#deport these nuts out your mouth!!

[passionpeachy]

Why are these crackers trying to bother you girl, smh. Keep up the good work and say hi to your nonbinary prince for me🌹

aww I will, thank you 💗

[lhs3020b]

Post Mortem

I promised some thoughts on the nightmarish debacle that has happened. Here they are.

TL;DR I am scathing about everything. Everyone who should have helped us, failed.

It's the morning after. They've won. Continuity Remain is dead; there isn't going to be any second referendum and Article 50 won't be revoked. You cannot imagine how I feel right now, typing those words. However, I have never sought to deny reality (however lovely denial might be) and reality is what it is. We've lost a referendum and two general elections; we're finished. There is no come-back from this. The country has made a sick, twisted, greedy, myopic and stupid decision - but that's the decision it's made. I have nothing good to say for what happened, except that it did happen.

Well, let's look at the one tiny silver lining: since the ship has now sailed, I can indulge my deep, seething pool of vitriol for our collection of useless opposition parties. I'd held back previously because I didn't want to add to the circular firing squad. But they've all shot each other now and the corpses have largely stopped twitching. So off we go. (Before we start, I won't be writing about CUK/TiG/Change-UK, because they were just annoying, and I can't be arsed. I think we've all spent enough time on that shower of idiots.)

Here's the core reason for why I'm so angry: all this was completely avoidable. The media will, of course, spin BoJo's victory as a paragonic triumph of political conservatism. Like that infamous Pravda article from the 30s, on the Soviet constitution, they'll fawn over BoJo and declare him a visionary and a victor, a veritable genius of the ages, dripping with lyricism and wit. He isn't. He's an over-promoted buffoon who lucked into the top office due to the self-destruction of his inept predecessor, aided and abetted by a lying and sycophantic media - and, by a collection of opposition parties whose sole interest was in fighting each other.

Here we have the real core problem. The people on our side only switch on for fighting each other. There's little sign that they actually really care about Brexit, or the wider state of the UK. But pursuing partisan vendettas against each other? Wheeeeeeeeeee!

Let's think back to the summer, when BoJo was faced with stalling polls and a hung parliament. He could have been ousted then - but, of course, the Lib Dems were adamant that they couldn't countenance the idea of Mr Corbyn as Prime Minister. They'd had this tendency for a while - it's not new - but it accelerated and was nurtured under Jo Swinson.

When she was elected as leader I was initially a bit sympathetic - it seemed reasonable to give her a chance. Unfortunately, it turned out that she might be the most rightwing leader they've ever had - I actually suspect now that she might be to the right of Clegg. And she went and turbocharged all of their most self-destructive tendencies. I think what she thought she was doing was clawing Tory Remainers off of the Tories. This ran into two problems; 1) there weren't that many Tory Remainers to begin with and b) most of them are more Tory than they are Remain. So they mostly stayed put, and they few who did leave (thank you, to those of you that did) just weren't enough. Meanwhile, the hard-right tilt scared off the Lib Dem's left-leaning supporters.

A while back I predicted they'd lose seats at this election; I'm sad to have been proved right. I am, however, grimly-amused that Swinson herself lost her seat. The other problem with Swinson's rampany anti-Corbynism was that it partially demobilised continuity!Remain. A lot of people sensed that she was more anti-Corbyn than anti-Brexit; that also implied no plausible chance of an anti-Brexit coalition. Hoenstly, given how overt and personal the vitriol between her and Corbyn got, it's hard to see how it could ever have worked. And there's no point voting for something that you know is impossible. I do wonder if maybe this switched some left-leaning people off, or perhaps even sent a few ditherers back to the Tories (under the assumption that any sort of government is better than no government, I suppose).

As for the Lib Dem campaign, it was a mess. At one point their leader went on air to deny killing squirrels (yes, seriously, this actually happened). She got all excited about thermonuclear genocide at one point, because that's not at all weird and creepy, amirite?! Then there was the bizzarity that was "skills wallets" (don't ask - basically, the sort of policy abortion that happens when a collection of wonks are locked in a room with a boxed set of the West Wing and too much cocaine).

[OK, I'll expand this one. Briefly, skills wallets were a weird continuing-adult-education idea, where you'd have a pot of money that you could access at certain ages, apparently to take some kind of training or re-education or something. Why the ages in question, why that amount of money, and why not just make adult-ed free at the point of use, were never really explained. Then there was the can of worms that was additional voluntary contributions - what I took away from this was it was the adult-ed version of pensions auto-enrollment. I spent the last four years fighting a corrupt auto-enrollment fund, so I have strong feelings here!]

As for general themes, really, the LD campaign didn't have one. There was a lot of "Corbyn, THE MONSTER, the monster, Corbyn!". And, kind of oddly, there wasn't actually that much about Brexit. It actually didn't figure very strongly in their campaign. You came away from watching it all with a) a bad taste in your mouth and b) a nagging feeling that these people didn't know what they were doing.

To be fair to them, their vote share did go up, a bit - from 7.4% in 2017 to 11.4% yesterday. Which is, uh, not exactly dizzying. And it seems to have happened in all the wrong places, so they still managed to lose seats overall.

OK, we've gawped at the piss-stained ashes of the old Liberal Party, lying in state where some eggregious family-member has dumped them, on a roadside verge in the middle of nowhere. (Perhaps some enterprising squirrel has buried a nut amongst them.) Let's move onto the other vast, soul-sucking black hole of despair, also know as the Labour and Co-operative Party.

Oh dear god. The Labour Party.

The Labour Party is Britain's perennial second party, and nothing that happened last night challenged its second-place status. Their vote share dropped by 7.8 percentage points on 2017; this is what produced the Tory landslide, essentially. The Tory vote went up a little, by about 1 point, but otherwise stayed largely flat on 2017. This time, though, Labour collapsed. They lost a swathe of seats across the country, including places like Bolsover and Blyth Valley, which were previously rock-solid.

What went wrong? Everything. Basically, the stars aligned against us, in every single way.

First of all, Labour's campaign was dogged by the antisemitism scandal. And you know what? It was bloody well right that it did. The leadership dealt with antisemitism by ... doing nothing. Anyone who tried to raise the issue instead would get "Corbyn outriders" dumping on them on Twitter. Apparently we're suddenly not allowed to be concerned about racism on the Left anymore? Frankly, fuck that.

What they should have done was a quick-and-brutal party purge, perhaps early in 2018, when there was still time. Take some initiative, get control of the narrative again, and get rid of people who are only going to shit all over your campaign. But, uh, no. That didn't happen. I'll note that the Chris Williamson show in particular went on far, far longer than it should have.

Then we come to Brexit itself. Corbyn spent three years equivocating on the issue. OK, I'll allow that in hindsight, perhaps strategic ambiguity made some sense back in 2017 (though note that they still lost that election too). It didn't by 2019. But Corbyn was still trying to stand in the middle of the road as late as the summer - and by doing so inadvertently opened up political space for the (brief) Lib Dem revival, which in turn shunted Labour onto the defensive. And as I believe Paddy Ashdown once said, if you stand in the middle of the road, you get hit by traffic.

Eventually, the Labour leadership reluctantly adopted a second referendum position, but by then the damage was done. Basically, Corbyn had convinced Leavers that he was a Remainer, and Remainers that he was a Leaver. Labour appears to have lost votes about evenly across both Remain/Leave areas(!). In a way, he actually did unite the country - just against him. Ooops.

The rest of Labour's prospectus was a mess this year. Home Office reform was de-emphasized (arbitrary deportation by the Home Office is a huge concern amongst ethnic minorities). Drugs-law reform seems to have fallen off the agenda. There was no obvious theme to the campaign - surprising given that 2017's "For the Many" theme did cut across. Instead the "offer", such as it was, appeared to be a largely-incoherent grab-bag of spending promises, some of them with very large headline numbers. (The £58 billion for the WASPI pensions thing stands out there.) A lot of people simply didn't believe the country could afford it. You don't vote for things that you fear will bankrupt you.

Also, in a way, there's a parallel to the skills wallets thing here. Labour would have been better off, I think, just doing something straightforward like saying, "If elected we'll raise disability, sickness and unemployment benefits by £x per week, and we'll get rid of the ATOS fit-for-work assesments". It would have the advantages of simplicity, clarity and a clear political theme. Instead we got this weird fiscal machine that would produce some of those effects, except via a complicated multi-part kludge (which probably wouldn't even work properly anyway). I don't know how this came about; presumably it was an after-effect of one of the party's unending internal power-struggles.

Corbyn himself is a controversial figure, from his past associations with the IRA (more vague than the press would have you believe, but still a drag on the doorstep) to the perception of socialist extremism. Again, let me note that the "but he's a Communist, because that starts with 'C' too!" stuff is disingenuous, but this perception exists, and the Party have not found any apparent way to challenge it. Honestly? If your candidate is a ship that's holed below the waterline, yes it is horribly-unfair and all the rest of it, but you do need to run someone else. (I see no point softening that punch ; while Corbyn's been leader, the whole UK has voted 4 times, at 2 general elections, 1 referendum and 1 EU Parliament election. Every time, Labour has bombed. It's hard not to see a pattern here.)

Finally, the Labour Party itself has failed to ever re-unite. It's effectively two political parties in one - or possibly three, depending on how you want to look at Momentum. On a fair day with a strong wind, the Parliamentary portion sometimes manages to move just-about-consistently, but nothing else seems to have that behaviour. Honestly I suspect a lot of people's real fear about a Labour government is not that it would be a socialist tyranny, but rather that it would implode within about six months. Labour has lost its way amongst a storm of factional infighting. To be fair to Corbyn, this isn't new. Ed Milliband's desperate tenure was derailed by internal struggles. Even the 1997-2010 period had the ongoing squabbles between Brownites and Blairites (remember them?).

So yeah, Labour's campaign was an absolute shambles this year, and the whole country is suffering now for that.

Lastly, let's have a quick look at the Green Party. Where were they this year? With Extinction Rebellion making headlines, the Amazon burning, Australia on fire and weather records being smashed everywhere - remember that day when we had summer back in February? - it should have been the Greens' year. Environmental concerns are going up in salience - people are starting to get genuinely worried. And, uh, where were they? I can't recall hearing a single peep from the Green Party during the election. Whatever it was they were doing, it seems to have completely failed to capitalise on the moment. Perhaps they should have been a bit more visible.

The only people who come out of this with any credit are the SNP. I haven't heard anything teeth-grinding about them - though, that might just be because I live in southern England.

Oh, and let's take a final kick in the teeth, shall we? If you add up the shares of the votes received by pro-second-referendum parties ... guess what it comes to? Yup: 52%, versus 48% for the pro-Brexit parties. 52/48 - aaaaargh! Yet, the 48% had a narrative that kept their vote all in one place, so they won an absolute majority at Westminster. Ours got scattered to the four winds by several separate inept campaigns and several useless party leaders. Had there been a second referendum, we could have won it. But we never got the chance, because everyone supposedly on our side were completely, perfectly, useless.

Sigh :(

[taylorj8771]

The retirement fic

Here it is. The next part. Thank you to Visionshadows for all your help with getting this section as best as it’ll likely ever get. It really did a number on me…

Update: I was finally able to add the links! Thanks for bearing with me.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

—————————————

Part of the process of Sidney being approved as an Adoption Family includes meeting with Synia in her office roughly once every other week. They started having the meetings a week after his initial paperwork was filed, around the time their daily phone-calls ended. So far it's mostly been Synia getting to know Sidney better so she can determine how he may fit with children the agency has ready to be placed.

Much to Sidney's own surprise, he actually has started to think of her as more of a friend that he can share all of his secrets with. It’s an important distinction for him that it's a requirement he does but he’s genuinely enjoyed their conversations. They’ve met three times in the last six weeks, all uneventful talk about how he was raised and how he’d like to raise his own child, before she sits him down for a "serious talk". He's not sure what to expect but he sits somberly in the chair across from her desk and waits patiently for her to begin.

She shuffles a few papers around before clasping her hands together on top of her desk and leaning forward. "We received the results of the background check just the other day and we’ve made a few phone calls to the references on your application."

She looks a little like a teacher who's having to scold a student she likes, torn but clearly obligated.

"Is there something you left off of your paperwork that you would like to tell me about?"

"Uh…" Sidney shifts in his seat, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Sidney,” she pauses, “why don't any of your references know that you're married?"

A rush of breath leaves him like he’s been punched in the gut. He tries to swallow but his mouth is suddenly too dry and his heartbeat is pounding in his ears. The only other sound he can hear is his jaw clicking but it's like his whole voice box bailed and he can't make a sound.

"We couldn't reach your husband by phone, either."

"Geno's in Russia." He spits out the first lie he can think of. "He's been back there for a while, taking care of his family."

Synia levels him with a look that clearly says I was not born yesterday. "Taking care of family for five years, Sidney?"

He winces and shrugs all in one motion and lowers his eyes to stare at the floor in front of her desk.

"Look Sidney, I meant it when I said that I’m your friend in this. I want to help you get the child you want. I’m going to be honest with you, it does not look good that we only found out about this because of the background check. I need you to help me understand this, okay?"

Synia shifts back in her chair and waits patiently while Sidney weighs the very few options he has in front of him. There is only one choice, though, if he ever wants to have a family of his own. He raises his eyes to meet hers and asks, mouth dry and his voice cracking, "This stays between us?”

"Everything you say in this room stays completely between us."

Sidney nods once and clears his throat. He tries to figure out the best place to start their story, so she can understand it all — it’s so long winded, he already knows, but it will only make sense from the beginning and he needs her on his side.

He swallows hard and when he speaks again, his voice is soft. "First, it’s a sham marriage.” Synia opens her mouth and Sidney hurried to speak before she does. “Geno and I got married twenty years ago."

He shifts in his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He keeps his eyes down, hoping that the lines on the carpet of her office will morph into words for him to read like a script.

"None of my references know because we never told any of them. We never told anyone.”

He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly.

“Geno is from Russia and you have to know that Russia is nothing like the US. Most of the government is corrupt and capable of doing some of the most depraved things. The KHL, where Geno played his first couple of professional hockey years, is part of that. When he first came to the US to play they made a lot of problems for him. He had a lot of trouble getting his visa and was almost deported until ownership was able to break his contract with his team in Russia. When his entry level contract here was ending, we were all really nervous about what would happen for him.

“Geno had a very real fear of being blackmailed into going back. Even after we won the Cup, he was afraid they’d try to take the NHL away from him. If he had already accomplished everything he could in the NHL, there was nothing new for him to bring back home for them to claim as theirs.”

Sidney rubs his hands together and takes a quick glance up at Synia. She’s watching him with an attentive expression and he soldiers on.

“It was just after we won the Cup in oh-nine. A group of us were talking at one of the parties, completely trashed of course, and someone made a comment about how Geno could get a green card if he married an American. He wouldn’t ever have to worry about his old team doing something to get him back if he was an American citizen. We all laughed about it at the time. It seemed ridiculous. I mean, our twenty-two year old friend who barely spoke English finding an American to marry him?

“But it stayed with me through the summer. How my best friend wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than playing hockey. The fear that had been weighing him down could just be gone -” Sidney snaps his fingers. “- like that.”

“One thing you have to understand is that Geno was one of the best friend I have ever had and I was terrified of losing him.”

Sidney scrubs his hand down over his face. “I tried to find a friend that would marry him. I figured it was only two years out of someone’s life for him to get his green card. Everyone I spoke to thought I was absolutely crazy. One of my friends finally told me that I shouldn’t ask a favor of someone that I wasn’t prepared to do myself.

“And that really got me thinking. Gay marriage was legal in Canada and dual-citizenship there was just as good for Geno as in the US. It wouldn’t have been great if it had gotten out that I’d married a guy but at least it wouldn’t have been a lie for me since I’m bi. So just before training camp started, I asked Geno to marry me.

“He thought I was nuts.” Sidney smiles at the memory, his eyes crinkling. “I mean, I definitely was, but that’s not the point. I told him everything I’d been thinking about and after a couple months of talking it out, he agreed.

“I went home for the All-Star break and applied for the marriage license. A couple of months later when we had a break in the schedule, we flew up to Nova Scotia and went to the courthouse for a civil ceremony.” He laughs sadly. “I don’t even know who the people who signed as our witnesses are.

“We were just kids, you know?” Sidney looks up at Synia, his voice wistful. “I don’t know why we thought a marriage license could stay secret but the citizenship paperwork couldn’t. The marriage was his ‘get out of jail’ free card so we never divorced. Neither of us ever found anyone we wanted to marry for real, either. And honestly, I think we both just forgot over the years.

“I didn’t put his information on the paperwork because I don’t ever think about it. I’ve never thought of myself as actually married.”

Synia clears her throat. “And now?” She asks.

Sidney looks at her, questioning.

“Where is Geno now?”

“Oh, he was injured about five years ago and decided to retire. We still talk but he doesn’t come back to Pittsburgh often."

"I see," She says, pausing to take a long, drawn out breath. She looks overwhelmed, like she didn't expect any of that story to come pouring out and like she's not quite sure she should believe it. Sidney tries to keep eye contact with her but he can feel his face making all sorts of twitching motions that he can't control. Finally, Synia unclasps her hands and shuffles a few papers around again. "Is Geno going to be a part of the adoption?"

“Uh…” is all he says, thrown off by how she jumps right back to the issue at hand.

"Is he going to stay in Russia?"

"I don't–I don't know. We haven't talked."

"In five years?"

Sidney scowls. “No. Just not often since he went back to Russia. We're still close but after twenty years we don’t have to talk every day to stay that way."

"I have some friends like that, too." Synia smiles fondly. She lifts a hand to her face and scrubs it down over her eyes.

“I have to be honest, Sid, this whole 'finding out you're actually married' thing has really thrown me for a loop."

"I'm sorry.”

"It would've been nice to know about before filing your paperwork, is all. It's not something we can't figure out a work-around for but you're going to need to head home and have a serious conversation with Geno."

Sidney nods.

"I'm not sure if this marriage is considered dissolved naturally or if, because of the duration, it's still in tact. We can change your paperwork to say that you're separated or you can apply for a divorce if that's something you're comfortable with. I can’t say if either of those will hurt your reputation as an Adoption Family but they certainly won’t help. Or." Synia pauses.

Sidney feels like his heart stops beating in the silence. She voice lowers and Sidney leans in to listen.

"It's much easier to adopt a newborn as a married couple. Most women who put their unborn child up for adoption want to know that the baby will be going to a loving home with two parents. It would up your odds, if Geno was on board with this and here to help you."

Sidney's chest starts to tingle and warmth flushes his cheeks as he registers her words. "Do you really…?" He trails off, refusing to let his hopes lift.

"Is he still your best friend?" Synia asks.

"I like to think so."

"Then talk to him first, Sidney. And we'll figure out your options from there. Okay?"

He nods, swallowing around the hope he can feel building up in his throat. "Okay." Sidney stands to shake her hand. He’s smiling when he leaves her office.

[cybermoonmoon]

"Psalm of the Hungry Child"

The "City Dept. of Old Farts" thinks I'm nuts so sent me to a Shrink. This while deciding which Geriatric Gulag to deport me to. The doc' is a mid-thirty-something with turquoise hair, and 1980's jewelry. She asks how I feel. "Swell" I haven't foamed at the mouth or shit myself in weeks now. Although I just had a dream where I was being chased down the street by bed springs." She takes notes nodding calmly. Ms. Turquoise wanted to know what sort of meds I'm on, and if they're effective.

"A bunch, and more or less. I mean it stops me from jumping out of windows or slashing my wrists...again." 

She lifts an eyebrow..."Again?" "Yeah." I show junior my scars from various boyhood attempts. What a mess. I never got it right. Sure I learned how later but won't tell you as a public service. It was about this time them floating Angels clutching teddy bears showed up again. They came through the wall above the shrink. I decided not to mention them. I'm asked if I've ever had "urges of violence?" The Angels start weeping. "Violence...sure. I mostly dream of kicking the bloody crap out'a bullies’ neo-Nazis and the IRS." I warm to the subject by going into medieval detail. Vats of acid piano wire woodchippers heavy objects dropped from great height. It’s raining Angel tears. If she felt them she didn't let on. Anyway, I ask if she could do me a solid, and slip me some morphine. Love's that Morphine! She changes the subject wanting to know if I was abused as a kid. Gimme a break what kind'a question is that. You kidding who wasn't? It was like the worse parts of the Bible. You want details watch Jerry Springer re-runs. I mentions how I could use a pastrami hero about now. She looks up from her notes, and sez, "...you associate your memories of abuse with food?" I tell her I was hungry all the time as a kid. Mostly for kindness and safety. It was a childhood Apocalypse. What with getting beat up terrorized robbed and humiliated by bullies everywhere all the time. I decided to turn the tables...I do this to shrinks. "What's the worst thing that's ever happened to 'you'?" A pause then she sez... "I was raped" Silence....... Christ on a blind pony. ‘This' is the worst thing that can happen to a human being. I mean other than waking up an Orthodox Jew in Dachau in the winter of 1943. I got ‘done’ too. Gang raped. Three big kids at day camp took turns fucking me up my 11 year old ass. I screamed. They said: "...you can scream all you like". I did. Nobody came. Just like prison. Like them floating Angels I kept this to myself. After a bit my doctor tells me I'm not crazy. She sez, “I'll up your dosage, and throw in some Valium." She closes her notebook. 

Sez she "I think we're through for today." Stay Tuned. (Like all my stories this is part history part fantasy. The major shit happened. Like I say think of these as docudramas.  Makes it easier to live with.)

[cybermoonmoon]

“Psalm”

"Psalm of the Hungry Child"

The "City Dept. of Old Farts" thinks I'm nuts so sent me to a Shrink. This while deciding which Geriatric Gulag to deport me to. The doc' is a thirty-something with turquoise hair, and 1980's jewelry. She asks how I feel. "Swell" sez I. " I haven't foamed at the mouth or shit my self in weeks now." "Although I just had a dream where I was being chased down the street by my bed springs." She takes notes nodding calmly. Ms. Turquoise wanted to know what sort of meds I'm on, and if they're effective. "A bunch, and more or less."  "I mean it stops me from jumping out of windows or slashing my wrists,...again." She lifts an eyebrow,..."Again?" "Yeah." I show junior my scars from various boyhood attempts. What a mess. I never got it right. Sure I learned how later, but won't tell you as a public service.  It was about this time them floating Naked Angels clutching teddy bears showed up again. They came through the wall above the shrink. I decided not to mention them. I'm asked if I've ever had "urges of violence?" The Angels start jerking off over me. "Violence...sure. I mostly dream of kicking the bloody crap out'a bullies Tea Party hacks the IRS homophobes, and them butt-holes that make that disgusting sound with their teeth, and tongue." I warm to the subject by going into medieval detail. Vats of acid piano wire wood chippers heavy objects dropped from great height. That whole "Wile-e-Coyote" routine.  I think I annoyed her with all this because her eyes began darting to the closed door which them Angels were departing through. ...if she saw them she didn't let on. Anyway I asks if she could do me a solid, and slip me some medical dope or a few hits of morphine. Love's that Morphine! She changes the subject wanting to know if I was abused as a kid. Gimme a break what kind'a question is that. "You kidding who wasn't?" "It was like the worse parts of the Bible.  Neurotic Nun hell. You want details watch "Jerry Springer." I mentions how I could use a pastrami hero about now. She looks up from her notes, and sez, "...you associate your memories of abuse with food?" I tell her I was hungry all the time as a kid, and not just for food. It was a kid-hood Apocalypse. All bullied childhoods are. I mean what with getting beat up terrorized robbed, and humiliated everywhere all the time.  I decided to turn the tables,...I do this to shrinks. "What's the worse thing that's ever happened to 'you'?" A pause then she sez,... "I was raped" Silence....... Christ on a blind pony.  'This' is the worse thing that can happen to a human being. I mean other than waking up an Orthodox Jew in Dachau in the winter of 1943.  I got "done" too. Gang raped. Three big kids at day camp held me down, and took turns fucking me up my 10 year old ass.  I screamed.  They said I could "scream all I liked". "Nobody" would come. Nobody did. Nobody ever came.  Just like prison. Like them floating Angels I kept this to myself. After a bit my doctor tells me I'm not crazy. She says, "...I can't get you any dope, but I'll up your med dosage, and throw in some Valium." "Thanks" I say. She closes her note book. "I think we're through for today." We shake hands, and part,...till next week. Stay Tuned.  (My stories are part fantasy part history. The major bits happened though maybe not in the order presented.  These are docudrama's.  This format makes these things easier to live with.)