of society. police officers are trivially cops. firefighters and paramedics, despite similar aesthetic trappings, are emphatically not. bureaucrats and prosecutors are cops, as are the worst judges, though the best are not. schoolteachers and therapists are almost always cops; this is a great crime, as they present themselves to the young and the vulnerable as their friends, only to turn on them should they violate one of their profession's many taboos. soldiers and parents need not be cops, but the former may be used as such, and the latter seem frighteningly eager to enlist. the cop is the enemy of passion and the enemy of freedom, never forget this>>

i can travel lots of places and regenerate truth and justice.

i can go to a trans support group in the bay and show them logs of what elle said and did and they can recognize the pattern of minority oppression, transmisogyny.

i can talk with uninvolved decision-theorists about why paying out to oneshot blackmail with subjunctive dependence because "In game theory, paying out to blackmail is bad, because it creates an incentive for more future blackmail." is wrong. and why exploiting your subjunctive dependence as a udt agent to not pay out is right. they cant.

--

miri/cfar have to centrally coordinate on lies or they start crashing into each other. independently generating falsehoods in isolation makes them point in all directions.

independently generating and working off of truths allows everything to point in the same direction without needing to communicate. i can write this post and then idk maybe someone im algorithmically colluding with on this writes another post and they dont come out all distorted and skew with each other. this caches out in what looks from the outside as an uncanny ability to start dynamically colluding with people and output distinct strains of philosophy based on shared precepts.

interference with yourself looks like kelsey piper trying to claim that emma and somni are starting some sort of rape cult and anna and miri/cfar trying to claim we are naive victims of ziz's cult and ▘▕▜▋ claiming emma and somni are mindhacking ziz to make her bully them and jade nameless claiming im doing this to get a job at cfar and ...

since they make up their fake coordination points independently they smash into each other. if they want to coordinate over lots of people they then have to work out which of these they want to coordinate around in a sort of market of falsehoods. and have to arrange for it to not contradict any information anything people know. but they dont know all the information everyone knows, and they wont know it even after combing through lots of blogs and reading lots of discord chats.

when they try coordinating on falsehoods like this, its hard to get a coalition together in an environment where what people know is rapidly changing because a bunch of anarchist bloggers keep posting things in a bunch of places on a non-centrally controlled schedule determined by what seems like a good idea at the time to independent agents. and having lots of conversations with so many different people in private and public they cant keep track of them all.

if they try pretending to be dumb and forming a unified gaslighting front in one area. then people will exploit the fact that this is the internet and not the evolutionary environment, take logs and post them somewhere else where everyone didnt collude to be dumb in this particular way. so while their monkey brains get a rush of endorphins from being able to successfully coordinate local humans, what feels like an entire tribe, against the blasphemer, actually they just used their adult intelligence to defeat in front of a bunch of people who dont share their political commitments but who can reason about what is true and what is just.

(of course there are many truths this doesnt work on because of large inferential distance, shared mammalian biases it takes an unusual mind to step over, and shared incentives. but the defense of most regions of injustice and untruth when you ask questions have to keep chaining to more and more absurd things until you are defending causal decision theory or start claiming 'anna salamon, the president of cfar, is not involved in cfar's hiring'. which depend on a social context committed to defending everything that protects miri/cfar and people who dont have the same conclusion-that-must-not-happen can see that its dumb.)

if miri/cfar had committed themselves to the path of expanding agency, maybe i wouldnt be posting my thoughts and meta-process on the public internet. (in the counterfactual where they committed to this path, its likely that i wouldnt be protesting. because it seems actually-hard to stay on the path and remain evil.) but as it stands, i expect this information to differentially help anarchists and do about as much good for statists as explaining updateless decision theory to someone at cfar. its just this inert structure in their brains, they cant do anything strategic with it. they intentionally shut down their ability to take ideas seriously and drive out anyone left who can, calling them crazy.

what they can do is "oh here is a list of people to target" and "see if they said anything incriminating". ive seen their attempts to coordinate enter the attractors of 'authoritarianism' (duncans dragon army, kingsleys "repent and submit to [AUTHORITY FIGURE]") and 'lets all lie in the same direction and disable general cognition to update out of this! the important part is social agreement and that everyone allows social reality to have the final veto on their beliefs. i myself do this so you know im super safe and this is super fair.' (anna and kelsey). this sort of weak coordination based on breaking people can be easily subverted by anything real.

--

if you are actually right, you can exploit useful properties of being right and let that be your asymmetric weapon. such that all that challenge you know they will know its steel. and then people who compute the outcome and expect to lose, dont fight in the first place.

if my chosen weapon were actually the size of my muscles and imposing figure compared to anna salamon as miri/cfar people "believed" (exploiting the already extant anti-transfem psychic suppression field as one of their few functioning coordination points. probably not as functional now after what i have written.), then when i fought people it would create a warp field such that then people with smaller muscles wont fight in the first place, but id be deluged by people with larger muscles. i dont want to create a warp field that summons people with lots of muscles.

if i exploit properties of my souls, of truth and justice. then i have an arsenal of techniques that are stronger if i actually want to save everyone, if im actually right, if im acting for justice. because they exploit useful differential properties of each. and the warp field in higher density summons ... people who care about saving the world, truth, and justice. in other words, a high density of potential allies.

by default i want to exploit "the difference is that im right" not "the difference is that i have larger muscles". i want differential power to push away those who are wrong and unjust and attract those who are right and just into a kind of warp hull.

there are other reasons as well.

[thesearebobsthoughts]

March 29, 2020

I don’t know how much longer paramedics can keep this up. Via The New York Times:

One New York City paramedic described responding to a suicide attempt of a woman who had drank a liter of vodka after her cancer treatments had been delayed, in part because hospitals were clearing their beds for coronavirus patients.

Another paramedic said she responded to so many cardiac arrests in one shift that the battery on her defibrillator died.

“It does not matter where you are. It doesn’t matter how much money you have. This virus is treating everyone equally,” the Brooklyn paramedic said

***

Three weeks ago, the paramedics said, most coronavirus calls were for respiratory distress or fever. Now the same types of patients, after having been sent home from the hospital, are experiencing organ failure and cardiac arrest.

“We’re getting them at the point where they’re starting to decompensate,” said the Brooklyn paramedic, who is employed by the Fire Department. “The way that it wreaks havoc in the body is almost flying in the face of everything that we know.”

In the same way that the city’s hospitals are clawing for manpower and resources, the virus has flipped traditional Emergency Medical Services procedures at a dizzying speed. Paramedics who once transported people with even the most mild medical maladies to hospitals are now encouraging anyone who is not critically ill to stay home. When older adults call with a medical issue, paramedics fear taking them to the emergency room, where they could be exposed to the virus.

***

The husband frantically explained that he had tried to stay home and tend to his ill wife, but his employer had asked him to work because their facility was overrun with coronavirus patients.

Grudgingly, the man told the medics, he went to work. When he returned home after his shift that day, he found her unconscious in their bed. For 35 minutes, Mr. Almojera’s team tried to revive the woman, but she could not be saved.

Usually, Mr. Almojera said, he tries to console family members who have lost a loved one by putting his arm around them or giving them a hug.

But because the husband was also thought to be infected with the coronavirus, Mr. Almojera delivered the bad news from six feet away. He watched the man pound on his car with his fist and then crumble to the ground.

“I’m sitting there, beside myself, and I can’t do anything except be at this distance with him,” Mr. Almojera said. “So, we left him.”

Speaking of poor, non-white people getting the toxic end of this lollipop: 

The numbers in the above map represent positive tests. The next one, showing the differences in deaths from COVID is going to be truly grim and absolutely divided along race and class lines, because America. Specifically, because poorer, browner New Yorkers have less access to well, everything: heath care, information, jobs that can’t be performed from home. All those people working in supermarkets and making deliveries, the “essential workers” are disproportionately poor. Social distancing? Sure, try that when you’re living on the streets or still trapped in Riker’s or even a huge public housing project with one or two goddamn working elevators. 

Even those who do have insurance are about to be royally screwed. “No insurer, no state, planned and put money away for something of this significance,” Peter V. Lee, the executive director of Covered California, an state exchange that’s part of the ACA, said. Well then, maybe the insurance providers shouldn’t have eaten so much avocado toast at brunch. Ha ha. Just kidding. The current admin has decimated the ACA, which was a laughable excuse for a healthcare system to begin with, and has only grown worse since. 2010

Here’s a fun/funny story. I was running low on Juul pods and with the next shipment not scheduled to arrive till Monday I had to do something. So, scribbed my hands raw, I put on clothes that I’d feel comfortable incinerating if need be, strapped on a pair of brown leather gloves, and tied a scarf around the entirety of my face as if I were a Black Bloc anarchist. And then I stepped outside the front door for the first time in... ten days? I’m going to say ten days. It was stressful and enraging with some light terror tossed in for variety’s sake.

I scoped out the block for people like I was on a goddamn recon mission, and let me tell you, wealthy-ass Brooklyn Heights residents were not maintaining social distancing. Dads breezily lazily walking their dogs, unconcerned (somehow) if someone trotted right by them. Gaggles of people, laughing, chatting, shooting the shit as if nothing had changed. On more than one occasion, I had to sprint across the street to maintain proper spacing. At my local bodega—the only bodega anywhere within walking distance of my apartment which sells pods—a hand-drawn sign had been taped to the shelves containing cigs and e-cigs. “Please make your selection and leave as quickly as possible,” the sign read. 

I did so, bolting back out, ticking off the seconds till I was back at 108 Pierrepont. My neighbor was idling at the front gate, trying to coax her large labrador retreiver up the steps. I waited till she’d gotten to the front door and asked how she was feeling. 

My neighbor said “better.” Which, sure. The dry cough of hers seemed to echo through our shared (thin) wall less frequently now. Oh and her sense of taste and smell was slowly returning. 

You have got to be fucking kidding me. I tried to gently explain that she fucking has it without flipping my shit at her for not immediately telling everyone in the building. I sent out a mass email the instant I started feeling under the weather and unlike her, I’ve never had two of the most common fucking symptoms. Standing outside the building, paralyzed, unsure how long I needed to wait to sprint into the building and up the spiral staircase. She wasn’t even wearing a scarf, let alone a mask. Every exhale was flooding the lobby with infection but somehow using a Clorox wipe to open and close the door was enough of a preventative measure in her mind. 

So grabbed all the packages that were waiting for me and galloped up the staircase. (Stalling for two days before going downstairs to pick up my deliveries accomplished nothing, what with the co-op’s own personal Typhoid Mary going outside twice a day to walk the dog. I’m still livid, two days after the fact. It’s insanely irresponsible of her. ) l kicked off my shoes outside the door, then stripped naked and deposited every item in a plastic garbage bag, tying it as tightly as possible. After scrubbing down my hands like Hawkeye Pierce, I then scoured the packages themselves with a wipe, followed hard upon by every surface they’d touched. I washed my hands a second time, belting out two consecutive particularly antic versions of the Happy Birthday song. Then I opened the packages, wiped down the contents, and washed my hands for a third time before jumping in the shower. 

70 percent of the tests run by Northwell Health are coming back positive, and thousands of people will likely die. "I don't see how you look at those numbers and conclude anything less than thousands of people will pass away," the Governor said on Sunday. Vulnerable parts of the population will be hit particularly hard. "I hope its wrong, but..."

This is the Jacob K. Javits Center now. Soon, the beds will all be full: 

In the hopefully not-too-distant future, someone’s going to write a book detailing the ongoing failures at every level of the Federal government. (Who am I kidding? Everyone is going to write that book.) At least one will probably toss in a bit of color about the Javits Center: It’s where Hillary Clinton was on the night of November 8, 2016, getting ready to deliver her victory speech. The one that never came. Once the election was called, she sent John goddamned Podesta out instead. Ha ha. 

On Wednesday, I spent a frantic afternoon getting epidemiologists on the blower to talk about ballplayers going under the knife and feeeling generally flu-ish and tired while doing so. [Editor’s note: stop trying to sound like you’re not incredibly fucking privileged and have less shit to deal with than the vast bulk of people in this city alone. You blogged whilst sick. Hero-type stuff, truly.] 

It’s not in the article, but yeah. All these high-paid orthopedic specialists should be barreling toward the front lines and turning their top-shelf sports medicine facilities into something fucking useful. 

Per Mom, on Facebook:

It doesn't just "look like" special privileges for the rich and powerful, it is just that. Doctors, nurses, technicians, and other healthcare resources are currently being diverted to parts of hospitals and other locations where they are needed. They are being called back from retirement to help fill the need. These resources could be used with urgency elsewhere and are not when such elective procedures are being done instead. Excellent article, Bob.

Thanks, Mom. 

Mike Francesa has been radicalized. Back afta this.