#day 1 after our national election

[swallows-are-for-hope]

.

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Election Day in New York, Pt. 1 [15/17]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 7.2k Summary: Election Day is finally here, but the campaign certainly isn't over yet. The people need to get out and vote, and you and Steve put in more hard work to get them to the polls. But you can't ignore the new level you and Steve have stepped into for your relationship...

Content/Warnings: political/campaign discussions, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn, strangers to lovers, EXPLICIT SMUT (oral - male and female receiving, vaginal intercourse, implied hand jobs, referenced shower sex)

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

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↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[NOVEMBER 3 - 8:32AM - TIMES SQUARE - MIDTOWN MANHATTAN]

“We all know it’s Election Day. Our team here at Good Morning America has been covering the developments you dedicated coverage for months, following the candidates, the debates, and the rogue run for the presidency by independent candidate and former Captain America Steven Grant Rogers, and in an unprecedented surprise development, we have the New York City native joining us here in studio right now,” Michael Strahan says, standing tall beside the news desk as the camera pans to reveal Steve sitting comfortably in one of the Good Morning America conversation chairs next to Robin Roberts and George Stephanopoulos.

"Good morning, America," Steve says with a small wave, his voice calm and steady despite the monumental day ahead. He looks impeccable in his navy suit, his signature red and blue campaign tie knotted perfectly at his throat. Your heart is racing and chest slightly heaving from the adrenaline of rushing across town and sprinting through the building to get Steve to the ABC studio in time for this last minute chance appearance, but Steve didn’t even break a sweat and looks cool as a cucumber on set. 

He is a super soldier, but he also didn’t have to do any of it in heels. 

"Captain Rogers, thank you both for being here on what must be an incredibly busy morning for you," George says, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

"I wouldn't miss it," you reply with a warm smile. "And please, call me Steve. New York is home, and I wanted to start this historic day right here."

“But we’re not your first stop, are we?” Robin jumps in. On the monitor next to you and Pepper, you can see them cutting to footage of you and Steve at your polling station to cast your ballots - which happened only just under an hour ago. “You’ve already been to Brooklyn to vote!”

Steve laughs, “Yes, we have! Voting is the most important thing every American can do today, so my wife and I made sure to take care of that the first chance we got!”

This stop hadn’t been on the itinerary, but your campaign press secretary had worked some sort of miracle and pulled many strings and announced as you got in a car to drive from The Plaza to your Brooklyn polling station that she’d managed to get Steve a five minute segment on the country’s most-watched morning show as long as you could make it into the studio by 8:30am. 

"Now, Steve, the polls are showing an incredibly tight race. Some are calling it the most unpredictable race in our nation’s history,” George says. “The most successful run a third party candidate made was Theodore Roosevelt in 1912. After serving two terms from 1901-1909, he said he was not interested in running for a third term, and the Republican nomination went to his Vice President William Howard Taft who went on to win and succeed Teddy Roosevelt as President, but he was unhappy with the direction Taft went, and sought the nomination again four years later. He didn’t get it, and so he ran as the candidate for the Progressive Party, and he actually earned 88 electoral votes.”

“That’s true, and I’m old, but this actually was still just before my time,” Steve confirms with a wink and a grin, effusing charm. “He won 27% of the popular vote, but Woodrow Wilson ended up taking in 435 votes in the electoral college.”

“Now there are two possibilities at the end of this election,” Robin takes the reins from her cohost for the next leg of the conversation. “The first and most straightforward is that one of the three candidates wins a simple majority, just 270 of the 538 electoral votes. But what happens if none of you reach that crucial 270 threshold?”

"If no candidate secures a majority,” Steve explains, “the House of Representatives holds a contingent election to choose the president, while the Senate does the same for the vice president. In the House, every state delegation has one vote, whereas in the Senate, each Senator votes individually." 

“That’s fascinating,” Robin replies.

"The Constitution's framers designed this process for exactly this kind of situation," Steve continues, his voice steady and clear. "It's happened before in our nation's history, though not since 1824." 

"And polls show this is a real possibility tonight," George adds, glancing at his notes. "How does that affect your strategy today?"

Steve leans forward slightly, his expression earnest. "Our strategy remains unchanged—connecting with voters until the last poll closes. Every state is a battleground state for us, not just the quote ‘traditional swing states.’ I think that’s one of the most dynamic parts of this election. But we would prefer if we could take a true 270-victory to keep it in the hands of every American voter. The people deserve to have their voices heard. That's what democracy is all about."

"Speaking of connecting with voters," Robin transitions smoothly, "your campaign has defied conventional wisdom at every turn. No party infrastructure, no traditional fundraising apparatus, yet here you are, competitive in nearly every battleground state. What do you attribute that success to?" 

You watch from just off-camera as Steve considers the question, his thoughtful pause not a hesitation but a careful, deliberate moment to find the words that matter.

"The American people are ready for something different," Steve says with quiet conviction. "They're tired of the political theater, the partisan gridlock. I was tired of it, too - that’s why I decided to do this, and what Charlie Young and I offer is simple: straight talk, clear vision, and a commitment to putting country above party." He smiles, that smile that has won over millions. "And I've been blessed not only with extraordinary supporters but a team of dedicated Americans who believed in this vision enough to work around the clock to make it possible."

George jumps in again and asks. "What's your message to voters who might still be undecided as they head to the polls today?"

Steve's expression grows more serious. "Vote your conscience. Not your fear, not your party loyalty, but your genuine belief in what America can and should be. This country has faced greater challenges than the ones before us now, and we've always emerged stronger when we've put our differences aside and focused on what unites us rather than what divides us. That's the America I believe in, and that's the America I hope to serve."

"And what about today's schedule?" Robin asks. "Where can voters expect to see you?"

"We'll be making stops in all five boroughs today," Steve replies. "We want to talk to as many people and thank as many people as we can. And then we'll be hosting a gathering in Central Park this evening as the results start coming in."

"And for those who haven't had a chance to meet you in person during the campaign," George says, "what would you like them to know about you as they head to the polls today?" 

Steve takes another brief moment, his expression thoughtful. "I'd want them to know that I've never stopped believing in what America can be. When I woke up in this century after being frozen for decades, I had to learn about a world that had changed dramatically. But the core of what makes this country special hasn't changed—it's still about people coming together, looking out for each other, and believing that tomorrow can be better than today if we're willing to work for it."

"And time for one last question," Robin says, glancing at the producer who's signaling from off-camera. "Win or lose, what happens tomorrow?" 

Steve smiles, a genuine warmth spreading across his features. "Tomorrow, the sun rises on America as it always has. And regardless of the outcome, I'll continue to serve this country in whatever capacity I can. That's been what I’ve done since 1943, and it hasn’t changed." 

"Captain Rogers—Steve—thank you for joining us this morning," George concludes, extending his hand. 

"Thank you for having me," Steve replies, shaking hands firmly with both hosts as the segment wraps. 

"And we're clear!" calls the floor director. The red lights dim, and the studio immediately buzzes with movement as crew members shift equipment for the next segment.

"That was great," Robin says warmly. "Good luck today, Steve."

"Thank you," he replies, his smile genuine but a touch weary around the edges in a way only you can detect.

"That was fantastic," Jake says, appearing at your side as Steve steps off the set. "You hit every key message point we wanted."

Steve's public face softens slightly as he turns to the two of you and Pepper, the practiced polish giving way to something more genuine. "Did it sound natural? That last answer felt a little rehearsed." 

"It was perfect," you assure him, straightening his already-perfect tie in a gesture that's become second nature. "Authentic but presidential." 

Lisa hurries over with a tablet displaying the updated schedule.

"That went incredibly well," Lisa says, swiping through her notes. "Social media engagement is already spiking. The clips will be running all morning."

"The quinjet is waiting," Pepper notes, checking her watch. "We need to be in Queens by nine-thirty."

Steve frowns. “The quinjet? Is that really necessary?”

Pepper smiles serenely. “We’re going to use all the resources at our disposal to get you where you need to be today. Quinjets are immune to traffic.”

[2:27PM - BROOKLYN]

Your body is humming with the adrenaline of five back-to-back events across New York City's five boroughs. After heading to Queens from the Good Morning America appearance, you’d then gone to the Bronx, back into Manhattan, ridden the Ferry to Staten Island to mingle with the crowd there before the actual Staten Island stop, and made the last stop in Brooklyn. 

You’re in a black SUV again now, and the motorcade weaves through the afternoon traffic, but instead of taking you back to Manhattan, every turn takes you deeper into Brooklyn. You exchange a puzzled glance with Steve as the familiar streets of your neighborhood come into view.

"Are we going where I think we're going?" you ask, leaning forward to catch Jake's eye in the front seat.

Jake turns, his expression a mixture of conspiracy and satisfaction. "Change of plans. We're taking you home."

"Home?" Steve repeats, his brow furrowing. "But the schedule had us back at the Plaza until the Central Park event."

"We only led you to believe that," Jake says, not quite meeting Steve's eyes. "Team decision. 

We don't trust either of you to actually rest if we take you back to campaign headquarters. You'll both be hovering over polling data and making calls until it's time for evening appearances."

"What?" you and Steve say in near unison, both of you immediately sitting up straighter. 

Jake's expression doesn't waver. "You heard me. You're going home to your actual home, and you're going to take a real break before tonight. The both of you are running on fumes." 

"Jake," Steve begins, his tone carrying that Captain America authority that usually brooks no argument.

"With all due respect," Jake interrupts, remarkably unfazed, "this isn't negotiable. You two need actual downtime before tonight. Sophia, Sam, Bucky, and I conferred with Pepper. It was unanimous, and Pepper pays my salary, not you."

Steve glances at you, a silent conversation passing between you. You can see the initial resistance in his eyes.

“We're confiscating your phones as well," Jake adds, putting his hand out expectantly. "If we need you, we'll communicate through the Secret Service agents."

You stare at Jake, mouth slightly agape, but realize you shouldn't be that surprised. The team has been protecting you both from burnout for months, orchestrating moments of respite amid the chaos whenever possible. Still, the boldness of this particular intervention catches you off guard, but you know he’s right. 

With a sigh of surrender, you hand over your phone. Steve hesitates a moment longer before reluctantly following suit. 

"Three hours," Jake says, pocketing both devices. "That's all we're asking. Eat something that isn't campaign trail food. Take a nap in your own bed. Change into fresh clothes. Just be normal people for a little while." 

The SUV pulls up to your brownstone, the one Steve purchased and that you haven’t spent more than a handful of days in since becoming his wife. It looks exactly as you remember—the freshly painted door, the window boxes that the property manager has maintained in your absence, the worn stone steps leading up to the entrance.

"We'll have agents downstairs," Jake continues as the Secret Service team conducts their standard perimeter check. "But inside, it's just the two of you."

"What about the press pool?" Steve asks, his sense of duty clearly warring with the temptation of a few hours of true privacy.

"Handled," Jake says firmly. "Why do you think we packed the news cycle for the first seven hours of your day?"

"And social media?" you ask, already anticipating that’s been covered, too.

“You surely noticed Peter Parker was your shadow across the five boroughs - he was gathering more than enough footage and photos to fuel the campaign until tonight.”

"You thought of everything," Steve observes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"That's my job," Jake responds with a smirk. "Now go. Rest. That's an order."

"Three hours," Steve agrees.

"Thank you," you add.

Jake smiles, genuine warmth replacing his earlier firmness. "See you at five-thirty. The car will be waiting."

As you step out of the SUV, the November air feels crisp against your skin. You and Steve walk briskly up to the front door, hand in hand, and a Secret Service agent opens it to let you inside. The brownstone welcomes you with familiar silence as the front door closes behind you. For a moment, you both stand in the foyer, as if reacquainting yourselves with the space that's meant to be yours but has seen so little of you.

"That was well-played by them," Steve finally says, his voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

"Very," you agree, taking off your coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. "But they're not wrong."

Steve follows suit, his jacket joining yours. "No, they're not," he admits, running a hand through his hair—a rare gesture of fatigue he allows himself only in private. "I haven't stopped moving since 5 AM."

You step closer to him, reaching up to loosen his tie. "And you were up at 4:30 checking polling data."

His hands settle on your waist, warm and steady. "You noticed that, huh?"

"Of course I did," you say softly, working the knot of his tie free and setting it on a small table near the front door. Then you tip your head up and kiss your husband. It’s sweet, soft, taking advantage of a moment you get to simply be together. He returns it in kind, and you feel the contentment bleeding from him into you. 

When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his chest and let out a contented sigh. "I'm starving," you admit, realizing you've barely eaten anything since the campaign breakfast at 6 AM. 

"Me too," Steve says, his stomach punctuating the statement with a rumble that makes you both laugh. "Let's see what we've got." 

You take his hand and lead him through the brownstone toward the kitchen. The house feels both familiar and strange—this space you've shared but never truly lived in together. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air and casting warm patterns across the hardwood floors. Your heels click against the wood, and you pause to slip them off, leaving them beside a decorative bench in the hallway.

"Much better," you sigh, wiggling your toes in relief. 

The kitchen is spotless and eerily untouched, yet somehow welcoming. Steve opens the refrigerator, his expression turning to surprise.

"It's fully stocked," he says, glancing back at you. "Someone thought of everything." 

You peek around his shoulder to see fresh produce, eggs, cheese, and various containers neatly arranged on the shelves. "Sophia," you guess. "She would remember we haven't actually lived here."

Steve pulls out ingredients—bread, cheese, deli meats, tomatoes, and lettuce. "Sandwiches?" he suggests, already moving with purpose around the kitchen. 

"Perfect," you agree, hoisting yourself onto one of the counter stools to watch him work. There's something mesmerizing about seeing Steve in such a domestic setting, his movements efficient yet relaxed as he assembles lunch. Your mind wanders back to the last time you were in this kitchen together, making chocolate chip cookies, and though things had been developing between the two of you, it was at that point when you started to feel the reality of your relationship and the roots of it being permanent, of going beyond a political arrangement, of genuine love and affection.

Steve must have been thinking along similar lines, because as he assembles sandwiches for you both, he says, “I never told you how nervous I was for you to come here for the Oprah interview.” 

"Nervous?" you ask, surprised. "Why? Because Oprah was coming?"

"No," he says with a small laugh, carefully slicing a tomato into perfect, even rounds. "Because you were. This was the first place that was really mine in this century. I'd had apartments, quarters at the Avengers compound, but this..." His knife pauses as he gestures around the kitchen. "I chose every detail. And I knew you’d been here before - for the nights around the wedding, but there weren’t emotional stakes back in June, and then suddenly I was seeing it all through your eyes."

You slide off the stool and move to stand beside him, picking up a knife to help with the sandwich preparations. 

"There was this moment after dinner," Steve says, glancing up with warmth in his eyes, "we had a few minutes before the team was going to prep for camera angles with us in the living room, and you ran your fingers slowly along the banister while we talked, then walked over and lingered by the windows. It was the first time I saw you truly relax around me."

"I didn't realize I was so transparent," you admit, watching as he layers turkey and cheese onto whole grain bread.

"Not transparent. Just... seen." He slides a completed sandwich toward you on a plate so you can cut it in half. "By me, anyway."

The simple statement carries weight that settles comfortably in your chest. 

You take a bite of your sandwich, the fresh ingredients a welcome change from campaign trail food. "You really see me, don't you?" you say after swallowing. "Even back then, when we barely knew each other." 

"I think I've always seen you," Steve replies, his voice soft as he leans against the counter opposite you. "Even when I was trying not to." 

You both eat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the simple pleasure of a homemade meal in your own kitchen feeling like an extraordinary luxury after months of catering and takeout in hotel dining rooms, busses, planes, and at campaign events. 

Steve finishes his sandwich in record time and makes himself another while you're still working on your first.

"Super soldier metabolism," you tease, watching him assemble a second sandwich with practiced efficiency.

"I've been running on fumes, remember?" he says in a pained voice. "Haven't had a real meal in years."

You study him as he eats, noticing the slight tension around his eyes, the way he occasionally rolls his shoulders to release stiffness. Steve Rogers, ever the soldier, pushing through every bit of fatigue he’s determined to ignore, and all without complaint.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, catching your contemplative gaze.

"Us," you answer honestly. "How strange it is that we've been married for months but this is the first time we’re getting to do this, be this.”

"Normal life," Steve says, nodding. "Just being together without a schedule, without cameras." His eyes hold yours, warm and thoughtful. "I want more of this. After today, regardless of the outcome." 

You set your sandwich down, suddenly emotional at the simple truth of his words. "Me too." 

Steve reaches across the counter, taking your hand in his. His thumb traces gentle circles on your skin, the gesture so familiar now it feels like a language all its own. 

"I keep thinking about what happens after," you admit. "If you win, if you don't, everything changes again."

"Some things change," Steve agrees, his voice steady. "But not us. Not this." He squeezes your hand gently. "I meant what I said last night." 

Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of tangled sheets and whispered confessions. "I know you did. I did too.”

Steve finishes his second sandwich, takes a long drink of water, then wipes his mouth on his napkin and turns to face you. You look up at him and lick your lips, his eyes darting down to catch the movement.

"Come upstairs with me," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that low register that sends warmth spreading through your limbs. "We have two and a half hours left before we have to face the world again."

You step closer, your body fitting against his as naturally as breathing. "What did you have in mind, Captain Rogers?" you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice despite the way your heart quickens.

His eyes darken slightly as he looks down at you, his hand coming to rest on your waist. "A nap," he says with mock seriousness. "Jake's orders, remember?"

"Just a nap?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow. 

Steve's mouth curves into that half-smile that makes your stomach flip as his hand squeezes at your waist. "Just a nap," he confirms. "But I can't be held responsible for what happens before or after said nap."

You laugh softly, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. "Then by all means, how can I refuse?"

Steve scoops you up in one fluid motion, drawing a surprised gasp from you as he carries you toward the stairs. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers threading through the short hair at his nape.

"Show-off," you murmur against his ear.

"Efficient," he corrects, navigating the stairs with ease despite your added weight. "We're on a schedule, remember?"

You’re up two flights of stairs in next to no time. 

The master bedroom is bathed in afternoon light, the cream curtains softening the November sun into a gentle glow. The bed is made with fresh linens—another thoughtful touch from whoever prepared the house for your brief visit. Steve closes the door behind you, though there's no one else in the house to hear or see.

Steve sets you down gently at the foot of the bed, his hands lingering at your waist as yours slide up his chest.

For a moment, you simply breathe together, the campaign, the election, the world outside all fading away until there's just this—you and Steve, husband and wife, in a quiet room on an extraordinary day.

His lips find yours with gentle precision, the kiss unhurried despite the ticking clock. Steve's fingers work at the buttons of your blouse while you loosen his belt, both of you unhurried yet deliberate. There's no need to rush—this stolen time is yours alone.

"I keep thinking about how surreal this is," you murmur as he trails kisses down your neck, your blouse now hanging open. "In a few hours, you could be the President-elect."

His hands pause their exploration, and he pulls back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes serious despite the flush on his cheeks. "Or not," he says. “It’s always been a long shot.”

“But not an impossible shot,” you counter. 

He smiles, cupping your face in his hands. "No. Not impossible." The fire you see in Steve’s eyes is there - you know he’s not feeling defeated, just tempering expectations, optimistic but realistic. 

Your fingers trace the contours of his face, memorizing every line, every plane. The enormity of it all washes over you—not just the election, but this journey you've taken together, the unexpected path that led you here.

"Whatever happens tonight," you whisper, "this is what matters. Us."

Steve's hands thread through your hair, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. The intensity there makes your heart stutter. "Always," he agrees, voice low and certain.

You slide your hands down his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. A surge overtakes you—the need to show him with actions what words can't fully express. With deliberate slowness, you sink to your knees before him, maintaining eye contact as you undo his belt completely and lower his zipper with careful precision. His breath catches audibly, his hands moving to your shoulders as if to steady himself. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the way he holds himself with perfect control.

"You don't have to," he murmurs, though his dilated pupils tell a different story. 

"I want to," you reply, your voice soft but certain. 

His eyes darken further at your words, and he gives a small nod, surrendering to your touch. You ease his trousers down his hips, followed by his boxer briefs, revealing his already hard length. The afternoon light plays across his skin, highlighting the perfect planes of his muscled abdomen, the definition of his thighs. 

Your fingers trace up the inside of his leg, feeling the slight tremor that runs through him at your touch. You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his hip bone, feeling him inhale sharply at the contact. When you finally take him into your mouth, his strong but gentle hands come to cradle your head in his hands, not guiding, just connecting.

"God," he breathes, the single word heavy with desire. 

You take your time, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of his skin, the sound of his breath catching and releasing above you. The afternoon light streams through the curtains, casting a golden glow across his taut abdomen, highlighting the perfect definition of muscle beneath smooth skin. You watch his face as you move, captivated by the way his eyes darken and his lips part slightly with each slow stroke. 

Your hands slide up his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles flex beneath your touch. His fingers remain gentle in your hair, neither pushing nor pulling, just maintaining that intimate connection between you. You hollow your cheeks and take him deeper, drawing a low, rumbling groan from deep in his chest that sends a shiver of satisfaction through you. 

"You're incredible," he murmurs, his voice strained and husky.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, in his reactions, in the way his breathing grows more ragged with each passing moment. His thighs tense beneath your hands, and you glance up to see his head tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted. The sight of him—powerful, vulnerable, yours—sends heat pooling low in your abdomen. 

When his control finally breaks, it's with your name on his lips, his hands still cradling your face with impossible firmness that’s still gentle even as pleasure overtakes him and you eagerly swallow him down. 

After, he helps you to your feet, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and determination that makes your pulse quicken. His hands never seem to leave your body as he carefully removes each article of your clothing, scorching your skin, spiking the desire with each touch. He turns you both and presses your back up against the bedroom door. 

"My turn," he whispers against your mouth, the words a promise that sends even more anticipation coursing through you.

Steve is not slow in kneeling before you and hitching one of your legs up over his shoulder, burying his head into your wet cunt. His breath is hot against your most sensitive flesh, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips as his tongue makes first contact. 

Your back presses harder against the door as Steve's large hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you in place. The contrast of the cool wood against your heated skin makes you shiver—or perhaps it's the intense way he's looking up at you, his blue eyes darkened with desire.

"Hold onto me," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear.

You thread your fingers through his hair, the soft strands tickling your palms as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. Each touch of his lips is deliberate as he works his way back to your core with agonizing slowness. His stubble creates a salacious friction against your sensitive skin, the slight sting only heightening your anticipation.

When he finally returns his attention to your center, you grip his hair tighter, your head falling back against the door with a soft thud. His tongue moves with purposeful precision, circling your clit before flattening against it, sending sparks of pleasure radiating outward. Your breathing grows ragged as he establishes a rhythm that has your knees weakening, grateful for his strong hands keeping you upright.

"Steve," you gasp, the single syllable carrying everything you can't articulate—need, love, desperation. 

He responds by doubling his efforts, sliding one hand from your hip to slip two fingers inside you. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers working in tandem has you climbing rapidly toward release, your body tensing with each stroke. 

"That's it," he encourages against your flesh, the vibration of his voice adding another layer to the building pleasure. "Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The leg draped over his shoulder trembles as tension builds within you, coiling tighter with each expert movement of his mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair, earning a low groan from him that vibrates against your sensitive flesh, the sensation pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, your body arching against the door as Steve works you through it, his movements slowing but not stopping until you're gasping, oversensitive, and tugging gently at his hair to signal you need a reprieve.

He rises to his feet in one fluid motion, his hands steadying you as your knees threaten to buckle. His mouth finds yours in a deep, claiming kiss that has you tasting yourself on his lips. Despite having just found release, desire flares anew at the intimate gesture. 

"Bed," you manage between kisses, tugging him toward the mattress. "Now."

Steve follows willingly, his renewed arousal evident against your hip as you both stumble onto the freshly made bed. The sheets are cool beneath your hands and knees as you crawl up the mattress, Steve right behind you. He positions himself over you, his chest against your back, hips rutting against yours. 

His lips find the sensitive spot at the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his hardness presses insistently against you. You arch your back, pressing your hips back against him in silent invitation. His hand slides around to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple as his other hand guides himself to your entrance. 

"Yes," you breathe, the word half-plea, half-permission. 

Steve enters you with one slow, deliberate thrust that has both of you gasping. He stills for a moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. The fullness, the connection—it's overwhelming in the best possible way. 

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, the words reverent and raw. 

"I love you too," you reply, reaching back to touch his face, needing that additional point of contact. 

He begins to move, slow and measured at first, letting you both savor each sensation. His rhythm builds steadily, each thrust slightly deeper, slightly harder than the last. Your other hand clutches at the sheets, anchoring yourself as pleasure builds once more. The only sounds in the room are your mingled breaths, occasional whispered endearments, and the soft rustle of sheets beneath you.

"Faster," you plead, pushing back against him to emphasize your need.

Steve's restraint breaks at your words. His pace increases, each thrust more powerful than the last, the new angle hitting the intimate spot along your front wall that sends you to another level, and you moan. 

His hand slides from your breast down to where your bodies join, his fingers finding your sensitive bundle of nerves with unerring precision. The stimulation has you climbing rapidly toward another peak, your inner walls clenching around him as tension builds.

"Steve," you gasp, the word both warning and plea. 

"I've got you," he promises, his voice strained with his own building release. "Always." 

Your second orgasm crashes through you with surprising intensity, your body shuddering beneath his as waves of pleasure wash over you in relentless succession. Steve follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he spills inside you with a deep groan that reverberates through your connected bodies.

For several heartbeats, you remain locked together, both catching your breath as the aftershocks of pleasure gradually subside. Steve presses tender kisses along your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace that makes you feel cherished beyond words. 

When he finally eases out of you, you both collapse onto the mattress, limbs entangled, skin cooling in the quiet afternoon air. Steve gathers you into his chest, his arm draped protectively over your waist.

"That certainly not a nap," you murmur against his jaw, your voice languid with satisfaction, lips brushing against his beard.

Steve's chest rumbles with quiet laughter. "We still have time," he points out, but the way his hand roams your back and the push of his thigh between your legs suggests he’s not considering sleep just yet.

And you don’t sleep. 

You kiss, you grind and grope and pleasure each other some more. After what seems like far too soon but is an hour later, Steve coaxes you out of the bed, but into the shower where he fucks you again against the cool tiled wall. 

"It feels strange," you admit, wrapping a towel around your torso. "Being here when there's so much happening."

Steve nods. "Strange but good," he says, his shoulders squared but relaxed for the first time in weeks. "Jake was right."

"Don't tell him that," you say with a small laugh. 

Steve laughs, securing his own towel around his waist before stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your middle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Our secret, then." 

You lean back against him, savoring the solid warmth of his chest against your back, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For a moment, you both stand there, reflected in the slightly fogged bathroom mirror—your skin flushed, hair damp, eyes bright. You look happy. Both of you. Despite the weight of expectation hanging over this day, despite the exhaustion of the campaign trail, despite the uncertainty that awaits.

You check the clock on the wall—nearly five o'clock. The bubble you've been living in for the last few hours is about to pop.

"We should get ready," you say reluctantly, running your fingers through your damp hair. "Car will be here in thirty minutes."

Steve nods, but instead of moving toward his clothes, he stays exactly where he is, arms around you, lips pressing warm kisses along your shoulder. "Five more minutes," he whispers against your skin, and you're tempted—so tempted—to give in, to stay locked in this private world where it's just the two of you, no campaign, no country watching, no history being made.

But duty calls, as it always does. 

"Five minutes," you agree, turning in his arms to face him. "But actual getting ready has to happen." 

Steve's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles down at you. "Deal." His hands come up to frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones with such tenderness it makes your chest ache. "Whatever happens tonight," he says, his voice low and serious, "this has been the greatest adventure of my life." 

"Better than fighting aliens?" you tease, but your voice catches on the words. 

"Much better," he confirms without hesitation. "Fighting alongside the Avengers was about saving the world. This—" his hand gestures between you, encompassing everything unspoken, "—this has been about making it better."

The weight of his words settles over you, and you rise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his in a kiss that carries everything you can't articulate—gratitude, love, partnership, hope. 

When you pull away, Steve's eyes remain closed for a beat, as if he's committing the moment to memory. Then he inhales deeply, his shoulders squaring with familiar determination. 

"Time to get dressed," he says, dropping one final kiss to your forehead before stepping away. 

You both move with practiced efficiency, the routine of preparing for public appearances so ingrained now it requires little thought. Steve selects a fresh navy suit—the same color as this morning but a different cut. After taking care of your hair and makeup, you stand much longer flipping through the options in your closet, considering the wardrobe that has been expertly curated and tailored for you but that you’re largely unfamiliar with since these clothes have been here, not on the road with you. 

As you rifle through options, it doesn't help that your eyes keep being drawn to a very conspicuous piece at the very end. 

The conspicuous garment bag with your wedding dress. 

Your fingers brush against the protective plastic, memories of that day flooding back with unexpected intensity. The intricate lace, the delicate beading that caught the light as you walked down the aisle in that small Brooklyn church. It had been a practical choice at the time—a wedding arranged for political strategy, not romance.

"You were so beautiful that day," Steve's voice comes from behind you, startling you slightly as you hadn't heard him approach. His reflection appears in the mirror beside yours, his eyes soft with remembrance. "I could see that, and I knew you had to be great—Pepper had promised me she'd pick the partner I needed, but I never imagined I was meeting the love of my life." 

You chuckle, though your eyes glisten slightly with tears—partly because Steve's words move you, and partly because, in hindsight, you recognize that day was tougher than you ever initially allowed yourself to admit. 

"I didn't expect this, either," you admit, turning to face him properly. "Any of it. I thought I was making a political arrangement with a good man. I never imagined..." You gesture between you, at the intimacy that has grown between you, unexpected and profound. 

“You were beautiful that day, but you also looked so determined, so fearless, I was thrown for a loop.”

You laugh again. “Are you serious? I was walking down the aisle to marry Captain America, who was still technically a stranger to me since he’d ditched our first date to meet a former president instead, and I’d also had a rather tense conversation where I’d just revealed to my parents why I was really rushing in to a marriage that hadn’t been on their radar at all. I was all game face and determination because I was barely holding it together.”

Steve's expression softens, and he reaches out to cup your cheek. "I had no idea. Like I said, you seemed so composed."

"That's what you saw," you say, leaning into his touch. "Years of practice hiding nerves. But inside, I was a mess. There was no turning back. And I didn't want to, even though I knew it wouldn’t be easy. And then you took my hand and it felt..."

"Steadying," he finishes for you.

"Yes," you admit. 

"Even then, something about us just worked." His thumb traces your cheekbone. He sighs. “I wish we could do it all over again, do it right.”

You shake your head, responding immediately, “I don’t! There’s no way we’re here, like this, exactly this kind of in love if we’d done it any other way.” You take his other hand in both of yours as you continue, “This version of us is what I want for the rest of our lives.”

Steve kisses you fiercely, and when you break apart, he says, "You're right, I know you're right, but I didn't even propose to you."

You blink, surprised by the sudden intensity in his voice. "What?" 

"I never proposed," he repeats, taking both your hands in his. His eyes are bright with emotion. "You deserved that moment, at least. A real proposal, not a political arrangement hammered out over pitches and contracts."

A smile tugs at your lips. "Steve, we're married, that’s the important thing." 

"I know." His thumbs trace circles on your palms, a gesture so familiar now it feels like a language all your own. Then he reaches out to touch the garment bag, his fingers tracing the outline of the dress within. "We should renew our vows," he says. "After all this. A real ceremony, for us this time."

The suggestion catches you off guard, but warmth spreads through your chest at the thought. "I'd like that," you say softly.

A knock at the bedroom door - muffled as it’s filtered from the bedroom to the en suite bathroom - interrupts the moment. "Five minutes, sir, ma'am," comes the voice of one of the Secret Service agents.

"Thank you," Steve calls back, his eyes never leaving yours.

You turn back to your wardrobe. “You go, you’re distracting! I’ll be down in just a few minutes.”

“Alright,” he laughs. "I'll see you downstairs," he says, pressing one more quick kiss to your temple before moving to the door. He pauses with his hand on the knob, looking back at you with an expression that makes your heart skip. "Thank you. For everything."

Before you can respond, he's gone, leaving you with your thoughts and a closet full of clothes. You run your fingers over the options, finally selecting a dark green dress that complements Steve's navy suit. 

As you slip into the dress, your mind races with possibilities for the night ahead. The polls have been unpredictable, the race unlike any in modern history. By morning, your life could look dramatically different—or perhaps not. Either way, something fundamental has shifted during these months of the campaign, and there's no going back to who you were before. The woman who walked down the aisle in that wedding dress feels like a stranger now—someone who couldn't possibly have imagined where this path would lead.

You give yourself one final check in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the tailored dress that was built to fit your body like a glove, giving you confidence in your curves, and adjusting your hair. The face that looks back at you is tired but luminous, eyes bright with purpose and something else—a quiet confidence that wasn't there before. Whatever happens tonight, you're ready. 

next part: Election Day, part 2

Coming toward the end of the series, I'm back with a regular Friday update! Ta da! Are you proud of me? 🥹

Somehow I thought Election Day would be one chapter, but since it's such a big day, it was inevitable that it would need to be split in two - I just didn't know that until we got here hahaha! When I got to this point in the chapter, we should just be glad it leant itself to a natural enough breaking point. Story-wise there are just about as many scenes left for them for the second half of this very long and essential day.

But I'm also happy that we'll get to have one more chapter (and probably an epilogue...tbd on the election results).

(and tbh, I'm only 90% locked in on my decision for the election results...)

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[aashiqeddiediaz]

you know, after watching day 3 of the democratic national convention, i need to say something, especially to other muslims like me.

most of the muslim communities that i'm a part of have chosen to vote uncommitted, or independent, or sometimes, even trump. they refuse to give their vote to kamala harris and tim walz, because of the way the us has handled the war in gaza, and how they have been careless with acknowledging palestinian lives lost, how it was american bombs and american tax money that went towards funding this genocide. it's fucked up, and it's wrong, and there shouldn't be any debate on that.

and i am 100% in support of that anger. i am 100% in support of forcing america to stop funding this genocide. no one wants to keep seeing palestinian lives suffer. no one is free until we're all free, and i believe that to my very core.

my only concern is that where this anger is being placed, from 1 year to 11 weeks before the presidential election, is so scary. because the reality of the situation is that america has a bipartisan outlook. whoever gets the presidency is either democrat or republican. and every vote that doesn't go towards democracy (i.e. voting for kamala harris) inadvertently goes towards trump's big plan of project 2025, which is basically dictatorship. Even voting uncommitted, even voting independent. we cannot afford to elect trump for a second term, and voting anything other than democrat draws that line way too close, especially in swing states like michigan, pennsylvania, wisconsin, georgia.

yes, there are many issues that we wish joe biden would handle better. there are many ways that the democratic party has fucked up beyond repair. there are many ways the democratic party has refused to acknowledge the pain of people affected by their military people throughout the years, and we've been seeing it for years. this is not a new thing. this did not start on october 7th. we see it during pretty much every administration.

however, voting for your candidate should never be based on a singular issue. no political candidate is ever going to check every single box. and its so unfortunate that we have to always take the "lesser of two evils" approach when nominating our president, but that's the reality of the situation at this very moment. there are many other rights to be considered that are at stake this election, all of which trump is trying to remove. abortion bans, women's rights, healthcare, social security, climate change, to name a few.

(and, somehow, there's a belief that trump will lead to a ceasefire deal where biden-harris didn't? let me tell you that is never going to happen.)

does this mean we just stop protesting or pressuring? absolutely not. you NEVER stop, because if our votes are the ones that put the candidate in their position of power, then we expect results. we expect them to work towards what they promised. and we can't let up on reaching out to our local county offices and our state governors and escalating these issues further until someone takes notice and does something about them. we don't elect them and just leave them to do what they want. we keep them accountable. use that anger i was talking about.

but it also means not having tunnel vision. the election in november could very well mean the end of democracy if kamala harris doesn't win. this post is not me all giggly-happy over the democratic party, because trust me, i have my fair share of issues with them as well. this post isn't to tell you what to do, because i can't force you to vote blue. i can't force the community i'm in to change their minds about toss-up votes. but what i can do is put down plainly what's at stake this election. and that is, very simply, our right to choose everything.

so if you are eligible to vote and haven't registered, please do. if you haven't voted before because "what's the point", please see above what the point is. a handful of votes is enough to flip the outcome of an election, especially with the electoral college.

and if you're still on the fence on whether to vote for kamala or trump, hopefully this post gives a little bit more perspective in the most streamlined way i could manage without bogging you down with statistics and numbers.

the choice is yours.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

January 16, 2025

Heather Cox Richardson

Jan 17, 2025

In his final address to the nation last night, President Joe Biden issued a warning that “an oligarchy is taking shape in America of extreme wealth, power, and influence that literally threatens our entire democracy, our basic rights and freedoms, and a fair shot for everyone to get ahead.”

It is not exactly news that there is dramatic economic inequality in the United States. Economists call the period from 1933 to 1981 the “Great Compression,” for it marked a time when business regulation, progressive taxation, strong unions, and a basic social safety net compressed both wealth and income levels in the United States. Every income group in the U.S. improved its economic standing.

That period ended in 1981, when the U.S. entered a period economists have dubbed the “Great Divergence.” Between 1981 and 2021, deregulation, tax cuts for the wealthy and corporations, the offshoring of manufacturing, and the weakening of unions moved $50 trillion from the bottom 90% of Americans to the top 1%.

Biden tried to address this growing inequality by bringing back manufacturing, fostering competition, increasing oversight of business, and shoring up the safety net by getting Congress to pass a law—the Inflation Reduction Act—that enabled Medicare to negotiate drug prices for seniors with the pharmaceutical industry, capping insulin at $35 for seniors, for example. His policies worked, primarily by creating full employment which enabled those at the bottom of the economy to move to higher-paying jobs. During Biden’s term, the gap between the 90th income percentile and the 10th income percentile fell by 25%.

But Donald Trump convinced voters hurt by the inflation that stalked the country after the coronavirus pandemic shutdown that he would bring prices down and protect ordinary Americans from the Democratic “elite” that he said didn’t care about them. Then, as soon as he was elected, he turned for advice and support to one of the richest men in the world, Elon Musk, who had invested more than $250 million in Trump’s campaign.

Musk’s investment has paid off: Faiz Siddiqui and Trisha Thadani of the Washington Post reported that he made more than $170 billion in the weeks between the election and December 15.

Musk promptly became the face of the incoming administration, appearing everywhere with Trump, who put him and pharmaceutical entrepreneur Vivek Ramaswamy in charge of the so-called Department of Government Efficiency, where Musk vowed to cut $2 trillion out of the U.S. budget even if it inflicted “hardship” on the American people.

News broke earlier this week that Musk, who holds government contracts worth billions of dollars, is expected to have an office in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building adjacent to the White House. And the world’s two other richest men will be with Musk on the dais at Trump’s inauguration. Musk, Amazon founder Jeff Bezos, and Meta chief executive officer Mark Zuckerberg, who together are worth almost a trillion dollars, will be joined by other tech moguls, including the CEO of OpenAI, Sam Altman; the CEO of the social media platform TikTok, Shou Zi Chew; and the CEO of Google, Sundar Pichai.

At his confirmation hearing before the Senate Committee on Finance today, Trump’s nominee for Treasury Secretary, billionaire Scott Bessent, said that extending the 2017 Trump tax cuts was "the single most important economic issue of the day." But he said he did not support raising the federal minimum wage, which has been $7.25 since 2009 although 30 states and dozens of cities have raised the minimum wage in their jurisdictions.

There have been signs lately that the American people are unhappy about the increasing inequality in the U.S. On December 4, 2024, a young man shot the chief executive officer of the health insurance company UnitedHealthcare, which has been sued for turning its claims department over to an artificial intelligence program with an error rate of 90% and which a Federal Trade Commission report earlier this week found overcharged cancer patients by more than 1,000% for life-saving drugs. Americans championed the alleged killer.

It is a truism in American history that those interested in garnering wealth and power use culture wars to obscure class struggles. But in key moments, Americans recognized that the rise of a small group of people—usually men—who were commandeering the United States government was a perversion of democracy.

In the 1850s, the expansion of the past two decades into the new lands of the Southeast had permitted the rise of a group of spectacularly wealthy men. Abraham Lincoln helped to organize westerners against a government takeover by elite southern enslavers who argued that society advanced most efficiently when the capital produced by workers flowed to the top of society, where a few men would use it to develop the country for everyone. Lincoln warned that “crowned-kings, money-kings, and land-kings” would crush independent men, and he created a government that worked for ordinary men, a government “of the people, by the people, for the people.”

A generation later, when industrialization disrupted the country as westward expansion had before, the so-called robber barons bent the government to their own purposes. Men like steel baron Andrew Carnegie explained that “[t]he best interests of the race are promoted” by an industrial system, “which inevitably gives wealth to the few.” But President Grover Cleveland warned: “The gulf between employers and the employed is constantly widening, and classes are rapidly forming, one comprising the very rich and powerful, while in another are found the toiling poor…. Corporations, which should be the carefully restrained creatures of the law and the servants of the people, are fast becoming the people's masters.”

Republican president Theodore Roosevelt tried to soften the hard edges of industrialization by urging robber barons to moderate their behavior. When they ignored him, he turned finally to calling out the “malefactors of great wealth,” noting that “there is no individual and no corporation so powerful that he or it stands above the possibility of punishment under the law. Our aim is to try to do something effective; our purpose is to stamp out the evil; we shall seek to find the most effective device for this purpose; and we shall then use it, whether the device can be found in existing law or must be supplied by legislation. Moreover, when we thus take action against the wealth which works iniquity, we are acting in the interest of every man of property who acts decently and fairly by his fellows.”

Theodore Roosevelt helped to launch the Progressive Era.

But that moment passed, and in the 1930s, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, too, contended with wealthy men determined to retain control over the federal government. Running for reelection in 1936, he told a crowd at Madison Square Garden: “For nearly four years you have had an Administration which instead of twirling its thumbs has rolled up its sleeves…. We had to struggle with the old enemies of peace—business and financial monopoly, speculation, reckless banking, class antagonism, sectionalism, war profiteering. They had begun to consider the Government of the United States as a mere appendage to their own affairs. We know now that Government by organized money is just as dangerous as Government by organized mob.”

“Never before in all our history have these forces been so united against one candidate as they stand today,” he said. “They are unanimous in their hate for me—and I welcome their hatred.”

Last night, after President Biden’s warning, Google searches for the meaning of the word “oligarchy” spiked.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[numapompilioi]

Carta Abierta a la Junta Militar / Open Letter to the Military Junta

1. The censorship of the press, the persecution of intellectuals, the raid on my house in El Tigre, the dear friends murdered by you, and the loss of my daughter, who died fighting you: these are among the circumstances that have made me resort to this clandestine form of expression, after nearly thirty years of having freely given my opinion as a journalist and writer.

The first anniversary of this Military Junta compels a measuring-up of the actions of this government, against its officially released documents and discourses, in order to fairly balance the scales between the official version and fact. For what you have named as certified facts are errors, and what you are willing to admit as your mistakes are in fact crimes, and events that you have entirely omitted happen to be calamities.

On the 24th of March of 1976, you overthrew a government that you had formed part of, just as you contributed to its dishonor by enforcing its repressive policies. The end of term of that government was to be determined by elections, slated for 9 months from then. What you annihilated, however, was not merely the transitional mandate of Isabela Martínez: you blocked the very possibility of a democratic process that would allow the people to remedy the very ills that you, ever since the coup, have proliferated and intensified.

Illegitimate in its origins, this government you enforce could have defended its thin claim to legitimacy by reinstating the same program already chosen by eighty percent of the Argentinian population in the 1973 elections, a program which still stands as the sole objective expression of the thwarted general will of the people, the sole possible meaning of this so-called ”national Being” so often invoked by you.

Your inversion of that path has shifted the tide according to the interests and ideas of defeated minorities, groups who stall the development of our nation’s productive forces, who exploit the people and who segregate the Nation. A political rule such as this one, can only reinforce itself as a transitional regime: as it currently prohibits all political parties, busts unions, and cripples free press while sowing the most profound terror the Argentine society has ever known.

2. Fifteen thousand disappeared persons, ten thousand prisoners taken, four thousand dead, tens of thousands landless peasants— together, these comprise the naked cipher of the terror I speak of.

As the common prisons were already full, you used barracks and military complexes for what are virtually the first concentration camps this country has ever known. These are camps–where no judge, lawyer, journalist or international monitor may enter. The martial secrecy of the trials, a secrecy invoked as necessary for the purpose of investigations, has made the majority of detentions into abductions, ensuring for torture without limits, and for executions without trials.[1]

More than seven thousand pleas issued for Habeas Corpus rights met refusal in the past year. In other thousands of cases of disappearances, the recourse of Habeas Corpus has not even been presented in court, either because the effort appears useless, or because of the near-impossibility of finding a lawyer willing to present the claim after fifty or seventy lawyers were, in turn, abducted as hostages by you after they took on these cases.

In this way, you have extricated torture from its confinement in time. As the detainee does not exist, there is no possibility of presenting him before a judge within ten days, as mandated by a law that was respected even by the repressive regimes of previous dictatorships in Argentina.

The absence of a limit in time is complemented by the absence of limitations in the methods of torture, thereby regressing back to ages when torturers operated directly upon the joints and the intestines of the victims—only now they make use of surgical and pharmacological tools, unavailable to the executioners of old. The rack, the screw, the skinning-alive, the hacksaw of medieval inquisitors all reappear in the testimonies alongside the electrodes, the ”submarine”, the blowtorch, among other modern accessories.

In the midst of your rationalizations, as you claim the objective of exterminating the guerrilla justifies the means you use, you have arrived at an absolute torture: it is timeless, metaphysical torture. The barest original intention behind these methods—that of extracting intelligence information from the captives—has by now given way in the perturbed minds of those who mete it out. Those who enforce it, instead succumb to the impulse of mashing up the human substance until it breaks, as it loses the dignity already lost by the executioner, the executioner’s dignity, which you yourselves already lost.

3. The negative order given by this Junta against publishing the names of prisoners, in itself belies a cover-up of your systematic executions of hostages, carried out in deserted areas during the dawn hours. In those locales you harvest your pretexts for murder with the forged battle-scenes, the planted evidence, the fantasized chase-scenes and escape attempts.

You have disseminated stories about bungling extremists, who you allege spread pamphlets in the countryside, who paint over the irrigation channels or who amass comically into exploding cars. Such stereotypes about the resistance are straight out of a propaganda leaflet—but the function of that propaganda is not to be believable: it intends only to mock the international outcry responding to mass executions. Such official accounts are designed to downplay the brutal, disproportionate nature of your retaliations conducted in the same places and dates of the guerrilla activities of the resistance.

Seventy dead in the executions you held in a response to the bombing of the Federal Security building, 55 extra-judicially executed in retaliation for the explosions in the Police Department in La Plata, 30 in your response to the attack on the Ministry of Defense, 40 executions in the Massacre of the New Year following suit after they were blamed for the death of colonel Castellanos, 19 extrajudicial killings of those who were held responsible for the explosion that destroyed the police-station of Ciudadela: these amount to the 1200 executions in 300 purported battles in which the opponent suffered no war-wounded, and the forces you commanded had no war-dead.

Condemned to being the human personification of a collective guilt that is alien to civilized norms of justice, the demonized captives are powerless to carry any influence in those same political trials that produce the planted evidence of the crimes for which they are being penalized. Many of the hostages are syndicate-delegates, intellectuals, family of the guerrilla fighters, unarmed opposition members, or ordinary suspects. When they are killed, it is merely part of your accounting act of “balancing the scales” according to the foreign doctrine of ‘the ‘body-count”, used by the SS in the occupied countries and by the invaders of Vietnam.

The practice of rounding-up, then immediately liquidating wounded or captured guerrillas in actual battles, is evidenced by the military’s own bulletin-updates and press conferences: these report how, within a year, they attributed 600 dead, but only 10 or 15 injured, among the guerrilla enemy. Such a ratio is unheard of in the most berserk conflicts of recent memory.

This impression is confirmed by a journalistic study that circulated in the clandestine underground. The report reveals how, between the 18th of December of 1976 and February 3rd of 1977, in 40 real actions, the legal forces had 23 dead and 40 wounded, while the guerrilla had 63 dead.

More than a hundred of those put on trial were similarly overpowered, as the military provided official narratives of sensational chase-stories—none of them intended to be believed, so much as to sabotage negotiations and proceedings. These performances are intended to prevent the guerrilla brigade and the political parties from enacting any legal process for the release of recognized political prisoners. Such negotiation is prevented from interfering and encumbering the strategy of retaliation used by the Core of Commanders. The military junta’s Core of Commanders want to employ these tactics (of disproportionate retaliation) in the shifting battle-scenery, maintaining the convenience of being able to dictate attacks, while unfettered by laws and in obedience only to the impulses and momentary whims.

That is how the general Benjamin Menéndez, chief of the Third Body of the Army, earned his laurels before the 24th of March with the assassination of Marcos Osatinsky, detained in Córdoba, following the killing of Hugo Vaca Narvaja and fifty other prisoners. All were executed without pity, in varied acts of martial law that officers later attested to without shame.[2]

4. The assassination of Dardo Cabo, detained in april of 1975, liquidated on the 6th of January in 1977 with seven other prisoners in the jurisdiction of the First Body of the Army led by general Suarez Mason, serves as further evidence revealing that these episodes were not occasional excesses carried out by a deluded few, or by the bad centurions who strayed. Rather, these appear to be executions of the same policy planned in your grand assemblies, the policy that you discuss in your cabinet meetings, imposed by you as commanders-in-chief of the 3 Arms and approved by you members of the Junta government.

Between one thousand five hundred and three thousand persons or more have so far been massacred in secret detention, after you prohibited the surfacing of information on found corpses. The news seeped through despite your very best efforts. Word spread to other countries, as international media and communities were shaken by the genocidal magnitude, by the sheer horror these facts have evoked among their leaders.[3]

Twenty-five mutilated bodies flowered forth just this March and October of 1976 upon Uruguayan beaches. Perhaps these were but a fraction of the cargo, of those tortured to death inside the Technical School of the Armada, then discarded as flotsam in the river La Plata by boats of the Armada. Among them was a boy, 15 year old Floreal Avellaneda, his feet and hands tied ”with breakages in his anal region and visible fractures” according to the autopsy.

A veritable underwater cemetery was discovered in August 1976, by a local who was scuba-diving in the Son Roque lagoon of Cordoba. He sought to report his finding to the attention of the police. At the station the police refused to register the diver’s report, until he took it to the newspapers, where the editors refused to publish it.

Thirty and four corpses turned up in Buenos Aires between the 3rd and 9th of April of 1976, eight in San Telmo on the 4th of July, ten in the river Lujan on the 9th of October. These serve as a measure of the massacres of the 20th of August that piled up 30 of the corpses, only 15 kilometers from the May Field and 17 kilometers from Lomas de Zamora.

These revelations put an end to the used-up fiction of the right-wing gangs who we presumed to be none other than the heirs of the Triple A squadron of López Rega. These were able to operate in the major garrisons of the country using military trucks, capable of forming blanketing the entire river La Plata with corpses of their victims, able to throw prisoners hurtling down to the sea from the doors of the First Air Brigade [4].

All this, you allege, could have happened without the general Videla, the admiral Massera and the brigadier-gendarme Agosti ever having known—so we are told. Today, the Triple A organization are none other than the Three Branches of the Junta which you preside over, and not the phantom in your nebulous reports regarding “violent outbreaks, seemingly of different sources”. No longer can you pretend to be the just arbiter between ”two terrorisms” one of the right and the other of the left. Rather, you have become the very same fountainhead of the terror that completely lost is course, while you babble in the turbid speech, in  the very discourse of death.[5]

The same historical continuity links the assassination of the dissenting general Carlos Prats under the previous government, with the kidnappings and murders of generals Juan José Torres, Zelmar Michelini, Hector Gutiérrez Ruíz. Dozens more were made into refugees, as their persecutors sought to assassinate the future of democratic processes in Chile, Bolivia and Uruguay by murdering it inside of those who carried and represented that unborn potential for a democratic future.[6]

The proven participation of the Department of Foreign Affairs, and of the Federal Police, in these crimes conducted by officers who received scholarships from the C.I.A. (through the A.I.D.) such as the commissioners Juan Gattei and Antonio Gettor, themselves subjected to the authority of Mr Gardener Hathaway, Station Chief of the CIA in Argentina. Such involvements will provide the seedbed for future revelations of the sordid kind that today already shake the international community. These revelations will not merely stop the moment the facts are laid bare about the role played by that agency (the CIA) and Army chiefs headed by general Menéndez in creating the Lodge of Liberators of Latin America. The Lodge has replaced and fulfilled the function of the Triple A death-squadron, until its role in the international stage was taken up by the Junta and its Three Arms.

This portrait of extermination by no means excludes the personal settling of scores, such as the assassination of captain Horacio Gandara, who for a decade went about investigating the businesses of high chiefs of the Navy. This does not exclude the reporter of “Prensa Libre” (Free Press)

Horacio Novillo, stabbed to death and cremated after the newspaper denounced sundry connections between the minister Martínez de Hoz and corporate monopolies.

As these episodes come to light, so does the true and final significance of your definition of the war at hand, as uttered by one of your chiefs: “The struggle that we have unleashed knows neither moral nor natural limits; it unfolds in a realm beyond good and evil”[7]

5. These facts that shake the conscience of the civilized world, however, are not the greatest of all torments brought upon the Argentine people to date. These facts are not the worst human rights violations so far incurred by you. It is in your economic policy, where we find not only the explanation of this government’s crimes, but also a larger atrocity punishing millions of human beings with planned misery.

Within a year, you reduced the common wage of the laborers by 40%, diminishing their participation in GDP by 30%, raising work-day from 6 to 18 hours of drudgery required for the income to support a family[8], This is how your program has resuscitated forms of slave-labor that had long gone extinct, even in the world’s last few remaining colonial outposts.

Wages are frozen and knocked down, while prices soar, past the sky-ward pointing bayonets of your rifles. Coercion abolishes all forms of collective opposition, assemblies and internal committees strictly forbidden, raising the unemployment rate to a record 9% [9]. This you have promised to worsen in official forecasts with 300.000 planned layoffs, as you go about reversing the relations of production back to the beginnings of the machine age. Whenever laborers had attempted protest, you have labeled them as subversives, abducting entire delegations, which in some instances turned up murdered, or otherwise simply never turned up. [10]

The results of these policies are smoldering devastation. Within the first year of military government, consumption of foods diminished by 40%, that of clothes by 50%, supply of medicines has virtually disappeared from the social layers of the majority. Already we see regions of Greater Buenos Aires where infant mortality surpasses 30%, putting us in the company of Rhodesia, Dahomey or the Guyanas. Diseases such as chronic diarrhea, various parasites and even rabies are reported in peak numbers approximating the worst global rates according to today’s health monitors, in some cases even surpassing known records. These results must appear satisfactory to you, for you have reduced the budget for public health to less than a third of military expenditures, suppressing the free hospitals while thousands of doctors, professionals and technicians join the exodus of jobless created by the terror, by the plummeted salaries or by the policies of ”rationalizing the economy.”

It should suffice to spend a few hours roaming through Greater Buenos Aires to confirm the speed at which these policies have decayed the city outskirts into a shantytown of ten million dwellers.

Suburban cities are half of the time deprived of electricity, entire districts lack running water. Industrial monopolies plunder the subterranean earth-layers for minerals and cement, leaving thousands of housing-blocks collapsed into wasteland, as you care only to pave the streets outside of the military families’ residences, or to decorate and prettify the May Plaza. The world’s largest river is poisoning all its beaches, only because business-partners of the ministry of Martínez de Hoz pour the residual waste of industry into that river. And in the wake of the poison-pouring, the only response your government has taken is to prohibit bathers from swimming.

When it comes to the mishmash of economic abstractions and objectives that you tend to refer to as ”the country”, it seems you have been equally successful. A decline in the GDP sunk until 3%, while an external debt reaches about 600 dollars per inhabitant, at an annual inflation rate of 400%. Production of printed money within one week in December increased by 9%, with a 13% lowering of external investment which also reaches global lows. Strange fruit indeed, that has come of all your cold deliberations, your crude ineptitude.

Nearly all creative and protectionist functions of the State atrophy, unraveling into the utmost decrepitude. Only one arm of the State expands, attaining an autonomous life.

One thousand eight hundred million dollars, the equivalent of nearly half of all Argentinean exports, were assigned to Security and Defense in 1977, four thousand new placements of agents in the Federal Police, twelve thousand in the province of Buenos Aires with salaries that double that of an industrial worker and will triple come February. These numbers forecast there will be no amount of freezes of stagnation or unemployment in the realm of torture and of death, the only camp of Argentinian activity in which the very gross product grows. In the concentration camps, the fixing of rates per head of smashed guerrilla grows quicker than the dollar.

6. In its fulfillment of the diktat of the International Monetary Fund, according to the prescription to be applied indiscriminately to either Zaire or Chile, to Uruguay or to Indonesia, the economic policy of this Junta serves only to acknowledge the needs of its chosen beneficiaries. Among these are the old cattle-raising oligarchies, the new speculations-oligarchs and a select group of international monopolies headed by Esso, ITT, the automotive groups, U.S. Steel, Siemens, all of whom have personal ties to Martínez de Hoz and all his members of cabinet.

An increase of 772% in the prices of animal produce (meat and leather) in 1976 encapsulates the very magnitude of the restoration of the oligarchical minorities’ power. This follows from the initiatives of Martínez de Hoz in collusion with the creed of land-owning Rural Society organization, as exposed by the organization’s president Celedonio Pereda: “It astonishes, how a handful of tiny yet very active groups continue insisting that food-prices need to be affordable.”[11]

In the spectacle of the Stock Exchange, it is possible within one week for some to profit by a hundred or two hundred per cent without working; where corporations were able to double their capital overnight without producing more output than before, as the mad fortune wheel rolls in speculations in dollars, in signs, in adjustable values, in plain usury that has already pre-calculated its interest rates on loans by the hour. How curious are these results of the self-described anti-corruption government that came along promising to put an end to ”the banquet-party of the corrupt.”

Denationalization of the banks has placed savings and national credit in the hands of foreign bankers. With the indemnification of the ITT and the Siemens corporations, rewards go to the same companies that scammed the State. Even while closing down their plants, the profits of Shell and Esso increase. By giving rebates and free passes from the customs tariffs, they create jobs in Hong Kong and in Singapore and massive unemployment in Argentina. Before the mass of these facts, you, the self-proclaimed nationalists, may ask yourselves who are these “anti-patriots”, those ‘’without fatherland’’ condemned in the blaring official propaganda.

In the light of these facts, ask yourselves: who are the real mercenaries at the behest of foreign interests adverse to those of the country? Whose is the ideology that truly threatens the national being you swore to defend in your solemn cries?

A barrage of propaganda (that deforming mirror of wicked facts) claims this Junta to be a securer of peace, and appoints Videla as a defender of human rights, while praising admiral Massera for his sheer love of life. If that propaganda machine were not in place to pour its noise, silencing all reason and access to the truth, then it might have been possible to ask the Commanders in Chief of the Three Arms that they may meditate upon the abyss they have dug. It is the chasm towards which they are driving this country. They claim to be steering the country towards victory in a war they are winning. That war and its imminent victory are illusions. For after even having killed the last guerrilla fighter, resistance would only be fermented anew in other forms.

The source of what has motivated resistance from the Argentine people, for more than the past twenty years, will not have disappeared after the last guerrilla fighter is executed: their urgency will only be intensified, by the memory of the strife and devastation, and by the revelation of atrocities that you have committed.

The above are my thoughts on the first anniversary of your infamous government, and I seek to ensure the transmission of my thoughts to the members of this Junta, without any hope of being heard. Although I am certain that I will be persecuted, I am also faithful to the commitment I made a long time ago, the commitment to bear witness in the difficult hours.

Rodolfo Walsh. – Citizen Identity number: 2845022

Buenos Aires, March 24 1977

Traducción: Arturo Desimone

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Frev Friendships — Robespierre and Couthon 

…Moreover, don’t forget to remind me of the memory of Lacoste and Couthon. Robespierre in a letter to Maurice Duplay, October 16 1791, while away on a leave in Arras.Couthon, Lacoste and Pétion are the only of his friends that he mentions in the letter. Considering Couthon came to Paris after being elected for the Legislative Assembly on September 9 1791, while Robespierre was away from the capital between October 14 and November 28, the two must have befriended each other quite rapidly. In a letter dated September 29 1791, Couthon reveals that he has moved into the house of one M. Girot on Rue Saint-Honoré (the same street where Robespierre lodged), and according to Robespierre (1935) by J.M Thompson, the Almanach royal for 1792 gives Couthon’s address as 343 Rue Saint-Honoré. So the proximity between their lodgings might have been a contributing factor.

My friend, I anxiously await news of your (votre) health. Here, we are closing in on the greatest events. Yesterday the Assembly absolved La Fayette; the indignant people pursued some deputies at the end of the session. Today is the day indicated by a decree for the discussion of the forfeiture of Louis XVI. It is believed that this matter will be further delayed by some incident. However, the fermentation is at its height, and everything seems to presage for this very night the greatest commotion in Paris. We have arrived at the outcome of the constitutional drama. The Revolution will take a faster course, if it does not sink into military and dictatorial despotism. In the situation we are in, it is impossible for the friends of liberty to foresee and direct events. The destiny of France seems to leave it to intrigue and chance. What can reassure us is the strength of the public spirit in Paris and in many departments, it is the justice of our cause. The sections of Paris show an energy and wisdom worthy of serving as models for the rest of the state. We miss you. May you soon return to your homeland and we await with equal impatience your return and your recovery.  Robespierre in a letter to Couthon, August 9 1792 (incorrectly dated July 20 1792 in the correspondence)

I saw [Couthon] towards the last days of the Legislative Assembly; he appeared to me to be in a mood similar to mine; enemy of the anarchists and of the authors of the massacres of the first days of September, enemy of Marat and Robespierre; he constantly declaimed against them. Supplément aux crimes des anciens comités de gouvernement, avec l'histoire des conspirations du 10 mars, des 31 mai et 2 juin 1793, et de celles qui les ont précédées, et tableau de la conduite politique d'un représentant du peuple mis hors la loi (1794) by Jacques-Antoine Dulaure.

Couthon, whose infirmities give a new value to his patriotism… […] Lettres de Maximilien Robespierre à ses commettans, number 1 (September-October 1792)

During the first three months of the session of the National Convention, the members of the Puy-de-Dome deputation fraternized and dined together once a week. Couthon then never ceased to pour out invectives against Robespierre. Once I told him that I thought Robespierre an intriguer. ”So you call him an intriguer,” he answered me with vivacity, ”You are too nice, I regard him as a great scroundel.��� I heard him, in the presence of several of my colleagues, one day when the deputation was summoned to his house, say: ”I no longer want to live in the same house as Robespierre, I am not safe there; every day we see a dozen cutthroats coming up to his house to whom he gives dinner. I do not know how he managed to meet these expenses before being elected to the Convention, while my allowances are barely enough for me to live with my family.” He often applauded the fact that the entire deputation professed the same principles, and that, consequently, we would always be united in heart and mind. This was Couthon's opinion at the time, and he held to it until the constitutional committee was formed. He had the ambition to be a member; he becomes furious at not being inclined to it. This was the time when Couthon changed his opinion, abandoned his conscience to indulge in his passions. Supplément aux crimes des anciens comités de gouvernement, avec l'histoire des conspirations du 10 mars, des 31 mai et 2 juin 1793, et de celles qui les ont précédées, et tableau de la conduite politique d'un représentant du peuple mis hors la loi (1794) by Jacques-Antoine Dulaure. Dulaure’s claim that Couthon for a time lived in the same house as Robespierre is confirmed by l’Almanach national, an II (cited in Paris révolutionnaire: Vieilles maisons, vieux papiers (1906) by Georges Lênotre) as well as by a letter dated October 4 1792 Couthon wrote to Roland from Rue Saint-Honoré n. 366 (Robespierre’s address) asking for rooms in the Tuileries, saying that he must move out of the house within eight days (Roland responded with a negative answer four days later). When exactly he moved in is however harder to pinpoint. According to Robespierre (1935) by J.M Thompson, the Almanach royal for 1792 still gives Couthon’s address as 343, not 366, rue St. Honoré, and in the article The Evolution of a Terrorist: Georges Auguste Couthon (1930) Geoffrey Bruun writes that Couthon moved to Cour de Manège 97 in 1792. It can therefore be concluded that Couthon’s stay on Rue Saint-Honoré n. 366 was most likely rather short. Couthon’s motivation for moving out, aside from Dulaure’s claim that he disliked Robespierre, could also be related to the fact Robespierre’s brother and sister moved in with the Duplays shortly after he wrote the letter to Roland.

The Lamenths and Pétion in the early days, quite rarely Legendre, Merlin de Thionville and Fouché, often Taschereau, Desmoulins and Teault, always Lebas, Saint-Just, David, Couthon and Buonarotti. The elderly Élisabeth Le Bas on visitors to the Duplays during the revolution

Robespierre notes this expression: “for fear that Couthon’s speech will not be heard.” Couthon will be heard, he said, and I maintain that the representative assembly has no right to stifle his voice any more than that of anyone else, because the Convention is not a power above the rights of its constituents who have invested every deputy with the sacred right to express their wish, and one could only obstruct this by an attack against liberty, and by trampling on national sovereignty. Robespierre takes this opportunity to recall the maneuvers of a large party of the Convention, to violate this sacred right that each member has to make his voice heard; and we see, he says, this game of intrigue played out every day with incredible modesty. In the Constituent and Legislative Assemblies, which despite their perversity, at least knew how to respect the freedom of opinions, Couthon's patriotism, which his infirmities make more interesting, never served the most perverse men as a pretext to stifle his voice. Robespierre therefore invites us to come out strongly against this new system of villainy, and to never allow a deputy to ever be deprived of the ability to express his opinion. He ends by supporting the impression of Couthon's speech; it is put to the vote and adopted. Robespierre makes sure the Jacobins print one of Couthon’s speeches regarding the trial of the king, after protests that they ought to wait until it’s been pronounced at the Convention as well, January 6 1793

If you want, and it would be a crime to doubt it, to preserve the liberty, unity and indivisibility of the Republic, you cannot hesitate to adopt Couthon's proposal [to issue a proclamation that the Insurrection of May 31 saved liberty] at once. To begin a discussion on this question would be to allow the conspirators to come to this rostrum to make new declarations against Paris, with their ordinary perfidy. Robespierre at the Convention June 13 1793

The proposal [to have Robespierre enter the Committee of Public Safety] was made to the committee by Couthon and Saint-Just. To ask was to obtain, for a refusal would have been a sort of accusation, and it was necessary to avoid any split during that winter which was inaugurated in such a sinister manner. The committee agreed to his admission, and Robespierre was proposed. Memoirs Of Bertrand Barère (1896) volume 2, page 96-97. Couthon was elected to the Committee of Public Safety on June 10 1793, Robespierre on July 27 1793. In his memoirs, Barère pushes the thermidorian idea that the two plus Saint-Just formed a ”triumvirate” within the committee. On page 146 of the same volume he nevertheless also writes that Robespierre and Saint-Just rarely came to the committee, instead working together in a private office.

Robespierre, Saint-Just and Couthon were inseparable. The first two had a dark and duplicitous character; they pushed away with a kind of disdainful pride any familiarity or affectionate relationship with their colleagues. The third, a legless man with a pale appearance, affected good-nature, but was no less perfidious than the other two. All three of them had a cold heart, without pity, they interacted only with each other, holding mysterious meetings outside, having a large number of protégés and agents, impenetrable in their designs. Révélations sur le Comité de salut public (1830) by Prieur-Duvernois. Later in the revelations, Prieur nevertheless also writes that ”Couthon was never difficult on the Committee; there was no altercation until the day before 9 Thermidor, when the moment to throw away the mask had arrived.”

The National Convention, citizens colleagues, witnessed with pleasure your entry into Lyon. But its joy could not be complete when it saw that you at the first movements yielded to a sensibility way too unpolitical. You seemed to abandon themselves to a people who flatter the victors, and the manner in which you speak of such a large number of traitors, of the punishment of a very few and the departure of almost all, have alarmed the patriots who are indignant at seeing so many scoundrels escaping through a gap and going to Lozère and mainly Toulon. We therefore won’t congratulate you on your successes before you have fulfilled all that you owe to your country. Republics are demanding; there is national recognition only for those who fully deserve it. We send you the decree that the Convention issued this morning on the report of the Committee. It has proportioned the vigor of its measures to your first reports. It will never remain below what the Republic and liberty expect. Beware above all of the perfidious policy of the Muscadins and the hypocritical Federalists, who raise the standard of the Republic when it is ready to punish them, and who continue to conspire against it when the danger has passed. It was that of the Bordelais, of the Marseillais, of all the counter-revolutionaries of the South. This is the most dangerous stumbling block of our freedom. The first duty of the representatives of the people is to discover it and avoid it. We must unmask the traitors and strike them without pity. These principles alone, adopted by the National Convention, can save the country. These principals are also yours; follow them; listen only to your own energy, and carry out with inexorable severity the salutary decrees which we address to you.  Committee of Public Safety decree to the representatives in the newly entered Lyon, among them Couthon, written by Robespierre on October 12 1793. Couthon had left Paris for a mission to the army of the Alpes already on August 21 1793.

Send Bô. Montaut, recall the others, except Couthon and Maignet. Notebook note written by Robespierre sometime before October 19 1793, when a CPS decree tasked Bô with going to the army of Ardennes.

…Farewell, my friend, embrace Robespierre, Hérault and our other good friends for me. Couthon in a letter to Saint-Just, October 20 1793, while on mission in Lyon. Couthon was called back to Paris on November 23.

[Collot] has been strongly denounced for his conduct in Lyon, after the recapture of that city. But I was witness to the fact that he only accepted this mission with the greatest reluctance, and that Robespierre skillfully employed the strongest solicitations to persuade him to do so, alleging that he alone was capable of combining justice with the necessary firmness, that Couthon had become moved on the scene and cried like a woman; finally a host of reasons to highlight the importance of exemplary punishment against the rebels of this unfortunate city. Révélations sur le Comité de salut public (1830) by Prieur-Duvernois. While Prieur’s testimomy is written long after the fact and therefore deserves to get treated with some caution, the claims he makes here are to an extent collaborated by a letter from Collot to Robespierre dated November 23 1793, where he claims it was ”on your (ton) invitation” he went to Lyon.

Couthon proposes that the Society take care of "drafting the indictment of all kings", and that it for this purpose appoints commissioners responsible for collecting the particular crimes of tyrants. This proposal, warmly applauded, is adopted. On Momoro's motion, the Society appoints Robespierre, Billaud-Varennes, Couthon, Collot d'Herbois and Lavicomterie as commissioners. Jacobin club, January 21 1794

…Yesterday, Robespierre held a very eloquent speech on our political situation. As soon as this speech has been printed, I will send it to you, it deserves to get read. Couthon in a letter dated February 6 1794, regarding Robespierre’s speech On Political Morality, held the day before.

Couthon and Robespierre enter the hall; all the members and citizens in the tribunes demonstrate through their applause the satisfaction of seeing these two patriots again.  Journal de la Montagne describing a triumphant entrance to the Jacobin club made by Couthon and Robespierre on March 13 1794, after both had been ill for a few weeks.

“In the absence of my brother,” said Mlle Robespierre to Gaillard, would you like to try to see Couthon? He prides himself on being good for me, I will ask him to receive you, he will not refuse me, I will precede you by a quarter of an hour, he will give the order to let you in and we will exit together.” Gaillard gratefully accepts, takes the address of Couthon who lived at n. 97 of the Cour du Manège, today rue de Rivoli, near rue du 29 Juilliet, and the next morning arrives at the indicated time. Couthon, whose face was truly angelic, wore a white dressing gown. A child of five or six years old, beautiful as Love, was between his father's legs; he had a young white rabbit in his arms which he was feeding alfalfa. Mme Couthon and Mlle Robespierre stood in the embrasure of a window overlooking the Tuileries.

“You are,” said Couthon to Gaillard, a friend of Mlle Robespierre, you therefore have every kind of right to my interest, tell me, citizen, how can I be of use to you?” [Gaillard then goes on to explain his errand to Couthon] “Citizen,” continues Gaillard, with great emotion, you are convinced that the signatures of these addresses have not committed a crime, you are all-powerful in the Committee of Public Safety where your opinion always prevails. Today, seventy unfortunate people are being led to the scaffold, their condemnation based on nothing other than the signing of these addresses…”

Couthon's face changed, he suddenly takes on the tiger's mask, makes a movement to grab the bell pull... Mlle Robespierre rushes at him to stop him (he was paralyzed from the legs down), turns towards Gaillard and says to him: “Save yourself!” In the confusion into which all this throws him, Gaillard takes Couthon's hat, she notices it, warns him, he runs across the apartment and reaches the stairs. He had barely gone down eight or ten steps when he heard Mlle Robespierre shouting to him: “Go and wait for me at the Orangerie.” […] [Gaillard] has barely gone down into the courtyard of the Orangerie when he goes back up onto the terrace, looking anxiously to see if his good angel was arriving. As soon as he sees her, he runs towards her, loudly asking her five or six questions at the same time without paying attention to the crowd around them. Mlle Robespierre, calmer, tells him in a low voice that she will answer him when they have reached the Place de la Révolution.

“Explain to me, please,” said Gaillard to Mlle Robespierre as soon as they were offshore, ”your haste to tell me to take flight flee and why you held back Couthon in his chair?”

“You were fooled, my dear monsieur, by the profound hypocrisy of Couthon, I was completely fooled myself; I believed your judges saved and you forever at peace like all the signatories of these addresses to Louis XVI... Couthon only showed himself to be so good-natured in order to get to know the depths of your thoughts, you fell into his trap, I could not have avoided it more than you. Your bloody and so justly deserved reproach regarding the 63 victims of today struck in the hearth, my presence, even my confidence could not have stopped his vengeance. The members of the Committee of Public Safety each have five or six men at home who are resolute at their command, because they are constantly trembling. Had he reached the bell pull, this very afternoon you would have been placed in the tumbril alongside the 63 unfortunate people you wanted to save... Fortunately, I succeeded in making him ashamed of the crime he was going to commit by immolating a friend that I had brought to his house... Will he keep his word to me? I followed your conversation very attentively, you did not say a word from which Couthon could conclude that you do not live in Paris... Return home quickly, do not follow the ordinary route out of fear that, remembering the name of the city where your judges were to sit, he sends for men to follow you on the road to Melun.”  La Révolution, la Terreur, le Directoire 1791-1799: d’après les mémoires de Gaillard (1908) page 268-273. Anecdote described as taking place in May 1794. Evidence Couthon had contacts with not only Robespierre, but his sister as well. If the dynamics between the three changed after this incident is however something the anecdote leaves unknown…

Is it not known to all citizens since the sessions of 12 and 13 Fructidor, that the decree of 22 Prairial was the secret work of Robespierre and Couthon, that it never, in defiance of all customs and all rights, was discussed or communicated to the Committee of Public Safety? No, such a draft would never have been passed by the committee had it been brought before it. […] At the morning session of 22 floréal [sic, it clearly means prairial], Billaud-Varennes openly accused Robespierre, as soon as he entered the committee, and reproached him and Couthon for alone having brought to the Convention the abominable decree which frightened the patriots. It is contrary, he said, to all the principles and to the constant progress of the committee to present a draft of a decree without first communicating it to the committee. Robespierre replied coldly that, having trusted each other up to this point in the committee, he had thought he could act alone with Couthon. The members of the committee replied that we have never acted in isolation, especially for serious matters, and that this decree was too important to be passed in this way without the will of the committee. The day when a member of the committee, adds Billaud, allows himself to present a decree to the Convention alone, there is no longer any freedom, but the will of a single person to propose legislation.  Réponse des membres des deux anciens comités de salut public et de sûreté générale… (1795) by Bertrand Barère, Billaud-Varennes, Collot d’Herbois and Alexis Vadier. It is unclear if Robespierre and Couthon really were alone in having drafted and/or supported the Law of 22 Prairial. The idea that they were was also lifted by Prieur-Duvernois in his Révélations sur le Comité de salut public (he claims Saint-Just was also in on it), Fouquier-Tinville in his Requisitoires de Fouquier-Tinville (he claims that, in the days the law was being worked out, Billaud-Varenne, Collot d'Herbois, Barère, Carnot and Prieur told him it was Robespierre who had been charged with the project) and Laurent Lecointre in Robespierre peint par lui-même et condamné par ses propres principes (1794) (he claims Robespierre wrote the law and confided only Couthon with it). If all these sources are to be treated with caution given their authors and the time they were written, it can nevertheless be established that Couthon and Robespierre (the first one in particular) are the only ones where any direct involvement in the development of the law can be traced, and that they did fight side by side (and harder than any other committee member) against the Convention to get it passed on both June 10 and June 12.  I’ve written about this more in detail in this post.

Couthon: All patriots are brothers and friends, as for me, I want to share the daggers directed against Robespierre (here the entire hall rises with cries of: Me too!) […] Couthon at the jacobins July 11 1794

Couthon, all the patriots are proscribed, the entire people have risen up; It would be a betrayal not to join us to the Commune, where we are now. Signed: Robespierre the older, Robespierre the younger, Saint-Just. Letter urging Couthon to come to Hôtel de Ville. According to Hervé Leuwers’ Robespierre(2014) this letter is in Augustin Robespierre’s hand. According to 9-thermidor.com Robespierre and Couthon, alongside Augustin, Saint-Just, Le Bas were all declared under arrest by the Convention around 1:30 PM. Around 5 PM they were taken to the Committee of General Security and served dinner, before getting seperated and taken to different prisons between 6:30 and 7 PM. Couthon was the last to reunite with his friends at Hôtel de Ville at around 1 AM, less than an hour before the building was stormed.

The two Robespierres were [in the meeting room], one next to President Lescot-Fleuriot and the other next to Payan, national agent. Couthon was carried into the room a moment later; and what is noteworthy is that he was still followed by his gendarme. On arriving he was embraced by Robespierre, etc. and they passed into the next room, which I entered. The first word I heard from Couthon was: “We must write to the armies immediately”. Robespierre said: “In whose name?” Couthon replied: “But in the name of the Convention; is it not still where we are? The rest are only a handful of factions that the armed force we have will dissipate, and of whom it will bring justice.” Here Robespierre the elder seemed to think a little; he bent down to his brother's ear; then he said: “My opinion is that we write in the name of the French people.” He also, at that moment, took the hand of the gendarme who entered with Couthon and said to him: “Brave gendarme, I have always admired and esteemed your body; always be faithful to us; go to the door and ensure that you continue to embitter the people against the rebels.” Letter from H. G. Dulac to Courtois, July 25 1795, regarding the night at the Hôtel de Ville on 9 thermidor. 

As soon as Couthon entered [Hôtel de Ville], three or four members led him away, and two or three presented him with papers and ink. Robespierre and Couthon said: ”We cannot write to our armies in the name of the Convention or of the Commune, given that this would be stopped, but rather in the name of the French people, that would work much better,” and, instantly, Couthon began to write on his knees saying: ”The traitors will perish, there are still humans in France and virtue will triumph.” Robespierre took the hand of gendarme Muron and said to them both: “Go down to the square immediately and energize the people!” Testimony of gendarmes Muron and Javois, who escorted Couthon to Hôtel de Ville. Cited in Autour de Robespierre… (1925) by Albert Mathiez, page 224-225. The Hôtel de Ville was stormed somewhere before 2 AM. At 5 AM, the injured Couthon was brought to l’hospice d’humanité (Hôtel-Dieu de Paris), before joining Robespierre at the Committee of Public Safety. At 11 AM the two plus Gobeau were escorted to the Conciergerie prison and locked up in individual cells. According to number 675 of Suite de journal de Perlet, released two days after the execution, Robespierre and Couthon sat in different tumbrils when they around 6 PM got driven to the scaffold. Couthon was executed first, Robespierre second to last. 

—

Throughout his first year as a deputy, Couthon appears to have been closer to the ”girondins” than the ”montagnards.” In a letter dated January 3 1792 he calls Brissot and Condorcet ”two distinguished patriots with superior talent” apropos of their recent works calling for war. On January 19 1792 he expresses his own support of France going to war in another letter, and on April 20 1792 he was among the deputies that voted in favor of war with Austria (only seven did however vote no). In a letter dated September 1 1792 Couthon calls the Insurrectionary commune to which Robespierre belonged (and, according to some, dominated) ”[a] municipality led by a few dangerous men [that] seems to ignore decrees, and believes itself above the first power,” expressing his hopes that ”this distressing confusion will soon end and that the Municipality of Paris will cease to consider itself the Municipality of the whole Empire.” A week later, September 8 1792, he reports that ”the functions of the ardent chamber of the people have been broken since the evening before last, due to the care of the brave and virtuous Pétion.” In the letter to Roland dated October 4 1792 previously mentioned, Couthon still calls him “brave and estimable minister.” But just a week after said letter had gotten penned down, October 12, he more or less broke with the girondins, when he at the Jacobins said they were a group composed ”of gentlemen, subtle and intriguing, and above all ambitious” that ”wish a republic because popular opinion has demanded it, but they wish it aristocratic, they wish to maintain their control, and to have at their disposal the offices, the emoluments, and especially the finances of the state,” and ending by calling for all energies to be turned against ”this faction, which desires liberty only for itself.” (Bruun speculates this was due to him not having gained a place on the Committee of Constitution within the girondin dominated Convention the day earlier). This move surprised Madame Roland, who in a letter dated October 14 urged Bancal to ”go and see Couthon and reason with him; it is incredible that such a good mind allowed himself to speak out in a strange way against the best citizens.”

Throughout their time on the Committee of Public Safety, Robespierre and Couthon often rose up together at the Convention and the Jacobin club to speak for or against certain subjects. Besides the law of 22 prairial, the two also joined sides against petitioners talking with their hats on (December 20 1793), against Dufourny (March 18 1794), the establishment of a police bureau (April 16, April 18 1794). They helped contribute to the expulsion of both Rousselin (May 25) and Dubois-Crancé (July 11) from the Jacobins, and linked arms in speaking for arresting ”any individual that dares to insult the Convention” (July 24 1794). It was Couthon who asked for the printing of both Robespierre’s On Political Morality Speech on February 5 1794 as well as for his report on Religious and Moral Ideas on May 7 1794. As for Robespierre’s final speech on July 26 1794, Couthon proposed and got through ”that it be distributed throughout all of the Republic.” At the jacobins later the same day he proposed the immediate exclusion of all those who had voted against the printing of the speech, and once again he had his way.

On July 3 1794 we find a CPS decree signed by Collot, Carnot, Saint-Just, Barère, Billaud and C-A Prieur ordering Couthon to go to the army of the Midi, an order that he never followed through with. This could be interpreted as Couthon understanding Robespierre’s enemies were plotting againt him by trying to send him away, but choosing to stay at his side and share his fate.

[seriouslycromulent]

The Math Ain't Mathing

So I'm sure people are going to accuse me of being a conspiracy theorist, but the more I think about the results of this US election, the more it's clear that things aren't adding up.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm well aware of the US's long history of racism and misogyny, and it is totally possible -- in theory -- that more people voted for a moronic straight, white male who is an ajudicated grapist and convicted felon over a more-than-qualified, intelligent, results-driven woman of color for a position as leader of the wealthiest nation on earth.

I'm not saying that couldn't happen. But did it? Legitimately?

The more I think about Trump's campaign, the more fishy this result seems.

So here was a man with ...

virtually no policies (that he could talk about openly),

no ground game,

no door knocking apparatus to urge folks to get out the vote,

no phone banking,

he was constantly running out of money and had to shill products to raise more,

stole money from down ballot candidates, putting their marketing strategies at risk,

found liable for SA,

found guilty of millions of dollars in fraud,

constantly rambles and shows clear signs of being mentally unwell,

invokes violent and hateful language against specific communities as well as individuals,

bragged about being a dictator on Day 1,

had over 40 former cabinet members declare him unfit for office,

was called a fascist by his own former chief of staff,

was not endorsed by any reputable economists,

saw a flood of lifelong Republicans -- literally millions of them -- abandon their party to vote for his opponent,

has been impeached twice,

has seen sharply, dwindling crowd sizes at his rallies for the last 6 weeks,

... and somehow he won the popular vote by 5 million?

Even though he never won the popular vote in 2016? Or 2020?

Suddenly he "found" a bunch of votes from people who liked him?

Um, no.

Just no.

One of Trump's biggest failings is that he and his team tell lies like children. That is, they've never learned how to keep things believable. Like a misguided 10-year-old who is desperate to impress someone with his whopper of a tale, he always exaggerates to the point of hyperbole and insults our intelligence.

For example, he told us his rally at Wildwood, NJ, this past summer had 108,000 even though the town itself only has 80,000 residents and the venue he held the rally in only held 20,000 people.

Or how he kept insisting that American kids are going to school and somehow receiving gender reassignment surgery over a couple of days and without parental consent before being sent home.

Each lie is so over the top and grandiose it makes him look infantile while at the same time insults our knowledge of reality.

And that's exactly what this feels like.

There is no way this man won the majority of the votes and the popular vote after only winning due to the electoral college the first time and not at all the second time. More people vilify him now than they did in 2016 and 2020, and that's saying something.

There just aren't enough voters in the US to give him a clear path to victory here no matter how committed his sycophants are to white supremacy. MAGA voters are not the majority of the voting electorate.

Also the fact that the exit polling data is suspiciously similar to the same tall tales Trump's been selling for the past year about how he had a ton of support in the Latino and Black communities, despite there being no data to support it at all. He was polling damn near 0% in some majority black communities like Detroit and Atlanta.

Yeah ... no.

This math ain't mathing.

I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but I know when something isn't adding up. And nothing about these results add up at all.

On top of that, they ran their entire campaign like they didn't care about people getting out to vote. They kept insulting different segments of the electorate over and over again, as if they didn't need the votes of single people or people without children.

Plus, we saw record voter registration leading up to the election. More people voting early in state after state, and millions of people voting for the first time in their lives. But somehow there were fewer votes cast in this 2024 election than in the 2020 election?

Hell, Georgia alone tripled its early voter turnout. So how is this election getting fewer votes than 4 years ago?!

There were historically longer lines than ever before in parts of the country that never saw long lines, and yet there were millions fewer votes counted so far this year? Are we really to believe that all those long lines and so many new voters managed to only add up to 136M versus 158M who voted in 2020?

I call bullshit!

Also, a number of folks are commenting on how quickly the states were called. In all my years of voting, I've never seen a US election turning around so fast.

Yeah, the math ain't mathing.

Sure, he could've eeked out a win via the Electoral College without the popular vote like he did in 2016, but given her momentum and the majority of the polls either favoring her or having had them tied, none of these results pass the smell test.

Meanwhile, Harris had a multigenerational, multiracial, multiethnic, multigendered coalition of enthusiastic supporters who volunteered, phone banked, door knocked, and fundraised in every state plus D.C. Her media strategy was savvy, her interviews were sharp and intelligible, and her demeanor was inclusive and congenial. Again, not putting anything past good ole American racism and misogyny, but all the data showed that her supporters were clearly larger in number and more enthusiastic than his.

Long story short --

I do believe we are witnessing the American government being hijacked and a dictator installed right before our very eyes.

[sepdet]

Try to imagine Trump going to campaign HQ to reassure those working to get him elected with a speech like this after one of his unwelcome surprises.

Of course, that's impossible. This classy speech is all about "we" — the team, and the American people — although of course it's got a few "I's" in there to contrast herself with Trump and sketch out goals.

First five minutes: Squaring the circle of saluting Biden graciously, thanking and reassuring his election team, and moving forward

05:40 - rundown of major accomplishments of President Biden's administration

8:45 Harris lays out how she sees this election and I'm actually gonna transcribe it despite my arthritis because YES YES YES. (It's not very long.)

"It is my great honor to go out and EARN this nomination, and to win.

"So in the days and weeks ahead, I together with you will do everything in my power to unite the Democratic party, to unite our nation, and to win this election.

"You know, as many of you know, before I was elected as Vice President, before I was elected as United States Senator, I was the elected Attorney General of California, and before that I was a courtroom prosecutor. In those roles, I took on perpetrators of all kinds. [chuckles start around the room, she smiles.] Predators who abused women. Fraudsters who ripped off consumers. Cheaters who broke the rules for their own gain. So hear me when I say: I know Donald Trump's type.

"And in this campaign I will proudly — I will proudly put my record against his. As a young prosecutor, when I was in the Alameda County District Attorney's Office, I specialized in cases involving sexual abuse. Donald Trump was found liable by a jury for committing sexual abuse. As Attorney General of California I took on one of our country's largest for-profit colleges and put it out of business. Donald Trump ran a for-profit college, Trump University, that was forced to pay $25 million to the students it scammed. As District Attorney, to go after polluters, I created one of the first environmental justice units in our nation. Donald Trump stood in Mar-o-lago and told Big Oil lobbyists he would do their bidding for a $1 billion campaign contribution. During the foreclosure crisis, I took on the big Wall Street banks and won $20 billion for California families, holding those banks accountable for fraud. Donald Trump was just found guilty of 34 counts of fraud.

"But make no mistake — all that being said, this campaign is not just about us versus Donald Trump. There is more to this campaign than that. Our campaign has always been about two different versions of what we see as the future of our country, two different visions for the future of our country. One focused on the future, the other focused on the past.

"Donald Trump wants to take our country backward, to a time before many of our fellow Americans had full freedoms and rights.

"But we believe in a brighter future that makes room for all Americans. We believe in a future where every person has the opportunity not just to get by, but to get ahead. [Calls of "That's right!"] We believe in a future where no child has to grow up in poverty, where every person can buy a home, start a family and build wealth, and where every person has access to paid family leave and affordable child care. That's the future we see! [Applause.] Together we fight to build a nation where every person has affordable healthcare, where every worker is paid fairly, and where every senior can retire with dignity.

"All of this is to say that building up the middle class will be a defining goal of my presidency. Because we here know that when our middle class is strong, America is strong. And we know that's not the future Donald Trump is fighting for. He and his extreme Project 2025 will weaken the middle class and bring us backward — please do note that — back to the failed trickle-down policies that gave huge tax breaks to billionaires and big corporations and made working families pay the cost, back to policies that put Medicare and Social Security on the chopping block, back to policies that treat healthcare as only a privilege for the wealthy, instead of what we all know it should be, which is a right for every American.

"America has tried these economic policies before. They do not lead to prosperity. They lead to inequity and economic injustice. And we are NOT GOING BACK. We are not going back. (You're not taking us back.)

"Our fight for the future is also a fight for freedom. Generations of Americans before us have led the fight for freedom from our founders to our framers, to the abolitionists and the suffragettes, to the Freedom Riders and farm workers. And now I say, team, the baton is in our hands. We, who believe in the sacred freedom to vote. We, who are committed to pass the John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act and the Freedom to Vote Act. We, who believe in the freedom to live safe from gun violence, and that's why we will work to pass universal background checks, red flag laws, and an assault weapons ban. We, who will fight for reproductive freedom, knowing if Trump gets the chance, he will sign a national abortion ban to outlaw abortion in every. single. state—but we are not going to let that happen.

"It is this team here that is going to help in this November to elect a majority of members of the United States Congress who agreethe government should not be telling a woman what to do with her body. And when Congress passes a law to restore reproductive freedoms, as President of the United States I will sign it into law! [cheers, someone shouts "we the people!"] "Indeed, we the people.

"So ultimately, to all the friends here I say: in this election we know we each face a question. What kind of country do we want to live in? A country of freedom, compassion and rule of law, ["Yes!"] or a country of chaos, fear, and hate? [Boos] You all are here because you as leaders know we each — including our neighbors and our friends and our family — we each as Americans have the power to answer that question. That's the beauty of it, the power of the people. We each have the ability to answer that question.

"So in the next 106 days—" looks around the room smiling at various people, "We have work to do. We have doors to knock on, we have people to talk to, we have phone calls to make, and we have an election to win. …" [a few final crowd -whipping-up platitudes like "Do we believe in freedom"]

------

Note: Yes, I know, she spoke about rights for all Americans without getting into any specifics besides reproductive and voting rights, because those two are core values of the Democratic party and the ones most Americans agree with. Unifying a party and coalition building starts by finding common ground. The approach Harris is taking will pull away some old-school moderate Republicans who are reluctant to leave their party even as it changes beyond recognition, but who really don't like Trump. Many of them have been poisoned more or less by Fox News, so they need to see she's not a crazy crazy liberal.

[poweredinpeace]

Isaiah 1:23 Your princes are rebellious, and companions of thieves. Everyone loves bribes, and follows after rewards. They don't judge the fatherless, neither does the cause of the widow come to them.

The heart of the people grows sick when the courts refuse to obey the law they are sworn to uphold. No court should be entrusted with so much power a ruling destroys the nation!

Humans cannot live in a war zone not knowing who is shooting at them day to day; the courts, the next day FBI, DOJ, IRS, military our government is a bio-polar schizophrenic mental patient.

Government is to protect and bring security to the people ours is drunk on destroying the people where every elections is a war to survive or be annihilated.

Jer 7:19 Do they provoke me to anger? says Yahweh; [do they] not [provoke] themselves, to the confusion of their own faces?

[thurisazsalail]

Millions of votes are uncounted. YOU can do something about it!

Take less than 10 minutes to register your protest.

Tell the White House to investigate election fraud. There is a sample statement in this post.

Bitching on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter will not help. If you are an American who is old enough to vote, please take the 10 minutes to do this. Post it on your Facebook, Twitter, whatever you have.

Bomb threats called into 32 polling places

Ballot boxes burned in Vancouver WA and Portland OR; hundreds of ballots damaged, casters unable to be contacted. The city had issued a request for anyone who dropped off their ballots after the previous collection time to come forward.

Ballots declined for spurious, questionable reasons, like physical signatures not matching the shitty electronic pad ones.

These 4000+ were in Pennsylvania alone.

An unprecedented number of mail-in ballots were denied, in fact.

Major disasters along the SE means entire CITIES displaced, and someone can only vote at their polling places. With documents. So what happened to thousands of people who don't have ANYTHING? And what happened with polling places that do not exist? Entire TOWNS that don't exist? "Record numbers" DID vote in NC, but there are *other places?* What happens to people who don't have transportation? Many states do NOT have protected days off for voting. Many places do not HAVE transportation to polling places.

y'all, there was a dude not far from me who went after people at a polling place with a fucking machete. cops did something right and took his ass to jail. motherfucker went after a 70 year old?? wow u r so brave

Voter intimidation has been rampant. People here in Tampa FL were wearing piles of Trump merch while voting, which btw is illegal, but of course they weren't turned away in a red county. And some of the cops here are KNOWN white rights members so who tf you going to call.

KNOWN Russian propaganda, such as the vote fraud video "in Georgia" was rampant and convincing people to not vote or that voting polls were rigged

Don't have energy to come up with your own writing? Think like a high school essay. Include some specific bullet points.

You MUST put your REAL NAME and ADDRESS (or temporary/registered address, whatever you have.) This shows that you are a REAL PERSON and not some fucking bot. Yes, you need to do this EVERY TIME you contact a government official, or you will not be counted.

Include both investigation reasons AND recount reasons. Weird shit like bomb threats and Russian propaganda should trigger an investigation.

I shouldn't have to tell you this but keep the fucking anger out of it. Do NOT make ANY veiled, passive aggressive, or even potential threat to ANYONE. jfc.

"I urge you to investigate the 2024 election on grounds of (reason, like Russian propaganda influence) and (reason, like bomb threats preventing us from exercising civil rights.) Domestic terrorists have burned ballot boxes, attacked voters at polls, and intimidated voters. An unprecented number of ballots have been thrown out or called into question for reasons such as signature mismatch, which is not something a ballot counter should know anyways. Those ballots must be cured, the caster not simply notified of an issue through e-mail. I am greatly concerned that foreign influence has especially changed the nature of our elections. This is a matter of national security. It determines who owns weapons and who can use our nuclear codes, while calling into question the integrity of the American people. I urge the United States Government to demand an investigation into these issues and to ensure that everyone has been counted. Thank you."

I'm not saying "wahhh, wahhhhh, my guy didn't win!!1" I'm not demanding election investigation because I didn't Like the Results. I'm demanding an investigation because people's lives were threatened, our civil rights were widely disenfranchised, and we cannot have a clear idea of who REALLY won (regardless of who) until we remedy this national issue.

This is a matter of national security. Now act like it.

original post @sunnys-aesthetic ; tumblr won't allow Blazing.

[robertreich]

How to Fix a Broken Supreme Court

The Supreme Court is off the rails — and it’s only going to get worse unless we fight to reform it.

Trust levels and job approval ratings for the Court have hit historic lows due in large part to a growing number of ethics scandals.

Here are THREE key reforms Congress should enact to restore legitimacy to our nation’s highest court:

1) Establish a code of ethics

Every other federal judge has to sign on to a code of ethics — except for Supreme Court justices.

This makes no sense. Judges on the highest Court should be held to the highest ethical standards.

Congress should impose a code of ethics on Supreme Court justices. At the very least, any ethical code should ban justices from receiving personal gifts from political donors and anyone with business before the Court, clarify when justices with conflicts of interest should remove themselves from cases, prohibit justices from trading individual stocks, and establish a formal process for investigating misconduct.

2) Enact term limits

Article III of the Constitution says judges may “hold their office during good behavior,” but it does not explicitly give Supreme Court Justices lifetime tenure on the highest court — even though that’s become the norm.  

Term limits would prevent unelected justices from accumulating too much power over the course of their tenure — and would help defuse what has become an increasingly divisive confirmation process.

Congress should limit Supreme Court terms to 18-years, after which justices move to lower courts.

3) Expand the Court

The Constitution does not limit the Supreme Court to nine justices. In fact, Congress has changed the size of the Court seven times. It should do so again in order to remedy the extreme imbalance of today’s Supreme Court.    

Now some may decry this as “radical court packing.” That’s pure rubbish. The real court-packing occurred when Senate Republicans refused to even consider a Democratic nominee to the Supreme Court on the fake pretext that it was too close to the 2016 election, but then confirmed a Republican nominee just days before the 2020 election.

Rather than allow Republicans to continue exploiting the system, expanding the Supreme Court would actually UN-pack the court. This isn’t radical. It’s essential.

Now, I won’t sugar-coat this. Making these reforms happen won’t be easy. We’re up against big monied interests who will fight to keep their control of our nation’s most important Court.

But these key reforms have significant support from the American people, who have lost trust in the court.

The Supreme Court derives its strength not from the use of force or political power, but from the trust of the people. With neither the sword nor the purse, trust is all it has.

[mariacallous]

BERLIN — For the first time since the Nazi era, a far-right party in Germany has won the largest piece of the electoral pie in a state election.

Mainstream politicians and Jewish leaders are expressing alarm following Sunday’s elections, in which the anti-immigrant, Eurosceptic and pro-Russia Alternative for Germany party came out on top in the state of Thuringia, with 32.8% of the vote.

The 11-year-old party also earned second place to the traditional conservative Christian Democratic Union party in the neighboring state of Saxony. Both states are in the former East Germany.

“No one can brush this off as a ‘protest’ vote anymore,” Charlotte Knobloch, head of the Jewish community of Munich and Upper Bavaria, said in a statement late Sunday.

“Exactly 85 years after the start of World War II, Germany is in danger of becoming a different country again: more unstable, colder and poorer, less secure, less worth living in,” said Knobloch, a former head of the Central Council of Jews in Germany who herself survived the Holocaust in hiding.

The election came just over a week since a Syrian refugee was arrested after a deadly stabbing spree at a festival in the city of Solingen, and only days after Germany resumed its program of deporting refugees convicted of crimes. The knife attack, in which three people were killed, reignited popular anxiety about social unrest connected with the more than 1 million refugees admitted to Germany since 2015.

AfD stresses isolationism, takes an anti-EU and pro-Russian stance, and is accused of fomenting anti-Muslim sentiment. Some of its most extreme representatives have also belittled the Holocaust, saying that Germany has paid enough penance for the sins of an older generation.

Mass protests against the party took place earlier this year following revelations that the party had held a secret meeting at a lakeside villa to discuss plans to deport foreigners, including those who had become German citizens. Prominent neo-Nazis attended the meeting, according to the news organization that broke the story, inducing painful echoes of the gathering of Nazi leaders at nearby Wannsee in 1942 to devise a plan to deport and then murder Jews.

But while support for the AfD dipped in polls at the time, it soon rebounded and then accelerated. Now, it has achieved breakthrough results in state elections and raised concerns for next year’s national elections.

The party — whose Thuringen leader, Bjoern Hoecke, has been convicted twice of using a Nazi slogan to boost his party — is unlikely to form a ruling coalition in either state, since it is shunned by other parties. Still, it will have additional seats in the state legislatures and will have the numbers, particularly in Thuringia, to interfere with some governing decisions.

A far-left party, Sahra Wagenknecht Alliance or BSW, also produced notable results, coming in third in Thuringia with 15.8% of the vote. Last month, the current head of the Central Council of Jews in Germany, Josef Schuster, warned that the party, which has accused Israel of genocide in its war in Gaza, was “fueling hatred of Israel in Germany.”

The new election results bode ill for Germany’s future, Schuster said on Sunday.

“Can we recover from this hit?” Schuster wrote in a column in the Bild newspaper. “Our free society must not fall, especially in the face of Islamist terror. Unvarnished truths — honesty and sincerity — are needed, not populist pseudo-answers from radical parties.”

In Thuringia, the mainstream Social Democratic Party barely squeaked in, with 6.1%. Several parties, including the Greens and Free Democratic Party, received so few votes that they will not have any seats at all.

BSW also came in third in Saxony, with 11.8% of the vote, following the AfD with 30.6% and the CDU with a narrow win at 31.9%.

Younger voters overwhelmingly favored the AfD in this week’s elections, according to an NTV-Infratest exit poll.

“The survivors are asking themselves: ‘Didn’t we do enough to teach, to tell, to show?” Christoph Heubner of the International Auschwitz Committee, told the Guardian.

Some Jewish leaders say German politicians would do well to address the concerns apparently expressed by voters this weekend.

“The election results in the German federal states of Thuringia and Saxony are a clear wake-up call to the centrist parties in Germany to listen to the real concerns and fears of the people,” Rabbi Pinchas Goldschmidt, president of the Conference of European Rabbis, said in a statement. “When half the population votes for parties on the extreme fringes, their problems must be addressed openly and honestly.”

Sunday was an “insanely sad” election day, German Jewish journalist Samira Lazarovic wrote on Facebook. She said her 96-year-old father compared the outcome to the opening salvo of World War II, exactly 85 years ago.

Lazarovic said it was is urgent to reach out to younger voters. “It’s not that we know better than they; but we should shape the future together.”

Obviously, it wasn’t enough to take to the streets and protest against the far right, she added: “Populists all over the world have one thing in common. They mean exactly what they say and do everything they can to turn their words to deeds.”

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dean Obeidallah at The Dean's Report:

This Tuesday we will see a great deal of history made—but all of it is bad for the United States. That is when Donald Trump will give in essence a “State of the Union” address (SOTU) to a joint session of Congress. (Technically, this is not a SOTU given the speech is only two months into his first term--but everything about it will look and feel to viewers like the SOTU.) We know Trump’s speech will filled with lies, pro-Putin talking points and excuses for why inflation is up while consumer confidence and the stock market are down. We also know that history will be made as Trump checks the boxes for many firsts: 1. Trump will be the first convicted felon to deliver a SOTU. On May 30, 2024, a New York jury unanimously convicted Trump of 34 felonies for cheating in the 2016 election. This case was never about “hush money” as corporate media dubbed it but election corruption as Manhattan DA Alvin Bragg repeatedly noted. After the verdict, Bragg again reminded people of that stating, “Donald Trump is guilty of repeatedly and fraudulently falsifying business records in a scheme to conceal damaging information from American voters during the 2016 presidential election.” And Bragg’s office reiterated this point in their press release after the conviction noting, “Trump engaged in a scheme to corrupt the 2016 presidential election and went to extraordinary and illegal lengths to hide this conduct from the American voters and public.” Well, come Tuesday, that convicted felon will address a joint session of Congress—marking another dark first for our nation courtesy of Trump. 2. Trump is the first to address a joint session of Congress after being charged with crimes for attempting a coup to overturn a US presidential election. After Trump lost the 2020 election, we all witnessed Trump attempt to overturn the results and illegally remain in power. That is why on Aug. 1, 2023, Trump was charged with four federal felonies for crimes committed in pursuit of that illegal goal. The federal indictment of Trump returned by a grand jury reads bluntly: “Despite having lost, the Defendant was determined to remain in power.” From there, as detailed in the indictment, Trump “pursued unlawful means of discounting legitimate votes and subverting the election results.” However, the GOP controlled corrupt Supreme Court delayed the case to help Trump and then found Trump had immunity if his crimes were “official acts.” Before that determination could be made, Trump won the election and Special Counsel Jack Smith was forced by Merrick Garland’s DOJ to dismiss the charges given their internal rule that a sitting President cannot be prosecuted. 3. Trump is first person to deliver SOTU who incited a terrorist attack on the U.S. Capitol. As the Jan 6 congressional committee’s final report noted about the Jan. 6 attack on our Capitol: “The central cause of January 6th was one man, former President Donald Trump, whom many others followed. None of the events of January 6th would have happened without him.” We all know that. After losing the election, Trump radicalized his supporters with lies about the election being “stolen” and then instructed them to come to Washington, D.C. on Jan. 6 for a “wild” time. On that day, Trump incited the crowd knowing they were angry and many were armed with lines like: “The Democrats are trying to steal the White House. You cannot let them.” From there, he literally directed them to head to the Capitol to “stop the steal.” All of this is why Special Counsel Jack Smith stated that the Jan. 6 attack “was an unprecedented assault on the seat of American democracy” fueled by Trump’s lies that were “targeted at obstructing a bedrock function of the U.S. government--the nation’s process of collecting, counting, and certifying the results of the presidential election.”

[...] There are other firsts as well when Trump takes to the podium on Tuesday. He’s the first person to deliver the SOTU who had been charged with 31 counts of violating the Espionage Act as part of his classified documents case and the first adjudicated rapist. Add to that, Trump has the lowest approval rating of any past president in the modern era just six weeks into his second term.

Even though tomorrow night’s address isn’t technically a State of the Union, Donald Trump has the infamous distinction of being the first convicted felon and insurrection-inciter to give such an address.

As for me and all sane-minded Americans, I won’t be watching any of this divisive liefest coming from 47’s mouth, who ought to be in jail for his numerous crimes.

[gsirvitor]

1. Support our Veterans. 2. Support the politician who dodged draft 5 times and called soldiers killed in action "suckers" and "losers". You can only pick one.

I support our Veterans, I also understand that the statement you're quoting is a lie.

A White House email from a U.S. Marine Corps official proves a “bad weather call” was the reason for President Trump’s canceled visit to Aisne-Marne American cemetery in 2018; further evidence refuting Biden’s claim includes U.S. Navy records obtained via a Freedom of Information Act request — and even John Bolton's book.

Unequivocal denials came from virtually every official on the trip:

Zach Fuentes, former deputy to Chief of Staff Gen. John Kelly: “I did not hear POTUS call anyone losers when I told him about the weather. Honestly, do you think General Kelly would have stood by and let ANYONE call fallen Marines losers?” (Breitbart, 9/7/20)

John Bolton, former National Security Advisor: “I didn't hear either of those comments or anything even resembling them. I was there at the point in time that morning when it was decided that he would not go Aisne-Marne cemetery. He decided not to do it because of John Kelly's recommendation. It was entirely a weather-related decision, and I thought the proper thing to do.” (Fox News, 9/4/20)

Sarah Huckabee Sanders, former White House press secretary: “The Atlantic story on @realDonaldTrump is total BS. I was actually there and one of the people part of the discussion - this never happened … I am disgusted by this false attack.” (X, 9/3/20)

Hogan Gidley, former White House deputy press secretary: “These are disgusting, grotesque, reprehensible lies. I was there in Paris and the President never said those things … These weak, pathetic, cowardly background ‘sources’ do not have the courage or decency to put their names to these false accusations because they know how completely ludicrous they are. It's sickening that they would hide in the shadows to knowingly try and hurt the morale of our great military simply for an attack on a political opponent.” (X, 9/3/20)

Dan Scavino, White House deputy chief of staff for communications: “I was with POTUS in France, with Sarah, and have been at his side throughout it all. Complete lies by ‘anonymous sources’ that were ‘dropped’ just as he begins to campaign (and surge). A disgraceful attempt to smear POTUS, 60 days before the Presidential Election! Disgusting!!” (X, 9/3/20)

Jordan Karem, former personal aide to President Trump: “This is not even close to being factually accurate. Plain and simple, it just never happened.” (X, 9/3/20)

Johnny DeStefano, former counselor to President Trump: “I was on this trip. The Atlantic bit is not true. Period.” (X, 9/4/20)

Stephen Miller, former senior advisor to President Trump: “ A despicable lie ... The president deeply wanted to attend the memorial event in question and was deeply displeased by the bad weather call." (Washington Examiner, 9/3/20)

Derek Lyons, former staff secretary and counselor to President Trump: “I was with the President the morning after the scheduled visit. He was extremely disappointed that arrangements could not be made to get him to the site, and that the trip had been cancelled.” (X, 9/4/20)

Dan Walsh, former White House deputy chief of staff: “I can attest to the fact that there was a bad weather call in France, and that the helicopters were unable to safely make the flight.” (White House Press Briefing, 9/4/20)

First Lady Melania Trump: “@TheAtlantic story is not true. It has become a very dangerous time when anonymous sources are believed above all else, & no one knows their motivation. This is not journalism - It is activism. And it is a disservice to the people of our great nation.” (X, 9/4/20)

Jamie McCourt, former U.S. Ambassador to France and Monaco: “In my presence, POTUS has NEVER denigrated any member of the U.S. military or anyone in service to our country. And he certainly did not that day, either. Let me add, he was devastated to not be able to go to the cemetery at Belleau Wood. In fact, the next day, he attended and spoke at the ceremony in Suresnes in the pouring rain.” (Breitbart, 9/7/20)

Mick Mulvaney, former acting White House chief of staff: “These claims are simply outrageous. I never heard the President disparage our war dead or wounded. In fact, the exact opposite is true. I was with him at the 75th Anniversary of the D-Day invasion in Normandy. As we flew over the beaches by helicopter he was outwardly in awe of the accomplishments of the Allied Forces, and the sacrifices they paid.” (X, 9/4/20)

Trump very much respects the armed forces, and those who gave their lives for those who live today, now, this is not a day for politics, this is a day of Remembrance, respect.

Don your poppy and pay your respects to the fallen, and those who serve.

[xhxhxhx]

As I write this, it's Tuesday, November 5, 2024.

Today is Election Day.

I.

By federal law, Election Day is the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November. 3 U.S.C. §§ 1, 21.

Under the Constitution, the President is elected by presidential electors. Electors are appointed in each State, as directed by the State legislature. Art. II, § 1, cl. 2.

Unlike in elections to the House and Senate, where Congress may preempt State election law, art. I, § 4, cl. 1, Congress has only one power in presidential elections: The Election Day power.

Under the Constitution, "Congress may determine the Time of chusing the Electors, and the Day on which they shall give their votes." Art. II, § 1, cl. 4.

At first, Congress was lax. In its law of 1792, Congress only required States to appoint presidential electors "within thirty-four days preceding the first Wednesday in December," when the electors would vote. 1 Stat. 239.

Congress ultimately set a national Election Day in 1845. 5 Stat. 721. Their Election Day is our Election Day:

the electors of President and Vice President shall be appointed in each State on the Tuesday next after the first Monday in the month of November of the year in which they are to be appointed.

And by the same law, Congress gave the States a fallback option:

when any State shall have held an election for the purpose of choosing electors, and shall fail to make a choice on the day aforesaid, then the electors may be appointed on a subsequent day in such manner as the State shall by law provide.

That language, "fail to make a choice," remained in federal law at the last election. Act of June 25, 1948, ch. 644, § 2, 62 Stat. 672, 672 (previously codified at 3 U.S.C. § 2 (2020)).

The language invited mischief.

II.

At the last election, the sitting President suggested that perhaps the People had "fail[ed] to make a choice" on election day, and the States should appoint electors "on a subsequent day."

"The state legislature can take over the electoral process," the White House Chief of Staff suggested to a State Senator a few days after election day. H.R. Rep. 117-663 at 267.

The former Energy Secretary, noting that State legislatures could "just send their own electors," mused to the Chief of Staff, "I wonder if POTUS knows this." Id.

The former Speaker, meeting with the President a week after election day, sent a message to the President, suggesting that friendly "legislatures elect not to send in electors." Id. at 268.

Although the President spoke to a number of State legislators, id., and his campaign reached out to about two hundred of them, id. at 271, no State took him up on it.

Perhaps the President simply lacked the energy for a campaign that, as one of his copartisans suggested, would involve "hundreds of briefings for State lawmakers." Id. at 269.

Perhaps the President was simply too late. The President was only holding private briefings with three hundred State legislators on dates as late as January 2. Id. at 271.

That was weeks after the electors had met, on December 14, "the first Monday after the second Wednesday," § 7, 62 Stat. 673, and federal law had made their choice "conclusive." § 5, id.

Maybe the President just wanted to do something easier.

Like a speech.

III.

In 2022, Congress revised the fallback option.

The old section, 3 U.S.C. § 2, was repealed. Today is governed by 3 U.S.C. § 1, "election day," unqualified by any reservations about States that "fail to make a choice":

The electors of President and Vice President shall be appointed, in each State, on election day, in accordance with the laws of the State enacted prior to election day.

But the fallback option remains, embedded in the words "election day," 3 U.S.C. § 21:

As used in this chapter the term- (1) "election day" means the Tuesday next after the first Monday in November, in every fourth year succeeding every election of a President and Vice President held in each State, except,

And then the exception:

except, in the case of a State that appoints electors by popular vote, if the State modifies the period of voting, as necessitated by force majeure events that are extraordinary and catastrophic, as provided under laws of the State enacted prior to such day, "election day" shall include the modified period of voting.

Today is Election Day, and so long as nothing extraordinary and catastrophic happens, only today is Election Day.

Don't fail to make your choice.

[petervintonjr]

"I was working for Mr. T. L. Kearny on the morning of the day of the election, and did not think of voting until he came out to the stable where I was attending to the horses and advised me to go to the polls and exercise a citizen's privilege."

Good god, people. I sure misjudged a hell of a lot of you; it is obvious more studying is called for. Way more. As in, "lessons-that-may-soon-be-illegal" way more.

Since we're already fresh on the subject of elections, let's get right into it with a look at the life of Thomas Mundy Peterson. Born enslaved in 1826 New Jersey, Peterson and his family were later manumitted upon their owner's passing, and moved to Perth Amboy. Peterson married and worked as a custodian and general handyman at Perth Amboy's very first public school. Active in local politics, at the age of 46 Peterson had been a participant in a local ballot initiative to revise the town's existing charter; in this instance, whether or not to abandon their 1798 charter entirely and reincorporate as a township. (Spoiler alert: they did neither and became a city in 1844.)

On March 30, 1871, less than two months after the ratification of the Fifteenth Amendment, Peterson voted in favor of retaining the town's existing charter --thereby making him the very first Black American to cast a ballot in any kind of post-Civil War election.

But for one unsurprising anecdote about a white voter at the polling place crumpling up their own ballot in disgust at the sight, Peterson's civic action went largely unremarked-upon (in fact Peterson even went on to be elected to the local city council). It was as true then, as it is now, that local elections are where the most immediate consequences happen. But gradually over time, the symbolism and the larger historical impact of Peterson's quiet moment took on much greater national significance. In 1884 the community raised the equivalent of $1800.00 to present Peterson with a medal featuring Abraham Lincoln's profile in recognition of his milestone --this medal is now part of the collection of Xavier University. In 1989 the public school at which Peterson once worked (P.S. No. 1), was renamed after him.

====

And further to the above subject: Fascism is a hell of a drug, people. One really doesn't see it for what it is when it finally arrives --no concept of just what it is that you've invited into your lives, just because eggs are inconveniently pricey or because you'd rather your kids not be exposed to history lessons like this one. Fascism never merely visits; it takes up permanent residence. Our Black brothers and sisters (especially the sisters) understood that deep in their bones prior to the Civil War, during Reconstruction, during Jim Crow, and during the Civil Rights movement. The rest of us need to internalize that, too. The past 400 years aren't "just" Black history, as if it all only belonged to a specific segment of the population. It is our history. All of us; inextricably connected to it. If we don't study it and learn about it; if we pivot to the deliberate ignorance that fascism so gleefully celebrates, then we all lose.

Racism (and all its cousins: anti-Semitism, xenophobia, homophobia, etc.) has been emboldened, running unchecked --to say nothing of truly terrifying old-school misogyny. (And yeah, go look up the word misogynoir if you haven't already). Of more immediate concern we've got... what, 70 days or so? 70 days to recalibrate, retool, get at least some guardrails up. In that time interval, please reach out to one another --check on your communities and keep a close eye on local issues, not unlike Thomas Mundy Peterson. Offer what help you can spare. Lotta desperation and panic floating about; folks are afraid of losing a lot of things in 2025 and beyond --you know, minor trifles like health care, insurance, income, savings, civil rights, autonomy. They're going to be looking for a connection. If studying these Black biographies these past 4+ years has taught me one thing, it is that authoritarianism flourishes when people isolate --whether forced upon them or on one's own. The moment folks break that pattern and start connecting with one another, the bullies proveably take a cautious step back. (Notice I didn't naïvely use the word retreat.) So look out for one another and keep each other afloat; the bullies hate that.

In the meantime for my part I'm going to keep doing the two things I know I am legitimately good at: teaching and drawing. Therefore I'll keep providing this resource until I am forcibly stopped from doing so.

If you're new to this series, start here.