#five days is absurd for a working week five days is inhumane

[tevos]

////

[nicklloydnow]

“In Sisyphus, we can suddenly see Camus' basic mistake. Life, he explains, is "absurd"—meaningless. You get up in the morning, go to work, spend four hours in the office or factory, eat lunch, work four more hours, go home, eat, sleep, for five days a week— endlessly. And one day you suddenly feel a great weariness and ask: "Why?" One stage further still, and you begin to experience what Sartre calls "nausea," "sensing to what degree a stone is foreign and irreducible to us, with what intensity nature or landscape can negate us. At the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman. . . ." We manage to live with material objects by imposing our feelings on them, until the truth dawns upon us. You see a man in a telephone booth, and again you become aware of the absurd. All of his expressions are part of a dumb show.

This last example really gives the game away. For this kind of absurdity is untrue. Camus' absurdity is not reality seen naked; it is reality deliberately distorted or drained of meaning. To point to a reality drained of meaning, and then to claim that this example proves reality itself is meaningless, is a strange kind of logic. Camus' vision of the world is the vision of a young romantic, heavily tinged with self-pity and a sense of personal inadequacy. Nietzsche began his career in much the same way, by swallowing Schopenhauer in one monstrous gulp, and then groaning with indigestion for two or three years. But Nietzsche outgrew his juvenile pessimism, and created Zarathustra. Camus found the process of transition slower and more painful, because he insisted on clinging to the fallacy that "absurdity" (or "nausea") is a vision of the fundamental truth—life seen without illusions. His failure to see through the fallacy is typical of the lack of logic that characterizes French philosophy in general.” - Colin Wilson, ‘“Lucky” Camus’ (August 1979)

[coveredinmetaldust]

The discourse around the OceanGate situation is making me really fucking mad. You are getting a lot of posts like this one where people are decrying how inhumane it is for people to meme on the situation instead of grieving for the kind of people would work you to death if it meant a 0.002% stock price increase.

Yup, these fucking losers are equating willfully creating a death trap and killing 5 other people instantly to a car accident.

I don’t even entirely disagree that yes, it is tragic. I’d rather they didn’t die from an implosion caused by their metal death-tube crumpling in on itself because the arrogant shithead CEO decided that all these safety standards other subs adhere to were getting in the way of innovation. Obviously it would have been preferable to find them drifting on the ocean surface a day later shaken but ultimately unharmed.

No, I’m mad about how blatantly lopsidedly this flavor of moral outrage is always applied. You never see these people on Reddit, Twitter, etc crawl out of the woodwork to denounce the people saying “well he was no angel” when a person of color is gunned down by the police. You never see these same multi-paragraph posts decrying how immoral it is to say “play stupid games win stupid prizes” when this shit happens to the poor, disenfranchised, etc.

You don’t see it, because the people currently on their high horse are the same people who would call you a fucking idiot if you were on this submarine.

If the entree fee was $250 and five working class people were killed I can guarantee you'd see these same people joking about Darwin awards instead of saying stuff like this.

But no no, suddenly now is the time to stop victim blaming and start grandstanding while clutching at pearls. Now is the time to get indignant and accuse people not of feeling empathy and being inhumane sociopaths. There are now were entire call-out topics on Reddit where they organized and briggaded anyone who dares to say anything bad about these poor billionaires. Where the FUCK was this outrage during, I dunno, pick any one of the numerous fucking examples of brutality and/or exploitation occurring within the last three years. Oh right, these dopey fucks were too busy wagging their fingers at the victims and telling them to take Personal Responsibility™. Too bad, if only they were born rich—then maybe these paragons of virtue on social media would go to bat for them.

But you know what the worst part of this discourse is? I can’t quite put it into words, but it’s so blatantly fucking obvious to me that all of this is insincere—this is actual virtue signaling. You can just tell by the tone, the regurgitated talking points, the slimy smug indignation. This is false empathy over people they couldn’t care less about and won’t even remember in a week, because the point isn’t to being a compassionate person.

No, this to grandstand and get that dopimine rush by calling people out. This is being done to score points for some political ideology and Own The Libs/Commies/Socialists/[insert any slightly left of center ideology]. This is so the Panglossian shitheels of social media can maintain the status quo and feel superior by stamping out any act of defiance or rebellion.

None of these of these people seemed to care about how disrespectful this kind of disaster tourism is for the victims of the Titanic. (Victims, who, were mostly lower class since the wealthy were the ones who were allowed to escape.) They don’t care that these rich assholes were profiteering off a tragedy and making a spectacle out of visiting a mass grave. No, they save that smug, condescending, and cynical response for the people who call out these rich assholes.

It makes me want to throw my computer into the ocean.

Now, if you are one of these people I’m screaming into the void about, and you genuinely do not understand why people are memeing the situation so hard, you need to take a step back and recognize that this is, objectively, an absurd and cartoonish situation. This could have easily been a plot for an episode of The Simpsons. This whole goddamn situation reads like something thrown together by a room of writers who were trying to out “yes and” one another until one stopped everyone and said: “Woah woah, hold on. The CEO’s wife is a descendant of the Titanic victims? Isn’t that just a little much?” And then everyone else ignored this person and just kept fucking going.

In short: it was the perfect storm of absurdity, coincidence, hubris, tragedy, and stupidity.

But that's just a surface level explanation which ignores the context of the last hundred or so years. Ask yourself: "why are so many people so unsympathetic towards these particular victims?" Well, there are a multitude of reasons that contributed to how we got to this point and this guy does a much better job of explaining it than I ever could:

[fridayfirefly]

Virtual Sleepover

Read Virtual Sleepover on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 4 - Internet Friends

Quarantine had been rough at Wayne Manor, but for Tim Drake, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a bright light through it all. Tim was getting ahead of himself, though. The story of Marinette Dupain-Cheng started on March 20th, 2020. Panic over coronavirus was sweeping the nation. Bruce had gathered all of the members of the Wayne family into the dining room to explain the new rules of the house. No one was to go in or out. Groceries would be delivered to the house. There would be no superhero outings for at least two weeks. Tim didn't think his family would be able to survive, trapped in a house together.

So to preserve his sanity, Tim turned to the internet. There were hundreds of cold cases that he had put on the backburner and hundreds of forums and websites dedicated to solving cold cases. Tim turned to the most popular website and started dumping information, hoping for someone to show up and work through it with him. That's how Tim met Marinette. @MarinetteDC showed up on his page with a friend request, a wide range of technical knowledge about textiles and designs, and about seven different theories on a murder case Tim considered all but unsolvable. Her sleep schedule was just as chaotic as Tim's and she also drank a near-inhuman amount of coffee. Marinette Dupain-Cheng enthralled Tim. And when the chaos of his house threatened to make Tim lose his mind, Marinette became his lifeline.

"Can you hear me?"

Tim nodded. "Yep!"

"Nice!" cheered Marinette. Tim relished the opportunity to see her face, even if it was through a zoom call. "So what do we want to do first? I don't have class until Monday, so we have the whole weekend ahead of us."

"I think we should start with the iconic sleepover classic: truth or dare," suggested Tim.

"Alright. Truth or dare, Tim?"

"Dare." Tim was confident in his abilities to pull off any stunt she might come up with. However, his confidence started to fade as he watched a devious look grow on her face.

"I dare you to bake a batch of cookies - any kind of cookies you want - without using a recipe."

Tim blinked, trying to recall the last time he had baked. Besides a few times helping Alfred out in the kitchen, Tim wasn't certain that he had ever used the Wayne Manor kitchen for anything other than brewing coffee and heating frozen pizzas. "Could I have a new dare?"

Marinette shook her head, the grin on her face demonstrating exactly how much fun she was having, watching the panic in Tim's eyes. "I'll give you one hint on how to make them, but only one, so use it wisely."

Tim groaned, unplugging his laptop from its charger so he could move it to the kitchen. "I'm not actually certain I know all of the ingredients in cookies. Or how long you bake them for. I feel like an hour is probably too long, but I feel like half an hour might not be enough time."

On the other side of the screen, Marinette tried to stifle her giggles but was unable to keep them all in. "No offense Tim, but this is going to be a disaster. I can't wait."

Tim let out another groan. "Must you torture me?"

"How about you keep the laptop camera pointed towards the oven, that way I can tell you once something starts to burn?" Marinette joked.

Tim knew that she was teasing, but honestly, he knew he could use all the help he could get. Still, he wanted to preserve at least a little of his dignity. "Very funny," Tim said sarcastically, setting the laptop down on the kitchen counter.

"Start with ingredients," Marinette advised.

"What all goes into a chocolate chip cookie..?" mused Tim. He got out the flour, white and brown sugar, eggs, butter, vanilla extract, and three different types of chocolate chips that Alfred kept stocked.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

Tim cast a wary gaze upon his ingredients. It didn't seem like enough, but at the same time he couldn't figure out what he was missing. Tim sighed. "I'm ready to use my hint. Tell me what I forgot."

"You forgot to get out the salt, and more importantly, the baking soda," advised Marinette.

"Can I have a second hint?" asked Tim as he gathered his two missing ingredients.

"That depends on what you're asking," teased Marinette.

"I'm going to start listing measurements, and you tell me if it's too much or not enough."

Marinette pretended to think it over before replying, "I'll do it, but only because I want the cookies to come out edible, not because we're friends or anything like that. There are no friends in the Dupain-Cheng kitchen," said Marinette, her voice filled with faux seriousness.

"Lucky for me, these cookies are being made in the Wayne kitchen, and we're all very nice here, and we don't let Tim burn his cookies."

Marinette giggled. "You have a point there," she acquiesced. "Start listing your measurements."

Tim grabbed the measuring cup and starting approximating. "Two cups flour?"

"That will make about five dozen cookies."

"One cup of each type of sugar?"

Marinette shook her head. "You'll want a 3/4 cup of each."

The rest of the measuring process proceeded smoothly, with Tim guessing measurements of fluctuating accuracy (he correctly guessed that he would need two eggs, but his guess of a half-cup of baking soda led to Marinette questioning whether he had ever been in a kitchen before).  Once Tim got the cookie dough mixed, spooned out onto a tray, and put in the oven, they resumed their game of truth-or-dare.

"Your turn, Marinette. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Tim tried to think of a good question to ask. "Since you've now seen how abysmal I am in the kitchen, I want to know one thing that you're terrible at."

Marinette scrunched up her brow. "It's nowhere near as bad as you're inability to crack an egg-"

Tim winced a little, remembering the painstaking process of digging out fragments of eggshell after he completely shattered it in his attempts to crack it.

"-But I have really bad depth perception. I trip over every little crack in the sidewalk. I'm probably the clumsiest person you'll ever meet."

Tim chuckled. "And here I thought you were perfect."

Marinette grinned. "Almost perfect. Truth or dare?"

"I'll pick truth this time, and hopefully avoid being humiliated again."

"I'll go easy on you this round. When was the last time you lied, and what was it about?"

Tim combed back through his memory of the past week, trying to pick out the last time he lied. "I think it was yesterday morning. Dick asked me if the coffee I was drinking was my first coffee of the day. I said yes, but really I hadn't slept that night so I just decided to arbitrarily count my start of the day at the time I would have woken up had I actually gone to sleep."

"So how many coffee's had you had yesterday?"

Tim shrugged. "Since midnight? Probably three or four. I've gotten away with a lot more coffee since I modified the Keurig in my room to stop making so much noise."

"I'm lucky," said Marinette. "My parents sleep so far away from me that they can't hear my Keurig."

"Truth or dare?" asked Tim, continuing the game.

"Truth."

"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done because you had a crush on someone?"

Marinette flushed red, and Tim immediately knew that this was going to be a good story. "Once I accidentally sent a text to my crush so I stolehisphoneanddeletedthetext." Marinette rushed the last few words, so fast that Tim couldn't quite make them out.

"What was that?"

"I stole his phone and deleted the text before he could read it. In my defense, I made a lot of questionable decisions at that age."

Tim burst out laughing. "How old were you?"

"I was thirteen," admitted Marinette.

Tim couldn't stop laughing at the absurdity of her claims. "You couldn't have asked him to borrow his phone and deleted it then?"

"I was in panic mode. It was between steal his phone or destroy his phone."

"Those were your two options?!" exclaimed Tim.

Marinette blushed even more furiously. "It's your turn. Don't expect me to go easy on you this round. Truth or dare?"

Tim kept up the trend. "Truth."

"What was the worst thing you did at thirteen?"

Tim thought back to his days as Robin, and the many, many stories he could tell. In the end, he settled on one that Jason still brought up when he needed leverage over Tim. "It's not as bad as phone thievery, but it's still a pretty funny story, looking back on it. You know how I have two older brothers, right?"

"Dick and Jason," Marinette confirmed.

"Well, one night I managed to convince Dick to let me drive Bruce's favorite car. Now, keep in mind, I had never actually driven a car before. Surprisingly, I wasn't that bad at driving. I made it home without incident - that is, until I tried to park the car back in the garage and accidentally crashed into Jason's motorcycle. For years after that, Jason used the threat of telling Bruce about my little car crash to keep me in line."

Marinette snorted. "You think that borrowing a phone to delete a text message is worse than borrowing and crashing a car?"

Tim shrugged. "It's a matter of opinion. Truth or dare?"

With a roll of her eyes, Marinette said, "Truth."

"What's one thing you would never tell me?" It was the sort of question that could only be asked during a game of truth or dare. In Tim's opinion, it was this sort of question that made the game worth playing.

Marinette pouted. "I don't like that question."

"Too bad. The rules of truth or dare state that you have to answer it."

"Fine." Marinette looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Just as she turned back to face her laptop, her face lit up. It was evident that she had an answer. "Usually I let people learn from their mistakes in the kitchen. However, I will now tell you - because I have to - that your cookies have been in the oven for too long. They're going to start burning if you don't take them out soon."

Tim jumped up to get his cookies out of the oven. They looked a little burnt, brown rather than the golden-brown that Alfred would make, but they still looked edible. "I'll accept your answer, but only because you saved my cookies."

"Now that your cookies are done, do you want to finish up our game of truth or dare?"

"One last question," decided Tim. "And I'll pick truth, to make it easy for you."

"What's the biggest secret that you've currently keeping from your family?"

After Tim's last question, he had expected Marinette to follow it up with an invasive question. Luckily, her question had a very simple answer.

"Easy question - my friendship with you."

Marinette looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Most of my friendships begin through the connections they have to my family. Because of that, I've never really had serious friendships that my family wasn't actively involved in."

"It's not because you're ashamed of me, right?" Marinette sounded unsure of herself. Insecurity was a side of her that Tim had never seen before.

"Of course not," Tim assured her. "You're the best friend I could have ever asked for, Marinette."

"Good, because you're not getting rid of me that easy. I still have a lot to teach you about baking. I think we might try cupcakes at our next sleepover."

Tim laughed. "We'll see about that." He had no doubts that there would be sleepovers to come, and shenanigans involving baked goods to go along with them.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[eddycurrents]

For the week of 5 February 2018

Quick Bits:

Armstrong & The Vault of Spirits is a fun one-shot that uses Aram’s collection of wine to weave together the “true story” of Noah, the emergence of a previously unknown arch-nemesis, the secrets societies that continue to plague Archer & Armstrong, and the often hidden emotional connection that Armstrong has with his family. It’s really nice to see Fred Van Lente back chronicling these characters, even if just for one special right now.

| Published by Valiant

Avengers #679 tags in Kim Jacinto for art duties, appearing to be up to the challenge laid out by Pepe Larraz in quality of work on this book. We get the stakes of the match here between the Grandmaster and the Challenger, of whom we also get a history, and it manages to make all of the destruction and battles seem like mere whims of these members of the Elders of the universe. I suspect when discovered, this isn’t going to sit well with the Avengers. As only part five, this also makes me wonder what else Mark Waid, Al Ewing, and Jim Zub have up their sleeves.

| Published by Marvel

Black Bolt #10 has a brief crossover segment with Inhumans: Judgment Day, illustrated by guest-artist Stephanie Hans. It’s beautiful, and an interesting way to work in the events of the broader Inhumans saga into the current arc in this series. I like how Saladin Ahmed handles Lash’s plan to advance all of the interwoven spinning plates.

| Published by Marvel

Coyotes #4 closes out the first arc along the theme of upheaval. There are some interesting parallels put forward in the Duchess and Red’s situations, as well as the comeuppance against the coyotes who have been hunting women. As usual, Caitlin Yarsky’s art elevates everything. I highly recommend picking up these issues or pre-ordering the collection for April; Sean Lewis and Yarsky did something great here.

| Published by Image

Extremity #11 is the penultimate issue of the series as the final battle is enjoined. Daniel Warren Johnson mainly focuses here on the action and as usual the artwork is gorgeous. I’m going to really miss this series when it’s done.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Giant Days #35 somewhat skirts the issue of the fallout of Ed’s admission of love to Esther last issue for now, instead following on a visiting Sarah and Lottie Grote. It’s funny seeing Daisy and Susan trying to look after a kid, plus the interesting development that Daisy may finally be cluing in that Ingrid is absolutely horrible.

| Published by Boom Entertainment / Boom! Box 

Incognegro: Renaissance #1 kicks off a new mystery with the death of a black author at a literary shindig, with the police appearing completely disinterested in the case completely. Mat Johnson and Warren Pleece deliver an interesting start.

| Published by Dark Horse / Berger Books

Infinity Countdown: Adam Warlock #1 acts as a bridge between Guardians of the Galaxy #150 and, as well as a primer for, Infinity Countdown: Prime. Adam Warlock has been reborn and this issue gives us a summary of Warlock’s history and teases what’s to come at the end of time, as he enters into an uneasy alliance with Kang the Conqueror. A lot of this issue has Gerry Duggan recapping events and foreshadowing what’s to come, but it is highly elevated by the art of Mike and Laura Allred. 

| Published by Marvel

Koshchei the Deathless #2 continues to be a fun and exciting fable of Koshchei telling Hellboy his story. Mike Mignola does a great job of including some subtle humour into the telling, along with the absurdity of some of the Russian folktales (or the like), and Ben Stenbeck (with Dave Stewart’s colours) is again phenomenal.

| Published by Dark Horse

Mech Cadet Yu #6 has the kids face off against baby Sharg and it’s all kinds of awesome.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

No. 1 With a Bullet #4 finds new and inventive ways to ruin Nash’s life further, with weirdness continuing and lies emerging to cast her as a willing participant in her sex tape.

| Published by Image

Noble #9 is a kind of coda to the first two arcs, allowing David and Astrid a bit of quiet time and reflection before tackling the next stage in their lives. It’s interesting in their dealings with Foresight and Lorena Payan here that even when they manage to get somewhat free, Payan has to remind them that even their personal lives are still under observation.

| Published by Lion Forge / Catalyst Prime

Rasputin: The Voice of the Dragon #4 amps up the action in this penultimate issue of the series. Christopher Mitten (with colours by Dave Stewart) is on fire this issue.

| Published by Dark Horse

Rogue & Gambit #2 reminds me again that I don’t like Rogue and Gambit as a couple, something about them together just seems like nails on a chalkboard at this point, but I do like Kelly Thompson writing about them. There’s a nice mix of humour, action, and history that keeps this flowing nicely. It also helps that the art from Pere Pérez with colours by Frank D’Armata is amazing.

| Published by Marvel

Rose #8 gives a bit of history on Drucilla, with Felix giving excuses for why she’s grown into a selfish, evil monstrosity. It’s interesting to see the lengths we’ll go to in order to explain away bad behaviour of family members. Ig Guara, with colours by Triona Farrell, also deserves more attention.  Their art on this series since day one has been impeccable. 

| Published by Image

Scarlett’s Strike Force #2 advances many of the story threads in an interesting fashion, particularly Skywarp’s disillusionment with the Joe’s in fixing his teleportation and the burgeoning mystical aspect to Cobra. There’s also a humorous exchange between Raptor and Croc Master.

| Published by IDW

Spirits of Vengeance #5 concludes what was an unexpected, but excellent, mini-series from Victor Gischler, David Baldeón, and Andres Mossa. It was a nice mix of humour, action, and gorgeous art playing with some of Marvel’s lately underutilized supernatural characters. I know that they’ll likely reappear during the upcoming Damnation event, but I’d definitely like to see more from this creative team.

| Published by Marvel

Star Wars #43 brings the “Ashes of Jedha” arc to a close with a surprising twist. Also, some great art again by Salvador Larroca and Guru-eFX.

| Published by Marvel

TMNT Universe #19 begins a new arc “Service Animals” by Ian Flynn, Dave Wachter, and Ronda Pattison, as a well as a prelude for the upcoming Kingdom of Rats storyline in the main book, by Bobby Curnow and Pablo Tunica. It’s always great to see Wachter’s art, especially with how expressive his turns at Alopex are here.

| Published by IDW

Transformers: Lost Light #14 is mostly a Scavengers story, but unlike most of them, this one is no light-hearted romp. Like the recent Getaway arc, this gets pretty serious and pretty dark.

| Published by IDW

Transformers vs. Visionaries #2 gets into more of the internecine warfare and skirmishes between the factions of the Visionaries themselves as the Darkling Lords and the Spectral Knights battle for the soul and honour of their people. I like what Magdalene Visaggio is setting up here and Fico Ossio’s artwork, with colours by David Garcia Cruz, is beautiful.

| Published by IDW

Twisted Romance #1 is off to a good start. This issue has a trio of tales that largely mix horror/supernatural with love/sex/romance. The highlight for me is Sarah Horrocks’ piece that reminds me of the existential eroticism of Clive Barker’s work, but all three are worth the price of admission. Alex de Campi and Katie Skelly’s story is a bit of revenge on a cheating partner’s lover with a confrontation between an incubus and a succubus, while Magen Cubed delivers a sweet prose story of a monster hunter and the vampire who loves him.

| Published by Image

Venom #161 has some truly excellent artwork from Javier Garrón (with colours by Dono Sánchez-Almara and Erick Arciniega) as Mike Costa pens a done-in-one story advancing some of the series’ sub-plots while giving a fitting confrontation between Venom and Spider-Woman. With this issue sandwiched between two crossovers (the just finished Venom Inc. on one side and Poison-X on the other) it’s nice to see how the team make this wholly satisfying on its own.

| Published by Marvel

Vs. #1 debuts with gorgeous artwork by Esad Ribić and Nic Klein, perfectly capturing turning war into a commercialized sport. Along with the lettering from Aditya Bidikar and graphics by Tom Muller, it manages to have a nice European, particularly Humanoids, feel to it, despite not being particularly over the top.

| Published by Image

The Wicked + The Divine 1923 is quite possibly the greatest issue of this already magnificent series, and a must buy for the people who may have otherwise been missing out on the tangential one-shots. This one is meaty with story and purpose as Kieron Gillen and Aud Koch blend prose and comics, along with conventions of pulp mysteries, silent film, and more to create a ritual that helped shape the rest of the 20th century as a kind of prelude to the main WicDiv series. This is a thing of beauty.

| Published by Image

Witchblade #3 goes deeper on both Alex’s history and the mystery of the supernatural stuff going on around her. I may sound like a broken record, but again I have to commend Caitlin Kittredge, Roberta Ingranata, and Bryan Valenza for this series, because it’s got a great story and beautiful artwork.

| Published by Image / Top Cow

X-Men Red #1 is off to a pretty good start. The artwork from Mahmud Asrar with colours by Ive Svorcina are a real draw, as is the return of Jean Grey to the X-Men, but the breakout star is still Tom Taylor’s characterizations. Particularly of Honey Badger.

| Published by Marvel

Other Highlights: 30 Days of Night #3, Amazing Spider-Man #795, The Backstagers 2018 Valentine’s Intermission #1, Black Comix Returns, The Damned #8, Daredevil #598, Dejah Thoris #1, Get Naked, Ghostbusters: Answer the Call #3, The Gravediggers Union #4, Half Past Danger II: Dead to Reichs #5, Hawkeye #15, Iron Fist #77, Jazz Maynard #7, Legenderry: Red Sonja #1, Monstro Mechanica #3, Paper Girls #20, Rock Candy Mountain #8, Runaways #6, Scales & Scoundrels #6, She-Hulk #162, Spider-Man #237, Spider-Man vs. Deadpool #27, Tomb Raider: Survivor’s Crusade #3

Recommended Collections: Avengers & Champions: Worlds Collide, Backstagers - Volume 2, Clue, Incognegro, Inhumans: Once & Future Kings, Scales & Scoundrels - Volume 1: Into the Dragon’s Maw, Secret Weapons Deluxe Edition, Star Wars: Doctor Aphra - Volume 2: Doctor Aphra and the Enormous Profit, TMNT - Volume 18: Trial of Krang, Transformers/GI Joe: First Strike, Transformers/GI Joe: First Strike - Champions

d. emerson eddy believes that you shouldn’t be the problem, be the solution.

[sunset-wishes-upon-hill]

Pandora ch. 3 (RE-WRITTEN)

Pandora (1st/2nd of re written ver uploaded): FF l Wattpad l Quotev

Rewritten and updated on 15/10/2016

A/N: I’m sick - been sick for few weeks and got worse this week. Hopefully I’ll get better so I can focus on my stories.

Her morning started at five am. She would call her mum, speak about how she was doing and how they were doing and briefly reply to Bella’s texts, then leave by bus toward Pontedera where Jessica boarded a seven am train to Florence. Then she would head back to Volterra and arrive at her inn around midnight. Before she came to Volterra, she already visited the mainland and other tourist places. Florence had been the last of her list to visit.

The next day, she headed to the main street and toward the castle. The castle was always bustling with tourists and locals passing through to their work. In few days, she had taken up a habit of hanging out on the top where she could see the surrounding nature of Volterra. She had not seen Alec since the incident with the drunken man and he had made it clear that he hoped this would be the last that they meet. Everything about him – his posture, appearance and clothes – exuded indifferent detachment. Just like the Cullens’. But while the distance she felt from the Cullens’ were the kind people from well-to-do circles sometimes projected, from the designer clothes they wore, the expensive house they lived in and the fancy cars they drove, Alec appeared to be made to linger on a rainy day in grey November weather without being noticed.

Some locals said the vampires still live here. As in this castle.” A girl, few feet away from her, said to her boyfriend.

Jessica’s ears perked up, the Volterra’s past history with vampires were so embedded within its identity that, to this day, was still a subject of fascination to the locals just as it was for the tourists. Finding herself curious about the local legend, she tuned in to the conversation.

“Too bad vampires don’t exist. At least in real life anyway.” Her boyfriend mused as he took a snap of the picture of the scenery with his phone.

“But it’s really interesting though. The old lady at our villa said that vampires had red eyes and beautiful appearances. Some even had supernatural gifts. She told me that her great ancestors even met some of them! This group of vampires came to Volterra long time ago and promised to not harm anyone living here. It was said there was three leaders and guards that were gifted. One of the ancestors said there were even young vampires who looked like they were thirteen or fourteen!”

“Please don’t tell me you believe it those stuff!”

“Still, it’s so interesting!” She reasoned, “Do you know how to tell if they are those Volterra vampires?”

Although skeptical, the boyfriend was equally curious, “How?”

Jessica tipped the water bottle back, welcoming the cooling and satiating sensation down her dry throat.

“She said they all wore a unique golden V pendent necklace and a hood to shield their skin from the sun because they sparkle like diamonds.”

The water jetted out from her mouth and into evaporating bubbles as it floated down the tower. She broke out into a coughing fit as her throat chocked with the regurgitating liquid and her chest tightened as if she was drowning and were resuscitated back to life.

The girl and her boyfriend jerked toward her, startled for a second before the boyfriend returned his gaze to the girl with an absurd look in his face.

“Oh come on! Sparkle? Like diamonds? Even the girl over there thinks it’s so ridiculous she spat out her water. Sarah, I think you had too many wine yesterday.”

“It was vodka, you king kong!” The girl retorted, “The only reason why I drank so much was because you couldn’t!”

“I just didn’t feel so well yesterday. I usually have a much higher tolerance.”

The girl simply rolled her eyes, blew her paper cup and took a small sip of what it seemed to be a black, bitter coffee.

It can’t be that V necklace I saw few days ago right…? Jessica thought before she shook herself out of absurd thought that was forming in her mind, Come on, vampires? What is this? Vampire Diaries? Maybe I should cut back on alcohol…

As her cough resided, she took a careful nip of water again. Another thought snaked its way through her head. But why would he wear those winter coats in summer heat like this? And not get sweaty? Few times he touched me, his skin felt so cold…almost like a..corpse…

“Oh my god, Jessica, what the hell are you thinking?” She muttered, eyes widening at her own ridiculous speculation. Her mind seemed to be writing its own dramatic novel transcending rational and logical thinking.

Come on; think about it…the Cullens’ are ridiculously pale, even for people that live in a town where sun avoids to shine…maybe it’s just a family trait…they’re freakin adopted..maybe they’re a family of vampires…oh Jessica, what the fuck are you thinking? Are you that stupid? Wearing a hood and a V-necklace must mean they must be a vampire pfft, better get my tinfoil hat on.

The couple turned to leave and Jessica repeated to herself not to follow and ask them more about the vampire stories they heard from some old woman. It was a laughable notion to her and more so to them when they realise someone seemed convinced by what could have been said as jest.

Don’t follow. Don’t follow. Just leave it be. Leave it be!

“Excuse me!” Jessica called after and her legs were already moving, DAMN IT JESSICA!

The couple stopped mid-stairs and glanced over their shoulders as Jessica hurried to catch up to the pair.

“So sorry..um but can I ask from who you heard the vampire stories about?” Her cheeks heated red with embarrassment as the couple shared a look with each other before looking back. ‘Someone actually believes it?’ their eyes seemed to accuse.

“I’m really sorry for listening in on your conversation but..I’ve heard people saying this castle used to belong to the vampires and I really want to know more about it.” She babbled nervously, unable to meet their eyes.

“Oh..um..” The girl started then paused then spoke again, “Well, this old lady that owns the villa we’re staying at told me during the dinner. I can tell you the name of it and you can go and try to ask her about it..”

“Um, yeah, that would be great. Thank you so much.” Jessica mustered a smile.

“It’s called Villa Porta all'Arco. It’s literally like ten minutes’ walk from here.” She revealed with arm pointing behind her.

“Thank you so much again!” Jessica said as she made it down the flight of stairs. The girl and the boy looked at each other once again, thinking to themselves ‘Someone’s been watching too much vampire shows’.

Villa Porta all'Arco.. Jessica repeated the name over and over in her head. With the help of street vendor, she was able to find the place at the outskirt of the ancient city walls. The three-story townhouse stood in the middle of the surrounding forests, curtained by the large fronds in each side like nature’s columns.

She stepped forward then stepped back. Would she think I’m..a weirdo? What do I say? ‘Hey I overheard from couple staying at your house about your ancestors meeting the Volterra’s vampires, can I hear more about it?’ Jessica inhaled, trying to muster up the courage.

Why would I even think of vampires being real in the first place?! Jessica asked herself. Her mind answered with series of flashbacks with what was just a simple casual observations of Cullens’ weird behaviours and later, Bella.

They’re beautiful. Inhumanely so. No one can be that perfectly looking or sounding. Their hair was always soft and voluptuous as if every morning they had the professionals take care of their styling, their skin was flawless like a blank canvas waiting to be painted and their voice had such an alluring proponent that she often wondered how all of them were able to attain them. Was there a surgery for it? Heck she Googled them and turns out such procedure actually exist. It couldn’t be a passed on trait from parents, they were all adopted, so how were they all so perfect and beautiful?

They never ate. Ever. She always thought that the cheap, mass produced, over-processed cafeteria food was below their cultured taste. Their school foods weren’t the best, that she agreed wholeheartedly. But she had never seen them eat anything, even things they probably could have packed from home.

They never drank. Anything. Na-dah. How they can go eight hours without drinking was beyond her. Even if they did drink something away from prying eyes, they never did try to disappear from the centre of the attentions. The only time they did was when they went to hiking with their parents. In the rare time the sun did shine in Forks.

Sun. They always disappeared when there was a sun. Ergo sunshine was a rare occurrence in Forks; she tried to think of the time when they did made an appearance to school when the sun was up and she couldn’t.

Oh no... Jessica groaned, for all she know it could have been some gross, misled imaginations her mind decided to make while a sixth sense of sort in her said otherwise. Shaking her head, this isn’t right. Let’s just go back.

She turned to leave when a door opened and a soft, low voice spoke, “Are you going to come in, piccolo?”

Jessica slightly jumped and twirled to see a perennial woman. She saw that she was much older than she originally thought. Perhaps in her late 70s given wizened lines in her face, deep and saggy–– like the skin slipping down the skull underneath and her loosely tied powder-white hair was thinning and her smile showed that her teeth were rather yellow. Along with this, it could be seen that the lips, once beautifully full, were dry and cracked. Her eyes appeared milky in certain light and angle but they were gleaming with energy and while her face appeared world weary at times, she was active and alert.

“Uh…hello, I’m Jessica Stanley.”

“Ciao, you can call me Giada. Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, uh, nah, I was just looking around…” Jessica shook her head apologetically, “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“You look like you have something you want to ask.” She sharply noticed and opened the door further, “Come in, child.”

Jessica was startled by her insight before approaching the villa and entered the house as Giada closed the door.

“Would you like any drink?” The old lady asked as she guided her into the drawing room.

“No, thank you, it’s fine.” Jessica smiled as took a seat in the sofa across Giada.

Once settled, Giada looked at Jessica expectedly, “How can I help you?”

“Um, well, I was wondering if you could tell me more about the…um, Volterra’s vampires.” Jessica started and quickly added, “I overheard the conversation from this couple that was staying here that you told them about the legend of vampires and umm…”

Giada stilled and stared into Jessica’s eyes as if searching for something in her.

“People may believe it’s a mere legend but they are real.” She revealed as she carefully studied the change of expressions in Jessica’s countenance, “My ancestor have met them. Very civilized and adhered to strict laws they have created. It was said their beauty was so god-like that human men and women who saw them would fall in love with them.”

“I heard that they also had guards that were gifted?”

“Yes. Very gifted. Very powerful that one should not judge them by appearances.” Then she stood up to retrieve something from the locked glass cupboard. When she came back, in her hands were thickly bounded tattered book covered with dust and mites.

“My ancestors wrote accounts of their arrivals and of their chasings by St. Marcus. Although they suspected they were not chased away but went into hiding underground for the fear of the local’s reprisals.” She gently pushed the diary toward Jessica and she picked it up with great care.

It was written in cursive Italian, which she did not understand and she perused the pages when something loose fell out and onto the marble floor. Picking up, she realised it was various sketches of portraits. The first one was of two young children, about fourteen or fifteen, and they were angelically beautiful. The boy, whose lip was not as full as the girl but just as lovely, was significantly taller than the girl. Although it was hard to make out, they shared similarities one would see in biologically related siblings or twins.

“Ah yes, the youngest vampires in the coterie.” She said, noticing Jessica’s fascination with them. Something about the boy was familiar. His piercing, cold eyes were a stranger but his nose and lips sparked a forgotten memory.  

“Do you know their names?” She asked without looking up, still fascinated by the drawing.

“No. Only the leaders.”

“Can I ask how your ancestors knew them so..well?” Jessica’s hand hovered above the boy’s face and as Giada spoke, “One of my ancestors, a woman named Valeria, was a lover of Francesco Solimena, the painter who drew these.” Jessica horizontally twisted her wrist so that her hand covered the top part of his face. Shiver sparked down her spine as she took in the newly formed picture and realised why she seemed to think she saw him before. It was Alec.

Jessica sweep to the next page and almost dropped the old, frail parchments. Had she been standing, her knees would have gave out and collapse on the ground. The familiar and unique crest stared back at her mockingly as it gleefully confirmed her greatest fear. It was the same V crest that was hung on Alec’s neck.

“W..what is the leaders name…?” Jessica whispered weakly. The third and final parchment showed three men sat on the thrones as equal rulers. The one in the centre and on the right could not be any older than in their mid-twenties while the man on the left, looking utterly depressed, seemed to be in his forties. What shocked her was how beautiful they all were. God-like, Giada said and Jessica agreed. It was unnerving to see such perfections when the nature despised perfections.

“Aro, Caius and Marcus…and their friend,” Giada closed her eyes as if she was searching for the final name in her mind.

The fourth man, dressed just as aristocratic as the leaders, was standing nearer to them than anyone by the side. Rather than as their right hand man and confidante, it seemed to convey favour and friendship this man was bestowed. The parchment in her hand seemed to move and appear in two dimensions like seeing through a kaleidoscope tube and realised it was her own hand that were shaking uncontrollably.

“Carlisle I believe his name was. A doctor, he said he was.”

Giada studied the fear and dread on Jessica’s face wordlessly, even when her tan skin became pale as a paper, stood up and rushed out of the house.

Her legs continued running, ignoring the stares from the people she had pushed past unintentionally and the burnings she felt spreading through her body from below. Closing the door behind her loudly, she slid down to the floor in shock.

It can’t be. The old lady must be senile and she must be crazier to even believe her. There was no such thing as vampires. They could have been Carlisle’s ancestor. A great-great-great grandfather that just had scary resemblance to Dr. Cullen she knew. Vampires only existed in TVs and movies and fictions and the necklace she saw Alec wearing must have been some sort of homage to the legend. She let out a breathy, empty laugh and shook her head, “Yeah that must be it. Gosh what was I thinking. Vampires. Yeah right.”

Her phone that had escaped her pocket when she ran inside, tinged as a text popped up on screen.

Bella: What are you doing? :)

With shaking hand, she picked up the phone. She gulped. Then deep breathe then out. Sliding the text, she pressed the call button and heard the dialing tones.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Bella.” Jessica greeted, voice slightly wavering.

“What’s up? You okay?”

“Yeah, guess what I found out about today?”

“What?”

“Did you know there’s this local legend about these vampires of Volterra?”

A dead silent. Then stutter, “U-uh, n-no, really? Woah, that’s so interesting!”

Jessica imagined Bella biting her lips from the other side of the phone. She had always been bad at hiding and lying. Not that she was better, but she was more efficient and aware.

“Yeah, apparently there were these three vampire leaders.” Jessica continued and when Bella said nothing she added, “Their names were apparently Aro, Caius and Marcus. It’s crazy…but I saw a painting of them and there was a man who looked a lot like Dr. Cullen.”

The pause was heavy and palpable. The whole world seemed to have died. If one were to drop a pin in the next door, she’d hear it.

Please laugh and say ‘I’m crazy’ and that it’s all just a weird coincidence, Jessica prayed.

“That sounds cool.” Bella managed at last.

“Edward might know, you know probably heard it from Heidi or something. Or Dr. Cullen, that might be his great-great grandpa or something.” Jessica let out a vain chuckle.

Another pause. Shorter this time.

“Yeah, he might have.” She said.

“Hey, Bella, I gotta go.”

“Jess––“

She hung up and the phone cluttered on the floor. Jessica stood and limply fell on to the bed. She didn’t want to think anything else. After hours of tossing and turning, she finally fell into a restless sleep.

In her dream, she imagined the angelically beautiful vampires and the leaders coming to life and their crimson eyes boring into her blue ones. Behind them, stood Carlisle; melancholy look in his eyes.

The next day, she had been spending all her mornings on Googling what probably was the most bizarre and comical questions. On her phone, popped up a message saying she had seven missed calls from Bella.

‘help, I found out someone I know is a vampire’

‘what to do when you know a vampire’

‘vampires real?’

‘vampire history’

‘how to tell if they’re a vampire’

‘vampire weakness’

‘vampire’

There were so many myths and legends about vampires, each positing different weakness, strengths, characteristics and its origin. But most seemed to agree that vampires were unnaturally beautiful, pale, drank blood and had heightened strength and senses beyond human capabilities. And undead.

It was said that they could be killed or harmed by garlic, holy items, wooden stakes, silver and sunlight. Which sounded a bit silly. Because if, and if, Cullens and Alec and Heidi were vampires, which Jessica had her doubt, most of weakness written here didn’t seemed to affect them at all.

She knew Alice and Rosalie loved to wear gold and silver jewelries and Alec didn’t seem too bothered by the sunlight. And Dr. Cullen worked in a hospital as a doctor for heaven sake ––which was not a wise career to take if your diet consisted of only blood. Jessica was beginning to think they were as reliable as child’s fairytale. But Giada said that the Carlisle in the painting was also a doctor. Either Dr. Cullen was lying or he had an impeccable control over his..uh, hunger?

She’s been treated by Dr. Cullens ever since he and his family arrived in town. The first time they met was when she nearly died after slipping on a dog biscuit in the kitchen, did a somersault in the air and fell face flat on the marble floor, broke her nose and busted a lip bad that by the time she arrived in the hospital her hair, face, legs and white PJ dress were covered in blood like she had just came out from the murder scene. Dr. Cullen simply laughed and treated her. She never gotten the feeling he wanted to eat her then.

But would her finding out that the Cullens’ were vampires change her views toward them? They were weird and unjustly perfect but would that make her go and buy herself a cross, silver and a stake to protect herself if they did turned out to be vampires? Turn her back on them and be scared and afraid when she hadn’t before? If they were a vampire, they had so many chances to kill her and others but they didn’t. In fact, other than the weird serial killings of people by some wild animals or something, the Forks didn’t have any fresh bodies turning up at the morgue weeks after weeks. If they were responsible for those deaths, why then, why wait few years to start killing?

Does the fact that they were vampires mean everything they were before meant nothing? Can she let it defined them? ‘They’re vampires, so that mean they kill people and are dangerous and are monsters’? When they drank human blood, did they kill them or do some memory wiping magic and let them go their own way?

Jessica massaged her aching temples, groaning as her phone buzzed once again. If Alec were a vampire, why didn’t he kill her before?

Because they don’t kill those within these walls. She remembered the lady’s words. The last thing they want was vampires going around recklessly killing people in sight and flaming people’s ire. Because humans, no matter how powerless they may be against vampires, won’t just idly stand around and wait for their turn. They’re gonna die trying.

So did that mean as long as she stayed within these walls, Alec can’t do anything? Or Heidi? Would she be fucking stupid enough to try? Test out her little crazy, wacky theory of hers’? Sometimes she wondered where she gets this confidence from while sober. They say that there’s no confidence utterly foolish and inane than the drunks’ but she might have topped that level of insanity.

What if Alec isn’t a vampire and when he hears what she tried to do, he’d laugh at her? Call her crazy and a fool, as he liked to say. But as she glanced at the phone vibrating on her bed and the notification showing she now had ten missed calls from Bella, why was it that everything seemed to be pointing to this absurd, ridiculous notion of hers’?

Please let this be not true.

Grabbing her phone, the bag and closing her laptop screen, she left her room.

Her footsteps were languid and burdened with mix of emotions; trepidation, apprehension, nervousness with a touch of foreboding sense of catharsis. Her heart palpitated painfully against her ribcage as she arrived in front of the gate that would presumably lead to the castle.

‘Hey, it might sound crazy but I still gotta ask: are you a vampire?’ She repeated the script over and over in her head. Then a quick yes or no would be more than enough.

She waited for him to come. Like a prey waiting for its predator’s arrival to face the inevitable. He always seemed to know she was here and there doesn’t seem to be any CCTV around for someone to tell Alec, ‘Alec, the crazy girl is here, again. Kick her out would you?’

“Was my previous warning not enough?” The musical voice said from behind her.

She turned, slowly, to face the mystery boy in dark hood in a Midsummer Day. The boiling heat doesn’t seem to affect him and she could almost feel coolness emitting from him.

Okay, Jessica, start with ‘Hey, it might sound crazy…’ Her mind calmly began.

She opened her mouth and asked, “Are you a vampire?”

JESSICA STANLEY, I SAID TO BEGIN WITH ‘HEY, IT MIGHT SOUND CRAZY’, YOU DON’T GO HARDCORE STRAIGHT!

But the water has been spilt. The boy was still like a statue, and then glided toward her, closing the gap in two long strides. His movements segued smoothly that she could not call it a walk.

“What make you think I’m a vampire?”

“Well, they say vampires have different coloured eyes or something, right?” Jessica ventured.

He did not answer her.

“You always have your face covered.” Jessica reasoned wearily, “Show me your face.”

He was close enough for her to see the corner of his lip twitch upward, “You’re treading on a dangerous line here.”

Final warning, he was telling her. Turn around and walk away before you have a chance, it was saying. She had a chance to go back to her usual musing of him being a mafia or a cult member or an assassin. She might be happy and glad deluding herself with these theories instead of supernatural ones.

Jessica wanted to run, quickly mutter out ‘sorry, I’m drunk!’ and go on about her life in Volterra and leave quietly, treasuring her meeting with Alec and Heidi as one of those nice but insignificant people that’ll have little impact on her in the future as she lived. They could be those forgotten memories. The forgotten faces of the strangers she had walked past in a random, foreign street.

Her arm reached up, hesitant whether he’ll let her do what she wanted to do. When he made no move to stop her, she grabbed the edge of the hood.

“It’s your very last chance.” He said in a low voice that was too unfamiliar to her. It was strange hearing him speak like that. She was so used to his friendly tone.

Gulping down her fears, she slowly pulled down the hood until it rested on his neck.

Jessica blinked against the still ones.

Blue met red.

Jessica wished it was coloured contacts. A very expensive, realistic contacts. Heidi had her purples ones and Alec had red ones. Just a unique individual’s taste. She wished.

The face that stared back at her was the very same one in the drawing that she had seen next to the girl. Even after all these years and times, his delicate face remained unchanging and forever lovely than the finished painting in the Vatican. One would think he was an ordinary young boy were it not for the sharpness in his eyes that could only come with time. His eyes were striking colour of crimson glided with long, thick dark lashes. She thought the drawing did not do him justice because he was so much more complete and deeper than the elaborate strokes on a paper.

“…Am I going to die now?” It came out in a hoarse whisper.

“I can’t let you live now that you know who I am.” His arm reached out toward her. The same arm that saved her from the drunken man now bore out its claws to kill.

“W-wait!” She stepped back, “You can’t kill me. Not at least when I’m still in these walls.”

He stilled and tilted his head, “Where did you obtain that information?”

He might try to kill Giada.

“..B-Bella!” She lied, “She said you don’t kill people here.”

“That law doesn’t apply to those that know our identity.” He stepped forward and she stepped back until she could feel the solidness of the wood on her shoulders and rear.

She felt the tear gathering in the corner of her eyes. You’re such a suicidal idiot, her mind told her. It was all her fault. She could have walked away when he gave her the chance but she needed to know. She was so tired of wondering, wondering what the Cullens’ were hiding, wondering why Bella was acting so weird ever since she got involved with Edward, wondering why the cycle started again with Alec and Heidi.

And she got her answers that she sought out. With a price. Her life. Was she satisfied now? Happy? Or is it the ‘I told you so’ case?

“Is Alec even your real name?” She asked for what was probably her last.

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Vampire age.” She clarified.

He smiled and although she had seen him smile before with half of his face hidden, her breath hitched at the sight.

“I don’t keep count.”

“You’re not gonna believe me even if I say I’m not gonna tell anyone that you’re a vampire.”

“We don’t take any risk.”

We. That meant he wasn’t alone. There were others. Other vampires. In Volterra. The vampires of Volterra.

“Give me a chance. Please...please.”

“We do not give any chances.” His arm grabbed her neck, the other her shoulder. Tear slipped down her cheek in silent mourn as she felt his breath hover above the crook of her neck.

“Do you think…you can have my body sent to my parents?” She asked, staring at the large, mature tree over his shoulder.

“Your body will be destroyed.”

She felt the strength leaving her body as she surrendered to her inevitable death. Closing her eyes, imagining her parents’ reaction to the daughter that vanished and will never be found gripped her heart painfully.

“It was nice meeting you, Alec.” She said before becoming limp in his arm. The phone buzzed frantically in her pocket.

[tipsycad147]

A Hertfordshire witch-swimming

One day in 1745 in the hamlet of Gubblecote, near Tring in Hertfordshire, an elderly woman named Ruth Osborne went to beg for some buttermilk at a local farm. She lived in poverty with her husband, John, neither of them able to get much work or support from their neighbours. The Osbornes were shunned for the dual reasons that they were thought to be both witches and Jacobites (1745 also happened to be the year of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s rising). The farmer she approached that day, John Butterworth, sent her away, angrily claiming that ‘he had not enough for his hogs’, let alone for the likes of her. Osborne shot back at him that ‘the pretender would have him and his hogs too’.

A few months later some of Butterworth’s calves died, a disaster which he blamed on Ruth Osborne’s witchcraft. By 1751 Butterworth’s farm had failed and he was running the Black Horse alehouse in Gubblecote. He was also suffering regular epileptic fits and these too he attributed to Osborne’s sorcery. Thomas Colley, a chimney sweep and regular at the Black Horse, suggested that Butterworth consult a cunning-woman to get to the truth of the matter. A suitable Northamptonshire woman was invited to Gubblecote to advise Butterworth. Without naming the Osbornes, she identified ‘two of his neighbours, a man and a woman’ as the source of his bewitchment. This verdict was sufficient confirmation for Butterworth and led Colley to agitate for the Osbornes to be tried by means of witch-swimming.

Gubblecote Farmland at Gubblecote: somewhere near here was John Butterworth’s farm and Marston-Meer.

Britain in the eighteenth century maintained a kind of collective cognitive dissonance about witchcraft. On the one hand, the Witchcraft Act of 1736 repealed both English and Scottish statutes against witchcraft (the Irish statute lingered on until 1821). The Act stated:

No Prosecution, Suit or Proceeding, shall be commenced or carried on against any Person or Persons for Witchcraft, Sorcery, Inchantment or Conjuration or for charging another with such an offence, in any Court whatsoever in Great Britain.

The Act also made it an offence to ‘pretend’ to practice witchcraft. In line with almost every wealthy, powerful European state of the time, Britain was seeking to demonstrate its transition from Medieval superstition to Enlightenment rationalism. On the other hand, belief in the existence of witchcraft and its real effects continued in all classes of society, from eminent figures like Samuel Johnson the author and William Blackstone the jurist, to the common country folk in settlements like Gubblecote, who reflexively sought supernatural explanations for their regular misfortunes. And especially among those common folk, the ‘enlightened’ state’s apparent indifference to the matter of witchcraft, which they saw operating in their daily lives, was baffling, frustrating and occasionally infuriating.

So it was that, against the law of the land, the Osbornes were brought to trial by popular demand. There was nothing surreptitious about it either. Town criers in the nearby towns of Winslow, Leighton Buzzard, and Hemel Hempstead spread the news that ’on Monday next [22 April 1751] a man and a woman are to be publicly ducked at Tring, in this county, for their wicked crimes’. For the reality was that despite the repeal of the witchcraft statutes, popular trials of this kind were either tolerated or ignored by the authorities. In most cases there was little that magistrates could or would do in the face of popular justice, short of calling in the army, a measure reserved for more extreme circumstances than the persecution of an unfortunate couple like the Osbornes. The unofficial policy for these occasional outbreaks of violence was to let the mob have their way for fear of provoking something worse.

The church of St Peter and St Paul at Tring, where the Osbornes tried to hide.

In the case of the Osbornes, one person in authority did intervene. Matthew Barton, Tring’s overseer of the poor, who knew the couple, lodged them in the town’s workhouse for protection. But this did nothing to stop the trouble that was brewing and the Osborne’s location was impossible to keep secret. The workhouse master Jonathan Tomkins, ‘believing both the man and his wife to be very honest people’, took the Osbornes to the vestry of the church of St Peter and St Paul in Tring, presumably hoping that some lingering folk memory of the concept of sanctuary might save them from harm. It did not. The appointed day of 22 April came, and a mob, some five thousand strong, advanced on the workhouse. Having broken into the building, ransacked it (‘they were so infatuated, that they searched the very salt-box for them’), and found no sign of the Osbornes, they threatened to burn it to the ground unless the couple were handed over.

Tomkins reluctantly gave in. The illusion of sanctuary was dispelled and the Osbornes were marched from the church in Tring back to Gubblecote. It’s a distance of about three miles, and the route today is as it was then: down Tring’s High Street, along what are now Brook Street and Wingrave Road, past farmland and cottages, until Gubblecote is reached. It must have been terrifying for the couple, that passage back to the hamlet, knowing what was to come. They were held at the Black Horse, while Colley and the mob considered where the witch-swimming was to take place. Later that afternoon they were taken to a pond, Marston-Meer, between Gubblecote and the next village, Long Marston.

Here, under Thomas Colley’s supervision, the couple were partially stripped and had their thumbs tied to their toes, cross-wise, as was the protocol. They were wrapped in sheets and each was tied with a rope before being dragged through the pond. The procedure of witch-swimming was simple: if the suspect floated they were a witch; if they sank and drowned, then there was the cold comfort of knowing that they were innocent. The Osbornes floated, despite being dragged through the water several times while Colley pushed them under the water with a stick. But having ‘been suffocated with Water and Mud’, Ruth was unconscious by the time she was pulled back to the bank. She was brought to the Half Moon pub in another nearby village, Wilstone, where she was laid out on a bed by the landlord. Meanwhile outside the pub Colley was collecting money from the mob ‘for the enjoyment the ducking had provided’. John Osborne ‘being a lusty strong man, survived the inhuman treatment of these barbarous miscreants’, but Ruth died shortly after being brought to the Half Moon. She is the last known person to be killed in England by witch-swimming, though not the last to be tried in this way.

The Half Moon pub at Wilstone, where Ruth Osborne died.

In the days and weeks afterwards, the news of the events at Tring and Gubbelcote gradually spread through the country, eventually making the London newspapers. The enlightened part of society felt obliged to act. Thomas Colley was one of a small number of the mob to be arrested, drawing most of the law’s attention as the ringleader and as the man who had collected money from the crowd afterwards. He was tried for murder at Hertford assizes on 30 July 1751. Despite claiming that he had gone to the pond to save Ruth Osborne, there were enough witnesses to testify to the contrary. Colley was found guilty and condemned to hang. The sentence was carried out on 24 August 1751 at Gubblecote Cross, the crossroads of the hamlet. And belatedly, the authorities made a show of force. Colley and the hangman were ‘escorted by 108 men belonging to the regiment of horse blue, with their officers, and two trumpets; and the procession was slow, solemn, and moving’.

Colley had made a signed declaration while in Hertford Gaol and this was read out before the execution. It is unclear how much of this was sincere and how much had been dictated by the priest in attendance, but no doubt Colley was by this time regretting his actions:

Good people: I beseech you all to take warning by an unhappy man’s suffering; that you be not deluded into so absurd and wicked a conceit, as to believe that there are any such beings upon earth as witches. It was that foolish and vain imagination, heightened and inflamed by the strength of liquor, which prompted me to be instrumental (with others as mad brained as myself) in the horrid and barbarous murder of Ruth Osborne, the supposed witch, for which I am now deservedly to suffer death. I am fully convinced of my former error, and with the sincerity of a dying man, declare that I do not believe there is such a thing in being as a witch; and pray God that none of you, thro’ a contrary persuasion, may hereafter be induced to think, that you have a right in any shape to persecute, much less endanger the life of a fellow creature. I beg of you all to pray to God to forgive me, and to wash clean my polluted soul in the blood of Jesus Christ, my Saviour and Redeemer. So exhorteth you all, the dying Thomas Colley.

Despite this, the sympathies of the local population still seem to have been very much with Colley and against the Osbornes. According to one witness:

The infatuation of most of the people in that part of the county was such, that they would not be seen near the place of execution, insisting that it was a hard case to hang a man for destroying an old woman that had done so much damage by her witchcraft. It was said, he was to have been executed a week sooner, but when the proper officers came to convey him from the goal, a prodigious mob assembled and would not suffer him to be taken out of prison.

Gubblecote Cross, where Thomas Colley was hung and gibbeted. The house behind the trees is from the 16C and so was standing at the time of the execution.

Colley was not only executed at Gubblecote Cross but his corpse was gibbeted (hung in chains) there for months afterwards. There is almost inevitably a ghost story associated with him, and it was said that a large black dog came to haunt the lanes around Gubbecote. Nothing, though, was ever heard of again from Ruth Osborne.

PS Most of the factual information in this post is gleaned from the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography entry on Ruth Osborne and an article from the 1751 Monthly Chronologer, which is reprinted on the Tring Local History Museum website, and from which the illustration at the top of this post, of the Osbornes’ ducking, is taken.

https://theseislands.blog/2018/09/30/gubblecote-witch-swimming/

[imdrunkandreviewingshit-blog]

Sober Review of "Okja": Be Careful What You Eat

SPOILERS ABOUND

              Netflix’s identity is defined by television. The streaming service has taken a drastic shift from its early days, where it started as a movie delivery service. In the current internet culture, binge watching is king, making television the heir apparent. The “flix” have migrated on mostly to other streaming services. To compensate, Netflix has churned out original content at an incredible rate, but besides Cary Fukunaga’s critically acclaimed Beasts of No Nation, they have yet to produce a film that can capture a wider audience while also holding up critically (I’m looking at you, The Ridiculous 6).

              Which is why Okja, Netflix’s latest original film, is so important for the future of the company. Delivering a hit that deals with popular social issues, featuring some of the best actors in Hollywood, and directed by an acclaimed foreign director would be a tremendous feather in their cap. In recent weeks, the marketing and buzz for this film have hit a fever pitch online and it seemed poised to usher in a new age of filmmaking for Netflix. And is it a hit?

…eh.

              Is it a good movie? Yes.

              Did I like it? Not really.

              Okja, directed by South Korea’s Bong Joon-ho, is the story of a girl and her superpig. A tale as old as time, right? No one can accuse this film of lacking originality. Okja, the titular swine, is one of twenty-six superpigs distributed across the world by the Mirando Corporation, headed up by the brace-faced Lucy Mirando, to become a new major food source that is more plentiful and eco-friendly. After a visit by the eccentric scientific personality Dr. Johnny Wilcox, portrayed by Jake Gyllenhaal, Okja is taken from her home and her owner Mija (Ahn Seo-hyun). After a run-in with the “distinguished” Animal Liberation Front, led by the honor-bound Jay (Paul Dano), and a mistranslation by one of their members, Mija is tricked into sending her friend to New York, but then engages in a plot to free her friend before she is sent to the slaughter and expose the Mirando Corporation’s inhumane treatment of the superpigs.

              So, what works about this movie?

              The best thing about Okja is the energy behind the characters. Most characters are engaging, be it the dual performances of Tilda Swinton or the various members of the ALF. Even the characters with the smallest of roles, such as Mr. Mundo or the exasperated truck driver of the Mirando Corporation, have an innate energy and likability behind them. A pleasant surprise was Steven Yeun as Kay, the misguided disciple of Jay, who features the only real character development in the movie. Ahn Seo-hyun holds the film down with her simple yet determined portrayal of Mija.

              Okja herself is wonderfully captured. Some shots felt uncanny, with the CGI perhaps not being up to snuff when Okja was farther in the background. However, Andy Serkis works some magic here yet again with the facial expressions and overall body language of Okja. You see her smile, you can tell when she’s afraid, you know when she’s been traumatized. Her tears feel real to you. For a movie that doesn’t spend a whole lot of time developing the relationship between Mija and Okja, you wholeheartedly believe in it, partially due to Mija’s determination but also largely in part to the viewer’s being invested in Okja. It makes it all the worse when Okja undergoes her hardships.

              But that is because these superpigs tug at your heartstrings. They are smart, they have emotion, they are self-sacrificing for those they love, and they make you question factory farming. That last point sounds like a lesser point at first. I mean, of course I know it’s a terrible thing, but I still go out and eat a burger at a restaurant once a week. But when Mija, Jay, and Kay rush into the slaughterhouse through a field of superpigs, and when Okja is led up the ramp to the slaughter, my heart dropped when I thought it would be the end. The most emotional moment of the film comes when two parents lift the fence and toss their newborn child underneath in the hopes of rescuing it. You can’t help but sit back and wonder at what point this may happen with genetically modified organisms, and you also wonder whether it is worth the allure of ending hunger and reducing the carbon footprint. The film never judges the public for eating the products produced from these factory farms, but it does hope that you think about when enough is enough, which is one of the film’s great successes.

              Before mentioning the film’s flaws, I must address what I feel will be one of the more dividing aspects of this movie: the Nicolas Cage-like performance (which I mean in the most endearing sense) of Jake Gyllenhaal. Wilcox embodies what is the film’s biggest flaw: a wildly inconsistent tone. Every time Wilcox is on screen, the movie shifts to a surrealist comedy. Gyllenhaal speaks solely with his eyes wide and voice an octave higher than natural, a cartoon character come to life. His personality is great for the screen, but when the cameras are down and Wilcox is interacting with board members or drunkenly tormenting Okja, the magic is gone. He becomes a sad man, all too aware of the fact that time has passed him by. It’s a character that could be interesting but ends up feeling very out of place in the movie. He has no significant role in the plot and he disappears for the last twenty-five minutes of the movie, where it seemed that there could be some sort of closure in a revisit. What Wilcox does do, however, is make you buy that the superpig is one of the least strange aspects of the movie. As viewers, we all buy into Okja while we raise an eyebrow to this man who is just a slightly hyperbolic version of popular animal scientists that we have all seen before. In this sense, I found Gyllenhaal’s performance to be pitch perfect.

              That does not save the tone from feeling wildly uneven throughout the film. A scene focusing on the ALF watching Okja’s traumatizing visit to the laboratory in which she was created is particularly disjointed, as is the ending to Mija’s first chase to reclaim Okja (hint: it ends with poop). Bong is no stranger to mixing in comic moments with serious content, as in his critical-darling Snowpiercer, but here, the transitions feel more disjointed. It’s hard to go from a rape, to a beating, and then to quips and more antics from Dr. Wilcox, and though not every attempt to juggle the varying tones is a failure, I feel that Bong either needed to further embrace absurdity or bring some characters back down to Earth.

              For a film that wants its audience to think more about the production of its food, we get very little of a view behind the curtain. I feel that Tilda Swinton was wasted as the CEO of the Mirando Corporation (and to a lesser extent, Giancarlo Esposito as her number two). Tilda plays the twins Mirando, but neither has enough screen time to fully flesh out. In fact, I think that Nancy, the twin that takes over in the final act and has much less screen time, is the much more compelling figure, as it gives Swinton a lovely air of excess with which she doesn’t hesitate to chew scenery. However, both characters are by far the most forgettable of the main cast. For a film that has such an inoffensive lens into our obsession with factory farming, I expected to learn more about these figures and why they operated in the food industry the way that they did. However, only Nancy gives any sort of introspection with her curt summary of society: “If it’s cheap, they’ll eat it.”

              Okja is not the hit that Netflix needs to cement itself as a serious film production company. However, it will find an audience with its solid characters, eccentric energy, and lovable superpig. It is encouraging to see Netflix take these risks, even if they aren’t a home run. Okja is much like the eco-friendly vegan restaurant down the block. It’s important, it’s good that it’s there, and some people might love it, but if you’re like me, it’s not anywhere you’re going to want to revisit any time soon.

[hollygopossumlovesj2]

Dean Winchester’s Lyrics, Part 2

Warnings: Adult language, violence, mentions of death

Summary: Y/N takes charge of the situation and helps Dean as much as she can. But will it be enough?

Tagging: @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyx, @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @jensen-gal, @theoneandonlysaucymo, @27bmm, @callmesatansprincess

a/n- This is the second part of my addition to @creatively-charlie‘s Anniversary Writing Challenge. I hope this is entertaining and please let me know what ya think!

Part 1

In a very uncoordinated fashion, you slowly guided Dean to sit into the closest chair. Which was no easy task considering Dean had been hunting most of his life. The man was a 38 year old wall of solid muscle, skin and bone. He was hot to the touch despite the chill of the rain on his skin. “Do you remember the words to the hex, Dean? Maybe we can look it up?” His head lolled back like he lacked the strength to hold it up any more, making his voice croak. “I ‘member s'me.”

Pretty soon Dean would be completely useless, but you couldn’t deal with it here. Casey wouldn’t understand and your life here would be blown. “Hey Case!” You yelled, stepping a few feet away from Dean so your voice carried into the kitchen. You startled a little when Dean’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he tried to stand up. “Dean, stay put.” You pointed at him sternly before walking a few feet closer to the kitchen door. “Casey!” Dean struggled to stand, and when he finally succeeded he nearly brained himself on the counter. When you caught him against you just in time you could hear him muttering but you couldn’t make out the words. “Dean, seriously. What the hell?” You muttered back at him, half worried and half scared out of your mind. You were out of practice for this shit. You weren’t used to living by the seat of your pants in life or death situations anymore! You’d guided him the short distance back to the chair to sit down before you tilted his face up with a few fingers beneath his chin. “D'ne leave me. D'n go.” You’d seen Sam’s puppy eyes, but right now Dean was giving him a run for his money. “Pl’s?” The look was familiar, and you knew why. It was the look Dean always got when he was at the end of his rope, struggling to put one foot in front of the other. He never shed this many walls without a huge disaster and nearly lethal amounts of social lubricant. You studied him a moment longer, trying to wrap your head around this. If Dean hadn’t been hexed he probably would have died trying to get his brother back rather than coming to find you. Whatever hex this witch had used was turning out to be rather catastrophic. “Yeah, okay, Dean. I won’t leave you.” He took your hand and kissed the top of it, leaving it there and leaning into it. “Umm, I guess you need to get his drunk ass home, huh?” Casey’s voice startled you out of the puddle you’d become but you tamped it down. If you showed any weakness Casey would be all over this and you’d have to tell him everything. “Yeah, I’m sorry.” You turned your attention to Casey, hoping that you were looking as sincere as you felt. “I can manage the trash when I get here in the morning.” You offered, but Casey just shook his head. “No worries. Lord knows you’ve bailed me out more than once. Just get him outta here. He’s messing up the floor.” And with a dismissive wave, Casey disappeared behind the door again. That left you to wrangle an increasingly uncooperative Dean into your compact car. He’d only mustered up enough energy to grumble a few times as his knees still dug into the dash board even though the seat was back as far as it could go. “You try living on coffee house tips, see what kind of car you can afford.” You grumbled back before throwing your car into reverse and then maneuvering out of the parking lot. Somewhere along the way, Dean had slipped his hand over yours. ———-—— If you had thought getting Dean into the car had been rough, getting him out and up the stairs to your second story apartment was a whole new level. But, now he was sitting on your covered toilet seat while you pulled out your first aid kit, dripping muddy water every where. It surprised you to see that you’d actually still kept it well stocked. What a little obsessive compulsive former hunter you were. “Okay, we’re gonna kill two birds with one stone.” You were more or less talking to yourself now. Dean would only acknowledge your existence if you made direct eye contact or tried to leave the room. You were not looking forward to a time that you needed to use the bathroom. You got an absurd picture of when you’d had a cat and it had pawed and meowed at the bathroom door until you’d reappeared. Surely Dean wouldn’t be that neurotic? You’d grabbed paper and a pen, resting them on the bathroom counter within reach. Dean had given you an open eyed, innocent look full of worry. “We’re not actually killing birds.” You amended and he seemed satisfied with that. Oh God it was going to be a long night. You’d cleaned him up the best you could, stuffing him into your ex’s t shirt and sweat pants since his clothes had been shredded. You’d been able to write down a few of the words that Dean recalled in the hex while you’d cleaned him up, but there weren’t very many words to go by. His injuries were gone by the time you’d wrangled his shirt from him. Only morbid splashes of blood here and there remained. Oh the things you would give just to be able to call up Bobby to brainstorm with. Or even Sam to help you think this thru. Maybe there was a chance that he might have gotten away? You made a mental note to check Dean’s pockets for his phone. Dean had obediently taken the thermometer into his mouth, shocking the hell out of you. The last time you’d battled Dean to check his temperature the thermometer had been broken, sending the toxic mercury all over the counter. You huffed out a sigh, trying to expel some of the worry getting trapped in your chest. You were feeling wound tight with stress. After you helped Dean figure this thing out and got Sam back, you still had work tomorrow. You still had a 5,000 word essay due in two days that you’d planned on starting tonight. Obviously hunting didn’t mix with going to college. The thermometer beeped and as you took it from him to read he sagged against the wall. His expression was absolutely pitiful. His eyes glassy as they looked up to you like he was begging you to fix it. You ran your fingers through his hair and he practically purred, pushing up a little into your hand. “101.5… Not terrible, but enough to make you miserable.” Dean nodded his head in agreement, the pout on his lips making him look all of five instead of a hardened hunter. He’d dutifully taken the Tylenol you’d offered him and took charge of the ice pack when you handed it to him. After a little persuasion you managed to coax him into bed. You tucked him in beneath the duvet, and sat up next to him while you searched the for the right spell with your laptop. An hour in and you were getting desperate and talking to yourself. “I can’t find anything… this could take weeks and what if-” Dean’s sleep roughened voice cut you off, still slurring a little… But maybe it was getting a little better? “S'not really gonna kill me.” You swallowed, letting a chill of fear run its course before asking your question. “What do you mean it’s not 'really’ going to kill you?” But he never answered. You assumed that he’d gratefully fallen asleep and that’s when you finally got up to clean up the mess he’d made in your bathroom and search for clues in his still soaking clothes. There was no phone and no clues. At a loss, you picked up your own phone and dialed a familiar number. They’d probably trashed their phones a million times over in the past couple of years you’d been away. You knew it was a long shot, but with only a few words from a spell and no real references to research into, you were a lot desperate. There was no telling what an angry witch would have hit him with. “Hello?” Even tense and suspicious, Sam’s voice was a balm. “Oh thank fucking Christ, Sam!” You took a much needed breath, “Its Y/N, I have Dean.” You heard him let out a breath of relief, and probably a few muffled curses too. “Okay, I’m headed towards you.” He confirmed and you heard the familiar growl of the Impala. It hadn’t occurred to you to ask Dean where his car was. He must have walked from where he’d been hexed. “How is he?” “Sleeping. He showed up at the coffee house soaking wet and covered in cuts. He’s acting like he’s drunk and he won’t let me out of his sight!” As you spoke to Sam you peeped in the doorway to make sure Dean was still asleep. “Makes sense. He’s been hit with a pretty nasty curse, but I don’t think it’s gonna kill him. The coven we came to investigate turned out to be white witches. They just want him to suffer like they did over their friend. They were bating hunters in the area and hexing them.” “Well that’s good to know. Wait, how the hell are you gonna find me without the address?” “Uh, gps on your phone? You didn’t think Dean was going to let you go quietly, did you? There’s also the LoJack on your car that I’m probably not supposed to mention…” You plopped down on the closest surface that just happened to be your kitchen counter.  "What?“ Last time you’d been around Dean hadn’t exactly been a happy moment. So, the fact that he might still give two shits about you was a shock. Then, you heard a loud thud and an inhuman scream. "Shit. Dean’s awake!” “Okay, don’t panic.” “Don’t panic? Are you kidding me? His chest is in shreds! He’s gonna… Dean? Dean?!” “Y/N it’s okay! It’s just the spell.” “I don’t care if it’s just a fucking spell! It’s…” “…” “…” “…” “Did it stop?” “…” “Y/N, did it stop?!” “Yeah, there’s just blood now. He’s… The cuts are mostly gone already… How..?” “Good. Good. I think the spell is just making him relive his death. All of his deaths.” When Sam magically found his way to your apartment door, you were a wreck. You’d given Dean a cursory clean up, glad that it was just the shirt that was ruined, still baffled that his skin wasn’t in shreds like it had been twenty minutes earlier. You’d contemplated putting plastic down on your bed, but there was no point. The sheets and duvet were ruined anyway. So, you helped a mostly unconscious Dean into the clean side of the bed and hoped for the best. Now, in front of Sam for the first time in a couple of years, you must have looked like you’d just come back from taking out a nest of vamps on a Friday night. You were spattered with blood, your hair was a mess and your eyes must have been glowing with the amount of adrenaline you had pumping through your veins. You let him scoop you in for a quick hug, his strong arms holding you up for a brief moment, before pulling away. He looked like he could use some sleep, but beneath the dark circles that pooled underneath his eyes, he looked the same. He followed you back into your bedroom, but didn’t make an effort to wake Dean. You supposed death could take a toll on a person. Even if it wasn’t real. So, you let him sleep. “How many times did Dean die while I was gone?” You asked, leaning against the door way, not taking your eyes off of Dean’s slumbering face. You didn’t want him to go through this alone and you thought maybe this is what he’d meant at the coffee shop. He’d said not to leave. He’d said please. Then the second you leave something horrible happens. “Uh, just once actually. Stabbed in the chest after having his ass handed to him by a scribe of God. That was the last. You missed out on demon Dean. He was a lot of fun.” Sam leaned against the wall just inside the room, speaking quietly. “But if that was the hellhounds then next will be the bullet to the chest.” He ran his long fingers through his tangled hair. He must have been searching for Dean when you called, driving himself crazy. It was now around 1 am and you were already starting to feel the effects of tonight. Not to mention you’d had a full day of classes and work under your belt. However, the evening seemed like it was just beginning. “He must’ve died a hundred times before he found you. Freakin asshole Trickster.” “He looked terrible. Like he’d run into Edward Scissorhands on the way over.” The image must have been amusing because a small smile made its way momentarily onto Sam’s lips. It always made you glow a little with pride when you made a Winchester smile. “The spell has to run its course? There’s nothing we can do?” “Yeah, I called Rowena, repeated the incantation to her. She said it was a nasty spell but 'not particularly life threatening.’ So, we’ll just do our best to keep him hydrated and comfortable.” He watched his brother fondly for a moment, seeming to catalog every breath and twitch Dean made. “Ya know, I’m not looking forward to doing this a second time. I mean, once was really enough.” You nodded in agreement, even though you had no idea who Rowena was. Now certainly wasn’t the time to catch up. “I bet.” “I hate to do this to you, I remember what it was like to be in school, but I gotta get back to the station to wipe their files. That was the deal. They’ll stop hurting people and I’ll get rid of the evidence. Do you mind..?” “Do I mind watching your brother die a couple of times until you get back?” You asked with all the seriousness in the world before you couldn’t keep up the charade. “Of course, Sam, I got this.”

[isabellestillman]

Strong (In)Dependent Woman

From an evolutionary perspective, humans are not meant to be alone. Darwin and our seventh-grade science teachers would have us recall that the foremost objective of any living thing is to procreate. Our species requires the meeting of two distinct individuals to do so: we need a second human to survive.

From the perspective of my elite, liberal, feminist upbringing, a young woman ought to survive on her own. In my world, engagements before age 25 are met with shock if not opprobrium, breaking up with him is encouraged in favor of “doing you,” career-based choices are lauded over those that prioritize relationships. ‘Survival,’ in my case, often seems synonymous with ‘self-reliance.’

Run fast, be smart, get dirty, eat what you want—and don’t ever think you need a man to make you whole: it’s a crucial set of tips, an education in womanhood of which too many girls and women are deprived. It’s one that I’ve taken seriously throughout my adolescence. But having internalized its expectations of autonomy, I’ve begun to scold myself for longing, for loneliness, for the slightest whiff of dependence.

It is this capacity to scold that I now question.

Will was my blind date to a wine-and-cheese dorm party my junior year of college: an unfamiliar face with mountain-man hair, his gangly frame swimming in a sport coat, paired perfectly with beat-up trail running shoes. It was a first sight thing. That night we didn’t leave our corner of the room once. We traded thoughts on the Green Mountains and Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, privilege and justice, the scenes at the tables where we’d grown up eating dinner.

The next week, we went for burgers and beers in town. Four days later, I wrote in my journal, “Something I know for sure: I am falling in love.” From then on, we saw each other every day. We’d drive down dirt roads to catch sunsets and eat pancakes in bed and try to figure out how to be good in the world.

We were so different; that was what drew me in. I craved something other, something to shatter the carefully sculpted perspectives I’d held for the first two decades of my life. Will challenged me, his mind full of questions I’d never wondered and convictions I’d never entertained. I was spellbound by his way of seeing the world, hungry for the way he made me eat away at my own beliefs. For a while, I thought that was what it meant to find a partner.  

But over time, our differences began to wear, revealing themselves not just as day-to-day misunderstandings but as existential crises. Little things at first: Will was a minimalist, the owner of roughly five shirts, a couple pairs of shorts, and a laptop from 2007. I like clothes (whatever!), enjoy dinner out, spent $30 on Amazon for a poster to hang in my dorm. The first winter of our relationship, I bought a new sweater. I wore it to his house and waited in his bathroom, talking to him through the curtain as he finished showering with his simple bar of soap. I caught my reflection in the mirror—the sweater suddenly egregiously bright—and felt immediately sick to my stomach: You don’t need this sweater, or any of the countless things you have. You’re wasteful and spoiled. Your priorities are all off. What is wrong with you?

Maybe you know the feeling–when minor lifestyle choices bear the weight of character traits, criteria for judgment. Will managed to keep his world view consistent down to the last detail—living only on bread and peanut butter, listening only to music with ‘real’ messages, keeping as much distance from his phone as possible. And, in contrast, I was shallow, asinine, silly, out of touch with the systems and structures of the world.

It was more than just wardrobe choices. It was Big Ideas About How To Live: my drive to change the world and his fear of unbridled ambition; my need for light-hearted frivolity, his reading of my laid-backness as a failure to scrutinize my surroundings; my trusting of certain ideas, his only constant being skepticism.

As these chasms grew, my strength depleted. And the same person who made me question my worth was the one I turned to for affirmation. If Will couldn’t spend the afternoon with me, I wondered what it meant and begged him to assure me it was nothing. When I felt unseen or inferior, I would escape to his dorm room to feel his hands in my hair, the band-aid of physical touch. I could never hear the words “I love you” enough. I needed him to say I was smart, insightful, vibrant: that he loved me even with my flaws. I needed him to tell me I was good.

It ended almost as suddenly as it started. A phone call three months after graduation. And soon, I began to wonder if my ‘flaws’ had really been flaws at all.

That summer, I moved to Boston to get my Masters in Education, knowing that what I needed to work on was being good enough for myself.

And it worked.

I became the strong independent woman my upbringing had enshrined. I got a 4.0 GPA at Harvard, took on double the required teaching load, created a new social circle, read and wrote more than I had in years. I got drinks and kissed by the Charles and met people’s friends and sometimes stayed the night. I dated around.

In the midst of all this, my best friend broke up with her long-term boyfriend. It was a long time coming, but nonetheless sad, difficult and dark. It was also, as our group of girlfriends agreed, a great time for Zoey to “work on herself.” “Time to do you,” we said. “Time to become the strong independent woman you envisioned when you made this decision.” Plant a garden, we suggested. Make a scrapbook, join a soccer league, play poker, paint. Make yourself happy. Be independent.

It was funny, hearing myself counsel Zooey. So convinced that I knew what she needed—to do things that ‘made her independent’—advising her with ostensible confidence, but never quite sure how, exactly, I’d arrived at my own self-discovery. I’d certainly tried to learn to cook, to train for a half marathon, to finish the Sunday crossword, to skateboard. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t these things that had gotten me where I was.

I was afraid, when Daniel came along that February, that I hadn’t yet solidified my independence, that I was still vulnerable to other people’s ideas of what would make me ‘good.’ But as we spent more time together, that fear sort of dropped away. Eventually it stopped occurring to me at all, because with Daniel I never felt like there were expectations. I felt like my own self, at my very best. The most perceptive observer, eagerest listener, funniest banterer, caringest ally, cleverest referencer, insightfulest reflector, outgoingest adventurer, sweetest lover: peak Isabeller. Not because I was trying. Because Daniel somehow brought it out.

In the spring of 2017, I got a job teaching at a school I believed in, in Denver, which I knew would suit me better than Boston. I didn’t want to leave Daniel, but in my strong independent heart I knew better than to base a career choice on some guy I’d been dating a few months. Even if I did suspect, as I still do, that he might be the guy. As my friends, family, and culture had taught me, I sided with my strong independent woman self.

It was a tearful (sobful, really) sunrise parting, imbued with the understanding that staying together would be essentially impossible. He was a third-year medical student, I a first-year teacher, the number of three-day weekends sub-three, the distance a seven-hour, two-thousand-mile journey.

I pushed. I said, “Let’s leave the option open,” and, “It might be worth a try.” He smiled noncommittally, saying it didn’t make sense, that it would be more pain-inducing than joyful. The rational side of me saw his reasoning as legitimate. The strong independent side of me saw single life as ‘the right thing’ for me. But the feeling side of me still believed that it was possible. That when something makes you feel like the best you, holding on makes the most sense.

Now, lying on the floor of my new, empty apartment, my mind rings, “I need you.” And in some ways, I do. I need people in my life who inspire me. I need to laugh often, which we did. I need places where I know my best self comes standard. Just like I need these things from my friends. Why is it that different to need from a partner? Why is it that different to need from a man, a lover?

-

If you have a minute, Google “strong independent woman”: the how-to’s are endless, not to mention simple, degrading, sexist, and frankly absurd. (My personal favorite: lovepanky.com’s “How to be a Strong Independent Woman that Men Love.”)

Our society puts so much value on independence: make your own choices, discover your own happiness. Look in the mirror and say, “I look fly in this sweater, and I’m keeping it!” It sounds empowering. But it’s just another “women should ____.” A sexist expectation. A pigeonhole that’s exhausting at best, inhuman at worst. Being human means at least sometimes reveling in relying on others, in the beauty of finding your best self with other people—in a dependence that secures your survival, rather than threatens it.

I’m working on a theory of two kinds of dependence: in type one dependence, we rely on others to make ourselves believe we are good and worthy. In type two dependence, we rely on others because with them, we simply are that way. The fine line between the two gets lost easily in the fog of romantic feelings.  

It’s only a hypothesis, with a mere 23 years of evidence behind it, but it passes the common sense test. A woman’s choice of whether and how to depend should be just that: hers.

[mikemortgage]

AP FACT CHECK: Trump’s repeated fabrications on voting fraud

WASHINGTON — President Donald Trump is spreading tall tales about election fraud.

Asked about ballot malfeasance involving a Republican in North Carolina, the president insisted he condemns voter fraud “of any kind, whether it’s Democrat or Republican” and pointed to a “million fraudulent votes” cast in California. But no such case exists.

In fact, he has frequently asserted massive fraud in California since losing the state in 2016 to Democrat Hillary Clinton by more than 4 million votes, but has not cited any evidence. He’s made similar assertions about voting fraud in Florida and Texas, also off the mark.

Heading into his summit this week with North Korea’s leader, Trump also has been misrepresenting the history of diplomacy with that country, ignoring the work of predecessors. Democrats, meantime, went after Trump for holding migrant children in the same chain-link facilities used by the Obama administration, calling them “cages” to suggest Trump is acting with singular cruelty.

A look at some of the political rhetoric:

VOTING FRAUD

TRUMP: “I condemn any election fraud. And when I look at what’s happened in California with the votes, when I look at what happened — as you know, there was just a case where they found a million fraudulent votes. …When I look at what’s happened in Texas. When I look at that catastrophe that took place in Florida where the Republican candidates kept getting less and less and less and less. And fortunately, Rick Scott and Ron ended up winning their election, but it was disgraceful what happened there. …I condemn any voter fraud of any kind, whether it’s Democrat or Republican. …And that includes North Carolina.” — remarks Friday with China’s Vice Premier Liu He.

THE FACTS: Actually, there have been no reported cases of 1 million fraudulent votes cast in California, nor has Trump provided any support for his claim of widespread fraud. He’s also misrepresenting cases in Texas and Florida.

Trump pointed to other cases when asked about evidence of fraud involving a Republican in North Carolina. The state’s elections board last week ordered a new House election after GOP candidate Mark Harris conceded his lead was tainted by evidence of ballot-tampering by political operatives working for him.

But Trump is making unfounded charges of fraud in Florida’s Senate and governor races, which he has previously asserted were nearly “stolen” by Democrats.

He describes a dwindling vote margin as suspicious, but it is not uncommon for vote tallies to change in the days after the election as local officials process mailed and provisional ballots. In Florida, both Scott and governor’s candidate Rick DeSantis saw their leads fall as the Democratic strongholds of Palm Beach and Broward counties continued to count votes.

Scott was still governor when he alleged possible fraud in his Senate race. The governor’s state agencies charged with investigating impropriety said no credible allegations existed. The two GOP candidates ultimately prevailed in their races after a recount.

Trump also refers to a report from the Texas secretary of state’s office last month suggesting as many as 95,000 non-U.S. citizens may be on the state’s voter rolls and as many as 58,000 may have cast a ballot at least once since 1996, which Trump has described as the “tip of the iceberg.” Since the report came out, however, state elections officials have acknowledged serious problems with citizens being wrongly included in the original data. The list has subsequently been cut by at least 20,000 names — voters who turned out to be citizens. While it’s possible some foreigners voted, there are no signs of a widespread number as Trump has suggested that would change an electoral outcome.

——

NORTH KOREA

TRUMP, on getting North Korea to “denuclearize”: “I think they want to do something. But you know, you’ve been talking about this for 80 years. They’ve been talking about this for many, many years, and no administration has done anything.” — remarks Wednesday with Austrian Chancellor Sebastian Kurz.

THE FACTS: He’s wrong in suggesting his administration is the first to start on denuclearization with North Korea. The Bill Clinton and George W. Bush administrations both did so.

Clinton reached an aid-for-disarmament deal in 1994 that halted North Korea’s plutonium production for eight years, freezing what was then a very small nuclear arsenal. Bush took a tougher stance toward North Korea, and the 1994 nuclear deal collapsed because of suspicions that the North was running a secret uranium enrichment program. Bush, too, ultimately pursued negotiations. That led to a temporary disabling of some nuclear facilities, but talks fell apart because of differences over verification. What has most advanced under Trump is the level of engagement with North Korea. He is the first to meet the leader of North Korea.

——

2018 ELECTIONS

TRUMP: “There is far more ENERGY on the Right than there is on the Left. That’s why we just won the Senate and why we will win big in 2020. The Fake News just doesn’t want to report the facts. Border Security is a big factor.” — tweet Saturday.

THE FACTS: He’s entitled to that opinion. But the non-observer of U.S. politics would not know from that comment that while Republicans maintained control of the Senate in November, Democrats took control of the House. Lawmakers from both parties have blocked Trump’s request for $5.7 billion to fulfil his pledge to build a wall, leading him to declare a national emergency this month to shift money earmarked for military construction to the border without congressional approval.

Democrats have introduced a resolution disapproving of the declaration and it was likely to pass both chambers of Congress and face a presidential veto.

——

MIGRANT CHILDREN

SEN. KAMALA HARRIS of California, a Democratic presidential contender: “The trauma these children experience will live on for decades to come. It’s absurd that it needs to be repeated: Ripping babies away from their parents to put them in cages is inhumane.” — tweet Wednesday.

THE FACTS: The “cages” are chain-link fences and the Obama administration used them for migrant children, too. That hasn’t stopped a variety of Democrats from seizing on the visceral kids-in-cages image as evidence of Trump administration cruelty. Among them, Democrat Stacey Abrams, in her response to Trump’s State of the Union address, declared “this administration chooses to cage children.”

Children are held behind chain link fences inside Border Patrol facilities. Obama’s administration detained large numbers of unaccompanied children in such a manner in 2014 during a surge of migrant children at the border. Images that circulated online of children in chain link pens during the height of Trump’s family separations controversy — and blamed on him — were actually from 2014 when Obama was in office.

Children are placed in such areas by age and sex for safety reasons and are generally held for up to 72 hours by the Border Patrol. They then go into the custody of the Health and Human Services Department and are housed in shelters until they are placed with sponsors in the U.S., usually parents or close relatives. Some children who are with their families will go into family detention or will be released with their family into the country as their immigration cases play out.

The Homeland Security Department’s inspector general visited five detention facilities for unaccompanied children on the Texas border with Mexico in late June, during the height of the furor over family separations, and found the facilities appeared to comply with detention standards. The government watchdog reported that cleanliness was inconsistent but that the children had access to toilets, food, drinks, clean bedding and hygiene items.

At the height of the family separations, about 2,400 children were separated. Since then, 118 children have been. Immigration officials are allowed to take a child from a parent in certain cases — serious criminal charges against a parent, concerns over the health and welfare of a child or medical concerns.

That policy has long been in place and is separate from the now-suspended zero-tolerance Trump administration policy that saw children separated from parents only because they had crossed illegally.

——

EMERGENCY DECLARATION

SEN. KEVIN CRAMER, Republican of North Dakota: “Barack Obama declared a national emergency to fight swine flu and we didn’t have a single case of it in the United States.” — podcast posted Tuesday.

THE FACTS: Cramer is wrong. More than 1,000 people had died in the U.S. from the flu strain known as H1N1, commonly called the swine flu, by the time Obama declared a national emergency over the outbreak Oct. 23, 2009. The first swine flu death in the U.S. was reported in April 2009. By the time of Obama’s declaration, widespread flu activity was reported in 46 states. The government estimates the flu strain was linked to more than 274,000 hospitalizations and 12,000 deaths in the U.S. between April 2009 and April 2010, according to final figures released in 2011.

Cramer’s false statement that Obama declared an emergency absent any deaths came as he argued that Trump was justified in declaring one to find money to build his proposed border wall.

——

THE WALL

TRUMP: “We have just built this powerful Wall in New Mexico. Completed on January 30, 2019 – 47 days ahead of schedule! Many miles more now under construction! #FinishTheWall.” — tweet Wednesday.

THE FACTS: This is the latest of many examples of Trump presenting replacement fencing or pre-existing barrier as evidence that his promised wall is coming along. In reality, Trump has not completed any additional miles of barrier in his presidency.

In this case, he is citing the replacement of 20 miles (32 kilometres) of existing fencing at Santa Teresa, New Mexico, just outside El Paso, the only barrier construction in New Mexico so far. The $73 million project started in April.

Construction was beginning this month for 14 miles (22 km) of new fencing in the Rio Grande Valley in Texas — the first additional miles of barrier in Trump’s presidency. That’s from money approved by Congress a year ago.

Money approved by Congress this month to avert a government shutdown would cover about 55 more miles (88 km) and he’s trying unilaterally to free up money for more.

Trump now often incorrectly portrays his wall as largely complete, with the rally cry, “Finish the wall,” which replaced his initial slogan, “Build the wall.” In fact, the barrier now in service — about 650 miles (1,050 km) of fencing — was put in place by previous administrations.

——

TRUMP: “The failed Fast Train project in California, where the cost overruns are becoming world record setting, is hundreds of times more expensive than the desperately needed Wall!” — tweet Tuesday.

THE FACTS: The high-speed rail project is nowhere close to being “hundreds of times” more expensive than Trump’s proposed border wall. The estimated cost for a San Francisco-to-Los Angeles train has more than doubled to $77 billion. That’s about 13 times the $5.7 billion Trump sought unsuccessfully from Congress to build just part of the wall. Last year, he sought $25 billion to pay the full costs of building his wall, also rejected by Congress. The California project would cost three times more than that — far from “hundreds of times more.”

Gov. Gavin Newsom, D-Calif., said earlier this month the project “as currently planned, would cost too much and take too long.” He said the state would focus on completing a shorter segment in the Central Valley while seeking money from new sources for the longer route.

——

ILLEGAL CROSSINGS

CALIFORNIA ATTORNEY GENERAL XAVIER BECERRA, on whether there’s a crisis at the border: “We have the lowest level of entries into the country by those that don’t have permission than we’ve had in some 20 years.” — interview with ABC’s “This Week” on Feb. 17.

THE FACTS: He’s incorrect that illegal crossings are the lowest in recent decades, based on Border Patrol arrests, the most widely used gauge. That was true in the 2017 budget year, when Border Patrol arrests along the Mexican border fell to 303,916, the smallest number since 1971. But arrests jumped 31 per cent last year, to 396,579. And in the 2019 budget year, which started in October, southern border arrests nearly doubled through January, to 201,497 from 109,543 the same period a year earlier.

Illegal crossings remain relatively low in historical terms but not as low as Becerra claims. California is leading a 16-state coalition in a suit challenging Trump’s power to declare an emergency to steer more money to build a wall along the Mexico border.

——

DEMS ON ECONOMY

SEN. BERNIE SANDERS of Vermont, announcing his run for president: “We should not have an economy in which tens of millions of workers earn starvation wages.” — email Tuesday to supporters.

THE FACTS: Sanders is overstating his case regarding “starvation wages.”

According to his campaign, he defines “starvation wages” as anything below $15 an hour. But if a family, for example, has two people making $14 an hour each, working full time, that’s roughly $56,000 in household income before taxes. If they live outside large, expensive cities, their costs of living will also be relatively low. The Census Bureau considers a single parent with two children to be poor if they earn less than $19,749, or about $9.90 an hour.

It’s true that many people with jobs are still poor. In 2016, census data showed that 7.2 million people were working, but still lived below the poverty line. It’s also true that a lot of workers — nearly 40 per cent, or 60 million — earn less than $15 an hour, according to government data compiled by the liberal Economic Policy Institute. But wages have also been rising in the past several years for lower-income workers, thanks in part to higher minimum wages. For those at the 20th percentile of earnings — meaning that 80 per cent of workers earn more — their wages rose 4.8 per cent last year, more than any other income group, according to that institute.

——

SEN. KAMALA HARRIS: “The average tax refund is down about $170 compared to last year. Let’s call the President’s tax cut what it is: a middle-class tax hike to line the pockets of already wealthy corporations and the 1%.” — tweet Feb. 11.

THE FACTS: She’s wrong to suggest that smaller tax refunds basically amount to a “middle-class tax hike.” The size of a refund doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with how much someone is paying in taxes. Many people ended up with less of their taxes withheld from their paychecks in 2018 as a result of Trump’s tax cut. That would result in a smaller refund, but it doesn’t mean they paid more in federal taxes.

Explaining the tweet, a campaign spokeswoman, Kirsten Allen, said “many middle-class families are seeing increases, while the bulk of the benefits go to corporations and the wealthy. And the long term analysis of this bill is that it raises middle-class taxes.” Allen also noted that high-tax states such as California are particularly affected because the new law caps the deduction for state and local taxes at $10,000.

Trump’s tax cut did skew to the wealthy, but most middle-income taxpayers should see a tax cut this year, according to the nonpartisan Tax Policy Center. The average taxpayer is expected to get a tax cut of about $1,600 in 2018, the centre calculates, with two-thirds of U.S. taxpayers getting a cut and about 6 per cent paying more.

——

RUSSIA INVESTIGATION

TRUMP: “The Mueller investigation is totally conflicted, illegal and rigged! Should never have been allowed to begin, except for the Collusion and many crimes committed by the Democrats. Witch Hunt!” — tweet Feb. 17.

THE FACTS: Trump’s frequent claim that Mueller’s team is “totally conflicted” to the point of being rigged is off the mark.

He’s previously pointed to Mueller’s team, for instance, as “13 angry Democrats,” even though Mueller is a Republican and some others on his team owe their jobs largely to Republican presidents. Some have indeed given money to Democratic candidates over the years. But Mueller could not have barred them from serving on that basis because regulations prohibit the consideration of political affiliation for personnel actions involving career attorneys. Mueller reports to Attorney General William Barr, and before him, Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein, who are both Trump appointees.

Mueller was appointed as special counsel by Rosenstein in May 2017, eight days after Trump’s abrupt firing of FBI Director James Comey and the subsequent disclosure that Trump had encouraged Comey to drop an investigation into former national security adviser Michael Flynn, according to Comey, which raised questions about possible obstruction of justice. Trump has denied he told Comey to end the Flynn probe.

——

Associated Press writers Amanda Seitz in Chicago, Susan Montoya Bryan in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Elliot Spagat in San Diego and Jill Colvin, Juana Summers and Colleen Long in Washington contributed to this report.

——

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EDITOR’S NOTE — A look at the veracity of claims by political figures

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[politicaltheatre]

It Is So, If You Think So

So, here we are. The administration that tried to sell the world on "alternative facts" has "acted quickly and decisively", launching a "proportional response" against those "responsible" for a "heinous act".

Were it not for the necessary quotation marks around "alternative facts" and the reason we need them, we would not, perhaps, need them around the rest of the words in that sentence. What the regime of Syria dictator Bashar al-Assad is believed to have done against its own people, yet again, was heinous and did require a response, perhaps even more than the "punitive" one launched last night. 

The problem, one among many, is that while what the Assad regime has done - and has been doing to Syrians for six years of war and decades of comparative peace before it - has been heinous, this war is no mere war, anymore than Trump's decision last night was merely one of pure moral indignation. What we have in Syria is a proxy war, no different than the countless wars declared and undeclared during the decades long Cold War. 

Syria's closest, and perhaps only, allies are Iran and Russia, both of them ideologically and, more important for Russia, economically opposed to the United States and the European Union. It should come as no surprise that anything done by the Assad regime would be condemned by the latter side and defended by the former. The challenge this week, and for at least the next 200, is American credibility. 

When Trump, those representing him, and the Republican leadership in Congress choose to tell lies about what they want and what they are doing, and are seen to be doing so, they no longer have the ability to demand a higher standard from anyone else. Being honest isn’t a play for suckers, nor is it merely a matter of doing right by others. It's a political asset, one not to be squandered for short term gain.

Oh, well. We've all got to learn our lessons somehow. Odds are, Trump and friends won't learn that particular lesson anytime soon, but those who voted for them might. They'll certainly have an opportunity if things start blowing up, literally and figuratively, in our collective faces.

So, how then to remove those quotation marks and make those "facts" into facts? You'd think asking questions would help, but not so fast.

What do we know about what happened in Syria this week?

Going back to last Thursday, Trump's Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson, stated that the "longer term status of President Assad will be decided by the Syrian people". We know that this was in line both with Trump's stated desire not to engage the United States in foreign wars and with his clear admiration for strongman-style leadership.

On Tuesday, in the town of Khan Sheikhoun within rebel-held territory, dozens of civilians including the elderly and children died from what appears to have been chlorine and sarin gasses, chemical weapons which have long been declared illegal by international law. This, too, we know. The evidence presented by aid workers on the ground is overwhelming.

Since then, everybody's been pushing their own version of the truth. The Assad regime, for example, denied that there had been a chemical attack, and even if there had been they denied being responsible for it. The Russians, in their official statements to the media, seemed happy to back up either denial, suggesting that Assad regime bombs might have blown up gas canisters already on site.

On Wednesday, the Trump administration joined countries around the world in condemnation of the attack and of the Assad regime. Despite this and Trump's claim that he had changed his mind about Assad, he and his staff all stuck to the party line that removing Assad from power was not on the table.

A day later, that resolve had given way to yet another alternative. Tillerson and Trump's possibly Bannon-less National Security Council suggested that Assad might have to go, after all. Maybe. If we can put a coalition together. In an ideal world.

Late last night Trump authorized an attack on the airbase suspected of launching the chemical weapons. According to the Pentagon, of the 59 Tomahawk missiles that were launched, 58 hit their target (no word on where that last one went). The Russians had the number at 23 hits. The Syrian dead may have been nine, or higher. Possibly lower. The Assad regime isn't exactly known for statistical accuracy on deaths.

Today, the United Nations Security Council had an emergency meeting at the request of Syria, which is not on the Council. Much was said, and much of it challenged credulity. That, for the UN Security Council, is nothing new.

There's always been something of the theater of the absurd about Security Council meetings. Whatever good the United Nations has done with its aid programs, the Security Council and the diplomatic doublespeak all too often on display in meetings demonstrate all too clearly why the UN as an organization has all too often failed in its primary mission.

The Permanent Members of the UN Security Council - the United States, Great Britain, France, Russia, and China - were made so at the dawn of the Cold War, and given veto power over resolutions and even actual proposed action taken by the Council. Actions taken by any of those five countries or any of their proxy states have been effectively immune from anything more than a diplomatic slap on the wrist. 

The result has been decades of occasionally flamboyant pageantry, not so veiled threats, and a paralytic inaction in the face of the very war and acts of inhumanity the United Nations was founded to prevent. Today, the pageantry, the threats, and the effective inaction were all on full display.

The Syrian Ambassador accused the United States not only of actively supporting the so-called Islamic State in Syria but Wahhabi Islamic ideology in general. Yep, that's right, the United States is now the primary backer of Islamic terrorism in the Middle East. Absurd? Yes. Surprising? No, but then these things are not mutually exclusive.

The Russian Ambassador, speaking before his Syrian counterpart in a sprawling, often incoherent rant, also accused the United States of supporting terrorism in the region, although he took great pains to allow that it could merely be American recklessness, racism, and the arrogance of Western-style Democracy itself that is to blame for the gas attack. After all, where does this chain of events really start? At one bizarre point, he actually asked if the United States had forgotten about the American principle of "innocent until proven guilty", as though those words coming from a member of the Putin regime make any sense at all.

Taken as a whole, the official Russian statement could be taken neither as a plea to the United Nations nor as a mere rebuke of the United States on behalf of a close ally, but as a pitch to Syria's neighbors. We the Russians, it seemed to say, should be your first call; the Americans just can't hack it anymore.

Of course, leave it to UN Ambassador Nikki Haley to make the Russian's performance sound as bloated and ridiculous as it was. In a brief yet powerful statement, she set herself and those supporting the attack on the air force base firmly on the moral high ground, a place she might have been able to hold had she not been doing so as a member of the fact-challenged Trump administration. Just days earlier she herself had suggested that ending the Assad regime shouldn’t be a priority. Haley put on a good show, but how could anyone listening trust it?

Back at Mar-A-Lago, questions of why Trump really pulled the trigger were already being asked before he took the stage. Was it really because of the terrible suffering of innocent women and children? Given the rest of his policies and, well, his life history, probably not. In announcing the attack, Trump had said it was, but that scary, bedtime story voice he uses when reading off the TelePompter wasn't all that convincing.

Might it have been about not looking weak? Possibly. This is the week Trump hosts the leader of China. An over the top show of strength does seem like an Art Of The Deal-style tactic. Trump had accused President Obama of weakness in dealing with Syria, so maybe he was worried about losing face. Of course, he had also warned Obama against unilaterally firing missiles at Syria without congressional approval, too, so there's that.

Then there's the Russia question. There's always a Russia question. There probably always be a Russia question. Today's question was this: Was Trump encouraged to attack Syria as a sign of independence from the Putin regime?

Even if it's true that Trump and those close to him aren't really under Putin's thumb, just the appearance of it has been crippling them. Having worked so hard to undermine the value of facts, few seem willing to give them the benefit of the doubt when they demand their many versions of the truth are true. So, what if, in the middle of the debate on moral obligation and proportional responses, somebody suggested that this was a perfect opportunity to take a very public stand against the Putin regime? Might that put whispers of collusion and corruption to rest?

There are no facts to back those last few questions up. They're the stuff of cynical conspiracy theories. Make it about a Democrat and they're the stuff of Breitbart. And yet - and yet - that the plausibility of that scenario is pretty high has to be troubling. This, too, is what you get when you attack the value of facts.

The war on facts is, not to harp on it, part of a larger war against accountability. If I have to accept facts, I have to be accountable to what those facts tell me. That means being accountable to the people those facts support.

Syria is denying chemical weapons not merely because it got caught using them but because it believes denying them allows them to use those weapons. Russia believes that accepting the fact of weapons is okay, but only because it serves as a means of painting the victims of the attack as villains, killed by weapons they hoped to use.

Trump may be telling us truth on this. He actually might. But think, for a moment, about his climate change denials. Scientists studying glaciers in Greenland this week reported that coastal ice melting is approaching a tipping point, beyond which they cannot be restored, with the inland ice sheet not far behind. If you live on a coast, that's a fact you need to know. Total loss of that ice sheet would raise our oceans by nearly 20 feet. Add in the water added by a simultaneous loss of ice in Antarctica and billions of humans would be displaced.

That is, if you believe the scientists. Trump and other climate change deniers choose to attack science because it means they must be accountable to all of those people. That Trump has chosen to lie so often and has chosen to attack facts because they demand he be accountable makes Trump hard to trust when it comes to why he attacked Syria.

What we must accept as a truth is this: if we - not as Americans or Russians or Syrians but as a species - cannot tell the difference between fact and fiction, or can but knowingly blur the lines for personal gain, we will not survive. Acknowledging that there are facts is an act of accountability to others and by virtue of that to ourselves.

- Daniel Ward

[mikemortgage]

AP FACT CHECK: Undocumented GOP, Dem rhetoric on immigration

WASHINGTON — The political fallout from President Donald Trump’s push for his border wall is giving rise to overwrought rhetoric from Republicans and Democrats alike.

Trump, as he has so often done, claimed progress on the wall that isn’t borne out by what’s going on along the border. In the Democrats’ 2020 presidential campaign, Trump was assailed for confining kids in “cages,” though his administration’s fenced facilities for migrant children are the same the Obama administration used to hold children by the thousands.

And a Republican senator, seeking to show there’s a low bar for presidents to declare a national emergency, asserted President Barack Obama took that step against the swine flu even when there were no cases of that malady in the country. Actually, more than 1,000 Americans had died from that flu before Obama made his emergency declaration in 2009.

On other fronts, Trump misrepresented the history of U.S. diplomacy with North Korea as he anticipated his summit this coming week with that country’s leader. And with the special counsel’s Russia investigation possibly close to wrapping up, he revisited past attempts to discredit a “rigged” probe.

A look at recent political rhetoric:

THE WALL

TRUMP: “We have just built this powerful Wall in New Mexico. Completed on January 30, 2019 – 47 days ahead of schedule! Many miles more now under construction! #FinishTheWall.” — tweet Wednesday.

THE FACTS: This is the latest of many examples of Trump presenting replacement fencing or pre-existing barrier as evidence that his promised wall is coming along. In reality, Trump has not completed any additional miles of barrier in his presidency.

In this case, he is citing the replacement of 20 miles (32 kilometres) of existing fencing at Santa Teresa, New Mexico, just outside El Paso, the only barrier construction in New Mexico so far. The $73 million project started in April.

Construction was beginning this month for 14 miles (22 km) of new fencing in the Rio Grande Valley in Texas — the first additional miles of barrier in Trump’s presidency. That’s from money approved by Congress a year ago.

Money approved by Congress this month to avert a government shutdown would cover about 55 more miles (88 km) and he’s trying unilaterally to free up money for more.

Trump now often incorrectly portrays his wall as largely complete, with the rally cry, “Finish the wall,” which replaced his initial slogan, “Build the wall.” In fact, the barrier now in service — about 650 miles (1,050 km) of fencing — was put in place by previous administrations.

——

TRUMP: “The failed Fast Train project in California, where the cost overruns are becoming world record setting, is hundreds of times more expensive than the desperately needed Wall!” — tweet Tuesday.

THE FACTS: The high-speed rail project is nowhere close to being “hundreds of times” more expensive than Trump’s proposed border wall. The estimated cost for a San Francisco-to-Los Angeles train has more than doubled to $77 billion. That’s about 13 times the $5.7 billion Trump sought unsuccessfully from Congress to build just part of the wall. Last year, he sought $25 billion to pay the full costs of building his wall, also rejected by Congress. The California project would cost three times more than that — far from “hundreds of times more.”

Gov. Gavin Newsom, D-Calif., said earlier this month the project “as currently planned, would cost too much and take too long.” He said the state would focus on completing a shorter segment in the Central Valley while seeking money from new sources for the longer route.

——

EMERGENCY DECLARATION

SEN. KEVIN CRAMER, Republican of North Dakota: “Barack Obama declared a national emergency to fight swine flu and we didn’t have a single case of it in the United States.” — podcast posted Tuesday.

THE FACTS: Cramer is wrong. More than 1,000 people had died in the U.S. from the flu strain known as H1N1, commonly called the swine flu, by the time Obama declared a national emergency over the outbreak Oct. 23, 2009. The first swine flu death in the U.S. was reported in April 2009. By the time of Obama’s declaration, widespread flu activity was reported in 46 states. The government estimates the flu strain was linked to more than 274,000 hospitalizations and 12,000 deaths in the U.S. between April 2009 and April 2010, according to final figures released in 2011.

Cramer’s false statement that Obama declared an emergency absent any deaths came as he argued that Trump was justified in declaring one to find money to build his proposed border wall.

——

MIGRANT CHILDREN

SEN. KAMALA HARRIS of California, a Democratic presidential contender: “The trauma these children experience will live on for decades to come. It’s absurd that it needs to be repeated: Ripping babies away from their parents to put them in cages is inhumane.” — tweet Wednesday.

THE FACTS: The “cages” are chain-link fences and the Obama administration used them for migrant children, too. That hasn’t stopped a variety of Democrats from seizing on the visceral kids-in-cages image as evidence of Trump administration cruelty. Among them, Democrat Stacey Abrams, in her response to Trump’s State of the Union address, declared “this administration chooses to cage children.”

Children are held behind chain link inside Border Patrol facilities. Obama’s administration detained large numbers of unaccompanied children in such a manner in 2014 during a surge of migrant children at the border. Images that circulated online of children in chain link pens during the height of Trump’s family separations controversy — and blamed on him — were actually from 2014 when Obama was in office.

Children are placed in such areas by age and sex for safety reasons and are generally held for up to 72 hours by the Border Patrol. They then go into the custody of the Health and Human Services Department and are housed in shelters until they are placed with sponsors in the U.S., usually parents or close relatives. Some children who are with their families will go into family detention or will be released with their family into the country as their immigration cases play out.

The Homeland Security Department’s inspector general visited five detention facilities for unaccompanied children on the Texas border with Mexico in late June, during the height of the furor over family separations, and found the facilities appeared to comply with detention standards. The government watchdog reported that cleanliness was inconsistent but that the children had access to toilets, food, drinks, clean bedding and hygiene items.

At the height of the family separations, about 2,400 children were separated. Since then, 118 children have been. Immigration officials are allowed to take a child from a parent in certain cases — serious criminal charges against a parent, concerns over the health and welfare of a child or medical concerns.

That policy has long been in place and is separate from the now-suspended zero-tolerance Trump administration policy that saw children separated from parents only because they had crossed illegally.

——

ILLEGAL CROSSINGS

CALIFORNIA ATTORNEY GENERAL XAVIER BECERRA, on whether there’s a crisis at the border: “We have the lowest level of entries into the country by those that don’t have permission than we’ve had in some 20 years.” — interview with ABC’s “This Week” on Feb. 17.

THE FACTS: He’s incorrect that illegal crossings are the lowest in recent decades, based on Border Patrol arrests, the most widely used gauge. That was true in the 2017 budget year, when Border Patrol arrests along the Mexican border fell to 303,916, the smallest number since 1971. But arrests jumped 31 per cent last year, to 396,579. And in the 2019 budget year, which started in October, southern border arrests nearly doubled through January, to 201,497 from 109,543 the same period a year earlier.

Illegal crossings remain relatively low in historical terms but not as low as Becerra claims. California is leading a 16-state coalition in a suit challenging Trump’s power to declare an emergency to steer more money to build a wall along the Mexico border.

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DEMS ON ECONOMY

SEN. BERNIE SANDERS of Vermont, announcing his run for president: “We should not have an economy in which tens of millions of workers earn starvation wages.” — email Tuesday to supporters.

THE FACTS: Sanders is overstating his case regarding “starvation wages.”

According to his campaign, he defines “starvation wages” as anything below $15 an hour. But if a family, for example, has two people making $14 an hour each, working full time, that’s roughly $56,000 in household income before taxes. If they live outside large, expensive cities, their costs of living will also be relatively low. The Census Bureau considers a single parent with two children to be poor if they earn less than $19,749, or about $9.90 an hour.

It’s true that many people with jobs are still poor. In 2016, census data showed that 7.2 million people were working, but still lived below the poverty line. It’s also true that a lot of workers — nearly 40 per cent, or 60 million — earn less than $15 an hour, according to government data compiled by the liberal Economic Policy Institute. But wages have also been rising in the past several years for lower-income workers, thanks in part to higher minimum wages. For those at the 20th percentile of earnings — meaning that 80 per cent of workers earn more — their wages rose 4.8 per cent last year, more than any other income group, according to that institute.

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SEN. KAMALA HARRIS: “The average tax refund is down about $170 compared to last year. Let’s call the President’s tax cut what it is: a middle-class tax hike to line the pockets of already wealthy corporations and the 1%.” — tweet Feb. 11.

THE FACTS: She’s wrong to suggest that smaller tax refunds basically amount to a “middle-class tax hike.” The size of a refund doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with how much someone is paying in taxes. Many people ended up with less of their taxes withheld from their paychecks in 2018 as a result of Trump’s tax cut. That would result in a smaller refund, but it doesn’t mean they paid more in federal taxes.

Explaining the tweet, a campaign spokeswoman, Kirsten Allen, said “many middle-class families are seeing increases, while the bulk of the benefits go to corporations and the wealthy. And the long term analysis of this bill is that it raises middle-class taxes.” Allen also noted that high-tax states such as California are particularly affected because the new law caps the deduction for state and local taxes at $10,000.

Trump’s tax cut did skew to the wealthy, but most middle-income taxpayers should see a tax cut this year, according to the nonpartisan Tax Policy Center. The average taxpayer is expected to get a tax cut of about $1,600 in 2018, the centre calculates, with two-thirds of U.S. taxpayers getting a cut and about 6 per cent paying more.

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NORTH KOREA

TRUMP, on getting North Korea to “denuclearize”: “I think they want to do something. But you know, you’ve been talking about this for 80 years. They’ve been talking about this for many, many years, and no administration has done anything.” — remarks Wednesday with Austrian Chancellor Sebastian Kurz.

THE FACTS: He’s wrong in suggesting his administration is the first to start on denuclearization with North Korea. The Bill Clinton and George W. Bush administrations both did so.

Clinton reached an aid-for-disarmament deal in 1994 that halted North Korea’s plutonium production for eight years, freezing what was then a very small nuclear arsenal. Bush took a tougher stance toward North Korea, and the 1994 nuclear deal collapsed because of suspicions that the North was running a secret uranium enrichment program. Bush, too, ultimately pursued negotiations. That led to a temporary disabling of some nuclear facilities, but talks fell apart because of differences over verification. What has most advanced under Trump is the level of engagement with North Korea. He is the first to meet the leader of North Korea.

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RUSSIA INVESTIGATION

TRUMP: “The Mueller investigation is totally conflicted, illegal and rigged! Should never have been allowed to begin, except for the Collusion and many crimes committed by the Democrats. Witch Hunt!” — tweet Feb. 17.

THE FACTS: Trump’s frequent claim that Mueller’s team is “totally conflicted” to the point of being rigged is off the mark.

He’s previously pointed to Mueller’s team, for instance, as “13 angry Democrats,” even though Mueller is a Republican and some others on his team owe their jobs largely to Republican presidents. Some have indeed given money to Democratic candidates over the years. But Mueller could not have barred them from serving on that basis because regulations prohibit the consideration of political affiliation for personnel actions involving career attorneys. Mueller reports to Attorney General William Barr, and before him, Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein, who are both Trump appointees.

Mueller was appointed as special counsel by Rosenstein in May 2017, eight days after Trump’s abrupt firing of FBI Director James Comey and the subsequent disclosure that Trump had encouraged Comey to drop an investigation into former national security adviser Michael Flynn, according to Comey, which raised questions about possible obstruction of justice. Trump has denied he told Comey to end the Flynn probe.

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Associated Press writers Amanda Seitz in Chicago, Susan Montoya Bryan in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Elliot Spagat in San Diego and Jill Colvin, Juana Summers and Colleen Long in Washington contributed to this report.

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EDITOR’S NOTE — A look at the veracity of claims by political figures

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